EXTRAVAGANCE.
It was a July day, brilliant and dazzling; the deep-blue summer sky
arched over these quiet houses, a very heaven of sunshine and calm; the
very leaves were golden in the flood of light, and grateful shadows fell
from the close walls, and a pleasant summer fragrance came from within
the little enclosures of Bellevue. Nothing was stirring in the silent
little suburban street--the very sounds came slow and soft through the
luxurious noonday air, into which now and then blew the little
capricious breath of a cool breeze, like some invisible fairy fan making
a current in the golden atmosphere. Safe under the shelter of green
blinds and opened windows, the feminine population reposed in summer
indolence, mistresses too languid to scold, and maids to be improved by
the same. In the day, the other half of mankind, all mercantile and
devoted to business, deserted Bellevue and perhaps were not less drowsy
in their several offices, where dust had to answer all the purpose of
those trim venetian defences, than their wives and daughters were at
home.
But before the door of Number Ten stood a vehicle--let no one scorn its
unquestioned respectability,--it was The Fly. The fly was drawn by an
old white horse, of that bony and angular development peculiar to this
rank of professional eminence. This illustrious animal gave character
and distinction at once to the equipage. The smartest and newest
brougham in existence, with such a steed attached to it, must at once
have taken rank, in the estimation of all beholders, as a true and
unmistakable Fly. The coachman was in character; he had a long white
livery-coat, and a hat very shiny, and bearing traces of various
indentations. As he sat upon his box in the sunshine, he nodded in
harmony with the languid branches of the lilac-bushes. Though he was not
averse to a job, he marvelled much how anybody who could stay at home
went abroad under this burning sun, or troubled themselves with
occupations. So too thought the old white horse, switching his old white
tail in vain pursuit of the summer flies which troubled him; and so even
thought Hannah, Miss Willsie’s pretty maid, as she looked out from the
gate of Killiecrankie Lodge, shading her eyes with her hand,
marvelling, half in envy, half in pity, how any one could think even of
“pleasuring” on such a day.
With far different sentiments from these languid and indolent observers,
the Athelings prepared for their unusual expedition. Firmly compressed
into Mrs Atheling’s purse were five ten-pound notes, crisp and new, and
the girls, with a slight tremor of terror enhancing their delight, had
secretly vowed that Mamma should not be permitted to bring anything in
the shape of money home. They were going to spend fifty pounds. That was
their special mission--and when you consider that very rarely before had
they helped at the spending of more than fifty shillings, you may fancy
the excitement and delight of this family enterprise. They had
calculated beforehand what everything was to cost--they had left a
margin for possibilities--they had all their different items written
down on a very long piece of paper, and now the young ladies were
dancing Bell and Beau through the garden, and waiting for Mamma.
For the twin babies were to form part of this most happy party. Bell and
Beau were to have an ecstatic drive in that most delightful of carriages
which the two big children and the two little ones at present stood
regarding with the sincerest admiration. If Agnes had any doubt at all
about the fly, it was a momentary fear lest somebody should suppose it
to be their own carriage--a contingency not at all probable. In every
other view of the question, the fly was scarcely second even to Mrs
Edgerley’s sublime and stately equipage; and it is quite impossible to
describe the rapture with which this magnificent vehicle was
contemplated by Bell and Beau.
At last Mamma came down stairs in somewhat of a flutter, and by no means
satisfied that she was doing right in thus giving in to the girls. Mrs
Atheling still, in spite of all their persuasions, could not help
thinking it something very near a sin to spend wilfully, and at one
doing, so extraordinary a sum as fifty pounds--“a quarter’s income!” she
said solemnly. But Papa was very nearly as foolish on the subject as
Agnes and Marian, and the good mother could not make head against them
all. She was alarmed at this first outbreak of “awful” extravagance, but
she could not quite refuse to be pleased either with the pleasant piece
of business, with the delight of the girls, and the rapture of the
babies, nor to feel the glory in her own person of “shopping” on so
grand a scale--
“My sister and my sister’s child,
Myself and children three.”
The fly was not quite so closely packed as the chaise of Mrs Gilpin, yet
it was very nearly as full as that renowned conveyance. They managed to
get in “five precious souls,” and the white horse languidly set out
upon his journey, and the coachman, only half awake, still nodded on his
box. Where they went to, we will not betray their confidence by telling.
It was an erratic course, and included all manner of shops and
purchases. Before they had got nearly to the end of their list, they
were quite fatigued with their labours, and found it rather cumbrous,
after all, to choose the shops they wanted from the “carriage” windows,
a splendid but inconvenient necessity. Then Bell and Beau grew very
tired, wanted to go home, and were scarcely to be solaced even with
cakes innumerable. Perfect and unmixed delights are not to be found
under the sun; and though the fly went back to Bellevue laden with
parcels beyond the power of arithmetic; though the girls had
accomplished their wicked will, and the purse of Mrs Atheling had shrunk
into the ghost of its former size, yet the accomplished errand was not
half so delightful as were those exuberant and happy intentions, which
could now be talked over no more. They all grew somewhat silent, as they
drove home--“vanity of vanities--” Mrs Atheling and her daughters were
in a highly reflective state of mind, and rather given to moralising;
while extremely wearied, sleepy, and uncomfortable were poor little Bell
and Beau.
But at last they reached home--at last the pleasant sight of Susan, and
the fragrance of the tea, which, as it was now pretty late in the
afternoon, Susan had prepared to refresh them, restored their flagging
spirits. They began to open out their parcels, and fight their battles
over again. They examined once more, outside and inside, the pretty
little watches which Papa had insisted on as the first of all their
purchases. Papa thought a watch was a most important matter--the money
spent in such a valuable piece of property was _invested_; and Mrs
Atheling herself, as she took her cup of tea, looked at these new
acquisitions with extreme pride, good pleasure, and a sense of
importance. They had put their bonnets on the sofa--the table overflowed
with rolls of silk and pieces of ribbon half unfolded; Bell and Beau,
upon the hearth-rug, played with the newest noisiest toys which could be
found for them; and even Susan, when she came to ask if her mistress
would take another cup, secretly confessed within herself that there
never was such a littered and untidy room.
When there suddenly came a dash and roll of rapid wheels, ringing into
all the echoes. Suddenly, with a gleam and bound, a splendid apparition
crossed the window, and two magnificent bay-horses drove up before the
little gate. Her very watch, new and well-beloved, almost fell from the
fingers of Agnes. They looked at each other with blank faces--they
listened in horror to the charge of artillery immediately discharged
upon their door--nobody had self-possession to apprehend Susan on the
way, and exhort her to remember the best room. And Susan, greatly
fluttered, forgot the sole use of this sacred apartment. They all stood
dismayed, deeply sensible of the tea upon the table, and the
extraordinary confusion of the room, when suddenly into the midst of
them, radiant and splendid, floated Mrs Edgerley--Mayfair come to visit
Bellevue.