"By Jove! don't I know that smile? We were in college together, you
know, and I've made him put on the gloves with me more than once on
account of that devilish smile. But I'll do him the justice to believe
that he didn't really suppose you'd take that dare." He interrupted
himself to laugh a little. "How seriously we're talking! After all, it's
no great matter if a--a rather foolish girl did a rather foolish thing."
She refused to be enlivened. "I had it out with him," she said. "And
since then we haven't seen anything of each other. You heard what
Pinckney Cresap said just now?"
"About Danton and the possibility of a duel?"
"Yes. I'm afraid that's partly my fault. I sent him away, and----"
"I see. If he's weak enough to seek consolation in that way, he deserves
to lose you."
She smiled frankly. "You're very, very comforting. I'm glad I confessed
to you--it's done me good."
The clatter of the group at the tea-table behind them had effectually
muffled the sound of their voices. Their eyes and thoughts, too, had
been so preoccupied that it was only now they became aware of a small
boy standing on the gravelled walk in front of them. He wore a checked
shirt and patched trousers on his diminutive person, and freckles and a
disgusted expression on his face.
"Gee Whilliken!" exclaimed this apparition, with startling vehemence. "I
been standin' here 'most an hour, I bet, without you lookin' at me
oncet. I'm Jimmy Jones."
"Welcome, scion of an illustrious family!" said Fessenden. "What is your
pleasure?"
"Ah, g'wan," returned Master Jones. "I got a letter, that's what. I got
a letter here for----" He broke off to scan his questioner closely.
"You're the man, ain't you? Tall, good-looker, wet pants. Say, Mister,
ain't your name Puddin' Tame?"
"'Puddin' Tame'?" asked Miss Yarnell, smiling. "Is it a game you want to
play, kiddy?"
"No, ma'am, 'tain't a game. I want to see _him_. Say, ain't you Puddin'
Tame?"
"I've been called so," admitted Fessenden, surprised but greatly
diverted. "But I'll let you into a secret, Jimmy: it's not my real
name."
"Aw, who said it was? Don't I know it's a nickname? Guess I heard of
Puddin' Tame before you was born."
"I believe your guess is incorrect, James."
"No, 'tain't neither. Say, here's the letter for you. There ain't no
answer." He thrust an envelope into Fessenden's fingers, and disappeared
around the corner of the house with a derisive whoop.
The sound served to divert the tea-drinkers from their chatter.
"What! A _billet doux_ already?" said Mrs. Dick Randall. "This _is_
rushing matters, Mr. Fessenden. I think it's only fair you should let us
know who she is." A chorus of exclamations followed, in which, however,
Miss Yarnell did not join.
"Polly," said Cresap at last, "don't tease Fessenden. Rather, if your
inferior half may venture the humble suggestion, I would urge a casual
glance at his trousers. What do you see, Little Brighteyes?"
"Goodness, Tom! They're _wet_. Positively dripping!"
"I lost my way coming over, and had to wade through a brook."
"And I never noticed it until now. And I declare I haven't given you a
chance to get to your room yet. Pinck, why _didn't_ you remind me? Ring
the bell, please. Tom, you must change your things right away."
Alone in his room, Fessenden read the note delivered by the cadet of the
house of Jones.