"'Savory Bite,Why not paint it white?'"
"'Savory Bite,Why not paint it white?'"
A silence fell: then Nelly asked the question which had been on her tongue twenty times, and twenty times kept back.
"Where is Tom, Kitty? Do you know?"
Kitty looked straight at her with honest eyes.
"I don't know, Nelly. I haven't heard one word from him. I wrote," she added, "when Father died—that was after Mrs. Lee's death, but I knew he was in Omaha, and I had his uncle's address—but I never had one word of answer."
If a writer could only tell all she knows! That letter, Kitty, in which you poured out your sad heart to the lad who had been brother, playmate and boy lover ever since you can remember, is in the pocket of his uncle's spring overcoat, now laid away in camphor, till the first of May, when he changes from winter to spring clothes, regardless of weather. His uncle is not a villain, far from it; he would gladly forward the letter, only he does not know it is there, nor will till the above date.
As for Tom's letter to you, Kitty, written about the same time, I don't know whose pocket that is in. He wrote it on board the steamer at San Francisco, and sent it back by the pilot: but it never reached you. It was a good letter, too. Tom knew nothing of Dr. Ross's death: full of his own recent loss of a beloved mother, he thought of you in your happy home with the two dear and delightful parents who seemed to belong almost equally to him—almost! He told you of his great "job"; he begged you to think of him whenever you had a minute to spare, but not to bother about writing, because he had no address to give beyond the Shanghai Bank, and he might not get back there for a year or two, from the way the job lookedat this end. But you would know he was thinking about you, and you must be a good Cat and purr a great deal, and not scratch anybody except Wilson Wibird. And when he came back, Kitty—well, perhaps he'd better wait till then, but all the same youknewwell enough, so he remained yours always, The Duke of Lee.
Yes, that letter would have comforted Kitty a great deal: it was a pity she did not get it.
Tom, meanwhile, building bridges in a remote province of northern China, supposed comfortably that she had got it, and thought of her daily with great contentment.
So things go—sometimes! And here is Sarepta with the bedroom candles.
CHAPTER IVthe home guard
Early next morning, Nelly was off for her school. Kitty, after waving her good-bye from the gate, went back into the house; into the kitchen, where she knew Sarepta was expecting her. "You come out quick as you get shet of her!" had been the mandate, which Kitty would never have thought of disobeying.
"Dear kitchen!" she said. "I saw nothing like this, in Europe, Sarepta!"
"I expect not!" said Sarepta, with a lift of her chin. "Take a seat!"
Kitty sat down obediently in a Windsor chair, and looked about her with great content. Her eyes passed from the shining stove to the cupboard full of beautiful old blue crockery, the pride of Sarepta's heart; to the scarlet geraniums in the window, the yellow cat on her scarlet cushion. All good, all delightful. She had come home.
"But what is all this, Sarepta?" asked Kitty.
On the shining table sat a number of plump little bags, of stout unbleached cotton, bearing brief inscriptions in blackest ink. Kitty took them up one by one, and read in wonder: "Eggs," "Tomatoes," "Sarce."
"What in the world, Sarepta?"
Sarepta, standing rigid, her hands folded in her apron, made austere reply.
"There was no reason as I know of why things should go to waste. Your Ma wasn't fit to see to 'em before she went away. There wasn't no need she should. I should hope I knewsomething! This—" she took up the stoutest bag, "is the egg and chicken money. The hens has done real well; I've sold eggs and broilers and roosters. You count that!" She named a sum. "I expect it's right."
"Sarepta! you dear, good soul! How could you—"
"This is sarce!" Sarepta continued, taking up another bag. "Sugar was low and fruit was high, so I done well there too. I made two hundred glasses of currant jell, and three hundred of grape, and—"
"But, Sarepta! What did you do with them all?"
"Sold 'em! Mis' Flynt wasn't puttin' up, herself, this year, didn't want to bother with it. No more did Miss Bygoods. And Mr. Mallow gi' me the hull of his order, so you see—"
"I see!" Kitty became thoughtful. "Sarepta—"
"Well!" the answer was a snap, thrown backward over an uncompromising shoulder. Sarepta was suddenly very busy at the stove, rattling and raking with much commotion.
"Sarepta! You didn't—you didn'taskfor these orders, did you?"
Sarepta turned round; her face was like an iceberg carved with a jackknife.
"Was your Pa satisfied with me?"
"Sarepta! You know he adored you!"
"Was your Ma satisfied with me?"
"Sarepta dear! Don't be cantankerous!"
"Wasyour Ma satisfied with me?"
"Of course she was! How can you—"
"I made sarce before you was born or thought of!" Sarepta's tone expressed finality. "I've always made it—and I've never took it!" she added with a grim chuckle which splintered the iceberg in a singular way. "Anything else?" Sarepta's tone was amiable, but conveyed the idea that she had things to do, however it might be with other people.
"Just one thing, Sarepta dear, and then I'll go. Have you taken your wages out of this money? If not, hadn't we better settle it now?"
Sarepta made no immediate reply. Instead, she examined the draughts of the stove one by one, with meticulous care. Apparently satisfied with their condition, she next proceeded to brush the stove top (which did not need brushing) and to fill the kettle with ostentatious zeal. Kitty waited patiently, enjoying the kitchen and stroking the yellow cat. Finally, Sarepta washed her hands elaborately, rolled them in her apron, and turned round. So turning, she displayed the iceberg set again in rigid lines. The words appeared to freeze as they dropped from her lips. Sarepta had come to this house with Kitty's Ma, she intimated, when first she come here a bride.
"Sarepta," Mrs. Ross had said, "this is my home, and it is yours, too, as long as you live." Was that so, or wasn't it?
"Yes, Sarepta, that is true."
"Well, then! I was offered a home, and I expect a home, long as I need it. When I want wages, I'll ask for 'em. It's likely I'd take 'em from a child like you."
"But—" cried Kitty.
"Butter!" replied Sarepta. Then they both felt better, for this was the give and take of Kitty's childhood.
"But I do wish you would be reasonable, Sarepta! John Tucker has always had his wages, hasn't he?"
"John Tucker has a wife and fam'ly. His wife has about as much gumption as a week-old guinea-pig, and the way that eldest boy of theirs is growin' up is enough to scare the feathers off a hen; he's got to have wages, of course. And I've had 'em, Kitty, all I wanted, and money in the bank. My uncle left me his farm and savin's, last year, if youhaveto know. And if I'm pestered any more—" Sarepta's voice dropped to an ominous note—"I'll go and live there!"
"There!" she added in a different tone. "You just let me do the way I want to, Kitty, and we'll get along first rate. I'm crotchety, but yet I mean well; only I can't bear to be crossed. Run along now, child, and take your money. I'd put it in the bank if I was you. I'm busy now," she added abruptly, as Kitty tried to speak. "Besides, that John Tucker wanted you should come out to the stable right away. Dinner at one o'clock!"
"Dear me!" sighed Kitty, as she made her way toward the stable. "I feel just like Alice in Wonderland:I never was ordered about so in my life. Dear old thing! I shall always be ten to her, I suppose. But her name ought to be Pomona: she's right out of 'Rudder Grange'! Now for John Tucker! I hopehehasn't been making sarce!"
John Tucker was wont to say, Sarepty's kitchen was all right, but give him the harness-room! He was in the harness-room now, and it certainly was a pleasant place. A quaint little stove, of antiquated pattern, faced the door, and in front of the stove were two comfortable wooden arm-chairs, one for John and one for a visitor. John generally had visitors, in his few spare hours. People came to ask him everything—except in the medical way—that they used to ask Dr. Ross. The window of the little room looked out on the garden, the glazed upper half of the door gave a cheerful prospect of the stable, with its white-swathed vehicles—the doctor's buggy, the little phaeton, the old carryall, rather past use, but a wonderful place to play house in. You could not see the two box-stalls from the harness-room, for they were on the same side of the stable; but you could hear Pilot and Dan stamping and talking to each other through the partition. Kitty had already visited them, and given them sugar, and rubbed their dear velvet noses, and wept a little on their sympathetic necks.
"Good morning, John! How cosy you look in here!"
"Good morning, Miss Kitty! Step in! step in! I'm pleased to see you. Take a seat, won't you?"
Kitty sat down obediently, as she had done in thekitchen. John's tone was not Sarepta's: he was never autocratic. When Kitty was three, he had advanced the opinion that "this filly must be druv with the snaffle!" and had regulated his words and ways accordingly.
"The horses look beautifully, John! Of course, they always do."
John expected the horses might look worse. He didn't know as they would be special easy to beat in this county—or State, either, come to that!
"What a beauty Pilot is! And dear old Dan is just as handsome in his way. I suppose they are quite valuable horses, John?"
"I s'pose they be!" John Tucker spoke gruffly, and turned his head away. Something in the girl's tone and wistful look made his eyes smart. He put too much pepper on that fur robe, he knowed he did when he done it. Thus John Tucker, muttering.
"I asked, John dear, because—" Kitty's hand was on his arm now, fingering his rough sleeve as she used to in the days when she sat on his knee and, being interrogated as to whose gal she was, replied, "Don Tutter's dal!"—"because—I suppose we ought to sell them, John Tucker, dear. There is very, very little money, you know. Was that what you wanted to see me about, John?"
"Miss Kitty!" John Tucker turned his rugged face toward her now, and it was aglow with feeling: "Don't sell them hosses! That was what I wanted to say to you, and I say it again. Don't sell them hosses! If money is needed, and I'm aware it is, there is moremoney to be made by keepin' them hosses than by sellin' 'em. Lemme tell you; don't be mad with me, Miss Kitty, for I done the best I knew how."
"Of course you did, John! As if you ever did anything else. Why do you look at me so strangely, John Tucker?"
"Miss Kitty, I say it again, I done the best I knew how. Now lemme tell you! You remember Flanagan?"
"Flanagan, the cab-driver? Of course I do! Why, I didn't see him at the station yesterday. Wasn't he there? He used to say he never missed a train."
"He's missed consid'ble many lately," said John Tucker grimly. "Flanagan's complaint is that he's dead. Yes, ma'am," in answer to Kitty's exclamation, "dropped off settin' right there in his team at the depot. Folks was surprised."
"I should think so! Why, Flanagan! Why, John, I should as soon think of the train's dying! What do people do without him?"
John Tucker cleared his throat elaborately.
"I happened to be there, and I drove the folks home that he'd come to fetch. That was the way it began."
"The way what began, John Tucker?"
John Tucker rose and looked out of the window.
"Wind's workin' round no'theast!" he muttered. "We shall have snow flyin' before night. Miss Kitty, you'll see it reasonable, I know you will. Take a look at it by and large!" He turned, and threw an appealing look at the girl. "Here was Flanagan dead, warn't he? And no insurance, so to speak. Hosses and cabsold to pay for the funeral and the board bill: hadn't no folks, Flanagan hadn't; boarded to Widow Peavey's. Well! there was the train to be met mornin' and night, and there was Madam Flynt to be took her airin', and Mr. Bygood sim'lar, to and from the store. The gals don't want him to walk up the hill, 'cause of his heart, and I dono as I blame 'em. Considerin' his age, you know. And—the hosses had to be exercised, no two ways about that."
He paused: Kitty's eyes were shining, and she took up the word eagerly.
"And you have been doing all this, John Tucker! You have been meeting the trains and taking the dear people to drive, while they are finding some one in Flanagan's place? YoucleverJohn! Why, I think it was a wonderful idea! Of course I am perfectly delighted. And have they found a new Flanagan yet? Because, of course, you'll go right on till they—"
John Tucker's face was almost as craggy as Sarepta's, as he faced Kitty again:
"Found?" he said gruffly. "They've found me. I'm Flanagan: you're Flanagan. Miss Kitty—" he lifted a newspaper from the little table, displaying sundry piles of silver coin, arranged in neat pyramids; the base "cart-wheels" dollars, the top dimes. "Here's your money!" said John. "All that's ben taken in this six months since Flanagan died. You can take out my wages, if you're a mind to, 'count of Mary and the children: the rest is yours, lawful money, well airned, if I say it. Don't—don't you cry, Miss Kitty!don't you now! I done the best I knew how. I talked it over with Judge Peters, and he said, 'Stu' boy'; 'twas the best I could do; Mis' Flynt the same, and Sarepty. Don't you cry, Miss Kitty!"
Kitty explained through her tears that she wasn't really crying; it was only because every one was so darling and kind, and—and—why did the tears come so easily? There had been none, until she came home; she had longed for them sometimes, when her head throbbed, and her eyes burned so hot and dry; now, the least thing brought them welling up, and every time some band seemed loosed from her heart.
"It seems very—very strange, John Tucker, dear, to be taking money from the neighbors!" Kitty dried her eyes and looked up. "I am going to be sensible, John, and I know you did the very best—but it does seem strange, John Tucker! do you think Father would like it?"
John Tucker's eyes were very blue and very bright.
"Miss Kitty, if there is one thing under the canopy that I am sure of, it's that Doctor would approve. Doctor, you see, was reasonable. He'd see right off that here on one side was hosses to be fed, and grain costin' thus and so; and hosses to be exercised, or they'd go lame and poor. And he'd see on the other side, here was folks needin' to be hauled, and no one to haul 'em. Well, then Doctor would say,—'pears like I could hear him, and have heard him right along, 'When you're dealin' with hosses,' he'd say, 'you need hoss sense.' And this is hoss sense, Miss Kitty, or I don't know it."
Kitty rose and held out her little hand, to be engulfed in John Tucker's huge brown one.
"That's enough, John Tucker!" she said; and up went her chin. "I can hear him, too. We will be partners, John: Tucker and Ross! Only you will do all the work, John Tucker dear, I know you will."
John Tucker, looking at her, fell into such a glowing state that the stove was nowhere beside him.
"Now there!" he said. "What did I tell you? She's her Pa's own gal!"
"And now Imustgo and see Madam Flynt! You say she knows all about the Great Plan, John?"
"And approves! Madam Flynt is a real sensible woman."
He followed Kitty out of the harness-room, and they moved instinctively to the stalls, where two dark satin heads were thrust eagerly forward, two velvet noses sneezed and sniffed in eager greeting.
"You darlings!" cried Kitty. "No, Dan, no more sugar. You are not a pet lamb any more, dear: you are a Horse of Business, and must realize your responsibilities. I shall drive Madam Flynt myself, John, most days."
"I thought likely you would!" chuckled John. "You'll have to go keerful, though, Miss Kitty; it's slow and sure with Madam Flynt. None of your Bible doin's with her along!"
"Bible doings? Whatdoyou mean, John Tucker?"
John Tucker chuckled again.
"I was only thinkin' of Doctor!" he said. "'A daughter of Jehu, for behold she driveth furiously'."
CHAPTER Vthe neighbors
Madam Flynt was evidently expecting Kitty. She was ready dressed and in the drawing-room: the large, bright room with its hangings of apple green and gold brocade, its gilded cornices and fire screen. Dr. Ross used to say that the room was an apple-tree bower, and Madam Flynt the apple; indeed, she did look like one, a Bellefleur, say, or a rosy Porter. A woman of sixty, large, massive, fair. Her hair was faded from the bright gold of her girlhood, but was still yellow; her eyes were China blue, her cheeks apple red. The color was so set in them (no one had ever seen Madam Flynt pale, even in sickness) that a stranger might well think it clumsy art, instead of—what shall I say, over-zealous Nature? The story ran that one day in her youth, walking along the street, she heard a stranger say after passing her, "Painted, by God!" She turned instantly.
"Yes, sir," she said calmly, "Iampainted by God!"
Of course this was not in Cyrus: Cyrus people knew.
"Well, Kitty!" Madam Flynt held out a large, plump white hand, amply be-ringed. She was dressed in flowingrobes of green and white, a most un-negligent "negligée," and was a pleasant sight enough. "Well, Kitty! You have to come to me, you see. I couldn't go down with the rest of the town to meet you. I am glad to see you, my dear. We have been too long without you, Kitty."
"Dear Madam Flynt, I am so glad to get home! How is the rheumatism?"
"The rheumatism is very well, Kitty, it thanks you: it's more vigorous than I am; but I do very well, on the whole, very well. I get my airing, which is the principal thing. John Tucker told you of our little arrangement? A very good plan! John Tucker is a sensible man. He and Sarepta are really an able pair. Pity he didn't marry her, instead of that poor creature, Mary Spinney. You had a good voyage, my dear?"
She talked easily, Kitty following her lead.
"Glad to hear it! And now, Kitty, I hope you are going to be a sensible girl, and do as I wish."
"As you wish, Madam Flynt? About the driving? Oh, surely! I am only too grateful. It is so dear of you—"
"Nothing of the kind! A business arrangement, nothing more. Flanagan was dead—I didn't kill him, did I? What I wish, Kitty, is quite another thing. I want you to come and live with me."
"Oh, Madam Flynt!"
"There is everything to be said in favor of the plan," Madam Flynt swept on, "and nothing against it, so far as I can see. You can manage your home affairs,John and Sarepta, the house and so on, as well here as there; you've only to step across the yard. I need a companion, and so do you."
Kitty opened wide eyes of astonishment.
"Madam Flynt! Has Miss Croly left you?"
"Miss Croly left me? Certainly not. Why should she leave me? Cornelia Croly is as old as I am, or very near it; she needs a companion, too. She grows more set every day of her life. Just move that poker, will you, Kitty? To the left side of the fireplace! Cornelia Crolywillalways put it at the right; she does it to assert herself; she told me so, in so many words. We both need a young person to keep us from biting each other, Kitty, and you are the person."
At this point, Miss Croly entered the room, beaming welcome. Tall, thin, upright, hard-favored, with the kindest eyes and the most obstinate chin imaginable. Dressed in gray alpaca by day, in purple alpaca by night, with little benefit of fashion; such was Miss Cornelia Croly, Madam Flynt's quondam schoolmate—her companion now these many years of her widowhood. The two made a singular contrast, yet complemented each other oddly. Kitty could never think of one without the other. Corolla and calyx, Dr. Ross used to call them.
Miss Croly had to hear all about Kitty's voyage; the sea had a fascination for her, though she had never ventured upon it.
"A storm! how thrilling! the wonders of the deep!" sighed Miss Croly, all in one breath. "You make itall so real, Kitty. I can hear the roar of the elements and the dash of the breakers—"
As she spoke, Miss Croly had taken up the poker, and after making a dab at the fire, was gently replacing it at the right of the fireplace, when Madam Flynt interrupted her.
"There are no breakers in mid-ocean, Cornelia! And will you kindly leave the poker where it was, on the left side?"
"Excuse me, my dear Clarissa, it is far more convenient on the right side. As attending to the fire is one of my little duties—a very pleasant one, I am sure—it seems not unreasonable for me to have the poker where I can use it. You grant that?"
Seeing Argument throned on both brows, Kitty rose hastily and made her excuses. She had several other visits to make; she would run in this evening, or surely to-morrow morning. Madam Flynt was the kindest of the kind, as she always was: yes, Kitty would think over very carefully what she had said, and would let her know: she thanked her ever and ever so much: good-bye! "Good-bye, Miss Croly! So glad to see you!"
Kitty shut the door on a rather awful "Cornelia!" and fled, only stopping a moment in the kitchen to greet the two maids, friends of her childhood, and to steal a cooky from under Sarah Cook's nose, to the huge delight of that kindly mammoth.
Down the street sped Kitty: the dear, friendly street, where every house smiled a welcome, every window shed a friendly blink. The Common was on her left,a smooth field of snow, crossed by two intersecting board walks. Every tree was a friend too: the bare, graceful branches were moving in the crisp breeze, and each seemed to wave her a welcome. There was the Earliest Maple! Kitty wondered what children drove their spiles and hung their pails now for the sap. She and Tom used to be rather odious, she feared, about that tree. They assumed ownership of all rights in it, both tapping and climbing. She recalled a keen frosty morning like this, when Wilson Wibird had "cut in" early, pulled out her spile and driven in his own. Tom came like a flame of fire across the Common, tore out the spile and threw it away, then pummeled Wilson till he ran shrieking home. Wilson always shrieked when any one touched him.
Where next? Judge Peters would be at his office: she would go down there. He was so wise, he would tell her what to say to Madam Flynt. Resisting the call of many a friendly housefront, Kitty went down the hill and turned into "the Street." There were several streets in Cyrus, be it understood, but only one that began with a capital.
The first person she met was Wilson Wibird himself. He was on the opposite sidewalk, and came across, waving his hand with a familiar gesture.
"Weedy, seedy, needy, greedy!" naughty Tom! But Wilson looked exactly the same, only a man instead of a hobbledehoy.
"Katrine! my one thought since I opened my eyesthis morning. Welcome! a hundred thousand welcomes!"
Kitty gave Wilson her hand readily enough, but she did not altogether like his looks. His eyes were bloodshot, his speech thick; he seemed to waver a little as he spoke.
"How do you do, Wilson? How is your mother, and Melissa?"
"Less well than I, for they have not seen you, Katrine! You are more beautiful than ever," murmured Mr. Wibird. He cast on Kitty what he would have called a burning glance. To Kitty it looked rather like a leer, but she must not be unkind. But there was no earthly reason why Wilson Wibird should hold her hand, so she removed it firmly.
"I am going to see Judge Peters," she said: her tone was cheerfully matter-of-fact. "Give my love at home, and say I'll run in soon to see your mother."
"My way is yours!" Mr. Wibird announced, and fell into step, to Kitty's great annoyance. Wilson Wibird had been the butt of her childhood and Tom's; what on earth did he mean by assuming this tone?
They were just outside the Mallow House; at this moment the door opened, and Mr. Very Jordano came out. He had been taking his leisurely breakfast and reading his New York paper, sitting in the office with Marshall Mallow; and seeing the meeting between the two young people had exchanged a word with his host and crony, and hastened out.
"Good morning, Miss Kitty!" he said urbanely. "The sight of you is a refreshment indeed. Goodmorning, Wilson. Mr. Mallow would like to see you a moment, if you have a moment to spare-pare-pare!"
Mr. Jordano's tone was faintly ironical, as he fell into step with Kitty on the other side. Wilson Wibird glared at him.
"I have not!" he said sullenly. "I am escorting Miss Ross."
"That shall be my privilege!" Mr. Jordano bowed blandly to Kitty. "Go away, Wilson!" he added in a lower and different tone. "Go quite away-tay-tay! Or I'll call Billy!"
Involuntarily, Kitty quickened her pace, Mr. Jordano beside her. The other stood glowering, irresolute: suddenly the hotel door opened again, revealing Mr. Mallow, massive and rosy.
"You come here, Wilson!" he commanded. "Don't stand dilatorin' there! Come on in, you hear me?"
Mr. Mallow was Wilson Wibird's uncle; Mrs. Wibird had been a Mallow: moreover, such work as Wilson did was done for him. The young man, after kicking the curbstone sullenly for a moment, obeyed the summons and turned into the hotel.
Kitty turned to Mr. Jordano with a breath of relief.
"Quite so!" returned that gentleman. "He meant no harm: Wilson meant no harm, but nimporto! Miss Kitty, I welcome this opportunity for a word with you. You have been much in my thoughts, both during your absence and since your return. Miss Kitty, I feel assured that you have much of the deepest interest to impart-tart-tart. You will allow me the privilegeof calling on you, I trust, some evening in the near future?"
"Oh, surely, Mr. Jordano! I shall be very glad indeed to see you."
"You have seen my country, Miss Kitty! Ah! counterio joyoso, would I might behold it! Italy, Miss Kitty! you have seen Italy?
"Yes, Mr. Jordano, Mother and I spent last winter in Italy."
"Ah! happy, happy—that is—" Mr. Jordano recollected himself, and changed his look of rapture for one of sympathy—" tender reminiscences! tender is the word. I shall take great pleasure in waiting upon you, Miss Kitty. It has occurred to me that you might-tite-tite—that you might be willing to contribute some Sketches of Travel to theCentinel. They would be eagerly welcomed, eagerly welcomed, by all Cyrus and adjoining towns: theCentinel, you may be aware, has a considerable circulation. Our editorials are copied—nimporto! but if you could give me some sketches, Miss Kitty, I should regard it as a choice boon. No laborioso, you understand; nothing that would burden your—a—elegant leisure: a scratch of the pen, a scratch of the pen! the light feminine touch. It would indeed be a choice boon. The honorarium—we could arrange at a later date-tate-tate. I should wish to be lib——"
"Oh, Mr. Jordano," cried downright Kitty, "I never wrote a word in my life, except just letters, and very few of them. Why, Icouldn't!and as for writing for a newspaper—you take my breath away! But it's justas kind of you!" she cried. "I am ever so much obliged, Mr. Jordano. I wish I could, but I truly could not. I know I couldn't."
"Not at all! not at all!" Mr. Jordano was still bland, in spite of his evident disappointment. "The modesty of the sex, Miss Kitty. Perhaps you will be good enough to think it over. A—here we are at Judge Peters's, and I will leave you. I shall give myself the pleasure of calling—ah! good day-tay-tay!" And the good gentleman bowed himself off, having, indeed, stolen precious minutes from what he called the Ideals of Italio, his special contribution to the weeklyCentinel.
Judge Peters, like Madam Flynt, was evidently expecting Kitty: as if every one in Cyrus were not! The office windows were as dusty as ever—Kitty half expected to see an inscription on them in a round childish hand:
"Tom-mee,Duke of Lee."
"Tom-mee,Duke of Lee."
—but his desk was a miracle of tidiness. His own person was not more carefully attired than usual, because that would have been difficult: he was the picture of a dignified jurist as he sat with his hand in the breast of his coat, reading a law book of appalling size and weight.
His thin, somewhat austere countenance relaxed at sight of Kitty. He rose and came forward with extended hands, grasping hers cordially.
"My dear child! welcome again! My dear Kitty, I am heartily glad to see you."
He was: they all were: never was such a welcome, thought Kitty; another band snapped, and she looked up into the kindly face with a smile that was almost merry.
"Dear Judge Peters! you are so good; everybody is so good. Never was such a home-coming—"
A little stumble here, but only for a moment. Soon they were seated comfortably, the Judge in his chair, Kitty on a certain stool which had been hers ever since she was big enough to visit the "Dudds" in his office, which was long before she could speak his name plain. Kitty told her sad little story to a running commentary of "H'm!" "ha!" or "tut, tut!" which conveyed a sympathy that needed no words. Then the Judge took up the thread, and they went through many matters carefully and thoroughly. Kitty was clear-headed; he knew that; she had to know just where she stood. Yes, yes! There was something left, only a little, but a little was very different from nothing. Now the question was how they were to add to that little. John and Sarepta—yes! yes! good souls! good souls! they had consulted him. Very right, very proper. A nice little nest-egg, and John Tucker could carry on the business perfectly. The question was about Kitty herself. She—ah—had not heard from any of her relatives? True! she had but one, and—they need not go into that at present. Now, the Judge had a proposition to make: a—a business proposition. Here was he, a lone man, sixty years old and not getting any younger. He was lonely, very lonely, in that big house. It was absurd that he should be lonely in one house and Kitty inanother; "absurd, you see that. Too many lonely people in Cyrus, as it is. I want you to come and live with me, Kitty. There! now don't answer at once: think it over! I never had a daughter of my own, but you have always been like a daughter to me, my dear. I think we could be very comfortable together: very comfortable. Another thing! I need help here, in the office; a—a—in point of fact, secretary! now, if you could manage to give me two or three hours a day—not too much; not enough to fatigue you, or interfere with your getting plenty of fresh air and exercise—and amusement, too, my dear, amusement, too, of course!—why, it would be a great help and comfort to me, and the salary—" he named a substantial sum—"would help to get—gloves, you know; fal-lals, my dear—toggery of various descriptions. Yes! well, my dear, how does it strike you?"
It struck Kitty as the kindest thought that ever was in the wide world. Why was every one so good to her? Why, Madam Flynt had asked her to come and live with her! but—
"That," Judge Peters struck in with some heat: "that is unnecessary! Clarissa—Madam Flynt—has a companion already. Cornelia Croly is an excellent person; they have lived together for twenty years; she cannot think of discharging Cornelia Croly! Monstrous!"
"Oh, no! no, indeed, Judge! She only thought—she seemed to think—they both needed some one a little younger—but I—oh no, indeed! I only promised to think it over."
"H'm!" the Judge was quite flushed: he rose and paced the floor. "The more you think it over, Kitty, the more unconscionable you will find it. Two women, used to each other for twenty years, fitting like ball and socket (I admit an occasional creak of the joint, but that only makes for variety): a young girl cooped up in that house, with two elderly women and a spaniel—monstrous, my dear! monstrous! Now my case——"
"But!" cried Kitty to herself, as she went down the stairs, after a solemn promise to think it over well, "the dear old darling things! not one of them seems to realize!"
Where next? Kitty looked up and down the street. One way was Cheeseman's, where one of her oldest friends would be looking for her, she knew: Mr. Cheeseman's, and the Twinnies: on the other—"Oh, I must see Miss Egeria and Mr. Bygood before any one else!" said Kitty, and turned back toward the Mallow House.
At Bygoods', she found the same air of happy expectation. Miss Egeria had been fluttering to the door every five minutes all the morning, looking up and down the street; now she came fluttering to meet Kitty, and folded her in a tender embrace, and wept over her. Mrs. Ross had been Miss Egeria's goddess, and for her sake, Kitty seemed to the dear lady only half mortal. She uttered little soft moans in which "Heaven," "saint," "crown of glory," and the like could be distinguished. It was Kitty who comforted her withsoothing words and affectionate pats, and soon Miss Egeria collected herself and dried her eyes.
"Forgive me, dear child!" she said. "I am so glad, Kitty, so happy to see you! Sister is in back with Father; come right in, won't you dear? They are so eager——"
Here was Miss Almeria herself, stately and handsome, parting the curtains with a welcoming gesture: here was Mr. Bygood leaning forward in his armchair, his mild eyes shining, his lips trembling with eagerness. Such a welcome here, too, as never could be anywhere else except in dear Cyrus.
"Mr. Bygood, you have been growing younger!" Kitty spoke with decision. "I believe you have found the Fountain of Youth. I think you might give me a drop!"
"No, no, my dear!" Mr. Bygood quavered in high delight. "An old hulk, Kitty, left high and dry, high and dry.
"I came there again when the day was declining,The bark was still there, but the waters were gone.
"I came there again when the day was declining,The bark was still there, but the waters were gone.
You remember the song, my dear?"
"Indeed I do, Mr. Bygood. You are going to sing it to me the very first I come to tea. When may I come to tea, Miss Almegeria?" This was her child name for the two sisters. "I want Banbury cakes, please, and apple sauce with whipped cream."
"And fried oysters!" Miss Almeria beamed; Miss Egeria cooed, "You shall come to-night, if you will, Kitty. To-night and—presently!" Miss Almeria casta warning look at her sister, on whose lips something seemed to be trembling. "Presently, Sister! Father's turn now; ours can wait!"
"I have brought you a little present, Mr. Bygood!" Kitty was pulling something from her pocket; a little parcel, white tissue paper neatly tied with blue ribbon. The old gentleman opened it with trembling fingers. Only a bit of Derbyshire spar, Kitty explained, for the Collection; but he exclaimed delightedly at sight of the pretty thing, a golden egg darting rays as the sunlight struck it; surely, the Phœnix's egg, or as near it as mortal eyes may hope to see. Kitty was thanked, blessed, questioned, thanked again. Then she begged for a sight of Goody Twoshoes, and got it, and Marmaduke Multiply, too, because poor Tom had been so fond of it. Yes, poor Tom! Nobody heard from him, which was very sad. If he had only stayed in Cyrus, Mr. Bygood said, it would have been so much better: so much better! The old gentleman sighed, and shook his white head, fumbling meantime in his pockets for peppermint drops.
"You know," Miss Egeria whispered to Kitty, "Father offered Thomas a position in the store!" Her tone implied affairs of Rothschildic scope. "It would have been such an opportunity for Thomas!"
"Hush, sister!" Miss Almeria spoke with some severity. "Thomas had his own views; I am told he considered Cyrus slow! It is true I did not hear him say it!" she added more gently.
"Believe half that you see and nothing that youhear!" murmured Mr. Bygood gently. "Tom was a dear boy, Almeria!"
"Yes, Father dear! You set me right, as ever!" Miss Almeria patted his shoulder affectionately. "We must not judge!"
"Almy is impulsive!" Mr. Bygood smiled to Kitty. "Youth is apt to be. Do you find Cyrus changed, my dear?"
Presently he nodded, and on a sign from the ladies, Kitty stole into the front shop with them. Here they unfolded their great plan, which was just like all the rest. Kitty was to come and live with them: to be their—their younger sister, as it were. They had a little room—the blue room! Kitty remembered? She used to like it. It was never used, and it would besucha happiness to them! She could help in the store—it was so interesting, Kitty, and truly educational, with the Library and all.
"The gentlemen come in, too, for their morning paper, my dear, and discuss affairs of National Importance! I assure you, we feel that we havegreatopportunities, and I trust we are not ungrateful for them. Our gentlemen have suchsoundopinions! When I hear Judge Peters and Mr. Jordano exchange their views on public affairs, and dear Father adds his word of ripe experience, you know, Kitty, my dear, I feel that we are privileged, indeed!"
Thus Miss Almeria, bending her stately head in emphasis.
"So youwillcome, Kitty darling, won't you?" begged Miss Egeria; "at least think it over well; wefeel that we have as much claim as any of the friends, and—perhaps—I cannot help feeling, my love, as if our dear departed Saint might have wished——"
"But!" cried Kitty, again, as after promising gratefully to think it over, she took her way to Cheeseman's, "the dear, kind, darling things! Nobody seems to realize that I have come home, to my own house!"
CHAPTER VIjohanna ex machina
Kitty had her dinner alone, for Nelly Chanter's school was at some distance.
"Besides," said Sarepta, "I only asked her to come for breakfast and supper and nights. You'd wantsometime to yourself, I told her."
Sarepta stood in the doorway, her hands folded in her apron, while Kitty ate her excellent little dinner soberly and thoughtfully. She had no idea of slighting Sarepta's cookery; she had a good appetite, and even if she hadn't, there must be no hurting of feelings.
"Sarepta!"
"Well!"
"The pudding is delicious, Sarepta! And—they all want me to come and live with them!"
"H'm!" Sarepta's sniff was eloquent. Kitty went on, crumbling her bread thoughtfully:
"Madam Flynt, Judge Peters, the Miss Bygoods, the Chanters——"
She smiled, still hearing the affectionate shouts and shrieks of that friendly circle, still seeing the dining-room where she had found them all, Mrs. Chanter ladling out chowder, beaming on her clamorous brood,Mr. Chanter with half an eye on his plate, and one and a half on the dog's-eared Thucydides beside him. How affectionate they were; what good friends! "And Mr. Mallow wants me to keep house for him, Sarepta; think of it! Why, he has always said he wouldn't have any woman gormineering over him; ever since I can remember he has said that. And now he thinks he would be as comfortable as old Tilley if I would come and be his lady housekeeper! Who was old Tilley, Sarepta?"
"Some other old fool, I expect!" Sarepta was very grim. "If you asked me, I should say Marsh Mallow was a little wantin'. The idea!"
"The funny thing is, none of them seems to realize that I have a home of my own! Isn't it funny, Sarepta? So dear and kind, every one of them—why, I am so full of gratefulness I couldn't hold any more!—but howcanthey think I would leave my own dear darling home?"
Sarepta Darwin drew a long breath, and blinked fiercely. If it had been any one but Sarepta, one would have said there were tears in those pale blue eyes, but of course Sarepta never shed tears.
"Then you calc'late to stay on here!" she spoke dryly, but there was something in her tone that made Kitty look up quickly.
"Why, Sarepta, of course I do! What else should I do! Don't be a goose, Sarepta dear!"
She got up and gave Sarepta a little hug: she might as well have hugged the door for all outward response, but that did not matter.
"Who—whatis that, Sarepta?" she demanded, as a figure came up the path. "It looks like a postman!"
"Is! we've had d'liv'ry for a year past!"
There was exultation in Sarepta's voice. Next to the well-being of Ross House and its inmates, she lived for the greater glory of Cyrus.
"Why, it's Bingo!"
Kitty was at the front door in a flash, greeting a highly embarrassed youth in gray uniform. "Bingo, how do you do? To think of your being postman! How splendid!"
"Pleased to see you!" muttered Adolphus Evander Byng, who had never had any benefit of his fine name, but was called Addy Evy for long and Bingo for short, as Tom used to say. "Hope I see you well. Letter for you! Goo'day!"
Thus Bingo, hurling himself away from the door, as if he had not been looking forward all day to this moment; as if he had not solemnly promised his Aunt Miny, who "dressmade" as we say in Cyrus, to notice every single thing Kitty Ross had on, coming straight from Paris that way. There was a painful scene that evening at the Byng cottage. Gray dress? Well, what kind of a gray dress? Was it silk, or wool, or melange? Did it do up behind? Was it made D'rectory? Was there gores in the skirt? Here Addy Evy fled to the barn, and his Aunt Miny did think he was real mean; she despised any one who hadn't eyes in his head, be he man or woman: there!
Kitty came back with her letter, turning it over, aspeople do, before opening it. A large square envelope, superscribed in a stiff, official-looking hand.
"From Aunt Johanna!" she said. "It is surely her hand. I wonder——"
She opened the letter; read it; looked up with a dazed expression at Sarepta, who was lingering by the door with an air of elaborate detachment.
"Why, Sarepta! why——"
"Well," Sarepta's tone was incisive, to say the least.
"It has been delayed!" Kitty looked at the envelope. "Missent to 'Cyrene'! I should think so. Why, Sarepta, this was written a week ago! She's coming to-day!"
"Who's comin'? Not Johanna Ross?"
"Yes!" Kitty rose in agitation and began instinctively straightening everything in the room.
"You no need to dothat!" Sarepta spoke grimly, with looks to match. "I went to school with Johanna Ross. She comin' to-day, you say? How long she goin' to stay?"
"She says—I'll read it to you.
"My Dear Kitty,"I am retiring from business and should like to make you a visit if agreeable. Ask Sarepta to find a young girl to take care of me. Unless otherwise advised, expect me at 2.30 Saturday P. M."Affectionately yours,Johanna Ross
"My Dear Kitty,
"I am retiring from business and should like to make you a visit if agreeable. Ask Sarepta to find a young girl to take care of me. Unless otherwise advised, expect me at 2.30 Saturday P. M.
"Affectionately yours,Johanna Ross
"Sarepta, it's two o'clock now! What room shall we put her in? I can't think——"
Kitty's voice was trembling, her cheeks flushed. Seeing this, Sarepta assumed her dryest manner and tone.
"Put her in the Red Injun room. It's all ready: I cleaned it last week."
"Of course!" Kitty's brow lightened. "Clever Sarepta! The Red Indian room will bejustthe thing. Let's come up and look at it! Of course it's all right, but actually I haven't been in it. Why, I haven't been here two days, Sarepta!"
Her voice quivered again, but she mastered it, and hurried upstairs with Sarepta close behind her.
"I wouldn't let Johanna Ross put me out," Sarepta remarked, apparently addressing the stair-rail, "not for one quarter of a second."
Kitty made no reply. Sarepta, who certainly was "no canny," Kitty often thought, appeared to read her thought through the back of her head.
"But you needn't be scared," she went on. "I know my place. I'm just freein' my mind, so to speak. I went to school with Johanna, and I know her like a book. She's a fine woman in spots, and she's Doctor's sister. I know my place, and she knows hers; you no need to be scared."
Kitty turned and flashed such a look of mingled relief and thankfulness that Sarepta almost stumbled.
"Go on up!" she said austerely.
Before ever I saw the Red Indian room, I used to think—hearing it casually mentioned by Kitty or Tom—it was in some way connected with the North American Indians. I used to wonder about it: whetherit were shaped and furnished like a wigwam; whether Indians had ever lived in it; whether—dreadful thought, born of too-early reading of Parkman's histories—there had been a Massacre there! I remember that when Kitty proposed a visit to it one day, as being the most convenient way of attaining the barn roof, I inwardly shrank and cowered, dreading what might meet my eyes. The relief of the first glance is still with me.
Dr. Ross's grandfather had been a sea-captain, and had brought home from China a wonderful toilet set of Red India china. There it was, still perfect, not so much as a cover broken; there it is to-day, I trust. The room had been furnished to match the set, with hangings and cushions, bedspread, etcetera, of Eastern cotton, almost the exact shade of warm dull red; the chairs were lacquered in the same tint. An enchanting room! And its possibilities! Not only did one of its windows give access to the barn roof, but the little red-lacquered door beside the fireplace opened upon the Secret Staircase, the pride of Kitty's heart, the envy of every other child in Cyrus. A little winding, breakneck stair, burrowing down in the thickness of the chimney casing. You could come out in the sitting-room if you wished, but we never did; the staircase burrowed still further downward, and the cellar was far more exciting.
"'Twill suit with Johanna's looks!" said Sarepta, after a critical survey of the room. "Come to think of it, I believe she had this room when she was a gal. It'll be real handy for her, bathroom and all toherself, and no need to bother you. Yes, I expect she'll like it. Hark!"
The sound of wheels. Kitty fled down the stairs, Sarepta scuttling behind her as fast as dignity allowed, and threw open the front door.
"Aunt Johanna! Come in! come in! How good of you to come!"
"But you wish I hadn't, eh? Never mind, Kitty! Will John Tucker see to my trunks? How are you, Sarepta?"
Miss Johanna Ross might be forty-five, but looked younger. A tall, fine figure of a woman, with dark eyes and hair, the former of a singularly piercing quality. Kitty felt, she told Nelly Chanter afterward, as if at the first glance her spinal marrow had been investigated. She was handsomely and fashionably dressed, and carried a satchel of the latest mode. Her voice was deep-toned, her speech as incisive as Sarepta's own, her gestures and carriage impressive. Such was the lady who now confronted Kitty in the sitting room.
"You got my letter last week?" she said. "Has Sarepta got a young woman for me?"
"No, Aunt Johanna. The letter was missent, you see: it only came an hour ago."
"Missent? Inexcusable! I'll write to the Post Office Department. Well! I may as well explain matters at once, Kitty; Sarepta, you'd better wait a minute, as this concerns you also."
Miss Ross sat down on the leather sofa, and looked thoughtfully from Kitty to Sarepta, and back again."I haven't been here for twenty years," she said. "I am actually glad I came!" She seemed surprised at this, and pondered a moment. Sarepta sniffed slightly: Kitty was silent, hardly knowing what to say.
"I have retired from business," Miss Ross went on in a clear, explanatory voice, "because I am tired. I intend to take to my bed—What is it?" She paused: Kitty had uttered a cry of surprise.
"Nothing, Aunt Johanna. Did I understand—are you ill, Aunt Johanna?"
"Not in the least. I have never been ill in my life, except for measles at the age of five. I tell you I am tired, and I intend to take to my bed. For twenty years," Miss Ross went on, still more explanatorily, "I have been Rug and Tapestry Expert for Kostly and Richmore:" she named one of the great houses of New York. "During these twenty years I have been on my feet all day, and often half the night. I have now retired—on a competence—and, as I said before, I intend to take to my bed. I am used to wholesale ways," she added with a smile. "I have worked in a wholesale way; now I mean to rest in a wholesale way. Have you found me a maid, Sarepta?"
"Land sakes!" cried Sarepta, throwing her hands out in indignant protest. "Why, it ain't an hour since we heard you was coming!"
"True!" Miss Ross paused and considered. "Well! I suppose you can find me one?"
"I dunno as I can, and I dunnoasI can!" replied Sarepta cautiously. "What do you want of her, Miss Ross?"
Miss Ross laughed outright, a merry laugh which somehow transformed her rather sharp face.
"To take care of me, Miss Darwin! You don't suppose I expected you to take care of me, do you? Find me a young girl, whom I can order about, and send on errands and bully, and throw things at. I couldn't throw the bolster at you, Miss Darwin!"
"You might try!" Sarepta replied with a grim chuckle, and a distinct softening of the frosty manner which had been upon her ever since the visitor entered. She looked at Kitty. "Jenny Tucker might do!" she said doubtfully. "She's sixteen, and takes after her father more than the rest."
"Jenny! That's a good name to call," Miss Ross nodded approvingly. "John Tucker's daughter, is she? That's good, too. John and I were always friends. Is she pretty?"
"Pretty enough, I guess."
"Then send for her, will you? I won't go to bed now, Kitty. You shall come and help me unpack, and we'll have supper together—if Miss Darwin approves——" she threw a quizzical glance at Sarepta, who gave a snort and vanished—"and a cosy evening by the fire. You shall tell me everything you like, my dear, and nothing you don't like, and at ten o'clock I shall go to bed and stay there."
"Aunt Johanna——"
"Yes, my dear! How delightful this room is! What is it, Kitty?"
"Do you mean—do you think of taking alongrest, or only a few days?"
"One year!" said Miss Ross crisply. Kitty gasped. "That is, if I find it suits me. Six months anyhow, to give it a full trial. That seems sensible, eh?" She looked up sharply. "Eh?" she repeated.
"Oh, I—suppose so!" stammered Kitty. "Only—it seems a very long time, Aunt Johanna. You see, I have never been ill."
"Nor tired!" Miss Ross spoke in short, sharp jerks, throwing up her chin with each remark. "You think you have been tired, but you haven't. I tell you,the marrow is withered in my bones. You say I don't look it, and I don't; every one says so. Last month, one of our partners asked me to open a branch in Nijninovgorod; said I looked strong enough for that or anything. Last week," this astonishing lady went on, "another of 'em asked me to marry him, because I looked as if I could take good care of him. That settled it! 'I'll take to my bed!' says I; and here I am. Well! that's enough about me. Now about you! Poor little White Rose couldn't stay any longer, could she? No! not to be expected. She couldn't live without John; she had merged her existence in his, you see. You did all you could, and the look you have of John probably kept her alive till now; but it couldn't last. No! So here you are, with Sarepta and John Tucker—and me!" she added with a sharp, quizzical glance. "What are your ideas? What are your plans? Is there any money left?"
Kitty told her quietly what there was: told, too, of Sarepta's and John Tucker's earnings and of the proposed partnership with the latter. She found it singularlyeasy to talk to this relative whom she had hitherto known so slightly and seen so seldom. Miss Ross sat bolt upright on the sofa, listening intently, nodding emphatic approval from time to time.
"Excellent!" she said, when Kitty had finished her story. "Admirable! With my board money and your earnings, you ought to be able to lay by, my dear."
"Oh, Aunt Johanna!" Kitty lifted a shocked face. "I couldn't—you mustn't think of such a thing. Why, this is your own home, where you were born! Why should you pay board here?"
"Little goose, why do you suppose I came here? Why didn't I go to a Rest Cure? 'Because,' I said, 'why pay good money to strangers and harpies when I can pay it to my own lawful niece in my own—not precisely lawful, because it belongs to her—but my natural home?' Enough about that. Besides, there was another reason. I wanted todo what I wanted, Kitty! For twenty years I have lived in a mold, worked in a mold, spoken in a mold, smiled in a mold. Now the mold is broken. I want to be able, if I feel like it, to fling open all the windows in this house—there are forty of them, I believe—and scream out of each one. Can you understand that?"
"Perfectly!" cried Kitty kindling.
"Exactly! You are a Ross, I see. Well! I shall not be likely to do that, because I shall be in my bed; but if I did, or whatever I might do, the neighbors would just say, 'Johanna! always peculiar!' and there would be an end of it."
"Aunt Johanna!" Kitty came and sat down by her aunt. "Do you know what I think?"
"No, my dear, unless you think I am mad. I'm not, only a bit cracked, like most people."
"I think you are a dear! I think—I should like to give you a hug!"
Suiting the action to the word, Kitty threw her arms round her aunt, who returned the embrace heartily.
"Good little girl!" she said, and her clear emphatic voice was rather husky. "Nice little girl! We shall get on famously together."
"And—" Kitty's eyes were opening very wide, as they always did when a new idea dawned upon her. "Why, Aunt Johanna, you are just like all the rest, only reversed."
"What do you mean, Kitty? Speak English, child!"
"Why, every one in the village, all the dear friends and neighbors, want me to come and live with them. Madam Flynt, Judge Peters, Miss Bygoods, the Chanters—and Mr. Mallow"—Kitty broke into a little crow of laughter—"wants me to be his housekeeper and matron! Well! and now you come, with the same dear wish to help me, at the other end. And,oh!" Kitty, jumping up, clapped her hands and actually began to dance, "Don't yousee, Aunt Johanna, here is my answer to them all. They were allsokind, and so urgent, I didn't knowwhatto say to them, though of course nothing would have induced me to leave my dear darling home. But now, don't you see, Ican'tgo to any of them, because of——"
"Because of bedridden aunt! Precisely.Johanna ex machina.I learned my Latin of Mr. Bygood, my dear; he taught at the Academy when I was a girl. Well! sothatis all settled. They all wanted my little niece, eh? And I've stolen a march on 'em. Ha! ha! and now, Kitty, I should like to see my room and unpack a bit. I thought possibly, my dear, you might spare me the Red Indian room, which used to be mine, but I can sleep anywhere."
"It is all ready for you!" cried Kitty joyously. "Oh, Aunt Johanna, youarea dear, and you really belong, and I am so happy!"
The last band snapped from Kitty's heart, and she led the way joyously upstairs.
CHAPTER VIIa symposium
It was Wednesday, Ladies' Night at the Mallow House. For many years, Mrs. Wibird and Melissa, and the Misses Bygood had supped with Mr. Mallow on Wednesday evening. It was the "help's" evening out, and the boarders understood that they must sup elsewhere that night. Mr. Mallow invariably cooked the supper, the Wibirds assisting, Mrs. Wibird and Melissa eagerly, Wilson grudgingly. After the delightful little meal, always perfectly cooked and served, Mr. Mallow would take off his coat, roll up his immaculate shirtsleeves, and wash the dishes, the ladies wiping them daintily. Other neighbors would often drop in after supper; it was a pleasant and friendly occasion.
Supper was over now, the dishes washed and put away, and the company gathered in Mr. Mallow's sitting room, a cheerful apartment, with a general aspect of chenille and "tidies," further brightened by a crackling wood fire on the hearth. They were hemming what Mr. Mallow called "wipers," more generally known as dish or glass towels. Mr. Mallow sat in the middle, a large basket balanced on his knees. He sewed slowly and carefully, using a long thread, whichMelissa threaded for him, as he was wont to explain that "he was no camel, and could not go through a needle's eye." This was a wonderful joke, and never failed to send a ripple of genteel mirth through the assembled ladies. Mrs. Wibird and Melissa worked with bird-like, darting motions, swift but irregular, dropping their work whenever they spoke, which was very often. The Misses Bygood worked even more swiftly, and with perfect steadiness and grace.
"This is an elegant piece of goods, Marsh!" said Mrs. Wibird. "Better than the last, 'pears to me."
"So fine and smooth!" Miss Egeria cooed softly. "It is a pleasure to work on it, Mr. Mallow."
"'Tis good goods!" Mr. Mallow assented. "Pure linen, not a fibre of cotton in it. I have to have my wipers good. Some things you can squinch on, others you can't; I am thrifty, but I do have to have my wipers good. And plenty!" he added. "A moisty wiper gives me the creeps, it so does. There! I should like to have a clean one for every dish."
A gentle murmur arose, as of highly commending bees.
"Such a profusion!" said Miss Almeria.
"So agreeable," chimed in Miss Egeria, "to be able always to use a dry one. I assure you we greatly appreciate it, Mr. Mallow."
Mr. Mallow beamed and made a little bow over his "wiper," thereby pricking his finger: a crimson drop appeared and fell on the shining linen. Then what a commotion! Melissa flew for water and a "cot." Mrs. Wibird, who could not bear the sight of blood,prepared to faint, but thought better of it, the first red drop being also the last. Miss Almeria and Miss Egeria murmured sympathy, and proffered their own fine handkerchiefs. Mr. Mallow, with manly stoicism, declared that it was "Nothin' at all! nothin' at all! Gives a chance to show that my blood is good and red. None of these white corp'scles they talk about nowadays."
"I've heard of them!" said Mrs. Wibird. "Something to do with corpses, are they?"
"I presume likely!" Mr. Mallow replied, with reserve. "Ahem! not a subject for ladies, perhaps. Sorry I mentioned 'em."
"Have you seen our dear Kitty to-day, Mr. Mallow?" asked Miss Almeria, tactfully, seeing his brow clouded. He had a great deal of delicacy, Mr. Mallow; all Cyrus gentlemen had, she thought gratefully.
"Yes, 'm! yes, I have seen her. I hoped—I asked Kitty to join us this evening, but she was degaged. How are you, Very? Come in! come in! Take a seat! Glad to see you!"
Mr. Jordano entered, bowing right and left with his best Italian air.
"Grazier, Marshall!" he replied urbanely. "Grazier, I'm sure! Good-evening, ladies! Miss Bygood—Miss Egeria—Mrs. Wibird—Miss Melissa"—a separate bow for each lady, but Miss Almeria's was the lowest—"your humble servant!"
"We're having us a sewing-bee!" Mr. Mallow announced, beaming over his basket. "I don't knowas you'd care to join us, Very. I never saw you handle a needle. I've just wownded myself, long as I've ben at it."
"Oh, grazier! grazier!" fluttered Mr. Jordano. (This word was a new acquisition; the good gentleman could not resist flourishing it as if it were a specially fine and clean pocket handkerchief. If you had asked its meaning, he would have explained kindly that it was the Italian word for "thanks!") "I fear I should make but a poor hand at needlework, Marshall. A—a most graceful and feminine accomplishment," he bowed round the circle of ladies, "and one I always watch with delight-tite-tite: but I think I will remain a spectator."
He drew a chair into the circle, and took out his notebook.
"Any items for the Scribe?" he asked blandly. "After the excitement of last week—I allude to the return of Miss Katharine Ross to her native heath, if I may quote the Wizard of the North—the town has been unusually quiet, and promised to be equally so to-day-tay-tay; but—a—there was another arrival this afternoon."
"Indeed!" the ladies exclaimed. "Who——"