Pennybaker proposed Miss Matchin’s name as soon as the vacancy was announced, to the amazement of his late confederates.  They moved a postponement, but to no purpose; Maud was elected; and the angry politicians had no better revenge than to say spitefully to Pennybaker on the stairs, as they went away, “How much did the Captain give you for that sell-out?”—­a jeer which he met by a smile of conscious rectitude and a request to be informed the next time they organized a freeze-out against him.  It must be said, however, that he lost no time in going to Matchin, informing him that he had succeeded in carrying Maud in by unheard-of exertions, and demanding and receiving on the spot five per cent of her year’s salary, which he called “the usual commission.”

Saul announced the appointment that evening at supper.  Maud flushed crimson, and the tears started to her eyes.  She was about to declare she would not have it, when her father’s next words put a different face on the matter.  “And it’s no thanks to Cap’n Farnham, neither.  He tried it oncet, and couldn’t make the riffle.  But me and Joel Pennybaker got together and done it.  And now I hope, Mattie, you’ll behave yourself and save money.  It’s like a fortun’ comin’ to you, if you’re smart.”

Maud found no reply ready.  She could not wholly believe her father’s story.  She still fancied the appointment came from Farnham, and there was a certain bitterness in it; but, on the whole, she received it not without a secret complacency.  Mrs. Matchin’s pleasure was checked by her daughter’s morose confusion.  Sam made no pretence of being pleased, but sat, unmoved by Matchin’s speech, in scowling silence, and soon went out without a word of comment.  The scene he had witnessed in the rose-house had poisoned his mind; yet, whenever he looked at Maud, or tried to speak to her, he was met with an air of such fierce and beautiful defiance, that his eyes fell and his voice stuck in his throat.  So the piece of good fortune, so anxiously awaited in the household, brought little delight when it came.  Maud reported for duty next day, and soon learned the routine of her work; but she grew more and more silent at home, and Saul’s hope of a wedding in the family died away.

Arthur Farnham walked away from the meeting with the feeling of a school-boy who has finished a difficult task and who thinks he deserves some compensating pleasure.  The day had been fine and warm, but the breeze of the late afternoon was already blowing in from the lake, lending freshness and life to the air.  The sky was filled with soft gray clouds, which sailed along at a leisurely rate, evidently on very good terms with the breeze.  As Farnham walked up the avenue, he cast about in his mind for the sort of dissipation with which he would reward himself for the day’s work and he decided for a ride.

But as he was drawing on his boots, it occurred to him, for the first time in his life, that it was a churlish and unneighborly proceeding for him to go riding alone day after day, and that he would be doing no more than his duty to offer his escort to Miss Belding.  He said Miss Belding to his own thought—­making it as formal and respectful as possible.  So, sending an order to his groom to keep his horse at the stable for a moment, he walked over the lawn to the Belding cottage and asked for the ladies.