not studied at Bryn Mawr, for I think she pities me for having graduated
at Vassar. But still she says I must call her Ida, and that gives me
courage."
There then followed a contention in which Lodloe was worsted about his
expenses in the nurse-maid affair, and, this matter being settled, the
young man declared that having shown what an extremely undesirable
person he was to work for others, he must go and attend to his own work.
"What sort of work do you do?" asked Mrs. Cristie.
"I write," he answered--"novels, stories, fiction in general."
"I know that," said she, "having read your Vassar article; but I do not
think I have met with any of your avowed stories."
"Madam," said Walter Lodloe, "there are so many people in this world,
and so few of them have read my stories, it is no wonder that you belong
to the larger class. But, satirize my Vassar article as you please, I
shall never cease to be grateful to it for my tower room in the Squirrel
Inn."
IX
THE PRESERVATION OF LITERATURE
Walter Lodloe set out to go to his work, and on his way to the little
garden at the foot of the staircase which led to his room in the tower
he saw the Greek scholar sitting on a bench outside his summer-house
smoking a large cigar.
"Good morning, sir," said Mr. Tippengray; "do you smoke?"
The tone of these words implied not only a question but an invitation,
in case the young man did smoke, to sit down on that bench and do it.
Lodloe understood the force of the remark, and, drawing out a cigar,
took a seat by Mr. Tippengray.
"Before I go to my work," said the latter, "it is my habit to sit here
and enjoy the scenery and a few puffs. I suppose when you come to a
place like this you throw work to the winds."
"Oh, no!" said Lodloe; "I am a literary man, and I came here to write."
"Very glad to hear it," said the other; "very glad that that tower room
is to have the right sort of occupant. If I had not this summer-house, I
should want that room; but I am afraid, however, if I had it, I should
look out of the window a great deal and translate a very little."
"What do you translate?" asked Lodloe, with interest.
"At present," said Mr. Tippengray, "I am engaged in translating into
Greek some of the standard works of our modern literature. There is no
knowing what may happen to our modern languages. In the course of a few
centuries they may become as useless to the readers of that day as the
English of Chaucer is to the ordinary reader of our time; but Greek will
stand, sir, and the sooner we get the good things of the present day
into solid Greek the better it will be for them and the literature of
the future."
"What work are you translating?" asked Lodloe.
"I am now at work on the 'Pickwick Papers,'" said the scholar, "and I
assure you that it is not an easy job. When I get through with it I
shall translate it back into English, after the fashion of Sir William
Jones--the only way to do that sort of thing. Same as a telegraphic
message--if it isn't repeated, you can't depend on it. If I then find
that my English is like that of Dickens, I shall feel greatly
encouraged, and probably shall take up the works of Thackeray."
Walter Lodloe was somewhat stunned at this announcement, and he
involuntarily glanced at the gray streaks in the locks of the Greek
scholar. The latter perceived the glance, and, knocking the ashes from
his cigar, remarked:
"Did you ever notice, sir, that an ordinary robin is perfectly aware
that while squirrels and cats are able to ascend the perpendicular
trunk of a tree, they cannot climb the painted pillar of a piazza; and
consequently it is perfectly safe to build a nest at the top of such a
pillar?"
Lodloe had noticed this, and a good many other intelligent traits of
animals, and the two conversed on this interesting subject until the sun
came round to the bench on which they were sitting, when they moved to a
shady spot and continued the conversation.
At last Lodloe arose. "It must be nearly dinnertime," said he. "I think
I shall take a walk this afternoon, and see some of the country."
"You ought to do it," said Mr. Tippengray. "It is a beautiful country.
If you like I will go with you. I'm not a bad guide; I know every road,
path, and short cut."
Walter Lodloe expressed his satisfaction at the proposed companionship,
and suggested that the first walk be to the village of Lethbury, peeping
up among the trees in the distance.
"Lethbury!" exclaimed the Greek scholar. "Well, sir, if it's all the
same to you, I prefer walking in any direction to that of Lethbury. It's
a good enough place, but to-day I don't feel drawn to it."
"Very good," said Lodloe; "we will walk anywhere but in the direction of
Lethbury."
About half an hour afterward, Mrs. Petter, having finished carving a
pair of fowls, paused for a moment's rest in serving the little company,
and looked out of the dining-room window.
"Upon my word!" she exclaimed, "this is too bad. When other boarders
came, I thought Mr. Tippengray would begin to behave like other
Christians, and come to his meals at the proper time. At supper last
night and breakfast this morning he was at the table as soon as anybody,
and I was beginning to feel real heartened up, as if things were going
to run on regular and proper. But now look at that? Isn't that enough to
make a housekeeper give up in despair?"
Mrs. Cristie, Lodloe, and Mr. Petter all looked out of the window, and
beheld the Greek scholar engaged in pushing the baby carriage backward
and forward under the shade of a large tree; while, on a seat near by,
the maid Ida sat reading a book. Now passing nearer, Mr. Tippengray
stopped, and with sparkling eyes spoke to her. Then she looked up, and
with sparkling eyes answered him. Then together, with sparkling eyes,
they conversed for a few minutes, evidently about the book. After a few
more turns of the carriage Mr. Tippengray returned to the maid; the
sparkling eyes were raised again from the book, and the scene was
repeated.
"He has lent her a book," said Mrs. Cristie. "She did not take that one
out with her."
"There's a time for books, and there's a time for meals," said Mrs.
Petter. "Why didn't he keep his book until he had eaten his dinner?"
"I think Mr. Tippengray must be something of a philosopher," said
Lodloe, "and that he prefers to take his books to a pretty maid when
other people are at dinner."
"My wife does not altogether understand the ways of scholars," said Mr.
Petter. "A gentleman giving most of his time to Greek cannot be expected
to give much of his mind to the passage of modern times."
[Illustration: "PASSING NEARER, MR. TIPPENGRAY STOPPED."]
"If he gives some of his time to the passage of a good dinner into cold
victuals it would help his dyspepsia. But I suppose he will come when he
is ready, and all I have to say is that I would like to see Calthea Rose
if she could catch sight of them this minute."
Mr. Petter sat at the end of the table where he had a view of his flocks
and his herds in the pasture below.
"Well," said he, "if that estimable young woman wants to catch a sight
of them, all she has to do is to step along lively, for at this present
moment she is walking over the field-path straight to this house, and
what is more, she is wearing her bonnet and carrying a parasol."
"Bonnet and parasol!" ejaculated Mrs. Petter. "Fire in the mountains,
run, boys, run! Debby, step out as quick as you can to Mr. Tippengray,
and you needn't say anything but just ask if Miss Calthea Rose told him
she was coming to dinner to-day, and tell him she's coming over the
field."
In about one minute the Greek scholar was in his place at the table and
beginning his meal.
"Now, Mr. Tippengray," said Mrs. Petter, "I don't suppose you feel any
coals of fire on your head at this present moment."
"Madame," said the scholar, "did you ever notice that when squirrels
strip the bark from the limbs of trees they are very apt to despoil
those branches which project in such a manner as to interfere with a
view?"
"No, I didn't," said Mrs. Petter; "and I don't believe they do it,
either. Debby, put a knife, fork, and napkin for Calthea Rose. If she is
coming to dinner it is just as well to let her think that nobody forgot
to bring the message she sent. She never comes to meals without sending
word beforehand."
But Miss Calthea had not come to dinner. She sent word by Debby, who met
her at the front door, that she had had her dinner, and that she would
wait for the family on the piazza.
"Bonnet and parasol," said Mrs. Petter. "She has come to make a call,
and it's on you, Mrs. Cristie. Don't eat too fast, Mr. Tippengray; she's
good for the rest of the afternoon."
X
ROSE VERSUS MAYBERRY
Miss Calthea Rose was a person of good height, originally slender, but
gathering an appreciable plumpness as the years went on, and with good
taste in dress when she chose to exert it, which on the present occasion
she did. She possessed acute perceptions and a decided method of action.
But whether or not the relation of her perceptions to her actions was
always influenced by good judgment was a question with her neighbors. It
never was, however, a question with herself.
When everybody but Mr. Tippengray had finished dinner, and he had
desired the others not to wait for him as he would probably be occupied
some time longer, the host and hostess went out to greet the visitor,
followed by Mrs. Cristie and Lodloe. When Miss Calthea Rose turned to
greet the latter lady her expression was cold, not to say hard; but when
her eyes fell upon the gentleman by the side of the young widow, a
softening warmth spread over her face, and she came forward with
outstretched hands.
"Did you see that?" said Mrs. Petter, aside to her husband. "Jealous as
she can be of Mrs. Cristie till she sees that she's got a young man of
her own; then as sweet as sugar."
When Miss Calthea Rose set about to be as sweet as sugar, it was very
good sugar that she took for her model. She liked to talk, but was not a
mistress of words, and although her remarks were not always to the
point, they were generally pointed. At last Mr. Tippengray came out on
the piazza. He walked slowly, and he did not wear his usual ease of
demeanor; but nothing could have been more cordial and reassuring than
the greeting given him by Miss Calthea. If this were intended in any way
to inspirit him, it failed of its effect. The Greek scholar stood apart,
and did not look like a man who had made up his mind as to what he was
going to do next; but Miss Calthea took no notice of his unusual
demeanor. She talked with great graciousness to the company in general,
and frequently directed remarks to Mr. Tippengray which indicated a high
degree of good comradeship.
Under this general warmth Mr. Tippengray was forced to melt a little,
and in a manner to accept the position thus publicly tendered him; but
suddenly the maid Ida popped up the steps of the piazza. She had an open
book in her hand, and she went directly and quickly to Mr. Tippengray.
She held the book up towards him, and put her finger on a page.
"You were just here," she said, "when you had to go to your dinner. Now
if you will finish the explanation I can go on nicely. You don't know
how you help me. Every word you say seems to take root"; and she looked
up into his face with sparkling eyes.
But not a sparkle sparkled from the eyes of the Greek scholar. He stood
silently looking at the book, his face a little flushed, his eyes
blinking as if the sunlight were too strong for him.
"Suppose you walk out on the lawn with me," said the nurse-maid, "and
then we shall not disturb the others. I will not keep you more than five
minutes."
She went down the steps of the piazza, and Mr. Tippengray, having
apparently lost the power of making up his mind what he should do, did
what she wanted him to do, and followed her. They did not walk very far,
but stood barely out of hearing of the persons on the piazza; her eyes
sparkling up into his face, as his helpful words took root in her
understanding.
At the instant of the appearance of the maid Ida Miss Calthea Rose
stopped talking. Her subsequent glances towards this young woman and Mr.
Tippengray might have made one think of steel chilled to zero. Mrs.
Cristie looked at Lodloe, and he at her, and both slightly smiled. "She
understands that sort of thing," he thought, and "He understands that
sort of thing," she thought.
At this moment Mrs. Petter glanced at her two guests and saw the smile
which passed between them. She understood that sort of thing.
"Who is that?" said Miss Calthea Rose, presently.
Mrs. Cristie, full of the humor of the situation, hastened to answer.
"It is my nurse-maid," she said, "Ida Mayberry."
"A child's nurse!" ejaculated Miss Calthea Rose.
"Yes," said Mrs. Cristie; "that is what she is."
"I expect," said Mrs. Petter, "that he is teaching her Greek, and of
course it's hard for her at the beginning. Mr. Tippengray's such a kind
man that he would do anything for anybody, so far as he could; but I
must admit that I can't see how Greek can help anybody to nurse
children, unless there is some book on the subject in that language."
"Greek!" scornfully ejaculated Miss Calthea, and, turning her steely
glance from the couple on the lawn, she began to talk to Mr. Petter
about one of his cows which had broken its leg.
Ida Mayberry was a young woman who meant what she said, and in less than
five minutes, with a sparkling glance of thanks, she released Mr.
Tippengray. That gentleman returned to the piazza, but his appearance
elicited no more attention from the lady who had so recently brought
into view their friendly relationship than if he had been the head of a
nail in the floor beneath her. From Mr. Petter she turned to speak to
some of the others, and if her words and manner did not make Mr.
Tippengray understand that, so far as she was concerned, he had ceased
to exist, her success was not what she expected it to be.
Although he had been amused and interested, Walter Lodloe now thought
that he had had enough of Miss Calthea Rose, and wandered away to the
little garden at the foot of his staircase. He had not reached it before
he was joined by Mr. Tippengray.
"Look here," said the latter, with something of his usual briskness;
"if you are still in the humor, suppose we walk over to Lethbury."
Lodloe looked at him in surprise. "I thought you didn't want to go
there," he said.
"I've changed my mind," replied the other. "I think this is a very good
day to go to Lethbury. It is a pretty village, and you ought to have
some one with you to show you its best points."
As soon as she thought etiquette would permit, Mrs. Cristie withdrew,
pleading the interests of her baby as an excuse.
"Do you mean to tell me," said Miss Calthea Rose, the moment the young
mother was out of hearing, "that she leaves her baby in the care of that
thing with a book?"
"Oh, yes," was the answer; "Mrs. Cristie tells me she is a very good
nurse-maid."
"Well," said Miss Calthea, "babies are troublesome, and it's often
convenient to get rid of them, but I must say that I never heard of this
new style of infanticide. I suppose there isn't any law against it yet."
Mr. Petter looked uneasy. He did not like fault found with Mrs. Cristie,
who was a great favorite with him.
"I am inclined to think, Miss Calthea," he said, "that you judge that
young person too harshly. I have formed a very good opinion of her. Not
only does she attend to her duties, but she has a good mind. It may not
be a fine mind, but it is a good mind. Her desire to learn from Mr.
Tippengray is a great point in her favor."
Here Mrs. Petter, who sat near her husband, pressed violently upon his
foot; but she was too late, the words had been said. Mrs. Petter
prepared herself for a blaze, but none came. There was a momentary flash
in the Calthean eyes, and then the lids came down and shut out
everything but a line of steely light. Then she gazed out over the
landscape, and presently again turned her face towards her companions,
with nothing more upon it than her usual expression when in a bad humor.
"Do you know," she said abruptly, "that Lanigan Beam is coming back?"
"Goodness gracious!" exclaimed Mrs. Petter, "I thought he was settled in
Patagonia."
"It was not Patagonia," said Mr. Petter; "it was Nicaragua."
"Well, I knew it was the little end of some place," said she; "and now
he's coming back. Well, that is unfortunate."
"Unfortunate!" said Miss Calthea; "it's criminal. There ought to be a
law against such things."
Again the host of the Squirrel Inn moved uneasily on his chair and
crossed and recrossed his legs. He liked Lanigan Beam.
"I cannot see," he said, "why it is wrong for a man to return to the
place where he was born."
"Born!" scornfully exclaimed Miss Calthea; "it's the greatest pity that
there is any place where he was born; but there's no use talking about
him. He has written to them at the hotel at Lethbury that he will be
there the day after to-morrow, and he wants them to have a room ready
for him. If he'd asked them to have a grave ready for him it would have
been much more considerate."
Mr. Petter now rose to his feet; his manner was very dignified.
"Excuse me, Miss Calthea," he said, "but I must go and look after my men
in the cornfield."
Miss Calthea Rose sat up very straight in her chair.
"If there's anything you want to do, Mrs. Petter, I beg you won't let me
keep you."
"Now, Calthea," said Mrs. Petter, "don't work yourself into such a
terrible stew. You know Stephen doesn't like to have Lanigan pitched
into; I'm sorry for even what I said. But that about his grave was
enough to rouse a saint."
Miss Calthea was on the point of retorting that that was something which
Stephen Petter was not, by any means, but she restrained herself. If she
quarreled with the Petters, and cut herself off from visiting the
Squirrel Inn, a great part of the pleasure of her life would be gone.
"Well," she said, "we all know Lanigan Beam, and if there's anybody who
wants the peace of the community to vanish entirely out of sight, the
responsibility's on him, and not on me."
"Mrs. Petter," said Ida Mayberry, appearing so suddenly before that good
woman that she seemed to have dropped through the roof of the piazza,
"do you know where Mr. Tippengray is? I've been looking all over for
him, and can't find him. He isn't in his little house, for I knocked at
the door."
"Does Mrs. Cristie want him?" asked Mrs. Petter, making this wild grasp
at a straw.
"Oh, no," said Ida. "It is I who want him. There's a Greek sentence in
this book he lent me which I am sure I have not translated properly; and
as the baby is asleep now, there couldn't be a better time for him to
help me, if only I could find him."
Self-restraint was no longer possible with Miss Calthea Rose. A red
blaze shot into her face, and without deigning to look in the direction
of the creature who had just spoken, she said in the sharpest tones of
contemptuous anger:
"Greek to a child's nurse! I expect next he'll teach French to the
pigs."
The maid Ida lifted up her eyes from the book and fixed them on Miss
Calthea.
"The best thing he could do," she quietly remarked, "would be to teach
the old hens good manners"; and then she walked away with her book.
Miss Calthea sprang to her feet, and looked as if she was going to do
something; but there was nothing to do, and she sat down again. Her brow
was dark, her eyes flashed, and her lips were parted, as if she was
about to say something; but there was nothing to say, and she sat
silent, breathing hard. It was bad enough to be as jealous as Miss
Calthea was at that moment, but to be so flagrantly insulted by the
object of her jealousy created in her a rage that could not be expressed
in words. It was fortunate that she did not look at Mrs. Petter, for
that good lady was doing her best to keep from laughing.
"Well!" she exclaimed, as soon as she could speak composedly, "this is
too much. I think I must speak to Mrs. Cristie about this. Of course she
can't prevent the young woman from answering back, but I think I can
make her see that it isn't seemly and becoming for nurse-maids to be
associating with boarders in this way."
[Illustration: "TEACH THE OLD HENS GOOD MANNERS."]
"If you take my advice, Susan Petter," said Miss Calthea, in a voice
thickened by her emotions, "you will keep your mouth shut on that
subject. If your boarders choose to associate with servants, let them
alone. It simply shows what sort of people they are."
Calthea Rose did not like to hear herself speak in a voice which might
show how she was feeling, and as there was no use of staying there if
she could not talk, she rose to leave, and, in spite of Mrs. Petter's
hospitable entreaty to make a longer stay, she departed.
When her visitor was well out of sight, Mrs. Petter allowed herself to
lean back in her chair and laugh quietly.
"Leave them alone indeed," she said to herself. "You may want me to do
it, but I know well enough that you are not going to leave them alone,
Miss Calthea Rose, and I can't say that I wonder at your state of mind,
for it seems to me that this is your last chance. If you don't get Mr.
Tippengray, I can't see where you are going to find another man properly
older than you are."
XI
LANIGAN BEAM
That evening about eleven o'clock Walter Lodloe was sitting in his room
in the tower, his feet upon the sill of the large window which looked
out over the valley. He had come up to his room an hour or two before,
determined not to allow the whole day to pass without his having done
any work; and now, having written several pages of the story on which he
was engaged, he was enjoying the approbation of his conscience, the
flavor of a good cigar, and the beautiful moonlighted scene which he
beheld from his window.
More than this, he was thinking over the events of the day with a good
deal of interest and amusement, particularly of his afternoon walk with
Mr. Tippengray. He had taken a great fancy to that gentleman, who,
without making any direct confidences, had given him a very fair idea of
his relations with Calthea Rose. It was plain enough that he liked that
very estimable person, and that he had passed many pleasant hours in her
society, but that he did not at all agree with what he called her
bigoted notions in regard to proprietorship in fellow-beings.
On the other hand, Lodloe was greatly delighted with Miss Calthea's
manner of showing her state of mind. Quite unexpectedly they had met her
in Lethbury,--to which village Mr. Tippengray had not thought she would
return so soon,--and Lodloe almost laughed as he called to mind the
beaming and even genial recognition that she gave to him, and which, at
the same time, included effacement and extinction of his companion to
the extent of being an admirable piece of dramatic art. The effect upon
Lodloe had been such, that when the lady had passed he involuntarily
turned to see if the Greek scholar had not slipped away just before the
moment of meeting.
"When a woman tries so hard to show how little she thinks of a man,"
thought Lodloe, "it is a proof that she thinks a great deal of him, and
I shall not be surprised--" Just then there came a tap at the window
opposite the one at which he was sitting.
Now when a man in the upper room of a fairly tall tower, access to which
is gained by a covered staircase the door at the bottom of which he
knows he has locked, hears a tap at the window, he is likely to be
startled. Lodloe was so startled that his chair nearly tipped over
backward. Turning quickly, he saw a man's head and shoulders at the
opposite window, the sash of which was raised. With an exclamation,
Lodloe sprang to his feet. His lamp had been turned down in order that
he might better enjoy the moonlight, but he could plainly see the man at
the window, who now spoke:
"Hold hard," said he; "don't get excited. There's nothing out of the
way. My name is Beam--Lanigan Beam. I tapped because I thought if I
spoke first you might jump out of the window, being turned in that
direction. May I come in?"
[Illustration: "DON'T GET EXCITED."]
Lodloe made no answer; his mind did not comprehend the situation; he
went to the window and looked out. The man was standing on the sharp
ridge of a roof which stretched from the tower to the rear portion of
the building. By reaching upward he was able to look into the window.
"Give me a hand," said the man, "and we'll consider matters inside. This
is a mighty ticklish place to stand on."