"Miss Mayhew, will you please step here?" said a very fashionably
dressed lady.
Turning, Ida saw near her the mother of the child that had been
rescued the previous day. She, with her husband, had been talking
very earnestly to Mr. Burleigh, the proprietor of the house, who
seemed in rather a dubious state of mind over some proposition of
theirs.
"Miss Mayhew, we want your opinion in regard to a certain matter,"
began the lady volubly. "Of course I and my husband feel very
grateful to the young woman who saved our child from your cousin's
horses yesterday. Indeed, my husband feels so deeply indebted that
he wishes to make some return and I have suggested that he present
her with a check for five hundred dollars. I learn from Mr. Burleigh
that she is a teacher, and therefore, of course, she must be poor.
Now, in my view, if my husband or some other gentleman should present
this check in the parlor, with an appropriate little speech, it
would be a nice acknowledgment of her act. Don't you think so?"
"I do not think I am qualified to give an opinion," said Ida, "as
I have no acquaintance with the lady whatever."
"I'm sure it will be just the thing to do," said the lady, becoming
more infatuated with her project every moment. "Do you think your
cousin would be willing to make the speech?"
At this suggestion Ida laughed outright. "The idea," she said,
"of my cousin making a speech of any kind, or in any circumstances!"
"Now I think of it," persisted the lady, "Miss Burton and Mr. Van
Berg sit at the same table, and he seems better acquainted with her
than any of the gentlemen. He's the one to make the speech, only
I do not feel that I know him well enough to ask him. Do you, Miss
Mayhew?"
"Indeed I do not," said the young lady, decisively; "I am the last
one in the house to ask any favors of Mr. Van Berg."
"Well, then, Mr. Burleigh can explain everything and ask him."
"Really now, Mrs. Chints"--for such was the lady's name--"I don't
quite believe that Mr. Van Berg would approve of giving Miss Burton
money in public, and before anything further is done I would like
to ask his judgement. It all may be eminently proper, as you
say, and I would not like to stand in the way of the young lady's
receiving so handsome a present, and would not for the world if I
thought it would be agreeable to her; but there is something about
her that---"
"I have it," interrupted the positive-minded lady, unheeding and
scarcely hearing Mr. Burleigh's dubious circumlocution, and she put
her finger to her forehead for a moment in an affected stage-like
manner, as if her ideas of the "eternal fitness of things" had
been obtained from the sensational drama. "I have it: the child
himself shall hand her the gift from his own little hand, and you,
Mr. Chints, can say all that need be said. It will be a pretty
scene, a 'tableau vivant.' Mr. Chints, come with me before the
young woman leaves her present favorable position near the parlor
door. Mr. Burleigh, your scruples are sentimental and groundless.
Of course the young woman will be delighted to receive in one
evening as much, and perhaps more, than her whole year's salary
amounts to. Come, Mr. Chints, Mr. Burleigh, if you wish, you may
group some of your friends near;" and away she rustled, sweeping
the floor with her silken train.
Mr. Chints lumbered after her with a perplexed and martyr-like
expression. He was a mighty man in Washington Market, but in a
matter like this he was as helpless as a stranded whale. The gift
of five hundred dollars did not trouble him in the least; he could
soon make that up; but taking part in a "tableau vivant" under the
auspices of his dramatic wife was like being impaled.
"Well," said Mr. Burleigh, shaking his head, "I wash my hands of
the whole matter. Five hundred dollars is a snug sum, but I doubt
if that little woman takes it. I'm more afraid she'll be offended
and hurt. What do you think, Miss Mayhew?"
"I've no opinion to offer, Mr. Burleigh. These people are all
comparative strangers to me. Mrs. Chints is determined to have
her own way, and nothing that you or I can say would make any
difference. My rule is to let people alone, and if they get into
scrapes it sometimes does them good;" and she left him that she
might witness the Chints' tableau.
"That's just the difference between you and Miss Burton," muttered
Mr. Burleigh, nodding his head significantly after her. "She'd
help a fellow out of a scrape and you'd help him into one. Well,
if the old saying's true, 'Handsome is that handsome does,' the
little school-teacher would be the girl for me were I looking for
my mate."
On her way to the entrance of the main parlor, Ida stopped a moment
at an open window near the corner where Stanton and Van Berg were
smoking.
"Cousin Ik," she said, 'sotto voce.'
He rose and joined her.
"If you wish to see a rich scene, hover near the entrance of the
main parlor."
"What do you mean?"
"I've learned that Mr. and Mrs. Chints, and possibly your favorite
new performer, Miss Burton, are going to act a little comedy
together: come and see;" and she vanished.
"Van," said Stanton in a vexed tone, "there's some mischief on foot;"
and he mentioned what his cousin had said, adding: "Can Ida have
been putting that brassy Mrs. Chints up to some absurd performance
that will hurt Miss Burton's feelings?"
They rose and sauntered down the piazza, Van Berg trying to imagine
what was about to take place and how he could shield the young lady
from any annoyance.
She sat inside the entrance of the main parlor facing the open
windows, and a little group had gathered around her, including
the ladies who sat at her table, with whom she had already become
a favorite. Ida had demurely entered by one of the open windows
and was apparently reading a novel under one of the gas jets not
far away. Groups of people were chatting near or were seated around
card-tables; others were quietly promenading in the hall-ways and
on the piazza. There was not an indication of any expected or
unexpected "scene." Only Ida's conscious, observant expression
and the absence of Mrs. Chints foreboded mischief.
"What enormity can that odious family be about to perpetrate?"
whispered Stanton.
"I cannot surmise," answered Van Berg; "something in reference to
the rescue of her child, I suppose. I wish I could thwart them,
for Miss Burton's position will place her full in the public eye,
and I do not wish her to be the victim of their vulgarity."
After a little further hesitation and thought he stepped in, and
approaching Miss Burton, said:
"Pardon me for interrupting you, but I wish to show you something
on the piazza that will interest you."
She rose to follow him, but before she could take a step Mrs. Chints
swept in on the arm of her husband, followed by the nurse--who had
been retained at Miss Burton's intercession--bearing in her arms
the little boy, that stared at the lights and people with the round
eyes of childish wonder.
Every one looked up in surprise at the sudden appearance of the
little group, that suggested a christening more than anything else.
Planting themselves before Miss Burton, thus barring all egress,
Mr. Chints fumbled a moment in his pocket and drew out an envelope,
and with a loud, prefatory "Ahem!" began:
"My dear Miss Burton--that is the way Mrs. Chints says I should address
you, thought it strikes me as a trifle familiar and affectionate;
but I mean no harm--we're under pecul--very great obligations to
YOU. We learn--my wife has--that you are engaged--engaged--in--I
mean that you--teach. I'm sure that's a lawful calling--I mean
a laudable one, and no one can deny that it's useful. In my view
it's to your credit that you are engaged--in--that you teach.
I work myself, and always mean to. In fact I enjoy it more than
making speeches. But feeling that we were under wonderful obligations
to YOU, and learning--my wife did--that you were dependent on--on
your own labor, we thought that if this little fellow that you saved
so handsomely should hand you this check for five hundred dollars
it wouldn't be amiss." And here, according to rehearsal, the nurse
with great parade handed the child to Mrs. Chints, who now, with
much 'empressement,' advanced to a position immediately before Miss
Burton; meanwhile the poor, perspiring Mr. Chints put the envelope
into the child's chubby hand, saying:
"Give it to the lady, Augustus."
But the small Augustus, on the contrary, stared at the lady and
put the envelope in his mouth, to the great mortification of Mrs.
Chints, who had been so preoccupied with the Chints side of the
affair, and the impression they were making on the extemporized
audience, that she had no eyes for Miss Burton.
And that young lady's face was, in truth, a study. An expression
of surprise was followed quickly by one of resentment. Even Stanton
was obliged to admit that for a moment the little "school-ma'am"
looked formidable. But as Mr. Chints floundered on in his speech,
as some poor wretch who could not swim might struggle to get out
of the deep water into which he had been thrown, the expression
of her face softened, and one might imagine the thought passing
through her mind--"They don't know any better;" and when, at last,
the child, instead of carrying out the climax that Mrs. Chints had
intended, began vigorously to munch the envelope containing the
precious check, there was even a twinkle of humor in the young
lady's eyes. But she responded gravely:
"Mr. Chints, I was at first inclined to resent this scene, but time
has been given me to perceive that neither you nor your wife wish
to hurt my feelings, and that you are in part, at least, actuated
by feelings of gratitude for the service that I was so fortunate
as to render you. But I fear you do not quite understand me. You
are right in one respect, however. I do labor for my own livelihood,
and it is a source of the deepest satisfaction to me that I can
live from my own work and not from gifts. If your hearts prompt
this large donation, there are hundreds of poor little waifs in
the city to whom this money will bring a little of the care and
comfort which blesses your child. As for myself, this is all the
reward that I wish or can receive," and she stooped and kissed
the child on both cheeks. Then taking Van Berg's arm, she gladly
escaped to the cool and dusky piazza.
Mr. Chints looked at Mrs. Chints in dismay. Mrs. Chints handed
the baby to the nurse, and beat an undramatic and hasty retreat,
her husband following in a dazed sort of manner, treading on her
train at every other step.
As Van Berg passed out of the parlor, he saw Ida Mayhew vanishing
from its farther side, with Stanton in close pursuit. When Miss
Burton ended the disagreeable affair by kissing the child, there had
been a slight murmur of applause. Significant smiles and a rising
him of voices descanting on the affair in a way not at all complimentary
to the crestfallen Chints family, followed the disappearances of
all the actors in the unexpected scene.