It was an agreeable surprise to Mr. Haviland to see sitting in her modest phaeton, a quiet girl who looked up at him with a pair of the largest and clearest eyes he had ever seen, while she told him about Sammy Craddock.
“I want the place very much for him, you see,” she ended. “But of course I do not wish to be unfair to any one who may want it, and deserve it more. If there is any one who really is in greater need of it, I suppose I must give it up.”
“But I am glad to tell you, there is nobody,” answered Mr. Haviland quite eagerly. “I can assure you, Miss Barholm, that the half dozen men who have applied to me are without a solitary exception, unmitigated scamps—great strong burly fellows, who would, ten to one, spend their days in the public house, and their nights in my preserves, and leave their wives and children to attend to my gates. This Craddock is evidently the very man for me; I am not a model landowner, but I like to combine charity with subservience to my own interest occasionally. I have heard of the old fellow. Something of a demagogue, isn't he? But that will not frighten me. I will allow him to get the better of me in political discussion, if he will leave my pheasants alone.”
“I will answer for the pheasants,” said Anice, “if you will let me send him to you.”
“I will see him to-morrow morning with pleasure,” said Mr. Haviland. “And if there is anything else I can do, Miss Barholm———”
“Thank you, there is nothing else at present. Indeed, you do not know how grateful I feel.”
Before an hour had passed, Sammy Craddock heard the good news. Anice drove back to his house and told him, without delay.
“If you will go to-morrow morning, Mr. Haviland will see you,” she ended; “and I think you will be good friends, Mr. Craddock.”
“Owd Sammy” pushed his spectacles up on his forehead, and looked at her.
“An' tha went at th' business o' thy own accord an' managt it i' haaf an hour!” he said. “Well, I'm dom'd,—axin your pardin fur takkin th' liberty; it's a habit I've getten—but I be, an' no mistake.”