“And I 'll wager he did not want to be told twice. Anything for idleness with _him!_” “Well, papa, he is really doing his very best now. He is not naturally quick, and he has a bad memory, so that labor is no common toil; but his heart is in it, and I never saw him really anxious for success before.” “To go out to India, I suppose,” said Dill, sneeringly, “that notable project of the other good-for-nothing; for, except in the matter of fortune, there's not much to choose between them. There 's the half-hour striking now!” “The project has done this for him, at least,” said she, firmly,--“it has given him hope!” “How I like to hear about hope!” said he, with a peculiarly sarcastic bitterness. “I never knew a fellow worth sixpence that had that cant of 'hope' in his mouth! How much hope had I when I began the world! How much have I now?” “Don't you hope Captain Stapylton may not have forgotten his appointment, papa?” said she, with a quick drollery, which sparkled in her eye, but brought no smile to her lips. “Well, here he is at last,” said Dill, as he heard the sharp click made by the wicket of the little garden; and he started up, and rushed to the window. “May I never!” cried he, in horror, “if it isn't M'Cormick! Say we're out,--that I'm at Graigue,--that I won't be home till evening!” But while he was multiplying these excuses, the old Major had caught sight of him, and was waving his hand in salutation from below. “It's too late,--it's too late!” sighed Dill, bitterly; “he sees me now,--there's no help for it!” What benevolent and benedictory expressions were muttered below his breath, it is not for this history to record; but so vexed and irritated was he, that the Major had already entered the room ere he could compose his features into even a faint show of welcome. “I was down at the Dispensary,” croaked out M'Cormick, “and they told me you were not expected there to-day, and so I said, maybe he's ill, or maybe,”--and here he looked shrewdly around him,--“maybe there 's something going on up at the house.” “What should there be going on, as you call it?” responded Dill, angrily, for he was now at home, in presence of the family, and could not compound for that tone of servile acquiescence he employed on foreign service. “And, faix, I believe I was right; Miss Polly isn't so smart this morning for nothing, no more than the saving cover is off the sofa, and the piece of gauze taken down from before the looking-glass, and the 'Times' newspaper away from the rug!” “Are there any other domestic changes you 'd like to remark upon, Major M'Cormick?” said Dill, pale with rage. “Indeed, yes,” rejoined the other; “there 's yourself, in the elegant black coat that I never saw since Lord Kilraney's funeral, and looking pretty much as lively and pleasant as you did at the ceremony.” “A gentleman has made an appointment with papa,” broke in Polly, “and may be here at any moment.”