“Who is he? What is the matter, little girl?” asked Hadyn, as he and Constance swung away over the ice.
“Why, it’s that odious man. I don’t know what to make of him. This is the second time he has forced himself upon me, and why he does so is more than I can fathom. He is the Fire Insurance Agent down in State Street; and the only time we have ever had any intercourse whatsoever with him was when the house burned. But I did not see him even then. Mother or Mammy were the only ones who had any dealings with him at that time, though once later, when the Candy Booth in the Arcade caught fire, he did speak to me, now I remember, though I had quite forgotten it. What in this world can the man want? I declare he half frightens me, he is so audacious.”
She then told Hadyn of Sniffins’ visit to the Arcade. He listened attentively, seeing far more in it than the girl beside him guessed, but taking care not to let her know.
“And you did not engage his sister, after all?” he inquired.
“No; I have a Katherine Boggs doing duty there. She’s a quiet, nice little thing, and not likely to do the ’rushin’ business with all the young fools,’ which this idiot seems to think a requisite qualification. Ugh! How I loathe the very sight of that man! It’s mighty lucky I did not engage his sister, isn’t it? He would have used her as a wedge to force his presence upon me, though why on earth he wishes to is more than I can understand.”
The face she turned up to Hadyn’s was the very personification of sweetness and modesty.
He looked at her, a slight color creeping into his own and a light filling his eyes, which for the first time since she had known him sent an odd little thrill to the girl’s heart, which caused it to beat a trifle quicker, and her eyes to fall before his. It was all over in a moment, and all he said was:
“Keep your modesty, little girl. It is a valuable asset to womanhood. And now we must get back home, or the little Mother and Mammy will get after us.”
[CHAPTER X—“Then Came the Wild Weather.”]
January and February, blustery, wild months, crept slowly away, and March, still more blustery, came in. The cold and dampness told upon poor old Charles, and more than one day found him a fast prisoner in the “baid,” which, in spite of Mammy’s conviction “dat it fair hit de sore spots,” frequently failed to find Charles’, and only served to smother his groans. Then one day, when, in spite of his spouse’s protests, he insisted upon going to the Arcade in a driving snowstorm, the climax was reached, and when Charles reached his little cabin at nightfall he was “cl’ar beat out an’ ready fer ter drap,” as Mammy told Mrs. Carruth. The next day he was downright ill, and a physician had to be summoned.