"You have not yet told me why you came here," she said to Flora, who
was busy making her bed, and who replied: "It's Mr. Guy's work. He
thought I'd better come, as you would need help to get things set to
rights, to could go back to school."
Maddy felt her heart coming up in her throat, but she answered calmly,
"Mr. Guy is very kind--so are you all; but, Flora, I am not going back
to school." "Not going back!" and Flora stopped her bed-making, while
she stared blankly at Maddy. "What be you going to do?" "Stay here and
take care of grandpa," Maddy said, bathing her face and neck in the
cold water, which could not cool the feverish heat she felt spreading
all over them. "Stay here! You are crazy, Miss Maddy! 'Tain't no place
for a girl like you, and Mr. Guy never will suffer it, I know," Flora
rejoined, as she resumed her work, thinking she "should die to be
moped up in that nutshell of a house." With a little sigh as she
foresaw the opposition she should probably meet with from Guy, Maddy
went on with her toilet, which was soon completed, as it did not take
long to arrange the dark calico dress and plain linen collar which she
wore. She was not as fresh-looking as usual that morning, for
excitement and fatigue had lent a paleness to her cheek, and a languor
to her whole appearance, but Flora, who glanced anxiously after her as
she went out, muttered to herself, "She was never more beautiful, and
I don't wonder an atom that Mr. Guy thinks so much of her." The
kitchen was in perfect order, for Flora had been busy there as
elsewhere. The kettle was boiling on the stove, while two or three
little covered dishes were ranged upon the hearth, as if waiting for
some one. Grandpa Markham had gone out, but Uncle Joseph sat in his
accustomed corner, rubbing his hands when he saw Maddy, and nodding
mysteriously toward the front room, the door of which was open, so
that Maddy could hear the fire crackling on the hearth.
"Go in, go in," Uncle Joseph said, waving his hand in that direction.
"My Lord Governor is in there waiting for you. He won't let me spit on
the floor any more as Martha did, and I've swallowed so much that I'm
almost choked."
Continual spitting was one of Uncle Joseph's worst habits, and as his
sister had indulged him in it, it had become a source of great
annoyance both to Maddy, and to some one else of whose proximity Maddy
did not dream. Thinking that Uncle Joseph referred to her grandfather,
and feeling glad that the latter had attempted a reform, she entered
the room known at the cottage as the parlor, the one where the rag
carpet was, the six cane-seated chairs and the Boston rocker, and
where now the little round table was nicely laid for two, while cozily
seated in the rocking-chair, reading last night's paper, and looking
very handsome and happy, was Guy!