"Dancing-class nights," muttered Mr. James. Then he remembered that
Abby, his wife, had spoken of their nephew's absence. He was studying
so hard, it had been said. "Thank you, Jamie. I'll see to it. Thank
you very much, Jamie."
Jamie turned to go.
"Has Miss Mercy--has Miss McMurtagh encouraged him?"
Jamie turned back angrily. "She'll forbid the lad tha hoose, an ye say
so."
Mr. James seized his hat and fled precipitately, leaving Jamie
glowering at the grate. On his way up the street he met his father,
and took him into the old Ship tavern to have a glass of flip; and
then he told the story.
Mr. Bowdoin took his hat off to rub his forehead with his old
bandanna, thereby setting fluttering a pair of twenty-thousand-dollar
notes he had just discounted. "Dear me! I'll tell Harley not to go
there any more. Poor old Jamie!"
"Better ship the rascal to Bordeaux," said Mr. James, picking up the
notes.
"And have him lose his course in college?"
"What good did that do us? We were rusticated most of the time, as he
has just been"--
"Speak for yourself, young man!" cried Mr. Bowdoin.
"Haven't I a copy of the verses you addressed to Miss Sally White when
you were rusticated under Parson White at Clapboardtrees?"
An allusion to Miss White always tickled the old gentleman; and father
and son parted in high good humor. Only, Mr. James thought wise to
inform Mrs. Harleston Bowdoin of what had happened. And some days
after, Mr. James, coming to the office, found fair Miss Mercedes in
full possession. The old gentleman was visibly embarrassed. The lady
was quite at her ease.
"I've been telling this young lady she must not take to breaking
hearts so soon," he explained. "Haven't I, my dear?"
"Yes, sir," said Miss Mercedes demurely.
"And he doesn't know his own mind--and he hasn't been to see her
for--how long was it, Mercy?"
"A week, sir."
"For a week. And she'll not see him again--not until"--
"Not at all, if it's displeasing to you, sir."
"Displeasing to me? Dear me! you're a nice girl, I'm sure. Wasn't it
fair and square in the child to come down here? I wonder you weren't
afraid!"
"I'm not afraid of anything, Mr. Bowdoin!"
"Dear me! not afraid of anything!" Mr. Bowdoin chuckled. "Now I'm
afraid of Mrs. Harleston Bowdoin! Do you mean to say you'd walk
into--into a bank all alone?"
"Yes, sir, if I had business there."
"Business! here's business for you!" and the old gentleman, still
chuckling, scratched off a check. "Here, take this up to the Old
Colony Bank,--you know, where your father goes every day,--and if
you'll dare go in and present it for the money, it is yours! You've
got some music or fal-lals to buy, I'll be bound. Does old Jamie give
you an allowance? He ought to make a big allowance for your eyes! Now
get off, my dear, before he sees you here." And Mercedes escaped, with
one quick glance at Mr. James, who sank into a chair and looked at his
father quizzically.
"Upon my word," said the old gentleman, rubbing his spectacles
nervously, "she's a nice, well-mannered girl. I don't know why it
wouldn't do."
"I guess Mrs. Harleston does," laughed Mr. James.
"We were all journeymen or countrymen a hundred years ago."
But when Mr. Harleston's mamma heard of these revolutionary sentiments
she put her foot down. And Master Harley (who had conveniently been
dropped a year from Harvard) was sent to learn French bookkeeping in
the simpler civilization of Bordeaux.