Wych Hazel. Warner Susan
your lap, I suppose!'
'Mr. Falkirk, the accuracy of your judgment is unparalleled.
Is that our coach at the door?'
'My dear, you will find plenty of cats at Chickaree,' said her guardian, looking annoyed.
'Yes, sir—' said the young lady meekly, dropping her veil and fitting on her gloves.
'All right, sir,' said the landlord appearing at the door. 'Roughish road, Mr. Falkirk—and t'other gents not enough patience to divide among 'em and go half round—'
How much patience Mr. Falkirk carried to the general stock does not appear. But presently, lifting one corner of her basket lid, Wych Hazel drew forth a radiant spray of roses, and laid them penitently upon the averted line of her guardian's coatsleeve.
'Where did you get that?' he said. 'You had better put it in the basket, my dear; it will stand a better chance to keep fresh.'
'Do you prefer pinks, sir?—or here are bachelor's buttons—'
'They seem rather common things to me,' said Mr. Falkirk slowly, yet with a somewhat pacified brow. There was no kitten in the basket!
'I hadn't the heart to bring puss, as we are going to
Catskill,' whispered Miss Hazel.
'We!' ejaculated Mr. Falkirk.
'Nominative case, first person plural, sir.'
'And what's the definition of an adverb?'
'Something which qualifies your suffering—n'est-ce pas, Mr. Falkirk?'
'Certainly, by its primary action upon your doing, Miss Hazel.
We are going to Chickaree.'
To which statement Miss Hazel for the present made no reply. She retreated to the depths of her own corner and the brown veil; fingering her roses now and then, and (apparently) making endless mental 'studies' of the wayside. The coach jogged lumberingly on: there was no relief to the tiresomeness of the way. It was a long morning. Dusty and weary, the coach- load was set down at last at another country inn; by the side of a little river which had well filled its banks. The travellers were not, it must be noted, upon any of the great highways of passage, but had taken a cut across country, over some of the spurs of the Catskill; where a railroad was not. Mr. Falkirk brought his charge into the 'Ladies' parlour,' and spoke in a tone of irritated business.
'This is Hadyn's Dam. You can have rest and dinner now.'
CHAPTER IV.
FELLOW TRAVELLERS.
'Dinner—and the rest of it,' translated Miss Hazel. 'Will it be needful to make a grand toilette, sir? or shall I go to the table as I am? If one may judge of the selectness of the company by their conversation'—
'You'll see no more of the company,' said Mr. Falkirk; 'they are going another way, and we have to wait here. The bridge will be repaired to-morrow, I suppose.'
'Yes, sir. We don't dine upon the bridge, I presume?'
Mr. Falkirk went off, making sure that the door latched behind him. In a quarter of an hour he came back, with an attendant bearing a tray.
'At present fortune gives us nothing more remarkable than fried ham,' he said—'and that not of the most eatable, I fear. She is a jade. But we'll get away to-morrow. I hope so.'
'My dear sir,' said Wych Hazel with a radiant face, 'we will get away to-night. I find that the bridge is not on our road, after all. So I said it was not worth while to get a room ready for me—and the baggage might be just transferred.'
'To what?'
'To the other stage, sir. Or indeed I believe it is some sort of a baggage wagon—as the roads are heavy—not to speak of the passengers. It has gone on up the mountain.'
'What has?' exclaimed Mr. Falkirk, whose face was a study.
'The wagon,' said Miss Hazel, seating herself by the table.
'More particularly, your one trunk and my six, sir.'
'Where has it gone?'
'Up the mountain, sir. They were afraid of making the stage top heavy—the weight of intellect inside being small.'
'Do you mean, to Catskill?'
'Yes, sir. Poor little puss!—Does the vegetation hereabouts support nothing but pigs?' said Miss Hazel, with a despairing glance from the dish of ham to a yellow haired lassie in a blue gown, who just then brought in a pitcher of water. Mr. Falkirk waited till the damsel had withdrawn, and went to the window and came back again before he spoke.
'You should have consulted me, Miss Hazel. You are bewildered.
It is not a good time to go up the mountain now.'
'Bewildered? I!' was Miss Hazel's only answer.
'Yes, you don't know what is good for you. I shall send for those trunks, Wych.'
'Quite useless, sir. There is nothing else going up to the Mountain House till we go ourselves. We will go for them—there is nothing like doing your own business.'
'You will find that out one day,' muttered her guardian.
'Seeking my fortune, and wait for the mending of a bridge!' Hazel went on. 'And then I said I was going to Catskill—and then you're the best guardian in the world, Mr. Falkirk, so it's no use looking as if you were somebody else.'
'I shall be somebody else directly,' said Mr. Falkirk in a cynical manner. 'But eat your dinner, Miss Hazel; you will not have much time.'
A meal for which he did not seem to care himself, for there was no perceivable time when he took it.
The stage coach into which the party presently stowed themselves, held now but those four—Mr. Falkirk and his ward, and two gentlemen who had declared themselves on the way to the mountain. The former established themselves somewhat taciturnly in the several corners of the back seat, and so made the journey; that is to say, as much as possible, for Mr. Falkirk being known to the other could not avoid now and then being drawn into communication with them. One, indeed, Mr. Kingsland, made many and divers overtures to that effect. His elegance of person and costume was advantageously displayed in an opposite corner, from whence he distributed civilities as occasion offered. His book and his magazine were placed at the brown veil's disposal; he stopped the coach to buy cherries from a wayside farm, which cherries were in like manner laid at Wych Hazel's feet; and his observations on the topics that were available, demonstrated all his stores of wit and wisdom equally at hand and ready for use. But brown veil would none of them all. The daintiest of hands took two cherries and signed away the rest; the sweetest of girl voices declined the magazine or gave it over to Mr. Falkirk. If the eyes burned brown lights (instead of blue) in their seclusion, if the voice just didn't break with fun, perhaps only Mr. Falkirk found it out, and he by virtue of previous knowledge. But in fact, Miss Hazel gave the keenest attention to everybody and everything.
A contrast to Mr. Kingsland was their other fellow-traveller. Mr. Rollo occupying the place in front of Mr. Falkirk, made himself as much as possible at ease on the middle seat, with his back upon the persons who engaged Mr. Kingsland's attention; but he did not thereby escape theirs. When a society is so small, the members of it almost of necessity take note of one another. The little brown-veiled figure could not help noticing what a master he was in the art of making himself comfortable; how skilfully shawls were disposed; how easily hand and foot, back and head, took the best position for jolting up the hill. It amused her as something new; for Mr. Falkirk belonged to that type of manhood which rather delights in being uncomfortable whenever circumstances permit; and other men she had seen few. Mr. Rollo had a book too, which he did not offer to lend; and he gave his lazy attention to nothing else—unless when a bright glance of eye went over to Mr. Kingsland. He was as patient as any of the party; as truly he had good reason, being by several degrees the most comfortable. But