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diff --git a/15775-h/15775-h.htm b/15775-h/15775-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d056adc --- /dev/null +++ b/15775-h/15775-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15078 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Rejuvenation of Aunt Mary, by Anne Warner</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.right {text-align: right; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +p.caption {font-weight: bold; + text-align: center; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold;'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Rejuvenation of Aunt Mary by Anne Warner</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Rejuvenation of Aunt Mary</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Anne Warner</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Release Date: May 2005 [eBook #15775]<br /> +[Most recently updated: May 8, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Suzanne Shell, Josephine Paolucci, Joshua Hutchinson and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE REJUVENATION OF AUNT MARY ***</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:55%;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<h1>The Rejuvenation of Aunt Mary</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">by Anne Warner</h2> + +<p class="center"> +Author of “A Woman’s Will,” “Susan Clegg and Her Friend +Mrs. Lathrop,” “Susan Clegg and a Man in the House,” +etc.<br/> +NEW EDITION<br/> +With Additional Pictures from the Play +</p> + +<p class="center"> +Boston<br/> +Little, Brown, and Company<br/> +1910<br/> +Copyright, 1904,<br/> +By Ainslee Magazine Company. +</p> + +<p class="center"> +Copyright, 1905,<br/> +By Little, Brown, and Company. +</p> + +<p class="center"> +Copyright, 1907,<br/> +By Little, Brown, and Company, +</p> + +<p class="center"> +All rights reserved +</p> + +<p class="center"> +Fourteenth Printing +</p> + +<p class="center"> +Printers<br/> +S.J. Parkhill & Co., Boston, U.S.A. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">Chapter One—Introducing Aunt Mary</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">Chapter Two—Jack</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">Chapter Three—Introducing Jack</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">Chapter Four—Married</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">Chapter Five—The Day After Falling in Love</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">Chapter Six—The Other Man</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">Chapter Seven—Developments</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">Chapter Eight—The Resolution He Took</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">Chapter Nine—The Downfall of Hope</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">Chapter Ten—The Woes of the Disinherited.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap11">Chapter Eleven—The Dove of Peace</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap12">Chapter Twelve—A Trap For Aunt Mary</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap13">Chapter Thirteen—Aunt Mary Entrapped</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap14">Chapter Fourteen—Aunt Mary En Fête</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap15">Chapter Fifteen—Aunt Mary Enthralled</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap16">Chapter Sixteen—A Reposeful Interval</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap17">Chapter Seventeen—Aunt Mary’s Night About Town</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap18">Chapter Eighteen—A Departure And A Return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap19">Chapter Nineteen—Aunt Mary’s Return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap20">Chapter Twenty—Jack’s Joy</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap21">Chapter Twenty-One—The Peace and Quiet of the Country</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap22">Chapter Twenty-Two—“Granite”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap23">Chapter Twenty-Three—“Granite”—Continued.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap24">Chapter Twenty-Four—Two Are Company</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap25">Chapter Twenty-Five—Grand Finale</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<h2>Illustrations</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus01">“Aunt Mary en fête” (May Robson as “Aunt Mary”)</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus02">“‘Do not let us play any longer,’ she said. ‘Let us be in earnest’”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus03">“‘She’s goin’ to the city all alone!’ Lucinda’s voice suddenly proclaimed behind him”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus04">Aunt Mary and Her Escorts</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus05">“The carriage stopped three hundred feet below the level of a roof-garden”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus06">“And now the fun’s all over and the work begins”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus07">“‘Yesterday I played poker until I didn’t know a blue chip from a white one’”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus08">“Aunt Mary had also had her eyes open”</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>Chapter One<br/> +Introducing Aunt Mary</h2> + +<p> +The first time that Jack was threatened with expulsion from college his Aunt +Mary was much surprised and decidedly vexed—mainly at the college. His +family were less surprised, viewing the young man through a clearer atmosphere +than his Aunt Mary ever had, and knowing that he had barely escaped similar +experiences earlier in his career by invariably leaving school the day before +the board of inquiry convened. +</p> + +<p> +Jack’s preparatory days having been more or less tempestous, his family +(Aunt Mary excepted) had expected some sort of after-clap when he entered +college. Nevertheless, they had fervently hoped that it would not be quite as +bad as this. +</p> + +<p> +Jack’s sister Arethusa was visiting her aunt when the news came. Not +because she wanted to, for the old lady was dreadfully deaf and fearfully +arbitrary, but because Lucinda had said that she must go to her cousin’s +wedding, and the family always had to bow to Lucinda’s mandates. Lucinda +was Aunt Mary’s maid, but she had become so indispensable as a sitter at +the off-end of the latter’s ear-trumpet that none of the grand-nephews or +grand-nieces ever thought for an instant of crossing one of her wishes. So it +was to Arethusa that the explanations due Aunt Mary’s interest in her +scapegrace fell, and she bowed her back to the burden with the resignation +which the circumstances demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“Whatever is the difference between bein’ expelled and bein’ +suspended?” Aunt Mary demanded, in her tone of imperious impatience. +“Well, why don’t you answer? I was brought up to speak when +you’re spoken to, an’ I’m a great believer in livin’ up +to your bringin’ up—if you had a good one. What’s the +difference, an’ which costs most? That’s what I want to know. I do +wish you’d answer me, Arethusa; there’s two things I’ve asked +you now, an’ you suckin’ your finger an’ puttin’ on +your thimble as if you were sittin’ alone in China.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know which costs most,” Arethusa shrieked. +</p> + +<p> +“You needn’t scream so,” said Aunt Mary. “I ain’t +so hard to hear as you think. I ain’t but seventy, and I’ll beg you +to remember that, Arethusa. Besides, I don’t want to hear you talk. I +just want to hear about Jack. I’m askin’ about his bein’ +expelled and suspended, an’ what’s the difference, an’ in +particular if there’s anything to pay for broken glass. It’s always +broken glass! That boy’s bills for broken glass have been somethin’ +just awful these last two years. Well, why don’t you answer?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what to answer,” Arethusa screamed. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you suppose he’s done, anyhow?” +</p> + +<p> +“Something bad.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary frowned. +</p> + +<p> +“I ain’t mad,” she said sharply. “What made you think I +was mad? I ain’t mad at all! I’m just askin’ what’s the +difference between bein’ expelled an’ bein’ suspended, +an’ it seems to me this is the third time I’ve asked it. Seems to +me it is.” +</p> + +<p> +Arethusa laid down her work, drew a mighty breath, very nearly got into the +ear-trumpet, and explained that being suspended was infinitely less heinous +than being expelled, and decidedly less final. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary looked relieved. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, then he’s gettin’ better, is he?” she said. +“Well, I’m sure that’s some comfort.” +</p> + +<p> +And then there was a long pause, during which she appeared to be engaged in +deep reflection, and her niece continued her embroidery in peace. The pause +endured until a sudden sneeze on the part of the old lady set the wheels of +conversation turning again. +</p> + +<p> +“Arethusa,” she said, “I wish you’d go an’ get +the ink an’ write to Mr. Stebbins. I want him to begin to look up another +college with good references right away. I don’t want to waste any of the +boy’s life, an’ if bein’ suspended means waitin’ while +the college takes its time to consider whether it wants him back again or not I +ain’t goin’ to wait. I’m a great believer in a college +education, but I don’t know that it cuts much figure whether it’s +the same college right through or not. Anyway, you write Mr. Stebbins.” +</p> + +<p> +Arethusa obeyed, and the authorities having seen fit to be uncommonly discreet +as to the cause of the young man’s withdrawal, no great difficulty was +experienced in finding another campus whereon Aunt Mary’s pride and joy +might freely disport himself. Mr. Stebbins threw himself into the affair with +all the tact and ardor of an experienced legal mind and soon after +Lucinda’s return to her home allowed Arethusa to follow suit, the hopeful +younger brother of the latter became a candidate for his second outfit of new +sweaters and hat bands that year. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary wrote him a letter upon the occasion of his new start in life, Mr. +Stebbins delivered him a lecture, and things went smoothly in consequence for +three whole weeks. I say three whole weeks because three whole weeks was a long +time for the course of Jack’s life to flow smoothly. At the end of a +fortnight affairs were always due to run more rapidly and three weeks produced, +as a general thing, some species of climax. +</p> + +<p> +The climax in this case came to time as usual his evil genius inciting the +young man to attempt, one very dark night, the shooting of a cat which he +thought he saw upon the back fence. Whether he really had seen a cat or not +mattered very little in the later development of the matter. He was certainly +successful as far as the going off of the gun was concerned, but the damage +that resulted, resulted not to any cat, but to the arm of a next-door’s +cook, who was peacefully engaged in taking in her week’s wash on the +other side of the fence. The cook ceased abruptly to take in the wash, the +affair was at once what is technically termed looked into, and three days later +Jack became the defendant in a suit for damages. +</p> + +<p> +Naturally Mr. Stebbins was at once notified and he had no choice except to +write Aunt Mary. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary was somewhat less patient over the third escapade than she had been +with the first two. +</p> + +<p> +The letter found her alone with Lucinda and she read it to herself three times +and then read it aloud to her companion. Lucinda, whose thorough knowledge of +the imperious will and impervious eardrums of her mistress rendered her, as a +rule, extremely monosyllabic, not to say silent, vouchsafed no comment upon the +contents of the epistle, and after a few minutes Aunt Mary herself took the +field: +</p> + +<p> +“Now, what do you suppose possessed that boy to shoot at a cook?” +she asked, regarding the letter with a portentous frown. “Cooks are so +awful hard to get nowadays. I don’t see why he didn’t shoot a tramp +if he had to shoot somethin’.” +</p> + +<p> +“He wa’n’t tryin’ to shoot a cook, ’pears +like,” then cried Lucinda—Lucinda’s voice, be it said, <i>en +passant</i>, was of that sibilant and penetrating timbre which is best illustrated +in the accents of a steamfitter’s file—“’pears like he +was tryin’ for a cat.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a bat,” said her mistress correctively; “it was a cat. +You look at this letter an’ you’ll see. And, anyway, how could a +man shootin’ at a cat hit a cook?—not ’nless she was up a +tree birds’-nestin’ after owls’ eggs. You don’t seem to +pay much attention to what I read to you, Lucinda; only I should think your +commonsense would help you out some when it comes to a boy you’ve known +from the time he could walk, an’ a strange cook. But, anyhow, +that’s neither here nor there. The question that bothers me is, +what’s to pay with this damage suit? I think myself five hundred dollars +is too much for any cook’s arm. A cook ain’t in no such vital need +of two arms. If she has to shut the door of the oven while she’s +stirrin’ somethin’ on the top of the stove, she can easy kick it to +with her foot. It won’t be for long, anyway, and I’m a great +believer in making the best of things when you’ve got to.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda screwed up her face and made no comment. Lucinda’s face in repose +was a cross between a monkey’s and a peanut; screwed up, it was +particularly awful, and always exasperated her mistress. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, why don’t you say somethin’, Lucinda? I ain’t +askin’ your advice, but, all the same, you can say anything if +you’ve got a mind to.” +</p> + +<p> +“I ain’t got a mind to say anythin’,” the faithful maid +rejoined. +</p> + +<p> +“I guess you hit the nail on the head that time,” said Aunt Mary, +without any unnecessary malevolence concealed behind her sarcasm; then she +re-read the note and frowned afresh. +</p> + +<p> +“Five hundred dollars is too much,” she said again. +“I’m going to write to Mr. Stebbins an’ tell him so to-night. +He can compromise on two hundred and fifty, just as well as not. Get me some +paper and my desk, Lucinda. Now get a spryness about you.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda laid aside her work and forthwith got a spryness about her, bringing +her mistress’ writing-desk with commendable alacrity. Aunt Mary took the +writing-desk and wrote fiercely for some time, to the end that she finally +wrote most of the fierceness out of herself. +</p> + +<p> +“After all, boys will be boys,” she said, as she sealed her letter, +“and if this is the end I shan’t feel it’s money wasted. +I’m a great believer in bein’ patient. Most always, that is. Here, +Lucinda you take this to Joshua and tell him to take it right to mail. Be +prompt, now. I’m a great believer in doin’ things prompt.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda took the letter and was prompt. “She wants this letter took right +to the mail,” she said to Joshua, Aunt Mary’s longest-tried +servitor. +</p> + +<p> +“Then it’ll be took right to mail,” said Joshua. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s pretty mad,” said Lucinda. +</p> + +<p> +“Then she’ll soon get over it,” replied the other, taking up +his hat and preparing to depart for the barn forthwith. +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda returned to Aunt Mary with a species of dried-up sigh. One is not the +less a slave because one has been enslaved for twenty years, and Lucinda at +moments did sort of peek out through her bars—possibly envying Joshua the +daily drives to mail when he had full control of something that was alive. +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda had been, comparatively speaking, young when she had come to wait upon +the pleasure of the Watkins millions, and her waiting had been so pertinent and +so patient that it had endured over a quarter of a century. Aunt Mary had been +under fifty in the hour of Lucinda’s dawn; she was over seventy now. Jack +hadn’t been born then; he was in college now; and Jack’s older +brothers and sisters and his dead-and-gone father and mother had been living +somewhere out West then, quite hopeful as to their own lives and quite hopeless +as to the stern old great-aunt who never had paid any attention to her niece +since she had chosen to elope with the doctor’s reprobate son. Now the +father and mother were dead and buried, the brothers and sisters reinstated in +their rights and had all grown up and become great credits to the old lady, +whose heart had suddenly melted at the arrival of five orphans all at once. And +there was only Jack to continue to worry about. +</p> + +<p> +Jack was not anything particularly remarkable; he was just one of those lovable +good-for-nothings that seem born to get better people into trouble all their +lives long. He had been spoiled originally by being ten years younger than the +next youngest in the family; and then, when the children had been shipped on to +Aunt Mary’s tender mercies, Jack had won her heart immediately because +she accidentally discovered that he had never been baptized, and so felt fully +justified in re-naming him after her own father and having the name branded +into him for keeps by her own religious apparatus. It followed naturally that +John Watkins, Jr., Denham, for so her father’s daughter had insisted that +her youngest nephew should be called, was the favorite nephew of his aunt. +</p> + +<p> +And it was lucky for him that he was the favorite, for Aunt Mary, who was +highly spiced at fifty, became peppery at sixty, and almost biting at seventy. +And yet for Jack she would sign checks almost without a murmur. Mr. Stebbins +was much more censorious and impatient with the young man than she ever was; +and to all the rest of the world Mr. Stebbins was an urbane and agreeable +gentleman, whereas to all the rest of the world Aunt Mary was a problem or a +terror. But Mr. Stebbins needed to be a man of tact and management, for he was +the real manager of that fortune of which “Mary, only surviving child of +John Watkins, merchant and ship owner,” was the legal possessor; and so +tactful was Mr. Stebbins that he and his powerful client had never yet clashed, +and they had been in close business relations for almost as many years as +Lucinda had been established on the hearthstone of the Watkins home. Perhaps +one reason why Mr. Stebbins endured so well was that he had a real talent for +compromising, and that he had skillfully transformed Aunt Mary’s +inherited taste for driving a bargain into an acquired pleasure in what is +really a polite form of the same action. +</p> + +<p> +So, when it came to the matter of Jack’s difficulties, Mr. Stebbins could +always find a half-way measure that saved the situation; and when he received +the letter as to the cook and her claim he hied himself to the city at once, +and wrote back that the claim could be settled for three hundred dollars. +</p> + +<p> +“And enough, I must say,” Aunt Mary remarked to Lucinda upon +receipt of the statement; “three hundred dollars for one cat—for, +after all, Jack blames the whole on the cat, an’ he didn’t hit it, +even then.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda did not answer. +</p> + +<p> +“But if the boy settles down now I shan’t mind payin’ the +three—Where are you goin’?” +</p> + +<p> +For Lucinda was walking out of the room. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m goin’ to the door,” said she raspingly. “The +bell’s ringin’.” +</p> + +<p> +After a minute or two she came back. +</p> + +<p> +“Telegram!” she announced, handing the yellow envelope over. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary put on her glasses, opened it, and read: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Cook has blood poison. Sues for a thousand. Probable amputation. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +STEBBINS. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary dropped the paper with a gasp. +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda looked at her with interest. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s that same arm again,” said Aunt Mary, “just as I +thought it was settled for!” Her eyes seemed to fairly crackle with +indignation. “Why don’t she put it in a sling an’ have a +little patience?” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda took the telegram and read it. +</p> + +<p> +“’Pears like she can’t,” she commented, in a tone like +a buzz saw; “’pears like it’s goin’ to be took +off.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary reached forth her hand for the telegram and after a second reading +shook her head in a way that, if her companion had been a globe-trotter, would +have brought matadores and Seville to the front in her mind in that instant. +</p> + +<p> +“I declare,” she said, “seems like I had enough on my mind +without a cook, too. What’s to be done now? I only know one thing! I +ain’t goin’ to pay no thousand dollars this week for no arm that +wasn’t worth but three hundred last week. Stands to reason that there +ain’t no reason in that. I guess you’d better bring me my desk, +Lucinda; I’m goin’ to write to Mr. Stebbins, an’ I’m +goin’ to write to Jack, and I’m goin’ to tell ’em both +just what I think. I’m goin’ to write Jack that he’d better +be lookin’ out, and I’m goin’ to write to Mr. Stebbins that +next time he settles things I want him to take a receipt for that arm in +full.” +</p> + +<p> +The letters were duly written and Mr. Stebbins, upon the receipt of his, +redoubled his efforts, and did succeed in permanently settling with the cook, +the arm being eventually saved. Aunt Mary regarded the sum as much higher than +necessary, but still pleasantly less than that demanded of her, and so life in +general moved quietly on until Easter. +</p> + +<p> +But Easter is always a period of more or less commotion in the time of youth +and leads to various hilarious outbreaks. Jack’s Easter took him to town +for a “little time,” and the “little time” ended in the +station-house at three o’clock on Sunday morning. +</p> + +<p> +Accusation: Producing concussion of the brain on a cab driver. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>Chapter Two<br/> +Jack</h2> + +<p> +The news was conveyed to Aunt Mary through private advices from Mr. Stebbins +(who had been hastily summoned to the city for purposes of bail); she was very +angry indeed, this time—primarily at the indignity done her flesh and +blood by arresting it. Then, as she re-read the lawyer’s letter, other +reflections crowded to the fore in her mind. +</p> + +<p> +“Funny! Whatever could have made the boy get up and go downtown at three +in the morning, anyway?” she said. “Seems kind of queer, +don’t you think, Arethusa? Do you suppose he was ill and huntin’ +for a drug store?” +</p> + +<p> +Arethusa had been sent for the second day previous because Lucinda’s +youngest sister’s youngest child had come down with scarlet fever, and +the family wanted Lucinda to enliven the quarantine. Arethusa had sent +invitations out for a dinner party, but she had recalled them and hastened to +obey the summons. It was an evil hour for her, for she loved her brother and +was mightily distressed at the bad news. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t believe he can have been ill,” she said, at the top +of her voice; “if he’d been ill he wouldn’t have had the +strength to hit the cab driver so hard.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t blame him for hittin’ the cab driver,” said +Aunt Mary warmly. “As near as I can recollect, I’ve often wanted to +do that myself. But I can’t make out where he got the man to hit, or why +he was there to hit him. I can’t make rhyme or reason out of it. I wish +we knew more. Well, I presume we will, later.” +</p> + +<p> +Her surmise was correct. They knew much more later. They knew more from Mr. +Stebbins, and they knew profusely more from the evening papers. +</p> + +<p> +“I think our boy’d better have come home for his Easter,” +Aunt Mary remarked, with a species of angry undertow threading the current of +her speech. “There’s no sayin’ what this will cost before +we’re done with it.” +</p> + +<p> +Arethusa choked; it was all so very terrible to her. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it that the cabman wants, anyhow?” her aunt demanded +presently. +</p> + +<p> +“He doesn’t want anything,” yelled the unhappy sister. +“He’s going to die.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, who is going to sue me, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s his wife; she wants five thousand dollars damages.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary’s lips tightened. +</p> + +<p> +“Five thousand dollars!” she said, with a bitter patience. “I +can see that this is goin’ to be an awful business. Five thousand +dollars! Dear, dear! I must say that that wife sets a pretty high price on her +husband—at least, a’cordin’ to my order of thinkin’, +she does. From what I’ve seen of cabmen, I’d undertake to get her +another just as good for a tenth of the money, any day.” +</p> + +<p> +Arethusa was silent, staring thoughtfully at the newspaper cuts of a great +Tammany leader and a noted pugilist, which had been labeled as the principals +in the family tragedy. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary turned over another of the many papers received, and scanned its +sensational columns afresh. +</p> + +<p> +“Arethusa,” she exclaimed suddenly, “do you know, I bet +anythin’ I know what this editor means to insinuate? It just strikes me +that he’s tryin’ to give the impression that our boy’s been +drinkin’.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps so,” Arethusa screamed. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I don’t believe it,” said Aunt Mary firmly, “and +I ain’t goin’ to believe it. And I ain’t goin’ to pay +no five thousand dollars for no cabman’s brains, neither. You write to +Mr. Stebbins to compromise on two or maybe three.” +</p> + +<p> +She stopped and bit her lips and shook her head. “I don’t see why +Jack grows up so hard,” she murmured, half in anger and half in sorrow. +“Edward and Henry never had such times. Oh, well,” she sighed, +“boys will be boys, I suppose; an’ if this all results in the +boy’s settlin’ down it’ll be money well spent in the end, +after all. Maybe—probably—most likely.” +</p> + +<p> +The days that followed were anxious days, but at last the cabman rallied and +concluded not to die, and Jack went off yachting with a light heart and a +choice collection of good advice from Mr. Stebbins and Aunt Mary. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing happened to mar his holiday. He ran a borrowed steam launch on to some +rocks with rather heavy consequences to his aunt’s exchequer, and +returned from the West Indies so late that she never had a visit from him at +all that summer; but, barring these slightly unwelcome incidents, he did +remarkably well, and when he returned to college in the fall he was regarded as +having become, at last, a stable proposition. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder whether our boy’s comin’ home for Christmas?” +Aunt Mary asked her niece, Mary, as that happy period of family reunions drew +near. Mary had come up to stay with her aunt while Lucinda went away to bury a +second cousin. Mary was very different from Arethusa, having a voice that, when +raised, was something between an icicle and a steam whistle, and a temperament +so much on the order of her aunt’s that neither could abide the other an +hour longer than was absolutely necessary. But Arethusa had a sprained ankle, +so there was no help for existing circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +“No, he isn’t,” said Mary, who had no patience at all with +her brother, and showed it. “He’s going West with the glee +club.” +</p> + +<p> +“With the she club!” cried poor Aunt Mary, in affright. +</p> + +<p> +Mary explained. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t like the idea,” said the old lady, shaking her head. +“Somethin’ will be sure to happen. I can feel it runnin’ up +and down my bones this minute.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, if he can get into trouble, of course, Jack will,” said Mary +cheerfully. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary didn’t hear her, because she didn’t raise her voice +particularly. Besides, the old lady was absorbed for the nonce in the most +dismal sort of prognostications. +</p> + +<p> +And they all came true, too. Something unfortunate beyond all expectations came +to pass during the glee club’s visit to Chicago, and the result was that, +before the new year was well out of its incubator Jack had papers in a +breach-of-promise suit served on him. He wrote Mr. Stebbins that it was all a +joke, and had merely been a portion of that foam which a train of youthful +spirits are apt to leave in their wake; but the girl stood solid for her +rights, and, as she had never heard from her fiancé since the night of the +dance, her family—who were rural, but sharp—thought it would take +at least fifteen thousand dollars to patch the crack in her heart. If the news +could have been kept from Aunt Mary until after Mr. Stebbins had looked into +the matter, everything might have resulted differently. But the Chicago lawyer +who had the case took good care that the wealthy aunt knew all as quickly as +possible, and it seemed as if this was the final straw under which the camel +must succumb. +</p> + +<p> +And Aunt Mary did appear to waver. +</p> + +<p> +“Fifteen thousand dollars!” she cried, aghast. “Heaven help +us! What next?” +</p> + +<p> +It was Lucinda who was seated calmly opposite at this crisis. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you suppose he really did it?” the aunt continued, after a +minute of appalled consideration. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s about the only thing he ain’t never done,” the +tried and true servant answered, her tone more gratingly penetrative than ever. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary eyed her sharply, not to say furiously. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you’d give a plain answer when I ask you a plain question, +Lucinda,” she said coldly. “If you’d ever got a +breach-of-promise suit in the early mail you’d know how I feel. +Perhaps—probably.” +</p> + +<p> +“I ain’t a doubt but what he done it,” Lucinda screamed out; +“an’ if I was her an’ he wouldn’t marry me after +sayin’ he would I’d sue him for a hundred thousand, an’ think +I let him off cheap then.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary deigned to smile faintly over the subtlety of this speech; but the +next minute she was frowning blacker than ever. +</p> + +<p> +“A girl from Kalamazoo, too, just up in Chicago for a week—just up +in Chicago long enough to come down on me for fifteen thousand dollars.” +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe she’ll take five thousand instead,” Lucinda remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe!” ejaculated her mistress, in fine scorn. “Maybe! +Well, if you don’t talk as if money was sweet peas an’ would dry up +if it wasn’t picked!” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda screwed up her face. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary gave her one awful look. +</p> + +<p> +“You get me some paper an’ my desk, Lucinda,” she said. +“I think it’s about time I was takin’ a hand in it myself. +I’ve been pretty patient, an’ I don’t see as it’s +helped matters any. Now I’m goin’ to write that boy a letter +that’ll settle him an’ his cats, an’ his cooks, an’ his +cabmen, an’ his Kalamazoo, just once for all. I guess I can do what I set +out to do. Pretty generally—most always.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda brought the desk, and Aunt Mary frowned fearfully and began to write +the letter. +</p> + +<p> +It developed very strongly. As her pen sized up the situation in black and +white, the old lady seemed to realize the iniquities of the case more and more +plainly; and as the letter grew her wrath grew also. The whole came, in the +end, to a threat—made in good earnest—to take a very serious step +indeed if any more “foolishness” developed. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary prided herself on her granite-like will. She had full faith in her +ability to slay her nearest and dearest if it seemed right and best to do so. +</p> + +<p> +She sealed her letter tight, stuck the stamp on square and hard, and bid +Lucinda convey it to Joshua and tell him never to quit it until he saw it safe +on to the evening train. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s awful mad at him for sure, this time,” said Lucinda +after she had delivered her message, and while Joshua was considering the front +and back of the letter with a deliberateness born of long servitude. +</p> + +<p> +“I sh’d think she would be,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +As nearly all of Jack’s private difficulties were printed in every +newspaper in America, Joshua naturally was on the inside of all their history. +</p> + +<p> +“She scrinched up her face just awful over that letter,” Lucinda +continued. “I’m sure I wish he’d ’a’ been by to +’a’ taken warnin’.” +</p> + +<p> +“He ain’t got nothin’ to really fret over,” said Joshua +serenely; “he knows it, ’n’ I know it, ’n’ you +know it, too.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t know nothin’ of the sort,” said Lucinda. +“She’s madder’n usual this time. She’s good an’ +mad. You mark my words, if he goes off on a ’nother spree this spring +he’ll get cut out o’ her will.” +</p> + +<p> +Joshua laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“You mark my words!” rasped Lucinda, shaking her finger in +witchlike warning. +</p> + +<p> +Joshua laughed again. +</p> + +<p> +“Them laughs best what laughs last,” said Aunt Mary’s +handmaiden. She turned away, and then returned to give Joshua a look that +proved that the peppery mistress had inculcated some cayenne into the souls of +those about her. “You mark my words—them laughs best what laughs +last, an’ there’ll be little grinnin’ for him if he +ain’t a chalk-walker for one while now.” +</p> + +<p> +Joshua laughed. +</p> + +<p> +But, as a matter of fact, Jack’s situation was suddenly become extremely +precarious. +</p> + +<p> +“There ain’t no sense in it,” said Aunt Mary to herself, with +an emphasis that screwed her face up until she looked quite like Lucinda; +“that life those young men lead on their little vacations is to blame for +everything. Cities are wells of iniquity; they’re full of all kinds of +doin’s that respectable people wouldn’t be seen at, and I’m +proud to say that I haven’t been in one myself for twenty-five years. +I’m a great believer in keepin’ out of trouble, an’ if +Jack’d just stuck to college an’ let towns go, he’d never +have met the cabman and the Kalamazoo girl, an’ I’d have overlooked +the cook an’ the cat. As it is, my patience is done. If he goes into one +more scrape he’ll be done too. I mean what I say. So my young man had +better take warnin’. Probably—most likely—pretty +certainly.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>Chapter Three<br/> +Introducing Jack</h2> + +<p> +It has been previously stated that Aunt Mary’s nephew, Jack, was a +scapegrace, and as delightful as scapegraces generally are. It goes without +saying that he was good-looking; and of course he must have been jolly and +pleasant or he wouldn’t have been so popular. As a matter of fact, Jack +was very good-looking, unusually jolly, and uncommonly popular. He was one of +the best liked men in each of the colleges which he had attended. There was +something so winning about his smile and his eternal good humor that no one +ever tried to dislike him; and if anyone ever had tried he or she would not +have succeeded for very long. It is probably very unfortunate that the world is +so full of this type of young man, but that which should cause us all to have +infinite patience with them is the reflection of how much more unfortunate it +would be if they were suddenly eliminated from the general scheme of things. +</p> + +<p> +Like all college boys, Jack had a chum. The chum was Robert Burnett, another +charming young fellow of one-and-twenty, whose education had been so +cosmopolitan in design and so patriotic in practice that he always said +“Sacre bleu” and “Donnerwetter” when he thought of it, +and “Great Scott” when he didn’t. He and Jack were as +congenial a pair as ever existed, and they had just about as much in common as +the aunt of the one and the father of the other had had to pay for. +</p> + +<p> +In the February of the year of which I write, Washington, celebrating his +birthday as usual, gave all American students their usual chance to celebrate +with him. Celebrations were temptations incarnate to Jack, and he was feeling +frowningly what a clog Aunt Mary’s latest epistle was upon his joys, when +his friend came to the rescue with an invitation to spend the double holiday +(it doubled that year—Sunday, you know) at the brand-new ancestral castle +which Burnett père had just finished building for his descendants. It may be +imagined that Jack accepted the invitation with alacrity, and that his +never-very-downcast heart bounded gleefully higher than usual over the prospect +of two days of pleasure in the country. +</p> + +<p> +It is not necessary to state where the castle of the Burnetts was erected, but +it was in a beautiful region, and the monthly magazines had written it up and +called it an architectural triumph. The owner fully agreed with the monthly +magazines, and his pride found vent in a house-warming which filled every guest +chamber in the place. +</p> + +<p> +The festivities were in full swing before the youngest son and his friend +arrived; and when the dog-cart, which brought them from the station, drew up +under the mighty porte-cochère with its four stone lions, rampant in four +different directions, Jack felt one of those delicious thrills which run +through one under particularly hopeful and buoyant circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s like walking in a novel,” his friend said; as they +entered under some heavy draperies which the footman pushed aside and found a +tiny spiral staircase, which wound its way aloft in a style that Jack liked +immensely and the latter agreed with all his heart. +</p> + +<p> +The staircase led them to the third floor and when they emerged therefrom they +found themselves in a big semi-circular billiard room, with a fireplace at each +end large enough to put one of the tables in, and cues and counters and stools +and divans and smoking utensils sufficient for a regiment. +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you, this is the way to do things,” exclaimed Burnett; +“isn’t it jolly? Time of your life, old man, time of your +life!—And, oh, by the way,” he said, suddenly interrupting himself, +“I wonder if my sister’s got here yet!” +</p> + +<p> +“Which sister?” Jack inquired; for his friend was one of a very +large family, and he had met several of them on their various visits to town. +</p> + +<p> +“Betty—the one who beats all the others hollow,”—but +just there the conversation was broken off by the servants coming up with the +luggage and setting two doors open that showed them two big rooms, both +exquisitely furnished, and both with windows that looked out, first on to a +stone balustrade, and secondly on to a superb view over the river and the +mountains beyond. +</p> + +<p> +The men unstrapped the things and went away, leaving such a plenitude of +comfort behind them as led Jack to fling himself into the most luxurious chair +in the room and stretch his arms and legs far and wide in utter contentment. +</p> + +<p> +Burnett was fishing for his key ring. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a great old place, isn’t it?” he remarked +parenthetically. “Great Scott! but I’ll bet we have fun these two +days! And if my sister Betty is here—” He paused expressively. +</p> + +<p> +“Doesn’t she live at home?” Jack asked. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s just come home; she’s been in England for three years. +Oh, but I tell you she’s a corker!” +</p> + +<p> +“I should think—” +</p> + +<p> +The sentence was never completed because a voice without the +not-altogether-closed door cried: +</p> + +<p> +“No, don’t think, please; let me come in instead.” And in the +same instant Burnett made one leap and flung the door open, crying as he did +so: +</p> + +<p> +“Betty!” +</p> + +<p> +Then Jack, bunching somewhat his starfish attitude, looked across the room and +realized instantly that it was all up with him forever after. +</p> + +<p> +Because— +</p> + +<p> +Because she who stood there in the door was quite the sweetest, the loveliest, +the most interesting looking girl whom he had ever laid eyes on; and when she +was seized in her brother’s arms, and kissed by her brother’s lips, +and dragged by her brother’s hands well into the room, she proved to be a +thousand times more irresistible than at first. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, Betty, you’re absolutely prettier than ever,” her +brother exclaimed, holding her a little off from him and surveying her +critically; and then he seemed to remember his friend’s existence, and, +turning toward him, announced proudly: +</p> + +<p> +“My sister Bertha.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack was standing up now and thinking how lovely her eyes were just at that +instant when they were meeting his for the first time, thinking much else too. +Thinking that Monday was only two days away (hang it!); thinking that such a +smile was never known before; thinking that he had <i>years</i> ahead at college; +thinking that the curl on her forehead was simply distracting (whereas all +other like curls were horrid); thinking that he might cut college and— +</p> + +<p> +“My chum, Jack Denham,” Burnett continued, proving in the same +instant how rapidly the mind may work since his friend had compassed his +encyclopedia of sentiment and probability between the two halves of a formal +introduction. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’m very glad to meet you, Mr. Denham,” she said, +putting out her hand—and he took and held it just long enough to realize +that he really was holding it, before she took it away to keep for her own +again. “I’ve often heard of you, and often wished I might know +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m awfully glad to hear you say that,” he said, “and +if I should have the royal luck to be next to you at dinner, it doesn’t +seem to me that I shall have the strength to keep from telling you why.” +</p> + +<p> +She clapped her hands at this, just as a very little girl might have done. +</p> + +<p> +“If that is so, I hope that they will put you next to me at +dinner,” she said gayly; “but if they don’t, you’ll +tell me some other time, won’t you? I’m always <i>so</i> interested in +what people have to tell me about myself.” +</p> + +<p> +Burnett began to laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Jack,” he said, “I see that we’d better have a clear +and above-board understanding right in the beginning and so I’ll just +tell you that this sister of mine, who appears so guileless, is the very worst +flirt ever. She looks honest, but she can’t tell the truth to save her +neck. She means well, but she drives folks to suicide just for fun. She’d +do anything for anybody in general, but when it’s a case of you +individually she won’t do a thing to you, and you must heed my words and +be forewarned and forearmed from now on. Mustn’t he, Betty?” +</p> + +<p> +At this the sister laughed, nodding quite as gayly as if it were a laughing +matter, instead of the opening move in a possibly serious—tremendously +serious—game of life. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s awful to have to subscribe to,” she said, with dancing +eyes; “but I’m afraid it’s true. I’m really quite a +reprobate, and I admit it frankly. And everyone is so good to me that I never +get a chance to reform. And so—and so—” +</p> + +<p> +“But then, I suppose I ought to warn her about you, too,” said +Burnett, turning suddenly toward his friend. “It isn’t fair to show +her up and not show you up, you know. And really, Betty, he’s almost as +bad as you are yourself. I may tell you in confidence—in strict +confidence (for it’s only been in a few newspapers)—that he +hasn’t got his breach-of-promise suit all compromised yet. Ask him to +deny it, if he can!” +</p> + +<p> +The sister looked suddenly startled and curious and Jack felt himself to be +blushing desperately. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t look as if he was lying, do I?” he asked smiling; +“be honest now, for you can see that Burnett and I both are.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, you don’t,” she said. “You look as if it was a +very true bill.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is,” he said; “and it’s going to be an awfully big +one, too, I’m afraid.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wouldn’t have thought you were such a bad man,” said the +sister ever so sweetly; “but I like bad men. They interest me. +They—” +</p> + +<p> +“There!—I see your finish,” said Burnett. “That’s +one of her favorite opening plays. It’s all up with you, Jack, and your +aunt will have to to go down for another damage suit when you begin to perceive +that you have had enough of our family. But you’ll have to get out now, +Betty, and let him get dressed for dinner. You needn’t cry about it +either for he’s even more attractive in his glad rags than he is in his +railway dust—my word of honor on it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I look nice myself when I’m dinner-dressed,” said the +sister, “so I sympathize with him and I’ll go with pleasure. +Good-bye.” +</p> + +<p> +She sort of backed toward the door and Jack sprang to open it for her. +</p> + +<p> +“You can kiss her hand, if you like,” Burnett said kindly. +“They do in Germany, you know. I don’t mind and mamma needn’t +know.” +</p> + +<p> +“May I?” Jack asked her; and then he caught her eye over her +brother’s bent head and added, so quickly that there was hardly any break +at all between the words: “Some other time?” +</p> + +<p> +“Some other time,” she said, with a world of meaning in the +promise; and then she flashed one wonderful look straight into his eyes and was +gone. +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t she great?” Burnett asked, unlocking his suit-case in +the most provokingly every-day style, as if this day was an every-day sort of +day and not the beginning and end of all things. “Oh, I tell you, +I’m almost dotty over that sister myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you suppose that I could manage to have her for dinner?” Jack +asked, feeling desperately how dull any other place at the table would be now. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. When I go down to my mother I’ll try to manage +it; shall I?” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you would.” +</p> + +<p> +“I reckon I can; but, great loads of fire, fellow! don’t think you +can play tag with her, and feel funny at the finish. She’ll do you up +completely, and never turn a hair herself. She’s always at it. She +don’t mean to be cruel, but she’s naturally a carnivorous animal. +It’s her little way.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack did not look as dismal as he should have done; he smiled, and looked out +of the window instead. +</p> + +<p> +“She’ll have to marry someone some day, you know,” he said +thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Have to marry someone some day!” Burnett cried. “Why, she is +married. Didn’t you know that?” and he unbuckled the shirt +portfolio as he spoke just as if calamities and tragedies and shooting stars +might not follow on the heels of such a simple statement as that last. +</p> + +<p> +It was an awful moment, but poor Jack did manage to continue looking out of the +window. If any greater demand had been made upon him he might have sunk beneath +the double weight. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he said at last, his voice painfully steady; “I +didn’t know it.” +</p> + +<p> +Burnett laughed heartlessly, hauling forth his apparel with a refined cruelty +which took careful heed of possible interfolded shoes or cravats. +</p> + +<p> +“She married an Englishman when she was nineteen years old,” he +said. “That was when they sent me to Eton that little while,—until +I drove the horse through the drug shop. The time I told you about, don’t +you know?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I remember,” said Jack. He observed with sickening +distinctness that the night had begun to fall, the river’s silver ribbon +had become a black snake, and that the mountain range beyond loomed chill and +dark and cheerless. “I guess I ought to be getting into my things,” +he said, moving toward his own door. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a bath in here,” his friend called after him. +“We’re to divide it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sure,” was the reply. It sounded a trifle thick. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think that she ought to,” said the brother to +himself, as he began to draw out his stick-pin before the mirror, “I +don’t care if she is my favorite sister—I don’t think that +she ought to.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he went on to make ready for the securing of his half of the bath, and +forthwith forgot his sister and his friend. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>Chapter Four<br/> +Married</h2> + +<p> +It was almost like a scene at a ball, the great white-and-gold music room +before dinner that night. The Burnett family proper numbered fifteen among +themselves, and there were nearly thirty guests added. It was entirely too +large a house party to have handled successfully for very long, but it would be +most awfully jolly for three or four days; and now, when the whole crowd were +gathered waiting for dinner, the picture was one of such bubbling joy that +Jack’s very heavy heart seemed to himself to be terribly out of place +there and he wondered whether he should be able to put up even a fairly +presentable front during the endless hours that must ensue before the time for +breaking up arrived. +</p> + +<p> +Burnett took him all around and introduced him to people in general, and people +in general seemed to him to merely bring the fact of her pre-eminence more +vividly than ever before his mind. He found himself looking everywhere but at +them too, and listening with an acutely sensitive ear for sounds quite other +than those of their various lips. But eternal disappointment rewarded his eyes +and ears. She was nowhere. +</p> + +<p> +So he talked blindly about nothing to all the nobodies and laughed stupidly +over all their stupidities until—suddenly and without any warning—a +fearful jump in his throat sent the mercury in his constitution shooting up to +160, and he saw, heard, felt, gasped, and knew, that that radiant angel in +silver tissue who had just entered the farther end of the room was indubitably +Herself. +</p> + +<p> +(Married!) +</p> + +<p> +He quite forgot who, what and where he was. There was a somebody talking to +him—a very awful and bony young lady, but she faded so completely out of +the general scheme of his immediate present that all the use he made of her was +to stare over her head at the distant apparition that was become, now and +forever, his All in All. The distant apparition had not lied when she had told +him up in her brother’s room that she too, looked “nice” when +dressed for dinner. Only the word “nice” was as watered milk to the +champagne of her appearance. She was gowned superbly and her throat and arms +were half bared by the folds of silvered lace; her hair fitted into the back of +her neck in the smoothest mass of puffs and coils, and the curl on her forehead +was more distracting than ever. +</p> + +<p> +(Married!) +</p> + +<p> +She seemed to be speaking to everyone, and everyone seemed to be crowding +around her. He couldn’t go up like everyone else, because the awful and +bony young lady was talking hard at him and heightened her charms with a smile +that took up two-fifths of her face, and wrinkled all the rest. +</p> + +<p> +Her name was Lome—Maude Lome. He knew that she must be a relative without +being told, because otherwise she wouldn’t have been invited at all. +Anyone could divine that. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, isn’t dear Betty just lovely?” this fearful freak said. +“I think she’s just too lovely for anything! She’s my cousin, +you know; we’re often mistaken for one another.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can well believe it,” said Jack, heavily, not ceasing to stare +beyond as he said it. +</p> + +<p> +(Married!) +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you’re flattering me! Because she’s ever so much +prettier than I am, and I know it.” +</p> + +<p> +He didn’t reply. It had suddenly come over him to wonder whether there +ever had been an authentic case of heartbreak. Because he had the most terrible +ache right in his left side! +</p> + +<p> +(Married! Married!) +</p> + +<p> +“But, then,” Miss Lome continued, “I’m younger than she +is. Her being married makes her seem young, but she’s really twenty-four. +I’m only twenty.” +</p> + +<p> +He shut his eyes, and then opened them. He wished he hadn’t come here, +and then grew shivery to think that he might have happened not to; and all the +while that awful twisting and wrenching at his heart was getting worse and +worse. +</p> + +<p> +(Married! Married! Married!) +</p> + +<p> +Burnett came up just then with a man wearing a monocle and presented him to +Denham, and forthwith handed the bony cousin to his safe-keeping. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s a great pill, isn’t she?” he began, as the +couple moved away; and then he stopped short. “What’s the +matter?” he asked. “Sick?” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope not,” said Jack, trying to smile. +</p> + +<p> +“You look hipped,” his friend said anxiously. “Better go get +a bracer; you’ll have time if you hurry. You can’t be sick before +dinner, because I’ve been moving all the cards around so as to get Betty +next to you, and I could never get them back as they were before if you gave +out at the last minute.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t believe I’m ill,” said Jack, trying to realize +whether the news that she was to be his (for dinner) made him feel any better +or only just about the same. “I don’t know what ails me. Do I look +seedy?” +</p> + +<p> +“You look sort of knocked out, that’s all,” said Burnett. +“Perhaps, though, it was just the having to talk to my cousin Maude so +long. Isn’t she the limit, though? But I’ll tell you the one big +thing about that girl: She’s just the biggest kind of a catch. She was my +uncle’s eldest child; she’s worth twelve times what any of us ever +will be.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure she’ll need it,” said Jack heartily. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re right there,” laughed his friend; “but +you’ve got to hurry and get your brandy now if you want it, because +they’ll be going out in a minute.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’m all right,” said the poor chap, straightening his +shoulders back a little. “I can make out well enough, I’m sure. I +think I’d better go over by your sister and let her know that I’m +ready when the hour of need shall strike.” +</p> + +<p> +Burnet nodded and then he went on and his friend walked down the room, no one +but himself knowing that he was making his way into the lion’s (or, +rather, lioness’s) den. +</p> + +<p> +And then he paused there beside her. Oh! she Was seven million times lovelier +close to than far away. All the rot about Venus and statues and paintings and +Helen of Troy was nowhere beside Her and he felt his strength come surging +mightily upward and then—oh Heavens! +</p> + +<p> +She looked up—looked so sweetly up—right into his eyes and smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“I expect you are to take me into dinner,” she said; and at her +words the man who had been talking to her murmured something meaningless and +got out of their way. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe so,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +She rose and he noticed that the top of her head was just level with his coat +lapel. He wondered, with a miserable pang, where she came to on her +husband’s coat and with the wonder his surging strength surged suddenly +out to sea again and left him feeling like Samson when he awoke to the +realization of his haircut. +</p> + +<p> +“Dinner’s very late,” she said, quite as if life presented no +problem whatever; “you see, it’s the first big company in the +house. We were only seventeen last night, and to-night we’re forty-five. +It makes a difference.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can imagine so,” he said. He was suddenly acutely aware of +feeling very awkward, and of finding her different—quite different from +what she had seemed up in her brother’s room. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” she asked after a minute, looking up at him; and then +she showed that she was conscious of the change, for she added: +“Something has happened; Bob has been saying mean things about me to +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, he did tell me something,” he admitted; and just then the +butler announced dinner. +</p> + +<p> +“What did he tell you?” she asked, as they moved away. “How +could he say anything worse than what he said before me?” +</p> + +<p> +“He told me something that was worse—much worse.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked troubled and as if she did not understand. +</p> + +<p> +“But he said that I was a flirt, and that I couldn’t speak the +truth, and that I drove people—” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I remember all that; but this was infinitely worse.” +</p> + +<p> +“Infinitely worse!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +She stopped in an angle where the big room dwindled into a narrow gallery, and +stared astonished. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t at all understand,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“No, you can’t,” he said, “and I can’t tell +you—I mustn’t tell you—how terrible it is to me to look at +you and think of what he told me.” +</p> + +<p> +After a second she went on again and presently they entered the dining-room. +The confusion of rustling skirts and sliding chairs quite covered their speech +for a moment and made them seem almost alone. Her hand had been resting on his +arm and now she drew it out, looking up at him again as she did so. Her eyes +had a premonitory mist over them. +</p> + +<p> +“For Heaven’s sake,” she said very earnestly, “tell me +what he said?” +</p> + +<p> +He was silent. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me,” she pleaded. +</p> + +<p> +He was still silent. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me,” she said imperiously. +</p> + +<p> +He continued silent. They sat down. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Denham,” she said, as she took up her napkin, and her voice +grew very low, and yet he heard, “I don’t think that we can pretend +to be joking any longer. You are my brother’s friend, and I am a married +woman. Please treat me as you should.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s just it,” said Jack; “that’s all there is +to it. It wouldn’t have amounted to anything except for that—or +perhaps, if it hadn’t been for that, it might have amounted to a great +deal.” +</p> + +<p> +“If it hadn’t been for what?” +</p> + +<p> +“For your being married.” +</p> + +<p> +She quite started in her seat. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“You see I never knew it before.” +</p> + +<p> +“You never knew what before?” +</p> + +<p> +“That you were married.” +</p> + +<p> +“Until when?” +</p> + +<p> +“Until after you went out of the room to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +The men were putting the clams around. She seemed to reflect. And then she +peppered and salted them before she spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Bob is very wrong to talk so,” she said at last, picking up her +fork, “when you’re his friend, too.” +</p> + +<p> +He poked his clams—he hated clams. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose men think it’s amusing to do such things,” she +continued, “but I think it’s as ill-bred as practical +joking.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you are married,” he said, trying fiercely to pepper some +taste into the tasteless things before him. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I’m married,” she admitted tranquilly, “but, +then, my husband went to Africa so soon afterwards that he hardly seemed to +count at all. And then he was killed there; so, after that, he seemed to count +less than ever.” +</p> + +<p> +The air danced exclamation points and the man on the other side spoke to her +then so that her turning to answer him gave Jack time to rally his wits. +</p> + +<p> +(A widow!) +</p> + +<p> +Then she turned back and said: +</p> + +<p> +“I think Bob mystified you unnecessarily. Of course I don’t flatter +myself that you’ve suffered.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but I have,” he hastened to assure her. +</p> + +<p> +(A widow! A widow!) +</p> + +<p> +“But it always makes a difference whether a woman is married or +not.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should say it did,” he interrupted again. “It makes all +the difference in the world.” +</p> + +<p> +At that she laughed outright, and someone suddenly abstracted the distasteful +clams and substituted for them a golden and glorious soup, and music sounded +forth from some invisible quartet, and—and— +</p> + +<p> +(A widow! A widow! A widow!) +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>Chapter Five<br/> +The Day After Falling in Love</h2> + +<p> +The next day was a very memorable day for Jack. The day after a falling in love +is always a red-letter day; but the day after <i>the</i> falling in love—ah! +</p> + +<p> +One looks back—far back—to the day before, and those hours of the +day before, when her sun had not yet dawned, and struggles to recollect what +ends life could have represented then. And one looks forward to the next day, +the next week, the next year—but, particularly to the next morning with +sensations as indescribable as they are delightful. +</p> + +<p> +Whichever way you tip it, the kaleidoscope of the future arranges itself in +equally attractive shapes of rainbow hue, and the prospect over land or +sea—even if it is raining—looks brilliant green, and brighter red, +and brightest yellow. +</p> + +<p> +Upon that glorious “next day” of Jack’s the weather was quite +a thing apart for February—partaking of the warmth of May, and owing that +fact to a sun which early June need not have scorned to own. Under the +circumstances the house party overflowed the house and ravaged the surrounding +country, and Jack and Mrs. Rosscott began it all by having the highest cart and +the fastest cob in the stables and making for the forest just as the clock was +tolling ten. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you want a groom?” asked Burnett, who was occasionally very +cruel. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’m not going to wait for him to get ready now,” +replied his sister, who had sharp wits and did not disdain to give even her own +family the benefit of them. +</p> + +<p> +Then she gathered up the reins and whip in a most scientific manner, and they +were off. Jack folded his arms. He was simply flooded, drenched, and saturated +with joy. The evening before had been Elysium when she had only been his now +and again for a minute’s conversation, but now she was to be his and his +alone until—until they came back—and his mind seemed able to grasp +no dearer outlines of the form which Bliss Incarnate may be supposed to take. +He didn’t care where they went or what they saw or what they talked of, +just if only he and she might be going, seeing, and talking for the benefit of +one another and of one another alone. +</p> + +<p> +They bowled away upon a firm, hard road that skirted the park, and then plunged +deeply into the forest. Mrs. Rosscott handled the reins and the whip with the +hands of an expert. +</p> + +<p> +“I like to drive,” said she. +</p> + +<p> +“You appear to,” he answered. +</p> + +<p> +“I like to do everything,” she said. “I’m very athletic +and energetic.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad of that,” he told her warmly. “I like +athletic girls.” +</p> + +<p> +He really thought that he was speaking the truth, although upon that first day +if she had declared herself lazy and languid he would have found her equally to +his taste—because it was the first day. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s kind of you, after my speech,” she said smiling, +“but let’s wait a bit before we begin to talk about me. Let us talk +about you first—you’re the company, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“But there’s nothing to tell about me,” said Jack, +“except that I’m always in difficulties—financial—or +otherwise,—oftenest ‘otherwise,’ I must confess.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you have a rich aunt, haven’t you?” said Mrs. Rosscott. +“I thought that I had heard about your aunt.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, I have a rich aunt,” Jack said, laughing, “and I +can assure you that if I am not much credit to my aunt, my aunt is the greatest +possible credit to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I’ve heard that, too,” said Mrs. Rosscott, joining in +the laugh, “you see I’m well posted.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you’re so well posted as to me,” Jack said, “do be +kind and post me a little as to yourself. You don’t need information and +I do.” +</p> + +<p> +She turned and looked at him. +</p> + +<p> +“What shall I tell you first?” she inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me what you like and what you don’t like—and that will +give me courage to do the same later,” he added boldly. +</p> + +<p> +She laughed outright at that and then sobered quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“I told you that I liked to drive and to do everything,” she said +lightly; “what else do you want to know about?” +</p> + +<p> +“What you dislike.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I don’t know of anything that I dislike;” she said +thoughtfully—“perhaps I don’t like England; I am not sure, +though. I had a pretty good time there after all—only you know, being in +mourning was so stupid. And then, too, I didn’t fit into their ideas. I +really didn’t seem to get the true inwardness of what was expected of me. +Oh, I never dared let them know at home what a failure I was as an +Englishwoman. I mortified my husband’s sisters all the time. Just +think—after a whole year I often forgot to say ‘Fancy now!’ +and used to say ‘Good gracious!’ instead.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“My husband’s sisters were very unhappy about it. They did want to +love me, because I had so much money; but it was tough work for them. Did you +ever know any middle-aged English young ladies?” she asked him suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I never did,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Really, they seem to be a thing apart that can’t grow anywhere but +in England. Every married man has not less than two, nor more than three, and +they always are a little gray and embroider very nicely. Someone told me that +as long as there’s any hope they wear stout boots and walk about and +hunt, but as soon as it’s hopeless they take to embroidering.” +</p> + +<p> +“It must be rather a blue day for them when they decide definitely to +make the change,” said Jack. +</p> + +<p> +“I never thought of that,” said Mrs. Rosscott soberly. “Of +course it must! I was always very good to them. I gave them ever so many things +that I could have used longer myself, and they used to set pieces of muslin in +behind the open-work places and wear them.” +</p> + +<p> +She sighed. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s quite as bad as being a Girton girl,” she said. +“Do you know what a Girton girl is?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a girl from Girton College. It’s the most awful freak +you ever saw. They’re really quite beyond everything. They’re so +homely, and their hands and feet are so enormous, and their pins never pin, and +their belts never belt. And no one has ever married one of them yet!” +</p> + +<p> +She paused dramatically. +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t either, then,” he declared. +</p> + +<p> +She laughed at that, and touched up the cob a trifle. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you live long in England?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Forever!” she answered with emphasis; “at least it seemed +like forever. Mamma left me there when I was nineteen (she married me off +before she left me, of course) and I stayed there until last winter—until +I was out of my mourning, you know—and then I was on the Continent for a +while, and then I returned to papa.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do we strike you after your long absence?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you suit me admirably,” she said, turning and smiling squarely +into his face; “only the terrible ‘and’ of the majority does +get on my nerves somewhat.” +</p> + +<p> +“What ‘and’?” +</p> + +<p> +“Haven’t you noticed? Why when an American runs out of talking +material he just rests on one poor little ‘and’ until a fresh run +of thought overwhelms him; you listen to the next person you’re talking +with, and you’ll hear what I mean.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack reflected. +</p> + +<p> +“I will,” he said at last. +</p> + +<p> +The road went sweeping in and out among a thicket of bare tree trunks and brown +copses, and the sunlight fell out of the blue sky above straight down upon +their heads. +</p> + +<p> +“If it don’t annoy you, my referring to England so often,” +said she presently, “I will state that this reminds me of Kaysmere, the +country place of my father-in-law.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is your father-in-law living yet?” +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me, yes—and still has hold of the title that I supposed I was +getting when I was married to his eldest son. My father-in-law is a +particularly healthy old gentleman of eighty. He was forty years old when he +married. He didn’t expect to marry, you know—he couldn’t see +his way to ever affording it. But he jumped into the title suddenly and then, +of course, he married right away. He had to. You’d know what a hurry he +must have been in to look at my mamma-in-law’s portrait.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was she so very beautiful?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; she was so very homely. Maude’s very like her.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack laughed. +</p> + +<p> +She laughed, too. +</p> + +<p> +“Aren’t we happy together?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“My sky knows but one cloud,” he rejoined, “and that is that +Monday comes after Sunday.” +</p> + +<p> +“But we shall meet again,” said Mrs. Rosscott. +“Because,” she added mischievously, “I don’t suppose +that it’s on account of my cousin Maude that you rebel at the approach of +Monday.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Jack. “It may not be polite to say so to you, but +I wasn’t in the least thinking of your cousin.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor girl!” said Mrs. Rosscott thoughtfully; “and she was so +sweet to you, too. Mustn’t it be terrible to have a face like +that?” +</p> + +<p> +“It must indeed,” said Jack; “I can think of but one thing +worse.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” +</p> + +<p> +“To marry a face like that.” +</p> + +<p> +She laughed again. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re cruel,” she declared; “after all her face +isn’t her fortune, so what does it matter?” +</p> + +<p> +“It doesn’t matter at all to me,” said Jack. “I know of +very few things that can matter less to me than Miss Lorne’s face.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, you’re cruel again; and she was so nice to you too. +Absolutely, I don’t believe that the edges of her smile came together +once while she was talking to you last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you spy on us to that extent?” said Jack. “I +wouldn’t have believed it of you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’m very awful,” she said airily. “You’ll be +more surprised the farther you penetrate into the wilderness of my ways.” +</p> + +<p> +“And when will I have a chance to plunge into the jungle, do you +think?” +</p> + +<p> +“Any Saturday or Sunday that you happen to be in town.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you going to live in town?” +</p> + +<p> +“For a while. I’ve taken a house until the beginning of July. I +expect some friends over, and I want to entertain them.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack felt the sky above become refulgent. He was in the habit of spending every +Saturday night in the city—he and Burnett together. +</p> + +<p> +“May I come as often as I like?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” said she; “because you know if you should come +too often I can tell the man at the door to say I’m ‘not at +home’ to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But if he ever says: ‘She’s not at home to you,’ I +shall walk right in and fall upon the man that you are being at home to just +then.” +</p> + +<p> +“But he is a very large man,” said Mrs. Rosscott seriously; +“he’s larger than you are, I think.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack felt the blue heavens breaking up into thunderbolts for his head at <i>this</i> +speech. +</p> + +<p> +“But I’m way over six feet,” he said, his heart going heavily +faster, even while he told himself that he might have known it, anyhow. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s all of six feet two,” she said meditatively. “I +do believe he’s even taller. I remember liking him at the first glance, +just because he struck me as so royal looking.” +</p> + +<p> +He was miserably conscious of acute distress. +</p> + +<p> +“Do—do you mind my smoking?” he stammered. +</p> + +<p> +(Might have known that, of course, there was bound to be someone like that.) +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all,” she rejoined amiably. “I like the odor of +cigarettes. Shall I stop a little, while you set yourself afire?” +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t necessary,” he said. “I can set myself afire +under any circumstances.” +</p> + +<p> +He lit a cigarette. +</p> + +<p> +“Is he English?” he couldn’t help asking then. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she said; “I like the English.” +</p> + +<p> +“You appear to like everything to-day.” He did not intend to seem +bitter, but he did it unintentionally. +</p> + +<p> +(Confounded luck some fellows have.) +</p> + +<p> +“I do. I’m very well content to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +He was silent, thinking. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” she queried, after a while. +</p> + +<p> +He pulled himself together with an effort. +</p> + +<p> +“I think perhaps it’s just as well,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“What is just as well?” +</p> + +<p> +“That I know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Know what?” +</p> + +<p> +“About him. I shan’t ever take the chances of calling on you +now.” +</p> + +<p> +She laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“He wouldn’t put you out unless I told him to,” she said. +“You needn’t be too afraid of him, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +His face grew a trifle flushed. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not afraid,” he said, as coldly as it was in him to +speak; “but I’ll leave him the field.” +</p> + +<p> +She turned and looked at him. +</p> + +<p> +“The field?” she asked, with puzzled eyebrows. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she frowned for an instant, and then a species of thought-ray suddenly +flew across her face and she burst out laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I do believe,” she cried merrily, “I do believe +you’re jealous of the man at the door.” +</p> + +<p> +“Weren’t you speaking of a man in the drawing-room?” he +asked, all her phrases recurring to his mind together. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she said laughing; “I was speaking of my footman. Oh, +you are so funny.” +</p> + +<p> +The way the sun shone suddenly again! His horizon glowed so madly that he quite +lost his head and leaning quickly downward seized her hand in its little tan +driving glove of stitched dogskin, and kissed it—reins and all. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not funny,” he said, “it was the most natural +thing in the world.” +</p> + +<p> +She was laughing, but she curbed it. +</p> + +<p> +“You’d better not be foolish,” she said warningly. “It +don’t mix well with college.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m thinking of cutting college,” he declared boldly. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t let us decide on anything definite until we’ve known +one another twenty-four hours,” she said, looking at him with a gravity +that was almost maternal; and then she turned the horse’s head toward +home. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>Chapter Six<br/> +The Other Man</h2> + +<p> +That evening Burnett felt it necessary to give his friend a word of warning. +</p> + +<p> +“Holloway’s going to take Betty in to-night,” he said, as +they descended the tower stairs together. +</p> + +<p> +“Who’s Holloway?” Jack asked. +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t expect to have her all the time, you know,” +Burnett continued: “She’s really one of the biggest guns here, even +if she is one of the family.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who’s Holloway?” +</p> + +<p> +“Last night the <i>mater</i> had her all mapped out for General Jiggs, and I had +an awful time getting her off his hook and on to yours, and then you drove her +all this morning and walked her all the afternoon, and the old lady says +she’s got to play in Holloway’s yard to-night—jus’ +lil’ bit, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who’s Holloway?” Jack demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“You know Horace Holloway; we were up at his place once for the night. +Don’t you remember?” +</p> + +<p> +“I remember his place well enough; but he hadn’t got in when we +came, and hadn’t got up when we left, so his features aren’t as +distinctly imprinted on my memory as they might be.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s so,” said Burnett, pushing aside the curtains that +concealed the foot of the wee stair; “I’d forgotten. Well, +you’ll meet him to-night, anyhow; he came on the five-five. Holly’s +a nice fellow, only he’s so darned over-full of good advice that he keeps +you feeling withersome.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Did he ever give you any advice?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t recollect your taking it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never take anything,” said Burnett; “I consider it more +blessed to give than to receive—as regards good advice anyhow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who will I have for dinner?” Jack asked presently, glancing around +to see if there were any silver tissues or distracting curls in sight. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” his friend replied, rather hesitatingly, “you must +expect to balance up for last night, I reckon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your cousin, I suppose!” +</p> + +<p> +Burnett nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“She wanted you,” he said. “She’s taken a fancy to you; +and she can afford to marry for love,” he added. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m thankful that I can, too,” the other answered fervently. +</p> + +<p> +His friend laughed at the fervor. +</p> + +<p> +“You make me think of her teacher,” he said. “She sings, and +when she was sixteen she meant to outrank Patti; she was lots homelier +then.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I say!” Jack cried. “I can believe ’most anything, +but—” +</p> + +<p> +Burnett laughed and then sobered. +</p> + +<p> +“She was,” he said solemnly; “she really and truly was. And +her mother said to her teacher,—there in Dresden: ‘She will be the +greatest soprano, won’t she?’ And he said: ‘Madame, she has +only that one chance—to be <i>the</i> greatest.’” +</p> + +<p> +Jack laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“But why ‘Lorne’?” he asked suddenly. “Why not +‘Burnett,’ since she’s your uncle’s child?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that’s straight enough; there’s a hyphen there. My uncle +died and my aunt married a title. My aunt’s Lady Chiheleywicks, but the +family name is Lorne. And you pronounce my aunt’s name Chix.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad I know,” said Jack. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, we’re great on titles,” said Burnett, modestly. +“If the Boers hadn’t killed Col. Rosscott, Betty would have been a +Lady, too, some day. But as it is—” he added thoughtfully, +“she’s nothing but a widow.” +</p> + +<p> +“‘Nothing but’!” Jack cried indignantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, well,” said Burnett, “of course it’s great, her +being a widow—but then she’d have been great the other way +too.” +</p> + +<p> +“But if he was English and a colonel,” Jack said suddenly, +“he must have been all of—” +</p> + +<p> +“Fifty!” interposed Burnett; “oh, he was! Maybe more, but he +dyed his hair. It was a splendid match for her. It isn’t every girl who +can get a—” +</p> + +<p> +Their conversation was suddenly cut short by voices, accompanied by a sort of +sweet and silky storm of little rustles and the sound of feet—little +feet—coming down the great hall. Aunt Mary’s nephew felt himself +suddenly wondering if any other fellow present had such a tempest within his +bosom as he himself was conscious of attempting to regulate unperceived. +</p> + +<p> +And then, after all, she wasn’t among the influx! Miss Maude, was, +though, and he had to go up to her and talk to her; and terribly dull hard +labor it was. +</p> + +<p> +While he was rolling the Sisyphus stone of conversation uphill for the sixth or +seventh time, Jack noticed a gentleman pass by and throw a more than ordinarily +interesting glance their way. He was a very well-built, fairly good-sized man +of thirty-five or forty years, with a handsome, uninteresting face and heavy, +sleepy dark eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is that?” he asked of his companion, his curiosity +supplementing his wish that she would begin to bear her share of the burden of +her entertainment. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you know?” she said in surprise. “That’s +Mr. Holloway. He’s just come. Oh, he’s so horrid! I think +he’s just too awfully horrid for any use.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because he does such mean things. I just know Bob must have told you how +he treated me. Bob’s always telling it. Surely he’s told you. +It’s his favorite story.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, never,” said Jack (his eyes riveted on the staircase); +“he never told me. But do tell me. I’ll enjoy hearing your side of +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I haven’t any side. It’s just Horace Holloway’s +meanness. There’s nothing funny.” +</p> + +<p> +“But tell me anyway.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you really want to hear?” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, I do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it’s just that we were up in the mountains, and I was rowing +myself, and the boat didn’t go well, and Mr. Holloway came down off the +hotel piazza and called to me that she needed ballast, and—and I said: +‘Is that the trouble?’ And he said: ‘Yes, row ashore, and +I’ll ballast you.’ And so, of course I rowed ashore to get him, and +(of course, I supposed he meant himself), and when I was up by the dock he +picked up a great stone and dropped it in, and shoved me off, and called after +me: ‘She’ll go better now,’ and—everyone +laughed!” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Lome stopped, breathless. +</p> + +<p> +“I never would have believed it of him,” Jack exclaimed, turning to +see where Holloway kept his sense of humor; but just as his eye fell upon the +latter, the latter’s eyes altered and suddenly became so bright and +intent that his observer involuntarily turned his own gaze quickly in the same +direction. +</p> + +<p> +It was Mrs. Rosscott who was approaching, all in cerise with lines of Chantilly +lace sweeping about her. It seemed a cruelty to every woman present that she +should be so beautiful. Jack wanted to fly and fall at her feet, but he +couldn’t, of course—he was tied to her hyphenated cousin. +</p> + +<p> +But Holloway went forward and greeted her with all possible <i>empressement</i>, and +the man who was so much his junior felt an awful weight of youth upon him as he +saw her led out of his sight. +</p> + +<p> +“I think dear Betty will marry Mr. Holloway,” her cousin chirped +blandly, thus settling her fate forever. “He came over in her party, you +know, and—she’s always been fond of him.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack suddenly recollected how Mrs. Rosscott had commented on the terrible +tendency to land upon “and,” and wondered why he had never noticed +before how disagreeable said tendency was. +</p> + +<p> +(Going to marry Holloway!) +</p> + +<p> +“But, then, dear Cousin Betty’s such a coquette that no one can +ever tell whom she does like. She’s very insincere.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack twisted uneasily. If there was any comfort to be derived from Miss +Lorne’s last speech, it was certainly of a most chilly sort. +</p> + +<p> +(Probably going to marry Holloway!) +</p> + +<p> +“Now, I think it’s too bad, when there are so many simple, sweet +girls in the world, that men seem to adore those that flirt like dear Cousin +Betty. I don’t approve of flirting anyway. I wouldn’t flirt for +anything. I don’t want to break men’s hearts.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s awfully good of you,” Jack said, looking eagerly to +where Holloway and Mrs. Rosscott stood together. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no it isn’t,” said Miss Lorne, “I don’t take +any credit for it—I was born so. Dear Betty was a regular flirt when she +was ever so small, but I never was. I’m sincere and I can’t take +any credit for it. I was born so.” +</p> + +<p> +Holloway was talking and Mrs. Rosscott’s eyes were uplifted to his. Jack +was sure there was adoration in them. He knew Holloway was in love with her. +How could he be a man and help it. Oh, it was damnable—unbearable. +</p> + +<p> +He stood up suddenly. He couldn’t help it. He was crazed, maddened, +choked, stifled. The fates must intervene and rescue his reason or else— +</p> + +<p> +There was a blessed sound—the announcing of dinner. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +Later there was music in the great white salon where the organ was. Maude Lome +sang, and the man with the monocle accompanied her on the organ. Mrs. Rosscott +sat on a divan between Holloway and General Jiggs. Jack was left out in the +cold. +</p> + +<p> +(Surely in love with Holloway!) +</p> + +<p> +It was only twenty-six hours since he had first met her, and he hated to +consider his life as unalterably blasted, or to even give up the fight. +Nevertheless, whenever he looked across the room he saw fresh signs of the most +awful kind. Even the way that she didn’t trouble to trouble over the one +man, but devoted herself to General Jiggs, was in itself a very bad portent. +Well, such was life and one must bear it somehow and be a man. Probably he +would suffer less after the first five or ten years—he hoped so at any +rate. But, great heavens, what a fearful prospect until those first five or ten +years were gone by! +</p> + +<p> +Finally he went up to his own room and put on another collar and sat down at +the open window and thought about it for a good while all quiet and alone by +himself. After that he went back downstairs. +</p> + +<p> +She was gone, and Holloway, too. He felt freshly unhappy. When you come to +consider, it was so damned unjust for one man to be thirty-five while +another—just as decent a fellow in every way—was in college. +He— +</p> + +<p> +A hand touched his arm. +</p> + +<p> +He turned from where he was standing in the window recess, and looked into her +eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m very wicked, am I not?” she asked, looking up at him so +straight and honest. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t admit that,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“But I am. I know it myself. What Bob told you was all true. I’m a +heartless wretch.” +</p> + +<p> +She spoke so earnestly that his heart sank lower and lower. +</p> + +<p> +“I wanted to speak to you about to-morrow morning,” she said, after +a little pause. “You know we were going to drive at ten together, +and—and I wondered if—you see, Mr. Holloway’s an old friend, +and he’s had so much to tell me to-night, and he isn’t half +through—” +</p> + +<p> +She was drawing him with a chain, a hair chain, which she had woven out of her +eyelashes in the twinkling of an eye (either eye). +</p> + +<p> +He felt himself helpless—and choked. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I don’t mind. You go with him. It’s quite one to +me.” +</p> + +<p> +She gave a tiny little start. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I didn’t mean that at all,” she cried. “I +meant—I meant—you see it’s all been a little tiring—and +to-morrow’s Sunday anyway and I—I Wanted to—to ask you if we +couldn’t go out at eleven instead of ten?” +</p> + +<p> +She looked so sweetly questioning, and his relief was so great, and his +joy— +</p> + +<p> +(Probably don’t care a rap for Holloway!) +</p> + +<p> +—so intense, that he could hardly refrain from seizing her in his arms. +</p> + +<p> +But he only seized her little hand instead and pressed it fervently to his +lips. When he raised his eyes she was smiling, and her smile filled him with +happiness. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re such a boy!” she said softly, and turned and left him +there in the window recess alone again,—but this time he didn’t +care. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>Chapter Seven<br/> +Developments</h2> + +<p> +It was during that drive the next morning that Jack buoyed up by memories of +Saturday and hopes of coming Saturdays, poured out the history of his life at +Mrs. Rosscott’s knees. He told her the whole story of Aunt Mary, and <i>his</i> +side of the cat, the cabman, and Kalamazoo. It interested her, for she had +arrived too recently to have had the full details in the newspapers beforehand, +but when he spoke of Aunt Mary’s last letter she grew large-eyed and +shook her head gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“You will have to be very good now,” she said seriously. +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” he asked. “Just to keep from being disinherited? That +wouldn’t be so awful.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wouldn’t it be awful to you?” she asked, turning her bright +eyes upon him. “What could be worse?” +</p> + +<p> +“Things,” he said very vaguely. +</p> + +<p> +Then she touched up the cob a little; and, after a minute or two, as she said +nothing, he continued: +</p> + +<p> +“I almost fancy quitting college and going to work. I was thinking about +it last night.” +</p> + +<p> +She touched up the cob a little more, and remained silent. +</p> + +<p> +Finally he said: +</p> + +<p> +“What would you think of my doing that?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “You see, I’m a +great philosopher. I never fret or worry, because I regard it as useless; +similarly, I never rebel at the way fate shapes my life—I regard that as +something past helping. I believe in predestination; do you?” +</p> + +<p> +She turned and looked at him so seriously—so unlike her <i>riante</i> +self—that he felt startled, and did not know what to say for a minute. +</p> + +<p> +Then: +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” he said slowly; “I don’t know +that I dare to. It rather startles me to think that maybe all of our future is +laid out now.” +</p> + +<p> +“It doesn’t startle me,” she said. “It seems to me the +natural plan of the universe. I believe that everything that crosses our +path—down to the tiniest gnat—comes there in the fulfillment of a +purpose.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure that all the mosquitoes that ever crossed my path came +there in the fulfillment of a purpose,” Jack interrupted. “I never +doubted <i>that</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled a little. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the same with people,” she went on. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus02"></a> +<img src="images/image02.png" width="366" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“Do not let us play any longer,’ she said. +‘Let us be in earnest.’”</p> +</div> + +<p> +“Only less painful,” he interrupted again. +</p> + +<p> +“Sometimes not,” she said, with a look that silenced him. +“Sometimes much more so—my Cousin Maude, for example.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hip, hip, hurrah for the mosquito!” he murmured. They laughed +softly together. Then she grew earnest, and looked so grave that he became +serious too. +</p> + +<p> +“There is always a purpose,” she said, with a touch of some feeling +which he had never guessed at. “If you and I have met, it is because we +are to have some influence over one another. I can’t just see how; I +can’t form any idea—” +</p> + +<p> +“I can,” he said eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +She looked up so suddenly and steadily that he was silent. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not let us play any longer,” she said. “Let us be in +earnest.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I am in earnest,” he asseverated. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t know what I mean,” she went on very gently. +“You’re in college. Let’s fight it out on those lines if it +takes all summer.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked up into her face and loved her better than ever for the frank +kindliness that shone in her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“All right, if you say so,” he vowed. +</p> + +<p> +“I do say so,” she said. “I like to see men stick it through +in college if they begin. I like to see people finish up every one of +life’s jobs that they set out on.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I’m coming to see you in town, you know,” he went on +with great apparent irrelevance. +</p> + +<p> +She laughed merrily. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, surely. You must promise me that.—No,” she stopped and +looked thoughtful, “I’ll tell you what I want you to promise me. +Promise me that you’ll come once a week or else write me why you +can’t come. Will you?” +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t suppose that you’ll ever see my handwriting under +such circumstances—can you?” Jack asked. +</p> + +<p> +She laughed again. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it a promise?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it’s a promise.” +</p> + +<p> +Oh, joy unmeasured in the time of spring! No other February like that had ever +been for them—nor ever would be. The drive came to an end, the day came +to an end, but the good-nights, which were good-bys, too, were not so fraught +with hopelessness as he had dreaded, for the promise asked and given paved a +broad road illuminated by the most hopeful kind of stars,—a broad road +leading straight from college to town,—and his fancy showed him a figure +treading it often. A figure that was his own. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>Chapter Eight<br/> +The Resolution He Took</h2> + +<p> +That first meeting was in February, you know, and by the last of April it had +been followed by so many others that Burnett remarked one day to his chum: +</p> + +<p> +“Say, aren’t you going a little faster than auntie’ll stand +for?” +</p> + +<p> +Jack turned in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“I never went so straight in my life before,” he exclaimed, not in +indignation but in astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t mean that,” said Burnett. “Perhaps instead of +‘auntie’ I should have said ‘Betty.’” +</p> + +<p> +Jack hoisted the colors of Harvard, and was silent. +</p> + +<p> +“I warned you at first that that was Tangle town,” his friend went +on. “Don’t suppose I’m saying anything against her—or +against you; but she’s just as much to ten other men as she is to you, +and they all are old enough to carry lots of weight.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I suppose I’m not,” Jack answered, going over by the +fireplace. “I know that as well as anyone, of course.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Natürlich</i>,” said Burnett, with conclusiveness that was not meant +to be cruel, yet cut like a two edged knife. +</p> + +<p> +There was silence in the room. Jack stood by the chimney-piece, his hands +upraised to rest upon its lofty shelf, his head dropped forward, and his eyes +fixed on the empty blackness below. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder,” he said at last, “I wonder what will become of me +if—if—” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped. +</p> + +<p> +Burnett didn’t speak. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder if she thinks of me as a boy,” the young man continued. +“I wonder if she’s so good to me because I’m her youngest +brother’s friend.” +</p> + +<p> +Burnett did not comment on this speech. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what to do,” the other said. “When I +first met her I wanted to cut college and get out in the world and go to work +like a man. I told her so. But she wanted me to stay in college, and as it was +the first thing she’d ever wanted of me, I did it. I’d do anything +she asked me. I’ve quit drinking. I’m going at everything as hard +as it’s in me to go; but—I don’t know—I feel—I +feel as if it isn’t me—it’s just because she wants me to, +and, do you know, old man, it frightens me to think how—if she—if +she went out of my—my life—” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped and his broken phrases were not continued to any ending. +</p> + +<p> +Another long silence ensued. +</p> + +<p> +It was finally terminated by the brother’s saying: +</p> + +<p> +“You must confess, old man, that you aren’t fixed so as to be able +to say one really serious word to any woman—unless it is, +‘Wait.’” +</p> + +<p> +“I know that,” Jack answered; “but I suppose—” +</p> + +<p> +“She’d be taking so many chances,” the friend interrupted. +“A man in college is never the real thing. You’d better give it +up.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the other whirled about and faced him. +</p> + +<p> +“Give it up, did you say?” he asked almost angrily. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that’s what.” +</p> + +<p> +For a minute they looked at one another. Then: +</p> + +<p> +“I shall never give it up,” the lover said very slowly and +steadily—“never, until she gives me up.” +</p> + +<p> +Burnett sucked in his breath with a sudden compression of his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” he said, not unkindly; “but I don’t +believe you’ll ever get her, and that’s flat. There are too many +being entered for that race, and long before you and I get out of here +she’ll be Mrs. Somebody Else.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack stared at him as if he hardly heard, and then suddenly he stepped nearer +and spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Did she ask you to have this talk with me?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said the brother in surprise, “she never says anything +about you to me.” +</p> + +<p> +A look of relief fled across his friend’s face, and then a look of +resolution succeeded it. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not going to be discouraged,” he said; “not for a +while, at any rate.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’d better be.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack laughed. The laugh sounded a trifle hollow, but still it was a laugh, and +that in itself was a triumph of which none but himself might ever measure the +extent. +</p> + +<p> +Because in that moment he decided to lay the whole case before her the next +time that he went to town, and the coming to a resolution was a relief from the +uncertainty that clouded his days and nights—even if a further black +curtain of darkest doubt hung before the possibilities of what her answer might +be. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>Chapter Nine<br/> +The Downfall of Hope</h2> + +<p> +It was on a Saturday about the middle of May that Jack came to town, his mind +well braced with love and arguments, and his main thoughts being that when he +returned something would be settled. +</p> + +<p> +It was a beautiful day, warm and sunny, and at five in the afternoon both of +the drawing-room windows of Mrs. Rosscott’s house were wide open, and the +lace curtains were taking the breeze like little sails. +</p> + +<p> +Just as Jack mounted the steps, the door opened, and a plainly dressed, +unattractive-looking man was let out. The servant who did the letting out saw +Jack and let him in without closing the door between the egress of the one and +the ingress of the other. So he entered without ringing, and, as he was very +well known and intensely popular with all of Mrs. Rosscott’s servants, +the man invited him to walk up unannounced, since he himself was just +“bringing in the tea.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack went upstairs, and because the carpet was of thickly piled velvet and his +boots were the boots of a well-shod gentleman, he made no noise whatever in the +so doing. +</p> + +<p> +There were double parlors above stairs in the domicile which Burnett’s +sister had taken until July, and they were furnished in the most correct and +trying mode of Louis XIV. The chairs were gilt and very uncomfortable. The +ornaments were all straight up and down and made in such shapes that there was +no place to flick off cigarette ashes anywhere. Nothing could be pulled up to +anything else and there was not a single good place to rest one’s elbows +anywhere. The only saving grace in the situation was that after five minutes or +so Mrs. Rosscott invariably suggested removal to the library which lay +beyond—a very different species of apartment where no mode at all +prevailed except the terrible <i>démodé</i> thing known as comfort. To prevent her +visitors, when seated (for the five minutes aforementioned) amid the correct +carving of French art, from looking longingly through at the easy-chairs of +American manufacture, Mrs. Rosscott had ordered that the blue velvet portières +which hung between should never be pushed aside, and it was owing to this order +that Jack, entering the drawing-room, heard voices, but could not see into the +library beyond. Also it was owing to this order that those in the library could +not see or hear Jack. +</p> + +<p> +The result was that the young man, finding the drawing-room unoccupied, was +just crossing toward the blue velvet curtains, intending to wait in the library +until the returning servant should advise him of the whereabouts of his +mistress, when he was stopped by suddenly hearing a voice—her +voice—crying (and laughing at the same time)— +</p> + +<p> +“Kisses barred! Kisses barred!” +</p> + +<p> +It may be understood that had Mrs. Rosscott known that anyone was within +hearing she certainly would never have made any such speech, and it may be +further understood that, had whoever was with her, also mistrusted the close +propinquity of another man, he would never have replied (as he did reply): +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” the same being spoken in a most calm and careless +tone. +</p> + +<p> +Jack, the eavesdropper, stood transfixed at the voices and speeches, and forgot +every other consideration in the overwhelming sickness of soul which overcame +him that instant. All his other soul-sicknesses were trifles compared to this +one, and the world—his world—their world—seemed to revolve +and whirl and turn upside down, as he steadied himself against a spindle-legged +cabinet and felt its spindle-legs trembling in sympathy with his own. +</p> + +<p> +“Darling,” said Holloway, a second or two later (and this time his +voice was not calm and careless, but deep and impassioned), “the letter +was very sweet, and if you knew how I longed to take the tired little girl to +my bosom and comfort her troubles, and replace them by joys!” +</p> + +<p> +“Will that day ever come, do you think?” Mrs. Rosscott answered, in +low tones, which nevertheless were most painfully clear and distinct in the +next room. +</p> + +<p> +“It must,” Holloway replied, “just as surely as that I hold +this dear little hand—” +</p> + +<p> +But Jack never knew more. He had heard enough—more than enough. Four +thousand times too much. He turned and went out of the rooms, back down the +stairs and out of the door, closed it noiselessly behind him, and found himself +in a world which, although bright and sunny to all the rest of mankind, had +turned dark, lonely, and cheerless to him. +</p> + +<p> +At first he hardly knew what to do with himself, he was so altogether used up +by the discovery just made. He drifted up and down some unknown streets for an +hour or two—or stood still on corners—he never was very sure which. +And then at last he went downtown and took a drink in a half-dazed way; and +because it was quite two months since his last indulgence, its suggestion was +potent. +</p> + +<p> +The pity—or rather, the apparent pity—of what followed! +</p> + +<p> +Burnett was Sundaying at the ancestral castle; and Burnett wasn’t the +warning sort, anyhow. He was always tow and pitch for any species of flame. So +his absence counted for nothing in the crisis. +</p> + +<p> +And what ensued was a crisis—a crisis with a vengeance. +</p> + +<p> +That tear upon which Aunt Mary’s nephew went was something lurid and +awful. It lasted until Monday, and then its owner returned to college, as ill +of body and as embittered of spirit as it was in him to be. The lightsome devil +who had ruled him up to his meeting with Mrs. Rosscott resumed its sway with +terrible force. The authorities showed a tendency to patience because young +Denham had appeared to reform lately and had been working hard; but young +Denham felt no thankful sentiments for their leniency, and proved his position +shortly. +</p> + +<p> +There was a man named Tweedwell whom circumstances threw directly in the path +of destruction. Tweedwell was an inoffensive mortal who was studying for the +ministry. He was progressive in his ideas, and believed that a clergyman, to +hold a great influence, should know his world. He thought that knowledge of the +world was to be gained by skirting the outside edge of every species of +worldliness. The result of this course of action was not what it should have +been, for Tweedwell was an easy mark for all who wanted fun, and the +consciousness of his innocence so little accelerated the pace at which he got +out of the way that he was always being called to account for what he +hadn’t done. +</p> + +<p> +The Saturday night after his Saturday in town, Jack concocted a piece of +deviltry which was as dangerous as it was foolish. The result was that an +explosion took place, and the author of the gun-powder plot had all the skin on +both hands blistered. Burnett, in escaping, fell and broke his collarbone and +two ribs. The house in which the affair took place caught fire, and was badly +damaged. And Tweedwell was arrested on the strongest kind of circumstantial +evidence, and had to answer for the whole. Naturally, in the investigation that +followed, the two who were guilty had to confess or see the candidate for the +ministry disgraced forever. +</p> + +<p> +The result of their confession was that Burnett’s father, a jovial, +peppery old gentleman—we all know the kind—lost his patience and +wrote his son that he’d better not come home again that year. But Aunt +Mary lost her temper much more completely and the result, as affecting Jack, +was awful. +</p> + +<p> +She might not have acted as she did had the disastrous news arrived either a +week later or a week earlier; but it came just in the middle of a discouraging +ten days’ downpour, which had caused a dam to break and a chain of +valuable cranberry bogs to be drowned out for that year. The cranberry bogs +were especially dear to their owner’s heart. +</p> + +<p> +“Why can’t they drain ’em?” she had asked Lucinda, who +was particularly nutcracker-like in appearance since her quarantine episode. +</p> + +<p> +“’Pears like they’re lower’n everywhere else,” +Lucinda answered, her words sounding as if she had sharpened them on a +grindstone. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary bit her lip and frowned at the rain. She felt mad all the way +through, and longed to take it out on someone. +</p> + +<p> +Ten minutes after Joshua arrived with the mail and the mail bore one ominous +letter. Joshua felt something was wrong before the fact was assured. +</p> + +<p> +“She wants the mail,” Lucinda said, coming to the door with her +hand out as usual. +</p> + +<p> +“She’ll get the mail,” said Joshua, and as he spoke he gave +the seeker after tidings a blood-curdling wink. +</p> + +<p> +“There isn’t a telegram in one o’ the letters, is +there?” Lucinda asked, much appalled by the wink. +</p> + +<p> +“No, there isn’t no telegram in none o’ the letters,” +said Joshua. +</p> + +<p> +“Joshua Whittlesey, I do believe you was born to drive saints mad. What +<i>is</i> the matter?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothin’ ain’t the matter as I know of.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then what in Kingdom Come did you wink for?” +</p> + +<p> +“I winked,” said Joshua meaningly, “cause I expect +it’ll be a good while before we’ll feel like winkin’ +again.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda gave him a look in which curiosity and aggravation fought +catch-as-catch-can. Then she turned and went in with the letters. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary was sitting stonily staring at the rain. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you’d gone to take a drive with Joshua,” she said +coldly. “Well, ’s long ’s you’re back I’ll be +glad to have my mail. Most folks like to get their mail as soon as it comes +an’ I—Mercy on us!” +</p> + +<p> +It was the letter from the authorities enclosed in one from Mr. Stebbins. +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda stood bolt upright before her mistress. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s happened?” she yelled breathlessly, after a few +seconds of the direst kind of silence had loaded the atmosphere while the +letter was being carefully read. +</p> + +<p> +Then: +</p> + +<p> +“Happened!—” said Aunt Mary, transfixing the terrible +typewritten communication with a yet more terrible look of determination. +“Happened!—Well, jus’ what I expected ’s happened +an’ jus’ what nobody expects ’ll happen now. Lucinda, you run +like you was paid for it and tell Joshua not to unharness. Don’t stop to +open your mouth. You’ll need your breath before you get to the barn. +Scurry!” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda scurried. She splashed and spattered down through the lane that led to +Joshua’s kingdom with a vigor that was commendable in one of her age. +</p> + +<p> +“She says ‘don’t unharness,’” she panted, +bouncing in through the doorway just as Joshua was slowly and carefully folding +the lap-robe in the crease to which it had become habituated. +</p> + +<p> +Joshua continued to fold. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I won’t unharness,” he said calmly. He hung the robe +over the line that was stretched to hang robes over and Lucinda gasped for wind +with which to inflate further conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“She says what nobody expects is goin’ to happen,” she panted +as soon as she could. +</p> + +<p> +“What nobody expects is always happenin’ where he’s +concerned,” said Joshua. +</p> + +<p> +“I s’pose he’s in some new row,” said Lucinda. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure he is,” said Joshua, “an’ if you +don’t go back to her pretty quick you won’t be no better +off.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda turned away and returned to the house. She found Aunt Mary still +staring at the letters with the same concentrated fury as before. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, is Joshua a’comin’ to the door?” she asked when +she saw her maid before her. +</p> + +<p> +“You didn’t say for him to come to the door,” Lucinda howled, +“you said for him to stay harnessed.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary appeared on the verge of ignition. +</p> + +<p> +“Lucinda,” she said, “every week I live under the same roof +with you your brains strike me ’s some shrunk from the week before. What +in Heaven’s name should I want Joshua to stay harnessed in the barn for? +I want him to go for Mr. Stebbins an’ I want him to understand ’t +if Mr. Stebbins can’t come he’s got to come just the same’s +if he could anyhow. I may seem quiet to you, Lucinda, but if I do, it only +shows all over again how little you know. This is a awful day an’ if you +knew how awful you’d be half way back to the barn right now. I +ain’t triflin’—I’m meanin’ every word. Every +syllable. Every letter.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda fled out into the open again. Her footprints of the time before were +little oblong ponds now and she laid out a new course parallel to their +splashes. She found Joshua sponging the dasher. +</p> + +<p> +“She wants you to go straight out again.” +</p> + +<p> +Joshua flung the sponge into the pail. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I’ll go straight out again,” he said, moving toward the +horse’s head. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re to bring Mr. Stebbins whether he can come or not.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’ll come,” said Joshua; and then he backed the horse so +suddenly that the buggy wheel nearly went over Lucinda. +</p> + +<p> +“She says this is an awful day—” began Lucinda. +</p> + +<p> +Joshua got into the buggy and tucked the rubber blanket around himself. +</p> + +<p> +“She says—” +</p> + +<p> +Joshua drove out of the barn and away. +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda went slowly back to the house. Aunt Mary had ceased to glare at the +letter and was now glaring at the rain instead. +</p> + +<p> +“Lucinda,” she said “I’ll thank you not to ever mention +my nephew to me again. I’ve took a vow to never speak his name again +myself. By no means—not at all—never.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which nephew?” shrieked Lucinda. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary’s eyes snapped. +</p> + +<p> +“Jack!” she said, with an accent that seemed to split the short +word in two. +</p> + +<p> +After a little she spoke again. +</p> + +<p> +“Lucinda, it’s all been owin’ to the city an’ this last +is all city. ’F I cared a rap what happened to him after this I’d +never let him go near a place over two thousand again as long as he lived. +It’s no use tryin’ to explain things to you, Lucinda, because it +never has been any use an’ never will be—an’ anyway, +I’m done with it all. I sh’ll want you for a witness when I’m +through with Mr. Stebbins, and then you can get some marmalade out for tea +an’ we’ll all live in peace hereafter.” +</p> + +<p> +Joshua returned with Mr. Stebbins and the latter gentleman went to work with a +will and willed Jack out of Aunt Mary’s. Later Joshua took him home +again. Lucinda got the marmalade out of the cellar and Aunt Mary had it with +her tea. It was a bitter tea—unsugared indeed—and the days that +followed matched. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>Chapter Ten<br/> +The Woes of the Disinherited.</h2> + +<p> +It was some days later on in the world’s history that Holloway was +calling on Bertha Rosscott. +</p> + +<p> +They were sitting in that comfortable library previously referred to and were +sweetly unaware that any untoward series of incidents had ever led to an +invasion of their privacy. +</p> + +<p> +Holloway lay well back in a sleepy-hollow chair and looked indolently, lazily +handsome; his hostess was up on—well up on the divan, and he had the full +benefit of her admirable bottines and their dainty heels and buckles. +</p> + +<p> +“Honestly,” he said, looking her over with a gaze that was at once +roving and well content, “honestly, I think that every time I see you, +you appear more attractive than the time before.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s very nice of you to say so,” she replied. “And, +of course, I believe you, for every time that I get a new gown I think that +very same thing myself. Still, I do regard it as strange if I look nicely +to-day, for I’ve been crying like a baby all the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“You crying! And why?” +</p> + +<p> +She raised her eyes to his. +</p> + +<p> +“Such bad news!” she said simply. +</p> + +<p> +“From where? Of whom?” +</p> + +<p> +“From mamma, about Bob.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have <i>his</i> wounds proved serious?” Holloway looked slightly +distressed as was proper. +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t that. It’s papa. Papa has forbidden him the house. +He’s very, very angry.” +</p> + +<p> +Holloway looked relieved. +</p> + +<p> +“Your father won’t stay angry long, and you know it,” he +said. “Just think how often he has lost his temper over the boys and how +often he’s found it again.” +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t just Bob,” said Mrs. Rosscott. “I’ve +someone else on my mind, too.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who, pray?” +</p> + +<p> +“His friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Young Denham?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +With that she threw her head up and looked very straightly at her caller whose +visage shaded ever so slightly in spite of himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Have his wounds proved serious?” he asked, smiling, but unable to +altogether do away with a species of parenthetical inflection in his voice. +</p> + +<p> +“It wasn’t over his wounds that I cried.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you really cry at all for him?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cried more for him than I did for Bob,” she admitted boldly. +</p> + +<p> +“He is a fortunate boy! But why the tears in his case?” +</p> + +<p> +“I felt so badly to be disappointed in him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you expect to work a miracle there, my dear? Did you think to reform +such an inveterate young reprobate with a glance?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not sure that I ever asked myself either of those +questions,” she replied, slowly; “but he promised me something, and +I expected him to keep his word.” +</p> + +<p> +“Men don’t keep such promises, Bertha,” the visitor said. +“You shouldn’t have expected it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know why not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because a man who drinks will drink again.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t refer to drinking,” she said quietly. “It was +quite another thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” +</p> + +<p> +She looked down at her rings and seemed to consider how much of her confidence +she should give him, and the consideration led her to look up presently and +say: +</p> + +<p> +“He promised me that if he could not call any week he would write me a +line instead. He came to town last week, and he neither called nor wrote. That +wasn’t like the man I saw in him. That was a direct breaking of his word. +I can’t understand, and I’m disappointed.” +</p> + +<p> +Holloway took out his cigarette case and turned it over and over thoughtfully +in his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s nothing but a boy,” he said at last, with an effort. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s no boy,” she said. “He’s almost twenty-two +years old. He’s a man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Some are men at twenty-two, and some are boys,” Holloway remarked. +“I was a man before I was eighteen—a man out in the world of men. +But Denham’s a boy.” +</p> + +<p> +He rose as he spoke, and she held out her hand for him to raise her, too. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s early to go,” she remarked parenthetically. +</p> + +<p> +“I know,” he replied; “but I hear someone being shown into +the drawing-room. I don’t feel formal to-day, and if I can’t lounge +in here alone with you I’d rather go.” +</p> + +<p> +“How egotistical!” she commented. +</p> + +<p> +“I am egotistical,” he admitted. +</p> + +<p> +And went. +</p> + +<p> +The footman passed him in the hall; he had a card upon his silver salver, and +was seeking his mistress in the library. But when he entered there the room was +empty. Mrs. Rosscott had slipped through the blue velvet portières, expecting +to see a friend, and had stopped short on the other side, amazed at finding +herself face to face with an utter stranger. +</p> + +<p> +“I gave the man my card,” said the stranger, in a tone as faded as +his mustache. He was a long, thin man, but what the Germans style “<i>sehr +korrect</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t wait to get it,” the hostess said. “I +supposed that, of course, it was somebody that I knew.” +</p> + +<p> +“That was natural,” he admitted. +</p> + +<p> +There was a slight pause of awkwardness. +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t you sit down?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” said the caller, and sat down. +</p> + +<p> +Then she sat down, too, and another awkward pause ensued. +</p> + +<p> +“You didn’t expect to see me, did you?” said the stranger, +smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I didn’t,” said Mrs. Rosscott frankly. “I expected +to see someone else—someone that I knew. Nearly all my visitors are +people whom I know.” +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes rather demanded an observance of the conventionalities while her words +were putting the best face possible on the queer five minutes. The stranger +smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“My name is Clover,” he said then. “Of course, as you never +saw me before, you want to know that first of all.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d choose to know,” she said. And then the uncompromising +neutrality of her expression deepened so plainly that he hastened to add: +</p> + +<p> +“I’m H. Wyncoop Clover.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” she said. And then smiled, too; having heard the name before. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you ask me my business?” went on H. Wyncoop +Clover. “I must have come for some reason, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t know it,” said Mrs. Rosscott—“I +don’t know anything about you yet.” +</p> + +<p> +They both smiled—and then H. Wyncoop resumed his colorless sobriety at +once. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s about Jack,” he said—“these terrible new +developments—” he stopped short, seeing his <i>vis-à-vis</i> turn deathly +white, “it’s nothing to be frightened over,” he said +reassuringly. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Rosscott was furious with herself for having paled. She became instantly +haughty. +</p> + +<p> +“I was alarmed for my brother,” she said. “I always think of +them both as together.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, in that case, I can reassure you instantly,” said the caller. +“Burnett is doing finely.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Rosscott was conscious of being suddenly and skillfully countercharged. +She blushed with vexation, bit her lip in perturbation, and cast upon the +trying individual opposite a look of most appealing interrogation. +</p> + +<p> +“You see,” said Clover pleasantly, “I was coming to town, so +I came in handy for the purpose of telling you.” +</p> + +<p> +She gave him a glance that prayed him to be decent and go on with his errand. +</p> + +<p> +“Burnett is about recovered,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +She clasped her hands hard. +</p> + +<p> +“I wouldn’t be a man for anything!” she exclaimed with sudden +fervor, “they are so awfully mean. Why <i>don’t</i> you go on and tell me +<i>what</i> you’ve come about?” +</p> + +<p> +He raised his eyebrows. +</p> + +<p> +“May I?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +She choked down some of her exasperation. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you may.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, thank you so much. I’ll begin at once then. Only premising +that as I go to school with your little brother, and as he is rather under a +cloud just at present, we clubbed together to bring you a letter about him and +Jack. He was going to dictate it, but in the end Mitchell wrote it all. Here it +is.” +</p> + +<p> +With that he put his hand into his pocket, drew out an envelope and handed it +to her. +</p> + +<p> +“How awfully good of you,” she said gratefully. “Do excuse my +reading it at once, won’t you? You see, I’ve been so anxious +about—about my brother.” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded understandingly, and she hastily tore open the envelope and ran her +eyes over the written sheets. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +M<small>Y</small> D<small>EAR</small> M<small>RS</small>. +R<small>OSSCOTT</small>:—<br/> + Being the prize writer of the class, I am chosen to take down the ante mortem +confessions of our shattered friends. It is in a sad hour for them that I do +so, because I am naturally so truthful that I shall not force you to look for +my meaning between the lines. On the contrary, I shall set the cold facts out +as neatly as the pickets on the fence. And in evidence thereof, I open the ball +by telling you frankly that they both look fierce. If they had looked less +awful, and Burnett had had more lime in his bones, we might have escaped the +Powers That Be by simply admitting a sprained ankle and carefully concealing +everything else. But if one man cracks where you can’t finish the deal, +even by the most unlimited outlay of mucilage and persistence, and another +blazes his whole surface-area in a manner that seems to make the underbrush +dubious to count on forever henceforth; why, you then have a logarithm the +square of which is probably as far beyond your depth as I am beyond my own just +at this point of this sentence.<br/> + The long and short of my fresh start is, that your brother wants to write you, +but he is so handicapped (forgive me, but you’re the only one who +hasn’t had that joke sprung on them!) with bandages, that it’s +cruel to expect much of him. It is true that he has his bosom friend to fall +back upon, but if you could see that friend as we see him these days you +wouldn’t be sure whether it was true or not. The old woman, who had the +peddler-and-petticoat episode, was not in it the same day with your +brother’s friend! I do assure you. And anyhow—even if he still has +brains—his writing apparatus is all done up in arnica, so there you are!<br/> + But do not allow me to alarm you unduly! When all’s said and done, +they’re not so badly off physically. Hair and ribs are mere vanities, +anyhow, and we’re here to-day and gone to-morrow!<br/> + Something much worse than disfigurements and broken bones has sprung forth from +chaos, and has almost stared them out of countenance since. It is the wolf that +is at the door, and the howling and prowling of their particular wolf is not to +be sneezed at, let me tell you. To put a modern political face upon an ancient +Greek fable, the wolf in their case symbolizes the bitter question of whose +roof is going to roof them when they get out of the plaster casts that are bed +and board to them just at present. Where are they to go? All those which used +to be open to them are suddenly shut tight. They’ve both been expelled, +and both been disinherited. If I was inclined to look on the blue side of the +blanket, I should certainly feel that they were playing in very tough luck. +Burnett, of course, can come to you, and his soul is full of the wish to bring +his fellow-fright along with him. Which wish of his is the gist of my epistle. +Can he bring him? He wants to know before he broaches the proposition. +I’m to be skinned alive if Jack ever learns that such a plea was made, so +I beg you whatever other rash acts you see fit to commit during your meteoric +flight across my plane of existence, don’t ever give me away. Firstly, +because if I ever get a chance to do so, I’m positive that I should want +to cling to you as the mistletoe does to the oak, and could not bear to be +given away; and secondly, because I’m so attached to my own skin that I +should really suffer pain if it was taken from me by force. Bob wants you to +think it over, and let him know as to the whats and whens by return mail.<br/> + You are so inspiring that I could write you all day, but those relics of what +once was, but alas! will never be again, need to be rolled up afresh in +absorbent cotton, and so I must nail my Red Cross on to my left arm, and get +down to business. If you saw how useful I am to your brother, you’d thank +his lucky stars that I came through myself with nothing worse than getting my +ear stepped on. I was hugging the ladder (being canny and careful), and the man +above me toed in. Isn’t it curious to think that if he’d worn +braces in early youth my ear would be all right now.<br/> + Behold me at your feet. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +Respectfully yours,<br/> +H<small>ERBERT</small> K<small>ENDRICK</small> M<small>ITCHELL</small>. +</p> + +<p> +When Mrs. Rosscott had finished the letter she looked across at her caller, and +said: +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve read this, haven’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said he. “I tried to unstick it two or three times +coming on the train, but it was too much for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you really know what it says?” she asked more +earnestly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I do,” Clover answered, “but Denham must never know +that I do.” +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t tell him,” she said smiling faintly. “But +surely he can’t be as badly off as this says. Has he really lost all his +hair?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not all—only in spots,” Clover reassured her; but then his +recollections overcame him, and he added, with a grin: “But he’s a +fearful looking specimen, all right, though.” +</p> + +<p> +“About my brother,” she went on, turning the letter thoughtfully in +her fingers; “when can he get out, do they think?” +</p> + +<p> +“Any time next week.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll write him,” she said. “I’ll write him and +tell him that everything will be arranged for—for—for them +both.” +</p> + +<p> +Clover sprang to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, thank you,” he exclaimed. “That’s most awfully +good in you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all,” she answered. “I’m very glad to be able +to welcome them. You must impress that upon +them—particularly—particularly on my brother.” +</p> + +<p> +Clover smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“I will,” he said, rising to go. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d ask you to stay longer,” she said, holding out her hand, +“but I’m due at a charity entertainment to-night, and I have to go +very early.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know,” he said; “I’ve come up on purpose to go to +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I shall see you there?” she asked him. +</p> + +<p> +“It will be what I shall be looking forward to most of all,” he +said. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s been a great pleasure to meet you,” she said, holding +out her hand, “you’re—well, you’re +‘unlike,’ as they say in literary criticisms.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” he replied; “but may I ask if you intend that as +a compliment?” +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me,” she laughed, “let me think how I did intend +it.—Yes, it was meant for a compliment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” he said, shaking her hand warmly, “it’s so +nice to know, you know. Good-by.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good-by.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he went away. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a>Chapter Eleven<br/> +The Dove of Peace</h2> + +<p> +The first result of Mrs. Rosscott’s invitation was that Jack refused. He +said that he had a sister of his own—two, if it came to that—and so +he could easily manage for himself. He was very decided about it, and somewhat +lofty and bitter—a stand which no one understood his taking. +</p> + +<p> +His flat refusal was communicated to his would be hostess and it goes without +saying that she was as unable to understand as all the rest. It keyed well +enough with his lately shown indifference, but the indifference keyed not at +all with all that had gone before and still less with her very correct +comprehension of Jack himself. She was quite positive as to the sincerity of +those protestations which he had made so haltingly—so boyishly—and +in such absolutely truthful accents. Why he had turned over a new—and +bad—leaf so suddenly she did not at all know, but her woman’s +wit—backed up by the many good instincts which good women always get from +Heaven knows just where—made her feel firmer than ever as to her +hospitable intentions. Jack had told her many times that she was his good +angel, and it did not seem to her that now, when he was so deeply involved in +so much trouble, was the hour for a man’s good angel to quietly turn +away. Suppose he was haughty!—she knew men well enough to know that in +his case haughtiness and shame would be two Dromios that even he himself would +be unable to tell apart. Suppose he did rebel against her kindness!—she +knew women well enough to know that under some circumstances they can put down +rebellion single-handed—if they can only be left in the room alone with +it for a few minutes. As regarded Jack, she knew that there was something to +explain; and as to herself she was delightfully positive as to her own +irresistibleness. Given two such statements and the conclusion is easy. Mrs. +Rosscott wrote to Mitchell and here is what she wrote: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +M<small>Y</small> D<small>EAR</small> M<small>R</small>. M<small>ITCHELL</small>:<br/> + I should have answered your letter before only that in the excitement of +corresponding with my brother I forgot all else. But my manners have returned +by slow degrees and in hunting through my desk for a bill I found you and so +take up my pen.<br/> + I am quite sure that—in spite of that beautiful opening play of +mine—you are wondering why I am really writing and so I will tell you at +once. When Bob comes here to stay with me I want Mr. Denham to come too. I have +various reasons for wanting him to come. One is that he has nowhere else to go +where he will have half as good a time as he will here and another is that if +he goes anywhere else I won’t have half as good a time as if he comes +here. Pray excuse my brutal candor, but I am only a woman; brutal candor and +womanly weakness always have gone about encouraging one another, you know. I +cannot see any good reason for Mr. Denham’s not coming except that he +declines my invitation. It is very silly in him, and I regard it as no reason +at all. I am quite unused to being declined and do not intend to acquire the +habit until I am a good deal older than I was my last birthday. Still, I can +understand that he is too big to force against his will, so I think the kindest +way to break the back of the opposition will be for me to do it personally. As +an over-ruler I nearly always succeed. All I require is an opportunity.<br/> + Please lay the two halves of your brain evenly together and devise a train and +an interview for me. Of course you will meet me at the train and leave me at +the interview. These are the fundamental rules of my game. I know that you are +clever and before we have left the station you will know that I am. As +arch-conspirators we shall surely win out together, won’t we? +</p> + +<p class="right"> +Yours very truly,<br/> + B<small>ERTHA</small> R<small>OSSCOTT</small>. +</p> + +<p> +This missive posted, Jack’s good angel made herself patient until the +afternoon of the next day when she might and did expect an answer. +</p> + +<p> +She was not disappointed. The letter came and it was pleasantly bulky and +appeared ample enough to have contained an indexed gun powder plot. She was so +sure that Mitchell had been fully equal to the occasion that she tore the +envelope open with a smile—and read: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +M<small>Y</small> D<small>EAR</small> M<small>RS</small>. R<small>OSSCOTT</small>: +<br/> + To think of my having some of your handwriting for my own!—I was nearly +petrified with joy.<br/> + You see I know your writing from having read Burnett all those “Burn this +at once” epistles. And I know it still better from having to catalogue +them for his ready reference. You know how impatient he is. (But I have run +into an open switch and must digress backwards.)<br/> + I shall preserve your letter till I die. In war I shall wear it carefully +spread all over wherever I may be killed, and in peace I intend to keep my +place in my Bible with it. Could words say more! (Being backed up again, I will +now begin.)<br/> + I was not at all surprised at your writing me. If you had known me it would +have been different. But where ignorance is bliss any woman but yourself is +always liable to pitch in with a pen, and you see you are not yourself but only +“any woman” to me as yet. Besides, women have written to me before +you. My mother does so regularly. She encloses a postal card and all I have to +do is to mail it and there she is answered. It’s a great scheme which I +proudly invented when I first went away to school and I recommend it to you if +you—if you ever have a mother.<br/> + How my ink does run away with me! Let me refer to your esteemed favor again! +Ah! we have worked down to the bed-rock, or—in Hugh Miller’s +colloquial phrasing—to the “old red sandstone,” of the fact +that you want Jack. You state the fact with what you designate as brutal +candor—and I reply with candied brutality, that I have thought that all +along. If you are averse to my view of the matter, you must look out of the +window the whole time that I continue, for once entered I always fight to a +finish and I cannot retire to my corner on this auspicious occasion without +announcing through a trumpet that even if Jack is a most idiotic fellow I never +have caught the microbe from him, and, as a sequence, have always seen clear +through and out of the other side of the whole situation. Of course I should +not say this to any woman but you because it would not have any meaning to her, +but, between you and me all things are printed in plain black and white and, +therefore, I respectfully submit a program consisting of the two o’clock +train Tuesday and myself, to be recognized by a beaming look of burning joy, +upon the platform. Beyond that you may confide yourself to waxing waxy in my +hands. They are not bad hands to be in as your brother and +whatever-you-call-Jack can testify. I will lay my lines in the dark to the end +that you may bloom in the sun.<br/> + Trust me. You need do no more—except buy your ticket.<br/> + The two o’clock on Tuesday. You can easily remember it by the +T’s—if you don’t get mixed with three o’clock on +Thursday. Try remembering it by the 2’s. A safe way would be to put it +down. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +Yours to obey,<br/> + H<small>ERBERT</small> K<small>ENDRICK</small> M<small>ITCHELL</small>. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +P.S. Please recollect that I am only handsome according to the good old +proverb, and do not mistake me for an enterprising hackman. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Rosscott clapped her hands with delight when she finished the letter. She +was overjoyed at the success of her “opening play,” and she wrote +her new correspondent two lines accepting his invitation, and went down on the +appointed train on the appointed day. He met her at the depot and they divined +one another at the first glance. It was impossible not to know so pretty a +woman—or so homely a man. For the ancestors of Mitchell had worn kilts +and red hair in centuries gone by, and although he proved the truth of the +red-hair proposition, no one would ever believe that anything of his build +could ever have been induced to have put itself into kilts—knowingly. +Furthermore, his voice had a crick in it, and went by jerks, and his eyebrows +sympathized with his voice, and the eyes below them were little and gray and +twinkling, and altogether he was the sort of man who is termed—according +to a certain style of phrasing—“above suspicion.” But she +liked him, oh! immensely, and he liked her. And when they were riding up in the +carriage together she felt how thoroughly trustworthy his gray eyes and good +smile declared him to be, and had no hesitation in telling him what she wanted +to do, and in asking him what she wanted to know. +</p> + +<p> +Mitchell certainly had a talent for plotting, for when they reached the house +where the culprits were temporarily domiciled, Burnett had gone out to give his +mended ribs some exercise, and Jack was reading alone in the room where they +shared one another’s liniments with friendly generosity. +</p> + +<p> +The arch-conspirator went upstairs, came down, and then, seeking the lady whom +he had left in the parlor, said to her: +</p> + +<p> +“Denham’s up there and you can go up and say whatever you have to +say. You know ‘In union there is strength.’ Well you’ve got +him alone now, and he’ll prove weakly as a consequence or I miss my +guess.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he walked straight over by the window and picked up a magazine as if it +was all settled, and she only hesitated for half a second before she turned and +went upstairs. +</p> + +<p> +There was a door half open in the hall above, and she knew that that must be +the door. She tapped at it lightly, and a man’s voice (a voice that she +knew well), called out gruffly: +</p> + +<p> +“Come in!” +</p> + +<p> +She pushed the door open at that and entered, and saw Jack, and he saw her. He +turned very pale at the sight, and then the color flooded his face, and he rose +from his chair abruptly, and put his hand up to the strips that held the +bandage on his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Burnett isn’t here,” he said quickly. “He went out +just a few minutes ago.” +</p> + +<p> +His tone was hard, and yet at the same time it shook slightly. +</p> + +<p> +She approached him, holding out her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad of that,” she said, “because it was to see +you that I came.” +</p> + +<p> +To her great surprise something mutinous and scornful flashed in his eyes as he +rolled a chair forward for her. +</p> + +<p> +“You honor me,” he said, and his tone and manner both hardened yet +more. His general appearance was that of a man ten years older; he had changed +terribly in the weeks since she had last seen him. She took the chair and sat +down, still looking at him. He sat down too, and his eyes went restlessly +around the room as if they sought a hold that should withhold them from her +searching gaze. There was a short pause. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t speak like that,” she said at last. “It +isn’t your way, and I know you too well—we know one another too +well—to be anything but sincere. You owe me something, too, and if I +forbear you should understand why.” +</p> + +<p> +“I owe you something, do I?” he asked. “What do I owe +you?” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Rosscott caught her under lip in her teeth. +</p> + +<p> +“You gave me a promise, Mr. Denham,” she said, quite low, but most +distinctly—“a promise which you broke.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack flushed; his eyelids drooped for a minute. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t break it,” he said. “I gave it up.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is there any difference?” +</p> + +<p> +“A great difference.” +</p> + +<p> +He shrugged his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you want to have the truth?” he said. “If you really do, +I’ll tell you. But I don’t ask to tell you, recollect, and if I +were you I’d drop the whole—I certainly would.—If I were +you.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him in astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t understand,” she said. “Tell me what you +mean.” +</p> + +<p> +He raised his hand to his bandaged head again. +</p> + +<p> +“I think,” he said, fighting hard to speak with utter indifference, +“I think that it would have been better if you had told me about +Holloway.” +</p> + +<p> +At that her big eyes opened widely. +</p> + +<p> +“What should I tell you about Mr. Holloway?” she asked. “What +could I tell you about him?” +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t any use speaking like that,” he said; and with the +words he suddenly leaped from his chair and began to plunge back and forth +across the small room. “You see I’m not a boy any more. I’ve +come to my senses. I know now! I understand now! It’s all plain to me +now. Now and always. I’ve been fooled once but only once and by All that +Is, I never will be fooled again. Your’re pretty and awfully fascinating, +and it’s always fun for the woman—especially if she knows all her +bets are safely hedged. And I was so completely done up that I was even more +sport than the common run, I suppose; but—” she was staring at him +in unfeigned amazement, and he was lashing himself to fury with the feelings +that underlaid his words—“but even if you made it all right with +yourself by calling your share by the name of ‘having a good +influence’ over me (I know that’s how married women always pat +themselves on the back while they’re sending us to the devil), even then, +I think that it would have been better to have been fair and square with me. It +would have been better all round. I’d have been left with some belief +in—in people. As it is, when I saw that you’d only been laughing at +me, I—well, I went pretty far.” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped short, and transfixed her paleness with his big, dark eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Why weren’t you honest?” he asked angrily. And then he said +again, more bitterly, more scornfully, than before: “Why wasn’t I +told about Holloway?” +</p> + +<p> +She clasped her hands tightly together. +</p> + +<p> +“What has been told you about Mr. Holloway and myself?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why do you speak as you do?” +</p> + +<p> +At that he thrust his hands into his pockets and again began to fling himself +back and forth across the room. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps you’ll think I’m a sneak,” he said, “but +I wasn’t a sneak. I went in to see you that Saturday as usual, and when I +went upstairs—you were with him in the library. I heard three words. God! +they were enough! I didn’t know that anything could knock the bottom out +of life so quickly. My sun and stars all fell at once—I reckon my Heaven +went too. At all events I went out of your house and down town and I drank and +drank—and all to the truth and honor of women.” +</p> + +<p> +He halted with his back to her, and there was silence in the room for many +minutes. +</p> + +<p> +When he faced around after a little, she was weeping bitterly, having turned in +her seat so that her face might be buried in the chair back. Her whole body was +shaking with suppressed sobs. He stood still and stared down upon her and +finally she lifted up her face and said with trembling lips: +</p> + +<p> +“And all the trouble came from that. Oh, what shall I do? What shall I +say?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what you can do, or what you can say,” he said, +remaining still and watching her sincere distress. “I’d feel pretty +blamed mean if I were you, though. Understand, I don’t question your good +taste in choosing Holloway, nor your right to love him, nor his right to be +there; but I fail to understand why you were to me just as you were, and I +think it was unfair—out-and-out mean!” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Denham,” she said almost painfully, “you’ve made a +dreadful mistake.” Then she stopped and moistened her lips. “I +don’t know just what words you overheard, but the dramatic instructor was +there that afternoon drilling Mr. Holloway and myself for the parts which we +took in the charity play that week; after he went out we went over one of the +scenes alone. Perhaps you heard part of that.” She stopped and almost +choked. “Mr. Holloway has never really made any love to me—perhaps +he never wanted to—perhaps I’ve never wanted him to.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack stared. His misconception was so strongly intrenched in the forefront of +his brain that he could not possibly dislodge it at once. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Rosscott continued to dry the tears that continued to rise; she seemed +terribly affected at finding herself to have been the cause (no matter how +innocently) of this latest tale of wrack and ruin. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean to say,” the young man said, at last, “that +there was no truth in what I heard? Don’t you expect to marry +Holloway?” +</p> + +<p> +“I never expect to marry anyone, but certainly not him,” she +replied, trying to regain her composure. +</p> + +<p> +“Honest?” +</p> + +<p> +“Assuredly.” +</p> + +<p> +It was as if an unseen orchestra had suddenly burst forth just near enough and +just far enough away. He came to the side of her chair and laid his hand upon +its back. +</p> + +<p> +“Then what have you been thinking of me lately?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Very sad thoughts,” she confessed—hiding her face again. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you care?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I cared.” +</p> + +<p> +He stood beside her for a long time without speaking or moving. Then he +suddenly pulled a chair forward, and sat down close in front of her. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t cry,” he said, almost daring to be tender. +“There’s nothing to cry about now, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think there’s plenty for me to cry about,” she said, +looking up through her long wet lashes. “It is so terrible for me to be +the one that is to blame. Papa swears he’ll never forgive Bob, and your +aunt—” +</p> + +<p> +“Lord love you!” he exclaimed; “don’t worry over me or +my aunt. I don’t. I don’t mind anything, with Holloway staked in +the ditch. I can get along well enough now.” +</p> + +<p> +He smiled—actually smiled—as he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you mustn’t speak so,” she said, blushing; +“indeed, you must not.” And smiled, too, in spite of herself. +</p> + +<p> +“Who’s going to stop me?” he said. “You know that you +can’t; I’m miles the biggest.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him and tried to frown, but only blushed again instead. He put +out his hand and took hers into its clasp. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m everlasting glad to shake college,” he declared gayly; +“it never was my favorite alley. I’ve made up my mind to go to work +just as soon as I get these pastry strips off my head.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. Anywhere. I don’t care.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you’ll come to my house when Bob comes next week, won’t +you?” she asked suddenly. “I can see now why you wouldn’t +before, but—but it’s different now. Isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it?” he said, asking the question chiefly of her pretty eyes. +“Is it honestly different now?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think it is,” she answered. +</p> + +<p> +A door banged below. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s Burr!” he exclaimed, remembering suddenly the +proximity of their chairs, and making haste to place himself farther away. +</p> + +<p> +Burnett’s step was heard on the stair. +</p> + +<p> +“You never said anything to him, did you?” she questioned quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly not.” +</p> + +<p> +The next instant Burnett was in the room, and his sister was in his arms. +(Astonishing how coolly he accepted the fact, too.) +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Denham is coming to me with you, Bob,” she said when he +released her. “I’ve persuaded him.” +</p> + +<p> +“How did you do it?” she was asked. +</p> + +<p> +“By undertaking to reconcile him with his aunt, dear,” she replied, +blandly. “It’s a contract that we’ve drawn up between us. You +know that I was always rather good in the part of the peacemaker.” +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke, her eyes fell warningly on the manifest astonishment of Aunt +Mary’s nephew. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t know what you’re undertaking, Betty,” said +her brother. “You never had a chance to take Aunt Mary for better, for +worse—I have.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not alarmed,” said she, “I’m very +courageous. I’m sure I’ll succeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can the mender of ways—other people’s ways—come +in?” asked a voice at the door. +</p> + +<p> +It was Mitchell’s voice, and he came in without waiting for an +invitation. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it time that I went?” Mrs. Rosscott asked him, anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Half an hour yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I say Jack,” cried Burnett, “let’s boil some water +in the witch-hazel pan, and make a rarebit in the poultice pan, and have some +tea here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sure,” said Jack, suddenly become his blithe and buoyant self +again. “You just take off your hat and look the other way, Mrs. Rosscott, +and we’ll have you a lunch in a jiffy.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap12"></a>Chapter Twelve<br/> +A Trap For Aunt Mary</h2> + +<p> +In Aunt Mary’s part of the country the skies had been crying themselves +sick for the last six weeks. The cranberry bog was a goner forever, it was +feared, and a little house, very handy for sorting berries in, had had its +foundations undermined, and disappeared beneath the face of the waters also. +</p> + +<p> +Under such propitious circumstances, Aunt Mary sat by her own particular window +and looked sternly and severely out across the garden and down the road. +Lucinda sat by the other window sewing. Lucinda hadn’t changed +materially, but her general appearance struck her mistress as more irritating +than ever. Everything and everybody seemed to have become more and more +irritating ever since Jack had been disinherited. Of course, it was right that +he should have been disinherited, but Aunt Mary hadn’t thought much +beforehand as to what would happen afterward, and it was too aggravating to +have him turn out so well just when she had lost all patience with him and so +cast him off forever, and for him to develop such a beautiful character, all of +a sudden too—just as if education and good advice had been his undoing +and seclusion and illness were the guardian angels arrived just in time to save +him from the evil effects thereof. +</p> + +<p> +It hadn’t occurred to Aunt Mary that people keep on living just the same +even after they have been cut out of a will. And she never had counted on +Jack’s taking his bitter medicine in the spirit he was manifesting. She +had not calculated any of the possible effects of her hasty action very +maturely, but she certainly had not anticipated a lamblike submission to even +the harshest of her edicts, nor had she expected Jack to be one who would +strictly observe the Bible regulations and so return good for evil—in +other words, write her now when he had never written her in the bygone years +(unless under sharpest financial stress of circumstances). +</p> + +<p> +Yet such was the case. Jack had become a “ready letter-writer” ever +since his removal to the city, whither some kind friends had invited him +directly he could leave his sick-room. Aunt Mary did not know who the friends +were and had hesitated somewhat as to opening the first letter. But it had +borne no sting—being instead most sweetly pathetic, and since then, +others had followed with touching frequency. Their polished periods fell upon +the old lady’s stony hardness of heart with the persistent frequency of +the proverbial drop of water. After the second she had ceased to regard the +instructions given Lucinda as to mentioning her nephew’s name, and after +the third he became again her favorite topic of conversation. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed that the poor boy had had the misfortune to contract measles, and in +his weakened state the disease had nearly proved fatal. You can perhaps divine +the effect of this statement on the grand-aunt, and the further effect of the +words: “But never mind, Aunt Mary,” with which he concluded the +brief narration. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary had tried to snort and had sniffed instead; she had turned back to +the first page, read, “All my head has been shaved, but I don’t +care about having any more fun, anyhow,” and had let the letter fall in +her lap. Every time that she had thought since of “our boy,” her +anger had fallen hotter upon whoever was handiest. Lucinda (who was used to it) +lived under a figurative rain of cinders, and thrived salamander-like in their +midst; but Arethusa—who had come up for a week—found herself +totally unable to stand the endless lava and boiling ashes, and fled back to +the bosom of Mr. Arethusa the third morning after her arrival. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got to go, I find,” she had yelled the night before her +departure. +</p> + +<p> +“I certainly wish you would,” replied her aunt. “I’m a +great believer in married women paying attention at home before they begin to +pry into their neighbors’ affairs. It’s a good idea. Most +generally—most always.” +</p> + +<p> +This was bitterly unkind, since Arethusa was in the habit of taking the long +journey purely out of a sense of duty and to keep Lucinda up to the mark; but +grateful appreciation is rarely ever a salient point in the character of an +autocrat. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad she’s gone,” Aunt Mary told Lucinda, when +they were left together once more. “She puts me beyond all patience. She +chatters gibberish that I can’t make out a word of for an hour at a time, +and then, all of a sudden, she screams, ‘Dinner’s ready,’ or +something equally silly, in a voice like a carvin’ knife. It’s +enough to drive a sane person stark, raving mad. It is.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda acquiesced with a nod. Lucinda herself was glad that Arethusa had gone. +She resented the manner in which the latter always looked over the preserve +closet and counted the silver. Nothing was ever missing, because Lucinda was as +honest as a day twenty-five hours long, but the more honest those of +Lucinda’s caliber are, the more mad they get if they feel that they are +being watched. So Lucinda acquiesced with a nod. +</p> + +<p> +The mistress and maid were sitting alone together, with the June rain falling +without, and it was that pleasantly exciting hour which comes only in the +country and is known as “about mail-time.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s Joshua now,” Aunt Mary exclaimed, presently, +“I see him turnin’ in the gate. He’ll be at the door before +you get there, Lucinda,—he will. There, he’s twistin’ his +wheel off. He’s tryin’ to hold Billy an’ hold the letters +an’ whistle, all at once. Why don’t you go to him, Lucinda? +Can’t you hear a whistle that I can see? Or, if you can’t hear the +whistle, can’t you hear me? Do you think whoever wrote those letters +would be much pleased if they could see you so slow about gettin’ them? +Do—” +</p> + +<p> +Just here the old lady, turning toward Lucinda, perceived that she had been +gone—Heaven knew how long. She felt decidedly vexed at finding herself to +be in the wrong, rubbed her nose impatiently, and waited in a temper to match +the rubbing. +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord! how slow she is!” she thought. “Well, if I +don’t die of old age first, I presume I’ll get my letters some +time. Maybe.” +</p> + +<p> +As a matter of fact, the door had blown shut behind Lucinda, and the latter +personage was making her way, with well-hoisted skirts, around the house to the +back door. She didn’t pass the window where the Argus-eyed was looking +forth; because that lady had strong opinions of those who let doors bang behind +them without their own volition. +</p> + +<p> +Five minutes later the maid did finally appear with one letter. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you was waitin’ to bring to-morrow’s mail at the +same time,” said Aunt Mary, icily. +</p> + +<p> +Then she found that the letter was from Jack, and Lucinda was completely +forgotten in the pleasure of opening and reading it. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +D<small>EAR</small> A<small>UNT</small> <small>MARY</small>: +</p> + +<p> +It seems so strange how I’m just learning the pleasure of writing +letters. I enjoy it more every day. When I see a pen I can hardly keep from +feeling that I ought to write you directly. I think of you, then, because +I’m thinking of you most always. It seems as if I never appreciated you +before, Aunt Mary. +</p> + +<p> +I want to tell you something that I know will make you happy. I’ve never +made you very happy Aunt Mary, but I’m going to begin now. I’ve got +a place where I can earn my own living, and I’m going to work just as +soon as I am strong enough. I’m as tickled as a baby over it. I’ll +lay you any odds I get to be a richer man than the other John Watkins. I reckon +money was bad for me, Aunt Mary, and I can see that you’ve done just the +right thing to make a man of me. That isn’t surprising, because you +always did do just the right thing, Aunt Mary; it was I that always did just +the wrong thing, but I’m straightened out now and this time it’s +forever—you just wait and see. +</p> + +<p> +There’s one thing bothers me some, and that is I don’t get strong +very fast. They want me to take a tonic, but I don’t think a tonic would +help me much. I feel so sort of blue and depressed, and perhaps that’s +natural, for Bob’s away most of the time and I’m here all alone. +It’s a big house and sort of lonely and sometimes I find myself imagining +how it would seem to have someone from home in it with me, and I find myself +almost crying—I do, for a fact, Aunt Mary. +</p> + +<p> +Next week, Bob is going to be away more than usual, and I’m dreading it +awfully; but never mind, Aunt Mary, I don’t want to make you blue, +because honestly I don’t think I’m going into a decline, even if +the doctor does. And, after all, if I did sort of dwindle away it +wouldn’t matter much, for I’m not worth anything, and no one knows +that as well as myself—except you, Aunt Mary. I must stop because +it’s nine o’clock and time I was in bed. I’ve got some socks +to wash out first, too; you see, I’m learning how to economize just as +fast as I can. It’s only two miles to my work, and I’m going to +walk back and forth always—that’ll be between fifty cents and a +dollar saved each week. I’m figuring on how to live on my salary and +never have a debt, and you’ll be proud of me yet, Aunt Mary—if I +don’t die first. +</p> + +<p> +Think of me all alone here next week. If I wasn’t steadfast as a rock I +believe I’d do something foolish just to get out of myself. But never +mind, Aunt Mary, it’s all right. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +Your afft. nephew,<br/> +J<small>OHN</small> W<small>ATKINS</small>, J<small>R</small>., D<small>ENHAM</small>. +</p> + +<p> +When Lucinda returned from drying her feet, Aunt Mary had her handkerchief in +one hand and spectacles in the other. +</p> + +<p> +“Saints and sinners!” cried the maid, in a voice that grated with +sympathy. “He ain’t writ to say he’s dead, is he?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Aunt Mary; “but he isn’t as well as he makes +out. There’s no deceivin’ me, Lucinda!” +</p> + +<p> +“Dear! dear!” cried the Trusty and True; “is that so? +What’s to be done? Do you want Joshua to run anywhere?” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary suddenly regained her composure. +</p> + +<p> +“Run anywhere?” she asked, with her usual bitter intonation. +“If you ain’t the greatest fool I ever was called upon to bed and +board, Lucinda! Will you kindly explain to me how settin’ Joshua +trottin’ is goin’ to do any mortal good to my poor boy away off +there in that dreadful city?” +</p> + +<p> +“He could telegraph to Miss Arethusa,” Lucinda suggested. The +suggestion bespoke the superior moral quality of Lucinda’s +make-up—her own feeling toward Arethusa being considered. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want her,” said Aunt Mary with a positiveness that +was final. “I don’t want her. My heavens, Lucinda, ain’t we +just had enough of her? Anyhow, if you ain’t, I have. I don’t want +her, nor no livin’ soul except my trunk; an’ I want that just as +quick as Joshua can haul it down out of the attic.” +</p> + +<p> +“You ain’t thinkin’ of goin’ travelin’!” +the maid cried in consternation; “you can’t never be thinkin’ +of <i>that?</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said her mistress with fine irony; “I want the trunk to +make a pie out of, probably.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda was speechless. +</p> + +<p> +“Lucinda,” her mistress said, after a few seconds had faded away +unimproved, “seems to me I mentioned wantin’ Joshua to get down a +trunk—seems to me I did.” +</p> + +<p> +The maid turned and left the room. She felt more or less dazed. Nothing so +startling as Aunt Mary’s wanting a trunk had happened in years. +Disinheriting Jack was not in it by comparison. She went slowly away to find +Joshua and found him in the farther end of the rear woodhouse—John +Watkins, like several of his ilk, having marked each forward step in the world +by a back extension of his house. +</p> + +<p> +Joshua was chopping wood; his ax was high in the air. He also was calm and +unsuspecting. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s goin’ to the city all alone!” Lucinda’s +voice suddenly proclaimed behind him. +</p> + +<p> +The ax fell. +</p> + +<p> +“Who says so?” its handler demanded, facing about in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“She says so.” +</p> + +<p> +Joshua picked up the ax and poised it afresh. He was himself again. +</p> + +<p> +“She’ll go then,” he said calmly. +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda marched around in front of him, and planted herself firmly among the +chips. +</p> + +<p> +“Joshua Whittlesey!” +</p> + +<p> +“We can’t help it,” said Joshua stolidly. “We’re +here to mind her. If she wants to go to New York, or to change her will, all +we’ve got to do is to be simple witnesses.” +</p> + +<p> +“She don’t want Miss Arethusa telegraphed,” said Lucinda. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t blame her,” said Joshua; “if I was her and if +I was goin’ to New York I wouldn’t want no one telegraphed.” +</p> + +<p> +“She wants her trunk out of the attic.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then she’ll get her trunk out of the attic. When does she want +it?” +</p> + +<p> +“She wants it now.” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus03"></a> +<img src="images/image03.png" width="368" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“She’s goin’ to the city all alone!’ +Lucinda’s voice suddenly proclaimed behind him.”</p> +</div> + +<p> +“Then she’ll get it now,” said Joshua. From the general trend +of this and other remarks of Joshua the reader will readily divine why he had +been in Aunt Mary’s employ for thirty years, and had always been +characterized by her as “a most sensible man,” and anyone who had +seen the alacrity with which the trunk was brought and the respectful attention +with which Aunt Mary’s further commands were received would have been +forced to coincide in her opinion. +</p> + +<p> +The packing of the trunk was a task which fell to Lucinda’s lot and was +performed under the eagle eye of her mistress. Aunt Mary’s ideas of what +she would require were delightfully unsophisticated and brought up short on the +farther-side of her tooth brush and her rubbers. Nevertheless she agreed in +Lucinda’s suggestions as to more extensive supplies. +</p> + +<p> +Late that afternoon Joshua drove into town (amidst a wealth of mud spatters) +and dispatched the answer to Jack’s letter. Aunt Mary was urged to haste +by several considerations, some well defined, and others not so much so. To +Lucinda she imparted her terrible anxiety over the dear boy’s health, but +not even to herself did she admit her much more terrible anxiety lest Arethusa +or Mary should suddenly appear and insist on accompanying her. She wanted to +go, but she wanted to go alone. +</p> + +<p> +Jack telegraphed a response that night, and his aunt left by the Monday morning +train. She had a six o’clock breakfast, and drove into town at a quarter +of nine so as to be absolutely certain not to miss the train. Joshua drove, +with the trunk perched beside him. It was a small and unassuming trunk, but +Aunt Mary was not one who believed in putting on airs just because she was +rich. Lucinda sat on the back seat with her mistress. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure I hope you’ll enjoy yourself,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course he’s nothing but a boy,” Aunt Mary +replied,—“an’ I’ve told you a hundred times that boys +will be boys and we mustn’t expect otherwise.” +</p> + +<p> +They arrived on time, and only had an hour and three-quarters to wait in the +station. Toward the last Aunt Mary grew very nervous for fear something had +happened to the train; but it came to time according to the waiting-room clock. +Joshua put her aboard, and she soon had nothing left to worry over except the +wonder as to whether Jack would be on hand to meet her or not. +</p> + +<p> +Joshua drove back home, let Lucinda out at the door, and put the horse up +before going in to where she sat in solitary glory. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder what <i>he’s</i> up to?” she said with a pleasant sense of +unlimited freedom as to the subject and duration of the conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“Suthin’, of course,” was the answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you s’pose he’s really sick?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you s’pose she thinks he’s really sick?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mebbe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ain’t you goin’ to sit down, Joshua?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see nothin’ to make me sit down here for.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think of her going?” she said, as he walked toward the +door. +</p> + +<p> +“I think she’ll have a good time.” +</p> + +<p> +“At her age?” +</p> + +<p> +“Havin’ a good time ain’t a matter o’ age,” said +Joshua. “It’s a matter o’ bein’ willin’ to have a +good time.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda screwed her face up mightily. +</p> + +<p> +“If I was sure she’d be gone for a week,” she said, +“I’d go a-visitin’ myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“She’ll be gone a week,” said Joshua; and the manner and +matter of his speech were both those of a prophet. +</p> + +<p> +Then he went out and the door slammed to behind him. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap13"></a>Chapter Thirteen<br/> +Aunt Mary Entrapped</h2> + +<p> +Aunt Mary’s arrival in the city just coincided with the arrival of that +day’s five o’clock. Five o’clock in early June is very bright +daylight, therefore she was rather bewildered when the train pulled up in the +darkness and electricity of the station’s confusion. The change from +sunlight to smoke blinded her somewhat and the view from the car window did not +restore her equanimity. When the porter, to whom she had been discreetly +recommended by Joshua, came for her bags, she felt woefully distressed and not +at all like her usual self. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, do I have to get out?” she said. “I ain’t been in +this place for twenty-five years, and I was to be met.” +</p> + +<p> +The porter’s grin hovered comfortingly over her head. +</p> + +<p> +“You can stay here jus’ ’s long as you like, +ma’am,” he yelled, in the voice of a train dispatcher. +“I’ll send your friends in when they inquiahs.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary eyed him gratefully, and gave him the nickel which she had been +carefully holding in her hand for the last hour. +</p> + +<p> +Then she looked up, and saw Jack! +</p> + +<p> +A perfectly splendid Jack, in resplendent attire, handsome, beaming, with a big +bouquet of violets in his hand! +</p> + +<p> +“For you, Aunt Mary,” he said, and dropped them into her lap, and +hugged her fervently. She clung to him with a cling that forgot the immediate +past, disinheriting and all. Oh! she was so glad to see him! +</p> + +<p> +The porter approached with a beneficent look. +</p> + +<p> +“Has he taken good care of you, Aunt Mary?” Jack asked, as the man +gathered up the things and they started to leave the car. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, indeed,” Aunt Mary declared. +</p> + +<p> +So Jack gave the porter a dollar. +</p> + +<p> +Then they left the train. +</p> + +<p> +“I was so worried,” Aunt Mary said, as she went along the platform +hanging on her nephew’s arm. “I thought you’d met with an +accident.” +</p> + +<p> +“I couldn’t get on until the rest got off,” he said, gazing +down on her with a smile; “but I was on hand, all right. My, but +it’s good to think that you’re here, Aunt Mary! Maybe you think +that I don’t appreciate your taking all this trouble for me, but I do, +just the same.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary smiled all over. Everyone who passed them was smiling, too, and that +added to the general joy of the atmosphere. Aunt Mary felt proud of Jack, and +rejoiced as to herself. Her content with life in general was, for the moment, +limitless. She did not stop to dissect the sources of her delight. She was not +in a critical mood just then. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you stick those flowers in your belt, Aunt Mary?” +her nephew asked, as they penetrated the worst of the human jungle, and the +preservation of the violets appeared to be the main question of the day. +“That’s what the girls do.” +</p> + +<p> +His aunt looked vaguely down at herself. She had no belt to stick her violets +in. She wore no belt. She wore a basque. A basque is a beltless something that +you can’t remember, but that females did, once upon a time, cover the +upper half of their forms with. Basques buttoned down the front with ten to +thirty buttons, and may be studied at leisure in any good collection of +daguerreotypes. Ladies like Aunt Mary are apt to scorn such futilities as +waning styles after they pass beyond a certain age, and for that reason there +was no place for Jack’s violets. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind,” he said cheerfully, having followed her dubiousness +with his understanding. “Just hang on to them a minute longer, and +we’ll be out of all this.” +</p> + +<p> +His words came true, and they finally did emerge from the seething mass and +found a carriage, the door of which happened to be standing mysteriously open. +Within, upon the small seat, some omniscient hands had already deposited Aunt +Mary’s bags. It did not take long to stow Aunt Mary, face to her luggage, +and she was barely established there before her trunk came, too; and, although +the coachman looked so gorgeous, he was nevertheless obliging enough to allow +it to couch humbly at his feet. +</p> + +<p> +Then they rolled away. +</p> + +<p> +Jack sat sideways and looked at his aunt, holding her hand. His eyes were +unfeignedly happy, and his companion matched his eyes. Neither seemed to +recollect that one was bitterly angry, and that the other was on the verge of +melancholia. Instead, Jack declared fervently: +</p> + +<p> +“Aunt Mary, I’ve made up my mind to give you the time of your +life!” +</p> + +<p> +And Aunt Mary drew a sigh of relief in his words and anticipation of their +fulfillment. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll be happy takin’ care of you,” she said, +benevolently. “My!—but your letter scared me. An’ yet you +look well.” +</p> + +<p> +He laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the knowing you were coming that’s done that, Aunt +Mary. You ought to have seen me when I got your telegram. I almost turned a +somersault.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary smiled rapturously and patted his hand. +</p> + +<p> +And just then they drew up in front of the house. She looked out, and her face +fell a trifle. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s awful high and narrow,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“They all are,” Jack replied, opening the carriage door and jumping +out to receive her. +</p> + +<p> +The door at the top of the steps opened, and a man came down for the bags. In +the hall above, a pretty maid waited with a welcoming smile. +</p> + +<p> +Jack piloted his aunt, first up the entrance steps, and then up the staircase +within, and led her to the lovely room which had been vacated for her. The maid +followed with tea and biscuits, and the man brought the luggage and ranged it +unobtrusively in a corner. There was a lavish richness about everything which +made Aunt Mary and her trunk appear as gray and insignificant as a pair of +mice, by contrast; but she didn’t feel it, and so she didn’t mind +it. +</p> + +<p> +Jack kissed her tenderly. +</p> + +<p> +“Welcome to town, Aunt Mary,” he said heartily, “and may you +never live to look upon this day as other than the luckiest of your +life!” Then, turning to the servant, he said: +</p> + +<p> +“Janice, you see that you do all that money can buy for my aunt.” +</p> + +<p> +The maid courtesied. She had arranged the tray upon a little table and the +spout of the tea pot and the round hole in the middle of the toast-cover were +each pouring forth a pleasant suggestion. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary began at once to haul forth her keys. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Aunt Mary,” Jack cried, wondering if her nose was deaf, too, +or whether she didn’t feel hungry, “don’t you see your tea? +Or don’t you want any?” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary thumbed her trunk key. +</p> + +<p> +“I want a nightgown,” she said; “maybe I’ll want +something else later. Maybe.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not going to <i>bed!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +She drew herself up. +</p> + +<p> +“I guess I can if I want to; I guess I can. There’s the bed and +here’s me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whatever are you saying? It isn’t half-past six +o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not <i>prayin</i>’ about anything,” said the old lady. +“I don’t pray about things. I do ’em when needful. And when +I’m tired I go to bed.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, Aunt Mary,” with sugary sweetness and lamb-like +submissiveness. “I thought we’d dine out together, but if you +don’t want to, we needn’t. And if you feel like it when you waken, +we can.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dine out,” said Aunt Mary, blankly; “has the cook left? I +never was a great approver of goin’ and eatin’ at boarding +houses.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, never mind,” Jack said in a key pitched to rhyme with high +C. “I’ll leave you now—and we can see about everything +later.” +</p> + +<p> +He kissed her, and retired from the room. +</p> + +<p> +“Did he say we’re goin’ out to dinner?” Aunt Mary +asked, when she was left alone with the maid, who hurried to take her bonnet +and shawl, and get her into juxtaposition with the tea-tray as rapidly as +possible. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, ma’am,” the girl screamed, nodding. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want to,” said the old lady firmly. “Lots of +trouble comes through gettin’ out of house habits. I’ve come here +to take care of a sick boy and not to go gallivantin’ round myself. +I’ve seen the evils of gallivantin’ a good deal lately and I +don’t want to see no more. Not here and not nowhere.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she began to eat and drink and reflect, all at the same time. +</p> + +<p> +“By the way, what’s your name?” she asked, suddenly. +“Jack didn’t tell me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Janice, ma’am.” +</p> + +<p> +“Granite?” said Aunt Mary. “What a funny idea to name you +that! Did they call you for the tinware or for the rocks?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” shrieked Janice, who was busily occupied in +unpacking the traveler’s trunk. +</p> + +<p> +Her new mistress watched her with a critical eye at first, but it became a more +or less sleepy eye as the warmth of the tea meandered slowly through its owner. +There was a battle within Aunt Mary’s brain; she wanted to please Jack, +and she was almost dead with sleep. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think that I ought to try and go out with my nephew +to-night?” she asked Janice. +</p> + +<p> +“If it was me, I should go,” cried the maid. +</p> + +<p> +“I never was called slow before,” Aunt Mary said, bridling. +“I’ll thank you to remember your place, young woman.” +</p> + +<p> +Janice explained. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I didn’t hear plainly,” said Aunt Mary. “I +don’t always. Well go or not go, I’ve <i>got</i> to sleep first. I’m +dreadfully sleepy, and I’ve always been a great believer in +sleepin’ when you’re sleepy.” +</p> + +<p> +The fact of the sleepiness was so evident that no attempt was made to gainsay +it. Janice brought down a quilt from the closet and tucked her charge up +luxuriously on the great bed. Five minutes later she was in dreamland. +</p> + +<p> +Jack came in about seven and looked at her. +</p> + +<p> +“She mustn’t be disturbed,” he said thoughtfully. “If +she wakes up before ten we’ll go out then.” +</p> + +<p> +She awoke about nine, and when she opened her eyes the first thing that she saw +was Janice, sitting near by. +</p> + +<p> +“I feel real good,” said Aunt Mary. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m so glad,” yelled Janice, and smiled, too. +</p> + +<p> +The old lady sat up. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe I could have gone out, after all,” she said. “Only +I don’t want to take dinner anywhere.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she paused and reflected. It was surprising how good she felt and how she +did want to make Jack happy. “After all boys will be boys,” she +thought, tenderly, “an’ I ain’t but seventy, so I don’t +see why I shouldn’t go out with him if he wants to. I’m a great +believer in doin’ what you want to—I mean, in doin’ what +other folks want you to. At any rate I’m a great believer in it +sometimes. To-day—this time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your nephew is waiting,” the maid howled. “Shall I tell him +you want to go after all?” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it late?” the old lady inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear, no!” +</p> + +<p> +“Wouldn’t you go if you was me?” asked the old lady. +</p> + +<p> +Janice smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed I would.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary rose. A flood of metropolitan fever suddenly surged up and around and +over and through her. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell him I’ll be down in five minutes,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Can you change in that time?” Janice stopped to shriek. +</p> + +<p> +“What should I change for?” Aunt Mary demanded in astonishment. +“Ain’t I all dressed now?” +</p> + +<p> +Janice did not attempt to shriek any counter-advice, and while she was gone to +find Jack, her mistress brushed herself in some places, soaped herself in +others, and considered her toilet made. When Janice returned she caught up a +loose lock of hair, and put the placket-hole of her skirt square in the middle +of Aunt Mary’s back, and dared go no further. There was an air even about +the back of Jack’s influential aunt which forbade too much liberty to +those dealing with her. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap14"></a>Chapter Fourteen<br/> +Aunt Mary En Fête</h2> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus01"></a> +<img src="images/image01.png" width="480" height="368" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">Aunt Mary en Fête. May Robson as “Aunt Mary.”</p> +</div> + +<p> +Aunt Mary descended the stairs about half-past nine; she thought it was about a +quarter to eight, but the difference between the hour that it was and the hour +that she thought that it was will be all the same a hundred years from now. +</p> + +<p> +Jack came out of the Louis XIV. drawing room when he heard her step in the +hall. There was another young man with him. +</p> + +<p> +“This is my friend Burnett, Aunt Mary,” her nephew roared. +“You must excuse his not bowing lower, but you know he broke his +collarbone recently.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary shook hands warmly; she knew all about the ribs and the collarbone, +because they had formed big items in the testimony which had momentarily and as +momentously relegated Jack to the comradeship of the devil himself, in her +eyes. However, she recalled them merely as facts now—not at all in a +disagreeable way—and gave Burnett an extra squeeze of good-fellowship, as +she said: +</p> + +<p> +“You had a narrow escape, young man.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t have any escape at all,” said Burnett. “The +escape went down at the back, and I had to jump from a cornice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Burnett is going out to dine with us, Aunt Mary,” said Jack. +“There’s so little he can eat on account of his ribs that +he’s a good dinner guest for me.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack’s aunt felt vaguely uncomfortable over this allusion to her +grand-nephew’s circumstances, and coughed in slight embarrassment. +</p> + +<p> +Burnett opened the door, and the carriage lamp shone below. (Is there ever +anything more delightfully suggestive than a carriage lamp shining down below?) +They took her down and put her in, and the carriage rolled away. +</p> + +<p> +It was that June when “Bedelia” covered nearly the whole of the +political horizon; it was the date of June when West Point, Vassar, the Blue, +the Red, the Black and Yellow and every known device for getting rid of young +and growing-up America are all cast loose at once on our fair land. The streets +were a scene of glorious confusion, and but for Aunt Mary no considerations +could have kept Burnett’s collarbone and Jack’s melancholia cooped +up in a closed carriage. As it was, they were both fidgeting like two youthful +Uncle Sams in a European railway coupé, when the latter suddenly exclaimed: +“Here we are!” and threw open the door as he spoke. Then he got out +and Burnett got out and between them they got Aunt Mary out. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary regarded the awning and carpet and general glitter with a more or +less appalled gaze. +</p> + +<p> +“Looks like—” she began; and was interrupted by a voice at +her side: +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, Jack!” +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, Clover!” +</p> + +<p> +She turned and saw him of the pale mustache whom we once met in Mrs. +Rosscott’s drawing room. He was in no wise altered since that occasion +except that his attire was slightly more resplendent and he had on a silk hat. +</p> + +<p> +Jack shook hands warmly and then he turned to his relative. +</p> + +<p> +“Aunt Mary, this is my friend Clover; he’s often heard me speak of +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Glad to meet you, Mr. Rover,” said Aunt Mary, cordially, and she, +too, shook hands with that cordiality that flourishes beyond city limits. +</p> + +<p> +Her nephew bent over her ear-trumpet. +</p> + +<p> +“Clover!” he howled, with all the strength he owned. +</p> + +<p> +“I heard before,” said Aunt Mary, somewhat coldly. +</p> + +<p> +“Come on and dine with us, Clover,” said Jack; “that’ll +make four.” (By the way, isn’t it odd how many people ask their +friends to dinner for the simple reason that, arithmetically considered, each +counts as one!) +</p> + +<p> +“All right, I will,” said Clover, in his languid drawl. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary saw his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s no use my deceivin’ you as to my bein’ a little +hard of hearin’,” she said to him, “because you can see my +ear-trumpet; so I’ll trouble you to say that over again.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, I will,” Clover wailed, good-humoredly. +</p> + +<p> +“What?” asked Aunt Mary. “I didn’t—” +</p> + +<p> +Jack cut her short by leading the party inside. +</p> + +<p> +The scene within was as gorgeous with golden stucco as the dining-room of a +German liner. Aunt Mary was so overcome that she traversed half the room before +she became aware of the mighty attention which she and her three escorts were +attracting. In truth, it is not every day that three good-looking young men +take a tiny old lady, a bunch of violets and an ear-trumpet out to dine at ten +o’clock. +</p> + +<p> +“Everyone’s lookin’,” she said to Jack. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s your back, Aunt Mary,” he replied, in a voice that +shook some loose golden flakes from the ceiling. “I tell you, not many +women of your age have a back like yours, and don’t you forget it.” +</p> + +<p> +The compliment pleased Aunt Mary, because she had all her life been considered +round-shouldered. It also pleased her because she never had received many +compliments. The Aunt Marys of this world love flattery just as dearly as the +Mrs. Rosscotts; the sad part of life is that they rarely get any. The women +like Mrs. Rosscott know why the Aunt Marys go unflattered, but the Aunt Marys +never understand. It’s all sad—and true—and undeniable. +</p> + +<p> +They went to a table, and were barely seated when another man came up. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, Jack!” +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, Mitchell!” +</p> + +<p> +It was he of Scotch ancestry. Jack sprang up and greeted him with warmth, then +he turned to Aunt Mary. +</p> + +<p> +“Aunt Mary,” he screamed, “this is my friend”—he +paused, put on all steam and ploughed right through—“Herbert +Kendrick Mitchell.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t catch that at all,” said Aunt Mary, calmly, +“but I’m just as glad to meet the gentleman.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitchell clasped her hand with an expression as burning as if it was real. +</p> + +<p> +“I declare,” he yelled straight at her, “if this isn’t +what I’ve been dreaming towards ever since I first knew Jack.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary fairly shone. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me,” she began, “if I’d known—” +</p> + +<p> +“You’d better dine with us, Mitchell,” said Jack; +“that’ll make five.” +</p> + +<p> +“It won’t make but three for me,” said Mitchell. “I +haven’t had but two dinners before to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +Clover smiled because he heard, and Aunt Mary smiled because she didn’t, +but was happy anyway. She had altogether forgotten that she had demurred at +dining out. They all sat down and shook out their napkins. Mitchell and Clover +shook Aunt Mary’s for her and gave it a beautiful cornerways spread +across her lap. +</p> + +<p> +Then the waiter laid another plate for Mitchell, and brought oyster cocktails +for everyone. Aunt Mary eyed hers with early curiosity and later suspicion; and +she smelled of it very carefully. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t believe they’re good oysters,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, they are,” cried Mitchell reassuringly. His voice, when he +turned it upon her, was pitched like a clarionet. The blind would surely have +seen as well as the deaf have heard had there been any candidates for miracles +in his immediate vicinity. “They’re first-class,” he added, +“you just go at them and see.” +</p> + +<p> +The reassured took another whiff. +</p> + +<p> +“You can have mine,” she said directly afterwards; and there was an +air of decision about her speech which brooked no opposition. Yet Mitchell +persisted. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no,” he yelled; “you must learn how. Just throw your +head back and take ’em quick—after the fashion that they eat raw +eggs, don’t you know?” +</p> + +<p> +“But she can’t,” said Clover. “There’s too much, +particularly as she isn’t used to them. I’ll tell you, Miss +Watkins,” he cried, hoisting his own voice to the masthead, “you +eat the oysters, and leave the cocktail. That’s the way to get gradually +trained into the wheel.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary thought some of obeying; she fished out one oyster, wiped it +carefully with a bit of bread, regarded it with more than dubious countenance, +and then suddenly decided not to. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d rather be at home when I try experiments,” she said, +decidedly; and the waiter carried off her cocktail and gave her food that was +good beyond question thereafter. +</p> + +<p> +The dinner went with zest. It was an enlivening party that consumed it, and +what they consumed with it enlivened them still more. The gentlemen soon +reached the point where they could laugh over jokes they could not understand, +and the one lady member became equally merry over wit that she did not hear. +She forgot for the nonce that there were any phases of life in which she was +not a believer, and whether this was owing to the surrounding gayety or to the +champagne which they persuaded her to taste it is not my province to explain. +</p> + +<p> +“Now we must lay our lines for events to come,” Jack said, when +they advanced upon the dessert and prepared to occupy an extensive territory of +ices, fruit, and jellied something or other. “It would be a sin for Aunt +Mary to leave this famous battlefield without a few honorable scars! We must +take her out in a bubble for one thing and—” +</p> + +<p> +“In mine!” cried Clover. “To-morrow! Why can’t +she?—I held up my hand first?” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” said Jack; “to-morrow she’s your’s. +At four o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +“She must have goggles,” cried Mitchell. “She must have +goggles and be all fixed up, and when you have got her the goggles and she has +been all fixed up, I ask, as a last boon, that I may go along, just so as to +see everyone who sees her.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll all go,” Clover explained. “I’ll +‘chuff’ her myself and then there’ll be room for +everyone.” +</p> + +<p> +“To the auto and to to-morrow!” cried Burnett, hastily pouring out +a fresh toast, which even Aunt Mary applauded, not at all knowing what she was +applauding. +</p> + +<p> +“And now for the next day,” said Jack. “I think I’ll +give her a box-party. Don’t you want to go to the theater in a box, Aunt +Mary?” +</p> + +<p> +“Go where in a box?” said Aunt Mary, starting a little. “I +didn’t quite catch that.” +</p> + +<p> +“To the theater,” Jack yelled. +</p> + +<p> +“To the theater,” repeated his aunt a trifle blankly, +“I—” +</p> + +<p> +“And the next day,” said Mitchell suddenly (he had been reflecting +maturely), “I’ll take you all up the sound in my yacht.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, hurrah,” cried Burnett, “that’ll be bully! And the +day after I’ll give her a picnic.” +</p> + +<p> +“Time of your life, Aunt Mary,” Jack shrieked in her ear-trumpet; +“time of your life!” +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me!” said Aunt Mary, “I don’t just—” +</p> + +<p> +“Aunt Mary! glasses down!” cried Clover; “may she live +forever and forever.” +</p> + +<p> +“To Aunt Mary, glasses up,” said Mitchell. “Glasses up come +before glasses down always. It’s one of the laws of Nature—human +nature—also of good nature. Here’s to Aunt Mary, and if she +isn’t the Aunt Mary of all of us here’s a hoping she may get there +some day; I don’t just see how, but I ask the indulgence of those present +on the plea that I have indulged quite a little myself to-night. Honi soit qui +mal y pense; ora pro nobis, Erin-go-Bragh. Present company being present, and +impossible to except on that account, we will omit the three cheers and choke +down the tiger.” +</p> + +<p> +They all drank, and the dinner having by this time dwindled down to coffee +grounds and cheese crumbs a vote was taken as to where they should go next. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary suggested home, but she was over-ruled, and they all went elsewhere. +She never could recollect where she went or what she saw; but, as everyone else +has been and seen over and over again, I won’t fuss with detailing it. +</p> + +<p> +The visitor from the country reached home in a carriage in the small hours in +the morning, and Janice received her, looking somewhat nervous. +</p> + +<p> +“This is pretty late,” she ventured to remind the bearers; but as +they didn’t seem to think so, and she was a maiden, wise beyond her +years, she spoke no further word, but went to work and undressed the aged +reveller, got her comfortably established in bed, and then left her to get a +good sleep, an occupation which occupied the weary one fully until two that +afternoon. +</p> + +<p> +When she did at last open her eyes it was several minutes before she knew where +she was. Her brain seemed dazed, her intellect more than clouded. It is a state +of mind to which those who habitually go about in hansoms at the hour of dawn +are well accustomed, but to Aunt Mary it was painfully new. She struggled to +remember, and felt helplessly inadequate to the task. Janice finally came in +with a glass of something that foamed and fizzed, and the victim of late hours +drank that and came to her senses again. Then she recollected. +</p> + +<p> +“My! but I had a good time last night!” she said, putting her hand +to her head. “What time is it now, anyhow?” +</p> + +<p> +“Breakfast time,” cried the handmaiden. “You’ll have +just long enough to eat and dress leisurely before you go out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” said Aunt Mary blankly; “where ’m I goin’? +Do you know?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Denham told me that you had promised to attend an automobile party +at four.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes,” said Aunt Mary hastily. “I guess I remember. I +guess I do. I saw Jack wanted to go, so I said I’d go, too. I’m a +great believer in lettin’ the young enjoy themselves.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked sharply at Janice as she spoke, but Janice was serene. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t come to town to do anything but make Jack happy,” +continued Aunt Mary, “and I see that he won’t take any fresh air +without I go along—so I shall go too while I’m here. Mostly. As a +general thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Mitchell called and left these flowers with his card,” Janice +said, opening a huge box of roses; “and a man brought a package. Shall I +open it?” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary’s wrinkles fairly radiated. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, did I ever!” she exclaimed. “Yes; open it.” +</p> + +<p> +Janice proceeded to obey, and the package was found to contain an automobile +wrap, a pair of goggles and a note from Clover. +</p> + +<p> +“My gracious me!” cried Aunt Mary. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Denham sent the violets,” Janice said, pointing to a great +bowl of lilac and white blossoms. +</p> + +<p> +Just then the doorbell rang, and it was a ten-pound box of candy from Burnett. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary collapsed among her pillows. +</p> + +<p> +“I <i>never</i> did!” she murmured feebly, and then she suddenly +exclaimed: “An’ to think of me livin’ up there all my life +with plenty of money—” she stopped short. I tell you when you come +to New York on a mission and stay for the Bacchanalia it is hard to hold +consistently to either standard. +</p> + +<p> +But Janice had gone for her lady’s breakfast, and after the lady had +eaten it and had herself dressed for the day’s joys, Jack knocked at the +door. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Aunt Mary,” he roared, when he was let in, “if you +don’t look fine! You’re the freshest of the bunch to-day, sure. +You’ll be ready for another night to-night, and you’ve only to say +where, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Granite did my hair,” said his aunt; “you must praise her, +not me.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you’ve got your goggles all ready, too,” he continued. +“Who sent ’em?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I shan’t wiggle,” said Aunt Mary “although I +can’t see how it could hurt if I did.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come on and let’s dress her up,” said Jack to the maid, +“Glory! what fun!” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon they went to work and rigged the old lady out. She was certainly a +sight, for she stood by her own bonnet, and that failed to jibe with the +goggles. +</p> + +<p> +Burnett was summoned in to view the proceedings, but just as he caught the +first glimpse he was taken with a fearful cramp in his broken ribs and was +forced to beat the hastiest sort of a retreat. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope he’ll get over it and be able to go out with us,” +said Aunt Mary anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“I guess he’ll recover,” Jack yelled cheerfully. “Oh, +there’s Clover!” +</p> + +<p> +A sort of dull, ponderous panting sounded in the street without, and let all +the neighbors know that “The Threshing Machine” (as Clover had +christened his elephantine toy) was waiting for someone. +</p> + +<p> +Its owner came in for a stirrup cup; Mitchell was with him. Both were togged +out as if entered for the annual Paris-Bordeaux. +</p> + +<p> +Burnett brought out the cut-glass jugs. +</p> + +<p> +“Ye gods and little fishes! Sapristi! Sacre bleu!” he said to his +friends. “Just you wait till you see our Aunt Mary!” +</p> + +<p> +“Has she got ’em all on?” Clover asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Has she got ’em all on!” said Burnett. “She has got +’em all on; and how Jack held his own in the room with her I cannot +understand. I took one look, and if mine had been a surgical case of stitches +the last thread would have bust that instant. I don’t believe I dare go +out with you. This is a life and death game to Jack, and I won’t risk +smashing his future by not being able to keep sober in the face of Aunt +Mary.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, come on,” Clover urged in his wiry voice. “You +needn’t look at her; or, if you do look at her, you can look the other +way right afterwards, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll sit next to her,” Mitchell explained. “As a +sitter by Aunt Mary’s side I shone last night; and where a man has sat +once, the same man can surely sit again.” +</p> + +<p> +Burnett hesitated, and just then voices were heard in the hall. Jack and Janice +were convoying Aunt Mary below. +</p> + +<p> +Mitchell went out into the hall. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Miss Watkins,” he said, in a tone such as one would use to +call down Santos-Dumont, “I’m mighty glad to see you looking so +well.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary turned the goggles full upon him. +</p> + +<p> +“A present from Mr. Clover,” she said smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“I never knew him to take so much trouble for any lady before,” +said Mitchell; and as she arrived just then at the foot of the staircase he +pressed her proffered hand warmly and forthwith led her in upon the two men in +the library. +</p> + +<p> +She looked exactly like a living edition of one of the bug pictures, and Clover +had to think and swallow fast and hard to keep from being overcome. But he was +true blue, and came out right side up. Aunt Mary was acclaimed on all sides, +and escorted to the “bubble.” +</p> + +<p> +Burnett couldn’t resist going, too, at the last moment; but, as his ribs +were really tender yet, he sat in front with Clover. Jack and Mitchell sat +behind, and deftly inserted the honored guest between them. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s an even thing as to which is the ear-trumpet side,” +Mitchell said, as they all stood about preparatory to climbing in. “Of +course, that side don’t need to holler quite so loud; but then, to +balance, he may get his one and only pair of front teeth knocked out any +minute.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll take that side,” said Jack. “I’m used to +fighting under the inspiration of the trumpet.” +</p> + +<p> +“And God be with you,” said his friend piously. “May he watch +over you and bring you out safe and whole—teeth, eyes, etc.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come on,” said Clover impatiently; “don’t you know +this thing’s getting up power and you’re wasting it talking.” +</p> + +<p> +“Curious,” laughed Burnett. “I never knew that it was +gasolene that men were consuming when they kept an automobile waiting.” +</p> + +<p> +And then they got in and were off—a merry load, indeed. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me, but it’s a-goin’!” Aunt Mary exclaimed, as +the thing began to whiz and she felt suddenly impelled to clutch wildly at her +flanking escorts. “Suppose we met a dog.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’d leave a floor mat,” shrieked Mitchell. “Oh, but +isn’t this great—greater—greatest?” +</p> + +<p> +“Time of your life, Aunt Mary!” Jack howled, as they went over a +boarded spot in the pavement, and the old lady nearly went over the back in +consequence. “You’re in for the time of your life!” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you like it?” yelled Clover, throwing a glance over his +shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary started to answer, but they came to four car tracks one after +another, and the successive shocks rendered her speechless. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are we going?” Burnett asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Nowhere,” said Clover. “Just waking up the machine.” +And he turned on another million volts as he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my bonnet!” cried poor Aunt Mary, and that bit of her +adornment was in the street and had been run over four times before they could +slow up, turn around, and get back to the scene of its output. +</p> + +<p> +It speaks volumes for the permeating atmosphere of “having the time of +your life” that its owner laughed when the wreck was shown to her. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t care a bit,” she said. “I can go down to +Delmonico’s an’ get me another to-morrow mornin’, +easy.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a trump you are, Aunt Mary!” said Jack admiringly. +“Here, Burnett, fish her out that extra cap from the cane rack; +there’s always one in the bottom. There—now you won’t take +cold, Aunt Mary.” +</p> + +<p> +The cap, with its fore-piece, was the crowning glory of Aunt Mary’s +get-up. The brain measurements of him who had bought the cap being to its +present wearer’s as five is to three, the effect of its proportions, in +addition to the goggles and the ear-trumpet, was such as to have overawed a +survivor of Medusa’s stare. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I say,” said Mitchell, “it’s a sin to keep as good +a joke as this in the family! We must drive her around town until the night +falls down or the battery burns out.” +</p> + +<p> +“I say so too,” said Burnett. “This is more sport than oiling +railroad tracks and seeing old Tweedwell brought up for it. Say, set her +a-buzzing again. It’s a big game, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +Clover thought so, with the result that they speeded through tranquil +neighborhoods and churned leisurely where the masses seethed until countless +thousands were wondering what under the sun those four young fellows had in the +back of their car. +</p> + +<p> +The sad part about all good fun is that it has to end sooner or later; and +about six o’clock the whole party began to be aware that, if refreshments +were not taken, their end was surely close at hand. They therefore called a +brief halt somewhere to get what is technically known as a +“sandwich,” and the results were thoroughly satisfactory to +everyone but Aunt Mary. She took one bite of her sandwich, and then opened it +with an abruptness which merged into disgust when it proved to be full of fish +eggs. +</p> + +<p> +“Why didn’t you tell me what it was made of?” she asked in +annoyance. “I feel just as if I’d swallowed a marsh—a green +one!” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a shame!” said Clover indignantly. “I’ll +get you something that will take that taste out of your mouth double quick. +Here!” he called to a waiter, and then he gave the man certain careful +directions. +</p> + +<p> +The latter nodded wisely, and a few minutes later brought in a tiny glass +containing a pousse-café in three different colors. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a cocktail. Drink it quick,” Clover directed. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary demurred. +</p> + +<p> +“I never drank a cocktail,” she began. +</p> + +<p> +“No time like the present to begin,” said Clover, +“you’ll have to learn some day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cocktails,” said Mitchell, “are the advance guard of a newer +and brighter civilization. They—” +</p> + +<p> +“If she’s going to take it at all she must take it now,” said +Clover authoritatively. “The green and the yellow are beginning to run +together. Quick now!” +</p> + +<p> +His confiding guest drank quick and became the three different colors quicker +yet. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” Jack asked anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary was speechless. +</p> + +<p> +“He mixed it wrong,” said Clover in a sad, discouraged tone. +“What she ought to have got first she got last, that’s all. The +cocktail is upside down inside of her, and the effect of it is upside down on +the outside of her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Feel any better now, Aunt Mary?” Jack yelled. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t seem to keep the purple swallowed,” said the poor +old lady. “I want to go home. I’ve always been a great believer in +going home when you feel like I do now. In general—as a rule.” +</p> + +<p> +“I would strongly recommend your obeying her wishes,” said +Mitchell, with great earnestness. “There’s a time for all things, +and, in my opinion, she’s had about all the queer tastes that she can +absorb for to-day. Things being as they are and mainly as they shouldn’t +be, I cast my vote in with what looks as if it would soon become the losing +side, and vote to bubble back for all we’re worth.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a general acquiescence in his view of the case, which led them all to +pile into “The Threshing Machine” with unaffected haste and rush +Aunt Mary bedward as rapidly as was possible considering the hour and the +policemen. +</p> + +<p> +Janice received her mistress with the tender welcome that every prodigal may +count on and was especially expeditious with tea and toast and a robe de nuit. +Aunt Mary sighed luxuriously when she felt herself finally tucked up. +</p> + +<p> +“After all, Granite,” she said dreamily, “there’s +nothin’ like gettin’ stretched out to think it over—is +there?” +</p> + +<p> +But Janice was turning out the lights. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap15"></a>Chapter Fifteen<br/> +Aunt Mary Enthralled</h2> + +<p> +Jack’s aunt slept long and dreamlessly again. That thrice-blessed sleep +which follows nights abroad in the metropolis. +</p> + +<p> +When, toward four o’clock, Aunt Mary opened her eyes, she was at first +almost as hazy in her conceptions as she had found herself upon the previous +day. +</p> + +<p> +“I feel as if the automobile was runnin’ up my back and over my +head,” she said, thoughtfully passing her hand along the machine’s +imaginary course. Then she rang her bell and Janice appeared from the room +beyond. +</p> + +<p> +“I guess you’d better give me some of that that you gave me +yesterday,” the elderly lady suggested; “what do you think?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, indeed,” said Janice—and went at once and brought it in +separate glasses on a tray, and mixed it by pouring, while Aunt Mary looked on +with an intuitive understanding that passed instinct and bordered on a complete +comprehension of things to her hitherto unknown. +</p> + +<p> +“They’d ought to advertise that,” she said, as she set down +the empty glass a few seconds later. “There’d be a lot of folks +who’d be glad to know there was such a thing when they first wake up +mornin’s after—after—well, mornin’s after +anythin’. It’s jus’ what you want right off; it sort of runs +through your hair and makes you begin to remember.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, ma’am,” said Janice, turning to put down the tray, and +then crossing the room to seek something on the chimney-piece. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary gave a sudden twist,—as if the drink had infused an +effervescing energy into her frame. “Well what am I goin’ to do +to-day?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Denham has written out your engagements here,” said Janice, +handing her a jeweler’s box as she spoke. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary tore off the tissue paper with trembling haste—lifted the +cover—and beheld a tiny ivory and gold memoranda card. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that boy!” she ejaculated. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I read the list aloud to you?” the maid inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, read it.” +</p> + +<p> +So Janice read the dates proposed the night before and Aunt Mary sat up in bed, +held her ear-trumpet, and beamed beatifically. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t believe I ever can do all that,” she said when +Janice paused; “I never was one to rush around pell-mell, but I’ve +always been a great believer in lettin’ other folks enjoy themselves +an’ I shall try not to interfere.” +</p> + +<p> +Janice hung the tiny memoranda up beside its owner’s watch and stood at +attention for further orders. +</p> + +<p> +“But I d’n know I’m sure what I can wear to-night,” +continued the one in bed; “you know my bonnet was run over +yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,—it was the most sudden thing I ever saw. I thought it was the +top of my head at first.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was it spoiled?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it wouldn’t do for me again and I don’t really believe +it would even do for Lucinda. We didn’t bring it home with us anyhow +an’ so its no use talkin’ of it any more. I’m sure I wish +I’d brought my other with me. It wasn’t quite as stylish, but it +set so good on my head. As it is I ain’t got any bonnet to wear an’ +we’re goin’ in a box, Jack says,—I should hate to look wrong +in a box.” +</p> + +<p> +“But ladies in boxes do not wear anything,” cried Janice +reasuringly. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary jumped. +</p> + +<p> +“Not <i>anything?</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“On their heads.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!—Well, then the bonnet half of me’ll be all right, but +what <i>shall</i> I wear on the rest of me? I don’t want to look out of fashion, +you know. My, but I wish I’d brought my Paisley shawl. I’ve got a +Paisley shawl that’s a very rare pattern. There’s cocoanuts in the +border and a twisted design of monkeys and their tails done in the center. +An’ there ain’t a moth hole in it—not one.” +</p> + +<p> +Janice looked out of the window. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got a cameo pin, too,” continued Aunt Mary +reflectively. “My, but that’s a handsome pin, as I remember it. +It’s got Jupiter on it holdin’ a bunch of thunder and +lightnin’ an’ receivin’ the news of somebody’s +bein’ born—I used to know the whole story. But, you see, I expected +to just be sittin’ by Jack’s bed and I never thought to bring any +of those dress-up kind of things,” she sighed. +</p> + +<p> +Janice returned to the bed side. +</p> + +<p> +“Hadn’t you better begin to dress?” she howled suggestively. +“They are going to dine here before going to the theater and dinner is +ordered in an hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe I had,” said Aunt Mary, “but—oh dear—I +don’t know what I <i>will</i> wear!” She began to emerge from the +bedclothes as she spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“How would my green plaid waist do?” she asked earnestly. +</p> + +<p> +“I think it would be lovely,” shrieked the maid. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, shake it out then,” said Aunt Mary, “it ought to be in +the fashion—all the silk they put in the sleeves. An’ if +you’ll do my hair just as you did it yesterday—” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I will.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the labor of the toilette began in good earnest, and three-quarters of an +hour later Aunt Mary was done, and sitting by the window while Janice laced her +boots. +</p> + +<p> +A rap sounded at the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in,” cried the maid. +</p> + +<p> +It was Jack with a regular fagot of American Beauties. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Aunt Mary,” he cried with his customary hearty greeting. +“How!” +</p> + +<p> +“How what?” asked Aunt Mary, whose knowledge of Sioux social +customs had been limited by the border line of New England. +</p> + +<p> +Jack laughed. “How are you?” he asked in correction of his +imperfect phrasing. And then he handed over the rose wood. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m pretty well,” said his aunt; “but, my goodness you +mustn’t bring me so many presents—you—” +</p> + +<p> +Jack stopped her words with a kiss. “Now, Aunt Mary, don’t you +scold, because you’re my company and I won’t have it. This is my +treat, and just don’t you fret. What do you say to your roses?” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary looked a bit uneasy. +</p> + +<p> +“They’re pretty big,” she hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the fashion,” said Jack; “the longer you can +buy ’em the better the girls like it. I tried to get you some eight feet +long but they only had two of that number and I wanted the whole bunch to +match—” +</p> + +<p> +He was interrupted by another rap on the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Hallo!” he cried. “Come in.” +</p> + +<p> +It was Mitchell with several dozen carnations, the most brilliant yet +prized—or priced. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I declare!” exclaimed Aunt Mary. +</p> + +<p> +“For you, Miss Watkins,” cried the newcomer, gracefully offering +his homage, “with the assurance of my sincere regret that I came on the +scene too late to have been making a scene with you fifty years ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t quite catch that,” said Aunt Mary, rapturously. But +never mind,—Granite, get a tin basin or suthin’ for these +flowers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s Burnett?” Jack asked the +newcomer,—“isn’t he dressed? It’s getting late.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s all right,” said Mitchell; “he and Clover +are—here they are!” +</p> + +<p> +The two came in together at that second. Clover’s mustache just showed +over the top of the largest bunch of violets ever constructed, and Burnett bore +with assiduous care a bouquet of orchids tied with a Roman sash. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary leaned back and shut her eyes. If it hadn’t been for her smile, +they might possibly have feared for her life. +</p> + +<p> +But she was only momentarily stunned by surpassing ecstasy. +</p> + +<p> +“You’d better put some water in the bath-tub, Granite,” she +said, recovering, “nothing else will be big enough.” +</p> + +<p> +The four young men drew up chairs and rivalled her smiles with theirs. +</p> + +<p> +“I d’n know how I ever can thank you,” said the old lady +warmly. “I’ve always had such a poor opinion o’ life in +cities, too!” +</p> + +<p> +“Life in cities, my dear Miss Watkins,” screamed Mitchell, +“is always pictured as very black, but it’s only owing to the soft +coal—not to the people who burn it.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary smiled again. +</p> + +<p> +“I guess the bath-tub will be big enough to keep ’em fresh,” +she said simply, and Mitchell gave up and dried his forehead with his +handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +They dined at home upon this occasion and afterwards took two carriages for the +theater. Aunt Mary, Jack, Clover, the American Beauties and the violets went in +the first, and what remained of the party and the floral decorations followed +in the second. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean to smoke,” said that part of the second load which +habitually answered to the name of Mitchell. “There is nothing so +soothing when you have thorns in your legs as a cigarette in your mouth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Too—too;” laughed his companion. “Jimmy! but our aunt +is game, isn’t she?” +</p> + +<p> +“To my order of thinking,” said Mitchell thoughtfully scratching a +match, “Aunt Mary has been hung up in cold storage just long enough to +have acquired the exactly proper gamey flavor. It cannot be denied that to +worn, worldly, jaded mortals like you and me, the sight of fresh, ever +bubbling, youthful enthusiasm like hers is as thrilling and trilling and +rilling as—as—as—” he paused to light his cigarette. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus04"></a> +<img src="images/image04.png" width="480" height="368" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">Aunt Mary and Her Escorts.</p> +</div> + +<p> +“Yes, you’d better stutter,” said Burnett. “I thought +you were running ahead of your proper signals.” +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t that,” said Mitchell, puffing gently. “It is +that I suddenly recollected that I was alone with you, and my brains tell me +that it is a waste of brains to use them in the sense of a plural noun with +you. The word in your company,—my dear boy—only comes to me as a +verb—as an active verb—and dear knows how often I have itched to +apply it forcibly.” +</p> + +<p> +Then they drew up in front of the theater and saw Aunt Mary being unloaded just +beyond. +</p> + +<p> +“Great Scott, I feel as if I was a part of a poster!” said Burnett, +diving into the carriage depths for the last lot of flowers. +</p> + +<p> +“I feel as if I were a part of the Revelation,” said Mitchell, +“I mean—the Revel-eration.” +</p> + +<p> +They rapidly formed on somewhat after the plan of the famous “Marriage +under the Directoire.” Aunt Mary commanded the center-rush, leaning on +Jack’s arm, and the rest acted as half-backs, left wings, or +flower-bearers, just as the reader prefers. +</p> + +<p> +They made quite a sensation as they proceeded to their box and more yet when +they entered it. They were late—very late—as is the privilege of +all box parties and their seating problem absorbed the audience to a degree +never seen before or since. +</p> + +<p> +Jack put Aunt Mary and her green plaid waist in the middle and flanked her with +purple violets and red carnations. The ear-trumpet was laid upon the orchids +just where she could reach it easily. Then her escorts took positions as a sort +of half-moon guard behind and each held two or three American Beauties straight +up and down as if they were the insignia of his rank and office. +</p> + +<p> +The effect was gorgeous. The very actors saw and were interested at once. They +directed all their attention to that one box, and at the end of the act the +stage manager got the writer of the topical song on the wire and had a brand +new and very apropos verse added which brought down the house. +</p> + +<p> +Jack and his party caught on and clapped like mad, Aunt Mary beat the front of +the box with her ear-trumpet, and when Clover suggested that she throw some +flowers to the heroine she threw the orchids and came near maiming the bass +viol for life. Burnett rushed out between acts and bought her a cane to pound +with, Jack rushed out between more acts and bought her a pair of opera glasses, +Mitchell rushed out between still further acts and procured her one of those +Japanese fans which they use for fire-screens, and agitated it around her +during the rest of the evening. +</p> + +<p> +“Time of your life, Aunt Mary,” Jack vociferated under the cover of +a general chorus; “Time of your life!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my,” said Aunt Mary, heaving a great sigh, “seems if +I’d <i>die</i> when I think of Lucinda.” +</p> + +<p> +They got out of the theater somewhat after eleven and Clover took them all to a +French café for supper, so that again it was pretty well along into the day +after when Janice regained her charge. +</p> + +<p> +“Granite,” said Aunt Mary very solemnly, as she collapsed upon her +bed twenty minutes later yet, “put it down on that memoranda for me never +to find no fault with nothing ever again. Never—not ever—not never +again.” +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +The second day after was that which had been set for Mitchell’s yachting +party. They allowed a day to lapse between because a yachting party has to +begin early enough so that you can see to get on board. Mitchell wanted his to +begin early enough so that they could see the yacht too. +</p> + +<p> +“A yacht, Miss Watkins,” he said into the ear trumpet, “is a +delight that it takes daylight to delight in. If my words sound somewhat mixed, +believe me, it is the effect of what is to come casting its shadow before. I +speak with understanding and sympathy—you will know all later.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary smiled sweetly. Sometimes she thought that Mitchell was the nicest of +the three—times when she wasn’t talking to Clover or Burnett. +</p> + +<p> +Jack took his aunt out to drive on the afternoon of the intervening day and +bought her a blue suit with a red tape around one arm, and some rubbersoled +shoes, and a yachting cap and a mackintosh. There was something touching in +Aunt Mary’s joyful confidence and anticipation—she having never +been cast loose from shore in all her life. +</p> + +<p> +“When do you s’pose we’ll get home?” she asked Jack. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, some time toward night,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +She smiled with a trust as colossal as Trusts usually are. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure I shall have a good time,” she said. “I +always liked to see pictures of waves.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll see the real things now, Aunt Mary,” cried her nephew +heartily. He was not a bit malicious, possessing a stomach whose equilibrium +could not conceive any other anatomical condition. +</p> + +<p> +Janice, however, had doubts, and on the morning of the next day her doubts +deepened. She looked from the window and shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Feel a fly?” inquired Aunt Mary. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I see some clouds,” yelled her maid. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t ask you to speak loud,” said the old lady. “I +always hear what you say. Always.” +</p> + +<p> +Janice went out of the room and voiced her views of the weather to the +proprietors of the expedition. The proprietors were having an uproarious +breakfast on ham and eggs—all but Mitchell, who sat somewhat aloof and +contented himself with an old and reliable breakfast food long known to his +race. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you really going to take her up the Sound to-day?” the maid +demanded of the merry mob. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not,” said Burnett; “it’s the yacht +that’s going to take her. Pass the syrup, Jack, like the jack you +are.” +</p> + +<p> +“Doesn’t she feel well?” Jack asked, passing the syrup as +requested. “If she doesn’t feel well, of course, we won’t +go.” +</p> + +<p> +“I like that,” said Mitchell, “when it’s my day for my +party and my cook all provisioned with provisions for provisioning us all. How +long do you suppose ice cream stays together in this month of roses, +anyhow?” +</p> + +<p> +“She is very well,” said the maid quietly, “but it’s +blowing pretty fresh here in the city and I thought that out on the +Sound—” +</p> + +<p> +“Blowing fresh, is it?” laughed Burnett; “well, it’ll +salt her fast enough when we get out. Don’t you fuss over what’s +none of your business, my dear girl; just trot along upstairs and dress dolly, +and when she’s dressed we’ll take her off your hands.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack appeared unduly quiet. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think it is going to storm?” he asked Mitchell. Mitchell +was scraping his saucer with the thrift that thrives north of the Firth of +Forth and hatches yachts on the west shores of the Atlantic. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think at all during vacation,” he said mildly. +“I repose and reap ‘Oh’s’—from other +people.” +</p> + +<p> +“If there was any chance of a storm——?” said the +nephew, thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Fiddle-dee-dee,” said Burnett impatiently, “what do you +think yachts are for, anyhow? To let alone?” He looked at the maid as he +spoke and pointed significantly to the door. She went out at once and returned +upstairs to her mistress whom she found quite restless to +“get-a-goin’” as she expressed it. +</p> + +<p> +The boxes filled with yesterday’s purchases were brought out at once and +Janice proceeded to rubber-sole and blue-serge Aunt Mary. The latter regarded +every step of the performance in the huge three-fold cheval glass which had +been wont to tell Mrs. Rosscott things that every woman longs to know. +</p> + +<p> +When her toilette was complete it must be admitted that as a yachtswoman Aunt +Mary fairly outshone her automobile portrait. She surveyed herself long and +carefully. +</p> + +<p> +“I expect it’ll be quite an experience,” she said with many +new wrinkles of anticipation. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Janice, with a glance at the fluttering window +curtains, “I expect it will be.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary went downstairs and was greeted with loud acclamations. The breakfast +party broke up at once and, while Janice phoned for cabs, Aunt Mary’s +quartette of escorts sought hats, coats, etcetera. After that they all sallied +forth and took their places as joyfully as ever. +</p> + +<p> +It was quite a long drive to where “Lady Belle” had been brought +up, and they had to stop once to lay in two or three pounds of current +literature. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you read mostly?” asked Aunt Mary. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s best to be on the safe side,” said Clover vaguely. +</p> + +<p> +Then they entered the tangle of docks and express wagons and obstacles in +general and Mitchell had great difficulty in finding where his launch had been +taken to meet them. +</p> + +<p> +But at last they got Aunt Mary down a flight of very slippery steps and into a +boat whose everything was labeled “Lady Belle,” and Mitchell said +something and they cast loose and were off. +</p> + +<p> +“Seems rather a small yacht,” said Aunt Mary, glancing cheerfully +about. “I ain’t surprised that you’d rather come in +nights.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bless your heart, Aunt Mary,” shrieked Jack, “this +isn’t the yacht, this is the way we get to her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” said Aunt Mary blankly. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the yacht,” yelled Burnett, “that white one +with the black smoke coming out and the sail up.” +</p> + +<p> +“What are they getting up steam for?” asked Clover. “The time +to get up steam is when you get down sails generally.” +</p> + +<p> +“They aren’t getting up steam,” said Mitchell, +“they’re getting up dinner. It looks like a lot of smoke because of +the shadow on the sail. And, speaking of getting up dinner, reminds me that the +topic before us now is, how in thunder are we to get up Aunt Mary?” +</p> + +<p> +“Put a rope around her and board her as if she was a cavalry +horse,” suggested Burnett. +</p> + +<p> +“I scorn the suggestion,” said their host; “if the worst +comes to the worst I can give her a back up, but I trust that Aunt Mary will +rise to the heights of the sail and the situation all at once and not make me +do any vertebratical stunts so early in the day.” +</p> + +<p> +They were running alongside of “Lady Belle” as he spoke, and the +first thing Aunt Mary knew she and her party were attached to the former by +some mysterious and not altogether solid connection. +</p> + +<p> +“What do we do now?” she asked uneasily. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll show you,” laughed Burnett, and seizing two flapping +ropes he went skipping up a sort of stepladder and sprang upon the deck above. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary started to emulate his prowess and stood up at once. But the next +second she sat down extremely hard without knowing why she had done so. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold on, Miss Watkins,” Mitchell cried hastily; “just you +hold on until I give you something to hold on to, and when you’ve got +something to hold on to, please keep holding on to it, until I tell you that +the hour has come in which to let go again.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t quite catch that,” said Aunt Mary, “but +I’m ready to do anythin’ you say if you only—” and +again she sprang up and again was thrown down as hard as before. +</p> + +<p> +“Look out,” cried Jack, springing to her side; and he got hold of +his valuable relative and held her fast while Mitchell grasped the ladder and a +sailor strove to keep the launch still. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Aunt Mary,” cried the nephew, “hang on to me and hang +on to those ropes and remember I’m right back of you—” +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord alive,” cried Aunt Mary, turning her gaze upwards, +“am I expected to go alone all that way to the top?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’ll pay you to keep on to the top,” screamed Clover; +“you’ll have, comparatively speaking, very little fun if you hang +on to the ladder all day—and you’ll get so wet too.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s more room at the top,” cried Mitchell, +“there’s always room at the top, Miss Watkins. Put yourself in the +place of any young man entering a profession and struggle bravely upwards, +bearing ever in—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I never can,” said Aunt Mary, recoiling abruptly; “I +never could climb trees when I was little—I never had no grip in my +legs—and I just know I can’t. It’s too high. An’ it +looks slippery. An’ I don’t want to, anyhow.” +</p> + +<p> +“What rot!” yelled Jack, “the very idea! Why, Aunt Mary, you +know you can skin up there just like a cat if you only make up your mind to it. +Here, Mitchell, give her a boost and I’ll plant her feet firmly. +Now—have you got hold of the ropes, Aunt Mary?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, mercy—on—me!” wailed Aunt Mary, “the yacht +is turnin’ a-round an’ the harder I pull the faster it +turns.” +</p> + +<p> +“Catch her from above, Burr,” Clover called excitedly; “hook +her with anything if you can’t reach her with your hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my cap!” shrieked poor Aunt Mary, and the cap went off and she +went on up and was landed safe above. +</p> + +<p> +“How on the chart do you suppose we’ll ever unload her?” Jack +asked, wide-eyed, as he swung himself quickly after her. +</p> + +<p> +“What man hath done man can do,” quoted Mitchell sententiously, +following his lead. +</p> + +<p> +“But no man ever unloaded Aunt Mary,” Clover reminded him, as they +brought up the rear. +</p> + +<p> +Then they were all on deck, a chair was brought for the honored guest, and +Mitchell introduced his sailing-master who had been drawn to gaze upon the +rather novel manner in which she had been brought aboard. +</p> + +<p> +“I want Miss Watkins to have the sail of her life, Renfew,” said +Mitchell. “We aren’t coming back until night.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll have sail enough sure, sir,” said Renfew, touching his +cap, and then he walked away and the work of starting off began. A tug had been +engaged to tow them out into the breeze and Jack thought it would be nice to +show Aunt Mary around while they were being meandered through coal barges, etc. +They went below and Aunt Mary saw everything with a most flattering interest. +</p> + +<p> +“I d’n know but what I’d enjoy a little yacht of my +own,” she said to Mitchell. “I think it’s so amusin’ +the way everythin’ turns over into suthin’ else. I suppose Joshua +could learn to sail me—I wouldn’t want to trust no new man, I +know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, of course,” said Jack, “and we could all come and visit +you, Aunt Mary.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary smiled hospitably. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d be glad to see you all any day,” she said cordially; +“and I shall have a hole in the bottom of the boat for people to go in +and out of, and a nice staircase down to it, so you needn’t mind the +notion of how you’ll get on and off.” +</p> + +<p> +They all laughed and continued the tour below and Aunt Mary grew more and more +enthusiastic for quite a while. She liked the kitchen and she liked the +dining-room. She thought the arrangement for keeping the table level most +ingenious. Mitchell took her into the main cabin and told her that that was +hers for the day. On the dresser was a photograph of the “Lady +Belle” framed in silver, which the young host presented to his guest as a +souvenir of the “voyage.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary’s pleasure was at its height. Oh, the pity of Fate which makes +the apex of everything so very limited as to standing room! Three minutes after +the presentation and acceptation of the photograph Aunt Mary’s glance +became suddenly vague, and then especially piercing. +</p> + +<p> +“What makes this up and down feeling?” she asked Mitchell. +</p> + +<p> +“What up and down feeling?” he asked, secure in the good conscience +and pure living of an oatmeal breakfast. “I don’t feel up and +down.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do,” said Aunt Mary abruptly; “I want to be somewhere +else.” +</p> + +<p> +“You want to be on deck,” said Burnett, suddenly emerging from +somewhere; “I know the symptoms. I always have ’em. Come on. And +when we get up there, I’ll collar Jack for urging those six last griddle +cakes on me this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“I ain’t sure I want to be on deck,” said Aunt Mary; +“dear me—I feel as if I wasn’t sure of anythin’.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did I tell you?” said Burnett to Mitchell; “it’s +blowing fresh and neither she nor I ought to have come. You know me when it +blows.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shut up,” said Mitchell, hurrying Aunt Mary up the companion-way +and shoving her into one chair and her feet into another; “there, Miss +Watkins, you’re all right now, aren’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” said Jack, coming from somewhere aloft +or astern. “Heaven bless me, what ails you, Aunt Mary?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t wonder I’m pale,” said Aunt Mary faintly, +“oh—oh—” +</p> + +<p> +“We must put our heads together,” said Burnett, taking a drink from +a flask that he took out of his pocket; “I must soon put my head on +something, and your aunt looks to me to feel the same way. Mitchell, why did +you let me forget that vow I made last time to never come again?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your vows to never do things again are about as stable as your present +hold on an upright position,” said Clover, laying a steadying hand upon +his friend’s waveringness. “Sit down, little boy, sit down.” +</p> + +<p> +Burnett sat down, Mitchell smiled, Jack laughed, and Aunt Mary groaned. +</p> + +<p> +The boat was rising and falling rapidly now, and as she ran further and further +out into the ever freshening wind she kept on rising and falling yet more +rapidly. The more motion there was the more Aunt Mary seemed to sift down in +her two chairs. +</p> + +<p> +“We’d better put back,” said Jack; “this won’t +do, you know. How do you feel now, Aunt Mary?” he added, leaning over +her. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary opened her eyes and looked at him but made no reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Ask me how I feel, if you dare,” said Burnett, from where his +chair was drawn up not far away. “I couldn’t kill you just now, but +I will some day I promise you.” +</p> + +<p> +He was very white and had a look about his mouth that showed that he meant what +he said. +</p> + +<p> +Some bells rang somewhere. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s dinner,” exclaimed Clover. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary gave a piercing cry. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, take me somewhere else,” she said, throwing her hands up to +her face; “somewhere where there’ll never be nothin’ to eat +again. I—I can’t bear to hear about eatin’.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going to take her down into one of the cabins,” said +Jack hastily, “she belongs in bed.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, turn back the carpet and lay me in the bath-tub,” almost +sobbed the poor victim. “I don’t feel like I could get flat enough +anywhere else.” +</p> + +<p> +“She has the proper spirit,” said Burnett faintly, “only I +don’t feel as if I could get flat enough anywhere at all. What in the +name of the Great Pyramid ever possessed me to come?” +</p> + +<p> +Mitchell rose quickly to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“You put your aunt to bed, Jack,” he said, “and I’ll +put my yacht to backing. This expedition is expeditiously heading on to what +might be termed a failure. I can see that, even if we’re only in a +Sound.” +</p> + +<p> +“When do you suppose we’ll get back?” the nephew asked +anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“About four o’clock, if we don’t lose time by having to +tack.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t quite catch all that,” said Aunt Mary, “but I +knew suthin’ was loose all along. I felt it inside of me right off at +first. And ever since, too.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack gathered her up in his arms and bore her tenderly away to the beautiful +main cabin. +</p> + +<p> +“I wanted to live to change my will,” she said sadly, as he laid +her down, “but somehow I don’t seem to care for nothin’ no +more.” +</p> + +<p> +He kissed her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“They say being seasick is awfully <i>good</i> for people, Aunt Mary,” he +yelled contritely. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary opened her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“John Watkins, Jr., Denham,” she said, “if you say +‘food’ to me again <i>ever</i>, I’ll never leave you a +penny—so there!” +</p> + +<p> +Jack went away and left her. +</p> + +<p> +“Come on to dinner, Burnett,” Clover called hilariously, +“there’s liver with little bits of bacon—your favorite +dish.” +</p> + +<p> +Burnett snarled the weakest kind of a snarl. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought I’d suffered enough for one year last month,” he +murmured in a voice too low to be heard, and then he knew himself to be alone +on deck. +</p> + +<p> +Down in the little dining-saloon the dishes were hopping merrily back and forth +and an agreeable odor of agreeable viands filled the air. Clover and Jack sat +down opposite their host and they all three ate and drank with a zest that knew +no breaking waves nor sad effects. +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s to our aunt,” said Clover gayly, as the first course +went around; “of course, we all love her for Jack’s sake, but at +the same time I offer two to odds that it is a pleasure to converse in under +tones occasionally. Who takes?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aunt Mary being laid upon her bed,” said Mitchell, “we will +next proceed to lay the motion of our honorable friend upon the table. We +regret Aunt Mary’s ill-health while we drink to her good—quotation +marks under the latter word. Aunt Mary!—and may she arise and prosper all +the way down into the launch again.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m troubled about her, really,” said Jack soberly; +“we ought to have brought someone to look out for her.” +</p> + +<p> +“The maid,” cried Mitchell, “the dainty, adorable maid! +Here’s to Janice and—” his speech was brought to a sudden end +by his two guests nearly disappearing under the table. +</p> + +<p> +Jack started up. +</p> + +<p> +“Ginger! Did you feel that?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s nothing,” said Mitchell, calmly replacing the +water-carafe which in the excitement of the moment he had clasped to his bosom; +“it’s the waves which are rising to the occasion—that’s +all.” But Jack had hurried out. +</p> + +<p> +He found poor Aunt Mary writhing in an agony of misery. +“Oh—oh—” she cried, “I want to be +still—I’m too much tipped—and all the wrong way! I want to +lay smooth—and I stand on my head—all the—” +</p> + +<p> +“We’re going back,” said Jack, striving to soothe her; +“lie still, Aunt Mary, and we’ll soon get there. Do you want some +camphor to smell?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t feel up to smellin’,” wailed Aunt Mary, +“I don’t feel up to anythin’. Go ’way. Right +off.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack went on deck. He found Burnett stretched pale and green upon the chairs +their lady guest had vacated. +</p> + +<p> +“If you speak to me again,” he said, in halting accents, +“I’ll never speak to you again. Get out.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack went back to his place at dinner. +</p> + +<p> +“How are they?” asked Clover. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” he said quietly, “but there’s a +big storm coming up. The sky’s all dark blue and it looks bad.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t care,” said Mitchell, sawing into the game with +vigor; “if we go down we go down with Aunt Mary and if I were Uncle Mary +I wouldn’t feel happier and safer as to all concerned. The ship that bore +Cæsar and his fortune had nothing at all to bear compared to this which bears +Jack and his. Here’s to Jack and his fortune, and may we all survive the +dark blue sky.” +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you it’s serious,” said Jack. As he spoke another +ominous heaving set the bottles tipping and nearly sent Clover backwards. +</p> + +<p> +“And I’m serious,” exclaimed Mitchell. “I’m +always serious only I never can get any girl to believe it. Here’s to me, +and may I grow more and more serious each—” +</p> + +<p> +A tremendous wave bore the yacht upright and then let her fall on her forelegs +again. Clover went over backwards and the dish of peas to which he had just +been helping himself followed after. +</p> + +<p> +“You didn’t say ‘excuse me’ when you left the +table,” said Mitchell, whom the law of gravitation had suddenly raised to +a pinnacle from which he viewed his friends with mirthful scorn; “and if +you’ve hurt yourself it must be a judgment on you for leaving the table +without saying ‘excuse me.’ Here’s to Clover, who has a +judgment and a dish of peas served on him at the same time for leaving the +table without saying ‘excuse me.’” +</p> + +<p> +The sailing-master appeared at the door, his cap in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon, sir,” he said respectfully, “but I fear +it’s impossible to put back. We can’t turn without getting into the +trough of the sea.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, go ahead then,” said Mitchell; “go where we must +go, and do what you’ve got to do. My motto is <i>veni, vidi, vici</i>, which +freely translated means I can sleep asea when I can’t sleep +ashore.” +</p> + +<p> +“But Aunt Mary?” cried Jack blankly. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s all right,” said Mitchell; “she’ll soon +reach the cold burnt toast stage and when she reaches the stage we’ll all +welcome her into any chorus. Here’s to choruses in general and one chorus +girl in particular. I haven’t met her yet, but I shall know her when I +do, for she will look at me. Up to now they’ve all looked elsewhere and +at other men. If my fortune was only in my face it might draw some interest, +but—” +</p> + +<p> +“Lady Belle” careened violently and Clover went over backwards for +the second time with much in his wake. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I say,” said Mitchell, rising in disgust, “if you want +everything on the table at once why take it. Only I’m going on deck. +After you’ve bathed in the gravy you can have it. Ditto the other +liquids. Jack and I are going up to dance a hornpipe and sing for Burnett. He +looked rather ennuyéd to me when we came down.” +</p> + +<p> +Along toward eight o’clock that night “Lady Belle” anchored +somewhere in the Sound and tugged vigorously at her cables all night. +</p> + +<p> +With the dawn she headed back towards New York. +</p> + +<p> +“As a success my entertainment has been a failure,” said Mitchell +to Jack as they walked up and down the deck after breakfast; “but into +each life some rain must fall, and I offer myself as a sacrificial background +to Aunt Mary’s glowing, living pictures of New York.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you hadn’t, though,” said Jack; “she’ll +never want a yacht of her own now. And how under Scorpion are we ever going to +land her?” +</p> + +<p> +“In a sheet, my able-bodied young friend, in a sheet,” said +Mitchell clapping him on the back. “Don’t you know the ‘Weigh +the Baby’ game? It may double her up a bit, but the redoubtable Janice +will straighten her out again. Here’s to the sheet, be it a wet sheet, a +main sheet, or a sheet with your Aunt Mary tied up in it.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitchell was as good as his word and they landed Aunt Mary in a sheet. The very +harbor-tugs stopped puffing and stood open-mouthed to stare at the performance, +but it was an unalloyed success, and Aunt Mary was gotten onto dry land at +last. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want to do nothin’ for a day or two,” she +said, as they drove to the house. +</p> + +<p> +Janice had the bed open, and a hot-water bottle down where Aunt Mary’s +feet might be expected, and all sorts of comfort ready to hand. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m so glad to see you safe back,” she said, almost weeping. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t believe it’s broke,” said Aunt Mary, +“but you might look and see. Oh, Granite—I—” she +stopped and looked an unutterable meaning. +</p> + +<p> +“It stormed, didn’t it?” said the maid. +</p> + +<p> +“Stormed!” said Aunt Mary. “I guess it did storm. I guess it +hurricaned. I know it did. I’m sure of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you’re safe now,” said the girl, tucking her up as +snugly as if she had been an infant in arms. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I’m safe now,” said Aunt Mary, “but—” +she looked very earnest—“but, oh, my Granite, how I did need that +white fuzzy stuff to drink this morning. I never wanted nothin’ so bad in +all my life afore.” +</p> + +<p> +Janice stood by the bed, her face full of regret that Aunt Mary had known any +aching void. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary grew yet more earnest. +</p> + +<p> +“Granite,” she said, “you mind what I tell you. That ought to +be advertised. I sh’d think you could patent it. Folks ought to know +about it.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she laid herself out in bed. “My heavens alive!” she sighed +sweetly, “there’s nothin’ like home. Not anywhere—not +nowhere!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap16"></a>Chapter Sixteen<br/> +A Reposeful Interval</h2> + +<p> +The next date upon the little gold and ivory memorandum card which hung beside +Aunt Mary’s watch was that set for Burnett’s picnic, but its +dawning found both host and guest too much attached to their beds to desire any +fêtes champêtre just then. +</p> + +<p> +Burnett was in that very weak state which follows in the immediate wake of only +too many yachts,—and Aunt Mary was sleeping one of her long drawn out and +utterly restorative sleeps. +</p> + +<p> +Jack went in and looked at her. +</p> + +<p> +“It did storm awfully,” he said to Janice, who was sitting by the +window. The maid just smiled, nodded, and laid her finger on her lip. She never +encouraged conversation when her charge was reposing. +</p> + +<p> +Jack went softly out and turned his steps toward the room of the other wreck. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, how are stocks to-day?” he asked cheerfully on entering. +</p> + +<p> +Burnett was stretched out pillowless and looked black under his hollow eyes. +But he appeared to be on the road to recovery. +</p> + +<p> +“Jack,” he said seriously, “what in thunder makes me always +so ready to go on the water? I should think after a while I’d learn a +thing or two.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack leaned his elbows on the high carved footboard and returned his +friend’s look with one of equal seriousness. +</p> + +<p> +“What makes all of us do lots of things?” he asked. “Why +don’t we all learn?” +</p> + +<p> +Burnett sighed. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a fact; why don’t we?” he said weakly. And then +he shut his eyes again and turned his back to his caller. +</p> + +<p> +Jack went down to lunch. Clover and Mitchell were playing cards in the library. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, how is the hospital?” Clover asked, looking up while he +shuffled the pack. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind about Burnett,” said Mitchell, “but do relieve my +mind about Aunt Mary. Is the one sheet still taking effect, or has she begun to +rally on a diet of two?” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s asleep,” said the nephew. +</p> + +<p> +“God bless her slumber,” declared Clover piously. “I very +much approve of Aunt Mary asleep. When our dearly beloved aunt sleeps we know +we’ve got her and we don’t have to yell. Shall I deal for +three?” +</p> + +<p> +“They are bringing up lunch,” said the latest +arrival,—“no time to begin a hand. Better stack guns for the +present.” +</p> + +<p> +“So say I,” said Mitchell, “with me everything goes down when +lunch comes up. It’s quite the reverse with Burnett, isn’t +it?” He laughed brutally at his own wit. +</p> + +<p> +“To think how enthusiastic Burr was,” said Clover, evening the +cards preparatory to slipping them into their holder on the side of the table. +“He’s always so enthusiastic and he’s always so sick. In his +place I should feel that, if a buoyant nature is a virtue, I didn’t get +much reward.” +</p> + +<p> +The gong sounded just then, and they all went down to lunch, not at all +saddened by the sight of their comrade’s empty chair. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, what are we going to do next?” Clover demanded as they +finished the bouillon. +</p> + +<p> +“Have a meat course, I suppose,” said Mitchell. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t mean that; I mean, what are we going to do next with Aunt +Mary?” +</p> + +<p> +“She hasn’t but two days more,” said Jack meditatively. +“Of course—even if she was all chipper—this storm has knocked +any picnic endways.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not an ardent upholder of picnics, anyhow,” said Mitchell. +“They require a constant sitting down on the ground and getting up from +the ground to which I find our respected aunt very far from being equal. +Burnett mentioned that we should go to the scene on a coach. That also did not +meet my approval. Going anywhere on a coach requires a constant getting up on +the coach and getting down from the coach to which I also consider the lady +unequal. The events of yesterday have left a deep impression on my mind. +I—” +</p> + +<p> +“Go on and carve,” interrupted Clover, “or else shove me the +platter. I’m hungry.” +</p> + +<p> +“So’m I,” said a voice at the door. A weak voice—but +one that showed decision in its tone. +</p> + +<p> +They looked up and saw Burnett, dressed in a pink silk negligée with flowing +sleeves. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m ravenous,” he exclaimed explanatorily. “I +haven’t had anything since day before yesterday at breakfast. I +didn’t know I wanted anything till I smelt it,—then I dressed and +came down.” +</p> + +<p> +“How sweet you look,” said Clover. “The effect of your pajama +cuffs and collar where one greedily expects curves and contour is lovely. Where +did you find that bath-robe?” +</p> + +<p> +“In the bureau drawer,” said Burnett. “It appeared to have +been hastily shoved in there some time. I would have thought that it was a +woman’s something-or-other, only I found one of Jack’s cards in the +pocket.” +</p> + +<p> +They all began to laugh—Clover and Mitchell more heartily than the owner +of the card. +</p> + +<p> +“Sit down,” said Mitchell finally with great cordiality. “You +may as well sit down while they mess you up some weak tea and wet toast.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tea and toast?” cried the one in pink. “I’m good for +dinner. <i>Um Gotteswillen</i>, what do you suppose I came down for?” +</p> + +<p> +“I wasn’t sure,” said his friend mildly; “you must +admit yourself that your attire is misleading. My book on social etiquette says +nothing as to when it is correct to wear a pink silk robe over blue and white +striped pajamas. However, there’s no denying your presence, and what +can’t be denied must be supplied, so what will you have?” +</p> + +<p> +“Everything.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitchell dived into the edibles generally and Burnett’s void was provided +with fulfillment. +</p> + +<p> +“We were talking about Aunt Mary,” Clover said presently. “We +were saying that neither you nor she would be up to a coach or down to a picnic +for one while.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t know,” said Burnett. “I feel up to pretty +nearly anything now that I can eat again. Pass over the horseradish, will +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re one thing, my sweet pink friend,” said Clover gently, +“but Aunt Mary’s another. I’m not saying that New York has +not had a wonderfully Brown-Sequardesque effect on her, but I am saying that if +she is to be raised and lowered frequently, I want to travel with a portable +crane.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hum, hum, hum!” cried Jack. “May I just ask who did most of +the heavy labor of Aunt Mary yesterday?—As the man in the opera sings +twenty times with the whole chorus to back him—‘’Twas I, +’twas I, ’twas I, ’twas I—’” +</p> + +<p> +“Hand over the toast, Clover,” said Burnett. “I don’t +care who it was—it was a success anyhow, for she’s upstairs and +still alive, and I say she’d enjoy coaching out Riverside way, +and—” he choked. +</p> + +<p> +“Slap him anywhere,” said Mitchell. “On his mouth would be +the proper place. Such poor manners,—coming down to a company lunch in +another man’s bath-robe and then trying to preach and eat dry toast at +once.” +</p> + +<p> +Burnett gasped and recovered. +</p> + +<p> +“There,” said Clover, who had risen to administer the proposed +slap, “he’s off our minds and we may again pick up Aunt Mary and +put her back on.” +</p> + +<p> +“We want to send her home in a blaze of glory,” said Jack +thoughtfully. “I want her to feel that the fun ran straight +through.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s just what I mean,” interposed his particular friend; +“we want her to go home on the wings of a giant cracker, so to +speak.” +</p> + +<p> +“How would it do,” said Clover suddenly, “to just make a +night of it and take her along? Stock up, stack up, and ho! for it. You all +know the kind of a time I mean.” +</p> + +<p> +“Clover,” said Jack gravely, “does it occur to you that Aunt +Mary belongs to me and that I have a personal interest in keeping her +alive?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing ever occurs to him,” said Mitchell. “Occasionally an +idea bangs up against him inadvertently, and as it splinters a sliver or two +penetrate his head—that’s all.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see why the last sliver he felt wasn’t to the +point,” said Burnett, turning the cream jug upside down as he spoke. +“I think she’d enjoy it of all things. She enjoys everything so. +I’ll guarantee that when she gets back home she’ll even enjoy the +yachting trip. Lots of people are made like that. In the winter I always enjoy +yachting, myself. Pass me the hot bread.” +</p> + +<p> +“Burnett,” said Mitchell warmly, “I wish that you would +remember that a collapse invariably follows an inflated market.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it Aunt Mary who is on the market, or myself?” +</p> + +<p> +“You.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the rule is reversed in my case—the collapse went first. +I’m only inflating up to the usual limit again. Is there any gravy +left?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, there isn’t,” said Clover, looking in the dish, +“there isn’t much of anything left.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s go to the library,” said Mitchell, rising abruptly. +“It always makes me ill to see goose-stuffing before Thanksgiving. Come +on.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m done,” said Burnett, springing up and winding his lacey +draperies about his manly form. “Come on yourself; and once settled and +smoking, let us canvass the question and agree with Clover.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know there are nights about town and nights about town,” said +Clover, as they climbed the staircase. “I do not anticipate that Aunt +Mary will bring up with a round turn in the police station, as her young +relative once did.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that’s some comfort,” said Mitchell. “I did not +feel sure as to just where you did mean her to bring up. You will perhaps allow +me to remark that making a night of it with Aunt Mary in tow is a subject that +really is provocative of mature reflection. Making a night of it is a frothy +sort of a proposition in which our beloved aunty may not beat up to quite the +buoyancy of you and me.” +</p> + +<p> +As he finished this sage remark they all re-entered the library and grouped +themselves around the table of smoking things. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what I say,” said Jack. “I think she’s +much more likely to beat out than to beat up—I must say.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll bet you she doesn’t,” cried Burnett eagerly. +“I’ll bet five dollars that she doesn’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“I declare,” said Clover, “what a thing a backer is to be +sure. I feel positive that Aunt Mary will go through with it now. I had my +doubts before, but never now. Six to five on Aunt Mary for the Three-year-old +Stakes.” +</p> + +<p> +“The best way is to hit a happy medium,” said Mitchell +thoughtfully, scratching a match for the lighting of his new-rolled cigarette. +“I think the wisest thing would be for us just to take Aunt Mary and +sally forth and then keep it up until she must be put to bed. What say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Jack, reflectively, “I don’t suppose that +taking it that way, it would really be any worse than the other +nights—” +</p> + +<p> +“Worse!” cried Clover. “Hear him!—slandering those +brilliant occasions, everyone of which is a jewel in the crown of Aunt +Mary’s bonnet.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll begin by dining out,” said Burnett. “I’ll +give the dinner. One of the souvenir kind of affairs. A white mouse for every +man and a canary bird for the lady. We’ll have a private room and +speeches and I’ll get megaphones so we can make her hear without +bustin’.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear boy,” said Mitchell, “where is this private room to +be in which the party can converse through megaphones? I had two deaf uncles +once who played cribbage with megaphones, but they were influential and the +rest of the family were poor. Circumstances alter cases. I ask again where you +can get a private dining-room for the use of five people and four +megaphones?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll see,” said Burnett; “I wish,” he added +irritably, “that you’d wait until I finished before beginning to +smash in like that, you knock everything out of my head.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’ll do you good to have a little something knocked out of +you,” said Mitchell gently. “It may enlarge your premises, give you +a spare room somewhere, so to speak. I should think that you’d need some +spare room somewhere after such a breakfast.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you what I think;” said Clover. “I think +it’s a great scheme. It’s a sort of pull-in-and-out, field-glass +species of idea. We can develop it or we can shut it off; in other words, we +can parade Aunt Mary or bring her home just when we darn please.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what I said,” said Burnett. “Begin with my +dinner, white mice and all, and when all is going just let it slide until it +seems about time to slide off.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Mitchell dryly, “it’s always a good plan to +slide on until you slide off. It would be so easy to reverse the game.” +</p> + +<p> +“And then, too,—” began Burnett. +</p> + +<p> +“Excuse me,” said a voice at the door,—a woman’s voice +this time. +</p> + +<p> +It was Janice, very pretty in her black dress and white decorations, hands in +pockets, smile on lips. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s up now?” the last speaker interrupted himself to ask, +“Aunt Mary?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, she’s not up,” said the maid; “but she’s +awake and wants to know about the picnic.” +</p> + +<p> +“There, what did I say!” cried Burnett; “isn’t she a +hero? I tell you Aunt Mary’d fight in the last ditch—she’d +never surrender! She’s one of those dead-at-the-gun chaps. I’m +proud to think we have known the companionship of joint yachting +results.” +</p> + +<p> +“She says she feels as well as ever,” said Janice, opening her eyes +a trifle as she noted Burnett’s pink silk negligée, “and wishes to +know when you want to start.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bravo,” said Mitchell; “I, too, am fired by this exposition +of pluck. I like spirit. She reminds me of the horse who was turned out to +grass and then suddenly broke the world’s record.” +</p> + +<p> +“What horse was that?” asked Burnett. +</p> + +<p> +“Pegasus,” said Mitchell cruelly; “I didn’t say what +kind of a record he broke, did I?” +</p> + +<p> +“What shall I tell Miss Watkins?” asked the maid. +</p> + +<p> +Jack, who had risen at her entrance and gone to the window, faced around here +and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Tell her that if she’ll dress we’ll go out bonnet-shooting +and afterwards drive in the park.” +</p> + +<p> +Janice hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“She will surely ask where you are to dine,” said she, +half-smiling. +</p> + +<p> +Jack looked at the crowd. +</p> + +<p> +“Fellows,” he said, “we must save up for to-morrow’s +blow-out; suppose you let Mitchell and me dine Aunt Mary somewhere very +tranquilly to-night and we’ll get her home by eleven.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, do,” said Janice, with sudden earnest entreaty. +“Honestly, there is a limit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, there is a limit,” said Mitchell. “Even cities +have their limits. This one tried to be an exception, but San Francisco yelled +‘Keep off’ and she drew in her claws again. Aunt Mary, possessing +many points in common with New York, also possesses that. She has limits. Her +limits took in more than we bargained for,—for they have taken us into +the bargain. Still they are there, and we bow to necessity. A cheerful drive, a +quiet tea, early to bed. And <i>pax vobiscum</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“No wonder,” said Burnett, “it’s easy for you to agree +when you’re to be one of the dinner party.” “I don’t +mind being left out,” said Clover contentedly. “I shall sit on the +sofa and whisper to ‘the one behind.’ Whispering is an art that I +have almost forgotten, but inspired by that pink—” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I’ll tell Miss Watkins to dress for the going out,” +said Janice, pointedly addressing herself to Jack. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, please do.” +</p> + +<p> +The maid left the room and went upstairs. Aunt Mary was tossing about on her +pillow. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what’s it to be?” she asked instantly. +</p> + +<p> +“The storm has made it too wet to picnic,” replied Janice. +“Mr. Denham wants to take you to drive and afterwards you and Mr. +Mitchell and he are to dine—” +</p> + +<p> +“And Burnett and Clover?” cried Aunt Mary in appalled interruption; +“where are they goin’?” +</p> + +<p> +“Really, I don’t know.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t like the idea,” said Aunt Mary; “we’d +ought to all be together. I never did approve of splittin’ up in small +parties. Did Jack say anythin’ about my gettin’ another +bonnet?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, he thought that you would go to a milliner first.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know about lookin’ sillier,” said Aunt Mary. +“Strikes me a woman can’t look more foolish than she does without a +bonnet. However, I don’t feel like makin’ a fuss over +anythin’ to-day. I’ve had a good rest and I feel fine. I’ll +dress and go out with Jack, an’ I know one thing, I’ll enjoy every +minute I can, for this week is goin’ like lightnin’ and when +it’s over—well, you never saw Lucinda, so it’s no use +tryin’ to make you understand, but—” she drew a long breath +and shook her head meaningly. +</p> + +<p> +Janice did not reply. She busied herself with the cares of the toilet of her +mistress, and when that was complete the carriage was summoned for the shopping +tour. +</p> + +<p> +Jack saw that the bonnet was attended to first of all and then they went to +another store and purchased a scarf pin for Joshua and a workbox for Lucinda. +After that Aunt Mary decided that she wanted her four friends each to have a +souvenir of her visit, so she insisted upon being conducted to that gorgeous +establishment which is lighted with diamonds instead of electricity and ordered +four dressing-cases to be constructed, everything with gold tops, to be +engraved with the proper initials and also the inscription, “from M.W. in +memory of N.Y.” Jack rather protested at this, asking her if she realized +what the engraving would come to. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” said Aunt Mary recklessly and lavishly. +“I don’t care what it comes to either. It’s comin’ to +me, anyhow, ain’t it? I rather think so. Seems likely.” +</p> + +<p> +The clerk took down the order, and then as he was ushering them door-wards he +fell by the wayside and craved permission to show some tiaras of emeralds and +some pearl dog-collars. Jack rebelled. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t want any of those,” he exclaimed, trying to propel +her by. +</p> + +<p> +“I ain’t so sure,” said Aunt Mary. “I might have a dog +some day.” +</p> + +<p> +But her nephew got her back into their conveyance, and they drove away. It was +so late that they could not consider the park and so had to make a tour of +Fifth Avenue to use up the time left before dinner. Then when they headed +toward the café they were delighted to observe Mitchell awaiting them just +where he was to have been. +</p> + +<p> +“I see him,” said Aunt Mary. “My! I’d know him as far +off as I’d know anybody.” But then she sighed. “I wish the +others were there, too,” she said sadly; “seems awful—just +three of us.” +</p> + +<p> +The dinner which followed echoed her sentiment. It was a very nice dinner, but +painfully quiet, and Aunt Mary grew very restless. +</p> + +<p> +“Seems like wastin’ time, anyhow,” she said uneasily. +“I don’t see why the others didn’t come. Well, can’t we +go to Coney Island or the Statue of Liberty or somewhere when we’re +through?” +</p> + +<p> +Mitchell looked at Jack. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you see, Aunt Mary,” the latter promptly shrieked, “we +thought we’d be good and go home early and sort of rest up to-night so as +to have a high old time to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary’s face, which had fallen during the first part of their speech, +brightened up at the last words. +</p> + +<p> +“What are we goin’ to do?” she inquired with unfeigned +interest. +</p> + +<p> +“Burnett’s going to give us a dinner,” Jack answered, +“and then afterwards we’re going to help you see the town.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” said Aunt Mary. A pleasant gleam fled over her face. +</p> + +<p> +“I never was a great believer in bein’ out nights,” she said, +“but I guess I’ll make an exception to-morrow. I might as well be +doin’ that as anythin’, I presume. Maybe better—very likely +better.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, very much better,” said Mitchell. “It is the exceptions +that furnish all the oil in life’s machinery. The exceptions not only +generally prove too much for the rule, but they also generally prevent the rule +from proving too much for us. They—” +</p> + +<p> +“But I don’t see why we couldn’t go to two or three +vaudevilles to-night, too,” said the old lady, suddenly. “I feel so +sort of ready-for-anythin’.” +</p> + +<p> +“You always feel that way, Miss Watkins,” screamed Mitchell. +“It is we that are the blind and the halt. You are ever fresh, but we +falter and faint. You see it’s you that go out, but it’s we that +you get back. You—” +</p> + +<p> +“We could go to one vaudeville, anyway,” said Aunt Mary +abstractedly; “an’ if we saw any places that looked lively we could +stop a few minutes there on our way back. I’ve never been into lots of +things here.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack looked at Mitchell this time. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry, Miss Watkins,” he roared, “but <i>I’ll</i> +have to go home, anyhow. You see, I’m not used to the lively life which +has been enlivening us all this week and, being weakly in my knees, needs must +look out.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary looked very disappointed. +</p> + +<p> +“Then Jack and I’ll go, too,” she said, “but oh! dear, +I do hate to waste my stay in the city sleepin’ so much. I can sleep all +I want after I get home, but—” she paused, and then said with deep +feeling, “Well, you don’t understand about Lucinda an’ so you +don’t understand about anythin’.” +</p> + +<p> +Both the young men felt truly regretful as they put her into the carriage for +the return trip. Her deep enjoyment was so genuine and naive that they +sympathized with her feelings when cut off from it. +</p> + +<p> +But it was best that this one night should pass unimproved, and so all five +threw themselves into their respective beds with equal zest and slept—and +slept—and slept. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap17"></a>Chapter Seventeen<br/> +Aunt Mary’s Night About Town</h2> + +<p> +The next day came up out of the ocean fair and warm, and when it drew toward +later afternoon no more propitious night for setting forth ever happened. +</p> + +<p> +It was undeniably a night to be remembered. And Aunt Mary’s entertainers +drew in deep breaths as they girded themselves for the conflict. They certainly +intended to do themselves proud and on top of all the lesser “times of +her life” to pile the one pre-eminent which should rest pre-eminent +forever. Aunt Mary had been gay in the first part of the week,—gayer and +gayer as the week progressed, but that final crowning night was indubitably the +gayest of all. If you doubt this read on—read on—and be convinced. +</p> + +<p> +They began with Burnett’s dinner in the private room. No matter where the +private room was, for it really wasn’t a private room at all—it was +a suite of rooms borrowed and arranged especially for that one occasion. They +gathered there at eight o’clock and began with oysters served on a large +brass tray in a half-dim Turkish room where incense sticks burned about and +queer daggers held up the curtains. The oysters were served on their arrival +and the megaphones stood like extinguishers over each with the name cards tied +to the small end. The effect was really unique. Aunt Mary had one, too, and +they were all rejoiced at her delight in the scheme, and a few seconds after +they were doubly rejoiced over its success for no one had to speak +loud—the megaphones did it all, producing a lovely clamor which deafened +all those who could hear and caused Aunt Mary to feel that she heard with the +rest. +</p> + +<p> +Amidst the cheerful din they exchanged such very wild remarks as oysters always +inspire and each and all were mutually content at the effect thereof. Then they +finished, and Burnett rose at once, flung back the portières, and led them in +upon their soup which stood smoking on a large card table in the next room. +There were boutonnières with the soup, and violets for Aunt Mary, and again +they used the megaphones and again the conversation partook of the customary +conversation which soup produces. +</p> + +<p> +The soup finished, Burnett jumped up again and threw back other portières and +they all moved out into a dining-room, with its table spread with a substantial +dinner. This time it was the real thing. Candelabra, ice-pails, etc. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary had a parrot in a gilt tower, and all the men had white mice in +houses shaped like hat-boxes. Mitchell’s seat was flanked with wine +coolers, and Burnett’s, too. There was all that they could desire to eat +and drink and more. The feast began, and it was grand and glorious. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you what,” said Aunt Mary, in the midst of the +revel, “if this is what it means in papers when it speaks of high +livin’, I don’t blame ’em for bein’ willin’ to +die of it young. One week like this is worth ten years with Lucinda. Twenty. A +whole life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Say, Jack,” said Burnett in an undertone, “let’s have +Lucinda come to town next and see the effect on her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Watkins,” said Clover through his megaphone, “as a mark +of my affection I beg to offer you my white mouse. Do you accept?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t want to go back to the house yet,” said Aunt +Mary, much disturbed. “It’s too soon.” +</p> + +<p> +“We won’t go home till morning,” said Burnett. “Not by +a long shot. Here, Mitchell, give us a speech. Home! we don’t want to +<i>drink</i> to it, but we do want to drink to it <i>here</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Home!” said Mitchell, rising with his glass in his hand. +“Home! here’s to home, and I’ll drink to it in anything but a +cab. Home, Aunt Mary and gentlemen, is the place where one may go when every +other place is closed. As long as any other place is open, however, I do not +recommend going home. The contrast is always sharp and bitter and to be avoided +until unavoidable circumstances, over which we possess but little control, +force us to give our address to the man who drives and let him drive us to the +last place on the map. And so I drink to that last place—home; and +here’s to it, not now, but a good deal later, and not then unless what +must be has got to result.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitchell paused and they all drank. +</p> + +<p> +“Me next now,” exclaimed Burnett, jumping to his feet. +“I’m going to make a speech at my own dinner, and as a good speech +is best made off-hand, I’ve picked out an off-hand subject and arise to +give you ‘Lucinda.’ Having never met her I feel able to say nothing +good about her and I call the company present to witness that I shall say +nothing bad either. I gather from what I have had a stray chance of picking up +that Lucinda is all that she should be, and nothing frisqué. The latter quality +is too bad, but it’s not my fault. Therefore, I say again +‘Lucinda’, and here’s to her very good health. May she never +regret that Fate has given her no chance to have anything to regret.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary applauded this speech heartily even if she hadn’t quite caught +the whole of it and had no idea of whom it was about. +</p> + +<p> +“Who’s goin’ to speak now?” she asked anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“I am,” said Clover modestly. “I rise to propose the health +of our honored guest, Miss Watkins. We all know what kin she is to one of us, +and we all weep that she didn’t do as well by the rest of us. Aunt Mary! +Glasses down!” +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t drink this, you know, Aunt Mary,” said +Jack,—“it’s bad taste to drink to yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want to drink,” said Aunt Mary, +beaming,—“I like to watch you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s to Aunt Mary’s liking to watch us!” cried +Clover. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Burnett rising, “don’t. It’s time to +go and get the salad now.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’d ought to have the automobile for this party,” said Aunt +Mary, and everyone applauded her idea, as they rose and gathered up their +belongings. +</p> + +<p> +It was a droll procession of men with mice and a lady with a parrot that got +under way and moved in among the Japanese fans and swinging lanterns of the +next room in the suite of Burnett’s friend. Five little individual tables +were laid there and on each table lay a Japanese creature of some sort +which—being opened somewhere—revealed salad within. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I never did!” exclaimed the guest; “this dinner ought +to be put in a book!” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll put it in ourselves first,” said Mitchell. “I +never believe in booking any attraction until it has been tried on a select +few. Burnett having selected me for one of this few, I vote we begin on the +salad.” +</p> + +<p> +They began forthwith. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary suddenly stopped eating. +</p> + +<p> +“Some one called,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the parrot,” said Jack; “I heard him +before.” +</p> + +<p> +“What does he say?” said Mitchell. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen and you’ll find out,” said Jack. +</p> + +<p> +They all listened and presently the parrot said solemnly: +</p> + +<p> +“Now see what you’ve done!” and relapsed into silence. +</p> + +<p> +“What does he mean?” Aunt Mary asked. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s referring to his own affairs,” said Burnett; +“come on—let’s get coffee now!” +</p> + +<p> +They all adjourned to a tiny room lined with posters and decorated with pipe +racks, and there had ice cream in the form of bulls and bears, and coffee of +the strongest variety. And then cordials and cigarettes. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, where shall we go to first?” asked Burnett when all were well +lit up. No one would have guessed that he had ever felt used up in all his life +before. +</p> + +<p> +“To a roof garden,” said Mitchell. “We’ll go to a roof +garden first, and then we’ll go to more roof gardens, and after that if +the spirit moves we’ll go to yet a few roof gardens in addition. +We’ll show our dear aunt what wonders can be done with roofs, and +to-morrow she’ll wonder what was done with her.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the bill,” said Clover, “and let’s go +now. I can see from the general manner of my mouse that he’s dying to get +out and make his way in the wide world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mine the same,” said Mitchell; “by George, it worries me to +see such restless, feverish manners in what I had supposed would be a quiet +domestic companion. It presages a distracted existence. But come on.” +</p> + +<p> +They all rose. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are we goin’ now?” asked Aunt Mary. +</p> + +<p> +“To a roof garden,” said Jack, “and we’re going to take +the whole menagerie, Aunt Mary. We’re going to get put in the papers. +That’s the great stunt,—to get put in the papers.” +</p> + +<p> +“But we’ll leave the megaphones,” said Mitchell. “I +won’t go about with a mouse and a megaphone. People might think I looked +silly. People are so queer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Put the mouse in the megaphone,” suggested Burnett. +“That’s the way my mother taught me to pack when I was a kid. You +put your tooth brush in a shoe, and the shoe in a sleeve and then turn the +sleeve inside out. Oh, I tell you—what is home without a +mother?—Put the mouse in the megaphone and stop up both ends. What are +your hands and your mouth for?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Mitchell, “I think I see myself so handling a +megaphone that the mouse doesn’t run out either end or into my mouth. My +mouth is a good mouth and it’s served me well and I won’t turn it +over to a mouse at this late day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s keep the mice in their cages,” said Clover, and as he +spoke he dropped his. +</p> + +<p> +“Now see what you’ve done!” said the parrot. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t hurt it,” said Clover. “Come on now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, come on,” said Burnett. “It’s long after ten +o’clock. You want to remember that even roof gardens are not eternally on +tap.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’m trying to hurry all I can,” said Mitchell. +“I’m the picture of patience scurrying for dear life only unable to +lay hands on her gloves.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t catch what’s the trouble,” said Aunt Mary to +Jack. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus05"></a> +<img src="images/image05.png" width="363" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“The carriage stopped three hundred feet below the +level of a roof-garden.”</p> +</div> + +<p> +“Nothing’s the trouble,” said Jack, “everything’s +fine and dandy. We’re going out now. Time of your life, Aunt Mary, time +of your life!” +</p> + +<p> +They telephoned for a carriage and all got in. Then Clover slammed the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Now see what you’ve done!” said the parrot. +</p> + +<p> +“Is he going to keep saying that?” Burnett asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” said Jack. “It comes in pretty pat, +don’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Makes me think of my mother,” said Clover. “I wish it +wouldn’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t catch who’s sayin’ what,” said Aunt +Mary. +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody’s saying anything, Miss Watkins,” roared Mitchell; +“we are all talking airy nothings just to pass the time o’ +day.” +</p> + +<p> +The carriage stopped three hundred feet below the level of a roof garden. +</p> + +<p> +“We get out here,” said Burnett. +</p> + +<p> +They all got out and went up in an elevator. +</p> + +<p> +“Seems to be a good many goin’ to the same place,” said Aunt +Mary. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Mitchell, “a good many people generally go to +places that are great places for a good many people to go to.” +</p> + +<p> +“You ought not to end with a preposition,” said Clover. +</p> + +<p> +“There, I left my ear-trumpet in the carriage!” said Aunt Mary. +</p> + +<p> +There was a pause of consternation. No one spoke except the parrot. +</p> + +<p> +“We know what she’s done without your telling us,” said +Clover, addressing the bird. “The question is what to do next?” +</p> + +<p> +Jack went back downstairs and found the carriage waiting in hopes of picking up +another load. He lost no time in personally picking up the ear-trumpet and +returning to his friends. +</p> + +<p> +Then they all proceeded above and bought a table and turned their chairs to the +stage, where the attraction just at that moment was a quartette of pretty +girls. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” said Burnett the instant +the girls began to sing. “Let’s each tie a card to a mouse and +present them to the girls!” +</p> + +<p> +The suggestion found favor and was followed out to the letter. But when the +girls were through and the Chinaman who followed them on the programme was also +over, the pleasures of life in that spot palled upon the party. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, come,” said Burnett, “let’s go somewhere else. +Let’s go out in the air.” +</p> + +<p> +His suggestion found favor. And they sallied forth and visited another roof +garden, a theater where they saw the last quarter of the fourth act, a place +where Aunt Mary was given a gondola ride, and a place where she was given +something in the shape of light refreshments. +</p> + +<p> +Then, becoming thirsty, they ordered a few White Horses and Red Horses and the +Necks of yet other horses, but Aunt Mary declined the horses of all colors and +Mitchell upheld her. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s right,” he said, “I’m a great believer in +knowing when you’ve had enough, and I’m sure you’ve all had +so much too much that I know that I must have had enough and that she’s +better off with none at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“I reckon you’re right,” said Clover. “I’ve had +enough, surely. I can’t see over my pile of little saucers, and when I +can’t see over my pile of little saucers I’m always positive that +I’ve had enough.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack laughed and then ceased laughing and drew down the corners of his mouth. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do people sit on chairs?” Clover asked just then. “Why +don’t everyone sit on the floor? You never feel as if you might slip off +the floor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” said Mitchell, “if we were not always trying to rise +above Nature we should all be sitting where Nature intended,—when we +weren’t swinging by our tails and picking cocoanuts.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come on and let’s go somewhere else,” said Burnett. +“Every time I look at somebody it’s someone else and that makes me +nervous.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now see what you’ve done!” said the parrot. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you know his long suit when you bought him?” Clover asked +Burnett. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Burnett; “they told me that he didn’t use +slang and that was all.” +</p> + +<p> +It was well along in the evening—or night—and a brisk discussion +arose as to where to go next. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you,” said Clover, “we’ll take a ride. +Let me see what time is it?—12.30. Just the time for a drive. We’ll +take three cabs and sally forth and drive up and down and back and forth in the +cool night air.” +</p> + +<p> +“And jews-harps!” cried Burnett. “Oh, I say, there’s a +bully idea! We’ll go to a drug store and buy some jews-harps and play on +them as we drive along. We’ll each sing our own tune, and the effect will +be so novel. Let’s do it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jews-harps—” said Clover thoughtfully, “jews-harps for +three cabs—that’ll make—let me see—that’ll +make—” he hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the driver will make the change,” said Burnett impatiently. +“Come on. If we’re going to have the cabs and jews-harps it’s +time to get out and take the stump in the good cause.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s my ear-trumpet?” said Aunt Mary, +blankly,—“it’s been left somewhere.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, it hasn’t,” said Mitchell. “It’s here! +I’m holding it for you. It’s much easier holding it than picking it +up. It seems so slippery to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not going out to get the cabs,” said Clover. “I +thought of the idea and someone else must work it out. I’m opposed to +working after time and I call time at midnight.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitchell rose with a depressed air. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll go,” he said. “I feel the need of a walk. When I +feel the need of anything I always take it and I’ve needed and taken so +freely to-night that I need to take a walk to—” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think it funny to talk that way,” said Burnett a +little heatedly. “If you want to get the cabs why get the cabs. I’m +going to get them, too, and I reckon we can get them combined just as easy as +alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will go with you,” said his friend solemnly. “I will +accompany you because I feel the need—” He stopped and turned his +hat over and over. “I know there’s a hole to put my head +into,” he declared, “but I can’t just put my hand—I +mean my head—on to—I mean, into—it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you expect to find a brass hand pointing to it?” said Burnett +testily. “Come on!” +</p> + +<p> +“Three cabs and five—or was it six?—jews-harps?” +continued Mitchell dreamily. “It must have been six, five for we five, +and one for Lord Chesterfield—but where is Lord Chesterfield?” he +asked suddenly with a disturbed glance around. “I hope he hasn’t +deserted and gone home.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come on, come on!” said Burnett. “There won’t be a +sober cab left if we don’t hurry while everything is still able to stand +up.” +</p> + +<p> +This reasoning seemed to alarm Mitchell and he went out with him at once. +</p> + +<p> +“My head feels awfully,” said Clover to Jack. “It sort of +grinds and grates—does yours?” +</p> + +<p> +Jack stared straight ahead and made no reply. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m goin’ home no more to roam,” said Aunt Mary slowly +and sadly,—“I’m goin’ home no more to roam, no more to +sin an’ sorrow. I’m goin’ home no more to +roam—I’m goin’ home to-morrow. O hum!” She heaved a +heavy sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“Now see what you’ve done!” said the parrot with emphasis. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind,” said Clover bitterly. “Better people than you +have gone home before now; I used to do it myself before I was old enough to +know worse. Will you excuse me if I say, ‘Damn this buzzing in my +head?’” +</p> + +<p> +“I know how you feel,” said Aunt Mary sympathetically. +“Don’t you want me to ring for the porter and have him make up your +berth right away?” +</p> + +<p> +Clover didn’t seem to hear. His eyes were roving moodily about the room; +they looked almost as faded as his mustache. +</p> + +<p> +“Seems to me they’re gone a long time,” said Jack presently, +twisting a little in his seat. “It never takes me so long to get a cab. I +hold up my hand—the man stops—and I get in—what’s the +matter, Aunt Mary?” He asked the question in sudden alarm at seeing Aunt +Mary bury her face hastily in her handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” he repeated loudly. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t mind me,” said Aunt Mary sobbing. “It’s +just that I happened to just think of Lu—Lu—Lucinda—and +somehow I don’t seem to have no strength to bear it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Split the handkerchief between us,” said Clover. “I want to +cry, too, and there’s no time like the present for doing what you want to +do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rot!” said Jack, “look here—” +</p> + +<p> +He was interrupted by the return of the embassy, Mitchell bearing the +jews-harps. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” Burnett asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” said Clover; “we were so worried over you, +that’s all.” Burnett called for the bill and found that he had run +out of cash; “Or maybe I’ve had my pocket picked,” he +suggested. “I’m beginning to be in just the mood in which I always +get my pocket picked.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack produced a roll of bills and settled for the refreshments. Then they all +started down stairs as Aunt Mary wouldn’t risk an elevator going down. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all right comin’ up,” she said, “but if it +broke when you were going down where’d you be?” +</p> + +<p> +“In the elevator,” said Clover. “I’d never jump, I know +that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’ve left my ear-trumpet,” said Aunt Mary. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s draw lots to see who goes back?” Burnett suggested. +</p> + +<p> +They drew and the lot fell to Clover. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not going back,” he said coldly. “I haven’t +got the energy. Let her apply the megaphone.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack went back. +</p> + +<p> +Then they all got into the street and into the cabs. Aunt Mary and Jack went +first, Mitchell and Burnett second, and Clover brought up the rear alone. +</p> + +<p> +They set off and it must be admitted that the effect of the three cabs going +single file one after another with their five occupants giving forth a most +imperfect version of his or her favorite tune, was at once novel and +awe-inspiring. But like all sweet things upon this earth the concert was not of +long endurance. It was only a few minutes before the duos ceased utterly to duo +and the soloist in the rear fell sound asleep. For several blocks there was a +mournful and tell-tale lack of harmony upon the air and then the three young +men seemed to have exhausted their mouths and all lapsed into a more or less +conscious state of quietude. +</p> + +<p> +Only Aunt Mary was indefatigable. Like Cleopatra, age seemed to have no power +to stale her infinite variety, and leaning back in her own corner she continued +to placidly and peacefully intone with disregard for time and tune which never +ruffled a wrinkle. She hadn’t played on a jews-harp in sixty years, and +being deaf she was pleasantly astonished at how well she still did it. Jack +leaned in his corner with folded arms; he was deeply conscious of wishing that +it was the next day—any day—any other day—for the week had +been a wearing one and he could not but be mortally glad that it was so nearly +over. The task of fitting the plan of Aunt Mary’s revelries to the +measure of her personal capacity had been a very hard one and his soul panted +for relief therefrom. It is one thing to undertake a task and another thing to +persevere to its successful completion. Aunt Mary’s nephew was +tired—very tired. +</p> + +<p> +A little later he felt a weight against him; he looked; it was Aunt +Mary’s head,—she was oblivious there on his bosom. +</p> + +<p> +He heard a voice; it was the parrot. +</p> + +<p> +“Now see what you’ve done,” it said in sepulchral tones. +</p> + +<p> +They reached the house, bore the honored guest within, and delivered her to +Janice. +</p> + +<p> +“You can have that parrot,” Jack called back to the cabman. +“He’s guaranteed against slang.” +</p> + +<p> +The cabman drove away. +</p> + +<p> +Janice received them with a look which might have been construed in many ways, +but they were all far past construing and the look fell to the ground unheeded. +</p> + +<p> +And again Aunt Mary was tucked carefully up to dream herself rested once more. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap18"></a>Chapter Eighteen<br/> +A Departure And A Return</h2> + +<p> +The next day poor Aunt Mary had to undergo the ordeal of being obliged to turn +her face away from all those joys which had so suddenly and brilliantly altered +the hues of life for her. It pretty nearly used her up. She took her reviving +decoction with tears standing in her eyes,—and sat down the glass with a +bursting sigh. “My, but I wish I knew when I’d be taking any more +of this?” she said to Janice. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you’ll come back to the city some day,” said the maid +hopefully. +</p> + +<p> +“Come back!” said Aunt Mary. “Well, I should say that I would +come back! Why—I—?” she stopped suddenly, “never +mind,” she said after a minute, “only you’ll see that +I’ll come back. Pretty surely—pretty positively.” +</p> + +<p> +Janice was folding her dresses into the small trunk. Aunt Mary contemplated the +green plaid waist with an air of mournful reflection. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe I’ll always keep that waist rolled away,” she +murmured. “I shall like to shake it out once in a while to remind me of +things.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hand me my purse,” she said to the maid five minutes afterwards. +“Here’s twenty-five dollars an’ I want you to take it and get +anythin’ you like with it.” +</p> + +<p> +“But that’s too much,” Janice cried, putting her hands behind +her and shaking her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Take it,” said Aunt Mary imperiously; “you’re well +worth it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t like to—truly,” said the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Take it,” said Aunt Mary sternly. +</p> + +<p> +So Janice took it and thanked her. +</p> + +<p> +The train went about 4 p.m., and it seemed wise to give the traveller a quiet +luncheon in her own room and rally her escort afterwards. +</p> + +<p> +When she had eaten and drank she sighed again and thoughtfully folded her +napkin. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve had a nice time,” she said, gazing fixedly out of the +window. “I’ve had a nice time, and I guess those young men have +enjoyed it, too. I rather think my bein’ here has given them a chance to +go to a good many places where they’d never have thought of goin’ +alone. I’m pretty sure of it.” +</p> + +<p> +Janice made no reply. +</p> + +<p> +“But it’s all over now,” said Aunt Mary with something that +sounded suspiciously like a sob in her voice, “an’ I haven’t +got only just one consolation left an’ that’s—” again +she paused. +</p> + +<p> +Janice carried the tray away and the next minute they all burst in bearing +their parting gifts in their arms. +</p> + +<p> +The gifts were an indiscriminate collection of flowers, candy, magazines, +books, etc. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary opened her closet door and showed the four dressing-cases. Everyone +but Jack was mightily surprised and everyone was mightily pleased. The room +looked like Christmas, and the faces, too. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall die with my head on the hair brush,” Clover declared, and +Mitchell went down on his knees and kissed Aunt Mary’s hand. +</p> + +<p> +“You must all come an’ see me if you ever go anywhere near,” +said the old lady. “Now promise.” +</p> + +<p> +“We promise,” they yelled in unison, and then they asked in +beautiful rhythm “What’s the matter with Aunt Mary?” and +yelled the answer “She’s all right!” with a fervor that +nearly blew out the window. +</p> + +<p> +“I declare,” Aunt Mary exclaimed, as the echoes settled back among +the furniture, “when I think of Lucinda seems as if—” she +paused; further speech was for the nonce impossible. +</p> + +<p> +“The carriages are ready,” Janice announced at the door, and from +then until they reached the train all was confusion and bustle. +</p> + +<p> +Only the train whistle could drown the farewells which they poured into her +ear-trumpet, and when they could hover in her drawing-room no longer they stood +outside the window as long as the window was there to stand outside of. And +then they watched it until it was out of sight, and after that turned solemnly +away. +</p> + +<p> +“By grab!” said Burnett, “I think she ought to leave us <i>all</i> +fortunes. I never was so completely done up in my life.” +</p> + +<p> +“My throat’s blistered,” said Clover feebly; “I’m +going to stand on my head and gargle with salve until my throat’s +healed.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall never shine on the team again,” said Mitchell. “I +shall hire out for bleacher work. He who has successfully conversed with Aunt +Mary need not fear to attack a Wagner Opera single-handed.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack did not say anything. His heart was athirst for Mrs. Rosscott. +</p> + +<p> +She was back in her own library the next night, and he rushed thither as soon +as his first day’s labor was over. She was prettier and her eyes were +sweeter and brighter than ever as she rose to meet him and held out—first +one hand, and then both. He took the one hand and then the two and the longing +that possessed him was so overwhelming that only his acute consideration for +all she was to him kept him from taking more yet. +</p> + +<p> +“And the week’s over,” she said, when she had dragged her +fingers out of his and gone and nestled down upon the divan, among the pillows +that rivaled each other in their attempts to get closer to her, “the +week’s all over and our aunt is gone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he said, rolling his favorite chair up near to her seat, +“all is over and well over.” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled and he smiled too. +</p> + +<p> +“She must have enjoyed it,” she said thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Enjoyed it!” said Jack. “She won’t like Paradise in +comparison.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you’ve been a good boy,” said Mrs. Rosscott, regarding +him merrily. “You’ve played your part well.” +</p> + +<p> +He rose to his feet and put his hand to his temple. +</p> + +<p> +“I salute my general,” he said. “I was well trained in the +maneuver.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s odd,” said Mrs. Rosscott thoughtfully. “It was +really so simple. We are only women after all, whether it is I—or Aunt +Mary—or all the rest of the world. We do so crave the knowledge that +someone cares for us—for our hours—for our pleasures. It +isn’t the bonbons—it’s that someone troubled to buy the +bonbons because he thought that they would please us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Doesn’t a man have the same feeling?” Jack asked. “It +isn’t the tea we come for—it’s the knowledge that someone +bothers to make it and sugar it and cream it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wasn’t laughing,” said she. +</p> + +<p> +“I wasn’t laughing either,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“But it’s true,” she went on, “and I think the solution +of many unhappy puzzles lies there. Don’t forget if you ever have a wife +to pay lots of attention to her.” +</p> + +<p> +“I always have paid lots of attention to her, haven’t I?” he +demanded. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Rosscott shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“We won’t discuss that,” she said. “We’ll stick +to Aunt Mary. Aunt Mary is a rock whose foundation is firm; when it comes to +your relations toward other women—” she stopped, shrugging her +shoulders, and he understood. +</p> + +<p> +“But it’s going to come out all right now, I’m sure,” +she went on after a minute, “and I’m so glad—so very +glad—that the chance was given to me to right the wrong that I was the +cause of.” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus06"></a> +<img src="images/image06.png" width="480" height="374" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“‘And now the fun’s all over and the work +begins,’ she said, looking down.”</p> +</div> + +<p> +He looked at her and his eyes almost burned, they were so strong in their +leaping desire to fling himself at her feet and adore her goodness and +sweetness and worldliness and wisdom from that vantage-ground of worship. +</p> + +<p> +She choked a little at the glance and put her hands together in her lap with a +quick catching at self-control. +</p> + +<p> +“And now the fun’s all over and the work begins,” she said, +looking down. +</p> + +<p> +“I know that,” he asseverated. +</p> + +<p> +She lifted up her eyes and looked at him so very kindly. And then—after a +little pause to gain command of word and thought she spoke again, slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” she said, this time very softly, but very seriously. +“I want to tell you one thing and I want to tell it to you now. I had a +good and sufficient reason for helping you out with Aunt Mary; +but—” She hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“But?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“But I’ve no reason at all for helping your Aunt Mary out with you, +unless you prove worthy of her, and—” +</p> + +<p> +“And?” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him, and shook her head slightly. +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t say ‘and of me,’” she said finally. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” he asked, a storm of tempestuous impatience raging +behind his lips. “Do say it,” he pleaded. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I can’t say it. It wouldn’t be right. I don’t mean +it, and so I won’t say it. I’ll only tell you that I can promise +nothing as things are, and that unless you go at life from now on with a +tremendous energy I never shall even dream of a possible promising.” +</p> + +<p> +He rose to his feet and towered above her, tall and straight and handsome, and +very grave. +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” he said simply. “I’ll remember.” +</p> + +<p> +Ever so much later that evening he rose to bid her good-night. +</p> + +<p> +“Whatever comes, you’ve been an angel to me,” he said in that +hasty five seconds that her hand was his. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I ever regret it?” she asked, looking up to his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Never,” he declared earnestly, “never, never. I can swear +that, and I shall be able to swear the same thing when I’m as old as my +Aunt Mary.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Rosscott lowered her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Who could ask more?” she said softly. +</p> + +<p> +“I could,” said Jack—“but I’ll wait first.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap19"></a>Chapter Nineteen<br/> +Aunt Mary’s Return</h2> + +<p> +Joshua was at the station to meet his mistress, and Lucinda, full to the brim +with curiosity, sat on the back seat of the carryall. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary quitted the train with a dignity which was sufficiently overpowering +to counteract the effect of her bonnet’s being somewhat awry. She greeted +Joshua with a chill perfunctoriness that was indescribable, and her glance +glided completely over Lucinda and faded away in the open country on the +further side of her. +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda did not care. Lucinda was of a hardy stock and stormy glances neither +bent nor broke her spirit. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad to see you come back looking so well,” she +screamed, when Aunt Mary was in and they were off. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary raised her eyebrows in a manner that appeared a trifle indignant, and +riveted her gaze on the hindquarters of the horse. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought it was more like heaven myself,” she said coldly. +“Not that your opinion matters any to me, Lucinda.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she leaned forward and poked the driver. +</p> + +<p> +“Joshua!” she said. +</p> + +<p> +Joshua jumped in his seat at the asperity of her poke and her tone. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” he said hastily. +</p> + +<p> +“Jus’ ’s soon as we get home I want you to take the +saw—that little, sharp one, you know—and dock Billy’s tail. +Cut it off as close as you can; do you hear?” +</p> + +<p> +“I hear,” was the startled answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you have a good time?” Lucinda had the temerity to ask, after +a minute. +</p> + +<p> +“I guess I could if I tried,” the lady replied; “but +I’m too tired to try now.” +</p> + +<p> +“How did you leave Mr. Jack?” +</p> + +<p> +“I couldn’t stay forever, could I?” asked the traveler +impatiently. “I thought that a week was long enough for the first time, +anyhow.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda subsided and the rest of the drive was taken in silence. When they +reached the house Aunt Mary enveloped everything in one glance of blended +weariness, scorn and contempt, and then made short work of getting to bed, +where she slept the luxurious and dreamless sleep of the unjust until late that +afternoon. +</p> + +<p> +“My, but she’s come back a terror!” Lucinda cried to Joshua +in a high whisper when he brought in the trunk. “She looks like +nothin’ was goin’ to be good enough for her from now on.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothin’ ain’t goin’ to be good enough for her,” +said Joshua calmly. +</p> + +<p> +“What are we goin’ to do, then?” asked Lucinda. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll have enough to do,” said Joshua, in a tone that was +portentous in the extreme, and then he placed the trunk in its proper position +for unpacking and went away, leaving Lucinda to unpack it. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary awoke just as the faithful servant was unrolling the green plaid +waist, and the instant that she spoke it was plain that her attitude toward +life in general was become strangely and vigorously changed, and that for +Lucinda the rack was to be newly oiled and freshly racking. +</p> + +<p> +This attitude was not in any degree altered by the unexpected arrival of +Arethusa that evening. Strange tales had reached Arethusa’s ears, and she +had flown on the wings of steam and coal dust to see what under the sun it all +meant. Aunt Mary was not one bit rejoiced to see her and the glare which she +directed over the edge of the counterpane bore testimony to the truth of this +statement. +</p> + +<p> +“Whatever did you come for?” she demanded inhospitably. +“Lucinda didn’t send for you, did she?” +</p> + +<p> +Arethusa screamed the best face that she could onto her visit, but Aunt Mary +listened with an inattention that was anything but flattering. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t feel like talkin’ over my trip,” she said, +when she saw her niece’s lips cease to move. “Of course I enjoyed +myself because I was with Jack, but as to what we did an’ said you +couldn’t understand it all if I did tell you, so what’s the use of +botherin’.” +</p> + +<p> +Arethusa looked neutral, calm and curious. But Aunt Mary frowned and shook her +head. +</p> + +<p> +“S’long as you’re here, though, I suppose you may as well +make yourself useful,” she said a few minutes later. “Come to think +of it, there’s an errand I want you to do for me. I want you to go to +Boston the very first thing to-morrow morning an’ buy me some +cotton.” +</p> + +<p> +Arethusa stared blankly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said the aunt, “if you can’t hear, you’d +better take my ear-trumpet and I’ll say it over again.” +</p> + +<p> +“What kind of cotton?” Arethusa yelled. +</p> + +<p> +“Not <i>stockin’s!</i>” said Aunt Mary; “Cotton! Cotton! +C-O-T-T-O-N! It beats the Dutch how deaf everyone is gettin’, an’ +if I had your ears in particular, Arethusa, I’d certainly hire a +carpenter to get at ’em with a bit-stalk. Jus’s if you didn’t +know as well as I do how many stockin’s I’ve got already! I should +think you’d quit bein’ so heedless, an’ use your commonsense, +anyhow. I’ve found commonsense a very handy thing in talkin’ +always. Always.” +</p> + +<p> +Arethusa launched herself full tilt into the ear-trumpet. +</p> + +<p> +“What—kind—of—cotton?” she asked in that key of +voice which makes the crowd pause in a panic. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary looked disgusted. +</p> + +<p> +“The Boston kind,” she said, nipping her lips. +</p> + +<p> +Arethusa took a double hitch on her larynx, and tried again. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean thread?” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary’s disgust deepened visibly. +</p> + +<p> +“If I meant silk I guess I wouldn’t say cotton. I might just happen +to say silk. I’ve been in the habit of saying silk when I meant silk and +cotton when I meant cotton, for quite a number of years, and I might not have +changed to-day—I might just happen to not have. I might not +have—maybe.” +</p> + +<p> +Arethusa withered under this bitter irony. +</p> + +<p> +“How many spools do you want?” she asked in a meek but piercing +howl. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t care,” said Aunt Mary loftily. “I don’t +care how many—or what color—or what number. I just want some Boston +cotton, and I want to see you settin’ out to get it pretty promptly +to-morrow morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“But if you only want some cotton,” Arethusa yelled, with a force +which sent crimson waves all over her, “why can’t I get it in the +village?” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary shot one look at her niece and the latter felt the concussion. +</p> + +<p> +“Because—I—want—you—to—get—it— +in—Boston,” she said, filling the breaks between her words with a +concentrated essence of acerbity such as even she had never displayed before. +“When I say a thing, I mean it pretty generally. Quite often—most +always. I want that cotton and it’s to be bought in Boston. There’s +a train that goes in at seven-forty-five, and if you don’t favor the idea +of ridin’ on it you can take the express that goes by at six-five.” +</p> + +<p> +Arethusa pressed her hands very tightly together and carried the discussion no +further. She went to bed early and rose early the next morning and Joshua drove +her in town to the seven-forty-five. +</p> + +<p> +“It doesn’t seem to me that my aunt is very well,” the niece +said during the drive. “What do you think?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think anything about her,” said Joshua with great +candor. “If I was to give to thinkin’ I’d o’ moved out +to Chicago an’ been scalpin’ Indians to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder if that trip to New York was good for her?” Arethusa +wondered mildly. +</p> + +<p> +Joshua flicked Billy with the whip and refused to voice any opinion as to New +York’s effect on his mistress. +</p> + +<p> +Arethusa was well on her way to Boston when Aunt Mary’s bell, rung with a +sharp jangle, summoned Lucinda to open her bedroom blinds. While Lucinda was +leaning far out and attempting to cause said blinds to catch on the hooks, +which habitually held them back against the side of the house, her mistress +addressed her with a suddeness which showed that she had awakened with her wits +surprisingly well in hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s Joshua? Is he got back from Arethusa? Answer me, +Lucinda.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda drew herself in through the open window with an alacrity remarkable for +one of her years. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, he’s back,” she yelled. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary looked at her with a sort of incensed patience. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what’s he doin’? If he’s back, where is he? +Lucinda, if you knew how hard it is for me to keep quiet you’d answer +when I asked things. Why in Heaven’s name don’t you say +suthin’? Anythin’? Anythin’ but nothin’, that +is.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s mowin’,” Lucinda shrieked. +</p> + +<p> +“Sewin’!” exclaimed Aunt Mary. “What’s he +sewin’? Where’s he sewin’? Have you stopped doin’ his +darnin’?” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda gathered breath by compressing her sides with her hands, and then +replied, directing her voice right into the ear-trumpet: +</p> + +<p> +“He’s mowin’ the back lawn.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary winced and shivered. +</p> + +<p> +“My heavens, Lucinda!” she exclaimed, sharply. “I +wish’t there was a school to teach outsiders the use of an ear-trumpet. +They can’t seem to hit the medium between either mumblin’ or +splittin’ one’s ear drums.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda was too much out of breath from her effort to attempt any audible +penitence. Her mistress continued: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you find him wherever he is, and tell him to harness up the buggy +and go and get Mr. Stebbins as quick as ever he can. Hurry!” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda exited with a promptitude that fulfilled all that her lady’s +heart could wish. She found Joshua whetting his scythe. +</p> + +<p> +“She wants Mr. Stebbins right off,” said Lucinda. +</p> + +<p> +“Then she’ll get Mr. Stebbins right off,” said Joshua. And he +headed immediately for the barn. +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda ran along beside him. It did seem to Lucinda as if in compensation for +her slavery to Aunt Mary she might have had a sympathizer in Joshua. +</p> + +<p> +“I guess she wants to change her will,” she panted, very much out +of breath. +</p> + +<p> +“Then she’ll change her will,” said Joshua. And as his steady +gait was much quicker than poor Lucinda’s halting amble, and as he saw no +occasion to alter it, the conversation between them dwindled into space then +and there. +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour later Billy went out of the drive at a swinging pace and an hour +after that Mr. Stebbins was brought captive to Aunt Mary’s throne. +</p> + +<p> +She welcomed him cordially; Lucinda was promptly locked out, and then the old +lady and her lawyer spent a momentous hour together. Mr. Stebbins was taken +into his client’s fullest confidence; he was regaled with enough of the +week’s history to guess the rest; and he foresaw the outcome as he had +foreseen it from the moment of the rupture. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary was very sincere in owning up to her own past errors. +</p> + +<p> +“I made a big mistake about the life that boy was leadin’,” +she said in the course of the conversation. “He took me everywhere where +he was in the habit of goin’, an’ so far from its bein’ +wicked, I never enjoyed myself so much in my life. There ain’t no harm in +havin’ fun, an’ it does cost a lot of money. I can understand it +all now, an’ as I’m a great believer in settin’ wrong right +whenever you can, I want Jack put right in my will right off. I +want—” and then were unfolded the glorious possibilities of the +future for her youngest, petted nephew. He was not only to be reinstated in the +will, but he was to reign supreme. The other four children were to be +rich—very rich,—but Jack was to be <i>the</i> heir. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Stebbins was well pleased. He was very fond of Jack and had always been +particularly patient with him on that account. He felt that this was a personal +reward of merit, for it cannot be denied that Jack had certainly cashed very +large checks on the bank of his forbearance. +</p> + +<p> +When all was finished, and Joshua and Lucinda had been called in and had duly +affixed their signatures to the important document, the buggy was brought to +the door again and Mr. Stebbins stepped in and allowed himself to be replaced +where they had taken him from. +</p> + +<p> +Joshua returned alone. +</p> + +<p> +“There, what did I tell you!” said Lucinda, who was waiting for him +behind the wood-house,—“she did want to change her will.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, she changed it, didn’t she?” said Joshua. +</p> + +<p> +“I guess she wants to give him all she’s got, since that week in +New York,” said Lucinda. +</p> + +<p> +“Then she’ll give him all she’s got,” said Joshua. +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda’s eyes grew big. +</p> + +<p> +“An’ she’ll give it to you, too, if you don’t look out +and stay where you can hear her bell if she rings it,” Joshua added, with +his usual frankness, and then he whipped up Billy and drove on to the barn. +</p> + +<p> +Arethusa returned late in the afternoon, very warm, very wilted. Aunt Mary +looked over the cotton purchase, and deigned to approve. +</p> + +<p> +“But, my heavens, Arethusa,” she exclaimed immediately afterwards, +“if you had any idea how dirty and dusty and altogether awful you do +look, you wouldn’t be able to get to soap and water fast enough.” +</p> + +<p> +At that poor Arethusa sighed, and, gathering up her hat, and hat-pins, and +veil, and gloves, and purse, and handkerchief, went away to wash. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap20"></a>Chapter Twenty<br/> +Jack’s Joy</h2> + +<p> +About the first of July many agreeable things happened. +</p> + +<p> +One was that Mr. Stebbins found it advisable to address a discreet letter to +John Watkins, Jr., Denham, conveying the information that although he must not +count unduly upon the future, still, if he behaved himself, he might with +safety allow his expenditures to mount upward monthly to a certain limit. This +was the way in which Aunt Mary salved her conscience and saved her pride all at +once. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want him to think that I don’t mean things when I +say ’em,” she had carefully explained to Mr. Stebbins, “but I +can’t bear to think that there’s anybody in New York without money +enough to have a good time there.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Stebbins had made a note of the sum which the allowance was to compass and +had promised to write the letter at once. +</p> + +<p> +“What did you do the last time you were in the city?” Aunt Mary +asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I was much occupied with business,” said the lawyer, “but I +found time to visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art and—” +</p> + +<p> +“Good gracious!” exclaimed Aunt Mary, “who was takin’ +you ’round! I never had a second for any museums or arts;—you ought +to have seen a vaudeville, or that gondola place! I was ferried around four +times and the music lasted all through.” She stopped and reflected. +“I guess you can make that money a hundred a month more,” she said +slowly. “I don’t want the boy to ever feel stinted or have to run +in debt.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Stebbins smiled, and the result was that Jack began to pay up the bills for +his aunt’s entertainment very much more rapidly than he had anticipated +doing. +</p> + +<p> +Another pleasant thing was that a week or so later—very soon after Mrs. +Rosscott had given up her town house and returned to the protection of the +parental slate-tiles—Burnett’s father, a peppery but jovial old +gentleman (we all know the kind), suddenly asked why Bob never came home any +more. This action on the part of the head of the house being tantamount to the +completest possible forgiveness and obliviousness of the past, Burnett’s +mother, of whom the inquiry had been made, wept tears of sincerest joy and +wrote to the youngest of her flock to return to the ancestral fold just as soon +as he possibly could. He came, and as a result, a fortnight later Jack came, +and Mitchell came, and Clover came. Mrs. Rosscott, as we have previously +stated, was already there, and so were Maude Lorne and a great many others. +Some of the others were pretty girls and Burnett and two of his friends found +plenty to amuse them, but Burnett’s dearest friend, his bosom friend, his +Fidus Achates, found no one to amuse him, because he was in earnest, and had +eyes for no feminine prettiness, his sight being dazzled by the radiance of one +surpassing loveliness. He had worked tremendously hard the first month of daily +laboring, and felt he deserved a reward. Be it said for Jack that the reward of +which Aunt Mary had the bestowing counted for very little with him except in +its relation to the far future. The real goal which he was striving toward, the +real laurels that he craved—Ah! they lay in another direction. +</p> + +<p> +Middle July is a lovely time to get off among the trees and grass, and lie +around in white flannels or white muslins, just as the case may be. It was too +warm to do much else than that, and Heaven knows that Jack desired nothing +better, as long as his goddess smiled upon him. +</p> + +<p> +It was curious about his goddess. She seemed to grow more beautiful every time +that he saw her. Perhaps it was her native air that gave her that charming +flush; perhaps it was the joy of being at home again; perhaps it was—no, +he didn’t dare to hope that. Not yet. Not even with all that she had done +for him fresh in his memory. The humility of true love was so heavy on his +heart that his very dreams were dulled with hopelessness, the majority of them +seeming too vividly dyed in Paradise hues for their fulfillment in daily life +to ever appear possible. But still he was very, very happy to be there with +her—beside her—and to hear her voice and look into her eyes +whenever the trouble some “other people” would leave them alone +together. And she did seem happy, too. And so rejoiced that the tide of Aunt +Mary’s wrath had been successfully turned. And so rejoiced that he was at +work, even in the face of her hopes as to his college career. And also so +rejoiced to take up the gay, careless thread of their mutual pleasure again. +</p> + +<p> +The morning after the gathering of the party was Saturday and an ideal +day—that sort of ideal day when house parties naturally sift into pairs +and then fade away altogether. The country surrounding our particular party was +densely wooded and not at all settled, the woods were laid out in a fascinating +system of walks and benches which in no case commanded views of one another, +and the shade overhead was the shade of July and as propitious to rest as it +was to motion. Mitchell took a girl in gray and two sets of golf clubs and +started out in the opposite direction from the links, Clover took a girl in +green and a camera and went another way, Burnett took a girl in a riding habit +and two saddle horses and followed the horses’ noses whither they led, +and Jack—Jack smoked cigarettes on the piazza and waited—waited. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Rosscott came out after a while and asked him why he didn’t go to +walk also. +</p> + +<p> +“Just what I was thinking as to yourself,” he said, very boldly as +to voice, and very beseechingly as to eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’m so busy,” she said, laughing up into his eyes and +then laughing down at the ground—“you see I’m the only +married daughter to help mamma.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you’ve been helping all the morning,” he complained, +“and besides how can you help? One would think that your mother was +beating eggs or turning mattresses.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have to work harder than that,” said Mrs. Rosscott; “I +have to make people know one another and like one another and not all want to +make love to the same girl.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t help their all wanting to make love to the same +girl,” said Jack; “the more you try to convince them of their folly +the deeper in love they are bound to fall. I’m an illustration of that +myself.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Rosscott looked at him then and curved her mouth sweetly. +</p> + +<p> +“You do say such pretty things,” she said. “I don’t see +how you’ve learned so much in so little time. Why, General Jiggs in there +is three times your age and he tangles himself awfully when he tries to be +sweet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps his physician has recommended gymnastics,” said Jack. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps,” said Mrs. Rosscott laughing, and then she turned as if +to go in. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, don’t,” said her lover, barring the way with great +suddenness; “you really mustn’t, you know. I’ve been patient +for so long and been good for so long and I must be rewarded—I really +must. Do come out with me somewhere—anywhere—for only a +half-hour,—please.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t Maude do?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No, she won’t,” he said beneath his breath; “whatever +do you suggest such a thing for? You make me ready to tell you to your face +that you want to go as bad as I want you to go, but I shan’t say so +because I know too much.” +</p> + +<p> +“You do know a lot, don’t you?” said she, with an expression +of great respect; “why, if you were to dare to hint to me that I wanted +to go out with you instead of staying in and talking Rembrandt with Mr. Morley, +I’d never forgive you the longest day I live.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know you wouldn’t,” said he, “and you may be quite +sure that I shall not say it. On the contrary I shall merely implore you to +forget your own pleasure in consideration of mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“I really ought to devote the morning to Mr. Morley,” she said +meditatively; “it’s such an honor his coming here, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“A little bit of a whiskered monkey,” said Jack in great disgust; +“an honor, indeed!” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s a very great man,” said Mrs. Rosscott; “every +sort of institution has given him a few letters to put after his name, and some +have given him whole syllables.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must get a straw hat, you know, or a sun-shade; it will be hot in +half an hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I couldn’t stay out half an hour; fifteen minutes would be the +longest.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, fifteen minutes, then, but do hurry.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t say that I would go,” she said, opening her eyes; +“and yet I feel myself gone.” She laughed lightly. +</p> + +<p> +“Do hurry,” he pleaded freshly; “oh, I am so hungry +to—” +</p> + +<p> +She disappeared within doors and five minutes later came back with one of those +charming floppy English garden hats, tied with a muslin bow beneath her dimpled +chin. +</p> + +<p> +“This is so good of me,” she said, as they went down the steps. +</p> + +<p> +“Very good, heavenly good,” said Jack; and then neither spoke again +until they had crossed the Italian garden and entered the American wood. She +looked into his eyes then and smiled half-shyly and half-provokingly. +</p> + +<p> +“You are such a baby,” she said; “such a baby! Do ask me why +and I’ll tell you half a dozen whys. I’d love to.” +</p> + +<p> +The path was the smoothest and shadiest of forest paths, the hour was the +sweetest and sunniest of summer hours, the moment was the brightest and +happiest of all the moments which they had known together—up to now. +</p> + +<p> +“Do tell me,” he said; “I’m wild to know.” +</p> + +<p> +He took her hand and laid it on his arm. For that little while she was +certainly his and his alone, and no man had a better claim to her. “Go on +and tell me,” he repeated. +</p> + +<p> +“There is one big reason and there are lots of little ones. Which will +you have first?” +</p> + +<p> +“The little ones, please.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, listen; you are like a baby because you are impatient, because you +are spoilt, because when you want anything you think that you must have it, and +because you like to be walked with.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are those the little reasons,” he said when she paused; “and +what’s the big one?” +</p> + +<p> +“The big one,” she said slowly; “Oh, I’m afraid that +you won’t like the big one!” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps it will be all the better for me if I don’t,” he +laughed; “at any rate I beg and pray and plead to know it.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a dear boy!” she laughed. “If you want to know as badly +as that, I’d have to tell you anyhow, whether I wanted to or not. +It’s because I’m so much the oldest.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” said Jack, much disappointed. “Is that why?” +</p> + +<p> +“And then too,” she continued, “you seem even younger because +of your being so unsophisticated.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I am unsophisticated, am I?” he asked grimly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she said nodding; “at least you impress me so.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad of that,” he said after a little pause. +</p> + +<p> +She looked up quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Truly?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” she laughed, “if you say that, then I shall know that +you are less unsophisticated than I thought you were.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why so?” he asked surprised. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you know that meek, mild men always try to insinuate that +they are regular fire-eaters, and vice versa? Well, it’s so—and +it’s so every time. There was once a man who was kissing me, and he drew +my hands up around his neck in such a clever, gentle way that I was absolutely +positive that he had had no end of practice drawing arms up in that way and I +just couldn’t help saying: ‘Oh, how many women you must have +kissed!’ What do you think he answered?—merely smiled and said: +‘Not so many as you might imagine.’ He showed how much he knew by +the way he answered, for oh! he had. I found that out afterwards.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did you do then?” he asked, frowning. “Cut him?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; I married him. Why, of course I was going to marry him when he +kissed me, or I wouldn’t have let him kiss me. Do you suppose I let men +kiss me as a general thing? What are you thinking of?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was thinking of you,” he said. “It’s a horrible +habit I’ve fallen into lately. But, never mind; keep on talking.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t remember what I was saying,” she said. “Oh, +yes, I do too. About men, about good and bad men. Now, even if I didn’t +know how much trouble you’d made in the world, I’d divine it all +the instant that you were willing to admit being unsophisticated. People always +crave to be the opposite of what they are; the drug shops couldn’t sell +any peroxide of hydrogen if that wasn’t so.” +</p> + +<p> +He laughed and forgot his previous vexation. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, look at me,” she continued. “Oh, I didn’t mean +really—I mean figuratively; but never mind. Now, I’m nothing but a +bubble and a toy, and I ache to be considered a philosopher. Don’t you +remember my telling you what a philosopher I was, the very first conversation +that we ever had together? I do try so hard to delude myself into thinking I am +one, that some days I’m almost sure that I really am one. Last night, for +instance, I was thinking how nice it would be for my Cousin Maude to marry +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ye gods!” cried Jack. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s so very rich,” Mrs. Rosscott pursued calmly; +“and you know the law of heredity is an established scientific fact now, +so you could feel quite safe as to her nose skipping the next +generation.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack was audibly amused. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not anything to laugh over,” his companion continued +gravely. “It’s something to ponder and pray over. If I were Maude I +should be on my knees about it most of the time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing can help her now,” said Jack. “Her parents have been +and gone and done it, as far as she’s concerned, forever. Prayer +won’t change her nose, although age may broaden it still more.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you believe that nothing can help her now. A good-looking +husband could help her lots. I’ve seen homelier girls than she go just +everywhere—on account of their husbands, you know. That was where my +philosophy came in.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d quite forgotten your philosophy.” He laughed again as he +spoke. “I must apologize. Please tell me more about it.” +</p> + +<p> +She laughed, too. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going to. You see, I was lying there, looking out at the moon, +and thinking how nice it would be for Maude to marry you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you consider me at all?” he interposed. +</p> + +<p> +“How you interrupt!” she declared, in exasperation. “You +never let me finish.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am dumb.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I thought how nice it would be for Maude to marry you. You’d +have a baron for a papa-in-law, and an heiress to balance Aunt Mary with. If +you went into consumption and had to retreat to Arizona for a term of years, +the climate could not ruin her complexion as it would m—most +people’s. And she’s so ready to have you that it’s almost +pathetic. I can’t imagine anything more awful than to be as ready to +marry a man who is’nt at all desirous of so doing, as Maude is of +marrying you. But if you would only think about it. I thought and thought about +it last night and the longer I thought the more it seemed like such a nice +arrangement all around; and then—all of a sudden—do you know I +began to wonder if I was philosopher enough to enjoy being matron-of-honor to +Maude and really—” +</p> + +<p> +“At the wedding I could have kissed you!” he exclaimed, and +suddenly subsided at the look with which she withered his boldness. +</p> + +<p> +“And really I wasn’t altogether sure; and then, it occurred to me +that nothing on the face of the earth would ever persuade you to marry Maude. +And I saw my card castle go smashing down, and then I saw that I really am a +philosopher, after all, for—for I didn’t mind a bit!” +</p> + +<p> +Jack threw his head back and roared. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” he said after a minute, “you are so refreshing. You +ruffle me up just to give me the joy of smoothing me down, don’t +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do what I can to amuse you,” she said, demurely. “You are +my father’s guest and my brother’s friend, and so I ought +to—oughtn’t I?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he said, “I have a two-fold claim on you if you look +at it that way and some day I mean to go to work and unfold still +another.” +</p> + +<p> +They had come to a delightful little nook where the trees sighed gently, +“Sit down,” and there seemed to be no adequate reason for refusing +the invitation. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s rest, I know you’re tired,” the young man said +gently, and the next minute found his companion down upon the soft grass, her +back against a twisted tree-root and her hands about her knees. +</p> + +<p> +He threw himself down beside her and the hush and the song of mid-summer were +all about them, filling the air, and their ears, and their hearts all at once. +</p> + +<p> +Presently he took her hand up out of the grass where its fingers had wandered +to hide themselves, and kissed it. She looked at him reprovingly when it was +too late, and shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Such a little one!” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“I call it a pretty big one,” she answered. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean the hand—not the kiss,” he said smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“You really are sophisticated,” she told him. “Only fancy if +you had reversed those nouns!” +</p> + +<p> +“I know,” he said; “but I’ve kissed hands before. You +see, I’m more talented than you think.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be silly,” she said smiling. “I really am +beginning to think very well of you. You don’t want me to cease to, do +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why do women always say ‘Don’t be silly’?” he +queried. “I wish I could find one who wanted to be very original, and so +said, ‘Do be silly’, just for a change.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me, if women were to beg men to be silly what would happen?” +Mrs. Rosscott exclaimed. “The majority are so very foolish without any +special egging on.” +</p> + +<p> +“But it is so dreadfully time-worn—that one phrase.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, if it comes to originality,” she answered, “men are not +original, either. Whenever they lie down in the shade, they always begin to +talk nonsense. You reflect a bit and see if that isn’t invariably +so.” +</p> + +<p> +“But nonsense is such fun to talk in the shade,” he said, spreading +her fingers out upon his own broad palm. “So many things are so next to +heavenly in the shade.” +</p> + +<p> +“You ought not to hold my hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am astonished that you do not remember your Aunt Mary’s teaching +you better.” +</p> + +<p> +“She never forbade my holding your hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose anyone should come suddenly down the path?” +</p> + +<p> +“They would see us and turn and go back.” +</p> + +<p> +“To tell everyone—” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” +</p> + +<p> +“A lie.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack laughed, folded her hand hard in his, and drew himself into a sitting +posture beside her knee. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, don’t be silly,” she said with earnest anxiety. +“I won’t have it. It’s putting false ideas in your head, +because I’m really only playing, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“The shadow of love,” he suggested. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite so.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if—” He leaned quite near. +</p> + +<p> +“Not by any means,” she exclaimed, springing quickly to her feet. +“Come—come! It’s quite time that we were going back to the +house.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why must we?” he remonstrated. +</p> + +<p> +“You know why,” she said. “It’s time we were being +sensible. When a man gets as near as you are, I prefer to be <i>en promenade</i>. And +don’t let us be foolish any longer, either. Let us be cool and worldly. +How much money has your aunt, anyhow?” +</p> + +<p> +Jack had risen, too. +</p> + +<p> +“What impertinence!” he ejaculated. +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all,” she said. “Maude has so much money of her own +that I ask in a wholly disinterested spirit.” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s very rich,” said Jack. “But if your spirit is so +disinterested, what do you want to know for?” +</p> + +<p> +“This is a world of chance, and the main chance in a woman’s case +is alimony; so it’s always nice to know how to figure it.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a slim chance for your cousin,” said Jack. “Do +tell her that I said so.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I shan’t,” said she perversely. “I won’t be +a go-between for you and her. Besides, as to that alimony, there are more +heiresses than Maude in our family.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said he; “I know that. But I know, too, that there is +one among them who need never figure on getting any alimony out of me. If I +ever get the iron grasp of the law on that heiress, I can assure you that only +her death or mine will ever loosen its fangs.” +</p> + +<p> +“How fierce you are!” said Mrs. Rosscott. “Why do you get so +worked up?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” he exclaimed, with something approaching a groan, “I +don’t mean to be—but I do care so much! And sometimes—” +he caught her quickly in his arms, drew her within their strong embrace, and +kissed her passionately upon the lips that had been tantalizing him for five +interminable months. +</p> + +<p> +He was almost frightened the next second by her stillness. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be angry,” he pleaded. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not,” she murmured, resting very quietly with her cheek +against his heart. “But you’ll have to marry me now. My other +husband did, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Marry you!” he exclaimed. “Next week? To-morrow? This +afternoon? You need only say when—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, not for years and years,” she said, interrupting him. +“You mustn’t dream of such a thing for years and years!” +</p> + +<p> +“For years and years!” he cried in astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what I said,” she told him. +</p> + +<p> +He released her in his surprise and stared hard at her. And then he seized her +again and kissed her soundly. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t mean it!” he declared. +</p> + +<p> +“I do mean it!” she declared. +</p> + +<p> +And then she shook her head in a very sweet but painfully resolute manner. +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t be called a cradle-robber,” she said, firmly; and at +that her companion swore mildly but fervently. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re so young,” she said further; “and not a bit +settled,” she added. +</p> + +<p> +“But you’re young, too,” he reminded her. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m older than you are,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose that you aren’t any more settled than I am, and +that’s why you hesitate,” he said grimly. +</p> + +<p> +“Now that’s unworthy of you,” she cried; “and I have a +good mind—” +</p> + +<p> +But the direful words were never spoken, for she was in his arms +again—close in his arms; and, as he kissed her with a delicious sensation +that it was all too good to be true, he whispered, laughing: +</p> + +<p> +“I always meant to lord it over my wife, so I’ll begin by saying: +‘Have it your own way, as long as I have you.’” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Rosscott laid her cheek back against his coat lapel, and looked up into +his eyes with the sweetest smile that even he had ever seen upon even her face. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a bargain,” she murmured. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap21"></a>Chapter Twenty-One<br/> +The Peace and Quiet of the Country</h2> + +<p> +Along in the beginning of the fall Aunt Mary began suddenly to grow very feeble +indeed. After the first week or two it became apparent that she would have to +be quiet and very prudent for some time, and it was when this information was +imparted to her that the family discovered that she had been intending to go to +New York for the Horse-Show. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s awful mad,” Lucinda said to Joshua. “The doctor +says she’ll have to stay in bed.” +</p> + +<p> +“She won’t stay in bed long,” said Joshua. +</p> + +<p> +“The doctor says if she don’t stay in bed she’ll die,” +said Lucinda. +</p> + +<p> +“She won’t die,” said Joshua. +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda looked at Joshua and felt a keen desire to throw her flatiron at him. +The world always thinks that the Lucindas have no feelings; the world never +knows how near the flatirons come to the Joshuas often and often. +</p> + +<p> +Arethusa came for two days and looked the situation well over. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I won’t stay,” she said to Lucinda, “but you +must write me twice a week and I’ll write the others.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Arethusa departed and Lucinda remained alone to superintend things and be +superintended by Aunt Mary. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary’s superintendence waxed extremely vigorous almost at once. She +had out her writing desk, and wrote Jack a letter, as a consequence of which +everything published in New York was mailed to his aunt as soon as it was off +the presses. Lucinda was set reading aloud and, except when the mail came, was +hardly allowed to halt for food and sleep. +</p> + +<p> +“My heavens above,” said the slave to Joshua, “it don’t +seem like I can live with her!” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll live with her,” said Joshua. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s more as flesh and blood can bear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Flesh and blood can bear a good deal more’n you think for,” +said Joshua, and then he delivered up two letters and drove off toward the +barn. +</p> + +<p> +“If those are letters,” said Aunt Mary from her pillow the instant +she heard the front door close, “I’d like ’em. I’m a +great believer in readin’ my own mail, an’ another time, Lucinda, +I’ll thank you to bring it as soon as you get it an’ not stand out +on the porch hollyhockin’ with Joshua for half an hour while I +wait.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda delivered up the letters without demanding what species of +conversational significance her mistress attached to the phrase, +“holly-hocking.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary turned the letters through eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“My lands alive!” she said suddenly, “if here isn’t one +from Mitchell,—the dear boy. Well, I never did!—Lucinda, open the +blinds to the other window, too—so I—can—see to—” +her voice died away,—she was too deep in the letter to recollect what she +was saying. +</p> + +<p> +Mitchell wrote: +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +M<small>Y</small> D<small>EAR</small> M<small>ISS</small> W<small>ATKINS</small>:— +</p> + +<p> +We are sitting in a row with ashes on the heads of our cigarettes mourning, +mourning, mourning, because we have had the news that you are ill. As usual it +is up to me to express our feelings, so I have decided to mail them and the +others agree to pay for the ink. +</p> + +<p> +I wish to remark at once that we did not sleep any last night. Jack told us at +dinner, and we spent the evening making a melancholy tour of places where we +had been with you. If you had only been with us! The roof gardens are +particularly desolate without you. The whole of the city seems to realize it. +The watering carts weep from dawn to dark. All the lamp-posts are wearing +black. It is sad at one extreme and sadder at the other. +</p> + +<p> +You must brace up. If you can’t do that try a belt. Life is too short to +spend in bed. My motto has always been “Spend freely everywhere +else.” At present I recommend anything calculated to mend you. I may in +all modesty mention that just before Christmas I shall be traveling north and +shall then adore to stop and cheer you up a bit if you invite me. I have made +it an invariable rule, however, not to stay over night anywhere when I am not +invited, so I hope you will consider my feelings and send me an invitation. +</p> + +<p> +My eyes fill as I think what it will be to sit beside you and recall dear old +New York. It will be the next best thing to being run over by an automobile, +won’t it? +</p> + +<p class="right"> +Yours, with fondest recollections,<br/> +H<small>ERBERT</small> K<small>ENDRICK</small> M<small>ITCHELL</small>. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary laid the letter down. +</p> + +<p> +“Lucinda,” she said in a curiously veiled tone, “give me a +handkerchief—a big one. As big a one as I’ve got.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda did as requested. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, go away,” said Aunt Mary. +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda went away. She went straight to Joshua. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s had a letter an’ read it an’ it’s made her +cry,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s better’n if it made her mad,” said Joshua, who +was warming his hands at the stove. +</p> + +<p> +“I ain’t sure that it won’t make her mad later,” said +Lucinda. “Say, but she is a Tartar since she came back. Seems some +days’s if I couldn’t live.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll live,” said Joshua, and, as his hands were now +well-warmed, he went out again. +</p> + +<p> +After a while Aunt Mary’s bell jangled violently and Lucinda had to hurry +back. +</p> + +<p> +“Lucinda, did the doctor say anythin’ to you about how long he +thought I might be sick?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, he did.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did he say? I want to know jus’ what he said. Speak +up!” +</p> + +<p> +“He said he didn’t have no idea how long you’d be +sick.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary threw a look at Lucinda that ought to have annihilated her. +</p> + +<p> +“I want to see Jack,” she said. “Bring my writin’ desk. +Right off. Quick.” +</p> + +<p> +She wrote to Jack, and he came up and spent the next Sunday with her, cheering +her mightily. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish the others could have come, too,” she said once an hour all +through his visit. Mitchell’s letter seemed to have bred a tremendous +longing within her. +</p> + +<p> +“They’ll come later,” said Jack, with hearty good-will. +“They all want to come.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know how we could ever have any fun up here though,” +said his aunt sadly. “My heavens alive, Jack,—but this is an awful +place to live in. And to think that I lived to be seventy before I found it +out.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack took her hand and kissed it. He did sympathize, even if he was only +twenty-two and longing unutterably to be somewhere else and kissing someone +else at that very minute. +</p> + +<p> +“Mitchell wrote me a letter,” continued Aunt Mary. “He said +he was comin’. Well, dear me, he can eat mince pie and drive with Joshua +when he goes for the mail, but I don’t know what else I can do with him. +Oh, if I’d only been born in the city!” +</p> + +<p> +Jack kissed her hand again. He didn’t know what to say. Aunt Mary’s +lot seemed to border upon the tragic just then and there. +</p> + +<p> +The next day he returned to town and Lucinda came on duty again. She soon found +that the nephew’s visit had rendered the aunt harder than ever to get +along with. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m goin’ to town jus’’s soon as ever I feel +well enough,” she declared aggressively on more than one occasion. +“An’ nex’ time I go I’m goin’ to stay +jus’’s long as ever I’m havin’ a good time. Now, +don’t contradict me, Lucinda, because it’s your place to hold your +tongue. I’m a great believer in your holding your tongue, Lucinda.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda, who certainly never felt the slightest inclination toward +contradiction, held her tongue, and the poor, unhappy one twisted about in bed, +and bemoaned the quietude of her environment by the hour at a time. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you say we had a calf?” she asked suddenly one day. +“Well, why don’t you answer? When I ask a question I expect an +answer. Didn’t you say we had a calf?” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I want Joshua to take that calf to the blacksmith and have him +shod behind an’ before right off. To-day—this minute.” +</p> + +<p> +“You want the calf shod!” cried Lucinda, suddenly alarmed by the +fear lest her mistress had gone light-headed. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary glared in a way that showed that she was far from being out of her +usual mind. +</p> + +<p> +“If I said shod, I guess I meant shod,” she said, icily. “I +do sometimes mean what I say. Pretty often—as a usual thing.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda stood at the foot of the bed, petrified and paralyzed. +</p> + +<p> +Then the invalid sat up a little and showed some mercy on her servant’s +very evident fright. +</p> + +<p> +“I want the calf shod,” she explained, “so’s Joshua can +run up an’ down the porch with him.” +</p> + +<p> +So far from ameliorating Lucinda’s condition, this explanation rendered +it visibly worse. Aunt Mary contemplated her in silence for a few seconds, and +she suddenly cried out, in a tone that was full of pathos: +</p> + +<p> +“I feel like maybe—maybe—the calf’ll make me think +it’s horses’ feet on the pavement.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda rushed from the room. +</p> + +<p> +“She wants the calf shod!” she cried, bursting in upon Joshua, who +was piling wood. +</p> + +<p> +For once in his life Joshua was shaken out of his usual placidity. +</p> + +<p> +“She wants the calf shod!” he repeated blankly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t shoe a calf.” +</p> + +<p> +“But she wants it done.” +</p> + +<p> +Joshua regained his self-control. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, well,” he said, turning to go on with his work, “the +calf’s gone to the butcher, anyhow. Tell her so.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda went back to Aunt Mary. +</p> + +<p> +“The calf’s gone to the butcher,” she yelled. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary frowned heavily. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you go an’ get a lamp and turn it up too high an’ leave +it,” she said,—“the smell’ll make me think of +automobiles.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda was appalled. As a practical housekeeper she felt that here was a +proposition which she could not face. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, ain’t you goin’?” Aunt Mary asked tartly. +“Of course if you ain’t intendin’ to go I’d be glad to +know it; ’n while you’re gone, Lucinda, I wish you’d get me +the handle to the ice-cream freezer an’ lay it where I can see it; +it’ll help me believe in the smell.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda went away and brought the handle, but she did not light the lamp. The +Fates were good to her, though, for Aunt Mary forgot the lamp in her disgust +over the appearance of the handle. +</p> + +<p> +“Take it away,” she said sharply. “Anybody’d know it +wasn’t an automobile crank. I don’t want to look like a fool! Well, +why ain’t you takin’ it away, Lucinda?” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda took the crank back to the freezer; but as the days passed on, the +situation grew worse. Aunt Mary slept more and more, and awoke to an +ever-increasing ratio of belligerency. +</p> + +<p> +Before long Lucinda’s third cousin demanded her assistance in +“moving,” and there was nothing for poor Arethusa to do but to take +up the burden, now become a fearfully heavy one. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary was getting to that period in life when the nearer the relative the +greater the dislike, so that when her niece arrived the welcome which awaited +her was even less cordial than ever. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you bring a trunk?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“A small one,” replied the visitor. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s something to be grateful for,” said the aunt. +“If I’d invited you to visit me, of course I’d feel +differently about things.” +</p> + +<p> +Arethusa accepted this as she accepted all things, unpacked, saw Lucinda off, +assumed charge of the house, and then dragged a rocking chair to her +aunt’s bedside and unfolded her sewing. Ere she had threaded her needle +Aunt Mary was sound asleep, and so her niece sewed placidly for an hour or +more, until, like lightning out of a clear sky: +</p> + +<p> +“Arethusa!” +</p> + +<p> +The owner of the name started—but answered immediately: +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Aunt Mary.” +</p> + +<p> +“When I die I want to be buried from a roof garden! Don’t you +forget! You’d better go an’ write it down. Go now—go this +minute!” +</p> + +<p> +Arethusa shook as if with the discharge of a contiguous field battery. She had +not had Lucinda’s gradual breaking-in to her aunt’s new trains of +thought. +</p> + +<p> +“Aunt Mary,” she said feebly at last. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary saw her lips moving; she sat up in bed and her eyes flashed cinders. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, ain’t you goin’?” she asked wrathfully. +“When I say do a thing, can’t it be done? I declare it’s bad +enough to live with a pack of idiots without havin’ ’em, one +an’ all, act as if I was the idiot!” +</p> + +<p> +Arethusa laid aside her work and rose to quit the room. She returned five +minutes later with pen and ink, but Aunt Mary was now off on another tack. +</p> + +<p> +“I want a bulldog!” she cried imperatively. +</p> + +<p> +“A bulldog!” shrieked her niece, nearly dropping what she held in +her hands. “What do you want a bulldog for?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a bullfrog!” the old lady corrected; “a bulldog. Oh, I +do get so sick of your stupidity, Arethusa,” she said. “What should +I or any one else want of a bullfrog?” +</p> + +<p> +Arethusa sighed, and the sigh was apparent. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d sigh if I was you,” said her aunt. “I certainly +would. If I was you, Arethusa, I’d certainly feel that I had cause to +sigh;” and with that she sat up and gave her pillow a punch that was full +of the direst sort of suggestion. +</p> + +<p> +Arethusa did not gainsay the truth of the sighing proposition. It was too +apparent. +</p> + +<p> +The next day Aunt Mary slept until noon, and then opened her eyes and +simultaneously declared: +</p> + +<p> +“Next summer I’m goin’ to have an automobile!” +</p> + +<p> +Then she looked about and saw that she had addressed the air, which made her +more mad than ever. She rang her bell violently, and Arethusa left the lunch +table so hastily that she reached the bedroom half-choked. +</p> + +<p> +“Next summer I’m goin’ to have an automobile,” said the +old lady angrily. “Now, get me some breakfast.” +</p> + +<p> +Her niece went out quickly, and a maid was sent in with tea and toast and eggs +at once. Their effect was to brace the invalid up and make the lot of those +about her yet more wearing. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall run it myself,” she vowed, when Arethusa returned; +“an’ I bet they clear out when they see me comin’.” +</p> + +<p> +It did seem highly probable. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know how I can live if I don’t get away from here +soon,” she declared a few minutes later. “You don’t +appreciate what life is, Arethusa. Seems like I’ll go mad with +wantin’ to be somewhere else. I can see Jack gets his disposition +straight from me.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a sigh and a pause. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall die,” Aunt Mary then declared with violence, “if I +don’t have a change. Arethusa, you’ve got to write to Jack, and +tell him to get me Granite.” +</p> + +<p> +“Granite!” screamed the niece in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Granite. She was a maid I had in New York. I want her to come here. +She must come. Tell him to offer her anything, and send her C.O.D. If I can +have Granite, maybe I’ll feel some better. You write Jack.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll write to-night,” shrieked Arethusa. +</p> + +<p> +“No, you won’t,” said Aunt Mary; “you’ll get the +ink and write right now. Because I’ve been meeker’n Moses all my +life is no reason why I sh’d be willin’ to be downtrodden clear to +the end. Folks around me’d better begin to look sharp an’ step +lively from now on.” +</p> + +<p> +Arethusa went to the desk at once and wrote: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +D<small>EAR</small> J<small>ACK</small>:<br/> + Aunt Mary wants the maid that she had when she was in New York. For the love of +Heaven, if the girl is procurable, do get her. Hire her if you can and kidnap +her if you can’t. Lucinda has played her usual trick on me and walked off +just when she felt like it. I never saw Aunt Mary in anything like the state of +mind that she is, but I know one thing—if you cannot send the maid, +there’ll be an end of me. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +Your loving sister,<br/> +A<small>RETHUSA</small>. +</p> + +<p> +Jack was much perturbed upon receipt of this letter. He whistled a little and +frowned a great deal. But at last he decided to be frank and tell the truth to +Mrs. Rosscott. To that end he wrote her a lengthy note. After two preliminary +pages so personal that it would not be right to print them for public reading, +he continued thus: +</p> + +<p> +I’ve had a letter from my sister, who is with Aunt Mary at present. She +says that Aunt Mary is not at all well and declares that she must have Janice. +What under the sun am I to answer? Shall I say that the girl has gone to +France? I’m willing to swear anything rather that put you to one +second’s inconvenience. You know that, don’t you? etc., etc., etc. +[just here the letter abruptly became personal again]. +</p> + +<p> +Jack thought that he knew his fiancée well, but he was totally unprepared for +such an exhibition of sweet ness as was testified to by the letter which he +received in return. +</p> + +<p> +It’s first six pages were even more personal than his own (being more +feminine) and then came this paragraph: +</p> + +<p> +Janice is going to your aunt by to-night’s train. Now, don’t say a +word! It is nothing—nothing—absolutely nothing. Don’t you +know that I am too utterly happy to be able to do anything for anyone that +you—etc., etc., etc. +</p> + +<p> +Jack seized his hat and hurried to where his lady-love was just then residing. +But Janice had gone! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap22"></a>Chapter Twenty-Two<br/> +“Granite”</h2> + +<p> +Joshua was despatched to drive through mud and rain to bring Aunt Mary’s +solace from the station. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary had herself propped up in bed to be ready for the return before +Billy’s feet had ceased to cry splash on the road outside of the gate. +Her eagerness tinged her pallor pink. It was as if the prospect of seeing +Janice gave her some of that flood of vitality which always seems to ebb and +flow so richly in the life of a metropolis. +</p> + +<p> +“My gracious heavens, Lucinda” (for Lucinda was back now), she said +joyfully, “to think that I needn’t look at you for a week if I +don’t want to! You haven’t any idea how tired I am of looking at +you, Lucinda. If you looked like anything it would be different. But you +don’t.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda rocked placidly; hers was what is called an “even +disposition.” If it hadn’t been, she might have led an entirely +different life—in fact, she would most certainly have lived somewhere +else, for she couldn’t possibly have lived with Aunt Mary. +</p> + +<p> +The hour that ensued after Joshua’s departure was so long that it +resulted in a nap for the invalid, and Lucinda had to wake her by slamming the +closet door when the arrival turned in at the gate. +</p> + +<p> +“Has he got her?” Aunt Mary cried breathlessly. “Has he got +someone with him? Run, Lucinda, an’ bring her in. She needn’t wipe +her feet, tell her; you can brush the hall afterwards. Well, why ain’t +you hurryin’?” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda was hurrying, her curiosity being as potent as the commands of her +mistress, and five seconds later Janice appeared in the door with her +predecessor just behind her—a striking contrast. +</p> + +<p> +“You dear blessed Granite!” cried the old lady, stretching out her +hands in a sort of ecstasy. “Oh, my! but I’m glad to see you! Come +right straight here. No, shut the door first. Lucinda, you go and do +’most anything. An’ how is the city?” +</p> + +<p> +Janice came to the bedside and dropped on her knees there, taking Aunt +Mary’s withered hand close in both of her own. +</p> + +<p> +“You didn’t shut the door,” the old lady whispered hoarsely. +“I wish you would—an’ bolt it, too. An’ then come +straight back to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Janice closed and bolted the door, and returned to the bedside. Aunt Mary drew +her down close to her, and her voice and eyes were hungry, indeed. For a little +she looked eagerly upon what she had so craved to possess again, and then she +suddenly asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Granite, have you got any cigarettes with you?” +</p> + +<p> +The maid started a little. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you smoke now?” she asked, with interest. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Aunt Mary sadly, “an’ that’s one more +of my awful troubles. You see I’m jus’ achin’ to smell smoke, +an’ Joshua promised his mother the night before he was twenty-one. You +don’t know nothin’ about how terrible I feel. I’m empty +somewhere jus’ all the time. Don’t you believe’t you could +get some cigarettes an’ smoke ’em right close to me, an’ let +me lay here, an’ be so happy while I smell. I’ll have a good doctor +for you, if you’re sick from it.” +</p> + +<p> +The maid reflected; then she nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll write to town,” she cried, in her high, clear tones. +“What brand do you like best?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mitchell’s,” said Aunt Mary. “But you can’t get +those because he made ’em himself an’ sealed ’em with a lick. +Oh!” she sighed, with the accent of a starving Sybarite, “I do wish +I could see him do it again! Do you know,” she added suddenly, “he +wrote me a letter and he’s goin’ to come here.” +</p> + +<p> +“When?” asked Janice. +</p> + +<p> +“After a while. But you must take off your things. That’s your room +in there,” pointing toward a half-open door at the side. “I wanted +you as close as I could get you. My, but I’ve wanted you! I can’t +tell you how much. But a good deal—a lot—awfully.” +</p> + +<p> +Janice went into the room that was to be hers, and hung up her hat and cloak. +</p> + +<p> +When she returned Aunt Mary was looking a hundred per cent, improved already. +</p> + +<p> +“Can you hum ‘Hiawatha’?” she asked immediately. +“Granite, I must have suthin’ to amuse me an’ make me feel +good. Can you hum ‘Hiawatha’ an’ can you do that kind of +‘sh—sh—sh—’that everybody does all together at +the end, you know?” +</p> + +<p> +Janice smiled pleasantly, and placing herself in the closest possible proximity +with the ear trumpet, at once rendered the desired <i>morceau</i> in a style which +would have done credit to a soloist in a <i>café chantant</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary’s lips wreathed in seraphic bliss. +</p> + +<p> +“My!” she said. “I feel just as if I was back eatin’ +crabs’ legs and tails again. No one’ll ever know how I’ve +missed city life this winter but—well, you saw Lucinda!” +</p> + +<p> +The glance that accompanied the speech was mysterious but significant. Janice +nodded sympathetically. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you brought a trunk. I ain’t a bit sure when I’ll be +able to let you go,” pursued the old lady. “I don’t believe I +can let you go until I go, too. I’ve most died here alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“I brought a trunk,” Janice cried into the ear trumpet. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad,” said Aunt Mary. She paused, and her eyes grew +wistful. +</p> + +<p> +“Granite,” she asked, “do you think you could manage to do a +skirt dance on the footboard? I’m ’most wild to see some lace +shake.” +</p> + +<p> +Janice looked doubtfully at the footboard. It was wide for a footboard, but +narrow—too narrow—for a skirt dance. +</p> + +<p> +“But I can do one on the floor,” she cried. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary’s features became suffused with heavenly joy. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Granite!” she murmured, in accents of greatest anticipation. +</p> + +<p> +The maid stood up, and, going off as far as the limits of the spacious bedroom +would allow, executed a most fetching and dainty <i>pas seul</i> to a tune of her own +humming. +</p> + +<p> +“Give me suthin’ to pound with!” cried her enthusiastic +audience. “Oh, Granite, I ain’t been so happy since I was home! +Whatever you want you can have, only don’t ever leave me alone with +Lucinda again.” +</p> + +<p> +Janice was catching her tired breath, but she answered with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t you get my Sunday umbrella out of the closet now an’ +do a parasol dance?” the insatiate demanded; “one of those where +you shoot it open an’ shut when people ain’t +expectin’.” +</p> + +<p> +The maid went to the closet and brought out the Sunday umbrella; but its shiny +black silk did not appear to inspire any fluffy maneuvres, so she utilized it +in the guise of a broadsword and did something that savored of the Highlands, +and seemed to rebel bitterly at the length of her skirt. Aunt Mary writhed +around in bliss—utter and intense. +</p> + +<p> +“I feel like I was livin’ again,” she said, heaving a great +sigh of content. “I tell you I’ve suffered enough, since I came +back, to know what it is to have some fun again. Now, Granite, I’ll tell +you what we’ll do,” when the girl sat down to rest; “you +write for those cigarettes while I take a little nap and afterwards we’ll +get the Universal Knowledge book and learn how to play poker. You don’t +know how to play poker, do you?” +</p> + +<p> +“A little,” cried the maid. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I want to learn how,” said the old lady, “an’ +we’ll learn when—when I wake up.” +</p> + +<p> +Janice nodded assent. +</p> + +<p> +“Excuse me shuttin’ my eyes,” said Aunt Mary—and she +was asleep in two minutes. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap23"></a>Chapter Twenty-Three<br/> +“Granite”<br/> +Continued.</h2> + +<p> +Mary and Arethusa—Aunt Mary’s two nieces—were not uncommonly +mercenary; but about three weeks after the new arrival they became seriously +troubled over the ascendancy that she appeared to be gaining over the mind of +their aunt. Lucinda’s duties had included for many years the writing of a +weekly letter which contained formal advices of the general state of affairs, +and after Janice’s establishment, these letters became so provocative of +gradually increasing alarm that first Mary, and then Arethusa thought it +advisable to make the journey for the purpose of investigating the affair +personally. They found the new maid apparently devoid of evil intent, but +certainly fast becoming absolutely indispensable to the daily happiness of +their influential relative. Mary feared that a codicil for five thousand +dollars would be the result; but Arethusa felt, with a sinking heart, that +there was another naught going on to the sum, and that, unless the tide turned, +the end might not be even then. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary was so cool that neither niece stayed long, and Lucinda’s +letters had to be looked to for the progress of events. Lucinda’s letters +were frequent and not at all reassuring. After the sisters had talked them +over, they sent them on to Jack. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +She [thus Lucinda invariably began] is the same as ever. It’s cross the +heart and bend the knee, an’ then you ain’t down far enough to suit +her. But she’s gettin’ so afraid she’ll go that she’s +wax in her hands. It would scare you. She won’t let her out of her sight +a minute. I must say that whatever she’s giving her, she certainly is +earning the money, for she works her harder every day. The poor thing is +hopping about, or singing, or playing cards, from dawn to dark, and unless +it’s a provision in her will I can’t see what would pay her enough +for working so. Lord knows I considered I earned my wages without skipping +around with my legs crossed like she does, and she has no end of patience too, +even if she won’t ever let her take a walk. She’s getting as pale +as she is herself. Seems like something should be done. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +Respectfully,<br/> +L. COOKE. +</p> + +<p> +Three days later Lucinda wrote again: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +She does seem to be getting worse and worse. She makes her sleep on a sofa +beside her, and she begins to look dreadfully worn out. I do believe +she’ll kill her, before she dies herself. I told her so to-day, but she +only smiled. It’s funny, but I like her even if I am bolted out all the +time. I ain’t jealous, and I’m glad of the rest. I should think her +throat would split with talking so much, but she certainly does hear her better +than anyone else. I think something must be done, though. She’s getting +as crazy as she is herself. They play cards and call each other +“aunty” for two hours at a stretch some days. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +Respectfully,<br/> +L. COOKE. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of the week Lucinda wrote again: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +I think if you don’t come, she will surely die. She is very feeble +herself, but that don’t keep her from wearing her to skin and bone. She +keeps her doing tricks from morning to night. Every minute that she is awake +she keeps her jumping. It’s a mercy she sleeps so much, or she +wouldn’t get any sleep at all. I can’t do nothing, but I can see +something has got to be done. She’s killing her, and she’s getting +where she don’t care for nobody but her, and if she’s to be kept in +trim to keep on amusing her she’ll have to have some rest pretty quick. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +Respectfully,<br/> +L. COOKE. +</p> + +<p> +If the sisters were perturbed by the general trend of these epistles, Jack was +half wild over the situation. He swore vigorously and he tramped up and down +his room nights until the people underneath put it in their prayers that his +woes might suggest suicide as speedily as possible. In vain he wrote to Mrs. +Rosscott to restore Janice to her proper place in town; Mrs. Rosscott answered +that as long as Aunt Mary desired Janice at her side, at her side Janice should +stay. Jack knew his lady well enough to know that she would keep her word, and +although he longed to assert his authority he was man enough to feel that he +had better wait now and settle the debt after marriage. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless the whole affair was unbearably vexatious and at last he felt that +he could endure it no longer. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m a fool,” he said, in a spirit of annoyance that came so +close to anger that it led to an utter loss of patience. “I’ll take +the train for Aunt Mary’s to-day, and straighten out that mess in short +order.” +</p> + +<p> +It was Saturday, and he arranged to leave by the noon train. He laid in a heavy +supply of bribes for his aged relative and of reading matter for himself, and +went to the station with a heart divided ’twixt many different emotions. +It was an unconscionably long ride, but he did get there safely about ten +o’clock. +</p> + +<p> +It was a pleasant night—not too cold—even suggestive of some +lingering Indian summer intentions on the part of Jack’s namesake. The +young man thought that he would walk out to his childhood’s home, and his +decision was aided by the discovery that there was no other way to get there. +</p> + +<p> +So he took his suit-case in his hand and set off with a stride that covered the +intervening miles in short order and brought him, almost before he knew it, to +where he could see Lucinda’s light in the dining-room and her pug-nosed +profile outlined upon the drawn shade. Everyone else was evidently abed, and as +he looked, she, too, arose and took up the lamp. He hurried his steps so that +she might let him in before she went upstairs, but in the same instant the +light went out and with its withdrawal he perceived a little figure sitting +alone upon the doorstep. +</p> + +<p> +His heart gave a tremendous leap—but not with fright—and he made +three rapid steps and spoke a name. +</p> + +<p> +She lifted up her head. Of course it was Janice, and although she had been +weeping, her eyes were as beautiful as ever. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Jack!” she exclaimed, and happy the man who hears his name +called in such a tone—even if it be only for once in the whole course of +his existence. +</p> + +<p> +He pitched his suit-case down upon the grass and took the maid in his arms. +</p> + +<p> +What did anything matter; they both were lonely and both needed comforting. +</p> + +<p> +He kissed her not once but twenty times,—not twenty times but a hundred. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s abominable you’re being here,” he said at last. +</p> + +<p> +“I am very, very tired,” she confessed. +</p> + +<p> +“And you’ll go back to the city when I go?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” she said, doubtfully. “I don’t +know whether she’ll let me.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“To-morrow I will beard Aunt Mary in her den,” he declared; +“now let’s go in and—and—” +</p> + +<p> +The hundred and first! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap24"></a>Chapter Twenty-Four<br/> +Two Are Company</h2> + +<p> +To the large square room where he had slept (on and off) during a goodly +portion of his boyhood life, Jack went to repose from his journey, there to +meditate the situation which he had come to comfort, and to try and devise a +way to better its existing circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +It was a pleasant room, one window looking down the driveway, and the other +leading forth to a square balcony that topped the little porch of the side +entrance. There were lambrequins of dark blue with fringe that always caught in +the shutters, and a bedroom suite of mahogany that had come down from the +original John Watkins’s aunt, and had been polished by her descendants so +faithfully that its various surfaces shone like mirrors. Over the bed hung a +tent drapery of chintz; over the washstand hung a crayon done by Arethusa in +her infancy—the same representing a lady engaged in the pleasant and +useful occupation of spinning wheat with a hand composed of five fingers, and +no thumb. In the corner stood a cheval-glass which Jack had seen shrink +steadily for years until now it could no longer reflect his shoulders unless he +retired back for some two yards or more. There was a delectable closet to the +room, all painted white inside, with shelves and cupboards and little bins for +shoes and waste paper and soiled clothes. +</p> + +<p> +Oh! it was really an altogether delightful place in which to abide, and the +pity was that its owner had spent so little time therein of late years. +</p> + +<p> +To-night—returning to the scene of many childish and boyish +meditations—Jack placed his lamp upon the nightstand at the head of the +bed and sat himself down on a chair near by. +</p> + +<p> +It was late—quite midnight—for he and Aunt Mary’s new maid +had talked long and freely ere they separated at last. From his room he could +hear the little faint sounds below stairs, that told of her final preparations +for Lucinda’s morning eye, and he rested quiet until all else was quiet +and then leaned back upon the chair’s hind legs and, tipping slowly to +and fro in that position, tried to see just what he had better do the first +thing on the following day. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus07"></a> +<img src="images/image07.png" width="365" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“‘Yesterday I played poker until I didn’t +know a blue chip from a white one.’”</p> +</div> + +<p> +It was a riddle with a vengeance. It is so easy to say “I’ll cut +that Gordian knot!” and then pack one’s tooth-brush and start off +unknotting, but it is quite another matter when one comes face to face with the +problem and is met by the “buts” of those who have previously been +essaying to disentangle it. +</p> + +<p> +“She won’t let me go,” Mrs. Rosscott had declared, “she +won’t consider it for a minute.” +</p> + +<p> +“But she must,” Jack had declared on his side. “My dearest, +you can’t stay and play maid to Aunt Mary indefinitely, and you know that +as well as I do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know that,” the whilom Janice then murmured. +“It’s getting to be an awful question. They want me to come home +for Thanksgiving. They think that I’ve been at the rest-cure long +enough.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack had laughed a bit just there, and then he suddenly ceased laughing and +frowned a good deal instead. +</p> + +<p> +“You were crying when I came,” he said. “The truth is you are +working yourself to death and getting completely used up.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is wearing, I must confess,” she answered. “Yesterday I +played poker until I didn’t know a blue chip from a white one, and she +won the whole pot with two little bits of pairs while I was drawing to a king. +I begin to fear that my mind will give way. And yet, I really don’t see +how to stop. She is so sick and tired of life here and she isn’t strong +enough to go to town.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know a very short way to put an end to everything,” said Jack. +“I see two ways in fact,—one is to tell her the truth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, don’t do that,” cried his fiancée affrightedly. +“The shock would kill her outright.” +</p> + +<p> +“The other way,—” said Jack slowly, “would be for me to +marry you and let her think that you are Janice in good earnest.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that wouldn’t do at all,” said the pretty widow. +“In the first place she would go crazy at the idea of her darling +nephew’s marrying her maid,—and in the second place—” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,—in the second place?” +</p> + +<p> +“I wouldn’t marry you,—I said I wouldn’t and I +won’t. You’re too young.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you’ve promised to marry me some day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know—but not till—not till—” +</p> + +<p> +“Not till when?” +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t just decided,” said Mrs. Rosscott, airily. +“Not for a good while, not until you seem to require marrying at my +hands.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never shall require marrying at anyone else’s hands,” the +lover vowed, “but if you are so set about it as all that comes to, I +shall not cut up rough for a while. Aunt Mary is the main question just +now—not you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know,” said his lady in anything but a jealous tone, “and +as she is the question, what are we to do?” +</p> + +<p> +“You will go to bed,” he said, kissing her, “and I will go to +think.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you see any way?” she asked anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +Then he put his hands on either side of her face and turned it up to his own. +</p> + +<p> +“You plotted once and overthrew my aunt,” he said. +“It’s my turn now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you going to plot?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going to try.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll pray for your success,” she whispered. +</p> + +<p> +“Pray for me,” he answered, and shortly after they had achieved the +feat of saying good-night and parting once more, and the result of it all had +been that Jack found himself tipping back and forth on the small chair, in the +big room, at half-past midnight, puzzled, perturbed, and very much perplexed as +to what to do first when the next morning should have become a settled fact. He +was not used to conspiring, and being only a man, he had not those curious +instinctive gifts of inspiration and luminous conception which fairly radiate +around the brain of clever womankind. +</p> + +<p> +It was some time—a very long time indeed—before any light stole in +upon his Stygian darkness, and then, when the light did come, it came in +skyrocket guise, and had its share of cons attached to its very evident pros. +</p> + +<p> +“But I don’t care,” he declared viciously, as he rose and +began to undress; “something’s got to be done,—some chances +have got to be taken,—as well that as anything else. Perhaps +better—very likely better.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he laughed over his unconscious imitation of his aunt’s phraseology, +and made short work of finishing his disrobing and getting to bed. +</p> + +<p> +It was when Lucinda crept forth to begin to unlock the house at 6.30 upon the +morning after, that the fact of the nephew’s arrival was first known to +anyone except Janice. +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda saw the coat and hat,—recognized the initial on the handkerchief +in the inside pocket, threw out her arms and gave a faint squeak in utter +bewilderment, and then tore off at once to the barn to tell Joshua. +</p> + +<p> +She found Joshua milking the cow. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think!” she panted briefly, with wide-open eyes and +uplifted hands; “Joshua Whittlesey, <i>what</i> do you think?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think nothin’,” said Joshua. “I’m +milkin’.” +</p> + +<p> +“What would you say if I told you as <i>he</i> was come.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d say he was here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, he is. He must ’a’ come last night, an’ Lord +only knows how he ever got in, for nothing was left open an’ yet +he’s there.” +</p> + +<p> +Joshua made no comment. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder what he came for?” +</p> + +<p> +Joshua made no comment. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder how long he’ll stay?” +</p> + +<p> +Still Joshua made no comment. +</p> + +<p> +“Joshua Whittlesey, before you get your breakfast, you’re the +meanest man I ever saw, and I’ll swear to that anywhere.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you get me my breakfast then?” said Joshua calmly; +and the effect of his speech and his demeanor was to cause Lucinda to turn and +leave him at once—too outraged to address another word to him. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary herself did not awake until ten o’clock. She rang her bell +vigorously then and Janice flew to its answering. +</p> + +<p> +“I dreamed of Jack,” said the old lady, looking up with a smile. +“I dreamed we was each ridin’ on camels in a merry-go-round.” +</p> + +<p> +Janice smiled too, and then set briskly to work to put the room in order and +arrange its occupant for the day. +</p> + +<p> +“Did there come any mail?” Aunt Mary inquired, when her coiffure +was made and her dressing-gown adjusted. “I feel jus’ like I might +hear from Jack. Seems as if I sort of can’t think of anythin’ but +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll go and see,” said Janice pleasantly, and she went to +the dining room where the Reformed Prodigal sat reading the newspaper with his +feet on the table—an action which convinced Lucinda that he had not +reformed so very much after all. +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose you go to her—instead of me,” suggested the maid, +pausing before the reader and usurping all the attention to which the paper +should have laid claim. +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose I do,” said Jack, jumping up, “and suppose you stay +away and let me try what I can accomplish single-handed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Only—” began Janice—and then she stopped and lifted a +warning finger. +</p> + +<p> +Jack listened and a stealthy creak betrayed Lucinda’s proximity somewhere +in the vicinity. +</p> + +<p> +It was plain to be seen that there were many issues to be kept in mind, and the +young man grit his teeth because he didn’t dare embrace his betrothed, +and then walked away in the direction of Aunt Mary’s room. +</p> + +<p> +If she was glad to see him! One would have supposed that ten years and two +oceans had elapsed since their last meeting the month before. +</p> + +<p> +She fairly screamed with joy. +</p> + +<p> +“Jack!—You dear, dear, <i>dear</i> boy! Well, if I ever did!—When +did you come?” +</p> + +<p> +He was by the bed hugging her. “And how are they all? How <i>is</i> the city? +Oh, Jack, if I could only go back with you this time!” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind, Aunt Mary; you’ll be coming soon—in the spring, +you know.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary sank back on the pillows. +</p> + +<p> +“Jack,” she said, “if I have to wait for spring, I shall die. +I ain’t strong enough to be able to bear livin’ in the country much +longer. I’ve pretty much made up my mind to buy a house in town and just +keep this place so’s to have somewhere to put Lucinda.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think you’d be happy in town, Aunt Mary?” Jack +yelled; “I mean if you lived there right along?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see how I could be anythin’ else. I don’t see +how anyone could be anythin’ else. I want a nice house with a criss-cross +iron gate in front of it an’ an automobile. An’—I don’t +want you to say nothin’ about this to her jus’ yet—but +I’m goin’ to keep Granite to look after everythin’ for me. I +don’t ever mean to let Granite go again. Never. Not for one hour.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack smiled. He felt as if Fate was playing into his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“I want you to live with me,” Aunt Mary continued, “an’ +I want the house big enough so’s Clover an’ Mitchell an’ +Burnett can come whenever they feel like it and stay as long as they like. I +don’t want any house except for us all together. Oh, my! Seems like I +can’t hardly wait!” +</p> + +<p> +She leaned back and shut her eyes in a sort of impatient ecstasy of joys been +and to be. +</p> + +<p> +Jack reached forward to get a cigarette from the box on the table at the +bedside. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you smoke now, Aunt Mary?” he inquired, as he took a match. +</p> + +<p> +“No, Granite does.” +</p> + +<p> +“Janice does!” he repeated, quickly knitting his brows. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, she does it for me—I’m so happy smellin’ the +smell. They made her a little sick at first but she took camphor and now she +don’t mind. Not much—not any.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack arose and walked about the room. The idea of his darling sickening herself +to provide smoke for Aunt Mary braced him afresh to the conflict. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you do all day?” he asked, presently. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we do most everythin’. When Lucinda’s out she does +Lucinda for me an’ when Lucinda’s in she does Joshua. It’s +about as amusin’ as anythin’ you ever saw to see her do Lucinda. I +never found Lucinda amusin’, Lord knows, but I like to see Granite do +her. An’ we play cards, an’ she dances, an’—” +</p> + +<p> +“Aunt Mary,” said Jack abruptly, “do you know the people who +had Janice want her back again?” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t quite catch that,” said his aunt, “but you +needn’t bother to repeat it because I ain’t never goin’ to +let her go. Not never.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack came back and sat down beside the bed, and took her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Aunt Mary,” he said in a pleading shriek, “don’t you +see how pale and thin she’s getting?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t,” said his aunt, turning her head away, +“an’ it’s no use tellin’ me such things because +it’s about my nap-time and I’ve always been a great believer in +takin’ my nap when it’s my nap-time. As a general thing.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack sighed and watched her close her eyes and go instantly to sleep. Janice +came in a few minutes later. +</p> + +<p> +“No—no,” she whispered hastily, as he came toward +her,—“you mustn’t—you mustn’t. I don’t +believe that she really is asleep and even if she is, Lucinda is +<i>everywhere</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where can we go?” Jack asked in despair. “It’s out of +all reason to expect me to behave all the time.” +</p> + +<p> +“We can’t go anywhere,” said Mrs. Rosscott; “we must +resign ourselves. I’ve learned that it’s the only way. Dear me, +when I think how long I’ve been resigned it certainly seems to me that +you might do a little in the same line.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, but I haven’t learned to resign myself,” said her +lover, “and what is more, I positively decline to learn to resign myself. +You should do the same, too. Where is the sense in humoring her so? I +wouldn’t if I were you.” +</p> + +<p> +Janice lifted up her lovely eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, you would,” she said simply. “If somebody’s +future happiness depended upon her you would humor her just as much as I +do.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack was touched. +</p> + +<p> +“You are an angel of unselfishness,” he exclaimed, warmly, +“and I don’t deserve such devotion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, don’t be too grateful,” she replied, dimpling. +“The person to whose future happiness I referred was myself.” +</p> + +<p> +They both laughed softly at that—softly and mutually. +</p> + +<p> +“Nevertheless,” Jack went on after a minute, “if to all the +other puzzles is to be added the torture of being unable to see you or speak +freely to you, I think the hour for action has arrived.” +</p> + +<p> +“For action!” she cried; “what are you thinking of +doing?” +</p> + +<p> +“This,” he said, and straightway took her into his arms and kissed +her as he had kissed her on the night before. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, if Lucinda has heard or your aunt has seen!” poor Janice +cried, extricating herself and setting her cap to rights with a species of +fluttered haste that led Jack to wonder suddenly why men didn’t fall in +love with maids even oftener than they do. “I do believe that you have +gone and done it this time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody heard and nobody saw,” he assured her, but he didn’t +at all mean what he said, for his prayers were fervent that his kiss had been +public property. +</p> + +<p> +And such was the fact. +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda bounced in on Joshua with a bounce that turned the can of harness +polish upside down, for Joshua was oiling the harnesses. +</p> + +<p> +“He kissed her!” she cried in a state of tremendous excitement. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, she’s his aunt, ain’t she?” Joshua demanded, +picking up the can and privately wishing Lucinda in Halifax. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t mean her;—I mean Janice.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see anythin’ surprisin’ in that,” said +Joshua,—“not if he got a good chance.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think of such goin’s on?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think they’ll lead to goin’s offs.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never would ’a’ believed it,” said Lucinda; +“Well, all I can say is I wish he’d ’a’ tried it on +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll wish a long time,” said Joshua, placidly; and his +tone, as usual, made Lucinda even more angry than his words; so she forthwith +left him and tore back to the house. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary had also had her eyes open, and in this particular case it was +impossible to have one’s eyes open without having one’s eyes +opened. So Aunt Mary had both. +</p> + +<p> +She shut them at once and reflected deeply, and when Janice went out of the +room at last she immediately sat up in bed and addressed her nephew. +</p> + +<p> +“Jack, what did you kiss her for?” +</p> + +<p> +Jack was fairly wild with joy at the brilliant way in which he had begun. Mrs. +Rosscott had laid one scheme for the overthrow of Aunt Mary and her plan of +attack had been absolutely successful. Now it was his turn and he, too, was in +it to win undying glory or else—well, no matter. There wouldn’t be +any “also ran” in this contest. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t deny that you kissed her, do you?” said his aunt +severely. “Answer this minute. I’m a great believer in +answerin’ when you’re spoken to.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I kissed her,” he said easily. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus08"></a> +<img src="images/image08.png" width="480" height="360" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“Aunt Mary had also had her eyes open.”</p> +</div> + +<p> +“Well, what did you do it for?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m very fond of her;” the words came forth with great +apparent reluctance. +</p> + +<p> +“Fond of her!” said Aunt Mary with great contempt. +</p> + +<p> +Jack lifted his eyes quickly at the tone of her comment. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Fond</i> of her! Do you think a girl like that is the kind to be fond of! +Why ain’t you in <i>love</i> with her?” +</p> + +<p> +The young man felt his brains suddenly swimming. This surpassed his maddest +hopes. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I say that I am in love with her?” he cried into the +ear-trumpet. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary raised up in bed,—her eyes sparkling. +</p> + +<p> +“Jack,” she said, almost quivering with excitement, “<i>are</i> you +in love with her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I am,” he owned, wondering what would come next, but feeling +that the tide was all his way. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary collapsed with a joyful sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“My heavens alive,” she said rapturously, “seems like +it’s too good to be true! Jack,” she continued solemnly, “if +you’re in love with her you shall marry her. If there’s any way to +keep a girl like that in the family I guess I ain’t goin’ to let +her slip through my fingers not while I’ve got a live nephew. You shall +marry her an’ I’ll buy you a house in New York and come an’ +live with you.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack sat silent, but smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think she will want to marry me?” he asked presently. +</p> + +<p> +“You go and bring her to me,” said the old lady vigorously. +“I’ll soon find out. Just tell her I want to speak to +her—don’t tell her what about. That ain’t none of your +business an’ I’m a great believer in people’s not interfering +in what’s none of their business. You just get her and then leave her to +me.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack went and found Janice. He was sufficiently mean not to tell her what had +happened, and Janice—being built on a different plan from +Lucinda—had not kept near enough to the keyhole to be posted anyway. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Denham says you want me,” she said, coming to the bedside with +her customary pleasant smile. +</p> + +<p> +“I do,” said her mistress. “I want to speak to you on a very +serious subject and I want you to pay a lot of attention. It’s this: I +want you to marry Jack.” +</p> + +<p> +Poor Janice jumped violently,—there was no doubt as to the genuineness of +her surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, don’t you want to?” asked Aunt Mary. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t believe I do.” +</p> + +<p> +At this it was the old lady’s turn to be astonished. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you?” she said; “my heavens alive, what are +you a-expectin’ to marry if you don’t think my nephew’s good +enough for you?” +</p> + +<p> +“But I don’t want to marry!” cried poor Janice, in most +evident distress. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary looked at her severely. +</p> + +<p> +“Then what did you kiss him for?” she asked, in the tone in which +one plays the trump ace. +</p> + +<p> +Janice started again. +</p> + +<p> +“Kiss—him—” she faltered. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary regarded her sternly. +</p> + +<p> +“Granite,” she said, “I ain’t a-intendin’ to be +unreasonable, but I must ask you jus’ one simple question. You kissed +him, for I saw you; an’ will you kindly tell me why, in heaven’s +name, you ain’t willin’ to marry any man that you’re +willin’ to kiss?” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s such a difference,” wailed the maid. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see it,” said her mistress, shaking her head. +“I don’t see it at all. Of course I never for a minute thought of +doin’ either myself, but if I had thought of doin’ either, +I’d had sense enough to have seen that I’d have to make up my mind +to do both. I’m a great believer in never doin’ things by halves. +It don’t pay. Never—nohow.” +</p> + +<p> +Janice was biting her lips. +</p> + +<p> +“But I don’t want to marry!” she repeated obstinately. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you shouldn’t have let him kiss you. You’ve got him all +started to lovin’ you and if he’s stopped too quick no one can tell +what may happen. I want him to settle down, but I want him to settle down +because he’s happy an’ not because he’s shattered. He says +he’s willin’ to marry you an’ I don’t see any good +reason why not.” +</p> + +<p> +Janice’s mouth continued to look rebellious. +</p> + +<p> +“Go and get him,” said Aunt Mary. “I can see that this thing +has got to be settled pleasantly right off, or we shan’t none of us have +any appetite for dinner. You find Jack, or if you can’t find him tell +Lucinda that she’s got to.” +</p> + +<p> +Janice went out and found Jack in the hall. +</p> + +<p> +“Is this a trap?” she asked reproachfully. +</p> + +<p> +Jack laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he said “it’s a counter-mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your aunt wants you at once,” said Janice, putting her hands into +her pockets and looking out of the window. +</p> + +<p> +“I fly to obey,” he said obediently, and went at once to his +elderly relative. +</p> + +<p> +“Jack,” she said, the instant he opened the door, “I’ve +had a little talk with Granite. She don’ want to marry you, but she looks +to me like she really didn’t know her own mind. I’ve said all I can +say an’ I’m too tired holdin’ the ear-trumpet to say any +more. I think the best thing you can do is to take her out for a walk an’ +explain things thoroughly. It’s no good our talkin’ to her +together; and, anyway, I’ve always been a great believer in +‘Two’s company—three’s none.’ That was really the +big reason why I’d never let Lucinda keep a cat. You take her and go to +walk and I guess everything’ll come out all right. It ought to. My +heavens alive!” +</p> + +<p> +Jack took the maid and they went out to walk. When they were beyond earshot the +first thing that they did was to laugh long and loud. +</p> + +<p> +“Of all my many and varied adventures!” cried Mrs. Rosscott, and +Jack took the opportunity to kiss her again—under no protest this time. +</p> + +<p> +“We shall have to be married very soon, now, you know,” he said +gayly. “Aunt Mary won’t be able to wait.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, as to that—we’ll see,” said Mrs. Rosscott, and +laughed afresh. “But there is one thing that must be done at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that?” Jack asked. +</p> + +<p> +“We must tell Aunt Mary who I am.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, to be sure,” said the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope she won’t take it in any way but the right way!” the +widow said thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“My dearest, in what other way could she take it? I think she has proved +her opinion of you pretty sincerely.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Mrs. Rosscott, with a little smile, “I certainly +have cause to feel that she loves me for myself alone.” +</p> + +<p> +When they returned to the house they went straightway to Aunt Mary’s +room, and the first glance through the old lady’s eye-glasses told her +that her wishes had all been fulfilled. She sat up in bed, took a hand of each +into her own, and surveyed them in an access of such utter joy as nearly caused +all three to weep together. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I am so glad,” was all she said for the first few seconds, +and nobody doubted her words forever after. +</p> + +<p> +Then Mrs. Rosscott removed her hat and jacket, and when she returned to the +bedside her future aunt made her sit down close to her and hold one of her +hands while Jack held the other. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m so glad you’re to have the runnin’ of Jack,” +the old lady declared sincerely. “All I ask of you is to be patient with +him. I always was. That is, most always.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dear Aunt Mary,” said Mrs. Rosscott, slipping down on her knees +beside the bed, “you are so good to me that you encourage me to tell you +my secret. It isn’t long, and it isn’t bad, but I have a confession +to make.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I say,” cried Jack, “if you put it that way let me do +the owning up!” +</p> + +<p> +“Hush,” said his love authoritatively, “it’s my +confession. Leave it to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” said Aunt Mary, looking anxiously from one to the +other; “you haven’t broke your engagement already, I hope.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Mrs. Rosscott, “it’s nothing like that. +It’s only rather a surprise. But it’s a nice surprise,—at +least, I hope you’ll think that it is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, hurry and tell me then,” said the old lady. “I’m +a great believer in bein’ told good news as soon as possible. What is +it?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s that I’m not a maid,” said the pretty widow. +</p> + +<p> +“Not—a—” cried Aunt Mary blankly. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m a widow!” said Janice. “I’m Burnett’s +sister.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wh—a—at!” cried Aunt Mary. “I didn’t +jus’ catch that.” +</p> + +<p> +“You see,” screamed Jack, “she was afraid to have me +entertain you in New York,—afraid you wouldn’t be properly looked +after, Aunt Mary, so she dressed up for your maid and looked after you +herself.” +</p> + +<p> +“My heavens alive!” +</p> + +<p> +“Wasn’t she an angel?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“But whatever made you take such an interest?” Aunt Mary demanded +of Janice. +</p> + +<p> +Janice rose from her knees and, leaning over the bed, drew the old lady close +in her arms. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you,” she screamed gently. “I loved Jack, +and so I loved his aunt even before I had ever seen her.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary’s joy fairly overflowed at that view of things, and, putting +her hands to either side of the lovely face so close to her own, she kissed it +warmly again and again. +</p> + +<p> +“I always knew you were suthin’ out of the ordinary,” she +declared vigorously. “You know I wouldn’t have let him marry you if +I hadn’t been pretty sure as you were different from Lucinda an’ +the common run.” +</p> + +<p> +And then she beamed on them both and Jack beamed on them both and Mrs. Rosscott +kissed each of them and dried her own happy eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Now I want to know jus’ how an’ where you learned to love +him?” the aunt asked next. +</p> + +<p> +“I loved him almost directly I knew him,” she answered, and at that +Aunt Mary seemed on the point of applauding with the ear-trumpet against the +headboard. +</p> + +<p> +“It was jus’ the same with me,” she said delightedly. +“He was only a baby then, but the first look I took I jus’ had a +feelin’—” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Mrs. Rosscott sympathetically, “so did I.” +</p> + +<p> +They all laughed together. +</p> + +<p> +“An’ now,” said Aunt Mary, laying back and folding her arms +upon her bosom, “an’ now comes the main question,—when do you +two want to be married?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” said the widow starting, +“we—I—Jack—” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, go on,” said Aunt Mary. “Say whenever you like. +An’ then Jack can do the same.” +</p> + +<p> +The two young people exchanged glances. +</p> + +<p> +“Speak right up,” said Aunt Mary. “I’m a great believer +in not hangin’ back when anythin’ has got to be decided. Jack, what +do you think?” +</p> + +<p> +“I want to get married right off,” said Jack decidedly. +</p> + +<p> +“I think he’s too young,” put in Mrs. Rosscott hastily. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” said Aunt Mary, looking at her nephew +reflectively. “Seems to me he’s big enough, an’ I’m a +great believer in never dilly-dallyin’ over what’s got to be done +some time. Why not Thanksgiving?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanksgiving!” shrieked Mrs. Rosscott. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Aunt Mary. “I think it would be a good time, +an’ then I can come and spend Christmas with you in the city.” +</p> + +<p> +“Great idea!” declared her nephew; “me for +Thanksgiving.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you say?” said Aunt Mary to the bride-to-be. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t see—” began the latter, wrinkling her +pretty forehead in a prettier perplexity and looking helplessly back and forth +between their double eagerness. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, why not?” said the aunt. “It ain’t as if there +was any reason for waitin’. If there was I’d be the first to be +willin’ to do all I could to be patient, but as it is—even if you +an’ Jack ain’t in any particular hurry, I am, an’ I was +brought up to go right to work at gettin’ what you want as soon as you +know what it is.” +</p> + +<p> +“But this is so sudden,” wailed Mrs. Rosscott. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary glanced at her sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what they all say, a’cordin’ to the +papers,” she said calmly, “an’ it never is counted as +anythin’ but a joke.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I’m not joking,” Janice cried. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you jus’ take a little time an’ think it over,” +proposed the old lady,—“I’ll tell you what you can do. You +can get me Lucinda because I want to tell her suthin’ and then you and +Jack can sit down together an’ think it over anywhere an’ anyhow +you like.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you really want Lucinda,” said Janice, rising to her feet, +“or is it something that I can do? You know I’m yours just the same +as ever, Aunt Mary. Next to being good to Jack, I want to always be good to +you.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary looked up with a light in her eyes that was fine to see. +</p> + +<p> +“Bless you, my child,” she said heartily. “I know that, but I +really want Lucinda, an’ you an’ Jack can take care of yourselves +for a while. Leastways, I hope you can. I guess you can. I presume so, +anyway.” +</p> + +<p> +It was late that afternoon that Lucinda, looking as if she had been +accidentally overtaken by a road-roller, joined Joshua in the potato cellar. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, the sky c’n fall whenever it likes now!” she said, +sitting down on an empty barrel with a resigned sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a comfort to know,” said Joshua. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s got it all made up for ’em to marry each other.” +</p> + +<p> +“That ain’t no great news to me,” said Joshua. +</p> + +<p> +“Joshua Whittlesey, you make my blood boil. Things is goin’ +rackin’ and ruinin’ at a great pace here an’ you as cold as a +cauliflower over it all.” +</p> + +<p> +Joshua sorted potatoes phlegmatically and said nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“S’posin’ I’d ’a’ wanted to marry +him?” +</p> + +<p> +Joshua continued to sort potatoes. +</p> + +<p> +“Or, s’posin’ you wanted to marry her?” +</p> + +<p> +Joshua looked up quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Which one?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Janice!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” he said in a relieved tone. +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you say ‘oh,’—did you think I meant +her?” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t know who you meant.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you wouldn’t think o’ marryin’ her, would +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Joshua emphatically. “I’d as soon think +o’ marryin’ you yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda deliberated for a minute or so as to whether to accept this insult in +silence or not, and finally decided to make just one more remark. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder if she’ll send any word to Arethusa ’n’ +Mary.” +</p> + +<p> +“They’ll know soon enough,” said Joshua oracularly. +</p> + +<p> +“How’ll they know, I’d like to know?” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll write ’em.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda was dumb. The fact that the letter was already written only made the +serpent-tooth of Joshua’s intimate knowledge cut the deeper. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap25"></a>Chapter Twenty-Five<br/> +Grand Finale</h2> + +<p> +She has it all made up for him to marry her, and she is certainly as happy as +she is and he is themselves. She is making plans at a great rate and she has +consented to have her wedding here because she wants to be there herself. The +day is set for Thanksgiving and the Lord be with us for everything has got to +be just so and she is no more good at helping now that he’s come. They +are all going back to New York as soon as possible after it’s over and I +hope to be forgiven for stating plainly that it will be the happiest day’ +of my life. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +Respectfully,<br/> +L. C<small>OOKE</small>. +</p> + +<p> +Upon receipt of this astounding news Arethusa took the train and flew to the +scene where such momentous happenings were piling up on one another. Her +arrival was unexpected and the changes which she found ensued and ensuing were +of a nature bewildering in the extreme. Aunt Mary had quit her régime of soup +and sleep and was not only more energetically vigorous as to mind than ever, +but strengthening daily as to bodily force. It might have been the excitement, +for Burnett was there, Clover was <i>en route</i>, and Mitchell was expected within +twenty-four hours. Other great changes were visible everywhere. A corps of +servants from town had fairly swamped Lucinda and twenty carpenters were +putting up an extra addition to the house in which to give the wedding room to +spread. Nor was this all, for Aunt Mary had turned a furniture man and an +upholsterer loose with no other limit than that comprised by the two words +“<i>carte blanche</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Rosscott still continued to wait upon Aunt Mary, but another maid had +arrived to await upon Mrs. Rosscott. The latter had shed her black uniform and +bloomed forth in rose-hued robes. Mr. Stebbins was kept on tap from dawn to +dark and the checks flowed like water. Emissaries had been despatched to New +York to buy the young couple a suitable house and furnish that also from top to +bottom. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Arethusa,” the aunt said to the niece when they met the +morning after her arrival, “I’m feelin’ better ’n I was +last time you were here.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m so glad,” yelled Arethusa. +</p> + +<p> +“They’ll live in New York and I’ll live with them. As far as +I’ve seen there ain’t no other place on earth to live. I’m +goin’ to get me a coat lined with black-spotted white cat’s fur and +have my glasses put on a parasol handle, and I’m going to have the +collars and sleeves left out of most of my dresses an’ look like other +people. I’m a great believer in doin’ as others do, an’ Jack +won’t ever have no cause to complain that I didn’t take easy to +city life.” +</p> + +<p> +Arethusa felt herself dumb before these revelations. +</p> + +<p> +Later she was conducted to see the wedding presents, which were gorgeous. Among +them was the biggest and brightest of crimson automobiles; and Mitchell, who +had presented it, had christened it beforehand “The Midnight Sun.” +Aunt Mary’s gift was the New York house and money enough for them to live +on the income. +</p> + +<p> +“I know you’re able to look out for yourself,” she told the +bride, “but I don’t want Jack to have to worry over things at all, +and, although I know it’s a good habit, still I shouldn’t like to +have him ever work so hard that he wouldn’t feel like goin’ around +with us nights. Not ever. Not even sometimes.” +</p> + +<p> +Mitchell was overjoyed at the way things had turned out. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Miss Watkins,” he screamed, when he was ushered into Aunt +Mary’s presence, “who could have guessed in the hour of that sad +parting in New York that such a glad future was held in store for us +all!” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t quite catch that,” Aunt Mary exclaimed, +rapturously, “but it doesn’t matter—as long as you got here +safe at last.” +</p> + +<p> +“Safe!” exclaimed the young man; “it would have been the very +refinement of cruelty if my train had smashed me on this journey.” +</p> + +<p> +Burnett was equally happy. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose it will be up to me to give you away,” he said to his +sister; “before all these people, too. What a mean trick!” +</p> + +<p> +Jack had thought that he would like to have Tweedwell marry him, as that young +man had put in the summer vacation getting ordained. Tweedwell +accepted—although he had just taken charge of a living in Seattle and +came through on a flyer which arrived two hours before <i>the</i> hour. Some fifty or +sixty of the guests came in on the same train, and Burnett and Clover met them +all at the cars and made the majority comfortable in the different hotels and +honored the minority with Aunt Mary’s hospitality. +</p> + +<p> +The day was gorgeous. The addition to the house was done and lined with white +and decorated in gold. An orchestra was ensconced behind palms just as +orchestras always covet to be and a magnificent breakfast had been sent up from +the city in its own car with its own service and attendants to serve it. +</p> + +<p> +There was only one hitch in the entire programme. That was that when they got +to the church Tweedwell did not show up. Jack was distressed even though Mrs. +Rosscott laughed. Mitchell wanted to read the ceremony, but Aunt Mary was +afraid it wouldn’t be legal, and Mr. Stebbins agreed with her. In the end +the regular clergyman married them; and just as they were all filing out they +met Tweedwell and Lucinda tearing along, he in his surplice and she in the +black silk dress which Aunt Mary had given her in celebration of the occasion. +They were both too exhausted to be able to explain for several minutes; but it +finally came out (of Lucinda) that Burnett, whose place it was to have overseen +officiating Tweedwell, had forgotten all about him, and the poor fellow, +exhausted by his long journey, had never awakened until Lucinda, going in to +clear up his room, had let forth a piercing howl of surprise. +</p> + +<p> +So far from dampening anyone’s spirits this little <i>contretemps</i> only +seemed to set things off at a livelier pace. They had a brisk ride home, and +the wedding feast and the wedding cake were all that could be desired. What +went with it was the finest that any of the guests ever tasted before or since, +and the champagne was all but served in beer steins. +</p> + +<p> +When it came to the healths they drank to Aunt Mary along with the bride and +groom, and Mitchell made a speech, invoking Heaven’s blessings on the +triple compact and covering himself with glory. +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s to Aunt Mary and her bride and her groom,” he cried, +when they told him to rise and proclaim. “Here’s to Aunt Mary and +her bride and groom, and here’s to their health and their wealth and +their happiness. Here’s to their brilliant past, their roseate present +and their gorgeous future. And here’s to hoping that Fate, who is ready +and willing to deal any man a bride, may some time see fit to deal some one of +us another such as Jack’s Aunt Mary. So I propose her health before all +else. Aunt Mary, long may she wave!” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary looked as if words and actions were poor things in which to attempt +to express her feelings, but no one who glanced at her could be in two minds as +to her state of approval as to everything that was going on. +</p> + +<p> +The bridal pair drove away somewhere after five o’clock, and about seven +the main body of the guests returned to the city. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Rosscott’s mother and Mitchell and Burnett remained a day or two to +keep Aunt Mary from feeling blue, but Aunt Mary was not at all inclined that +way. +</p> + +<p> +“If those two young people are lookin’ forward to anythin’ +like as much fun as I am,” she said over and over again, “well, all +is they’re lookin’ forward to a good deal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t we whoop her up next summer!” said Burnett; +“well, I don’t know!” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Robert,” said his mother gently. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t stop him,” said Aunt Mary. “He knows just how I +feel an’ I know jus’ how he feels. It isn’t wrong, Mrs. +Burnett, it’s natural. We were born to be happy, only sometimes we +don’t know just how to set about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Watkins has hit the nail on the head,” said Mitchell, rolling +a cigarette. “She has not only hit the nail on its own head, but she has +succeeded in driving its point well into all our heads. She taught us many +things during her short visit. I, for one, am her debtor forever. Me for joy, +from now on!” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary smiled. “My heavens!” she murmured; “to think how +nice it all come out, and how really put out I was when Jack first began, +too.” +</p> + +<p> +Burnett put his hand in his pocket and pulled out some gum. +</p> + +<p> +“Robert!” cried his mother, “you don’t chew gum, do +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course he doesn’t,” said his friend quickly; +“that’s why he had it in his pocket.” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary looked thoughtfully at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Give me a little,” she said, “maybe it’s suthin’ +I’ve been missin’.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Burnett left the next day, and Mitchell went the day after. +</p> + +<p> +The carpenters took down the addition, and the wedding presents were shipped to +town. +</p> + +<p> +“She says she’ll be goin’ soon,” said Lucinda to +Joshua. +</p> + +<p> +“Then she’ll be goin’ soon,” said Joshua. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure I’ll be glad,” said Lucinda; “such +hifalutin sky-larkin’!” +</p> + +<p> +Joshua said nothing. Mr. Stebbins had apprised him of Aunt Mary’s +arrangements in his behalf and he felt no inclination to criticize any of her +doings and sayings. +</p> + +<p> +Toward the end of the next week this telegram was received. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Dear Aunt Mary: We’re home and ready when you are. Telegraph what train. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +J. and J. +</p> + +<p> +The telegram was handed to Aunt Mary at ten in the morning. Her fingers +trembled as she opened it. +</p> + +<p> +“My heavens alive, Lucinda,” she cried, the next minute, “I +do believe, if you’ll be quick, that I can make the twelve-twenty! Run! +Tell Joshua to get my trunk down and harness Billy as quick as he can. He can +telegraph that I’m comin’ after I’m gone.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucinda flew Joshua-wards. +</p> + +<p> +“She wants to make the twelve-twenty train!” she cried. Joshua +looked up. +</p> + +<p> +“Then she’ll make it,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +She made it! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Anne Warner’s “Susan Clegg” Books</i> +</p> + +<p> +SUSAN CLEGG AND HER FRIEND MRS. LATHROP +</p> + +<p> +<i>By</i> ANNE WARNER<br/> +With Frontispiece, $1.00 +</p> + +<p> +Nothing better in the new homely philosophy style of fiction has been +written.—<i>San Francisco Bulletin</i>. +</p> + +<p> +One of the most genuinely humorous books ever written.—<i>St. Louis +Globe-Democrat</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Anything more humorous than the Susan Clegg stories would be hard to +find.—<i>The Critic</i>, New York. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +<i>By the Same Author:</i> +</p> + +<p> +SUSAN CLEGG AND HER NEIGHBORS’ AFFAIRS +</p> + +<p> +With Frontispiece, $1.00 +</p> + +<p> +All the stories brim over with quaint humor, caustic sarcasm, and concealed +contempt for male and matrimonial chains.—<i>Philadelphia Ledger</i>. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +SUSAN CLEGG AND A MAN IN THE HOUSE +</p> + +<p> +Illustrated by Alice Barber Stephens. $1.50 +</p> + +<p> +Susan is a positive joy, and the reading world owes Anne Warner a vote of +thanks for her contribution to the list of American humor.—<i>New York +Times</i>. +</p> + +<p> +LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., Publishers<br/> +34 Beacon Street, Boston +</p> + +<p> +<i>An exceedingly clever volume of stories</i> +</p> + +<p> +AN ORIGINAL GENTLEMAN +</p> + +<p> +<i>By</i> ANNE WARNER +</p> + +<p> +With frontispiece by Alice Barber Stephens +</p> + +<p> +Cloth. $1.50 +</p> + +<p> +Exhibits her cleverness and sense of humor.—<i>New York Times</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Crisply told, quaintly humorous.—<i>Boston Transcript</i>. +</p> + +<p> +An “Original Gentleman” is truly also one of the most entertaining +and witty gentlemen that it has been our fortune to run across in many a day, +not to mention the more original lady that he has to do with.—<i>Louisville +Evening Post</i>. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +By the same author +</p> + +<p> +A WOMAN’S WILL +</p> + +<p> +Illustrated. 360 pages. Cloth. $1.50 +</p> + +<p> +A deliciously funny book.—<i>Chicago Tribune</i>. +</p> + +<p> +It is bright, charming, and intense as it describes the wooing of a young +American widow on the European Continent by a German musical genius.—<i>San +Francisco Chronicle</i>. +</p> + +<p> +As refreshing a bit of fiction as one often finds.—<i>Providence Journal</i>. +</p> + +<p> +LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., PUBLISHERS<br/> +34 BEACON STREET, BOSTON +</p> + +<p> +<i>Anne Warner’s Latest Character Creation</i> +</p> + +<p> +IN A MYSTERIOUS WAY +</p> + +<p> +<i>By</i> ANNE WARNER +</p> + +<p> +Illustrated by J.V. McFall. Cloth. $1.50 +</p> + +<p> +A story of love and sacrifice that teems with the author’s original +humor.—<i>Baltimore American</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The humor peculiar to her pen is here in wonted strength, but in a new guise; +and set against it, or interwoven with it, is a story of love and the strange +sacrifice of which a few loving hearts are capable.—<i>New York American</i>. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +<i>By the same author</i> +</p> + +<p> +YOUR CHILD AND MINE +</p> + +<p> +Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth. $1.50 +</p> + +<p> +The child heart, strange and sweet and tender, lies open to this sympathetic +writer, and other human hearts—and eyes—should be opened by her +narratives.—<i>Chicago Record-Herald</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The literary charm of the stories is not the least of their attractions. The +interest is all the greater for the style in which the story is told, and the +author’s sympathy with her young friends lends a vital warmth to her +narrative.—<i>Philadelphia Public Ledger</i>. +</p> + +<p> +LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., PUBLISHERS<br/> +34 BEACON STREET, BOSTON +</p> + +<p> +<i>By the Author of “Aunt Jane of Kentucky”</i> +</p> + +<p> +THE LAND OF LONG AGO +</p> + +<p> +<i>By</i> ELIZA CALVERT HALL +</p> + +<p> +Illustrated by G. Patrick Nelson and Beulah Strong 12mo. Cloth. $1.50 +</p> + +<p> +The book is an inspiration.—<i>Boston Globe</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Without qualification one of the worthiest publications of the +year.—<i>Pittsburg Post</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Jane has become a real personage in American literature.—<i>Hartford +Courant</i>. +</p> + +<p> +A philosophy sweet and wholesome flows from the lips of “Aunt +Jane.”—<i>Chicago Evening Post</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The sweetness and sincerity of Aunt Jane’s recollections have the same +unfailing charm found in “Cranford.”—<i>Philadelphia Press</i>. +</p> + +<p> +To a greater degree than her previous work it touches the heart by its +wholesome, quaint human appeal.—<i>Boston Transcript</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The stories are prose idyls; the illuminations of a lovely spirit shine upon +them, and their literary quality is as rare as beautiful.—<i>Baltimore Sun</i>. +</p> + +<p> +MARGARET E. SANGSTER says: “It is not often that an author competes with +herself, but Eliza Calvert Hall has done so successfully, for her second volume +centred about Aunt Jane is more fascinating than her first.” +</p> + +<p> +LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., PUBLISHERS<br/> +34 BEACON STREET, BOSTON +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block;margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE REJUVENATION OF AUNT MARY ***</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This file should be named 15775-h.htm or 15775-h.zip</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/7/7/15775/</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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