He bowed again with contemptuous ceremony, and turned away.

The color had dropped out of Helena's face; she was trembling very

much. With a confused impulse she called to him, and even ran after

him for a few steps down the path. He turned and waited for her. She

came up to him, her breath broken with haste and fear.

"Mr. Wright, you won't--" Her face trembled with dismay. In her fright

she put her hand on his arm and shook it; "you won't--?"

As he looked into her stricken eyes, his own suddenly softened. "Why--

"he said, and paused; then struck the ground with his stick sharply.

"There, there; I understand. You think I'll tell? Gad-a-mercy, madam,

I am a gentleman. And my boy Sam doesn't interest you? Yes, yes; I see

that now. Why, perhaps I've been a trifle harsh? I shall say nothing

to Lavendar, or anybody else."

She put her hands over her face, and he heard a broken sound.

Instantly he reddened to his ears.

"Come! Come! You haven't thought me harsh, have you? Why, you poor-

bird! It was only on my boy's account. You and I understand

each other--I am a man of the world. But with Sam, it's different,

now, isn't it? You see that? He's in love with you, the young fool! A

great nuisance to you, of course. And I thought you might--but I ask

your pardon! I see that you wouldn't think of such a thing. My dear

young lady, I make you my apologies." He put his hand out and patted

her shoulder; "Poor bird!" he said. But she shivered away from his

touch, and after a hesitating moment he went shuffling down the path

by himself.

On the way home he sniffled audibly; and when he reached the entrance

to his own place he stopped, tucked his stick under his arm, and blew

his nose with a sonorous sound. As he stuffed his handkerchief back

into his pocket, he saw his grandson lounging against the gate,

evidently waiting for him... The dilapidation of the Wright place was

especially obvious here at the entrance. The white paint on the two

square wooden columns of the gateway had peeled and flaked, and the

columns themselves had rotted at the base into broken fangs, and hung

loosely upon their inner-posts; one of them sagged sidewise from the

weight of the open gate which had long ago settled down into the

burdocks and wild parsley that bordered the weedy driveway. What with

the canaries, and the cooking, and the slovenly housework, poor old

Simmons had no time for such matters as repairing or weeding.




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