"'She's galliant, she's beautiful,She's the fairest one I know;She's the primrose of Ireland,All for my guinea, oh!And the only one entices meIs Irish Molly O,Molly O!'
"'She's galliant, she's beautiful,She's the fairest one I know;She's the primrose of Ireland,All for my guinea, oh!And the only one entices meIs Irish Molly O,Molly O!'
"Well! So Delia sent for Uncle Doctor, and he came. 'Mr. Doctor,' she said, 'your Da is looking for his dead clo'es. If you don't find a woman for him to marry, I'll have to marry him myself, and fine I'd look cocking in the parlor, d'ye see?"
"'Bless my soul!' says Uncle Doctor, 'I see. I'll attend to it, Delia.'
"So Delia went back to her pots and pans, and Uncle Doctor, after thinking a little, went down the street and called on Aunt Elizabeth. Aunt Elizabeth was Grandma's sister; they were like a pair of gloves, only she was a single woman.
"'Auntie,'" says Uncle Doctor, 'would you mind marrying Father?'
"'Bless my soul, Nathaniel!' says Aunt Elizabeth. So he told her what Delia said, and they talked it over. She was a sensible woman and fond of Grandpa. By and by, back he goes to Grandpa. 'Father,' he says, 'I want you to put on your hat and go down street and ask Aunt Elizabeth to marry you.'
"'Bless my soul!' says Grandpa. 'She wouldn't have me, Nathaniel!'
"'I think she would,' says Uncle Doctor.
"'And what would Katharine say?' says Grandpa.
"'She would say, "Put on your hat, anddon't forget your muffler."'
"So Uncle Doctor put on the hat and muffler for him and saw him out of the door, headed down street; and he and Aunt Elizabeth were married next day, and had ten happy years together. So there isthat."
Miss Johanna rolled up her knitting briskly, and rose from her seat. "But one swallow doesn't make a summer, Kitty, and one pair of old f— of dear old things doesn't make folly the less foolish. I am going upstairs, my dear. If you are watering the plants, you might just change the water for those violets: they are drooping a little."
"Dear things! so they are!" Kitty rose, too, and bent lovingly over the bowl. "The new ones are due to-morrow, aren't they, Auntie?"
"I don't know anything about the new ones!"
Miss Johanna spoke rather snappishly from the door.
"We may all be dead to-morrow, and very likely the best thing for us. They would be nice for ourfunerals!" she added rather enigmatically from the stairs: and the door of the Red Indian Room closed shortly behind her.
Judge Peters seemed to have a good deal of business to transact with Miss Johanna. He came regularly once a week, almost always during the hour of Madam Flynt's drive. This puzzled Kitty, used all her life to being the Judge's pet and playmate. He could not be vexed with her, for his smile and greeting when they met was as affectionate as ever, even more so perhaps. He pressed her hand very tenderly on the steps one day, and said, "God bless you, my dear child!" in a way that brought the tears to Kitty's eyes. Yet he never came to seehernowadays!
"I do hope Aunt Johanna's business is all right!" she said to Madam Flynt one day, when that lady had brought her in after the drive for a little visit.
"I hope so!" said Madam Flynt. "Why shouldn't it be? Johanna is an excellent woman of business, I have always heard."
"Oh, it's only—well, Judge Peters comes pretty often, and—it may be all my imagination, but she seems rather troubled sometimes after he is gone. I ought not to speak of this, perhaps, but—Mother always used to come to you, didn't she, Madam Flynt?"
Madam Flynt took off her gold spectacles to wipe her eyes.
"She did, my dear. That sweetest flower of all the world used to bring her little troubles to me: she never had any big ones, bless her! she didn't like tobother John about the price of butter, she said. She called me her Cousin Confessor; as if she ever had anything to confess! But about Johanna—wait a moment, my dear!"
The door opened, and Miss Croly appeared with the inevitable milk posset.
"I will take it in ten minutes, Cornelia. I am busy now."
"It is the regular hour——" Miss Croly began mildly; but she was cut short.
"I will take it in ten minutes!" Madam Flynt raised her voice, a rare thing with her. "There is a gazelle in the garden, Cornelia!"
Miss Croly vanished without a word. Kitty opened wondering eyes; Madam Flynt waved her hand.
"She understands. We have our private code, my dear. Though exasperating at times, Cornelia Croly is no fool. She will be back in ten minutes. Kitty, my child——" Madam Flynt spoke with kindly emphasis—"don't be disturbed about your Aunt Johanna and the Judge. They know each other like two old shoes."
"Of course! I was only afraid——"
"You needn't be afraid. You would be glad, I should think, wouldn't you? Edward Peters is the very salt of the earth, and he has been in love with her all his life. It's the Cyrus way!" Madam Flynt added rather pettishly. "One-idea'd people: that's why they are mostly spinsters and bachelors.Well, Kitty! What is it?"
Kitty had risen from her low stool, pale and wide-eyed.
"You don't mean," she faltered; "Madam Flynt, you cannot mean that they——"
Madam Flynt nodded her cap-ribbons into a perfect dance of triumph. "I mean that they are probably going to marry each other," she announced. "I certainly hope they are! Why upon earth shouldn't they? Kitty, do you suppose the affections run down like a clock if they are not wound up in the early twenties? Nothing of the sort! A man of sixty needs a wife as much as a boy of twenty; more, in many cases! And if ever," she added emphatically, "a woman needed a sensible man to take care of her, and keep the bees out of her bonnet, that woman is Johanna Ross! There! Give me a kiss, my dear, and then run along, and tell Cornelia Croly, as you go, that she may bring in her noxious draught. She doesn't sleep at night if I don't take it regularly. Most exasperating woman—and, Kitty!" she called the girl back to add impressively; "if you meet your Uncle Edward on the steps to-day givehima kiss, and tell him you are thankful for your mercies!"
Was Madam Flynt in league with Occult Powers? An already sufficiently bewildered Kitty did meet Judge Peters on the steps, just coming out of Ross House. Some strong emotion had broken up his usual courtly calm; his face was suffused, his eyes shone.
"Kitty!" he cried. "Kitty, I——" He bent and kissed her forehead. "She will tell you!" he murmured, with a gesture toward the house. "Blessed,-blessed——"He waved his hand, almost (poor Kitty thought) like Mr. Jordano, and departed with long, hasty strides.
Kitty hesitated a moment at the sitting-room door, dreading she hardly knew what. Strong emotions shook her like a leaf in these days, she did not ask herself why.
"Foolish creature!" she murmured.
She need have had no fear; Miss Johanna was pale, and her eyes showed traces of tears, but she was entirely calm.
"Sit down, Kitty, my dear!" she said. "Here, by me, on the sofa. I have something to tell you. Do you remember my quoting Peggotty the other day? Barkis was willin', you know, and David didn't understand the message; 'Drat the man! he wants to marry me,' said Peggotty. Well, my child, drat the Judge, he wants to marry me! I haven't spoken of it before, because if I had decided to say no, there would have been no occasion; but he is the most obstinate man I ever saw, in his quiet way; so—I have said yes, Kitty. I told you, didn't I, it is he who has sent the violets all these years? You needn't smother me, my dear!"
Kitty had her in her arms, exclaiming, caressing, laughing and crying, all at once.
"Auntie! Darling, wicked, deceitful Auntie! What a blind bat I have been! I was afraid—oh! I am so glad, so glad! But you always said you didn't know who sent them."
"I didn't—exactly—know! I only felt at the backof my head that it was probably Edward; he is that kind of faithful, doggy person. It's perfectly ridiculous, as I said. And—my stars!" Miss Johanna was all in a moment her crispest, most incisive self. "There is no possible thing that a woman of fifty can be married in except gray or lavender, and I look like a blown-out tallow dip in either of 'em. Run after him, Kitty, and tell him I've changed my mind!"
CHAPTER XVIIkitty sings
Miss Johanna decided finally on moss-green.
"It's emblematic, you see!" she explained to the Misses Bygood, who had come in state and their best summer silks ("alittleearly for them," Miss Almeria admitted, "but something festal—Johanna will appreciate our motive!") to offer their best wishes.
"Our congratulations," Miss Almeria said impressively, "are for Edward."
Miss Johanna raised her eyebrows. "Poor Edward!" she said. "Do you remember John's remark to Mrs. Pringle when Emmy was engaged? 'I congratulate you, ma'am, on this auspicious and desolating event!' As I was saying, girls, moss-green is not only becoming to me, it is also emblematic. Green is for hope, which springs eternal, you know; moss is appropriate for age. Velvet, because Edward swears he won't marry me in anything else—no, Gerie;don'tlook like that! because he likes it, and I may as well dosomethingto please him while I can. I am sorry for Edward, but he has brought it upon himself."
"Johanna is jesting, sister!" Miss Almeria explainedkindly. "We consider Edward an exceptionally fortunate man, Johanna!"
"You are dears, both of you!" Miss Johanna's eyes softened, and she spoke in a different tone from her usual half-gibing utterance. "I am very happy, girls, and very thankful, as I ought to be. And—don't tell, but, when we come back, I am going totrynot to be peculiar any more. Only everybody will say I was changed at marriage!" she added ruefully. "Do you suppose Cyrus will think me all the more peculiar for trying not to be?" (As a matter of fact, this is precisely what Cyrus did think; but this is to anticipate.)
It was a very quiet wedding, only the few old friends who had stood by Johanna Ross through all her wayward years, and one new one. Mr. Jordano, the bride insisted, must be present. She felt like a criminal in not having a Real Wedding for Cyrus, but Edward could not abide weddings; you would think he had had a dozen already. The least they could do was to have it written up in style, and that this Delicious Creature was sure to do. Mr. Jordano did not know that he was a Delicious Creature, but he did know that Opportunity beckoned, and he rose to it. Fortunately the wedding took place the day before the weekly appearance of theCentinel, and Cyrus read over its breakfast with mingled feelings, of the Event which only a "select party of choice spirits," as Mr. Jordano put it, had the privilege of attending. (Not that Mrs. Sharpe wondered; far from it. Marrying at that age, Johanna Ross naturally would not wish to have any more witnesses than were absolutely necessary:Mrs. Sharpe for one was thankful to be spared such a spectacle.) The Scribe had been one of the fortunate few bidden to attend the nuptials of Miss Johanna Ross, a lady who, though long absent from our midst, was admired and revered by all who had the privilege of her acquaintance, and our highly-esteemed and justly celebrated fellow citizen and jurist, the Hon. Edward Peters, Justice of the Supreme Bench. The ceremony had taken place in the elegant and commodious mansion of the late Dr. Ross, now the abode of his charming and talented daughter, Miss Katharine Ross, whose reputation as an equestrienne of the highest order had spread far beyond the limits of Cyrus and environs. The spacious parlors of Ross House were tastily adorned with ferns, emerald moss (to which, it appeared, the bride was specially addicted) and violets, the latter in such profusion as to lade the ambient air with perfumes of Araby the blest. The bride, a superb brunette, wore a confection of moss-green velvet with gold garniture, and resembled, if Italio might take the liberty, a rare jewel in an emerald chalice. (Mr. Jordano had written "cup" at first; but he liked to murmur his copy aloud as he wrote; and "cup-pup-pup" struck harshly on his ear. He was in sensitive mood; a tail seemed to wag in the corner of his eye. "Chalice" came as a happy and satisfying inspiration.)
"The bride (we read over the shoulder of Cyrus, which is letting its coffee grow cold!) "was attended only by her niece, Miss Katharine Ross, who was indeed a vision for the Poet's eye. Simply gowned infilmy white, and which enclosed as fair a form as ever endowed nymph or grace, the effect wasdistinguébeyond the simple pen of the Scribe to relate. The ceremony (with ring) was performed by the Reverend Timothy Chanter, who appeared in full regalia of black silk, and was accompanied by Mrs. Chanter in brown poplin with self trimmings of velvet. The Misses Bygood wore flowered silk, with a profusion of priceless lace, and were as ever the peers of grace and beauty; no eye could gaze on them unmoved." (Mr. Jordano sighed heavily after writing this, and murmured, "Almeria, to thee!" in unconscious imitation of Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton.) "Madam Flynt was sumptuously attired in lilac brocade and diamonds, Miss Croly in purple silk. Mr. Marshall Mallow, the genial Mine Host of the Mallow House, and the humble Scribe who pens this tribute from a feeling heart, made up a party which must ever esteem itself fortunate in having been chosen to participate in an Event which, though characterized by chaste severity and exclusiveness, will ever dwell in the mind as an Acme of elegance. At the conclusion of the ceremony, exquisite refreshments were served in receptacles of priceless porcelain and cut glass. It was whispered in the ear of the Scribe that everything was made in the house. Cyrus is, indeed, fortunate in possessing a culinary artist of such dimensions as Miss Sarepta Darwin, to whom, if Italio were rightly informed, is due the credit of the truly superlative repast enjoyed by the guests."
Sarepta read this next morning, and sniffed.
"What did the man expect?" she asked of Kitty, who had brought the paper out to her. "What d'he think I'd been doin' for forty years? The idea!" but she cut the item out none the less, and pasted it in her scrapbook.
So Judge Peters won the lady of his faithful heart, and carried her off for a summer in Europe: (there was a Europe in those days, not yet become a place of blood and tears!) "And now," said Cyrus hopefully, "perhaps Kitty will come and live with us!"
To be exact, it was only the Chanter girls and Mr. Mallow who said this. Madam Flynt and the Misses Bygood knew better; so did the bride, who checked her Edward's affectionate hope, expressed to Kitty at parting, with "Nonsense, Ned! Kitty will stay in her own house. She would be a great fool if she didn't."
Kitty cried a good deal after her aunt left. She missed the brusque, incisive speech, the odd, kindly ways. The house seemed very lonely, very silent; though of course it was just as dear. She was so glad they were going to be happy together, those two dear people! There would be no more violets now, she supposed. Ridiculous that here an absurd crystal tear dropped on the shining leaf of the orange-tree Kitty was watering: tears came so easily nowadays, when she was not really sad at all, only—only——
If Tom were really married, what did anything else matter?If he were! Kitty did not actually believe it. There were many people who did not write letters; but to marry, without a word or a line, after—shecaught her breath, seeing his face as he took leave of her that day, so long—oh, so long ago!
"I shall find you here when I come back, Kitty? You—you'll wait——"
Some one came in: next moment he was gone. That was all.If he were really married——
The curious thing was, songs came as easily as tears. She had not sung since her mother's death, till just lately; but now, for all her sadness, which of course was not really sadness, song bubbled within her like a fountain. "The Duke of Lee" was on her lips all day long: it possessed her; she could not drive it away. She tried to do so by a severe course of scales, singing hersolfeggitwice a day religiously; taking up, too, the Italian arias andcanzonettithat her mother had loved to hear her sing, and the Scotch ballads she used to croon to her father when he came in from a long drive and sat on the leather sofa before the sitting-room fire. There was nothing wonderful about Kitty's voice, but it was very sweet, and had a harp-like quality that thrilled one strangely somehow.
She set herself a stiff little course of reading for the evening, when of course she would miss Aunt Johanna most. Plato to begin with; she had always meant to read Plato; then she would take Herodotus, and Josephus, and all the things she had never "got round to." It would be wonderful! she thought. If she kept at it steadily, by the time she was fifty, she might really begin to know just a scrap, "instead ofbeing a Pit of Ignorance, Pilot, as I always have been; just like you, my lamb; heigh ho!
"'And she shall have silks and satins for to wear,And a coach and six for to take the air——'
"'And she shall have silks and satins for to wear,And a coach and six for to take the air——'
"I will notsing that again to-day!"
You see, Kitty did not know, could not possibly know, psychical processes being in their present veiled condition, that currents were flowing, wireless messages flashing, between her subliminal self and another; that Tom Lee, striding up and down the deck of his steamer, was crying all day long in his heart, "Kitty! Kitty! Kitty! I am coming!Wait for me!" Had "Psychic Wireless, Unlimited," informed Tom that there were other aspirants for the hand he had so confidently thought his? Who can tell? Certainly, he told Kitty afterward, the voyage was "H. E. Double," and ten times a day he thought of jumping overboard and swimming the Pacific Ocean, as likely to make better time.
John Tucker emerged from the harness-room, in leather apron and gloves.
"It's good to hear you singin' round the place, Miss Kitty," he said: "it is so! I enjoy it, and I expect they do as well, if they could speak."
He nodded toward Dan and Pilot, who were certainly pictures of attention, as they stood with shining eyes, ears pricked forward, and delicate nostrils dilated.
"Bless them!" said Kitty. "It's sugar they want, the darlings, not singing. Pilot, stop! You cannotget your head into my pocket, you greedy cherub, and it is Dan's turn, anyhow. Here, Dan! Don't slobber, darling! Eat like a gentleman, because you know you are one, a Perfect Pattern, except for just a shade of gluttony. Now, Pilot!"
John Tucker stood in the doorway, gazing at her with delight. She was the "very moral" of a picture that hung in his own sitting-room; a steel engraving, neatly framed. It was labeled "Thoroughbred," and showed a fair girl patting a noble horse. John Tucker had seen it in the window of a print shop in the city and had bought it, refusing steadfastly to tell his Mary what it cost. Miss Kitty and Pilot might have sat for the two portraits, he maintained, except for Pilot's being black, which was all a Pilot coltcouldbe.
The horses fed and petted—not to their hearts' content, but as near it as the passing nature of time would allow—John Tucker turned back into the harness-room with a backward jerk of his head which said as plainly as one of Pilot's gestures, "Aren't you coming to seemenow?"
Kitty followed him into the pleasant little leather-scented room and perched on the arm of a chair as was her wont.
"What was that tune you was singin' just now, Miss Kitty?" asked John.
"It is called the 'Duke of Lee,'" said Kitty. "It's an old English song, John, and there's a dance that goes with it."
"Didn't your Ma used to sing it now and then? 'Pears to me I remember of her singin' it."
"Of course she did! You clever John Tucker to remember! She used to sing it when I was a tiny tot, and I used to dance. Tommy and I," she added bravely.
John Tucker nodded a slow confirmation. "I remember!" he said. "I ricollect one day—summer day it was, later in the season than this, and warm—I ricollect your Ma settin' on the kitchen steps, an' Mis' Lee settin' beside her. I couldn't but notice what a pictur' they made, kind of showin' of each other off, as you might say. What I mean, your Ma was dark, you understand, leastways her hair and eyes, though she had that kind of soft whiteness that you'd thought there was a light inside, if you see what I mean, Miss Kitty——"
Kitty nodded silently.
"An' Mis' Lee," John Tucker went on, "was more like a red and white setter pup. No offense to her mem'ry in sayin' so, for she sure was a handsome lady, and I thought the world of her—and Tommy, too!"
John Tucker's eyes were bent studiously on the buckle he was polishing.
"But what I mean, there they sot, and honest, Miss Kitty, I never go by that kitchen door but I see them two—well, beautiful women is what I would say—settin' there side by each, and your Ma singin' that song, and you two little shavers dancin'. I—gorry! I wish't they was all back, Miss Kitty."
John Tucker dashed the back of his hand across his eyes, and gave a single portentous sniff.
"Dear John!" Kitty's eyes were brimming, too. She stroked John's blue shirt sleeve very tenderly.
"Dear John Tucker, I am so glad you remember. It's a pleasant picture to remember, isn't it, John?"
"You bet it is!"
John Tucker very gruff with himself, and polishing away like mad.
"Mis' Lee, she's gone, too, ain't she, Miss Kitty? Too bad!"
"Yes, John, she died three years ago. But Tom is alive," she added cheerfully, "and doing finely, I believe. Don't you want me to sing your own song for you, John? The one you taught me when I was a tiny? I have plenty of time before I go for Mr. Chanter. Do you believe Podasokus will ever get well, John Tucker, dear?"
"No'm, I do not; not as long as you and Pilot are handy by!" John Tucker looked up with a twinkle. "What I mean, 'tisn't to be expected, though I don't suppose Mr. Chanter senses how it is. That hoss ought to be put away, Miss Kitty. He ain't fit to drive, no more than an old buff'ler that the moths has got into it. Yes'm, I'd be tickled to death to hear that song, if you feel like singin' it. It's a long time since I've heard that song, Miss Kitty."
"I know, John! I haven't sung it since—I haven't sung at all since Mother went, till just these last few days. I don't know why I sing now, but somehow—now listen, John Tucker!"
Still perched on the arm of the chair, Kitty lifted up her voice and sang "Cockles and Mussels" till thestable rang with silver sound, and Dan and Pilot stamped and whinnied with excitement, while even Old Crummles, dozing in the farthest stall, raised his sleepy head and wondered what was going on. As for John Tucker, he wept with pleasure, openly and unashamed; those honest blue eyes of his were always ready for tears when he was moved.
"That's great!" he cried. "That certainly is great, Miss Kitty. I thank you for that!" he flourished a clean blue cotton handkerchief, and blew his nose sonorously. "You weren't more than knee-high to a grasshopper first time you sang that to old John Tucker. Your Ma sang it, too!" he added. "I remember of her singin' it that same day we was speakin' of. Miss Kitty——"
"Yes, John Tucker!" as he stopped abruptly.
"I was thinkin' I'd take Crummles to the station this afternoon. He ain't been out to-day."
"Yes, John Tucker. What else were you going to say?"
John gave a short embarrassed laugh. "I dunno as I ought to say it, Miss Kitty. Wal! if you will have it—there was something Mis' Ross said that day has stayed by me, kind of. Something—what I mean—well, 'twas this way. Those two ladies was talkin' together, and I no business to hear what they was sayin', but yet I couldn'tbuthear, bein' as I was holdin' the pony. Old Rosy Nanty! he was gettin' on in years, and he liked to lay down once in a while, and take a roll. He didn't mean no harm, he'd just antic a mite. So they was talkin', 'bout the children:they were both wropped up in 'em. Mis' Lee, she said something about young uns learnin' to know all sorts, kind of mix in, like, with folks in general: thought 'twas good for 'em and like that. And your Ma, she bust right out: 'No!' she says: 'my Kitty shall never know anything but what is lovely!' she says: and she went on, quoted the 'postle Paul and like that. I never forgot it. It kind o' sunk in. You weren't never to touch, or know, or think of, anything that wasn't justso, just—well, lovely, and good report, and that. You understand, Miss Kitty?"
Kitty nodded brightly. "I understand, John Tucker. Go on!"
"Wal! I dunno—I set here sometimes and mull over that, Miss Kitty, and wonder if we're doin' just what's right by your Ma. There! I guess it's got to come right out. I thought the first of it, takin' Madam Flynt for her ride and like that, 'twould be all right: of course you wouldn't be let to go to no trains nor nothin' of that sort. But come to see you kitin' round with tag rag and bobtail—what I mean,—I dunno as your Ma wouldlikeit, Miss Kitty. Of course 'tisn't for me to say, but——"
Kitty's eyes were dancing. She slipped from the arm of the chair, and stood before John Tucker, accusatory forefinger leveled.
"John Tucker," she said slowly, "you—are—a—snob!"
"Now, Miss Kitty, don't you——"
"A snob!" Kitty repeated with withering emphasis. "I know perfectly well what you mean. You sawme pick up poor old Mrs. Flanagan and take her home. John Tucker, Mrs. Flanagan is eighty if she is a day; and that basket weighed half a ton, I amsure. Would you have let her carry it, if you had been prancing past with Pilot? I ask you, John Tucker!"
John Tucker looked uncomfortable.
"Mis' Flanagan has four children of her own," he said, "and ten grandchildren. She'd oughter let them carry her baskets."
"Yes, but they weren't there, and I was.Tryto have alittlesense, John! as for the children on Saturday mornings—Yes! I saw you look at us, you snobbish John; you were coming out of Adams's: you gave us a Gorgon glare, and I was ashamed of you! As for the children, they are my joy and delight. I wouldn't miss the Saturday morning drive foranything, John Tucker. The lambs! didn't you see how they were enjoying it?"
"I saw they was awful dirty! Took me 'most an hour to get the wagon clean, all the mud they tracked in."
"They had been playing in the mud. What should they be doing on Saturday morning? I don't suppose you noticed," she added demurely, "that one of the boys was named Tucker, did you, John?"
"I did," said John Tucker grimly. "I told him I'd lick him out of his boots, if ever he took such a liberty again."
"Are you sure it was Jimmy who took the liberty, John?"
Kitty spoke very quietly, but there was a ring ofsteel in her voice. "There!" said John Tucker, describing the scene to Sarepta that night. "If it wasn't her Pa, lookin' straight at me, and lettin' me have it between the eyes, call me a juggins!"
"I will!" said Sarepta. "It's what you are! The idea!"
Kitty's vexation passed like summer lightning before John Tucker's abject penitence.
"I know!" she said, cheering and soothing him at once. "I know, dear John! It's all your goodness and faithfulness, and I love you for it. But don't you see, I cannot 'sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam, and feast upon strawberries, sugar and cream.' That is what blessed Mother would have liked for me, because shecould, you know, and because I was her baby, and—oh, I understand so well! But I am a different kind, you see, John. I am mostly Ross, I suppose, at least, so Aunt Johanna says; and I don't like cushions, and I'm afraid I am notveryfond of sewing fine seams. When one isn't driving or walking, it seems rather terrible not to be reading, don't you think?"
"Yes, Miss!" said John Tucker, submissively. His reading was confined to theState Farmer, but never again would he differ from his idol in any particular.
"And as for what is lovely, and so on—" Kitty's eyes and voice softened to the look and tone that were specially for her mother—"I think—John, would it be good for Pilot to live entirely on oats, and to trot always on a perfectly level State road? No? I thoughtnot! And if he never did anything but speed in a trotting sulky, you wouldn't say he was being of any great use in the world? No, I thought not! And now it is half-past ten, John Tucker, and if you don't put Pilot into the beach wagon, I must."
CHAPTER XVIIIold love and new
Why was Pilot put into the beach wagon instead of the buggy? Because it was the wedding anniversary of the Reverend Timothy Chanter and his Susan, and they were going on their annual picnic together. Unlike the Gilpin pair of immortal memory, they did not take the children with them. The children saw them off at the door, with many injunctions to be good, and to have a wonderful time, and not to get lost, as they did two years ago.
"Kitty," cried Lina, "do blaze a treeat the place where you leave them, won't you? They are not to be trustedin the least."
On this one day of the year, the minister and his wife cast care to the winds, locked duty up in the cupboard, and even shut the door on parental responsibility. They were no longer Drudge and Drudgess, as the girls, exasperated at the vanity of efforts to "save Pa and Ma," sometimes called them: they were Tim and Sue off on their holiday. They were to be taken first for a spin behind Pilot, because that was the greatest treat the Reverend Timothy could offer his faithful partner; then they were to be left at a certainplace near the Lancaston Road, where the wood dipped sharply to a cup, enclosing a round pool, with a waterfall above it, and a ribbon of streamlet winding away at either end. Here they would sit and eat their luncheon, carefully prepared by Daughters; cold chicken (dear Madam Flynt always sent them a chicken the day before, one of her own prize Rhode Island Reds!), nut bread (Zephine's specialty), coffee and sponge cake (which no one could make like Lina), and some of dear Nelly's cream peppermints to top off with.
These cates disposed of, the Reverend Timothy would light his pipe, and lean back against a sun-warmed boulder, at peace with the world, while Mrs. Chanter read aloud a certain chapter of "Prue and I" which had been the precipitating drop in their cup of happiness twenty-three years before. Then he would go to sleep, dear man, and she would knit, and think what a happy woman she was, and wonder if there was enough mutton for to-morrow, or if she must have a vegetable chowder. By and by, when the sunbeams began to slant through the firs, she would wake her lord, who would fear he had missed that last sentence, my love! and the two would wander happily through the wood and along the elm-shaded road, and so home in time for the wonderful supper the girls would have ready, and the glorified table round which all six children would be gathered. A golden day, for two golden hearts! May their fiftieth anniversary find them hale and vigorous as their twenty-third!
This was Mrs. Chanter's first spin behind Pilot; itshould be her last, she resolved, as she clung terrified to the low railing of the beach wagon. It was a bright June morning, and Pilot was "feelin' extry good," as John Tucker had intimated to Kitty; he flung the miles behind him in a nonchalant rapture that was all his own. Once Mrs. Chanter opened her lips to cry out, but a glance at her husband's face of delight closed them again. After all, the children were all grown!
"Thank you, Kitty!" cried Mr. Chanter, as they dismounted at the edge of the Lancaston woods. "Thankyou, my dear! this has been a wonderful,wonderfultreat; hasn't it, Susan?"
"Wonderful!" echoed Mrs. Chanter, dryly. "Next time I'll have Podasokus, please, Kitty; or if he has left us, then that nice old woolly thing: Crummles, is he? No more Pilot for me, my dear!"
Kitty laughed and sped away, leaving the worthy couple to gaze admiringly after her for a moment before they turned into the wood, hand in hand.
"Glorious girl!" said the Reverend Timothy. "Glorious horse!"
"He'll break her neck some day!" said his Susan.
Joy of the road on a June morning! Elms arching overhead, in long feathery arcades, or giving way to groups of singing pines, and clusters of white birches that rustled and whispered together like Nausicaa and her maidens. Under these, stretches of gray stone wall along which the chipmunks whisked, trying in vain to keep pace with Pilot's flying feet; stretches, again, of stump fence, the silver-bleached bones of ancient giants, with sturdy new growth of fir andhemlock pushing up between their locked skeleton-arms. Between fence or wall and the white ribbon of road, a strip of green a few yards wide, sown thick with the jewels of early summer. Ferns of every variety, from the lady-fern which Kitty always thought so like Mother, in the pale green dresses she loved, to towering plumes of ostrich fern and tumbled masses ofOsmunda regalis. There was maiden-hair, too, Kitty knew, hiding in the crannies of the stone wall, but that could not be seen from the road. The cinnamon roses were out, sweet and untidy as Herrick's tempestuously-petticoated girl; "Virgin's Bower" flung its white-starred veil over rock and tangle. Kitty, flashing quick glances, as she sped along, saw and loved it all. The world held no tears any more; how should it, on a day like this?
"My heart leaps up when I behold, Pilot!" cried the girl. "Can't you hear it, Beloved? And oh—and oh—andOh!pearl of Poppets,doyou see whom we are overhauling? Do yousee, Pilot? If my middle name is not Clotho"——
Melissa and Bobby were walking slowly along the road. Bobby had come over for the Anniversary Supper, of course. It was one of Melissa's free afternoons (the library was open only three days in the week); it was all perfectly simple. Bobby came pretty often nowadays, and Sister Lissy happened to be passing the station about train time. They were near the village now. The two were deep in talk, and paid no heed to the approaching wheels. Melissa, who hardly knew a baseball from a football, was listening withbated breath and kindling eyes to a highly technical description of yesterday's game.
"Binks got base on balls, you see, and walked; then Joyce threw to third to put out Bacon, but Hodges fumbled, so Bacon ran home, and Binks went to second, and then I got in a three-bagger and made a home-run."
"Oh, Bobby! howsplendid! What a wonderful game! I wish I could see one!"
"You can!" said Bobby kindly. "I'll make one of the girls bring you over next time. And I'll get you a Corona banner!" he added. "A sister ought to wear her brother's colors, what, Lissy?"
It is not stated whose color it was that flamed in Lissy's cheeks as she looked up with shining eyes; it was very pretty anyhow, Bobby thought. He had never realized till lately what a pretty girl Lissy was. Hazel eyes were warmer, somehow, than gray, though of course——
"Hilo!" cried Kitty, checking Pilot with a touch.
No living horse, she always maintained, not even Angel Dan, made such a beautiful stop as Pilot.
"Hilo, folks! Don't you want a lift?" Glancing at Lissy's face, she added quickly, "I don't mean just home. I'm going to give this Lamb a little speed along the State Road. Will you come?"
"Gee! Won't we?" cried Bobby. A speed behind Pilot was a thing rarely offered, and not to be refused by any Cyrus youth. "Come on, Lissy!"
Melissa hung back. She was mortally afraid of Pilot, and of Kitty's reckless driving. Besides—oughtshe not to leave them? Would he not rather—A little cold snake seemed to creep about the girl's heart. It wasn't fair! Kitty didn't want him till she saw some one else—oh, Lissy! Lissy!
"Jump in, Lissy!" cried Bobby joyously. "You scared of Pilot? I believe she is, Kitty! now, then! In you go!"
In Lissy went, Bobby following; off went Pilot, at a three minute clip. Past fled the landscape, a blur of green, blue and white. Melissa, all in a moment her mother's daughter, sat crouched on the seat, clutching the rail. Bobby, in a state of high delight, glanced at her for sympathy, and saw her pale and trembling, her eyes brimming with frightened tears.
"Why, Lissy!" he said. Involuntarily he held out his hand; a little cold trembling hand slid instantly into it and was warmly grasped. Poor little hand! it quivered like a frightened bird, yet nestled close in his, as a bird would not.
"Don't be scared!" cried Bobby. "Pilot's steady as a rock, isn't he, Kitty? Perhaps," he added, "you might slow down just a scrap, though, Kitty. I hate to, but——"
This was heroic of Bobby, who loved fast driving as his father did.
Kitty said a word to Pilot, who cocked an indulgent ear, and slowed down to four minutes.
"Why, Lissy," she laughed over her shoulder, "rocks are flighty compared to Pilot; positively flighty! You saw how he stopped. I can stop him any instant, just like that. Lean back and enjoy yourself!"
Absorbed in her rôle of the youngest Fate, and used to fast driving from her cradle, Kitty could not realize the state of mind of an extremely timid girl, assailed by mingled pangs of terror and jealousy. It was not till they had reached the spot she had in mind for the development of her plan that, glancing round, she comprehended how for pleasure she was giving on the one hand anguish, and on the other embarrassment, if not distress. Melissa was leaning against her companion's shoulder with closed eyes and compressed lips: Bobby, red-faced and round-eyed, was holding her hand. His eyes met Kitty's with an expression of mingled deprecation, admiration and reprobation, which was too much for that young woman's composure.
"Ha! ha! ha!" her laughter broke out bell-like; then she checked herself.
"Oh! I am so sorry! Lissy, you poor child, I never thought—I never dreamed—Sst, Pilot!"
Pilot stopped, and stood like the least flighty of rocks.
"I amsosorry!" Kitty repeated penitently. "Bobby, why didn't you tell me? Are you going to give me in charge for fast driving?"
"Oh, I say!" cried a distracted Bobby. "Gee, Kitty, it was perfectlygreat, as far as I am concerned, but I do suppose we were going a pretty good clip, what? Poor little Lissy!"
"Now, I'll tell you what!"
Clotho Kitty advanced to her second parallel.
"This is where I really meant to stop. I want youboth to see the view from that high rock!" she nodded toward a huge boulder that frowned from the hillside above the road. "It's really beautiful, and you said the other day you had never climbed the rock, Lissy. It's only a minute's climb, with a good strong paw like Bobby's to pull you up. It will shake your crinkles out, and steady your nerves; and we willcrawlhome, Lissy dear!" said penitent Kitty.
Lissy dismounted and stretched her cramped limbs. Bobby followed, with a doubtful glance at Kitty. Was she sure Pilot would stand? Sure she didn't want him to——? Reassured on that point by her laughing shake of the head, he turned to the big rock. It was a brief, but a stiff little climb; all his energies were required to pilot Melissa, timid and unused to climbing. Neither of them heard the low, clear whistle, or saw the black horse toss his head in reply, then settle down in the shafts like a cat settling to her spring. They gained the top, prepared to enjoy the view, which really was fine; when Melissa uttered a cry,
"Oh! oh, Bobby, look! Kitty!"
Pilot was off. Had something startled him, or was it the inherent viciousness of which Melissa had always felt sure? Off down the road like an arrow.
"He is running away!" cried Melissa. "She can't hold him any more than she could the wind. Oh, what shall we do? What shall we do?"
"Sit down!" commanded Bobby. "Sit still, Lissy, till I come back!" With the word, he slithered down the rock and set out running along the road at his best pace. It was a good pace; Bobby Chanter was the bestrunner in Corona. Even in her terror, Melissa noticed how beautifully he ran, how nobly he threw his head back, how splendid——what horse could cope with a Marathon runner? Then a new pang assailed her. She crouched on the rock and wrung her hands in an ecstasy of terror. He might be hurt, trying to stop the mad creature. He might betrampled on! Wicked, hateful horse! wicked girl to drive such a creature, risking lives that were more precious——
Bobby, reaching a curve in the road, saw Pilot skimming swallow-like along the next reach. At that moment, Kitty turned in her seat, and saw him. A flash, a smile, a wave of the hand—she shot round a second curve and vanished. Bobby Chanter stopped abruptly.
"She's got him under!" he muttered. "She's going to turn and come back."
He waited for some minutes, but in vain. No one came. Sorely puzzled, Bobby retraced his steps, looking over his shoulder from time to time. That horse wasn't bolting. She had him under control all right. What upon earth—Bobby positively scowled in his perplexity. Had Kittymeantto leave them behind? And why?Why?It was freakish; Kitty never used to be freakish. It was hardly even kind; poor little Lissy, scared to death there up on the rock. She would never have played Kitty a trick like that. She was very sweet. How her little hand trembled as it rested in his! A girl ought not to betooindependent, though of course Kitty was the finest——
Bobby Chanter stopped short; the blood rushed singing up into his ears, and he stood in the middle ofthe road, as if he had been struck. What was that Kitty said to him, the last time he tried—A strange thing to say, he thought at the moment.
"Bobby, howfoolishyou are! I really wonder at you. You are like the man that lighted his lantern, a beautiful, clear, bright, little lantern, and then put it down and went after a will-o'-the-wisp."
"I don't in the least understand you, Kitty!" he had said ruefully, for her tone was almost sharp.
"No more did the bat; I mean the man!" snapped Kitty, and she turned her back and left him. It was at the Library door, and Melissa was just coming out. How pretty she looked that day, too; her eyes seemed to light up when she looked at a fellow! Was——wasthatwhat Kitty meant? He was walking again, faster now; thinking hard as he went, putting two and two together in a fashion new to his simple, objective mind.
Wasthat what Kitty meant? Other words of hers came flocking back to him.
"Iwantyou to be happy, Bobby! You might be so happy, if you weren't just a little stupid, Bobby dear!"
That seemed rather cruel at the time, when hehadpulled through those rotten exams. What if she hadn't meant that at all? What if——she was awfully fond of Lissy, he knew; and he knew she liked him, too, she said she did, though she never offered to be a sister to him, as Lissy did. Lissy had a rotten time at home, he guessed, with that Wilse, and her mother always putting him first. She was too soft and gentle to stand up for herself. What was that Kitty said again? He ought to have a sweet, gentle, femininegirl, not a daughter of Jehu, who drove furiously. He hadn't understood that, either. Had he been a Nut all this time? Hark! what was that?
A sound came to his ears; a breathless, sobbing wail.
"Bobby! oh! Bobby!! oh, my heart!"
A great clump of lilacs hid the road ahead. Hastening round it, he saw Melissa running toward him, crimson, panting, the tears rolling down her cheeks as she sobbed and ran and sobbed again.
"Allow two minutes!" says Mr. Ezra Barkley in an immortal Tale. Bobby did not allow one. In ten seconds he had gathered his little sweetheart in his arms, pulled her in behind the big lilac bush, and was soothing, comforting, pouring tender words into her ear.
"There, dear; there, Lissy! there, my little girl! You are my little girl, aren't you? My own dear little girl! Don't cry, sweetheart! What frightened you, Lissy?"
"Oh! oh!" sobbed Lissy. "I thought he would trample on you. I thought you would be lying on the road all dead and bleeding. Oh, Bobby! Bobby! Did he hurt you?"
"Did who hurt me, darling? Here! let's sit down! Put your dear little head on my shoulder; so! comfy? Did who hurt me, Lissy?"
"The dreadful horse! I thought he would trample on you! oh! oh!"
She started at Bobby's shout of laughter.
"Lissy!honestly!you didn't think I could catch Pilot? Gee! that is a good one!"
The great lilac bush had seen lovers in its day; sheltered them, too. A generation ago, it had marked a gateway; the cellar hole of the house still yawned in the field, half filled with wild raspberry bushes. If not Jemmy and Jessamy, at least Zekle and Huldy, or their prototypes, had sauntered down the lawn with arms linked, and had sat under the great bush, sheltered from lane and road by tossing, purple plumes. Yes, the lilac bush knew all about it, and bent kindly over Bobby and Lissy as they sat in their turn, hand in hand, pouring out the wonderful new story that had never, never, never been told before.
By and by (for not even new love could make Bobby unconscious of Dinner Time!) they walked home, and the road was paved with gold, and the skies above were diamond and sapphire, and the world was very fair.
And Kitty? If the truth must be told, they did not once think of Kitty till they reached the Wibird door. Then Melissa, with a conscience-stricken blush, wondered if Kitty was all right, and Bobby, with another, guessed she was. Then his honest heart smote him, and after one last look and handclasp, he went straight off to Ross House and told Kitty all about it. Then who so happy as Clotho Kitty? She took Bobby's hands and danced up and down the hall with him. She had not been so happy, she vowed, since she was probably arboreal. Never mind what she meant! She was just sitting down to dinner, all alone, and Bobby must and should sit down with her. They would have a feast, the Feast of Friendship. There was chicken pie!
"Come on, Bobby! we'll drink all our healths inpineapple lemonade. Sarepta! Sarepta! Put another plate, will you? Bobby is stopping to dinner!"
Sarepta laid another plate, outwardly grim, inwardly rejoicing. Men folks seemed to have more real understanding of pastry than what women-folks did, some way of it. She thawed visibly with every crunch of Bobby's enraptured teeth. She brought ham and tongue and little crisp home-made sausages the size of Bobby's little finger, over which he fairly groaned with delight.
"Honestly, Sarepta!" he kept saying. "Honestly! On the square now, I neverdid!"
When it came to fruit jelly with whipped cream, Bobby sighed deeply, and Kitty had an inspiration. She caught up the pretty dish and rose from table.
"You are to take this straight down to Lissy and eat it with her!" she commanded. "Hush! not a word! Sarepta, a fringed doily, please! Bobby is going to take this to——may I Bobby? Sarepta is atombof secrecy!——to his dear, sweet, darling Melissa, and eat it with her. One more glass, Bobby! Sarepta must have one too! To the health of Mr. and Mrs. Robert Chanter! Hip! hip! hooray!"
"Honestly, Kitty!" Bobby's voice faltered and broke. "Honestly! You are the greatest girl in the world—bar one, I'll have to say now, won't I? Good-bye! God bless you, Kitty!"
"Well, of all the Actions!" said Sarepta Darwin.
CHAPTER XIX"the trivial round"
I think the next month was the hardest that Kitty had to encounter in what she used afterward to call her Woful Waiting. Of course she missed Miss Johanna—I beg her pardon!—Mrs. Peters, wofully. Ever since she came back (after the first few days, that is) she had had this bright, sharp, cheery person to go to, to talk and take counsel with. I always supposed that one reason for Miss Johanna's taking to her bed was her wish to let Kitty live her own life. Indeed, she said as much one day while I was sitting with her.
"Yes!" she said, with her little brisk snap. "I see just as much of Kitty as she likes. I don't poke about in her house; I wouldn't have anybody poking about in mine. When she wants me, I am here, delighted to see her. When she doesn't—well, I am here just the same, and not downstairs under her feet. Blessings of the Bedridden, my dear. Appreciated by few, but tangible none the less."
My visit in beloved Cyrus had ended long before this, but Kitty had dropped a word now and then in her letters; and Nelly Chanter wrote me that they were all worried about her.
"She is as gay and cheery as ever, but she doesn'tlook right. I am perfectly sure she has lostpounds, though of course nothing would persuade her to be weighed. You see, that cat Cissy Sharpe got hold of a western paper somehow in Tinkham, with the account of the marriage ofThomas Leighto a rich widow, millions, marble palaces, that kind of thing. She didn'tshowKitty the paper, just told her about it in the street, and she said Kitty went white as milk and didn't say a word, just walked away, looking as if she were blind. Then she—Cissy—came to Lina and me, open-mouthed, as you can imagine: I tell you wegaveit to her! And Lina, in her quiet way, cross-examined her and got out of her that it wasLeighand notLee. Did youever, Mary? Well, the next time I saw Kitty, I managed to lead up to it—talking about Bobby and Lissy (yes, we are allveryfond of Lissy, and it isall right, though, of course, it was a blowat first, after all our hopes; but Bobby is so happy, of course we are too!) well, and so I spoke of the report, about Tom and the different spelling, said I didn't believe it was our Tom at all, and so forth and so on. She just listened, that little quiet way she has when she doesn't agree with you,—you know—her head a little on one side, looking down: and said yes, very likely. That was all I could get out of her; but, Mary, I think she has made up her mind that heisn't coming back; and I think her heart is breaking, and all ours are breaking for her."
This was partly true. Kitty did at this time make up her mind that Tom was not likely to come into herlife again; she has told me that since, and that she was very unhappy for a while; but as to breaking her heart—Nelly always was sentimental. Kitty is not. She just looked the thing straight in the face—that reminds me of something she said, that puts it all in a nutshell. It was on my first visit after her marriage, and we were talking over our sewing, sitting on the old leather sofa. She spoke of the Woful Waiting.
"It wasn't really so bad!" she said. "It was—do you remember that verse in the 'Ancient Mariner' that always frightened me so?