The shrill whistle of a steam-engine was now heard, not far distant.
"That is the train from Cambridge," said Saul's mother.
CHAPTER XV
Of the quartette that sat down to dinner that evening—a homely dinner, without pretension—three at least were in the best of spirits, and ready to laugh over Molly's peculiar methods of service. Mr. Barham had little sense of humor; in that respect, at least, he was not American; he took life very gravely. It needed all his son's fire to keep things alight in so damp an atmosphere. But Saul's cheek was flushed; he was voluble, excited! Grace had never seen him so brilliant, so evidently happy and at his ease. For here he was at home, with no carping listeners; he could give his fun and fancy play, and this was the occasion which he had thought of so often, and which he had desired so keenly to bring about, during the past two months. It was not in his father's power to depress him to-night. Had he not that gracious, delightful creature opposite, all to himself? No Jem Gunning beside her, as at the Teutonic board, nor cynic Ferrars, as at Brackly. His empire, for a few brief hours at least, was undivided.
Molly, having heaved a joint down before the master, whispered very audibly to the mistress,
"Will ye be doin' y'r own stretchin', m'm, for a few minutes, whiles I fetch the praties and squab pie?"
Grace made as though she heard not, but Saul laughed outright, as the girl scuttled from the room.
"You have no idea, Miss Ballinger, what Molly is, until you have seen her in the presence of an Irish patriot. We had one here last week. I may as well own to you"—here he gave a droll glance at the minister, whose stern glance was riveted on the joint, which he was endeavoring to penetrate with a plated knife[2]—"I may as well own to you that my father has Home Rule proclivities. So he offered Mr. —— hospitality, when he and his colleagues were down here, on their Propaganda tour, last week. Molly out-did herself on that occasion."
"I can believe it," laughed Grace, "from what she said to me."
"What she said to you?" cried Mrs. Barham. "Why, when?"