MISS DEBBY ARRIVES.
"To Dr. Cushing's, Ma'am?"
This question met the ear of Miss Debby Kittery just after she had
deposited her umbrella, with a smart, decisive thump, by her side,
and settled herself and her bandbox on the back seat of the creaking,
tetering old stage on the way to Poganuc.
Miss Debby opened her eyes, surveyed the questioner with a well-bred
stare, and answered, with a definite air, "Yes, sir."
"Oh, yis; thought so," said Hiel Jones. "Miss Kittery, I s'pose; the
Doctor's folks is expecting ye. Folks all well in Boston, I s'pose?"
Miss Debby in her heart thought Hiel Jones very presuming and
familiar, and endeavored to convey by her behavior and manner that
such was her opinion; but the effort was quite a vain one, for the
remotest conception of any such possibility in his case was so far
from Hiel's mind that there was not there even the material to make
it of. The look of dignified astonishment with which the good lady
responded to his question as to the "folks in Boston" was wholly
lost on him.
The first sentence in the Declaration of Independence, that all men
are "created equal," had so far become incarnate in Hiel that he
never yet had seen the human being whom he did not feel competent to
address on equal terms, and, when exalted to his high seat on the
stage-box, could not look down upon with a species of patronage.
Even the _haute noblesse_ of Poganuc allowed Hiel's familiarities
and laughed at his jokes; he was one of their institutions; and what
was tolerance and acceptance on the part of the aristocracy became
adulation on the part of those nearer his own rank of life. And so
when Miss Debby Kittery made him short answers and turned away her
head, Hiel merely commented to himself, "Don't seem sociable. Poor
old lady! Tired, I s'pose; roads _is_ pretty rough," and, gathering
up his reins, dashed off cheerfully.
At the first stage where he stopped to change horses he deemed it
his duty to cheer the loneliness of the old lady by a little more
conversation, and so, after offering to bring her a tumbler of water,
he resumed:
"Ye hain't ben to Poganuc very often;--hain't seen Dolly since she's
grow'd up?"
"Are you speaking of _Miss_ Cushing, sir?" asked Miss Debby, in tones
of pointed rebuke.
"Yis--wal, we allers call her 'Dolly' t' our house," said Hiel.
"We've know'd her sence she was _that_ high. My wife used to live to
the Doctor's--she thinks all the world of Dolly."
Miss Debby thought of the verse in the Church Catechism in which
the catechumen defines it as his duty to 'order himself lowly and
reverently to all his betters.' Evidently Hiel had never heard
of this precept. Perhaps if he had, the inquiry as to who _are_
betters, as presented to a shrewd and thoughtful mind, might lead to
embarrassing results.
So, as he seemed an utterly hopeless case, and as after all he
appeared so bright, and anxious to oblige, Miss Debby surrendered
at discretion, and during the last half of the way found herself
laughing heartily at some of Hiel's stories and feeling some interest
in the general summary of Poganuc news which he threw in gratis.
"Yis, the Doctor's folks is all well. Doctor's had lots o' things
sent in this year, Thanksgiving time--turkeys and chickens and
eggs and lard--every kind o' thing you can think of. Everybody
sent--Town Hill folks, and folks out seven miles round. Everybody
likes the Doctor; they'd orter, too! There ain't sech a minister
nowhere. The way he explains the doctrines and sets 'em home--I tell
ye, there ain't no mistake about _him_; he's a hull team, now, and
our folks knows it. Orter 'a' ben here a week ago, when the Doctor
had his wood-spell. Tell ye, if the sleds didn't come in! Why, his
back-yard's a perfect mountain o' wood--best sort too, good oak and
hickory, makes good solid coals--enough to keep him a year round.
Wal, folks _orter_ do it. He's faithful to them, they'd orter do wal
by him."
"Isn't there an Episcopal church in your town?" asked Miss Debby.
"Oh, yis, there is a little church. Squire Lewis he started it 'bout
six years ago, and there was consid'able many signed off to it. But
our Poganuc folks somehow ain't made for 'Piscopals. A 'Piscopal
church in our town is jest like a hill o' potatoes planted under a
big apple-tree; the tree got a-growin' afore they did, and don't give
'em no chance. There was my wife's father, he signed off, 'cause of a
quarrel he hed with his own church; but he's come back agin, and so
have all his boys, and Nabby, and jined the Doctor's church. Fact is,
our folks sort o' hanker arter the old meetin'-house."
"Who is the rector of the Episcopal church?"
"Oh, that's Sim Coan; nice, lively young feller, Sim is; but can't
hold a candle to the Doctor. Sim he ain't 'fraid of nobody--preaches
up the 'Piscopal doctrine sharp, and stands up for his side; and he's
all the feasts and fasts and anthems and things at his tongue's end;
and his folks likes him fust rate. But the church don't grow much;
jest holds its own, that's all."
These varied items of intelligence, temporal and spiritual, were
poured into Miss Debby's ear at sundry periods when horses were to be
changed, or in the interval of waiting for dinner at the sleepy old
country tavern; and by the time she reached Poganuc she had conceived
quite a friendly feeling towards Hiel and unbent her frigid demeanor
to that degree that Hiel told Nabby "the old lady reely got quite
sociable and warmed up afore she got there."
Dolly was somewhat puzzled and almost alarmed on her first
introduction to her aunt, who took possession of her in a summary
manner, turning her round and surveying her, and giving her opinion
of her with a distinct and decisive air, as if the damsel had been an
article of purchase sent home to be looked over.
"So this is my niece Dolly, is it?" she said. "Well, come kiss your
old aunty; upon my word, you are taller than your mother." Then
holding her at arm's length and surveying her, with her head on one
side, she added, "There's a good deal of Pierrepont blood in her,
sister; that is the Pierrepont nose--I should know it anywhere. Her
way of carrying herself is Pierrepont. Blushing!" she added, as
Dolly grew crimson under this survey; "that's a family trick. I
remember when I went to dancing school the first time, my face was
crimson as my sash. She'll get the better of that as she gets older,
as I have. Sit down by your aunty, child. I think I shall like you.
That's right, sit up straight and hold your shoulders back--the girls
of this generation are getting round-shouldered."
Though Dolly was somewhat confused and confounded by this abrupt mode
of procedure, yet there was after all something quaint and original
about her aunt's manner that amused her, and an honest sincerity
in her face that won her regard. Miss Debby was one of those human
beings who carry with them the apology for their own existence. It
took but a glance to see that she was one of those forces of nature
which move always in straight lines and which must be turned out
for if one wishes to avoid a collision. All Miss Debby's opinions
had been made up, catalogued, and arranged, at a very early period
of life, and she had no thought of change. She moved in a region of
certainties, and always took her own opinions for granted with a calm
supremacy altogether above reason. Yet there was all the while about
her a twinkle of humorous consciousness, a vein of original drollery,
which gave piquancy to the brusqueness of her manner and prevented
people from taking offence.
So this first evening Dolly stared, laughed, blushed, wondered, had
half a mind to be provoked, but ended in a hearty liking of her new
relative and most agreeable anticipations of her Boston visit.