"Hello," said he, pulling up; "you'd better be careful how you go popping around here on the public roads, frightening horses."As I had not yet fired a single shot, I thought this was a very impudent speech, and I think so still.
"You had better wait until I begin to pop," said I, "before you make such a fuss about it.""No," said he, "I'd rather make the fuss before you begin. My horse is skittish," and he drove off.
This man annoyed me; but as I did not, of course, wish to frighten horses, I left the road and made my way back to the tent over some very rough fields. It was a poor day for birds, and I did not get a shot.
"What a foolish man!" said Euphemia, when I told her the above incident, "to talk that way when you stood there with a gun in your hand. You might have raked his wagon, fore and aft."That afternoon, as Euphemia and I were sitting under a tree by the tent, we were very much surprised to see Pomona come walking down the peninsula.
I was annoyed and provoked at this. We had given Pomona positive orders not to leave the place, under any pretense, while we were gone. If necessary to send for anything, she could go to the fence, back of the barn, and scream across a small field to some of the numerous members of old John's family. Under this arrangement, I felt that the house was perfectly safe.
Before she could reach us, I called out:
"Why did you leave the house, Pomona? Don't you know you should never come away and leave the house empty? I thought I had made you understand that.""It isn't empty," said Pomona, in an entirely unruffled tone.
"Your old boarder is there, with his wife and child."Euphemia and I looked at each other in dismay.
"They came early this afternoon," continued Pomona, "by the 1:14train, and walked up, he carrying the child.""It can't be," cried Euphemia. "Their child's married.""It must have married very young, then," said Pomona, "for it isn't over four years old now.""Oh!" said Euphemia, "I know! It's his grandchild.""Grandchild!" repeated Pomona, with her countenance more expressive of emotion than I had ever yet seen it.
"Yes," said Euphemia; "but how long are they going to stay? Where did you tell them we were?""They didn't say how long they was goin' to stay," answered Pomona.
"I told them you had gone to be with some friends in the country, and that I didn't know whether you'd be home to-night or not.""How could you tell them such a falsehood?" cried Euphemia.
"That was no falsehood," said Pomona; "it was true as truth. If you're not your own friends, I don't know who is. And I wasn't a-goin' to tell the boarder where you was till I found out whether you wanted me to do it or not. And so I left 'em and run over to old John's, and then down here."It was impossible to find fault with the excellent management of Pomona.
"What were they doing?" asked Euphemia.
"I opened the parlor, and she was in there with the child,--putting it to sleep on the sofa, I think. The boarder was out in the yard, tryin' to teach Lord Edward some tricks.""He had better look out!" I exclaimed.
"Oh, the dog's chained and growlin' fearful! What am I to do with 'em?"This was a difficult point to decide. If we went to see them, we might as well break up our camp, for we could not tell when we should be able to come back to it.
We discussed the matter very anxiously, and finally concluded that under the circumstances, and considering what Pomona had said about our whereabouts, it would be well for us to stay where we were and for Pomona to take charge of the visitors. If they returned to the city that evening, she was to give them a good supper before they went, sending John to the store for what was needed. If they stayed all night, she could get breakfast for them.
"We can write," said Euphemia, "and invite them to come and spend some days with us, when we are at home and everything is all right.
I want dreadfully to see that child, but I don't see how I can do it now.""No," said I. "They're sure to stay all night if we go up to the house, and then I should have to have the tent and things hauled away, for I couldn't leave them here.""The fact is," said Euphemia, "if we were miles away, in the woods of Maine, we couldn't leave our camp to see anybody. And this is practically the same.""Certainly," said I; and so Pomona went away to her new charge.
