Margaret Maliphant

								

Father had taken the proffered hand, but not very cordially. I am not
sure that he ever shook hands very cordially with people; perhaps it
was partly owing to the stiffness in his fingers, but I believe that
he regarded it as a useless formality. I imagine this because I, too,
have always had a dislike to kissings and hand-shakings, when a simple
"good-day" seemed to me to serve the purpose well enough.
"Pooh!" said father, in answer to the squire's remark. "A man who has
his work out-doors all the year round, Squire Broderick, needs must
take little account whether the wind be in the east or the south,
except as how it'll affect his crops and his flock."
The squire took no notice of this speech. It was so very evident that
it was spoken with a view to the vexed question.
"I've brought my nephew round," said he, and Captain Forrester left
Joyce's side as he said it, and came forward with his pleasant smile
and just the proper amount of deference added to his usual charming
manner. "He wanted to see the Grange," added the squire, again with
that frown upon his brow that I could not understand, but which no
doubt proceeded, as he had affirmed, from the effect of the east wind
upon his temper.
"I'm very glad to see you, sir," said father, shortly. "I hear you
rendered my daughters some assistance the other day."
Captain Forrester smiled. "It could scarcely be called assistance,"
he said. "Your daughter"--and he looked at me to distinguish me from
Joyce--"would have been capable of driving the horse, I am sure."
"Oh, I understood the mare reared," answered father.
"Well, she is not a good horse for a lady to drive," allowed Captain
Forrester, as though the confession were wrung from him; and I wondered
how he guessed that it annoyed me to be thought incapable of managing
the mare. "But some women drive as well as any man."
The squire took up the paper again. I did not think it was good-manners
of him.
"What a splendid view you have from this house," continued Captain
Forrester. "I think it's much finer than from our place."
The squire's shoulders moved with an impatient movement. The article he
was reading must decidedly have annoyed him.
"Yes," answered Joyce; "but you should come and see it in summer or in
autumn. It's very bleak now. The spring is so late this year."
"Ay; I don't remember a snowfall in March these five years," said
father.
"But it has a beautiful effect on this plain," continued the young man,
moving away into the window again. And then turning round to Joyce, he
added, "Do you sketch, Miss Maliphant?"
"No, no," answered father for her. "We have no time for such things. We
have all of us plenty to do without any accomplishments."
"Miss Margaret can sing 'Robin Adair,'" put in the squire, "as well as
I want to hear it, accomplishments or not."
"Indeed," said Captain Forrester, with a show of interest. "I hope she