"I beg your pardon, ma'am; I was sure you was some kin--maybe an
a'nt."
No, she was not even that; but willing enough to let the old man
believe her a lady of the Remington order, she did not explain that
she was simply the housekeeper, she simply said: "If it's Mr. Guy you want, I can tell you he is not at home, which
will save your getting out."
"Not at home, and I've come so far to see him!" grandpa exclaimed, and
in his voice there was so much genuine disappointment that Mrs. Noah
rejoined, quite kindly: "He's gone over to Devonshire with the young lady his stepmother.
Perhaps you might tell your business to me; I know all Mr. Guy's
affairs."
"If I might come in, ma'am," he answered, meekly, as through the open
door he caught glimpses of a cheerful fire. "It's mighty chilly for
such as me." He did look cold and blue, Mrs. Noah thought, and she
bade him come in, feeling a very little contempt for the old-fashioned
camlet cloak in which his feet became entangled, and smiling inwardly
at the shrunken, faded pantaloons, betokening poverty.
"As you know all Squire Guy's affairs," grandpa said, when he was
seated before the fire, "maybe you could tell whether he would be
likely to lend a stranger three hundred dollars, and that stranger
me?"
Mrs. Noah stared at him aghast. Was he crazy, or did he mean to insult
her master? Evidently neither. He seemed as sane as herself, while no
one could associate an insult with him. He did not know anything. That
was the solution of his audacity, and pityingly, as she would have
addressed a half idiot, Mrs. Noah made him understand how impossible
it was for him to think her master would lend to a stranger like him.
"You say he's gone to Devonshire," grandpa said, softly, with a quiver
on his lip when she had finished. "I wish I'd knew it; I left my
granddarter there to be examined. Mabby I'll meet him going back, and
can ask him."
"I tell you it won't be no use. Mr. Guy has no three hundred dollars
to throw away," was Mrs. Noah's rather sharp rejoinder.
"Wall, wall, we won't quarrel about it," the old man replied, in his
most conciliatory manner, as he turned his head away to hide the
starting tear.
Grandfather Markham's heart was very sore, and Mrs. Noah's harshness
troubled him. He could not bear to think that she really was cross
with him, besides that he wanted something to carry Maddy besides
disappointment, so by way of testing Mrs. Noah's amiability and
pleasing Maddy, too, he said, as he arose: "I'm an old man, lady, old
enough to be your father." Here Mrs. Noah's face grew brighter, and
she listened attentively while he continued: "You won't take what I
say amiss, I'm sure. I have a little girl at home, a grandchild, who
has heard big stories of the fine things at Aikenside. She has a
hankerin' after such vanities, and it would please her mightily to
have me tell her what I saw up here, so maybe you wouldn't mind
lettin' me go into that big room where the silk fixin's are. I'll take
off my shoes, if you say so."