The Unknown Wrestler Part 14

"Oh, I don't count, especially when it comes to farming," and Nan gave her pretty head a slight toss. "I'm willing to let Nell take all the credit."

Douglas felt perfectly at home now. It was such a bright and happy time, and he was sorry when the meal was finished. He could not understand the mystery surrounding the visit of the professor and his daughter to the city, begging on the streets for money. Why had they done it? he asked himself, when they seemed to have everything that they needed.

"Now, Nan, bring me my box of cigars," her father ordered when supper was over.

"Cigars!" the girl exclaimed in surprise. "Why, daddy, you have been keeping them as if they were precious jewels."

"I know it, dear. But jewels must be used sometime, and so must cigars. I have kept them for rare days, and this is one of them.

Since my old friend Dr. Royden visited me, I have had no one to take a keen interest in my work until to-day. When he sent me those cigars the following Christmas, he wrote that they were extra good ones, and were to be kept for special occasions. My old pipe will serve when I am alone, but to-day we must have cigars."

Douglas noticed that Nell was much pleased to see her father in such excellent spirits. She touched the match to his cigar, and watched him as he blew the smoke into the air with considerable relish. What a picture she would make sitting there, he thought. She seemed to be wholly unaware of her charm and grace of manner, reminding him of some beautiful flower radiating an unconscious influence of sweetness, purity and joy.

"This is one of the most delightful afternoons I have ever spent,"

Douglas remarked. "What a beautiful place you have here, with the river right near, and the spire of the church showing above the tree tops. I wish I were an artist. By the way, I was around the church this morning, and everything shows signs of neglect. It struck me as rather sad and strange."

As there was no reply, he glanced toward Nell and was surprised to see an anxious expression upon her face. She gave her head a slight shake and held up a warning finger. He looked quickly at her father, and saw that his face had undergone a remarkable change. He was sitting motionless, clutching his cigar between the fingers of his right hand.

Presently, his lips moved and he spoke in short, jerky sentences.

"Strange, you ask?" he demanded. "Why strange? What else could be expected? Half-fledged parsons strutting around as if they owned the universe. Little wonder the church is closed. And what of the people?

Look at the leaders in this parish."

"Hush, hush, father, dear," Nell interposed. "Don't get excited."

"I'm not excited; I'm just stating plain facts. You know about Si Stubbles as well as I do."

"But Mr. Handyman is a stranger, remember, father, and we must not trouble him with such things on this his first visit."

"Excuse me, sir," and the old man leaned forward, as if he would look into his visitor's face. "Nell is quite right; she is always right, and I shall say no more about this painful subject to-day."

Nell at once began to gather up the neglected supper dishes, and Douglas felt that it was about time that he was going. He noticed that she seemed somewhat nervous and excited. At first he thought it was due to her father's words, but as he caught her giving a quick and an occasional glance toward the sh.o.r.e, he believed that she was expecting to meet some one there in a few minutes. He wondered who it was, and he felt that Nell was not altogether pleased at the idea of seeing the one who was expecting to meet her there. The thought gave him considerable satisfaction, though he could not explain why.

"You will come again soon, will you not?" the professor asked, as Douglas bade him good-by.

"I should like to very much," was the reply. "I am most anxious to see your book, and hear more about it."

"Certainly, certainly. That will give me great pleasure. I intended to discuss it with you this evening, but I do not feel equal to it now."

"And I want to hear some of your wonderful music," Nell remarked. "I am so sorry that you have not played anything this evening."

"There is nothing wonderful about it, I a.s.sure you, Miss Strong. Just ordinary music."

"It is wonderful," Nan declared. "I have heard you twice now, and I guess I know. And when you come next time, remember you're not going to play all the time, nor talk book nor Church matters; you're going to talk to me. I've got a whole string of questions I want to ask you, and this afternoon I've had to be as mum as an oyster."

"All right, then," Douglas laughingly replied. "I shall see that you are not overlooked the next time I come."

The western sky was all aglow as Douglas walked slowly along the road.

There was a sweet peace over meadow and forest. The thought of Nell brought a thrill to his heart and a strange new peace into his soul, It was the mystic glow, the prelude of the coming night, and the dawn of a new to-morrow.

CHAPTER X

PRIDE AND IMPUDENCE

It was not easy for Douglas to get to sleep that night. He thought much about the Bentons and their anxiety over their wayward daughter.

How sad it was that a young life should be so quickly and easily ruined in the city. He knew that there were many such cases, of mere girls, carefully reared, who were drawn to the city only to be singed or ruined, as moths by the glaring flame. An angry feeling came into his heart, as he recalled how little was being done to keep such girls from destruction. He thought of Dr. Rannage, and his indifference to such matters. Instead of talking, always talking, he could accomplish so much by throwing the weight of his influence as rector of St.

Margaret's into the cause.

From the Bentons and their troubles, his mind drifted on to the professor and his daughters. He became greatly puzzled over their position. They had a comfortable home, and seemed to be doing well.

Why, then, was it necessary for the blind old man and Nan to beg on the city streets? Did Nell know about it? he wondered. A vision of her beauty and grace of manner rose before him. What strength of character she seemed to possess, and how thoughtful she was of her father's comfort. But what was the mystery surrounding the man she was in the habit of meeting by the old tree on the sh.o.r.e? It was quite evident that her father knew nothing about it. He longed to know more, and the professor's antagonism to "parsons" and church "leaders in the parish."

He thought over these problems the next morning as he worked in the field. Jake might know something, but he did not care to ask him. He did not wish his employer to have any idea that he was interested in the Strongs. Though he would not acknowledge it to himself, yet his hesitation, in fact, was due to the feeling that in some way the real secret of his heart might be revealed. He did not wish to let others have the slightest hint of the deep impression Nell had already made upon him.

Just as they had finished dinner, a neighbour, driving down the road, left a message for Jake. It was from Si Stubbles, who wanted Jake to help him that afternoon with his hay. He was short-handed at the mill and could not spare a man for the field.

"That's jist like Si," Jake growled, as the neighbour drove away.

"He's always thinkin' of himself, an' can't seem to see that others have hay to git in."

"But you don't have to go, do you?" Douglas asked. "It isn't fair to ask you to leave your own hay."

"H'm, that's all very well in theory. But I guess ye don't know Si yit. If I don't help him this afternoon, he'll never fergit it, an'

next winter, when I want a job with my team, he'll remember it. Si wouldn't fergit, not on yer life."

"Suppose I go, then, in your place," Douglas suggested. "It will be better for you to stay here as you know more about your own work."

"Would ye mind?" Jake asked, much relieved. "You will do jist as well as me."

Douglas was only too glad to go. He did want to meet Si Stubbles of whom he had heard so much, and this was too good an opportunity to miss. He would, no doubt, see Stubbles, and thus be able to form an opinion of the man without arousing any suspicion. He would be a farm-hand and nothing more.

The Stubbles' house was an imposing one, situated but a short distance from the main highway. A s.p.a.cious verandah ran around the front and sides, several feet from the ground. Everything about the place was in excellent condition, the lawn well kept, and the hedges neatly trimmed.

To protect the grounds from trespa.s.sers, a strong wire fence had been erected along the road, and the gate leading to the house was always kept closed. A board fastened to the gate bore the imposing name of "The Castle" in bright gilded letters.

As Douglas opened the gate and entered, a team had just rounded the corner of the house on its way to the barn. As it came in front of the house, Stubbles himself appeared upon the verandah, carrying a table napkin in his hand, for he had not yet finished his dinner. He was in no pleasant frame of mind, and was furiously berating the teamster.

"What do you mean by driving in front of the house?" he demanded.

"Don't you know any better?"

"I've got to git that hay down there in the corner," the teamster surlily replied. "If I don't go in this way, how am I to git out, I'd like to know? I can't turn down there."

"Carry the hay out, then, you lazy rascal."

"It'll take me all the afternoon to do it, an' then ye'll growl at me if I don't git done before night."

"None of your impudence to me," Stubbles roared. "I'll make an example of you if you dare to speak that way again."

He was livid with anger, and, forgetting where he was, he took a step forward as if he would then and there chastise the man with his own hands. As he did so, he stepped off the platform, and with a wild shriek and a frantic effort to save himself, he went headfirst down the steps to the ground below.