Say and Seal, Volume I

"Of course Miss Faith will play," said the Squire,—"she never refuses to please anybody."

"Mr. Linden said he would," said Sam.

"But how shall you and I manage, Faith?" said Mrs. Stoutenburgh. "They'd tell us in a minute by our dresses—as there are only two of us."

Faith pondered this difficulty with an amused face.

"Sam must lend us some of his jackets or coats, Mrs. Stoutenburgh. Our heads are the worst,—or mine is—you and Sam might be mistaken for each other."

"But there'd be no use in Miss Faith's disguising herself," said Sam naively, "because she's so sweet."

"You wouldn't have her disguise that, would you, Sam?" said Mr. Linden laughing.

"What a boy!" said his mother,—"and what a reflection upon me!"

"Why I meant her flowers!" said Sam,—"you needn't all laugh so. I don't mean either that I didn't mean—" but what more he meant Sam left unsaid, which did not much stay the laughter.

"I will appoint two or three boys to play the part of the pigeon in hawking," said Mr. Linden,—"Miss Faith might get tired of being caught, if not of running away."

"How do you know that, Mr. Linden?" she said a little archly.

"Truly," he answered, "I know it not—but most things are possible, even in blind man's buff. And all boys are not provided with silk gloves. But you shall not complain of not being caught—I promise you that."

"Again!" she said with another soft flash of her eye, though now she coloured. "Don't you understand, Mr. Linden, that I don't intend to let anybody catch me?—if I can help it."

"Miss Faith, I have the most entire confidence in your intentions!"

Faith kept her energies for action, and said no more. And in a very harmonious temper the whole party left the dinner table and went back to the fire-lit parlour. All but Sam, who went to be ready for his particular guests in another room.

His place was presently supplied by a new-comer. There was a step in the hall—then the parlour door opened, and a little lady with a shawl round her shoulders, came in.

"Good evening!" she said in a very cheery voice. "Why I didn't expect to find so many of you! Is it a party, Mrs. Stoutenburgh,—and shall I go away? or will you let me come in, now I've got here?"

"Come in, come in, Miss Essie, and make it a party," said the Squire; while Mrs. Stoutenburgh took off the shawl and answered,

"Go away? why of course not! It's only Sam's birth-day—you're not afraid of boys, I guess."

"I'm not afraid of anything," said Miss Essie, and her bright black eyes said it too. "Isn't that Mr. Linden?—yes, I thought so. And Faith Derrick!—my! child, how you're dressed. What sort of a party have you got, Mrs. S.?"

"Why, boys!" said Mrs. Stoutenburgh, while Mr. Linden said,

"Good evening, Miss Essie—you know I am one of them."

"Are you? I don't know much about you, except by hearsay, you know. I am glad you are here to-night. I shall study you, Mr. Linden."

Mr. Linden bowed his acknowledgments.

"Will you want my help, Miss Essie?"

She laughed. "Come!" said she—"don't get on too fast! I am beginning to like you already. What are the boys doing, Mrs. Stoutenburgh? Sam's birthday, did you say?"

"Yes, it's Sam's birthday,—I don't suppose they're doing much yet except coming," said Mrs. Stoutenburgh. "What they will do, no mortal can say."

"And you'll let them do anything! It must be a nice thing to be a boy, with such a mother as Mrs. Stoutenburgh, Mr. Linden."

His "yes" came readily enough, but was unaccompanied with any other word whatever. Mrs. Stoutenburgh's "Do hush!"—was sufficiently energetic though very low.

"How old is Sam?" was the instant question, as if the whisper had referred to him.

"O Sam can't get beyond fourteen till he's twenty," said Mrs. Stoutenburgh laughing. "I suppose by that time I sha'n't care how old he is."

"I know who thinks he's a handsome fellow!" said Miss Essie shaking her head,—"and that's not you, Mrs. S. I know he's a smart one, for I pinned a blue ribband to his coat once. I wonder if he loves me properly for it.—Faith Derrick, how come you to be here, child?"

"Why because Mrs. Stoutenburgh asked me," said Faith, answering this sudden address with some surprise.

"Wrong!" said Miss Essie. "There's some mistake about it. I've just come from hearing you talked of."

"Whom did you hear, Miss Essie?" said the Squire. "Come—give up your authority."

"I was at Judge Harrison's," said Miss Essie, after a considerative look of her black eyes at the Squire;—"and that's all I am going to tell you, Mr. Stoutenburgh! Mr. Linden, what do you think of the propriety of people's talking about people?"

"I think well of the propriety, when it exists."

"Well what do you think of its existence? Honestly, now. I want to get at your opinion."

"I think its existence is rather limited and precarious, Miss Essie," said Mr. Linden smiling. "It is one of those things that may be said to have a delicate constitution."

"Well," said Miss Essie again, smiling too, both with lips and eyes,—"how could people get along in such a place as Pattaquasset, for instance, without it? People must talk. And it is so pleasant to know that Mrs. Stoutenburgh's son Sam is fifteen years old and had a party on his birthday; and that Mr. Linden and Miss Derrick were there and eat roast turkey;—and to know that Miss Essie de Staff went to New York to get a new carpet for her best room and what the new style is;—and that Miss Faith Derrick was run away with and brought home again, and went through adventures. How could we do without talking of these things? Now perhaps you will say it's immoral; but I'm in favour of a possible morality; and I say, how could Pattaquasset get along without all this?"

"Pattaquasset could get along without some of the things, to startwith," said the Squire. "I don't know what you call 'pleasant,' MissEssie, but I never was so angry in my life—since some rascal told meMrs. Stoutenburgh was going to marry somebody else," he added laughing.

"But I say," said Miss Essie, "how could Pattaquasset get along without talking of these things? and I ask Mr. Linden. I want to know his opinion."

"I will not say that it could," said Mr. Linden.—"Miss Essie, you knowPattaquasset better than I do."

"Well do you think there is any harm in talking of them?"

"What do you think of the modern definition of a young lawyer, Miss Essie—'a man who is where he has no business to be, because he has no business where he ought to be'?"

Miss Essie laughed, and laughed.

"Don't Sam get along fast with his reading and writing. Mr.Stoutenburgh?"

"Always did—" said the Squire; "and with everything else too. What are you talking about? I lost that. I'd gone off to that rascal—"

Miss Essie's laugh rang out again and her eyes danced.

"That rascal! Now for shame, Mr. Stoutenburgh! You know better. I wonder if you never had young horses yourself, and took Mrs. Stoutenburgh to ride, too. Now I like him very much. Mr. Linden, you know Dr. Harrison, don't you?"