And then he began to point out various interesting spots, with something historical about them which caused neighboring householders to think with pride upon their wonderful locations. In fact, the big fellow took Alexander Barbour's mind away from his troubles and made him feel how well he would be in a few days when he got back into the tang of the salt air at good old Patchogue. Winifred marveled at the manner by which this stranger could so install himself in one's good graces. These same scenes along the parkway interested herself as well, and she remarked upon the difference between a leisurely ride in comfort, as against the scarifying speeders who infested the southern drive. Such had been the only other experience of her lifetime. But, by way of comparison, the smooth, almost jarless driving of Jacques, with Santzi by his side, was to her the acme of delight.
And so the journey continued all the way out to Patchogue, and the little home, where the sleek and silent car came to a final stop. Into the spick and span cottage all four entered and it wasn't long before the father was put to bed, and Winifred, in gingham apron, engaged herself in preparing a dainty luncheon from her jams and preserves together with hot biscuit and coffee. A small jar of cream and big dab of butter were borrowed in neighborly fashion over the back fence, also a chunk of cold ham, representing good measure in the heart of the neighbor. Thus for two hours the little home gave a good account of itself and when saying good-bye Villard looked wistfully into the eyes of sweet Winifred and asked a serious question.
"Do you know how much I love you, dear?"
"With all your heart—I know," she answered.
"When shall I come again?" he pleaded, with eyes that smiled into her own.
"As often as you feel disposed. I shall have no time to attend the little business place we own. But I shall keep it open with help from others. I fear the worst about father."
And when it was time to go back home Villard made no further overture of his love than to hold her hand and to squeeze it tightly. He longed to kiss her but he knew her code—only a husband could claim that right.
Two days later, Alexander Barbour passed away, and Winifred put on mourning. During her grief, the whole town became interested in her affairs, and with Julie Hayes at the business helm, she took her time, and thought out her future. Seemingly everybody called at her home; even George Carver of Riverhead made a special trip to pay his respects. There had been an episode in her life in which he had figured heroically, and she had made a vast impression upon his youthful mind. With the best of intentions, and with due consideration of her bereavement, he did not come often, nor did Villard, owing to the small talk that might arise from too frequent calls. For the sake of companionship she gained consent of Julie Hayes' parents by which the young girl became her companion at home, as well as her clerk at the booth on the Parkway.
With regard to Villard's calls, it had been hinted by Winifred that the Sabbath was a day when visits would be most welcome and that going to church together would be better for her, and add to his prestige—now growing in the town. He had become fond of the place and made many acquaintances. Land deals were active through his ability to furnish money for building purposes. Every citizen was charmed by his modest simplicity and if ever a man owned a townful of ardent boosters it was Drury Villard.
On one particular Sunday George Carver left the Barbour cottage just as Villard drove up, and Winifred and Julie had gone out to the gate as he took his leave. Then, for the first time Winifred noted a shadow creeping over the face of Villard, though he smiled affably, and shook hands with the younger man.