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Just as the boat was about to start off on her return trip, and after she had blown her whistle two or three times, Mr. Chipperton appeared, carrying an immense arm-load of gray moss. He puffed and blew as he threw it down on deck. When his wife came out and told him of Corny's disaster, he stopped dusting his clothes, and looked up for an instant.
In the same way he soon discriminated, in conversation, between Corny's power of original thinking, and M. de Connal's knack of throwing old thoughts into new words; between the power of answering an argument, and the art of evading it by a repartee.
I hadn't been gone very long, to be sure, but then a ship had been burned from under me, and that counted for about a year's absence. Corny's fate had been settled, too, in a general way, but the discussion that went on about a good boarding-school for her showed that a particular settlement might take some time.
But when we get to Nassau you can dig down and see what it's like." "Semi-tropical!" exclaimed Mr. Chipperton, who just came up; "there is something about that word that puts me all in a glow," and he rubbed his hands as if he smelt dinner. Each of us wore a gray bean. Rectus and I had ours fastened to our watch-guards, and Corny's hung to a string of beads she generally wore.
Latimer's, not knowing but you had returned home. I saw you this morning at Miss Corny's windows." "Now, I don't want any of your sauce, Ebenezer James. Afy-ing me! The other day, when you were on with your nonsense, I said you should keep your distance. You took and told Mr. Jiffin that I was an old sweetheart of yours. I heard of it." "So you were," laughed Mr. Ebenezer.
He added a profusion of compliments on the young lady's charms, with a declaration of the effect they had already produced on his heart. This was all said with a sort of nonchalance, which Corny did not at all like. But Mademoiselle, who was summoned to Corny's private council, gave it as her opinion, that M. de Connal was already quite in love quite as much as a French husband ever was.
And Corny's heart within him swelled like Sir Lancelot's, for the mirror spoke to him as he passed and said: "Corny, lad, there's not a guy among 'em that looks a bit the sweller than yerself. And you drivin' of a truck and them swearin' off their taxes and playin' the red in art galleries with the best in the land!" And the mirrors spake the truth. Mr.
He produced the bit of a note, which, King Corny's hands being at that time too full of the eggs and the kettle to receive graciously, was laid down on the corner of the table, from which it fell, and Miss O'Faley picking it up, and holding it by one corner, exclaimed, "Is this what you call dry as a bone, in this country? And mighty clean, too faugh!
"I beg your pardon, ma'am," said Corny, "if he's your man." "He's no man of mine," said the lady. "Perhaps he but there's no chance of his being now. Drive home, Michael. If you care to take this with my thanks." Three red roses were thrust out through the carriage window into Corny's hand. He took them, and the hand for an instant; and then the carriage sped away.
Humbly, meekly, deferentially was it expressed, in all good faith and trust, as though Miss Corny was a sort of upper angel. Somehow the words grated on Miss Corny's ear: grated fiercely on her conscience. It came into her mind, then, as she stood there, that the harsh religion that she had through life professed, was not the religion that would best bring peace to her dying bed.
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