The Girl at Cobhurst | Page 8

by the fact that the young man was not yet at
Cobhurst, and did not seem to be in a hurry to get there.
Cobhurst was the name of an estate a mile or so from the Witton farm,
whose wide fields had lain for a half a dozen years untilled, and whose
fine old mansion had been, for nearly a year, uninhabited. Its former
owner, Matthias Butterwood, a bachelor, and during the greater part of
his life, a man who took great pride in his farm, his stock, and his fruit
trees, had been afflicted in his later years with various kinds of
rheumatism, and had been led to wander about to different climates and
different kinds of hot springs for the sake of physical betterment.
When at home in these latter days, old Butterwood had been content to

have his garden cultivated, for he could still hobble about and look at
that, and had left his fields to take care of themselves, until he should
be well enough to be his own farmer, as he had always been. But old
age, coming to the aid of his other complaints, had carried him off a
few months before this story begins.
The only person now living at Cobhurst was a colored man named
Mike, who inhabited the gardener's house and held the office of
care-taker of the place.
Whenever Mike now came to town with his old wagon and horse, or
when he was met on the road, he found people more and more
inquisitive about the new owner of Cobhurst. Mike was not altogether a
negro, having a good deal of Irish blood in his veins, and this
conjunction of the two races in his individuality had had the effect upon
his speech of destroying all tendency to negro dialect or Irish brogue,
so that, in fact, he spoke like ordinary white people of his grade in life.
The effect upon his character, however, had been somewhat different,
and while the vivacity of the African and that of the Hibernian, in a
degree, had neutralized each other, making him at times almost as
phlegmatic as the traditional Dutchman, he would sometimes exhibit
the peculiarities of a Sambo, and sometimes those of a Paddy.
Mike could give no satisfaction to his questioners; he knew nothing of
the newcomer, except that he had received a postal card, directed to the
man in charge of Cobhurst, and which stated that Mr. Haverley would
arrive there on the fourth of April.
"More'n that," Mike would say, "I don't know nothin'. Whether he's old
or young, and what family he's got, I can't tell ye. All I know is, that he
don't seem in no hurry to see his place, an' he must be a reg'lar city man,
or he'd know that winter's the time to come to work a farm in the spring
of the year."
Other people, however, knew more about Mr. Haverley than Mike did,
and Miss Panney could have informed any one that he was a young
man, unmarried, and a second nephew to old Butterwood. She had faith
that Dr. Tolbridge could give her some additional points, provided she

could get an opportunity of properly questioning him.
Meanwhile the days passed on; the roads about Thorbury dried up and
grew better; in low, sheltered places, the grass showed a greenish hue;
the willows turned yellow, and people began to ponder over the
catalogues of seed merchants. At last, it was the third of April, and on
that day, in a large bright room of a New York boarding-house,
kneeling in front of an open trunk, were Mr. Ralph Haverley and his
sister Miriam.
Presently Miriam, whose years had not yet reached fifteen, vigorously
pushed a pair of slippers into an unoccupied crevice in the trunk, and
then, drawing back, seated herself on a stool.
"The delightful thing about this packing is," she said, "that it will never
have to be done again. I am not going to any school, or any country
place to board; you are not going to a hotel, not to any house kept by
other people; our things do not have to be packed separately; we can
put them in anywhere where they will fit; we are both going to the
same place; we are going home, and there we shall stay."
"Always?" asked her brother, looking up with a smile.
"Always," answered Miriam. "When one gets a home, one stays there.
At least I do."
"And you will not even go away to school?" he asked.
"By no means," said his sister, looking at him with much earnestness.
"I have been to school ever since I was six years old,--nearly nine
years,--and I positively declare that that is long enough for any girl.
Others stay