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"Gosh, no, the Padre's a regular fellow," replied Penhallow, easily. "You give him his fee and he ain't going to raise no rows." The dining-room of Sam Penhallow's hotel was a fair-sized room with one long dinner table and three small round ones.
Anything shut up in one of those two octavos might stay there a lifetime without Mr. Penhallow's disturbing it; that Master Gridley knew, and of course the young man knew it too.
The clergyman caring little for the spring charm of the maiden summer, but much for John Penhallow's youth of promise, wandered on slowly through the woods, with head bent forward, stumbling now and then, lost to a world where his companion was joyfully conscious of the prettiness of new-born and translucent foliage.
The faint smile on Ann Penhallow's face somehow set the whole business in an agreeably humorous light. The Squire broke into the relief of laughter and rose saying, "Get out of this, all of you, if you want to keep your scalps." John went to the stable not quite pleased. He had felt that his punishment for a boy-frolic and the unexpected results of Billy's alarm had been pretty large.
Late in the summer of 1855, John Penhallow's widow, long a wandering resident in Europe, acquired the first serious illness of a self-manufactured life of invalidism and promptly died at Vevey. Her only child, John, was at once ordered home by his uncle and guardian, James Penhallow, and after some delay crossed the sea in charge of his tutor.
The Episcopal church, which he punctually attended, was on Penhallow's land, and near by was the rectory where Mark lived with an old woman cook and some help from Mrs. Lamb. The night was warm, the windows were open, and the clergyman was seen writing. Josiah at the window spoke. "Excuse me, sir, could I talk to you? I am in a heap of trouble." "In trouble, Josiah?
"Then they didn't get you, after all?" "Is he killed?" The girl's voice was sharp and hard. "No, he ain't," Penhallow's hearty voice broke in. "It takes more than one bullet to kill a tough bird like Scotty." Marc opened his eyes, grinned feebly and shut them again, not before he had seen Polly's anxious face bending over him. "They Pachuca didn't " "Not a bit of it, old man," Hard broke in.
Ann Penhallow spent the remainder of the next day in one of those household inspections which let no failure in neatness or order escape attention. James Penhallow's library was to be cleaned and cared for in a way to distress any man-minded man, while Leila looked on. Had her aunt's recent look of ill-health represented nothing but the depressing influence of a year of anxiety?
I am tired of what seems like an endless effort North and South, to add more exasperations. It will go on and on. Each section seems to want to make the other angry." "It is not Mrs. Penhallow's opinion, I fear. The wrongdoing is all on our side." Said the Squire gravely, "That is a matter, Mark, we never now discuss the one matter. Her brothers in Maryland, are at odds.
He decided not to do so, or at least to wait. Inborn kindliness acted as it had done before, and conscious of his own helplessness, he was at a loss. Near to dusk he lighted a pipe and sat down outside of Penhallow's hut. Servants of engineer officers spoke as they passed, or chaffed him. His readiness for a verbal duel was wanting and he replied curtly.
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