It was only common politeness that she should allow him to sit on the door-step, while she immersed the soft, white hand; and the bottle of hot spring water was repeated, till she declared the ground dry enough to walk down to the spring with him. Any number of necks were stretched from parlor-doors and windows, when the shy, bashful gentleman from Siskiyou was seen escorting Mrs. Clayton; but falling in with a train of ladies at the Springs, they all walked back together. Mr. Brodie, unnoticed apparently by Jenny, and uncomfortable among so many of the "contrary sex," quietly slipped away under the shadow of a clump of young trees, where he was joined directly by his partner, who had watched him uneasily all the morning.
It was a warm, cloudless day, a few weeks later, and Mrs. Clayton had not joined the picnic party—because, Ben. Brodie said to himself, with a flutter of his unsophisticated heart, he had felt too unwell in the morning to go. Going down to the Springs alone, Jenny met his partner, and asked pleasantly whether Mr. Brodie had yet recovered from his attack of last night.
"Thank you, Miss, he's better; but it's my opinion as how he'd get well much quicker if he left these Springs and went down to 'Frisco for a spell."
"But, Mr. Perkins, his liver is affected; and these waters are said to be very beneficial."
"Yes, Miss, it was his liver; but I think as how it's in the chist now; and"—doggedly aside—"mebbee the heart, too; and he'll never be himself again while he's up here."
"Oh, you must not see things so black. See, there comes Mr. Brodie now."
"Yes—" something like an oath was smothered between the bearded lips, and the shaggy eyebrows were lowered portentously—"so I see. Ben, didn't I tell yer to stay in the house, and I'd fetch yer the water?"
Whenever Si Perkins addressed Jenny as "Miss"—which was almost invariably his custom—it made her think of a short conversation between Mr. Brodie and herself, soon after their first acquaintance. He had asked her, with an assumed indifference, but a nervous tremor in his voice, "And you are a widow, Mrs. Clayton?" upon which she had turned sharply and said, snappishly, "Would I be away up here all alone if I had a husband?" It flashed through her mind again, as she saw the partner's darkened brow and working lips when Mr. Brodie answered, "It's all right, Si; I wanted to come;" and he laughed a short, confused laugh that stood for any number of unexpressed sentiments—particularly when Jenny was by.
"Shall we walk up toward the garden?" he asked of Jenny.
"I think there is shade all the way up," she replied, throwing an uneasy look on Si Perkins's scowling face. "You may light your cigar, if you feel well enough to smoke." Mr. Brodie turned to his partner to ask for a match, and the next moment left him standing alone in the sun, as though he had no more existence for him.