V.

True to his promise, Uncle Ran bore Winthrop “careful and comfortable”

up the wide stairs, around the turn and along the upper hall to the

West Chamber, lowering him at last, as tenderly as a basket of eggs,

into a chair. In spite of his boasts, Winthrop was in no condition to

have walked up-stairs unaided. The fainting spell, the first one since

he had left the sanitarium, had left him feeling limp and shaky. He was

glad of the negro’s assistance and content to have him remove his shoes

and help him off with his coat, the while he examined his quarters with

lazy interest.

The room was very large, square, high-ceilinged. The walls were white

and guiltless of both paper and pictures. Four large windows would have

flooded the room with light had not the shades been carefully drawn to

within two feet of the sills. As it was, from the windows overlooking

the garden and opening onto the gallery the afternoon sunlight slanted

in, throwing long parallelograms of mellow gold across the worn and

faded carpet. The bed was a massive affair of black walnut, the

three chairs were old and comfortable, and the big mahogany-veneer

table in the centre of the room was large enough to have served for

a banquet. On it was a lamp, a plate of oranges whose fragrance was

pleasantly perceptible, and a copy of Pilgrim’s Progress bound in the

“keepsake” fashion of fifty years ago. The fire-place and hearth were

of soft red bricks and a couple of oak logs were flaring brightly. A

formidable wardrobe, bedecked with carved branches of grapes, matched

the bed, as did a washstand backed by a white “splasher” bearing a

design of cat-tails in red outline. The room seemed depressingly bare

at first, but for all of that there was an air of large hospitality

and plain comfort about it that was somewhat of a relief after the

over-furnished, over-decorated apartments with which Winthrop was

familiar.

As his baggage had not come Miss India’s command could not be literally

obeyed, and Uncle Ran had perforce to be satisfied with the removal of

Winthrop’s outer apparel and his installation on the bed instead of in

it.

“I’ll get yo’ trunk an’ valise right away, sir,” he said, “before they

close the depot. Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Winthrop?

Can I fetch you a lil’ glass of sherry, sir?”

“Nothing, thanks. Yes, though, you might open some of those windows

before you go. And look in my vest pocket and toss me a cigarette case

you’ll find there. I saw matches on the mantel, didn’t I? Thanks.

That’s all. My compliments to Miss Wayne, and tell her I am feeling

much better and that I will be down to dinner――that is, supper.”

“Don’t you pay no ’tention to the bell,” said Uncle Ran, soothingly.

“Phœbe’ll fetch yo’ supper up to you, sir. I’ll jes’ go ’long now and

get yo’ trunk.”

Uncle Ran closed the door softly behind him and Winthrop was left

alone. He pulled the spread over himself, gave a sigh of content, and

lighted a cigarette with fingers that still trembled. Then, placing

his hands beneath his head, he watched the smoke curl away toward the

cracked and flaking ceiling and gave himself up to his thoughts.

What an ass he had made of himself! And what a trump the little lady

had been! He smiled as he recalled the manner in which she had bossed

him around. But who the deuce was she? And who was the young girl with

the big brown eyes? What were they doing here at Waynewood, in his

house? He wished he had not taken things for granted as he had, wished

he had made inquiries before launching himself southward. He must get

hold of that Major Cass and learn his bearings. Perhaps, after all,

there was some mistake and the place didn’t belong to him at all! If

that was the case he had made a pretty fool of himself by walking in

and fainting on the front porch in that casual manner! But he hoped

mightily that there was no mistake, for he had fallen in love at first

sight with the place. If it was his he would fix it up. Then he sighed

as he recollected that until he got firmly on his feet again such a

thing was quite out of the question.

The cigarette had burned itself down and he tossed it onto the hearth.

The light was fading in the room. Through the open windows, borne on

the soft evening air, came the faint tinkling of distant cow-bells.

For the rest the silence held profoundly save for the gentle singing

of the fire. Winthrop turned on to his side, pillowed his head in his

hand and dropped to sleep. So soundly he slept that when Uncle Ran

tiptoed in with his trunk and bag he never stirred. The old negro

nodded approvingly from the foot of the bed, unstrapped the trunk, laid

a fresh log on the fire, and tiptoed out again. When Winthrop finally

awoke he found a neat colored girl lighting the lamp, while beside it

on the table a well-filled tray was laid.

“I fetched your supper, Mr. Winthrop,” said Phœbe.

[Illustration]

“Thank you, but I really meant to go down. I――I think I fell asleep.”

“Yes, sir. Miss Indy say good-night, and she hopes you’ll sleep

comfable, sir.”

“Much obliged,” muttered Winthrop.

“I’ll be back after awhile to fetch away the tray, sir.”

“All right.”

When he was once more alone he arose and laughed softly.

“Confound the woman! She’s a regular tyrant. I wonder if she’ll let

me get up to-morrow. Oh, well, maybe she’s right. I don’t feel much

like making conversation. Hello! there’s my trunk; I must have slept

soundly, and that’s a fact!”

Unlocking the trunk, he rummaged through it until he found his

dressing-gown and slippers. With those on he drew a chair to the table

and began his supper.

“Nice diet for an invalid,” he thought, amusedly, as he uncovered the

hot biscuits.

But he didn’t object to them, for he found himself very hungry; spread

with the white, crumbly unsalted butter which the repast provided he

found them extremely satisfactory. There was cold chicken, besides,

and egg soufflé, fig preserve and marble cake, and a glass of milk.

Winthrop’s gaze lingered on the milk.

“No coffee, eh?” he muttered. “Not suitable for invalids, I suppose;

milk much better.”

But when he had finished his meal the glass of milk still remained

untouched and he observed it thoughtfully. “I fancy Miss Wayne will

see this tray when it goes down and she’ll feel hurt because I haven’t

drunk that infernal stuff.” His gaze wandered around the room until it

encountered the washstand. “Ah!” he said, as he arose. When he returned

to the table the glass was quite empty. Digging his pipe and pouch from

his bag he filled the former and was soon puffing enjoyably, leaning

back in the easy-chair and watching the smouldering fire.

“Even if I have to get out of here,” he reflected, “I dare say there’s

a hotel or boarding-house in the village where I could put up. I’m

not going back North yet awhile, and that’s certain. But if there’s

anything wrong with my title to Waynewood why shouldn’t they let me

stay here now that I’m established? That’s a good idea, by Jove! I’ll

get my trunk unpacked right away; possession is nine points, they say.

I dare say these folks aren’t so well off but what they’d be willing to

take a respectable gentleman to board.”

A fluttering at his heart warned him and he laid aside his half-smoked

pipe regretfully and began to unpack his trunk and bag. In the midst of

the task Phœbe appeared to rearrange his bed and bear away the tray,

bidding him good-night in her soft voice as she went.

By half-past seven his things were in place and, taking up one of the

books which he had brought with him, he settled himself to read.

But voices in the hall below distracted his attention, and presently

footsteps sounded on the stairway, there was a tap at his door and

Phœbe appeared again.

“Excuse me, sir,” said Phœbe, “but Major Cass say can he see you――――”

“Phœbe!” called the Major from below.

“Yes, sir?”

“You tell Mr. Winthrop that if he’s feeling too tired to see me

to-night I’ll call again to-morrow morning.”

“Yes, sir.” Phœbe turned to Winthrop. “The Major say――――”

“All right. Ask the Major to come up,” interrupted Winthrop, tossing

aside his book and exchanging dressing-gown for coat and waistcoat. A

moment later the Major’s halting tread sounded outside the open door

and Winthrop went forward to meet him.

“I’m honored to make your acquaintance, Mr. Winthrop,” said the Major,

as they shook hands.

“Glad to know you, Major,” replied Winthrop. “Come in, please; try the

arm-chair.”

The Major bowed his thanks, laid his cane across the table and accepted

the chair which Winthrop pushed forward. Winthrop drew a second chair

to the other side of the fire-place.

“A fire, Mr. Winthrop,” observed the Major, “is very acceptable these

cool evenings.”

“Well, I haven’t felt the need of it myself,” replied Winthrop, “but it

was here and it seemed a shame to waste it. I’ll close the windows if

you like.”

“Not at all, not at all; I like fresh air. I couldn’t have too much of

it, sir, if it wasn’t for this confounded rheumatism of mine. With your

permission, sir.” The Major leaned forward and laid a fresh log on the

fire. Winthrop arose and quietly closed the windows.

“Do you smoke, Major? I have some cigars here somewhere.”

“Thank you, sir, if they’re right handy.” He accepted one, held it to

his nose and inhaled the aroma, smiled approvingly and tucked it into

a corner of his mouth. “You’ll pardon me if I don’t light it,” he said.

“Certainly,” replied Winthrop.

“I never learned to smoke, Mr. Winthrop,” explained the Major, “and I

reckon I’m too old to begin now. But when I was a boy, and afterwards,

during the war, I got a lot of comfort out of chewing, sir. But it’s a

dirty habit, sir, and I had to give it up. The only way I use tobacco

now, sir, is in this way. It’s a compromise, sir.” And he rolled the

cigar around enjoyably.

“I see,” replied Winthrop.

“I trust you are feeling recovered from the effects of your arduous

journey?” inquired the Major.

“Quite, thank you. I dare say Miss Wayne told you what an ass I made of

myself when I arrived?”

“You refer to your――ah――momentary indisposition? Yes, Miss India

informed me, and I was very pleased to learn of it.” Winthrop stared

in surprise. “You are feeling better now, sir?”

“Oh, yes; quite fit, thank you.”

“I’m very glad to hear it. I must apologize for not being at the

station to welcome you, sir, but I gathered from your letter that you

would not reach Corunna before to-morrow, and I thought that perhaps

you would telegraph me again. I was obliged to drive into the country

this afternoon on business, and only learned of your visit to my office

when I returned. I then took the liberty of calling at the earliest

moment.”

“And I’m very glad you did,” answered Winthrop, heartily. “There’s a

good deal I want to talk to you about.”

“I am quite at your service, sir.”

“Thanks, Major. Now, in the first place, where am I?”

“Your pardon, Mr. Winthrop?” asked the Major, startledly.

“I mean,” answered the other, with a smile, “is this Waynewood and does

it belong to me?”

“This is certainly Waynewood, sir, and I have gathered from your letter

that you had come into possession of it.”

“All right. Then who, if I may ask the question without seeming

impertinent, who are the ladies down-stairs?”

“Ah, Mr. Winthrop, I understand your question now,” returned the Major.

“Allow me to explain. I would have done so before had there been

opportunity, but your letter said that you were leaving New York at

once and I presumed that there would be no time for an answer to reach

you.”

“Quite right, Major.”

“The ladies are Miss India Wayne and her niece, Miss Holly Wayne,

sister and daughter respectively of my very dear and much lamented

friend Captain Lamar Wayne, whose home this was for many years. At his

death I found myself the executor of his will, sir. He left this estate

and very little else but debts. I did the best I could, Mr. Winthrop,

but Waynewood had to go. It was sold to a Judge Linderman of Georgia,

a very estimable gentleman and a shining light of the State Bar. As he

had no intention of living here I made an arrangement with him whereby

Miss India and her niece might remain here in their home, sir, paying

a――a nominal rent for the place.”

“A very convenient arrangement, Major.”

“I am glad to hear you say so,” replied the Major, almost eagerly.

“Judge Linderman, however, was a consarned fool, sir, and couldn’t

let speculation alone. He was caught in a cotton panic and absolutely

ruined. Waynewood then passed to your late partner, Mr. Potter. The

arrangement in force before was extended with his consent, and the

ladies have continued to reside here. They are paying”――(the Major

paused and spat voluminously into the fire)――“they are paying, Mr.

Winthrop, the sum of five dollars a month rent.”

“A fair figure, I presume, as rents go hereabouts,” observed Winthrop,

subduing a smile.

The Major cleared his throat. Then he leaned across and laid a large

hand on Winthrop’s knee.

“A small price, Mr. Winthrop, and that’s the truth. And I don’t deny

that after the property fell into Mr. Potter’s hands I was troubled

right smart by my conscience. As long as it was Judge Linderman it was

all right; he was a Southerner, one of us, and could understand. No

offense intended, Mr. Winthrop. But afterwards when I wrote Mr. Potter

of the arrangement in force and――ah――suggested its continuance, I felt

that maybe I was taking advantage of his absence from the scene. To

be sure the amount was all that the ladies could afford to pay, and

it isn’t likely that Mr. Potter could have found more satisfactory

tenants. Still, I dare say it was my place to tell him that the figure

was pretty cheap, and let him try and do better with the property. I

reckon I allowed my interest in my clients to sway my judgment, Mr.

Winthrop. But I made up my mind when I got your letter and learned you

were coming here that I’d explain things to you, sir, and let you do as

you thought best.”

“In regard to――――?”

“In regard to re-renting, sir.”

“But I had intended occupying the house myself, Major.”

“So I gathered, sir, so I gathered. But of course you couldn’t know

what the circumstances were, Mr. Winthrop. It isn’t as though the

place was family property, sir, with you; not as though it was your

birthplace and home. It’s just a house and a few acres of ground to

you, sir; it has no――ah――sentimental value. You follow me, sir?”

“Yes, and you are beginning to make me feel like an interloper, Major

Cass.”

“God forbid, sir! I had no such intention, I assure you, sir. I am sure

no one could be more welcome at any time to Waynewood, and I trust,

sir, that we shall often have the pleasure of seeing you here, sir.”

Winthrop’s laugh held a touch of exasperation.

“But, Great Scott! Major, you’re proposing to turn me out of my own

house!”

“Bless your soul, sir, don’t say that! Dear, dear! Does it sound that

way to you? My apologies, Mr. Winthrop! I won’t say another word, sir!”

The Major rolled the cigar agitatedly about in the corner of his loose

mouth.

“Look here,” said Winthrop, “let’s understand each other, Major. I have

come into possession of this property and we’ll allow for the sake of

the argument that it holds no sentimental value for me. Now what do you

propose I should do? Sign a new rental and pack up my things and go

home again?”

“Nothing of the kind, sir, I assure you! What I meant to convey was

that as you were intending to stay here in Corunna only two or three

months, you could perhaps be quite as comfortable in the Palmetto House

as at Waynewood. The Palmetto House, sir, is a very well-managed hotel,

sir, and you would receive the most hospitable treatment.”

“Thanks for your frankness, Major. This Palmetto House is in the

village?”

“It is, sir. It faces the court-house on the south.”

“And it has a large garden in front of it, with trees and vines and

roses and a marble Cupid dancing in a bed of box?”

The Major shook his head regretfully.

“Well, Major, the place I’ve taken a fancy to boasts of just those

attractions. Don’t you think that perhaps we could somehow arrange it

so that I could stay there?”

“Do you mean, sir, that you would be willing to remain here as――as a

paying guest?” asked the Major, eagerly.

Winthrop shrugged his shoulders.

“Why not? If the ladies are agreeable. At first sight there may be

something a trifle anomalous in the idea of the owner of a property who

has journeyed several hundred miles to occupy it petitioning for the

privilege of being allowed to remain as a boarder, but, of course, I

have the limitations of the Northerner and doubtless fail to get the

correct point of view.”

But Winthrop’s irony was quite lost on the Major.

“My dear sir, you have taken a great load from my mind,” exclaimed the

latter. “I had hoped that the difficulty might be surmounted in just

the way you propose, but somehow I gathered after meeting you that

you――ah――resented the presence of the ladies.”

“Nonsense!” said Winthrop, a trifle impatiently. “Miss Wayne and her

niece are quite welcome to remain here as long as they like. I was,

however, naturally surprised to find anyone in possession. By all

means let us renew the rental agreement. Meanwhile, if the ladies are

agreeable, I will remain here and pay board and room-rent. I dare say

my visit will not cover more than three months. And I will try to be as

little trouble as possible.”

“Then the matter is settled,” answered the Major, with a gratified

smile. “Unless――――” He paused.

“More difficulties?” asked Winthrop, patiently.

“I hope not, sir, but I won’t deny that Miss India may spoil our plans.”

[Illustration]

“You mean that she may not want to take a boarder?”

“Well, it’s this way, Mr. Winthrop.” The Major cleared his throat.

“Miss Wayne has always been prejudiced against Northerners, but――――”

“Really? But she seemed kindness itself this afternoon.”

“I’m delighted to hear it, sir, delighted! And allow me to say, Mr.

Winthrop, sir, that you couldn’t have played a stronger card than you

did.”

“Card? What do you mean, Major?”

“I mean that in losing consciousness as you did, sir, you accomplished

more than I could have accomplished in an hour’s argument. It was very

well done, sir, for I assure you that it was only by representing you

as an invalid that I was able to prevail on Miss India to remain here,

sir, until your arrival. When I found that I had missed you at the

office I feared that you would perhaps unwittingly give the impression

of being a――a well man, sir, and thus prejudice the lady against you.

But as it happened, sir, you played just the card calculated to win the

trick.”

“But, Great Scott!” exclaimed Winthrop, exasperatedly; “you don’t think

for a moment, do you, that I deliberately simulated illness in order

to work on her sympathies?”

“Of course not,” said the Major, earnestly. “How could you have known?

No, no; I merely congratulated you on the fortunate――ah――coincidence,

sir.”

“Oh! Then I am to understand that as a well man Miss Wayne will refuse

to harbor me, but as an invalid she will consent to do so――for a

consideration?”

“Exactly, Mr. Winthrop; that is just how it stands, sir.”

“And having once been accepted will it be necessary for me to continue

to pose as an invalid for the rest of my stay?” he asked dryly.

“We-ell,” answered the Major, hesitatingly, “I don’t deny that it would

help, but I don’t reckon it’ll be absolutely necessary, sir.”

Winthrop smiled.

“I’m glad to hear it, for I’m rather tired of being an invalid, and I

don’t think I should enjoy even making believe for very long. May I

ask whether Miss Wayne’s dislike for persons from my section of the

country is ineradicable, Major?”

“I sincerely hope not, sir!” replied the Major, earnestly. “Her

brother’s views on the subject were very――ah――settled, sir, and Miss

India had the highest respect for his opinions. But she has never had

the fortune, I believe, to meet with a real Northern gentleman, Mr.

Winthrop.” And the Major bowed courteously.

“And the niece? Miss――――?”

“Holly, sir. Well, she is guided largely by her Aunt, Mr. Winthrop,

and doubtless clings to many of her father’s convictions, but she has

a well-developed sense of justice and a warm heart, sir, and I believe

her prejudices can be dispelled.”

“Well, I appear to be in the enemy’s country, with a vengeance,” said

Winthrop. “How about you, Major? Are you also down on us?”

“No, Mr. Winthrop. I don’t deny, sir, that shortly after the war I felt

resentment, but that sentiment has long since disappeared. I am honored

with the friendship of several very estimable Northern gentlemen, sir.

Nor must you think the sentiment hereabouts prejudicial to your people,

Mr. Winthrop. Corunna is off the track of the tourist, to be sure; we

have no special attractions here; no big hotels, sir, to cater to him;

but once in a while a Northerner wanders to our town and we have grown

to appreciate his many very excellent qualities, sir.”

“That’s comforting. I had begun to feel like a pariah.”

“My dear sir!” expostulated the Major. “Disabuse your mind of such

wrong ideas, Mr. Winthrop. I shall take pleasure in convincing you that

any ill-feeling engendered by the late unpleasantness has quite passed

away. I shall esteem it a great privilege to be allowed to introduce

you to some of our more prominent citizens, sir.”

“Thank you very much,” answered Winthrop. “The privilege will be mine,

Major. Must you go?”

“Yes, we mustn’t forget that you are not yet as strong as we hope to

have you after you have been under the treatment of our climate for

awhile, sir. Good-night, Mr. Winthrop. I have enjoyed our little talk,

and it has been a pleasure to meet a gentleman of your attainments,

sir.”

“You are very good,” Winthrop replied. “It has been a pleasure to meet

you, Major. And may I leave the negotiations in your hands?”

“You may, sir. I hope to be able to inform you to-morrow that our plan

is successful.”

“Yes. And in regard to the price to be paid, Major; I’ll leave that

entirely with you as I haven’t any idea what is right.”

“You may do so, sir. And possibly some day at your convenience you will

drop in at my office and we will attend to the matter of the new lease?”

“With pleasure, Major. Good-night, sir.”

Winthrop remained at the door until the Major had reached the lower

hall. Then he closed it and, hands in his pockets, returned to the

fire-place and stared frowningly into the coals. Mechanically he

reached his pipe from the mantel and lighted it with an ember. And

presently, as he smoked, the frown disappeared and he laughed softly.

“Of all the ridiculous situations!” he muttered.

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