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"How 'v vif?" he asks as well as he can for the tacks. "Little higher. Oh, not so much. Down a little. Whope! that's .... Oh, plague take the firemen! Just look at that! Mercy! Mercy!" The man of the house can't turn his head. "Oh, I wouldn't have had it happen for I don't know what! Ts! Ts! Ts! That lovely silverleaf geranium that Mrs. Pritchard give me a slip of. Broke right off! Oh, my! My! My!
What's a feller goin' to do when he needs the money and gets a letter like that?" He drew the crumpled sheet of note paper from his pocket, and threw it on the table. Higgins picked it up and read it aloud, as follows: SILVERLEAF HALL, June 20th. MY DEAR MR. GOTT: I am in receipt of your courteous communication of recent date.
He stepped to the door of the dining room, opened it, and said quietly, "My dear, will you honor us with your presence?" There was a rustle of black silk and there came through the doorway the stately form of her who had been Mrs. Polena Ginn. "Gentlemen," said the Major, "permit me to present to you my wife, the new mistress of 'Silverleaf Hall."
"Said he had never been better served than by the folks in this town, and that I kept a fine store, and so on and so forth. But I haven't got any money yet. Anybody else had any better luck?" No one had, although several had had similar interviews with the master of "Silverleaf Hall." "Obed looks as if he knew somethin'," remarked Weeks. "What is it, Obed?" Mr. Gott scornfully waved his hand.
Langworthy over to Orham married us, and " "My dear," her husband blandly interrupted, "we will not intrude our private affairs upon the patience of these good friends. And now, gentlemen, let me propose a toast: To the health and happiness of the mistress of 'Silverleaf Hall'! Brother Obed, I " The outside door closed with a slam; "Brother Obed" had fled.
Here was defiance of authority and dignity, a sensation which should have racked East Harniss from end to end. But most of the men in the village, the tradespeople particularly, had another matter on their minds, namely, Major Cuthbertson Scott Hardee, of "Silverleaf Hall." The Major and his debts were causing serious worriment.
Overhead the clouds cloaked the sky; a ragged cloak it was, and, here and there, a star shone through a hole, to be obscured almost instantly as more cloud tatters were hurled across the rent. The pines threshed on the hill tops. The bare branches of the wild-cherry and silverleaf trees scraped and rattled and tossed.
When he reached the tiny story-and-a-half Howes cottage, sitting back from the road upon the knoll amid the tangle of silverleaf sprouts, it was Helen herself who opened the door. She was surprised to see him, and when he explained his errand she was a little vexed. "The idea of Father's worrying," she said. "Such a wonderful night as this, bright moonlight, and in South Harniss, too.
On the Hill Boulevard the summer wind stirred the silverleaf poplars. The thick, black shadows along the sidewalks were heavy with the perfume of flowers. Captain Sol, ex-depot master of East Harniss, strolled on in the dark, under the stars, his hands in his pockets, and in his heart happiness complete and absolute.
So, after some discussion, the creditors marched in procession across the fields and up to "Silverleaf Hall." "Hardee's been to Orham to-day," whispered the keeper of the livery stable, as they entered the yard. "He drove over this mornin' and come back to-night." "DROVE over!" exclaimed Obed, halting in his tracks. "He did? Where'd he get the team?
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