“Not yet,” I said, “but I hope I shall very soon.”
A very faint hope, it must be confessed. As he left the ladies’ room, I heard one of the men say to him,
“G——’ll get no fish to-day. Do you know who she sent? Brown, if you’ll believe it.”
A prolonged whistle. “Didn’t she know?”
“She might have, by this time, one would think.”
Heart sick, I turned away; my theory of trust henceforth must have exceptions. I had led another into sin, and he must suffer for my fault. Just at this instant Brown rushes in, flushed and heated, it is true, but with exercise alone,—that was quite plain—and handing me the money, pants out,
“I’ve been clean to the wharf, and couldn’t get a bit; I determined you should have it, and I’ve been through every market I knowed on, but not a blessed scrap could I find.”
“How glad I am!” broke involuntarily from my lips; and I was only recalled to the inappropriateness of the reply, by his look of puzzled wonder, and “What was it you said, miss?”
“Nothing,” I answered; “thank you for the trouble you have taken;” and he left me, much mystified by my evident delight at the failure of his errand.