Janet's Love and Service

by Margaret M. Robertson

“Yes, Charlie. I must confess, there did, more than once, come into my mind the possibility that Harry and his friend and partner might find themselves rivals for the favour of the sweet little Amy. But you must remember, that—”

But Charlie interrupted her, eagerly.

“And did—did your sister think so, too? No, don’t answer me—” added he, suddenly rising, and going first to the window to look out, and then, out at the door. In a little Graeme rose, and went out too, and followed him down the path, to the gate, over which he was leaning. There was no time to speak, however, before they heard the voices of Rose and Hannah, coming toward them. Hannah was propitiated, Graeme knew by the sound of her voice. Mr Millar opened the gate for them to pass, and Graeme said, “You have not been long, Rosie.”

“Are you here, Graeme,” said Rose, for it was quite dark, by this time. “Hannah, this is Mr Millar, my brother Harry’s friend and partner.” And then she added, with great gravity, according to the most approved Merleville formula of introduction, “Mr Millar, I make you acquainted with Miss Lovejoy.”

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr Millar. I hope I see you wed,” said Miss Lovejoy, with benignity. If Mr Millar was not quite equal to the occasion, Miss Lovejoy was, and she said exactly what was proper to be said in the circumstances, and neither Graeme nor Rose needed to say anything till they got into the house again.

“There! that is over,” said Rose, with a sigh of relief.

“The getting of the yeast?” said Graeme, laughing.

“Yes, and the pacification of Miss Lovejoy.”

It was not quite over, however, Graeme thought in the morning. For Rose seemed to think it necessary to give a good deal of her time to household matters, whether it was still with a view to the good humour of Hannah or not, was not easy to say. But she could only give a divided attention to their visitor, and to the account of all that he and Will had done and enjoyed together. Graeme and he walked up and down the garden for a while, and when Mrs Snow had risen, and was in the sitting-room, they came and sat down beside her, and, after a time, Rose came too. But it was Graeme who asked questions, and who drew Mr Millar out, to tell about their adventures, and misadventures, and how Will had improved in all respects, and how like his father all the old people thought him. Even Mrs Snow had more to say than Rose, especially when he went on to tell about Clayton, and the changes that had taken place there.

“Will fancied, before he went, that he remembered all the places distinctly; and was very loth to confess that he had been mistaken. I suppose, that his imagination had had as much to do with his idea of his native place, as his memory, and when, at last, we went down the glen where your mother used to live, and where he distinctly remembered going to see her with you, not long before you all came away, he acknowledged as much. He stepped across the burn at the widest part, and then he told me, laughing, that he had always thought of the burn at that place, as being about as wide as the Merle river, just below the mill bridge, however wide that may be. It was quite a shock to him, I assure you. And then the kirk, and the manse, and all the village, looked old, and small, and queer, when he came to compare them with the pictures of them he had kept in his mind, all these years. The garden he remembered, and the lane beyond it, but I think the only things he found quite as he expected to find them, were the laburnum trees, in that lane,” and on Charlie went, from one thing to another, drawn on by a question, put now and then by Graeme, or Mrs Snow, whenever he made a pause.