CHAPTER XXIII

REGRETS AND DUCK-SHOOTING


Saturday afternoon, as is usual in the country, brought an increased number
of duties to the inhabitants of the farmhouse, but at the supper hour they
all, except Burt, looked back upon the day with unwonted satisfaction. He
had returned weary, hungry, and discontented, notwithstanding the fact that
several brace of ducks hung on the piazza as trophies of his skill. He was
in that uncomfortable frame of mind which results from charging one's self
with a blunder. In the morning he had entered on the sport with his usual
zest, but it had soon declined, and he wished he had remained at home. He
remembered the children's intention of spending the day among the maples,
and as the sun grew warm, and the air balmy, the thought occurred with
increasing frequency that he might have induced Amy to join them, and so
have enjoyed long hours of companionship under circumstances most favorable
to his suit. He now admitted that were the river alive with ducks, the
imagined opportunities of the maple grove were tenfold more attractive. At
one time he half decided to return, but pride prevented until he should
have secured a fair amount of game. He would not go home to be laughed at.
Moreover, Amy had not been so approachable of late as he could wish, and he
proposed to punish her a little, hoping that she would miss his presence
and attentions. The many reminiscences at the supper-table were not
consoling. It was evident that he had not been missed in the way that he
desired to be, and that the day had been one of rich enjoyment to her.