AUNT NINE
Of course that was the explanation. Mrs. Hampden was a wealthy young
widow who had just came to Heatherton to live. The Dana ladies did not
know her, and probably never would have known her had it not been for
the twins’ escapade.
For lively little Mrs. Hampden belonged to a gay, modern set that had
little in common with the Dana ladies’ older and more conservative
circle of friends. Also, she was not at all like the Mrs. Hampton on
whom Miss Rachel and Miss Abbie were calling, and where the twins were
expected to meet them.
But as the real fault lay at the aunties’ door, inasmuch as they had not
given the twins sufficiently explicit directions, it did not seem fair
to blame Dick and Dolly.
And after hearing the story the twins told, Miss Rachel and Miss Abbie
saw that it was their duty to call on Mrs. Hampden, and apologise for
the trouble the children had made for her.
This was not a pleasant or an easy thing to do, but as it turned out,
Mrs. Hampden was so flattered at having the Dana ladies call on her that
she willingly forgave the children’s escapade, and begged that they
might be allowed to come to see her again.
This was not promised, for Miss Rachel Dana of Dana Dene was very
careful about making new acquaintances, and considered her present
visiting list quite long enough. The children themselves had no wish to
go again to the house where they had met with such an untoward accident,
and so the incident was closed, and the aunts trusted that Mrs. Hampden
would not return their call.
“But I do think,” said Aunt Abbie, as they discussed the matter at home,
“that you two children ought to be reproved for spilling that ice
cream.”
“I think so, too,” said Dick, cheerfully, “but ’course you know, auntie,
that we didn’t mean to do it.”
“Certainly,” said Aunt Abbie, with some asperity, “I don’t suppose you
poured it down on the people purposely. But you are quite old enough to
know better than to walk about with saucers of food in your hands.”
“So we are!” said Dolly, as if surprised at the fact. “Aunt Abbie, I do
believe we’re ’ceedingly bad children!”
“Not exactly that,” said Aunt Abbie, smiling in spite of herself, “but
you are exceedingly thoughtless, and I want you to strive to correct
that fault.”
“Yes’m,” said Dick, earnestly, “we’ll strive like fury. Honest, we will,
Aunt Abbie. Won’t we, Doll?”
“Yes, indeedy!” agreed Dolly, with a very affirmative wagging of her
head. “And now, if you’re all through scolding, Aunt Abbie, may we kiss
you?”
Then, without waiting for the requested permission, both children
tumbled themselves upon Miss Abbie, and gave her the soft answer that
turneth away wrath. For who could continue to reprove two affectionate
small persons, whose chubby arms flew about in wild caresses, and whose
insistent kisses fell just wherever they happened to land? But Miss
Abbie Dana was determined to instil some sense of decorum into her young
charges, so when released from their embraces, she began again:
“Now that’s another thing, children; I want you to love me, of course.
But it seems to me you needn’t be so—so——”
“Rampageous?” volunteered Dick. “That’s what Pat says we are.”
“We can’t help it, auntie,” said Dolly, fixing her big brown eyes
solemnly on her aunt. “You see, we’re so ’thusiastic that when we love
anybody we love ’em fearful! And we just ’dore you and Aunt Rachel.
Don’t we, Dick?”
“Well, I guess!” and then Miss Abbie had to stand another series of pats
and kisses, which, in view of the recent conversation, the twins made a
little less boisterous.
“Well, you’re dear little twinsies,” said Aunt Abbie, as at last they
ran away.
“And,” she added to herself, “I think I can make them improve their
manners by just keeping at it.”
Poor Miss Abbie wanted to bring the children up rightly, but the work
was so new to her she didn’t know exactly how to conduct it.
As for Miss Rachel, she vibrated between over-indulgence and
over-severity, an occasion of one being conscientiously followed by the
other.
So the twins nearly always had their own sweet way, and as, though
sometimes thoughtless, they were not mischievous children, Dana Dene was
brighter and happier for their presence.
One Monday the aunties were getting ready for the Reading Circle, which
was to meet at Dana Dene in the afternoon. It was very inconvenient for
all the members that the club should meet on washdays, but as it always
had done so, of course that couldn’t be changed.
Some ladies had the washing put off till Tuesday, but life at Dana Dene
was far too methodical for that.
So when the club was expected, Delia tried to get her wash all hung out
by noon, and so be ready to help in the afternoon. For, though the club
didn’t assemble until three o’clock, and tea was served at five, there
was much to be done in the way of prinking up the house for the
occasion. The twins were allowed to help, and Dolly dusted, and brought
water for the flower vases, and helped adjust fresh pillow-shams and
bureau covers, until Aunt Rachel declared she didn’t know how she ever
got ready for Reading Circle without Dolly’s help. And Dick’s as well;
for he cut flowers, and ran lots of errands, and did lots of useful
things.
And when, at about eleven o’clock, he saw the telegram boy coming with a
yellow envelope, he took it and flew to Aunt Rachel with it faster than
any one else could have done.
“For gracious goodness’ sake!” exclaimed Miss Rachel as she read it;
“Aunt Nine is coming to dinner to-day!”
“To-day!” said Miss Abbie in a tone positively tragic, as she sank down
in a big chair. “Why, she can’t, Rachel! It’s after eleven now, and the
Reading Circle coming at three, and nothing but cold beef for dinner!”
“It doesn’t matter whether she can or not; she’s coming,” and Miss
Rachel, who had turned fairly white with dismay, sat down opposite her
sister.
“Who’s Aunt Nine? What a funny name!” cried Dick, dancing around in
excited curiosity.
Dolly picked up the telegram, which had fluttered to the floor.
“‘Will arrive at twelve-thirty,’” she read; “‘meet me at the station.’”
“Why, it’s signed ‘P. Dana,’” said Dick. “How can P. Dana be Aunt Nine?
How can it, Aunt Abbie?” He squeezed into the big chair beside Miss
Abbie, and patted her cheek to attract her attention. “How can it? How
does P. stand for Nine? Or do you mean nine aunts are coming? Oh, Doll,
wouldn’t that be fun?”
“Tell me,” urged Dolly, squeezing herself into Aunt Rachel’s lap, “tell
me first, auntie, ’fore Dick knows. Quick, tell me! Who’s Aunt Nine?
What does it mean?”
“Oh, Dolly, for mercy’s sake don’t bother me now! She’s Aunt Penninah,
your great-aunt, of course. We always call her Aunt Nine. And she’s the
most particular, fussy, pernicketty old lady in the world!”
“Oh, she’s dreadful!” sighed Aunt Abbie. “We always spend weeks getting
ready for her. She never came so unexpectedly before.”
“But the house is all in order,” suggested Dolly, anxious to be
comforting.
“Yes, for the Reading Circle. But not for Aunt Penninah. She looks into
every cupboard and storeroom, and, besides, we’ve nothing for dinner.”
“I’ll go get something,” offered Dick. “What do you want?”
“Oh, I don’t know! I don’t know!” groaned Miss Rachel. “Go and send
Hannah here. And it’s wash-day, too! And the Reading Club! Oh, what can
we do?”
But after the first surprise and bewilderment were over, the Dana ladies
rose to the occasion, and did the best they could.
Michael was sent to town for supplies, Hannah was instructed to set the
table with special elaboration, and Aunt Abbie herself went into the
kitchen and whisked up a pudding.
Delia was still at her washing, and Pat was putting finishing touches to
the lawn and flower-beds so they could not be disturbed.
The twins flew about in earnest endeavours to help, but after their
breaking a cut-glass vase, and upsetting a small table of bric-à-brac,
Aunt Rachel lost patience.
“Dick and Dolly,” she said, “you go upstairs and stay either in your own
rooms or in your playroom until dinner is served at one o’clock! Do you
understand? No; I’m not scolding, but I’m so put about that you two
simply drive me distracted! Now obey me exactly, for that’s all you can
do to help. Come down to the library at five minutes to one,—not a
minute before. And see that you’re spandy clean, and very nicely
dressed. Put on your blue lawn, Dolly, and tie your hair ribbons
carefully.”
“Yes’m; Dick’ll tie ’em for me. He does it just lovely.”
Subdued by Aunt Rachel’s desperate manner, the twins crept away,
resolved to be very good, and do exactly as they were told.
“It isn’t twelve yet,” said Dick; “no use dressing now. We’d only get
all rumpled up. Let’s go up in the playroom.”
So up they went, and began to play with Lady Eliza.
“Hello, ’Liza!” cried Dick, shaking her wax hand cordially. “I haven’t
seen you in some time. Are you well?”
“Pretty well,” said Dolly in a squeaky voice. It was part of their play
that, whenever either twin spoke to Lady Eliza, the other twin was to
answer for her.
“Pretty well. But I’m tired of this old frock,—I want a change.”
“All right,” said Dick; “we’ll fix you up. Let’s rig her up gay, Doll,
and we’ll show her off to Aunt Nine.”
“All right,” and Dolly flew to the trunk that contained Lady Eliza’s
wardrobe.
They selected an old-fashioned blue silk dress that Aunt Rachel had
given them, and proceeded to array Eliza in it. Then Dolly dressed her
hair. She loved to do this, for Eliza’s hair was very profuse, if not of
very fine texture, and soon Dolly had built a fine array of puffs and
curls, with a fancy ornament of blue and silver tucked in at the side.
Then, desiring to make her very grand, Dolly put a necklace of her own
round Eliza’s neck, and added several long strings of beads, hung with
various trinkets.
“How do I look?” said Dolly in the squeaky voice that always represented
Lady Eliza’s talking.
“You look gay,” said Dick. “Perhaps this afternoon you’ll meet a grand
lady, Miss Nine Dana. I hope you’ll behave properly.”
“Oh, I’ll behave lovely,” squeaked Eliza, and then the twins ran away to
dress for dinner. By quarter of one they were all ready.
Dolly looked very sweet and demure in her frilly blue lawn, and her
beautiful hair was tied with a big white bow which Dick had skilfully
arranged. By practice his deft little fingers had conquered the science
of tying bows, so Dolly’s hair ribbons were always marvels of correct
proportions.
They had promised not to go to the library until five minutes of one,
and the ten minutes intervening seemed interminable. They drifted back
to the playroom to say good-by to Eliza, when Dick had an inspiration.
“Let’s take her down,” he said, “and put her in the dining-room to greet
Aunt Nine when we all go out to dinner.”
“Let’s!” cried Dolly, and in a jiffy they were carrying the Lady Eliza
Dusenbury silently down the back stairs. By good luck they didn’t
encounter Hannah or the aunties, and they reached the dining-room in
safety.
“Where shall we stand her?” said Dick. “In the bay window?”
“No,” said Dolly. “Let’s sit her at the table.”
“She won’t sit.”
“Well, we’ll sort of slide her under; if we put her in Aunt Rachel’s big
chair she’ll be all right.”
They propped Eliza into the chair, and though she seemed to be falling
backward in a swoon, her bright eyes and pink cheeks betokened good
health. Her elaborate costume looked fine at the prettily set table, and
Dick moved her arms about until they seemed extended in welcome.
“That’s fine!” said Dolly, nodding admiringly at the tableau.
“This is finer!” cried Dick, and taking the large carving-knife from the
table, he thrust it into Eliza’s outstretched hand. This was easily done
by sticking the knife handle partly up her long tight sleeve, and her
effect, as she brandished the glittering steel, was now ferocious.
“Gay!” cried Dolly; “won’t they be s’prised! Come on, Dick, it’s five
minutes to one.”
The twins, hand in hand, went into the library, and with their best
curtseys were presented to Aunt Penninah.
“These are the children, Aunt Nine,” said Miss Rachel, and Dick and
Dolly saw, sitting an a big armchair, the most imposing-looking
personage they had ever met.
Miss Penninah Dana was a large and very tall woman, with white hair, and
large, piercing black eyes that seemed to see everything.
“H’m; twins, are you?” she said, looking at them over her eyeglasses.
“You seem very demure. Are you always so quiet?”
Dick rolled his eyes toward Aunt Rachel.
“Shall we show her?” he whispered, quite ready to pounce on the new aunt
if desired.
“Mercy, no!” said Miss Rachel. “Do behave, if you can.”
“Well,” said Dick, answering Aunt Nine’s question, “we’re _not_ always
so quiet. But to-day we’re trying to be good because you’re here, and
the Reading Circle is coming.”
“But sometimes we’re good when there isn’t company, too,” put in Dolly,
not wanting to be misjudged.
“I’m surprised at that!” said Aunt Nine, but there was a merry gleam in
her eye, and somehow the twins began to think they were going to like
her in spite of her majestic appearance.
Then dinner was announced, and, as the guest arose, the children were
impressed afresh with her evident importance.
She walked like a duchess, and seemed to expect everybody to dance
attendance upon her.
Aunt Rachel picked up her handkerchief, and Aunt Abbie her vinaigrette,
for she dropped them both as she rose.
The twins, greatly interested, walked behind, and they all started
toward the dining-room.
As they neared the door, the hostesses stepped back and Aunt Penninah
stalked stiffly into the room.
Perhaps it was not to be wondered at, for the figure at the table was
certainly startling to look at, and the glittering carving knife was
aimed straight at her, but Aunt Penninah threw up both her hands, gave a
fearful shriek, and fainted dead away!