He smiled around upon us with malicious meaning, and I fancied his eye lingered upon me for an instant longer than the rest. Then he went out and shut the door behind him.
I could have sworn that I heard him chuckling to himself as he went down the steps to the street.
Chapter IV
Our New Home
I think we were all a little dazed by the scene we had just gone through. Indeed, the problem grandaunt had set us was enough to confuse anyone. For myself, I know that I have only the most confused recollection of Mr. Chester bundling us into the carriage, of a long drive over a smooth country road, past stately old houses and pretty modern cottages half-hidden among the trees, and finally of rolling through a massive stone gateway, and of getting out, at last, before a great, square red-brick house with a beautiful columned doorway, where two old people, a man and a woman, stood bobbing their heads to us and gazing at us with a curiosity not unmixed with apprehension.
“This is to be your home for the next month, at least,” said Mr. Chester, “and, I hope, for always. This is Abner Smith,” he continued, beckoning the old people forward, “and this is his wife, Jane. They were good and faithful servants to Mrs. Nelson, as she has said.”
They were a plump and comfortable-looking couple, with faces like ruddy apples and hair like driven snow, and eyes which still retained some of the fire of youth. They were good to look at, striking examples of a well-spent life and beautiful old age. One saw instantly that they were trustworthy and lovable, and as I looked at them, I knew that they would be good and faithful servants to us also. I felt, somehow, that the possession of these two old retainers gave an added dignity to the family—a sort of feudal antiquity, very pleasant and impressive, and quite in keeping with the place.
But I had only a moment for such reflections, for Mr. Chester bade us good-bye, adding that he was coming back to take us home with him to dinner.
“I’ve got a little something a-waitin’ fer ye,” observed Mrs. Abner, hesitating between a natural shyness and a desire to please. “I know how travellin’ tires a person out.”
“Indeed it does,” agreed mother cordially, and we followed our guide into the house, along a wide hall, and through an open door into a pleasant room, where a table stood spread with snowy linen, and looking most inviting.
“Why, this is scrumptious!” cried Dick. “Mrs. Smith, I think you’re—you’re a jewel!”