But
nothing of the sort had happened.
Mr. Bacon, sweeping the front stairs, assured him between yawns that
he hadn't heard a sound in the Tavern after half-past ten,--at which
hour he went to bed and to sleep.
Barnes was at breakfast when Peter Ames called up. An inspiration
seized him when the chauffeur mentioned the wholesale exodus: he hired
Peter forthwith and ordered him to report immediately,--with the car.
He was going up to Green Fancy for Miss Cameron's "boxes."
Whether it was the fresh, sweet smell of the earth that caused him to
saunter forth from the Tavern, and to adventure across the road to the
foot of the great old oak, or the ripening of spring in his blood, is
of no immediate consequence here. He had no reason for going over
there to lean against the tree and light his after-breakfast pipe,--
unless, of course, it be argued that the position afforded a fair and
excellent view of the window in Miss Cameron's room. The shutters were
open and the low sash was raised.
Presently she appeared at the window, and smiled down upon him. The
spell was at its height; the charm that had clothed the morning with
enchantment was now complete.
He waved his hand.
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