XXXVI
AN HOUR OF STARTLING EXPERIENCES
Not till I was safely back in the Knollys grounds, not, indeed, till Ihad put one or two large and healthy shrubs between me and a certainpair of very prying eyes, did I bring the dove out from under my capeand examine the poor bird for any sign which might be of help to me inthe search to which I was newly committed.
But I found nothing, and was obliged to resort to my old plan ofreasoning to make anything out of the situation in which I thus sounexpectedly found myself. The dove had brought the ring into old MotherJane's hands, but whence and through whose agency? This was as much asecret as before, but the longer I contemplated it, the more I realizedthat it need not remain a secret long; that we had simply to watch theother doves, note where they lighted, and in whose barn-doors they werewelcome, for us to draw inferences that might lead to revelations beforethe day was out. If Deacon Spear--But Deacon Spear's house had beenexamined as well as that of every other resident in the lane. This Iknew, but it had not been examined by me, and unwilling as I was tochallenge the accuracy or thoroughness of a search led on by such a manas Mr. Gryce, I could not but feel that, with such a hint as I hadreceived from the episode in the hut, it would be a great relief to mymind to submit these same premises to my own somewhat penetratingsurvey, no man in my judgment having the same quickness of eyesight inmatters domestic as a woman trained to know every inch of a house and tomeasure by a hair's-breadth every fall of drapery within it.
But how in the name of goodness was I to obtain an opportunity for thissurvey. Had we not one and all been bidden to confine our attention towhat was going on in Mother Jane's cottage, and would it not be treasonto Lucetta to run the least risk of awakening apprehension in anypossibly guilty mind at the other end of the road? Yes, but for all thatI could not keep still if fate, or my own ingenuity, offered me theleast chance of pursuing the clue I had wrung from our imbecile neighborat the risk of my life. It was not in my nature to do so, any more thanit was in my nature to yield up my present advantage to Mr. Grycewithout making a personal effort to utilize it. I forgot that I failedin this once before in my career, or rather I recalled this failure,perhaps, and felt the great need of retrieving myself.
When, therefore, in my slow stroll towards the house I encounteredWilliam in the shrubbery, I could not forbear accosting him with aquestion or two.
"William," I remarked, gently rubbing the side of my nose with anirresolute forefinger and looking at him from under my lids, "that was ascurvy trick you played Deacon Spear yesterday."
He stood amazed, then burst into one of his loud laughs.
"You think so?" he cried. "Well, I don't. He only got what he deserved,the hard, sanctimonious sneak!"
"Do you say that," I inquired, with some spirit, "because you dislikethe man, or because you really believe him to be worthy of hatred?"
William's amusement at this argued little for my hopes.
"_We_ are very much interested in the Deacon," he suggested, with aleer; which insolence I allowed to pass unnoticed, because it bestsuited my plan.
"You have not answered my question," I remarked, with a forced air ofanxiety.
"Oh, no," he cried, "so I haven't"; and he tried to look serious too."Well, well, to be just, I have nothing really against the man but hismean ways. Still, if I were going to risk my life on a hazard as to whois the evil spirit of this lane, I should say Spear and done with it, hehas such cursed small eyes."
"_I_ don't think his eyes are too small," I returned loftily. Then witha sudden change of manner, I suggested anxiously: "And my opinion isshared by your sisters. They evidently think very well of him."
"Oh!" he sneered; "girls are no judges. They don't know a good man whenthey see him, and they don't know a bad. You mustn't go by what theysay."
I had it on the tip of my tongue to ask if he did not think Lucettasufficiently understood herself to be trusted in what she contemplateddoing that night. But this was neither in accordance with my plan, nordid it seem quite loyal to Lucetta, who, so far as I knew, had notcommunicated her intentions to this booby brother. I therefore changedthis question into a repetition of my first remark:
"Well, I still think the trick you played Deacon Spear yesterday a poorone; and I advise you, as a gentleman, to go and ask his pardon."
This was such a preposterous proposition, he could not hold his peace.
"_I ask his pardon!_" he snorted. "Well, Saracen, did you ever hear thelike of that! _I_ ask Deacon Spear's pardon for obliging him to betreated with as great attention as I had been myself."
"If you do not," I went on, unmoved, "I shall go and do it myself. Ithink that is what my friendship for you warrants. I am determined thatwhile I am a visitor in your house no one shall be able to pick a flawin your conduct."
He stared (as he might well do), tried to read my face, then myintentions, and failing to do both, which was not strange, broke intonoisy mirth.
"Oh, ho!" he laughed. "So that is your game, is it! Well, I never!Saracen, Miss Butterworth wants to reform me; wants to make one of hersleek city chaps out of William Knollys. She'll have hard work of it,won't she? But then we're beginning to like her well enough to let hertry. Miss Butterworth, I'll go with you to Deacon Spear. I haven't hadso much chance for fun in a twelve-month."
I had not expected such success, and was duly thankful. But I made noreference to it aloud. On the contrary, I took his complaisance as amatter of course, and, hiding all token of triumph, suggested quietlythat we should make as little ado as possible over our errand, seeingthat Mr. Gryce was something of a meddler and _might_ take it into hishead to interfere. Which suggestion had all the effect I anticipated,for at the double prospect of amusing himself at the Deacon's expense,and of outwitting the man whose business it was to outwit us, he becamenot only willing but eager to undertake the adventure offered him. Sowith the understanding that I was to be ready to drive into town as soonas he could hitch up the horse, we parted on the most amicable terms, heproceeding towards the stable and I towards the house, where I hoped tolearn something new about Lucetta.
But Loreen, from whom alone I could hope to glean any information, wasshut in her room, and did not come out, though I called her more thanonce, which, if it left my curiosity unsatisfied, at least allowed me toquit the house without awakening hers.
William was waiting for me at the gate when I descended. He was in thebest of humors, and helped me into the buggy he had resurrected fromsome corner of the old stable, with a grimace of suppressed mirth whichargued well for the peace of our proposed drive. The horse's head wasturned away from the quarter we were bound for, but as we wereostensibly on our way to the village, this showed but common prudence onWilliam's part, and, as such, met with my entire approbation.
Mr. Gryce and his men were hard at work when we passed them. Knowing thedetective so well, and rating at its full value his undoubted talent forreading the motives of those about him, I made no attempt at cajolery inthe explanation I proffered of our sudden departure, but merely said, inmy old, peremptory way, that I found waiting at the gate so tedious thatI had accepted William's invitation to drive into town. Which, while itastonished the old gentleman, did not really arouse his suspicions, as amore conciliatory manner and speech might have done. This disposed of,we drove rapidly away.
William's sense of humor once aroused was not easily allayed. He seemedso pleased with his errand that he could talk of nothing else, andturned the subject over and over in his clumsy way, till I began towonder if he had seen through the object of our proposed visit and wasmaking _me_ the butt of his none too brilliant wit.
But no, he was really amused at the part he was called upon to play,and, once convinced of this, I let his humor run on without check tillwe had re-entered Lost Man's Lane from the other end and were in sightof the low sloping roof of Deacon Spear's old-fashioned farmhouse.
Then I thought it time to speak.
"William," said I, "Deacon Spear is too good
a man, and, as I take it,is in possession of too great worldly advantages for you to be at enmitywith him. Remember that he is a neighbor, and that you are a landedproprietor in this lane."
"Good for you!" was the elegant reply with which this young boor honoredme. "I didn't think you had such an eye for the main chance."
"Deacon Spear is rich, is he not?" I pursued, with an ulterior motive hewas far from suspecting.
"Rich? Why, I don't know; that depends upon what you city ladies callrich; _I_ shouldn't call him so, but then, as you say, I am a landedproprietor myself."
His laugh was boisterously loud, and as we were then nearly in front ofthe Deacon's house, it rang in through the open windows, causing suchsurprise, that more than one head bobbed up from within to see who daredto laugh like that in Lost Man's Lane. While I noted these heads andvarious other small matters about the house and place, William tied upthe horse and held out his hand for me to descend.
"I begin to suspect," he whispered as he helped me out, "why you are soanxious to have me on good terms with the Deacon." At which insinuationI attempted to smile, but only succeeded in forcing a grim twitch or twoto my lips, for at that moment and before I could take one step towardsthe house, a couple of pigeons rose up from behind the house and flewaway in a bee-line for Mother Jane's cottage.
"Ha!" thought I; "my instinct has not failed me. Behold the link betweenthis house and the hut in which those tokens of crime were found," andwas for the moment so overwhelmed by this confirmation of my secretsuspicions, that I quite forgot to advance, and stood stupidly staringafter these birds now rapidly disappearing in the distance.
William's voice aroused me.
"Come!" he cried. "Don't be bashful. I don't think much of Deacon Spearmyself, but if _you_ do--Why, what's the matter now?" he asked, with astartled look at me. I had clutched him by the arm.
"Nothing," I protested, "only--you see that window over there? The onein the gable of the barn, I mean. I thought I saw a hand thrust out,--awhite hand that dropped crumbs. Have they a child on this place?"
"No," replied William, in an odd voice and with an odd look toward thewindow I have mentioned. "Did you really see a hand there?"
"I most certainly did," I answered, with an air of indifference I wasfar from feeling. "Some one is up in the hay-loft; perhaps it is DeaconSpear himself. If so, he will have to come down, for now that we arehere, I am determined you shall do your duty."
"Deacon Spear can't climb that hay-loft," was the perplexed answer Ireceived in a hardly intelligible mutter. "I've been there, and I know;only a boy or a very agile young man could crawl along the beams thatlead to that window. It is the one hiding-place in this part of thelane; and when I said yesterday that if I were the police and had thesame search to make which they have, I knew where I would look, I meantthat same little platform up behind the hay, whose only outlook isyonder window. But I forgot that _you_ have no suspicions of our goodDeacon; that _you_ are here on quite a different errand than to searchfor Silly Rufus. So come along and----"
But I resisted his impelling hand. He was so much in earnest and soevidently under the excitement of what appeared to him a greatdiscovery, that he seemed quite another man. This made my own suspicionsless hazardous, and also added to the situation fresh difficulties whichcould only be met by an appearance on my part of perfect ingenuousness.
Turning back to the buggy as if I had forgotten something, and thusaccounting to any one who might be watching us, for the delay we showedin entering the house, I said to William: "You have reasons for thinkingthis man a villain, or you wouldn't be so ready to suspect him. Now whatif I should tell you that I agree with you, and that this is why I havedragged you here this fine morning?"
"I should say you were a deuced smart woman," was his ready answer. "Butwhat can you do here?"
"What have we already done?" I asked. "Discovered that they have someone in hiding in what you call an inaccessible place in the barn. Butdidn't the police examine the whole place yesterday? They certainly toldme they had searched the premises thoroughly."
"Yes," he repeated, with great disdain, "they said and they said; butthey didn't climb up to the one hiding-place in sight. That old fellowGryce declared it wasn't worth their while; that only birds could reachthat loophole."
"Oh," I returned, somewhat taken aback; "you called his attention to it,then?"
To which William answered with a vigorous nod and the grumbling words:
"I don't believe in the police. I think they're often in league with thevery rogues they----"
But here the necessity of approaching the house became too apparent forfurther delay. Deacon Spear had shown himself at the front door, and thesight of his astonished face twisted into a grimace of doubtful welcomedrove every other thought away than how we were to acquit ourselves inthe coming interview. Seeing that William was more or less nonplussed bythe situation, I caught him by the arm, and whispering, "Let us keep toour first programme," led him up the walk with much the air of atriumphant captain bringing in a recalcitrant prisoner.
My introduction under these circumstances can be imagined by those whohave followed William's awkward ways. But the Deacon, who was probablythe most surprised, if not the most disconcerted member of the group,possessed a natural fund of conceit and self-complacency that preventedany outward manifestation of his feelings, though I could not helpdetecting a carefully suppressed antagonism in his eye when he allowedit to fall upon William, which warned me to exercise my full arts in themanipulation of the matter before me. I accordingly spoke first and withall the prim courtesy such a man might naturally expect from an intruderof my sex and appearance.
"Deacon Spear," said I, as soon as we were seated in his stiffold-fashioned parlor, "you are astonished to see us here, no doubt,especially after the display of animosity shown towards you yesterday bythis graceless young friend of mine. But it is on account of thisunfortunate occurrence that we are here. After a little reflection and afew hints, I may add, from one who has seen more of life than himself,William felt that he had cause to be ashamed of himself for his show ofsport in yesterday's proceedings, and accordingly he has come in mycompany to tender his apologies and entreat your forbearance. Am I notright, William?"
The fellow is a clown under all and every circumstance, and serious asour real purpose was, and dreadful as was the suspicion he professed tocherish against the suave and seemingly respectable member of thecommunity we were addressing, he could not help laughing, as heblunderingly replied:
"That you are, Miss Butterworth! She's always right, Deacon. I did actlike a fool yesterday." And seeming to think that, with this onesentence he had played his part out to perfection, he jumped up andstrolled out of the house, almost pushing down as he did so the twodaughters of the house, who had crept into the hall from thesitting-room to listen.
"Well, well!" exclaimed the Deacon, "you have done wonders, MissButterworth, to bring him to even so small an acknowledgment as that!He's a vicious one, is William Knollys, and if _I_ were not such a loverof peace and concord, he should not long be the only aggressive one. But_I_ have no taste for strife, and so you may both regard his apology asaccepted. But why do you rise, madam? Sit down, I pray, and let me dothe honors. Martha! Jemima!"
But I would not allow him to summon his daughters. The man inspired mewith too much dislike, if not fear; besides, I was anxious aboutWilliam. What was he doing, and of what blunder might he not be guiltywithout my judicious guidance?
"I am obliged to you," I returned; "but I cannot wait to meet yourdaughters now. Another time, Deacon. There is important business goingon at the other end of the lane, and William's presence there may berequired."
"Ah," he observed, following me to the door, "they are digging up MotherJane's garden."
I nodded, restraining myself with difficulty.
"Fool's work!" he muttered. Then with a curious look which made meinstinctively draw back, he added, "These things must inconvenience you,madam. I wish
you had made your visit to the lane in happier times."
There was a smirk on his face which made him positively repellent. Icould scarcely bow my acknowledgments, his look and attitude made theinterview so obnoxious. Looking about for William, I stepped down fromthe stoop. The Deacon followed me.
"Where is William?" I asked.
The Deacon ran his eye over the place, and suddenly frowned withill-concealed vexation.
"The scapegrace!" he murmured. "What business has he in my barn?"
I immediately forced a smile which, in days long past (I've almostforgotten them now), used to do some execution.
"Oh, he's a boy!" I exclaimed. "Do not mind his pranks, I pray. What acomfortable place you have here!"
Instantly a change passed over the Deacon, and he turned to me with anair of great interest, broken now and then by an uneasy glance behindhim at the barn.
"I am glad you like the place," he insinuated, keeping close at my sideas I stepped somewhat briskly down the walk. "It is a nice place, worthyof the commendation of so competent a judge as yourself." (It was abarren, hard-worked farm, without one attractive feature.) "I have livedon it now forty years, thirty-two of them with my beloved wife Caroline,and two--" Here he stopped and wiped a tear from the dryest eye I eversaw. "Miss Butterworth, I am a widower."
I hastened my steps. I here duly and with the strictest regard for thetruth aver, that I decidedly hastened my steps at this very unnecessaryannouncement. But he, with another covert glance behind him towards thebarn, from which, to my surprise and increasing anxiety, William had notyet emerged, kept well up to me, and only paused when I paused at theside of the road near the buggy.
"Miss Butterworth," he began, undeterred by the air of dignity Iassumed, "I have been thinking that your visit here is a rebuke to myunneighborliness. But the business which has occupied the lane theselast few days has put us all into such a state of unpleasantness that itwas useless to attempt sociability."
His voice was so smooth, his eyes so small and twinkling, that if Icould have thought of anything except William's possible discoveries inthe barn, I should have taken delight in measuring my wits against hisegotism.
But as it was, I said nothing, possibly because I only half heard whathe was saying.
"I am no lady's man,"--these were the next words I heard,--"but then Ijudge you're not anxious for flattery, but prefer the square thinguttered by a square man without delay or circumlocution. Madam, I amfifty-three, and I have been a widower two years. I am not fitted for asolitary life, and I am fitted for the companionship of an affectionatewife who will keep my hearth clean and my affections in good workingorder. Will you be that wife? You see my home,"--here his eye stolebehind him with that uneasy look towards the barn which William'spresence in it certainly warranted,--"a home which I can offer youunencumbered, if you----"
"Desire to live in Lost Man's Lane," I put in, subduing both my surpriseand my disgust at this preposterous proposal, in order to throw all thesarcasm of which I was capable into this single sentence.
"Oh!" he exclaimed, "you don't like the neighborhood. Well, we could goelsewhere. I am not set against the city myself----"
Astounded at his presumption, regarding him as a possible criminal, whowas endeavoring to beguile me for purposes of his own, I could no longerrepress either my indignation or the wrath with which such impromptuaddresses naturally inspired me. Cutting him short with a gesture whichmade him open his small eyes, I exclaimed in continuation of his remark:
"Nor, as I take it, are you set against the comfortable little incomesomebody has told you I possessed. I see your disinterestedness, Deacon,but I should be sorry to profit by it. Why, man, I never spoke to youbefore in my life, and do you think----"
"Oh!" he suavely insinuated, with a suppressed chuckle which even hisincreasing uneasiness as to William could not altogether repress, "I seeyou are _not_ above the flattery that pleases other women. Well, madam,I know a tremendous fine woman when I see her, and from the moment I sawyou riding by the other day, I made up my mind I would have you for thesecond Mrs. Spear, if persistence and a proper advocacy of my causecould accomplish it. Madam, I was going to visit you with this proposalto-night, but seeing you here, the temptation was too great for mydiscretion, and so I have addressed you on the spot. But you need notanswer me at once. I don't need to know any more about _you_ than what Ican take in with my two eyes, but if you would like a little moreacquaintance with _me_, why I can wait a couple of weeks till we'verubbed the edges off our strangeness, when----"
"When you think I will be so charmed with Deacon Spear that I will beready to settle down with him in Lost Man's Lane, or if that will notdo, carry him off to Gramercy Park, where he will be the admiration ofall New York and Brooklyn to boot. Why, man, if I was so easilysatisfied as that, I would not be in a position to-day for you to honorme with this proposal. I am not easy to suit, so I advise you to turnyour attention to some one much more anxious to be married than I am.But"--and here I allowed some of my real feelings to appear--"if youvalue your own reputation or the happiness of the lady you propose toinveigle into an union with you, do not venture too far in thematrimonial way till the mystery is dispelled which shrouds Lost Man'sLane in horror. If you were an honest man you would ask no one to shareyour fortunes whilst the least doubt rests upon your reputation."
"_My_ reputation?" He had started very visibly at these words. "Madam,be careful. I admire you, but----"
"No offence," said I. "For a stranger I have been, perhaps, undulyfrank. I only mean that any one who lives in this lane must feel himselfmore or less enveloped by the shadow which rests upon it. When that islifted, each and every one of you will feel himself a man again. Fromindications to be seen in the lane to-day, that time may not be fardistant. Mother Jane is a likely source for the mysteries that agitateus. She knows just enough to have no proper idea of the value of a humanlife."
The Deacon's retort was instantaneous. "Madam," said he, with a snap ofhis fingers, "I have not that much interest in what is going on downthere. If men have been killed in this lane (which I do not believe),old Mother Jane has had no hand in it. My opinion is--and you may valueit or not, just as you please--that what the people hereabout callcrimes are so many coincidences, which some day or other will receivetheir due explanation. Every one who has disappeared in this vicinityhas disappeared naturally. No one has been killed. That is my theory,and you will find it correct. On this point I have expended more than alittle thought."
I was irate. I was also dumfounded at his audacity. Did he think I wasthe woman to be deceived by any such balderdash as that? But I shut mylips tightly lest I should say something, and he, not finding thisagreeable, being no conversationalist himself, drew himself up with apompously expressed hope that he would see me again after his reputationwas cleared, when his attention as well as my own was diverted by seeingWilliam's slouching figure appear in the barn door and make slowlytowards us.
Instantly the Deacon forgot me in his interest in William's approach,which was so slow as to be tantalizing to us both.
When he was within speaking distance, Deacon Spear started towards him.
"Well!" he cried; "one would think you had gone back a dozen or so yearsand were again robbing your neighbor's hen-roosts. Been in the hay, eh?"he added, leaning forward and plucking a wisp or two from my companion'sclothes. "Well, what did you find there?"
In trembling fear for what the lout might answer, I put my hand on thebuggy rail and struggled anxiously to my seat. William stepped forwardand loosened the horse before speaking. Then with a leer he dived intohis pocket, and remarking slowly, "I found _this_," brought to light asmall riding-whip which we both recognized as one he often carried. "Iflung it up in the hay yesterday in one of my fits of laughing, so justthought I would bring it down to-day. You know it isn't the first timeI've climbed about those rafters, Deacon, as you have been good enoughto insinuate."
The Deacon, evidently taken aback, eyed the young fello
w with a leer inwhich I saw something more serious than mere suspicion.
"Was that all?" he began, but evidently thought better than to finish,whilst William, with a nonchalance that surprised me, blunderinglyavoided his eye, and, bounding into the buggy beside me, started up thehorse and drove slowly off.
"Ta, ta, Deacon," he called back; "if you want to see fun, come up toour end of the lane; there's precious little here." And thus, with alaugh, terminated an interview which, all things considered, was themost exciting as well as the most humiliating I have ever taken part in.
"William," I began, but stopped. The two pigeons whose departure I hadwatched a little while before were coming back, and, as I spoke,fluttered up to the window before mentioned, where they alighted andbegan picking up the crumbs which I had seen scattered for them. "See!"I suddenly exclaimed, pointing them out to William. "Was I mistaken whenI thought I saw a hand drop crumbs from that window?"
The answer was a very grave one for him.
"No," said he, "for I have seen more than a hand, through the loophole Imade in the hay. I saw a man's leg stretched out as if he were lying onthe floor with his head toward the window. It was but a glimpse I got,but the leg moved as I looked at it, and so I know that some one lieshid in that little nook up under the roof. Now it isn't any onebelonging to the lane, for I know where every one of us is or ought tobe at this blessed moment; and it isn't a detective, for I heard a soundlike heavy sobbing as I crouched there. Then who is it? Silly Rufus, Isay; and if that hay was all lifted, we would see sights that would makeus ashamed of the apologies we uttered to the old sneak just now."
"I want to get home," said I. "Drive fast! Your sisters ought to knowthis."
"The girls?" he cried. "Yes, it will be a triumph over them. They neverwould believe I had an atom of judgment. But we'll show them, if WilliamKnollys is altogether a fool."
We were now near to Mr. Trohm's hospitable gateway. Coming from theexcitements of my late interview, it was a relief to perceive the genialowner of this beautiful place wandering among his vines and testing thecondition of his fruit by a careful touch here and there. As he heardour wheels he turned, and seeing who we were, threw up his hands inill-restrained pleasure, and came buoyantly forward. There was nothingto do but to stop, so we stopped.
"Why, William! Why, Miss Butterworth, what a pleasure!" Such was hisamiable greeting. "I thought you were all busy at your end of the lane;but I see you have just come from town. Had an errand there, I suppose?"
"Yes," William grumbled, eying the luscious pear Mr. Trohm held in hishand.
The look drew a smile from that gentleman.
"Admiring the first fruits?" he observed. "Well, it is a handsomespecimen," he admitted, handing it to me with his own peculiar grace. "Ibeg you will take it, Miss Butterworth. You look tired; pardon me if Imention it." (He is the only person I know who detects any signs ofsuffering or fatigue on my part.)
"I am worried by the mysteries of this lane," I ventured to remark. "Ihate to see Mother Jane's garden uprooted."
"Ah!" he acquiesced, with much evidence of good feeling, "it is adistressing thing to witness. I wish she might have been spared.William, there are other pears on the tree this came from. Tie up thehorse, I pray, and gather a dozen or so of these for your sisters. Theywill never be in better condition for plucking than they are to-day."
William, whose mouth and eyes were both watering for a taste of the finefruit thus offered, moved with alacrity to obey this invitation, whileI, more startled than pleased--or, rather, as much startled aspleased--by the prospect of a momentary _tete-a-tete_ with our agreeableneighbor, sat uneasily eying the luscious fruit in my hand, and wishingI was ten years younger, that the blush I felt slowly stealing up mycheek might seem more appropriate to the occasion.
But Mr. Trohm appeared not to share my wish. He was evidently sosatisfied with me as I was, that he found it difficult to speak atfirst, and when he did--But tut! tut! you have no desire to hear anysuch confidences as these, I am sure. A middle-aged gentleman'sexpressions of admiration for a middle-aged lady may savor of romance toher, but hardly to the rest of the world, so I will pass thisconversation by, with the single admission that it ended in a questionto which I felt obliged to return a reluctant _No_.
Mr. Trohm was just recovering from the disappointment of this, whenWilliam sauntered back with his hands and pockets full.
"Ah!" that graceless scamp chuckled, with a suspicious look at ourdowncast faces, "been improving the opportunity, eh?"
Mr. Trohm, who had fallen back against his old well-curb, surveyed hisyoung neighbor for the first time with a look of anger. But it vanishedalmost as quickly as it appeared, and he contented himself with a lowbow, in which I read real grief.
This was too much for me, and I was about to open my lips with a kindphrase or two, when a flutter took place over our heads, and the twopigeons whose flight I had watched more than once during the last hour,flew down and settled upon Mr. Trohm's arm and shoulders.
"Oh!" I exclaimed, with a sudden shrinking that I hardly understoodmyself. And though I covered up the exclamation with as brisk a good-byas my inward perturbation would allow, that sight and the involuntaryejaculation I had uttered, were all I saw or heard during our hastydrive homeward.