Barrington Volume Ii Part 19

"Very wily,--very subtle all this, doctor. Do you know, I 'm half frightened at the thought of trusting myself to such a master of intrigue and mystification."

"Have no fears; I reserve all my craft for my clients." And with this he left the room, but only for a few minutes; for he met Barrington on the stairs, and speedily obtained permission to take his boat to Inistioge, having first pledged himself to come back with Stapylton to dinner.

"We shall see, we shall see," muttered Stapylton to himself. "Your daughter must decide where I am to dine today."

By the way--that is, as they glided along the bright river--Dill tried to prepare Stapylton for the task before him, by sundry hints as to Polly's temper and disposition, with warnings against this, and cautions about that. "Above all," said he, "don't try to overreach her."

"Perfect frankness--candor itself--is my device. Won't that do?"

"You must first see will she believe it," said the doctor, slyly; and for the remainder of the way there was a silence between them.

CHAPTER XIII. CROSS-PURPOSES

"Where 's Miss Polly?" said Dill, hastily, as he pa.s.sed his threshold.

"She's making the confusion of roses in the kitchen, sir," said the maid, whose chemistry had been a neglected study.

"Tell her that I have come back, and that there is a gentleman along with me," said he, imperiously, as he led the way into his study. "I have brought you into this den of mine, Major, because I would just say one word more by way of caution before you see Polly. You may imagine, from the small range of her intercourse with the world, and her village life, that her acuteness will not go very far; don't be too sure of that,--don't reckon too much on her want of experience."

"I suppose I have encountered as sharp wits as hers before this time o' day," replied he, half peevishly; and then, with an air of better temper, added, "I have no secrets to hide, no mystery to cloak. If I want her alliance, she shall herself dictate the terms that shall requite it."

The doctor shook his head dubiously, but was silent.

"I half suspect, my good doctor," said Stapylton, laughing, "that your charming daughter is a little, a very little, of a domestic despot; you are all afraid of her; never very sure of what she will say or do or think on any given circ.u.mstances, and nervously alive to the risk of her displeasure."

"There is something in what you say," remarked Dill, with a sigh; "but it was always my mistake to bring up my children with too much liberty of action. From the time they were so high"--and he held his hand out about a yard above the floor--"they were their own masters."

Just as the words had fallen from him, a little chubby, shock-headed fellow, about five years old, burst into the room, which he believed unoccupied, and then, suddenly seeing his papa, set up a howl of terror that made the house ring.

"What is it, Jimmy,--what is it, my poor man?" said Polly, rus.h.i.+ng with tucked-up sleeves to the spot; and, catching him up in her arms, she kissed him affectionately.

"Will you take him away?--will you take him out of that?" hissed out Dill between his teeth. "Don't you see Major Stapylton here?"

"Oh, Major Stapylton will excuse a toilette that was never intended for his presence."

"I will certainly say there could not be a more becoming one, nor a more charming tableau to display it in!"

"There, Jimmy," said she, laughing; "you must have some bread and jam for getting me such a nice compliment."

And she bore away the still sobbing urchin, who, burying his head in her bosom, could never summon courage to meet his father's eye.

"What a s.p.a.cious garden you appear to have here!" said Stapylton, who saw all the importance of a diversion to the conversation.

"It is a very much neglected one," said Dill, pathetically. "My poor dear boy Tom used to take care of it when he was here; he had a perfect pa.s.sion for flowers."

Whether that Tom was a.s.sociated in the Major's mind with some other very different tastes or not, Stapylton smiled slightly, and after a moment said, "If you permit me, I 'll take a stroll through your garden, and think over what we have been talking of."

"Make yourself at home in every respect," said Dill. "I have a few professional calls to make in the village, but we 'll meet at luncheon."

"He's in the garden, Polly," said Dill, as he pa.s.sed his daughter on the stairs; "he came over here this morning to have a talk with you."

"Indeed, sir!"

"Yes; he has got it into his head that you can be of service to him."

"It is not impossible, sir; I think I might."

"I'm glad to bear it, Polly; I'm delighted to see you take a good sensible view of things. I need not tell you he's a knowing one."

"No, sir. But, as I have heard you card-players say, 'he shows his hand.'"

"So he does, Polly; but I have known fellows do that just to mislead the adversary."

"Sorry adversaries that could be taken in so easily." And with a saucy toss of her head she pa.s.sed on, scarcely noticing the warning gesture of her father's finger as she went.

When she had found her work-basket and supplied herself with the means of occupying her fingers for an hour or so, she repaired to the garden and took her seat under a large elm, around whose ma.s.sive trunk a mossy bench ran, divided by rustic-work into a series of separate places.

"What a churlish idea it was to erect these barricades, Miss Dill!" said Stapylton as he seated himself at her side; "how unpicturesque and how prudis.h.!.+"

"It was a simple notion of my brother Tom's," said she, smiling, "who thought people would not be less agreeable by being reminded that they had a place of their own, and ought not to invade that of their neighbor."

"What an unsocial thought!"

"Poor Tom! A strange reproach to make against _you_," said she, laughing out.

"By the way, has n't he turned out a hero,--saved a s.h.i.+p and all she carried from the flames,--and all at the hazard of his own life?"

"He has done a very gallant thing; and, what's more, I 'll venture to say there is not a man who saw it thinks so little of it as himself."

"I suppose that every brave man has more or less of that feeling."

"I'm glad to learn this fact from such good authority," said she, with a slight bend of the head.

"A prettily turned compliment, Miss Dill. Are you habitually given to flattery?"

"No? I rather think not. I believe the world is pleased to call me more candid than courteous."

"Will you let me take you at the world's estimate,--that is, will you do me the inestimable favor to bestow a little of this same candor upon _me?_"

"Willingly. What is to be the subject of it?"

"The subject is a very humble one,--myself!"

"How can I possibly adjudicate on such a theme?"

"Better than you think for, perhaps!" And for a moment he appeared awkward and ill at ease. "Miss Dill," said he, after a pause, "fortune has been using me roughly of late; and, like all men who deem themselves hardly treated, I fly at once to any quarter where I fancy I have found a more kindly disposition towards me. Am I indulging a self-delusion in believing that such sentiments are yours?"