Her husband sighed. He had heard all this before. Inwardly he wished Mrs. Black at Scarford, or China, or anywhere, provided it was not Trumet.
His wife heard the sigh. “There, Daniel,” she said; “I won't be complaining. I try not to be. But,” she hesitated, “there is one thing I'd like to ask, now that we've got your Aunt Lavinia's three thousand: Don't you suppose I could have some new clothes; I need at least two dresses right away.”
“Why—why, I guess likely you could, Serena. Yes, course you can. You go see Sarah Loveland right off.”
Miss Loveland was the Trumet dressmaker. At the mention of her name Serena shook her head.
“I don't want Sarah to make them, Daniel,” she said. “Mrs. Black says the things she makes are awful old-fashioned; 'country,' she calls them.”
Daniel snorted. “I want to know!” he exclaimed. “Well, I remember her husband when his ma used to make his clothes out of his dad's old ones. I don't know whether they was 'country' or not, but they were the dumdest things everIsaw. Country, huh! Scarford ain't any Paris, is it? I never heard it was.”
“Well, it isn't Trumet. No, Daniel, if we could afford it, I'd like to have these dresses made up in Boston, where Gertie gets hers. Mrs. Black often speaks of Gertie's gowns; she says they are remarkably stylish, considering.”
“CONSIDERIN'! What does she mean by that?”
“Don't be cross. I suppose she meant considering that they were not as expensive as her own. DO you suppose I could go to that Boston dressmaker, Daniel?”
Captain Dan's reply was slow in coming. He hated to say no; in fact, he said it so seldom that he scarcely knew how. So he temporized.
“Well, Serena,” he began, “I—I'd like to have you; you know that. If 'twasn't for the cost I wouldn't hesitate a minute.”
“But we have that three thousand dollars.”
“Well, we ain't got all of it. Or we shan't have it long. I was footin' up what I owed—what the store owes, I mean—just now, and it come to a pretty high figure. Over twelve hundred, it was. That's GOT to be paid. Then there's Gertie's schoolin' and her board. Course, I never tell her we ain't so well off as we were. You and I agreed she shouldn't know. But it takes a lot of money and—”
Mrs. Dott sat up on the couch. Her eyes snapped. “Oh!” she cried; “money! money! money! It's always money! If only just once I had all the money I wanted, I should be perfectly happy. If I wouldn't GO IT!”
Steps sounded on the front porch, and the patent door bell clicked and clanged.
Next morning an astonishing rumor began to circulate through Trumet. It spread with remarkable quickness, and, as it spread, it grew. The Dotts had inherited money! The Dotts were rich! The Dotts were millionaires! Captain Daniel's brother had died and left him fifty thousand dollars! His brother's wife had died and left him a hundred thousand! It was not his brother's wife, but Serena's uncle who had died, and the inheritance was two hundred and fifty thousand at least. By the time the story reached Trumet Neck it seemed to be fairly certain that all the Dott relatives on both sides of the house had passed away, leaving the sole survivors of the family all the money and property in the world, with a few trifling exceptions.
Captain Dan, coming in for dinner,—one must eat, or try to eat, even though the realities of life have been blown away, and one is moving in a sort of dream, with the fear of awakening always present—Captain Dan, coming into the house for dinner, expressed his opinion of Trumet gossip mongers.
“My heavens and earth, Serena!” he cried, sinking into his chair at the table, “am I me, or somebody else? Do I know what I'm doin' or what's happened to me, or don't I?”
Serena, a transformed, flushed, excited Serena, beamed at him across the table.
“I should hope you did, Daniel,” she answered.
“Well, ifIdo, then nobody else does, and if THEY do, I don't. I've heard of more dead relations this forenoon than I ever had alive. And yarns about 'em! and about you and me! My soul and body! Say, did you know you had a cousin-in-law in Californy?”
“I? In California? Nonsense!”
“No nonsense about it. You had one and he was a lunatic or a epileptic or an epizootic or somethin', and lived in a hospital or a palace or a jail, and he was worth four millions or forty, I forget which, and fell out of an automobile or out of a balloon or out of bed—anyhow, it killed him—and—”
“Daniel Dott! DON'T talk so idiotic!”
“Humph! that's nothin' to the idiocy that's been talked to me this forenoon. I've done nothin' for the last hour but say 'No' to folks that come tearin' in to unload lies and ask questions. And some of 'em was people you'd expect to have common sense, too. My head's kind of wobbly this mornin', after the shock that hit it last night, but it's a regular Dan'l Webster's alongside the general run of heads in this town. Aunt Laviny's will has turned Trumet into an asylum, and the patients are all runnin' loose.”
“But WHAT foolishness was that about a cousin in California?”
“'Twa'n't foolishness, I tell you. You ask any one of a dozen folks you meet outside the post-office now, and they'll all tell you you had one. They might not agree whether 'twas a cousin or a grandmother or a step-child, or whether it lived in Californy or the Cape of Good Hope, but they all know it's dead now, and we've got anywheres from a postage stamp to a hogshead of diamonds. Serena, if you hear yells for help this afternoon, don't pay any attention. It'll only mean that my patience has run out and I'm tryin' to make this community short one devilish fool at least. There'll be enough left; he'll never be missed.”
“Daniel, I never saw you so worked up. You must expect people to be excited. I'm excited myself.”
The captain wiped his forehead with his napkin. “Iain't exactly a graven image, now that you mention it,” he admitted. “But you and I have got some excuse and they ain't. Haven't they been in to see you; or did you lock the doors?”
“I have had callers, of course. Mrs. Berry was here, and Mrs. Tripp, and the Cahoon girls, and Issachar Eldredge's wife. The first four pretended they came on lodge business, and the Eldredge woman to get my recipe for chocolate doughnuts; but, of course, I knew what they really came for. Daniel, HOW do you suppose the news got out so soon? I didn't tell a soul and you promised you wouldn't.”
“I didn't, neither. Probably that lawyer man dropped a hint down at the Manonquit House, and that set things goin'. Just heave over one seed of a yarn in most any hotel or boardin' house and you'll have a crop of lies next mornin' that would load a three-master. They come up in the night, like toadstools.”
“But you didn't tell anyone how much your Aunt Lavinia left us?”
“You bet I didn't. I told 'em I didn't know yet. I was cal'latin' to hire a couple of dozen men and a boy to count it, and soon's the job was finished I'd get out a proclamation. What did you tell your gang?”
“I simply said,” Serena unconsciously drew herself up and spoke with a gracious dignity; “I said they might quote me as saying it was NOT a million.”
Azuba entered from the kitchen, heaving a steaming platter.
“There!” she exclaimed, setting the dish before her employers; “I don't know as clam fritters are what rich folks ought to eat, but I done the best I could. I'm so shook up and trembly this day it's a mercy I didn't fry the platter.”
Yes, something had happened to the Dotts, something vastly more wonderful and surprising than falling heir to three thousand dollars and a silver tea-pot. When Captain Daniel shut up the Metropolitan Store the previous evening and started for the house, the bearer of the great news was on his way from the Manonquit House, where he had had supper. When Serena bewailed her fate and expressed a desire for an opportunity, he was almost at the front gate, and the ring of the bell which interrupted her conversation with her husband was the signal that Opportunity, in the person of Mr. Glenn Farwell, Junior, newest member of the firm of Shepley and Farwell, attorneys, of Boston, was at the door.
Mr. Farwell was spruce and brisk and businesslike; also he was young, a fact which he tried to conceal by a rather feeble beard, and much professional dignity of manner and expression. Occasionally, in the heat of conversation, he forgot the dignity; the beard he never forgot. Shown into the Dott sitting-room by Azuba, who, as usual, had neglected to remove her kitchen apron, he bowed politely and inquired if he had the pleasure of addressing Captain and Mrs. Daniel Abner Dott. The captain assured him that he had. Serena was too busy glaring at the apron and its wearer to remember etiquette.
“Won't you—won't you sit down, Mr. er—er—” began the captain.
Mr. Farwell introduced himself, and sat down, as requested. After a glance about the room, which took in the upright piano—purchased second-hand when Gertrude first began her music lessons—the what-not, with its array of shells, corals, miniature ships in bottles, and West Indian curiosities, and the crayon enlargement over the mantel of Captain Solon Dott, Daniel's grandfather, he proceeded directly to business.
“Captain Dott,” he said, addressing that gentleman, but bowing politely to Serena to indicate that she was included in the question, “you received a letter from our firm about a week ago, did you not?”
Captain Dan, who had scarcely recovered from his surprise at his caller's identity, shook his head. “As a matter of fact,” he stammered, “I—I only got it to-day. It came all right, that is, it got as far as the post-office, but the postmaster, he handed it over to Balaam Hamilton, to bring to me. Well, Balaam is—well, his underpinnin's all right; he wears a number eleven shoe—but his top riggin' is kind of lackin' in spots. You'd understand if you knew him. He put the letter in his pocket and—”
“Mercy!” cut in Serena, impatiently, “what do you suppose Mr. Farwell cares about Balaam Hamilton? He forgot the letter, Mr. Farwell, and we only got it this morning. That is why it hasn't been answered. What about the letter?”
The visitor did not answer directly. “I see,” he said. “That letter informed you that Mrs. Lavinia Dott—your aunt, Captain,—was dead, and that we, her legal representatives, having, as we supposed, her will in our possession, and being in charge of her affairs—”
Mrs. Dott interrupted. Her excitement had been growing ever since she learned the visitor's name and, although her husband did not notice the peculiar phrasing of the lawyer's sentence, she did.
“As you supposed?” she repeated. “You did have the will, didn't you?”
“We had a will, one which Mrs. Dott drew some eight or nine years ago. But we received word from Italy only yesterday that there was another, a much more recent one, which superseded the one in our possession. Of course, that being the case, the bequests in the former were not binding upon the estate. That is to say, our will was not a will at all.”
Serena gasped. She looked at her husband, and he at her.
“Then we—then she didn't leave us the three thousand dollars?” she cried.
“Or—or the tea-pot?” faltered Captain Dan.
Mr. Farwell smiled. He was having considerable fun out of the situation. However, it would not do to keep possibly profitable clients in suspense too long, so he broke the news he had journeyed from Boston to impart.
“She left you a great deal more than that,” he said. “In the former will, her cousin, Mr. Percy Hungerford of Scarford, was the principal legatee. He was a favorite of hers, I believe, and she left the bulk of her property—some hundred and twenty thousand dollars in securities, and her estate at Scarford—to him. But last February it appears that he and she had a falling out. He—Mr. Hungerford—is, so I am told, a good deal of a sport—ahem! that is, he is a young gentleman of fashionable and expensive tastes, and he wrote his aunt, asking for money, rather frequently. The February letter reached her when she was grouchy—er—not well, I mean, and she changed her will, practically disinheriting him. Under the new will he receives twenty thousand dollars in cash. The balance—” Mr. Farwell, who, during this long statement, had interspersed legal dignity of term with an occasional lapse into youthful idiom, now spoke with impressive solemnity,—“the balance,” he said, “one hundred thousand in money and securities, and the house at Scarford, which is valued, I believe, at thirty-five thousand more, she leaves to you, as her only other relative, Captain Dott. I am here to congratulate you and to offer you my services and those of the firm, should you desire legal advice.”
Having sprung his surprise, Mr. Farwell leaned back in his chair to enjoy the effect of the explosion. The first effect appeared to be the complete stupefaction of his hearers. Those which followed were characteristic.
“My soul and body!” gasped Captain Dan. “I—I—my land of love! And only this mornin' I was scared I couldn't pay my store bills!”
“A hundred thousand dollars!” cried Serena. “And that beautiful house at Scarford! OURS! Oh! oh! oh!”
Mr. Farwell crossed his knees. “A very handsome little windfall,” he observed, with condescension.
“We get a hundred thousand!” murmured the captain. “My! I wish Father was alive to know about it. But, say, it's kind of rough on that young Hungerford, after expectin' so much, ain't it now!”
“A hundred thousand!” breathed his wife, her hands clasped. “And that lovely house! Why, we could move to Scarford to-morrow if we wanted to! Yes, and live there! Oh—oh, Daniel! I—I don't know why I'm doing it, but I—I believe I'm going to cry.”
Her husband rushed over to the couch and threw his arm about her shoulder.
“Go ahead, old lady,” he commanded. “Cry, if you want to. I—I'm goin' to do SOMETHIN' darn ridiculous, myself!”
Thus it was that Fortune and Opportunity came to the Dott door, and it was the news of the visitation, distorted and exaggerated, which set all Trumet by the ears next day.
Azuba's clam fritters were neglected that noon, just as breakfast had been. Neither Captain Dan nor his wife had slept, and they could not eat. They pretended to, they even tried to, but one or the other was certain to break out with an exclamation or a wondering surmise, and the meal was, as the captain said, “all talk and no substantials.” They had scarcely risen from the table when the doorbell rang.
Azuba heard it and made her entrance from the kitchen. She had remembered this time to shed the offending apron, but she carried it in her hand.
“I'm a-goin',” she declared; “I'm a-goin', soon's ever I can.”
She started for the sitting-room, but the captain stepped in front of her.
“You stay right where you are,” he ordered. “I'll answer that bell myself this time.”
“Daniel,” cried his wife, “what are you going to do?”
“Do? I'm goin' to head off some more fools, that's what I'm goin' to do. They shan't get in here to pester you to death with questions, not if I can help it.”
“But, Daniel, you mustn't. You don't know who it may be.”
“I don't care.”
“Oh, dear me! What are you going to say? You mustn't insult people.”
“I shan't insult 'em. I'll tell 'em—I'll tell 'em you're sick and can't see anybody.”
“But I'm not sick.”
“Then, I am,” said Captain Dan. “They make me sick. Shut up, will you?” addressing the bell, which had rung the second time. “I'll come when I get ready.”
He seemed to be quite ready that very moment. At all events he strode from the room, and his anxious wife and the flushed Azuba heard him tramping through the front hall.
“What—WHAT is he going to do?” faltered Serena; “or say?”
Azuba shook her head. “Land knows!” she exclaimed. “I ain't seen him this way since the weasel got into the hen-house. He went for THAT with the hoe-handle. And as for what he said! Well, don't talk to ME!”
But no riot or verbal explosion followed the opening of the door. The anxious listeners in the dining-room heard voices, but they were subdued ones. A moment later Captain Dan returned. He looked troubled.
“It's Barney Black and his wife,” he answered, in a whisper. “I couldn't tell THEM to go to thunder. They're in the front room, waitin'. I suppose we'll have to see 'em, won't we?”
Mrs. Dott was hurriedly shaking the wrinkles out of her gown and patting her hair into presentable shape.
“See 'em!” she repeated. “Of course we'll see them. I declare! I think it's real kind of 'em to call. Daniel, do fix your necktie. It's way round under your ear.”
They entered the parlor, Serena, outwardly calm, in the lead and her husband following, and tugging at the refractory tie.
Mrs. and Mr. Black—scanning them in the order of their importance—rose as they appeared. Mrs. Black was large and impressive, and gorgeous to view. She did not look her age. Her husband was not as tall as his wife, and did not look his height. Annette swept forward.
“Oh, my dear Mrs. Dott,” she gushed, taking Serena's hand in her own gloved one. “We've just heard the news, Phelps and I, and we couldn't resist dropping in to congratulate you. Isn't it wonderful!”
Serena admitted that it was wonderful. “We can hardly believe it yet, ourselves,” she said. “But it was real nice of you to come. Do sit down again, won't you? Daniel, get Mr. Black a chair.”
Captain Dan and Mr. Black shook hands. “Sit down anywhere, Barney,” said the former. “Anywhere but that rocker, I mean; that's got a squeak in the leg.”
Mr. Black, who had headed for the rocker, changed his course and sank into an arm chair. The shudder with which his wife heard the word “Barney,” and the glare with which Serena favored her husband, were entirely lost upon the latter.
“We had that rocker up in the attic till last month,” he observed; “but Serena found out 'twas an antique, and antiques seem to be all the go now-a-days, though you do have to be careful of 'em. I suppose it's all right. We'll be antiques ourselves before many years, and we'll want folks to be careful of us. Hey? Ha! ha! ... Why, what's the matter, Serena?”
Mrs. Dott replied, rather sharply, that “nothing was the matter.”
“The rocker isn't very strong,” she explained, addressing Mrs. Black. “But it belonged to my great—that is, it has been in our family for a good many years and we think a great deal of it.”
Mrs. Black condescendingly expressed her opinion that the rocker was a “dear.”
“I love old-fashioned things,” she said. “So does Mr. Black. Don't you, Phelps?”
“Yes,” replied that gentleman. His love did not appear to be over-enthusiastic.
“But do tell us about your little legacy,” went on the lady. “Of course we have heard all sorts of ridiculous stories, but we know better than to believe them. Why, we even heard that you were worth a million. Naturally, THAT was absurd, wasn't it? Ha! ha!”
Captain Dan opened his mouth to reply, but his wife flashed a glance in his direction, and he closed it again.
“Yes,” said Serena, addressing Mrs. Black, “that was absurd, of course.”
“So I told Phelps. I said that the way in which these country people exaggerated such things was too funny for anything. Why, we heard that your cousin had died—that is,Iheard it was a cousin; Phelps heard it was an uncle. An uncle was what you heard, wasn't it, Phelps?”
“Yes,” said Phelps. It was his second contribution to the conversation.
“So,” went on Mrs. Black, “we didn't know which it was.”
She paused, smilingly expectant. Again Captain Dan started to speak, and again a look from his wife caused him to change his mind. Before he had quite recovered, Mrs. Black, who may have noticed the look, had turned to him.
“Wasn't it funny!” she gushed. “I don't wonder you laugh. Here was I saying it was a cousin and Phelps declaring it was an uncle. It was so odd and SO like this funny little town. Do tell us; which was it, really, Captain Dott?”
Daniel, staggering before this point blank attack, hesitated. “Why,” he stammered, “it was—it was—” He looked appealingly at Serena.
“Why don't you answer Mrs. Black?” inquired his wife, rather sharply.
“It was my Aunt Laviny,” said the captain.
Mrs. Black nodded and smiled.
“Oh! your aunt!” she exclaimed. “There! isn't that funny! And SO characteristic of Trumet. Neither an uncle nor a cousin, but an aunt. What did you say her name was?”
“Laviny?”
“Yes, I know. Laviny—what an odd name! I don't think I ever heard it before. Was the rest of it as odd as that?”
Serena, who had been fidgeting in her chair, cut in here.
“It wasn't Laviny at all,” she said. “That is only Daniel's way of pronouncing it. It is what he used to call her when he was a child. A—a sort of pet name, you know.”
“Why, Serena! how you talk! She never had any pet name, far's I ever heard. You might as well give a pet name to the Queen of Sheba. She—”
“Hush! it doesn't make any difference. Her name, Mrs. Black, was Lavinia. She was Mrs. Lavinia Dott, and her husband was James Dott, Daniel's father's brother. I shouldn't wonder if you knew her. She has spent most of her time in Europe lately, but her home, her American home, was where you live, in Scarford.”
This statement caused a marked sensation. Mrs. Black gasped audibly, and leaned back in her chair. B. Phelps evinced his first sign of interest.
“What!” he exclaimed. “Mrs. Lavinia Dott, of Scarford? You don't say! Why, of course we knew her; that is, we knew who she was. Everybody in Scarford did. Her place is one of the finest in town.”
Serena bowed. Life, for her, had not offered many sweeter moments than this.
“Yes,” she said, calmly, “so we understand. The place—er—that is, the estate—is a PART—” she emphasized the word—“a PART of what she left to my husband.”
“Great Scott!” exclaimed Mr. Black. His wife said nothing, but her face was a study.
Captain Dan crossed his knees.
“I remember seein' that place after Uncle Jim first built it,” he observed, reminiscently. “I tell you it looked big enough to me! I was only a young feller, just begun goin' to sea, and that house looked big as a town hall, you might say. Ho! ho! when I got inside and was sittin' in the front parlor, I declare I was all feet and hands! didn't know what to do with 'em.... Hey? did you speak, Serena?”
“I was only going to say,” replied his wife, “that that was a good while ago, of course. You have been about the world and seen a great deal since. Things look different after we grow up, don't they, Mrs. Black?”
Annette's composure, a portion of it, had returned by this time. Nevertheless, there was an odd note in her voice.
“They do, indeed,” she said. “I remember the Dott house, of course. It was very fine, I believe, in its day.”
Her husband interrupted. “In its day!” he repeated. “Humph! there's nothing the matter with it now, that I can see. I wish I had as good. Why—”
“Phelps!” snapped Annette, “don't be silly. Mrs. Dott understands what I meant to say. The place is very nice, very attractive, indeed. Perhaps some might think it a bit old-fashioned, but that is a matter of taste.”
“Humph! it's on the best street in town. As for being old-fashioned—I thought you just said you loved old-fashioned things. That's what she said, wasn't it, Dan?”
Mrs. Black's gloved fingers twitched, but she ignored the remark entirely. Daniel, too, did not answer, although he smiled in an uncertain fashion. It was Serena who spoke.
“I haven't any doubt it is lovely,” she said. “We're just dying to see it, Daniel and I. I hope you can be with us when we do, Mrs. Black. You might suggest some improvements, you know.”
“Improvements!” the visitor repeated the word involuntarily. “Improvements! You're not going to LIVE there, are you?”
“I don't know. We may. Now, Daniel, don't argue. You know we haven't made up our minds yet what we shall do. And Scarford is a beautiful city. Mrs. Black has told us so ever so many times. What were you going to say, Mrs. Black?”
The lady addressed looked as if she would like to say several things, particularly to her husband, who was grinning maliciously. But what she did was to smile, a smile of gracious sweetness, and agree that Scarford was beautiful.
“And so is the place, my dear Mrs. Dott,” she added. “A very charming, quaint old house. But—you'll excuse my saying so, won't you; you know Phelps and I have had some experience in keeping up a city estate—don't you think it might prove rather expensive for you to maintain?”
Serena's armor was not even dented. “Oh,” she said, lightly, “that wouldn't trouble us, I'm sure. Really, we've hardly thought of the expense. The Scarford place wasn't ALL that Aunt Lavinia left us, Mrs. Black.”
“Indeed!” rather feebly, “wasn't it?”
“My goodness, no! But there! I mustn't talk about ourselves and our affairs any more. Have you seen the lodge rooms to-day? I must find time to run down there this afternoon for a last look around. I want this open meeting to go off nicely. Who knows—well, I may not have the care of the next one.”
Azuba appeared in the doorway.
“The minister and his wife's comin',” she announced.
Mrs. Dott turned.
“The minister and his wife?” she repeated. “The bell hasn't rung, has it? How do you know they're coming here?”
“See 'em through the window,” replied Azuba, cheerfully. “They was at the gate quite a spell. She was gettin' her hat straight, and he was helpin' her. Here they be,” as the callers' footsteps sounded on the porch. “Shall I let 'em in?”
“Let them in! Why, of course! Why shouldn't you let them in?”
“Well, I didn't know. The way the cap'n was talkin' when you was havin' dinner, I thought—oh, that reminds me,” addressing the horror stricken Daniel, “Sam was in just now and wanted you to come right out to the store. Ezra Taylor's there and he wants another pair of them checkered overalls, same as he had afore.”
That evening when, having closed the Metropolitan Store at an early hour, the captain and his wife were on their way to the lodge meeting, Daniel voiced a feeling of perplexity which had disturbed his mind ever since the Blacks' call.
“Say, Serena,” he asked, “ain't you and Barney Black's wife friends any more?”
“Why, of course we're friends. What a question that is.”
“Humph! didn't seem to me you acted much like friends this afternoon. Slappin' each other back and forth—”
“Slappin' each other! Have you lost your brains altogether? What DO you mean?”
“I don't mean slappin' each other side of the head. 'Tain't likely I meant that. But the way you talked to each other—and the way you looked. And when 'twa'n't her it was me. She as much as asked you four or five times who it was that had died and you wouldn't tell, so, of course, I supposed you didn't want to. And yet, when she asked me and I was backin' and fillin', tryin' to get off the shoals, you barked out why didn't I 'answer her'? That may be sense, but I don't see it, myself.”
Serena laughed and squeezed his arm with her own.
“Did I bark?” she asked. “I'm sorry; I didn't mean to. But it did make me cross to have her come sailing in, in that high and mighty way—”
“It's the same way she always sails. I never saw her when she didn't act as if she was the only clipper in the channel and small craft better get out from under her bows.”
“I know, you never did like her, although she has been so kind and nice to me and to Gertrude. Why, we, and the minister's family, and Doctor Bradstreet's people, are the only ones, except the summer folks, that she has anything to do with.”
The captain muttered that he knew it but that THAT didn't make him like her any better. His wife continued.
“I was a little put out by her to-day,” she admitted. “You see, she was SO anxious to find out things, and SO sure we couldn't be very rich, and SO certain we couldn't keep up Aunt Lavinia's big house, that—that I just had to give her as good as she sent.”
Daniel chuckled. “You did that all right,” he said.
“But I wouldn't hurt her feelings—really hurt them—for the world. I like her and admire her, and I am sure she likes me.”
“Humph! All right; only next time you get to admirin' each other I'm goin' out. That kind of admiration makes me nervous. I heard you admirin' Zuba out in the kitchen just before we left.”
“Azuba makes me awfully out of patience. She won't do what I tell her; she will wear her apron to the door; she will talk when she shouldn't. Just think what she said about you when the minister called. It was just Providence, and nothing else, that kept her from telling the Blacks what you said and how you acted at dinner. That's it—laugh! I expected you'd think it was funny.”
“Well, I give in that it does seem kind of funny to me, now, though it didn't when she started to say it. But you can't stop Zuba talkin' any more than you can a poll parrot. She means well; she's awful good-hearted—yes, and sensible, too, in her way.”
“I can't help it. She's got to learn her place. Just think of having her up there at Scarford, behaving as she does.”
The captain caught his breath.
“Scarford!” he repeated. “At Scarford! Look here, Serena, what are you talkin' about? You didn't mean what you said to that Black woman about our goin' to Scarford to live?”
“I don't know that I didn't. There! there! don't get excited. I don't say I do mean it, either. Aunt Lavinia's left us that lovely house, hasn't she? We've got it on our hands, haven't we? What are we going to do with it?”
“Why—why, I—I was cal'latin' we'd probably sell it, maybe. We've got our own place here in Trumet. We don't want two places, do we?”
“We might sell this one, at a pinch. No, Daniel, I don't know what we shall do yet awhile. But, one thing I AM sure of—you and I will go to Scarford and LOOK at that house, if nothing more. Now, don't argue, please. We're almost at the meeting. Be sure you don't tell anyone how much money we've got or anything about it. They'll all ask, of course, and they'll all talk about us, but you must expect that. Our position in life has altered, Daniel, and rich folks are always looked at and talked over. Are your shoes clean? Did you bring a handkerchief? Be sure and don't applaud too much when I'm speaking, because last time I was told that Abigail Mayo said if she was married and had a husband she wouldn't order him to clap his hands half off every time his wife opened her mouth. She isn't married and ain't likely to be, but.... Oh, Mrs. Black, I'm SO glad to see you! It's real lovely of you to come so early.”
Daniel Dott, as has been intimated, did not share his wife's love for lodge meetings. He attended them because she did, and wished him to, but he was not happy while they were going on. At this one he was distinctly unhappy. He saw Serena and Annette Black exchange greetings as if the little fencing match of the afternoon had been but an exchange of compliments. He saw the two ladies go, arm in arm, to the platform, where sat the “Boston delegates.” He nodded to masculine acquaintances in the crowd, other captives chained, like himself, to their wives' and daughters' chariot wheels. He heard the applause which greeted Serena's opening speech of introduction. He heard the Boston delegates speak, and Mrs. Black's gracious response to the request for a few words from the president of our Scarford Chapter. He heard it all, but, when it was over, he could not have repeated a sentence of all those which had reached his ears.
No, Captain Dan was not happy at this, the most successful “open meeting” ever held by the Trumet Chapter of the Guild of Ladies of Honor. He was thinking, and thinking hard. Aunt Lavinia's will had changed their position in life, so Serena had said. She had said other things, also, and he was beginning, dimly, to realize what they might mean.
“SCARFORD!” screamed the brakeman, throwing open the car door. “Scarford!”
Mrs. Dott, umbrella in hand, was already in the aisle. Captain Dan, standing between the seats, was struggling to get the suitcase down from the rack above. It was a brand-new suitcase. Serena had declared that their other, the one which had accompanied them on various trips to Boston during the past eight years, was altogether too shabby. She had insisted on buying another, and, the stock in the store not being good enough, had selected this herself from the catalog of a Boston manufacturer. Her umbrella, silk with a silver handle, was new also. So was her hat, her gown and her shoes. So, too, was the captain's hat, and his suit and light overcoat. There was a general air of newness about the Dotts, so apparent, particularly on Daniel's part, that various passengers had nudged each other, winked, and whispered surmises concerning recent marriage and a honeymoon trip.
The suitcase, the buckle of which had caught in the meshes of the rack, giving way, came down unexpectedly and with a thump on the seat. The captain hurriedly lifted it. A stifled laugh from the occupants of adjacent seats reached Serena's ears.
“What is it?” she demanded impatiently. “Aren't you coming? Do hurry.”
“I—I'm comin',” stammered her husband, thrusting his fist into the new hat which, as it lay on the seat, had received the weight of the falling suitcase. “I'm comin'. Go ahead! I'll be right along.”
He pounded the battered “derby” into more or less presentable shape, clapped it on his head, and, suitcase in hand, followed his wife.
Through the crowd on the platform they passed, through the waiting room and out to the sidewalk. There Captain Dan put down the case, gave the maltreated hat a brush with his sleeve, and looked about him.
“Lively place, ain't it, Serena?” he observed. “Whew! that valise is heavy. Well, where's the next port of call?”
“We'll go to the hotel first. Oh, dear, it's a shame things happened so we had to come now. In another fortnight the Blacks would have been here and we could have gone right to their house. Mrs. Black felt dreadfully about it. She said so ever so many times.”
The captain made no answer. If he had doubts concerning the depths of the Blacks' sorrow he kept them to himself. Picking up the suitcase, he stepped forward to the curb.
“Where are you going?” demanded his wife.
“Why, to the hotel. That's where you wanted to go, wasn't it?”
“Certainly; but how were you going? You don't know where it is.”
“No, so I don't. But I can hail one of those electrics and ask the conductor to stop when he got to it. He'd know where 'twas, most likely.”
“Electric” is the Down East term for trolley car, lines of which were passing and repassing the station. Daniel waved his disengaged hand to the conductor of the nearest. The car stopped.
“Wait a minute,” said Serena quickly. “How do you know that car is going the right way?”
“Hey? Well, of course I don't know, but—”
“Of course you don't. Besides, we don't want to go in an electric. We must take a carriage.”
“A carriage? A hack, you mean. What do we want to do that for?”
“Because it's what everyone does.”
“No, they don't. Look at all the folks on that electric now. Besides, we—”
“Hi there!” shouted the conductor of the car angrily. “Brace up! Get a move on, will you?”
Mrs. Dott regarded him with dignity.
“We're not coming,” she said. “You can go right along.”
The car proceeded, the conductor commenting freely and loudly, and the passengers on the broad grin.
“Now, Daniel,” said Serena, “you get one of those carriages and we'll go as we ought to. I know we've always gone in the electrics when we were in Boston, but then we didn't feel as if we could afford anything else. Now we can. And don't stop to bargain about the fare. What is fifty cents more or less to US?”
The captain shook his head, but he obeyed orders. A few minutes later they were seated in a cab, drawn by a venerable horse and driven by a man with a hooked nose, and were moving toward the Palatine House, the hostelry recommended by Mrs. Black as the finest in Scarford.
“There!” said Serena, leaning back against the shabby cushions, “this is better than an electric, isn't it? And when we get to the hotel you'll see the difference it will make in the way they treat us. Mrs. Black says there is everything in a first impression. If people judge by your looks that you're no account they'll treat you that way. But what were you and the driver having such a talk about?”
Captain Dan grinned. “I got the name of the hotel wrong at first,” he admitted. “I called it the Palestine House instead of the other thing. The driver thought I was makin' fun of him. It ain't safe to mention Palestine to a feller with a nose like that.”
The Palatine House was new and gorgeous; built in the hope of attracting touring automobilists, it was that dreary mistake, a cheap imitation of the swagger metropolitan article. Scarford was not a metropolis, and the imitation in this case was a particularly poor one. However, to the Dotts, its marble-floored lobby and gilded pillars and cornices were grand and imposing. Their room on the third floor looked out upon the street below, and if the view of shops and signs and trucks and trolleys was not beautiful it was, at least, distinctly different from any view in Trumet.
Serena gloried in it.
“Ah!” she sighed, “this is something like. THIS is life! There's something going on here, Daniel. Don't you feel it?”
Daniel was counting his small change.
“What say?” he asked.
His wife repeated her question, raising her voice to carry above the noises of the street.
“Feel it! Yes, yes; and hear it, too. How we're ever goin' to sleep with all that hullabaloo outside I don't know. Don't you suppose we could get a quieter room than this, Serena?”
“I don't want a quiet room. I don't want to sleep. I feel as if I'd been asleep all my life. Now, thank goodness, I am where people are really awake. What are you doing with that money?”
“Oh, just lookin' at it, while I can. I shan't have the chance very long, if the other folks in this town are like that hack driver. A dollar to drive half a mile in that hearse! Why, the whole shebang wa'n't worth more than two dollars, to buy. And then he had the cheek to ask me to give him 'a quarter for himself.'”
“Yes, that was his tip. We must expect that. Gertrude says she always has to tip the servants and drivers and such at college. Did you give it to him?”
“Who? Me? I told him I was collectin' for a museum, and I'd give him a quarter for the horse, just as it stood—or WHILE it stood. I said he'd better take the offer pretty quick because the critter looked as if 'twould lay down most any minute.”
He chuckled. Serena, however, was very solemn.
“Daniel,” she said, “I must speak to you again about your language. You've lived in Trumet so long that you talk just like Azuba, or pretty nearly as bad. You mustn't say 'critter' and 'wa'n't' and 'cal'late.' Do try, won't you, to please me?”
“I'll try, Serena. But I don't see what difference it makes. We DO live in Trumet, don't we?”
“We HAVE lived there. How long we shall—But there, never mind. Just remember as well as you can and get ready now for dinner.”
Her husband muttered that he didn't see where the “getting ready” came in; he had on the best he'd got. But he washed his hands and brushed his hair and they descended to the dining-room, where they ate a 'table d'hote' meal, beginning with lukewarm soup and ending with salty ice cream.
They had left Trumet the previous evening, spending the night at Centreboro and taking the early morning train for Scarford. Two weeks had passed since the fateful visit of young Mr. Farwell, and, though the wondrous good fortune which had befallen the Dott family was still wonderful, they were beginning to accept it as a real and established fact. All sorts of things had happened during those two weeks. They had gone to Boston, where they spent the better part of two days with the lawyers, going over the lists of securities, signing papers, and arranging all sorts of business matters. Serena and the attorneys did the most of the arranging. Captain Dan looked on, understanding very little, saying “Yes” or “No” as commanded by his wife, and signing his name whenever and wherever requested.
After another day, spent in the Boston shops, where the new clothes were purchased or ordered, a process which Serena enjoyed hugely and her husband endured with a martyr's patience, they had paid a flying visit to the college town and Gertrude. They found the young lady greatly excited and very happy, but her happiness was principally on their account.
“I'm so glad for you both, Daddy,” she told her father. “When I got Mother's letter with the news the very first thing I thought was: 'There! now Father won't have to worry any more about the old store or anything else. He can be comfortable and carefree and happy, as he deserves to be.' And you won't worry, will you, Dad?”
The captain seemed oddly doubtful.
“I shan't if I can help it,” he said. “But I'm the most foolish chap that ever lived, in some ways, seems so. When the business was so I had to worry about it all the time I used to set up nights wishin' I didn't own it. Now that we're fixed so it don't make much difference whether I get a profit or not, I find myself frettin' and wonderin' how Nathaniel and Sam are gettin' along. I wake up guessin' how much they've sold since I've been away, and whether we're stuck on those canvas hats and those middy blouses and one thing or 'nother, same as I was afraid we'd be. I've only been away three days altogether, but it seems about a year.”
Gertrude smiled and shook her head.
“Why don't you sell out?” she asked. “Or would no one buy? I presume that's it.”
“No-o, that ain't it. I don't wonder you think so, but it ain't. Cohen—the fellow that owns the Emporium—was in only the day afore we left, hintin' around about my retirin' and so on. He didn't make any real bid for the business, but he as much as said he'd consider buyin' me out if I'd sell. Your mother, she'd give me fits if she knew it. She wants me to sell; but—but somehow I can't make up my mind to. I've been so used to goin' out to that store every mornin' and—and havin' it on my mind that somehow I hate to give it up. Seems like cuttin' my anchor rope, as you might say.”
“I understand. I shall feel much the same, I know, when I graduate and my college work is over. I shall be lost for a time without it; or I should be if it were not for John and—and my other plans. But, whether you keep the store or not, you mustn't worry any more, Daddy dear. Nathaniel is a clever, able fellow; every one says so. You were fortunate to get him. Why don't you engage him permanently? With his experience, he might make a real success of the business. Who knows?”
He could not possibly make less of a success than the captain had made, that was fairly certain, although she did not say so. Nathaniel Bangs was a Trumet young man who had been getting on well with a little business of his own in Brockton, but who, owing to ill health, had been obliged to return to the Cape the year before. Then, health much improved, he was very glad of the opportunity to take charge of the Metropolitan Store during its owners' short absence. Serena had thought of him, and Serena had hired him.
Captain Dan's real reason for not selling out to the astute Mr. Cohen he had kept to himself. His wife's hints concerning Scarford and her discontent in Trumet were his reasons. These were what troubled him most. He liked Trumet; he liked its quiet, easy-going atmosphere; he liked the Trumet people, and they liked him. He had never been in Scarford, but he was certain he should not like the life there, the kind of life lived by the B. Phelps Blacks, at any rate. The Metropolitan Store was, he felt, an anchor holding him fast to the Cape Cod village. If he cut the anchor rope, goodness knows where he might drift.
On the very day of their return from the Boston trip Serena had begun to discuss the visit to Scarford, the visit of inspection to Aunt Lavinia's “estate.” They must go, she said; of course they must go. It was their duty to do that, at least. How could they know what to do with the property until they saw it? To all Daniel's feeble objections and excuses she was deaf. Of course they could leave the house. Azuba would take care of that, just as she always did when they were away. As for the store, Nathaniel would be glad to remain as manager indefinitely if they wanted him. Surely he had done splendidly with it while they were in Boston.
He had. During the four days' absence of its proprietor the Metropolitan Store had actually sold more goods for cash than it had sold during any previous week that summer. Bangs was optimistic concerning its prospects. He was loaded with schemes and ideas.
“All you need is a little push and up-to-date methods, Cap'n,” he said. “You must advertise a little, and let people know what you've got to sell. That's how I got rid of all that stale candy you had in the boxes behind the showcase. I knew the Methodist folks had a Sunday school picnic on the slate for Tuesday. Kids like candy, but candy costs money. I got out all that stale stuff, put it up in bags at five cents apiece, and sent the bags and Sam here to the picnic. About every kid had ten cents or so to spend, and it didn't make any difference to him or her whether the candy was fresh or not, so there was enough of it. If a chocolate cream is harder than the rock of Gibraltar it lasts longer when you're eating it, and that's a big advantage to the average young one. Sam came back, sold out, and we've got four dollars and eighty cents right out of the junk pile, as you might call it. The kids are happy and so are we. There's a half-dozen dried-up oilskin coats in the attic that I've got my eye on. The Manonquit House crowd are going off on a final codfishing cruise to-morrow and I'll be on the dock with those coats at a dollar apiece when they sail.”
“But—but those coats are old as Methuselah,” faltered the captain. “They'll leak, won't they?”
“Not if it's fair weather, they won't. And, if it's rough, they're better than nothing. You can't expect a mackintosh for a dollar.”
Daniel's method would have been to refuse selling the coats because they “wouldn't be much good in a no'theaster.” When the codfishers returned, enthusiastic because, although it had “drizzled” for fifteen minutes, they had not gotten wet, he scratched his head and regarded his new assistant with awe. Mr. Bangs' services were retained, “for a spell, anyhow,” and the captain's principal excuse for not visiting Scarford was knocked in the head. To Scarford they went, and at the Palatine Hotel in Scarford they now were.
The 'table d'hote' meal eaten, the next feature of Mrs. Dott's program was the visit to the Aunt Lavinia homestead. There was a caretaker in charge, so the Boston lawyers told them, and Serena had written him announcing the coming of the new owners. In spite of her husband's protestations, another carriage was hired for the journey. Daniel was strongly in favor of walking or going by trolley.
“Walkin'll be cheaper, Serena,” he declared, “and pretty nigh as fast, to say nothin' of bein' more cheerful. A hack always makes me think of funerals and graveyards, and that skeleton of a horse looked like somethin' that had been buried and dug up. Let's walk, will you?”
But Serena would not walk.
“We must get used to carriages,” she said. “We may ride in them a great deal from now on. And, besides, we needn't take a horse carriage. We shouldn't have taken one before. Get one of those new kind, the automobile ones. What is it they call them? Oh, yes—taxis.”
The taxi gave no opportunity for complaint as far as slowness was concerned. After the first quarter of a mile dodge up the crowded street Captain Dan shouted through the window.
“Hi!” he hailed, addressing the driver. “Hi, you! You've made a mistake, ain't you? You thought we wanted to fly. We don't. Just hit the ground once in a while, so we'll know it's there.”
After this the cab moved at a more reasonable speed and its occupants had an opportunity to observe the streets through which they were passing. The business district was being left behind and they were entering the residential section.
Mrs. Dott seized her husband's arm.
“Look!” she cried. “Look, Daniel, quick! Do you see that? That building there!”
“I see it. Some kind of a hall or somethin', ain't it?”
“Yes. And I'm quite sure, from what Mrs. Black said, that it is the hall where the Scarford Guild meets. Yes, it's just as she said it was. I'm SURE that's it. Oh, I'm glad I've seen it! Yes, and Mrs. Black said they lived not very far from the hall. Daniel! Daniel! ask the man if he knows where the Blacks live and if he can show us their house.”
Captain Dan obediently made the inquiry.
“Who?” grunted the driver. “Which Black? Black and Cobb, the Wee Waist Corset feller? Sure! I know where he lives. I'll show you.”
A few moments later the cab slackened its speed.
“There you are!” said the driver, pointing. “That's Black's house. Built two years ago, 'twas.”
Serena and Daniel looked. The house was new and commodious, a trifle ornate in decoration, perhaps, and a bit mixed in architecture, owing to Mrs. Black's insisting upon the embodiment of various features which she had seen in magazines; but on the whole a rather fine house. To the Dotts, of course, it was a mansion.
“My!” said Serena, “to think of our knowing, really knowing, people who live in a house like that! Oh, dear!” with a sigh, “I almost wish I hadn't seen it until after we'd seen our own. We must try not to be disappointed, mustn't we?”
Captain Dan was surprised. “Disappointed?” he said. “Why, what do you mean? As I recollect Aunt Laviny's place, 'twas just as good as that, if not better. You said so yourself. You used to call it a regular palace.”
“I know, but don't you think that was because we hadn't seen many fine houses then? I'm afraid that was it. You know Mrs. Black said it was old-fashioned.”
“Humph! Barney—What's his name? Phelps, I mean—he said he wished his was as good. Don't you remember he did?”
“Probably he didn't mean it. I'm not going to expect too much, anyway. I'm going to try and think of it as just a nice old place, and then I shan't feel bad when I see it. I'm not going to get my expectations up or be a bit excited.”
In proof of the sincerity of this determination, she sat bolt upright on the seat and looked straight before her. Her husband, however, was staring out of the window with all his might.
“Say!” he exclaimed, “this is a mighty nice street, anyhow.”
“Is it? Is it really?” For a person not excited, Mrs. Dott's breathing was short and her fingers, tightly clasped in her lap, were trembling.
“You bet it is! Hey! Why, we're slowin' up! We're stoppin'.”
The cab drew up at the curb and came to a standstill.
“Here you are,” said the driver. “This is Number 180.”
Daniel made no reply. Leaning from the window, he was staring with all his might. Serena's impatience got the better of her.
“Well? WELL?” she burst forth. “What does it look like? Do say something!”
The captain drew back into the carriage.
“My—soul!” he exclaimed presently. “Look, Serena.”
Serena looked, and her look was a long one. Then, her face flushed and her eyes shining, she turned to her husband.
“Oh! Oh, Daniel!” she gasped. “It's as good as the Blacks', isn't it? I—I do believe it's better! Get out, quick!”
The caretaker, a middle-aged man with dark hair and mutton-chop whiskers, met them at the top of the stone steps leading to the front door. He bowed low.
“Good afternoon, ma'am,” he said. “Good afternoon, sir. Mr. Dott, ain't it, sir? And Mrs. Dott, ma'am. My name is 'Apgood, sir. I was expecting you. Will you be so good as to walk in?”
He threw open the door and, bowing once more, ushered them into the hall, a large, old-fashioned hall with lofty ceiling and a mahogany railed staircase.
“I presume, sir,” he said, addressing the captain, “that you and the madam would wish to 'ave me show you about a bit. I was Mrs. Dott's—the late Mrs. Dott's—butler when she resided 'ere, sir, and she was good enough to make me 'er caretaker when she went away, sir.”
Captain Dan, rather overawed by Mr. Hapgood's magnificent manner, observed that he wanted to know, adding that he had heard about the caretaking from the lawyers “up to Boston.” After an appraising glance at the speaker, Mr. Hapgood addressed his next remark to Serena.
“Shall I show you about the establishment, madam?” he asked.
Serena's composure was a triumph. An inexperienced observer might have supposed she had been accustomed to butlers and establishments all her life.
“Yes,” she said loftily, “you can show us.”
Mr. Hapgood was a person of wide experience; however, he merely bowed and led the way. Serena followed him, and Captain Dan followed Serena.
A large drawing-room, a library, a very large dining-room, five large bedrooms—“owners' and guest rooms,” Mr. Hapgood grandly termed them, to distinguish from the servants' quarters at the rear—billiard room, bathroom, and back to the hall again.
“You would wish to see the kitchens, I suppose, ma'am,” said Mr. Hapgood. “Doubtless Mr. Dott wouldn't care for those, sir. Most gentlemen don't. Perhaps, sir, you'd sit 'ere while the lady and I go through the service portion of the 'ouse, sir.”
Daniel, who was rather curious to see the “service portion,” partly because he had never heard of one before, hesitated. His wife, however, settled the question. She was conscious of a certain condescension in the Hapgood tone.
“Of course,” she said lightly, “Cap'n Dott will not go to the—er—service portion. Such things never interest him. Sit here, Daniel, and wait. Now—” cutting off just in time the “Mister” that was on the tip of her tongue and remembering how butlers in novels were invariably addressed—“Now—er—Hapgood, you can take me to the—ahem—kitchens.”
It was somewhat disappointing to find that the plural was merely a bit of verbal embroidery on the caretaking butler's part, and that there was but one kitchen, situated in the basement. However, it was of good size and well furnished with closets, the contents of which stirred Serena's housekeeping curiosity. The inspection of the kitchen and laundry took some time.
Meanwhile, upstairs in the dim front hall, Captain Dan sat upon a most uncomfortable carved teak-wood chair and looked about him. Through the doorway leading to the drawing-room—“front parlor,” he would have called it—he could see the ebony grand piano, the ormolu clock, and the bronze statuettes on the marble mantel, the buhl cabinet filled with bric-a-brac, the heavy mahogany-framed and silk-covered sofa. There were oil paintings on the walls, paintings which foreign dealers, recognizing Aunt Lavinia's art craving as a gift of Providence—to them—had sold her at high prices. They were, for the most part, landscapes, inclining strongly to snow-covered mountains, babbling brooks, and cows; or marines in which one-third of vivid sunset illumined two-thirds of placid sea. Of portraits there were two, Uncle Jim Dott in black broadcloth and dignity and Aunt Lavinia Dott in dignity and black satin.
Captain Dan felt strangely out of place alone amid this oppressive grandeur. Again, as on the memorable occasion of his first visit to the house, he was conscious of his hands and feet. Aunt Lavinia's likeness, staring stonily and paintily from the wall, seemed to regard him with disapproval, almost as if she were reading his thoughts. If the portrait could have spoken he might have expected it to say: “Here is the person upon whom all these, my worldly possessions, have been bestowed, and he does not appreciate them. There he sits, upon the teakwood chair which I myself bought in Cairo, and, so far from being grateful for the gifts which my generosity has poured into his lap, he is wondering what in the world to do with them, and wishing himself back in Trumet.”
Mrs. Dott and the caretaker reentered the hall.
“Thank you, Mr.—er—Thank you, Hapgood,” said the lady. “That will be all for to-day, I think. We will go now. Come, Daniel.”
Hapgood bowed. “You would wish me to stay 'ere as I've done, ma'am?” he asked.
“Yes. You may stay, for the present. Cap'n Dott and I will pay your regular wages as long as we need you.”
“Thank you kindly, ma'am. And might I take the liberty of saying that if you decide to stay 'ere permanently, ma'am, and need a butler or a manservant about the place, I should be glad to 'ave you consider me for the position. I'm sure it would 'ave pleased the late Mrs. Dott to 'ave you do so, ma'am.”
“Well,” said the captain, with surprising promptness for him, “you see, Mr. Hapgood, as far as that goes we ain't intendin' to—”
“Hush, Daniel. We don't know what we intend. You know that our plans are not settled as yet. We will consider the matter, Hapgood. Good day.”
“Good day, ma'am,” said Hapgood. “Good day, sir.”
He opened the big front door, bowed them out, and stood respectfully waiting as they descended the steps. The taxi driver, whom the captain had neglected to discharge or pay, was still there at the curb with his vehicle. Serena addressed him.
“The Palatine Hotel,” she said, with great distinctness. “Come, Daniel.”
They entered the cab. Captain Dan closed the door. The driver, looking up at Mr. Hapgood, grinned broadly. The latter gentleman glanced at the cab window to make sure that his visitors were not watching him, then he winked.
As the cab whizzed through the streets Serena gloated over the splendors of their new possessions. The house was finer than she expected, the furniture was so rich and high-toned, the pictures—did Daniel notice the pictures?
“And the location!” she cried ecstatically. “Right on the very best street in town, and yet, so the Hapgood man said, convenient to the theaters and the clubs and the halls. We saw the Ladies of Honor hall on the way up, Daniel, you remember.”
Daniel nodded. “Yes,” he admitted, “it's fine and convenient and all. We”—with a sidelong glance at his wife's face—“we ought to get a good rent for it if we decide not to sell; hey, Serena?”
Serena did not answer. When they reached the hotel she left her husband to settle with the driver and took the elevator to their room. A few minutes later the captain joined her. He looked as if suffering from shock.
“My heavens and earth, Serena!” he exclaimed, “what do you suppose that tax hack feller had the cheek to—”
“Sshh! shh!” interrupted the lady, who was reclining upon the couch. “Don't bother me now, Daniel. I don't want to be bothered with common every-day things now; I want to think.”
“Common! Everyday! My soul and body! if what that pirate charged me was everyday, I'd be in the poorhouse in a fortni't. Why—”
“Oh, don't! Please don't! Can't you see I am trying to realize that it's true and not a dream. That it has really happened—to ME. Please don't talk. Do go away, can't you? Just go out and take a walk, or something; just for a little while. I want to be alone.”
Captain Dan slowly descended the stairs. The elevator, of course, would have been quicker, but he was in no hurry. If he must walk, and it seemed that he must, he might as well begin at once. He descended the stairs to the ground floor of the hotel and wandered aimlessly about through the lobby into the billiard room, and finally to a plate glass door upon which was lettered the word “Rathskeller.”