Mrs. Conner, the lady of the house, had seen them by this time, and came running down the walk to meet her distinguished visitor, wondering a little to what she was indebted for this call from one who, since her marriage with the aristocratic Dr. Remington, had somewhat ignored her former acquaintances. Agnes was delighted to see her, and as Guy declined entering the cottage just then, the two friends disappeared within the door, while the doctor and Guy repaired to the office, the latter sitting down in the chair intended for Madeline Clyde. This reminded the doctor of his perplexity, and also brought the comforting thought that Guy, who had never failed him yet, could surely offer some suggestions. But he would not speak of it just now, he had other matters to talk about; and so, jamming his pen-knife into a pine table covered with similar jams, he said, “Agnes, it seems, has come to Aikenside, notwithstanding she declared she never would, when she found that the whole of the Remington property belonged to your mother, and not your father.”
“Oh, yes. She recovered from her pique as soon as I settled a handsome little income on Jessie, and, in fact, on her too, until she is foolish enough to marry again, when it will cease, of course, as I do not feel it my duty to support any man’s wife, unless it be my own,” was Guy Remington’s reply; whereupon the pen-knife went again into the table, and this time with so much force that the point was broken off; but the doctor did not mind it, and with the jagged end continued to make jagged marks, while he said: “She’ll hardly marry again, though she may. She’s young—not over twenty-six—”
“Thirty, if the family Bible does not lie,” said Guy; “but she’d never forgive me if she knew I told you that. So let it pass that she’s twenty-eight. She certainly is not more than two years your senior, a mere nothing, if you wish to make her Mrs. Holbrook;” and Guy’s dark eyes scanned curiously the doctor’s face, as if seeking there for the secret of his proud young step-mother’s anxiety to visit plain Mrs. Conner the moment she heard that Dr. Holbrook was her boarder. But the doctor only laughed merrily at the idea of his being father to Guy, who was his college chum and long-tried friend.
Agnes Remington, who was reclining languidly in Mrs. Conner’s easy-chair, and overwhelming her former friend with descriptions of the gay parties she had attended in Boston, and the fine sights she saw in Europe, whither her gray-haired husband had taken her for a wedding tour—would not have felt particularly flattered, could she have seen that smile, or heard how easily, from talking of her, Dr. Holbrook turned to Madeline Clyde, whom he expected every moment. There was a merry laugh on Guy’s part, as he listened to the doctor’s story; and when it was finished, he said: “Why, I see nothing so very distasteful in examining a pretty girl, and puzzling her, to see her blush. I half wish I were in your place. I should enjoy the novelty of the thing.”
“Oh, take it, then; take my place, Guy,” the doctor exclaimed, eagerly. “She does not know me from Adam. She never saw me in her life. Here are books, all you will need. You went to a district school a whole week that summer when you were staying in the country, with your grandmother. You surely have some idea what they do there, while I have not the slightest. Will you, Guy?” he persisted more earnestly, as he heard wheels in the street, and was sure old Sorrel had come again.
Guy Remington liked anything savoring of a frolic, but in his mind there were certain conscientious scruples touching the justice of the thing, and so at first he demurred; while the doctor still insisted, until at last he laughingly consented to commence the examination, provided the doctor would sit by, and occasionally come to his aid.
“You must write the certificate, of course,” he said, “testifying that she is qualified to teach.”
“Yes, certainly, Guy, if she is; but maybe she won’t be, and my orders are, to be strict—very strict at first, and cut one or two. You have no idea what a row the town is in.”
“How did the girl look?” Guy asked, and the doctor replied: “Saw nothing but her bonnet and a blue ribbon. Came in a queer old go-giggle of a wagon, such as your country farmers drive. There was an old man with her in a camlet cloak. Guess she won’t be likely to impress either of us, particularly as I am bullet-proof, and you have been engaged for years. By the way, when do you cross the sea again for the fair Lucy? Rumor says, this summer.”
“Rumor is wrong, as usual, then,” was Guy’s reply, a soft light stealing into his handsome eyes. Then, after a moment, he added: “Miss Atherstone’s health is far too delicate for her to incur the risk of a climate like ours. If she were here I should be glad, for it is terribly lonely up at Aikenside, and I must stay there, you know. It would be a shame to let the place run down.”