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Really, I hope you are sufficiently astonished; for he looks so utterly unlike the scamp who used to be the special torment of the South End Mission that I should be disappointed if you were not impressed by it. "Mr. Colson" almost everybody calls him now. The name has long since lost its strangeness. He is in the employ of the great firm of Bostwick, Smythe, Roberts & Co., and although Mr.
Some who were more reckless than discreet liked to irritate him. That, too, was a rider's weakness. "When's Creech's hosses comin' over?" asked Colson, with sudden interest. "Wal, I reckon soon," replied Bostil, constrainedly, and he turned away. By the time he got home all the excitement of the past hour had left him and gloom again abided in his mind.
The only person from whom Hannah Colson ever heard that rare thing called truth, was her friend and school-fellow, Lucy Meadows, a young woman two or three years older than herself in actual age, and half a lifetime more advanced in the best fruits of mature age, in clearness of judgment, and steadiness of conduct.
The thought actually made his grim face break into a smile. Thus it came to pass that the most efficient worker for the success of the Monday evening entertainment, so far at least as securing the presence of the guests, was Dirk Colson. In Mr. Roberts' mansion preparations for receiving and entertaining the hoped-for guests went briskly forward.
The loss of this invaluable parent about three years before had been the only grief that Hannah Colson had known.
Five minutes' skilful manoeuvring sufficed to bring the schooner around the stern of the gunboat and up to an open gangway, in which stood the officer of the deck and one of the ship's boys, who held a lighted lantern in his hand. To the former the boatswain's mate reported: "A shore boat, sir, with a couple of Union boys aboard. Mr. Colson sent me down here with her.
"I tell you I don't know nothin' what you are talking about." Nimble Dick, who was rarely anything but good-natured, was surprised by the bewilderments of the situation into being almost as fierce as Dirk Colson was habitually; the gaping amazement of his boon companions seeming to add to his irritation. "But you will," said his teacher, cheerily.
Roberts does not care in the least, I find that I am sensitive. "Has she really kept that Colson girl with her all these years?" Yes, she has. I speak it meekly, but she has! "And never had her learn a trade, or work in a factory, or learn to support herself in any way?" She has never sent her anywhere to learn a trade or to work in a factory or to stand behind a counter. It is too true.
Mrs. Roberts asked, smiling on him. "I can sympathize with you; I had to work harder over arithmetic than at any other study; but I learned to like it. Do you know I think it should be a favorite study with you? It is so nice to conquer an obstinate-looking row of figures, and fairly oblige the right result to appear. What did you find hardest about the study, Mr. Colson?"
Do you need to be told that they succeeded? This was one of the reasons why Mr. Colson chatted with Miss Henderson with perfect freedom, and why his bow was graceful and easy when she introduced him to her friend Miss Fanshawe, of Philadelphia. He was accustomed to being introduced to her friends. I'm sure I hope you wish I would tell you somewhat of Mart Colson.
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