With the warm spring weather Charles’ health improved steadily; but Mammy had no idea of risking a repetition of her recent experiences by permitting Charles to take needless risks. On dull days or damp ones Charles must bide at home in his cottage, or do little indoor jobs for his mistress. True, Hadyn’s man left very little for the old man to do, for Hadyn had been very careful to tell Parsons that Mrs. Carruth must not want for any service he could render her, and at the same time tactfully spare old Charles’ feelings. And Parsons was a clever young negro, as well as a devoted one to Hadyn.
And it so fell out that Mammy went down to the Arcade rather oftener than usual that spring, and consequently saw many things. Among others was the frequency with which Mr. Elijah Sniffins haunted Arch Number One.
Now, Mammy had absolutely no use for Mr. Elijah Sniffins, as may be remembered. Of course, she conceded him the right to purchase all the candy he wished; but why should he dawdle over his selection, and then tarry to talk with Miss Boggs until the girl seemed almost panic stricken? As near as Mammy could discover, she wished him anywhere but in Arch Number One, and one Saturday morning Mammy took it upon herself to keep a sharp lookout. Several times during the morning she made excuses to go down to the counter for boxes of candy for some of her own customers, and twice found Sniffins there engaged in a very confidential conversation with Miss Boggs. Upon her approach he made most impressive bows to the young lady, and departed with slow insolence.
“’Pears lak dat man powerful set ’pon dese hyer candies,” remarked Mammy.
“Yes, I guess he does like them pretty well,” answered Miss Boggs.
“You know him quite a spell back?” was Mammy’s next question.
“Oh, yes, for some time,” was the hasty answer. “Did you want some more of those pralines, Mammy?” and Miss Boggs fluttered nervously among the boxes in the case, bending low to avoid Mammy’s sharp eyes. As Mammy stood talking Homer Forbes came strolling up to the candy counter.
“Good-morning, Mammy Blairsdale. As usual, you have a watchful eye upon Miss Constance’s interests, I see.”
“Mor’in’, Marsa Fo’bes. Yas, sir. Dat’s what ma eyes were done give me fo’, an’ dey ain’t often playin’ me no tricks, neider. Dey’s good, sharp eyes, if dey is ol’ ones,” was Mammy’s sibyl-like answer.
“You proved that fact to me many months ago,” said Forbes, with one of his whimsical, inscrutable smiles. “I should hate to have a guilty conscience and have you cast your eyes upon me. I’d give myself away as sure as shooting. I’d be sure you’d read my secret if I had one. Lucky I haven’t!”