"'And thought the air must rush as freshTo swallows on the wing!'
"'And thought the air must rush as freshTo swallows on the wing!'
A fine horse (and Pilot is a remarkably fine horse!) is after mankind, one of the noblest works of God."
"Isn't he?" said Kitty. "And not always such a long way after, do you think, Mr. Chanter? Compare Pilot, or Dan either, with—with some people! that horrid Boody man! Neither Pilot nor Dan wouldthinkof cheating in a horse trade!"
"Surely not! surely not!" Mr. Chanter acquiesced. "They would scorn such an action."
"To be sure, Dan does steal eggs!" Kitty continued meditatively. "But then—that seems a little different, don't you think? A hen issucha goose!"
"Surely not! surely not!" said the Reverend Timothy again in sonorous accent.
Kitty glanced at him: he was making a series of courteous bows to Pilot's glossy hindquarters; was infact as nearly asleep as any one could be whose eyes were only half shut.
"Dear soul!" murmured Kitty to herself. "He was up half the night with that sick man, Mrs. Chanter said. He might as well take a good nap. Easy now, Pilot! easy, dear boy!"
Pilot, who had been dancing a bit in the joy of his heart, settled into a smooth trot, and conveyed to Kitty by a toss of his beautiful head that he could keep this up all day, though it was a trifle dull. "Never mind, darling!" said Kitty. "You shall rush all the way home if you like."
She fell into a muse, as the miles sped smoothly by. It was spring; really and truly, or almost really and truly, almost spring.
"Really spring, or nearly spring,And, oh, I love you dearly, spring!"
"Really spring, or nearly spring,And, oh, I love you dearly, spring!"
she hummed under her breath. Kitty loved to think in rhyme. Sometimes for days together she and Tommy would hardly speak in prose. Tommy was far cleverer, of course: (he was not!) did he talk rhyme now, Kitty wondered, and if so, to whom? Something pricked her; she put the thought resolutely away.
"'Tis a month before the month of May,And the spring comes slowly up this way."
"'Tis a month before the month of May,And the spring comes slowly up this way."
What was the strange magic of those two lines? They simplywerethe New England spring, which Coleridge never saw. Ah! pussy willows! she mustget some—she half checked the horse, but chirruped to him again with a little sigh. Nobody to take pussy willows to, now. How Mother loved them! They were just like that gray velvet gown of hers. Little Mother! Aunt Johanna wouldn't care for pussy willows; as for Sarepta——! But how good they both were; what really interesting persons! and so bracing to live with! Kitty chuckled, recalling the after breakfast hour this morning.
She was making her customary call on Aunt Johanna, and that lady, erect amid her pillows, resplendent in sapphire blue and Mechlin (she had a different jacket for every morning; the bedridden, she maintained, must make variety for themselves!) was holding forth on the subject of classes. "Keep peoplein their place!" said the lady. "It is my invariable rule. If a salesman is uppish with me, he takes his uppishness elsewhere within twenty-four hours. Whenever any one forgets his place, put him back in itwithout delay. Delay makes for uncertainty, and uncertainty is fatal in business and everywhere else. An instance, my dear! The day before I left New York, I took a friend, a nice young girl, who didn't have many friends, to the Ritz Carlton for lunch. They have good coffee there; not like Sarepta's, but good. Well, after the ice-cream I ordered peaches; the waiter brought me two.Two peaches!I looked at him. 'I ordered peaches!' I said. 'I did not specify the number.' He mumbled something, and I told him to speak up. 'Peaches is very expensive, Mum!' said the creature."
Kitty burst into a ripple of laughter. "I wish I had been there, Aunt Johanna. What did you say?"
"Say? I said, 'Trot along, Nancy! Do I look as if I couldn't pay for 'em?' He trotted."
Kitty's laughter rippled again as she recalled her aunt's gesture.
"Speaking of trotting, Pilot dear," she said, "we might as well—quiet, boy! quiet!"
Pilot had shied, a thing almost unheard of. They were passing a tall dark hedge; something rustled in it, and startled the horse. As Kitty soothed him, a figure half emerged from a gap in the hedge; she was aware of a thin, dark, haggard face, of two burning eyes, which fixed her for an instant with a piercing gaze; then the figure slunk back again and the branches closed over it.
"Surely not! surely not!" said the Reverend Timothy Chanter, in a tone of profound conviction. "You were speaking of the good horse, my dear; has anything annoyed him? I think I lost myself a moment."
"He was startled, and I don't wonder; I was startled too. A man came out of the hedge: such a strange-looking man, Mr. Chanter."
"Hedge? Man?" Mr. Chanter glanced around him and his face changed. "What kind of man, Kitty?"
"A wild, ragged man. He looked sick, and—I had just a glimpse, but he looked—all wrong, somehow. It's the old Gaylord place, you know. I never saw any living creature about it before,—but once! Have you ever seen any one there, Mr. Chanter?"
Mr. Chanter cleared his throat with some elaboration.
"I believe it has not been inhabited for some years," he replied. There was a shade on his candid countenance. He was not in the habit of evading the direct answer.
"It is a fine place, spite of its neglected condition."
Kitty glanced back at the dark hedge, with the dark chimneys rising above it, and shivered a little. "I have always been afraid of the place, somehow!" she said. "I had a fright there once, when I was a child."
"Had you so, my love? No one should ever frighten a child. Very remiss: very wrong, if intentional."
"Oh, no, no one meant to frighten me. It was just an accident. We used to go there for nuts, Tom Lee and I. There was a huge chestnut tree—I suppose it is still there—by the side door of the house. It bore the biggest chestnuts I ever saw, and Tom and I went there regularly every October. There was something terrifying about the great dark shuttered house; (to me, that is: Tom was never afraid of anything;) and that always made it an exciting expedition. You know there is a round hole in every shutter, near the top? We used to make believe we saw eyes looking at us out of those holes; and then—one day—" Kitty shivered again: "well, one day, therewereeyes!"
"My child! my child! a—a—lively imagination, no doubt! The young——"
"No, Mr. Chanter, the eyes were there: we saw them wink. And then—we used to call that little sidedoor the postern, and imagine all kinds of people coming out of it, knights and giants and princesses—well; all of a sudden the door did open, and a man came out—why!" Kitty stopped short and turned a pale face on her companion. "Why, Mr. Chanter, I believe—it was—the—same man!"
"The same man, my dear?"
"The man I saw just now! He wasn't so thin or so haggard then: he wasn't ragged; but—the wild look, the burning eyes—oh, Mr. Chanter, it all comes back to me. It was the same man!"
Mr. Chanter was silent for some time: then—"And whom did you suppose the man to be, my love? Did he speak to you?"
"No! I think he might have, but we ran away. We were trespassing, of course, and I was frightened out of my wits. We supposed"—her voice dropped: "we told Father, and he said it was probably the owner of the house, and bade us say nothing about it to any one."
Mr. Chanter's face cleared a little.
"Very sound advice!" he said. "Excellent advice, my dear. Do you know, Kitty, my child, I believe you cannot do better than to follow it in this case also."
Villages as well as houses have their skeleton cupboards. The Gaylord place was Cyrus' cupboard. Built in the middle of the eighteenth century, it had been inhabited by one generation after another of Gaylords; all people of the same stripe as their neighbors, gentle, cultivated, a little passive, a little inclinedto smile and let the world go by. They farmed their wide acres; they loved their books, they caught trout at one season and shot woodcock at another, they spent certain weeks or months in the City. So things went for a hundred years and more. Then one Gaylord, more enterprising than his forebears, made money: copper, I think it was, in the early Calumet days. The money did him no special harm. He refurnished the house rather more splendidly than Cyrus thought in quite good taste, but his wife came from the City, and what could one expect? He bought a good many books, and some pictures, and enjoyed himself immensely: then he died, a few weeks after his City wife, and their son inherited.
Kitty and I were babies when Russell Gaylord was running his race to perdition. In our childhood we used to hear a good deal about him; never from our parents, nor from Sarepta Darwin, but I am afraid we did listen to Cissy Sharpe, who knew all about it, or thought she did. He threw the money right and left. He drove four-in-hand through Cyrus streets with his college mates, to the scandal of the community; he held revels in the old house, with a hundred wax candles in each room, and flowers and music such as had never been dreamed of in the quiet village. People shook their heads, but indulgently: they were proud of the handsome, open-hearted boy. He had such pleasant ways! He loved to put a dime in the contribution box at church, and then slyly, after service, to pile it high with anonymous gold pieces. He loved to send preposterous Christmas boxes to everybodyhe knew, and to pile up loads of wood by night in lean woodsheds. People said he would learn in time; his heart was in the right place. He was the most brilliant scholar in his class, could stand at the head if he would only study; when he had sown his wild oats, he would settle down in Cyrus and be a credit to all. Even when he ran over their dogs and in a tipsy frolic smashed the post office windows, they forgave him and loved him. He was a Gaylord, and could not really do anything much out of the way.
Then came the crash. A riotous houseparty of men from the City (poor City! it had to bear the sins of many a village like Cyrus!); a quarrel over the gaming table; an insult; a blow, a knife-thrust; a young man slain in his folly, and blood on Russell Gaylord's white hands.
They had all been drinking; the verdict brought in was manslaughter, the sentence ten years' imprisonment. No sooner was the trial over than the creditors came flocking like vultures. Judge Peters—young Lawyer Peters, he was then,—who had charge of the estate, paid and paid and paid; debts of honor, so called, contracted in dishonor; bills for horses, for carriages, for rich wines and costly jewelry: he set his teeth and paid them all. The last bill took practically the last dollar; the house was closed, and for many a day Russell Gaylord's name was spoken no more in Cyrus.
It must have been soon after his release from prison that Kitty and Tom saw him. It began to be whispered about, not among the gossips, but quietly, amongthose who had been friends of the family, that Russell had been back; that Marshall Mallow had seen him and spoken with him; that he was a wreck of his former self, his one idea to forget his troubles in drink.
Mrs. Sharpe never heard this, though she knew something was going on. She knew that one night Judge Peters was out till midnight,no one knew where; she saw him come home and shethoughthe didn't put his latch key in any too easy: and that she had met Marsh Mallow and Very Jordano atten o'clock, when she was hastening home to her bed, having taken some gruel to those Jessups who were never thankful for anything, and she met those two men walking in the street, with their faces turnedaway from their homes, they best knew why. This was all she knew: she made the most of it, and succeeded in impressing Mrs. Scatter and Mrs. Wibird with a sense of impending calamity; but when the latter went to her brother with a face of woe, and "Oh, Marshall! whatisgoing on in Cyrus Village? Is Satan abroad in our midst, think? I do feel a trembling like in my inside!" she was met with a calm, "Take a dose of rhubarb, Marshy! that'll drive Satan out if hehasgot into your cistern!"
Mr. Mallow meant "system" presumably: anyhow he was pleased with his remark, and repeated it to Mrs. Wibird's indignant back as she left the room.
"The idea!" he said to the fire-irons. "Nine o'clock bell's a good thing, and I allus stand for it; but a man might stay up till half past or so once in a while, you'dthink, 'thout every woman in the place gettin' all frustrated up!"
All this was ten years ago, be it remembered. The whispers had died away; silence had spread and deepened about the deserted house; all was as it had been.
Kitty took Mr. Chanter's hint, and said no more about the stranger who had startled her and Pilot. Late that afternoon we two went for a walk, as we were apt to do when she was at liberty, and I turned naturally into what we always called Sunset Road, because the sun seemed to go down at the end of it. Kitty hesitated a moment at the corner, as if she would suggest another direction; then turned with a little shrug of self-rebuke and walked beside me. She was rather silent; we usually babbled like twin brooks towards the close of the day. When we passed the Gaylord house, I looked up and to my amazement saw a thin blue thread stealing up from one of the chimneys.
"Kitty!" I said. "Look! do you see the smoke? Some one is in the Gaylord house!"
Kitty told no one but me and Judge Peters; I am very sure Mr. Chanter told no one else: but little by little the knowledge sifted through Cyrus that Russell Gaylord had come back once more. That he was living in a corner of his great house, with not even a dog to bear him company. That there was no use in any one's trying to see him, as he would not open the door, even to the Messrs. Jebus, his old schoolmates, who had wished to show that they were prepared tolet bygones be bygones and welcome the prodigal back to their kindly shop. Lastly, that he was a wreck, and no one knew how he lived or where he got bread to put in his mouth.
This last statement was false; some one did know. Mr. Mallow sat up long after curfew these spring nights; long after his staid "help" were snugly tucked in their beds. Usually his bedroom light went out at ten punctually; now it might be midnight when, nodding by the kitchen fire, he would hear, or think he heard, a shuffling step on the walk outside the back door. Then he would open the door and stand in the cold, holding it wide open so that the red fire-light would shine out on the darkness.
"Russ," he would whisper, "that you? Come in, won't you? Step in, and set with me a spell! what say? I'm rill lon'some!"
Usually no answer came; then he would say, "Basket's behind the door, Russ! Call again when 'tis empty! Good-night, old chap!" and shut the door with a sigh, and so to bed. Usually, I say: but if now and then a bent, shivering figure crept in and sat for half an hour by the fire, warming its hands and listening dumbly to the friendly pleadings, the kindly offers, why, no one but Marshall Mallow ever knew it.
CHAPTER Xthe party
"Going?" said Miss Johanna Ross: "of course I'm not going, Gerie; bed-ridden folks don't go to parties—except in novels. I might be carried in like that woman in 'Barchester Towers,' in a white velvet gown on a red silk sofa—or was it a red shawl thrown over the sofa? Well, I have no white velvet gown, but I think I could get up a fancy rig. Imagine Madam Flynt's face! Do you advise it, Gerie?"
Miss Egeria looked troubled: she never knew how far to take Johanna seriously.
"You always look charming, dear Johanna," she said. "I hardly think—of course you know far more than I about social functions: it is so long since we had a large party in Cyrus——"
"Cheer up! I'll stay at home to please you!" Miss Johanna settled herself comfortably among her pillows.
"Now let me look at you!"
In some trepidation, Miss Egeria removed her shawl (that, at least, was all right; a camel's hair shawl was always in good taste!) and felt the keen dark eyes take in and appraise every item of her apparel; the dove-coloredmoiréof antiquated cut, the mosaic jewelry, the "bertha" of splendid Honiton.
"It is so long since we had a party in Cyrus!" Miss Egeria repeated; her voice faltered a little; Johanna's eyes were really—she felt quite—"quite undressed, my love!" as she told Kitty afterward, "as if I were in my—my underwear!"
"Anne Peace took it in a little," she said, "but she thought it best not to alter the style: the lines were good, she thought——"
"If Anne Peace had altered it I'd have whipped her. You are perfect, Gerie: a perfect 'Keepsake'! I wouldn't change you for any model on Fifth Avenue. Where's Almeria? I don't believe she's a patch on you!"
"Oh, my dear! Almeria has the Velvet: you remember the Velvet, surely! You always thought it elegant: Aunt Vanderscholt, for whom it was made, employed the best dressmaker in New York, I have always understood. Sister is downstairs in the parlor with Father: so kind of you and Kitty to help us out in this way. Kitty is insuchdemand this evening! Would you like to see Sister, Johanna? She charged me to say—she felt that you would probably feel able to see only one person at a time——"
"Gammon!" Miss Johanna's eyes twinkled. "Trot her up, Gerie, and your father, too! Don't look like that! I am perfectly proper: it won't hurt him to see a bed at his time of life."
"My dear Johanna!" Miss Egeria gasped. "Not for worlds would Father intrude—a lady's chamber——"
"Mr. Bygood!" Miss Johanna raised a clear, high-pitched voice. "Come up, won't you, and bring Almy? I want to see you!"
Miss Egeria faded away with a little moan of protest; a moment later entered Miss Almeria, superb in black velvet, with a magnificent lace scarf on her admirable shoulders.
"Ah!" said Miss Johanna under her breath. "I knew there was more Honiton. That's the flounce!"
"Good evening, Almy!" she said aloud. "Where's your father? Oh, how do you do, Mr. Bygood? Iamglad to see you! shake hands! Are you shocked? Gerie was too shocked to stay in the room. How do you like my jacket? You look perfectly lovely! I'd marry you to-morrow if you'd ask me. Now I've shocked Almeria!"
If Miss Almeria was shocked, she knew better than to give Johanna the satisfaction of knowing it. She drew up a chair for her father and settled herself in another, smoothing her velvet skirt composedly. Mr. Bygood was in a flutter. To be going to a party was exciting enough: to be called suddenly to wait upon an invalid lady of distinction was even more thrilling.
"My dear Miss Ross——" he began, with a tremulous bow.
"If you call me 'Miss', I'll throw the pillow at you and spoil your lovely necktie!" said the lady.
"Oh! oh!—te-hee! te-hee!" tittered Mr. Bygood.
"I used to be Jo," Miss Ross went on; and her sharp eyes softened. "Little naughty Jo, coming to play with little proper Almy and little saintly Gerie, andgetting them both into hot water. Have you any peppermints in your pocket, Mr. Bygood? How many generations of children have you supplied with peppermints, my dear soul?"
"Well, Johanna!" Mr. Bygood twinkled; "several, I suppose; several! Yours was the first, though, my dear. You were a very good child, a very good child. All my little friends have been good children. You—you—you look extremely well, Johanna, for a—a sufferer! I trust——"
"Iamextremely well!" said Miss Johanna calmly. "Bedridden, but well. Gerie wanted me to be carried to the party in my bed—" an agonized cough from the hall announced that Miss Egeria was within hearing; "at least we spoke of it. Cheer up, Gerie! Nobody would lay it to your door. 'Johanna! always peculiar!'" (She shot a wicked glance at Miss Almeria, who maintained her dignity, but could not suppress her blush.) "Can't you hear them say it? But I've decided not to go. I really think I am having the cream of the party here. This was my idea, Almy; you must allow I am clever, as well as peculiar. There's some one else coming in."
Itwasa clever idea; Madam Flynt was giving a party for Kitty and me; it was so kind of her to tuck me in! Of course everybody was going, and as it was a snowy evening in early April, Kitty and John Tucker were engaged ten deep, to transport the guests. It was necessary to begin early, and at Miss Johanna's suggestion, Kitty had asked a few special friends to be ready half an hour before the time set in the invitations.These favored ones were brought to Ross House, and deposited with instructions to walk right in (Sarepta was at Madam Flynt's, of course, helping Sarah and Abby Ann) and make Aunt Johanna a call, and then make themselves comfy in the parlor till called for.
Mr. Bygood was the only gentleman who went upstairs, but the Chanters and several other parties of ladies rustled up to the Red Indian room and were passed in review by the invalid Arbitress. Last of all came Kitty herself; first rosy and breathless, in fur coat and cap, to summon Miss Johanna's last caller; then, half an hour later, still rosy, but calm and demure, to show herself to her aunt. I was with her, in what male writers call "something white and filmy"; I called it chiffon; Miss Johanna had forbidden filminess for Kitty.
"When you've got lines, show 'em!" was her dictum. How different from Miss Egeria, who was always troubled if one sat down without shaking out one's skirts thoroughly. "My dear!" she would whisper. "You show your shape!"
Kitty had rummaged the ancestral trunks in the attic and had found a thick, heavy pale green satin, over which Miss Johanna had waved the scissors of a necromancer, Miss Anne Peace, as her attendant sprite (dear, meek little brown sprite! she was at Madam Flynt's, too, "taking off" for the ladies upstairs), translating her magic into terms of needle and thread. The soft gleaming fabric clung round as lovely a figure, I thought, as ever entered a ballroom.There was just enough lace at the neck, not an inch too much: wonderful Rose Point. The Bygoods were not the only people who had lace, Miss Johanna said with a friendly sniff: and there was the Beryl Necklace, for which, the same lady pointed out, the satin had probably been woven and dyed. Certainly they were an astonishing match, and anything more beautiful than the combination of necklace and gown and Kitty cannot possibly be imagined. This is not just my enthusiasm—everybody said the same thing—except Miss Johanna; but her nod, and "H'm! you'll do!" was fully as emphatic.
So we went to the Party; our Party, given for us! two proud and happy girls.
Madam Flynt's spacious double parlors looked more ample than usual from the removal of most of the furniture. The tables were gone, the big sofa, all the armchairs except Madam Flynt's own; the Sheraton chairs shrugging their shoulders against the wall took up little room. The Turkey carpet was up, the polished floor gleamed in the light of numberless wax candles. Madam Flynt sat at the upper end of the long room, stately and handsome in lilac brocade with cascades of creamy Venetian Point. (I seem to be saying a great deal about lace: I can't help it: it is one of the pleasantest things I know!) Kitty and I stood by her, one on either side; Miss Croly, her purple alpaca exchanged for a silk of the same hue, hovered in the background, beaming welcome on the guests, but casting an occasional anxious glance at her friend and patroness. On her arm she carrieda white Canton crape shawl, heavily embroidered, with long fringe. Occasionally she would bend over Madam Flynt and murmur something, with a gesture toward the shawl, but the hostess seemed unaware of her existence.
The Bygoods were the first arrivals. "Father" must have a chance to see the rooms, and to find a comfortable seat, before the crowd came. Next came the Messrs. Jebus, very nervous, very neat in their claret-colored frock coats. Why did they wear claret-colored frock coats? Everybody in Cyrus knows! Twenty-five years ago Russell Gaylord had had one made for a frolic, or a wager, I forget which; and after wearing it once, had given to Mr. Jason. Even then, the two cousins always dressed alike: Russell Gaylord was the glass of fashion and the mold of form; Mr. Josiah had the coat copied as exactly as might be; that is all the story.
The little gentlemen had their plan of campaign carefully laid out. They stepped through the long rooms as quickly as Mr. Josiah's lameness allowed, casting bird-like glances around them; they made their bows as Meltiah Torrence had taught them in their youth. "Two steps forward, to first position; bend from the hips, bob from the neck, recover; two steps back! Dismiss!" They delivered their speeches—not quite as they intended, be it said.
"We congratulate you, Madam Flynt, on this festal occasion!" said Mr. Josiah. "We thank you for the honor of your invitation."
"We have enjoyed ourselves extremely, we areobliged to you," chimed in Mr. Jason, "and we gratefully take our leave."
Fortunately neither gentleman perceived that Mr. Jason had said this instead of "We are prepared to enjoy ourselves extremely, and we gladly join the gay circle!" Madam Flynt heard, understood, and appreciated. Their acknowledgments made, the Jebusites, as Dr. Ross used to call them, proceeded to explore the rooms, apparently with some special object in view. Their bird-like glances flitted from side to side, growing more and more anxious; they began to utter noises as of mice in peril. Miss Croly came to the rescue. "The beautiful screen," she said, "has been moved into the hall, Mr. Jebuses. (One always addressed them thus!) Madam Flynt feared that it might inconvenience—I would say feared that the dancers might injure it. It shows well in the hall!" she added kindly. The partners, with sounds as of mice relieved, fled to the hall, where the object of their search stood against the wall: a tall screen, covered with exquisite embroidery. This they considered with minute and anxious care.
"There is less light here!" said Mr. Josiah.
"But everybody will see it!" Mr. Jason consoled him.
Finally, they spent the greater part of the evening hovered about Mr. Josiah'schef d'œuvreand enjoyed themselves, as they had predicted, immensely.
Mr. Mallow and Mr. Jordano approached side by side, and were welcomed with dignified cordiality. They bent low before Madam Flynt; they gave separateand very special bows to Kitty and me: hers were the best, but I was not jealous.
"You've got an elegant party, Madam!" Mr. Mallow glowed with civic and neighborly pride. "I don't know as any place but Cyrus could show such a conjugation of pretty gals and handsome ladies."
"A galaxy!" exclaimed Mr. Jordano. "A golden galaxy! 'They walk in beauty like the night-tite-tite—' the second line escapes me! the poet Byron! Miss Kitty, boona sarah, as we say in beautiful Italy. Bella Italia, Miss Kitty! Bella Kitterina, also, if an old friend may take the liberty. Very eleganto, I must say."
"Grazie tante, Signor Jordano!" Kitty smiled and dimpled, and sent Mr. Jordano straight to the seventh heaven. He did not follow the words, but that did not matter; he was hearing Italian spoken by lovely lips, and his gentle spirit soared ecstatic. He stepped aside to make room for the Chanter girls who swept in, like a white muslin billow, and after breaking in curtseys to Madam Flynt, surged round Kitty and me in shouting chorus. Mr. and Mrs. Chanter came next, beaming good will on all; the three boys brought up the rear. Bobby and Rodney had come over from their college town on purpose; Aristides was in the High School; all three were in love with Kitty, in varying degrees of intensity, but Bobby's prior claim was silently conceded by the other two. He was the eldest; he had the Dress Suit (a gift from a distant uncle whose inches could no longer be clipped within it); he was captain of the college football team. Hehad been in love with Kitty as long as he could remember. Of course, while Tom was "round," Bobby never had any hope, not even when his enchantress used to call him "Pretty Bobby Shafto," and sing a little song, derisive but not unfriendly, about his being fat and fair, which he was, and about his combing down his yellow hair, which he might with advantage have done oftener, and about his going to sea, silver buckles at his knee, which was preposterous. When Kitty, perched on top of the fence, would trill in her silver voice,
"He'll come back and marry me,Pretty Bobby Shafto!"
"He'll come back and marry me,Pretty Bobby Shafto!"
the boy's honest heart thumped at his ribs, and his cheeks grew redder, if that were possible. She was Tommy's girl; he was perfectly loyal to Tommy; still—but now that Tom was gone and no one ever heard a word from him, Bobby saw no reason why his own modest hopes might not soar; so soar they did.
Rodney and Aristides (the latter a chronic sufferer from his name, which he loathed equally in its entirety and in its customary abbreviation of "Sty") after making their bows, waited cheerfully for Bobby to ask Kitty for the first dance, which he promptly did. Rodney was just sidling up to claim the second when Wilson Wibird, leaning over Kitty from behind, laid a hand on the dance-card which hung from her fan.
"The rest are mine, Katrine!" he murmured.
Kitty, turning, spoke crisply. "Certainly not. Wilson!Why should they be? Did you ask for the second, Rodney? And you the third, Sty? I promised Mr. Jordano one; you can have the fifth, Wilson, if you like."
"If I like! cruel Katrine!" murmured Mr. Wibird. He folded his arms and glared savagely at the three Chanters, who smiled cheerfully at him and said in chorus, "Hello, Wilse! h'are ye?" Then he retired to the wall, where he stood, his arms folded in a Napoleonic attitude, his brows bent, his eyes following Kitty as she glided about the room.
Wilson Wibird had made up his mind to marry Kitty Ross, even before her return from Europe. There was no other mate for him in Cyrus, he confided to his one intimate, the greenish mirror that hung over his dressing table. She was lovely; she was accomplished; she had Mind and Taste; she could appreciate him, and on her the name of Wibird might be bestowed without derogation from its high descent. He saw himself in fancy—Wilson lived largely in fancy—the master of Ross House, welcoming his guests (and Kitty's) with the stately courtesy of a gentleman of the old school.
"Katrine and I bid you welcome!" he would say to the mirror. "The simple comforts of our home are yours as long as you care to share them!"
His air was very noble, he thought, as he waved his guests in. Now, Wilson was forced to acknowledge that up to this time Kitty had shown little sense of the honor he proposed to do her. He had met her several times, and walked with her along the street,but whenever he bestowed on her what he called a flower of speech, he found that she had an errand in the store they were passing. Sometimes he waited for her, and she never came out, being indeed well acquainted with the back door of every store on the street—sometimes he "punished" her by stalking on with bended brows. (Wilson loved bended brows; he sometimes bended them so far that his little eyes could hardly be seen; but this is by the way.) When he called in the evening, Kitty was apt to be busy waiting on her aunt, or else those Chanter girls were there. Altogether, Wilson felt that his suit was not prospering as it should: this, he told the mirror, must cease. She would set her will to his, forsooth! pretty birdling! She should see what it meant to thwart a man with a chin like that. He motioned toward his image. He must assert himself. Some lines of poetry came to his mind; lines which he had felt, the first time he read them, to describe himself:
"He was a strong man from the north,Light-locked, with eyes of dangerous gray."
"He was a strong man from the north,Light-locked, with eyes of dangerous gray."
The poem went on to tell how the strong man took the lady in his strong white arms and bore her on his horse away. It was a fine poem. That, Wilson felt, was the attitude for him; he had been too gentle, toodebonair; now she must feel his power. He had thought to impress it upon her by dancing with her through the entire evening. He had seen himself folding her in his strong white arms (decently hid in conventional black) floating through the glitteringhalls to the sound of voluptuous music. Now the music was sounding; old Meltiah Torrence scraping away at his old fiddle, his son Jabez squeaking on the cornet. It was our own, our only "music"; we loved it, but voluptuous is hardly the word for it. The music was sounding, and Wilson Wibird, instead of carrying out his program, was standing against the wall with folded arms and bended brows.
Mr. Mallow saw him and crossed the room to where he stood. "Why ain't you dancin', Wilse?" he inquired; and without waiting for a reply: "Go and take Lissy out for a turn! Nobody's asked her, and she admires dancin'. Ain't enough boys to go round. You go and take her out! Oh! hemp! nothin' at all, Very! nothin' at all!"
Mr. Jordano, backing down the room with Miss Almeria Bygood, had come to the end of it sooner than he expected, and his heel had come down with some force on Mr. Mallow's toe. Wilson took advantage of his uncle's momentary anguish to slip away, but he did not take Melissa out. He folded his arms and bended his brows against another part of the wall, where Kitty could not fail to see him as she passed. It was good Bobby Chanter who took Melissa out; I rather think he would have done it even without Kitty's breathless little, "Oh, no, Bobby; I must stop now. Do take out Melissa, there's a dear!" Bobby was a kind boy, and Melissa's face had been very wistful as she watched the dancing. A pretty face, if it could be filled out a little; the thin cheeks wereflushed to-night, and the hazel eyes sparkled above the pretty pink challis, Uncle Marshall's gift.
"You make it tasty!" he bade Anne Peace. "Make it as tasty as any of 'em! put on plenty of gimp, or galloon, or whatever the style is. I want Lissy dressed as nice as any gal there. You make her look like Venus Dimedici, that travelin' man was talkin' about. He said she was great."
Mr. Mallow's rendering of the title of Venus made everyilong. Miss Peace had her own opinion of Venus, but reserved it, and promised to do her best; which she certainly had done.
People came and came, and came. All Cyrus, of course, in its shining best: Mrs. Scatter in green poplin, Miss Pringle in blue; the Misses Caddie dressed alike in "that brown silk that was so fashionable one season—don't you remember? And then went out so sudden, and Hanks has been trying to get rid of the piece ever since. He put it down to half price directly Madam Flynt's invitations were out, and the Caddies took it and made it up themselves. There was four yards more than the pattern called for, but they took it all, so they could make over; and then if they didn't put every scrap of it into the skirt so 'twould fade alike! They stand out like penwipers, don't they?"
Thus Mrs. Bagley to her husband, who said, "Yes! yes! very tasty! very tasty!" being absorbed in the problem of how much "Acme astral" it would take to light these rooms, and what possibility there might be of persuading Madam Flynt to try it instead of candles.
Tinkham and Tupham came, in long barges: the former a little amused, a little patronizing as usual: patronizing not of Madam Flynt, but of Cyrus in general and Kitty in particular.
"Drives a cab, or so I understand. Yes! a sad come-down for an old family. I understand the aunt has come on to give countenance to it: you remember her; Johanna Ross; always peculiar!"
This attitude, whispered in the dressing room (to the silent rage of Miss Anne Peace, who longed to stick into Tinkham the pins she drew from its skirts and veils) rustled down the stairs and into the drawing-room, but appeared to evaporate at sight of Kitty and the beryl necklace.
Tupham was, as usual, hearty and friendly; pleased at being asked, and eager to "take in the whole show" for the benefit of those at home. Thus female Tupham managed to slide an appraising thumb and finger over Kitty's satin, "thick as a board, my dear, and soft—well, there!" while male Tupham made a point of sampling every item of food and drink with strict impartiality.
Corona College arrived rather late, in a somewhat superior, if not Tinkhamesque frame of mind. Madam Flynt, ever thoughtful, had bidden Bobby Chanter pick out ten nice boys for her, which he had done with anxious care. They had had a merry drive over, and were under the impression that they had come partly to please good old Bagpipes (a subtle rendering of Bobby's name), partly, perhaps unconsciously, toamuse themselves with the would-be graces of a rustic community.
A fragment of trialogue, overheard near the drawing-room door, conveys the attitude of these young gentlemen:
A."Pink muslin one rather neat: what?"
B."So-so; not too! blue one has more go to her. P'raps she's the lady cab-driver: they have one here, I'm told. Trot her out, what say? Put her through her paces!"
C."Get on to the little thing with curls! She's quite a daisy. Think I must give her a turn." (Thank you, sir! This was my humble self.)
"Jerusalem!A. B. C.in sudden trio. "Great Scott!Who is that"By George!rippingperfectly stunning girl in green?I say, Bobs! Bags!screaming
"Jerusalem!A. B. C.in sudden trio. "Great Scott!Who is that"By George!
rippingperfectly stunning girl in green?I say, Bobs! Bags!screaming
Pipes!Chanter!Won't you introduce me? Oh, Isay, Bobby! I'm your friend! Don't go back on me!" etc., etc. Thus Corona in frantic whispers, plucking at Bobby Chanter, who swelled in serene pride, and was entirely kind to his friends, knowing Kitty's next dance to be his.
Kitty was kind to them too, and gave them an "extra" when she could, but mostly had to meet their impassioned pleadings with a smile and "So sorry! I am engaged, but do let me find you a partner!"
The collegians were nice, gentlemanly boys; we all had a delightful time, and I truly think they did.But here I may note a curious little by-product of the Party. For weeks after, Corona College had much business to transact in Cyrus. It came by train, one by one, and was observed to look eagerly about it on arrival, and to make hurried inquiry for a cab. Confronted by John Tucker, serenely yet critically observant, it suddenly decided it would walk, and proceeded to stroll about the village, investigating the shops and making aimless purchases, till the return train. Corona rarely met Kitty; the between-trains hour was just when she was taking Madam Flynt for her airing. Now and then, however, say on a rainy day, some happy youth would chance upon her, and walk home with her, and perhaps be asked in for a cup of tea, and return to Corona in a state of rapturous distraction very trying to his mates who had been dutifully practising football.
But here is a long digression: let us hurry back to the Party.
Among the revolving couples, none attracted more attention than Miss Almeria and Mr. Jordano, already mentioned. They danced the Boston Dip, seldom seen in these degenerate days. It is a slow, graceful waltz, very becoming to tall figures and sweeping velvet skirts. Mr. Jordano held his chin high; his eyes were nearly closed, a narrow slit only enabling him to pilot his partner safely through the dance; his expression, which totally belied him, was one of haughty arrogance. His lips moved constantly; one would have supposed he was murmuring caustic comments on the other dancers; instead, he was saying,"One, two, three,one, two, three!" in time, if not in tune, with the music. Miss Almeria's glossy braids bent gracefully over her partner's shoulder: her look was benign; she wore a slight, indulgent smile, as who should say, "Dancing is not what it was, but perhaps it is well for people to see occasionally what it can be."
Madam Flynt was enjoying her party immensely. Her eyes followed the dancers continuously. Kitty, of course, was the most delightful person to watch, but they all looked happy, and youth was not everything. Almeria held her own as well as anybody, and Egeria was hardly less graceful. Now if Johanna Ross hadn't a bee in her bonnet, she might be dancing with Edward Peters. She did not suggest this to the Judge, who was sitting beside her; she received his congratulations amiably. She was glad he thought it a pretty party; yes, the rooms did light up well. People with good rooms had a responsibility to Society—Madam Flynt leaned nearer the Judge, and her voice dropped.
"Of course, Edward, in a City, one might have thought—it might not have seemed proper to give Kitty a party so soon after—you understand! But everybody in Cyrus knows just how it is; and her not wearing black and all; but—well, if you must know, it was the Doctor made me do it."
"Dr. Pettijohn?" naming the Tinkham practitioner who had ministered to Cyrus' few ailments since Dr. Ross's death.
"No! no! our own Doctor—Dr. Ross, of course!I don't mean—I am no spiritualist, Edward, if that is why you are raising your left eyebrow!"
Judge Peters blushed and lowered the eyebrow.
"But it really is curious. Let me tell you! Several years ago, a young cousin came to visit me: Selina Hazelton: you may remember her. Her father had been ill, she may have had troubles of her own; in fact—but you shall hear. Anyhow, she drooped and drooped. I couldn't make her eat, and she didn't seem to care for anything; dreadful state she was in, and getting worse. So I sent for Dr. Ross, and he looked her over. Then I sent her out on an errand, and asked what he would advise. Would he give her a tonic? 'Give her a dance!' he said. 'Why Doctor!' I said. 'She can hardly walk, much less dance. Just to cross the street seems to tire her out.Ithink iron and wine is what she needs.' I always told him what I thought; he called me his consulting physician, you know: dear Doctor! Well, he said again, 'Give her a dance!' insisted on it, saying he got the idea out of Charles Reade. You know he was daft about Charles Reade. Well, my dear—friend, Ididgive her a dance. Invited all the college boys I knew; and they all came, and one beside. Georgie Hathaway asked if he might bring a friend, and I said yes, of course. Friend came; nice-looking lad; Porter, his name was. Well, when I saw the color he and Selina went, one white, the other greenish-purple, I knew what had been the matter with the child. They danced every dance together but two, and those they sat out on the woodbox in the upper hall. And I giving the party for her!Next day they were engaged—I wassosurprised, of course! In two months they were married, and now they have three children and are as happy as June crickets. Well! so—now I come to the curious thing. You know how gay Kitty is—a gallant kind of gayety that makes me cry sometimes!"
The Judge nodded. Kitty passed at that moment, dancing with Mr. Mallow, who handed her about as if she were a cream tart on a gold dish. The Judge's eyes rested very tenderly on the girl.
"Well!" Madam Flynt bent still nearer till her lilac cap ribbons touched the Judge's fine gray hair. "I was thinking about her one evening, about ten days ago; and all of a sudden I seemed to hear Doctor speaking, as plain as I hear you to-night. 'Give her a dance!' he said. 'Give her a dance!' Now I am no spiritualist, Edward, but—what do you want, Cornelia Croly? I have told you that I willnotbe hovered over. You may be a hen turkey, but I amnot—what is it?"
Miss Croly set her thin lips and advanced with a look of humble resolution. "Clarissa," she said firmly, "there is a draught!" and she folded the crape shawl round Madam Flynt's ample shoulders. Madam Flynt is a large woman, usually deliberate in her movements; but in the twinkling of an eye the shawl was whisked off, rolled in a ball, and handed to Judge Peters.
"Put that under my chair, will you, Edward?" said the lady. "Wellunder, so that nobody can get at it.Cornelia, I shall be obliged if you will go and see about supper. Time it was announced!"
Madam Flynt's supper ought to have a whole chapter to itself, but that may not be. It was a wonderful and delightful supper, and never was feast more thoroughly enjoyed. Kitty and I sat with the Chanters; such a merry time as we had! Sarepta had made the chicken salad, Sarah the croquettes, Abby Ann the coffee and rolls: as for the ice-cream, Bobby insisted that all the good fairies in the Fairy Book must have taken a turn at it; it was too good to be the work of earthly hands. Bobby glowed till you could have warmed your hands at him. His radiance was not lessened by the sight of Wilson Wibird glowering across the room.
"Poor Wilse!" he chuckled. "Supper doesn't seem to agree with him! Gee! it does with me, though! This salad suits my complaint first-rate: I wouldn't wonder but I got well now. Let me get you some more, Kitty!"
Kitty's kind heart smote her a little at sight of Wilson's tragic face. Had she beentoohorrid to him? She was almost sorry she hadn't another dance, though it was odious to be held so tight, and hewouldbump into one with his knees.
There were no more dances for Kitty that night. Her own party though it was, she had firmly refused to let it interfere with business. Directly after supper she slipped away, after a whisper in Madam Flynt's ear that brought the tears to the good lady's eyes, and made her even speak mildly when Miss Crolythought more ice-cream would not be good for her.
"I can get it myself, Cornelia," she said, "if you don't feel equal to the exertion. Or here is Mr. Jordano. Mr. Jordano, will you be so kind as to bring me some more ice-cream? Thank you! on the whole I'll have frozen pudding!"
Kitty, I say, slipped away, and in twenty minutes was back in her fur coat and cap, nodding brightly to the first departing guests. These were the Bygoods, who feared Father had already been up too long beyond his usual time; it was long since he had passed so delightful an evening.