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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/29284-h.zip b/29284-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ac62173 --- /dev/null +++ b/29284-h.zip diff --git a/29284-h/29284-h.htm b/29284-h/29284-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..087dfd0 --- /dev/null +++ b/29284-h/29284-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1942 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of An Encore, by Margaret Deland + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} +.olde2 { + font-family: "Old English Text MT", serif; font-size: 1.8em;} +.olde { + font-family: "Old English Text MT", serif; font-size: 3em;} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + text-indent: 1em; +} + +p.cap { + text-indent: 0em;} +p.cap:first-letter { + float: left; clear: left; + margin: -0.2em 0.1em -0.2em 0; + padding:0; + line-height: 1.2em; font-size: 250%; } +.noi {text-indent: 0em;} + +hr { margin: 5em auto 3em auto; + height: 0px; + border-width: 1px 0 0 0; + border-style: solid; + border-color: #a0522d; + width: 30em; + clear: both; +} +hr.hr2 {width: 15em; margin: 2em auto 3em auto;} + +hr.hr3 {width: 3em; margin: 1em auto 1em auto;} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + border-collapse: collapse; border-spacing: 0; +} + +td {vertical-align: top;} +td.tdl {text-align: left; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; padding-bottom: 1em; padding-right: 1em;} +td.tdr {text-align: right;} + +.em {font-style: italic;} + +.pagenum {/* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /*visibility: hidden;*/ + position: absolute; + left: 1em; + font-size: 10px; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + font-style: normal; + letter-spacing: normal; + text-indent: 0em; + text-align: right; + color: #999999; + background-color: #ffffff; +} /* page numbers */ + +.box {border: solid 1px; + margin: 5em auto 5em auto; padding: 0 1em 0 1em; + text-align: center; width: 24em;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +.caption {font-size: .9em;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: 5em auto 3em auto; + text-align: center; +} +.jpg {border: 1px solid #a0522d;} + +/* Title page */ +.tp {text-indent: 0em; text-align: center; line-height: 2em;} +.tphead1 {font-size: 3em; word-spacing: .5em; letter-spacing: .1em;} +.author {font-size: 1.5em; word-spacing: .5em; letter-spacing: .1em;} +.illus {font-size: 1.2em; word-spacing: .5em; letter-spacing: .1em;} +.illus2 {font-size: 2em; word-spacing: .5em; letter-spacing: .1em;} +.pub {font-size: 1.2em;} + + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of An Encore, by Margaret Deland + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: An Encore + +Author: Margaret Deland + +Release Date: July 1, 2009 [EBook #29284] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN ENCORE *** + + + + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Roberta Staehlin, Joseph Cooper +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<hr /> + +<h1 class="olde">An Encore</h1> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" class="jpg" width="400" height="629" alt="Cover" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a name="frontis" id="frontis"></a> +<img src="images/i094.jpg" class="jpg" width="400" height="583" alt="Frontispiece" +title="See page 4" /><br /><br /> +<span class="caption"><small>[See page 4</small><br /><br /> + +WHEN ALFRED PRICE FELL IN LOVE WITH MISS LETTY MORRIS</span> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/title.jpg" class="jpg" width="400" height="620" alt="Title Page" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="tp"><span class="olde tphead1">An Encore</span><br /> +<br /> +BY<br /> +<span class="author">MARGARET DELAND</span><br /> +AUTHOR OF<br /> +<small>“THE AWAKENING OF HELENA RICHIE”<br /> +“DR. LAVENDER’S PEOPLE”<br /> +“OLD CHESTER TALES”<br /> +ETC. ETC.<br /></small> +<br /> +ILLUSTRATED BY<br /> +<span class="illus">ALICE BARBER STEPHENS</span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<small>NEW YORK AND LONDON</small><br /> +<big>HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS</big><br /> +<small>MCMVII</small></p> + + + + +<div class="box"> +<h4>Copyright, 1904, 1907, by <span class="smcap">Harper & Brothers</span>.</h4> + +<hr class="hr3" /> + +<h4><small><em>All rights reserved.</em></small><br /> +<br /> +Published October, 1907.</h4> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/illustrations.jpg" class="jpg" width="400" height="620" alt="Illustrations" title="" /> +</div> + + +<p class="tp"><span class="olde illus2">Illustrations</span></p> + +<table summary="List of Illustrations"> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">“WHEN ALFRED PRICE FELL IN LOVE WITH MISS LETTY MORRIS”</td> +<td class="tdr"><em><a href="#frontis">Frontispiece</a></em></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">“THE CAPTAIN AND CYRUS WERE AFRAID OF GUSSIE”</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#p18"><em>Facing p</em> 18</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">“THERE WAS A LITTLE SILENCE, AND THEN DR. LAVENDER BEGAN”</td> +<td class="tdr">”  <a href="#p76">76</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/title2.jpg" class="jpg" width="400" height="637" alt="Half-title" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1"></a> +[<a href="images/i001.jpg">Page 1</a>]</span> +<span class="olde2">An Encore</span></h2> + + + +<p class="cap">ACCORDING to Old Chester, to be romantic was just one shade less +reprehensible than to put on airs. Captain Alfred Price, in all his +seventy years, had never been guilty of putting on airs, but certainly +he had something to answer for in the way of romance.</p> + +<p>However, in the days when we children used to see him pounding up the +street from the post-office, reading, as he walked, a newspaper held at +arm’s-length in front of him, he was far enough from romance. He was +seventy years old, he weighed over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2"></a>[<a href="images/i002.jpg">Page 2</a>]</span> two hundred pounds, his big head was +covered with a shock of grizzled red hair; his pleasures consisted in +polishing his old sextant and playing on a small mouth-harmonicon. As to +his vices, it was no secret that he kept a fat black bottle in the +chimney-closet in his own room, and occasionally he swore strange oaths +about his grandmother’s nightcap. “He used to blaspheme,” his +daughter-in-law said; “but I said, ‘Not in my presence, if you please!’ +So now he just says this foolish thing about a nightcap.” Mrs. Drayton +said that this reform would be one of the jewels in Mrs. Cyrus Price’s +crown; and added that she prayed that some day the Captain would give up +tobacco and <em>rum</em>. “I am a poor, feeble creature,” said Mrs. Drayton; “I +cannot do much for my fellow-men in active mission-work,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3"></a>[<a href="images/i003.jpg">Page 3</a>]</span>—but I give my +prayers.” However, neither Mrs. Drayton’s prayers nor Mrs. Cyrus’s +active mission-work had done more than mitigate the blasphemy; the “rum” +(which was good Monongahela whiskey) was still on hand; and as for +tobacco, except when sleeping, eating, playing on his harmonicon, or +dozing through one of Dr. Lavendar’s sermons, the Captain smoked every +moment, the ashes of his pipe or cigar falling unheeded on a vast and +wrinkled expanse of waistcoat.</p> + +<p>No; he was not a romantic object. But we girls, watching him stump past +the school-room window to the post-office, used to whisper to one +another, “Just think! <em>he eloped.</em>”</p> + +<p>There was romance for you!</p> + +<p>To be sure, the elopement had not quite come off, but except for the +very end, it was all as perfect as a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4"></a>[<a href="images/i004.jpg">Page 4</a>]</span> story. Indeed, the failure at the +end made it all the better: angry parents, broken hearts—only, the +worst of it was, the hearts did not stay broken! He went and married +somebody else; and so did she. You would have supposed she would have +died. I am sure, in her place, any one of us would have died. And yet, +as Lydia Wright said, “How could a young lady die for a young gentleman +with ashes all over his waistcoat?”</p> + +<p>But when Alfred Price fell in love with Miss Letty Morris, he was not +indifferent to his waistcoat, nor did he weigh two hundred pounds. He +was slender and ruddy-cheeked, with tossing red-brown curls. If he +swore, it was not by his grandmother nor her nightcap; if he drank, it +was hard cider (which can often accomplish as much as “rum”); if he +smoked it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5"></a>[<a href="images/i005.jpg">Page 5</a>]</span> was in secret, behind the stable. He wore a stock, and (on +Sunday) a ruffled shirt; a high-waisted coat with two brass buttons +behind, and very tight pantaloons. At that time he attended the Seminary +for Youths in Upper Chester. Upper Chester was then, as in our time, the +seat of learning in the township, the Female Academy being there, too. +Both were boarding-schools, but the young people came home to spend +Sunday; and their weekly returns, all together in the stage, were +responsible for more than one Old Chester match....</p> + +<p>“The air,” says Miss, sniffing genteelly as the coach jolts past the +blossoming May orchards, “is most agreeably perfumed. And how fair is +the prospect from this hill-top!”</p> + +<p>“Fair indeed!” responds her companion, staring boldly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6"></a>[<a href="images/i006.jpg">Page 6</a>]</span></p> + +<p>Miss bridles and bites her lip.</p> + +<p>“<em>I</em> was not observing the landscape,” the young gentleman hastens to +explain.</p> + +<p>In those days (Miss Letty was born in 1804, and was eighteen when she +and the ruddy Alfred sat on the back seat of the coach)—in those days +the conversation of Old Chester youth was more elegant than in our time. +We, who went to Miss Bailey’s school, were sad degenerates in the way of +manners and language; at least so our elders told us. When Lydia Wright +said, “Oh my, what an awful snow-storm!” dear Miss Ellen was displeased. +“Lydia,” said she, “is there anything ‘awe’-inspiring in this display of +the elements?”</p> + +<p>“No, ’m,” faltered poor Lydia.</p> + +<p>“Then,” said Miss Bailey, gravely, “your statement that the storm is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7"></a>[<a href="images/i007.jpg">Page 7</a>]</span> +‘awful’ is a falsehood. I do not suppose, my dear, that you +intentionally told an untruth; it was an exaggeration. But an +exaggeration, though not perhaps a falsehood, is unladylike, and should +be avoided by persons of refinement.” Just here the question arises: +what would Miss Ellen (now in heaven) say if she could hear Lydia’s +Lydia, just home from college, remark— But no: Miss Ellen’s precepts +shall protect these pages.</p> + +<p>But in the days when Letty Morris looked out of the coach window, and +young Alfred murmured that the prospect was fair indeed, conversation +was perfectly correct. And it was still decorous even when it got beyond +the coach period and reached a point where Old Chester began to take +notice. At first it was young Old Chester which giggled. Later old Old +Chester made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8"></a>[<a href="images/i008.jpg">Page 8</a>]</span> some comments; it was then that Alfred’s mother mentioned +the matter to Alfred’s father. “He is young, and, of course, foolish,” +Mrs. Price explained. And Mr. Price said that though folly was +incidental to Alfred’s years, it must be checked.</p> + +<p>“Just check it,” said Mr. Price.</p> + +<p>Then Miss Letty’s mother awoke to the situation, and said, “Fy, fy, +Letitia! let me hear no more of this foolishness.”</p> + +<p>So it was that these two young persons were plunged in grief. Oh, +glorious grief of thwarted love! When they met now, they did not talk of +the landscape. Their conversation, though no doubt as genteel as before, +was all of broken hearts. But again Letty’s mother found out, and went +in wrath to call on Alfred’s family. It was decided between them that +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9"></a>[<a href="images/i009.jpg">Page 9</a>]</span> young man should be sent away from home. “To save him,” says the +father. “To protect my daughter,” says Mrs. Morris.</p> + +<p>But Alfred and Letty had something to say.... It was in December; there +was a snow-storm—a storm which Lydia Wright would certainly have called +“awful”; but it did not interfere with true love; these two children met +in the graveyard to swear undying constancy. Alfred’s lantern came +twinkling through the flakes, as he threaded his way across the +hill-side among the tombstones, and found Letty just inside the +entrance, standing with her black serving-woman under a tulip-tree. The +negress, chattering with cold and fright, kept plucking at the girl’s +pelisse to hurry her; but once Alfred was at her side, Letty was +indifferent to storm and ghosts.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10"></a>[<a href="images/i010.jpg">Page 10</a>]</span> As for Alfred, he was too cast down to +think of them.</p> + +<p>“Letty, they will part us.”</p> + +<p>“No, my dear Alfred, no!”</p> + +<p>“Yes. Yes, they will. Oh, if you were only mine!”</p> + +<p>Miss Letty sighed.</p> + +<p>“Will you be true to me, Letty? I am to go on a sailing-vessel to China, +to be gone two years. Will you wait for me?”</p> + +<p>Letty gave a little cry; two years! Her black woman twitched her sleeve.</p> + +<p>“Miss Let, it’s gittin’ cole, honey.”</p> + +<p>“(Don’t, Flora.)—Alfred, <em>two years</em>! Oh, Alfred, that is an eternity. +Why, I should be—I should be twenty!”</p> + +<p>The lantern, set on a tombstone beside them, blinked in a snowy gust. +Alfred covered his face with his hands—he was shaken to his soul; the +little, gay creature beside him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11"></a>[<a href="images/i011.jpg">Page 11</a>]</span> thrilled at a sound from behind those +hands.</p> + +<p>“Alfred,”—she said, faintly; then she hid her face against his arm; “my +dear Alfred, I will, if you desire it—fly with you!”</p> + +<p>Alfred, with a gasp, lifted his head and stared at her. His slower mind +had seen nothing but separation and despair; but the moment the word was +said he was aflame. What! Would she? Could she? Adorable creature!</p> + +<p>“Miss Let, my feet done git cole—”</p> + +<p>“(Flora, be still!)—Yes, Alfred, yes. I am thine.”</p> + +<p>The boy caught her in his arms. “But I am to be sent away on Monday! My +angel, could you—fly, to-morrow?”</p> + +<p>And Letty, her face still hidden against his, shoulder, nodded.</p> + +<p>Then, while the shivering Flora<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12"></a>[<a href="images/i012.jpg">Page 12</a>]</span> stamped, and beat her arms, and the +lantern flared and sizzled, Alfred made their plans, which were simple +to the point of childishness. “My own!” he said, when it was all +arranged; then he held the lantern up and looked into her face, blushing +and determined, with snowflakes gleaming on the curls that pushed out +from under her big hood. “You will meet me at the minister’s?” he said, +passionately. “You will not fail me?”</p> + +<p>“I will not fail you!” she said; and laughed joyously; but the young +man’s face was white.</p> + +<p>She kept her word; and with the assistance of Flora, romantic again when +her feet were warm, all went as they planned. Clothes were packed, +savings-banks opened, and a chaise abstracted from the Price stable.</p> + +<p>“It is my intention,” said the youth,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13"></a>[<a href="images/i013.jpg">Page 13</a>]</span> “to return to my father the value +of the vehicle and nag, as soon as I can secure a position which will +enable me to support my Letty in comfort and fashion.”</p> + +<p>On the night of the elopement the two children met at the minister’s +house. (Yes, the very old Rectory to which we Old Chester children went +every Saturday afternoon to Dr. Lavendar’s Collect class. But of course +there was no Dr. Lavendar there in those days).</p> + +<p>Well; Alfred requested this minister to pronounce them man and wife; but +he coughed and poked the fire. “I am of age,” Alfred insisted; “I am +twenty-two.” Then Mr. Smith said he must first go and put on his bands +and surplice; and Alfred said, “If you please, sir.” And off went Mr. +Smith—<em>and sent a note to Alfred’s father and Letty’s mother</em>!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14"></a>[<a href="images/i014.jpg">Page 14</a>]</span>We girls used to wonder what the lovers talked about while they waited +for the return of the surpliced traitor. Ellen Dale always said they +were foolish to wait. “Why didn’t they go right off?” said Ellen. “If +<em>I</em> were going to elope, I shouldn’t bother to get married. But, oh, +think of how they felt when in walked those cruel parents!”</p> + +<p>The story was that they were torn weeping from each other’s arms; that +Letty was sent to bed for two days on bread and water; that Alfred was +packed off to Philadelphia the very next morning, and sailed in less +than a week. They did not see each other again.</p> + +<p>But the end of the story was not romantic at all. Letty, although she +crept about for a while in deep disgrace, and brooded upon death—that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15"></a>[<a href="images/i015.jpg">Page 15</a>]</span> +interesting impossibility, so dear to youth—<em>married</em>, if you please! +when she was twenty, somebody called North,—and went away to live. When +Alfred came back, seven years later, he got married, too. He married a +Miss Barkley. He used to go away on long voyages, so perhaps he wasn’t +really fond of her. We tried to think so, for we liked Captain Price.</p> + +<p>In our day Captain Price was a widower. He had given up the sea, and +settled down to live in Old Chester; his son, Cyrus, lived with him, and +his languid daughter-in-law—a young lady of dominant feebleness, who +ruled the two men with that most powerful domestic rod, foolish +weakness. This combination in a woman will cause a mountain (a masculine +mountain) to fly from its firm base; while kindness, justice, and good +sense leave it upon unshaken<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16"></a>[<a href="images/i016.jpg">Page 16</a>]</span> foundations of selfishness. Mrs. Cyrus was +a Goliath of silliness; when billowing black clouds heaped themselves in +the west on a hot afternoon, she turned pale with apprehension, and the +Captain and Cyrus ran for four tumblers, into which they put the legs of +her bed, where, cowering among the feathers, she lay cold with fear and +perspiration. Every night the Captain screwed down all the windows on +the lower floor; in the morning Cyrus pulled the screws out. Cyrus had a +pretty taste in horseflesh, but Gussie cried so when he once bought a +trotter that he had long ago resigned himself to a friendly beast of +twenty-seven years, who could not go much out of a walk because he had +string-halt in both hind legs.</p> + +<p>But one must not be too hard on Mrs. Cyrus. In the first place, she was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17"></a>[<a href="images/i017.jpg">Page 17</a>]</span> +not born in Old Chester. But, added to that, just think of her name! The +effect of names upon character is not considered as it should be. If one +is called Gussie for thirty years, it is almost impossible not to become +gussie after a while. Mrs. Cyrus could not be Augusta; few women can; +but it was easy to be gussie—irresponsible, silly, selfish. She had a +vague, flat laugh, she ate a great deal of candy, and she was afraid +of— But one cannot catalogue Mrs. Cyrus’s fears. They were as the sands +of the sea for number. And these two men were governed by them. Only +when the secrets of all hearts shall be revealed will it be understood +why a man loves a fool; but why he obeys her is obvious enough: Fear is +the greatest power in the world; Gussie was afraid of thunder-storms, or +what not; but the Captain and Cyrus<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18"></a>[<a href="images/i018.jpg">Page 18</a>]</span> were afraid of Gussie! A hint of +tears in her pale eyes, and her husband would sigh with anxiety and +Captain Price slip his pipe into his pocket and sneak out of the room. +Doubtless Cyrus would often have been glad to follow him, but the old +gentleman glared when his son showed a desire for his company.</p> + +<p>“Want to come and smoke with me? ‘Your granny was Murray!’—you’re +sojering. You’re first mate; you belong on the bridge in storms. I’m +before the mast. Tend to your business!”</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>It was forty-eight years before Letty and Alfred saw each other +again—or at least before persons calling themselves by those old names +saw each other. Were they Letty and Alfred—this tousled, tangled, +good-humored old man, ruddy and cowed, and this +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19"></a>[<a href="images/i019.jpg">Page 19</a>]</span>small, bright-eyed old lady, Mrs. North, led about by a devoted +daughter? Certainly these two persons bore no resemblance to the boy and +girl torn from each other’s arms that cold December night. Alfred had +been mild and slow; Captain Price (except when his daughter-in-law +raised her finger) was a pleasant old roaring lion. Letty had been a +gay, high-spirited little creature, not as retiring, perhaps, as a young +female should be, and certainly self-willed; Mrs. North was completely +under the thumb of her daughter Mary. Not that “under the thumb” means +unhappiness; Mary North desired only her mother’s welfare, and lived +fiercely for that single purpose. From morning until night (and, indeed, +until morning again, for she rose often from her bed to see that there +was no draught from the crack<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20"></a>[<a href="images/i020.jpg">Page 20</a>]</span> of the open window), all through the +twenty-four hours she was on duty.</p> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<a name="p18" id="p18"></a> +<img src="images/i095.jpg" class="jpg" width="400" height="617" alt="" title="" /><br /><br /> +<span class="caption">THE CAPTAIN AND CYRUS WERE AFRAID OF GUSSIE</span> +</div> + +<p>When this excellent daughter appeared in Old Chester and said she was +going to hire a house, and bring her mother back to end her days in the +home of her girlhood, Old Chester displayed a friendly interest; when +she decided upon a house on Main Street, directly opposite Captain +Price’s, it began to recall the romance of that thwarted elopement.</p> + +<p>“Do you suppose she knows that story about old Alfred Price and her +mother?” said Old Chester; and it looked sidewise at Miss North with +polite curiosity. This was not altogether because of her mother’s +romantic past, but because of her own manners and clothes. With painful +exactness, Miss North endeavored to follow the fashion; but she looked +as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21"></a>[<a href="images/i021.jpg">Page 21</a>]</span> if articles of clothing had been thrown at her and some had stuck. +As to her manners, Old Chester was divided; Mrs. David Baily said, with +delicate disgust, that they were bad; but Mrs. Barkley said, that the +trouble was she hadn’t any manners; and as for Dr. Lavendar, he insisted +that she was just shy. But, as Mrs. Drayton said, that was like Dr. +Lavendar, always making excuses for wrong-doing! “Which,” said Mrs. +Drayton, “is a strange thing for a minister to do. For my part, I cannot +understand impoliteness in a <em>Christian</em> female. But we must not judge,” +Mrs. Drayton ended, with what Willy King called her “holy look.” Without +wishing to “judge,” it may be said that, in the matter of manners, Miss +Mary North, palpitatingly anxious to be polite, told the truth; and as +everybody knows, truthfulness and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22"></a>[<a href="images/i022.jpg">Page 22</a>]</span> agreeable manners are often divorced +on the ground of incompatibility. Miss North said things that other +people only thought. When Mrs. Willy King remarked that, though she did +not pretend to be a good house-keeper, she had the backs of her pictures +dusted every other day, Miss North, her chin trembling with shyness, +said, with a panting smile:</p> + +<p>“That’s not good house-keeping; it’s foolish waste of time.” And when +Neddy Dilworth’s wife confessed coquettishly, that one would hardly take +her to be a year or two older than her husband, would one? Mary North +exclaimed, in utter astonishment: “is that all? Why, you look twelve +years older!” Of course such truthfulness was far from genteel,—though +Old Chester was not as displeased as you might have supposed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23"></a>[<a href="images/i023.jpg">Page 23</a>]</span>While Miss North, timorous and sincere (and determined to be polite), +was putting the house in order before sending for her mother, Old +Chester invited her to tea, and asked her many questions about Letty and +the late Mr. North. But nobody asked whether she knew that her opposite +neighbor, Captain Price, might have been her father—at least that was +the way Miss Ellen’s girls expressed it. Captain Price himself did not +enlighten the daughter he did not have; but he went rolling across the +street, and pulling off his big shabby felt hat, stood at the foot of +the steps, and roared out: “Morning! Anything I can do for you?” Miss +North, indoors, hanging window-curtains, her mouth full of tacks, shook +her head. Then she removed the tacks and came to the front door.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24"></a>[<a href="images/i024.jpg">Page 24</a>]</span>“Do you smoke, sir?”</p> + +<p>Captain Price removed his pipe from his mouth and looked at it. “Why! I +believe I do, sometimes,” he said.</p> + +<p>“I inquired,” said Miss North, smiling tremulously, her hands gripped +hard together, “because, if you do, I will ask you to desist when +passing our windows.”</p> + +<p>Captain Price was so dumfounded that for a moment words failed him. Then +he said, meekly, “Does your mother object to tobacco smoke, ma’am?”</p> + +<p>“It is injurious to all ladies’ throats,” Miss North explained, her +voice quivering and determined.</p> + +<p>“Does your mother resemble you, madam?” said Captain Price, slowly.</p> + +<p>“Oh no! my mother is pretty. She has my eyes, but that’s all.”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t mean in looks,” said the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25"></a>[<a href="images/i025.jpg">Page 25</a>]</span> old man; “she did not look in the +least like you; not in the least! I mean in her views?”</p> + +<p>“Her views? I don’t think my mother has any particular views,” Miss +North answered, hesitatingly; “I spare her all thought,” she ended, and +her thin face bloomed suddenly with love.</p> + +<p>Old Chester rocked with the Captain’s report of his call; and Mrs. Cyrus +told her husband that she only wished this lady would stop his father’s +smoking.</p> + +<p>“Just look at his ashes,” said Gussie; “I put saucers round everywhere +to catch ’em, but he shakes ’em off anywhere—right on the carpet! And +if you say anything, he just says, ‘Oh, they’ll keep the moths away!’ I +worry so for fear he’ll set the house on fire.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26"></a>[<a href="images/i026.jpg">Page 26</a>]</span>Mrs. Cyrus was so moved by Miss North’s active mission-work that the +very next day she wandered across the street to call. “I hope I’m not +interrupting you,” she began, “but I thought I’d just—”</p> + +<p>“Yes; you are,” said Miss North; “but never mind; stay, if you want to.” +She tried to smile, but she looked at the duster which she had put down +upon Mrs. Cyrus’s entrance.</p> + +<p>Gussie wavered as to whether to take offence, but decided not to—at +least not until she could make the remark which was buzzing in her small +mind. It seemed strange, she said, that Mrs. North should come, not only +to Old Chester, but right across the street from Captain Price!</p> + +<p>“Why?” said Mary North, briefly.</p> + +<p>“<em>Why?</em>” said Mrs. Cyrus, with faint<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27"></a>[<a href="images/i027.jpg">Page 27</a>]</span> animation. “Gracious! is it +possible that you don’t know about your mother and my father-in-law?”</p> + +<p>“Your father-in-law?—my mother?”</p> + +<p>“Why, you know,” said Mrs. Cyrus, with her light cackle, “your mother +was a little romantic when she was young. No doubt she has conquered it +by this time. But she tried to elope with my father-in-law.”</p> + +<p>“What!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, bygones should be bygones,” Mrs. Cyrus said, soothingly; “forgive +and forget, you know. I have no doubt she is perfectly—well, perfectly +correct, now. If there’s anything I can do to assist you, ma’am, I’ll +send my husband over”; and then she lounged away, leaving poor Mary +North silent with indignation. But that night at tea Gussie said that +she thought strong-minded ladies were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28"></a>[<a href="images/i028.jpg">Page 28</a>]</span> very unladylike; “they say she’s +strong-minded,” she added, languidly.</p> + +<p>“Lady!” said the Captain. “She’s a man-o’-war’s-man in petticoats.”</p> + +<p>Gussie giggled.</p> + +<p>“She’s as flat as a lath,” the Captain declared; “if it hadn’t been for +her face, I wouldn’t have known whether she was coming bow or stern on.”</p> + +<p>“I think,” said Mrs. Cyrus, “that that woman has some motive in bringing +her mother back here; and <em>right across the street</em>, too!”</p> + +<p>“What motive?” said Cyrus, mildly curious.</p> + +<p>But Augusta waited for conjugal privacy to explain herself: “Cyrus, I +worry so, because I’m sure that woman thinks she can catch your father +again. Oh, just listen to that harmonicon down-stairs! It sets my teeth +on edge!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29"></a>[<a href="images/i029.jpg">Page 29</a>]</span>Then Cyrus, the silent, servile first mate, broke out: “Gussie, you’re a +fool!”</p> + +<p>And Augusta cried all night, and showed herself at the breakfast-table +lantern-jawed and sunken-eyed; and her father-in-law judged it wise to +sprinkle his cigar ashes behind the stable.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>The day that Mrs. North arrived in Old Chester, Mrs. Cyrus commanded the +situation; she saw the daughter get out of the stage, and hurry into the +house for a chair so that the mother might descend more easily. She also +saw a little, white-haired old lady take that opportunity to leap +nimbly, and quite unaided, from the swinging step.</p> + +<p>“Now, mother!” expostulated Mary North, chair in hand, and breathless,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30"></a>[<a href="images/i030.jpg">Page 30</a>]</span> +“you might have broken your limb! Here, take my arm.”</p> + +<p>Meekly, after her moment of freedom, the little lady put her hand on +that gaunt arm, and tripped up the path and into the house, where, alas! +Augusta Price lost sight of them. Yet even she, with all her disapproval +of strong-minded ladies, must have admired the tenderness of the +man-o’-war’s-man. Miss North put her mother into a big chair, and +hurried to bring a dish of curds.</p> + +<p>“I’m not hungry,” protested Mrs. North.</p> + +<p>“Never mind. It will do you good.”</p> + +<p>With a sigh the little old lady ate the curds, looking about her with +curious eyes. “Why, we’re right across the street from the old Price +house!” she said.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31"></a>[<a href="images/i031.jpg">Page 31</a>]</span>“Did you know them, mother?” demanded Miss North.</p> + +<p>“Dear me, yes,” said Mrs. North, twinkling; “why, I’d forgotten all +about it, but the eldest boy— Now, what was his name? Al—something. +Alfred—Albert; no, Alfred. He was a beau of mine.”</p> + +<p>“Mother! I don’t think it’s refined to use such a word.”</p> + +<p>“Well, he wanted me to elope with him,” Mrs. North said, gayly; “if that +isn’t being a beau, I don’t know what is. I haven’t thought of it for +years.”</p> + +<p>“If you’ve finished your curds you must lie down,” said Miss North.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’ll just look about—”</p> + +<p>“No; you are tired. You must lie down.”</p> + +<p>“Who is that stout old gentleman going into the Price house?” Mrs. North +said, lingering at the window.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32"></a>[<a href="images/i032.jpg">Page 32</a>]</span>“Oh, that’s your Alfred Price,” her daughter answered; and added, that +she hoped her mother would be pleased with the house. “We have boarded +so long, I think you’ll enjoy a home of your own.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed I shall!” cried Mrs. North, her eyes snapping with delight. +“Mary, I’ll wash the breakfast dishes, as my mother used to do!”</p> + +<p>“Oh no,” Mary North protested; “it would tire you. I mean to take every +care from your mind.”</p> + +<p>“But,” Mrs. North pleaded, “you have so much to do; and—”</p> + +<p>“Never mind about me,” said the daughter, earnestly; “you are my first +consideration.”</p> + +<p>“I know it, my dear,” said Mrs. North, meekly. And when Old Chester came +to make its call, one of the first things she said was that her Mary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33"></a>[<a href="images/i033.jpg">Page 33</a>]</span> +was such a good daughter. Miss North, her anxious face red with +determination, bore out the assertion by constantly interrupting the +conversation to bring a footstool, or shut a window, or put a shawl over +her mother’s knees. “My mother’s limb troubles her,” she explained to +visitors (in point of modesty, Mary North did not leave her mother a leg +to stand on); then she added, breathlessly, with her tremulous smile, +that she wished they would please not talk too much. “Conversation tires +her,” she explained. At which the little, pretty old lady opened and +closed her hands, and protested that she was not tired at all. But the +callers departed. As the door closed behind them, Mrs. North was ready +to cry.</p> + +<p>“Now, Mary, really!” she began.</p> + +<p>“Mother, I don’t care! I don’t like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34"></a>[<a href="images/i034.jpg">Page 34</a>]</span> to say a thing like that, though +I’m sure I always try to speak politely. But it’s the truth, and to save +you I would tell the truth no matter how painful it was to do so.”</p> + +<p>“But I enjoy seeing people, and—”</p> + +<p>“It is bad for you to be tired,” Mary said, her thin face quivering +still with the effort she had made; “and they sha’n’t tire you while I +am here to protect you.” And her protection never flagged. When Captain +Price called, she asked him to please converse in a low tone, as noise +was bad for her mother. “He had been here a good while before I came +in,” she defended herself to Mrs. North, afterwards; “and I’m sure I +spoke politely.”</p> + +<p>The fact was, the day the Captain came, Miss North was out. Her mother +had seen him pounding up the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35"></a>[<a href="images/i035.jpg">Page 35</a>]</span> street, and hurrying to the door, called +out, gayly, in her little, old, piping voice, “Alfred—Alfred Price!”</p> + +<p>The Captain turned and looked at her. There was just one moment’s pause; +perhaps he tried to bridge the years, and to believe that it was Letty +who spoke to him—Letty, whom he had last seen that wintry night, pale +and weeping, in the slender green sheath of a fur-trimmed pelisse. If +so, he gave it up; this plump, white-haired, bright-eyed old lady, in a +wide-spreading, rustling black silk dress, was not Letty. She was Mrs. +North.</p> + +<p>The Captain came across the street, waving his newspaper, and saying, +“So you’ve cast anchor in the old port, ma’am?”</p> + +<p>“My daughter is not at home; do come in,” she said, smiling and nodding. +Captain Price hesitated; then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36"></a>[<a href="images/i036.jpg">Page 36</a>]</span> he put his pipe in his pocket and +followed her into the parlor. “Sit down,” she cried, gayly. “Well, +<em>Alfred</em>!”</p> + +<p>“Well—<em>Mrs. North</em>!” he said; and then they both laughed, and she began +to ask questions: Who was dead? Who had so and so married? “There are +not many of us left,” she said. “The two Ferris girls and Theophilus +Morrison and Johnny Gordon—he came to see me yesterday. And Matty +Dilworth; she was younger than I—oh, by ten years. She married the +oldest Barkley boy, didn’t she? I hear he didn’t turn out well. You +married his sister, didn’t you? Was it the oldest girl or the second +sister?”</p> + +<p>“It was the second—Jane. Yes, poor Jane. I lost her in ’forty-five.”</p> + +<p>“You have children?” she said, sympathetically.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37"></a>[<a href="images/i037.jpg">Page 37</a>]</span>“I’ve got a boy,” he said; “but he’s married.”</p> + +<p>“My girl has never married; she’s a good daughter,”—Mrs. North broke +off with a nervous laugh; “here she is, now!”</p> + +<p>Mary North, who had suddenly appeared in the doorway, gave a questioning +sniff, and the Captain’s hand sought his guilty pocket; but Miss North +only said: “How do you do, sir? Now, mother, don’t talk too much and get +tired.” She stopped and tried to smile, but the painful color came into +her face. “And—if you please, Captain Price, will you speak in a low +tone? Large, noisy persons exhaust the oxygen in the air, and—”</p> + +<p>“<em>Mary!</em>” cried poor Mrs. North; but the Captain, clutching his old felt +hat, began to hoist himself up from the sofa, scattering ashes about as +he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38"></a>[<a href="images/i038.jpg">Page 38</a>]</span> did so. Mary North compressed her lips.</p> + +<p>“I tell my daughter-in-law they’ll keep the moths away,” the old +gentleman said, sheepishly.</p> + +<p>“I use camphor,” said Miss North, “Flora must bring a dust-pan.”</p> + +<p>“Flora?” Alfred Price said. “Now, what’s my association with that name?”</p> + +<p>“She was our old cook,” Mrs. North explained; “this Flora is her +daughter. But you never saw old Flora?”</p> + +<p>“Why, yes, I did,” the old man said, slowly. “Yes. I remember Flora. +Well, good-bye,—Mrs. North.”</p> + +<p>“Good-bye, Alfred. Come again,” she said, cheerfully.</p> + +<p>“Mother, here’s your beef tea,” said a brief voice.</p> + +<p>Alfred Price fled. He met his son just as he was entering his own +house,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39"></a>[<a href="images/i039.jpg">Page 39</a>]</span> and burst into a confidence: “Cy, my boy, come aft and splice +the main-brace. Cyrus, what a female! She knocked me higher than +Gilroy’s kite. And her mother was as sweet a girl as you ever saw!” He +drew his son into a little, low-browed, dingy room at the end of the +hall. Its grimy untidiness matched the old Captain’s clothes, but it was +his one spot of refuge in his own house; here he could scatter his +tobacco ashes almost unrebuked, and play on his harmonicon without +seeing Gussie wince and draw in her breath; for Mrs. Cyrus rarely +entered the “cabin.” “I worry so about its disorderliness that I won’t +go in,” she used to say, in a resigned way. And the Captain accepted her +decision with resignation of his own. “Crafts of your bottom can’t +navigate in these waters,” he agreed, earnestly; and,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40"></a>[<a href="images/i040.jpg">Page 40</a>]</span> indeed, the room +was so cluttered with his belongings that voluminous hoop-skirts could +not get steerageway. “He has so much rubbish,” Gussie complained; but it +was precious rubbish to the old man. His chest was behind the door; a +blow-fish, stuffed and varnished, hung from the ceiling; two colored +prints of the “Barque <em>Letty M.</em>, 800 tons,” decorated the walls; his +sextant, polished daily by his big, clumsy hands, hung over the +mantel-piece, on which were many dusty treasures—the mahogany spoke of +an old steering-wheel; a whale’s tooth; two Chinese wrestlers, in ivory; +a fan of spreading white coral; a conch-shell, its beautiful red lip +serving to hold a loose bunch of cigars. In the chimney-breast was a +little door, and the Captain, pulling his son into the room after that +call upon Mrs. North,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41"></a>[<a href="images/i041.jpg">Page 41</a>]</span> fumbled in his pocket for the key. “Here,” he +said; “(as the Governor of North Carolina said to the Governor of South +Carolina)—Cyrus, she handed round <em>beef tea</em>!”</p> + +<p>But Cyrus was to receive still further enlightenment on the subject of +his opposite neighbor:</p> + +<p>“She called him in. I heard her, with my own ears! ‘Alfred,’ she said, +‘come in.’ Cyrus, she has designs; oh, I worry so about it! He ought to +be protected. He is very old, and, of course, foolish. You ought to +check it at once.”</p> + +<p>“Gussie, I don’t like you to talk that way about my father,” Cyrus +began.</p> + +<p>“You’ll like it less later on. He’ll go and see her to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“Why shouldn’t he go and see her to-morrow?” Cyrus said, and added a +modest bad word; which made Gussie<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42"></a>[<a href="images/i042.jpg">Page 42</a>]</span> cry. And yet, in spite of what his +wife called his “blasphemy,” Cyrus began to be vaguely uncomfortable +whenever he saw his father put his pipe in his pocket and go across the +street. And as the winter brightened into spring, the Captain went quite +often. So, for that matter, did other old friends of Mrs. North’s +generation, who by-and-by began to smile at one another, and say, “Well, +Alfred and Letty are great friends!” For, because Captain Price lived +right across the street, he went most of all. At least, that was what +Miss North said to herself with obvious common-sense—until Mrs. Cyrus +put her on the right track....</p> + +<p>“What!” gasped Mary North. “But it’s impossible!”</p> + +<p>“It would be very unbecoming, considering their years,” said Gussie; +“but I worry so, because, you know, nothing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43"></a>[<a href="images/i043.jpg">Page 43</a>]</span> is impossible when people +are foolish; and of course, at their age, they are apt to be foolish.”</p> + +<p>So the seed was dropped. Certainly he did come very often. Certainly her +mother seemed very glad to see him. Certainly they had very long talks. +Mary North shivered with apprehension. But it was not until a week later +that this miserable suspicion grew strong enough to find words. It was +after tea, and the two ladies were sitting before a little fire. Mary +North had wrapped a shawl about her mother, and given her a footstool, +and pushed her chair nearer the fire, and then pulled it away, and +opened and shut the parlor door three times to regulate the draught. +Then she sat down in the corner of the sofa, exhausted but alert.</p> + +<p>“If there’s anything you want, mother, you’ll be sure and tell me?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44"></a>[<a href="images/i044.jpg">Page 44</a>]</span>“Yes, my dear.”</p> + +<p>“I think I’d better put another shawl over your limbs?”</p> + +<p>“Oh no, indeed!”</p> + +<p>“Mother, are you <em>sure</em> you don’t feel a draught?”</p> + +<p>“No, Mary; and it wouldn’t hurt me if I did!”</p> + +<p>“I was only trying to make you comfortable—”</p> + +<p>“I know that, my dear; you are a very good daughter. Mary, I think it +would be nice if I made a cake. So many people call, and—”</p> + +<p>“I’ll make it to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’ll make it myself,” Mrs. North protested, eagerly; “I’d really +enjoy—”</p> + +<p>“Mother! Tire yourself out in the kitchen? No, indeed! Flora and I will +see to it.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. North sighed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45"></a>[<a href="images/i045.jpg">Page 45</a>]</span>Her daughter sighed too; then suddenly burst out: “Old Captain Price +comes here pretty often.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. North nodded pleasantly. “That daughter-in-law doesn’t half take +care of him. His clothes are dreadfully shabby. There was a button off +his coat to-day. And she’s a foolish creature.”</p> + +<p>“Foolish? she’s an unladylike person!” cried Miss North, with so much +feeling that her mother looked at her in mild astonishment. “And coarse, +too,” said Mary North; “I think married ladies are apt to be coarse. +From association with men, I suppose.”</p> + +<p>“What has she done?” demanded Mrs. North, much interested.</p> + +<p>“She hinted that he—that you—”</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>“That he came here to—to see you.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46"></a>[<a href="images/i046.jpg">Page 46</a>]</span>“Well, who else would he come to see? Not you!” said her mother.</p> + +<p>“She hinted that he might want to—to marry you.”</p> + +<p>“Well—upon my word! I knew she was a ridiculous creature, but +really—!”</p> + +<p>Mary’s face softened with relief. “Of course she is foolish; but—”</p> + +<p>“Poor Alfred! What has he ever done to have such a daughter-in-law? +Mary, the Lord gives us our children; but <em>Somebody Else</em> gives us our +in-laws!”</p> + +<p>“Mother!” said Mary North, horrified, “you do say such things! But +really he oughtn’t to come so often. People will begin to notice it; and +then they’ll talk. I’ll—I’ll take you away from Old Chester rather than +have him bother you.”</p> + +<p>“Mary, you are just as foolish as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47"></a>[<a href="images/i047.jpg">Page 47</a>]</span> his daughter-in-law,” said Mrs. +North, impatiently.</p> + +<p>And, somehow, poor Mary North’s heart sank.</p> + +<p>Nor was she the only perturbed person in town that night. Mrs. Cyrus had +a headache, so it was necessary for Cyrus to hold her hand and assure +her that Willy King said a headache did not mean brain-fever.</p> + +<p>“Willy King doesn’t know everything. If he had headaches like mine, he +wouldn’t be so sure. I am always worrying about things, and I believe my +brain can’t stand it. And now I’ve got your father to worry about!”</p> + +<p>“Better try and sleep, Gussie. I’ll put some Kaliston on your head.”</p> + +<p>“Kaliston! Kaliston won’t keep me from worrying. Oh, listen to that +harmonicon!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48"></a>[<a href="images/i048.jpg">Page 48</a>]</span>“Gussie, I’m sure he isn’t thinking of Mrs. North.”</p> + +<p>“Mrs. North is thinking of him, which is a great deal more dangerous. +Cyrus, you <em>must</em> ask Dr. Lavendar to interfere.”</p> + +<p>As this was at least the twentieth assault upon poor Cyrus’s +common-sense, the citadel trembled.</p> + +<p>“Do you wish me to go into brain-fever before your eyes, just from +worry?” Gussie demanded. “You <em>must</em> go!”</p> + +<p>“Well, maybe, perhaps, to-morrow—”</p> + +<p>“To-night—to-night,” said Augusta, faintly.</p> + +<p>And Cyrus surrendered.</p> + +<p>“Look under the bed before you go,” Gussie murmured.</p> + +<p>Cyrus looked. “Nobody there,” he said, reassuringly; and went on tiptoe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49"></a>[<a href="images/i049.jpg">Page 49</a>]</span> +out of the darkened, cologne-scented room. But as he passed along the +hall, and saw his father in his little cabin of a room, smoking +placidly, and polishing his sextant with loving hands, Cyrus’s heart +reproached him.</p> + +<p>“How’s her head, Cy?” the Captain called out.</p> + +<p>“Oh, better, I guess,” Cyrus said. (“I’ll be hanged if I speak to Dr. +Lavendar!”)</p> + +<p>“That’s good,” said the Captain, beginning to hoist himself up out of +his chair. “Going out? Hold hard, and I’ll go ’long. I want to call on +Mrs. North.”</p> + +<p>Cyrus stiffened. “Cold night, sir,” he remonstrated.</p> + +<p>“‘Your granny was Murray, and wore a black nightcap!’” said the Captain; +“you are getting delicate in your old age, Cy.” He got up, and plunged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50"></a>[<a href="images/i050.jpg">Page 50</a>]</span> +into his coat, and tramped out, slamming the door heartily behind +him—for which, later, poor Cyrus got the credit. “Where you bound?”</p> + +<p>“Oh—down-street,” said Cyrus, vaguely.</p> + +<p>“Sealed orders?” said the Captain, with never a bit of curiosity in his +big, kind voice; and Cyrus felt as small as he was. But when he left the +old man at Mrs. North’s door, he was uneasy again. Maybe Gussie was +right! Women are keener about those things than men. And his uneasiness +actually carried him to Dr. Lavendar’s study, where he tried to appear +at ease by patting Danny.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter with you, Cyrus?” said Dr. Lavendar, looking at him +over his spectacles. (Dr. Lavendar, in his wicked old heart, always +wanted to call this young man Cipher;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51"></a>[<a href="images/i051.jpg">Page 51</a>]</span> but, so far, grace had been given +him to withstand temptation.) “What’s wrong?” he said.</p> + +<p>And Cyrus, somehow, told his troubles.</p> + +<p>At first Dr. Lavendar chuckled; then he frowned. “Gussie put you up to +this, Cy—<em>rus</em>?” he said.</p> + +<p>“Well, my wife’s a woman,” Cyrus began, “and they’re keener on such +matters than men; and she said, perhaps you would—would—”</p> + +<p>“<em>What?</em>” Dr. Lavendar rapped on the table with the bowl of his pipe, so +loudly that Danny opened one eye. “Would what?”</p> + +<p>“Well,” Cyrus stammered, “you know, Dr. Lavendar, as Gussie says, +‘there’s no fo—’”</p> + +<p>“You needn’t finish it,” Dr. Lavendar interrupted, dryly; “I’ve heard it +before. Gussie didn’t say anything<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52"></a>[<a href="images/i052.jpg">Page 52</a>]</span> about a young fool, did she?” Then +he eyed Cyrus. “Or a middle-aged one? I’ve seen middle-aged fools that +could beat us old fellows hollow.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, but Mrs. North is far beyond middle age,” said Cyrus, earnestly.</p> + +<p>Dr. Lavendar shook his head. “Well, well!” he said. “To think that +Alfred Price should have such a— And yet he is as sensible a man as I +know!”</p> + +<p>“Until now,” Cyrus amended. “But Gussie thought you’d better caution +him. We don’t want him, at his time of life, to make a mistake.”</p> + +<p>“It’s much more to the point that I should caution you not to make a +mistake,” said Dr. Lavendar; and then he rapped on the table again, +sharply. “The Captain has no such idea—unless Gussie has given it to +him. Cyrus, my advice to you is to go home and tell your wife not to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53"></a>[<a href="images/i053.jpg">Page 53</a>]</span> +a goose. I’ll tell her, if you want me to?”</p> + +<p>“Oh no, no!” said Cyrus, very much frightened. “I’m afraid you’d hurt +her feelings.”</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid I should,” said Dr. Lavendar, grimly.</p> + +<p>“She’s so sensitive,” Cyrus tried to excuse her; “you can’t think how +sensitive she is, and timid. I never knew anybody so timid! Why, she +makes me look under the bed every night, for fear there’s somebody +there!”</p> + +<p>“Well, next time, tell her ‘two men and a dog’; that will take her mind +off your father.” It must be confessed that Dr. Lavendar was out of +temper—a sad fault in one of his age, as Mrs. Drayton often said; but +his irritability was so marked that Cyrus finally slunk off, +uncomforted, and afraid to meet Gussie’s eye, even under its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54"></a>[<a href="images/i054.jpg">Page 54</a>]</span> bandage of +a cologne-scented handkerchief.</p> + +<p>However, he had to meet it, and he tried to make the best of his own +humiliation by saying that Dr. Lavendar was shocked at the idea of the +Captain being interested in Mrs. North. “He said father had been, until +now, as sensible a man as he knew, and he didn’t believe he would think +of such a dreadful thing. And neither do I, Gussie, honestly,” Cyrus +said.</p> + +<p>“But Mrs. North isn’t sensible,” Gussie protested, “and she’ll—”</p> + +<p>“Dr. Lavendar said ‘there was no fool like a middle-aged fool,’” Cyrus +agreed.</p> + +<p>“Middle-aged! She’s as old as Methuselah!”</p> + +<p>“That’s what I told him,” said Cyrus.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>By the end of April Old Chester smiled. How could it help it? Gussie<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55"></a>[<a href="images/i055.jpg">Page 55</a>]</span> +worried so that she took frequent occasion to point out possibilities; +and after the first gasp of incredulity, one could hear a faint echo of +the giggles of forty-eight years before. Mary North heard it, and her +heart burned within her.</p> + +<p>“It’s got to stop,” she said to herself, passionately; “I must speak to +his son.”</p> + +<p>But her throat was dry at the thought. It seemed as if it would kill her +to speak to a man on such a subject, even to as little of a man as +Cyrus. But, poor, shy tigress! to save her mother, what would she not +do? In her pain and fright she said to Mrs. North that if that old man +kept on making her uncomfortable and conspicuous, they would leave Old +Chester!</p> + +<p>Mrs. North twinkled with amusement<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56"></a>[<a href="images/i056.jpg">Page 56</a>]</span> when Mary, in her strained and +quivering voice, began, but her jaw dropped at those last words; Mary +was capable of carrying her off at a day’s notice! The little old lady +trembled with distressed reassurances—but Captain Price continued to +call.</p> + +<p>And that was how it came about that this devoted daughter, after days of +exasperation and nights of anxiety, reached a point of tense +determination. She would go and see the man’s son, and say ... That +afternoon, as she stood before the swinging glass on her high bureau, +tying her bonnet-strings, she tried to think what she would say. She +hoped God would give her words—polite words; “for I <em>must</em> be polite,” +she reminded herself desperately. When she started across the street her +paisley shawl had slipped from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57"></a>[<a href="images/i057.jpg">Page 57</a>]</span> one shoulder, so that the point dragged +on the flagstones; she had split her right glove up the back, and her +bonnet was jolted over sidewise; but the thick Chantilly veil hid the +quiver of her chin.</p> + +<p>Gussie met her with effusion, and Mary, striving to be polite, smiled +painfully, and said:</p> + +<p>“I don’t want to see you; I want to see your husband.”</p> + +<p>Gussie tossed her head; but she made haste to call Cyrus, who came +shambling along the hall from the cabin. The parlor was dark, for though +it was a day of sunshine and merry May wind, Gussie kept the shutters +bowed—but Cyrus could see the pale intensity of his visitor’s face. +There was a moment’s silence, broken by a distant harmonicon.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Price,” said Mary North, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58"></a>[<a href="images/i058.jpg">Page 58</a>]</span> pale, courageous lips, “you must +stop your father.”</p> + +<p>Cyrus opened his weak mouth to ask an explanation, but Gussie rushed in.</p> + +<p>“You are quite right, ma’am. Cyrus worries so about it (of course we +know what you refer to). And Cyrus says it ought to be checked +immediately, to save the old gentleman!”</p> + +<p>“You must stop him,” said Mary North, “for my mother’s sake.”</p> + +<p>“Well—” Cyrus began.</p> + +<p>“Have you cautioned your mother?” Gussie demanded.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Miss North said, briefly. To talk to this woman of her mother +made her wince, but it had to be done. “Will you speak to your father, +Mr. Price?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I—”</p> + +<p>“Of course he will!” Gussie broke in; “Cyrus, he is in the cabin now.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59"></a>[<a href="images/i059.jpg">Page 59</a>]</span>“Well, to-morrow I—” Cyrus got up and sidled towards the door. “Anyhow, +I don’t believe he’s thinking of such a thing.”</p> + +<p>“Miss North,” said Gussie, rising, “<em>I</em> will do it.”</p> + +<p>“What, <em>now</em>?” faltered Mary North.</p> + +<p>“Now,” said Mrs. Cyrus, firmly.</p> + +<p>“Oh,” said Miss North, “I—I think I will go home. Gentlemen, when they +are crossed, speak so—so earnestly.”</p> + +<p>Gussie nodded. The joy of action and of combat entered suddenly into her +little soul; she never looked less vulgar than at that moment. Cyrus had +disappeared.</p> + +<p>Mary North, white and trembling, hurried out. A wheezing strain from the +harmonicon followed her into the May sunshine, then ended, +abruptly—Mrs. Price had begun! On her own door-step Miss North stopped +and listened,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60"></a>[<a href="images/i060.jpg">Page 60</a>]</span> holding her breath for an outburst.... It came: a roar of +laughter. Then silence. Mary North stood, motionless, in her own parlor; +her shawl, hanging from one elbow, trailed behind her; her other glove +had split; her bonnet was blown back and over one ear; her heart was +pounding in her throat. She was perfectly aware that she had done an +unheard-of thing. “But,” she said, aloud, “I’d do it again. I’d do +anything to protect her. But I hope I was polite?” Then she thought how +courageous Mrs. Cyrus was. “She’s as brave as a lion!” said Mary North. +Yet, had Miss North been able to stand at the Captain’s door, she would +have witnessed cowardice....</p> + +<p>“Gussie, I wouldn’t cry. Confound that female, coming over and stirring +you up! Now don’t, Gussie! Why, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61"></a>[<a href="images/i061.jpg">Page 61</a>]</span> never thought of—Gussie, I wouldn’t +cry—”</p> + +<p>“I have worried almost to death. Pro-promise!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, your granny was Mur— Gussie, my dear, now <em>don’t</em>.”</p> + +<p>“Dr. Lavendar said you’d always been so sensible; he said he didn’t see +how you could think of such a dreadful thing.”</p> + +<p>“What! Lavendar? I’ll thank Lavendar to mind his business!” Captain +Price forgot Gussie; he spoke “earnestly.” “Dog-gone these people that +pry into— Oh, now, Gussie, <em>don’t</em>!”</p> + +<p>“I’ve worried so awfully,” said Mrs. Cyrus. “Everybody is talking about +you. And Dr. Lavendar is so—so angry about it; and now the daughter has +charged on me as though it is my fault! Of course, she is queer, but—”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62"></a>[<a href="images/i062.jpg">Page 62</a>]</span>“Queer? she’s queer as Dick’s hatband! Why do you listen to her? Gussie, +such an idea never entered my head—or Mrs. North’s either.”</p> + +<p>“Oh yes, it has! Her daughter said that she had had to speak to her—”</p> + +<p>Captain Price, dumfounded, forgot his fear and burst out: “You’re a pack +of fools, the whole caboodle! I swear I—”</p> + +<p>“Oh, don’t blaspheme!” said Gussie, faintly, and staggered a little, so +that all the Captain’s terror returned. <em>If she fainted!</em></p> + +<p>“Hi, there, Cyrus! Come aft, will you? Gussie’s getting white around the +gills—Cyrus!”</p> + +<p>Cyrus came, running, and between them they got the swooning Gussie to +her room; Afterwards, when Cyrus tiptoed down-stairs, he found the +Captain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63"></a>[<a href="images/i063.jpg">Page 63</a>]</span> at the cabin door. The old man beckoned mysteriously.</p> + +<p>“Cy, my boy, come in here”—he hunted about in his pocket for the key of +the cupboard—“Cyrus, I’ll tell you what happened; that female across +the street came in, and told poor Gussie some cock-and-bull story about +her mother and me!” The Captain chuckled, and picked up his harmonicon. +“It scared the life out of Gussie,” he said; then, with sudden angry +gravity,—“these people that poke their noses into other’s people’s +business ought to be thrashed. Well, I’m going over to see Mrs. North.” +And off he stumped, leaving Cyrus staring after him, open-mouthed.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>If Mary North had been at home, she would have met him with all the +agonized courage of shyness and a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64"></a>[<a href="images/i064.jpg">Page 64</a>]</span> good conscience. But she had fled out +of the house, and down along the River Road, to be alone and regain her +self-control.</p> + +<p>The Captain, however, was not seeking Miss North. He opened the front +door, and advancing to the foot of the stairs, called up: “Ahoy, there! +Mrs. North!”</p> + +<p>Mrs. North came trotting out to answer the summons. “Why, Alfred!” she +exclaimed, looking over the banisters, “when did you come in? I didn’t +hear the bell ring. I’ll come right down.”</p> + +<p>“It didn’t ring; I walked in,” said the Captain. And Mrs. North came +down-stairs, perhaps a little stiffly, but as pretty an old lady as you +ever saw. Her white curls lay against faintly pink cheeks, and her lace +cap had a pink bow on it. But she looked anxious and uncomfortable.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65"></a>[<a href="images/i065.jpg">Page 65</a>]</span>(“Oh,” she was saying to herself, “I do hope Mary’s out!)—Well, Alfred?” +she said; but her voice was frightened.</p> + +<p>The Captain stumped along in front of her into the parlor, and motioned +her to a seat. “Mrs. North,” he said, his face red, his eye hard, “some +jack-donkeys have been poking their noses (of course they’re females) +into our affairs; and—”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Alfred, isn’t it horrid in them?” said the old lady.</p> + +<p>“Darn ’em!” said the Captain.</p> + +<p>“It makes me mad!” cried Mrs. North; then her spirit wavered. “Mary is +so foolish; she says she’ll—she’ll take me away from Old Chester. I +laughed at first, it was so foolish. But when she said that—oh <em>dear</em>!”</p> + +<p>“Well, but, my dear madam, say you won’t go. Ain’t you skipper?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66"></a>[<a href="images/i066.jpg">Page 66</a>]</span>“No, I’m not,” she said, dolefully. “Mary brought me here, and she’ll +take me away, if she thinks it best. Best for <em>me</em>, you know. Mary is a +good daughter, Alfred. I don’t want you to think she isn’t. But she’s +foolish. Unmarried women are apt to be foolish.”</p> + +<p>The Captain thought of Gussie, and sighed. “Well,” he said, with the +simple candor of the sea, “I guess there ain’t much difference in ’em, +married or unmarried.”</p> + +<p>“It’s the interference makes me mad,” Mrs. North declared, hotly.</p> + +<p>“Damn the whole crew!” said the Captain; and the old lady laughed +delightedly.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Alfred!”</p> + +<p>“My daughter-in-law is crying her eyes out,” the Captain sighed.</p> + +<p>“Tck!” said Mrs. North; “Alfred,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67"></a>[<a href="images/i067.jpg">Page 67</a>]</span> you have no sense. Let her cry. It’s +good for her!”</p> + +<p>“Oh no,” said the Captain, shocked.</p> + +<p>“You’re a perfect slave to her,” cried Mrs. North.</p> + +<p>“No more than you are to your daughter,” Captain Price defended himself; +and Mrs. North sighed.</p> + +<p>“We are just real foolish, Alfred, to listen to ’em. As if we didn’t +know what was good for us.”</p> + +<p>“People have interfered with us a good deal, first and last,” the +Captain said, grimly.</p> + +<p>The faint color in Mrs. North’s cheeks suddenly deepened. “So they +have,” she said.</p> + +<p>The Captain shook his head in a discouraged way; he took his pipe out of +his pocket and looked at it absent-mindedly. “I suppose I can stay at +home, and let ’em get over it?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68"></a>[<a href="images/i068.jpg">Page 68</a>]</span>“Stay at home? Why, you’d far better—”</p> + +<p>“What?” said the Captain.</p> + +<p>“Come oftener!” cried the old lady. “Let ’em get over it by getting used +to it.”</p> + +<p>Captain Price looked doubtful. “But how about your daughter?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. North quailed. “I forgot Mary,” she admitted.</p> + +<p>“I don’t bother you, coming to see you, do I?” the Captain said, +anxiously.</p> + +<p>“Why, Alfred, I love to see you. If our children would just let us +alone!”</p> + +<p>“First it was our parents,” said Captain Price. He frowned heavily. +“According to other people, first we were too young to have sense; and +now we’re too old.” He took out his worn old pouch, plugged some shag +into his pipe, and struck a match<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69"></a>[<a href="images/i069.jpg">Page 69</a>]</span> under the mantel-piece. He sighed, +with deep discouragement.</p> + +<p>Mrs. North sighed too. Neither of them spoke for a moment; then the +little old lady drew a quick breath and flashed a look at him; opened +her lips; closed them with a snap; then regarded the toe of her slipper +fixedly. The color flooded up to her soft white hair.</p> + +<p>The Captain, staring hopelessly, suddenly blinked; then his honest red +face slowly broadened into beaming astonishment and satisfaction. “<em>Mrs. +North</em>—”</p> + +<p>“Captain Price!” she parried, breathlessly.</p> + +<p>“So long as our affectionate children have suggested it!”</p> + +<p>“Suggested—what?”</p> + +<p>“Let’s give ’em something to cry about!”</p> + +<p>“Alfred!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70"></a>[<a href="images/i070.jpg">Page 70</a>]</span>“Look here: we are two old fools; so they say, anyway. Let’s live up to +their opinion. I’ll get a house for Cyrus and Gussie—and your girl can +live with ’em, if she wants to!” The Captain’s bitterness showed then.</p> + +<p>“She could live here,” murmured Mrs. North.</p> + +<p>“What do you say?”</p> + +<p>The little old lady laughed excitedly, and shook her head; the tears +stood in her eyes.</p> + +<p>“Do you want to leave Old Chester?” the Captain demanded.</p> + +<p>“You know I don’t,” she said, sighing.</p> + +<p>“She’d take you away to-morrow,” he threatened, “if she knew I had—I +had—”</p> + +<p>“She sha’n’t know it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, we’ve got to get spliced to-morrow.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71"></a>[<a href="images/i071.jpg">Page 71</a>]</span>“Oh, Alfred, no! I don’t believe Dr. Lavendar would—”</p> + +<p>“I’ll have no dealings with Lavendar,” the Captain said, with sudden +stiffness; “he’s like all the rest of ’em. I’ll get a license in Upper +Chester, and we’ll go to some parson there.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. North’s eyes snapped. “Oh, no, no!” she protested; but in another +minute they were shaking hands on it.</p> + +<p>“Cyrus and Gussie can go and live by themselves,” said the Captain, +joyously, “and I’ll get that hold cleaned out; she’s kept the ports shut +ever since she married Cyrus.”</p> + +<p>“And I’ll make a cake! And I’ll take care of your clothes; you really +are dreadfully shabby”; she turned him round to the light, and brushed +off some ashes. The Captain beamed. “Poor Alfred! and there’s a button +gone! that daughter-in-law of yours<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72"></a>[<a href="images/i072.jpg">Page 72</a>]</span> can’t sew any more than a cat (and +she <em>is</em> a cat!). But I love to mend. Mary has saved me all that. She’s +such a good daughter—poor Mary. But she’s unmarried, poor child.”</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>However, it was not to-morrow. It was two or three days later that Dr. +Lavendar and Danny, jogging along behind Goliath under the buttonwoods +on the road to Upper Chester, were somewhat inconvenienced by the dust +of a buggy that crawled up and down the hills just a little ahead. The +hood of this buggy was up, upon which fact—it being a May morning of +rollicking wind and sunshine—Dr. Lavendar speculated to his companion: +“Daniel, the man in that vehicle is either blind and deaf, or else he +has something on his conscience; in either case he won’t mind our dust, +so we’ll cut in ahead<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73"></a>[<a href="images/i073.jpg">Page 73</a>]</span> at the watering-trough. G’on, Goliath!”</p> + +<p>But Goliath had views of his own about the watering-trough, and instead +of passing the hooded buggy, which had stopped there, he insisted upon +drawing up beside it. “Now, look here,” Dr. Lavendar remonstrated, “you +know you’re not thirsty.” But Goliath plunged his nose down into the +cool depths of the great iron caldron, into which, from a hollow log, +ran a musical drip of water. Dr. Lavendar and Danny, awaiting his +pleasure, could hear a murmur of voices from the depths of the eccentric +vehicle which put up a hood on such a day; when suddenly Dr. Lavendar’s +eye fell on the hind legs of the other horse. “That’s Cipher’s trotter,” +he said to himself, and leaning out, cried: “Hi! Cy?” At which the other +horse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74"></a>[<a href="images/i074.jpg">Page 74</a>]</span> was drawn in with a jerk, and Captain Price’s agitated face +peered out from under the hood.</p> + +<p>“Where! Where’s Cyrus?” Then he caught sight of Dr. Lavendar. “‘<em>The +devil and Tom Walker!</em>’” said the Captain, with a groan. The buggy +backed erratically.</p> + +<p>“Look out!” said Dr. Lavendar—but the wheels locked.</p> + +<p>Of course there was nothing for Dr. Lavendar to do but get out and take +Goliath by the head, grumbling, as he did so, that Cyrus “shouldn’t own +such a spirited beast.”</p> + +<p>“I am somewhat hurried,” said Captain Price, stiffly.</p> + +<p>The old minister looked at him over his spectacles; then he glanced at +the small, embarrassed figure shrinking into the depths of the buggy.</p> + +<p>(“Hullo, hullo, hullo!” he said, softly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75"></a>[<a href="images/i075.jpg">Page 75</a>]</span> “Well, Gussie’s done it.) +You’d better back a little, Captain,” he advised.</p> + +<p>“I can manage,” said the Captain.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t say ‘go back,’” Dr. Lavendar said, mildly.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” murmured a small voice from within the buggy.</p> + +<p>“I expect you need me, don’t you, Alfred?” said Dr. Lavendar.</p> + +<p>“What?” said the Captain, frowning.</p> + +<p>“Captain,” said Dr. Lavendar, simply, “if I can be of any service to you +and Mrs. North, I shall be glad.”</p> + +<p>Captain Price looked at him. “Now, look here, Lavendar, we’re going to +do it this time, if all the parsons in—well, in the church, try to stop +us!”</p> + +<p>“I’m not going to try to stop you.”</p> + +<p>“But Gussie said you said—”</p> + +<p>“Alfred, at your time of life, are you beginning to quote Gussie?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76"></a>[<a href="images/i076.jpg">Page 76</a>]</span>“But she said you said it would be—”</p> + +<p>“Captain Price, I do not express my opinion of your conduct to your +daughter-in-law. You ought to have sense enough to know that.”</p> + +<p>“Well, why did you talk to her about it?”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t talk to her about it. But,” said Dr. Lavendar, thrusting out +his lower lip, “I should like to.”</p> + +<p>“We were going to hunt up a parson in Upper Chester,” said the Captain, +sheepishly.</p> + +<p>Dr. Lavendar looked about, up and down the silent, shady road, then +through the bordering elder-berries into an orchard. “If you have your +license,” he said, “I have my prayer-book. Let’s go into the orchard. +There are two men working there we can get for witnesses—Danny isn’t +quite enough, I suppose.”</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<a name="p76" id="p76"></a> +<img src="images/i096.jpg" class="jpg" width="400" height="594" alt="" title="" /><br /><br /> +<span class="caption">THERE WAS A LITTLE SILENCE, AND THEN DR. LAVENDER BEGAN</span> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77"></a>[<a href="images/i077.jpg">Page 77</a>]</span>The Captain turned to Mrs. North. “What do you say, ma’am?” he said. She +nodded, and gathered up her skirts to get out of the buggy. The two old +men led their horses to the side of the road and hitched them to the +rail fence; then the Captain helped Mrs. North through the elder-bushes, +and shouted out to the men ploughing at the other side of the orchard. +They came—big, kindly young fellows, and stood gaping at the three old +people standing under the apple-tree in the sunshine. Dr. Lavendar +explained that they were to be witnesses, and the boys took off their +hats.</p> + +<p>There was a little silence, and then, in the white shadows and perfume +of the orchard, with its sunshine, and drift of petals falling in the +gay wind, Dr. Lavendar began.... When he came to “Let no man put +asunder<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78"></a>[<a href="images/i078.jpg">Page 78</a>]</span>—” Captain Price growled in his grizzled red beard, “Nor woman, +either!” But only Mrs. North smiled.</p> + +<p>When it was over, Captain Price drew a deep breath of relief. “Well, +this time we made a sure thing of it, Mrs. North!”</p> + +<p>“<em>Mrs. North?</em>” said Dr. Lavendar; and then he did chuckle.</p> + +<p>“Oh—” said Captain Price, and roared at the joke.</p> + +<p>“You’ll have to call me Letty,” said the pretty old lady, smiling and +blushing.</p> + +<p>“Oh,” said the Captain; then he hesitated. “Well, now, if you don’t +mind, I—I guess I won’t call you Letty. I’ll call you Letitia.”</p> + +<p>“Call me anything you want to,” said Mrs. Price, gayly.</p> + +<p>Then they all shook hands with one another and with the witnesses, who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79"></a>[<a href="images/i079.jpg">Page 79</a>]</span> +found something left in their palms that gave them great satisfaction, +and went back to climb into their respective buggies.</p> + +<p>“We have shore leave,” the Captain explained; “we won’t go back to Old +Chester for a few days. You may tell ’em, Lavendar.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, may I?” said Dr. Lavender, blankly. “Well, good-bye, and good +luck!”</p> + +<p>He watched the other buggy tug on ahead, and then he leaned down to +catch Danny by the scruff of the neck.</p> + +<p>“Well, Daniel,” he said, “‘<em>if at first you don’t succeed</em>’—”</p> + +<p>And Danny was pulled into the buggy.</p> + + +<h3>THE END</h3> + + +<div class="box"> +<p class="center">Transcriber’s Note:</p> + +<p class="center noi">Both Lavender and Lavendar have been retained as they appear in the +original publication.</p> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/i097.jpg" class="jpg" width="400" height="637" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/i098.jpg" class="jpg" width="400" height="637" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of An Encore, by Margaret Deland + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN ENCORE *** + +***** This file should be named 29284-h.htm or 29284-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/2/8/29284/ + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Roberta Staehlin, Joseph Cooper +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: An Encore + +Author: Margaret Deland + +Release Date: July 1, 2009 [EBook #29284] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN ENCORE *** + + + + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Roberta Staehlin, Joseph Cooper +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: [See page 4 + +WHEN ALFRED PRICE FELL IN LOVE WITH MISS LETTY MORRIS] + + + + + An Encore + + BY + + MARGARET DELAND + + + AUTHOR OF + + "THE AWAKENING OF HELENA RICHIE" + "DR. LAVENDER'S PEOPLE" + "OLD CHESTER TALES" + ETC. ETC. + + + ILLUSTRATED BY + ALICE BARBER STEPHENS + + + NEW YORK AND LONDON + HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS + MCMVII + + + + + Copyright, 1904, 1907, by HARPER & BROTHERS. + + _All rights reserved._ + Published October, 1907. + + + + +Illustrations + + + "WHEN ALFRED PRICE FELL IN LOVE WITH + MISS LETTY MORRIS" _Frontispiece_ + + "THE CAPTAIN AND CYRUS WERE AFRAID + OF GUSSIE" _Facing p_ 18 + + "THERE WAS A LITTLE SILENCE, AND THEN + DR. LAVENDER BEGAN" " 76 + + + + +An Encore + + +According to Old Chester, to be romantic was just one shade less +reprehensible than to put on airs. Captain Alfred Price, in all his +seventy years, had never been guilty of putting on airs, but certainly +he had something to answer for in the way of romance. + +However, in the days when we children used to see him pounding up the +street from the post-office, reading, as he walked, a newspaper held at +arm's-length in front of him, he was far enough from romance. He was +seventy years old, he weighed over two hundred pounds, his big head was +covered with a shock of grizzled red hair; his pleasures consisted in +polishing his old sextant and playing on a small mouth-harmonicon. As to +his vices, it was no secret that he kept a fat black bottle in the +chimney-closet in his own room, and occasionally he swore strange oaths +about his grandmother's nightcap. "He used to blaspheme," his +daughter-in-law said; "but I said, 'Not in my presence, if you please!' +So now he just says this foolish thing about a nightcap." Mrs. Drayton +said that this reform would be one of the jewels in Mrs. Cyrus Price's +crown; and added that she prayed that some day the Captain would give up +tobacco and _rum_. "I am a poor, feeble creature," said Mrs. Drayton; "I +cannot do much for my fellow-men in active mission-work,--but I give my +prayers." However, neither Mrs. Drayton's prayers nor Mrs. Cyrus's +active mission-work had done more than mitigate the blasphemy; the "rum" +(which was good Monongahela whiskey) was still on hand; and as for +tobacco, except when sleeping, eating, playing on his harmonicon, or +dozing through one of Dr. Lavendar's sermons, the Captain smoked every +moment, the ashes of his pipe or cigar falling unheeded on a vast and +wrinkled expanse of waistcoat. + +No; he was not a romantic object. But we girls, watching him stump past +the school-room window to the post-office, used to whisper to one +another, "Just think! _he eloped._" + +There was romance for you! + +To be sure, the elopement had not quite come off, but except for the +very end, it was all as perfect as a story. Indeed, the failure at the +end made it all the better: angry parents, broken hearts--only, the +worst of it was, the hearts did not stay broken! He went and married +somebody else; and so did she. You would have supposed she would have +died. I am sure, in her place, any one of us would have died. And yet, +as Lydia Wright said, "How could a young lady die for a young gentleman +with ashes all over his waistcoat?" + +But when Alfred Price fell in love with Miss Letty Morris, he was not +indifferent to his waistcoat, nor did he weigh two hundred pounds. He +was slender and ruddy-cheeked, with tossing red-brown curls. If he +swore, it was not by his grandmother nor her nightcap; if he drank, it +was hard cider (which can often accomplish as much as "rum"); if he +smoked it was in secret, behind the stable. He wore a stock, and (on +Sunday) a ruffled shirt; a high-waisted coat with two brass buttons +behind, and very tight pantaloons. At that time he attended the Seminary +for Youths in Upper Chester. Upper Chester was then, as in our time, the +seat of learning in the township, the Female Academy being there, too. +Both were boarding-schools, but the young people came home to spend +Sunday; and their weekly returns, all together in the stage, were +responsible for more than one Old Chester match.... + +"The air," says Miss, sniffing genteelly as the coach jolts past the +blossoming May orchards, "is most agreeably perfumed. And how fair is +the prospect from this hill-top!" + +"Fair indeed!" responds her companion, staring boldly. + +Miss bridles and bites her lip. + +"_I_ was not observing the landscape," the young gentleman hastens to +explain. + +In those days (Miss Letty was born in 1804, and was eighteen when she +and the ruddy Alfred sat on the back seat of the coach)--in those days +the conversation of Old Chester youth was more elegant than in our time. +We, who went to Miss Bailey's school, were sad degenerates in the way of +manners and language; at least so our elders told us. When Lydia Wright +said, "Oh my, what an awful snow-storm!" dear Miss Ellen was displeased. +"Lydia," said she, "is there anything 'awe'-inspiring in this display of +the elements?" + +"No, 'm," faltered poor Lydia. + +"Then," said Miss Bailey, gravely, "your statement that the storm is +'awful' is a falsehood. I do not suppose, my dear, that you +intentionally told an untruth; it was an exaggeration. But an +exaggeration, though not perhaps a falsehood, is unladylike, and should +be avoided by persons of refinement." Just here the question arises: +what would Miss Ellen (now in heaven) say if she could hear Lydia's +Lydia, just home from college, remark-- But no: Miss Ellen's precepts +shall protect these pages. + +But in the days when Letty Morris looked out of the coach window, and +young Alfred murmured that the prospect was fair indeed, conversation +was perfectly correct. And it was still decorous even when it got beyond +the coach period and reached a point where Old Chester began to take +notice. At first it was young Old Chester which giggled. Later old Old +Chester made some comments; it was then that Alfred's mother mentioned +the matter to Alfred's father. "He is young, and, of course, foolish," +Mrs. Price explained. And Mr. Price said that though folly was +incidental to Alfred's years, it must be checked. + +"Just check it," said Mr. Price. + +Then Miss Letty's mother awoke to the situation, and said, "Fy, fy, +Letitia! let me hear no more of this foolishness." + +So it was that these two young persons were plunged in grief. Oh, +glorious grief of thwarted love! When they met now, they did not talk of +the landscape. Their conversation, though no doubt as genteel as before, +was all of broken hearts. But again Letty's mother found out, and went +in wrath to call on Alfred's family. It was decided between them that +the young man should be sent away from home. "To save him," says the +father. "To protect my daughter," says Mrs. Morris. + +But Alfred and Letty had something to say.... It was in December; there +was a snow-storm--a storm which Lydia Wright would certainly have called +"awful"; but it did not interfere with true love; these two children met +in the graveyard to swear undying constancy. Alfred's lantern came +twinkling through the flakes, as he threaded his way across the +hill-side among the tombstones, and found Letty just inside the +entrance, standing with her black serving-woman under a tulip-tree. The +negress, chattering with cold and fright, kept plucking at the girl's +pelisse to hurry her; but once Alfred was at her side, Letty was +indifferent to storm and ghosts. As for Alfred, he was too cast down to +think of them. + +"Letty, they will part us." + +"No, my dear Alfred, no!" + +"Yes. Yes, they will. Oh, if you were only mine!" + +Miss Letty sighed. + +"Will you be true to me, Letty? I am to go on a sailing-vessel to China, +to be gone two years. Will you wait for me?" + +Letty gave a little cry; two years! Her black woman twitched her sleeve. + +"Miss Let, it's gittin' cole, honey." + +"(Don't, Flora.)--Alfred, _two years_! Oh, Alfred, that is an eternity. +Why, I should be--I should be twenty!" + +The lantern, set on a tombstone beside them, blinked in a snowy gust. +Alfred covered his face with his hands--he was shaken to his soul; the +little, gay creature beside him thrilled at a sound from behind those +hands. + +"Alfred,"--she said, faintly; then she hid her face against his arm; "my +dear Alfred, I will, if you desire it--fly with you!" + +Alfred, with a gasp, lifted his head and stared at her. His slower mind +had seen nothing but separation and despair; but the moment the word was +said he was aflame. What! Would she? Could she? Adorable creature! + +"Miss Let, my feet done git cole--" + +"(Flora, be still!)--Yes, Alfred, yes. I am thine." + +The boy caught her in his arms. "But I am to be sent away on Monday! My +angel, could you--fly, to-morrow?" + +And Letty, her face still hidden against his, shoulder, nodded. + +Then, while the shivering Flora stamped, and beat her arms, and the +lantern flared and sizzled, Alfred made their plans, which were simple +to the point of childishness. "My own!" he said, when it was all +arranged; then he held the lantern up and looked into her face, blushing +and determined, with snowflakes gleaming on the curls that pushed out +from under her big hood. "You will meet me at the minister's?" he said, +passionately. "You will not fail me?" + +"I will not fail you!" she said; and laughed joyously; but the young +man's face was white. + +She kept her word; and with the assistance of Flora, romantic again when +her feet were warm, all went as they planned. Clothes were packed, +savings-banks opened, and a chaise abstracted from the Price stable. + +"It is my intention," said the youth, "to return to my father the value +of the vehicle and nag, as soon as I can secure a position which will +enable me to support my Letty in comfort and fashion." + +On the night of the elopement the two children met at the minister's +house. (Yes, the very old Rectory to which we Old Chester children went +every Saturday afternoon to Dr. Lavendar's Collect class. But of course +there was no Dr. Lavendar there in those days). + +Well; Alfred requested this minister to pronounce them man and wife; but +he coughed and poked the fire. "I am of age," Alfred insisted; "I am +twenty-two." Then Mr. Smith said he must first go and put on his bands +and surplice; and Alfred said, "If you please, sir." And off went Mr. +Smith--_and sent a note to Alfred's father and Letty's mother_! + +We girls used to wonder what the lovers talked about while they waited +for the return of the surpliced traitor. Ellen Dale always said they +were foolish to wait. "Why didn't they go right off?" said Ellen. "If +_I_ were going to elope, I shouldn't bother to get married. But, oh, +think of how they felt when in walked those cruel parents!" + +The story was that they were torn weeping from each other's arms; that +Letty was sent to bed for two days on bread and water; that Alfred was +packed off to Philadelphia the very next morning, and sailed in less +than a week. They did not see each other again. + +But the end of the story was not romantic at all. Letty, although she +crept about for a while in deep disgrace, and brooded upon death--that +interesting impossibility, so dear to youth--_married_, if you please! +when she was twenty, somebody called North,--and went away to live. When +Alfred came back, seven years later, he got married, too. He married a +Miss Barkley. He used to go away on long voyages, so perhaps he wasn't +really fond of her. We tried to think so, for we liked Captain Price. + +In our day Captain Price was a widower. He had given up the sea, and +settled down to live in Old Chester; his son, Cyrus, lived with him, and +his languid daughter-in-law--a young lady of dominant feebleness, who +ruled the two men with that most powerful domestic rod, foolish +weakness. This combination in a woman will cause a mountain (a masculine +mountain) to fly from its firm base; while kindness, justice, and good +sense leave it upon unshaken foundations of selfishness. Mrs. Cyrus was +a Goliath of silliness; when billowing black clouds heaped themselves in +the west on a hot afternoon, she turned pale with apprehension, and the +Captain and Cyrus ran for four tumblers, into which they put the legs of +her bed, where, cowering among the feathers, she lay cold with fear and +perspiration. Every night the Captain screwed down all the windows on +the lower floor; in the morning Cyrus pulled the screws out. Cyrus had a +pretty taste in horseflesh, but Gussie cried so when he once bought a +trotter that he had long ago resigned himself to a friendly beast of +twenty-seven years, who could not go much out of a walk because he had +string-halt in both hind legs. + +But one must not be too hard on Mrs. Cyrus. In the first place, she was +not born in Old Chester. But, added to that, just think of her name! The +effect of names upon character is not considered as it should be. If one +is called Gussie for thirty years, it is almost impossible not to become +gussie after a while. Mrs. Cyrus could not be Augusta; few women can; +but it was easy to be gussie--irresponsible, silly, selfish. She had a +vague, flat laugh, she ate a great deal of candy, and she was afraid +of-- But one cannot catalogue Mrs. Cyrus's fears. They were as the sands +of the sea for number. And these two men were governed by them. Only +when the secrets of all hearts shall be revealed will it be understood +why a man loves a fool; but why he obeys her is obvious enough: Fear is +the greatest power in the world; Gussie was afraid of thunder-storms, or +what not; but the Captain and Cyrus were afraid of Gussie! A hint of +tears in her pale eyes, and her husband would sigh with anxiety and +Captain Price slip his pipe into his pocket and sneak out of the room. +Doubtless Cyrus would often have been glad to follow him, but the old +gentleman glared when his son showed a desire for his company. + +"Want to come and smoke with me? 'Your granny was Murray!'--you're +sojering. You're first mate; you belong on the bridge in storms. I'm +before the mast. Tend to your business!" + + * * * * * + +It was forty-eight years before Letty and Alfred saw each other +again--or at least before persons calling themselves by those old names +saw each other. Were they Letty and Alfred--this tousled, tangled, +good-humored old man, ruddy and cowed, and this small, bright-eyed +old lady, Mrs. North, led about by a devoted daughter? Certainly these +two persons bore no resemblance to the boy and girl torn from each +other's arms that cold December night. Alfred had been mild and slow; +Captain Price (except when his daughter-in-law raised her finger) was a +pleasant old roaring lion. Letty had been a gay, high-spirited little +creature, not as retiring, perhaps, as a young female should be, and +certainly self-willed; Mrs. North was completely under the thumb of her +daughter Mary. Not that "under the thumb" means unhappiness; Mary North +desired only her mother's welfare, and lived fiercely for that single +purpose. From morning until night (and, indeed, until morning again, for +she rose often from her bed to see that there was no draught from the +crack of the open window), all through the twenty-four hours she was on +duty. + +[Illustration: THE CAPTAIN AND CYRUS WERE AFRAID OF GUSSIE] + +When this excellent daughter appeared in Old Chester and said she was +going to hire a house, and bring her mother back to end her days in the +home of her girlhood, Old Chester displayed a friendly interest; when +she decided upon a house on Main Street, directly opposite Captain +Price's, it began to recall the romance of that thwarted elopement. + +"Do you suppose she knows that story about old Alfred Price and her +mother?" said Old Chester; and it looked sidewise at Miss North with +polite curiosity. This was not altogether because of her mother's +romantic past, but because of her own manners and clothes. With painful +exactness, Miss North endeavored to follow the fashion; but she looked +as if articles of clothing had been thrown at her and some had stuck. +As to her manners, Old Chester was divided; Mrs. David Baily said, with +delicate disgust, that they were bad; but Mrs. Barkley said, that the +trouble was she hadn't any manners; and as for Dr. Lavendar, he insisted +that she was just shy. But, as Mrs. Drayton said, that was like Dr. +Lavendar, always making excuses for wrong-doing! "Which," said Mrs. +Drayton, "is a strange thing for a minister to do. For my part, I cannot +understand impoliteness in a _Christian_ female. But we must not judge," +Mrs. Drayton ended, with what Willy King called her "holy look." Without +wishing to "judge," it may be said that, in the matter of manners, Miss +Mary North, palpitatingly anxious to be polite, told the truth; and as +everybody knows, truthfulness and agreeable manners are often divorced +on the ground of incompatibility. Miss North said things that other +people only thought. When Mrs. Willy King remarked that, though she did +not pretend to be a good house-keeper, she had the backs of her pictures +dusted every other day, Miss North, her chin trembling with shyness, +said, with a panting smile: + +"That's not good house-keeping; it's foolish waste of time." And when +Neddy Dilworth's wife confessed coquettishly, that one would hardly take +her to be a year or two older than her husband, would one? Mary North +exclaimed, in utter astonishment: "is that all? Why, you look twelve +years older!" Of course such truthfulness was far from genteel,--though +Old Chester was not as displeased as you might have supposed. + +While Miss North, timorous and sincere (and determined to be polite), +was putting the house in order before sending for her mother, Old +Chester invited her to tea, and asked her many questions about Letty and +the late Mr. North. But nobody asked whether she knew that her opposite +neighbor, Captain Price, might have been her father--at least that was +the way Miss Ellen's girls expressed it. Captain Price himself did not +enlighten the daughter he did not have; but he went rolling across the +street, and pulling off his big shabby felt hat, stood at the foot of +the steps, and roared out: "Morning! Anything I can do for you?" Miss +North, indoors, hanging window-curtains, her mouth full of tacks, shook +her head. Then she removed the tacks and came to the front door. + +"Do you smoke, sir?" + +Captain Price removed his pipe from his mouth and looked at it. "Why! I +believe I do, sometimes," he said. + +"I inquired," said Miss North, smiling tremulously, her hands gripped +hard together, "because, if you do, I will ask you to desist when +passing our windows." + +Captain Price was so dumfounded that for a moment words failed him. Then +he said, meekly, "Does your mother object to tobacco smoke, ma'am?" + +"It is injurious to all ladies' throats," Miss North explained, her +voice quivering and determined. + +"Does your mother resemble you, madam?" said Captain Price, slowly. + +"Oh no! my mother is pretty. She has my eyes, but that's all." + +"I didn't mean in looks," said the old man; "she did not look in the +least like you; not in the least! I mean in her views?" + +"Her views? I don't think my mother has any particular views," Miss +North answered, hesitatingly; "I spare her all thought," she ended, and +her thin face bloomed suddenly with love. + +Old Chester rocked with the Captain's report of his call; and Mrs. Cyrus +told her husband that she only wished this lady would stop his father's +smoking. + +"Just look at his ashes," said Gussie; "I put saucers round everywhere +to catch 'em, but he shakes 'em off anywhere--right on the carpet! And +if you say anything, he just says, 'Oh, they'll keep the moths away!' I +worry so for fear he'll set the house on fire." + +Mrs. Cyrus was so moved by Miss North's active mission-work that the +very next day she wandered across the street to call. "I hope I'm not +interrupting you," she began, "but I thought I'd just--" + +"Yes; you are," said Miss North; "but never mind; stay, if you want to." +She tried to smile, but she looked at the duster which she had put down +upon Mrs. Cyrus's entrance. + +Gussie wavered as to whether to take offence, but decided not to--at +least not until she could make the remark which was buzzing in her small +mind. It seemed strange, she said, that Mrs. North should come, not only +to Old Chester, but right across the street from Captain Price! + +"Why?" said Mary North, briefly. + +"_Why?_" said Mrs. Cyrus, with faint animation. "Gracious! is it +possible that you don't know about your mother and my father-in-law?" + +"Your father-in-law?--my mother?" + +"Why, you know," said Mrs. Cyrus, with her light cackle, "your mother +was a little romantic when she was young. No doubt she has conquered it +by this time. But she tried to elope with my father-in-law." + +"What!" + +"Oh, bygones should be bygones," Mrs. Cyrus said, soothingly; "forgive +and forget, you know. I have no doubt she is perfectly--well, perfectly +correct, now. If there's anything I can do to assist you, ma'am, I'll +send my husband over"; and then she lounged away, leaving poor Mary +North silent with indignation. But that night at tea Gussie said that +she thought strong-minded ladies were very unladylike; "they say she's +strong-minded," she added, languidly. + +"Lady!" said the Captain. "She's a man-o'-war's-man in petticoats." + +Gussie giggled. + +"She's as flat as a lath," the Captain declared; "if it hadn't been for +her face, I wouldn't have known whether she was coming bow or stern on." + +"I think," said Mrs. Cyrus, "that that woman has some motive in bringing +her mother back here; and _right across the street_, too!" + +"What motive?" said Cyrus, mildly curious. + +But Augusta waited for conjugal privacy to explain herself: "Cyrus, I +worry so, because I'm sure that woman thinks she can catch your father +again. Oh, just listen to that harmonicon down-stairs! It sets my teeth +on edge!" + +Then Cyrus, the silent, servile first mate, broke out: "Gussie, you're a +fool!" + +And Augusta cried all night, and showed herself at the breakfast-table +lantern-jawed and sunken-eyed; and her father-in-law judged it wise to +sprinkle his cigar ashes behind the stable. + + * * * * * + +The day that Mrs. North arrived in Old Chester, Mrs. Cyrus commanded the +situation; she saw the daughter get out of the stage, and hurry into the +house for a chair so that the mother might descend more easily. She also +saw a little, white-haired old lady take that opportunity to leap +nimbly, and quite unaided, from the swinging step. + +"Now, mother!" expostulated Mary North, chair in hand, and breathless, +"you might have broken your limb! Here, take my arm." + +Meekly, after her moment of freedom, the little lady put her hand on +that gaunt arm, and tripped up the path and into the house, where, alas! +Augusta Price lost sight of them. Yet even she, with all her disapproval +of strong-minded ladies, must have admired the tenderness of the +man-o'-war's-man. Miss North put her mother into a big chair, and +hurried to bring a dish of curds. + +"I'm not hungry," protested Mrs. North. + +"Never mind. It will do you good." + +With a sigh the little old lady ate the curds, looking about her with +curious eyes. "Why, we're right across the street from the old Price +house!" she said. + +"Did you know them, mother?" demanded Miss North. + +"Dear me, yes," said Mrs. North, twinkling; "why, I'd forgotten all +about it, but the eldest boy-- Now, what was his name? Al--something. +Alfred--Albert; no, Alfred. He was a beau of mine." + +"Mother! I don't think it's refined to use such a word." + +"Well, he wanted me to elope with him," Mrs. North said, gayly; "if that +isn't being a beau, I don't know what is. I haven't thought of it for +years." + +"If you've finished your curds you must lie down," said Miss North. + +"Oh, I'll just look about--" + +"No; you are tired. You must lie down." + +"Who is that stout old gentleman going into the Price house?" Mrs. North +said, lingering at the window. + +"Oh, that's your Alfred Price," her daughter answered; and added, that +she hoped her mother would be pleased with the house. "We have boarded +so long, I think you'll enjoy a home of your own." + +"Indeed I shall!" cried Mrs. North, her eyes snapping with delight. +"Mary, I'll wash the breakfast dishes, as my mother used to do!" + +"Oh no," Mary North protested; "it would tire you. I mean to take every +care from your mind." + +"But," Mrs. North pleaded, "you have so much to do; and--" + +"Never mind about me," said the daughter, earnestly; "you are my first +consideration." + +"I know it, my dear," said Mrs. North, meekly. And when Old Chester came +to make its call, one of the first things she said was that her Mary +was such a good daughter. Miss North, her anxious face red with +determination, bore out the assertion by constantly interrupting the +conversation to bring a footstool, or shut a window, or put a shawl over +her mother's knees. "My mother's limb troubles her," she explained to +visitors (in point of modesty, Mary North did not leave her mother a leg +to stand on); then she added, breathlessly, with her tremulous smile, +that she wished they would please not talk too much. "Conversation tires +her," she explained. At which the little, pretty old lady opened and +closed her hands, and protested that she was not tired at all. But the +callers departed. As the door closed behind them, Mrs. North was ready +to cry. + +"Now, Mary, really!" she began. + +"Mother, I don't care! I don't like to say a thing like that, though +I'm sure I always try to speak politely. But it's the truth, and to save +you I would tell the truth no matter how painful it was to do so." + +"But I enjoy seeing people, and--" + +"It is bad for you to be tired," Mary said, her thin face quivering +still with the effort she had made; "and they sha'n't tire you while I +am here to protect you." And her protection never flagged. When Captain +Price called, she asked him to please converse in a low tone, as noise +was bad for her mother. "He had been here a good while before I came +in," she defended herself to Mrs. North, afterwards; "and I'm sure I +spoke politely." + +The fact was, the day the Captain came, Miss North was out. Her mother +had seen him pounding up the street, and hurrying to the door, called +out, gayly, in her little, old, piping voice, "Alfred--Alfred Price!" + +The Captain turned and looked at her. There was just one moment's pause; +perhaps he tried to bridge the years, and to believe that it was Letty +who spoke to him--Letty, whom he had last seen that wintry night, pale +and weeping, in the slender green sheath of a fur-trimmed pelisse. If +so, he gave it up; this plump, white-haired, bright-eyed old lady, in a +wide-spreading, rustling black silk dress, was not Letty. She was Mrs. +North. + +The Captain came across the street, waving his newspaper, and saying, +"So you've cast anchor in the old port, ma'am?" + +"My daughter is not at home; do come in," she said, smiling and nodding. +Captain Price hesitated; then he put his pipe in his pocket and +followed her into the parlor. "Sit down," she cried, gayly. "Well, +_Alfred_!" + +"Well--_Mrs. North_!" he said; and then they both laughed, and she began +to ask questions: Who was dead? Who had so and so married? "There are +not many of us left," she said. "The two Ferris girls and Theophilus +Morrison and Johnny Gordon--he came to see me yesterday. And Matty +Dilworth; she was younger than I--oh, by ten years. She married the +oldest Barkley boy, didn't she? I hear he didn't turn out well. You +married his sister, didn't you? Was it the oldest girl or the second +sister?" + +"It was the second--Jane. Yes, poor Jane. I lost her in 'forty-five." + +"You have children?" she said, sympathetically. + +"I've got a boy," he said; "but he's married." + +"My girl has never married; she's a good daughter,"--Mrs. North broke +off with a nervous laugh; "here she is, now!" + +Mary North, who had suddenly appeared in the doorway, gave a questioning +sniff, and the Captain's hand sought his guilty pocket; but Miss North +only said: "How do you do, sir? Now, mother, don't talk too much and get +tired." She stopped and tried to smile, but the painful color came into +her face. "And--if you please, Captain Price, will you speak in a low +tone? Large, noisy persons exhaust the oxygen in the air, and--" + +"_Mary!_" cried poor Mrs. North; but the Captain, clutching his old felt +hat, began to hoist himself up from the sofa, scattering ashes about as +he did so. Mary North compressed her lips. + +"I tell my daughter-in-law they'll keep the moths away," the old +gentleman said, sheepishly. + +"I use camphor," said Miss North, "Flora must bring a dust-pan." + +"Flora?" Alfred Price said. "Now, what's my association with that name?" + +"She was our old cook," Mrs. North explained; "this Flora is her +daughter. But you never saw old Flora?" + +"Why, yes, I did," the old man said, slowly. "Yes. I remember Flora. +Well, good-bye,--Mrs. North." + +"Good-bye, Alfred. Come again," she said, cheerfully. + +"Mother, here's your beef tea," said a brief voice. + +Alfred Price fled. He met his son just as he was entering his own +house, and burst into a confidence: "Cy, my boy, come aft and splice +the main-brace. Cyrus, what a female! She knocked me higher than +Gilroy's kite. And her mother was as sweet a girl as you ever saw!" He +drew his son into a little, low-browed, dingy room at the end of the +hall. Its grimy untidiness matched the old Captain's clothes, but it was +his one spot of refuge in his own house; here he could scatter his +tobacco ashes almost unrebuked, and play on his harmonicon without +seeing Gussie wince and draw in her breath; for Mrs. Cyrus rarely +entered the "cabin." "I worry so about its disorderliness that I won't +go in," she used to say, in a resigned way. And the Captain accepted her +decision with resignation of his own. "Crafts of your bottom can't +navigate in these waters," he agreed, earnestly; and, indeed, the room +was so cluttered with his belongings that voluminous hoop-skirts could +not get steerageway. "He has so much rubbish," Gussie complained; but it +was precious rubbish to the old man. His chest was behind the door; a +blow-fish, stuffed and varnished, hung from the ceiling; two colored +prints of the "Barque _Letty M._, 800 tons," decorated the walls; his +sextant, polished daily by his big, clumsy hands, hung over the +mantel-piece, on which were many dusty treasures--the mahogany spoke of +an old steering-wheel; a whale's tooth; two Chinese wrestlers, in ivory; +a fan of spreading white coral; a conch-shell, its beautiful red lip +serving to hold a loose bunch of cigars. In the chimney-breast was a +little door, and the Captain, pulling his son into the room after that +call upon Mrs. North, fumbled in his pocket for the key. "Here," he +said; "(as the Governor of North Carolina said to the Governor of South +Carolina)--Cyrus, she handed round _beef tea_!" + +But Cyrus was to receive still further enlightenment on the subject of +his opposite neighbor: + +"She called him in. I heard her, with my own ears! 'Alfred,' she said, +'come in.' Cyrus, she has designs; oh, I worry so about it! He ought to +be protected. He is very old, and, of course, foolish. You ought to +check it at once." + +"Gussie, I don't like you to talk that way about my father," Cyrus +began. + +"You'll like it less later on. He'll go and see her to-morrow." + +"Why shouldn't he go and see her to-morrow?" Cyrus said, and added a +modest bad word; which made Gussie cry. And yet, in spite of what his +wife called his "blasphemy," Cyrus began to be vaguely uncomfortable +whenever he saw his father put his pipe in his pocket and go across the +street. And as the winter brightened into spring, the Captain went quite +often. So, for that matter, did other old friends of Mrs. North's +generation, who by-and-by began to smile at one another, and say, "Well, +Alfred and Letty are great friends!" For, because Captain Price lived +right across the street, he went most of all. At least, that was what +Miss North said to herself with obvious common-sense--until Mrs. Cyrus +put her on the right track.... + +"What!" gasped Mary North. "But it's impossible!" + +"It would be very unbecoming, considering their years," said Gussie; +"but I worry so, because, you know, nothing is impossible when people +are foolish; and of course, at their age, they are apt to be foolish." + +So the seed was dropped. Certainly he did come very often. Certainly her +mother seemed very glad to see him. Certainly they had very long talks. +Mary North shivered with apprehension. But it was not until a week later +that this miserable suspicion grew strong enough to find words. It was +after tea, and the two ladies were sitting before a little fire. Mary +North had wrapped a shawl about her mother, and given her a footstool, +and pushed her chair nearer the fire, and then pulled it away, and +opened and shut the parlor door three times to regulate the draught. +Then she sat down in the corner of the sofa, exhausted but alert. + +"If there's anything you want, mother, you'll be sure and tell me?" + +"Yes, my dear." + +"I think I'd better put another shawl over your limbs?" + +"Oh no, indeed!" + +"Mother, are you _sure_ you don't feel a draught?" + +"No, Mary; and it wouldn't hurt me if I did!" + +"I was only trying to make you comfortable--" + +"I know that, my dear; you are a very good daughter. Mary, I think it +would be nice if I made a cake. So many people call, and--" + +"I'll make it to-morrow." + +"Oh, I'll make it myself," Mrs. North protested, eagerly; "I'd really +enjoy--" + +"Mother! Tire yourself out in the kitchen? No, indeed! Flora and I will +see to it." + +Mrs. North sighed. + +Her daughter sighed too; then suddenly burst out: "Old Captain Price +comes here pretty often." + +Mrs. North nodded pleasantly. "That daughter-in-law doesn't half take +care of him. His clothes are dreadfully shabby. There was a button off +his coat to-day. And she's a foolish creature." + +"Foolish? she's an unladylike person!" cried Miss North, with so much +feeling that her mother looked at her in mild astonishment. "And coarse, +too," said Mary North; "I think married ladies are apt to be coarse. +From association with men, I suppose." + +"What has she done?" demanded Mrs. North, much interested. + +"She hinted that he--that you--" + +"Well?" + +"That he came here to--to see you." + +"Well, who else would he come to see? Not you!" said her mother. + +"She hinted that he might want to--to marry you." + +"Well--upon my word! I knew she was a ridiculous creature, but +really--!" + +Mary's face softened with relief. "Of course she is foolish; but--" + +"Poor Alfred! What has he ever done to have such a daughter-in-law? +Mary, the Lord gives us our children; but _Somebody Else_ gives us our +in-laws!" + +"Mother!" said Mary North, horrified, "you do say such things! But +really he oughtn't to come so often. People will begin to notice it; and +then they'll talk. I'll--I'll take you away from Old Chester rather than +have him bother you." + +"Mary, you are just as foolish as his daughter-in-law," said Mrs. +North, impatiently. + +And, somehow, poor Mary North's heart sank. + +Nor was she the only perturbed person in town that night. Mrs. Cyrus had +a headache, so it was necessary for Cyrus to hold her hand and assure +her that Willy King said a headache did not mean brain-fever. + +"Willy King doesn't know everything. If he had headaches like mine, he +wouldn't be so sure. I am always worrying about things, and I believe my +brain can't stand it. And now I've got your father to worry about!" + +"Better try and sleep, Gussie. I'll put some Kaliston on your head." + +"Kaliston! Kaliston won't keep me from worrying. Oh, listen to that +harmonicon!" + +"Gussie, I'm sure he isn't thinking of Mrs. North." + +"Mrs. North is thinking of him, which is a great deal more dangerous. +Cyrus, you _must_ ask Dr. Lavendar to interfere." + +As this was at least the twentieth assault upon poor Cyrus's +common-sense, the citadel trembled. + +"Do you wish me to go into brain-fever before your eyes, just from +worry?" Gussie demanded. "You _must_ go!" + +"Well, maybe, perhaps, to-morrow--" + +"To-night--to-night," said Augusta, faintly. + +And Cyrus surrendered. + +"Look under the bed before you go," Gussie murmured. + +Cyrus looked. "Nobody there," he said, reassuringly; and went on tiptoe +out of the darkened, cologne-scented room. But as he passed along the +hall, and saw his father in his little cabin of a room, smoking +placidly, and polishing his sextant with loving hands, Cyrus's heart +reproached him. + +"How's her head, Cy?" the Captain called out. + +"Oh, better, I guess," Cyrus said. ("I'll be hanged if I speak to Dr. +Lavendar!") + +"That's good," said the Captain, beginning to hoist himself up out of +his chair. "Going out? Hold hard, and I'll go 'long. I want to call on +Mrs. North." + +Cyrus stiffened. "Cold night, sir," he remonstrated. + +"'Your granny was Murray, and wore a black nightcap!'" said the Captain; +"you are getting delicate in your old age, Cy." He got up, and plunged +into his coat, and tramped out, slamming the door heartily behind +him--for which, later, poor Cyrus got the credit. "Where you bound?" + +"Oh--down-street," said Cyrus, vaguely. + +"Sealed orders?" said the Captain, with never a bit of curiosity in his +big, kind voice; and Cyrus felt as small as he was. But when he left the +old man at Mrs. North's door, he was uneasy again. Maybe Gussie was +right! Women are keener about those things than men. And his uneasiness +actually carried him to Dr. Lavendar's study, where he tried to appear +at ease by patting Danny. + +"What's the matter with you, Cyrus?" said Dr. Lavendar, looking at him +over his spectacles. (Dr. Lavendar, in his wicked old heart, always +wanted to call this young man Cipher; but, so far, grace had been given +him to withstand temptation.) "What's wrong?" he said. + +And Cyrus, somehow, told his troubles. + +At first Dr. Lavendar chuckled; then he frowned. "Gussie put you up to +this, Cy--_rus_?" he said. + +"Well, my wife's a woman," Cyrus began, "and they're keener on such +matters than men; and she said, perhaps you would--would--" + +"_What?_" Dr. Lavendar rapped on the table with the bowl of his pipe, so +loudly that Danny opened one eye. "Would what?" + +"Well," Cyrus stammered, "you know, Dr. Lavendar, as Gussie says, +'there's no fo--'" + +"You needn't finish it," Dr. Lavendar interrupted, dryly; "I've heard it +before. Gussie didn't say anything about a young fool, did she?" Then +he eyed Cyrus. "Or a middle-aged one? I've seen middle-aged fools that +could beat us old fellows hollow." + +"Oh, but Mrs. North is far beyond middle age," said Cyrus, earnestly. + +Dr. Lavendar shook his head. "Well, well!" he said. "To think that +Alfred Price should have such a-- And yet he is as sensible a man as I +know!" + +"Until now," Cyrus amended. "But Gussie thought you'd better caution +him. We don't want him, at his time of life, to make a mistake." + +"It's much more to the point that I should caution you not to make a +mistake," said Dr. Lavendar; and then he rapped on the table again, +sharply. "The Captain has no such idea--unless Gussie has given it to +him. Cyrus, my advice to you is to go home and tell your wife not to be +a goose. I'll tell her, if you want me to?" + +"Oh no, no!" said Cyrus, very much frightened. "I'm afraid you'd hurt +her feelings." + +"I'm afraid I should," said Dr. Lavendar, grimly. + +"She's so sensitive," Cyrus tried to excuse her; "you can't think how +sensitive she is, and timid. I never knew anybody so timid! Why, she +makes me look under the bed every night, for fear there's somebody +there!" + +"Well, next time, tell her 'two men and a dog'; that will take her mind +off your father." It must be confessed that Dr. Lavendar was out of +temper--a sad fault in one of his age, as Mrs. Drayton often said; but +his irritability was so marked that Cyrus finally slunk off, +uncomforted, and afraid to meet Gussie's eye, even under its bandage of +a cologne-scented handkerchief. + +However, he had to meet it, and he tried to make the best of his own +humiliation by saying that Dr. Lavendar was shocked at the idea of the +Captain being interested in Mrs. North. "He said father had been, until +now, as sensible a man as he knew, and he didn't believe he would think +of such a dreadful thing. And neither do I, Gussie, honestly," Cyrus +said. + +"But Mrs. North isn't sensible," Gussie protested, "and she'll--" + +"Dr. Lavendar said 'there was no fool like a middle-aged fool,'" Cyrus +agreed. + +"Middle-aged! She's as old as Methuselah!" + +"That's what I told him," said Cyrus. + + * * * * * + +By the end of April Old Chester smiled. How could it help it? Gussie +worried so that she took frequent occasion to point out possibilities; +and after the first gasp of incredulity, one could hear a faint echo of +the giggles of forty-eight years before. Mary North heard it, and her +heart burned within her. + +"It's got to stop," she said to herself, passionately; "I must speak to +his son." + +But her throat was dry at the thought. It seemed as if it would kill her +to speak to a man on such a subject, even to as little of a man as +Cyrus. But, poor, shy tigress! to save her mother, what would she not +do? In her pain and fright she said to Mrs. North that if that old man +kept on making her uncomfortable and conspicuous, they would leave Old +Chester! + +Mrs. North twinkled with amusement when Mary, in her strained and +quivering voice, began, but her jaw dropped at those last words; Mary +was capable of carrying her off at a day's notice! The little old lady +trembled with distressed reassurances--but Captain Price continued to +call. + +And that was how it came about that this devoted daughter, after days of +exasperation and nights of anxiety, reached a point of tense +determination. She would go and see the man's son, and say ... That +afternoon, as she stood before the swinging glass on her high bureau, +tying her bonnet-strings, she tried to think what she would say. She +hoped God would give her words--polite words; "for I _must_ be polite," +she reminded herself desperately. When she started across the street her +paisley shawl had slipped from one shoulder, so that the point dragged +on the flagstones; she had split her right glove up the back, and her +bonnet was jolted over sidewise; but the thick Chantilly veil hid the +quiver of her chin. + +Gussie met her with effusion, and Mary, striving to be polite, smiled +painfully, and said: + +"I don't want to see you; I want to see your husband." + +Gussie tossed her head; but she made haste to call Cyrus, who came +shambling along the hall from the cabin. The parlor was dark, for though +it was a day of sunshine and merry May wind, Gussie kept the shutters +bowed--but Cyrus could see the pale intensity of his visitor's face. +There was a moment's silence, broken by a distant harmonicon. + +"Mr. Price," said Mary North, with pale, courageous lips, "you must +stop your father." + +Cyrus opened his weak mouth to ask an explanation, but Gussie rushed in. + +"You are quite right, ma'am. Cyrus worries so about it (of course we +know what you refer to). And Cyrus says it ought to be checked +immediately, to save the old gentleman!" + +"You must stop him," said Mary North, "for my mother's sake." + +"Well--" Cyrus began. + +"Have you cautioned your mother?" Gussie demanded. + +"Yes," Miss North said, briefly. To talk to this woman of her mother +made her wince, but it had to be done. "Will you speak to your father, +Mr. Price?" + +"Well, I--" + +"Of course he will!" Gussie broke in; "Cyrus, he is in the cabin now." + +"Well, to-morrow I--" Cyrus got up and sidled towards the door. "Anyhow, +I don't believe he's thinking of such a thing." + +"Miss North," said Gussie, rising, "_I_ will do it." + +"What, _now_?" faltered Mary North. + +"Now," said Mrs. Cyrus, firmly. + +"Oh," said Miss North, "I--I think I will go home. Gentlemen, when they +are crossed, speak so--so earnestly." + +Gussie nodded. The joy of action and of combat entered suddenly into her +little soul; she never looked less vulgar than at that moment. Cyrus had +disappeared. + +Mary North, white and trembling, hurried out. A wheezing strain +from the harmonicon followed her into the May sunshine, then ended, +abruptly--Mrs. Price had begun! On her own door-step Miss North stopped +and listened, holding her breath for an outburst.... It came: a roar of +laughter. Then silence. Mary North stood, motionless, in her own parlor; +her shawl, hanging from one elbow, trailed behind her; her other glove +had split; her bonnet was blown back and over one ear; her heart was +pounding in her throat. She was perfectly aware that she had done an +unheard-of thing. "But," she said, aloud, "I'd do it again. I'd do +anything to protect her. But I hope I was polite?" Then she thought how +courageous Mrs. Cyrus was. "She's as brave as a lion!" said Mary North. +Yet, had Miss North been able to stand at the Captain's door, she would +have witnessed cowardice.... + +"Gussie, I wouldn't cry. Confound that female, coming over and stirring +you up! Now don't, Gussie! Why, I never thought of--Gussie, I wouldn't +cry--" + +"I have worried almost to death. Pro-promise!" + +"Oh, your granny was Mur-- Gussie, my dear, now _don't_." + +"Dr. Lavendar said you'd always been so sensible; he said he didn't see +how you could think of such a dreadful thing." + +"What! Lavendar? I'll thank Lavendar to mind his business!" Captain +Price forgot Gussie; he spoke "earnestly." "Dog-gone these people that +pry into-- Oh, now, Gussie, _don't_!" + +"I've worried so awfully," said Mrs. Cyrus. "Everybody is talking about +you. And Dr. Lavendar is so--so angry about it; and now the daughter has +charged on me as though it is my fault! Of course, she is queer, but--" + +"Queer? she's queer as Dick's hatband! Why do you listen to her? Gussie, +such an idea never entered my head--or Mrs. North's either." + +"Oh yes, it has! Her daughter said that she had had to speak to her--" + +Captain Price, dumfounded, forgot his fear and burst out: "You're a pack +of fools, the whole caboodle! I swear I--" + +"Oh, don't blaspheme!" said Gussie, faintly, and staggered a little, so +that all the Captain's terror returned. _If she fainted!_ + +"Hi, there, Cyrus! Come aft, will you? Gussie's getting white around the +gills--Cyrus!" + +Cyrus came, running, and between them they got the swooning Gussie to +her room; Afterwards, when Cyrus tiptoed down-stairs, he found the +Captain at the cabin door. The old man beckoned mysteriously. + +"Cy, my boy, come in here"--he hunted about in his pocket for the key of +the cupboard--"Cyrus, I'll tell you what happened; that female across +the street came in, and told poor Gussie some cock-and-bull story about +her mother and me!" The Captain chuckled, and picked up his harmonicon. +"It scared the life out of Gussie," he said; then, with sudden angry +gravity,--"these people that poke their noses into other's people's +business ought to be thrashed. Well, I'm going over to see Mrs. North." +And off he stumped, leaving Cyrus staring after him, open-mouthed. + + * * * * * + +If Mary North had been at home, she would have met him with all the +agonized courage of shyness and a good conscience. But she had fled out +of the house, and down along the River Road, to be alone and regain her +self-control. + +The Captain, however, was not seeking Miss North. He opened the front +door, and advancing to the foot of the stairs, called up: "Ahoy, there! +Mrs. North!" + +Mrs. North came trotting out to answer the summons. "Why, Alfred!" she +exclaimed, looking over the banisters, "when did you come in? I didn't +hear the bell ring. I'll come right down." + +"It didn't ring; I walked in," said the Captain. And Mrs. North came +down-stairs, perhaps a little stiffly, but as pretty an old lady as you +ever saw. Her white curls lay against faintly pink cheeks, and her lace +cap had a pink bow on it. But she looked anxious and uncomfortable. + +("Oh," she was saying to herself, "I do hope Mary's out!)--Well, +Alfred?" she said; but her voice was frightened. + +The Captain stumped along in front of her into the parlor, and motioned +her to a seat. "Mrs. North," he said, his face red, his eye hard, "some +jack-donkeys have been poking their noses (of course they're females) +into our affairs; and--" + +"Oh, Alfred, isn't it horrid in them?" said the old lady. + +"Darn 'em!" said the Captain. + +"It makes me mad!" cried Mrs. North; then her spirit wavered. "Mary is +so foolish; she says she'll--she'll take me away from Old Chester. I +laughed at first, it was so foolish. But when she said that--oh _dear_!" + +"Well, but, my dear madam, say you won't go. Ain't you skipper?" + +"No, I'm not," she said, dolefully. "Mary brought me here, and she'll +take me away, if she thinks it best. Best for _me_, you know. Mary is a +good daughter, Alfred. I don't want you to think she isn't. But she's +foolish. Unmarried women are apt to be foolish." + +The Captain thought of Gussie, and sighed. "Well," he said, with the +simple candor of the sea, "I guess there ain't much difference in 'em, +married or unmarried." + +"It's the interference makes me mad," Mrs. North declared, hotly. + +"Damn the whole crew!" said the Captain; and the old lady laughed +delightedly. + +"Thank you, Alfred!" + +"My daughter-in-law is crying her eyes out," the Captain sighed. + +"Tck!" said Mrs. North; "Alfred, you have no sense. Let her cry. It's +good for her!" + +"Oh no," said the Captain, shocked. + +"You're a perfect slave to her," cried Mrs. North. + +"No more than you are to your daughter," Captain Price defended himself; +and Mrs. North sighed. + +"We are just real foolish, Alfred, to listen to 'em. As if we didn't +know what was good for us." + +"People have interfered with us a good deal, first and last," the +Captain said, grimly. + +The faint color in Mrs. North's cheeks suddenly deepened. "So they +have," she said. + +The Captain shook his head in a discouraged way; he took his pipe out of +his pocket and looked at it absent-mindedly. "I suppose I can stay at +home, and let 'em get over it?" + +"Stay at home? Why, you'd far better--" + +"What?" said the Captain. + +"Come oftener!" cried the old lady. "Let 'em get over it by getting used +to it." + +Captain Price looked doubtful. "But how about your daughter?" + +Mrs. North quailed. "I forgot Mary," she admitted. + +"I don't bother you, coming to see you, do I?" the Captain said, +anxiously. + +"Why, Alfred, I love to see you. If our children would just let us +alone!" + +"First it was our parents," said Captain Price. He frowned heavily. +"According to other people, first we were too young to have sense; and +now we're too old." He took out his worn old pouch, plugged some shag +into his pipe, and struck a match under the mantel-piece. He sighed, +with deep discouragement. + +Mrs. North sighed too. Neither of them spoke for a moment; then the +little old lady drew a quick breath and flashed a look at him; opened +her lips; closed them with a snap; then regarded the toe of her slipper +fixedly. The color flooded up to her soft white hair. + +The Captain, staring hopelessly, suddenly blinked; then his honest red +face slowly broadened into beaming astonishment and satisfaction. "_Mrs. +North_--" + +"Captain Price!" she parried, breathlessly. + +"So long as our affectionate children have suggested it!" + +"Suggested--what?" + +"Let's give 'em something to cry about!" + +"Alfred!" + +"Look here: we are two old fools; so they say, anyway. Let's live up to +their opinion. I'll get a house for Cyrus and Gussie--and your girl can +live with 'em, if she wants to!" The Captain's bitterness showed then. + +"She could live here," murmured Mrs. North. + +"What do you say?" + +The little old lady laughed excitedly, and shook her head; the tears +stood in her eyes. + +"Do you want to leave Old Chester?" the Captain demanded. + +"You know I don't," she said, sighing. + +"She'd take you away to-morrow," he threatened, "if she knew I had--I +had--" + +"She sha'n't know it." + +"Well, then, we've got to get spliced to-morrow." + +"Oh, Alfred, no! I don't believe Dr. Lavendar would--" + +"I'll have no dealings with Lavendar," the Captain said, with sudden +stiffness; "he's like all the rest of 'em. I'll get a license in Upper +Chester, and we'll go to some parson there." + +Mrs. North's eyes snapped. "Oh, no, no!" she protested; but in another +minute they were shaking hands on it. + +"Cyrus and Gussie can go and live by themselves," said the Captain, +joyously, "and I'll get that hold cleaned out; she's kept the ports shut +ever since she married Cyrus." + +"And I'll make a cake! And I'll take care of your clothes; you really +are dreadfully shabby"; she turned him round to the light, and brushed +off some ashes. The Captain beamed. "Poor Alfred! and there's a button +gone! that daughter-in-law of yours can't sew any more than a cat (and +she _is_ a cat!). But I love to mend. Mary has saved me all that. She's +such a good daughter--poor Mary. But she's unmarried, poor child." + + * * * * * + +However, it was not to-morrow. It was two or three days later that Dr. +Lavendar and Danny, jogging along behind Goliath under the buttonwoods +on the road to Upper Chester, were somewhat inconvenienced by the dust +of a buggy that crawled up and down the hills just a little ahead. The +hood of this buggy was up, upon which fact--it being a May morning of +rollicking wind and sunshine--Dr. Lavendar speculated to his companion: +"Daniel, the man in that vehicle is either blind and deaf, or else he +has something on his conscience; in either case he won't mind our dust, +so we'll cut in ahead at the watering-trough. G'on, Goliath!" + +But Goliath had views of his own about the watering-trough, and instead +of passing the hooded buggy, which had stopped there, he insisted upon +drawing up beside it. "Now, look here," Dr. Lavendar remonstrated, "you +know you're not thirsty." But Goliath plunged his nose down into the +cool depths of the great iron caldron, into which, from a hollow log, +ran a musical drip of water. Dr. Lavendar and Danny, awaiting his +pleasure, could hear a murmur of voices from the depths of the eccentric +vehicle which put up a hood on such a day; when suddenly Dr. Lavendar's +eye fell on the hind legs of the other horse. "That's Cipher's trotter," +he said to himself, and leaning out, cried: "Hi! Cy?" At which the other +horse was drawn in with a jerk, and Captain Price's agitated face +peered out from under the hood. + +"Where! Where's Cyrus?" Then he caught sight of Dr. Lavendar. "'_The +devil and Tom Walker!_'" said the Captain, with a groan. The buggy +backed erratically. + +"Look out!" said Dr. Lavendar--but the wheels locked. + +Of course there was nothing for Dr. Lavendar to do but get out and take +Goliath by the head, grumbling, as he did so, that Cyrus "shouldn't own +such a spirited beast." + +"I am somewhat hurried," said Captain Price, stiffly. + +The old minister looked at him over his spectacles; then he glanced at +the small, embarrassed figure shrinking into the depths of the buggy. + +("Hullo, hullo, hullo!" he said, softly. "Well, Gussie's done it.) +You'd better back a little, Captain," he advised. + +"I can manage," said the Captain. + +"I didn't say 'go back,'" Dr. Lavendar said, mildly. + +"Oh!" murmured a small voice from within the buggy. + +"I expect you need me, don't you, Alfred?" said Dr. Lavendar. + +"What?" said the Captain, frowning. + +"Captain," said Dr. Lavendar, simply, "if I can be of any service to you +and Mrs. North, I shall be glad." + +Captain Price looked at him. "Now, look here, Lavendar, we're going to +do it this time, if all the parsons in--well, in the church, try to stop +us!" + +"I'm not going to try to stop you." + +"But Gussie said you said--" + +"Alfred, at your time of life, are you beginning to quote Gussie?" + +"But she said you said it would be--" + +"Captain Price, I do not express my opinion of your conduct to your +daughter-in-law. You ought to have sense enough to know that." + +"Well, why did you talk to her about it?" + +"I didn't talk to her about it. But," said Dr. Lavendar, thrusting out +his lower lip, "I should like to." + +"We were going to hunt up a parson in Upper Chester," said the Captain, +sheepishly. + +Dr. Lavendar looked about, up and down the silent, shady road, then +through the bordering elder-berries into an orchard. "If you have your +license," he said, "I have my prayer-book. Let's go into the orchard. +There are two men working there we can get for witnesses--Danny isn't +quite enough, I suppose." + +[Illustration: THERE WAS A LITTLE SILENCE, AND THEN DR. LAVENDER BEGAN] + +The Captain turned to Mrs. North. "What do you say, ma'am?" he said. She +nodded, and gathered up her skirts to get out of the buggy. The two old +men led their horses to the side of the road and hitched them to the +rail fence; then the Captain helped Mrs. North through the elder-bushes, +and shouted out to the men ploughing at the other side of the orchard. +They came--big, kindly young fellows, and stood gaping at the three old +people standing under the apple-tree in the sunshine. Dr. Lavendar +explained that they were to be witnesses, and the boys took off their +hats. + +There was a little silence, and then, in the white shadows and perfume +of the orchard, with its sunshine, and drift of petals falling in the +gay wind, Dr. Lavendar began.... When he came to "Let no man put +asunder--" Captain Price growled in his grizzled red beard, "Nor woman, +either!" But only Mrs. North smiled. + +When it was over, Captain Price drew a deep breath of relief. "Well, +this time we made a sure thing of it, Mrs. North!" + +"_Mrs. North?_" said Dr. Lavendar; and then he did chuckle. + +"Oh--" said Captain Price, and roared at the joke. + +"You'll have to call me Letty," said the pretty old lady, smiling and +blushing. + +"Oh," said the Captain; then he hesitated. "Well, now, if you don't +mind, I--I guess I won't call you Letty. I'll call you Letitia." + +"Call me anything you want to," said Mrs. Price, gayly. + +Then they all shook hands with one another and with the witnesses, who +found something left in their palms that gave them great satisfaction, +and went back to climb into their respective buggies. + +"We have shore leave," the Captain explained; "we won't go back to Old +Chester for a few days. You may tell 'em, Lavendar." + +"Oh, may I?" said Dr. Lavender, blankly. "Well, good-bye, and good +luck!" + +He watched the other buggy tug on ahead, and then he leaned down to +catch Danny by the scruff of the neck. + +"Well, Daniel," he said, "'_if at first you don't succeed_'--" + +And Danny was pulled into the buggy. + + +THE END + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + + Both Lavender and Lavendar have been retained as they appear + in the original publication. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of An Encore, by Margaret Deland + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN ENCORE *** + +***** This file should be named 29284.txt or 29284.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/2/8/29284/ + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Roberta Staehlin, Joseph Cooper +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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