Under the Country Sky | Page 5

with her own capable fist, which should send her backward into
the snow. Georgiana did not believe that the lady was as unhappy as
she looked. It seemed to be a day for expression by the use of fists!
But when the door was opened and the light from the bracket lamp in
the manse hall shone out on the figure standing upon the porch, all
desire to hit anything more with her fist vanished from the girl's heart.
For with the first look into the face of the man outside her instant wish
was to have him come in--and stay. Somebody so evidently from the
great world which seemed so far away from the old village
manse--somebody who looked as if he could bring with him into this
dull life of theirs all manner of interest--it was small wonder that in her
present mood the girl should feel like this. And it must by no means be
supposed that Georgiana was in the habit of experiencing this sort of
wish every time she set eyes upon a personable man. Personable men
had been many in her acquaintance during the four years of her college
life, and more than one of them had followed her back to the old manse
to urge his claim upon her attention.
"Is the Reverend Mr. Warne at home?" asked the stranger in a low and
pleasant voice. "I have a letter of introduction to him."
"Please come in," answered Georgiana, and led him straight into the
living-room and her father's presence. Then, though consumed with
curiosity, she retired--as far as the door of the dining-room, where she
remained, ready to listen in a most reprehensible manner to the
conversation which should follow.

There was an exchange of greetings, then evidently Mr. Warne was
reading the letter of introduction. Presently he spoke:
"This is quite sufficient," he said, "to make you welcome under this
roof. My old friend Davidson has my affection and confidence always.
Please tell me what I can do for you, Mr. Jefferson."
"I should like," replied the stranger's voice, "to have a room with you,
and possibly board, if that might be. If not, perhaps I could find that
elsewhere; but if I might at least have the room I should be very glad. I
am hard at work upon a book, and I have come away from my home
and other work to find a place where I can live quietly, write steadily,
and be outdoors every day for long walks in the country. Doctor
Davidson suggested this place, and thought you might take me in--for
an indefinite period of time, possibly some months."
"That sounds very pleasant to me," Georgiana heard her father reply.
"We have never had a boarder, my daughter and I, but, if she has no
objection, I should enjoy having such a man as you look to be, in the
house. Your letter, you see, is not your only introduction. You carry
with you in your face a passport to other men's favour."
"That is good of you," answered Mr. Jefferson--and Georgiana liked
the frank tone of his voice. It was an educated voice, it spoke for itself
of the personality behind it.
"I will go and talk with my daughter," she heard her father say, after the
two men had had some little conversation concerning a book or two
lying on the table by Mr. Warne's couch.
Georgiana fled into the kitchen, where her father found her. When he
appeared, closing the door behind him, she was ready for him before he
spoke.
"If he were the angel Gabriel or old Pluto himself I'd welcome him,"
she said under her breath, her eyes dancing. "To have somebody in the
house for you to talk with besides your everlasting old
parishioners--why, it would be worth a world of trouble! And it won't

be any trouble at all. Go tell him your daughter reluctantly consents."
"You heard, then?" queried Mr. Warne, a quizzical smile on his gentle
lips.
"Of course I heard! I was listening hard! I was all ears--regular donkey
ears. He's a godsend. His board will pay for sirloin instead of round.
We'll have roast duck on Sunday--twice a winter. He can have the big
front room; I'll have it ready by to-morrow night."
"Come in and arrange details," urged Mr. Warne.
Georgiana stayed behind a minute to compose her face and manner,
then went in, the demurest of young housewives. Not for nothing had
been her years of college life, which had made, when occasion
demanded, a quietly poised woman out of a girl who had been,
according to village standards, a somewhat hoydenish young person.
As she faced the stranger in the full light of the fire-and-lamp-lit room,
she saw in detail that of