CHAPTER XXVI.—Mrs. Darrell's View of Our Land Laws.
Of all the horrible tortures that the human mind is capable of conjuring up with which to torment itself, none was greater to William Darrell than the consciousness of being ridiculous—the conviction that people were laughing at him. He had seen Victoriano and his own Everett so convulsed with laughter, laughing at him, laughing in his presence, laughing so heartily that they could scarcely stand up. This laughter of the two boys was the most vivid picture in the panorama of living scenes which he himself had evoked. Surely if his own son laughed so heartily, everybody else would do the same. And when on his return home, Clementine had said to him most unceremoniously:
“Why, papa, what made you sit on your horse so stiff? Why did you want to keep that rope? You looked so funny.” And Clementine laughed heartily.
“Get out of my way,” said he, and went to the “colony” straight and banged the door; which meant that he wanted no one else within the precincts of that asylum. “So I looked funny and stiff; they were all laughing at me,” he said, and with a groan of mental and physical pain, flung himself on the lounge.
Presently, Tisha came to say that supper was on the table. “I don't want any supper,” said he in the gruff tones he used when he was angry, or pretended to be. Tisha retired, but in about ten minutes she returned, carrying a tray, which she deposited on a table, saying:
“Missus says that mayhap when you rested awhile you might feel a little hungry.”
“Give me a cup of tea; I want nothing else,” he said, and Tisha fixed his tea just as she knew he liked it with plenty of rich cream and four lumps of sugar, for Darrell's teacup held a pint; she placed the tea on a little table by the lounge and retired.
The tea seemed to refresh him in spite of himself, and he accepted the improvement with an inward protest as if setting down an exception (as lawyers call it) by which he renounced all obligation to be grateful.
Early the settlers began to arrive at the “colony” through the side door of the back hall. Everett joined the meeting, as Romeo came to request his company. Darrell gave his son a withering look, but did not speak to him. He kept his reclining position on the lounge and his satellites sat in a semi-circle around him. He soon told them he had nothing satisfactory to say, as the Don had refused to make any explanation, alleging that he had promised Clarence to say nothing. When Clarence returned he would clear the mystery. The settlers again recommenced their conjectures, and discussed the motives which must have actuated the Don to make a false entry, to record having received money which he never got. Land was the discussion, but there seemed no dissenting voice as to the Don's culpability, and the sinister motives which actuated him in acting in that underhand manner. When the altercation was at the highest, and could be heard all over the house, Mrs. Darrell walked in and, bowing to the astonished squatters, came slowly forward and stood about the middle of the semi-circle, though outside of it. Darrell sat up and all the others stood on their feet and stared as if they had seen some Banquo spectre or other terrible ghostly apparition.
“Be seated, gentlemen, I beg of you. I have but a few words to say. Please sit down,” she reiterated, seeing that every one remained standing.