Hills of the Shatemuc Part 92

"I don't know --" said Winnie.

"Ask your brother if he don't think so."

"Why?"

"See if he don't think so."

"Which brother?"

"Your brother that's here -- your brother Winthrop."

"Does he think she is?"

"Ask him," repeated Mrs. Nettley.

"I don't know why I should ask him," said Winnie turning over uneasily on her couch; -- "I don't care if she is or no."

"Ay, but you might care."

"I don't know why," said Winnie.

"How would you like to have a new sister one of these days? -- by and by?"

"A sister?"

Mrs. Nettley nodded.

"A sister!" said Winnie. "How should I have a sister?"

"Why such a thing might be," said Mrs. Nettley. "Did you never think of one of your brothers getting married?"

"Winthrop won't!" said Winnie, -- "and I don't care what Rufus does."

"What makes you think Winthrop won't?"

"He won't!" said Winnie with flushing cheeks.

"Wouldn't you be glad? You would like anything that would make him happy."

"Happy!" said Winnie. -- "Glad! -- I do wish, Mrs. Nettley, you would go down stairs and leave me alone!"

Mrs. Nettley went away, in some astonishment. And before her astonishment had cooled off in her own kitchen, down came Winnie, with flushed cheeks still, and watery eyes, and a distressed face, to beg Mrs. Nettley's forgiveness. It was granted with her whole heart, and a burden of apologies besides; but Winnie's face remained a distressed face still.

The chicken, broiled on Mrs. Nettley's fire, was salted with some tears; and all the simple and careful preparations for Winthrop's dinner were made more carefully than usual; but when Winthrop came home, his little sister was as far from being herself as ever.

It happened that Winthrop was very busy that day and had no time to talk, except the disjointed bits of talk that could come between the joints of the chicken; and pleasant as those bits were, they could not reach the want of poor Winnie's heart. Immediately after dinner Winthrop went out again; and she was left to get through the afternoon without help of anybody.

It had worn on, and the long summer day was drawing to its close, when Winthrop was at last set free from his business engagements and turned his face and his footsteps towards home. The day had been sultry and his toil very engrossing; but that was not the reason his footsteps flagged. They flagged rarely, but they did it now. It needed not that he should have noticed his little sister's face at dinner; his ordinary burdens of care were quite enough and one of them just now pressing. In a sort of brown study he was slowly pacing up one of the emptying business streets, when his hand was seized by some one, and Winthrop's startled look up met the round jocund well-to-do face of the German professor.

"Wint'rop! -- Where are you going?"

"Home, sir," -- said Winthrop returning the grasp of his friend's hand.

"How is all wiz you?"

"As usual, sir."

"Wint'rop -- what is de matter wiz you?"

"Nothing! --" said Winthrop.

"I know better!" said the naturalist, -- "and I know what it is, too. Here -- I will give you some work to do one of these days and then I will pay you the rest."

And shaking Winthrop's hand again, the philosopher dashed on.

But Winthrop's hand was not empty when his friend's had quitted it; to his astonishment he found a roll of bills left in it, and to his unbounded astonishment found they were bills to the amount of three hundred dollars.

If he was in any sort of a study as he paced the rest of his way home, it was not a brown study; and if his steps were slow, it was not that they flagged any more. It had come in time; it was just what was needed; and it was enough to keep him on, till he should be admitted to the bar and might edge off his craft from her moorings to feel the wind and tide 'that lead on to fortune.' Winthrop never doubted of catching both; as little did he doubt now of being able some time to pay back princ.i.p.al and interest to his kind friend. He went home with a lighter heart. But he had never let Winnie know of his troubles, and could not for the same reason talk to her of this strange relief.

Thinking so, he went up the stairs and opened the door of his and her sitting-room. The sun was down by that time, and the evening light was failing. The table stood ready for tea; Winnie had all the windows open to let in the freshening air from the sea, which was beginning to make head against the heats and steams of the city; herself sat on the couch, away from the windows, and perhaps her att.i.tude might say, away from everything pleasant. Winthrop came silently up and put a little basket in her hand.

"Oh! --" Winnie sprang forward with an accent of joy, -- "Strawberries! -- Beautiful! and so sweet! O Winthrop, aren't they sweet! -- how good they will be."

"I hope so," said he. "How are you?"

"O -- I'm well," said Winnie. "How big they are -- and fresh.

They do smell so sweet, don't they, Governor?"

Winthrop thought they were not so fresh nor so sweet as those which grew in the Bright Spot under Wut-a-qut-o; but he didn't remind Winnie of that. He smiled at her, as she was picking over her basket of strawberries with an eager hand. Yet when Winnie had got to the bottom of the basket and looked up at him his face was very grave indeed.

"There's plenty for you and me, Governor," she said.

"No," said her brother.

"There is plenty, Winthrop!"

"There is only just enough for you, and you must prove that by eating them all."

"Why didn't you get some for yourself, Governor!"

He answered that by spreading for her a particularly nice piece of bread and b.u.t.ter and laying it on her plate alongside of the strawberries. Winnie took it in the same pleasant mood and began upon both with great zeal; but before she had got half through the strawberries something seemed to come over her recollection; and the latter part of the meal her face grew more shadowy than the growing evening. When it was over, Winthrop placed her gently on the couch, and himself put away the dishes and gla.s.ses and eatables from the table. Then he came and sat down beside her and drew her head to lean upon him. It was darkening by that time, and the air coming in more and more fresh at the windows.

"Have you been very tired to-day?"

"No -- I don't know --" said Winnie doubtfully.

"We couldn't have our walk this evening -- I am sorry for that -- but I was kept so long with Bob Satterthwaite. He is in a great feaze about some property that he thinks is owing to him somewhere, and he has been giving me a long detail of matters and things connected with the business. -- I believe that if I were in practice he would commission me to get his rights for him. And an old cla.s.smate and friend of mine, Bob Cool, was in town to-day and came to see me. _He_ was expressing a very earnest wish that I were working on my own hook."

"Oh I wish you were!" -- said Winnie.

"Patience. I shall be in a little while more, if all goes well. Mr. Cool promises I shall have all his business."