"There! Doesn't that look like a 'Welcome Home'?"
Celia stood in the doorway and surveyed her handiwork. Mrs. Birch, from
an opposite threshold, nodded, smiling.
"It does, indeed. You have given the whole house a festival air which
will captivate Andy's heart the instant he sets eyes on it. As for our
little Charlotte--"
She paused, as if it were not easy to put into words that which she knew
Charlotte would think. But Celia went on gleefully:
"Charlotte will be so crazy with delight at getting home she will see
everything through a blur at first. But when we have all gone away and
left them here, then Charlotte will see. And she'll be glad to find
traces of her devoted family wherever she looks."
She pointed from the little work-box on the table by the window, just
equipped and placed there by her mother's hand, to the book-shelf made
and put up in the corner by Jeff. She waved her hand at a great wicker
armchair with deep pockets at the sides for newspapers and magazines,
which had been Mr. Birch's contribution to the living-room, and at the
fine calendar which Just had hung by the desk. Her own offerings were
the dressing-table furnishings up-stairs.
All these were by no means wedding gifts, but afterthoughts, inspired by
a careful inspection of the details of Doctor Churchill's bachelor home,
and the noting of certain gaps which only love and care would be likely
to fill.
In four hours now the travellers would be at home, in time, it was
expected, for the late dinner being prepared by Mrs. Hepzibah Fields.
For the present, at least, Mrs. Fields was to remain. "I've had full
proof of Charlotte's ability to cook and to manage a house," Doctor
Churchill had said, when they talked it over, "and I want her free this
first year, anyway, to work with her brush and pencil all she likes, and
to go about with me all I like."
Mrs. Fields, although a product of New England, had spent nearly half
her life in Virginia, in the service of the Churchills. She had drawn a
slow breath of relief when this decision had been made known to her, and
had said fervently to Doctor Churchill:
"I expect I know how to make myself useful without being conspicuous,
and I'm sure I think enough of both of you not to put my foot into your
housekeeping. That child's worked pretty hard these four years since
I've known her, and a little vacation won't hurt her."
So it had been settled, and Mrs. Fields was now getting up a dinner for
her "folks," as she affectionately termed them, which was to be little
short of a feast.
Charlotte had written that she and Andy wanted the whole family to come
to dinner with them that first night. All day Celia and her mother had
been busy getting the little house, already in perfect order, into that
state of decorative cheer which suggests a welcome in itself. Now, with
Just's offering of ground-pine, and Celia's scarlet carnations all about
the room, a fire ready laid in the fireplace, and lamps and candles
waiting to be lighted on every side, there seemed nothing to be desired.
"I suppose there's really not another thing we can do," said Celia.
"Absolutely nothing more, that I can see," agreed Mrs. Birch, taking up
her wraps from the chair on which they lay. "You can run over and light
up at the last minute. Really, how long it seems yet to seven o'clock!"
"Doesn't it? And how good it will be to get the dear girl back! Well,
the first month has gone by, mother dear. The worst is over."
Celia spoke cheerfully, but her words were not quite steady. Mrs. Birch
glanced at her.
"You've been a brave daughter," she said, with the quiet composure which
Celia understood did not always cover a peaceful heart. "We shall all
grow used to the change in time. I think sometimes we're not half
thankful enough to have Charlotte so near."
"Oh, I think we are!" Celia protested.
"The children have had a beautiful month. Haven't their letters
been--What's that?"
It was nothing more startling than the front door-bell, but this was so
seldom rung at the bachelor doctor's house, where everybody who wanted
him at all wanted him professionally at the office, that it sent Celia
hastily and anxiously to the door. It was so impossible at this hour,
when the travellers were almost home, not to dread the happening of
something to detain them. At the same moment Mrs. Field put her head in
at the dining-room door. "Land, I do hope it ain't a telegram!" she
observed, in a loud whisper.
It was not a telegram. It was a pale-faced little woman in black, with
two children, a boy and a girl, beside her. Celia looked at them
questioningly.
"This is Doctor Churchill's, isn't it?" asked the stranger, with a
hesitating foot upon the threshold. "Is he at home?"
"He is expected home--he will be in his office to-morrow," Celia
answered, thinking this a new patient, and feeling justified in keeping
Doctor Churchill's first evening clear for him if she could. But the
visitor drew a sigh of relief, and came over the threshold, drawing her
children with her. Celia gave way, but the question in her face brought
the explanation:
"I reckon it's all right, if he's coming so soon. I'm his cousin, Mrs.
Peyton. These are my children. I haven't seen Andrew since he was a boy
at college, but he'll remember me. Are you--" She hesitated.
Mrs. Birch came forward. "We are the mother and sister of Mrs.
Churchill," she said, and offered her hand. "Doctor Churchill was
expecting you?"
"Well, maybe not just at this time," admitted the newcomer, without
reluctance. "I didn't know I was coming myself until just as I bought my
ticket for home. I happened to think I was within sixty miles of that
place in the North where I knew Andrew settled. So I thought we'd better
stop and see him and his new wife."
There was nothing to do but to usher her in. With a rebellious heart
Celia led Mrs. Peyton into the living-room and assisted her and the
children out of their wrappings. All sorts of strange ideas were
occurring to her. It was within the bounds of possibility that these
people were not what they claimed to be--she had heard of such things.
She was unwilling to show them to Charlotte's pretty guest-room, to
offer them refreshment, even to light the fire for them.
It was too bad, it was unbearable, that the home-coming for which she
and her mother had made such preparation should be spoiled by the
presence of these strangers. To be sure, if she was Andrew's cousin she
was no stranger to him, yet Celia could not recollect that he had ever
spoken of her, even in the most casual way.
But her hope that in some way this might prove to be a case of mistaken
identity was soon extinguished. When she had slipped away to the
kitchen, at a suggestion from her mother that the guests should be
served with something to eat, she found that information concerning Mrs.
Peyton was to be had from Mrs. Fields.
"Peyton? For the lands' sake! Don't tell me she's here! Know her? I
guess I do! Of all the unfortunate things to happen right now, I should
consider her about the worst calamity. What is she? Oh, she ain't
anything--that's about the worst I can say of her. There ain't anything
bad about her--oh, no. Sometimes I've been driven to wish there was, if
I do say it! She's just what I should call one of them characterless
sort of folks--kind of soft and silly, like a silk sofy cushion without
enough stuffing in it. Always talking, she is, without saying anything
in particular. I don't know about the children. They were little things
when I saw 'em last. What do you say they look like?"
"The girl is about fourteen, I should think," said Celia, getting out
tray and napkins. "She's rather a pretty child--doesn't look very
strong. The boy is quite a handsome fellow, of nine or ten. Oh, it's all
right, of course, and I've no doubt Doctor Churchill will be glad to see
any relatives of his family. Only--if it needn't have happened just
to-day!"
"I know how you feel," said the housekeeper. "Here, let me fix that
tray, Miss Celia; you've done enough. I suppose we've got to feed 'em
and give 'em a room. Ain't it too bad to put them in that nice spare
room? No, I don't believe the doctor'll be powerful pleased to see 'em,
though I don't suppose he'll let on he ain't. Trouble is, she's a
stayer--one of the visiting kind, you know. Mis' Churchill, doctor's
mother, used to have her there by the month. _There_ was what you may
call a genuine lady, Miss Celia. She'd never let a guest feel he wasn't
welcome, and I guess Andy--I guess the doctor's pretty much like her.
Well, well!"
Mrs. Fields sighed, and Celia echoed the sigh. Nevertheless, the little
hint about Doctor Churchill's mother took hold.
Celia knew what Southern hospitality meant. If Mrs. Peyton had been
accustomed to that, it must be a matter of pride not to let her feel
that Northern homes were cold and comfortless places by comparison. By
the time she had shown the visitors to Charlotte's guest-room, and had
made up a bed for the boy on a wide couch there, Celia had worked off a
little of her regret. Nevertheless, when Jeff and Just heard the news,
their disgust roused her to fresh rebellion.
"I call that pretty nervy," Jeff declared, indignantly, "to walk in on
people like this, without a word of warning! Nobody but an idiot would
expect people just coming home from their honeymoon to want to find
their house filled up with cousins."
"Oh, Andy's relatives'll turn up now," said Just, cynically. "People he
never heard of. I'll bet he won't know this woman till he's introduced."
"Yes, he will. I've found her name on the list we sent announcements
to," Celia said, dismally. "I didn't notice at the time, because there
were ever so many friends of his, people in all parts of the world.
'Mrs. Randolph Peyton,' that's it."
"Hope Mr. Randolph Peyton'll get anxious to see her, and send for her to
come home at once!" growled Jeff.
"She's in mourning. I presume she's a widow," was all the comfort Celia
could give him.
"Then she'll stay all winter!" cried Just with such hopeless inflection
that his sister laughed.
When she went over at half past six o'clock, to light the fire, she
found the three visitors gathered in the living-room. She had hoped they
might stay up-stairs at least until the first welcome had been given to
Charlotte and Andrew. But it turned out that Mrs. Peyton had inquired of
Mrs. Fields the exact hour of the expected arrival, and presumably had
considered that since the Peytons represented Doctor Churchill's side of
the house, their part in his welcome home was not to be gainsaid.
Mr. Birch, Jeff, Just, and Mrs. Birch with little Ellen, presently
appeared. Lansing had gone back to his law school, but a great bunch of
roses represented him. It had been Charlotte's express command that
nobody should go to the station to meet the returning travellers, but
that everybody should be in the little brick house to welcome them when
they should drive up.
"Here they are! Here they are!" shouted Just, from behind a window
curtain, where he had been keeping close watch on the circle of radiance
from the nearest arc-light. There was a rush for the door. Jeff flung it
open, and he and Just raced to the hansom which was driving up. The rest
of the party crowded the doorway, Mrs. Peyton and Lucy and Randolph
being of the group.
"How are you, everybody?" called Doctor Churchill's eager voice, as he
and Charlotte ran up the walk to the door, Jeff and Just following.
"Well, this is fine! Father--mother--Celia--my little Ellen--bless your
hearts, but it's good to see you!"
How could anybody help loving a son-in-law like that? One would have
thought they were indeed his own. While Charlotte remained wrapped in
her mother's embrace, Doctor Churchill was greeting them all twice over,
with apparently no eyes for the three he had not expected to see. For
the moment it was plain that he had not recognized them, and supposed
them to be strangers to whom he would presently be made known.
But now, as somebody moved aside and the light struck upon her, he
caught the smile on Mrs. Peyton's face. He left off shaking Jeff's hand,
and made a quick movement toward the little figure in black.
"Why, Cousin Lula!" he exclaimed.
Charlotte, at the moment hugging little Ellen with laughter and kisses,
turned at the cry, and saw her husband greeting with great cordiality
these strange people whom she, too, had supposed to be the guests of her
mother.
"Charlotte," said Doctor Churchill, turning about, "this is my cousin,
Mrs. Peyton, of Virginia--and her children."
Charlotte came forward, cordially greeted Mrs. Peyton and Lucy and
Randolph, and led them into the living-room as if the moment were that
of their arrival instead of her own.
"She has the stuff in her, hasn't she?" murmured Just to Jeff, as the
two stood at one side of the fireplace.
"Could you ever doubt it?" returned Jeff, with as much emphasis as can
be put into a mumbled retort. Jeff had been Charlotte's staunchest
champion all his life.
"Ah, Fieldsy, but I'm glad to be back!" Doctor Churchill assured his
housekeeper, in the kitchen, to which he had soon found his way. "We've
had a glorious time down in the Virginia mountains, but this is home
now, as it never was before, and it's great fun to be here. How are you?
You're looking fine."
"And I'm feeling fine," assented Mrs. Fields, her spare face lighted
into something like real comeliness by the pleasure in her heart. "Just
one thing, Doctor Andy. I'm terrible sorry them relatives of yours
happened along just now. If I'd gone to the door--well--I don't believe
but I'd have seen my way clear to--"
Churchill shook his head, smiling. "No, Fieldsy, you know you wouldn't.
Besides, Cousin Lula looks far from well, and she's had a lot of
trouble. It's all right, you know. My, but this is a good dinner we have
coming to us!"
He went off gaily. Mrs. Fields looked after him affectionately.
"Oh, yes, Andy Churchill, it's plain to be seen your heart's in the
right place as much as ever it was, if you have got married," she
thought.
"O Fieldsy,"--and this time it was Charlotte who invaded the kitchen and
grasped the housekeeper's hands--"how good it seems to be back! But I
can't realise a bit I'm at home over here, can you?"
"You'll soon get used to it, I guess, Mis' Churchill."
"Oh, and _that_ sounds strange--from you!" declared Charlotte, laughing.
"I'd begun to get a little bit used to it down in Virginia. If you don't
say 'Miss Charlotte' once in a while to me I shall feel quite lost."
"I guess Doctor Churchill 'd have something to say about that, if I
should. I don't believe but what he's terrible proud of that name."
It was certainly a name nobody seemed able to "get used to." Just called
his sister by the new title once during the evening. They were at the
table when he thus addressed her, and there followed a succession of
comments.
"Don't you dare call her that when I'm round!" remarked Jeff.
"I actually didn't understand at first whom you meant," said Celia.
"I've not forgotten how long it took me to learn that my name was
Birch," said Charlotte's mother, with a smile so bright that it covered
the involuntary sigh.
"Is Aunty Charlotte my Aunty Churchill now?" piped little Ellen. Lucy
and Randolph Peyton laughed.
"Of course, she is, dumpling, only you can keep on calling her Aunty
Charlotte. And I'm your Uncle Andy. How do you like that?"
"Oh, I like that!" agreed Ellen, and edged her chair an inch nearer
"Uncle Andy."
Dinner over, Celia bore Ellen home to bed. Charlotte suggested the same
possibility for the Peyton children, but although it was nearing nine
o'clock, both refused so decidedly that after a glance at their mother,
who took no notice, Charlotte said no more.
Randolph grew sleepy in his chair, and Doctor Churchill presently took
pity on him. He sat down beside the lad and told him a story of so
intentionally monotonous a character that Randolph was soon half over
the border. Then the doctor picked him up, and with the drooping head on
his shoulder observed, pleasantly:
"This lad wants his bed, Cousin Lula. May I take him to it?"
Mrs. Peyton, engaged in telling Mr. Birch her opinion of certain
Northern institutions she had lately observed, nodded absently. Doctor
Churchill ascended the stairs, and Charlotte, slipping from the room,
ran up ahead of him to get Randolph's cot in readiness.
"That's it, old fellow! Wake up enough to let me get your clothes off,"
Churchill bade the sleep-heavy child. "Can you find his nightclothes,
Charlotte? Cousin Lula seems to have unpacked. That's it. Thank you!
Now, Ran, you'll be glad to be in bed, won't you? Can you wake up enough
to say your prayers, son? No? Well that's not altogether your fault," he
said, softly, and smiled at Charlotte. "I think we'd better invite Lucy
up, too, don't you?"
"Won't she--Mrs. Peyton--think we're rather cool?" Charlotte suggested,
as they tucked the boy in.
"Not a bit. She'll be glad to have the job off her hands. The youngsters
are tired, and ought to have been in bed an hour ago. Stay here, and
I'll run down after Lucy."
On the stairs, as they descended, after Charlotte had seen Lucy to her
quarters, they met Jeff.
"Been putting the kids to bed?" he questioned curiously, under his
breath. "Well, you're great. Their mother doesn't seem much worried
about it. She's quite a talker. Guess she didn't notice what happened.
Say, I'm going. It's ten o'clock. You two ought to have a chance to look
'round without any more company to-night. Justin slipped off while you
were up-stairs. Told me to say good-night. Father and mother are only
waiting for a pause in your cousin's conversation long enough to throw
in a word of their own before they get up." He made an expressive
gesture.
"You know mother's invariable rule," he chuckled, "never to get up to go
at the end of one of your guest's conversational sprints, but always to
wait until you can interrupt yourself, so to speak. Well--I don't mean
any disrespect to the lady from Virginia, Andy, but I'm afraid mother'll
have to make an exception to that rule, or else remain for the night."
The three laughed softly, Charlotte's hand on her brother's shoulder, as
she stood on the step above him.
"You mustn't say any saucy things, Jeffy," said she, with a soft touch
on his thick locks.
"I won't. I'm too tickled to have you back--both of you. We missed
Fiddle pretty badly," he said to Doctor Churchill, "but we found time to
miss you almost as much. There have been several times while you've been
gone that I'd have welcomed the _chug_ of your runabout under my window,
waking me up in the middle of the night."
"Thank you, old fellow!" said Doctor Churchill with a hand on Jeff's
other shoulder. "That's mighty pleasant to hear."
In spite of Jeff's prediction, Mrs. Birch soon managed, in her own
tactful way, to follow her sons home. Mrs. Peyton went up to her room at
last, a cordial good night, following her from the foot of the stairs.
Then Doctor Churchill drew his wife back into the living-room and closed
the doors. He stood looking at Charlotte with eyes in which were mingled
merriment and tenderness.
"It wasn't just as we planned it, was it, little girl?" he said. "But
there's always this to fall back upon. People we want, and people we
don't want so much, may be around us, to the right of us, and the left
of us, but even so, nobody can ever--come between."
The door-bell rang.
"Oh, I hoped nobody would know you were home to-night!' cried Charlotte,
the smile fading from her lips. Doctor Churchill went quickly to the
door. A messenger boy with a telegram stood outside. The doctor read the
dispatch and dismissed the boy. Then he turned to Charlotte.
"No, it's no bad news," he said, and came close. "It's just--can you
bear up?--another impending guest! Charlotte, I've done a lot of talking
about hospitality, and I meant it all. I certainly want our latch-string
always out, but--_don't you think we rushed that copper motto into place
just a bit too soon_?"
* * * * *