"That is old Tom Martin."
"I know."
"I was sorry and ashamed about all that conspicuousness and shouting. It
must have been very unpleasant for you; it must have been so, for a
stranger. Please try to forgive me for letting you in for it."
"But I liked it. It was 'all in the family,' and it was so jolly and good-
natured, and that dear old man was so bright. Do you know," she said
softly, "I don't think I'm such a stranger--I--I think I love all these
people a great deal--in spite of having known them only two days."
At that a wild exhilaration possessed him. He wanted to shake hands with
everybody in the tent, to tell them all that he loved them with his whole
heart, but, what was vastly more important, she loved them a great deal
--in spite of having known them only two days!
He made the horses prance on the homeward drive, and once, when she told
him that she had read a good many of his political columns in the
"Herald," he ran them into a fence. After this it occurred to him that
they were nearing their destination and had come at a perversely sharp
gait; so he held the roans down to a snail's pace (if it be true that a
snail's natural gait is not a trot) for the rest of the way, while they
talked of Tom Meredith and books and music, and discovered that they
differed widely about Ibsen.
They found Mr. Fisbee in the yard, talking to Judge Briscoe. As they drove
up, and before the horses had quite stopped, Helen leaped to the ground
and ran to the old scholar with both her hands outstretched to him. He
looked timidly at her, and took the hands she gave him; then he produced
from his pocket a yellow telegraph envelope, watching her anxiously as she
received it. However, she seemed to attach no particular importance to it,
and, instead of opening it, leaned toward him, still holding one of his
hands.
"These awful old men!" Harkless groaned inwardly as he handed the horses
over to the judge. "I dare say he'll kiss her, too." But, when the
editor and Mr. Willetts had gone, it was Helen who kissed Fisbee.
"They're coming out to spend the evening, aren't they?" asked Briscoe,
nodding to the young men as they set off down the road.
"Lige has to come whether he wants to or not," Minnie laughed, rather
consciously; "It's his turn to-night to look after Mr. Harkless."