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CHAPTER XI. Mr. Locker is released on Bail
Nearly the whole of that morning Dick Lancaster sat in the arbor in the
tollhouse garden, his book in his hand. Part of the time he was thinking
about what he would like to do, and part of the time he was thinking
about what he ought to do. He felt sure he had stayed with the captain
as long as he had been expected to, but he did not want to go away. On
the contrary, he greatly desired to remain within walking distance of
Broadstone. He was in love with Olive. When he had seen her at luncheon,
cold and reserved, he had been greatly impressed by her, and when he
went out boating with her the next day he gave her his heart
unreservedly. When people fell in love with Olive they always did it
promptly.
As he sat, with Olive standing near the footlights of his mental stage
and the drop-curtain hanging between her and all the rest of the world,
the captain strolled up to him.
"Dick," said he, "somehow or other my tobacco does not taste as it ought
to. Give me a pipeful of yours."
When the captain had filled his pipe from Dick's bag he lighted it and
gave a few puffs. "It isn't a bit better than mine," said he, "but I
will keep on and smoke it. Dick, let's go and take a walk over the
hills. I feel rather stupid to-day. And, by the way, I hope you will be
able to stay with me for the rest of your vacation. Have you made plans
to go anywhere else?"
"No plans of the slightest importance," answered Lancaster with joyous
vivacity. "I shall be delighted to stay."
This prompt acceptance somewhat surprised the captain. He had spoken
without premeditation, and without thinking of anything at all except
that he did not want everybody to go away and leave him. He had begun to
know something of the pleasures of family life; of having some one to
sit at the table with him; to whom he could talk; on whom he could look.
In fact, although he did not exactly appreciate such a state of things,
some one he could love. He was getting really fond of Dick Lancaster.
As for Olive, he did not know what to think of her; sometimes he was
sure she was not coming back, and at other times he thought it likely he
might get a letter that very day appointing the time for her return. He
stood puffing his pipe and thinking about this after Dick had spoken.
"But it does not matter," he said to himself, "which way it happens. If
she doesn't come I want him here, and if she does come, he is good
enough for anybody, and perhaps she may be pleased." And then he
indulged in a little fragment of the dream which had come to him before;
he saw two young people in a charming home, not at the toll-gate, and
himself living with them. Plenty of money for all moderate needs, and
all happy and satisfied. Then with a sigh he knocked the tobacco from
his pipe and said to himself: "If I hear she is coming, I will let her
know he is still here, and then she must judge for herself."
As they walked together over the hills, Dick Lancaster was very anxious
to know something about Olive's return, but he did not like to ask. The
captain had been very reticent on the subject of his niece, and Dick was
a gentleman. But to his surprise, and very much to his delight, the
captain soon began to talk about Olive. He told Dick how his brother had
entered the navy when the elder was first mate on a merchant vessel; how
Alfred had risen in the service; had married; and how his wife and
daughter had lived in various parts of the world. Then he spoke of a
good many things he had heard about Olive, and other things he had found
out since she had lived with him; and as he went on his heart warmed,
and Dick Lancaster listened with as warm a heart as that from which the
captain spoke.
And thus they walked over the hills, this young man and this elderly
man, each in love with the same girl.
During all the walk Dick never asked when Miss Asher was coming back to
the tollhouse, nor did Captain Asher make any remarks upon the subject.
It was not really of vital importance to Dick, as Broadstone was so
near, and it was of such vital importance to the captain that it was
impossible for him to speak of it.
The next day the bright-hearted Richard trod buoyantly upon the earth;
he did not care to read; he did not want to smoke; and he was not much
inclined to conversation; he was simply buoyant, and undecided. The
captain looked at him and smiled.
"Why don't you walk over to Broadstone?" he said. "It will do you good.
I want you to stay with me, but I don't expect you to be stuck down to
this tollhouse all day. I am going about the farm to-day, but I shall
expect you to supper."
When he was ready to start Dick Lancaster felt a little perplexed. His
ideas of friendly civility impelled him to ask the captain if there was
anything he could do for him, if there was any message or missive he
could take to his niece, or anything he could bring from her, but he was
prudent and refrained; if the captain wished service of this sort he was
a man to ask for it.
The first person Dick met at Broadstone was Mrs. Easterfield, cutting
roses.
"I am very glad to see you, Professor Lancaster," said she, as she put
down her roses and her scissors. "Would you mind, before you enter into
the general Broadstone society, sitting down on this bench and talking a
little to me?"
Dick could not help smiling. What man in the world, even if he were in
love with somebody else, could object to sitting down by such a woman
and talking to her?
"What I am going to say," said Mrs. Easterfield, "is impertinent,
unwarranted, and of an officious character. You and I know each other
very slightly; neither of us has long been acquainted with Captain
Asher, you have met his niece but twice, and I have never really known
her until what you might call the other day. But in spite of all this, I
propose that you and I shall meddle a little in their affairs. I have
taken the greatest fancy to Miss Asher, and, if you can do it without
any breach of confidence, I would like you to tell me if you know of any
misunderstanding between her and her uncle."
"I know of nothing of the kind," said Dick with great interest, "but I
admit I thought there might be something wrong somewhere. He knew I was
coming here to-day--in fact, he suggested it--but he sent Miss Asher no
sort of message."
"Can it be possible he is cherishing any hard feelings against her?" she
remarked. "I should not have supposed he was that sort of man."
"He is not that sort of man," said Dick warmly. "He was talking to me
about her yesterday, and from what he said, I am sure he thinks she is
the finest girl in the world."
"I am glad to hear that," said she, "but it makes the situation more
puzzling. Can it be possible that she is treating him badly?"
"Oh, I could not believe that!" exclaimed Dick fervently. "I can not
imagine such a thing."
Mrs. Easterfield smiled. He had really known the girl but for one day,
for the first meeting did not count; and here he was defending the
absolute beauty of her character. But the assumption of the genus young
man often overtops the pyramids. She now determined to take him a little
more into her confidence.
"Miss Asher has intimated to me that she does not expect to go back to
her uncle's house, and this morning she made a reference to the end of
her visit here, but I thought you might be able to tell me something
about her uncle. If he really does not expect her back I want her to
stay here."
"Alas," said Dick, "I can not tell you anything. But of one thing I feel
sure, and that is that he would like her to come back."
"Well," said Mrs. Easterfield, "I am not going to let her go away at
present, and if Captain Asher should say anything to you on the subject,
you are at liberty to tell him that. From what you said the other day, I
suppose you will soon be leaving this quiet valley for the haunts of
men."
"Oh, no," exclaimed Dick. "He wants me to stay with him as long as I
can, and I shall certainly do it."
"Now," said Mrs. Easterfield, rising, "I must go and finish cutting my
roses. I think you will find everybody on the tennis grounds."
Mrs. Easterfield had cut in all twenty-three roses when Claude Locker
came to her from the house. His face was beaming, and he skipped over
the short grass.
"Congratulate me," he said, as he stepped before her.
Mrs. Easterfield dropped her roses and her scissors and turned pale.
"What do you mean?" she gasped.
"Oh, don't be frightened," he said. "I have not been acquitted, but the
execution has been stopped for the present, and I am out on bail. I
really feel as though the wound in my neck had healed."
"What stuff!" said Mrs. Easterfield, her color returning. "Try to speak
sensibly."
"Oh, I can do that," said Mr. Locker; "upon occasion I can do that very
well. I proposed again to Miss Asher not twenty minutes ago. She gave me
no answer, but she made an arrangement with me which I think is going to
be very satisfactory; she said she could not have me proposing to her
every time I saw her--it would attract attention, and in the end might
prove annoying--but she said she would be willing to have me propose to
her every day just before luncheon, provided I did not insist upon an
answer, and would promise to give no indication whatever at any other
time that I entertained any unusual regard for her. I agreed to this,
and now we understand each other. I feel very confident and happy. The
other person has no regular time for offering himself, and if any effort
of mine can avail he shall not find an irregular opportunity."
Mrs. Easterfield laughed. "Come pick up my roses," she said. "I must go
in."
"It is like making love," said Locker as he picked up the flowers,
"charming, but prickly." At this moment he started. "Who is that?" he
exclaimed.
Mrs. Easterfield turned. "Oh, that is Monsieur Emile Du Brant. He is one
of the secretaries of the Austrian legation. He is to spend a week with
us. Suppose you take my flowers into the house and I will go to meet
him."
Claude Locker, his arms folded around a mass of thorny roses, and a pair
of scissors dangling from one finger, stood and gazed with savage
intensity at the dapper little man--black eyes, waxed mustache, dressed
in the height of fashion--who, with one hand outstretched, while the
other held his hat, advanced with smiles and bows to meet the lady of
the house. Locker had seen him before; he had met him in Washington; and
he had received forty dollars for a poem of which this Austrian young
person was the subject.
He allowed the lady and her guest to enter the house before him, and
then, like a male Flora, he followed, grinding his teeth, and indulging
in imprecations.
"He will have to put on some other kind of clothes," he muttered, "and
perhaps he may shave and curl his hair. That will give me a chance to
see her before lunch. I do not know that she expected me to begin
to-day, but I am going to do it. I have a clear field so far, and nobody
knows what may happen to-morrow."
As Locker stood in the hallway waiting for some one to come and take his
flowers, or to tell him where to put them, he glanced out of the back
door. There, to his horror, he saw that Mrs. Easterfield had conducted
her guest through the house, and that they were now approaching the
tennis ground, where Professor Lancaster and Miss Asher were standing
with their rackets in their hands, while Mr. and Mrs. Fox were playing
chess under the shade of a tree.
"Field open!" he exclaimed, dropping the roses and the scissors. "Field
clear! What a double-dyed ass am I!" And with this he rushed out to the
tennis ground; Mrs. Easterfield did not play.
Before Mrs. Easterfield returned to the house she stood for a moment
and looked at the tennis players.
"Olive and three young men," she said to herself; "that will do very
well."
A little before luncheon Claude Locker became very uneasy, and even
agitated. He hovered around Olive, but found no opportunity to speak to
her, for she was always talking to somebody else, mostly to the
newcomer. But she was a little late in entering the dining-room, and
Locker stepped up to her in the doorway.
"Is this your handkerchief?" he asked.
"No," said she, stopping; "isn't it yours?"
"Yes," he replied, "but I had to have some way of attracting your
attention. I love you so much that I can scarcely see the table and the
people."
"Thank you," she said, "and that is all for the next twenty-four hours."
Read next: Chapter 12. Mr. Rupert Hemphill
Read previous: Chapter 10. Mrs. Easterfield Writes A Letter
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