Squire Pettijohn improved this opportunity and made his way into the hall before she remembered that she had not intended to admit him. In any case, she instantly reflected he shouldn't see her mistress, whom he had had the impertinence to speak of as "Eunice."
But her reflection came too late. Miss Maitland was already descending the wide stairs, and had paused at the half-way landing, to observe who was this latest visitor of the many who had called to ask for Moses. Called, also, it may be, to learn something further concerning the interesting "treasure."
But none save this gentleman had ventured to speak to her of what was, in reality, her own affair, and she had not encouraged inquirers to remain. Privacy had never seemed so desirable to her as on that fateful morning nor so difficult to maintain; and though there was no rudeness, her neighbors went away with the feeling that:
"Eunice Maitland's just as proud and reserved as ever. Moses' trouble and her own great fortune don't make a bit of difference, and she makes you feel, without saying a word, that your room is better than your company; and that she'll keep her own counsel in this matter as she has always done in smaller ones."
"Good afternoon, Miss Eunice! Accept my hearty congratulations!" cried Squire Pettijohn, pushing eagerly forward to the foot of the stairs, and bowing to her descending.
"Good afternoon, Squire Pettijohn. You are very kind to come and inquire for my poor friend, Mr. Jones. I am glad to tell you that the doctor says he will do very well, but sorry to add that he will be a prisoner indoors for a long time. Is Mrs. Pettijohn quite well?"
So speaking, and with the manner of one who has expected but one kind of interest in affairs at The Maples, yet knowing perfectly well that the Squire would never have troubled himself about a "hired man's" misfortunes, Aunt Eunice walked with her visitor toward the door. She was puzzled by his presence, but did not enjoy it, and was herself going just then to read the Weekly Journal to her injured helper. She did not take the hint given by the Squire's pause beside the sitting-room door, and moved gently forward to the outer entrance, as if to terminate the interview.
"Make my regards to your good wife, Squire, and thank her for sending to inquire. Moses is much touched and gratified by the good-will of his neighbors, and has had many calls already. But doctor says he should see nobody except ourselves for the present. Good afternoon."
They had now reached the doorway and Susanna stood at one side, keenly observant of the other two, and suddenly breaking into their talk with the exclamation:
"Well, Eunice! What do you think's sent Jimmy Pettijohn a-visitin' us? Not none of Moses' troubles, but to hear about the 'gold mine' was found in the big woods this mornin'! Did you ever hear the beat?"