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So from moment to moment he would dispose of the Idea; but then there was the Look. That had been unmistakable. There was a chamber in Dunham's heart where that memory picture hung, and it seemed to him impertinence to open the door. As often as the recollection returned to him he recoiled from it. That look had been a theft from Sylvia, not a gift; but she had given him the potion at last.
"He can't entertain me," said Perry. "Not a little bit." And suddenly with that Devereau was suave no longer. He leaped up and thumped upon a desk. He slitted his pale eyes. "Say, what d'yuh think you are?" he raved. "Talking to me like that!" Blair did not attempt to shout him down, and yet he made himself heard. "Not Pig-iron Dunham's man," he answered. "Nor yet yours.
His eyes fastened on a spot upon his desk, while his thoughts wrestled. Once again he stole a look at Dunham's profile, and there was a queer stirring at his heart. With sudden determination he rose, and, moving over to the other desk, stood behind John's chair and rested both his bony hands on the broad shoulders. "I've had a blow, my boy," he said, and his voice was husky.
At last he crossed to the other side, and began to come aft again. "Mr. Dunham!" cried Lydia, starting up. "I know what Mr. Staniford wants to do. He wants to keep him away from me. Let me go down to the cabin. I can't walk; please help me!" Her eyes were full of tears, and the hand trembled that she laid on Dunham's arm, but she controlled her voice.
"You better guess again," drawled the boy, returning to his place and taking possession of the ropes. "I've got to take care of Miss Edna." "Oh, Benny," said the girl gently, "you know this is Mr. Dunham's vacation." "Hadn't ought to work in his vacation," returned Benny doggedly. John was standing undecidedly looking down at him. There was an evident and large thunder cloud across Benny's brow.
Their mustaches were blonde, but Dunham's curled jauntily outward at the corners, and his light hair waved over either temple from the parting in the middle. Staniford's mustache was cut short; his hair was clipped tight to his shapely head, and not parted at all; he had a slightly aquiline nose, with sensitive nostrils, showing the cartilage; his face was darkly freckled.
Addison, Halstead and I had been up in Lot 32 that day with the old Squire, making an estimate of timber, and we did not reach home until after dark. Grandmother met us with the news that the girls had gone to Dunham's open for partridge-berry vines, and had not returned.
Then Richard, white with anger at this interference, answered insolently: "It means that this girl's an escaped lunatic, and we're sent to take her back. She's dangerous, so you'd better keep out of the way." Then Mary Dunham's voice, clear and penetrating, rang through the halls: "Tryon, Tryon! Come quick! Help! Help!"
Her emulation had been awakened by what she had heard on such subjects; and it at once struck her that now was the moment for her to show that she was truly Sergeant Dunham's child.
Under Dunham's eye because she knew that Dunham's eye was always upon her she had sat long at their table, a slim thing in new-grass green, so prettily grateful that she suggested pink sashes and dimity. And Felicity wasn't a pink-sash-and-dimity girl. Hamilton knew that. But did Perry Blair? Just a kid! Dammitt!
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