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Mrs Millett had been disposed to look at Dexter from the point of view suggested by Maria, who had been making unpleasant allusions to the boy's birth and parentage, and above all to "Master's strange goings on," ever since Dexter's coming.
Before Dexter was ready the shabby-looking boy on the other side had caught two more silvery roach, and Dexter's heart beat fast as he at last baited his hook and threw in the line as far as he could. He was pretty successful in that effort, but his cork float and the shot made a loud splash, while the boy opposite uttered a chuckle.
He pointed to a tumbler on a little papier-mache tray standing at Dexter's door. "Never mind that, dear," said Helen, smiling. "I dare say it is only camomile-tea, and it shows that the poor boy has not lost his place in dear old Millett's heart."
The farmer nodded and drew up under the shade of Dexter's oak. It was a beautiful afternoon late in November, characterized by the clear cold air, the blue and gold of the sky, and the russet coloring of the foliage that mark the close of the Autumnal season.
"There's how he sits!" she said, with a sudden burst of speech. "Hours on hours, there's how he sits! Notices nobody. Cries about you." The picture she presented recalled to my memory the Report of Dexter's health, and the doctor's plain warning of peril waiting for him in the future.
Bob sprang up as if electrified, saw who spoke, and was about to burst into a torrent of angry abuse, when he followed the direction of Dexter's pointing hand, caught the approaching danger, and seized an oar.
Dexter's eyes sparkled as he followed this bit of advice, while Dan'l took one end of the cistern, Peter the other, and they gently launched it in the little river. "Ain't scared of him, are yer!" said Dan'l. Dexter gave him a sharp look. "That he ain't," said Peter.
"Pull your right! pull your right!" Bob was so startled that he looked up over his shoulder, saw the enemy, and tugged at the wrong oar so hard that he sent the boat right toward the overhanging bank. "I've got yer now, have I, then?" roared the man fiercely; and as the boat drifted towards him he reached down and made a snatch with his hand at Dexter's collar.
Did he suffer disappointment as Miss Dexter's contemptuous eye and her irritated tone showed him ah! how plainly she was forever out of his reach? Was an idol broken, a dream dissolved, a blossom nipped, or hope murdered, just as much, in the case of this comfortable placid unimaginative elderly farmer as in the case of younger, warmer, more impetuous, more idealistic men?
I only drummed impatiently with my fingers on the table, and said, "Tell me! tell me!" He took out the fair copy from Benjamin's note-book which I had sent to him, and showed me these among Dexter's closing words: "What about the letter? Burn it now. No fire in the grate. No matches in the box. House topsy-turvy. Servants all gone." "Do you really understand what those words mean?" I asked.
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