CHAPTER XXVII.

THE WORLD AND HIS WIFE.

The purchases for Chickaree and the Hollow, the various packages

that found their destination in Dr. Maryland's house, had all been

sent straight off where they were to go. There were however many

things bought during those two days of New York's work, which

had no destination; at least, none as yet known. Such articles had

been ordered to the hotel. And it followed, that in the course of a

day or two thereafter, the rooms of the suite occupied by Mr. and

Mrs. Rollo presented the appearance of a house from which the

inhabitants are meditating an immediate journey with all their

effects. Packages of all sizes and descriptions had accumulated, to

a number which became intrusive upon the notice of said

inhabitants.

'What shall we do to make a clearance?' Rollo had said, laughing,

as his eyes went round the parlour. 'I wish, Hazel, you would look

at these things, and see what use you can find for them. Take

Byrom to open packages and do them up again, and let him ticket

them according to your orders. Will you? and when I come home I

will help. It is a most ridiculous assortment!'

Accordingly, after luncheon, Hazel put on an apron and summoned

Byrom, whom she could not have earlier; she was not afraid of

interruptions, not being supposed, as she thought, to be in town.

The task set her was an amusing piece of work enough,

remembering as she did how and where and why many of the

articles had come to be bought. Here were baskets, what an array

of baskets! which had been purchased from a poor little

discouraged seller of wickerware. A large order had first gone off

to Morton Hollow; then as Rollo walked round the store he had

picked up this and that and bade the woman send it to the hotel; till

the dim eyes had brightened up and the hopeless face had taken

quite another expression. Here was a package of stationery. Hazel

remembered the sickly-looking man who had sold it, in a little

shop, far down Broadway; she recollected Rollo's cheery talk to

the man and some counsel he had given him about his health;

which counsel, coming from so free a purchaser, who paid cash

with so ready a hand, stood a fair chance of being followed. Here

were books, and there were books; here were pictures; there was a

package of hardware. Well Hazel remembered a little corner shop

into which her husband had turned to get a dog-chain; and where,

finding a slim girl keeping shop, and learning that she was doing it

for her father who was ill, he had gone on to buy a bewildering

variety of things, which he would not order sent to Chickaree,

there being perhaps no one in the shop to pack them. Hazel smiled

as she recollected how Rollo found out that he wanted all sorts of

things from that little establishment, and how the little girl had

looked at him and sprung to serve him before he got through.

Byrom was busy unpacking and Hazel examining; the room was in

a confusion of papers and twines and ropes; when the door opened,

and there entered upon the scene no less a person than Josephine

Charteris, née Powder. The lady's look, on taking the effect of

things, it is impossible to describe. Hazel was gloved in dainty buff

gauntlets, the folds of her scarlet dress half smothered in the great

white apron, ruffled and fluted and spotless,—and looked

indescribably busy.

'Josephine Powder!—I am not receiving company!' she exclaimed.

'Nonsense! I am glad of it. I want to see you, and I don't want to

see other people. How you _do_ look, Hazel! Well—have you really

gone and got married, and told nobody? Is it true?'

'Telling people is not one of my strong points,' said Hazel. 'Phoebe,

bring a duster to this chair for Mrs. Charteris.'

'It is one your weak points, I think,' said Josephine. 'Never mind

the chair. What made you do things in that way?'

Wych Hazel dismissed her attendants, and went back to her foot-

cushion among the packages. 'What makes one do anything?' she

asked, beginning upon a series of troublesome knots.

'Hm!' said Josephine.—'Not being able to help yourself.'

'O is that it?' said Hazel. 'There—happily for you, I have found

some sugarplums. Do you buy so many now-a-days that you have

no taste for more?'

'What on earth are you about?'

'Hard at work on chaos—!'

'What sort of chaos?'

'Don't you see?' said Wych Hazel. 'Here are six brackets together,

for instance, which _should_ be one in a place; and I am puzzled in

what light to hang these pictures;—and these books have no place

where to be. And if you want needles, Josephine, or a thimble—or

a sewing-bird, or any little trifle like notepaper or a clotheshamper,

help yourself!'—And her sweet laugh rung out, half for

nervousness and half for fun.

'How long have you been married?' was the other lady's impetuous

question.

'Since some time last year,' said Hazel, dragging up another

package.

'Don't be wicked, Hazel! Were you married at Christmas? Kitty

Fisher says so, and I didn't believe it. Were you really?'

'I suppose Dr. Maryland does such things "really," when he does

them at all.'

'Yes!' said Josephine, after a moment's pause and with a half

groan, 'that's the worst of it. I wish I could know it was a sham. _I_

think marriages ought to be broken, if people want them broken.

The law ought to be so.'

Hazel was silent.

'Don't you think, that when people are tired of each other, they

ought not to be bound to live together?'

'But you were tired to begin with.'

'No, I wasn't; not so. I thought I could get along with John

Charteris. He wasn't a beauty, nor a distinguished speaker, but I

thought I could get along with him. Hazel, I hated him before I had

been married a week. Men are at your feet till you are tied to them,

fast; and then—it's very hard, Hazel!—the man is the master, and

he likes it.'

'Is that Mr. Charteris?' said Hazel.

'It is every man!'

'Some flourish their sceptres with a difference,' said Hazel, her lips

at play. 'Take another bonbon?'

'It's nothing to laugh at!' said the girl bitterly. 'I know you will tell

me you warned me,—but what could I do? They were all at me;

mamma said I must be married some time; and I thought it didn't

make much difference; and now—I think I'll run away. Do you

like your husband?'

'No,' said Hazel with indescribable arch of her brows, which was

however extremely stately. But as she spoke, the very flush of the

morning—all light and joy and promise—stirred and mantled and

covered her face. It was unmistakeable; words could not have been

clearer. She bent down over her parcels. And Josephine, watching

her keenly, saw and read. It was very bitter to her.

'Why,' she said incredulously, though she was not incredulous,

'you used to hate him a year ago. Do you remember when he

would not let you ride home with us from the Seatons' one night,

and how furious you were? Has he changed?'

'As I never remember hating anybody in my life,' said Wych hazel,

'it is perhaps useless to discuss the question. Do you spend the

winter here?'

'He had money enough of his own,' Josephine went on,—'he had

no business to marry you. Well—marriage is a lottery, they say;

and I have drawn John Charteris. I suppose I must wear him out. If

I could wear him out!—If it was only Jack Charteris!—but he is

the sort of man you couldn't say "Jack" to. Spend the winter here?

No, I think not. I shall go to Washington by and by. But I don't see

that it signifies much where one is; life is flat when one can't flirt;

and John won't let me do that any more, unless I do it on the sly.

Do you expect to have anything in the world your own way, with

Dane Rollo?'

Hazel felt herself (privately) getting rather "furious" now. Yet the

girl at her side stirred her pity, too.

'What sort of man can you say "Jack" to?' she enquired, as if she

had heard no question.

'You know. A fellow that's anyhow jolly. What are all these things

here for?'

'If I were you,' said Hazel, 'I would make Mr. Charteris so "jolly"

(lend me your word for once) that he would be delighted to have

me say "Jack." '

'I don't want him to be delighted,' said Josephine, 'nor to call him

Jack. And a man that smokes all the time can't be made jolly. He

didn't use to let me see it, you know; and now he don't care. He

ought to live in a house by himself, that's all chimney!'

'Counter attractions would work a cure,' said Wych Hazel, ready to

laugh at her own suddenly developed wisdom. 'If you make

yourself disagreeable, Josephine, I should think he _would_ smoke,

and hide you in a haze.'

'I don't!' said the girl indignantly. 'And nothing on earth will cure a

man who smokes. He likes it better than anything except money;

far better than me. Try to get your husband——'

Josephine broke suddenly off. The door had opened noiselessly,

and Mrs. Powder entered, followed immediately by Miss Molly

Seaton.

Greetings and congratulations passed of course, according to form.

'Dane is not at home, my dear?' said the elder lady.

'Husbands are not gallant in these days, mamma,' said Josephine.

'But Mr. Rollo is!' said Molly rashly.

'So it seems,' said Josephine laughing. 'Left his lady-love to put his

affairs in order; while he is having a good sleighride somewhere,

you bet! But you see, she is busy, like a good child.'

'And what _are_ you doing, my dear?' said Mrs. Powder.

Juts then the set of Hazel's head would have told keen eyes what

she was doing _mentally_. She was still in her camelshair morning

robe; the scarlet folds and the white apron, and herself, making a

brilliant spot down among the packages.

'I am putting Mr. Rollo's affairs in order,' she said composedly.

'My dear,' said Mrs. Powder benevolently, 'I am sure he does not

want you to open his packages for him.'

'I should think you were going to open a shop, if I didn't know

better,' remarked Molly in evident great curiosity.

'She won't tell,' said Josephine. 'I suppose she is keeping her own

secret. She wants me to believe that she don't feel the chains of

wedlock a bit.'

'Maybe it is too soon for that,' said Molly.

'O is it!' said Mrs. Charteris. 'I should like to see that. Just as soon

as the minister has done, and said, "I pronounce you man and

wife,"—from that minute a man is changed. He is your very

obedient servant when he walks up the aisle; dear me, when he

comes down!—'

'But you are joking, Mrs. Charteris,' said Molly, half alarmed.

'After that, he has the power, and you are queen no longer, but

must follow him round the world if he beckons; and he knows it,

and he lets you know it too.'

'That is a foolish way of talking, Josephine,' said her mother. 'Of

course, there is a certain truth in it, and there ought to be. A man is

the head of his house. The only thing to be desired is, that he

should rule it well.'

'I don't care whether it is well or ill,' rejoined Josephine. 'What I

object to is being ruled at all. It is horrid! _You_ can't talk, mamma,

because you know you always held the reins yourself. It's

intolerable to have to ask a man for money, unless he is your own

father; and to have him put his nose into your affairs and say this

must be and that mustn't be. Women know just as well as men how

things ought to be.'

'I think they do,' said Molly.

'And better,' added Josephine.

But at this point Hazel gave way and laughed. Such a ring of

appreciation and merriment and gladness of heart, as was good to

hear. The soft notes made Mrs. Powder smile; but poor Josephine,

who could not laugh so, turned aside quick to hide the very

different change which came over her face. Before anything

further could be said, the door opened again and Rollo came in. He

came in with a look upon his face which changed when he saw the

three people he had not expected to see. It did not grow less bright,

but it changed; the look that was for his wife was for no other upon

earth; nor even for her in the presence of others. He went through

the necessary greetings and congratulations with a manner of

courtly carelessness, which involuntarily made Hazel think of

those first days when she knew him at Catskill.

'Do you want to buy anything, ladies?' said he then, setting on the

table a bronze standish which Hazel had just freed from its

wrappings.

'Will you tell us what all this means, Dane?' said Mrs. Powder.

'Santa Claus's spillings out of his sleigh.'

'Spillings!' echoed the lady. 'What must the sleigh load have been!'

'O that's the way these people do things,' said Josephine. 'What I

should like to know, is where the sleigh load went to.'

'Down various chimneys, of course,' said Dane.

'Do you know,' the lady went on, 'it is very mean of you, Dane

Rollo, to have gone and married the only rich woman in our part of

the country. You ought to have left her for somebody else.'

'If you would like a basket,' said Rollo coolly, pulling some of his

wickerware into line, 'you may have one. I can afford it.'

'May I have one too?' queried Molly.

'Help yourself.—Mrs. Powder, you are a housekeeper—are there

none among all these varieties that would serve a purpose for you?

Mrs. Charteris, aren't you fond of flowers? I will bestow upon you

this big flower-holder.'

It was one of the best specimens of the poor basket-maker's work,

being a delicate wicker stand, pretty enough for the drawing-room

or a boudoir. Josephine silently accepted the gift, looking at it with

strange eyes; while Molly set about a search for what might serve

her turn. Mrs. Powder sat as a spectator, curious, and at the same

time amused.

'We have got more than baskets here,' Rollo went on, pulling off

twine and paper. 'Here is a tea-kettle. Who wants this article?—

Here is an hour-glass.'

'O let me have that!' quoth Molly Seaton. 'I never saw an hour-

glass before. What's this in it?'

'Minutes and seconds,' said Josephine.

'No, but really. It would be dreadful to see one's minutes and

seconds running away in this manner. What is this in the glass?'

'Did you never hear of the sands of life, child?' said Mrs. Powder.

'They were brought from the shores of time, too,' added Josephine,

'by an adventurous traveller.'

'What is it?' cried a lively voice from the again opening door. 'A

reception at the opening of spring goods? I come in, because I hear

sounds—' And Miss Kitty Fisher presented herself, stopping just

inside the door. 'I do vow!' she said. '_What_ is it?—"All for Love"?

or "She stoops to Conquer"? Katharine and Petruchio seems to be

played out. Well, if I were a turtledove in a big cage!'—

'You would coo, I suppose,' said Josephine scornfully. 'Turtledoves

always do, and they are a great humbug.'

'I should doubtless bob my head to the other turtledove,' said Kitty,

making a profound reverence to the gentleman present.

Rollo came forward and offered the lady his arm; then gravely led

her across the big room among baskets and packages to where

Wych Hazel was seated on her low cushion.

'Duchess,' said he with stately form, 'Primrose's cousin Kitty

desires to be recommended to your grace.'

'No, I don't,' said Kitty. 'That's a fib. The duchess and I were well

"acquaint" when Duke did not stand quite so high in favour. But I

am thankful for my part, you two people have given up mischief

and settled down. Sit still among your baskets, child; they become

you.'

'Perhaps you will sit down among the baskets too,' said Dane.

'Don't you want one?'

'It's only to look and choose, Kitty,' said Molly Seaton. 'Such

another chance you won't have again.'

'If you have one large enough to hold her valentines,' said Hazel

with a glance at "Duke,"—'that might do.'

'Valentines!' echoed Kitty Fisher,—'you'd better! Richard is going

into a decline, madam, I suppose you know. And the major is

drowning care—and himself with it. And Lancaster's pining for

war and a stray bullet;—and Stuart Nightingale— Then in town

here there's a list of killed, wounded and missing as long as my

arm. O I must tell you the best joke. There was a parcel of men

dining at the club the other day, and toasting Miss Kennedy, witch,

sorceress, etc.—till they couldn't see. Then in rushes Tom

McIntyre, out of breath, and says, "Miss Kennedy is extinct!"—I'd

rather have seen their faces,' said Kitty, stopping to laugh, 'than get

Stuart's best philopoena!'

'It really is unkind,' said Josephine, 'to take people so by surprise,

without letting them get accustomed to the idea. Of course they are

liable to fall into all sorts of ridiculous situations.'

'You have undertaken a great deal, Dane,' said Mrs. Powder, 'in

venturing to marry a lady accustomed to so much admiration.'

'I like whatever I have to be admired,' said Rollo coolly.

'But how do you expect she will do without it in future?'

Dane lifted his eyes for a second to the lady with a certain hidden

sparkle in their gravity, and asked her, so seriously that she was

entrapped by it, 'If she thought admiration was bad for people in

general?' Mrs. Powder fell into the snare, and before she knew it

was involved in a deep philosophical and moral discussion, as far

as heaven from earth removed from all personalities. The younger

ladies however found this tiresome.

'Do leave that mamma!' said Josephine. 'The question is, whether

he and Hazel are going to give us a grand reception, and challenge

the admiration of the world by something the like of which was

never seen before. A scene out of the Arabian Nights, with

enchantment, flowers, fruits and singing birds. They ought, for

they can. What's the use of having money?'

'I dare say they will do something of that sort,' said the elder lady

smiling. 'It really is Society's due, I think; especially as they have

cheated the world with a private wedding.'

'I like to pay my dues,' said Dane carelessly, turning over and

unpacking things all the while. 'Mrs. Powder, there is a paper knife

for you.'

'But you don't do it,' the lady went on, smiling at the same time

over the paper knife, which was very pretty. 'Now will you and

Hazel hold a reception, as you ought to do, and let people see her

as your wife?'

'No fear they won't see her,' put in Kitty Fisher. 'I know some

people who mean to have a good time when he's away at the mills.

Where are your presents, child? I came to see you on purpose to

see them. I suppose they are the ninth wonder. You have seen

them, Mrs. Powder?'

'I have seen nothing,' said that lady blandly, for however she

disapproved of Kitty's style of application, I have no doubt she

would have liked it to be successful.—'I have seen nothing, except

baskets.'

'There is a good deal here besides,' said Rollo. 'Mrs. Charteris,

don't you want a bread trencher? Or a rocking chair? And here are

pens.'

'Thank you. Are you going to set up a shop?'

'That is what I was going to ask him,' said Molly Seaton.

'When I do, you will not be able to buy it,' said Rollo; 'so make the

most of your advantage now.'

It was a very silent young duchess that sat there, all this while,

amid the medley of people and things. The colour sometimes

coming, and sometimes going; a smile ditto; the little fingers busy

with packages, the head of brown curls bent over them. Well she

knew how Rollo was shielding her by his play, amusing her

inquisitive visiters, at the same time attending to her slightest

movement; for his fingers came to help hers whenever a knot was

too hard, or a paper wrap too obstinate, or an article too heavy for

them.

'Well,' Kitty repeated, eyeing her, 'where are the presents?'

'Not on exhibition,' said Wych Hazel. 'Except in detail.'

'Don't see the details yet,' said Miss Fisher examining her. 'I have

seen that opal pin before—bewildering thing! Josephine, haven't

you seen them either?'

'Kitty, you are very impudent!' said Mrs. Powder laughing.

'Presents are good for nothing but to be shewn,' remarked Mrs.

Charteris.

'My present is worth more than that,' said Rollo. 'It has "Waste not,

want not," carved on it, if you will notice. That may be very useful

to you and Mr. Charteris.'

'I wonder who is impudent now!' said Josephine.

'Well what did you wear, child?' pursued Miss Fisher. 'Stephen

Kingsland fell back in a swoon when he found he had missed your

wedding dress.'

'Well, I think people have duties to society,' uttered Molly Seaton.

'And society's bound to make 'em pay,' said Miss Fisher. 'I won't

rest till I have seen those presents, you may be sure.'

'Use your eyes, then,' said Wych Hazel with a warning flush which

Kitty remembered. 'Because they are not labelled—and never will

be.'

Kitty winked at Mrs. Powder.

'Stupid!' she cried,—'use my eyes, to be sure! Why there's the big

apron! Of course that's a present, only she don't like to say so. The

child's turned economical. Nobody ever saw Miss Kennedy protect

her dress, I'll warrant. Pretty pattern, isn't it? I wonder if I could

get it—against my moon—so-called—of honey?'

'The apron would be no use without the economy,' said Rollo.

'What have people so rich as you to do with economy?'

'Nobody needs it more.'

'Hear him! Then I don't know what economy means,' cried Kitty.

'I doubt if you do, my dear,' said Mrs. Powder.

'What it means?' echoed Josephine. 'Economy is being mean and

pinching.'

'Economy is saving,' added Molly.

'Looks awfully proper and matronly,' said Kitty, going back to the

apron. 'When will you give your first ball, Hazel? It might be a

calico ball, you know,—and then all the dresses would help out

with the mill hands.'

'The first ball I give,' said Hazel, gravely examining a pasteboard

box filled with the article, 'will probably be one of soap,—but just

when it will be, I do not know.'

'And do you mean your first cards issued to be wool cards, my

dear?' said Kitty with secret delight.

'Kitty,' said Rollo, 'suppose you take a sugarplum—and behave

yourself.'

'O I can't stay,' said Kitty giving way a little. 'I only came just to—

—'

'That's what I came for too,' said Josephine; 'and now I am going.'

'We have all got more than we came for, then,' said Molly; 'but I

have staid too long, too. Will you take me home Phinney.'

The ladies swept away; the room was full of rustling silks for a

moment, and then was clear. Rollo came back from putting them

into their respective carriages, and stood and smiled at Hazel.

'It has come at last!' he said.