I
April brought a break in the stolid serenity of Elm Street. The big
house across from the Trench property began to manifest signs of
awakening life. For almost a year it had stood vacant, with only a
caretaker to guard it against the depredations of Springdale’s budding
youth. Paint and pruning shears had scarcely achieved the miracle of
external transformation when a consignment of furniture arrived, via
the Oriental express and San Francisco. This much Theodora discovered
as she risked her fragile bones among the packing cases in the
reception hall. She had contrived to make out four letters, N-I-M-S, in
great smears of glossy black ink on several of the boxes. That hardly
sounded like a name.
“Mamma says it will be time enough to find out about them when
they move in,” she complained to Mrs. Ascott. “I heard her ask the
agent--and she was mad as hops when he refused to tell her.”
“Delightfully mysterious, Theo. Perhaps some European monarch has grown
tired of his crown, and is coming to live across the street from us.”
“Maybe it’s the Emperor of China. I saw the loveliest great red
dragon--where one of the cases had broken open and the burlap was torn
off. Oh--” in sudden fright, “don’t let Lary know I pried.”
She had perceived her brother’s approach, by some subtle sense that
bound them. He and Eileen were crossing the lawn with noiseless steps
and Theodora’s back was turned. When they reached the front gate, Mrs.
Ascott gave greeting:
“What does one do in Springdale, these glorious spring evenings?”
“One goes to the show, if one has an amiable brother.” To Eileen’s
suggestion, Larimore added: “Won’t you come along, Mrs. Ascott?
Vaudeville and pictures--not much of an attraction; but it might amuse
you. My mother is entertaining the ladies of the missionary society
this evening, and she doesn’t want us around.”
“Yes,” Theodora added, “and Mrs. Stevens is coming. She and Eileen
don’t speak, since the ‘ossified episode.’ You know, Lady Judith,
that’s all that saved you from being invited to join the Self Culture
Club. Mamma belongs. She was one of the charter members--reads the
magazine, like it was the Bible--and she meant it for a compliment to
offer your name for membership. But Mrs. Stevens was so furious at
Eileen that she tabled all the names mamma submitted.”
“You wouldn’t have gone in for that rubbish anyway,” Eileen defended
herself. “Mrs. Stevens makes me tired. She hasn’t a thing in her
library but reference works. And mamma holds her up to Theo and me as
a bright example. Tells us that we can’t expect to get culture unless
we look things up. Ina Stevens does that, and she has facts hanging all
over her. She’s as prissy as her mother.”
“But what was the ‘ossified episode’?” Judith asked, recognizing one
of Larimore Trench’s expressions, wherewith Theodora’s speech was
frequently adorned.
“Humph, I got caught on the word, in rhetoric class. Thought it meant
something about kissing, and the whole class hooted at me. Ina was
at home, sick, that day, and Theo and I went over in the evening to
take her credit card. Her marks were loads better’n mine, and Mrs.
Stevens swelled up so about it that I couldn’t help telling her that my
grandfather was expected to die, because all his bones had ossified.
And, Mrs. Ascott, both of them--Ina and her mother--fell for it. Mrs.
Stevens said it was a dreadful disease, but she had known one old
lady who lived three years in that condition. I looked blank as a
grindstone; but Theo had to go and snigger. And after we went home,
Mrs. Stevens looked it up--and ’phoned mamma that I had to apologize,
or she wouldn’t let Ina chum with me any more. I don’t care. I like
Kitten Henderson best, any way.”
She turned to look anxiously up the street, as if she were more than
half expecting some one, while Judith went into the house to get her
hat.