IN OAK CITY.
The boat was beginning to stop, and the passengers were hurrying from
the deck, which Elithe was almost the last to leave. On the wharf crowds
of people were gathered,—hundreds it seemed to her,—and by the time she
was in their midst, pushed and jostled and deafened by the hackmen’s
cries for the different hotels, she lost her head completely and
wondered how she was ever to get through it, and if her aunt were there
and how she was to know her, and what had become of her trunk. She found
it at last on top of a Saratoga, with both hinges broken now and the lid
kept in place by the rope, but still pushed up enough to show a bit of
her second best dress through the aperture. It did look strange perched
on top of the handsome Saratoga, but she did not realize how strange
till she heard some one near her say very impatiently, “My gracious, how
came this rubbish here! I hope you don’t think it belongs to me. Can’t
you read the name, Elithe Hansford, on it? Take it away.”
Turning, she saw Clarice Percy ordering a porter to remove the obnoxious
baggage, which he did with a bang. Close behind her was Paul Ralston,
who, the moment he saw her, called out cheerily, “Oh, here you are. I’ve
looked everywhere for you, thinking you might get dazed in this infernal
jam, the biggest, I do believe, I’ve ever seen here. Everybody in town
has come to meet somebody, and the rest to look on. Clarice, this is
Miss Elithe Hansford from Montana. You remember, I told you she was on
the boat. Miss Hansford, Miss Percy.”
If ever eyes expressed utter indifference if not contempt, those of
Clarice did, as, with a swift glance, they took Elithe’s measure, from
her hat and gown to her gloves and shoes. That she was a fright and a
nobody she decided at once. But Paul had presented her, and she must
show a semblance of civility. Taking Elithe’s hand, she held it so high
that Elithe, who had not learned the fashion, wondered what it meant.
She gave it a little shake and said, “Glad to meet you, I am sure.”
Nothing could be colder or haughtier than her voice and manner, and
Elithe felt it keenly and was going away when Paul, with his usual
kindness of heart, said to her, “I don’t see your aunt, but she must be
here. I’ll look for her. Stay where you are, both of you. I’ll be back
in a minute.”
While he was gone Elithe kept guard over her despised trunk, trying to
adjust the hasp in its place and pushing back the fold of her dress
showing so conspicuously. Clarice turned her back upon her and stood
impatiently tapping her foot and humming to herself.
“She is very proud, and if all the people here are like her, I shall
want to go home at once,” Elithe was thinking, when Paul came hurrying
up and with him a young man so nearly resembling him in figure and
height and general appearance that but for their dress one might be
readily mistaken for the other when his back was turned.
“Your aunt is not here. Tom saw her on the piazza as he drove by. She
probably did not expect you on this boat,” Paul said to Elithe, and
added, “My man Tom will drive you home in our carriage. Here, Tom, take
this trunk to an expressman and leave the young lady at Miss
Hansford’s.”
Tom shouldered the trunk, while Paul continued to Clarice, whose face
was clouded, “You don’t mind walking, do you? It is so short a
distance.”
Clarice did mind, not so much the walk as the fact that Elithe, whom she
considered far beneath her, was to be driven in the Ralston carriage
while she went on foot.
“Oh, no; a little roasting, more or less, in this hot sun won’t hurt me;
let’s go,” she said, with a toss of her head, and was turning away when
Elithe, who had heard everything and understood it, exclaimed, “Please,
Mr. Ralston, let Miss Percy ride. I would rather walk if some one will
show me the way.”
“All right,” Paul answered, with some annoyance in his tone. “Tom shall
take Clarice and I will go with you. Hallo, Tom! Bring the horses here.”
In an instant Clarice changed her tactics. She had no intention to let
Paul take Elithe home, and she said, “How absurd! Do you think I am
going to ride and let her walk, tired as she is. She looks quite worn
out.”
She was beginning to be ashamed of her manner, which she knew was
displeasing to Paul, and as she addressed herself to Elithe she flashed
upon her a smile which made Elithe start, it seemed so familiar. The
eyes, too, in their softer expression, had in them a look she had surely
seen before. Tom had brought the horses up by this time, and at a sign
from Clarice Paul gave his hand to Elithe and assisted her into the
carriage. Clarice had played the amiable, and kept the role up as she
walked with Paul the few blocks to the Percy cottage on Ocean Avenue.
Then her mood changed, and without asking him in, she said, “I suppose I
shall see you to-night, unless you feel it your duty to call upon that
Miss,—what’s her name? Hansford isn’t it?”
“Girls are queer,” Paul reflected, as he bade her good-bye and went
slowly towards home.
His road did not take him directly past Miss Hansford’s cottage, but he
could see it from the avenue and knew that Elithe was there, as the
carriage was driving away from it. Miss Hansford had fully intended to
meet her niece, but for the first time in her life had forgotten to wind
her clock, which stopped at three, and the first indication she had that
it was time for the boat was when she saw it moving up to the wharf.
“For the land’s sake,” she exclaimed in alarm, glancing at the clock,
“if there ain’t the boat, and I not there to meet her! What will she
do?”
Then like an inspiration her bones came to her aid and told her somebody
would see to her. She did not, however, expect her to be seen to in
quite the way she was, and felt not a little surprised and elated when
the Ralston carriage stopped before her door and Elithe alighted from
it.