Part 20 (1/2)
”I-you see, I thought it would be nice if Mr. Sheridan took Lily home.
And a little while ago I was talking to Mr. Buchanan who brought the Deacons here. He was sitting outside, and he seemed awfully tired and sleepy, and kept saying that late hours were bad for young and old; and then I said that-that the Deacons weren't going back with him. And he didn't wait a minute. He just got into his sleigh, and went off like Santa Claus. And now, it looks as if Mr. Sheridan and Lily were mad at each other-and if Mrs. Deacon finds out that I told Mr. Buchanan to go-I don't know _what_ to do!”
”Well!” said Paul, ”I suppose you're about the _coolest_-rascal I ever met in my life. I don't think I've ever even heard of anyone like you.”
”What shall I do?”
”Do? Why, to be perfectly consistent with your kind, after having gotten everything into a sweet kettle-of-fish, just wash your hands of it.
Leave it to Providence-and hike for the tall timber.” Then he began to chuckle, hugging himself, and shaking up and down, in a rapture of mirth.
”Oh, don't bother about it. They'll get home all right-”
”I'm not bothering about that. I'm thinking about what'll happen if Mrs.
Deacon finds out that I sent Mr. Buchanan away.”
”Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. She hasn't found out yet.”
”I wonder why Mr. Sheridan and Lily are mad at each other.” Then she jumped up.
”What are you going to do now?” demanded Paul.
”I'm going down.”
”Take my advice and stay where you are.” But Jane was already on her way down the ladder.
The party was beginning to break up. The wild tooting of horns, the shrill notes of whistles, and showers of confetti announced the New Year. Jane made her way through the tangles of colored streamers, and the knots of merry-makers toward the huge chimney-place where a group of older people were standing, watching the picturesque scene.
”Ah-ha, here's my girl again!” cried Mr. Webster. ”Come here and watch the fun with your old G.o.d-father.”
With his big hands on her shoulders, Jane leant against him, and looked on as placidly as if there were not a care in the world troubling her peace of mind. When the noise had subsided a little, she looked round and up at Mr. Webster's face, and raising her voice a little so that it was impossible for Mr. Sheridan not to hear what she said, remarked,
”Mr. Buchanan has gone home, and left the Deacons here.”
”What? What is that?” said Mr. Webster hastily. Jane repeated her remark, glancing furtively at Mr. Sheridan, whose face had suddenly grown rather red. But he stared straight ahead and pretended not to have heard her.
”Ah, well, Sam can hitch up our sleigh in a moment,” said Mr. Webster.
”I daresay he'll be only too glad to take Lily home.” And he chuckled slyly.
For some reason, Mr. Sheridan was able to hear _this_ remark quite distinctly. He looked around, and after a momentary hesitation said,
”There is no reason for that. Mrs. Deacon and her daughter are near neighbors of mine, and I-I'd be delighted to take them home.” And without giving his host a chance to argue the point, strode off hastily in the direction of the majestic dowager.
By this time the old lady, undergoing the process of being wrapped up in a dense coc.o.o.n of furs and mantles, while the two Webster boys clamored for the pleasure of putting on her carriage boots, was quite besieged by young men begging to be allowed to drive her home. Lily stood behind her chair, smiling, but a little tired-looking.
Mr. Sheridan worked his way deftly and determinedly through the group.
”Will you let me drive you home, Mrs. Deacon?” He did not look at Lily, and Lily dropped her eyes.