As Miss Haviland listened to the springing bolt and her father's departing steps, a slight flush overspread her face at the thought of the indignity thus put upon her, and she rose, and, after putting her hand to the door to assure herself that she was not mistaken, proceeded, with a calm, determined air, to a table on one side of the room, on which stood the materials for writing; and here, taking pen and paper, she seated herself, and addressed a brief note to Woodburn, delicately expressing her sense of obligation to him, and concluding with the hope that she might soon have it in her power to do something towards alleviating his present situation. Having signed, sealed, and superscribed the billet, she rose and stood some time hesitating and irresolute.
By what means could this note, now it was written, be made to reach its destination? Should she again summon the chamber-maid, she presumed her father had so managed that the call would not be answered; besides, she felt a repugnance to the thought of resorting to such means. What other method could then be devised?
While thus casting about her for some expedient for effecting her purpose, she thought she heard some one placing a ladder against the side of the house, beneath a window, opening from the rear end of the passage adjoining her room; and, after listening a moment, she distinctly heard the person cautiously ascending. Not being of a timid cast, she quickly removed the thick, heavy curtains of the window in her room next and very near the one under which the unknown intruder was mounting the ladder, and, throwing up the sash, peered out; when, to her surprise, she beheld, and at once recognized, the queer-looking figure of Barty Burt, standing on the top round of the ladder, scratching his head, and giving other tokens of embarrassment at being thus unexpectedly caught in this situation.
“Master Bart,” said Miss Haviland, who had become somewhat acquainted with the other, while supplying her room with fuel, previous to his ejection from the house, to which she was knowing, “your appearance, at this time, to say the least of it, causes me much surprise.”
“I returns the compliment, miss,” replied Bart; “so that makes us even, and no questions on ither side, don't it?”
“Perhaps not, sir,” returned the former, with seriousness: “at all events, you should be able to give a good reason for your appearance here, under such circumstances: please explain your object.”
“And if I don't, you will sing out for the squire, you said? Well, I can get down, and off, before he can get here, I reckon,” responded Bart, in a tone of roguish defiance.
“I did not say I would call Esquire Brush; but, unless you explain——”
“Yes, yes, jest as lieves as not, and will, if you'll keep shut til I can run up garret and back.”
“Your purpose there, sir?”