Wych Hazel | Page 8

be just transferred.'
'To what?'
'To the other stage, sir. Or indeed I believe it is some sort of a baggage wagon--as the roads are heavy--not to speak of the passengers. It has gone on up the mountain.'
'What has?' exclaimed Mr. Falkirk, whose face was a study.
'The wagon,' said Miss Hazel, seating herself by the table. 'More particularly, your one trunk and my six, sir.'
'Where has it gone?'
'Up the mountain, sir. They were afraid of making the stage top heavy--the weight of intellect inside being small.'
'Do you mean, to Catskill?'
'Yes, sir. Poor little puss!--Does the vegetation hereabouts support nothing but pigs?' said Miss Hazel, with a despairing glance from the dish of ham to a yellow haired lassie in a blue gown, who just then brought in a pitcher of water. Mr. Falkirk waited till the damsel had withdrawn, and went to the window and came back again before he spoke.
'You should have consulted me, Miss Hazel. You are bewildered. It is not a good time to go up the mountain now.'
'Bewildered? I!' was Miss Hazel's only answer.
'Yes, you don't know what is good for you. I shall send for those trunks, Wych.'
'Quite useless, sir. There is nothing else going up to the Mountain House till we go ourselves. We will go for them--there is nothing like doing your own business.'
'You will find that out one day,' muttered her guardian.
'Seeking my fortune, and wait for the mending of a bridge!' Hazel went on. 'And then I said I was going to Catskill,--and then you're the best guardian in the world, Mr. Falkirk, so it's no use looking as if you were somebody else.'
'I shall be somebody else directly,' said Mr. Falkirk in a cynical manner. 'But eat your dinner, Miss Hazel; you will not have much time.'
A meal for which he did not seem to care himself, for there was no perceivable time when he took it.
The stage coach into which the party presently stowed themselves, held now but those four--Mr. Falkirk and his ward, and two gentlemen who had declared themselves on the way to the mountain. The former established themselves somewhat taciturnly in the several corners of the back seat, and so made the journey; that is to say, as much as possible, for Mr. Falkirk being known to the other could not avoid now and then being drawn into communication with them. One, indeed, Mr. Kingsland, made many and divers overtures to that effect. His elegance of person and costume was advantageously displayed in an opposite corner, from whence he distributed civilities as occasion offered. His book and his magazine were placed at the brown veil's disposal; he stopped the coach to buy cherries from a wayside farm, which cherries were in like manner laid at Wych Hazel's feet; and his observations on the topics that were available, demonstrated all his stores of wit and wisdom equally at hand and ready for use. But brown veil would none of them all. The daintiest of hands took two cherries and signed away the rest; the sweetest of girl voices declined the magazine or gave it over to Mr. Falkirk. If the eyes burned brown lights (instead of blue) in their seclusion, if the voice just didn't break with fun, perhaps only Mr. Falkirk found it out, and he by virtue of previous knowledge. But in fact, Miss Hazel gave the keenest attention to everybody and everything.
A contrast to Mr. Kingsland was their other fellow-traveller. Mr. Rollo occupying the place in front of Mr. Falkirk, made himself as much as possible at ease on the middle seat, with his back upon the persons who engaged Mr. Kingsland's attention; but he did not thereby escape theirs. When a society is so small, the members of it almost of necessity take note of one another. The little brown-veiled figure could not help noticing what a master he was in the art of making himself comfortable; how skilfully shawls were disposed; how easily hand and foot, back and head, took the best position for jolting up the hill. It amused her as something new; for Mr. Falkirk belonged to that type of manhood which rather delights in being uncomfortable whenever circumstances permit; and other men she had seen few. Mr. Rollo had a book too, which he did not offer to lend; and he gave his lazy attention to nothing else--unless when a bright glance of eye went over to Mr. Kingsland. He was as patient as any of the party; as truly he had good reason, being by several degrees the most comfortable. But Mr. Falkirk moved now and then unrestingly, and the back seat was hot and cramped,--and Wych found the jolts and heavings of the coach springs a thing to be borne. And that swinging and swaying middle seat, with its