"BEGONE, DULL CARE"
The days slipped by till the Christmas holidays were at hand. Linda
was busy with her school. Miss Ri occupied herself with the hundred
things which kept her interests alive. Her clubs, church meetings,
visits to sick neighbors, public and private charities, all filled her
days to overflowing. Mr. Jeffreys called regularly, so it came to be
an understood thing that he would appear either afternoon or evening.
Berkley visited the house seldom, and rarely when Linda was at home.
He would run in once in a while, asserting that he was too busy to
stay and had only dropped in to say "Howdy." He would question Miss
Ri about her affairs, but before she could turn her queries upon him,
he would be off. After that one bitter fight, he had himself well in
hand, and the fact that he worked far into the night and was fast
gaining a reputation for industry and exactness, not only bore out his
statements, but caused him to stand well with the older lawyers.
"That's a young man who will make his mark," said Judge Baker to Miss
Ri one morning when he met her on the street--Berkley had just passed
them with a swift bow--"though I am afraid he is working too hard."
"I'll have to haul him over the coals," returned Miss Ri. "You know he
is a great favorite of mine, Judge."
"So I have observed. Give him a little motherly advice, Miss Ri.
He needs it. He mustn't be burning the candle at both ends; but I
prophecy, that if he continues to exhibit the keenness and skill he is
developing, he will be judge some day."
The words returned to Miss Ri as she walked down street, and her
thoughts went back to the trunk and then to the papers. There had been
no news from Judge Goldsborough, and there appeared to be an absolute
lull. Mr. Jeffreys had announced that Berkley was going to take up the
case as soon as he had time, and so it stood.
If Linda missed Berkley, she did not say so, and never commented upon
his sins of omission. She accepted Mr. Jeffreys' constant attention
as a matter of course, was chagrined only when he refused to tell her
about his claim, for he always set aside the question with, "We cannot
tell definitely as yet."
"He is such a cautious, deliberate person," complained the girl one day
to Miss Ri. "I wish he would show a little more spontaneity."
"I thought you admired his beautiful dignity and reserve."
"Oh, I do; except when I want my curiosity satisfied," laughed Linda.
"I don't doubt but that he says what he really means, which is more
than can be believed of some persons I know."
Miss Ri gave her a sharp, quick look, but made no comment. Her crochet
needle moved swiftly in and out the meshes of white wool she held.
"Verlinda," she said presently, "how would you like to go up to the
city for your holiday? I invite you as my guest. We can get someone to
stay here in the house to keep Phebe satisfied, and we'll have a real
rollicking time going to the theatre, shopping, seeing our friends, and
giddy-gadding generally. What do you say to it?"
"Oh, Aunt Ri, it would be perfectly delightful, but--"
"But what?"
"Won't it be very expensive?"
"It won't be too expensive. I've just had a dividend I didn't expect,
and I can't think of a pleasanter way of spending it. I hate to go
poking around by myself, and I don't know anyone whom it would be more
real joy to have with me."
"Not Miss Parthy?"
"Oh, Parthy's an old stick when it comes to the city. She isn't young
enough," Miss Ri laughed comfortably.
Linda sat bending over an embroidered piece she was doing for Grace's
Christmas. There was a reminiscent look on her face. This would be her
first Christmas since Martin died. It would be hard not to spend the
day as usual in the old home, and harder still not to hear the voice of
him who had always made Christmas a happy day for her. Yet, after all,
it would be less lonely with Miss Ri, for had not the dear woman made
this a true home for her? It was like her to plan this outing, that the
girl might not yearn too deeply for past joys. There would not be the
old church to decorate, as in the years gone by, but on Christmas Eve
she could take wreaths to the churchyard. Her thoughts were far away
when Miss Ri's voice roused her.
"Well, shall we go?"
"If you really think you would enjoy having me," answered Linda, coming
back to the present. "I think you are a darling to ask me."
"Of course I'd enjoy having you. We can have our Christmas here--Phebe
would be broken-hearted if we didn't allow her to cook our Christmas
dinner--and then we'll pack up our duds and go. I don't know that I can
take you to any big functions, but we can have a mighty good time, I
truly believe. We ought to have someone to dine with us on Christmas
Day to make it more festive. I'd ask Berk, but he wouldn't miss
spending the day with his mother for worlds. We might have Parthy and
Mr. Jeffreys. Parthy hasn't any too good a woman in the kitchen, and
it would suit all around; give her a rest and please the cook."
So it was arranged, and Linda looked forward quite joyously to the
ten days in the city. Never before had such a treat been hers; a few
days at a time had been the utmost of her stay. She had gone to her
brother's wedding, a showy affair in which she had little heart, and
had several times remained with a friend over Sunday, but this was a
very different affair.
Phebe, on being consulted as to whom she would prefer to look after
while the two were absent, gave an unqualified vote for Mr. Berk. "He
so jokey, Miss Ri," she said, "an' he do look at my wittles lak he
can't wait. Den he a gem'man. I laks to wait on a rale gem'man, one o'
de ole fambly kin'. Mr. Jeffs he a gem'man, too, I specs, but he don'
know nuffin how to talk to us niggers. He so solemn, lak ole owl, or
fo' all de worl' lak a preacher. He tas'es dis an' he tas'es dat lak he
dunno whe'r he gwine lak it or no. Mr. Berk he shake he haid an' say,
'Um-um, dat sholy look good.' Mr. Jeffs ack lak he feard somebody think
he enjyin' hisse'f, but Mr. Berk thes pitch in an enjy hisse'f 'thout
carin' what anybody think."
Miss Ri laughed and, upon the occasion of her next walk down town,
stopped at Berk's office to ask if he would take possession and sleep
nights at her house during the holidays. He responded with alacrity,
promising to behave himself, but begging that he might be allowed to
take his meals at the hotel.
"And disappoint Phebe? Never!" cried Miss Ri. "She is counting upon
feeding you up. I told her you were getting thin and pale because they
didn't give you enough to eat at the Jackson House, and she is fairly
aching to provide for you. She will have to cook for herself, and why
not for you? Besides, you are her choice of the whole townful, so you
should feel flattered."
"I do," returned Berkley, "and very grateful to both you and her. I'll
come, Miss Ri. When do you start?"
"The day after Christmas. You'll be back by then?"
"Oh, yes, I'll be back. I shall go to town only for the day, and must
be here for various reasons as soon as practicable."
"Then that is settled. Merry Christmas, Berk. I wish you could dine
with us, but I know your mother's mind, and I wouldn't even suggest
such a thing."
Miss Ri's box of books provided several gifts for outsiders, but for
Linda was a special gift obtained, a fine soft evening cloak, something
she did not possess, and which she would need during her holiday visit.
From the new cousin came a handsome set of books and a box of flowers,
the latter for both ladies. A very ornate, wholly impossible scarf of
coarse texture arrived from Grace for her sister-in-law.
"It just looks like her," commented Miss Ri. "You can always tell
underbred people by the presents they give. No lady would look twice at
a thing like that. Why didn't she send you one plain fine handkerchief,
if she didn't want to spend her money for something handsome? It would
at least have shown some refined taste."
"I don't believe she knows any better," returned Linda, by way of
excuse.
"Exactly," replied Miss Ri.
From Berk came merely an unostentatious little card for Linda, though
for Miss Ri arrived a fine potted plant. "I'll allow you to look at
it," remarked the recipient with a little laugh.
Not even a card found its way from Linda to Berkley, though in her
upper drawer lay a half-finished blue silk tie. She had stopped working
on it long before.
Mr. Jeffreys saw them off on a cold twenty-sixth of December. That
same evening Berkley arrived to take possession of the room Miss Ri
had told Phebe to make ready for him. Phebe, with her head tied up in
a new kerchief, and with an immaculate expanse of white apron, was
ready to receive him, to show him upstairs and to wait upon him hand
and foot. She adored Linda, had great respect for Miss Ri, but "a rale
young gem'man" awakened all the love of service within her, and if he
had done the justice she expected to the meal she served, he would
probably have died of indigestion that very night, and the close of
this chapter would mark the end of this tale. However, whether from
lack of appetite or for other reasons, he ate with discretion, and then
retired to the sitting-room, where he worked over a budget of papers
till near midnight. With candle in hand, he then went upstairs. As he
passed through the upper hall he perceived the door of a room open. He
tip-toed up to it, stood for a moment on the sill, then entered softly
and with the expression of one approaching a sanctuary. Phebe had
removed all suggestion of disorder, but she could not remove the subtle
reminders of a girlish presence, which were suggested by the pictures
on the wall, the books on the table, by the little slippers peeping
from under the foot of the lounge. An end of ribbon fluttered out from
behind the door of the small wash-closet, which stood partly open.
Berkley gently lifted the satiny end and laid it against his cheek,
then to his lips. After this, he tip-toed out again, closing the door
softly behind him. He had this once entered a holy of holies, but he
must not be tempted again.
Meanwhile Miss Ri and Linda were settled at their hotel and were
making plans for the next day.
"I suppose I must go to see Grace," remarked Linda.
"Oh, not right away," was Miss Ri's reply. "Wait till the memory of
that scarf becomes a little more vague, then you will be able to thank
her for it with some similitude of warmth. In the case of that gift, it
is one of the instances when 'absence makes the heart grow fonder.' No,
I have planned what we are to do to-morrow. In the morning we will go
shopping; in the afternoon we will stay at home and receive calls; in
the evening we will go to the theatre."
"Oh, but, Aunt Ri, I haven't been going anywhere."
"High time you did. I don't want you to do anything that might distress
you, Verlinda, but I think a good play or two will do you a world of
good. We will look at the paper and see what is going on. We must hear
some good music. Perhaps there are to be some good concerts at the
Peabody; we will find out. I don't believe in persons making a selfish
indulgence of a sorrow. I am sure no one more than Martin would like
you to have a pleasant, cheerful time. You need it, and we ought to do
what is best for us."
"Very well," Linda acquiesced. "I am in your hands, Aunt Ri. I will do
as you say."
Miss Ri looked pleased. "That is what I do like about you, Verlinda;
you are always so sweetly reasonable. Come, let's go down to supper."
It was rather a pleasant sensation to be one of the company which
occupied the dining-room, and Linda enjoyed looking about her quite
as much as she did the partaking of the excellent meal. They had just
finished, when suddenly she caught sight of a party at one of the
tables across the room. "Aunt Ri, Aunt Ri," she said, turning toward
her companion. "Who do you think is over there, just across from us, a
little to your rear? You'll have to turn your head--the Goldsboroughs.
Mrs. Goldsborough, the governess, the two little girls, and an older
one. She must be the débutante."
Miss Ri turned her head, but by this time the little girls had caught
sight of them and were smiling and nodding. "They've evidently come up
for the holidays," said Miss Ri. "That Miss Carroll is quite a pretty
girl, isn't she?"
"Yes, I thought so when we met her the other day at 'Mary's Delight,'
It was nice of them to bring her, wasn't it? She told me that she was
very happy with the Goldsboroughs, that the children were dears, and
that she was quite like a daughter in the house."
"Julia would make her feel so. She is one of the kindest-hearted women
in the world, and not the least of a snob. They are coming over to
speak to us."
The two groups met half way, and walked to the reception room together.
Freddy, the eldest daughter, was bound for a theatre party and must
hurry away. "She was named Fredericka, for her grandfather," Mrs.
Goldsborough explained. The other little girls, Julia and Mary, sat one
each side of Linda, on the sofa; Miss Carroll drew up a stool opposite,
while Mrs. Goldsborough and Miss Ri settled themselves further away for
a good talk.
There were ever so many things going on in the city, the girls told
Linda. One of their cousins was to have a tea, another had asked them
to a box party, a third to a small dance. "We won't be out for two or
three years yet," said Mary; "but we shall have just as good a time
as Fred, if she is a débutante." Then there was much talk of this and
that one who had come out that season; of Fred's engagements and the
attention she was having, the twittering chat which young girls like.
Miss Carroll smiled indulgently at the little chatterers, but once or
twice gave Linda a look, as much as to say, "We know what it is worth."
However, Linda enjoyed this glimpse into a frivolous world and went
upstairs with Miss Ri without a thought to sadden her.
There was a morning's shopping, luncheon at a quaint little place on
Charles Street, a return to the hotel, an afternoon with the friends
who had been notified of their arrival and who called promptly, then
the theatre, and Linda's first day in the city was so full that she
dropped to sleep with never a thought of Sandbridge and the friends
there who might be missing her.
The next day Miss Ri reluctantly consented to a call on Grace. The
house where the Johnsons lived was in a new, rather than a fashionable
part of the city. The room into which the maid showed them was
pretentiously furnished, crowded with ornaments, ugly though expensive,
the walls lined with poor pictures in gaudy frames. Money value, rather
than good taste, was the keynote of the establishment, it was easily
seen.
After keeping them waiting for some time, Grace swept in wearing a
new gown tinkling with jets and redolent with sachet. She made many
apologies for having kept them waiting. "Such a surprise. So sorry I
couldn't have known." She had been up so late the night before, and the
rest of it. Were they up for a shopping expedition? There were so many
good bargains after the holidays.
[Illustration: "HE HAS GIVEN ME THE DEAREST RING."]
She lifted her eyebrows and viewed Linda with surprise when told why
they had come, where they were staying, and how long they intended to
remain. She could not quite understand why Miss Ri should have invited
anyone so uninteresting as she conceived her sister-in-law to be. Yet
she did not voice her opinion, but only said gushingly, "Oh, then
you'll be able to meet the dear Major. I do so want you to know him,
Miss Hill, and you, too, Linda. Of course, the engagement cannot be
announced except to the family, but he has given me the dearest ring,
which I do not wear in public, naturally." She stretched out her plump
hand and displayed the solitaire with much satisfaction.
There was some talk upon trifling matters, then Grace, turning to
Linda, said, "Oh, by the way, what about that Mr. Jeffreys? I had a
note from Mr. Matthews a few days ago, and he tells me there is a
claimant for Talbot's Angles, and that he is going to law about it.
Mr. Matthews asked me if I knew of any old papers which might be in
the house down there. I told him Mr. Phillips had the key and he would
go with him to see what could be found. It would be sad, would it not,
Miss Hill, if, after my effort to do what would seem best for Linda,
the property should pass into other hands?"
"Talbot's Angles? Are you sure it is Talbot's Angles?" asked Linda. "We
have always thought it must be Addition, or even Timber Neck."
"No, I am quite sure it is the Angles. Of course, that is the most
valuable of the three places now, though the Major says none of them
are worth so very much; but then he has such large ideas. The amount at
which we value the place would be a mere bagatelle to him."
The call was short. Miss Ri could not stand much of Grace, but they
were urged to come soon again and to come in the evening, when the
dear Major would be there. Grace was invited to have tea with the two
at their hotel, an invitation which she accepted eagerly, and then the
callers left.
"Aunt Ri," began Linda as soon as they had turned from the house, "did
you dream it was Talbot's Angles?"
"Why, yes, dear; I half suspected it all the time."
"Why?"
"From the way those two, Berk and Mr. Jeffreys, acted."
"And that is why you wanted to consult Judge Goldsborough?"
"Yes, that was why."
"But he says there is not a shred of proof."
"He said so at first. Later, he was not so sure but there might be
complications."
"I understand." Linda was silent for some time; then she spoke again,
following out her thoughts: "Aunt Ri, do you think that is why Berk has
avoided me? Do you think he has known all this time?"
Miss Ri hesitated before she made answer. "It may be that, Verlinda."
Linda gave a little sigh. "I am sorry he had to feel that way about
it. I wouldn't have blamed him, for he was not to blame, was he? He
couldn't help it."
"Not unless he chose to be disloyal to Mr. Jeffreys and dishonorable
altogether."
"And that he could never be. We know that, don't we, Aunt Ri? Shall we
see his sister and mother, do you think?"
"I am sure we shall. I wrote to Mrs. Matthews that we were coming."
No more was said on the subject just then; but, in thinking it over in
the seclusion of her room, it dawned upon Miss Ri that Linda was much
more concerned for Berkley's part in the transaction than in her own
loss of the property. "Well," she exclaimed, sitting down to face the
situation, "this is a revelation. How on earth is it going to end now,
I'd like to know."