“We shall see, we shall see,” muttered Stapylton to himself. “Your daughter must decide where I am to dine today.”
By the way—that is, as they glided along the bright river—Dill tried to prepare Stapylton for the task before him, by sundry hints as to Polly's temper and disposition, with warnings against this, and cautions about that. “Above all,” said he, “don't try to overreach her.”
“Perfect frankness—candor itself—is my device. Won't that do?”
“You must first see will she believe it,” said the doctor, slyly; and for the remainder of the way there was a silence between them.
CHAPTER XIII. CROSS-PURPOSES
“Where 's Miss Polly?” said Dill, hastily, as he passed his threshold.
“She's making the confusion of roses in the kitchen, sir,” said the maid, whose chemistry had been a neglected study.
“Tell her that I have come back, and that there is a gentleman along with me,” said he, imperiously, as he led the way into his study. “I have brought you into this den of mine, Major, because I would just say one word more by way of caution before you see Polly. You may imagine, from the small range of her intercourse with the world, and her village life, that her acuteness will not go very far; don't be too sure of that,—don't reckon too much on her want of experience.”
“I suppose I have encountered as sharp wits as hers before this time o' day,” replied he, half peevishly; and then, with an air of better temper, added, “I have no secrets to hide, no mystery to cloak. If I want her alliance, she shall herself dictate the terms that shall requite it.”