“Well, yes, I do wish it, Pugh, and I am very much obliged. By-the-way, though, what will she say to your going out on the expedition?”
Dutch shook his head.
“By Jove, I never thought of that,” said Mr Parkley. “Poor little woman, it will be too bad. I tell you what, I was going to get old Norton to mind the business. I will not. You shall stay at home.”
“I should like to go,” said Pugh, quietly; “but situated as I am, I should be glad if I could stay.”
“So you shall, Pugh—so you shall,” said Mr Parkley. And nodding his head over and over again, he left Dutch to his thoughts.
He left for home that night with the cloud seeming to darken round him. He felt that under the circumstances he was bound to accede to his partner’s wishes, and yet he was about to take this man, a stranger, to his own sacred hearth, and he shuddered again and again at the ideas that forced themselves upon his brain.
“I’ve said I’ll receive him,” he said at last, half aloud; “but it is not yet too late. Hester shall decide, and if she says ‘No,’ why there’s an end of it all.”
A short run by the rail took him to his pleasant little home—a small house, almost a cottage, with its tolerably large grounds and well-kept lawn. The little dining and drawing-rooms were shaded by a broad green verandah, over which the bedroom of the young couple looked down, in summer, upon a perfect nest of trailing roses.
Dutch gave a sigh of satisfaction as he saw the bright, sunny look of pleasure that greeted him, and for the next hour he had forgotten the dark shadow as he related to his young wife the great advance in their future prospects.
“I do love that dear old Mr Parkley so,” she cried, enthusiastically. “And now, Dutch, dear, tell me all about why this foreign gentleman is taking up so much of your time. Why, darling, is anything the matter?”