A Romance of Billy-Goat Hill

								

lip to tremble in the middle of a sentence, or her eyes to brim with
sudden tears, making her turn her back on her adoring Dad, and busy
herself with the window curtain?
Of course it is upsetting to have a friend, whom you have been seeing
daily for a couple of weeks, get into trouble such as young Donald
Morley had fallen into. It made even the Colonel feel bad, he didn't
deny it. But what business had the kitten to be taking it all so to
heart? Why was she called upon to champion this young stranger's cause
so hotly, to resent every insinuation, and to contend! passionately that
he would be able to explain everything? Morley had not explained. Three
days had dragged past and nothing had been heard from him. Nothing
probably would be heard from him! The Colonel wanted to feel victorious,
but he did! not. Instead, he cast anxious and sympathetic glances at the
back of his daughter's head, and surreptitiously wiped his small snub
nose on the corner of his red-bordered handkerchief.
He had a good mind to give up his trip to Virginia! To be sure, he
had looked forward for months to celebrating Founders' Day at the old
college. If it weren't for seeing all the old boys, he would stay at
home. By George! the little girl came first; he would stay at home
anyhow!
“Those gloves,” he burst out by way of breaking the news; “the thin ones
I told you to mend. Well, you needn't mend them.”
“I haven't,” said Miss Lady, “but I'll do it now.”
“Needn't mind. Won't need 'em. Fact is, I ain't going.”
“Yes you are,” said Miss Lady, adding inconsequently, “Why not?”
“Needed here at home. Roads washed out, everything out of fix. Decided
to stay at home.” Miss Lady wheeled from the window where she had been
tracing the raindrops on the pane, and made a rush for him, establishing
herself on his lap, as far as one could establish oneself on such a
perpendicular surface.
“You are not going to do anything of the kind. Uncle Jimpson is going to
drive you in to town to catch the first train in the morning.”
“I ain't going,” insisted the Colonel, shaking his head doggedly.
“Yes you are. Where's your traveling bag?”
“On the top shelf of the cupboard. But I'm not going.” He said it
firmly, but the next instant he asked, “Did Jimpson press my gray suit?”
“Oh! Squire Daddy, I'm so sorry I forgot to tell him! I'll tell him
now.”
“Too late!” the Colonel sighed in resignation; “no use talking any more
about it.”
“Yes there is! Your enthusiasm's just gotten damp like everything else.
I am going to tell Uncle Jimpson to make a little fire to cheer us up,
then we'll all go to work to get you ready.”
It seemed to be a relief to her to bustle about and set things in
motion. In a short while she had a cheerful blaze going on the hearth,
and the curtains drawn against the dreary twilight without.
The Colonel sat in the middle of the room, watching Uncle Jimpson and