father said Squire Stryker spoke of the man as 'scamp' and
rapscallion,' but, he never really openly accused him of
misdemeanor. There was the scene, and the next day Stryker closed
his place, and took himself and his girl off, to parts unknown. The
dismissed bailiff, a handsome, prepossessing chap, my father said,
disappeared, and nothing more was heard of him. Idea married, and
came back Mrs. Crewe. Young Mrs. Crewe, in those days. 'Ol' lady
Crewe up-the-road-a-ways,' now."
"Well, what do you think of that!" ejaculated Martha. "So that's
the reason why, when she hears it, the name Ballard's like a rag to a
red bull! Now, what do you think of that!"
"What do you mean?" Mr. Ronald asked.
"Why, the ol' lady was took sick suddently a few weeks ago, an'
Sam, he couldn't get Dr. Driggs, who was out at the time, an',
besides, wasn't achin' to go to the poor ol' body, anyhow, to have his
head snapped off, an' then haggle over the bill, into the bargain. So
he took the best he could get, meanin' Sam did, which was Dr.
Ballard, a fine young fella from Boston. The minute the ol' lady
clapped eye to'm, an' heard his name, she up an' had a kinda Dutch
fit. Wouldn't see'm. It was all I could do, what with talkin' an'
contrivin', to make her, an' then she set about layin' down the law to
Miss Katherine, forbiddin' her parley with'm, or see'm at all, which is
as good as sayin', 'Bless you, my childern!' over their married heads,
if she but knew it!"
Frank Ronald laughed. "The wisdom of Socrates! I tell you what
it is, Martha, we'll make a philosopher of you, yet!"
"Anything you like, sir. Sever'l has lately mentioned wantin' to
make things outa me. The more the merrier. An' if, in the end, I ain't