Meanwhile Willful Will, as the officer had called him, was on his way
to Mr. Leonard’s country-seat. He bore a note addressed to a Miss
Jennie Arlington, a resident of the merchant’s house, which he was
directed to deliver into her own hands without delay, and wait for any
return message.
The mansion was a broad-fronted, brown-stone edifice, richly
ornamented, and surrounded with beautifully-kept grounds, in which now
a host of flowers were in bloom.
Seen from the front, through the vailing screen of leaves and blossoms,
it seemed an abode of wealth and taste very attractive to any artistic
eye. Even Will paused for five minutes, in a day-dream, gazing in. The
boy was not without the poetic instinct.
He was stirred from his reverie by the approach of a servant-woman to
the gate.
“Say, you there,” cried Will, as she turned back. “This Mr. Leonard’s?”
“Yes,” was the answer.
“All square, then. I want to see Jennie.”
“See who?” asked the woman, in surprise.
“Jennie. You know. Can’t go her last name. Slipped clean out of my
head.”
“Miss Arlington is not in. You can’t see her,” said the woman.
“Bet a hoss that I will,” he replied, positively. “Mr. Leonard didn’t
send me here on a fool’s errand. Where is she?”
“What do you want? I will give her your errand when she comes in.”
“Maybe so, when you get it,” said Will, mysteriously. “Hope you don’t
kalkerlate to pick up secrets that easy. There’s things it don’t do for
everybody to know. Where is the gal?”
“She is down there in the wood,” said the servant.
Breaking into a gay ditty, Will hastened off toward the piece of
woodland indicated by the woman.
The ground sloped downward from the back of the house into a wide
depression that led off toward the Schuylkill. This was occupied by a
piece of fine woodland, the trees growing straight and tall, while the
undergrowth had been mostly removed, leaving long, green vistas.
The country was now arrayed in all its June-tide beauty, while flowers
lent a rich charm to the fields, and the fresh green of spring arrayed
every tree.
The old vagabond instinct rose in him as he sauntered on, now chasing
a gorgeous butterfly, now following the flight of some swift bird, now
stopping to listen to a trill of woodland music, now taking a wild roll
in the grass.
His cap was soon adorned with daisies and buttercups; violets peeped
from his button-holes, and he gathered a bouquet of yellow dandelions
as if he thought them choice flowers.
“If this ain’t gay I don’t know beans!” he cried, exultingly. “Wouldn’t
I like to live out here! Bet I’d go a-fishin’ every day, and a-swimmin’
every other. I’ll go a hoss there ain’t a tree in that woods I can’t
climb. Got a notion to shin up some of them just for fun.”
But a frisking ground-squirrel took his attention, and drove out of his
head the project of tree-climbing.
This fellow chased to his hole, other objects attracted Will’s
delighted eyes, and led him step by step into the woods.
Finally, some sounds behind a thin screen of bushes attracted his
notice. He drew carefully up and looked through. There on a flat stone,
beside a flowing brook, sat a young lady, her lap full of wild flowers,
which she was forming into a bouquet.
She seemed quite young, at furthest not more than eighteen, and was
very beautiful as she sat there all unconscious of stranger’s eyes.
She was tall and well formed, with a face of most classic outline--the
general contour of the features not unlike Will’s own. But the cheek
had a peachy bloom which his had long lost, and a gentle, womanly
expression replaced his saucy independence.
“Sell me out if she ain’t a beauty!” said Will enthusiastically. “Them
long curls is scrumptious. Wonder if she’s my game? I’ll give her a
start, just for fun.”
Placing his two hands to his mouth the woods rung with a long, clear
call of “Jennie!”
The girl sprung up, dropping most of her flowers, and looked round in
alarm.
“Jennie!” again rung out in Will’s deep, musical tones.
“Who calls?” she said, with parted lips, standing like a statue of
flight.
Her question was answered by a crash in the bushes, and the appearance
of a figure coming with a double somerset into her presence.
“You, Jennie?” asked Will, standing suddenly on his feet before her.
She looked at the sturdy, handsome lad with a look in which trepidation
was mingled with amusement.
“I am Miss Arlington,” she replied, with dignity. “What do you mean by
calling me in that manner, and coming into a lady’s presence like a
mountebank?”
“That’s the way I always come in,” said Will, impressively. “And you
looked so pretty sitting there I wanted to give you a start.”
“Don’t do it again. It is not manly behavior,” she replied. “What do
you want with me?”
“I’ve got a ’pistle,” said Will, fumbling in his pockets, “that Mr.
Leonard guv me for you.”
“Mr. Leonard? Are you the new store-boy that he has told me of?” she
asked, as she opened the letter.
“Been a-talkin’ about me, has he?” asked Will. “Hope he ain’t gone back
on me. Bet he can’t find jist sich another in these diggin’s.”
“He said that you were a good intentioned boy, and that he might make
something of you, if he could only cure you of your impudence.”
“Well, that’s clever in him. Mebbe he don’t know the job he’s takin’
in. Mought jist as well try to cure a grapevine from twisting.”
“Come with me to the house,” said Miss Arlington, on reading the
letter. “I am to send a package back by you.”
“Lucky it ain’t a cook-stove, or something else nice and handy to
carry,” said Will, as he walked on beside his new acquaintance. “Live
with Mr. Leonard?”
“I do.”
“How old mought you be?” asked Will, earnestly.
“That is no question to ask a lady,” she replied, with a smile.
“Oh, we’re not playin’ gentleman and lady; we’re playin’ boy and gal.
You’re not come out yet, or not engaged, or nothin’ of that nonsense,
are you?”
“That is another question that you have no business to ask.”
“I’d like to know how I’d ever learn anything if I didn’t ask
questions? That’s the way I come to be so wide-awake.”
The young lady, who had been a little angry at his questions, could not
help laughing.
“You are an odd boy,” she said. “If I was in want of a confidant I
might accept you. I will tell you this much; I _am_ engaged.”
“Well, now, that’s bad,” said Will. “Can’t you break with the feller?
Give him the sack. Tell him you’ve a notion to go to Californy, and
don’t want no company. Sling him somehow.”
“Why should I?” she asked, turning her brilliant brown eyes on Will.
“Now, don’t look at me that way or I can’t tell you,” he said, with
affected bashfulness. “Jist turn your eyes away for a minute.”
“Well, go on,” she replied, turning away.
“I like you, gal, and there’s no joke in _that_. Can’t you jist sling
the other feller, and wait for me? I’m goin’ to be a rich man, you can
bet on that.”
“Do you want an answer now?” she asked, in a constrained tone.
“If it comes handy to you, I’d just as lieve.”
“Here it is, then,” she replied, giving him a ringing box on the ear.
With a laugh she sprung through the gate, which they had just reached,
and hurried into the house, leaving Will completely crestfallen.
She did not reappear, but sent a servant with the package which Will
was to take back. He trudged off reflectively toward the cars.
“Got served right, I s’pose,” he said, “for I _was_ imperdent. But I
ain’t done with the gal yet. Bet I give her as good as she sent.”