The Hermit's Daughter by Joan Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

added, “It is my little conceit to call the ladies’residence the Hermitage. A pun on their name, you see.”
    “Original.”Monstuart smiled. There was no trace of his former boredom but a wicked gleam of appreciation.
    Heppleworth soon reverted to his ills and cures. “Aylesworth sent me over a quart of excellent paregoric draft. I have siphoned off a cup for your mama. She is subject to a sick stomach, poor old soul.”
    As her friend was amusing Monstuart, Sally decided not to prolong the visit. “We look forward to seeing you, Mr. Heppleworth.”
    “Yes, yes, I shall be there for a certainty. You will be home, Miss Hermitage?”he asked with a little jealous dart of the eye to her escort.
    “I believe so, but in any case Mama will be there.”
    “I can come this evening, instead, if you will not be home.”
    An evening call from Mr. Heppleworth was a thing to be avoided at any cost. About the only danger to health he indulged in was overstaying his visits to the Hermitage. He made up for it by sleeping in till noon, but the fact was his evening visit lasted well into the night and often till early morning. His peculiar insistence that she be on hand to receive him sent a question shivering through Sally. Could Mama be right that it was she, Sally, that the old fool had in his eye?
    “Oh, no! Do come this afternoon. I shall be there,”she said, and immediately took her leave.
    “You should have reminded him to bring his bootikins,”Monstuart said as they walked on to the drapery shop. His arms were becoming tired from holding the parcels at an awkward angle, and his temper was not wearing well.
    “It wasn’t necessary. He keeps a spare pair at our house.”
    “What an old quiz.”
    “He is one of our best friends,”she announced, and gave him such a glare that he said not another word of denigration.
    “We have half an hour till we meet your sister and Derwent. Is there somewhere we might sit down and get this load off my hands?”Monstuart asked.
    “I told you to buy the fish last,”she scolded.
    “True, but you didn’t tell me you intended saddling me with half a sheep as well. There is a tea shop ahead. Let us go in and sit down.”
    They entered the homey little tearoom. A delicious aroma of yeast, cinnamon, and sugar hung on the air, and at several small tables the buzz of gossip increased. Derwent and Melanie were already ensconced at a table near the rear. Sally looked at her escort with suspicion.
    “This is fortuitous,”he assured her.
    Sally didn’t believe a word of it, especially when he walked quickly to their table and placed his burden on any empty chair before offering her a seat. Half the single hour allotted to the lovers was completely wasted. Not an amorous word was exchanged between them from that moment on, and very few words of any other sort.
    The burden of talk fell on the elder couple. With Monstuart in a bad mood from carrying the foods and Sally in the boughs at his sly trick, the half hour lasted long. Derwent couldn’t even offer Melanie his arm upon leaving, for both parcels had been summarily placed in his hands. In order to deliver the groceries, Derwent, with Melanie, entered the house where it was his custom to take a good many of his meals. It was the greatest wish of every one of the young people that Monstuart go on home alone, but he got down from the carriage and entered the house with them, obviously bent on watching Derwent every moment that it should be possible. They were both invited to lunch, but with a scathing look at his uncle, Derwent declined.
    “You will be having company this afternoon. We’ll leave,”Monstuart said. Before leaving, he approached Mrs. Hermitage and had a short private conversation with her.
    As soon as the gentlemen were out the door, both daughters inquired what he had said. “He is reconsidering!”The happy mother beamed and laughed aloud in delight.
    “There is nothing to consider,”Sally said. “Derwent has firmly