MRS. TOLBRIDGE'S REPORT IS NOT ACCEPTED
A few days after Miss Bannister's call at Cobhurst, it was returned by
Ralph and Miriam, who drove to Thorbury with the brown mare and the gig.
To their disappointment, they found that the young lady was not at home,
and the communicative maid informed them that she had gone to the city to
help Mrs. Tolbridge to get a new cook.
They went home by the way of the Witton house, and there they found
Miss Panney at home. The old lady was very much interested in Miriam,
whom she had not before seen out of bed. She scrutinized the girl from
hat to boots.
"What do you want me to call you, my dear?" she asked. "Don't you
honestly think you are too young to be called Miss Haverley?"
"I think it would be very well if you were to call me Miriam," said the
other, who was of the opinion that Miss Panney was old enough to call any
woman by her Christian name.
The conversation was maintained almost entirely by the old lady and
Ralph, for Miriam was silent and very solemn. Once she broke in with a
question:--
"What kind of a person is Miss Bannister?" she asked. Miss Panney gave a
short laugh.
"Oh, she is a charming person," she answered, "pretty, good-humored,
well educated, excellent taste in dress and almost everything, and very
lively and pleasant to talk to. I am very fond of her."
"I am afraid," said Miriam, "that she is too old and too fine for me,"
and turning to a photograph album she began to study the family
portraits.
"Your sister's ideas are rather girlish as yet," said Miss Panney, "but
housekeeping at Cobhurst will change all that;" and then she went on with
her remarks concerning the Haverley and Butterwood families, a subject
upon which Ralph was not nearly so well informed as she was.
When the brother and sister had driven away, Miss Panney reflected that
the visit had given her two pieces of information. One was that the
Haverley girl was a good deal younger than she had thought her, and the
other was that Mrs. Tolbridge was really trying to get a new cook. The
first point she did not consider with satisfaction.
"It is a pity," she thought, "that Dora and his sister are not likely to
be friends. That would help wonderfully. This schoolgirl, probably
jealous of the superiority of grown-up young ladies, may be very much in
the way. I am sorry the case is not different."
In regard to the other point the old lady was very well satisfied, and
determined to go soon to see what success Mrs. Tolbridge had had.
About the middle of the next forenoon, Miss Panney tied her horse in
front of the Tolbridge house and entered unceremoniously, as she was in
the habit of doing. She found the doctor's wife standing by the
back-parlor window looking out on the garden. When the old lady had
seated herself she immediately proceeded to business.
"Well, Kitty," said she, "what sort of a time did you have yesterday?"
"A very discouraging and disagreeable one," said Mrs. Tolbridge. "I might
just as well have stayed at home."
"You don't mean to say," asked Miss Panney, "that nobody answered your
advertisement?"
"When I reached the rooms of the Non-Resident Club, where the applicants
were to call--"
"That's the first time," interrupted Miss Panney, "that I ever heard that
that Club was of the slightest use."
"It wasn't of any use this time," said the other; "for although I found
several women there who came before the hour appointed, and at least a
dozen came in the course of the morning, not one of them would do at
all. I was just now looking out at our asparagus bed, and wondering if
any of those beautiful heads would ever be cooked properly. The woman in
our kitchen knows that she is to depart, and she is in a terribly bad
temper, and this she puts into her cooking. The doctor is almost out of
temper himself. He says that he has pretty good teeth, but that he
cannot bite spite."
Miss Panney now appeared to be getting out of temper.
"I must say, Kitty," she said, in a tone of irritation, "that I do not
understand how it was that out of the score or more of applicants, you
could not find a better cook than the good-for-nothing creature you have
now. What was the matter with them?"
"Everything, it seemed to me," answered Mrs. Tolbridge. "Now here
is Dora. She was with me yesterday, and you can ask her about the
women we saw."
Miss Panney attached no value whatever to the opinions, in regard to
domestic service, of the young lady who had just entered the room, and
she asked her no questions. Miss Bannister, however, did not seem in the
least slighted, and sat down to join the chat.
"I suppose," said Miss Panney, sarcastically, "that you tried to find
that woman that the doctor used to say he wanted: a woman who had
committed some great crime, who could find no relief from her thoughts
but in constant work, work, work."
Mrs. Tolbridge smiled.
"No, I did not look for her; nor did I try to find the person who was of
a chilly disposition and very susceptible to draughts. We used to want
one of that sort, but she should be a waitress. But, seriously, there
were objections to every one of them. Religion was a great obstacle. The
churches of Thorbury are not designed for the consciences of city
servants. There was no Lutheran Church for the Swedes; and the fact that
the Catholic Church was a mile from our house, with no street-cars,
settled the question for most of them. The truth is, none of them wanted
to come into the country, unless they could get near Newport or some
other suitable summer resort."
"But there was that funny old body in a shawl," said Dora, "who made no
objections to churches, or anything else in fact, as soon as she found
out your husband wasn't in trade."
"True," replied Mrs. Tolbridge; "she didn't object, but she was
objectionable."
Miss Panney was beginning to fasten her wrap about her. She had heard
quite enough, but still she deigned to snap out:--
"What was the matter with her?"
"Oh, she was entirely out of the question," said the lady of the house.
"In the first place, she was the widow of a French chef, or somebody of
that sort, and has a wonderful opinion of her abilities. She understands
all kinds of cooking,--plain or fancy."
"And even butter," said Dora; "she said she knew all about that."
"Yes; and she understood how butcher's meat should be cut, and the
choosing of poultry, and I know not what else besides."
"And only asked," cried Dora, laughing, "if your husband was in trade;
and when she heard that he was a professional man, was perfectly
willing to come."
Miss Panney turned toward Mrs. Tolbridge, sat up very straight in her
chair, and glared.
"Was not this the very woman you were looking for? Why didn't you
take her?"
"Take her!" repeated Mrs. Tolbridge, with some irritation. "What could I
do with a woman like that? She would want enormous wages. She would have
to have kitchen maids, and I know not whom, besides, to wait on her; and
as for our plain style of living, she could not be expected to stand
that. She would be entirely out of place in a house like this."
"Her looks were enough to settle her case," said Dora. "You never saw
such an old witch; she would frighten the horses."
"Kitty Tolbridge," said Miss Panney, severely, "did you ask that woman if
she wanted high wages, if she required kitchen maids, if she would be
satisfied to cook for your family?"
"No, I didn't," said the other; "I knew it was of no use. It was plain to
see that she would not do at all."
"Did you get her address?"
"Yes," said Dora; "she gave me a card as we were going out, and insisted
on my taking it. It is in my bag at home."
Miss Panney was silent for a moment, and was evidently endeavoring to
cool her feelings so as to speak without indignation.
"Kitty Tolbridge," she said presently, "I think you have deliberately
turned your back on one of the greatest opportunities ever offered to a
woman with a valuable husband. There are husbands who have no value, and
who might as well be hurried to their graves by indigestion as in any
other way, but the doctor is not one of these. Now, whatever you know of
that woman proves her to be the very person who should be in your kitchen
at this moment; and whatever you have said against her is all the result
of your imagination. If I were in your place, I would take the next
train for the city; and before I closed my eyes this night, I would know
whether or not such a prize as that were in my reach. I say prize because
I never heard of such a chance being offered to a doctor's wife in a
country town. Now what are you going to do about it, Kitty? If your
regard for your husband's physical condition is not sufficient to make
you look on this matter as I do, think of his soul. If you don't believe
that true religion and good cooking go hand in hand, wait a year and then
see what sort of a husband you will have."
Mrs. Tolbridge felt that she ought to resent this speech, that she ought
to be, at least, a little angry; but when she was a small girl, Miss
Panney was an old woman who sometimes used to scold her. She had not
minded the scoldings very much then, and she could not bring herself to
mind this scolding very much now. Occasionally she had scolded Miss
Panney, and the old lady had never been angry.
"I shall not go to the city," she said, with a smile; "but I will write,
and ask all the questions. Then our consciences will be easier."
Miss Panney rose to her feet.
"Do it, I beg of you," she said, "and do it this morning. And now, Dora,
if you walked here, I will drive you home in my phaeton, for you ought to
send that address to Mrs. Tolbridge without delay."
As the old roan jogged away from the doctor's house, Miss Panney remarked
to her companion, "I needn't have hurried you off so soon, Dora, for it
is three hours before the next mail will leave; but I did want Mrs.
Tolbridge to sit down at once and write that letter without being
interrupted by anything which you might have come to tell her. Of course,
the sooner you send her the address, the better."
"The boy shall take it to her as soon as I get home," said Dora.
She very much disliked scoldings, and had not now a word to say against
the old body who would frighten the horses. Desirous of turning the
conversation in another direction without seeming to force it, "It seems
to me," she said, "that Mr. and Miss Haverley ought to have somebody
better to cook for them than old Phoebe. I have always looked upon her as
a sort of a charwoman, working about from house to house, doing anything
that people hired her to do."
"That's just what those Haverleys want," said Miss Panney. "At present,
everything is charwork at their place, and as to their food, I don't
suppose they think much about it, so that they get enough. At their age
they can eat anything."
"How old is Miss Haverley?" asked Dora.
"Miss Haverley!" repeated Miss Panney, "she's nothing but a girl, with
her hair down her back and her skirts a foot from the ground. I call
her a child."
A shadow came over the soul of Miss Bannister.
Would it be possible, she thought, to maintain, with a girl who did not
yet put up her hair or wear long skirts, the intimacy she had hoped to
maintain with Mr. Haverley's sister?
Very much the same idea was in the mind of Miss Panney, but she thought
it well to speak encouragingly. "I wish, for her brother's sake, the girl
were older," said she: "but housekeeping will help to mature her much
more quickly than if she had remained at school. And as for school," she
added, "it strikes me it would be a good thing for her to go back
there--after awhile."
Dora thought this a good opinion, but before she could say anything on
the subject, she lifted her eyes, and beheld Ralph Haverley walking down
the street toward them. He was striding along at a fine pace, and looked
as if he enjoyed it.
"I declare," ejaculated Miss Bannister, "here he is himself. We shall
meet him."
"He? who?" and Miss Panney looked from side to side of the road, and the
moment she saw the young man, she smiled.
It pleased her that Dora should speak of him as "he," showing that the
brother was in her mind when they had been talking of the sister.
Miss Panney drew up to the sidewalk, and Ralph stopped.
He was greatly pleased with the cordial greeting he received from
the two ladies. These Thorbury people were certainly very sociable
and kind-hearted. The sunlight was on Dora's soul now, and it
sparkled in her eyes.
"It was my other hand that I gave you when I met you before," she said,
with a charming smile.
"Yes," said Ralph, also with a smile, "and I think I held it an
uncommonly long time."
"Indeed you did," said Dora; and they both laughed.
Miss Panney listened in surprise.
"You two seem to know each other better than I supposed," she said. "When
did you become acquainted?"
"We have met but once before," replied Dora, "but that was rather a
peculiar meeting." And then she told the story of her call at Cobhurst,
and of the mare's forelock, and the old lady was delighted with the
narration. She had never planned a match which had begun so auspiciously.
These young people must be truly congenial, for already a spirit of
comradeship seemed to have sprung up between them. But of course that
sort of thing could not be kept up to the desirable point without the
assistance of the sister. In some way or other, that girl must be
managed. Miss Panney determined to give her mind to it.
With Ralph standing close by the side of the phaeton, the reins lying
loose on the back of the drowsy roan, and Dora leaning forward from her
seat, so as to speak better with the young man, the interview was one of
considerable length, and no one seemed to think it necessary that it
should be brought to a close. Ralph had come to attend to some business
in the town, and had preferred to walk rather than drive the brown mare.
"Did you ever catch that delightfully obstinate creature?" cried Dora.
"And did you give your sister a drive in the gig?"
"Oh, yes," said Ralph, "I easily caught her again, and I curried and
polished her up myself, and trimmed her mane and tail and fetlocks, and
since she has been having good meals of oats, you can hardly imagine
what a sleek-looking beast she has become. We drove her into Thorbury
when Miriam returned your call. I am sorry you were not at home, so that
you might have seen what a change had come over Mrs. Browning."
Dora looked inquiringly.
"That is the name that Miriam has given to the mare."
Dora laughed.
"If Mrs. Browning is one of your sister's favorite poets," she said,
"that will be a bond between us, for I like her poems better than I do
her husband's, at least I understand them better. I wonder if your sister
will ever ask me to take a drive with her in the gig? I could show her so
many pretty places."
"Indeed she will," said Ralph; "but you mustn't think we are going to
confine ourselves to that sedate conveyance and the old mare. The colts
are old enough to be broken, and when they are ready to drive we shall
have a spanking team."
"That will be splendid," exclaimed Dora. "I cannot imagine anything more
inspiriting than driving with a pair of freshly broken horses."
Miss Panney gave a little sniff.
"That sort of thing," she said, "sometimes exalts one's spirit so high
that it is never again burdened by the body; but all horses have to be
broken, and people continue to live."
She smiled as she thought that the pair of young colts which she had
taken in hand seemed to give promise of driving together most
beautifully. But it would not do to stop here all the morning, and as
there was no sign that Dora would tire of asking questions or Ralph of
answering them, the old lady gathered up the reins.
"You mustn't be surprised, Mr. Haverley," she said, "if the ladies of
Thorbury come a good deal to Cobhurst. We have more time than the
gentlemen, and we all want to get well acquainted with your sister, and
help her in every way that we can. Miss Bannister is going to drive over
very soon and stop for me on the way, so that we shall call on her
together."
When the young man had bowed and departed, and the old roan was
jogging on, Dora leaned back in the phaeton and said to herself, that,
without knowing it, Miss Panney was an angel. When they should go
together to Cobhurst, the old lady would be sure to spend her time
talking to the girl.