McGaw had watched the fire from his upper window with mingled joy and
fear--joy that Tom's property was on fire, and fear that it would be put
out before she would be ruined. He had been waiting all the evening for
Crimmins, who had failed to arrive. Billy had not been at home since
supper, so he could get no details as to the amount of the damage from
that source. In this emergency he sent next morning for Quigg to make a
reconnaissance in the vicinity of the enemy's camp, ascertain how badly
Tom had been crippled, and learn whether her loss would prevent her
signing the contract the following night. Mr. Quigg accepted the
mission, the more willingly because he wanted to settle certain affairs
of his own. Jennie had avoided him lately,--why he could not tell,--and
he determined, before communicating to his employer the results of his
inquiries about Tom, to know exactly what his own chances were with the
girl. He could slip over to the house while Tom was in the city, and
leave before she returned.
On his way, the next day, he robbed a garden fence of a mass of lilacs,
breaking off the leaves as he walked. When he reached the door of the
big stable he stopped for a moment, glanced cautiously in to see if he
could find any preparations for the new work, and then, making a mental
note of the surroundings, followed the path to the porch.
Pop opened the door. He knew Quigg only by sight--an unpleasant sight,
he thought, as he looked into his hesitating, wavering eyes.
“It's a bad fire ye had, Mr. Mullins,” said Quigg, seating himself in
the rocker, the blossoms half strangled in his grasp.
“Yis, purty bad, but small loss, thank God,” said Pop quietly.
“That lets her out of the contract, don't it?” said Quigg. “She'll be
short of horses now.”
Pop made no answer. He did not intend to give Mr. Quigg any information
that might comfort him.
“Were ye insured?” asked Quigg, in a cautious tone, his eyes on the
lilacs.
“Oh, yis, ivery pinny on what was burned, so Mary tells me.”
Quigg caught his breath; the rumor in the village was the other way. Why
didn't Crimmins make a clean sweep of it and burn 'em all at once, he
said to himself.
“I brought some flowers over for Miss Jennie,” said Quigg, regaining his
composure. “Is she in?”
“Yis; I'll call her.” Gentle and apparently harmless as Gran'pop was,
men like Quigg somehow never looked him steadily in the eye.
“I was tellin' Mr. Mullins I brought ye over some flowers,” said Quigg,
turning to Jennie as she entered, and handing her the bunch without
leaving his seat, as if it had been a pair of shoes.
“You're very kind, Mr. Quigg,” said the girl, laying them on the table,
and still standing.
“I hear'd your brother Patsy was near smothered till Dutchy got him out.
Was ye there?”
Jennie bit her lip and her heart quickened. Carl's sobriquet in the
village, coming from such lips, sent the hot blood to her cheeks.
“Yes, Mr. Nilsson saved his life,” she answered slowly, with girlish
dignity, a backward rush filling her heart as she remembered Carl
staggering out of the burning stable, Patsy held close to his breast.
“The fellers in Rockville say ye think it was set afire. I see Justice
Rowan turned Billy McGaw loose. Do ye suspect anybody else? Some says a
tramp crawled in and upset his pipe.”
This lie was coined on the spot and issued immediately to see if it
would pass.
“Mother says she knows who did it, and it'll all come out in time. Cully
found the can this morning,” said Jennie, leaning against the table.
Quigg's jaw fell and his brow knit as Jennie spoke. That was just like
the fool, he said to himself. Why didn't he get the stuff in a bottle
and then break it?
But the subject was too dangerous to linger over, so he began talking
of the dance down at the Town Hall, and the meeting last Sunday after
church. He asked her if she would go with him to the “sociable”
they were going to have at No. 4 Truck-house; and when she said she
couldn't,--that her mother didn't want her to go out, etc.,--Quigg moved
his chair closer, with the remark that the old woman was always putting
her oar in and spoiling things; the way she was going on with the Union
would ruin her; she'd better join in with the boys, and be friendly;
they'd “down her yet if she didn't.”
“I hope nothing will happen to mother, Mr. Quigg,” said Jennie, in an
anxious tone, as she sank into a chair.
Quigg misunderstood the movement, and moved his own closer.
“There won't nothin' happen any more, Jennie, if you'll do as I say.”
It was the first time he had ever called her by her name. She could not
understand how he dared. She wished Carl would come in.
“Will you do it?” asked Quigg eagerly, his cunning face and mean eyes
turned toward her.