But the hour of dinner drew near; and a smell began to pervade the house which aroused Harson at last. He sat up in his chair and smacked his lips; and Spite, who for an undue curiosity as to the contents of a small pasty, exhibited early in the day, had been escorted into the room by the house-keeper aided by a broomstick, sat under the same chair licking his lips and slavering profusely.
Again the red face of the house-keeper was projected in the room, and as instantly withdrawn. It wanted half an hour to the time. In and out again; it wanted twenty-five minutes. In and out again; twenty minutes. The matter was growing serious, and there was something frantic in her looks. But this time Harson caught her, and told her that it was time to put an end to that performance, as he expected his friends every minute; that she must guess as to the time; and that he would ring when she was to serve the dinner.
A rap at the door! and before it could be answered, a heavy step crossed the ante-chamber.
‘There’s Frank,’ said Harson, rising and facing the door; and in came the doctor. But he was not alone; for close behind him followed Ned Somers, dressed in his best. Harry shook hands with them; but before he had time to do more than that, Jacob Rhoneland entered with Kate on his arm, looking very rosy from her walk.
What could it be that caused Ned’s heart to flounce and dance about as wildly as a caged bird; and his cheek to grow at first pale, and then burning hot; and his lips to quiver, and his voice to tremble so that he could scarcely speak; and for a moment was unable even to tell Kate that he was glad to see her? Whatever the complaint was, it was infectious; for Kate’s heart certainly did beat very rapidly; and her color went and came, until it settled into a deep burning blush, as she turned and saw Ned there, looking at her as if he had eyes for nothing else.
‘Good morning Mr. Somers,’ said she, at last, in a tone that was neither firm nor clear.
‘Call me Ned, Kate,’ said he in a low voice; ‘don’t say Mr. Somers. Wont you shake hands with me? There can be no harm in that.’ He extended his hand; she placed hers in it, and at the same time whispered in his ear, (for Harry, seeing that there was some by-play going on, kept Jacob busy,) ‘Speak to father as if nothing had happened. I think he’s inclined to make up. Do, Ned.’
Turning from him, she commenced talking to the Doctor, while Somers, after a moment’s hesitation, went up to the old man and offered his hand.
Rhoneland hesitated, for he experienced the reluctance which old age always evinces to succumb to those younger in years; and it was not very pleasant to admit that his conduct toward Ned had been wrong. But there was something in the expression of Ned’s face, and even in the way in which he offered his hand, which showed that the past was forgiven; and beside that, what had already happened could not be mended by holding out; so Jacob grasped his hand, and said frankly:
‘Ned, my young friend, I wronged thee sadly. I hope you will pardon it.’