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Updated: October 12, 2025
"Hurrah!" cried the Daughter of the House, involuntarily springing to her feet. "I was so afraid you would not come to that." "I was bound to come to that, miss," said John Gayther. "And did they really marry again?" asked the Mistress of the House. "No," was the reply; "they did not. There was no need of it. The priests assured them most emphatically that there was not the slightest need of it.
"It is a good story if my papa tells it," spoke up the Daughter of the House. And John Gayther was pleased to note a sharpness in her voice. "Yes, miss; that is just what I say a very much good story. I long for the end to come." "Not exactly the compliment intended," remarked the Mistress of the House, with a smile.
"But when he began to talk to her," continued John Gayther, "his former feelings for her returned. She was charming, and he forgot about her hair. Her conversation greatly interested him; and now that his conscience came to the assistance of his affection (for he was doing exactly what Dr.
"Provided he exercised a little more caution in the selection of his specimens," suggested John Gayther, respectfully. "Some might be too green and some the other way, you know; he didn't seem over-particular." "Three travellers passed through," continued the Master of the House, "but not one of them could change a five-dollar note; and Abner chafed at the delay.
"Your sentiments are just as nice as they can be, papa," said the Daughter of the House; "but don't you see if the gentleman did what you would do it would spoil the story?" John Gayther smiled with pleasure. Here was a young lady who never forgot the principle of the thing, whatever the thing might be. "That is true!" exclaimed the captain, stretching himself at full length in his chair.
Has she been going about in society, making investigations into the rudiments of matrimony, during my last cruise? And would you mind telling me if any young men have been giving her lessons in love-affairs? John Gayther, have you seen any stray lovers prowling about your garden of late?" The gardener smiled, and said he had seen no such persons.
John Gayther, however, was an invention. Kate Bonnet and The Captain's Toll-Gate were both written at Claymont. Mr. Stockton was permitted to enjoy this beautiful place only three years. They were years of such rare pleasure, however, that we can rejoice that he had so much joy crowded into so short a space of his life, and that he had it at its close.
"Indeed I did," replied John Gayther. "It was in boxes stowed away in a big room in the stern. I smashed the door, and there were the boxes. I went to work at one of them with my hatchet; and I had just forced up one corner of the lid, and had seen that it was filled with big gold pieces, when I felt a pull on my signal-rope, and knew that they wanted me to come up.
Whether he was drawn to the lilac-bushes by the sweet memory of his former home, or whether he was keeping a tryst with his mate of the nesting season and was calling her to come to him, or whether his coming was pure caprice, of course John Gayther could not know.
Here she picked and planted, and put in and pulled out, according to her own will; and her pulling out was often done after a fashion which would have discouraged any other gardener but John Gayther, who had long since learned that the Mistress of the House knew what she wanted, and that it would be entirely useless for him to trouble himself about her methods.
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