She directed the placing of all the furniture carried in by the grunting Jimmy Munn and Zachariah; she put the china safe and pantry in order; she superintended the erection of the big four poster bed, measured the windows for the new curtains, issued irrevocable commands concerning the hanging of several gay English hunting prints (the actual hanging to be done by Kenneth and his servant in a less crowded hour,—after supper, she suggested); ordered Zachariah to remove to the attic such of the discarded articles of furniture as could be carried up the pole ladder, the remainder to go to the barn; left instructions not to touch the rolls of carpet until she could measure and cut them into sections, and then went away with the promise to return early in the morning not only with shears and needle but with Hattie as well, to sew and lay the carpets,—a "Brussels" of bewildering design and an "ingrain" for the bedroom.
"When you come home from the office at noon, Kenny, don't fail to bring tacks and a hammer with you," she instructed, as she fanned her flushed face with her apron.
"But I am not going to the office," he expostulated. "I have too much to see to here."
"It isn't customary for the man of the house to be anywhere around at a time like this," she informed him, firmly. "Besides you ought to be down town looking for customers. How do you know that some one may not be in a great hurry for a lawyer and you not there to—"
"There are plenty of other lawyers if one is needed in a hurry," he protested. "And what's more, I can't begin to practise law in this State without going through certain formalities. You don't understand all these things, Viola."
"Perhaps not," she admitted calmly; "but I do understand moving and house-cleaning, and I know that a man is generally in the way at such times. Oh, don't look so hurt. You have been fine this afternoon. I don't know how I should have got along without you. But to-morrow it will be different. Hattie and I will be busy sewing carpets and—and—well, you really will not be of any use at all, Kenny. So please stay away."
He was sorely disgruntled at the time and so disconsolate later on that it required Zachariah's startling comment to lift him out of the slough of despond. Spurred by the desire to convince his servant that his speculations were groundless, he made a great to-do over the imposed task of hanging the pictures, jesting merrily about the possibility of their heads being snapped off by Mistress Viola if she popped in the next morning to find that they had bungled the job.
Four or five days passed, each with its measure of bitter and sweet. By the end of the week the carpets were down and the house in perfect order. He invited her over for Sunday dinner. A pained, embarrassed look came into her eyes.
"I was afraid you would ask me to come," she said gently. "I don't think it would be right or fair for me to accept your hospitality. Wait! I know what you are going to say. But it isn't quite the same, you see. Mother has been very kind and generous about letting me come over to help you with the house,—and I suppose she would not object if I were to come as your guest at dinner,—but I have a feeling in here somewhere that it would hurt her if I came here as your guest. So I sha'n't come. You understand, don't you?" "Yes," he said gravely,—and reluctantly. "I understand, Viola."
Earlier in the week he had ridden out to Isaac Stain's. The hunter had no additional news to give him, except that Barry, after spending a day with Martin Hawk, had gone down to Attica by flat-boat and was expected to return to Lafayette on the packet Paul Revere, due on Monday or Tuesday.