WHEN ROYALTY COMES
"It was so good of you to ask me," said Jeannette in a voice of much
sweetness, as she put out her hand to her cousin. Then she turned to the
man in livery who stood at attention by the door of the car. "You may
take this coat back with you, Dennis," she said; and she let him remove
from her shoulders the long, fur-lined cloak she had worn for the March
drive. He gathered together her belongings, as she walked up the path
with Georgiana, and he afterward went back for a long motor trunk which
had been brought upon the back of the car. Besides this was a larger
receptacle of black leather which he brought and deposited in the hall.
"Dennis can take all these to my room for me," said Jeannette, with more
appreciation of the situation than Georgiana had expected. Dennis did
not look altogether pleased with this task, but he performed it and was
rewarded by a smile from his young mistress, which promised to soothe
his injured dignity at some future time.
Mr. Warne, rising slowly from the armchair as Jeannette was brought
into his presence, looked keenly into the face of his sister's daughter.
Her fine clothing was nothing to him; he could not have told what she
wore; but he was interested in learning what she might be, herself. It
was something of a test for any stranger, the meeting of that clear look
of his, kindly though it was sure to be. With all his appearance of
frailty and exhaustion, one felt instinctively that whatever had
happened to the body, the mind was intact and resolute with energy, the
judgment swift and accurate.
As they all took tea together Georgiana could feel their guest striving
to adjust herself to her entertainers. Her manner was very charming,
though a little languid, a little weary, as if she were tired with her
long drive--and with other things besides. But there was that about her
which proclaimed her unmistakably the gentlewoman, and this was good to
know. She got on well with her newly discovered uncle, and he with her.
Indeed, the simplicity and straight-forwardness of Father Davy's manner
with every one, his keen observation, his ready imagination, would have
put him instantly on an equal footing with the most exalted of his
fellow-creatures. It could do no less with his niece, no matter how new
to her his type of man might be, nor how new to him the fashion of her
speech and smile.
This was a pleasant beginning. But if Georgiana, before her guest
arrived, had thought the old house shabby, she felt it now to be
positively shambling. She struggled mightily against this attitude of
mind, knowing that it was unworthy of her, but, as she led this
wonderful, winsome creature, whom she knew to be accustomed only to the
softnesses of life, up over the worn stair carpeting to the room she had
prepared for her, she was wondering how she herself had ever conceived
the preposterous idea of inviting her cousin to visit her; the task of
making this daughter of luxury comfortable, even for a fortnight, seemed
suddenly so impossible.
"Oh, how very attractive!" exclaimed Jeannette, as she was taken into
the room over which Georgiana had spent so much thought. "I shall love
it here!"
That was to be her attitude, thought Georgiana. Being exceedingly
well-bred, the guest was prepared to like everything that was done for
her. Though this was precisely what was to be expected and desired,
Georgiana found herself already irritated by it--most unreasonably, it
must be admitted.
"I'm a jealous goose!" said she sternly to herself, and fell to helping
her cousin. There was something appealing about the girl's helplessness,
because she evidently tried hard not to show it. As the two lifted the
garments from the carefully packed trunk trays it was Georgiana who
found the right places for them in clothespress and bureau drawers. She
had seldom seen, never handled, such exquisite apparel, from the piles
of sheer, convent-embroidered linen to the frocks and wraps and négligés
which went into retirement on the padded hangers she had provided. She
realized, too, that elaborate as seemed to her the array of clothing
Jeannette had thought it necessary to bring for her visit, it was
probable that the girl herself had felt that she was having packed only
the simplest of her wardrobe and the least that a civilized being could
do with.
It was when Jeannette herself spread forth upon the little
dressing-table--cleverly contrived out of an old washstand, a long and
narrow mirror, and some odds and ends of muslin and lace--the articles
she was accustomed to use every day of her life, but which might have
been matched only in the homes of princes, that the young hostess found
it hardest to control the pang of envy which smote her. Such silver,
such crystal, such genuine ivory--and such sheer beauty of design and
finish! Yet Jeannette was almost awkward in her disposal of the imposing
array, saying with a laugh that she really couldn't remember how the
things went at home, but that it didn't matter in the least.
She set about removing her traveling clothes as if she never had been
waited upon in her life. It was only when she failed to discover how she
was put together that Georgiana had to come to the rescue.
"It's dreadfully stupid of me," protested Jeannette, her delicate cheeks
flushing, "but I simply can't find that absurd hook."
It was then that Georgiana frankly took the situation by its horns and
did away with all embarrassment.
"You must let me help you, Jean," she said, finishing the unhooking with
ease, "whenever you need it. I shall love to do it, for you might have
rather a bad time trying to do everything for yourself. There you
are--and please call me when you are ready to be fastened into your
other frock. I'm just around the corner, and there's nobody else at home
now."
Before supper was served, Georgiana prepared her cousin to meet "the
boarder." Not on any account would she have let his presence be
accounted for on the score of his being a guest in the house; not even
would she call him a "paying guest."
"Mr. Jefferson came to us through a letter from a friend. He said he
wanted a quiet place to work in, away from all interruptions by friends
or claims of any sort. He is writing a book, and we see as little of him
as if he were not in the house--except at the table. I think you will
like him. It's so long since we have had a man in the house we're not
yet used to it, but on the whole it's rather comforting."
"How interesting--to have a book being written in the house! Is it fact
or fiction, do you know?"
"I don't imagine it's fiction. He has piles of reference books, and a
great deal of mail, and--somehow--he doesn't look as if he wrote
fiction."
Yet, as Mr. Jefferson came into the dining-room that night, Georgiana
found herself wondering why she should think he did not look as if he
would write fiction--not foolish fiction, certainly, but sensible
fiction, made possible by keen observation and set off by a capacity for
quiet--possibly even biting--humour. He looked at least as if he might
write essays, thoughtful, clever essays, full of searching analyses of
his fellow human creatures, of their oddities, their hopes, their
aspirations, their sins, and their virtues. Or--was he, after all,
writing on scientific matters--facts, pure and simple; inferences,
deductions, conclusions from facts? She wondered, more than she had yet
done, as to the nature of his work.
"I think Mr. Jefferson is delightful," said Jeannette cordially, beside
the living-room fire, when supper was over, and the boarder, after
lingering in the living-room doorway for a minute, but declining on the
score of work Mr. Warne's invitation to enter, had gone his way
upstairs. On this first night Georgiana had let the disordered dining
table wait, and had accompanied the others to the fireside as if she had
a dozen servants to attend to her household affairs. "After this, she
won't notice so much," she had argued with herself. "I don't want to
have her offering to help. I don't mean to do a thing differently on her
account, but I can't help--well, _shying_ at the dishes the very first
minute after supper!"
"A man of fine intellect," Father Davy responded to his niece's
observation, "and accustomed to think worthy thoughts. One can see that
at once. It is a real pleasure to have him here. It is good for us, too.
Georgiana and I were growing narrow before he came. He has broadened us;
we get his point of view on subjects that we thought had been disposed
of for all time--and find them not disposed of at all."
Before the moment arrived when, in Georgiana's mind, the waiting work in
the kitchen must be done without further postponement, the front door
was besieged by James Stuart. A basket of late winter apples in hand, he
came in, looking the image of vigorous youth, his well-set-up figure
showing its best in the irreproachable clothes he always wore when his
day's work was over, his manner, as usual, that of the friend of the
house. He had not received Georgiana's permission to come in upon this
first evening of Miss Crofton's visit, but he had taken his welcome for
granted and was not disappointed in receiving it. It was impossible not
to be glad to see his smiling face, for his good looks were backed by a
capacity for adapting himself to whatever company he might find himself
in, though it should be of the most distinguished.
Presenting Stuart to her cousin, it occurred to Georgiana to wonder as
to the impression each must make upon the other. Jeannette was wearing a
frock of a peculiar shade of blue which the firelight and lamplight,
instead of dulling, seemed to make almost to glow. It was the sort of
apparently simple attire which is the product of high art, and in it,
sitting just where all lights seemed to play together upon hair and
cheek and perfect throat, the visitor was, as Georgiana owned to
herself, certainly worth looking at.
She left them together presently and went off to the kitchen. Here she
covered from view with a big pinafore her own undeniably attractive
figure and fell upon her task, proceeding to dispatch it with all the
speed compatible with quiet. She had cleared the table, and, having
arranged her dishes in orderly piles, was just filling her dishpan with
the steaming water which made suds as it fell upon the soap, when a
familiar footstep was heard upon the bare kitchen floor.
Georgiana looked over her shoulder, words of reproof upon her lips:
"Well--having come without an invitation, the least you can do is to
stay where you belong and entertain the guest."
"There's a characteristic welcome for you!" The intruder seemed in no
wise daunted by his reception, but picked up a dish towel and stood at
ease, waiting the placing of the first tumbler in the rinsing pan. "And
where should I belong, if not standing by a chum in distress?"
"I'm not in distress, if you please."
"Don't mind washing dishes while the guest sits by the fire?"
"Not a bit--more than usual," Georgiana amended honestly.
"Why don't you pile 'em up and let 'em wait till morning?"
"I shouldn't sleep for thinking of them."
"My word, but you're a hustler! I don't know whether I can keep up."
"Don't try. Go back to the other room, please, Jimps. You can be of real
use there."
"Well, I like that!"
As he wiped away assiduously, Stuart surveyed his companion's face in
profile. It belied the dictatorial words, for Georgiana was smiling. Her
cheeks were of a splendid colour, her dark hair drooped over the
prettiest white forehead in the world, and the whole outline of her face
was distracting. Here was a lamplight effect which rivalled the one in
the living-room, though it was thrown from a common kitchen lamp,
unshaded, and fell upon a figure in a red-and-white checked apron.
Georgiana glanced at her self-appointed assistant and encountered the
flash of an eye which told her that, however Stuart objected to her
words, he liked the look of what he saw.
"Isn't Jeannette a beauty?" she inquired hastily, and plunged her hands
into her pan with such energy that she sent a splash of hot, soapy water
upon Stuart's cheek. He surreptitiously wiped it off with a corner of
his dish towel.
"She sure is," he assented cordially. "I wasn't prepared for quite such
a looker. She doesn't seem to have brought with her that proud and
haughty expression she had in the Sunday papers."
"She's a dear, and not in the least proud and haughty. I'm going to
enjoy her visit, I know. If I can only make her enjoy it!"
"I'll be glad to help," Stuart offered. "This isn't a very promising
time of year for the country, but if you think she'd like any of the
good times we can give her here, I'll get them up."
"Our sort of good times is just what I do want to give her. She's had
enough of her own kind and needs the diversion. What would you get up,
for instance?"
"I'll take overnight to think it out, but I can promise you it'll be an
outdoor affair. Would she be up to any kind of a tramp, do you think?"
"Oh, no, Jimps! Not yet, at any rate."
"All right. I'll harness up my best team and carry her most of the way.
We must have another man, I suppose. Shall we ask the literary light,
just for a lark? It would give tone to the company to have him along,
eh?"
"He probably wouldn't go."
"Don't you fool yourself. A fellow who covers as many miles a day as he
does will jump at it, no matter how important his next chapter is. Do
you know, I'll have to admit I rather like him since I tramped a couple
of miles in his company the other day. There are a lot of interesting
ideas in his head, and I got him to give me the benefit of a few of
them. Drew him out, you know. Though to be strictly honest"--with a
laugh--"when I thought it over afterward I wasn't exactly sure that he
hadn't drawn me out rather more than I drew him. Anyhow, the interest
seemed to be mutual, and that flattered me a bit. It's perfectly evident
that he's a great student of affairs."
They finished the work at a gallop. Georgiana slipped off her pinafore,
and Stuart, who had insisted on waiting for her, hung it upon its
accustomed nail.
"Do you suppose pretty cousin ever wore one?" he queried.