“I will,” said I, coldly; and I meant it.
To my surprise Mrs. Ranck gave a strange chuckle, which was doubtless meant for a laugh—the first I had ever known her to indulge in. It fired my indignation to such a point that I cried out: “Shame!” and seizing my cap I rushed from the house.
The cottage was built upon a small hill facing the bay, and was fully a quarter of a mile distant from the edge of the village of Batteraft. From our gate the path led down hill through a little group of trees and then split in twain, one branch running down to the beach, where the shipping lay, and the other crossing the meadows to the village. Among the trees my father had built a board bench, overlooking the bay, and here I have known him to sit for hours, enjoying the beauty of the view, while the leafy trees overhead shaded him from the hot sun.
It was toward this bench, a favorite resort of mine because my father loved it, that I directed my steps on leaving Mrs. Ranck. At the moment I was dazed by the amazing discovery of my impoverished condition, and this, following so suddenly upon the loss of my father, nearly overwhelmed me with despair. But I knew that prompt action on my part was necessary, for the woman had only given me three days grace, and my pride would not suffer me to remain that long in a home where my presence was declared a burden. So I would sit beneath the trees and try to decide where to go and what to do.
But as I approached the place I found, to my astonishment, that a man was already seated upon the bench. He was doubtless a stranger in Batteraft, for I had never seen him before, so that I moderated my pace and approached him slowly, thinking he might discover he was on private grounds and take his leave.
He paid no attention to me, being engaged in whittling a stick with a big jack-knife. In appearance he was short, thick-set, and of middle age. His round face was lined in every direction by deep wrinkles, and the scant hair that showed upon his temples was thin and grey. He wore a blue flannel shirt, with a black kerchief knotted at the throat; but, aside from this, his dress was that of an ordinary civilian; so that at first I was unable to decide whether he was a sailor or a landsman.
The chief attraction in the stranger was the expression of his face, which was remarkably humorous. Although I was close by him, now, he paid no attention to my presence, but as he whittled away industriously he gave vent to several half audible chuckles that seemed to indicate that his thoughts were very amusing.
I was about to pass him and go down to the beach, where I might find a solitary spot for my musings, when the man turned his eyes up to mine and gave a wink that seemed both mysterious and confidential.
“It’s Sam, ain’t it?” he asked, with another silent chuckle.
“Yes, sir,” I replied, resenting his familiarity while I wondered how he should know me.