THE FEELINGS OF A CRUSHED MOTH.
"I don't think it's right for Maria to be in the room," said Mrs.
Butler. "I'll listen to all you've got to say in a moment, Mrs. Gorman
Stanley, but--Maria, will you have the goodness to leave us."
"I'd rather stay," pleaded poor Miss Maria. "I always was deeply
interested in my darling Bee, and it's dreadful to think of her being
discussed and gossiped over, and me not present. You know, Martha, you
have a sharp tongue."
"This from you, Maria? You, who eat my bread. Well! Mrs. Gorman Stanley,
you are witness to this ingratitude."
"Oh, my dear good creatures, don't quarrel," said Mrs. Gorman Stanley.
She was a very phlegmatic woman, and hated scenes.
"If I were you, Mrs. Butler, I'd let poor Miss Peters stay," she added.
"I'm sure she's quite old enough."
"Mrs. Gorman Stanley, my sister is never old enough to listen to improper
subjects. Faithless, she is, ungrateful, perverse, but her innocence at
least I will respect. Maria, leave the room."
Poor Miss Maria slipped away. As she did so, she looked exactly like a
crushed brown moth. In the passage she stopped, glanced furtively around
her, and then, shocking to relate, put her ear to the key-hole. She felt
both sore and angry; they were saying horrid things of Beatrice, and
Miss Peters loved Beatrice.
Soon she went away, and burying her face in her little handkerchief,
sobbed bitterly.
Inside the drawing-room, Mrs. Butler and Mrs. Gorman Stanley were
holding awful conclave.
"You don't say, my dear, that she took the young man up to Miss Hart's
_private_ room? And who _is_ Miss Hart? And what's all this
fuss about? No, I'm glad Maria isn't here! I always tried to do my duty
by Maria, and a scandal of this kind she must not listen to. What does
it all mean, Mrs. Gorman Stanley? Is Beatrice Meadowsweet to be married
on Tuesday, or is she not?"
"My dear friend, I can't tell you. There are all sorts of rumors about.
I was at Perry's buying a yard of muslin, when Mrs. Morris came in. She
had her mouth pursed up, and her voice perfectly guttural from
bronchitis, so I knew she was keeping something in, and I made a point
of going up to her. I said, 'you have got some news, Mrs. Morris, and
you may as well out with it.' Then she told me."
"What? Mrs. Gorman Stanley, I trust you don't feel the draught from that
window. I'll shut it if you like. But what--what did she say?"
"Well, she said some queer things. Nobody can quite make out whether Bee
is to be married or not on Tuesday. Some say that Captain Bertram is
married already, and that his wife is living in seclusion at the
Bells'."
"At the Bells'? I'll go over at once and poke that mystery out. Maria!
_Maria_! She's sure to to be eaves-dropping somewhere near. Maria,
come here quickly, I want you."
"What is it, Martha?"
The little crushed moth put in a face, which disclosed very red eyes, at
the door.
"What is it, Martha? Do you want me?"
"Ah, I thought you couldn't be far off. You'll oblige me, Maria, by
running upstairs, and fetching down my bonnet and mantle. My _old_
gloves will do, and I'll have my fur boa, for the days are turning
wonderfully chilly. Yes, Mrs. Gorman Stanley," continued Mrs. Butler,
when Miss Peters had disappeared, "I'll soon get at the bottom of
_that_ bit of gossip. Are the Bells likely people to keep a close
secret to themselves; you tell me that, Mrs. Gorman Stanley? Aren't they
all blab, blab, blab? Ah, here comes Maria--and dressed to go out, too,
upon my word? Well, miss, I suppose I must humor you! You'll have the
decency, however, to remember to turn away your head if we matrons wish
to whisper a bit among ourselves. Good-bye, Mrs. Gorman Stanley. I'll
look in if I have any news for you this evening."
"Do," said Mrs. Gorman Stanley. "I'm all a-gog to hear. It's no joke to
order a handsome dress for a chit of a girl's wedding, and then not wear
it after all. I meant to get new curtains for my back parlor, heavy
snuff-colored moreen, going a great bargain, but I had to buy the dress
instead. Well, you'll let me know the news. Good-bye."
As they were walking down the street to the Bells' house Mrs. Butler
turned sharply to her little companion:
"Maria," she said, "you are a perfect fool."
"Well, really, Martha, I--I----"
"For goodness' sake, don't begin to snivel. I hadn't finished my speech.
I'm a fool, too. We are both in the same box."
"Oh, no, Martha, you always were----"
"Folly. You needn't roll your eyes at me. Don't flatter. I said we were
both fools. I repeat it. We have been hoaxed."
"Hoaxed?" said Miss Maria, with a high staccato note of inquiry.
"Yes. Hoaxed. Hoaxed out of our wedding presents by a girl who is not
going to have a wedding at all. I miss my brooch. My throat feels naked
without it. Last week I had a hoarseness. I attribute it to the loss of
the brooch."
"I don't miss my lace," said Miss Maria. "I am glad she has it. I am
very glad she has it, wedding or no wedding, bless her sweet heart."
"Maria, your sentiments are sickly. Don't give me any more of them. Here
we are at the door now. You'll remember, Maria, my hint, and act as a
modest woman, if occasion requires."
Here Mrs. Butler souded a loud rat-tat on the Bells' hall door. The
little maid opened it rather in a fright. She poked her head out. This
was a style usually adopted by the Northbury servants.
"Is your mistress in, Hannah?"
"I don't know, Mrs. Butler, ma'am. I'll inquire, ma'am. Will you walk
in, please, ma'am."
"I will, Hannah, and so will Miss Peters. Show us into the drawing-room,
and tell your mistress we are here. If she should happen to be out we
will wait her return. You will be particular to remember that, Hannah.
We'll wait her return."
"Oh, if you please, Mrs. Butler, will you--excuse me, ma'am, but
_will_ you come into the parlor, please, ma'am?"
"Into the parlor? Why into the parlor, pray?"
"It's Miss Matty, ma'am."
"Oh! has Miss Matty become mistress of this house? And does she forbid
her mother's visitors admission to the drawing-room! Hoots, toots--I'll
soon put a stop to that sort of thing. Come on, Maria."
"But really, Martha--do stop a moment, Martha--I'm sure Hannah ought to
know best."
"Oh, indeed, yes, Miss Peters--thank you, Miss Peters--missis did give
orders most positive. These were her exact words: 'Hannah,' she said,
'the parlor is for callers. You remember that, Hannah, and the
drawing-room is for--'"
"Yes," said Mrs. Butler, sweeping round, and confronting poor little
frightened Hannah. "Who is the drawing-room for?"
"For Miss Matty, please, Mrs. Butler, ma'am. For Miss Matty and Mr.
Gusty Jenkins. They're a--they're a-lovering in the drawing-room,
ma'am."
"Then they are engaged! That rumor also reached me. Come on, Maria.
We'll go and congratulate them."
No poor little ignorant maid-of-all-work could keep Mrs. Butler back
now. She swept down the passage, followed by the shrinking, but curious
Miss Peters. She threw open the drawing-room door herself, and intruded
upon the abashed young people with a stately flourish.
"How are you, Matty?" she said. "Oh, pray don't let us disturb you. Is
that you, Augustus? I'm pleased to see you, young man. I used to dandle
you when you were an infant--good gracious, what red hair you had,
and--it hasn't changed, not at all! Now, Matty, my dear, what are you
blushing about? You have caught your young man at last, and much luck
may you both have. If--' if at first you don't succeed, try, try, try
again.' You _have_ tried again, Matty, and I congratulate you. You
may kiss me, Matty, if you like. Maria, you may kiss Matty Bell. She's
engaged to Gusty. Well, Gusty, you _are_ a sly one. Never once have
you been near my house since your return. Better employed, you will say.
Ha, ha, _I_ know young men. Marry in haste and repent at leisure.
But come over now and sit near me by this window. I shouldn't object to
a dish of gossip with you, not at all. Do you remember that day when you
had your first tooth out? How you screamed? I held your hands, and your
mother your head. You were an arrant coward, Gusty, and I'm frank enough
to remind you of the fact."
Just then, to Augustus Jenkins' infinite relief, Mrs. Bell entered the
room; he was spared any further reminiscences of his youth, and he and
Matty were thankful to escape into the garden.
After the necessary congratulations had been gone through, and Mrs. Bell
had bridled, and looked important, and Mrs. Butler had slapped her
friend on the shoulder, and given her elbow a sly poke, and in short
gone through the pleasantries which she thought becoming to the
occasion, the ladies turned to the more serious business in hand.
Mrs. Butler, who prided herself on being candid, who was the terror of
her friends on account of this said candor, asked a plain question in
her usual style.
"Maria, go to the window and look out. Now, Mrs. Bell, you answer me yes
or no to this. Has Captain Bertram a wife concealed in this house, or
has he not? In short, is my throat naked for no rhyme or reason!"
Mrs. Bell, who could not quite see what Mrs. Butler's throat had to say
to a clandestine wife of Captain Bertram's, stared at her friend with
her usual round and stolid eyes.
"I think your brain must be wandering, Martha Butler," she said. "I
don't know anything about your throat, except that it is very indelicate
to wear it exposed, and as to Captain Bertram having a wife here, do you
want to insult me after all these years, Martha?"
"I want to do nothing of the kind, Tilly Bell. I only want to get at the
naked truth."
"It was your naked throat a minute ago."
"Well, they hang together, my throat and the truth. Has that young man
got a wife in this house, or has he not?"
"He has not, Mrs. Butler, and you forfeit my friendship from this
minute."
"Oh, I forfeit it, do I? (Come, Maria, we'll be going.) Very well, Mrs.
Bell, I have forfeited your friendship, very well. And there's no young
woman who oughtn't to be here, concealed on these premises. (Maria, stay
looking out at the window for a minute.) There's no strange young woman
here, oh, of course not. Poor Bell, honest man, only _fancies_ he
has a visitor in the house."
Here Mrs. Bell turned ghastly pale. Mrs. Butler saw that she had
unexpectedly driven a nail home, and with fiendish glee pursued her
advantage.
"A visitor! oh, yes, _all the lodgings were full,_ packed! and it
was so convenient to take in a visitor a--_friend._ Hunt the baker
has been speaking about it. I didn't listen--I make it a point
_never_ to listen to gossip--but Maria--Maria, you can come here
now. Have the goodness, Maria, to tell Mrs. Bell exactly what Hunt said,
when you went in to buy the brown loaf for me last Friday."
"Oh, sister--I--I really don't remember."
"Don't remember! Piddle dumpling! You remembered well enough when you
came back all agog with the news. I reproved you for listening to idle
gossip, and you read a sermon of Blair's on evil speaking aloud to me
that night. You shall read sermon ten to-night. It's on lying. Well,
Mrs. Bell, _I_ can repeat what my poor sister has forgotten. It was
only to the effect that you and Bell must have had a windfall left you,
and _he_ never knew a visitor treated so well as you treated yours.
The dainty cakes you had to get her, and the fuss over her, and every
blessed thing paid down for with silver of the realm. Well, well,
sometimes it is _convenient_ to have a visitor. But now I must
leave. Maria, we'll be going. You have got to get to your sermon on
lying as soon as possible. Good-bye, Mrs. Bell. Perhaps you'll be able
to tell some one else why the whole town is talking about Miss
Hart--whoever Miss Hart was--and about Beatrice, and the wedding being
put off--and Captain Bertram going off into high hysterics in--(Maria,
you can go back to the window)--in a certain young lady's private room.
Now I'm off. Come, Maria."