BOMBSHELLS AND BROMIDE
About noon on the next day, Mrs. Tolbridge sat down at her desk to
finish the writing of the letter which had been so abruptly broken off
the day before. She had been very busy that afternoon and a part of this
morning, assisting Mrs. Drane and her daughter in their removal from a
hot street in a little town to the broad freedom and fine air of a
spacious country home.
And this change had given so much pleasure to all parties concerned that
it was natural that so good a woman as Mrs. Tolbridge should feel a glow
of satisfaction in thinking of the part she had taken in it.
She was satisfied in more ways than one: it was agreeable to her to
assist in giving pleasure to others, but besides this, she had a little
satisfaction which was peculiarly her own; she was pleased that that very
pretty and attractive Cicely would now work for the doctor, instead of
working so much with him. Of course she was willing to give up the little
room if it were needed, but it was a great deal pleasanter not to have
it needed.
"It is so seldom," she thought, as she lifted the lid of her desk, "that
things can be arranged so as to please everybody."
At this moment she glanced through the open window and saw Miss Panney at
the front gate. Closing her desk, Mrs. Tolbridge pushed back her chair,
her glow of satisfaction changing into a little chill.
"Is the doctor at home?" she inquired of the servant who was passing the
door, and on receiving the negative reply, the chilly feeling increased.
Miss Panney was in a radiant humor. She seated herself in her favorite
rocking-chair; she laid her fan on the table near her and her reticule by
it, and she pushed back from her shoulders a little India shawl.
"I am treating myself," she said, "to a regular gala day; in the first
place, I intend to stay here to luncheon. People who have a La Fleur must
expect to see their friends at their table much oftener than if they had
a Biddy in the kitchen. That is one of the penalties of good fortune. I
have my cap in my bag, and as soon as I have cooled a little I will take
off my bonnet and shawl. This afternoon I am going to see the Bannisters,
and after that I intend to call on Mrs. Drane and her daughter. I put off
that until the last in order that Miss Drane may be at home. I ought to
have called on them before, considering that I did so much in getting
them established in Thorbury,--I am sure Mrs. Brinkly would not have
taken them if I had not talked her into it,--but one thing and another
has prevented my going there. But I have seen Miss Drane; I came to town
yesterday in the Witton carriage, and saw her in the street. She is
certainly a pretty little thing, and dresses with much taste. We all
thought her face was very sweet and attractive. We had a good look at
her, for she was waiting for our carriage to pass, in order to cross the
street. I told Jim, the driver, to go slowly, for I like to have a good
look at people before I know them. And by the way, Kitty, an idea comes
into my head," and as she said this, the old lady's eyes twinkled, and a
little smile stole over the lower part of her wrinkled face. "Perhaps you
may not like the doctor to have such an extremely pretty secretary.
Perhaps you may have preferred her to have a stubby nose and a freckled
face. How is that, Kitty?"
"Nonsense," said Mrs. Tolbridge. "It makes no manner of difference what
sort of a face a secretary has; her handwriting is much more important."
"Oh," said Miss Panney, "I am glad to hear that. And how does she get
on?"
"Very well indeed," was the answer; "the doctor seems satisfied with
her work."
"That is nice," said Miss Panney, "and how do they like it at Mrs.
Brinkly's? I saw their rooms, which are neatly furnished, and Mrs.
Brinkly keeps a very good table. I have taken many a meal at her house."
Had there been a column of mercury at Mrs. Tolbridge's back, it would
have gone down several degrees, as she prepared to answer Miss Panney's
question. She did not exactly hesitate, but she was so slow in beginning
to speak, that Miss Panney, who was untying her bonnet-strings, had time
to add, reflectively, "Yes, they are sure to find her a good landlady."
"The Dranes are not with Mrs. Brinkly now," said Mrs. Tolbridge. "They
left yesterday afternoon, although some of their things were not sent
away until this morning."
The old lady's hands dropped from her bonnet-strings to her lap.
"Left Mrs. Brinkly!" she exclaimed. "And where have they gone?"
"To Cobhurst, where they will board for a while, during the hot weather.
They found it very close and uncomfortable in that part of the town, with
the mercury in the eighties."
Miss Panney sat up tall and straight. Her eyes grew bigger and blacker as
with her mental vision she glared upon the situation. Presently she
spoke, and her voice sounded as if she were in a great empty cask, with
her mouth at the bunghole.
"Who did this?" she asked.
Mrs. Tolbridge was glad to talk; it suited her much better at this time
to do the talking than for her companion to do it, and she proceeded
quite volubly.
"Oh, we all thought the change would be an excellent thing for them,
especially for Mrs. Drane, who is not strong; and as they had seen
Cobhurst and were charmed with the place, and as the Haverleys were quite
willing to take them for a little while, it seemed an excellent thing all
round. It was, however, our cook, La Fleur, who was the chief mover in
the matter. She was very much opposed to their staying with Mrs.
Brinkly,--you see she had lived with them and has quite an affection for
them,--and actually went so far as to talk of taking a house in the
country and boarding them herself. And you know, Miss Panney, how bad it
would be for the doctor to lose La Fleur."
"Did the doctor have anything to do with this?" asked Miss Panney.
Now Mrs. Tolbridge did hesitate a little.
"Yes," she said, "he spoke to the Haverleys about it; he thought it would
be an excellent thing for them."
Miss Panney rose, with her face as hard as granite. She drew her shawl
about her shoulders, and took up her fan and bag. Mrs. Tolbridge also
rose, much troubled.
"You must not imagine for a minute, Miss Panney," she said, "that the
doctor had the slightest idea that this removal would annoy you. In fact,
he spoke about consulting you in regard to it, and had he seen you before
the affair was settled, I am sure he would have done so. And you must not
think, either, that the doctor urged the Haverleys to take these ladies,
simply because he wished to keep La Fleur. He values her most highly, but
he thought of others than himself. He spoke particularly of the admirable
influence Mrs. Drane would have on Miriam."
The old lady turned her flashing eyes on Mrs. Tolbridge, and, slightly
lowering her head, she almost screamed these words: "Blow to the top of
the sky Mrs. Drane's influence on Miriam! That is not what I care for."
Then she turned and walked out of the parlor, followed by Mrs. Tolbridge.
At the front door she stopped and turned her wrathful and inexorable
countenance upon the doctor's wife; then she deliberately shook her
skirts, stamped her feet, and went out of the door.
When Dr. Tolbridge heard what had happened, he was sorely troubled. "I
must go to see her," he said. "I cannot allow her to remain in that state
of mind. I think I can explain the affair and make her look at it more as
we do, although, I must admit, now that I recall some things she recently
said to me, that she may have some grave objections to Cicely's residence
at Cobhurst. But I shall see her, and I think I can pacify her."
Mrs. Tolbridge was not so hopeful as her husband; he had not seen Miss
Panney at the front door. But she could not bring herself to regret the
advice she had given him when he proposed consulting Miss Panney in
regard to the Dranes' removal.
"I shall never object to La Fleur," she said to herself. "I will bear all
her impositions and queernesses for the sake of his health and pleasure,
but I cannot give up my little room to Cicely Drane."
And that very hour she caused to be replaced in the said room the desk
and other appurtenances which had been taken out when the room had been
arranged for the secretary.
These changes had hardly been made, when Dora Bannister called.
"Miss Panney was at our house to-day," said the girl, "and I cannot
imagine what was the matter with her. I never saw anybody in such a
state of mind."
"What did she say?" asked Mrs. Tolbridge.
"She said very little, and that was one of the strangest things about
her. But she sat and stared and stared and stared at me, as if I were
some sort of curiosity on exhibition, and did not answer anything I said
to her. I was awfully nervous, though I knew from the few words she had
said that she was not angry with me; but she kept on staring and staring
and staring, and then she suddenly leaned forward and put her arms around
me and kissed me. Then she sat back in her chair again, slapped her two
hands upon her knees, and said, speaking to herself, 'It shall be done. I
am a fool to have a doubt about it.' And then she went without another
word. Now was not that simply amazing? Did she come here, and did she act
in that way?"
"She was here," said Mrs. Tolbridge, "but she did not do anything so
funny as that."
"Well, I suppose I shall find out some day what she means," said Dora.
"And now, Mrs. Tolbridge, I did not come altogether to see you this
afternoon. I hope Miss Drane has not gone home yet, for I thought it
would be nice to meet her here. Mother and I are going to call on them,
but I do not know when that will be; and I have heard so much about the
doctor's secretary that I am perishing to see her. They say she is very
pretty and bright. I wanted mother to go there to-day, but we have had a
long drive this morning, and to-morrow she and I and Herbert are going
to call at Cobhurst; and you know mother will never consent to crowd
things. And so I thought I would come here this afternoon by myself. It
won't be like a call, you know."
"Miss Drane is not here," said Mrs. Tolbridge; "but if you want to see
her, you can do it to-morrow, if you go to Cobhurst. She and her mother
are now living there, boarding with the Haverleys."
"Living at Cobhurst!" exclaimed Dora; and as she uttered these words, the
girl turned pale.
"Heavens!" mentally ejaculated the doctor's wife. "I do nothing this day
but explode bombshells."
In a moment Dora recovered nearly all her color, and laughed.
"It is so funny," she said, "that all sorts of things happen in this town
without our knowing it. Is she still going to be the doctor's secretary?"
"Yes, she can do her work out there as well as here."
Dora looked out of the window as if she saw something in the garden, and
Mrs. Tolbridge charitably took her out to show her some new dahlias.
Early the next morning, Dr. Tolbridge drove into the Witton yard. No
matter who waited for him, he would not delay this visit. When he asked
for Miss Panney, he had a strong idea that the old lady would refuse to
see him. But in an astonishingly short space of time, she marched into
the parlor, every war-flag flying, and closed the door behind her.
Without shaking hands or offering the visitor any sort of salutation, she
seated herself in a chair in the middle of the room. "Now," said she,
"don't lose any time in saying what you have got to say."
Not encouraged by this reception, the doctor could not instantly arrange
what he had to say. But he shortly got his ideas into order, and
proceeded to lay the case in its most favorable light before the old
lady, dwelling particularly on the reasons why she had not been consulted
in the affair.
Miss Panney heard him to the end without a change in the rigidity of her
face and attitude. "Very well, then," she said, when he had finished, "I
see exactly what you have done. You have thrown me aside for a cook."
"Not at all!" exclaimed the doctor. "I had no idea of throwing you aside.
In fact, Miss Panney, I never thought of you in the matter at all."
"Exactly, exactly," said the old lady, with emphatic sharpness; "you
never thought of me at all. That is the sum and substance of what you
have done. I gave you my confidence. I told you my intentions, my hopes,
the plan which was to crown and finish the work of my life. I told you I
would make the grandson of the only man I ever loved my heir, and I would
do this, because I wished him to marry the daughter of the man who was my
best friend on earth. The marriage of these two and the union of the
estate of Cobhurst with the wealth of the Bannisters was a project which,
as I told you, had grown dear to my heart, and for which I was thinking
and dreaming and working. All this you knew, and without a word to me,
and if you speak the truth, all for the sake of your wretched stomach,
you clap into Cobhurst a girl who will be engaged to Ralph Haverley in
less than a month."
The doctor moved impatiently in his chair.
"Nonsense, Miss Panney. Cicely Drane will not harm your plans. She is a
sensible, industrious girl, who attends to her own business, and--"
"Precisely," said Miss Panney; "and her own business will be to settle
for life at Cobhurst. She may not be courting young Haverley to-day,
but she will begin to-morrow. She will do it, and what is more, she
would be a fool if she did not. It does not matter what sort of a girl
she is;" and now Miss Panney began to speak louder, and stood up; "it
does not matter if she had five legs and two heads; you have no right
to thrust any intruder into a household which I had taken into my
charge, and for which I had my plans, all of which you knew. You are a
false friend, Dr. Tolbridge, and at your doorstep I have shaken the
dust from my skirts and my feet." And with a quick step and a high
head, she marched out of the room.
The doctor took a little book out of his pocket, and on a blank leaf
wrote the following:--
Rx.
Potass. Bromid. 3iij
Tr. Dig. Natis. m. xxx
Tr. Lavand. Comp. ad 3iij
M.S. teaspoonful every three hours.
H. D.
Having sent this to Miss Panney by a servant, he went his way. Driving
along, his conscience stung him a little when he thought of the fable his
wife had told him; but the moral of the fable had made but little
impression upon him, and as an antidote to the sting he applied his
conviction that matchmaking was a bad business, and that in love affairs,
as well as in many diseases, the very best thing to do was to let nature
take its course.
When Miss Panney read the paper which had been sent to her, her eyes
flashed, and then she laughed.
"The wretch!" she exclaimed; "it is just like him." And in the afternoon
she sent to her apothecary in Thorbury for the medicine prescribed. "If
it cools me down," she said to herself, "I shall be able to work better."