Benjamin Wright made a sneering gesture. "No, no; don't dismiss him on my account. But that a child should visit you is rather remarkable. I should think his parents—"
"Hush!" she broke in violently, "Go, David, go!"
As the child went sulkily back to the garden, she turned upon her visitor. "How dare you! Dr. Lavendar brought him to me; I will not hear another word! And—and I don't know what you mean, anyhow. You are a cruel old man; what have I ever done to you? I have never asked your grandson to come here. I don't want him. I have told him so. And I never asked you!"
Benjamin Wright cackled. "No; I have not been so far honored. I admit that. You have kept us all at arm's length,—except my boy." Then, bending his fierce brows on her, he added, "But what does Lavendar mean by sending a child—to you? What's he thinking of? Except, of course, he never had any sense. Old Chester is indeed a foolish place. Well, madam, you will, I know, protect yourself, by forbidding my grandson to further inflict his company upon you? And I will remove my own company, which is doubtless tiresome to you."
He bowed again with contemptuous ceremony, and turned away.
The color had dropped out of Helena's face; she was trembling very much. With a confused impulse she called to him, and even ran after him for a few steps down the path. He turned and waited for her. She came up to him, her breath broken with haste and fear.
"Mr. Wright, you won't—" Her face trembled with dismay. In her fright she put her hand on his arm and shook it; "you won't—?"
As he looked into her stricken eyes, his own suddenly softened. "Why—" he said, and paused; then struck the ground with his stick sharply. "There, there; I understand. You think I'll tell? Gad-a-mercy, madam, I am a gentleman. And my boy Sam doesn't interest you? Yes, yes; I see that now. Why, perhaps I've been a trifle harsh? I shall say nothing to Lavendar, or anybody else."
She put her hands over her face, and he heard a broken sound. Instantly he reddened to his ears.
"Come! Come! You haven't thought me harsh, have you? Why, you poor-bird! It was only on my boy's account. You and I understand each other—I am a man of the world. But with Sam, it's different, now, isn't it? You see that? He's in love with you, the young fool! A great nuisance to you, of course. And I thought you might—but I ask your pardon! I see that you wouldn't think of such a thing. My dear young lady, I make you my apologies." He put his hand out and patted her shoulder; "Poor bird!" he said. But she shivered away from his touch, and after a hesitating moment he went shuffling down the path by himself.