A Romance of Billy-Goat Hill Part 8

"And socks," continued Caroline, enjoying the opportunity of emphasizing the shortcomings of her lesser half, "'bout sebenteen, all singles. No two scarcely de same color."

"Miss Lady, she been 'c.u.mulatin' 'em to darn 'em," explained Jimpson, glad to s.h.i.+ft responsibility. "She 'low she gwine to tak a day off some o' dese days, an' mend up ever'thing in de house."

The Colonel glanced around: "Where is Miss Lady?"

"Out in de hall, readin' de evenin' paper. Nebber did see dat chile tek so much notice ob de newspaper. Yas, sir, I'll call her."

"Any later news of the shooting?" asked the Colonel casually, when she returned.

"Yes, Mr. Dillingham was indicted and arraigned before the court. The case was pa.s.sed until June first."

"And Sheeley? What of his condition?"

"The paper says he will lose his eye, but that he will probably get well."

"And--and nothing has been heard of Morley?"

"Not yet."

After supper, when all the preparations for the trip were completed, and the cheerful presence of Uncle Jimpson and Aunt Caroline removed, the Colonel and Miss Lady sat before the dying fire, and tried to make conversation. Outside wet branches swept the windows, and sudden gusts of rain beat against the panes.

"Thirty years since I saw some of the old boys," the Colonel said, trying to warm up to his coming journey. "I'll miss old Professor Queerington, but John Jay will be there. We are planning to come home together. Fine man, he is, fine man!"

"Who? Oh, yes, Doctor Queerington."

"Just a little boy when I boarded at his father's. He can't be much over forty now. The smartest man the old college ever turned out! And just as good as he's smart. A little too much book learning maybe, and not any too much common sense, but there ain't many heads built to carry both.

He's sound though, sound to the core, and that's saying a good deal these days. What's the matter? Sleepy?"

"No, just the fidgets. Say, Daddy, what do you suppose they will do with Mr. Dillingham, if he is convicted?"

"Penitentiary offense, I hear. But Noah says they'll get him off. Old General Dillingham has plenty of money, and friends at court. He'll take care of his grandson."

"But if he is cleared," began Miss Lady, "that throws the guilt on--"

"Now see here," interrupted the Colonel, "you stop bothering your little head about that trial. Go over there and play me a couple of good old tunes, and then we'll both trot to bed."

Miss Lady's soft untrained voice began bravely enough. She described with feeling the charms of Annie Laurie, and was half way through Robin Adair before she faltered, started anew, stumbled again, then came to an ignominious halt.

"Tut! tut!" said the Colonel fussily, getting himself out of his chair in an incredibly short time for so stout a gentleman. "This won't do, you know; this ain't right!"

"It's that silly old piece!" said Miss Lady petulantly. "It always works on my feelings."

"But it wouldn't make you cry like this. Come, tell me."

"There's nothing to tell--that is--"

"Well, never mind then. Just cry it out. That's right. Don't mind me. Just your old Dad." And with much fussing and petting and foolish a.s.surances that he was her Daddy, he got her over to the sofa.

Sitting on the floor with her arms across his knees, she wept with the abandonment of a child, while his short, stubby fingers tenderly stroked her s.h.i.+ning hair. At last when the storm had subsided and she was able to look up, he took her face between his hands.

"Out with it, kitten!" he demanded. "What's troubling you? Don Morley business?"

She kissed his nearest hand.

"Thought so. You--you got to like him pretty well, eh?"

She nodded between her sobs.

"Better 'n most anybody?" he asked it jealously, but unflinchingly.

"Except you, Daddy." It was a faint whisper, but it was rea.s.suring.

"And what about him?" the Colonel continued.

Another burst of tears, then a resolute effort at self-control.

"He meant to do what's right. I know he did! He promised to give up drinking and gambling and go to work."

"He made a good start!" The Colonel knocked the ashes from his pipe.

"And after he got into the fracas, what in thunder did he run away for? Why didn't he stay and face it out? Any fool would know that if Dillingham is cleared, the suspicion would all be on him."

"But, Daddy, we haven't heard his side yet. If I could just hear from him, or see him."

"See him!" he exploded. "What in the name of the devil do you want to see him for? No siree! Not while Bob Ca.r.s.ey's got any buckshot left in his gun! Do you think there's any chance of his prowling 'round here while I'm gone? That settles it! I'll not budge an inch. Tell Jimpson!

Tell Caroline! Unpack my things."

"But, Daddy, wait! He is probably out at the coast by this time.

Besides, he hasn't written or sent any word. How do we know that... that he wants to come back?"

"He'll try it all right. I saw how things were going. I saw how he looked at you. The impudent young hound!"

"Daddy! Please don't! You don't know him. He will explain everything when he writes, I know he will!"

"But he won't write! He won't have the face to. The idea of his going straight off from my girl, and getting mixed up in a sc.r.a.pe like this!

You've got to promise me never to speak to the young scoundrel again!"

"But if he explains?"

"Why hasn't he done so? Because he can't. Besides, I don't want him to.

We are through with him from now on. Promise me never to have anything more to do with him."

She hesitated, and the Colonel began to fling the things out of his bag in great agitation.

"Please, Squire Daddy!" She caught his hands, and looked at him, and something in her pleading eyes and quivering lips was so reminiscent of another face he had loved, that he broke down completely and had to have recourse to one of his four clean handkerchiefs that were still in the bag.

He was an old fool, he declared between violent blowings of his nose, and clearings of his throat. Was only doing what he thought was his duty. Didn't mean to make her unhappy. Didn't have sense enough to bring up a girl. Had tried to, though! Always would try. Only she mustn't be unhappy; he couldn't stand that. It would kill him if she dared to be unhappy!

And Miss Lady with her arms about his neck, making futile dabs at his streaming eyes with her little wet knot of a handkerchief, pa.s.sionately declared that she would promise him anything under the sun, that she was going to be happy, that she _was_ happy!