Turning and facing her, he said grandly: "I say once more that I know o' nowt that can be done, Miss Mary Tiffin." He turned again, and this time pulled out his watch.
For a few moments Mary sat in deep thought, and then a smile broke over her face—she had realized where her base of operations had been weak. Banishing the smile from her lips, to find refuge in her twinkling eyes, she arose—to vanquish Mr. Lawson.
Quietly walking up behind him she gently laid one plump hand caressingly on his shoulder. Wondrous was the change that stole over his doughty face: the corrugated lines on his forehead gradually vanished, his eyebrows hovered no longer belligerently near the lids, while his chin—really a well-modelled one—receded slowly, but surely, back to its accustomed position, revealing a very pleasant mouth indeed. It could now be seen that the thin face of Mr. Lawson was a most kindly one.
"John," began Mary, in a dangerously soft tone: "I—I think more about thy going away than thou thinks. But thou knows how afeered I am that they'll nivver come together again, and so—and—so, just only for the moment, my thoughts had gone away from thee. And now thou knows this, lad, won't thou make some effort to save 'em from wrecking their lives? Maybe we can't do much, John, but we mun try and do something. Now, if we can prevent the maister from going away to-night, something may turn up to-morrow that'll give 'em a chance to talk it over, and then it may come all reet between 'em once more. As for the train, lad, if the maister should miss it" (both hands were on his shoulders now, and her comely head was very near his), "he simply couldn't get away till to-morrow."
By this time John's face was gloriously radiant, and he was just about to turn around and promise her anything under the sun, when a shrewd expression flashed into his eyes, and composing his countenance, he said, in a somewhat independent, yet nervous tone, as he faced her and adjusted his now disturbing spectacles: "Er—er, Mary, think o' the trouble I'd likely get into if I intrigued for the maister to miss the train; and what should I get for all my trouble? But still, lass, I'm willing" (the glasses were needing no end of adjusting now) "to do what I can—that is, of course, on—on condeetions."
A somewhat embarrassed look came across Mary's face as she covertly glanced at the man of conditions, who was now looking anything but imposing.
"And what may the condeetions be, Mr. Lawson?" There was a touch of wonder in her tone.
Mr. Lawson looked past her, again thrust his hands under his coat-tails, which he waved slowly to and fro like signals of distress, and said, as he raised his eyebrows and tried to appear perfectly at ease, "I—I guess thou must remember, Mary."
Evidently Mary's memory was not all that could be desired, for she shook her head dubiously, and seemed more ill at ease than ever.
Being thus suddenly brought to bay, John did what men generally do when they are cornered—he rushed into the thick of the battle, regardless of consequences.