The supper at Mrs. Barkley's was a great occasion to David Baily.
Right after dinner he went up to the garret, and Ellen heard him
shuffling about overhead, moving trunks. After a while he came down,
holding something out to his sister.
"Guess I'll wear this," he said, briefly. It was an old black velvet
waistcoat worked with small silk flowers, pink and blue and yellow.
"I haven't seen gentlemen wear those waistcoats lately," Miss Ellen
said, doubtfully.
Mr. David spread the strange old garment across his narrow breast, and
regarded himself in the mirror above the mantel. "Father wore it," he
said.
Then he retired to his own room. When he reappeared he wore the
waistcoat. His old black frock-coat, shiny on the shoulders and with
very full skirts, hung so loose in front that the flowered velvet
beneath was not conspicuous; but Mr. David felt its moral support when,
at least ten minutes before the proper time, he started for Mrs.
Barkley's.
His hostess, putting on her best cap before her mirror, glanced down
from her window as he came up the path. "Ellen ought not to have sent
him so early," she said, with some irritation. "Emily!" she called, in
her deep voice, "just go to the front door and tell Mr. Baily to go
home. I'm not ready for him. Or he can sit in the parlor and wait if
he wants to. But he can't talk to me."
Emily, a mournful, elderly person, sought, out of regard for her own
feelings, to soften her mistress's message; but David instantly
retreated to walk up and down the street, keeping his eye on Mrs.
Barkley's house, so that he could time his return by the arrival of Mr.
Spangler.
"He'll come at the right hour, I presume," he said to himself. Just
then he saw Mrs. Smily stepping delicately down the street, her head on
one side, and a soft, unchanging smile on her lips. As they met she
minced a little in her step, and said:
"Dear me! I'm afraid I've made a mistake. I'm looking for Mrs.
Barkley's residence."
"Mrs. Barkley resides here," said Mr. David, elegantly.
She looked up into his sad, dark eyes with a flurried air. "Dear me,"
she said, "I fear I am late."
"Oh, not _late_," said poor David. "Perhaps we might walk up and down
for a minute longer?"
Mrs. Smily, astonished but flattered, tossed her head, and said, Well,
she didn't know about _that_! But, all the same, she turned, and they
walked as far as the post-office.
"I'm afraid you are very attentive to the ladies," Mrs. Smily said,
coquettishly, when David had introduced himself; and David, who had
never heard a flirtatious word (unless from Maria), felt a sudden
thrill and a desire to reply in kind. But from lack of experience he
could think of nothing but the truth. He had been too early, he said,
and had come out to wait for Mr. Spangler--"and you, ma'am," he added,
in a polite after-thought. But his hurried emphasis made Mrs. Smily
simper more than ever. She shook her finger at him and said:
"Come, come, sir!" And David's head swam.
[Illustration: "DAVID'S HEAD SWAM"]
At that moment Mr. Spangler, buttoned to his chin in a black waistcoat,
came solemnly along, and, with his protection, David felt he could face
Mrs. Barkley.
But, indeed, she met her three guests with condescension and kindness.
"They are all fools in their different ways," she said to herself, "but
one must be kind to them." So she made Mrs. Smily sit down in the most
comfortable chair, and pushed a footstool at her. Then she told Mr.
Spangler, good-naturedly, that she supposed he found Old Chester very
old-fashioned. "Don't you be trying any candles on us," she threatened
him, in a jocular bass. As for David, she paid no attention to him
except to remark that she supposed time didn't count with him. But her
bushy eyebrows twitched in a kindly smile when she said it. Then she
began to talk about Dr. Lavendar's health. "It is a great trial to
have him away," she said. "Dear me! I don't know what we will do when
the Lord takes him. I wish he might live forever. Clergymen are a
poor lot nowadays."
"Why, I heard," said Mrs. Smily, "that he didn't give entire
satisfaction."
"What!" cried Mrs. Barkley. "Who has been talking nonsense to you?
Some of the new people, I'll be bound."
Mrs. Smily, very much frightened, murmured that no doubt she was
mistaken. Wild horses would not have drawn from her that she had heard
Annie Shields that was, say that Dr. Lavendar had deliberately advised
some one she knew to be bad; and that he had refused to help a very
worthy man to study for the ministry; and that the Ferrises said he
ought to be tried for heresy (or something) because he married Oscar
King to their runaway niece; and that he would not give a child back to
its repentant (and perfectly respectable) mother--"And a mother's claim
is the holiest thing on earth," Mrs. Smily said--and that he had
encouraged Miss Lydia Sampson in positively _wicked_ extravagance.
After hearing these things, Mrs. Smily had her opinion of Dr. Lavendar;
but that was no reason why she should let Mrs. Barkley snap her head
off. So she only murmured that no doubt she had made a mistake.
"I think you have," said Mrs. Barkley, dryly; and rose and marshalled
her company in to supper. "She's a perfect fool," she told herself,
"but I hope the Lord will give me grace to hold my tongue." Perhaps
the Lord gave her too much grace, for, for the rest of the evening, she
hardly spoke to Mrs. Smily; she even conversed with David rather than
look in her direction.
For the most part the conversation was a polite exchange of views upon
harmless topics between Mrs. Barkley and Mr. Spangler, during which
Mrs. Smily cheered up and murmured small ejaculations to David Baily.
She told him that she was scared nearly to death of the stuffed animals
at Miss Harriet's house.
"They make me just scream!" she said.
David protectingly assured her that they were harmless.
"But they are so dreadful!" Mrs. Smily said. "Isn't it strange that my
cousin likes to--to do that to animals? It isn't quite ladylike, to my
mind."
Mr. Baily thought to himself how ladylike it was in Mrs. Smily to
object to taxidermy. He noticed, too, that she ate almost nothing,
which also seemed very refined. It occurred to him that such a
delicate creature ought not to go home alone; the lane up to Miss
Harriet's house was dark with overhanging trees, and, furthermore,
half-way up the hill it passed the burial-ground. In a burst of fancy
David saw himself near the low wall of the cemetery, protecting Mrs.
Smily, who was shivering in her ladylike way at the old head-stones
over in the grass. He began (in his own mind) a reassuring
conversation: "There are no such things as spectres, ma'am. I assure
you there is no occasion for fear." And at these manly words she would
press closer to his side. (And this outside the burial-ground--oh,
Maria, Maria!)
But this flight of imagination was not realized, for later Emily
announced that Miss Harriet's Augustine had come for Mrs. Smily.
"Did she bring a lantern?" demanded Mrs. Barkley. "That lane is too
dark except for young folks."
Augustine had a lantern, and was waiting with it at the front door for
her charge; so there was no reason for Mr. David to offer his
protection. He and Mr. Spangler went away together, and David twisted
his head around several times to watch the spark of light jolting up
the hill towards the burial-ground and the Stuffed-Animal House. When
the two men said good-night, Mr. Spangler had a glimpse of a quickly
opened door and heard an eager voice--"Come in, dear brother. Did you
have a delightful evening?"
"How pleasing to be welcomed so affectionately!" said the Reverend Mr.
Spangler to himself.