Hills of the Shatemuc Part 76

exclaimed Mrs. Nettley one morning, as she opened the door of his attic.

"I suppose, the wind, Mrs. Nettley," said Winthrop looking up from the book he was studying.

"O dear! -- how do you manage?"

"I can't manage the smoke, Mrs. Nettley -- Its resources exceed mine."

"It's that chimney!" exclaimed the good lady, standing and eyeing it in a sort of desperate concern, as if she would willingly have gone up the flue herself, so that only she could thereby have secured the smoke's doing the same. "I always knew that chimney was bad -- I had it once a while myself -- I'm sorry you've got it now. What _do_ you do, Mr.

Winthrop?"

"The smoke and I take turns in going out, Mrs. Nettley."

"Eh? -- Does it often come in so? Can't you help it?"

"It generally takes advice with the wind, not with me, ma'am."

"But the chimney might have better advice. I'll get George to fetch a doctor -- I had forgotten it was so bad, I had quite forgotten it, and you never say a word -- Mr. Landholm, you never come to see us."

"I have so much else to see," he said, glancing at his book.

"Yes, and that reminds me -- Have you heard the news?"

"I have heard none to-day."

"Then you heard it yesterday, -- of course you did; but I hear so little, when anything comes to me that's new I always think it must be new to everybody else. But of course _you_ must know it, as it is about friends of yours; I dare say you knew it long ago; -- though such things are kept close sometimes, even from friends; and I somehow was surprised to hear this, though I had no right to be, for I suppose I had no reason for my fancy. I think a good many things I have no reason for, George thinks. Maybe I do. I cant help it."

"But what is the thing in this case, Mrs. Nettley?" said Winthrop smiling.

"Why George told me -- don't you know? I was a little disappointed, Mr. Winthrop."

"Why?"

"Why, I had a fancy things were going another way."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"That's because I talk so ill -- It's this piece of news George brought home yesterday -- he was dining out, for a wonder, with this gentleman who is going to sit to him; I forget his name, -- Mr. -- I don't know what it is! -- but I am foolish to talk about it. Won't you come down and take a cup of tea with us to-night, Mr. Landholm? that's what I came up to ask, and not to stand interrupting you. But you've quite forgotten us lately."

"Thank you, Mrs. Nettley, I'll come with great pleasure -- on condition that you tell me your news."

"The news? O it's no news to you -- it's only this about Miss Haye."

"What about Miss Haye?"

"They say that she is going to get married, to a Mr.

Cadwallader, George said. Her cousin I suppose; there is a cousinship of that name, isn't there, Mr. Landholm?"

Mr. Landholm bowed.

"And had you heard of it before?"

"No, I had not."

"And is it a good match? She is a fine girl, isn't she?"

"I know really nothing of the matter, Mrs. Nettley -- I have never seen the gentleman."

"Really! Haven't you? -- then it _was_ news," said the lady. "I thought you were accustomed to see them so often -- I didn't think I was telling you anything. George and I -- you must forgive us, Mr. Winthrop, people will have such thoughts; they will come in, and you cannot help it -- I don't know what's to keep 'em out, unless one could put bars and gates upon one's minds, and you can't well do that; -- but George and I used to have suspicions of you, Mr. Landholm. Well, I have interrupted you long enough. Dear! what windows! I'm ashamed. I'll send the girl up, the first chance you are out of the house. I told her to come up too; but she is heedless. I haven't been to see 'em myself in I don't know how many days; but you're always so terribly busy -- and now I've staid twice too long!" --

And away she hurried, softly closing the door after her.

Mr. Landholm's quiet study was remarkably quiet for a good while after she went out. No leaf of his book rustled over; not a foot of his chair grated on the floor, -- for though the floor did boast a bit of carpet, it lay not where he sat, by the window; and the coals and firebrands fell noiselessly down into the ashes and n.o.body was reminded that the fire would burn itself out in time if it was let alone. The morning light grew stronger, and the sunbeams that never got there till between nine and ten o'clock, walked into the room; and they found Winthrop Landholm with his elbow on the table and his head in his hand, where they often were; but with his eyes where they _not_ often were -- on the floor. The sunbeams said very softly that it was time to be at the office, but they said it very softly, and Winthrop did not hear them.

He heard however presently a footstep on the stair, in the next story at first, and then mounting the uppermost flight that led to the attic. A heavy brisk energetic footstep, -- not Mrs. Nettley's soft and slow tread, nor the more deliberate one of her brother. Winthrop listened a moment, and then as the last impatient creak of the boot stopped at his threshold he knew who would open the door. It was Rufus.

"_Here_ you are. Why I expected to find you at the office!" was the first cheery exclamation, after the brothers had clasped hands.

"What did you come here to find, then?" said Winthrop.

"Room for my carpet-bag, in the first place; and a pair of slippers, and comfort. It's stinging weather, Governor!"

"I know it. I came down the river the night before last."

"I shouldn't think you knew it, for you've let your fire go down confoundedly. Why Winthrop! there's hardly a spark here!

What have you been thinking about?"

"I was kindling the fire, mentally," said Winthrop.

"Mentally! -- where's your kindling? -- I can tell you! -- if you had been out in this air you'd want some breath of material flame, before you could set any other agoing. And I am afraid _this_ isn't enough -- or won't be, -- I want some fuel for another sort of internal combustion -- some of my Scotchman's haggis."

And Rufus stopped to laugh, with a very funny face, in the midst of his piling chips and brands together.

"Haggis?" said Winthrop.

"Yes. -- There was a good fellow of a Scotchman in the stage with me last night -- he had the seat just behind me -- and he and a brother Scotchman were discoursing valiantly of old world things; warming themselves up with the recollection. -- Winthrop, have you got a bit of paper here? -- And I heard the word 'haggis' over and over again, --'haggis' and 'parritch.'

At last I turned round gravely -- 'Pray sir,' said I, 'what _is_ a haggis?' 'Weel, sir,' said he good-humouredly, -- 'I don't just know the ingredients -- it's made of meal, -- and onions, I believe, --and other combustibles!!' -- Winthrop, have you got any breakfast in the house?"

"Not much in the combustible line, I am afraid," said Winthrop, putting up his books and going to the closet.

"Well if you can enact Mother Hubbard and 'give a poor dog a bone,' I shall be thankful, -- for anything."

"I am afraid hunger has perverted your memory," said Winthrop.

"How?"

"If the cupboard should play its part now, the dog would go without any."

"O you'll do better for me than that, I hope," said Rufus; "for I couldn't go on enacting the dog's part long; he took to laughing, if I remember, and I should be beyond that directly."