The Hermit's Daughter by Joan Smith

offered. It’s all settled.”
    “Derwent speaks of waiting a year or so,”Melanie confessed. “He dislikes to live on our money, you know. His uncle told him it was not at all the thing.”
    “Much he cares about that!”Sally fired up. “It’s a trick to stave him off till he changes his mind.”
    “Oh, dear, and the romance is bound to come off the boil with Monstuart forever hanging around,”Mrs. Hermitage said.
    “He won’t change his mind,”Melanie exclaimed.
    “Derwent wouldn’t have to live on our money if Monstuart would give him some of his own,”Sally said.“It’s outrageous that a full-grown man like Derwent must grovel to that monster.”
    “He is reconsidering, dear,”her mother repeated, placing great faith that the reconsideration would have good results. “If he permits the marriage to go forth, he will give Derwent some of his money, and that would be so much better than having to spend our own.”
    Miss Hermitage was far from convinced. “It’s an excuse to stick around and scotch the romance if he can. His blighting presence is enough to cool down Romeo and Juliet.”And Derwent, she knew, fell in and out of love easily. “When does Derwent return?”she asked Melanie.
    “Not this afternoon. His uncle has seen to that.”Mellie pouted. “What company did he mean would be coming?”
    Sally explained that Mr. Heppleworth was to call, a message that was received without a single shout of glee. “At least he’s coming in the afternoon”was her mother’s unenthusiastic response.
    “A pity you couldn’t warm up to him, Mama,”Sally said.
    “It’s not me he comes to see.”
    “I hope you are not implying I am the one he has in his eye, Mama!”Sally objected, but she was coming to terms with that fact that it was so. Her friendliness, instigated to show Heppleworth he would be entirely welcome as a father, had led him astray.
    “Perhaps Derwent will come this evening,”Mrs. Hermitage said, to remove the pout from Mellie’s face. “He would not at all enjoy being here when Heppleworth is telling us about his gout this afternoon, love.”
    “Yes, but where will he be?”Melanie countered. “His uncle will take him to visit some other girl. I know it.”
    “That’s what he’s up to!”Sally exclaimed, and wondered that she hadn’t thought of it herself. She didn’t continue, as she noticed that her agreement had thrown Melanie deeper into the sulks, but her mind was actively running over the likely young ladies in whose direction Monstuart might try to divert Derwent’s interest.
    The afternoon was as dreary as Mr. Heppleworth could make it with his litany of ailments. His tired eyes rested often on Sally, in a way that spoke silently of his intentions. Dinner was little better, with Melanie wilting about like a tired bloom. The evening yawned before them. When the knocker sounded, Miss Hermitage hoped it was Derwent, even if his guardian was with him. In fact, she felt an explicable little hope that Monstuart had come as well.
     

Chapter Five
     
    Sally was not aware of it, but her lively face wore an expression of anticipation that changed to a tentative smile when she saw Monstuart’s dark head looming behind Derwent at the doorway to the Rose Saloon. Nor was she consciously aware that the uncle looked first toward her, but she felt some little satisfaction when he took up a seat beside her. His first talk was directed to her mama, some trifling inquiry as to whether she had enjoyed her fish, which gave Sally time enough to wonder that she was not in a worse mood to see Monstuart again in their house.
    But she was not in a bad mood. In fact, she was wishing he would stop talking to Mama and pay some attention to her. This was a great enough change from her former feeling that some rationalization must be found for it. She regarded his sleek black head, the back of which was her view at the moment, and his wide shoulders, covered in a jacket that was certainly the