When Mr. Sherwood returned from New York, he was accompanied by a Mr. Plaisted, a gentleman of a speculative turn of mind, who had attached himself to Mr. Sherwood with a persistency that showed he had "the cheek of a drummer," and he had invited himself to accompany Mr. Sherwood to his home in Halifax. Although fond of horses, there was nothing about the appearance of Mr. Plaisted to suggest the jockey: he was what would have been termed in a later day a fair specimen of the genus dude. He was of medium height, and was decidedly foppish in his manner, and with his elaborate neck-ties and perfumed curls, he was, in his own estimation at least, quite irresistible. His hands and feet were unusually small for a man. The latter he was very proud of, always encasing them in boots of the very latest style; and, no doubt, the "cold cream" and other cosmetics which he nightly used helped to give his hands and face the fair appearance that so delighted himself.
His presence in the household seemed to have an opposite effect on the twin girls. Gussie was delighted with his fine appearance and gallant speeches, but Dexie seemed to see the ignoble nature behind and kept him at a distance.
A few evenings after his arrival, when the family were assembled in the parlor, Mr. Plaisted, who was leaning back in his chair, in an attitude peculiar to Americans, asked: "Have you a son living in Boston, Sherwood? I met a young fellow in a broker's office bearing your name. Any relation of yours?"
"No, neither a son nor a relation; this is my only boy," Mr. Sherwood replied, reaching for Georgie's ear in a playful manner.
"Ah! that's a pity now! a grown-up son would have been some use to you. If one of the twins had happened to be a boy, you would have had quite an assistant by now."
Dexie was sitting behind the window curtain, watching the passers-by. She resented this speech, and the rude way it was uttered provoked her into replying:
"One does not need to be born a boy to be of use in this world, allow me to tell you, Mr. Plaisted! for in all things that he needs help, I am my father's boy—not ghost!" she laughingly added, as Plaisted, startled by her sudden appearance, almost overbalanced in his chair.
"Bless me! I didn't notice you were there, Miss Dexie," said he, regaining his equilibrium with an effort. "Guess you've been studying Shakespeare for my benefit, eh, Miss Dexie?"
"Oh! that's just like Dexie," said Gussie, with a frown. "She always likes to make a scene when she can. She will want to go on the stage, I expect, by and by."
"What nonsense! Gussie," said Dexie, smiling good-naturedly, "when all the theatrical performances we are allowed to attend are those that take place up in the attic."