A VICTORY.
"This is really the most absurd of all your late absurdities," Mrs.
Ried was saying, in rather a loud tone, and with a look of dignified
disgust bestowed upon Abbie, as Mr. Foster joined the group.
"Will you receive me into this circle, and enlighten me as regards
this particular absurdity," he said, seating himself near Mrs. Ried.
"Oh it was nothing remarkable," that lady replied in her most
sarcastic tone. "At least it is quite time we were growing accustomed
to this new order of things. Abbie is trying to enlighten her father
on the new and interesting question of temperance, especially as it
is connected with wedding parties, in which she is particularly
interested just at present."
Abbie bestowed an appealing glance on Mr. Foster, and remained
entirely silent.
"I believe I can claim equal interest then in the matter," he answered
brightly. "And will petition you, Mrs. Ried, to explain the point at
issue."
"Indeed, Mr. Foster, I'm not a temperance lecturer, and do not
consider myself competent to perform the awful task. I refer you
to Abbie, who seems to be thoroughly posted, and very desirous of
displaying her argumentative powers."
Still silence on Abbie's part, and only a little tremble of the
lip told a close observer how deeply she felt the sharp tones and
unmotherly words. Mrs. Ried spoke at last, in calm, measured accents.
"My daughter and I, Mr. Foster, differ somewhat in regard to the
duties and privileges of a host. I claim the right to set before my
guests whatever _I_ consider proper. She objects to the use of wine,
as, perhaps, you are aware. Indeed, I believe she has imbibed her very
peculiar views from you; but I say to her that as I have always been
in the habit of entertaining my guests with that beverage, I presume I
shall continue to do so."
Mr. Foster did not seem in the mood to argue the question, but
responded with genial good humor. "Ah but, Mrs. Ried, you ought to
gratify your daughter in her parting request. That is only natural and
courteous, is it not?"
Mrs. Ried felt called upon to reply. "We have gratified so many of
her requests already that the whole thing bids fair to be the most
ridiculous proceeding that New York has ever witnessed. Fancy a dozen
rough boys banging and shouting through my house, eating cake enough
to make them sick for a month, to say nothing of the quantity which
they will stamp into my carpets, and all because they chance to belong
to Abbie's mission class!"
Ralph and Ester had joined the group in the meantime, and the former
here interposed.
"That last argument isn't valid, mother. Haven't I promised to hoe
out the rooms myself, immediately after the conclusion of the solemn
services?"
And Mr. Foster bestowed a sudden troubled look on Abbie, which she
answered by saying in a low voice, "I should recall my invitations to
them under such circumstances."
"You will do no such thing," her father replied sharply. "The
invitations are issued in your parents' names, and we shall have no
such senseless proceedings connected with them When you are in your
own house you will doubtless be at liberty to do as you please; but
in the meantime it would be well to remember that you belong to your
father's family at present."
Ralph was watching the flushing cheek and quivering lip of his young
sister, and at this point flung down the book with which he had been
idly playing, with an impatient exclamation: "It strikes me, father,
that you are making a tremendous din about a little matter. I don't
object to a glass of wine myself, almost under any circumstances, and
I think this excruciating sensitiveness on the subject is absurd and
ridiculous, and all that sort of thing; but at the same time I should
be willing to undertake the job of smashing every wine bottle there is
in the cellar at this moment, if I thought that Sis' last hours in
the body, or at least in the paternal mansion, would be made any more
peaceful thereby."
During this harangue the elder Mr. Ried had time to grow ashamed of
his sharpness, and answered in his natural tone. "I am precisely
of your opinion, my son. We are making 'much ado about nothing.' We
certainly have often entertained company before, and Abbie has sipped
her wine with the rest of us without sustaining very material injury
thereby, so far as I can see. And here is Ester, as stanch a church
member as any of you, I believe, but that doesn't seem to forbid her
behaving in a rational manner, and partaking of whatever her friends
provide for her entertainment. Why can not the rest of you be equally
sensible?"
During the swift second of time which intervened between that sentence
and her reply Ester had three hard things to endure--a sting from
her restless conscience, a look of mingled pain and anxiety from Mr.
Foster, and one of open-eyed and mischievous surprise from Ralph. Then
she spoke rapidly and earnestly. "Indeed, Uncle Ralph, I beg you will
not judge of any other person by my conduct in this matter. I am very
sorry, and very much ashamed that I have been so weak and wicked.
I think just as Abbie does, only I am not like her, and have been
tempted to do wrong, for fear you would think me foolish."
No one but Ester knew how much these sentences cost her; but the
swift, bright look telegraphed her from Abbie's eyes seemed to repay
her.
Ralph laughed outright. "Four against one," he said gaily. "I've gone
over to the enemy's side myself, you see, on account of the pressure.
Father, I advise you to yield while you can do it gracefully, and also
to save me the trouble of smashing the aforesaid bottles."
"But," persisted Mr. Ried, "I haven't heard an argument this evening.
What is there so shocking in a quiet glass of wine enjoyed with a
select gathering of one's friends?"
John now presented himself at the door with a respectful, "If you
please, sir, there is a person in the hall who persists in seeing Mr.
Foster."
"Show him in, then," was Mr. Ried's prompt reply.
John hesitated, and then added: "He is a very common looking person,
sir, and--"
"I said show him in, I believe," interrupted the gentleman of the
house, in a tone which plainly indicated that he was expending on John
the irritation which he did not like to bestow further, on either his
children or his guests.
John vanished, and Mr. Ried added: "You can take your _friend_ into
the library, Mr. Foster, if it proves to be a private matter."
There was a marked emphasis on the word _friend_ in this sentence; but
Mr. Foster only bowed his reply, and presently John returned, ushering
in a short, stout man, dressed in a rough working suit, twirling his
hat in his hand, and looking extremely embarrassed and out of place in
the elegant parlor. Mr. Foster turned toward him immediately, and gave
him a greeting both prompt and cordial. "Ah, Mr. Jones, good evening.
I have been in search of you today, but some way managed to miss you."
At this point Abbie advanced and placed a small white hand in Mr.
Jones' great hard brown one, as she repeated the friendly greeting,
and inquired at once: "How is Sallie, to-night, Mr. Jones?"
"Well, ma'am, it is about her that I'm come, and I beg your pardon,
sir (turning to Mr. Foster), for making so bold as to come up here
after you; but she is just that bad to-night that I could not find it
in me to deny her any thing, and she is in a real taking to see you.
She has sighed and cried about it most of this day, and to-night we
felt, her mother and me, that we couldn't stand it any longer, and
I said I'd not come home till I found you and told you how much she
wanted to see you. It's asking a good deal, sir, but she is going
fast, she is; and--" Here Mr. Jones' voice choked, and he rubbed his
hard hand across his eyes.
"I will be down immediately," was Mr. Foster's prompt reply.
"Certainly you should have come for me. I should have been very sorry
indeed to disappoint Sallie. Tell her I will be there in half an hour,
Mr. Jones."
And with a few added words of kindness from Abbie, Mr. Jones departed,
looking relieved and thankful.
"That man," said Mr. Foster, turning to Ester, as the door closed
after him, "is the son of our old lady, don't you think! You remember
I engaged to see her conveyed to his home in safety, and my anxiety
for her future welfare was such that my pleasure was very great
in discovering that the son was a faithful member of our mission
Sabbath-school, and a thoroughly good man."
"And who is Sallie?" Ester inquired, very much interested.
Mr. Foster's face grew graver. "Sallie is his one treasure, a dear
little girl, one of our mission scholars, and a beautiful example of
how faithful Christ can be to his little lambs."
"What is supposed to be the matter with Sallie?" This question came
from Ralph, who had been half amused, half interested, with the entire
scene.
The gravity on Mr. Foster's face deepened into sternness as he
answered: "Sallie is only one of the many victims of our beautiful
system of public poisoning. The son of her mother's employer, in a
fit of drunken rage, threw her from the very top of a long flight of
stairs, and now she lies warped and misshapen, mourning her life
away. By the way"--he continued, turning suddenly toward Mr. Ried--"I
believe you were asking for arguments to sustain my 'peculiar views.'
Here is one of them: This man of whom I speak, whose crazed brain has
this young sad life and death to answer for, I chance to know to a
certainty commenced his downward career in a certain pleasant parlor
in this city, among a select gathering of friends, taking a quiet
glass of wine!" And Mr. Foster made his adieus very brief, and
departed.
Ralph's laugh was just a little nervous as he said, when the family
were alone: "Foster is very fortunate in having an incident come to
our very door with which to point his theories."
Abbie had deserted her ottoman and taken one close by her father's
side. Now she laid her bright head lovingly against his breast, and
looked with eager, coaxing eyes into his stern gray ones. "Father,"
she said softly, "you'll let your little curly have her own way just
this time, won't you? I will promise not to coax you again until I
want something very bad indeed."
Mr. Ried had decided his plan of action some moments before. He was
prepared to remind his daughter in tones of haughty dignity that
he was "not in the habit of playing the part of a despot in his own
family, and that as she and her future husband were so very positive
in their very singular opinions, and so entirely regardless of his
wishes or feelings, he should, of course, not force his hospitalities
on her guests."
He made one mistake. For just a moment he allowed his eyes to meet
the sweet blue ones, looking lovingly and trustingly into his, and
whatever it was, whether the remembrance that his one daughter was
so soon to go out from her home, or the thought of all the tender and
patient love and care which she had bestowed on him in those early
morning hours, the stern gray eyes grew tender, the haughty lines
about the mouth relaxed, and with a sudden caressing movement of his
hand among the brown curls, he said in a half moved, half playful
tone:
"Did you ever ask any thing of anybody in your life that you didn't
get?" Then more gravely: "You shall have your way once more. Abbie, it
would be a pity to despoil you of your scepter at this late day."
"Fiddlesticks!" ejaculated Mrs. Ried.
Before she had added anything to that original sentiment Abbie was
behind her chair, both arms wound around her neck, and then came soft,
quick, loving kisses on her cheeks, on her lips, on her chin, and even
on her nose.
"Nonsense!" added her mother. Then she laughed. "Your father would
consent to have the ceremony performed in the attic if you should
take a fancy that the parlors are too nicely furnished to suit your
puritanic views and I don't know but I should be just as foolish."
"That man has gained complete control over her," Mrs. Ried said,
looking after Abbie with a little sigh, and addressing her remarks to
Ester as they stood together for a moment in the further parlor. "He
is a first-class fanatic, grows wilder and more incomprehensible in
his whims every day, and bends Abbie to his slightest wish. My only
consolation is that he is a man of wealth and culture, and indeed in
every other respect entirely unexceptionable."
A new light dawned upon Ester. This was the secret of Abbie's
"strangeness." Mr. Foster was one of those rare and wonderful men
about whom one occasionally reads but almost never meets, and of
course Abbie, being so constantly under his influence, was constantly
led by him. Very few could expect to attain to such a hight; certainly
she, with her social disadvantages and unhelpful surroundings, must
not hope for it.
She was rapidly returning to her former state of self-satisfaction.
There were certain things to be done. For instance, that first chapter
of John should receive more close attention at her next reading; and
there were various other duties which should be taken up and carefully
observed. But, on the whole, Ester felt that she had been rather
unnecessarily exercised, and that she must not expect to be perfect.
And so once more there was raised a flag of truce between her
conscience and her life.