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There was about him, as he sat there sweeping a slow glance over the girl and the man, a certain atmosphere of deliberate certainty and quiet coldness that gave an impression of readiness for whatever might occur. Ferguson's eyes lighted with satisfaction. The girl might be an Easterner, but the young man was plainly at home in this country.
"Anything new?" questioned the latter, as he had questioned Leviatt. "Nothin' doin'," returned Ferguson. Leviatt now turned from the window. He spoke to Stafford, sneering. "Ben Radford's quite a piece away from where he's hangin' out," he said. He again turned to the window. Ferguson's lips smiled, but his eyes narrowed. Stafford stiffened in his chair.
The last time Julia visited us, Kitty and I got so tired of Gladys Ferguson's dresses, her French maid, her bedroom furniture, and her travels abroad, that we wrote her name on a piece of paper, put it in a box, and buried it in the back yard the minute Julia left the house.
Ferguson's boast that "he was on King's Mountain, that he was king of the Mountain, and God Almighty could not drive him from it" was doubtless prompted, less by a belief in the impregnability of his position, than by a desperate desire to inspire confidence in his men.
McSpadden consented also, after some demur, to fit William for college; but when the first vacation came and the hero requested to be sent to Europe for his health, the persecuted McSpadden rose against the tyrant and revolted. He plainly and squarely refused. William Ferguson's mother was so astounded that she let her gin-bottle drop, and her profane lips refused to do their office.
Broke a spring yesterday an' sent it over to Cimarron to get it fixed up. You c'n have it when it comes back," he added with a touch of sarcasm, "if you're carin' to wait that long." Radford did not reply, but came around to Ferguson's left side and peered at the holster. It was empty.
"And mother wouldn't want a Carey to grow up into an imitation Gladys Ferguson; but that's what Judy would be, in course of time." Julia took Mrs. Ferguson's letter herself to her Aunt Margaret, showing many signs of perturbation in her usually tranquil face. Mrs. Carey read it through carefully. "It is a very kind, generous offer, Julia.
'But she is an extremely fast hunter, and very thorough at a fence. "'Do you know Ferguson's Macbeth? says the young chap. "'I ought to, says Brown. 'We imported Macbeth and Mr. Ferguson bought him from me. "The young chap studies a minute. "'I might as well tell you that I want a hunter to beat Macbeth for the Melford Cup, he says at last. "'Oh, oh! says Brown.
Plimpton had departed, and he stood in the window and gazed across at the flag on the roof of 'Ferguson's. "It would serve me right for meddling in this parson business. Why did I take him away from Jerry Whitely, anyhow?" It added to Nelson Langmaid's discomfort that he had a genuine affection, even an admiration for the parson in question.
Cunningham, of Burns: "The poet, while at Professor Ferguson's one day, was struck by some lines attached to a print of a Soldier dying in the snow, and inquired who was the author: none of the old or the learned spoke, when the future author of Marmion answered, 'They are by Langhorne. Burns, fixing his large, bright eyes on the boy, and, striding up to him, said, it is no common course of reading which has taught you this 'this lad, said he to the company, will be heard of yet."
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