The American Senator

but still had their ears wide open to the conversation that was being held. The two younger girls sympathised strongly with their mother. Mary, who had known much about the Mortons, and was old enough to understand the position which her grandfather had held in reference to the family, of course leaned in her heart to her father’s side. But she was wiser than her father, and knew that in such discussions her mother often showed a worldly wisdom which, in their present circumstances, they could hardly afford to disregard, unpalatable though it might be.

Mr. Masters disliked these discussions altogether, but he disliked them most of all in presence of his children. He looked round upon them in a deprecatory manner, making a slight motion with his hand and bringing his head down on one side, and then he gave a long sigh. If it was his intention to convey some subtle warning to his wife, some caution that she alone should understand, he was deceived. The “children” all knew what he meant quite as well as did their mother.

“Shall we go out, mamma?” asked Dolly.

“Finish your teas, my dears,” said Mr. Masters, who wished to stop the discussion rather than to carry it on before a more select audience.

“You’ve got to make up your mind tonight,” said Mrs. Masters, “and you’ll be going over to the Bush at eight.”

“No, I needn’t. He is to come on Monday. I told Nickem I wouldn’t see him tonight; nor, of course, tomorrow.”

“Then he’ll go to Bearside.”

“He may go to Bearside and be ⸻! Oh, Lord! I do wish you’d let me drop the business for a few minutes when I am in here. You don’t know anything about it. How should you?”

“I know that if I didn’t speak you’d let everything slip through your fingers. There’s Mr. Twentyman. Kate, open the door.”

Kate, who was fond of Mr. Twentyman, rushed up and opened the front door at once. In saying so much of Kate, I do not mean it to be understood that any precocious ideas of love were troubling that young lady’s bosom. Kate Masters was a jolly bouncing schoolgirl of fifteen, who was not too proud to eat toffy, and thought herself still a child. But she was very fond of Lawrence Twentyman, who had a pony that she could ride, and who was always good-natured to her. All the family liked Mr. Twentyman⁠—unless it might be Mary, who was the one that he specially liked himself. And Mary was not altogether averse to him, knowing him to be good-natured, manly, and straightforward. But Mr. Twentyman had proposed to her, and she had⁠—certainly not accepted him. This, however, had broken none of the family friendship. Everyone in the house, unless it might be Mary herself, hoped that Mr. Twentyman might prevail at last. The man was worth six or seven hundred a year, and had a good house, and owed no one a shilling. He was handsome, and about the best-tempered fellow known. Of course they all desired that he should prevail with Mary. “I wish that I were old enough, Larry, that’s all!” Kate had said to him once, laughing. “I wouldn’t have you, if you were ever so old,” Larry had replied; “you’d want to be out hunting every day.” That will show the sort of terms that Larry was on with his friend Kate. He called at the house every Saturday with the declared object of going over to the club that was held that evening in the parlour at the Bush, whither Mr. Masters also always went. It was understood at home that Mr. Masters should attend this club every Saturday from eight till eleven, but that he was not at any other time to give way to the fascinations of the Bush. On this occasion, and we may say on almost every Saturday night, Mr. Twentyman arrived a full hour before the appointed time. The reason of his doing so was of course well understood, and was quite approved by Mrs. Masters. She was not, at any rate as yet, a cruel stepmother; but still, if the girl could be transferred to so eligible a home as that which Mr. Twentyman could give her, it would be well for all parties.

When he took his seat he did not address himself specially to the lady of his love. I don’t know how a gentleman is to do so in the presence of her father, and mother, and sisters. Saturday after Saturday he probably thought that some occasion would arise; but, if his words could have been counted, it would have been found that he addressed fewer to her than to anyone in the room.

“Larry,” said his special friend Kate, “am I to have the pony at the Bridge meet?”

“How very free you are, Miss!” said her mother.

“I don’t know about that,” said Larry. “When is there to be a meet at the Bridge? I haven’t heard.”

“But I have. Tony Tuppett told me that they would be there this day fortnight.” Tony Tuppett was the huntsman of the U.R.U.

“That’s more than Tony can know. He may have guessed it.”

“Shall I have the pony if he has guessed right?”

Then the pony was promised; and Kate, trusting in Tony Tuppett’s sagacity, was happy.

“Have you heard of all this about Dillsborough Wood?” asked Mrs. Masters. The attorney shrank at the question, and shook himself uneasily in his chair.

“Yes; I’ve heard about it,” said Larry.

“And what do you think about it? I don’t see why Lord Rufford is to ride over everybody because he’s a lord.” Mr. Twentyman scratched his head. Though a keen sportsman himself, he did not specially like Lord Rufford⁠—a fact which had been very well known to Mrs. Masters. But, nevertheless, this threatened action against the nobleman was distasteful to him. It was not a hunting affair, or Mr. Twentyman could not have doubted for a moment. It was a shooting difficulty, and as Mr. Twentyman