MAMMY MAKES A DISCOVERY.
June had come, and with June came Eleanor’s graduation. During her
various holidays Eleanor had returned to Riveredge, and with each return
of Eleanor there was vigorous renewal of visits from Homer Forbes.
Forbes seemed deeply occupied in the intervals, and those most
interested in the progress of affairs at the Irving School wondered at
his long absence during the afternoons and his frequent walks up the
mountain to a plateau at its summit. More than once had some of the
pupils of the Irving School met him as he strolled along toward it, head
bent in deepest meditation, hat drawn down over his eyes, hands clasped
behind him, and “munchin’, munchin’, munchin’, fer all de spi’t an’
image ob a goat,” said Mammy, who frequently came upon him as he passed
through the Arcade, for he never set forth upon his rambles without
fortifying himself with a box of Constance’s candies.
Since the fall Jean had not journeyed to the Irving School with her
candies, so the sweet-tooth Forbes was obliged to go after his sweeties
or do without them. But it did not seem to inconvenience him. The Arcade
lay upon his way, and nothing short of dynamite was ever likely to hurry
him. He would buy his box of chocolates and start off, leaving behind
him a little trail of the paraffin papers in which they had been
wrapped, and by which anyone so minded might have followed him miles.
Sometimes, if he had absent-mindedly forgotten to eat any luncheon, he
would supplement his box of candies with some of Mammy’s sandwiches, and
it was upon one of these occasions that his call at Mammy’s counter led
to a curious disclosure.
With the warm spring weather Charles’ health improved steadily; but
Mammy had no idea of risking a repetition of her recent experiences by
permitting Charles to take needless risks. On dull days or damp ones
Charles must bide at home in his cottage, or do little indoor jobs for
his mistress. True, Hadyn’s man left very little for the old man to do,
for Hadyn had been very careful to tell Parsons that Mrs. Carruth must
not want for any service he could render her, and at the same time
tactfully spare old Charles’ feelings. And Parsons was a clever young
negro, as well as a devoted one to Hadyn.
And it so fell out that Mammy went down to the Arcade rather oftener
than usual that spring, and consequently saw many things. Among others
was the frequency with which Mr. Elijah Sniffins haunted Arch Number
One.
Now, Mammy had absolutely no use for Mr. Elijah Sniffins, as may be
remembered. Of course, she conceded him the right to purchase all the
candy he wished; but why should he dawdle over his selection, and then
tarry to talk with Miss Boggs until the girl seemed almost panic
stricken? As near as Mammy could discover, she wished him anywhere but
in Arch Number One, and one Saturday morning Mammy took it upon herself
to keep a sharp lookout. Several times during the morning she made
excuses to go down to the counter for boxes of candy for some of her own
customers, and twice found Sniffins there engaged in a very confidential
conversation with Miss Boggs. Upon her approach he made most impressive
bows to the young lady, and departed with slow insolence.
“’Pears lak dat man powerful set ’pon dese hyer candies,” remarked
Mammy.
“Yes, I guess he does like them pretty well,” answered Miss Boggs.
“You know him quite a spell back?” was Mammy’s next question.
“Oh, yes, for some time,” was the hasty answer. “Did you want some more
of those pralines, Mammy?” and Miss Boggs fluttered nervously among the
boxes in the case, bending low to avoid Mammy’s sharp eyes. As Mammy
stood talking Homer Forbes came strolling up to the candy counter.
“Good-morning, Mammy Blairsdale. As usual, you have a watchful eye upon
Miss Constance’s interests, I see.”
“Mor’in’, Marsa Fo’bes. Yas, sir. Dat’s what ma eyes were done give me
fo’, an’ dey ain’t often playin’ me no tricks, neider. Dey’s good, sharp
eyes, if dey _is_ ol’ ones,” was Mammy’s sibyl-like answer.
“You proved that fact to me many months ago,” said Forbes, with one of
his whimsical, inscrutable smiles. “I should hate to have a guilty
conscience and have you cast your eyes upon me. I’d give myself away as
sure as shooting. I’d be sure you’d read my secret if I had one. Lucky I
haven’t!”
“Yas, sir, ’tis. Mos’ culled folks has de gif ob secon’ sight, dey say.
I ain’t rightly know what secon’ sight is mase’f, but I knows dis much
p’intedly: I knows dat dey ain’t many folks what kin fool me fer long.
Dey like ’nough fool me a little while, but I ketches dem sooner or
later. Yas, sah, I does. Yo’ gwine for one ob yo’ strolls terday? ’Pears
lak yo’ powerful taken wid dat mountain walk, yo’ go ’long up dat a-way
so f’equently. Better stop ter ma lunch counter an’ git a snack ter take
’long wid yo’.”
How innocent the words, yet what a strange effect they produced upon
Miss Boggs. Forbes did not notice it at all, but Mammy missed nothing.
“Good idea. I’ll be along presently,” said Forbes, as he selected his
box of chocolates, and reached into the pocket of his trousers for the
change, rather abstractedly staring at Miss Boggs as he did so. The girl
seemed greatly disconcerted by the look, though, as a matter of fact,
Forbes himself was barely aware of her presence. It was not lost upon
Mammy, who had given one swift, backward glance as she turned to go down
the Arcade. A moment later Forbes reached her counter.
“Give me a good snack to-day, Mammy Blairsdale. I’ve much on my mind
these days, and must keep the brain well fed.”
“Reckons yo’ll find _dat_ wholesome-lak,” returned Mammy, handing him a
neat little package.
“What’s the damage?” he asked.
“None ’tall lessen yo’ drap it, er sits on it. If yo’ does dat it’ll
squash.”
“Nonsense! How much?”
“Ain’t I say nothin’, sah?—wid de complements ob de firm,” was Mammy’s
grandiloquent answer. Then, coming closer, she asked:
“Massa Fo’bes, I wonner if yo’ kin he’p me wid somepin what’s pesterin’
ma min’ mightily?”
“I’ll help you if I can, Mammy Blairsdale. What is it?”
“Kin yo’ tell me who dat girl down yonder is?”
“Which girl?” asked Forbes, turning to look down the corridor.
“None yo’ kin _see_. I means de one dat’s yonder at Miss Constance’s
counter.”
“Oh, that one? Why, she is a Miss Boggs, isn’t she?”
“No, she _ain’t_,” contradicted Mammy, emphatically. “She may _call_
herse’f Miss Boggs if she wanter, but I’ll bait yo’ she ain’t Miss Boggs
no mo’n I’m Miss Brown! I’se seen dat girl somewhar’s else befo’, an’
I’se gwine ter fin’ more ’bout her dan I knows now. She favors someone
else I knows, an’ I ain’t got er mite er use fer dat someone else,
neider. Is yo’ know Mr. ’Lijer Sniffins?”
“The Fire Insurance Agent down on State Street?”
“Yas, sir, dat’s him I means.”
“Yes, by sight, and enough to have him insure the few worldly goods I
possess.”
“He’s at dat counter de hull endurin’ time, ’specially when he git a
notion Miss Constance gwine come down, and he’n dat girl jes’ as thick
as thieves.”
“He and Miss Constance?” cried Forbes, aghast.
“Gawd bress ma soul, _no_, sir. I means dat Miss Boggs; an’ what I wants
ter fin’ out is what fo’ he got any call ter jist na’chelly live dar.”
“Maybe it’s a charming romance right under your very eyes, Mammy
Blairsdale. Surely you do not wish to play the kill-joy?”
“Kill-joy! Huh!” retorted Mammy. “I ain’t gwine be no fool, neider. I
tells yo’ I never _is_ like dat man, an’ if he’s takin’ ter pesterin’
dat girl he gotter quit; an’ if ’tain’t de girl it’s some other
divilmint he got in his haid. I ain’ trus’ him no furder’n I kin see his
shadder; no, I ain’.”
“Has he been there when Miss Constance was at the counter?”
“If he ain’t bin dar, he bin whar he kin watch her ’thout her
s’pici’nin’ it. Time’n agin I’se done seen him tip in dat men’s
furnishin’ Arch, Number Six, pertendin’ lak he buyin’ neckties an’ all
kynds ob fummadiddles. Reckon he do buy a heap, too, for he jes’
splurgin’ fer fair dese days.”
“Dare say he is trying to make a good impression upon the lady of his
heart,” laughed Forbes.
“D’ssay he tryn’ fer ter mak’ a ’pression on someone else, an’ he better
quit if he knows what’s good fer him. Now, what dat girl scuttlin’ down
yonder fer?” was her quick exclamation. Over Forbes’ shoulder she had
caught sight of Miss Boggs hurrying down the corridor, ostensibly toward
the lavatory.
“Candy makes her fingers sticky, Mammy Blairsdale,” was Forbes’
half-idle comment as he turned to look over his shoulder in the
direction of Mammy’s glance. At that very instant Miss Boggs’ profile
was distinctly outlined against the white marble wall behind her, and,
strange coincidence, Elijah Sniffins, turning suddenly around the
corner, came face to face with her. For a brief second each face was
distinctly outlined, then the man and girl passed their opposite ways.
But in that instant Forbes had received an impression swift as an
electric shock. When he turned to look at Mammy, she remarked:
“Reckons yo’ ain’t so near-sighted as dem glasses ’ceivin’ folks inter
believin’, sah.”
“Where does Sniffins live, Mammy?”
“Don’ know no mo’n de daid,” scoffed Mammy.
“Where does _Miss Boggs_ live?”
“Bress de Lawd!” exclaimed the old woman, apparently apropos of nothing.
“Guess I’ll cut out the stroll up Mount Parnassus and look after my
insurance. I’m afraid I ought to renew that premium pretty soon.
Good-bye, Mammy Blairsdale. I’ll see you later.”
“Good-bye, sah! Yas, sah, reckon yo’ had better see me later.”
With his package of luncheon and box of candies, and, as usual, leaving
a trail of paraffin papers behind him, Forbes strolled out of the
Arcade, incidentally noting that Sniffins was selecting cigars at the
counter next Mammy’s. Once he was beyond the portals of the Arcade, his
accustomed deliberation of air and manner fell from him, and with a
muttered “I’ll learn what is back of all that or jump overboard” he sped
along toward State Street at a rate which would have startled his
friends had any chanced to meet him.
No one but the office boy was in Sniffins’ office.
“Where’s Mr. Sniffins?” demanded Forbes.
“Dunno.”
“When will he be back?”
“Dunno.”
“What in thunder _do_ you know, then?”
“Nothin’.”
“Right you are, son!” and turning Forbes pretended to leave the office.
Suddenly pausing, he whirled around to say:
“Give me Sniffins’ home address; I’ll ’phone to him there this evening.”
It was a venture, but worth while.
“Six-twenty Westbank Road.”
“Thanks. Good-day.”
“Day,” and the boy returned to the fascinations of “Tom, the
Cow-puncher.”
Then Forbes went his way up the mountains, having accomplished his
object much quicker than he had hoped to. Had anyone been watching him,
once he reached the summit, they might have questioned his sanity.
Deliberately placing his candy box and his luncheon upon a stump, he
began pacing off distances: twenty long strides toward the river, then
twenty at right-angles, pausing to peer toward the mighty stream flowing
six hundred feet below him, for the cliffs were precipitous at that
point.
“Good site. Magnificent view. Constant inspiration. Bound to succeed.
Purely classical. This will emphasize the illusion. But it must not
_prove_ an illusion; no, not for a moment. It will be a beautiful
reality—a crystallized dream. We will set up our Lares and Penates in
its very center—ahem! I mean—I mean—well I’ll try to persuade her to set
hers up beside mine. Wonderful girl! extraordinary, very! Fell in with
my idea at once—at least thought the plan—what was it she pronounced it?
Ah, I recall, ‘truly altruistic.’ Truly altruistic. Yes, that was it.
Excellent choice of words. Invariably apt and to the point. Yes, the
building shall face this way. Her window—my Lord!” and the monologue
came to an abrupt end as the speaker, turning a vivid scarlet, made a
grab for his edibles, and, seating himself upon a warm rock, began to
devour his luncheon with the dispatch of the animal Mammy insisted he
resembled. The sun was sinking into the West when Forbes came strolling
up to Mrs. Carruth’s piazza, where the family had gathered for their
afternoon tea which old Charles was serving. It was the delight of
Charles’ heart to serve this little repast.
This time it was iced tea and lemonade, with some of Mammy’s flaky
jumbles and a box of Constance’s candy. That piazza was an inviting
spot. Hammocks, lounging chairs and bamboo settees made it more than
luxurious, and the family spent all the time possible in this corner,
which seemed to catch every passing breeze from the river.
They rose to welcome their guest and offer him refreshment. It was
Eleanor who first reached him, and it was beside Eleanor he ensconced
himself upon one of the pillow-laden settees.
“Where on earth have you been, you tramp?” asked Hadyn where he swayed
idly back and forth in a hammock, Jean nestling beside him. Jean was
never ten feet from Hadyn if she could help it. His arm encircled her,
and her head rested against his shoulder as she watched Forbes. Jean was
growing into a very beautiful young girl, though still a child at heart.
“A thin slip of a girl like a new morn” exactly described her. Though
Jean was not thin. She was simply lithe and supple.
“Just on one of my strolls up the mountain. Great old mountain! Fine
view up there! Wonderful place for a residence!” replied Forbes,
devouring jumbles at an alarming rate and quenching his thirst with
glass after glass of lemonade.
“Great if you have an idea of perfecting an aeroplane. Personally, I’d
not relish rambling up there twice daily, and at present the trail
leaves something to be desired for vehicles which navigate upon this
mundane sphere,” laughed Hadyn.
“How do you know that Mr. Forbes hasn’t already invented an air-ship?”
asked Constance. “I hear he goes up there very often, and he may have
ways and means of which we are ignorant.”
“Only Shank’s mare,” answered Forbes, stretching out a pair of long,
dusty legs. “Jove! I am a sight. I didn’t know I was so disreputable.
Beg your pardon, Mrs. Carruth, for intruding upon you like this. Truth
is, I hurried down that trail like an avalanche, for I’d spent more time
at Mammy’s counter than usual. By the way, Miss Constance, Mammy asked
me to look up an address for her. Will you please give it to her for
me?”
“Certainly.”
“Tell her it is 620 Westbank Road.”
“Six-twenty Westbank Road!” repeated Constance, in a surprised voice.
“Why, that is Katherine Boggs’ address, and I am almost sure that Mammy
knows it. Why did she ask for Katherine’s address, I wonder?”
“Don’t know, I’m sure, for Mammy’s ways and wishes are beyond the ken of
the average mortal,” laughed Forbes, as he rose to take leave. As he was
about to descend the steps he turned to Eleanor.
“By the way, if you haven’t anything special on hand for to-morrow
afternoon, won’t you come for a stroll with me?” he asked.
“Now, don’t you do it, Eleanor,” broke in Hadyn. “He means to drag you
clear to the top of that mountain, and these July days are over-warm for
violent exertion. Can’t you see, Forbes, that the very thought of it is
making her cheeks flush?”
“Here, eat another jumble, quick!” cried Constance, catching up the
plate and rushing to the hammock.
Eleanor and Forbes had sauntered off down the terrace. Hadyn took a
jumble, and with a laugh crowded the whole cake into his mouth, his eyes
dancing with mischief.
At that moment Mammy popped her head out upon the piazza to ask:
“Is yo’ chillen all got ’nough jumbles?”
“One of them has more than he can manage,” was Constance’s merry reply.
“Look at him, Mammy. It was the only way I could close his mouth when he
was inclined to say more than was wise.”
“Don’ believe dat, nohow. Marse Hadyn ain’ never is ter say wha’ he no
b’isness ter,” asserted Mammy.
“Hah! I’ve _one_ champion, anyway,” choked Hadyn.
“Two,” corrected Jean.
“Oh, Mammy,” called Constance after the retreating figure. “Mr. Forbes
says the address you wanted is 620 Westbank Road.”
“Huh? Wha’ yo’ say?” cried Mammy, whirling about and coming out upon the
piazza again, her face a study.
“Yes, Miss Boggs’ address, Mammy. Why did you ask Mr. Forbes about it? I
could have given it to you, you know.”
“My Lawd!” was Mammy’s brief retort, and, turning as quickly as she had
come, she hurried indoors once more.
“I shall never understand Mammy if I live to be a hundred years old”
said Constance. “I often believe I’ve solved her riddle, then presto!
here comes a new phase.”
“Leave her alone, Constance. Don’t try to solve it. Just take her as she
is, and make sure that her ‘chillen’ come first in her thoughts,” said
Hadyn. “But, by the by, will you come for a ride to-morrow afternoon?”
“Gladly.”