“I know who it is,” said M'Cormick, with a finger on the side of his nose to imply intense cunning. “I know all about it.” “What do you know?--what do you mean by all about it?” said Dill, with an eagerness he could not repress. “Just as much as yourselves,--there now! Just as much as yourselves!” said he, sententiously. “But apparently, Major, you know far more,” said Polly. “Maybe I do, maybe I don't; but I 'll tell you one thing, Dill, for your edification, and mind me if I 'm not right: you 're all mistaken about him, every one of ye!” “Whom are you talking of?” asked the doctor, sternly. “Just the very man you mean yourself, and no other! Oh, you need n't fuss and fume, I don't want to pry into your family secrets. Not that they 'll be such secrets tomorrow or next day,--the whole town will be talking of them,--but as an old friend that could, maybe, give a word of advice--” “Advice about what? Will you just tell me about what?” cried Dill, now bursting with anger. “I 've done now. Not another word passes my lips about it from this minute. Follow your own road, and see where it will lead ye?” “Cannot you understand, Major M'Cormick, that we are totally unable to guess what you allude to? Neither papa nor I have the very faintest clew to your meaning, and if you really desire to serve us, you will speak out plainly.” “Not another syllable, if I sat here for two years!” The possibility of such an infliction seemed so terrible to poor Polly that she actually shuddered as she heard it. “Is n't that your mother I see sitting up there, with all the fine ribbons in her cap?” whispered M'Cormick, as he pointed to a small room which opened off an angle of the larger one. “That 's 'the boodoo,' is n't it?” said he, with a grin. This, I must inform my reader, was the M'Cormick for “boudoir.” “Well, I'll go and pay my respects to her.” So little interest did Mrs. Dill take in the stir and movement around her that the Major utterly failed in his endeavors to torture her by all his covert allusions and ingeniously drawn inferences. No matter what hints he dropped or doubts he suggested, _she_ knew “Clarissa” would come well out of her trials; and beyond a little unmeaning simper, and a muttered “To be sure,” “No doubt of it,” and, “Why not?” M'Cormick could obtain nothing from her. Meanwhile, in the outer room the doctor continued to stride up and down with impatience, while Polly sat quietly working on, not the less anxious, perhaps, though her peaceful air betokened a mind at rest. “That must be a boat, papa,” said she, without lifting her head, “that has just come up to the landing-place. I heard the plash of the oars, and now all is still again.” “You 're right; so it is!” cried he, as he stopped before the window. “But how is this! That 's a lady I see yonder, and a gentleman along with her. That's not Stapylton, surely!”