Margaret Maliphant

								

absolutely he refused to be damped by father's less sanguine mood; and
best of all, I remember the smile that he brought to father's face, and
the light that he called back to his drooping eye.
There was only one blot: the squire did not come to see us. No doubt
I should not have allowed at this time that it was any blot, and when
mother remarked upon it, I held my tongue; but I know very well that I
was sorry the squire kept away.
On this evening of which I am thinking, however, the squire did not
keep away. I am afraid I had hurried a little over the darning of
father's socks, that I might get to the making up of my own lace
ruffles for the great event of the next night, and as I was sitting
there in the window, making the most of the fading daylight, he came
in. I heard him ask Deborah for father in the hall, and when she
answered that she thought he was still out, he said he would wait, and
walked on into the parlor. He was free to come and go in our house. I
fancied that he started a little when he saw me there alone; I suppose
he expected to find the whole party as usual.
"Oh, how are you?" said he, abruptly, holding out his hand without
looking at me. "Is your mother out?"
I explained that mother had gone to the village to see a neighbor.
"I'll just wait a few minutes for your father," said he. "I want
particularly to see him to-night."
"Is it about that young man?" asked I.
I do not know what possessed me to ask it. It was not becoming behavior
on my part, but at his words the recollection of that Mr. Trayton
Harrod, whom he had recommended to father as a bailiff, had suddenly
returned to me. No mention having been made of him again, I had really
scarcely remembered the matter till now, the excitement of the past
three weeks had been so great.
He knit his brows in annoyance, and I was sorry I had spoken.
"What young man?" asked he.
"That gentleman whom you recommended to father for the farm," said I,
half ashamed of myself.
"Oh, Trayton Harrod!" exclaimed the squire, with a relieved expression.
"Oh no, no, I shall not trouble your father again about that unless he
speaks to me. I thought it might be an advantageous thing, for I have
known the young man since he was a lad, and he has been well brought
up--a clever fellow all round. But your father knows his own business
best. It might not work."
It was on my lips to say that of course it would not work, but I
restrained myself, and the squire went on:
"I'm so delighted to see your father himself again," he said. "There's
no need for any one to help him so long as he can do it all himself;
and of course you, I know, do a great deal for him," added he, as
though struck by an after-thought. "I saw you walking round the mill
farm this morning."
"Did you?" answered I. "I only went up about the flour. I didn't see
you."
"No," he said. "I was riding the other way."
He walked up to the window as he spoke, and looked out over the lawn.