Miss Diana Chillingworth was sitting in the old-fashioned porch of her
old-fashioned house which opened into an old-fashioned garden in one of
the suburbs of Marlborough, shelling peas. Everything about Miss Diana
was old-fashioned and sweet. Her hair was dressed as she had been
accustomed to wear it in her girlhood, and even the head mantua-maker of
Marlborough, ardent worshiper at Fashion's shrine though she was, was
forced to bow before her gentle individuality and confess that Miss
Diana's taste was perfect.
She wore a morning dress of soft pearl grey, over which she had tied an
apron of white lawn with a dainty ruffle of embroidery below its hem.
The peas danced merrily against the sides of an old-fashioned china
bowl. Miss Diana had an aesthetic repugnance to the use of tin utensils
in the preparation of food.
Outside there were sweet lilies of the valley and violets and pansies,
and the roses wafted long breaths of fragrance to her through the
trellis work of the porch, while the morning glories hung their heads
and blushed under the ardent kisses of the sun.
In the kitchen Unavella Cynthesia Crockett, her faithful and devoted
"assistant" (Miss Crockett objected to the term servant upon democratic
principles), moved cheerily, with a giant masterfulness which bespoke a
successful initiation into the mysteries of the culinary art. All at
once she shut the oven door, where three toothsome loaves were browning,
and listened intently. Then she went out to interview Thomas, the
butcher's boy, who came three times a week with supplies.
"The sweet-breads hez cum, Miss Di-an," she said, appearing in the porch
before her mistress.
"Well, Unavella," said Miss Diana, with a pleasant smile, "you expected
them, did you not? We ordered them, you know. They are very nutritious,
I think."
"Hum! There's some news cum along with 'em that ain't likely to prove ez
nourishin'. Tummas sez the Provident Savings Company hez busted an' the
president's vamoosed."
"Dear me! I wish Thomas would not use such very forceful language," said
Miss Diana. "Do you think he finds it necessary? Being a butcher, you
know? I hardly understand the words. Do you think you would find them
defined in Webster?"
Unavella's eyes twinkled through her gloom. "I guess Tummas ain't got
much use for dictionners," she said. "He uses words that cums nearest to
his feelin's. He's lost two hundred dollars, Tummas hez."
"Dear me! How very grieved I am. But a dictionary, Unavella, is the
basis of all education. Thomas ought to appreciate that. 'Busted,'" she
repeated the word slowly, with an instinctive shrinking from its sound,
"that is a vulgar corruption of the verb to burst; but 'vamoosed,' I do
not think I ever heard the term before."
"Tummas says it means to show the under side of your shoe leather."
"The under side of your shoe leather, Unavella?" Miss Diana lifted her
pretty shoe and held it up for inspection. "Do you see anything wrong
with that?"
The faithful soul threw her apron over her head with a sob. "Oh, Miss
Di-an!" she wailed, "it means the company's all a set of cheats, an' the
biggest rogue of the lot hez lit out--run away--an' taken the money the
Gin'rel left you along with him."