Part 10 (1/2)
”Perhaps mother gave thee a bit of a sermon?”
”She has given me two things that a man can't be a man without--hope and courage.”
”Well, thee does kind of look as if thee had plucked up heart.”
”You, too, are catching the infection of this home,” Miss Warren said, in a low voice, as she stood near me.
”So soon? I feel that I shall need an exposure of several weeks. There is now but one obstacle in the way.”
”Ah, yes! I remember what you said. It's time you explained.”
”Not yet.” And I turned and answered Adah's perplexed and frowning brow.
”You will find me in that paper, Miss Adah, as one of its chief faults.
I am one of its editors, and this fact will reveal to you the calling from which I and many others, no doubt, have suffered. Thus you see that, after all, I have revealed my secret to you only. To your mother I revealed myself. I hope, sir, you will not reverse your decision?” I said to Mr. Yocomb.
The old gentleman laughed heartily as he answered, ”I have had my say about editors in general. Mother and--I may add--something in thy own manner, has inclined me to except present company. But I'll read thy paper since Emily Warren takes it, so thee'd better beware.”
I saw that Adah was regarding me with complacency, and seemed meditating many other questions. I had fully decided, however, that while I should aim to keep her goodwill I would not permit her to make life a burden by her inane chatter, or by any sense of proprietors.h.i.+p in me. She must learn, as speedily as possible, that I was not one of her ”half-dozen young men.”
”Richard Morton, thee can keep thy room, and I hope thee will not find our quiet, homely ways irksome, since we cannot greatly change them,”
said my hostess.
”I have a request to make, Mrs. Yocomb,” I replied earnestly; ”and I shall derive no pleasure or benefit from my sojourn with you unless you grant it. It is, that your family life may go on just the same as if I were not here. As surely as I see that I am a source of restraint or extra care and trouble, you will drive me out into the wilderness again. You know why I wish to stay with you,” I added meaningly.
”We shall take thee at thy word,” said Mrs. Yocomb, with a smile on her lips but a very wistful, kindly light in her eyes.
”Reuben, tell Richard Morton the truth,” said his father. ”Would it give thee a great deal of trouble or much pleasure to take Dapple and drive to the village for friend Morton's valise?”
The youth, who was a good-natured and manly boy, to whom Sundays pa.s.sed a trifle slowly, sprang up with such alacrity that I laughed as I said, ”No need of words, Reuben, but I owe you a good turn all the same.”
Then turning to Miss Warren, I continued:
”You have been here a week. Will your conscience permit you to teach me a little topography? It would be no worse than reading that newspaper.”
”Indeed, I think it might be better. It will be a useful task, at least; for, left to yourself, you might get lost, and make Mr. Yocomb no end of trouble. Did you not tell me, sir (to our host), that on one occasion you had to hunt some one up with fish-horns, lanterns, etc.?”
”Yes, and he was from New York, too,” said Mr. Yocomb.
”If I get lost, leave me to my fate. There will be one editor the less.”
”Very true; but I'd rather have thee on thy paper than on my conscience. So Emily Warren, thee look after him, and show him the right and proper ways, for I am now too old to enjoy a night hunt, even with the music of fish-horns to cheer us on. I ask thee, Emily, for some of thine instead when thee comes back.”
CHAPTER VIII
THE MYSTERY OF MYSTERIES
”Is it a task, then, to show me the right paths and proper ways?” I asked, as we strolled away, leaving Adah looking as if--in her curiosity to know more of the new species, a night editor--she wished Silas Jones in the depths of the Dead Sea.