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How did you get me into dry clothes so quick?" Master Byles Gridley found himself suddenly possessed by a large and luminous idea of the state of things, and made up his mind in a moment as to what he must do. There was no time to be lost.
Byles Gridley, A. M., as he would have been styled by persons acquainted with scholarly dignities, was a bachelor, who had been a schoolmaster, a college tutor, and afterwards for many years professor, a man of learning, of habits, of whims and crotchets, such as are hardly to be found, except in old, unmarried students, the double flowers of college culture, their stamina all turned to petals, their stock in the life of the race all funded in the individual.
And old Major MacLeod, the keenest of golfers and the most touchy of Celts, declared that this condemned old Island was not dead yet when it could turn out such a gang of sturdy young ruffians. And it was instead of such a mighty ploy that Mr. Byles proposed to take the Seminary for a botanical excursion. It was in the mathematical class-room that Mr.
Stoker uttered a cry of rage as he finished this awkwardly written, but tolerably intelligible letter. What could he do about it? It would hardly do to stab Myrtle Hazard, and shoot Byles Gridley, and strangle Mrs. Hopkins, every one of which homicides he felt at the moment that he could have committed.
But Doctor Byles, and other gentlemen who had long been familiar with the successive rulers of the province, were heard to whisper the names of Shirley, of Pownall, of Sir Francis Bernard, and of the well-remembered Hutchinson; thereby confessing that the actors, whoever they might be, in this spectral march of governors, had succeeded in putting on some distant portraiture of the real personages.
Very interesting, no doubt, Master Byles Gridley would have said, but had no more to do with good, hearty, sound life than the history of those very little people to be seen in museums preserved in jars of alcohol, like brandy peaches. When Mr. Clement Lindsay presented himself, Mr. Bradshaw was a good deal surprised to see a young fellow of such a mould.
Then she took the package from her bosom, and gave it with averted face to Master Byles Gridley, who, on receiving it, made her a formal but not unkindly bow, and bade her good evening. "One would think it had been lying out in the dew," he said, as he left the house and walked towards Mr. Penhallow's residence.
Mr. Gridley had a frosty but kindly age before him, with a score or so of years to run, which it was after all not strange to fancy might be rendered more cheerful by the companionship of a well-conserved and amiably disposed woman, if any such should happen to fall in his way. That smile came very near disconcerting the plot of Master Byles Gridley.
Byles, assistant in the department of mathematics, used to teach. And the school waited with expectation for the missionary effort upon which Speug with the assistance of Howieson and Bauldie, was understood to be engaged. Next Friday evening an art committee met in a stable-loft on the premises of Mr.
Shall the minister be given to understand that you will see him hereafter in her company?" Myrtle came pretty near a turn of her old nervous perturbations. "As you say," she answered. "Is there nobody that I can trust, or is everybody hunting me like a bird?" She hid her face in her hands. "You can trust me, my dear," said Byles Gridley.
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