OBEYING ORDERS
“Children,” said Aunt Rachel, one afternoon, as dressed in their best
calling costumes, she and Aunt Abbie were about to enter the carriage,
“we are going to make some calls, and about five o’clock I want you to
meet us at Mrs. Hampton’s, and we will all come home together.”
“Oh, Auntie Rachel,” said Dolly, “I don’t want to go calling to-day. I
want to play.”
“I know it, dearie, and so I’ve let you off from most of the calls we’re
making. But I especially want you to be with me at Mrs. Hampton’s, so
you can play till half-past four, and then get dressed and meet us there
at five.”
“All right, Auntie,” said Dolly, who was a sunny-tempered little girl,
after all. “What shall I wear?”
“Put on your new white piqué, and Dick, wear your light-grey suit. Now,
be sure, children,—be there promptly by five.”
“Yes’m; and if you’re not there shall we wait for you?”
“Yes,” said Aunt Abbie, “wait until we come, no matter what time it is.
But we’ll be there about five.”
The aunts drove away and the twins played out in the garden until it was
time to dress.
They started off, looking very demure with their clean clothes and
freshly-brushed hair.
“I don’t want to go a bit,” said Dolly, with a little sigh, as she
walked along.
“Neither do I,” replied Dick, “but we have to go, so there’s no use
making a fuss about it. Where does she live, anyway?”
“Why, I don’t know; I thought Auntie told you.”
“No, she didn’t, but I know it can’t be far, because she said we could
get there in ten minutes. Here’s old Abe, let’s ask him.”
The twins stopped an old man who was going by in his cart, and who was a
well-known character in the town.
“Hello, Abe,” said Dick. “Do you know where Mrs. Hampton lives?”
“Sure, my boy. I just came from there, havin’ been doin’ some cartin’
for her. You see that red-brick house, over beyond those trees?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s the next one beyond,—a white one. You go over that way, and
anybody’ll direct you.”
“All right; thank you, Abe,” and the old man drove on, while the twins
followed the direction he had given them.
“I’d like to skip,” said Dolly, “but it makes our shoes all dusty.”
“No, we mustn’t do that,” agreed Dick. “Aunt Rachel would have a cat-fit
if we weren’t spick and span when we get there.”
So they walked on sedately, only pausing now and then to pick a flower,
or look at a bird on a branch.
They inquired once more, in order to be sure, and then turned in at Mrs.
Hampton’s gate. A fine fountain was playing in the front yard, and the
twins crossed the lawn to see if there were any fish in it. There
weren’t, but the plash of the cool water was very attractive.
“I’ll dare you to stick your foot in,” said Dick, suddenly.
They stood on the very brink of the fountain basin, and so impossible
was it for either twin to refuse a “dare,” that Dolly’s immaculate white
shoe and stocking went flash into the water and out again before she
realised what she had done.
“Oh, Dick!” she exclaimed; “you made me do that! What will Aunt Rachel
say?”
“Too bad, Dollums,” said Dick, greatly disturbed at his own part in the
mischief. “I didn’t think what I was saying.”
“And I didn’t think what I was doing! I dare you to stick _your_ foot
in!”
Partly because of the dare, and partly because he was quite willing to
share his sister’s fate, Dick hastily thrust his own neat black shoe and
stocking in the water.
“There!” he said, as half proudly he drew it out again. “Now we’re
even!”
“Yes; but how can we go into Mrs. Hampton’s this way?”
“Perhaps they won’t notice. Mine doesn’t feel very wet, does yours?”
“Sopping! and they’ll drip all over her carpet.”
“Let’s wipe them on the grass.”
But the green grass did not improve the appearance of Dolly’s white
shoe, though Dick’s black one didn’t show the effects of the bath so
plainly.
“Come on, Dolly, we may as well face the music.”
They went on toward the house, and the dust of the footpath settled on
Dick’s wet shoe and stocking until he was quite as untidy looking as his
sister.
“Wow! isn’t it soppy!” he exclaimed as the water in his shoe oozed and
spattered out.
“Horrid! I don’t see why we did it!”
“Well, keep up a brave face, maybe the parlour will be sort of dark and
they won’t notice.”
They rang the bell, and a maid opened the door.
“Is Mrs. Hampton in?” said Dolly, in her, sweetest tones.
“Yes; walk in the drawing-room. What names?”
“Miss Dana and Mr. Dana,” said Dolly, and was about to explain that they
had come to meet their aunts, when the maid disappeared.
She returned to say that Mrs. Hampton would appear presently, and for
them to wait.
“’Course we’ll wait,” said Dick to Dolly, as the maid again left them.
“The aunties aren’t here on time, after all. P’raps our feet’ll dry
before they come.”
“I wish there was a fire. I’m dripping on this pretty light carpet.
Dick, let’s go out in the kitchen or some place, and find a fire.”
“All right, come on.”
They left the drawing-room, and as they crossed the hall they saw a
bright wood fire in a room across the hall, evidently the library. So
they went in, and drawing up two big chairs, they sat down and held
their two wet feet to the crackling blaze.
“This is gay,” said Dick, leaning back in his chair with a sigh of
satisfaction. “We’ll be all dry in a few minutes, Doll.”
“Yes; but I wish Aunt Rachel would come before Mrs. Hampton comes down.
I don’t know her. Do you?”
“Nope; never saw her. But the aunties are bound to be here soon. It’s
quarter-past five, now.”
“What _are_ you children doing?” said a voice behind them, and Dick and
Dolly jumped from their chairs, and saw a lady coming toward them. She
was a very pretty lady, in a trailing silk house gown, and lots of
frizzy light hair.
Dolly thought she looked a little like Lady Eliza, and not at all like
any of Aunt Rachel’s other friends.
“How do you do?” said Dolly, making her curtsey prettily, while Dick
bobbed his head.
“How do you do?” returned Mrs. Hampton, “but who are you?”
“We’re Dolly and Dick Dana,” said Dick, “and our aunties said for us to
meet them here at five o’clock. But they don’t seem to be here yet.”
“No; they’re not. Are your aunties Miss Rachel and Miss Abbie Dana?”
“Yes’m; and they said they would call here this afternoon.”
“And they told us if they weren’t here to wait till they came,” said
Dolly.
“Yes?” said Mrs. Hampton, looking at her quizzically. “And why are you
sitting almost into the fire? It’s a warm day.”
“Yes,” said Dolly, “but you see, we stepped into the fountain as we came
along, and so we’re just drying our feet.”
“That’s a very good idea,” and Mrs. Hampton’s smiling eyes were as
pleasant as if stepping into fountains was quite usual for her guests.
“And so your aunts are coming to call on me?”
“Yes, at five o’clock. But they seem to be late, so, if you please,
we’ll wait for them.”
They waited until half-past five, and then until quarter of six, and
still the Dana ladies didn’t come. The twins grew very impatient, for it
was most irksome to have to sit and talk polite conversation with a
grown-up lady.
Mrs. Hampton asked so many questions too. Very impertinent questions
they seemed to Dick, though he answered to the best of his ability.
Mrs. Hampton was smiling and pleasant, and seemed interested in hearing
about the Dana establishment, but still Dick and Dolly felt
uncomfortable, and wished their aunts would come.
At six o’clock Mrs. Hampton said she felt sure the aunts had changed
their plans, and were not coming, and she delicately hinted that she
would send the twins home.
“No,” said Dick, positively; “we must stay here till they come. Aunt
Abbie said to wait, no matter what time it was. And, besides, if they
have changed their plans, and are not coming here, they’d send Michael
for us, anyway.”
Dolly agreed to this, and the two little martyrs sat for another
half-hour.
“Well, if you stay any longer, you must stay to dinner,” said Mrs.
Hampton at last. “Do you sit up to dinner at home?”
“We have supper at night,” said Dolly, and her lip quivered a little,
for she was beginning to feel anxious about her aunts.
“Well, I have dinner at night,—at eight o’clock.”
“At eight o’clock!” exclaimed Dolly. “Don’t you get awfully hungry
before that time?”
“No, I don’t,” said Mrs. Hampton, smiling; “but I’m sure you
chickabiddies will. So suppose I give you a nice little supper up in my
sitting-room, and excuse you from dinner? I have guests coming, and it
isn’t exactly a children’s party, you see.”
“But we’re not going to stay here all night!” exclaimed Dolly in dismay.
“It looks that way to me,” said Mrs. Hampton. “I offered to send you
home, and you said no. Now I feel sure your aunts won’t come,—it’s too
late for them, and if you’re bound to wait for them, I can offer you
supper and pleasant sleeping rooms,—but I can’t invite you to dinner.”
The twins were uncertain what to do. But after all, they had no choice.
Aunt Rachel had told them to wait until she came, and Aunt Rachel’s
orders were always to be obeyed. To be sure something might have
happened to prevent the aunties from carrying out their plan of calling
on Mrs. Hampton, but even so, they would have sent for the children. And
if they had gone home, they would surely send Michael over for them at
once. It wasn’t as if the aunties didn’t know where they were. They had
sent them to Mrs. Hampton’s, and told them to wait there. So they
waited.
They thought Mrs. Hampton seemed a little annoyed because they waited.
But as Dick said to Dolly, “I’m not going to disobey Aunt Rachel for
another lady. But all the same, Dollums, I do want to go home.”
“So do I,” said Dolly, “I think it’s horrid here.”
It wasn’t really horrid at all, but to be unwelcome guests in a strange
house is not especially pleasant, no matter how pretty the house may be.
The twins had been taken up to Mrs. Hampton’s sitting-room, and in
charge of a maid, had been served with a delightful little supper. Bread
and milk, jam, fresh strawberries, and dear little cakes, followed by
ice cream, made a goodly feast indeed. After it, their spirits rose a
little, and they ate their ice cream with smiling faces.
“I think the aunties decided to come this evening instead of afternoon,”
said Dick, unable to think of any other explanation.
“They never do make calls in the evening but perhaps that’s it,” said
Dolly, doubtfully. “I hear people coming in, Dick, let’s go and look
over the banisters.”
Carrying their ice cream plates with them the twins stepped out into the
hall and looked over the banisters on the scene below.
It was a fascinating glow of lights and flowers and ladies and gentlemen
in evening dress, for the dinner guests had come, and were standing
about, engaged in conversation.
Dolly was enchanted with the grand ladies, with jewels in their hair,
and with low-necked gowns, and Dick, too, leaned over the banister to
see the gay scene. So absorbed were they that they did not heed their
melting ice cream, and, almost at the same moment, the soft, cold mass
slid from each tipped-up plate, on the heads and shoulders of the ladies
and gentlemen below.
Such a shriek of dismay as arose brought Dick and Dolly to a realisation
of what they had done, and in an agony of mortification they fled back
to the sitting-room.
Here Mrs. Hampton found them, their heads buried in sofa pillows, and
crying in muffled paroxysms.
“You must go home,” she said, and her cold, hard tones were more of a
reproof than any words could have been. “My coachman will take you, and
I wish you to go at once.”
“We wish to go, Mrs. Hampton,” said Dolly, striving to choke back her
tears while she made some sort of apology. “We’re very sorry we came,
and we’re ’ceeding sorry we spilled the ice cream. It was very good.”
This sounded as if Dolly merely regretted the loss of the dainty, but it
was not so. She meant to compliment the supper that had been given them,
but, what with their worry over Aunt Rachel’s absence, their own
homesickness, and the awful accident of the ice cream, both children
were completely upset.
“Please forgive us,” said Dick, holding out his little hand. “We’ve had
a lovely time,—and,—and we hope you’ll come to see us.”
“I can’t make you out!” said Mrs. Hampton, looking at the children in
perplexity. “I thought you threw down that ice cream purposely.”
“Oh, no!” cried both twins at once, and Dolly went on eagerly: “you see,
we never saw low-necked ladies and gentlemen at a party before; and we
were so awfully interested, we leaned over to see better, and I s’pose
the gas-lights heated up our ice cream and melted it, and it just
slipped off the plates.”
“We ought to have held the plates more level,” said Dick, thoughtfully;
“I’m sorry we didn’t.”
“I’m sorry, too, for you mortified me terribly and annoyed my guests,
which was worse.”
“It’s terrible!” said Dolly, with a sigh. “I don’t see how you _can_
forgive us.”
“I couldn’t if you weren’t such a sweet little culprit,” said Mrs.
Hampton, smiling, and catching Dolly in her arms and kissing her. Then
she kissed Dick too, and, still smiling, she hurried away.
The maid found the children’s hats, and hurried them down the back
stairs, where the coachman was waiting for them. Evidently the servants
were not as forgiving as Mrs. Hampton, for Dick and Dolly were fairly
hustled into the carriage, the door was banged shut, and they were
rapidly driven homeward.
At Dana Dene, they were met on the threshold by two very
frightened-looking ladies, and while Aunt Rachel and Aunt Abbie each
clasped a twin in her arms, the Hampton carriage drove away.
“You _dear_ babies! where have you been?” cried Aunt Abbie, while Aunt
Rachel squeezed Dick with an affection too deep for words.
“Where have we been?” cried Dick, in amazement. “Why, we’ve been at Mrs.
Hampton’s, where you told us to go, and wait for you. We’ve been waiting
there ever since five o’clock!”
“Why, Dickie, dear,” expostulated Miss Rachel, “we went to Mrs.
Hampton’s at five o’clock, and waited there for you until nearly six!
Then we came home, and ever since we’ve been nearly frantic because we
didn’t know where you were. Michael and Pat have been out hunting with
lanterns.”
“But, Auntie, dear,” said Dolly, “we _did_ go to Mrs. Hampton’s, and
after we waited and waited, and you didn’t come, she gave us supper in
her sitting-room, ’cause she had a dinner party in the dining-room, and
the ladies had on beautiful frocks, all lacy and low-necked, and we
spilled ice cream on ’em!”
“What!”
“Yes’m; we didn’t mean to, you know, but it melted.”
“Dolly, what _are_ you talking about? Mrs. Hampton is not having a
dinner party this evening. I just left there at six o’clock, so I know.”
“Well, _our_ Mrs. Hampton is,” said Dick. “Are there two Mrs. Hamptons
in Heatherton, auntie?”
“No, of course there aren’t! I wonder where you _have_ been!”
“Well, she _is_ Mrs. Hampton, we called her that, and so did the maid.
It’s a beautiful house,—with a great big open round in the hall, where
you can look down,—and a fountain outside.”
Miss Rachel sent for Michael.
“Michael,” said she, “where do you suppose these children have been?
Whose carriage brought them home?”
“I don’t know, Miss Rachel. It’s a new turnout in Heatherton. All swell,
jingly harness and livery, an’ the like o’ that.”
“Dolly says they live in a big white house with a fountain in front.”
“Arrah, thin, it’s the new people as is afther takin’ the Van Zandt
place. A widdy lady of great forchin, I’m towld; an’ be the same token,
I do belave they said her name was Hampden, or somethin’ like that.”