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Updated: June 20, 2025
A third time the scene was enacted; my curiosity was aroused; I made Mary call me very early, and from the window I espied Smugg leaving the house at 9.15, and going with rapid, furtive steps along the little path that led to old Dill's tiny farm. I slipped downstairs, bolted a cup of tea, seized a piece of toast, and followed Smugg.
Little Frankie Adams was to go along wearing his old shoes, and Kitty Gowan, who had been figuring on a belated winter suit, had tearfully thrown a handful of samples in the fire and put the fond notion aside. Little O'Grady wiped a sympathetic eye. "Oh, Daff, I'm so sorry for you; just at the time, too, when " He dared not proceed, awed by Dill's protesting pathos.
Sanders approaching in the distance, "Look!" she cried, pointing. "Why, he doesn't even compare to Noble Dill!" "Don't point at people!" "Well, he's nothing much to point at!" She lowered her finger. "It's no depredation to me, Aunt Julia, to give up pointing at Newland Sanders. Atch'ly, I wouldn't give Noble Dill's little finger for a hunderd and fifty Newland Sanderses!"
"Welcome home!" said the fire-eater cordially. Dill's return could have but one meaning. He had returned with a "Live One" to take up the options. Hope smouldering to the point of extinction sprang to life and burned like a fire in a cane-brake. Imaginations were loosed on the instant. Once more Ore City began to think in six figures.
Preciosa was among his first callers. His studio came to little compared with Dill's, and to little more compared with Gowan's; but the jars and the blankets did their part, the mandolin and the coffee-pot theirs; the portfolios were broken open to decorate the walls, and, "You'll do," said Little O'Grady. Preciosa's back missed the tall mahogany chair with the brass rosettes.
Yankee Sam however tactfully diverted his thoughts to the weather, hoping thus indirectly to draw out his reason for undertaking the hardship of such a trip in winter. But whatever Mr. Dill's business it appeared to be of a nature which would keep, although they sat expectantly till Miss Rosie coyly announced supper. "Don't you aim to set down, Uncle Bill?" she asked kindly as the rest filed in.
You know, f'r instance, I had to help talk grandpa into lettin' her send to New York for her things. Aunt Julia gets all her things in New York." Undeniably, Mr. Dill's interest flickered up. "Things?" he repeated inquiringly. "Her things?" "Yes. Everything she wears, you know." "Oh, yes." "What I was goin' to tell you," Florence continued, "you know grandpa just about hates everybody.
He could swing his quirt without damaging his own person, and he rode with his stirrups where they should be to accommodate the length of him all of which speaks eloquently of the honest intentions of Dill's confidential adviser. Just a Day-dream. Charming Billy rode humped over the saddle-horn, as rides one whose mind feels the weight of unpleasant thoughts.
Then Virgilia took Preciosa up into the bay-window on the landing and set her to sipping her coffee and delicately indicated to her the price she was to pay. She spoke of Mr. Dill's recognised primacy among the city's painters, and of the exertions by which he had won his place.
"It's kinda got to be part uh the scenery to josh a pilgrim," Billy took the trouble to explain. "We don't mean any harm. I reckon you'll get along all right, once yuh get wised up." "Do you expect to be in town for any length of time?" Mr. Dill's voice was wistful, as well as his eyes.
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