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Updated: May 19, 2025
Tiffany, now that her protegé no longer needed watching, had returned to her tea things. "Eleanor," she called. "Will you run into the house and get that box of chocolate wafers that's over the ice chest?" "Let me carry 'em for you, Miss Gray," put in Chester, breaking through a college reminiscence of Goodyear's. Eleanor never flicked an eyelash as she announced: "I should be very glad."
"I take him," he answered, emphatically, "for as proper a fellow as ever I met in all my vagabond days. Barring his primness he would have proved a gallant" he was going to say "pirate," but paused in time and said "seaman." "God pardon him for a Puritan," he went on, "for he has in him the making of a rare Cavalier." Brilliana turned to Tiffany, whose cheeks were very red.
Tiffany said: "I think Bertram is well enough so that you might see him again." "Oh, sure," replied Mr. Chester, as recalling a neglected trifle. He dropped his valise and strode back to the sick-room for a short stay. All that day, Eleanor harbored a dread, which turned toward night to a relief dread of the first interview, relief that Bertram had not sent for her.
Kate Waddington, left out of the conversation through three or four exchanges, crossed the room and draped herself on a hassock at the feet of Judge Tiffany. "Judge darling," she said in an aside which penetrated to the furthest corner of the room, "I'm going back to my unsympathetic home before tea. Don't you think we're well enough chaperoned to go on with our flirtation just where we left off?"
"But the snakes are more afraid of you than you are of them, Miss Tiffany," replied Cornwood. "Even the rattlesnake will keep out of your way, if he can." "And I should surely keep out of his way. Are there rattlesnakes on this island?" asked the timid English maiden. "I am sorry to say there are; but you might live on the island ten years and never see one.
The angry, level rays edged the dark clouds with crimson, and turned the downpour into sheets of golden rain; in the valleys the glimmering mists were tinted every wild hue; and the remotest heavens were lit with flaming glory. One day General Lawton, General Wood and I, with Ferguson and poor Tiffany, went down the bay to visit Morro Castle.
The men drifted over to the piazza, lit cigars, hoisted their knees, and talked, first, of the prune picking, their trouble with help, the rather bootless effort of a group in San Jose to form a Growers' Association; then of that city where lay their more vital interests. "As usual," smiled Judge Tiffany.
The rehearsed flirtation between Kate and Judge Tiffany faded into a game of jackstones on the floor. Mrs. Tiffany heard the double footsteps fade down the hall, heard the garden door open and close. After a short interval, she heard the door again, and the dim footsteps sounded for but a moment. They had turned, evidently, into Eleanor's own living room.
A dying flash of his old fire woke in Judge Tiffany when he spoke as he felt about this young cub who had bitten his caressing hand. Eleanor left the dinner table as soon as she had a fair excuse. She found herself unable to bear it. Had she remained, she must have defended him. But alone in her living room she look counsel of this treason and agreed in her heart with her uncle.
"You little devil!" answered Bertram. "Come over here." Kate sank down on the edge of his chair, and dropped one arm about his neck. Mrs. Tiffany, viewing the morning from the window of her room, saw them so. At first, she smiled; then a heavier expression drew down all the lines of her face.
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