“Silly” is a term carrying with it a certain promptness and decision; above all, it was a very remarkable word for Lucy to use.  “The girl is a martinet in these things,” thought he; “she can’t forgive the least bit of impoliteness.  I suppose he snubbed Jack Tar.  What a crime!  But I had better let this blow over before I go any farther.”  So he postponed his disclosure till to-morrow.

But, before to-morrow came, he had thought it over again, and convinced himself it would be the wiser course not to interfere at all for the present, except by throwing the young people constantly together.  He had lived long enough to see that, in nine cases out of ten, husband and wife might be defined “a man and a woman that were thrown a good deal together—­generally in the country.”  A marries B, and C D; but, under similar circumstances, i.e., thrown together, A would have married D, and C B. This applies to puppy dogs, male and female, as well as to boys and girls.

Perhaps a personal feeling had some little share, too, in bringing him to the above conclusion.  He was a bit of a schemer—­liked to play puppets.  At present, his niece and friend were the largest and finest puppets he had on hand; the day he should bring them to a mutual, rational understanding, the puppet-strings would fall from his hands and the puppets turn independent agents.  He represented to Talboys that Lucy was young and very innocent in some respects; that marriage did not seem to run in her head as in most girls’; that a precipitate avowal might startle her, and raise unnecessary difficulties by putting her on her guard too early in their acquaintance.  “You have no rival,” he concluded; “best win her quietly by degrees.  Undermine the coy jade! she is worth it.”  Cool Talboys acquiesced.  David had spurred him out of his pace one night; but David was put out of the way; the course was clear; and, as he could walk over it now, why gallop?

Childish as his friend’s jealousy of this poor sailor had seemed to Mr. Fountain, still, the idea once started, he could not help inspecting Lucy to see how she would take his sudden exclusion from these parties.  Now Lucy missed the Dodds very much, and was surprised to see them invited no more.  But it was not in her character to satisfy a curiosity of this sort by putting a point-blank question to the person who could tell her in two words.  She was one of those thorough women whose instinct it is to find out little things, not to ask about them.  When day after day passed by, and the Dodds were not invited, it flashed through her mind, first, that there must be some reason for this; secondly, that she had only to take no notice, and the reason, if any, would be sure to pop out.  She half suspected Talboys, but gave him no sign of suspicion.  With unruffled demeanor and tranquil patience, she watched demurely for disclosures from her uncle or from him like the prettiest little velvet panther conceivable lying flat in a blind path, deranging nobody, but waiting with amiable tranquillity for her friends to come her way.