“You may skate over there if you wish,” she said, after a pause for consideration, pointing to a deserted spot at the leeward end of the pond, where the ice was too rough for comfortable skating.
“Nobly spoke!” he cried, with a grin, hurrying to the place indicated, where, skating being out of the question, he made a pair of slides, and gravely exercised himself upon them until his face glowed and his fingers tingled in the frosty air. The time passed quickly; when Miss Ward sent for him to take off her skates there was a general groan and declaration that it could not possibly be half-past eight o’clock yet. Smilash knelt before the camp-stool, and was presently busy unbuckling and unscrewing. When Jane’s turn came, the camp-stool creaked beneath her weight. Agatha again remonstrated with her, but immediately reproached herself with flippancy before Smilash, to whom she wished to convey an impression of deep seriousness of character.
“Smallest foot of the lot,” he said critically, holding Jane’s foot between his finger and thumb as if it were an art treasure which he had been invited to examine. “And belonging to the finest built lady.”
Jane snatched away her foot, blushed, and said:
“Indeed! What next, I wonder?”
“T’other ‘un next,” he said, setting to work on the remaining skate. When it was off, he looked up at her, and she darted a glance at him as she rose which showed that his compliment (her feet were, in fact, small and pretty) was appreciated.
“Allow me, Miss,” he said to Gertrude, who was standing on one leg, leaning on Agatha, and taking off her own skates.
“No, thank you,” she said coldly. “I don’t need your assistance.”
“I am well aware that the offer was overbold,” he replied, with a self-complacency that made his profession of humility exasperating. “If all the skates is off, I will, by Miss Wilson’s order, carry them and the camp-stool back to the college.”
Miss Ward handed him her skates and turned away. Gertrude placed hers on the stool and went with Miss Ward. The rest followed, leaving him to stare at the heap of skates and consider how he should carry them. He could think of no better plan than to interlace the straps and hang them in a chain over his shoulder. By the time he had done this the young ladies were out of sight, and his intention of enjoying their society during the return to the college was defeated. They had entered the building long before he came in sight of it.
Somewhat out of conceit with his folly, he went to the servants’ entrance and rang the bell there. When the door was opened, he saw Miss Ward standing behind the maid who admitted him.
“Oh,” she said, looking at the string of skates as if she had hardly expected to see them again, “so you have brought our things back?”
“Such were my instructions,” he said, taken aback by her manner. “You had no instructions. What do you mean by getting our skates into your charge under false pretences? I was about to send the police to take them from you. How dare you tell me that you were sent to wait on me, when you know very well that you were nothing of the sort?”
“I couldn’t help it, Miss,” he replied submissively. “I am a natural born liar—always was. I know that it must appear dreadful to you that never told a lie, and don’t hardly know what a lie is, belonging as you do to a class where none is ever told. But common people like me tells lies just as a duck swims. I ask your pardon, Miss, most humble, and I hope the young ladies’ll be able to tell one set of skates from t’other; for I’m blest if I can.”
“Put them down. Miss Wilson wishes to speak to you before you go. Susan, show him the way.”
“Hope you ain’t been and got a poor cove into trouble, Miss?”
“Miss Wilson knows how you have behaved.”
He smiled at her benevolently and followed Susan upstairs. On their way they met Jane, who stole a glance at him, and was about to pass by, when he said:
“Won’t you say a word to Miss Wilson for a poor common fellow, honored young lady? I have got into dreadful trouble for having made bold to assist you this morning.”
“You needn’t give yourself the pains to talk like that,” replied Jane in an impetuous whisper. “We all know that you’re only pretending.”
“Well, you can guess my motive,” he whispered, looking tenderly at her.
“Such stuff and nonsense! I never heard of such a thing in my life,” said Jane, and ran away, plainly understanding that he had disguised himself in order to obtain admission to the college and enjoy the happiness of looking at her.
“Cursed fool that I am!” he said to himself; “I cannot act like a rational creature for five consecutive minutes.”
The servant led him to the study and announced, “The man, if you please, ma’am.”
“Jeff Smilash,” he added in explanation.
“Come in,” said Miss Wilson sternly.
He went in, and met the determined frown which she cast on him from her seat behind the writing table, by saying courteously:
“Good-morning, Miss Wilson.”
She bent forward involuntarily, as if to receive a gentleman. Then she checked herself and looked implacable.
“I have to apologize,” he said, “for making use of your name unwarrantably this morning—telling a lie, in fact. I happened to be skating when the young ladies came down, and as they needed some assistance which they would hardly have accepted from a common man—excuse my borrowing that tiresome expression from our acquaintance Smilash—I set their minds at ease by saying that you had sent for me. Otherwise, as you have given me a bad character—though not worse than I deserve—they would probably have refused to employ me, or at least I should have been compelled to accept payment, which I, of course, do not need.”
Miss Wilson affected surprise. “I do not understand you,” she said.
“Not altogether,” he said smiling. “But you understand that I am what is called a gentleman.”
“No. The gentlemen with whom I am conversant do not dress as you dress, nor speak as you speak, nor act as you act.”
He looked at her, and her countenance confirmed the hostility of her tone. He instantly relapsed into an aggravated phase of Smilash.
“I will no longer attempt to set myself up as a gentleman,” he said. “I am a common man, and your ladyship’s hi recognizes me as such and is not to be deceived. But don’t go for to say that I am not candid when I am as candid as ever you will let me be. What fault, if any, do you find with my putting the skates on the young ladies, and carryin’ the campstool for them?”
“If you are a gentleman,” said Miss Wilson, reddening, “your conduct in persisting in these antics in my presence is insulting to me. Extremely so.”
“Miss Wilson,” he replied, unruffled, “if you insist on Smilash, you shall have Smilash; I take an insane pleasure in personating him. If you want Sidney—my real Christian name—you can command him. But allow me to say that you must have either one or the other. If you become frank with me, I will understand that you are addressing Sidney. If distant and severe, Smilash.”
“No matter what your name may be,” said Miss Wilson, much annoyed, “I forbid you to come here or to hold any communication whatever with the young ladies in my charge.”