By which I came to understand that it was not out of consideration for me he had been tied up in the court till now, but for reasons connected with their own safety and the preservation of the secret which they so evidently believed had been buried with the body, which I did not like to remember lay at that very minute too nearly under our feet for my own individual comfort.
However, this has nothing to do with the reply I made to William.
“I hope he does not run with the buggy,” I objected. “I want to take a ride very much this morning and could get small pleasure out of it if that dog must be our companion.”
“I cannot go out this morning,” William began, but changed his sentence, possibly at the touch of his sister’s foot under the table, into: “But if you say I must, why, I must. You women folks are so plagued unreasonable.”
Had he been ten years younger I would have boxed his ears; had he been that much older I would have taken cue and packed my trunk before he could have finished the cup of coffee he was drinking. But he was just too old to reprimand in the way just mentioned, and not old enough to appreciate any display of personal dignity or self-respect on the part of the person he had offended. Besides, he was a knave; so I just let his impertinence pass with the remark:
“I have purchases to make in the village”: and so that matter ended, manifestly to the two girls’ relief, who naturally did not like to see me insulted, even if they did not possess sufficient power over their brother to prevent it.
One other small episode and then I will take you with me to the village. As we were leaving the table, where I ate less than common, notwithstanding all my efforts to seem perfectly unconcerned, Lucetta, who had waited for her brother to go out, took me gently by the arm, and, eying me closely, said:
“Did you have any dreams last night, Miss Butterworth? You know I promised you some.”
The question disconcerted me, and for a moment I felt like taking the two girls into my confidence and bidding them fly from the shame and doom so soon to fall upon their brother; but the real principle underlying all such momentary impulses on my part deterred me, and in as light a tone as I could command and not be an absolute hypocrite, I replied that I was sorry to disappoint her, but I had had no dreams, which seemed to please her more than it should, for if I had had no dreams I certainly had suffered from the most frightful realities.
I will not describe our ride into town. Saracen did go with us, and indignation not only rendered me speechless, but gave to my thoughts a turn which made that half-hour of very little value to me. Mother Jane’s burly figure crouching in her doorway might otherwise have given me opportunity for remark, and so might the dubious looks of people we met on the highroad—looks to which I am so wholly unaccustomed that I had difficulty in recognizing myself as the butt of so much doubt and possibly dislike. I attributed this, however, all to the ill repute under which William so deservedly labored, and did not allow myself to more than notice it. Indeed, I could only be sorry for people who did not know in what consideration I was held at home, and who, either through ignorance or prejudice, allowed themselves privileges they would be the first to regret did they know the heart and mind of Amelia Butterworth.
Once in the village, I took the direction of affairs.
“Set me down at the hotel,” I commanded, “and then go about such business as you may have here in town. I am not going to allow myself to be tracked all over by that dog.”
“I have no business,” was the surly reply.
“Then make some,” was my sharp retort. “I want to see the locksmith—that locksmith who wouldn’t come to do an honest piece of work for me in your house; and I want to buy dimities and wools and sewing silks at the dry-goods store over there. Indeed I have a thousand things to do, and expect to spend half the morning before the counters. Why, man, I haven’t done any shopping for a week.”
He gaped at me perfectly aghast (as I meant he should), and, having but little experience of city ladies, took me at my word and prepared to beat an honorable retreat. As a result, I found myself ten minutes later standing on the top step of the hotel porch, watching William driving away with Saracen perched on the seat beside him. Then I realized that the village held no companions for him, and did not know whether I felt glad or sorry.
To the clerk who came to meet me, I said quietly, “Room No. 3, if you please,” at which he gave a nod of intelligence and led me as unostentatiously as possible into a small hall, at the end of which I saw a door with the aforesaid number on it.
“If you will take a seat inside,” said he, “I will send you whatever you may desire for your comfort.”
“I think you know what that is,” I rejoined, at which he nodded again and left me, closing the door carefully behind him as he went.
The few minutes which elapsed before my quiet was disturbed were spent by me in thinking. There were many little questions to settle in my own mind, for which a spell of uninterrupted contemplation was necessary. One of these was whether, in the event of finding the police amenable, I should reveal or hide from these children of my old friend, the fact that it was through my instrumentality that
