From the dining room, Leonard and Violet could see who stood outside--a
large figure in a plumed hat and billowing cloak, like a cavalier. It
was no cavalier, however, but a lady.
“Dr. Wilder’s house?” the stranger asked.
“Yes,” said Marian. “If you’ll step into the waiting room, I’ll see if
the doctor’s disengaged.”
“Deary,” said the visitor, “tell him it’s his Aunt Jean!”
At this Evan stepped forward.
“I am Dr. Wilder,” he announced sternly--sternly, because he had no Aunt
Jean.
“No!” cried she. “You don’t say! You must be one of the boys; but it’s
old Dr. Wilder I’m looking for.”
“He--” Evan began, and hesitated. “My father--”
“No!” said she, all sympathy. “Gone? That’s just terrible! I looked in
the telephone book, and I saw ‘Dr. Wilder,’ and I came here. My! That’s
sad! And you’re a doctor, too? Deary, you’ve got a _grand_ presence!”
Evan was considerably taken aback.
“Deary,” said she, “I’ll explain--”
Just then she caught sight of Leonard, who had come into the hall, urged
by sheer curiosity. He wished to hear the preposterous tale this woman
would surely tell. It was almost pathetic, to think of her coming before
him, the cynic, the merciless detector of human weakness, with her
ridiculous yarn.
“You’re the one to remember!” she said. “Your eyes--so kind o’ piercing
looking, and all! You remember your Auntie Jean, I bet!”
“No,” said Leonard, “I can’t say that I do.”
Indeed, he felt that if he had ever set eyes on her before, he would
have remembered. She was not one easy to forget. Stout and tall, she
carried herself with majesty. In her face, powdered white as a clown’s,
her lips were a vivid scarlet. Sticky dark lashes surrounded her eyes,
and crowning all was a bushy halo of blond hair, dry and unreal as a
doll’s wig. No, Leonard did not remember her.
Nevertheless, looking at her, a queer sympathy stirred in him. There was
something honest in her. Even the paint and powder and dyed hair were
honest. They showed no intention to deceive, but merely an artless
desire to make the best of what nature had provided.
“Deary,” she said, “I’m your Uncle Lambert’s second.”
There really had been an Uncle Lambert, a black sheep brother of their
father’s, and Leonard thought he could remember some talk about a
dreadful marriage. He was almost ready to believe that this lady might
be a relation--by marriage; but that did not exclude the possibility of
her being also a swindler.
“I remember,” said she, “as plain as plain. Your mother was the only one
in the family that ever had a kind word for me--a sweet, lovely woman,
she was. Well do I remember her saying to me: ‘Jean,’ she said, and
those were her words--‘Jean,’ she said, ‘come and see the children.’
Then she took me up through that rich, elegant house, and the taste
there was in those lace curtains I shall remember to my dying day, and
the carpet on the stairs as thick as fur, and there you were in the
nursery, the two of you, in little black velvet pants and white silk
shirts, as sweet and clean as two little lambs.” She sobbed. “Two little
lambs!” she insisted. “And Evan, he sat on my lap and played with my
locket, and well I remember he broke it off the chain and tried to
swallow it, and you stood in a corner, saying, ‘Go ‘way! Go ‘way!’ Two
l-little l-lambs!”
Leonard believed her. He could not recollect the incident, but he
believed it had been as she said.
“Sit down, Aunt Jean,” he said firmly.
“Aunt!” said she. “Deary, I will _not_ forget this sweetness!”
Still in tears, she sat down, and so did Leonard, but the others
remained standing.
“Boys!” she said. “I’m all kind of fluttery.” She paused. “Boys!” she
said solemnly. “How are things with you?”
“Bad,” replied Leonard, promptly.
“Oh, no!” Evan chivalrously declared. “I’m married--”
“A sweet, lovely woman!” said Aunt Jean, looking at Marian. “I can see
that; but--” She glanced about the neat, quiet little room. “Boys!” she
said. “I know!”
There was something so portentous, so mysterious in her manner that Evan
glanced behind him, as if a specter had thrown a shadow.
“This is not what you’ve been accustomed to,” she went on. “This is not
what you ought to have. No, sir! Servants to wait on you hand and foot,
and a fine house and all--that’s what you ought to have; and that’s what
you’re going to have! That’s just what I came for!”
She was gratified to see that they were astonished.
“Yes, sir!” she continued. “As soon as ever I heard the news, I came
right here. You’ve heard of Darcy Rose, of course?”
To her surprise, they had not.
“A grand man!” she said. “Him and I--he and me--were partners years ago.
A novelty act, it was--Rose and La Reine. He did mind reading and
mesmerizing, and I was Jean La Reine, the galvanic girl. I used to be
galvanized, you know, stiff as a board, lying in the air, all dressed in
white, and my hair down. It was a real pretty act, if I do say it
myself; but it kind of went out of style. Darcy, he went in for private
mind readings--séances and all, and he made a lot of money.”
“Won’t you join us at dinner?” asked Evan, because he saw Marian looking
so patient.
“Deary, I will!” said she. “And sweet it is of you to ask me!”
She flung off the voluminous cape with a fine gesture, and stood before
them in a low-necked black satin dress, with a rope of pearls reaching
to what might be called her waist. Combined with the plumed hat and the
high-heeled velvet slippers, the effect was remarkable--especially if
one did not notice how worn and dusty the slippers were, how shabby the
dress, how bedraggled the feather.
“Darcy Rose is doomed,” she said. “A grander spirit I never saw. One
week ago this very night he sent for me. ‘J.,’ he said, ‘I’m going,’ he
said.” She wiped her eyes. “‘And I’m ready,’ he said. ‘I haven’t one of
my own kin left,’ he said, ‘and me with a million dollars! J.,’ he said,
‘you and me were partners;’ and the way he talked about old times would
have wrenched tears out of a stone. He wanted to know what I was doing,
and I told him the solemn truth. ‘Darcy,’ I said, ‘I won’t tell you I’m
resting, for the truth is, I’ve given up the profession. I may look all
right to you,’ I said, ‘and there are many who admire a stately figger;
but it’s not the style just now, and on the stage I do not look so
young. I will not hide from you, Darcy, that I am demonstrating French
Cream Balm of Lettuce in the stores.’ Tears came into the man’s eyes.”
She turned to Marian. “He made a last will and testament,” she said,
“leaving all to me.”
“I see!” said Marian.
“And I wish to share it with the boys,” said Aunt Jean. “Darcy Rose
isn’t the only one can be grateful. Their mother was an angel to me,
when the rest of the family were--were _not_; and I’ve come to set
things right.”
“That’s mighty kind of you,” said Evan.
“Do have another slice of ham!” said Marian.
“And wouldn’t you like a nice cup of tea?” asked Violet.
Leonard said nothing. Although he had long ago lost all illusions about
human nature, he felt a queer sort of pain at seeing them all so very
kind and attentive--to a million dollars. It sickened him. He was not
going to join the crowd of flatterers. Let them truckle as they liked to
the poor old soul; he would be rudely honest.
He was.