Harry went to his club and thought the circumstance over, but he hastily followed a suggestion, which was actually the most foolish move he could have made--he resolved to go and tell Madam Temple the whole circumstance. He believed that she had a real liking for him and would be glad to put his side of the trouble in its proper light. She had always sympathized with his love for Katherine and he believed that she would see nothing wrong in his gossip about the squire’s position. So he went to Madam at once and found her in her office with her confidential lawyer.
“Well, then?” she asked, in her most authoritative manner, “what brings thee here, in the middle of the day’s business? Hes thou no business in hand? No sweetheart to see? No book or paper to read?”
“I came to you, Madam, for advice; but I see that you are too busy to care for my perplexities.”
“Go into the small parlor and I will come to thee in ten minutes.”
Her voice and manner admitted of no dispute, and Harry--inwardly chafing at his own obedience--went to the small parlor and waited. As yet he could not see any reason for Dick’s and Katherine’s unkind treatment of him. He felt sure Madam Temple would espouse his side of the question, and also persuade Katherine that Dick had been unjustly offended. But his spirits fell the moment she entered the room. The atmosphere of money and the market-place was still around her and she asked sharply--“Whativer is the matter with thee, Harry Bradley? Tell me quickly. I am more than busy to-day, and I hev no time for nonsense.”
“It is more than nonsense, Madam, or I would not trouble you. I only want a little of your good sense to help me out of a mess I have got into with----”
“To be sure. If you offended one, you would naturally offend the other. Make as few words as thou can of the affair.” This order dashed Harry at the beginning of the interview, and Madam’s impassive and finally angry face gave him no help in detailing his grievance. Throughout his complaint she made no remark, no excuse, neither did she offer a word of sympathy. Finally he could no longer continue his tale of wrong, its monotony grew intolerable, even to himself, and he said passionately--
“I see that you have neither sympathy nor counsel to give me, Madam. I am sorry I troubled you.”