Say and Seal, Volume I. Warner Susan

we always do have tea, Mr. Somers," said Mrs. Derrick, "but it don't seem strong to-night. Lucindy—take the teapot and make some fresh."

      "These baked apples are strong—in numbers at least," said Mr. Linden, as he bestowed one upon Mr. Somers.

      "Thank you!—it's all strong enough, Mrs. Derrick—thank you!—very good. And Mr. Linden—how are you—a—getting along with your juvenile charge? Confining work, sir,—isn't it?"

      "Rather, sir—to the body."

      "Not to the mind, eh? Well—I should have thought that to a gentleman like you it would prove—a—more deleterious to the mental faculties. But I suppose you find yourself rewarded by your pupils' improvement and—regard!"

      "Yes sir—their regard is very precious to me," was the quiet reply.

      "I should think so! Why there's that boy Reuben Taylor—strange father that boy has—fisherman;—I met that boy this evening, in the street, and he was crying,—down a little below here—he was going home. I asked him—ha—if Mr. Linden had been dealing hardly with him?—and I declare!—I didn't know but Reuben would have attacked me on the spot."

      "Has Mr. Linden a character in the village for cruelty?" said Faith.

      "I—I declare—not that I know of, Miss Faith. I should think it could not be deserved. That boy's attachment is certainly—ha—very warm. My dear Mrs. Derrick, how well Miss Faith is looking! She always looks well; but to-night—ha—the colour of her cheeks is—to be remarked."

      "You will get a character for cruelty, Miss Faith," said Mr. Linden, "if you ask about my character before my face."

      Faith looked up as if she would willingly have asked a question; but that being in present circumstances impossible, she merely uttered a quiet little 'no,' and went on with her tea and with a colour still further improved, A quiet little 'yes,' of about equal prominence, did not divert the attention of Mr. Somers from his own remarks.

      "It's delightful to see—really," said that gentleman. "But Mr.Linden—ha—I am sorry to find that you haven't the good will of ourneighbour, Squire Deacon. The Squire's a valuable man—very!—theSquire's a valuable man in the town. I am sorry. Do you know, Mr.Linden—ha—how it has happened?"

      "Have you asked the Squire himself, sir?" said Mr. Linden.

      "Why—no, sir, I haven't. I—ha—wanted to get at the truth of it, that I might, if possible, do something to heal the breach. Now you are doing a valuable work in Pattaquasset, sir—I should be sorry to see it interrupted—very—and I thought the best way would be to try to find out what the matter was, in order if possible to its being removed. And to get at the truth it is often best to hear both sides."

      "But I have no side to tell, sir," said Mr. Linden—smiling in spite of himself. "I cannot deny that Squire Deacon seems to withhold his good will—I think it is for him to tell his reasons."

      "Then you really have no idea what it can be about? and I may tell him so? Because that would be a great point."

      "No sir, you may not tell him that."

      "Then you have an idea what the matter is?" said Mr. Somers eagerly. "Then, sir, if you will be so good as to let me know what it is—I have no doubt—I entertain no doubt—we shall be able to smooth it all away, and have peace."

      "You cannot prove one man's ideas by another man's," said Mr. Linden.

      "Then you can give me no help?" said Mr. Somers regretfully. "But Mr. Linden—ha—it strikes me that it would be useful for me to know your view of the cause of offence—whatever it is—before I know his. One may correct the other."

      "There has been no offence given sir," said Mr. Linden. "That the Squire has taken offence we both know,—why he has taken it—if I know—I have no right to tell you, Squire Deacon might justly complain of me if I did. It is from no disrespect to you, believe me."

      "I say!" said Cindy coming into the room with a basket,—"here's Sam Stoutenburgh been and fetched some Stoutenburgh Sweetenings—for his teacher, he says. I'm free to confess," added Cindy as she set down the basket by Mr. Linden, "he said if he would like to do anythin' better with 'em, it would just be to shy 'em at Squire Deacon's head—so I guess they aint over and above ripe."

      "Ha!—Very pleasant, certainly!—very gratifying," said Mr. Somers rising. "Mr. Linden—I have no more to say. You are a gentleman, sir, and understand these matters. I will see what I can do. Mrs. Derrick—I thank you for your tea, ma'am—I am sorry there should be anything disagreeable,—but I have no doubt it will all be set right—The Squire is a good-feeling man—I have no doubt of it. Miss Faith—ha!—why Mrs. Derrick this colour is too deep, it isn't natural. It looks feverish!"

      "Do the Pattaquasset ladies use any rouge but their own sea breezes?" asked Mr. Linden.

      "Ha! we do get the sea breezes here—pleasantly," answered Mr.Somers. "Good evening!"—

      Mr. Linden accompanied the visiter to the little gate, and returning paced up and down the moonlit porch, followed only by his shadow.

      CHAPTER VI

      While Mr. Somers was enjoying his cup of unexpected tea at Mrs. Derrick's, Squire Deacon and Miss Cilly had a sociable tête-à-tête over theirs; for Joe Deacon, who was in the full enjoyment of some fourteen years of boyhood, scarcely made a third in the conversation until his appetite was satisfied.

      Conversation indeed hardly existed during the first portion of the meal. Miss Cilly poured out her tea and broke her biscuit with a certain prim sort of elegance which belonged to that young lady—as at least she believed. But sipping tea and nibbling biscuit went on in company with thoughts.

      "Sam, what are you bothering yourself about Mr. Linden for?"

      "How long since you was made a trustee?" said the Squire, beginning his sentence with an untranslatable sort of grunt, and ending it in his teacup.

      "Give us the sugar bowl down this way, Cilly," said Joe,—"this apple sarce is as sour as sixty."

      "I've been your trustee ever since you was up to anything," said his sister. "Come Sam—don't you begin now. What's made you so crusty?"

      "It aint the worst thing to be crusty," said the Squire, while Joe started up and seized the sugar bowl. "Shews a man's more'n half baked, any how."

      Miss Cilly vouchsafed a rather sour smile to these manifestations of disposition on the part of both her brothers.

      "Well, what has he done?"

      "Sure enough," said the Squire, (he kept his small stock of big words for company) "what has he done? That's just what I can't find out."

      "What do you want to find out for? What ails him?"

      "Suppose he hasn't done nothing"—said the Squire,—"is that the sort o' man to teach litteratur in Pattaquasset?"

      "Lit—what?" said his sister with an arch of her head.

      "Anything you've a mind to," said the Squire sulkily.

      "I wouldn't say anything against Mr. Linden's literature, if I was you; because it's my belief, Sam, it'll stand any pecking you make at it. What's given you such a spite at him? You're a goodnatured fellow enough in general."

      "The whole temperature of Pattaquasset's come about since he come," replied the Squire comprehensively.

      "He's a gentleman!" said Miss Cilly bridling again. "He won't hurt anybody's manners—not the best—if they was to copy him."

      "He didn't hurt mine," said Joe patronizingly. "To be sure I didn't go to him long."

      "Do the boys like him, Joe?"

      "Well I daresay they wouldn't if they could help it," said Joe, "if that's any comfort. Some other folks likes him too,—besides Sam."

      "Aint he a good teacher?"

      "Firstrate—" said Joe, "taught me all I ever learned. I didn't go but four weeks, and Sam thought 'twarn't