“Maddy would like this—it’s her nature,” he whispered, advancing a step or two, and setting down his feet as softly as if stepping on eggs.
Happening to lift his eyes before one of the long mirrors, he spied himself, wondering much what that “queer looking chap” was doing there in the midst of such elegance, and why Mrs. Noah did not turn him out! Then mentally asking forgiveness for this flash of pride, and determined to make amends, he bowed low to the figure in the glass, which bowed as low in return, but did not reply to the good-natured remark, “How d’ye do—pretty well to-day?”
There was a familiar look about the cape of the camlet cloak worn by the man in the glass, and Grandpa Markham’s face turned crimson as the truth burst upon him.
“How ’shamed of me Maddy would be,” he thought, glancing sidewise at Mrs. Noah, who had witnessed the blunder, and was now looking from the window to hide her laughter.
Grandpa believed she did not see him, and comforted with that assurance he began to remark upon the mirror, saying, “it made it appear as if there was two of you,” a remark which Mrs. Noah fully appreciated. He saw the silk chairs next, and slyly touched one to see if it did feel like the gored, peach-blossom dress worn by his wife forty-two years ago that very spring. Then he tried one of them, examined the rare ornaments in the room and the grand piano, and came near bowing again to the portrait of the first Mrs. Remington, which hung upon the wall.
“This will last Maddy a week. I thank you, ma’am. You have added some considerable to the happiness of a young girl, who wouldn’t disgrace even such a room as this,” he said, as he passed into the hall.
Mrs. Noah received his thanks graciously and led him to the yard, where Sorrel stood waiting for him.
“Odd, but clever as the day is long,” was Mrs. Noah’s comment, as, after seeing him safe out of the yard, she went back to her vegetable oysters, which were in danger of being overdone.
Driving at a brisk trot through the grounds, Sorrel was soon out upon the highway; and with spirits exhilarated by thoughts of going home, he kept up the trot until, turning a sudden corner, his master saw the carriage from Aikenside approaching at a rapid rate. The driver, Paul, saw him too, but scorning to give half the road to such as Sorrel and the square-boxed wagon, he kept steadily on, while Grandpa Markham, determining to speak to Guy, reined his horse a little nearer, raising his hand in token that the negro should stop. As a natural consequence, the wheels of the two vehicles became interlocked, and as the powerful grays were more than a match for Sorrel, the front wheel of Grandpa Markham’s wagon was wrenched off, and the old man precipitated to the ground, which, fortunately for him, was in that locality covered with sand banks, so that he was only stunned for an instant, and failed to hear the insolent negro’s remark: “Served you right, old cove, might have turned out for a gentleman;” neither did he see the sudden flashing of Guy Remington’s eye, as, leaping from his carriage, he seized the astonished African by the collar, and demanded “What he meant by serving an old man so shameful a trick, and then insulting him?”
All apology and regret, the cringing driver tried to make some excuse, but Guy stopped him short, telling him to see how much the wagon was damaged, while he ran to the old man, who had recovered from the first shock, and was trying to extricate himself from the folds of the camlet cloak. Near by was a blacksmith’s shop, and thither Guy ordered his driver to take the broken-down wagon with a view to getting it repaired.