"Do you remember her, Mr. Coston?" she rejoined, ignoring his compliment.
"Do I remember her! The belle of fo" counties, my dear--eve"ybody at her feet; five or six gentlemen co"tin" her at once; old Captain Barkeley, cross as a bear--wouldn"t let her marry this one or that one--kep" her guessin" night and day, till one of "em blew his brains out, and then she fainted dead away. Pretty soon yo" father co"ted her, and bein"
Scotch, like the old captain and sober as an owl and about as cunnin", it wasn"t long befo" everything was settled. Very nice man, yo"
father--got to have things mighty partic"lar; we young bucks used to say he slept in a bag of lavender and powdered his cheeks every mornin"
to make him look fresh, while most of us were soakin" wet in the duck-blinds--but that was only our joke. That"s long befo" you were born, child. But yo" mother didn"t live long--they said her heart was broken "bout the other fellow, but there wasn"t a word of truth in that foolishness--couldn"t be. I used to see her and yo" father together long after that, and she was mighty good to him, and he was to her.
Yes--all comes back to me. Stand still, child, and let me look at you--yes--you"re plumper than yo" mother and a good deal rosier, and you don"t look so slender and white as she did, like one of those pale Indian pipes she used to hunt in the woods. It"s the Seymour in you that"s done that, I reckon."
Kate walked on in silence. It was not the first time that some of her mother"s old friends had told her practically the same story--not so clearly, perhaps, because few had the simple, outspoken candor of the old fellow, but enough to let her know that her father was not her mother"s first love.
"Don"t be in a hurry, child, and don"t let anybody choose for you," he ran on. "Peggy and I didn"t make any mistakes--and don"t you. Now this young son of Parker Willits"s"--here his wrinkled face tightened up into a pucker as if he had just bitten into an unripe persimmon--"good enough young man, may be; goin" to be something great, I reckon--in Mr. Taney"s office, I hear, or will be next winter. I "spect he"ll keep out of jail--most Willitses do--but keep an eye on him and watch him, and watch yo"self too. That"s more important still. The cemetery is a long ways off when you marry the wrong man, child. And that other fellow that Peggy tells me has been co"tin" you--Talbot Rutter"s boy--he"s a wild one, isn"t he?--drunk half the time and fightin" everybody who don"t agree with him. Come pretty nigh endin" young Willits, so they say. Now I hear he"s run away to sea and left all his debts behind. Talbot turned him neck and heels out of doors when he found it out, so they tell me--and served the scapegrace right. Don"t be in a hurry, child. Right man will come bime-by. Just the same with Peggy till I come along--there she is now, bless her sweet heart! Peggy, you darlin"--I got so lonely for you I just had to "journ co"t. I"ve been telling Lady Kate that she mustn"t be in a hurry to get married till she finds somebody that will make her as happy as you and me." Here the judge slipped his arm around Peggy"s capacious waist and the two crossed the pasture as the nearest way to the house.
Kate kept on her way alone.
Her only reply to the garrulous judge had been one of her rippling laughs, but it was the laughter of bubbles with the sediment lying deep in the bottom of the gla.s.s.
CHAPTER XXI
But all outings must come to an end. And so when the marsh gra.s.s on the lowlands lay in serried waves of dappled satin, and the corn on the uplands was waist high and the roses a mob of beauty, Kate threw her arms around Peggy and kissed her over and over again, her whole heart flowing through her lips; and then the judge got his good-by on his wrinkled cheek, and the children on any clean spot which she found on their mola.s.ses-covered faces; and then the cavalcade took up its line of march for the boat-landing, Willits going as far as the wharf, where he and Kate had a long talk in low tones, in which he seemed to be doing all the talking and she all the listening--"But nuthin" mo"n jes" a han"shake" (so Todd told St. George), "he lookin" like he wanter eat her up an" she kinder sayin" dat de cake ain"t brown "nough yit fur tastin"--but one thing I know fo" sho"--an" dat is she didn"t let "im kiss "er. I wuz leadin" his horse pas" whar dey wuz standin", an"
de sorrel varmint got cuttin" up an" I kep" him prancin" till Mister Willits couldn"t stay wid her no longer. Drat dat red-haided--"
"Stop, Todd--be careful--you mustn"t speak that way of Mr. Willits."
"Well, Ma.r.s.e George, I won"t--but I ain"t neber like him f"om de fust.
He ain"t quality an" he neber kin be. How Miss Kate don" stan" him is mo"n I kin tell."
Kate drove up to her father"s house in state, with Ben as special envoy to see that she and her belongings were properly cared for. St. George with Todd and the four dogs--six in all--arrived, despite Kate"s protestations, on foot.
Pawson met him at the door. He had given up his boarding-house and had transferred his traps and parcels to the floor above--into Harry"s old room, really--in order that the additional rent--(he had now taken entire charge of Temple"s finances)--might help in the payment of the interest on the mortgage. He had thought this all out while St. George was at Wesley and had moved in without notifying him, that being the best way to solve the problem--St. George still retaining his bedroom and dining-room and the use of the front door. Jemima, too, had gone.
She wanted, so she had told her master the day he left with Kate, to take a holiday and visit some of her people who lived down by the Marsh Market in an old rookery near the Falls, and would come back when he sent for her; but Todd had settled all that the morning of his arrival, the moment he caught sight of her black face.
"Ain"t no use yo" comin" back," the darky blurted out. "I"m gwineter do de cookin" and de chamber-wo"k. Dere ain"t "nough to eat fo" mo"n two.
When dem white-livered, no-count, onery gemmens dat stole Ma.r.s.e George"s money git in de chain-gang, whar dey b"longs, den may be we"ll hab sumpin" to go to market on, but dat ain"t yit; an" don"t ye tell Ma.r.s.e George I tol" yer or I"ll ha"nt ye like dat witch I done heared "bout down to Wesley--ha"nt ye so ye"ll think de debble"s got ye." To his master, his only explanation was that Jemima had gone to look after her sister, who had been taken "wid a mis"ry in her back."
If St. George knew anything of the common talk going on around him no one was ever the wiser. He continued the even tenor of his life, visiting and receiving his friends, entertaining his friends in a simple and inexpensive way: Once Poe had spent an evening with him, when he made a manly, straightforward apology for his conduct the night of the dinner, and on another occasion Mr. Kennedy had made an especial point of missing a train to Washington to have an hour"s chat with him. In the afternoons he would have a rubber of whist with the archdeacon who lived across the Square--a broad-minded ecclesiastic, who believed in relaxation, although, of course, he was never seen at the club; or he might drop into the Chesapeake for a talk with Richard or sit beside him in his curious laboratory at the rear of his house where he worked out many of the problems that absorbed his mind and inspired his hopes. At night, however late or early--whenever he reached home--there was always a romp with his dogs. This last he rarely omitted. The click of the front-door latch, followed by his firm step overhead, was their signal, and up they would come, tumbling over each other in their eagerness to reach his cheeks--straight up, their paws sc.r.a.ping his clothes; then a swoop into the dining-room, when they would be "downed" to the floor, their eyes following his every movement.
Nor had his own financial situation begun as yet to trouble him. Todd and Pawson, however, had long since become nervous. More than once had they put their heads together for some plan by which sufficient money could be raised for current expenses. In this praiseworthy effort, to Todd"s unbounded astonishment, Pawson had one night developed a plan in which the greatly feared and much-despised Gadgem was to hold first place. Indeed on the very morning succeeding the receipt of Pawson"s letter and at an hour when St. George would be absent at the club, there had come a brisk rat-a-tat on the front door and Gadgem had sidled in.
Todd had not seen the collector since that eventful morning when he stood by ready to pick up the pieces of that gentleman"s dismembered body when his master was about to throw him into the street for doubting his word, and he now studied him with the greatest interest. The first thing that struck him was the collector"s clothes. As the summer was approaching he had changed his winter suit for a combination of brown linen bound with black--(second hand, of course, its former owner having gone out of mourning) and at the moment sported a moth-eaten, c.r.a.pe-encircled white beaver with a floppy, two-inch brim, a rusty black stock that grabbed him close under the chin, completely submerging his collar, and a pair of congress gaiters very much run down at the heel.
He was evidently master of himself and the situation, for he stood looking from Todd to the young lawyer, a furtive, anxious expression on his face that betokened both a surprise at being sent for and a curiosity to learn the cause, although no word of inquiry pa.s.sed his lips.
Pawson"s opening remark calmed the collector"s suspicions.
"EXactly," he answered in a relieved tone, when the plot had been fully developed, dragging a mate of the red bandanna--a blue one--from his pocket and blowing his nose in an impressive manner. "EXactly--quite right--quite right--difficult perhaps--ENORmously difficult but--yes--quite right."
Then there had followed a hurried consultation, during which the bullet-headed darky absorbed every word, his eyes rolling about in his head, his breath ending somewhere near his jugular vein.
These details duly agreed upon, Gadgem bowed himself out of the dining-room, carrying with him a note-book filled with such data as:
2 fowling pieces made by Purdey, 1838.
3 heavy duck guns.
2 English saddles.
1 silver loving cup.
2 silver coasters, etc, etc.,
a list which Todd the night before had prompted and which Pawson, in his clear, round hand, had transferred to a sheet of foolscap ready for Gadgem in the morning.
On reaching the front door the collector stopped and looked furtively up the stairs. He was wondering with professional caution whether St.
George had returned and was within hearing distance. If so much as a hint should reach Temple"s ears the whole scheme would come to naught.
Still in doubt, he called out in his sharpest business voice, as if prolonging a conversation which had been carried on inside:
"Yes, Mr. Pawson, please say to Mr. Temple that it is GADgem, of GADgem & Coombs--and say that I will be here at ten o"clock to-morrow--sharp--on the minute; I am ALways on the minute in matters of this kind. Only five minutes of his time--five minutes, remember--" and he pa.s.sed out of hearing.
Todd, now duly installed as co-conspirator, opened the ball the next morning at breakfast. St. George had slept late, and the hands of the marble clock marked but a few minutes of the hour of Gadgem"s expected arrival, and not a moment could be lost.
"Dat Gadgem man done come yere yisterday," he began, drawing out his master"s chair with an extra flourish to hide his nervousness, "an" he say he"s commin" ag"in dis mornin" at ten o"clock. Clar to goodness it"s dat now! I done forgot to tell ye."
"What does he want, Todd?" asked St. George, dropping into his seat.
"I dunno, sah--said he was lookin" fo" sumpin" fo" a frien" ob his--I think it was a gun--an" he wanted to know what kind to buy fur him--Yes, sah, dem waffles "s jes" off de fire. He "lowed he didn"t know nuffin"
"bout guns--b.u.t.ter, sah?--an" den Mister Pawson spoke up an" said he"d better ask you. He"s tame dis time--leastways he "peared so."
"A fine gun is rather a difficult thing to get in these days, Todd,"
replied St. George, opening his napkin. "Since old Joe Manton died I don"t know but one good maker--and that"s Purdey, of London, and he, I hear, has orders to last him five years. No, Todd--I"d rather have the toast."
"Yes, sah--I knowed ye couldn"t do nuffln" fur him--Take de top piece--dat"s de brownest--but he seemed so cut up "bout it dat I tol"
him he might see ye fur a minute if he come "long "bout ten o"clock, when you was fru" yo" bre"kfus", "fo" ye got tangled up wid yo" letters an" de papers. Dat"s him now, I spec"s. Shall I show him in?"
"Yes, show him in, Todd. Gadgem isn"t a bad sort of fellow after all.
He only wants his pound of flesh, like the others. Ah, good-morning, Mr. Gadgem." The front door had been purposely left open, and though the bill collector had knocked by way of warning, he had paused for no answer and was already in the room. The little man laid his battered hat silently on a chair near the door, pulled down his tight linen sleeves with the funereal binding, adjusted his high black stock, and with half-creeping, half-cringing movement, advanced to where St. George sat.
"I said good-morning, Mr. Gadgem," repeated St. George in his most captivating tone of voice. He had been greatly amused at Gadgem"s antics.
"I heard you, sir--I heard you DIStinctly, sir--I was only seeking a place on which to rest my hat, sir--not a very inSPIRing hat-quite the contrary--but all I have. Yes, sir--you are quite right--it is a VERY good morning--a most deLIGHTful morning. I was convinced of that when I crossed the park, sir. The trees--"
"Never mind the trees, Gadgem. We will take those up later on. Tell me what I can do for you--what do you want?"
"A GUN, sir--a plain, straightforward GUN--one that can be relied upon.
Not for mySELF, sir--I am not murderously inclined--but for a friend who has commissioned me--the exact word, sir--although the percentage is small--comMISsioned me to acquire for him a fowling piece of the pattern, weight, and build of those belonging to St. George W. Temple, Esquire, of Kennedy Square-and so I made bold, sir, to--"
"You won"t find it, Gadgem," replied St. George, b.u.t.tering the toast. "I have two that I have shot with for years that haven"t their match in the State. Todd, bring me one of those small bird guns--there, behind the door in the rack. Hand it to Mr. Gadgem. Now, can you see by the shape of--take hold of it, man. But do you know anything about guns?"
"Only enough to keep away from their muzzles, sir." He had it in his hand now--holding it by the end of the barrel, Todd instinctively dodging out of the way, although he knew it was not loaded. "No, sir, I don"t know anything--not the very SMALLest thing about guns. There is nothing, in fact, I know so little about as a gun--that is why I have come to you."