Volume Ii Part 83 (1/2)

”Yes”--he said,--”of course. Your poor father only lived to make the second payment. I don't know why I call him poor--he's rich enough now.

But Sam Deacon!--a small rent? too much for him to get,--and too little.--Why my dear!” he said suddenly sitting up straight and facing round upon Faith, ”I thought--What does your mother expect to do, Miss Faith?--has she seen Sam? What does he say?”

”He came to see her this afternoon, sir--he is bent upon having the place, mother says. And she don't like to leave the old house,” Faith said slowly. ”He will take the farm, I suppose,--but mother thought, perhaps, sir--if you would speak to Mr. Deacon, he would let us stay in the house--only the house without anything else--for another year.

Mother wished it--I don't know that your speaking to him could do any good.” Faith went straight through, but the rosy colour sprung and grew till its crimson reached her forehead. Not the less she went clearly through with what she had to say, her eyes only at the last words drooping. Mr. Stoutenburgh rose up with great energy and stood before her.

”My dear,” he said, ”he shall do it! If it was any other man I'd promise to make him do more, but Sam always must have some way of amusing himself, and I'm afraid I can't make this as expensive as the last one he tried. You tell your mother, Miss Faith, that she shall stay in her house till she'd rather go to yours. I hope that won't be more than a year, but if it is she shall stay.”

”That's good, Mr. Stoutenburgh!” said his wife with a little clap of her hands.

Whether Faith thought it was 'good' might be a question; her eyes fell further, she did not offer to thank Mr. Stoutenburgh for his energetic kindness, nor to say anything. Yet Faith had seemingly more to say, for she made no motion to go. She sat quite still a few minutes, till raising her eyes fully to Mr. Stoutenburgh's face she said gravely, ”Mother will feel very glad when I tell her that, sir.”

”She may make herself easy But tell her, my dear,” said the Squire, again forgetting in his earnestness what ground he was on,--”tell her she's on no account to tell Sam _why_ she wants to stay. Will you recollect that, Miss Faith?”

Faith's eyes opened slightly. ”I think he must know--or guess it, Mr.

Stoutenburgh? Mother says she could hardly bear to live in any other house in Pattaqua.s.set.”

”My dear Miss Faith!” said Mr. Stoutenburgh,--”I mean!--why she don't want to stay any longer. _That's_ what Sam mustn't know. I'm very stupid about my words, always.”

Faith was again obliged to wait a few minutes before she could go on.

Mrs. Stoutenburgh was the first to speak, for the Squire walked up and down, no doubt (mentally) attacking Mr. Deacon.

”I'm so glad!” she said, with the old dance of her eyes--and yet a little sigh too. ”So glad and so happy, that I could cry,--I know I shall when the time comes. Dear Faith, do you feel quite easy about this other business now?”

”What, ma'am?--about Mr. Deacon?”

”Why yes!” said Mrs. Stoutenburgh laughing,--”isn't that the only one you've been uneasy about?”

”I am not uneasy now,” said Faith. ”But Mr. Stoutenburgh--if Mr. Deacon takes the farm back again, whom does the hay belong to, and the cattle, and the tools and farm things?”

”All that's _on the land_--all that's growing on it, goes with it. All that's under cover and moveable belongs to you.”

”Then the hay in the barn is ours?”

”Everything in the barn.”

”There's a good deal in the barn,” said Faith with a brightening face.

”You know the season has been early, sir, and our hay-fields lie well to the sun; and a great deal of the hay is in. Mr. Deacon will want some rent for the house I suppose,--and I guess there will be hay enough to pay it, whatever it is. For I can't sell my cows!--” she added laughing a little.

Her two friends--the Squire on the floor and his wife on the sofa--looked at her and then at each other.

”My dear,” the Squire began, ”I want to ask you a question. And before I do, let me tell you--which perhaps you don't know--just what right I”--

”Oh Mr. Stoutenburgh!” cried his wife, ”do please hus.h.!.+--you'll say something dreadful.”

”Not a bit of it--” said the Squire,--”I know what to say this time, my dear, and when to stop. I wanted to tell you, Miss Faith, that I am your regularly appointed guardian--therefore if I ask questions you will understand why.” But what more on that subject the Squire might have said, and said not, was left to conjecture. Faith looked at him, wondering, colouring, doubting.

”I never heard of it before, sir,” she said.