Audrey

With twelve of the clock came Darden, quite sober, distrait in manner and

uneasy of eye, and presently interrupted Mistress Stagg's flow of

conversation by a demand to speak with his wife alone. At that time of day

the garden was a solitude, and thither the two repaired, taking their

seats upon a bench built round a mulberry-tree.

"Well?" queried Mistress Deborah bitterly. "I suppose Mr. Commissary

showed himself vastly civil? I dare say you're to preach before the

Governor next Sunday? Or maybe they've chosen Bailey? He boasts that he

can drink you under the table! One of these fine days you'll drink and

curse and game yourself out of a parish!"

Darden drew figures on the ground with his heavy stick. "On such a fine

day as this," he said, in a suppressed voice, and looked askance at the

wife whom he beat upon occasion, but whose counsel he held in respect.

She turned upon him. "What do you mean? They talk and talk, and cry

shame,--and a shame it is, the Lord knows! But it never comes to

anything"-"It has come to this," interrupted Darden, with an oath: "that this

Governor means to sweep in the corners; that the Commissary--damned

Scot!--to-day appointed a committee to inquire into the charges made

against me and Bailey and John Worden; that seven of my vestrymen are dead

against me; and that 'deprivation' has suddenly become a very common

word!"

"Seven of the vestry?" said his wife, after a pause. "Who are they?"

Darden told her.

"If Mr. Haward"--she began slowly, her green eyes steady upon the

situation. "There's not one of that seven would care to disoblige him. I

warrant you he could make them face about. They say he knew the Governor

in England, too; and there's his late gift to the college,--the Commissary

wouldn't forget that. If Mr. Haward would"--She broke off, and with knit

brows studied the problem more intently.

"If he would, he could," Darden finished for her. "With his interest this

cloud would go by, as others have done before. I know that, Deborah. And

that's the card I'm going to play."

"If you had gone to him, hat in hand, a month ago, he'd have done you any

favor," said his helpmate sourly. "But it is different now. He's over his

fancy; and besides, he's at Westover."

"He's in Williamsburgh, at Marot's ordinary," said the other. "As for his

being over his fancy,--I'll try that. Fancy or no fancy, if a woman asked

him for a fairing, he would give it her, or I don't know my gentleman.

We'll call his interest a ribbon or some such toy, and Audrey shall ask

him for it."

"Audrey is a fool!" cried Mistress Deborah. "And you had best be careful,

or you'll prove yourself another! There's been talk enough already.

Audrey, village innocent that she is, is the only one that doesn't know

it. The town's not the country; if he sets tongues a-clacking here"-"He won't," said Darden roughly. "He's no hare-brained one-and-twenty! And

Audrey's a good girl. Go send her here, Deborah. Bid her fetch me Stagg's

inkhorn and a pen and a sheet of paper. If he does anything for me, it

will have to be done quickly. They're in haste to pull me out of saddle,

the damned canting pack! But I'll try conclusions with them!"