At the Sign of the Silver Flagon. Farjeon Benjamin Leopold

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СКАЧАТЬ for rain," said William Smith; and fancying that he saw in Philip's face an intention to fall on his knees that instant, cried out, in a fright, "Not now, not now! In a fortnight, when the dam is ready." So Philip deferred his prayer for two weeks.

      Now, it was manifestly impossible to get a crushing-machine from the capital of the colony in time. But William Smith, when he made his offer, knew what he was about. He knew of a machine on a neighbouring goldfield not many miles away, which had been erected in a foolish spot, where it was practically useless, for the quartz would not yield sufficient gold to pay expenses of labour. Those who had bought and erected the machine had done so on the credit of a small patch of gold which they had found, and which they thought would lead them to precious deposits. They found no more gold, or not sufficient to pay. They built castles in the air-which practical William Smith never did; he always went upon solid ground, and seldom made a mistake. Before he was two days older he had bought the machine for a quarter of its value, and fifty men were set to work on it, so that it was almost literally torn down. But he had an experienced man at the head of his workers, and everything was done right. Fifty more men were working at the reservoir, digging out the earth, and piling up the banks, and on the very day succeeding the scene which had taken place between Philip and Mr. Hart the first portion of the crushing-machine arrived on the ground. This kept Philip busy, and although he was burning to get away to his Margaret, he could not do so until the night. The first thing that he saw when he went behind the scenes was one of the flowers he had bought the night before. He raised his eyes from the flower to Margaret's face, for the flower was in her bosom.

      "Ah!" he sighed, flushing with delight.

      Of such simple thing are life's sweetest pleasures born.

      The bunch of flower's had, as a matter of course, formed a fruitful subject of conversation among the members of the dramatic company, and Margaret, being a woman, and womanly, was obliged to make a confidante of some one of her own sex. The Leading Lady was out of the question; so the First Old Woman, the mother of the baby who had proved such a hit, on the first night, received Margaret's confidences, and being a good-hearted, unselfish creature, and delighted at the opportunity of indulging in a little bit of match-making, and also of revenging herself upon the Leading Lady for her objection to baby being a shareholder in the Star Dramatic Company, she listened, and smiled, and congratulated the young girl.

      "To-morrow it is Saint Valentine's Day!" she sang.

      "You've come to silver Creek for something. Here, my dear, nurse my baby, and get your hand in."

      Which caused Margaret to blush furiously.

      "O," cried Margaret, "but there's been nothing said between us!"

      "Nothing, my dear!" exclaimed the First Old Woman, with a mischievous laugh. "Really nothing!"

      "Well, nothing very particular."

      "Indeed!" said the First Old Woman, with good-humoured sarcasm. "Is coming behind the scenes every night saying nothing? Was throwing you the flowers saying nothing? Was standing outside your window last night for a full hour and a half-I saw him with my own eyes, my dear! I did; and envied you-was that saying nothing? I declare, then, I shall set my cap at him; I may as well take a chance in the lottery. He's as handsome a young fellow as ever walked in two shoes, and if you intend to disappoint him-"

      "O, but I don't," interrupted Margaret, apprehensively.

      Whereupon they fell to kissing one another, and baby came in for her share.

      CHAPTER XI

      "I AM GOING TO SPEAK OUT," SAID PHILIP

      When Philip made his appearance that evening behind the scenes, the First Old Woman smiled significantly at him, and once, when her cue to go on the stage was given, she cried to him, of malice aforethought:

      "O, dear me! I'm wanted on the stage! Hold my baby, Mr. Rowe, till I come off again."

      And before he had time to utter a word one way or another, baby was in his arms, and the mother darted away, laughing to herself.

      Philip was not ashamed of his burden; he nursed the baby tenderly, but somewhat gingerly, it must be confessed-fearful, perhaps, lest he should break the little thing, or dislocate something. Margaret, who was on the stage at the time, looked at him furtively as he was kissing the mite, and her mind was in such a whirl, that for the first time during her engagement she forgot the words she had to speak. Observing which the First Old Woman made matters worse by whispering sly nonsense in Margaret's ear. Little did the unconscious baby suspect the important part she was playing in the sentimental comedy.

      Later on in the night, Philip said to Margaret:

      "I am going to speak out."

      This was the very thing she was pining for, and now that her wish was about to be gratified, she exclaimed:

      "If you dare, sir!" saucily, mischievously, coquettishly.

      Then what did Margaret do but lead him into a more retired spot, where, if he did speak out, no one but herself could hear him.

      "If you dare, sir!" she repeated, with a smile which magnetised him. There was but little need for that; he was bewitched already.

      "Call me Philip," he entreated.

      "Philip," she sighed.

      It was like the whisper of a rose.

      He was radiant; the joy in his heart was reflected in his face. He toyed with her fingers. Slender they were, and supple, and not strong. But never were chains more potent.

      "Well, Philip?" said Margaret shyly.

      "Well, Margaret?"

      He could find at that moment nothing more sensible to say. He was engaged watching the light of her eyes, and the colour come and go on her cheek.

      "What is that in your hand?" said she.

      "A letter."

      "Ah, that's what you brought me here for! A letter! For me! Give it to me!" She held out her little hand eagerly.

      He withheld the letter from her.

      "It is not for you."

      "O, indeed!"

      She tore her fingers from his grasp, for he had taken them and was kissing them.

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