^( u ■^ Pi J J AT ALL LIBRARIES. JSr E TV JV O ^r E L BY Mrs. NEWTON SEARS, AUTHOR OF "KISMET," "CLEANSING FIRES," &C. FOLLY. 3 Vols., Crown 8vo. REMINGTON & Co., 5, Arunuel Street, Strand, W.C. THREE SHOTS FROM A POPGUN. BY JAMES PRIOR. ILontJon : REMINGTON AND CO 5, Arundel Street, Strand, w.c. 1880. [/ill Rights Reserved.] CONTENTS. piss Wise or Otherwise PAGE I Home Again 175 The Tug of War 283 478 THREE SHOTS FROM A POPGUN. WISE OR OTHERWISE. CHAPTER I. Good-day to you, madam; and good-day to you, sir. "Welcome to Nottingham. Have you any engagements, or may I hope you will accept my company for a stroll this sunny Sep- tember afternoon ? You will ! I am greatly honoured. You have notseenmuchof the towm, I daresay ? As I thought ; you have seen the Market-place pump and the Town Hall, and that is all. Well, be good enough, with- out more ceremony, to follow me, and I will show you a better sight. Puff: ! Xow we are out of the streets, and can speak and be heard. This broad avenue that you see before you is the Queen's Walk. These buildings that hedge it on every hand B 2 TEEEE SHOTS FKOM A POPGUN. are the Meadows, "so called because once, tliirty years ago, there were meadows here green all the year, save in the springtime, when they were blue over with crocuses. Ah, if it were only thirty years ago ! And w^hy not, if we choose to have it so, and for an hour clear our memory of all the dust and rubbish that has been accumulating these tliirty years ? Let it be thirty years ago now, dear companions. Pardon me, I am too soon familiar. Let the Queen and all of us be thirty years younger to-day ; and let us see here nothiug but what we might have seen thirty years ago. So we are now at the end of the Walk, and by the banks of the Trent. This thing that fronts us is not an iron bridge, but a rustic ferry — Wilford Ferry, worked by one man's arm. We enter the boat, and cross in com- pany with a milk-cart, a Nottingham stock- inger, with fishing-rod and mat basket in hand, and a pair of sweethearts bound for Clifton Grove. ' Safely landed with a bump ! The village close at hand, almost hidden by innumerable elms is Wilford. However, we will not enter WISE OR OTHEEWISE. 3 it now, but will turn to the right by this "White House Inn, making for the church, whose tower and spire you can see in spite of the trees. Allow me, ladies, to assist you over this hio'h stile. Xow here we are, with nothing^ but a low barrier between us and the church- yard that grave-baunted Ivirke White loved. But before you enter, sit down and admire the scene. It is scarcely spoilt even now, though green fields are blotted out with red brick, and a colliery belches smoke on the opposite bank of the river. But ves, I remember, we are at thirty years ago. Northward, beyond the Trent, see a broad sweep of rich meadow- land, besprinkled with trees, and bordered by pleasant hills, from which to our left rise the heights of Wollaton, clad with verdure, through which peeps the white face of a soli- tary mansion. To the right of these lie the houses and gentler slopes of Lenton ; and next the bluff on which stands Xottingham, its two most prominent headlands crowned, the one by the Castle, the other by St. Mary's tower. 4 ■ THEEE SHOTS FROM A POPGUN. Further still, and faintly seen through the- September haze, Sneinton Church sits on its own hill, like a little St. Mary's. Last of alt the bold Rough Hill, covered with wood, flings round to our flank, and cuts off the view. And all the while the river, placid and full in this autumn time, rolls swiftly at our feet, and the breeze flutters the old elms that overhang us, and the birds that inhabit them fly busily in and out of doors. We have loitered here long enough, and our seat is none of the comfortablest ; let us over the stile and into the churchyard, which is closely begirt on every side with great elms. But hush ! We have company here be- side the sheep that browse on the graves — a young gentleman sitting on the low stone wall that skirts the river. As I happen to know him pretty well, allow me to introduce him to you, ladies and gentlemen ; that is, mentally, for I would not disturb him at this 'moment for a hundred pounds. Mr. Hum- phrey Denton, ladies and gentlemen ; a young man aged twenty-one years, and of WISE OR OTHERWISE. 5 much promise ; for that is the promising age. And the time for f alfilraent — when ? \Yill it be ever and ever to-morrow ? For oh ! if we could only live to-morrow, how good should we become — aye, the worst of us ; and what good we should do, even the idlest of us. But all this is nothing to Mr. Humphrey Denton, who is twenty-one, and still sitting thoughtfully on the wall. If we could only draw near enough to hear him think ! Do not you catch something like this ? — *' What a voice she has ! and what eyes ! and what an honest heart ! And what — If ever a man was haunted I am; and by no evil spirits — crossed in every path by pair of bright eyes and a supernatural voice. What a marvel it is, the world of music that one little throat includes ! Such larks ought not to be private ; they should be caught and set in public to sing for the commonwealth's re- generation. All but Polly ! A flock of such birds would preach evil out of our thorough- fares, for who would act basely or give the world over-much reo^ard while heaven was so iipparently sounding near him ? " A very strange young fellovv ! And it is 6 THRKE SHOTS FROM A POPGU>T. well be only thinks his wild notions ; for, did he utter them, he would earn a foolisli name. But see ! ever on the alert, he catches a glimpse through tlie hedge of something womanly coming along the path by wliich we entered. He is off his seat in a twinkling, and gfains the cover of one of the church tower's deep buttresses. Presently a girl shows herself within a few yards of him ; tall, shapely, and dark-eyed, carrying a large bundle in a blue checked wrapper. Evidently a work-girl, though decently, even gracefully, clad. The young man, taken so vigilantly un- awares, will not notice her until she has well caught sight of him. When he turns, and says with an air of pleasurable surprise — " Why, good afternoon, Polly ! " Her face flushes, until she looks like one of those roses that we love ; but whether with pleasure or pain, you could not decide ; per- haps both. " Good afternoon, Mr. Humphrey." " As I have met you," he says again, '' I have something to tell you. Sit down and take a little rest meanwhile." WISE OR OTHERWISE. 7 '' I must not loiter, sir," Polly answers ; " I was delayed half an hour yesterday." '' But my news concerns Mike," " What is it? " she asks, more eagerly. He motions his hand towards the wall on which he has been sitting, and says in a busi- ness-like manner — '' Sit down then, wliile I tell you." Beino- anxious to hear, she cannot refuse to fulfil the conditions. She sits down, though uneasily, and be beside her. " I've just heard that the cricket com- mittee have decided to play Mike all next season." " Oh, thank you, Mr. Humphrey!" cries Vollj, starting up. *' How proud father will be ! and how o^ad I am ! " " You are not keeping your contract, Polly," says Mr. Humphrey, pointing to lier empty seat; and she sits down again obediently, for there may be more to hear. " I knew," he continues, " that they would play him. YThat splendid cuts he makes ! " " And what drives, too ! " cries the enthu- siastic Polly. 8 TIIEEE SHOTS FEOM A POPGUN. '' And what a steady defence for so young a player ! " '* And his fielding, too, so good ! " " Do you remember when he threw Leggy out at Sutton in Ashfield?" *' And when he caught Spooner out at Burton Joyce ? " " And his score of a hundred and thirty- six against the Bumpers ? " " And ninety-eight not out for the Screw- drivers ?" "How is it," says Humphrey, suddenly changing key, tempo, and tone, '' how is it that you could sing ' Old Robin Gray ' last night so feelingly ? You never had the mis- fortune to marry him, nor yet any younger and less estimable man." " If I had," answers Polly, with an archly- subdued smile, " I fear I should have found it nothing to sing about." " How I pitied 3^ou in your heap of woes. My grief rose at each fresh disaster — your father's accident, the tlieft of your cow, your mother's sickness, until when Old Robin Gray came a-courting you, I could have wept." WISE OR OTHERWISE. 9 PoUy replies — " You are laughing at me because I was so •earnest in play." " ]^ay, I was myself too earnest for play, and felt the misery more than the art. My pity fell like the rain, without thinking of the need." Polly twists her head away, and kicks a •stone with a shapely foot, as she replies de- liberately — *' You should have gathered up your pity tis it fell, and saved it against the need." '' lYell, with the remnants I will be very pitiful to some one, Polly, for your sake." " I must go," she says with a jerk, making to rise. " One moment more. Does it not make you happy to sit here at ease, feeling the sun's warmth in the shade? with the birds chirruping, the lazy breeze (if this is a breeze and not an airy sigh of full content and quiet), the scarecrow's bragging hullabaloo, the Trent below, which in this mood seems gladder to be brio-ht than stronor ; the trees' rustle as they feel their leaves — everything is as sweet and peaceful and monotonous as a 10 THREE SHOTS FROM A POPGUN". cuckoo's chime. Could you not be content to sit here half a day and feel these influ- ences ? " But Polly is thinking of something else, and does not answer this rhapsody, saying decided!}^, as she rises — " I must indeed go now." Humphrey rises with her, and picks up her bundle from the ground. ''How heavy it is!" he says, looking ruefully at her. " Have you carried this all the way from Adams '? " Then with a sudden shamefaced effort : " Let me carry it a little way." " No, no, Mr. Humphrey." ''Only to the gate." " I cannot think of it, sir. Please to give it me back, or I will not stir." While they are so disputing, a gentleman with two ladies appear in the avenue that makes the principal approach to the church. They are at once so interested in the matter, that their acquaintance with one at least of the parties is evident. Would you know their names ? That tall, pale, well-dressed young WISE OR OTHERWISE. 11 lady, fine bat haughtily featured, is Miss Manlove. The lady who is giggling is Miss Flighty. Their escort, Mr. Thomas Chatterly, junior, a good-looking young man, with good clothes, a good digestion and good temper, to speak only of his good parts. Mr. Chatterly opens the gate for the ladies, and all three advance towards the disputants. '' Why, good afternoon, Denton," says Mr. Chatterly, witli a waggish look at tlie bundle. " G-lad to see you." " Yery glad to see you," echoes Miss Flighty, with smirking emphasis. "Is it Mr. Denton?" says Miss Manlove, too calm and cold to be scornful, as she fits her eye-glasses to her nose. " Indeed it is ! I am verv srlad indeed to see you, Mr. Denton, especially under circumstances so charming." Denton only answers these compliments with a bow, trying to deny to himself that he is abashed. " A ver}' fine day, Denton," says Chatterly, flourishing his stick, and casting his eye in mock admiration on all the beauties around, including Polly. 12 THEEE SHOTS FROM A POPGUN. " Yes," replied Denton. He could not have answered more shortly unless he said " No." Now it is Miss Manlove's turn. " You do not introduce us to this lady, Mr. Denton ; a cruel reticence." The young man made a great effort, mentally sentencing himself to self-command or death, and answered gravely — '' Polly Berridge, Miss Manlove. Those who cultivate her acquaintance find it most valuable." The tormentor responded in her quiet, in- variable, slightly drawling tone — " I shall be delighted, I am sure, to become a humble member of the circle of her admirers. It is a very pretty walk this way> Miss Berridge? " Polly declining the opening, Chatterly takes it up. "Under pretty conditions, eh, Denton? We .shall not have your company to Nottingham, I suppose ? Well, good-day. We shall see you this evening, I hope, at Mrs. Feathers' ! " " 0, yes, we must of all things," cried Miss Flighty ; and the trio, having completed WISE OR OTHERWISE. IS bows of wonderf Lil length and breadth, sail away. Polly turns to Humphrey with a glowing face and flashing eyes, and catching her bundle from him, says both reproachfully and angrily — *' You see you have made both yourself and me ridiculous ! " So leaving him. Half-stunned, Humphrey lets her go, and stands upbraiding himself. " I'm forsworn if my heart chopped up small with bread would make a meal for a jay. Why are my cheeks and tongue so guilty? Have I been committing a crime? Surely not. Or a fault? No. A folly perhaps ? Well, I partly beheve not — or if I were, woe to the fool that has not the courage of his foolery. The valiant in folly has half the merit of a wise man, but the timorous fool is twice a fool. They have gone away bursting their sides with genteelly restrained laughter; and she in as much anger as her heart knows of ; by which she looks more amiable than ever. I must go after her, and make my peace as wisely as I have wit for." 14 ■ THREE SHOTS FEOM A POPGUN. So tlie last of the intruders has gone, and left us free to walk round the old fabric that has now the serene beauty of antiquity, though its youth, I dare say, was but a gawky one. Enough, however, has been seen, and the twilisrbt berais to fall. Let us return home^ and on the way I will give some further account of Mr. Denton, whom we have met here to-day. He is said to be of good birth ; but all I know about that is, that his father and mother were better people than are often seen, and therefore of bad birth he cannot be. Whether or no, he lives with his mother, a widow not yet elderly, in the largest house in the village ; a great, square, red-brick place, as ugly as could be built for money (as to love it is unknown in the building trade), but comfort- able withal, and surrounded by fine gardens and plantations that half redeem its plain- ness. He is also supposed to be sole heir to his uncle, Mr. Paul Denton's property. This was the elder brother of Humphrey's father, and a man of much experience. He has travelled ; was a soldier in his young days, and when he left the army, made himself a WISE OR OTHERWISE. 15 iDarrister to employ his leisure. He is said to have been especially skilf al in cross-examina- tion, but has now given up practice. He possesses a good estate within a few miles of Wilford, to which village he rides round two or three times a week, paying his sister- in-law a visit lonoer or shorter according as his nephew is at home or not, and also calling on a few old friends in the neighbourhood. Formerly he used to dine in London with the wits ; here in the country he is well enough. liked, but with something of doubt. If you would know how he looks, he is short and stout, with a keen eye, and aquiline nose, and carries himself erect. But here we are back again, and you are weary of me, though you will not say so. Farewell for the present. CIIAPTEH 11. The cottage of the Berridges' still stands at the farther end of Wilford, near the lane that leads to the Trent Bridge. It is a thatched and patched building, ranked sideways to the road on which it abuts. Mark the gray belly- ing walls, the tiny casements, and the little latticed porch facing the south. In the front is a garden, the borders of which bloom, in spite of the lateness of the season, with rose, geranium, and verbena; while the rest of the plot is green with kidney beans, cabbage, and celery. At the rear there is a large orchard, famous for its apples as far as Nottingham. Amos Berridge, the occupier, had formerly been a framework knitter at Nottingham, but having, like many of his class, a fondness for gardening, had some few years before the time that we speak of, retired hither with his small savings, and set up as market gardener, the dream of his youth. If all youthful ambi- tions were as moderate, they would oftener be realised ; and, being so, be enjoyed. He WISE OR OTHERWISE. 17 Las one son, Mike, employed in a lace factory, and one daughter, Polly, who is a mender for one of the great warehouses. In the dusk of the day on which we saw Humphrey Denton meet his daughter Polly in the churchyard, Amos stood at his cottage door smoking ; an ageing man with bent shoulders, and a gentle face that has seen troubles. While he is there his daughter comes up the garden path, a manly shape at the same time being dimly perceived to turn away from the gate. " Is that Mr. Humphrey, lass ? " said Amos quietly, and barely looking at her, as if to say, ''Don't answer me if you'd rather not, you know." "Yes, father." - " Has he come up wi' thee ? " " Yes, father." " He does so often, lass ! " " Yes, father." " Ah," said Berridge, with something like a sigh, as he turned in. Polly lights a candle, and while she hangs her bonnet and shawl behind the stair- dooiv we may take a quiet survey of the room. 18 THEEE SHOTS FEOM A POPGUN. A quaint place, indeed, sliowing the different work of several generations. The floor is partly of brick and partly boarded. One side of the roof slopes, until the smallest man could touch it with his head ; the other portion is flat and crossed by a rugged beam, from which hans: bao:s of herbs. Two cushioned arm-chairs stand like sentinels on either hand of the gaping chimney, in which is a hug^e o^rate reduced to a reasonable size with bricks. The walls are well white-washed and adorned with brightly-coloured prints. Do not be too much surprised if you see in the nook between the window and the chimney a little piano. A poor jingling thing, no doubt, which your dainty fingers, young lady, would scorn to touch ; picked up cheap at an auction, but under Polly's fingers it makes music which her father, and mother, and brother, and some one else loves. " Why, what is it, lass?" said Berridge, as Polly brought her face to the light. " Thou looks all ill to fare. Has any one said oat to thee?" he suddenly asked, almost fierce at the suspicion. > " no, father." WISE OE OTHERWISE. 19 He laid his pipe down on the table, and, putting both his hands on her shoulders, looked with fatherly confidence into her face, saying— '• What grieves thee, my lass ? " '' O, father," she cried, bursting into tears, and falling on his neck, ''he keeps meeting me, and he oughtn't, he oughtn't. I went round by the churchyard to-day, and he met me ao'ain." " Ne'er mind, my lass, ne'er mind," said the father's pity, comforting her like a child, as he pressed her to him, and put his rough, cheek on her smooth one. " There, there. Hang on feyther. Nay, nay." When she had been a little soothed by his gentle admonitions, he drew her to his old arm-chair by the chimney, and set her on his knee, fondling her with rugged tenderness. " Now art better ? " he murmurs, in a soft tone for a man, and a working man, too, that had nearly done a life's work. " Art better now? Wi' thee lying on feyther' s knee like a little wench, I feel like to begin wi' lullaby babby, or some other oad nonsense. Ay, many's the time I've lullabied thee to sleep 20 THREE SHOTS EEOM A POPGUN. wi' thy pretty face. Ah, oad times, oad times. Thou'st thy babby face yet, lass." " Dear father," was answer enough and thanks enough, with the caress that went with it. There they sat unspeaking with their hearts so close together, both thinking of the same thing. Polly's thoughts I could not venture to interpret, so wildly changeable they were, taking a fresh dye from every imagination, especially the somberer ones. Her father, too, was trying, without any ingenuity, to solve the question. He thought well of the young gentleman ; he loved his frequent visits ; and wise or otherwise, with what face could he ask him to discontinue them ? He kijew how to trust his daughter with his honour as well as her own ; and this was his conclusion, with one prayer to leave all to Him to whom he had surrendered every tittle of his life. Now bursts in brother Mike, a tall, big- jointed, ungainly colt, yet with a clean and bright face. He flings his hat as it happens, and then, staring with great eyes at the group in the arm-chair, cries, boyishly boisterous — WISE OE OTHERWISE. 21 *' Hullo, what's up wi' our Poll ? " " Ke'er mind, lad," answered the father ; ** it's nothing." " I'm not going to be shoved o' one side," ■said the son, rebelliously. '' I'm going to mind a jolly lot. Our Poll don't have megrims about nothing. What's matter, Poll ? " " I'll tell you another time, Mike, perhaps," the girl answered. ''AH right," says the unsuspicious Mike. " I don't want to hurry ; I only want to know as all's right with our Poll. But if somebody does want anything " — showing a powerful arm — '' I can give it him." " JSTo, Mike," said Polly, rising with a smile to kiss him. " No one wants anything j every one is quite contented with nothing. Do I look all rio^ht now ? " " I should like to hear as anybody looks lighter," cried Mike, half angry at his own supposition. " Now, where's my supper ? You're on to clamming me; that's what it is.' '' Ay," said the father, as he left the room, smiling through his trouble, " get the lad his supper ; he features to be pinched very nigh." The deft Polly soon supplied the famishing 22 THREE SHOTS FEOM A POPGUN. boy, who showed the dreadful extent of his previous privations by the violence with which he now satisfied his famine. Never- theless, after a few minutes' silent exertion, he suddenly shouted, with his mouth full, to his sister, who was three yards distant — " I say, Polly ! " ''Yes, Mike." " Ain't it spanking ? " " Glorious ! " cried Polly, seeming to under- stand her brother's thoughts. " I say ! " he yelled again. " Yes." " I wish next May was to-morrow ! " " That would be rather awkward," said Polly, " for then, you see, to-morrow would be next May. A long time to wait for break- fast, eh ? " she added, skilfully appealing to his more sensitive feelings. "I'm going to make a scholar of you, Mike." " Don't," he said, shrinking ; he was too healthy to turn pale. " It's my desire, sir," was the decided rejoinder. " Oh, very well," said Mike, at once care- lessly submissive. " I won't objeck." WISE OR OTHERWISE. 23 Polly seized tlie opportunity to begin Ms lessons at once. *' Say object, Mike, not objeck. 0, b, j, e, c, t — object." " Object," Mike repeated, apparently with- out troubling himself much about the matter. "Now shall vou remember?" asked the professor. " Well, you see. Poll," he replied, rubbing his pate, ''if 'twas a bit o' machinery, or a gun, or a bat, or summat I could lay hands on — " " I'll show it you in a book, and that will impress it on your stupid head." " Will it?" enquired Mike, doubtfully. " See here. What is that, sir ? " she said, with severit}^, tweaking his ear. " 0, b, j, e, c, t — object. Ay, it's there fair an' square. But s'pose books are alius right, * though ? " " Well — hm — not always," answered Polly, truthfully, but doubtful of destroying the illusion. " Then they ain't so clever, eh, after all ? " the cross-examiner pursued. " Well, not always," again the conscientious witness replied. ii 24 THREE SHOTS EROM A POPGUN. Grim reality now dimly loomed on the young man througli the fictitious vapours of ignorance. " I thought they only wrote cos they'd — " They d what, Mike ? " Like bust, if they didn't." '' Burst, Mike." " Ah, they'd burst, would they now?'* Just then the cottage door opened, and before anything was visible at it but a big basket, Mike screamed, at the top of his voice — "Mother, I'm to play for the County next season. Hooray ! " Even Polly chimed in with a sympathetic " Hooray ! " and waved her hand as Mrs. Berridge appeared ; a stout, comfortable dame, with a bright ribbon in her bonnet, and an honest red on her cheeks ; having a motherly smile in, not on, her face, and matronly sharpness on, not in, her speech. " Well," quoth she, as she set her basket down and unloosened her bonnet-strings, "Well, I hope you're happy now you've a chance of getting yourself killed off with a cricket-ball. But if it was cannon-balls, it'd be all the same to you." WISE OR OTHERWISE. 25 ** Happy ! " answered the delighted Mike ; "I feel as if I could — . I wish. I'd got a drum to wback at ! " ''You'd better not, lad," said Mrs. Berridge, as tartly as if she heard the performance. ''I know what drums are. I've been in a family, and that was Mrs. Wagner's, at Lowangrin House, where there was ten children, and a drum apiece they did have, let alone trumpets, and whistles, and rattles, and good loud voices of their own. Missis was always saying as discord was the soul of harmony ; and soul enough of it we had there ; besides her always nagging at the master about a man he knew called Mozart, a Jewish sort o' name, and a bad character, too, if all missis said was true, which wasn t gospel about gravies, at all events. Anyhow, they was always a mixing him up with a Bait-oven, as they said, which I never saw in the kitchen, thouo'h that Mozart mio;ht ha' stolen it. And there was a Handle, too — dear-a-me, how she did 2^0 on about it — as mio^ht be the handle to the oven. But, as I was saying, lad, there's noise enough in th' house with your shouting, and stamping, and whistling, and — " 26 THEEE SHOTS FROM A POPGUN. "And Polly's singing," suggested Pollj, laughing. " Bless your face." Mrs. Berridge liad by this time, with Polly's help, taken off her trappings, and emptied her basket, and now seated herself comfort- ably in the arm-chair. Throwing herself back, with a sigh of content, she said — " Who do you think came up with me from the ferry ? " '' George Parr ! " was Mike's conjecture. " George Parr?" said Mrs. Berridge, shortly, *' and who's George Parr ? " "Law, don't you know, mother? Best leg-hitter in the world. Why, last month, at Lord's—" " Bother your lords, and ladies, too. It was Mr. Humphrey ; if that isn't good enough. Mrs. Watson, that used to be at the Manloves', tells me he's wonderfully taken with their oldest young lady." " I like Mr. Humphrey," said Mike, very decidedly. " Don't you. Poll ? " " No, I don't," she answered, pettishly. Ah, Polly ! " Well, Pm sure ! " the mother burst in. WISE OR OTHERWISE. 27 indignantly; "you're hard to please, child. The nicest and pleasantest young gentleman ! And so fond of your father, too ! You ought to be ashamed, and — " this with a shake of the finger — " and should be, if you were two minutes younger, or I'd know the reason." '' Don't he like you. Poll ? " asked the too curious Mike. Polly was busy with her back to him at the other end of the room, but when the question was repeated, could answer — • " It's not very likely." "Well," quoth he, pondering it deeply, " he's a rum 'un, if he don't." Then dis- missing that matter as incomprehensible, he enquired again, " But now, why don't jon like him, Polly ? " " Mercy on the boy and his questions ! '* exclaimed Mrs. Berridofe. ''Why don't you, Polly?" he persisted, unabashed. " Haven't you finished your supper ?" said Polly, evasively. " Not a bit of it. But now why— ? ' '' Bless the girl ! " suddenly cried Mrs.. 28 THREE SHOTS FROM A POPGUN. Berridge, to her relief, " slie hasn't changed her boots ! " " They're quite dry, mother; look ! " '' I don't want to look," she answered, turning her head away ; " I should know what boots are before this. You change them, Polly, or straight you go off to bed. I've enough on my hands without having you laid up with a sore throat, and messing about all day with poultices and beef tea." Polly being thus dismissed to make the needful change, the mother all at once bounced up, and began vigorously to remove the supper things. '' Mother, Pve not done yet," Mike re- monstrated. *' Then you'll have to ha' done, lad. If your belly don't ache, it's a pity but it does ! " During this colloquy the father had re- turned to his habitual corner of the chimney, so that on Polly's entrance, the family circle was complete. Complete, since no member was absent; and more truly still, because there was no flaw in their union ; no envy, no debate, no mistrust, no cankerous thought. WISE OE OTHERWISE. 29^ After thej liacl chatted a little or been silent at will, the mother doing most of the talk, Pollj took up a book and began to read aloud. Perhaps not all the listeners could have told you that she was reading the first volume of Mr. Macaulaj's ''History of England," re- cently published. What they loved was the voice; the rest did not matter much. Thus they sat getting gradually drowsier under the day's fatigue and the fire's warmth, until Amos, waking with a start from a momentary nap, said — . " 'Now then, Polly, for feyther s favouright. It's gone nine." While her father filled his pipe, that he might enjoy the music the better, Polly went to the piano, and after a prelude not badly played, began that most plaintive of ditties, ''Auld Robin Gray." She was still complaining that " Auld Robin Gray came a-courting me," when a carriage was heard to stop outside. In a minute some one knocked, who, on Mike's opening the door, proved to be Mr. Humphrey. He explained that since he had to pass the cottage on his way to an evening party at Mrs. Feathers'^ •o THEEE SHOTS FROM A POPGUN. lie liad taken the opportunity to bring them a book, which he thought they would like to see. Polly received it on behalf of the family with a few subdued thanks, and, surrounded by the others, proceeded to open it. "A famous book appearantly," said Amos, taking his pipe from his mouth; while Mike read out the title — " The Personal History of David Copper- field." *' Dear-a-me " cried Mrs. Berridge, " and pictures too." Interrupting their exclamations the visitor asked — for he saw the piano open — to hear a song before he left. Would Polly sing the '' Bailiff's Daughter of Isling- ton? " Not in the habit of refusing for her own pleasure, she sat doAvn again and went through the piece with comical mock pathos. The young gentleman took his seat with the rest, while she sang, a strange contrast to the homely surroundings in his faultless evening dress. When she rose, he thankedher, and in a minute was whirling along in his broug^ham to how different a scene ! WISE OR OTHEEWISK. 31 "Ah, it's a strange world," said Berridge. ^' To think o' folks sleeping half the day and partying all through the night, as if they despised God's blessed sun." " It isn't Mr. Humphrey's fault," Polly ventured to say. " He must do as others do." " Ay," her father answered, " and it's o' them others I'm talking, not of him. Though to my thinking if we're content alius to do as others do, it's little good we shall do ; and that little waint be our own." But it is late. Polly will hand the father his big Bible, out of which he will read a chapter with a solemn voice, full of emotion ; he will offer a short broken prayer ; and so good night and peace be unto this house. CHAPTER III. Mrs. Feathees lives at West Briclofford, a village facing the Trent bridge, from which its name, and not more than a mile and a half from Wilford. She is a happy widow with a large grown-up family, for whose benefit, as she says, she enjoys to the utmost a constant whirl of party-giving and going. Her house is large and old-fashioned, with numberless passages and rooms opening into one another ; the very place for the disposal of a multiform assemblage such as is gathered there to-night. Everywhere is disorderly abundance ; in one room dancing, in another cards ; here conversation, there music ; nay, there is even a nook sacred to man and tobacco ; while happy couples wander to and fro, at their will. But none of the party, I fancy, are better amused than a little group in the hall. Their eager whisperings, mali- cious smiles, merry eyes, and suppressed laughter, mark them at once as engaged with some choice piece of scandal. There is Miss Teens, a boisterous romp of fifteen ; Miss WISE OE OTHEEWISE. 33 Scarem, a more developed Miss Teens ; Miss Dragon, who may have been a loud-voiced hoyden, too, in her day, but is now an old maid under protest, with a temper disordered by disappointment and tight-lacing. In the centre are Miss Flighty and Mr. Chatterly, already of our acquaintance. The recital has evidently been finished, and Miss Teens is exclaimins" — " What fun ! " tossing her hair in a brain- less mo-o'le. " Can it be credited ? " says Miss Dragon's thin sharp voice ; without any appearance of doubt however. "Yes, indeed," cries Miss Scarem, "or it would be the death of all amusement." Is it true," asks Miss Dragon again, that he has been paying particular attention to Miss Manlove ? " Miss Dragon deals much in questions. " Oh, I could die of laughing ! " cries Miss Teens. " Poor Sophia ! " sighs the sympathetic Miss Flighty. Just then Miss Manlove herself passed, bearing erect her usual haughty indifference. D a T 66 34 THREE SHOTS FHOM A POPGUN. " How pale she is ! " tittered Miss Scarem. " How fluslied her cheek ! " said Miss Dragon. Then swallowing lier satisfaction like an oyster in vinegar and pepper, she turned to Miss Manlove, saying — " What a horrible occurrence, my dear." '' Which ? " answered that lady, with all calmness, " I have heard of three in these five minutes." " Oh, this revelation about Mrs. Denton's boy, my dear. You may be assured I pity — " " Whom, Miss Dragon?" asked the other, after vainly waiting for the pity to come fairly out. " Oh, all the parties interested, my dear." " That seems to be yourself more than any one." "Well," retorted Miss Dragon, "you certainly know best." " No, Miss Dragon, I have not the assur- ance to compare my knowledge of anything with that of one so much older and better informed than myself." " Well," concluded Miss Dragon, in a spasm of bitterness, " I hope that patience and WISE on OTHERWISE. 35 resignation will be exercised under the trial." '' Surely, Miss Dragon, you will not find those virtues difficult with all the practice that you have had." Miss Dragon stands with a cankered smile on her face, searching her heart for an answer and finding abundant malice but no wit. During the above colloquy much urgent whispering and motioning had passed between the Misses Scarem and Teens ; and now the latter breaks out with a sudden clang like a tuneless bell-clapper. '•Are you really engaged to him, Miss Manlove?" " To whom, my dear ? " asked Miss Man- love, reading her all over with passionless, remorseless eyes, under which she began to feel very young indeed, but mustered impru- dence to reply — " Oh, Humphrey Denton, of course." " You will find, child," as you grow up answered the lady, looking down on her with unresentful scorn, *' that persons are not so eager for an engagement, unless they have passed or not yet reached the age of its 36 THEEE SHOTS PROM A POPGUN. probability. Children and elderly ladies who have not the opportunity of making attach- ments, are fond of imagining them." With that she swept away, bowing at the same time to a gentleman at the door who was entering, and turned out to be Humphrey Denton himself. He would fain have passed tbe tattle- mongers without notice, but was forestalled by Miss Scarem, who started at once to meet him, followed by Miss Teens. " Let me congratulate Mr. Denton," she said, all smiles. " I must be fortunate," he answered, forcing himself to make a mask of his face, " without my knowledge." ''Oh, you know, you wicked creature," she said, almost seeming to admire his wickedness. "Believe me," he replied, " you praise me for more wickedness, and depreciate me for more knowledge than I am aware of." " The lady of the bundle! Oh, you know ! " ''Hm — ah — yes," said Humphrey, at intervals, striving to recollect, and at last manifestly succeeding. WISE OR OTHERWISE. 37 '' What's her name ? " giggled out Miss Teens. ''Pardon me, Miss Teens; you have doubt- less so great a superiority of knowledge on most points of the subject, that you must allow me to retain that triflinof advantagfe." Miss Teens, not well understandinoc with her dull wits, was a little reduced if not abashed, and left it to Miss Scarem, who proceeded — '' She's not a gipsy, is she ? Is she so very savage? " '' Had she received your breeding and edu- cation. Miss Scarem, she would doubtless have been very different. But we always make allowances for a lady, even when they are needed." '' Indeed ! ^' she replied, with an indifferent effort to appear indifferent ; '' I thought you were so hard to please ? " " A huge mistake ; some amuse me with- out effort, without even the labour of an intention." They had now reached the foot of the stairs, on which Chatterly and Miss Flighty, were sitting. Both rose, the former saying 38 THREE SHOTS FROM A POPaUN. with a nod, " How do, Denton ? But I have seen you before to-day." " Have you seen me twice, Chatterly ? Then you may be said to have seen double for once." Mr. Chatterly was inclined to indulge in cups, and Mr. Chatterly sat down again. " I believe I, too, have seen Mr. Denton before," said Miss Flighty, with smiling blandishments. "A pleasure, Miss Flighty," answered Humphrey gallantly, ''to meet you any- where." '' A pleasure, Mr. Denton, to meet you there. You looked delightfully ridiculous." " If a pleasure is according to its rarity, that must be the most delightful of all. A dish more epicurean than nightingales' tongues, an aloe blossoming in a hundred years, the white elephant of delights, the phoenix of amusements, encountered more seldom than anything that is ever met." Very poor fun all this, no doubt ; coarse- ness for sarcasm, effrontery for wit, malice for everything ; lungs without head, and belly without heart. Alas I my friends, that was WISE OR OTHERWISE. 39 thirty years ago, and we are better than our fathers. We have been to school with many doctors, and have learnt, even in the country, to wound gently, torture artistically, ruin politely. While the disconcerted and puzzled tor- mentors, like gadflies dispersed by angry umbrellas or handkerchiefs, are hovering" aloof, uncertain whether to collect for another onslaught, or seek a tamer prey, they are checked and dispersed by the entrance of Mr. Paul Denton. A maii feared by some dull people, who, when there was a laugh, did not know whether the joke was not against them- selves. The uncle and nephew, being alone, looked at one another for a minute, the one keenly, the other unquailing. Then the former, reckoning up Humphrey's excited eye and unusual flush, began gravely, shak- ing his head — " You have drunk too much wine, Hum- phrey." " I have but just entered," he answered, turning himself impatiently. "But no need of wine as long as these rampant fools live to claw one's spirits." 40 THEEE SHOTS FEOM A POFGUN. ''You had better go," said his uncle, touching him on the arm ; " you will expose yourself. Drinking, and other things — you understand me, I have heard something — are not thought well of now in public ; they are of mauvais ton, and none but blackguards are seen to do them. In my earlier days it was proper to be improper ; but now that is chanofed, and we're all virtuous d la mode. For while we are in the world, we must do as it does ; we must do as societ}^, if we would be of it. If it prays, I pray, there is no help ; if it swears, I swear, and wilhngly. Don't be strait-laced, my boy ; doctors concur that it damages the constitution ; but what fashion puts in penalty avoid, eschew, abhor. That is the deadly sin, when it is seen ; like some of our queer friends whom we must cut in public, but in private — as you please." Ah, if Mr. Denton were given the grace perfectly to follow his religion ! But he has backslidings — yes, many backslidings. Any- how, his further admonitions were interrupted by the approach of a lady, mature and matronly, but by no means faded, clothed in something dark. Everything, even her eyes. WISE OR OTHERWISE. 41 was afc rest ; Ler dress lay quietly graceful around her, rustling as softly as her thoughts mioht do. Mrs. Denton was not a woman to single out of a crowd, yet very noticeable in a room, most important in a life. Her hair was bound in close braids round her head. Mr. Paul Denton rarely stayed long in his sister-in-law's company ; not from disrespect, for he admired her ; nor from dislike, for he had even some affection for her, and more- over honoured her as the representative of a brother whom he had loved. Perhaps it was only a habit of taste that made him sup best on his usual diet. This night, after glancing into her face, where he thought he saw some- thing, he left her without a word. Hum- phrey took little note of anything but his thouo^hts. His mother called his name, and when he liad answered without turning, went nearer and spoke lower. " What is wrong with you, Humphrey ? " "Is anything?" he answered, ''or more than usual ? " Ah, I fear those goadings have roused a pride that would have lain quiet enough. 42 THEEE SHOTS FROM A POPGUX. " Nay, I ask you, my son." " j^otliing is wrong," lie answered again, ** as far as I know, more than usual, with me." '' Are you quite sure of it, Humphrey ?" She spoke with a touch of cahn, patient, sorrowful questioning in her voice. ''N'o," he replied, with young self-will refusing the confidence that he knew would be so sweet. '' What then ? " enquired the mother's solicitude, which also had its own bounds and fences, restraining by the name of tres- pass from fields where it longed to wander at ease. " What then ? " " I am moderately sure, mother, reason- ably sure. Is not that enough ? " Nothino' is so contas^ious as heat and cold.. The sun's least increase in the torrid zone will affect the shivering poles, and a whiff of new cold in the arctic regions moves all things, even to the equator. '' You must determine, son," she answered with more dignity, if equal love and patience. " It is neither my duty nor pleasure to be the spy on your actions, or the judge over them. WISE OR OTHERWISE. 4^ That would suit neither my inclinations nor my conscience, Humphrey. To me all is as you say ; and all's very well, for so do you say. The mother took her son's arm, and both passed again among the company to enjoy the evening as they could ; Mrs. Denton. as placid as ever, Humphrey more gay than usual. Would it be a happier world or no, if we all carried our thoughts plainly on our faces ? There would be much more un- happiness visible. Bat agaia, many oE the feebler sorts of misery, brought to the open air from the cellars and hot-houses where they flourish rankly, would take cold and die. Doubtless he is the happiest soul who shows most of himself. Even in the trashiest plays it is the gloomier dummies that soliloquise and wrench their wigs in solitude. CHAPTER TV. Two or three days after this Mr. Paul Denton was sitting in his sister-in-law's morning-room^ engaged, I suppose, in thinking, like most persons who are doing nothing else. Mrs. Denton was altogether busied with some sort of needlework. Ladies have that happy resort from care. I dare say they sat so half an hour without a word, until Mr. Denton said at last, with the extreme carelessness of premeditation — " Where is Humphrey, Martha ? '' '' I do not know," she replied, being too much occupied at that moment with her work for a longer answer. Stout-hearted, keen Paul Denton was almost afraid of that calm sister of his, and paused before he said again, " You and he are a little out, I see." But Mrs. Denton did not hear or under- stand. " I beg your pardon, Paul ? " Mr. Denton was obliged to speak more plainly. WISE OE OTHEEWISE. 45 "You are not on very good terms Tvith Humphrey just now, I fear." ''You are mistaken, Paul." . "By you then, Martha," he retorted, gaining courage as he heard his tongue wag, " you and he are at present like two useful pleasant salts that unite into a freezing- mixture. You send me from your joint presence aching with cold. If this continues you must double your fires." " I do not know from what you infer this/ said Mrs. Denton. " From my feelings, " he answered, " When I feel cold, I infer that I am cold. Come, be candid with me ; you have heard this something about Berridge's girl." " Excuse me, Paul ; Humphrey has given me no information of any such matter." " Of course not," replied the man of the world ; " that would be too liberal, even for a libertine, which he by no means is. You have made shift to borrow the information elsewhere." " No, Paul, I have not, and I will not. I can trust my son, or ought. At any rate, I am not willing to have any distrust of him ; 46 THEEE SHOTS FROM A POPGUN. and I will know no more of liim tlian lie chooses. Shall you dine witli us to-day ?" " Yes, yes," lie answered. " And for all this talk of trust, you distrust him so much that you shut your eyes, fearing to see." Mrs. Denton only shook her head, for she disliked controversy, conscious that in it a glib tongue has too great an advantage. " Come, what shall we do with him, the scapegrace?" No answer. " When a doctor cannot relieve his patient he bids him travel, and gets rid of him. Let us follow the rule in Humphrey's case. A few months on the Continent will work more cure than gallons of rebuke, bushels of advice, and all the pills of wisdom ever boxed in the wisest head." But Mrs. Denton was engaged with a little kuot in her thread, and did not answer. " Is not that your opinion ?" " If Humphrey please," she answered simply, still busy as before. " No, no," he said, a little irritated by her calm refusals ; and to know how irritating calmness may be, you need not have been be- WISE OR OTHERWISE. 47 <5almed for a week at the equator. '' Xo, no ; if Humphrey does not please, and the more needful the less he pleases. If our patient is eager for the journey, home air will suffice. If he takes the partmg like a pill, it may act as one, and cure him ; if he takes it for a sweet it will only clog his digestion. It might be well, besides, to give Berridge a hint ; it could not harm, done prudently. If you think proper, I — " " Paul, if you have anything to say about Humphrey, I must not hear it. To my mind it would be treachery towards him to take any knowledge of him from another. Stay" — for she saw her brother-in-law's mouth open full of reasons — '' whatever it be, wise or otherwise, still I will not do it." " ^Yell, well, Martha, when he was little I suppose you never washed him till he con- fessed himself dirty ? '' "He is not little now." " And yet no Nestor." " I will not argue with you, Paul ; " this in the quiet tone that makes ratiocination quake in his shoes more than thunder. " No argument that makes right wrong or 48 THEEE SHOTS EROM A POPGUN. the mean noble can be just, however specious." " That is to say," quoth he, " my argu- ments are false, because they prove my case." " Yes, Paul, I know they are false, because they prove falsehood." And, looked at rightly, is there a better test in the world for an argument than what it proves ? Into what depths of logic Mr. Denton would now have drag^s^ed and drowned us cannot be known, for he was prevented by the appearance of Humphrey at the door. He looked in, and his next impulse seemed to be to look out again. However, he ad- vanced with great resolution and greeted his uncle. " Humphrey," said the latter, opening at once, '' have you heard lately of young Trainer? " ''Not since he reached Naples," replied the nephew. *' And how does he like Italy ? " "0, he likes the parties freely, and is obliged to like the ruins. He'll return, I WISE OE OTHERWISE. 49 suppose, with a wife, a few battered Brumma- gem statuettes, and tlie right to screw up his left eje in a picture gallery." *' Why should not you follow our Jason's example, and sail back in your Argo with Medea and the sjDoils of many countries ? " "And well fleeced?" Mrs. Denton now found it necessary to gather up her work and leave the room, just as the uncle was saying — " Seriously, you should marry, Hum- phrey." "I intend to marry, seriously, uncle. But why, if I may ask, have you not followed your own precept ?" *' I had a disappointment in my youth," he replied. " I beg your pardon," said Humphrey, in some confusion ; " 1 had not heard of that." "Yes, the young lady to whom I proposed accepted me, at which I turned tail in a fright." Thus will a counsellor destroj his own advice, for it is hard to be both witty and wise at once. Perhaps, however, we wrong Mr. Denton;. E 50 THREE SHOTS FEOM A POPGUN. lie may have had somewhere an old, deep sore that he durst only touch lightly. But Mr. Gray is announced, and an elderly gentleman enters the room ; to whom Mr. Denton, with- out any other salutation, cries — " Mount, mount thy grey, my gallant Gray, and charge ! " " Where lies the enemy, most doughtj^ Denton?" the new-comer promptly returned. " Here," answered Mr. Denton, pointing to Humphrey. *' They seem in small force." " But strongly posted behind good inten- tions ; and therefore I bid you charge, charge them to marry." ''Ha!" said Mr. Gray; "is that the battle?" " Look," said the uncle, " here is a young fellow of the age, spirit, opportunity and means to marry, if he would only mean to marry." " Certainly," said Mr. Gray sententiously, *' a desirable marriage is to be desired, and a good wife is no bad thing." " 0, the stout charge ! 0, the brave thrust ! right on, my Gray ! Victory is certain sans WISE OR OTHEEWISE. 51 my aid. I will not clirainisli jour glory by sharing it. I leave both him and it to jou." So saying, Mr. Denton left the two com- panions together ; for such they were, in spite of the disparity in years. But you must grant me space to intro- duce Mr. Gray to you with unusual respect. lie is a man of about fifty years, tall and thin, with a doubtful, slight stoop. No, he is upright now ; it was merely a tall man's knack. His face is pale, handsome, sensi- tive, and intelligent, and bears short whiskers, greyish and well-trimmed. Without doubt Mr. Gray was a dandy in his youth, and is handsomely and exactly dressed now, though in the fashion of twenty years ao-o. He carries a gold-headed cane in his well-gloved hand. He has been acquainted with Mrs. Denton from infancy, and on her marriage took rank with the Dentons as one of their most intimate friends. But with none did he ex- change so much sympathy as with Hum- phrey, whose inmost confidences he has shared since the former w^as of age to have a secret; that is, since he was old enouo-h to 52 THREE SHOTS FROM A POPGUN. keep an apple to himself. In sliort, there was much well-balanced familiarity between them that never toppled over the bounds of due respect. Humphrey now drew up to his elderly comrade and said — "I have been wishing to see you, Mr. Gray; I want your advice." Said Mr. Gray, with something like a laugh — "0, that's your commonest want; but do you want to follow my advice ? " " Of course," answered Humphrey, sin- cerely resolute. " Then you are in bad straits, Humphrey, between my advice and your wants." " You hear that my uncle wishes me to marry. But how ? is the question. There are so many ways in which a man may be cheated with a wife. Am I to marry a plain girl with an uglier temper for her fair for- tune, like Benson ? or pick up a fallen actress, like Jack Tidmas ? or buy a beauty to, hate me, like Richmond ? Or to take another example, I have a friend," he said, changing his fluency for embarrassment. WISE OR OTHERWISE. 53 wliicli was not lost on his acute observer ; *' this friend has a liking — I might say more than a likinof — for — a ofirl." '' Good," said Mr. Grray, to encourage his hesitation. *' The daughter of very worthy people." " Better," said Mr. Gray again. '' Of the working class." " Ah ! " said Mr. Gray, in an uncertain tone, as one that would not be astonished till the right time. '' Ah ! " said Mr. Gray, and said no more. After an interval, Humphrey enquired — *' Suppose that happened to me, how should you advise me to act? Nay, never mind me — what do you say to him ?" Mr. Gray answered very deliberately — " My opinion, if your friend will let me prose on such a theme, would be determined by some such coi:siderations as these : In the first place — but your friend is already married, perhaps ? " On the denial, — " Thank heaven," he muttered to himself; " it might have been. Well, in the first place, is he irrecoverably attached ? " 54 THEEE SHOTS FROM A POPGUN. " I think — I believe so," answered the young man, burning to say more. "Because, if he is not — " " There is no room for such a supposition," burst in Humphrey, too eagerly. '' If he were not, then," began Mr. Gray, marking emphasis with his hand on the chair arm, "if he were not, he might consider this, that there is no close and even junction but of equalities ; unmatched surfaces leave un- . sightly gaps between their union." '' Sir," said Humphrey, " be sure there is no inequality of station between them that her endowments do not level." " Ah, you have no experience of the com- mon effects of such a marriage. Relations alienated, friends disgusted, and a constant laughing-stock kept in the house like a Court fool." " I can imagine what I have never wit- nessed," answered Humphrey; "but that does not shake me, and would not disturb you if you knew her as well as I." " I conclude," continued the older gentle- man, dubiously feeling liis w-ay, "that the WISE OR OTHERWISE. 55 lady ^is such as a sensible man, like your friend, would choose for a wife ? " "I have seen her," replied Humphrey, " and think I may say yes ; with all my heart, yes." Whereupon he gave vent to a laudation of Polly, with which these our narrow bounds dare not risk being overflowed. In short, she was pure goodness with a beautiful face. At which conclusion he paused out of breath, and careless from excitement of further con- cealment. The ekierly counsellor needed small part of his experience to see that in such a case there was no need of doctors, for doctors were no use. Eesignedly he crossed his legs, saying — ''We will assume, then, that she is — " " Herself," interposed the lover. " And, being herself," pursued the inter- locutor, unrufifled and ars^umentative, '' beino* herself, she is — " " Like no one else." " Well, since she is, doubtless, so worthy of love, and, doubtless, she is ready to return love" — 56 THREE SHOTS FROM A POPGUN. " There is some doubt there — at least, no certainty. My friend has restrained himself, and kept his passion yet unsuspected." " Well, supposing that it is so ? " " Then," said Humphrey, " there is another doubt. My friend — but let me show myself as earnest as I am. I am my friend, sir, though but a very sorry one." *' Ah," answered Mr. Gray, gravely, but with no visible astonishment, '' I hope you will indeed jorove to be your best friend, Humpln^ey. But what is this other doubt of yours r " My mother." " Is she aware of it, then ? Does she not approve ? " asked Mr. Gray, more eagerly. " 1 don't know what she knows," answered the young man ; "I believe it is little ; and she is too scrupulous, too fastidious, too self- restrained — I scarcely know what to call it — too proud to ask." " And you too proud, Humphrey, to answer her unasked ?" '* No, sir — not proud," answered Hum- phrey warmly ; " but suspicious to suspi- cion." WISE OR OTHERWISE. 57 ''What," said Mr. Gray, ''half-a-dozen for slie had been descried, and was now hailed by a chorus of girlish voices. Too late to avoid them she stayed her steps, say- ing to Humphrey — '' You had better leave me, sir." Somewhat grudging he made as if to go, but only stepped into the deep gloom of the two great elms that fronted the inn, and there stopped to watch the issue. CHAPTER YII. On came tlie girls trooping, some dozen of them, laughing, shouting, and singing — Where, where's the kiss I gen ye Yisterday, Jack ? Fewer thief, I did 't but len ye ; Gie't me back. Come here or anywhere, Come now or anyhow, And gie't me back. A parcel of rough, healthy, country lasses they were, with not an ounce of hypochondriac diffidence among them, having little intuition of good, and perhaps no great commission of evil. So they clustered round Polly noisily greeting her. " What, Polly," cried one of them breath- less, '' won't you speak to us ?" "You're proud now, are you?" said another. " And why should I be proud, Sally ? " said Polly. At this all the girls looked as knowing as they could in the dark, and burst into laughter. WISE OR OTHERWISE. 95 "Because," answered Sally, '' jouVe got a young man at last. We saw him." '* 0, yes, we saw him ! " shouted the rest. " Why," said Polly, " you are not proud, Sally, with half a dozen of them." '' 0, but I'm used to it, you see," answered Sally loftily. '' I believe you'd get used to cholera," said Polly, laughing in spite of anxiety. '*' Oh, Polly," cried one and another of the girls, " you're sly, too, are you ? Where is he ? I saw him ! Tell us who he is. What's his name ? " But Polly refusing to satisfy them — '•Let's find him !" they begin to cry. *' He can't be far away ! Hunt him out, hunt him out." So off they fly, scampering about like a herd of unbroken fillies, until a pair of sharp eyes discovers Humphrey quaking in the deepest of the gloom, trapped in a corner, with no way of escape. " I spy, I spy ! " she hallos. '' Found, found ! " they shout, flocking up. What could Humphrey do but stand where he was^ put up his coat-collar and pull down 96 THREE SHOTS FROM A POPGUN. Lis hat, devoutly hoping he might not h& recognised? Mad with excitement, the girls danced round him with joined hands, singing their catch. It would have been useless to fume, and so he waits patiently, putting as good a face as he can on a foolish body, until the maidens are tired of their gambols. Then he politely bows with as bold an air as the oldest robber of the band,, saying— " Delighted to meet you here so merry^ ladies." At which they have no better grace than to laugh loud and loni;'. "Many thanks for the charming concert with ballet divertissement that you have favoured me with." Alas, far from courteously accepting his compliments, they only laughed the more. " Ha-ha-ha," he contiuues with a very fair imitation of a laugh, *' we can't do better than laugh while our teeth are good." They all laughed again, oh, so heartily, as if they had never laughed before. The rugged elms were cheered to hear them, and the old Trent chuckled aloud. WISE OR OTHERWISE. 97 ''All your teeth are good, I see," said the young gentleman. " yes," answered the most forward of the girls, " we can all bite." " Like dogs," said another. " Bow-wow." The whole troop repeated to the echo — " Bow-wow ! bow-wow ! '* "Bravo!" said Humphrey, clapping his hands. "As well done as if you were all pugs." " And we can scratch, too, like cats," cried a third. '' Mew ! " " Mew-mew !" responded the others, claw- ing with their hands. '* Well said," applauded Humphrey, " very well said, indeed." 0, how they laughed ! They laughed as it would do you good to hear them; they laughed as if laughing were their trade. " K'ow let's take him up to Polly," cried one malicious tongue ; and the proposal was hailed with acclamation. When Polly saw Humphrey taken, being free for a while, she had taken the oppor- tunity to escape, but soon returned as though she had voted it base to forsake her fellow- sufferer in the hour of trial. H 98 THREE SHOTS FROM A POPGUN. *' Go, sir, go," she whispered aside to him, as he was led up to her; "I am used to their rough ways." Taking her trembling hand, and putting his head close to her downcast face, as the lasses skipt wildly about them, he replied — " Dearest, this can neither hurt nor shame us, if we're resolved that it shall not." " I cannot bear," she faltered, '' to see you so mocked." " Dearest," he answered again, '* I am brazen-proof; and have no fear that any disgrace shall arrive on you through me." Where, where'a the kiss I gen ye Yisterday, Jack ? Fower thief I did 't but len ye ; Gie't me back. Come here or anywhere, Come now or anyhow, An' gie't me back. So sang the maidens again and again, until Humphrey was fain to cry — " Well, if you challenge me so boldly and so often, kiss you I must although to another Dame." So saying, he caught one or two of the nearest damsels and heartily bussed them ; WISE OR OTHERWISE. ' 99 whereupon the whole troop fled, vanquished, shrieking and laughing and clinging to one another. Quit of those gnats, Humphrey had leisure to return to his companion, to whom he drew so near that he could see how moved she Avas. *' Are you angry Polly ? " he asked. " Only," she answered, " because I seem to have disgraced you." *' I am disgraced," quoth he, " only if you are, which cannot be. But I shall be miser- able, if you make me a part of your dis- pleasure." " Are jou not vexed ? " ''How can I be, Polly, at what brought me nearer to you than I have ever been; be- fore?" He was hesitating, on the brink of saying more, when Polly took up the word, saying— "I had better follow the girls. Unless I overtake them, I shall never overtake their tongues." She started to go, but found the young man still by her side. ''iSV she said firmly; '^I must go alone." 100 THEEE SHOTS FROM A POPGTTN. " Do you command tliat ? " asked Hum- phrey. " I have no right to command, sir ; I can only venture to wish." "Your wish is my command," replied he, " more than the statute-book. I wish you would always command me." " You would soon tire," quoth she, ''of such an entertainment ; the novelty would scarcely survive three askings." '' Do you think so, Polly ? Make the ex- periment now on this vile body." . Still walking on, she replied more lightly — " I have heard of persons with a passion for command ; you may be one. Good-bye, sir." '' Good-night, not good-bye," he pleaded. *' Give me but one more opportunity. I have been either very wicked or very unfortunate, and don't know as yet whether to repent of my sins or tax my fortune. Will you meet me to-morrow morning at the first stile in the grove ? " '. "I think I should not," murmured Polly, unable, in the tumult of her thoughts, ta balance considerations. WISE OR OTHEEWISE. 101 '' Only for once, I promise you. You will? At nine o'clock ? " Eager to be gone, feverishly endeavouring to consider calmly, what could she say ? " I will come if — " " You will? Thank you, Polly," cried the joung man, ignoring the if ; and Polly was constrained or content to leave it so. " Good-night, Polly," was Humphrey's farewell, as she sped away. " Think of me to-nifyht, and remember me to-morrow." Polly sped away, and her lover remained behind, sitting on one of the many stiles that guard the river footpath. And as he sat he was thinkinor as follows, but with more diffusive- ness than dare be shown in print. For is it not true, my readers, that our self-communings are apt to be very weak, very selfish, very maudlin ; full of regret, empty of foresight ; grabbing pleasure, spewing at the noblest pain; pitiful as a drunkard's hiccup? No; we should wrong our friend in exposing him at his weakest, if we published all that was passing through his mind ; like Noah's dove, let us hope, to find no resting-place there. This, then, is the better substance of his thoughts — 102 THREE SHOTS EROM A POPGUN. " So she goes off with a smile, or almost ; "witli the May promise of a smile between her lips, like a scented bud with the dew on it in the morning ; an angel smile not yet made flesh, but wooing so sweet a delivery." With much more anent her smiles and eyes and Yoice, and every perfection. " I could hardly withhold my most ardent words, as she stood so beautiful before me ; biit I have a prior duty. My mother shall have my humblest words to-night. I see that I have been wrong, grievously wrong. And see how so late? By the light of Polly's eyes, I am like a child coaxed with sweetmeats and caresses to do my best and freest pleasure,^ But my eyes were shut and I did not see." Just so, my friend, our white-robed duties become more visible when they are coloured with pleasure or advantage. •' Later in the night, Humphrey found him- self strolling in the neighbourhood of the Berridges' cottage ; and, naturally enough, for the evening was pleasant, the air good, and the scenery beautiful under the rising moon. Beside which he had nothing else to do, bating an engagement which he had for- WISE OR OTHERWISE. 103 gotten. He had been there some time enjoy- ing the air and so forth, when he was hailed by the sturdy voice of Mike, coming home from work. After the usual greetings, the lad, dropping his voice, and taking off his hat, so as to scratch his head more easily in his difficulties, began to say — *' Do you know, Mr. Humphrey, I don't think things are quite square at home. I dunno how 'tis, but something-'s out o' o^ear. Trade's good, you know; and if 'twere bad, why it's like the rain, we're used to it. I wish you'd come down sometime and see father, and — make him out." '' Are you quite sure," said Mr. Humphrey, fishing with ground bait, " that he would be glad to see me in his trouble ? " ''If he ain't, I tell you what, sir, he's awfully bad. And mother 'd be happy to see you. And me too, as far as that goes, if I'm any account." *'And Polly too, eh?" said Humphrey, jocularly. " Why don't you finish the list ?" But Mike was unaccountably silent, and Humphrey began to doubt. 104 THREE SHOTS FROM A POPGUN. " Come, what about Polly ? Is it a secret ?'* 'No question that the boy was at a loss, and Humphrey became still more alarmed. " She wouldn't be beyond measure de- lighted ? " said Humphrey again more bitterly, as mocking himself while he accused others. " Speak the truth, Mike ! " And speak he did at last, reluctantly but honestly, and showing embarrassment in bis bristly hair, his downcast face, his twisted arms, and in his feet shuffling uneasily and spurning every pebble within reach. " Why you know, sir, gells are gells.'* ''Well?" " And queer uns too enough." "Well?" '' And Polly's a gell, though she's an un- common 'un." " Well ? " again said Humphrey sharply, still refusing to help him out. " Well — I dunno," answered Mike from the slough of despond, unable to set foot backwards or forwards. " You only mean that Polly isn't quite out of mind with joy at seeing me ? " " Why — well — you see — " WISE OR OTHERWISE. 105 ''Just SO." " Gells will be gells, sir ; tliey can't help themselves. Bless you, I know a lot of 'em ; not that they're to be compared with Polly, either, though she is a gell, and that can't be 'denied. Oh, their heads are full o' whims. "Why there's our Polly, she'll talk nonsense bj the yard as beautiful as print, like the Arabian Nights. Oh, she'll come round, sir, she'll come round." So spoke Mike, warming as he proceeded, and comforting himself in trying to comfort Humphrey. '' Won't you come in with me ? " ''I think not to-night." The boy was going, but the backwash of Ms uneasiness returning on him, he stopped to say — " You don't mind, sir, that about Polly ? " " Oh, not at all, not at all," answered Humphrey, wincing, but grimly careless. " That's right," said Mike, now quite re- covered. '' Good-night, sir. I daresay she didn't mean it. Good-night." " Stay, Mike, don't think I'm offended, *but I have a little curiosity; simply that. 106 THREE SHOTS FROM A POPGUN. Tell me honestly whether this feeling of hers has come up lately or no." " Well, no, sir," answered Mike, suffering a slight relapse of doubt, " I can't say it has. Oh, it's only a whim that's grown up with her, and she'll put it by some day like her doll." " That is all. Don't think that I am at all displeased. Good-night." So Mike turned happily in, leaving Hum- phrey to amuse himself as he could with his thoughts. '' So I was after all a poor deluded fool ? Nay, rather am I not now a poor undeluded fool, formerly rich in a million of delusions, now beggared of all ? " Yes, the aspects of the game had changed. He feared to lose by an odd point, and now finds himself nowhere ; he has not scored one. " Might he be mistaken ? No, he is too happy to see what does not exist, and too honest to say what he does not believe. Besides, this explains all ; it fits too easily into the puzzle to be anything but the miss- ing piece. He shut his eyes and thought WISE OR OTHERWISE. 107^ himself invisible. Yes, they have looked me through like a transparency, and would tend my interests in spite of myself. But she hinted at some grave fault. There is some- thing still behind this revelation. But what matter, what matter? Another truth will not eat this up." Quite right, my friend Humphrey; when all the treasure is stolen, what care for sundries ? Since all your fortunes are shipwrecked, why waste tears over particular losses? " The main fact remains that she does not love me ; and I had better go and think of some other lady.*' Polly found an opportunity to speak alone with her father, as she was bidding him good- niofht. With much hesitation she beo^an — " Father, I saw Mr. Humphrey to-night in the road." "Eh?" said the old man, showing little gratification. " I couldn't help it, you know." Polly was disheartened from saying more ^ but after a pause, Amos asked her — 108 THREE SHOTS FEOM A POPGUN. '^ Did he speak to tbee ? " '' Ye — es," answered Polly ; who would certainly have been rebuked by her mother, had she been present, for round shoulders. '' I couldn't help that, you know." '' All," said her father, thoughtfully rub- bing his chin, and said no more. It was sometime before Polly plucked up courage to continue timidly — " He spoke very kindly, father." " No doubt. You must be careful, my lass." " I will, father. He seemed very innocent, and spoke most kindly." " Be very careful, my lass." " I will, father. I spoke coldly to him, but he was very gentle in his reply." Polly waited, but Amos seemed to find much matter for thought, none for talk. ''He asked me to meet him again; only for once, he promised." " And did you consent ? " the father asked, with something of fear in his tones. " I was hurried — I had no time to refuse. I said I would if — " " If what, my child ? " WISE OE OTHERWISE. 109 " I only said if — " Polly replied, trying to smile and not weep ; " lie stopped me there. I meant if you tliouglit well of it, father ; I couldn't have any condition but that. To- morrow morning, he asked me, at nine o'clock." ''You'd better not go, Polly, my lass. ]So good '11 come that w^ay that can't come other ways." Polly swallowed down w^hatever ought not to appear, with no sighs or tears or chokings at the throat, but looking bravely and speak- ing boldly. <« Yery well, father, I won't see him. Good-night." So saying, she kissed him, and took up her candle to go. " Stay, my lass," cried Amos, rising to stop her; " thou'rt a honour to me and to this house. Go if thee will ; I can trust thee." '' IS'ay, father, not against your pleasure." "Yes, go, lass, go. Thee '11 take a good heart there, and can't bring a bad 'un back.'^ * * * * * * The same evening Humphrey also had a 110 THEEE SHOTS FROM A POPGUN. communication witli his mother ; letting her know after a heavy attempt at lightness, a sort of patriarchal levity, that he wished to travel. With a yearning at heart she enquired, How was that ? 0, the whim had taken him. Had she any objection? Xot if he had any desire. Ah, yes, self-abnegation is the mother's part ; while her children feed in infancy on her breast, in age on her every comfort. Where did he wish to go ? To which he was understood to answer, anywhere ; all places were much alike. In spite of a growing tenderness that inclined her to burst into tears and throw herself on her son's neck, she merely said — '- Yery well. When do you wish to start ? " " To-morrow, if I can ; if not the next day, or the next." Manifestly he was very unhappy. What had happened ? Things that Paul had men- tioned darted across her mind, but were in- stantly beaten back by her proud integrity, that stood like a bulwark ao-ainst thinsrs ignoble. Should she make one more attempt on his heart ? Ay, and say Avith fond solici- tude — WISE OR OTHERWISE. Ill '' IsTo tiling more, Humphrey ? " But certain resolutions of his made in another climate were forgotten amid that weather tempestuous ; he was at war, when peace treaties are null. Without reply he rose to go ; but as soon as he touched the door-handle, he made haste to return. Had lie resolved in the nick of time to tell her all ? Yes. No, he only kissed her forehead ; he would speak to-morrow — perhaps. CHAPTEE YIII. The next morning by eight o'clock Polly was- sitting in the garden, cheerfully engaged at her lace-mending, and even at times singing merry snatches, a habit that she had dropped of late. Merrily the ship goes, "While the wind blows ; When it is still, The more repose. Mike, as he passes out, stops to listen to the music that he loves. When she has finished the stanza, he goes up to her and puts his big rough hands on her shoulder, and meet- ing the face that turned up to his with a look of proud love, asks somewhat anxiously — " Are you all right, Polly ? eh, faithfully ? " " Yes," she replies laughing, " I'm as well as can be expected." Even his keen espial can descry nothing but content on her face, so he kisses and leaves her ; but turning back with a sudden remembrance asks — WISE OR OTHERWISE. 113 ''Now why, Polly, don't you like Mr. Humphrey ? " Polly, with a pretty blush that will not look up and show itself, replies — ** I don't know, I'm sure, why I shouldn't like him. But shan't you be late for work ? " " I s'pose I'd better be off," says he, '' but it's queer enough, too." So off he goes, dubiously pondering the riddle, while his sister takes up her song again. Merrily the mill goes, While the brook flows ; When it is still, The more ropose. Old Berridofe, too, hears and is glad ; for he puts his head out of the window to hearken. " What, singing, lass ? singing again ? " " Yes, father." " That's well, that's well." So saying, he withdrew his head to attend to business, while his daughter continued her song. Merrily the world goes. While dear love glows ; When ifc is still, The more repose. The saucy words were barely uttered, when I 114 THREE SHOTS FROM A POPGUN. she took up a tenderer strain in a favourite ballad that she had discovered somewhere, and sano^ to any tune that ran in her head. Tell me, where is the hoarded wealth, And mighty health, And happiness ? In dear love's poverty. In dear love's deep distress, In dear love's malady. Here old Berridge looked out of the window again, saying — " The heart's in no bad plight, when there's singing in 't, eh, lass?" " No, father," she responded cheerily. " That's well." Tell me where is constancy, Prosperity, And steady faith ? In dear love's turnabouts, In dear love's bitter scaith. In dear love's changing doubts. Mrs. Berridge, too, clattering in and out and to and fro on household matters, is pleased with the sound but finds nothing to say. Indeed does not know that it is neces- sary to say anything ; being one of those rough -finished persons that are dumb to their tenderest emotions, however voluble their tongues to scold and gossip ; esteemed. WISE OR OTHERWISE. 115 tlierefore, a shallow sort by those who have much to say on everything. Mrs. Berridge takes the music like the saashine without a word. Pleased she is, but whether she kiiows liow, whether she even thinks about it, I cannot imdertake to say. Tell me, where is upright truth, And melting ruth, And liberty ? In dear love's knaverj, In dear love's cruelty, In dear love's slavery. Hallo, now comes Mike back in hot haste. He lays a letter on Polly's lap, sayiag breath- lessly that Mr. Humphrey had just met him and given it him for her. '' Shan't you open it ? " he cried, astonished ^ to see it lie. '' I will, then ! " '' No thank you, Mike," said Polly, quietly retaining^ it. " I must finish this hole first." '' There you go, Polly ! " he rejoined, much grieved. " It's the queerest thing ! " He cannot find heart to blame her, but Fate. Alas ! poor Fate, you bear the ass's pack. "Ill back if 't had been from old Aunt Mary and her cat, you'd ha' torn it open and read it six times by this ; and from Mr. 116 THEEE SHOTS FROM A POPGUN. Humphrey ! There it goes into your pocket,, and like as not you '11 forget all about it, and p'raps an answer wanted. Bless my life if I ain't lecturing you ! But why can't you bear him, Polly ? I believe he likes you uncommon. I came across him only last night, and — whew — " He had nearly put his foot in it, but stopped in time with a whistle — that expres- sion of a boy's inexpressible. " And what, Mike ?" «« Why," answered Mike, as if a tooth were being drawn with each word, '' he said — I mean — I said — but," with a sudden brilliant thought, ''it's time I was back at work. Good-bye." He being gone, Polly has leisure, though the hole is yet unfinished, to open the note and read : — " My dear Polly, I am very sorry that it is impossible for me to meet you this morn- ing. Please to excuse me ; and when I ask you for another appointment, I will permit nothing to break it. "Humphrey Denton." WISE OR OTHERWISE. 117 Polly, being little experienced in epistolary style, dwelt mucli upon that impossible, and found relief therein. " He would have come, if it had been pos- sible ; and in that assurance lies the comfort and substance of a meeting. And if it had been possible ? He pleaded with such a begging eye, that he must have something of moment to communicate. ' I am very sorry.' If he is very sorry, then I am little sorry ; though that sounds unkind." Ah, inexperienced Polly ! So little does her heart forbode, that she is even ready to finish her song. Tell me, where is tied affection, Free election, Pure content ? In dear love's angry mood, And self abandonment, And fond solicitude. Tell me, •where simplicity, Humility, And cleanness bide ? In dear love's wily art. In dear love's loving pride, In dear love's every part." " Encore, encore," cried a voice over the liedge ; and an unwelcome one too, for it was Mr. Chatterly's. *' Bravo, Polly ! " 118 THEEE SHOTS FEOM A POPGUN. Polly made no response, but hastily turned lier chair round. Chatterly was now lolling over the gate, and cried, '' Why do you give me your back,. Polly ? " She was tempted to answer, "Because you have face enough of your own," but refrained. In quick tima Mrs. Berridge strides out, calling shrilly, "Put on that hat, you wicked girl, unless you want to cabcli your death of cold ! I'm to be always at you, am I ? " Polly donned her hat, and Chatterly slunk away, inwardly saying, " Humph, the mater. I don't like her style ! She looks equal to pulling all my hair out to make a front for herself." There was nothing for him but to pass down the villagfo, and amuse himself with whistling and flicking pebbles with his stick, occasionally turning round on his heels to — to warm them for aught I know. But what is it that comes fluttering through Berridge's gate ? Polly's shawl and Polly under it ; and both together glide up Clifton road. Here is a chance for Mr. Chatterly, and he turns back at once to take advantage WISE OR OTHEEWISE. 119 of it. Following her at a discreet distance as she walks quietly along, he manages to keep her in sight. She calls at no house, but passes through the village, and then, leav- ing the road, enters Clifton Grove. *' Ah, that's your game, is it?" thought Chatterlj. " I can beat you at that." He waited until she was fairly among the trees, and then running^ some distance dowa the road, struck quickly through the fields, so as to gain a march on the girl, who was sauntering leisurely along. But what was she doing out in work-hours, since that eng^aofement was broken ? A foolish little whim, I suppose, to keep her part, though. the best of it was impossible. She would walk down to the stile, and there havinof rested awhile, return the more content. CHAPTER IX. How it was that, shortly before tlie appointed time, Humphrey showed himself in the ap- pointed place he could not himself have said. It was scarcely by intention, not altogether in unconsciousness. And if he wished to avoid Polly, what better place than that, where she had no business even of fancy? Anyhow a pleasanter spot to be miserable in could hardly be chosen. The disconsolate lover, perched on the stile, might look down the irregular line of elms that border the river as far as Wilford ; or if he turned, he could not but gaze long upon the thick grove that nobly adorns the steep ascent to CHfton. How the place tempts both the unhappy and the comfortable, as it did Humphrey, to lie down here by the river's brink under the light shadow of a clump of hawthorns. To lie on one's back thoughtlessly, and watch the high-floating clouds, the busy fluttering insects, and the rustling leaves; dreamily remembering, dreamily forgetting, until even WISE OR OTHERWISE. 121 sorrow is unsubstantial, and notliing but ease and peace and sleep lives. To lie on our motlier's lap, looking into our father's face, while we are lulled to foro-et the bauble that we cried for, and at last sink back on those ■strong arms, that gentle bosom, and rest. But no rest will last but the last ; and Humphrey's is broken by Chatterly, carolling as lie takes the stile — Do you want to know the smartest lass, As lives in this here port ? Why that's my Polly, the lively Polly, And she's a rare good sort. Humphrey bears, but will not trouble him- self to look ; in fact hopes to escape unseen, his present mood not being for such a com- panion. The gay intruder, however, catches sight of a stray boot, and being of an inqui- sitive turn, passes softly round the bushes, and, unnoticed, takes full account of its wearer. '' You, is it ? " thinks he to himself. '' I'll soon smoke you out." Whereupon with sly designs he returns to the stile, and seats himself on it, humming — For Polly, she's so jolly ! 122 THREE SHOTS FROM A POPGUN. " All, yes," says be, somewhat louder than a stage whisper, more like a deaf man talk- ing to himself; *'this is the spot. Dear Polly!" At this Humphrey pricks up his ears. " This, the yerj stile that she perched her lovely self on. I kiss it, hoping it didn't cut her." Humphrey raises himself on his elbows, and throws his head forward to listen the better. *' This is the very rail that she scraped her pretty thick boots on : For Polly, she's so jolly ! " This was all very absurd, but still madden- ing to one who was mad before. *' Ay, that's the very post that she dangled her hat on. I throw it a blessing to catch if it can ; I never could." Humphrey was now on his feet. " This is the very arm that entwined her little waist. Sweet Polly ! *' This was really too much to bear, even though the false secrets were only uttered ta the old trees, that were shaking and mutter- WISE OE OTHEEWISE. 12 e> ing underbreatli, like teetliless cronies, de- livering who knows what. This allusion to the waist was really too much to bear, falsa as it was. " And these the very lips that — " '' You lie ! " cried Humphrey, boldly con- fronting the traducer. Chatterly laughed loud. '' Hahaha ! Polly she's so jolly ! Hahaba I Only a hint at lips, and you rush round like Don Domino charging Sir Hippodrome with a clothes' prop. Hahaha ! For Polly she's so jolly ! Isn't she ? " '' Every Polly rhymes to jolly," answered Humphrey, in no good humour. " I deny it. Our Polly's jolly, and there's never another Polly that rhymes to her. Shall ^ we go halves, or toss ? Now theu, heads or tails for Polly that's so jolly; the only Pollj that never rhymes to melancholy or any folly but what's jolly. Sharp, before she's here." ''Before she's here?" said Humphrej'. '' What do you mean ? " " Don't be so sly," answered the other^ missing the mark at his wisest like most of us ; " it's impudent to call me a fool, and you 124 THREE SHOTS FEOM A POPGUN. can't be so knowing without engrossing all the wisdom present." Humphrey looked round, and there sure enough was Polly coming quietly along ; but her hands were busy knitting, and her thoughts far away, trespassing on who knows what forbidden grounds, so that she did not perceive the young men. The sur- prise overthrew the balance of Humphrey's common sense, and he said hastily — '' You're mistaken if you think I expected to see her. In fact I must be gone ; I have an engagement," taking out his watch, " and by Jove ! it's nine o'clock, time that I was there." According to his genius, believing nothing of this, Chatterly laughingly seized him by the coat, saying — " Nay, nay, come ; stay, if only to keep me in countenance. Hi, Polly, here's one of your admirers playing false." However, he managed to break away from his tormentor, clear the stile, and gain the cover of the trees before the girl's attention was aroused ; while Chatterly laughed until he was fain to hang upon the fence. WISE OR OTHERWISE. 125 " Up to the neck in fun ! I shall drown 1 I shall drown ! " Meanwhile the knitter had approached, and then only looked up and saw with disgust with whom she had to deal. Up strode he, manifesting a swaggering admiration, wherein he admired himself much, more. *' You're too late for Denton, Polly, so you may as well stay with me. He has gone ; rushed off at sight of your pretty face, like a bull at a bit of red." " You would be quite as iuunj, sir, if you were more truthfuL I know that Mr. Denton is not here," quoth Polly, and showed her back to his undesirable company. " Quite so," answered he, following step ^ by step; " he has just run away on a par ticular engagement at nine o'clock, by Jove I With Miss Manlove, I believe." Polly turned full upon him, saying — " Sir, that is not true," taking her stand there just as Humphrey, repenting of his cowardice, and fearing that his absence would be an unscrupulous rival's too great advan- tage, began to return. 126 THREE SHOTS FROM A POPGUN. ''Well," continued Chatterly, " Til bet two kisses to one on it, Polly." " I know tliat it is impossible," she replied. " Will you take tlie odds, then ? You daren't ? " " I dare," she answered boldly, " if it were necessary." '' Done ! I found him sneaking^ behind those trees. You'll see his footmarks there if you go." Polly only shook her head and again offered to depart ; she would not even pre- tend to doubt. Neither of them saw Hum- phrey, who was walking quietly upon the grass under the big elms. Meanwhile Chatterly was trying to per- suade Polly with all those paltry arts that men of his stamp never believe ineffectual, even when they find them so. He leered, he postured, he took her arm, which was indig- nantly withdrawn; he offered her words barely heard, no whit heeded. How far he was from her heart, Mr. Chat- terly, that lady-popular man, little dreamt. How far? The twain could not live in the WISE OB OTHEEWISE. 127 same climate — same hemispliere — could not breathe tlie same atmosphere. Their very organs of life differed ; hers fashioned for the celestial ether, clear and serene ; his for the grovelling fog, dull, fat and earthy. Now Humphrey had climbed the stile, not