WHISK!--NEW ENGLAND AGAIN
How differently Ann felt this time as she approached the now dear home
of her Grandmother on her trip from the West, no one but Ann herself
could have told. Then, the mystery of her Grandmother’s attitude toward
her mother was to be solved; now, her mother and grandmother were with
her, peacefully talking of their plan to go South after Christmas, her
mother showing nothing of any strong feeling which may have at times
possessed her when she thought of it all. Then, Ann was wondering who
would meet her, how her aunt’s family would regard her; now, she was
returning and would count upon a warm welcome from Roy and Madge,
Maurice, Suzanne, and perhaps her Uncle Tyson, though she was not sure
but he might consider her responsible for any new attitude of her
grandmother in respect to finances. Uncle Tyson was next to the throne,
thought Ann, the throne as expressed in Aunt Sue.
Ann was eager to have her mother once inside of the old home and
watched her lovingly from time to time.
“No,” her grandmother was saying, “I was not interested in Sue’s plan
to go abroad. I do not want to go myself, and I did not feel like
sacrificing myself this time, probably financing the whole thing. It
will be much better to have a Christmas reunion here, if William can
come on from Montana, as we hope; then we can spend the rest of the
season in Florida. I have not been there for years.”
Ann wondered who would go, the older folks, of course, with, perhaps,
Madge and Roy.
“What do you think of the place?” asked Madam LeRoy, as the chauffeur
drove them into the drive.
“Beautiful,” said Mrs. Sterling, a smile on her face, as she looked
at the familiar grounds, changed a little, to be sure, but the same,
with the great trees, the old lilac and syringa bushes, the flower
beds in much the same places. “There is more shrubbery and some of the
young trees have grown into large ones,” Mrs. Sterling continued. “But
there is the old arbor,--oh, it is good to see it again, Mother!” Mrs.
Sterling’s eyes filled as she looked, and without apology she drew out
her dainty handkerchief to wipe them.
Madam LeRoy looked at her daughter with some tenderness. “All this
absence and misunderstanding was needless. I hope that I may remember
that, to keep me strong enough in dealing with Sue.” This she said in a
low tone, not to be overheard by the chauffeur.
Mrs. Tyson had had the good taste not to go to the station to meet
them, nor was she outside, nor in the hall. A beaming Munson was at
the door with a man and a maid or two to take the luggage and orders
from the travelers. “Mrs. Tyson was called to the village, Madam,” said
Munson, “on a matter of business. She left her apologies and said that
she would be back before dinner.”
“Thank you. You may send Rose to me, please. I left Nancy at her
friend’s in the village. Attend to her baggage, also, and did you see
to engaging a maid for Mrs. Sterling?”
So Grandmother was going to have a maid for Mother, too! Would wonders
never cease! Ann looked on with interest, while the butler indicated
one of the maids at hand as the one recently engaged for Mrs. Sterling.
If Mrs. Sterling were as surprised as Ann, she did not show it, and
after all, it is not so difficult to fall into ways to which you have
once been accustomed.
Everything was done in a matter of fact way, quiet, rather formal, yet
Ann was conscious of a new feeling and atmosphere, of approval in the
glances directed toward her pretty mother, so sweet, so dear, as Ann
thought. Then there came an interruption. Roy, unabashed, slid straight
down the stairs upon the “sacred bannister,” as Ann said afterward.
“Hello, Gramma! Awful glad to see you back. It’s been a terribly long
time,--and Ann, I howled and yelled when I found out that they had gone
and started for Montana without me! Old Maurice, too!”
Ann wondered if Roy were in for a rebuke from Madam LeRoy, but none was
forthcoming. She bent over the little boy to kiss him. “Glad to see
‘Gramma’ back, are you, dear? Well, that is good. Gramma is glad to see
you, too. And I have a real wild West suit for you in my trunk.”
“Oh, goody! You’re a good sport, Gramma,” he added, to the horror
of Munson. But Madam LeRoy only laughed. “As soon as the trunks are
brought up, Roy, come to my room. I have to rest and get ready for
dinner now.”
“All right. I’ll watch for the trunks.”
Rose, who had given Ann a welcoming smile, in remembrance of one trying
day when she had served Ann to a lunch, eaten in worried loneliness, so
far as the family was concerned, respectfully followed the travelers
upstairs and showed Mrs. Sterling, with her new maid, the room that was
to be hers. It was next to Ann’s, who was told that her mother’s maid
would also serve her. “I’ll not be much bother to you, Adeline,” said
Ann. “Take good care of Mother, for she is worn out.”
This was luxury. Her own room, her own bath, a maid when she needed
one,--and Mother next door! “I wonder,” thought Ann, “if it is the
room she used to have.” It was, as Ann found a little later.
Suzanne was away with Madeline for a week end visit in Boston, it
seemed. Maurice had driven his mother to the village. Madge, thinner
than ever, and much taller, waited for Ann, sitting outside her door,
as Ann found when she started out after dressing. “Why, Madge, dear
child! Why didn’t you knock?”
“I promised I wouldn’t. But I was going to be right here, just the
same!”
Ann embraced the child and accompanied her, down the stairs and out
to the lawn, where they wandered around the walks a little while,
Madge picking a few flowers for Ann. “You have grown so, Madge,” said
the surprised Ann. “I have not seen you, though, for almost a year. I
missed seeing you at the spring vacation.”
“Yes; why didn’t you stay, then, Ann? Miss White said that she saw you
when you were leaving. Was it because Grandmother wasn’t here? Don’t
you care for the rest of us? I asked Mother about your coming, and
she wouldn’t tell. ‘Run along, Madge, and be a good girl,’ she said.
And then they went out to your ranch and did not take us! But then,
we ought to be used to that, I suppose. Mother does not like to be
bothered with us.”
All Madge’s grievances came out at once. Ann’s quick sympathy went out
to the little girl who had so little real mothering.
“There was a good reason for my not staying, Madge, that time I came
for such a short stay. Yes, I care a great deal for Grandmother, and
there was a reason why I had to see her, Madge; but I do care very much
for you and Roy and I was sorry not to see you. Some day, Madge, I hope
that you may come with me out West and see our ranch and the lovely
place in the mountains that my father gave me. But after all, it is
not good for little girls to travel so much. I could not when I was as
young as you are.”
“Couldn’t you? But then I think that your mother stayed with you,
didn’t she?”
“Yes. Mother and Father taught me my lessons.”
Madge thought a little before she spoke. “Well, I’m rather glad that
Mother does not teach me. I suppose that she knows a lot, but we
couldn’t tease her the way we tease Miss White and our other teachers.”
“It doesn’t seem to me, Madge, that it is a very good thing to tease
your governess. She can not teach you so much.”
“Oh, it’s all so stupid anyhow. I learn more when I read in the library
the things I want to read.”
Ann said nothing to this, realizing that Madge’s teaching must be poor
indeed, or Madge unusually hard to interest, if such were the case.
As they walked along the hedge of shrubbery at the far side of the
lawn, Mrs. Tyson’s small car, Maurice driving, came in and up to the
manor. Maurice saw Ann, though she was at some distance from the drive,
and saluted as he swept by. Mrs. Tyson looked out and bowed, as Maurice
mentioned the fact that Ann was there. “So they came,” she said.
“As they telegraphed they would,” dryly remarked her son. He opened the
door for his mother, assisted her out of the car and carried several
packages up the steps, handing them to the butler. Then he rapidly left
the verandah, crossed the lawn, and made his way to where Ann and his
little sister were standing.
“I would have met you, Ann, if Mother had not insisted on my driving
her to the bank. This is fine--having you here again.” It was a
charming Maurice that met Ann without the familiarity that had
embarrassed her before, yet with a real warmth of feeling that Ann
enjoyed. He, at least, was glad to see her. Always clean and spotless
of attire, the fresh tints of youth were good to look upon in Maurice.
This was not the Maurice it seemed, that said goodbye with such daring
and impertinence upon the mountain heights!
“We were well taken care of, Maurice. Yes, I am glad to be here again.
I love this place, and it seems different now that Mother is here, too.”
“I am glad that she is,” soberly said Maurice. “I want to get
acquainted with my aunt Elizabeth. I see no reason why this should not
be a happy visit, do you, Ann?”
Ann hesitated a moment. “Suppose that we try our best to make it so,
Maurice?”
“It is a bargain. Madge, will you be good, too?” Maurice rumpled
Madge’s short locks with a brotherly hand.
“Depends upon what you mean by being good. I find that the different
members of the family have different notions about that. If you mean by
my being good that I’m to let you and Ann visit, and go away, then I’m
not going to do it!”
“Why Madge, do you think that your brother would be so impolite?”
mockingly said Maurice. But he let Madge put her two arms through his
and lean on him, as they strolled along, and Ann liked him for it.
“Do you remember that night when you and Ann and Roy and I played
Go-Bang and things?” inquired Madge.
“_Do_ I? How could I forget it? Do you remember it, Ann?”
“Yes, indeed,” laughingly said Ann. “There was a game of hide and seek
on.”
“Yes, and Maddy and Suzanne never found you either.”
“No,” said Maurice. “But it would be safer if you would forget that,
Madge.”
Madge looked at Maurice with understanding, when she replied, “I’ll not
mention it to the wrong people, Maury. But Suzanne is nicer than she
was. I don’t think that she is as crazy about Maddy, either.”
“Is that so? Pretty good thing, then, don’t you think so?”
“M-hm. Oh, bother,--there’s Miss White calling me!”
Madge waited as long as she dared, then ran toward the house to join
her governess.
“What have you been doing, Ann, since I saw you last?” asked Maurice.
They had reached the little arbor among the evergreens by that time
and Maurice flicked away some leaves and twigs from the seat with his
handkerchief. “Sit down a bit, sweet cousin,--‘Gentle Hands,’ is it?”
“So Never-Run called me; but you could hardly accuse that old Indian of
sentiment, could you?”
“It is not misplaced this time,” said Maurice, sitting down beside Ann
and leaning back against the lattice, hands over his head. “Is that a
new frock you have on?”
“Same old one. I’ve had no time this summer to think of frocks.”
“I don’t believe that you spend much time thinking of them anyhow.”
“I wonder how I ought to take that, Maurice. A girl that doesn’t think
of them at all is likely to be what the girls call ‘dowdy,’ and a girl
that thinks about them too much is usually frivolous.”
“You are neither dowdy nor frivolous, Ann, and have so many good looks
that you need never worry.”
“Thanks, kind cousin,” said Ann rather laconically, “this is so good of
you! But what have you been doing yourself?”
“You have not answered my question,” answered Maurice, “but I rather
got you off the subject by my remarks, so unresponsively received! Why,
I finished up the camping trip, joined Mother, came home and have hung
around more or less ever since. Oh, yes, I went down to New York with
Ron on his yacht, but we were not gone long.”
“That must have been fun. You mean Ronald Bentley?”
“Yes, none other.”
“I liked Ronald, as well as Jack Hudson; but ‘Beano’ Bates!”
Maurice laughed. “Oh, Beano is a pretty good scout. He hasn’t a lot of
brains, but he can spend his money.” Maurice looked teasingly at Ann.
He had not known Ann this long without learning how to provoke her.
“A noble thing to like him for!”
“Your ideals, my dear cousin, are a wonderful thing in this world of
get and grab, but they won’t work in every day life, I am afraid.”
“Mine have worked so far, Maury.”
“But you have never had to dig for the simoleons.”
“Have you, that you know so much?”
“I can’t say that I have, and frankly, sweet Ann, I don’t want to.”
Ann was a pretty picture as she sat looking at Maurice, thoughtfully
considering what he was saying.
“I can see, Maurice, that it must be terribly hard not to have what
makes one comfortable. And it would be awful to have somebody you
love working too hard, or not having the necessities, or even the
opportunities! But I just know, Maury, inside of me, that it doesn’t do
people any good to put so much stress on having a lot of money and--oh,
‘slashing around,’ as Rita says, and trying to live at the top notch,
better than anybody else.”
“That is a fine theory, but how about yourself? Don’t you like pretty
clothes and traveling and having fun with the girls at school?”
“Yes. And that is one trouble here, Maurice. I’m afraid that I’ll get
to liking to have a maid and not doing anything useful and wanting as
pretty things as Suzanne has and getting lazy about school work and
everything.”
“That last remark has no ‘pussonal’ application, has it, Ann?” Maurice
was looking at Ann with amusement.
“I wasn’t thinking of anybody but myself in making it, Maurice. But
you can’t believe how I hate to get to studying sometimes. Still, I’d
hate to fall behind the rest, so I guess pride will keep me going this
year, if nothing else does.”
“Some have one sort of pride and some have another, Ann. If I ‘get by’
at college, it’s enough for me. You haven’t any use for that kind of a
student, have you?”
“I might be very _fond_ of one,” laughed Ann, “but I couldn’t admire
the attitude!”
“Maybe I’ll turn over a new leaf this year, Ann, if I can, at this
late day. It _would_ be sort of a disgrace, wouldn’t it, if I found I
couldn’t get by?”
“I’d be sorry for your father if you missed graduating.”
“You wouldn’t care yourself, any?”
“Certainly I would,” but Ann felt guilty at the thought of how little
interest she had taken the previous year in what Maurice did. He was a
kind, agreeable cousin, in a family where she was having a hard time;
that was all.
“Ann, I have been wanting to apologize to you, ever since I came home,
for the way I embarrassed you in saying goodbye. We boys had been
kidding each other about different things and were in wild spirits,
more or less, and like an idiot I spoke impulsively, as usual, and
spoiled it all. What are you smiling at?”
“The ‘as usual.’ But Maurice, I think it good of you to explain. It
did annoy me, more than you can imagine; but I concluded that you did
not mean to hurt me, for you have been lovely to me always. I haven’t
been holding it against you.”
“I don’t believe that you would hold it against me, Ann, but I was
sorry,--not for what I said, but for the time and manner of it. And ‘as
usual’ did not refer to a habit of proposing to girls, which is what I
suppose you smiled at?”
“You are too much of a mind reader, Maury,” laughed Ann. “I told you
then that you were crazy, and I still think it a crazy idea, suggested
by your mother, perhaps, as you said,----”
“Mother did not suggest it, Ann,” Maurice quickly interrupted Ann. “It
was on the way out. I was expressing myself to Mother, in no uncertain
terms, on visiting your mother and father at the ranch. I told her that
I would have nothing to do with it, and that after certain things that
I knew about had happened, she would show a good deal of ‘nerve’ to
walk in on you there.
“Mother was icy and cool, and told me what she thought of my opinion,
and went on, as she does, about not deserting her dear mother, who
needed her and all that! I may as well tell you, Ann, because you have
seen it. Mother has her fine points, but when it comes to putting it
over us children, as she used to, it simply can’t be done any more!”
“Don’t, Maurice!” said Ann, her hand up to stop him, for well as she
knew what he said was true, she could not bear to have him say it. “She
is your mother, at least.”
“One thing that I like about you, Ann, is that you are so sincere. I
can’t imagine your deliberately trying to deceive me.”
“Thank you, Maury. I never will.”
“You might think that because we are her children we will try the same
sort of thing. But some times it works the other way. Our Dad isn’t
happy,--you can tell that. He has talked to me, Ann. I’m not much for
him to be proud of, but I’m square, Ann; and since I smashed that car I
have tried to be easier on Dad.”
Ann’s brows were knit as she listened. It was one thing to think what
she thought of Aunt Sue and matters among the Tysons, and another thing
to listen to Maurice tell about it. It jarred Ann’s feeling of fitness,
if nothing else. Maurice went on.
“Not that I’m trying to make myself out anything but an extravagant
fellow. I like to have a good time all right. But I started to tell
you where you came into the conversation with Mother. When she started
talking about Grandmother, I let her ‘rave on,’ and then I declared
what I thought where you were concerned, that you had just as much
right as the rest of us to have a share in Grandmother’s affections
and money. It isn’t only the money, Ann, with Mother. She’s jealous.
I don’t know what started it (Ann could have told him) but that is
a fact. Then I said a few things about you and added that if you
were not my cousin I’d like to marry you some day. Mother took it up
too quickly! She said that the relationship between us need make no
difference, and that she thought it an excellent idea. I wanted to
clear up your notion that it was Mother’s first thought. Nobody can
help loving you, Ann. Look at Clifford Hart and that Gordon man, and
you should have heard Jack go on about you. That is why I wanted to get
a word in.”
“Well, Maurice, if it is of any satisfaction to you to know it, I will
say,” laughed Ann, “that your amazing suggestion at the lodge was my
first proposal!”
“It will not be the last, and that is why I wanted your promise.”
“So you said. But Maury, look here. It is going to be ages before I get
out of school and finish what I am going to do. Why, Daddy and Mother
think that I am not anywhere near grown up yet. And I am going to be
one of the world’s greatest pianists and have to study and play six
hours a day, after a while, and go abroad and everything!”
“Go abroad with me after we are married. You can do the whole thing
just as well then. Let’s see. I finish this year. Then I’ll get my
father to give me some sort of an easy job. I’ll tell you; I’ll handle
the foreign end of it. That is the very thing!” Maurice slapped his
hand upon his right knee with emphasis. “You will be through school, if
you must finish it, in two years, though that is too long,--I mean in
two years after I am out of school. By that time, with a fat check from
Grandmother, we ought to get along.” Maurice looked at Ann with what
Madeline would have found an irresistible smile, as he leaned forward,
in his earnestness, to take Ann’s hand.
Ann patted her cousin’s hand with her free one, then withdrew both.
“You are looking too far ahead, Maurice. Neither of us knows a thing
about real love. It is going to worry me too much to think about this.
_Please_, Maury, don’t!”
Maurice straightened up and leaned back against the lattice again. “Now
isn’t she flattering? The prospect is so terrible that she begins to
beg for mercy!”
“Not that, Maury,--oh, what shall I say to you!”
Maurice saw that he was really distressing Ann and like the gentleman
that he was he hastened to reassure her. “Well, Ann, if this really
worries you, I will not talk about it. You understand what I think, at
any rate. Think it over, but do _not_ let it spoil your good time. I’ll
not remind you of it for some time,--unless some one of the boys gets
too deeply interested in you. I’m glad that you are going to a girls’
school, anyhow.”
“Meanwhile, you will find the _right_ girl, Maurice.”
Maurice smiled. “We’ll go back to the old cousinly relation, if you
like,” said he, “but I claim all the privileges of affection.” Rising,
he held out his hands to Ann, who put her own in them, letting him draw
her to her feet. Then he took her arm lightly and led her along the
walks again, approaching the house. They talked of other things, but
when Ann left Maurice at the foot of the stairs, he said. “Perhaps,
after all, I’m not too closely related.”
“The proverbial infant, changed in its cradle?” laughed Ann.
“Something like that, perhaps.”
Ann did not think that Maurice had any such idea, but still, when she
entered the drawing room and found no one but her mother present, she
asked, “Isn’t Maurice Aunt Sue’s son?”
“Certainly.”
“And isn’t Aunt Sue your own sister?”
“Of course; why?”
“I was just wondering.”
At this moment Madam LeRoy and her daughter, Mrs. Tyson, entered, and
with profuse apologies on the part of Aunt Sue, who had purposely
delayed, Mrs. Sterling was welcomed by her older sister. But the effect
had been the opposite to that which was intended. Elizabeth Sterling
was feeling very much at home in the familiar rooms of the old house.