Say and Seal, Volume I

"A will of my own, ma'am?" Reuben repeated, looking doubtfully fromMiss Essie to Mr. Linden. "Against whose, if you please?"

"Well—" said Miss Essie, a little surprised, and laughing—"upon honour, will you tell the truth?"

"I'll try, ma'am."

"Against Mr. Linden's. Now upon honour!—I'll go bail for you."

The bail was not needed. Reuben's quiet "No, ma'am, and don't want to have," was very forcible.

"I declare!" said Miss Essie turning to Mr. Linden,—"you're a wonderful man!—For of course Sam's word is his mother's word, and that's nothing in the circumstances. I wish I had been so happy as to be a boy and go to school to you, Mr. Linden! All my life my trouble has been a will of my own; and I never found anybody that could deprive me of it."

"Nor yourself ready to give it up?"

"Of course! but I never could, you know. It was stronger than I."

"I'll tell you what," said Mrs. Stoutenburgh, coming up, "if you two people want to talk any more, you've got to stand out of the way,—Faith and I are going to have a game with these boys."

"What sort of game?"

"Why blind man's buff," said Mrs. Stoutenburgh. "Sam—go to my room and fetch that plaid ribband that lies on the bed."

"Now I'll tell you," said Miss Essie, "you must play this game as they do it up at Suckiaug. Any game wants a stake, you know, Mr. Stoutenburgh, to make it thoroughly interesting. You must play it this way. Everybody that is caught and found, must answer any question the person catching chooses to ask. And if he refuses to answer, he must answer some other question and give a reason for it. That'll make 'em fly round!"

In the midst of a little general bustle that ensued, Faith was startled at finding that her rose and myrtle were gone. The next instant a hand presented them unceremoniously under her face, and an abrupt voice announced, "Here's your flowers!" It was even Phil Davids who had done it. Faith seized her flowers, and then sprang after Phil and thanked him very gratefully; rightly hailing this civility as an omen for good. The flowers were next bestowed carefully in a glass of water, to be in safety till the play should be over.

Now began the fun of robing and disrobing. The ladies pinned up their silk skirts into order and quiet compass, and pulled on over their arms and shoulders whatever boys' gear would fit. Faith was jaunty in a little cloth jacket which covered her arms; Miss Essie wrapped about her a plaid travelling shawl of the Squire's. Mrs. Stoutenburgh deferred her disguising till she should need it, being in the first place to be the catcher, not the caught. Mr. Linden on his part chose to rely on his own resources for safety, but two or three of the boys tied on shawls and scarfs—soon discarded in the mêlée.

If Sam's intent was to have a steady game of running, never to produce results—unless fatigue and laughter—he had well chosen the first 'catcher.' Mrs. Stoutenburgh's powers of entanglement lay not in that line, though she ran about with the most utter good will and merriment. But how the boys jumped over her arms!—or dived under them! How Sam caught her round the waist, and even kissed her, regardless of danger! She might have been playing till this time, if Mr. Linden had not interposed and gallantly suffered himself to be caught.

"We'll have to step round now, I tell you!" said one of the boys,—"this'll be another guess sort of a run!"

"Look out for yourself now, Miss Faith!" said Reuben—both which things were profoundly true and necessary. And Faith soon found out that she was the quarry—and that pigeons were of no avail. Whether Mr. Linden had heard her steps about his sick room till he had learned them by heart,—whether the theory of 'spirits touching' held good in this case,—he gave her a swift little run round the room, and shut her up gracefully in the corner. Then with the simplicity which characterized most of his proceedings, disregarding jacket and cap, he took hold of her hand and inquired,

"Miss Faith—do you consider yourself disguised?"

The soft laugh which it was impossible to keep back, answered to his ear, as the flush which overspread Faith's face answered to eyes of the rest of the company.

"That will do to begin with," he said as he took off the plaid ribband, while Mrs. Stoutenburgh laughed and clapped her hands after her own lively fashion.

"But Miss Faith!" said Sam—"don't tie up your head, please!—if you shut your eyes it will do just as well."

"You can't see her eyes if they're shut, you foolish boy," said Mr. Linden,—"go off and attend to your own affairs. Miss Faith, shall I tie this on—or do you wish for a deputy?"

There is a great deal of character that comes out in a play! Miss Essie might have had excellent opportunity for prosecuting her "studies," if she had not been busy on her own score. For Faith did not play like Mrs. Stoutenburgh. She played like herself—with a gentleness that never overstepped delicate bounds; but her foot was light and true, and her movements fearless and free as those of the very boys. It was a pretty game that she played. It would have been a short one, but that it was so hard to identify her captives. One boy after another Faith caught,—to the feeling they were all alike! At last her hand seized an other prize, and her voice exclaimed, Mr. Stoutenburgh!

There was a sharp change about now between the older and the younger people. Faith did her best not to be caught again. But after half a dozen changes between Mr. Linden and the boys, he again had the pleasure of investing her with the plaid ribband.

"May I give her the question?" whispered Miss Essie at Mr. Linden's ear.

"No indeed!" said Mr. Linden.—"Miss Faith, what is the difference between a bird and a philosopher?"

Somewhat to the surprise as well as amusement of the company, the answer to this was the heartiest, merriest bit of a laugh; then she said,

"One looks round the corner, Mr. Linden!"

"Well you won't see round the corner now," he said softly and laughing as he tied on the ribband. "Miss Faith! do you mean to say I did?"

She said "no," and ran away. But Faith was not in luck this time, for she caught Miss Essie. And Miss Essie in a few minutes got the chance she wanted at Faith. She wouldn't have had it, for Faith ran too well and vanished too skilfully; but a little knot of the boys getting into a knot just in her way and at the wrong time, Faith fell a prey.

"Now," said her captor unbinding her ribband, "what do you think I am going to ask you?"

Faith was very doubtful on the subject, and waited in silence.

"Only a matter of taste," said Miss Essie. "Who do you think"—(speaking slowly)—"is the handsomest man in Pattaquasset?"

The colour mounted in Faith's cheeks too distinctly to leave any room for the doubt that no other answer was at hand. She avoided Miss Essie's black eyes.

"Come!" said that lady.

"I can't tell you,"—said Faith, amid the laughter of some of the company, which was enormous.

"You can't!" said Miss Essie. "Now you are at my mercy. You have got to tell me something else and give your reason. What do you think is the best profession a man can follow?"

"Any one is good that is used right," said Faith, looking down and speaking with difficulty,—"but I suppose the best is a minister's."

"Why?" said Miss Essie, disappointed.

"Because the business of that profession is to lead men to heaven;—that of others is only to fit them for earth."

"My dear, you're a fine girl!" said the Squire—willing Faith should say anything that cut out Dr. Harrison. "Miss Essie, what do you mean by asking her such a string of questions?—how can she tell who's the handsomest man? She wouldn't like to hurt Mr. Linden's feelings by saying me, nor to make us both mad by saying anybody else—if there was anybody else to speak of."

"You hush, Mr. Stoutenburgh!" said Miss Essie. "Don't you know how to ask questions? Now Faith Derrick—run off with yourself." Faith obeyed with a trifle less than her usual spirit; but the game presently called it back again. Darting about, like some gentle-hearted hawk, among those flying pigeons, she had seized one boy and another with her usual bad success in the matter of identifying, when the boys suddenly cleared away a little—anxious perhaps that Mr. Linden should be caught again; for of all the players he gave them the most fun. And so effectually did they clear the way—so ineffectually did he protect himself! that the next grasp of Faith's hand was upon his arm. And her voice gravely announced that she knew it.

"Now Faith!" said Mrs. Stoutenburgh, "do puzzle him if you can—give him a hard question."

"She does not want to ask me any questions," said Mr. Linden as he untied the ribband. "You forget, Mrs Stoutenburgh, how many she can ask every day. Now with Miss Essie the case is quite different."

Very quiet and pleasant was the look bent on Faith,—very cool and undisturbed the manner. "Miss Faith, are you tired?—I must be philosophical enough to inform you that there is a shadow of puss-in-the-corner!"

And a very plain expression of gratitude was in her eyes and smile as she answered, "No, I'm not tired, Mr. Linden—but I would as lieve look on as play."

That seemed to be the general grown-up mind; but before the looking on had lasted long, everybody was called into another room to supper. There the boys were left somewhat to themselves at one end of the table, and the half dozen others stood or sat in the warm fireplace corner at the other. Mr. Linden indeed, and Squire Stoutenburgh, were both "boys" very often; but their returns to the ladies were frequent and prolonged. Faith was enthroned in a great chair, and there petted by Mrs. Stoutenburgh, while everybody brought her things by turns—a privilege highly prized by some of the boys. Neither could Miss Essie complain of want of attention, while Mrs. Stoutenburgh and Mr. Linden took laughing care of each other between whiles.

"Miss Essie," he said as he brought her a cup of coffee, "where are you in the pursuit of knowledge?"

Miss Essie laughed; yet not a triumphant laugh, nor even a satisfied one; it might be considered doubtful.

"I think," she said, "you are one of a sort I don't much understand, Mr. Linden—perhaps because I don't know them much. Aren't you one of what I may call the good sort?"