man is more apt to marry in spite of his belief that he
would be much better off as a bachelor, than in consequence of a
conviction that a Benedict's life would suit him better?"
"That," said she, "depends a good deal on the woman."
As she said this Lawrence glanced quickly at her to observe the
expression of her countenance. The countenance plainly indicated that
its owner had suddenly been made aware that the afternoon was
slipping away, and that she had forgotten certain household duties that
devolved upon her.
"Here comes Peggy," she said, "and I must go into the house and give
out supper. Don't you now think it would be well for you to follow our
discussion of a Virginia supper by eating one?"
At this moment, there arrived at the bottom of the inside steps, a small
girl, very black, very solemn, and very erect, with her hands folded in
front of her very straight up-and-down calico frock, her features
expressive of a wooden stolidity which nothing but a hammer or chisel
could alter, and with large eyes fixed upon a far-away, which,
apparently, had disappeared, leaving the eyes in a condition of idle
out-go.
"Miss Rob," said this wooden Peggy, "Aun' Judy says it's more'n time
to come housekeep."
"Which means," said Miss Roberta, rising, "that I must go and get my
key basket, and descend into the store-room. Won't you come in? We
shall find uncle on the back porch."
Mr Croft declined with thanks, and took his leave, and the lady walked
across the smooth grass to the house, followed by the rigid Peggy.
The young man approached his impatient horse, and, not without some
difficulty, got himself mounted. He had not that facility of
sympathetically combining his own will and that of his horse which
comes to men who from their early boyhood are wont to consider
horses as objects quite as necessary to locomotion as shoes and
stockings. But Lawrence Croft was a fair graduate of a riding school,
and he went away in very good style to his cottage at the Green Sulphur
Springs. "I believe," he said to himself, as he rode through the woods,
"that Miss March expects no more of me than she would expect of any
very intimate friend. I shall feel perfectly free, therefore, to continue
my investigations regarding two points: First, is she worth having? and:
Second, will she have me? And I must be very careful not to get the
position of these points reversed."
When Miss Roberta went into the store-room, it was Peggy, who, under
the supervision of her mistress, measured out the fine white flour for
the biscuits for supper. Peggy was being educated to do these things
properly, and she knew exactly how many times the tin scoop must fill
itself in the barrel for the ordinary needs of the family. Miss Roberta
stood, her eyes contemplatively raised to the narrow window, through
which she could see a flush of sunset mingling itself with the outer air;
and Peggy scooped once, twice, thrice, four times; then she stopped,
and, raising her head, there came into the far-away gloom of her eyes a
quick sparkle like a flash of black lightning. She made another and
entirely supplementary scoop, and then she stopped, and let the tin
utensil fall into the barrel with a gentle thud.
"That will do," said Miss Roberta.
That night, when she should have been in her bed, Peggy sat alone by
the hearth in Aunt Judy's cabin, baking a cake. It was a peculiar cake,
for she could get no sugar for it, but she had supplied this deficiency
with molasses. It was made of Miss Roberta's finest white flour, and
eggs there were in it and butter, and it contained, besides, three raisins,
an olive, and a prune. When the outside of the cake had been
sufficiently baked, and every portion of it had been scrupulously eaten,
the good little Peggy murmured to herself: "It's pow'ful comfortin' for
Miss Rob to have sumfin' on her min'."
CHAPTER II.
About a week after Mr Lawrence Croft had had his conversation with
Miss March on the stile steps at Midbranch, he was obliged to return to
his home in New York. He was not a man of business, but he had
business; and, besides this, he considered if he continued much longer
to reside in the utterly attractionless cottage at the Green Sulphur
Springs, and rode over every day to the very attractive house at
Midbranch, that the points mentioned in the previous chapter might get
themselves reversed. He was a man who was proud of being, under all
circumstances, frank and honest with himself. He did not wish, if it
could be avoided, to deceive other
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