Next morning an astonishing rumor began to circulate through Trumet. It
spread with remarkable quickness, and, as it spread, it grew. The Dotts
had inherited money! The Dotts were rich! The Dotts were millionaires!
Captain Daniel's brother had died and left him fifty thousand dollars!
His brother's wife had died and left him a hundred thousand! It was not
his brother's wife, but Serena's uncle who had died, and the inheritance
was two hundred and fifty thousand at least. By the time the story
reached Trumet Neck it seemed to be fairly certain that all the Dott
relatives on both sides of the house had passed away, leaving the sole
survivors of the family all the money and property in the world, with a
few trifling exceptions.
Captain Dan, coming in for dinner,--one must eat, or try to eat, even
though the realities of life have been blown away, and one is moving in
a sort of dream, with the fear of awakening always present--Captain Dan,
coming into the house for dinner, expressed his opinion of Trumet gossip
mongers.
“My heavens and earth, Serena!” he cried, sinking into his chair at the
table, “am I me, or somebody else? Do I know what I'm doin' or what's
happened to me, or don't I?”
Serena, a transformed, flushed, excited Serena, beamed at him across the
table.
“I should hope you did, Daniel,” she answered.
“Well, if _I_ do, then nobody else does, and if THEY do, I don't. I've
heard of more dead relations this forenoon than I ever had alive. And
yarns about 'em! and about you and me! My soul and body! Say, did you
know you had a cousin-in-law in Californy?”
“I? In California? Nonsense!”
“No nonsense about it. You had one and he was a lunatic or a epileptic
or an epizootic or somethin', and lived in a hospital or a palace or a
jail, and he was worth four millions or forty, I forget which, and
fell out of an automobile or out of a balloon or out of bed--anyhow, it
killed him--and--”
“Daniel Dott! DON'T talk so idiotic!”
“Humph! that's nothin' to the idiocy that's been talked to me this
forenoon. I've done nothin' for the last hour but say 'No' to folks that
come tearin' in to unload lies and ask questions. And some of 'em was
people you'd expect to have common sense, too. My head's kind of wobbly
this mornin', after the shock that hit it last night, but it's a regular
Dan'l Webster's alongside the general run of heads in this town. Aunt
Laviny's will has turned Trumet into an asylum, and the patients are all
runnin' loose.”
“But WHAT foolishness was that about a cousin in California?”
“'Twa'n't foolishness, I tell you. You ask any one of a dozen folks you
meet outside the post-office now, and they'll all tell you you had
one. They might not agree whether 'twas a cousin or a grandmother or a
step-child, or whether it lived in Californy or the Cape of Good Hope,
but they all know it's dead now, and we've got anywheres from a postage
stamp to a hogshead of diamonds. Serena, if you hear yells for help this
afternoon, don't pay any attention. It'll only mean that my patience has
run out and I'm tryin' to make this community short one devilish fool at
least. There'll be enough left; he'll never be missed.”
“Daniel, I never saw you so worked up. You must expect people to be
excited. I'm excited myself.”
The captain wiped his forehead with his napkin. “_I_ ain't exactly a
graven image, now that you mention it,” he admitted. “But you and I have
got some excuse and they ain't. Haven't they been in to see you; or did
you lock the doors?”
“I have had callers, of course. Mrs. Berry was here, and Mrs. Tripp, and
the Cahoon girls, and Issachar Eldredge's wife. The first four pretended
they came on lodge business, and the Eldredge woman to get my recipe for
chocolate doughnuts; but, of course, I knew what they really came for.
Daniel, HOW do you suppose the news got out so soon? I didn't tell a
soul and you promised you wouldn't.”
“I didn't, neither. Probably that lawyer man dropped a hint down at the
Manonquit House, and that set things goin'. Just heave over one seed
of a yarn in most any hotel or boardin' house and you'll have a crop of
lies next mornin' that would load a three-master. They come up in the
night, like toadstools.”
“But you didn't tell anyone how much your Aunt Lavinia left us?”
“You bet I didn't. I told 'em I didn't know yet. I was cal'latin' to
hire a couple of dozen men and a boy to count it, and soon's the job was
finished I'd get out a proclamation. What did you tell your gang?”
“I simply said,” Serena unconsciously drew herself up and spoke with
a gracious dignity; “I said they might quote me as saying it was NOT a
million.”
Azuba entered from the kitchen, heaving a steaming platter.
“There!” she exclaimed, setting the dish before her employers; “I don't
know as clam fritters are what rich folks ought to eat, but I done the
best I could. I'm so shook up and trembly this day it's a mercy I didn't
fry the platter.”
Yes, something had happened to the Dotts, something vastly more
wonderful and surprising than falling heir to three thousand dollars and
a silver tea-pot. When Captain Daniel shut up the Metropolitan Store the
previous evening and started for the house, the bearer of the great news
was on his way from the Manonquit House, where he had had supper. When
Serena bewailed her fate and expressed a desire for an opportunity, he
was almost at the front gate, and the ring of the bell which interrupted
her conversation with her husband was the signal that Opportunity, in
the person of Mr. Glenn Farwell, Junior, newest member of the firm of
Shepley and Farwell, attorneys, of Boston, was at the door.
Mr. Farwell was spruce and brisk and businesslike; also he was young,
a fact which he tried to conceal by a rather feeble beard, and much
professional dignity of manner and expression. Occasionally, in the heat
of conversation, he forgot the dignity; the beard he never forgot. Shown
into the Dott sitting-room by Azuba, who, as usual, had neglected to
remove her kitchen apron, he bowed politely and inquired if he had the
pleasure of addressing Captain and Mrs. Daniel Abner Dott. The captain
assured him that he had. Serena was too busy glaring at the apron and
its wearer to remember etiquette.
“Won't you--won't you sit down, Mr. er--er--” began the captain.
Mr. Farwell introduced himself, and sat down, as requested. After
a glance about the room, which took in the upright piano--purchased
second-hand when Gertrude first began her music lessons--the what-not,
with its array of shells, corals, miniature ships in bottles, and
West Indian curiosities, and the crayon enlargement over the mantel
of Captain Solon Dott, Daniel's grandfather, he proceeded directly to
business.
“Captain Dott,” he said, addressing that gentleman, but bowing politely
to Serena to indicate that she was included in the question, “you
received a letter from our firm about a week ago, did you not?”
Captain Dan, who had scarcely recovered from his surprise at his
caller's identity, shook his head. “As a matter of fact,” he stammered,
“I--I only got it to-day. It came all right, that is, it got as far
as the post-office, but the postmaster, he handed it over to Balaam
Hamilton, to bring to me. Well, Balaam is--well, his underpinnin's all
right; he wears a number eleven shoe--but his top riggin' is kind of
lackin' in spots. You'd understand if you knew him. He put the letter in
his pocket and--”
“Mercy!” cut in Serena, impatiently, “what do you suppose Mr. Farwell
cares about Balaam Hamilton? He forgot the letter, Mr. Farwell, and
we only got it this morning. That is why it hasn't been answered. What
about the letter?”
The visitor did not answer directly. “I see,” he said. “That letter
informed you that Mrs. Lavinia Dott--your aunt, Captain,--was dead, and
that we, her legal representatives, having, as we supposed, her will in
our possession, and being in charge of her affairs--”
Mrs. Dott interrupted. Her excitement had been growing ever since she
learned the visitor's name and, although her husband did not notice the
peculiar phrasing of the lawyer's sentence, she did.
“As you supposed?” she repeated. “You did have the will, didn't you?”
“We had a will, one which Mrs. Dott drew some eight or nine years ago.
But we received word from Italy only yesterday that there was another,
a much more recent one, which superseded the one in our possession. Of
course, that being the case, the bequests in the former were not binding
upon the estate. That is to say, our will was not a will at all.”
Serena gasped. She looked at her husband, and he at her.
“Then we--then she didn't leave us the three thousand dollars?” she
cried.
“Or--or the tea-pot?” faltered Captain Dan.
Mr. Farwell smiled. He was having considerable fun out of the situation.
However, it would not do to keep possibly profitable clients in suspense
too long, so he broke the news he had journeyed from Boston to impart.
“She left you a great deal more than that,” he said. “In the former
will, her cousin, Mr. Percy Hungerford of Scarford, was the principal
legatee. He was a favorite of hers, I believe, and she left the bulk of
her property--some hundred and twenty thousand dollars in securities,
and her estate at Scarford--to him. But last February it appears that he
and she had a falling out. He--Mr. Hungerford--is, so I am told, a good
deal of a sport--ahem! that is, he is a young gentleman of fashionable
and expensive tastes, and he wrote his aunt, asking for money,
rather frequently. The February letter reached her when she was
grouchy--er--not well, I mean, and she changed her will, practically
disinheriting him. Under the new will he receives twenty thousand
dollars in cash. The balance--” Mr. Farwell, who, during this long
statement, had interspersed legal dignity of term with an occasional
lapse into youthful idiom, now spoke with impressive solemnity,--“the
balance,” he said, “one hundred thousand in money and securities,
and the house at Scarford, which is valued, I believe, at thirty-five
thousand more, she leaves to you, as her only other relative, Captain
Dott. I am here to congratulate you and to offer you my services and
those of the firm, should you desire legal advice.”
Having sprung his surprise, Mr. Farwell leaned back in his chair to
enjoy the effect of the explosion. The first effect appeared to be
the complete stupefaction of his hearers. Those which followed were
characteristic.
“My soul and body!” gasped Captain Dan. “I--I--my land of love! And only
this mornin' I was scared I couldn't pay my store bills!”
“A hundred thousand dollars!” cried Serena. “And that beautiful house at
Scarford! OURS! Oh! oh! oh!”
Mr. Farwell crossed his knees. “A very handsome little windfall,” he
observed, with condescension.
“We get a hundred thousand!” murmured the captain. “My! I wish Father
was alive to know about it. But, say, it's kind of rough on that young
Hungerford, after expectin' so much, ain't it now!”
“A hundred thousand!” breathed his wife, her hands clasped. “And that
lovely house! Why, we could move to Scarford to-morrow if we wanted to!
Yes, and live there! Oh--oh, Daniel! I--I don't know why I'm doing it,
but I--I believe I'm going to cry.”
Her husband rushed over to the couch and threw his arm about her
shoulder.
“Go ahead, old lady,” he commanded. “Cry, if you want to. I--I'm goin'
to do SOMETHIN' darn ridiculous, myself!”
Thus it was that Fortune and Opportunity came to the Dott door, and it
was the news of the visitation, distorted and exaggerated, which set all
Trumet by the ears next day.
Azuba's clam fritters were neglected that noon, just as breakfast had
been. Neither Captain Dan nor his wife had slept, and they could not
eat. They pretended to, they even tried to, but one or the other was
certain to break out with an exclamation or a wondering surmise, and the
meal was, as the captain said, “all talk and no substantials.” They had
scarcely risen from the table when the doorbell rang.
Azuba heard it and made her entrance from the kitchen. She had
remembered this time to shed the offending apron, but she carried it in
her hand.
“I'm a-goin',” she declared; “I'm a-goin', soon's ever I can.”
She started for the sitting-room, but the captain stepped in front of
her.
“You stay right where you are,” he ordered. “I'll answer that bell
myself this time.”
“Daniel,” cried his wife, “what are you going to do?”
“Do? I'm goin' to head off some more fools, that's what I'm goin' to do.
They shan't get in here to pester you to death with questions, not if I
can help it.”
“But, Daniel, you mustn't. You don't know who it may be.”
“I don't care.”
“Oh, dear me! What are you going to say? You mustn't insult people.”
“I shan't insult 'em. I'll tell 'em--I'll tell 'em you're sick and can't
see anybody.”
“But I'm not sick.”
“Then, I am,” said Captain Dan. “They make me sick. Shut up, will you?”
addressing the bell, which had rung the second time. “I'll come when I
get ready.”
He seemed to be quite ready that very moment. At all events he strode
from the room, and his anxious wife and the flushed Azuba heard him
tramping through the front hall.
“What--WHAT is he going to do?” faltered Serena; “or say?”
Azuba shook her head. “Land knows!” she exclaimed. “I ain't seen him
this way since the weasel got into the hen-house. He went for THAT with
the hoe-handle. And as for what he said! Well, don't talk to ME!”
But no riot or verbal explosion followed the opening of the door. The
anxious listeners in the dining-room heard voices, but they were subdued
ones. A moment later Captain Dan returned. He looked troubled.
“It's Barney Black and his wife,” he answered, in a whisper. “I couldn't
tell THEM to go to thunder. They're in the front room, waitin'. I
suppose we'll have to see 'em, won't we?”
Mrs. Dott was hurriedly shaking the wrinkles out of her gown and patting
her hair into presentable shape.
“See 'em!” she repeated. “Of course we'll see them. I declare! I think
it's real kind of 'em to call. Daniel, do fix your necktie. It's way
round under your ear.”
They entered the parlor, Serena, outwardly calm, in the lead and her
husband following, and tugging at the refractory tie.
Mrs. and Mr. Black--scanning them in the order of their importance--rose
as they appeared. Mrs. Black was large and impressive, and gorgeous to
view. She did not look her age. Her husband was not as tall as his wife,
and did not look his height. Annette swept forward.
“Oh, my dear Mrs. Dott,” she gushed, taking Serena's hand in her own
gloved one. “We've just heard the news, Phelps and I, and we couldn't
resist dropping in to congratulate you. Isn't it wonderful!”
Serena admitted that it was wonderful. “We can hardly believe it yet,
ourselves,” she said. “But it was real nice of you to come. Do sit down
again, won't you? Daniel, get Mr. Black a chair.”
Captain Dan and Mr. Black shook hands. “Sit down anywhere, Barney,” said
the former. “Anywhere but that rocker, I mean; that's got a squeak in
the leg.”
Mr. Black, who had headed for the rocker, changed his course and sank
into an arm chair. The shudder with which his wife heard the word
“Barney,” and the glare with which Serena favored her husband, were
entirely lost upon the latter.
“We had that rocker up in the attic till last month,” he observed; “but
Serena found out 'twas an antique, and antiques seem to be all the go
now-a-days, though you do have to be careful of 'em. I suppose it's all
right. We'll be antiques ourselves before many years, and we'll want
folks to be careful of us. Hey? Ha! ha! ... Why, what's the matter,
Serena?”
Mrs. Dott replied, rather sharply, that “nothing was the matter.”
“The rocker isn't very strong,” she explained, addressing Mrs. Black.
“But it belonged to my great--that is, it has been in our family for a
good many years and we think a great deal of it.”
Mrs. Black condescendingly expressed her opinion that the rocker was a
“dear.”
“I love old-fashioned things,” she said. “So does Mr. Black. Don't you,
Phelps?”
“Yes,” replied that gentleman. His love did not appear to be
over-enthusiastic.
“But do tell us about your little legacy,” went on the lady. “Of course
we have heard all sorts of ridiculous stories, but we know better than
to believe them. Why, we even heard that you were worth a million.
Naturally, THAT was absurd, wasn't it? Ha! ha!”
Captain Dan opened his mouth to reply, but his wife flashed a glance in
his direction, and he closed it again.
“Yes,” said Serena, addressing Mrs. Black, “that was absurd, of course.”
“So I told Phelps. I said that the way in which these country people
exaggerated such things was too funny for anything. Why, we heard that
your cousin had died--that is, _I_ heard it was a cousin; Phelps heard
it was an uncle. An uncle was what you heard, wasn't it, Phelps?”
“Yes,” said Phelps. It was his second contribution to the conversation.
“So,” went on Mrs. Black, “we didn't know which it was.”
She paused, smilingly expectant. Again Captain Dan started to speak, and
again a look from his wife caused him to change his mind. Before he had
quite recovered, Mrs. Black, who may have noticed the look, had turned
to him.
“Wasn't it funny!” she gushed. “I don't wonder you laugh. Here was I
saying it was a cousin and Phelps declaring it was an uncle. It was
so odd and SO like this funny little town. Do tell us; which was it,
really, Captain Dott?”
Daniel, staggering before this point blank attack, hesitated. “Why,” he
stammered, “it was--it was--” He looked appealingly at Serena.
“Why don't you answer Mrs. Black?” inquired his wife, rather sharply.
“It was my Aunt Laviny,” said the captain.
Mrs. Black nodded and smiled.
“Oh! your aunt!” she exclaimed. “There! isn't that funny! And SO
characteristic of Trumet. Neither an uncle nor a cousin, but an aunt.
What did you say her name was?”
“Laviny?”
“Yes, I know. Laviny--what an odd name! I don't think I ever heard it
before. Was the rest of it as odd as that?”
Serena, who had been fidgeting in her chair, cut in here.
“It wasn't Laviny at all,” she said. “That is only Daniel's way of
pronouncing it. It is what he used to call her when he was a child. A--a
sort of pet name, you know.”
“Why, Serena! how you talk! She never had any pet name, far's I ever
heard. You might as well give a pet name to the Queen of Sheba. She--”
“Hush! it doesn't make any difference. Her name, Mrs. Black, was
Lavinia. She was Mrs. Lavinia Dott, and her husband was James Dott,
Daniel's father's brother. I shouldn't wonder if you knew her. She has
spent most of her time in Europe lately, but her home, her American
home, was where you live, in Scarford.”
This statement caused a marked sensation. Mrs. Black gasped audibly, and
leaned back in her chair. B. Phelps evinced his first sign of interest.
“What!” he exclaimed. “Mrs. Lavinia Dott, of Scarford? You don't say!
Why, of course we knew her; that is, we knew who she was. Everybody in
Scarford did. Her place is one of the finest in town.”
Serena bowed. Life, for her, had not offered many sweeter moments than
this.
“Yes,” she said, calmly, “so we understand. The place--er--that is, the
estate--is a PART--” she emphasized the word--“a PART of what she left
to my husband.”
“Great Scott!” exclaimed Mr. Black. His wife said nothing, but her face
was a study.
Captain Dan crossed his knees.
“I remember seein' that place after Uncle Jim first built it,” he
observed, reminiscently. “I tell you it looked big enough to me! I was
only a young feller, just begun goin' to sea, and that house looked big
as a town hall, you might say. Ho! ho! when I got inside and was sittin'
in the front parlor, I declare I was all feet and hands! didn't know
what to do with 'em.... Hey? did you speak, Serena?”
“I was only going to say,” replied his wife, “that that was a good while
ago, of course. You have been about the world and seen a great deal
since. Things look different after we grow up, don't they, Mrs. Black?”
Annette's composure, a portion of it, had returned by this time.
Nevertheless, there was an odd note in her voice.
“They do, indeed,” she said. “I remember the Dott house, of course. It
was very fine, I believe, in its day.”
Her husband interrupted. “In its day!” he repeated. “Humph! there's
nothing the matter with it now, that I can see. I wish I had as good.
Why--”
“Phelps!” snapped Annette, “don't be silly. Mrs. Dott understands what
I meant to say. The place is very nice, very attractive, indeed. Perhaps
some might think it a bit old-fashioned, but that is a matter of taste.”
“Humph! it's on the best street in town. As for being old-fashioned--I
thought you just said you loved old-fashioned things. That's what she
said, wasn't it, Dan?”
Mrs. Black's gloved fingers twitched, but she ignored the remark
entirely. Daniel, too, did not answer, although he smiled in an
uncertain fashion. It was Serena who spoke.
“I haven't any doubt it is lovely,” she said. “We're just dying to see
it, Daniel and I. I hope you can be with us when we do, Mrs. Black. You
might suggest some improvements, you know.”
“Improvements!” the visitor repeated the word involuntarily.
“Improvements! You're not going to LIVE there, are you?”
“I don't know. We may. Now, Daniel, don't argue. You know we haven't
made up our minds yet what we shall do. And Scarford is a beautiful
city. Mrs. Black has told us so ever so many times. What were you going
to say, Mrs. Black?”
The lady addressed looked as if she would like to say several things,
particularly to her husband, who was grinning maliciously. But what she
did was to smile, a smile of gracious sweetness, and agree that Scarford
was beautiful.
“And so is the place, my dear Mrs. Dott,” she added. “A very charming,
quaint old house. But--you'll excuse my saying so, won't you; you know
Phelps and I have had some experience in keeping up a city estate--don't
you think it might prove rather expensive for you to maintain?”
Serena's armor was not even dented. “Oh,” she said, lightly, “that
wouldn't trouble us, I'm sure. Really, we've hardly thought of the
expense. The Scarford place wasn't ALL that Aunt Lavinia left us, Mrs.
Black.”
“Indeed!” rather feebly, “wasn't it?”
“My goodness, no! But there! I mustn't talk about ourselves and our
affairs any more. Have you seen the lodge rooms to-day? I must find time
to run down there this afternoon for a last look around. I want this
open meeting to go off nicely. Who knows--well, I may not have the care
of the next one.”
Azuba appeared in the doorway.
“The minister and his wife's comin',” she announced.
Mrs. Dott turned.
“The minister and his wife?” she repeated. “The bell hasn't rung, has
it? How do you know they're coming here?”
“See 'em through the window,” replied Azuba, cheerfully. “They was at
the gate quite a spell. She was gettin' her hat straight, and he was
helpin' her. Here they be,” as the callers' footsteps sounded on the
porch. “Shall I let 'em in?”
“Let them in! Why, of course! Why shouldn't you let them in?”
“Well, I didn't know. The way the cap'n was talkin' when you was havin'
dinner, I thought--oh, that reminds me,” addressing the horror stricken
Daniel, “Sam was in just now and wanted you to come right out to the
store. Ezra Taylor's there and he wants another pair of them checkered
overalls, same as he had afore.”
That evening when, having closed the Metropolitan Store at an early
hour, the captain and his wife were on their way to the lodge meeting,
Daniel voiced a feeling of perplexity which had disturbed his mind ever
since the Blacks' call.
“Say, Serena,” he asked, “ain't you and Barney Black's wife friends any
more?”
“Why, of course we're friends. What a question that is.”
“Humph! didn't seem to me you acted much like friends this afternoon.
Slappin' each other back and forth--”
“Slappin' each other! Have you lost your brains altogether? What DO you
mean?”
“I don't mean slappin' each other side of the head. 'Tain't likely
I meant that. But the way you talked to each other--and the way you
looked. And when 'twa'n't her it was me. She as much as asked you four
or five times who it was that had died and you wouldn't tell, so, of
course, I supposed you didn't want to. And yet, when she asked me and
I was backin' and fillin', tryin' to get off the shoals, you barked
out why didn't I 'answer her'? That may be sense, but I don't see it,
myself.”
Serena laughed and squeezed his arm with her own.
“Did I bark?” she asked. “I'm sorry; I didn't mean to. But it did make
me cross to have her come sailing in, in that high and mighty way--”
“It's the same way she always sails. I never saw her when she didn't act
as if she was the only clipper in the channel and small craft better get
out from under her bows.”
“I know, you never did like her, although she has been so kind and nice
to me and to Gertrude. Why, we, and the minister's family, and Doctor
Bradstreet's people, are the only ones, except the summer folks, that
she has anything to do with.”
The captain muttered that he knew it but that THAT didn't make him like
her any better. His wife continued.
“I was a little put out by her to-day,” she admitted. “You see, she was
SO anxious to find out things, and SO sure we couldn't be very rich, and
SO certain we couldn't keep up Aunt Lavinia's big house, that--that I
just had to give her as good as she sent.”
Daniel chuckled. “You did that all right,” he said.
“But I wouldn't hurt her feelings--really hurt them--for the world. I
like her and admire her, and I am sure she likes me.”
“Humph! All right; only next time you get to admirin' each other
I'm goin' out. That kind of admiration makes me nervous. I heard you
admirin' Zuba out in the kitchen just before we left.”
“Azuba makes me awfully out of patience. She won't do what I tell her;
she will wear her apron to the door; she will talk when she shouldn't.
Just think what she said about you when the minister called. It was just
Providence, and nothing else, that kept her from telling the Blacks what
you said and how you acted at dinner. That's it--laugh! I expected you'd
think it was funny.”
“Well, I give in that it does seem kind of funny to me, now, though it
didn't when she started to say it. But you can't stop Zuba talkin'
any more than you can a poll parrot. She means well; she's awful
good-hearted--yes, and sensible, too, in her way.”
“I can't help it. She's got to learn her place. Just think of having her
up there at Scarford, behaving as she does.”
The captain caught his breath.
“Scarford!” he repeated. “At Scarford! Look here, Serena, what are you
talkin' about? You didn't mean what you said to that Black woman about
our goin' to Scarford to live?”
“I don't know that I didn't. There! there! don't get excited. I don't
say I do mean it, either. Aunt Lavinia's left us that lovely house,
hasn't she? We've got it on our hands, haven't we? What are we going to
do with it?”
“Why--why, I--I was cal'latin' we'd probably sell it, maybe. We've got
our own place here in Trumet. We don't want two places, do we?”
“We might sell this one, at a pinch. No, Daniel, I don't know what we
shall do yet awhile. But, one thing I AM sure of--you and I will go
to Scarford and LOOK at that house, if nothing more. Now, don't argue,
please. We're almost at the meeting. Be sure you don't tell anyone how
much money we've got or anything about it. They'll all ask, of course,
and they'll all talk about us, but you must expect that. Our position in
life has altered, Daniel, and rich folks are always looked at and talked
over. Are your shoes clean? Did you bring a handkerchief? Be sure and
don't applaud too much when I'm speaking, because last time I was told
that Abigail Mayo said if she was married and had a husband she wouldn't
order him to clap his hands half off every time his wife opened her
mouth. She isn't married and ain't likely to be, but.... Oh, Mrs. Black,
I'm SO glad to see you! It's real lovely of you to come so early.”
Daniel Dott, as has been intimated, did not share his wife's love for
lodge meetings. He attended them because she did, and wished him to, but
he was not happy while they were going on. At this one he was distinctly
unhappy. He saw Serena and Annette Black exchange greetings as if
the little fencing match of the afternoon had been but an exchange of
compliments. He saw the two ladies go, arm in arm, to the platform,
where sat the “Boston delegates.” He nodded to masculine acquaintances
in the crowd, other captives chained, like himself, to their wives' and
daughters' chariot wheels. He heard the applause which greeted Serena's
opening speech of introduction. He heard the Boston delegates speak, and
Mrs. Black's gracious response to the request for a few words from the
president of our Scarford Chapter. He heard it all, but, when it was
over, he could not have repeated a sentence of all those which had
reached his ears.
No, Captain Dan was not happy at this, the most successful “open
meeting” ever held by the Trumet Chapter of the Guild of Ladies of
Honor. He was thinking, and thinking hard. Aunt Lavinia's will had
changed their position in life, so Serena had said. She had said other
things, also, and he was beginning, dimly, to realize what they might
mean.