Mr. Pat's Little Girl Part 32

Bidding was spirited, and Miss Betty's silver soon went "out of sight,"

as Mrs. Parton expressed it.

Rosalind was highly entertained, and whenever her uncle put in a quiet bid, as he did now and then, she held her breath, fairly, for fear he would not get what he wanted.

To Allan there was an unreality about it all. It seemed so short a time since he and Genevieve and Celia had been children together, taking tea with Cousin Thomas and Cousin Anne. What a strange household the two had const.i.tuted in this old mansion, where their whole lives had been spent.

As he thought of it, he felt he had an inkling of why Thomas Gilpin had done as he did. Perhaps he had felt it would be better to have a clean sweep, and thus make possible for some one a fresh beginning in the old place. A fine substantial house it was, needing only a few improvements to make of it, with its s.p.a.cious, high-ceiled rooms and wide hall, a most desirable residence.

Rosalind's voice recalled him. "May I come again this afternoon, Uncle Allan? They may begin on the furniture."

The auction continued for three or four days. Rosalind became the proud possessor of the dolphin bureau; and her uncle obtained also the miniature of Patricia, for what seemed indeed an extravagant sum, but he had given his promise to his sister.

At the close of the sale on the second day, Allan went into the library to examine some books. The throng of onlookers and buyers had dispersed; only the auctioneer's a.s.sistants remained at work in the hall. Purchases had been promptly removed, and the house already seemed dismantled and bare.

Absorbed in his search for a volume not on the catalogue, but which he felt sure was somewhere on the shelves, he became aware of Celia Fair's voice just outside the door. The next moment she entered the library and, going to the fireplace, stooped to examine the andirons. She had not observed him. Should he go quietly out, or make one more appeal to be heard? Allan hesitated.

With her hand on the high mantel-shelf and her head against her hand, Celia stood looking down on the vacant hearth. There was something of weariness in the att.i.tude. What a delicate bit of porcelain she seemed!

Allan had a sudden, illogical vision of a fire of blazing logs, and himself and Celia sitting before it.

He moved out of the shadow and she saw him; but though she stood erect and tense in a moment, she did not, as he expected, hasten from the room.

Instead, she hesitated, and there was an appeal in her eyes very different from the defiance of a few weeks ago.

"I didn't know there was any one here," she said; adding, "Mr. Whittredge, I have wanted to have an opportunity to say that I regret my rudeness. I was unreasonable--I am sorry."

The childishness of the speech went to Allan's heart. He was conscious of keeping a very tight rein on himself as he answered, "Do not say that. I can understand a little of what you must feel. But does it mean that I may speak now and tell you that only a few weeks ago I first learned the cruel, the unwarranted, charge against your father? I had not understood before."

Celia lifted her hand as if to ward off a blow, but she did not speak.

Allan continued, "My silence must have seemed like a consent to it. And now, can we not meet, if only for a few minutes, on common ground? Must we be enemies because--"

"Not enemies--oh, no," Celia said, looking toward the door as if she wished to end the interview.

"Then--you will think me very insistent--but there is something I must explain to you. First, won't you let me give you a chair?"

"Thank you, I'll stand," Celia answered; she moved, however, to a table and leaned against it.

"It is about the ring. You perhaps remember the wording of the will?

Before I left home to go abroad, so long ago, when I bade good-by to old Mr. Gilpin, he said to me, with that odd chuckle of his, 'Allan, I want Celia to have the ring when I die,' I replied that I hoped he would leave it to you in his will. Again, as I was leaving him, he called after me, 'Remember, Celia is to have the ring,' It escaped my mind until I heard of the will, then of course I remembered. I think he had a feeling that if he left it to anybody it should be to a member of our family, and yet he wished you to have it. Now we both know what the old man had in mind; but, although things have changed between us since then, the fact remains that the ring is yours." Allan took the little worn case from his breast pocket and held it out.

Celia looked at his extended hand, and shook her head. "I cannot take it,"

she said.

"But it does not belong to me; you must take it. You put me in an awkward position by refusing."

Celia's eyes flashed. "And how about my position if I should take it? Has not all Friends.h.i.+p been speculating about the meaning of the Gilpin will?

Is not everybody wondering what you are going to do with it? What--" She paused, clearly unable to keep her voice steady.

She seemed about to hurry away when Allan intercepted her. "Forgive me--wait--just a moment. I see now. I was unpardonably stupid. I am not in the habit of considering what people say or may think, but I can see it would not do. I seem to be always annoying you," he concluded helplessly.

A faint smile dawned on Celia's face. "No one can help it; it is just an awkward situation," she said, and left him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIFTH.

QUESTIONS.

"They asked one another the reason."

Although the auction was over, the air of Friends.h.i.+p still vibrated from the stir. Bereft of its treasures, the Gilpin house stood an empty sh.e.l.l, facing an unknown future; for beyond the statement that he was from Baltimore, nothing was known of its purchaser.

"Why in the world should a man from Baltimore want it?" Mrs. Parton asked; and the question was echoed on all sides. Not to live in, at all events, it appeared, as weeks pa.s.sed and it remained undisturbed.

Nor was this the only unanswered question. There was the ring. Miss Betty said it might as well have been left in the spinet, for all the good it did any one.

Allan had his own unanswered question; without doubt his mother had hers, as had Celia Fair, but they gave no sign to the outside world, nor asked any help in finding an answer.

And now came a new excitement. Dr. Pierce, the Presbyterian minister, announced impressively one Sunday that on a week from that day his pulpit would be occupied by his distinguished friend, Dr. Hollingsworth.

It was explained that he had been South on business relating to a bequest to the university, and found it convenient to stop over on his way home.

Still, with several large cities within easy reach, his presence was an undoubted compliment to the village, and Friends.h.i.+p began at once to refresh its memory in regard to its expected guest.

Mrs. Molesworth came across the street to ask Mrs. Parton if she had ever heard Dr. Hollingsworth was not orthodox.

Mrs. Parton had not, and seemed to consider it a minor matter, for she went on to tell how pleasant he was, and how fully he appreciated the joke of being taken for a detective by Belle.

"I trust, indeed, it is not true," said Mrs. Molesworth, going back to the original question.

"Well, I shouldn't worry, Cornelia. He is not likely to do much harm in one sermon," Mrs. Parton answered easily.

Mrs. Molesworth shook her head. "You can never be sure. It is not for myself I fear, but for the boys. I have tried to protect them."

"If your boys are like mine, they won't get any harm from a sermon. I do manage to drag them to church, but it is like taking a horse to water--it is another matter to make them listen."

Mrs. Molesworth returned home feeling that Mary Parton treated serious subjects with undue levity. Mrs. Parton, seeing Miss Betty Bishop approaching, lingered at the gate.

"Well, Betty, I suppose you know we are to have Dr. Hollingsworth at our church Sunday."

She had heard it, but did not seem disposed to enlarge upon it, as was her custom with a piece of news.

"Cornelia Molesworth is worrying because she has heard he is not orthodox."

"She is not obliged to hear him, is she? n.o.body can amount to anything nowadays without being accused of heresy; however, I fancy Dr.

Hollingsworth can bear up under Mrs. Molesworth's disapproval."

Mrs. Parton surveyed Miss Betty with a twinkle in her eye. "I declare, Betty," she remarked, irrelevantly, "you are growing younger. You look nearer twenty than forty this minute."

"Perhaps it is my new hat," Miss Betty suggested; but surely she had pa.s.sed the age when one flushes over the possession of a becoming hat.