From the first Uncle Joseph had taken to Jessie, calling her Sarah for a while, and then changing the name to “Daisy”—“Daisy Mortimer, his little girl,” he persisted in calling her, watching from his window for her coming, and crying whenever Maddy appeared without her. At first Agnes, from her city home, forbade Jessie’s going so often to see a lunatic; but when Jessie described the poor, crazy man’s delight at sight of her, telling how quiet and happy he seemed if he could but lay his hand on her head, or touch her hair, she withdrew her restrictions, and, as if moved to an unwonted burst of tenderness, wrote to her daughter: “Comfort that crazy man all you can; he needs it so much.”
A few weeks after there came another letter from Agnes, but this time it was to Guy, and its contents darkened his handsome face with anger and vexation. Incidentally Agnes had heard the gossip, and written it to Guy, adding in conclusion: “Of course I know it is not true, for ever if there were no Lucy Atherstone, you, of all men, would not stoop to Maddy Clyde. I do not presume to advise, but I will say this, that now she is growing a young lady, folks will keep on talking so long as you keep her there in the house; and it’s hardly fair toward Lucy.”
This was what knotted up Guy’s forehead and made him, as Jessie said, “real cross for once.” Somehow, he fancied, latterly, that the doctor did not like Maddy’s being there, while even Mrs. Noah managed to keep her out of his way as soon as the lessons were ended. What did they mean? what were they afraid of, and why did they presume to interfere with him? he’d know, at all events; and summoning Mrs. Noah to his presence, he read that part of Agnes’ letter, pertaining to Maddy, and then asked what it meant.
“It means this, that folks are in a constant worry, for fear you’ll fall in love with Maddy Clyde.”
“I fall in love with that child!” Guy repeated, laughing at the idea, and forgetting that he had long since, accused the doctor of doing that very thing.
“Yes, you,” returned Mrs. Noah, “and ’taint strange they do; Maddy is not a child: she’s nearer sixteen than fifteen, is almost a young lady; and if you’ll excuse my boldness, I must say, I ain’t any too well pleased with the goin’s on myself; not that I don’t like the girl, for I do, and I don’t blame her an atom. She’s as innocent as a new-born babe, and I hope she’ll always stay so; but you, Mr. Guy, you—now tell me honest—do you think as much of Lucy Atherstone, as you used to, before you took up school-keepin’?”
Guy did not like to be interfered with, and naturally high-spirited, he at first flew into a passion, declaring that he would not have folks meddling with him, that he thought of Lucy Atherstone all the time, and he did not know what more he could do; that ’twas a pity if a man could not enjoy himself in his own way, provided that way were harmless, that he’d never, in all his life, spent so happy a winter as the last; that—-
Here Mrs. Noah interrupted him with: “That’s it, the very it; you want nothing better than to have that girl sit close to you when she recites, as she does; and once when she was workin’ out some of them plusses and minuses, and things, her slate rested on your knee; it did, I saw it with my own eyes; and then, let me ask, when Jessie is drummin’ on the piano, why don’t you bend over her, and turn the leaves, and count the time, as you do when Maddy plays; and how does it happen that lately Jessie is one too many, when you hear Maddy’s lessons. She has no suspicions, but I know she ain’t sent off for nothin’; I know you’d rather be alone with Maddy Clyde than to have anybody present, isn’t it so?”
Guy began to wince. There was much truth in what Mrs. Noah had said. He did devise various methods of getting rid of Jessie, when Maddy was in his library, but it had never looked to him in just the light it did when presented by Mrs. Noah, and he doggedly asked what Mrs. Noah would have him do.
“First and foremost, then, I’d have you tell Maddy yourself that you are engaged to Lucy Atherstone; second, I’d have you write to Lucy all about it, and if you honestly can, tell her that you only care for Maddy as a friend; third, I’d have you send the girl—-”