“My gracious, won’t Mis’ Timms be pleased to see us! It’s just exactly
the day to have company. And ain’t Baxter a sweet pretty place?” said
Mrs. Flagg, as they walked up the main street. “Cynthy Pickett, now
ain’t you proper glad you come? I felt sort o’ calm about it part o’ the
time yesterday, but I ain’t felt so like a girl for a good while. I do
believe I’m goin’ to have a splendid time.”
Miss Pickett glowed with equal pleasure as she paced along. She was less
expansive and enthusiastic than her companion, but now that they were
fairly in Baxter, she lent herself generously to the occasion. The
social distinction of going away to spend a day in company with Mrs.
Flagg was by no means small. She arranged the folds of her shawl more
carefully over her arm so as to show the pretty palm-leaf border, and
then looked up with great approval to the row of great maples that
shaded the broad sidewalk. “I wonder if we can’t contrive to make time
to go an’ see old Miss Nancy Fell?” she ventured to ask Mrs. Flagg.
“There ain’t a great deal o’ time before the stage goes at four o’clock;
’twill pass quickly, but I should hate to have her feel hurt. If she was
one we had visited often at home, I shouldn’t care so much, but such
folks feel any little slight. She was a member of our church; I think a
good deal of that.”
“Well, I hardly know what to say,” faltered Mrs. Flagg coldly. “We might
just look in a minute; I shouldn’t want her to feel hurt.”
“She was one that always did her part, too,” said Miss Pickett, more
boldly. “Mr. Cronin used to say that she was more generous with her
little than many was with their much. If she hadn’t lived in a poor part
of the town, and so been occupied with a different kind of people from
us, ’twould have made a difference. They say she’s got a comfortable
little home over here, an’ keeps house for a nephew. You know she was to
our meeting one Sunday last winter, and ’peared dreadful glad to get
back; folks seemed glad to see her, too. I don’t know as you were out.”
“She always wore a friendly look,” said Mrs. Flagg indulgently. “There,
now, there’s Mis’ Timms’s residence; it’s handsome, ain’t it, with them
big spruce-trees? I expect she may be at the window now, an’ see us as
we come along. Is my bonnet on straight, an’ everything? The blinds
looks open in the room this way; I guess she’s to home fast enough.”
The friends quickened their steps, and with shining eyes and beating
hearts hastened forward. The slightest mists of uncertainty were now
cleared away; they gazed at the house with deepest pleasure; the visit
was about to begin.
They opened the front gate and went up the short walk, noticing the
pretty herringbone pattern of the bricks, and as they stood on the high
steps Cynthia Pickett wondered whether she ought not to have worn her
best dress, even though there was lace at the neck and sleeves, and she
usually kept it for the most formal of tea-parties and exceptional
parish festivals. In her heart she commended Mrs. Flagg for that
familiarity with the ways of a wider social world which had led her to
wear the very best among her black cashmeres.
“She’s a good while coming to the door,” whispered Mrs. Flagg presently.
“Either she didn’t see us, or else she’s slipped upstairs to make some
change, an’ is just goin’ to let us ring again. I’ve done it myself
sometimes. I’m glad we come right over after her urgin’ us so; it seems
more cordial than to keep her expectin’ us. I expect she’ll urge us
terribly to remain with her over night.”
“Oh, I ain’t prepared,” began Miss Pickett, but she looked pleased. At
that moment there was a slow withdrawal of the bolt inside, and a key
was turned, the front door opened, and Mrs. Timms stood before them with
a smile. Nobody stopped to think at that moment what kind of smile it
was.
“Why, if it ain’t Mis’ Flagg,” she exclaimed politely, “an’ Miss Pickett
too! I am surprised!”
The front entry behind her looked well furnished, but not exactly
hospitable; the stairs with their brass rods looked so clean and bright
that it did not seem as if anybody had ever gone up or come down. A cat
came purring out, but Mrs. Timms pushed her back with a determined foot,
and hastily closed the sitting-room door. Then Miss Pickett let Mrs.
Flagg precede her, as was becoming, and they went into a darkened
parlor, and found their way to some chairs, and seated themselves
solemnly.
“’Tis a beautiful day, ain’t it?” said Mrs. Flagg, speaking first. “I
don’t know ’s I ever enjoyed the ride more. We’ve been having a good
deal of rain since we saw you at the conference, and the country looks
beautiful.”
“Did you leave Woodville this morning? I thought I hadn’t heard you was
in town,” replied Mrs. Timms formally. She was seated just a little too
far away to make things seem exactly pleasant. The darkness of the best
room seemed to retreat somewhat, and Miss Pickett looked over by the
door, where there was a pale gleam from the sidelights in the hall, to
try to see the pattern of the carpet; but her effort failed.
“Yes, ’m,” replied Mrs. Flagg to the question. “We left Woodville about
half past eight, but it is quite a ways from where we live to where you
take the stage. The stage does come slow, but you don’t seem to mind it
such a beautiful day.”
“Why, you must have come right to see me first!” said Mrs. Timms,
warming a little as the visit went on. “I hope you’re going to make some
stop in town. I’m sure it was very polite of you to come right an’ see
me; well, it’s very pleasant, I declare. I wish you’d been in Baxter
last Sabbath; our minister did give us an elegant sermon on faith an’
works. He spoke of the conference, and gave his views on some o’ the
questions that came up, at Friday evenin’ meetin’; but I felt tired
after getting home, an’ so I wasn’t out. We feel very much favored to
have such a man amon’st us. He’s building up the parish very
considerable. I understand the pew-rents come to thirty-six dollars more
this quarter than they did last.”
“We also feel grateful in Woodville for our pastor’s efforts,” said Miss
Pickett; but Mrs. Timms turned her head away sharply, as if the speech
had been untimely, and trembling Miss Pickett had interrupted.
“They’re thinking here of raisin’ Mr. Barlow’s salary another year,” the
hostess added; “a good many of the old parishioners have died off, but
every one feels to do what they can. Is there much interest among the
young people in Woodville, Mis’ Flagg?”
“Considerable at this time, ma’am,” answered Mrs. Flagg, without
enthusiasm, and she listened with unusual silence to the subsequent
fluent remarks of Mrs. Timms.
The parlor seemed to be undergoing the slow processes of a winter dawn.
After a while the three women could begin to see one another’s faces,
which aided them somewhat in carrying on a serious and impersonal
conversation. There were a good many subjects to be touched upon, and
Mrs. Timms said everything that she should have said, except to invite
her visitors to walk upstairs and take off their bonnets. Mrs. Flagg sat
her parlor-chair as if it were a throne, and carried her banner of
self-possession as high as she knew how, but toward the end of the call
even she began to feel hurried.
“Won’t you ladies take a glass of wine an’ a piece of cake after your
ride?” inquired Mrs. Timms, with an air of hospitality that almost
concealed the fact that neither cake nor wine was anywhere to be seen;
but the ladies bowed and declined with particular elegance. Altogether
it was a visit of extreme propriety on both sides, and Mrs. Timms was
very pressing in her invitation that her guests should stay longer.
“Thank you, but we ought to be going,” answered Mrs. Flagg, with a
little show of ostentation, and looking over her shoulder to be sure
that Miss Pickett had risen too. “We’ve got some little ways to go,” she
added with dignity. “We should be pleased to have you call an’ see us in
case you have occasion to come to Woodville,” and Miss Pickett faintly
seconded the invitation. It was in her heart to add, “Come any day next
week,” but her courage did not rise so high as to make the words
audible. She looked as if she were ready to cry; her usual smile had
burnt itself out into gray ashes; there was a white, appealing look
about her mouth. As they emerged from the dim parlor and stood at the
open front door, the bright June day, the golden-green trees, almost
blinded their eyes. Mrs. Timms was more smiling and cordial than ever.
“There, I ought to have thought to offer you fans; I am afraid you was
warm after walking,” she exclaimed, as if to leave no stone of courtesy
unturned. “I have so enjoyed meeting you again, I wish it was so you
could stop longer. Why, Mis’ Flagg, we haven’t said one word about old
times when we lived to Longport. I’ve had news from there, too, since I
saw you; my brother’s daughter-in-law was here to pass the Sabbath after
I returned.”
Mrs. Flagg did not turn back to ask any questions as she stepped stiffly
away down the brick walk. Miss Pickett followed her, raising the fringed
parasol; they both made ceremonious little bows as they shut the high
white gate behind them. “Good-by,” said Mrs. Timms finally, as she stood
in the door with her set smile; and as they departed she came out and
began to fasten up a rosebush that climbed a narrow white ladder by the
steps.
“Oh, my goodness alive!” exclaimed Mrs. Flagg, after they had gone some
distance in aggrieved silence, “if I haven’t gone and forgotten my bag!
I ain’t goin’ back, whatever happens. I expect she’ll trip over it in
that dark room and break her neck!”
“I brought it; I noticed you’d forgotten it,” said Miss Pickett timidly,
as if she hated to deprive her companion of even that slight
consolation.
“There, I’ll tell you what we’d better do,” said Mrs. Flagg gallantly;
“we’ll go right over an’ see poor old Miss Nancy Fell; ’twill please her
about to death. We can say we felt like goin’ somewhere to-day, an’
’twas a good many years since either one of us had seen Baxter, so we
come just for the ride, an’ to make a few calls. She’ll like to hear all
about the conference; Miss Fell was always one that took a real interest
in religious matters.”
Miss Pickett brightened, and they quickened their step. It was nearly
twelve o’clock, they had breakfasted early, and now felt as if they had
eaten nothing since they were grown up. An awful feeling of tiredness
and uncertainty settled down upon their once buoyant spirits.
“I can forgive a person,” said Mrs. Flagg, once, as if she were speaking
to herself; “I can forgive a person, but when I’m done with ’em, I’m
done.”