met overhead, and on each side there were bushes, and vines, and wild
flowers, and little vistas opening into the woods, and rabbits running
across the roadway; a shallow stream tumbling along its stony bed,
sometimes to be seen and sometimes only heard; yellow butterflies in the
air; and glimpses above, that afternoon, of blue sky and white clouds.
When she had walked about half the length of the road Miss Mayberry came
to a tree with a large branch running horizontally about three feet from
the ground and then turning up again, so as to make a very good seat for
young people who like that sort of thing. Ida was a young person who
liked that sort of thing, and she speedily clambered upon the broad,
horizontal branch and bestowed herself quite comfortably there. Taking
off her hat and leaning her head against the upright portion of the
branch, she continued the reflections she had been making while walking.
[Illustration: IDA MAKES HERSELF COMFORTABLE.]
"Yes," she said to herself, "it will be wise in me not only to make up
my mind that I will not grow to be an old maid, but to prevent people
from thinking I am going to grow to be one. I believe that people are
very apt to think that way about teachers. Perhaps it is because they
are always contrasted with younger persons. There is no reason why girl
teachers should be different from other girls. Marriage should be as
practically advantageous to them as to any others, only they should be
more than usually circumspect in regard to their partners; that is, if
they care for careers, which I am sure I do.
"Now the situation in this place seems to me to be one which I ought
seriously to consider. It is generally agreed that propinquity is the
cause of most marriages, but I think that a girl ought to be very
careful not to let propinquity get the better of her. She should
regulate and control propinquities.
"Here, now, is Mr. Lodloe. He seems to be a very suitable sort of a man,
young and good-looking, and, I think, endowed with brains; but I have
read two of his stories, and I see no promise in them, and I doubt if he
would sympathize with good, hard study; besides, he is devoting himself
to Mrs. Cristie, and he is out of the question. Mr. Tippengray is an
exceedingly agreeable man and a true student. To marry him would be in
itself a higher education; but he is not a bit young. I think he is at
least fifty, perhaps more, and then, supposing that he should retain his
mental vigor until he is seventy, that would give only twenty years of
satisfactory intellectual companionship. That is a point that ought to
be very carefully weighed.
"As to Mr. Beam, he is older than I am, but he is young enough. Upon the
probable duration of his life one might predicate forty years of mental
activity, and from what I have seen of him he appears to have a good
intellect. They talk about an aqueduct and waterworks he is about to
construct. That indicates the study of geology, and engineering
capacity, and such a bias of mind would suit me very well. Mrs. Petter
tells me that he is really and truly engaged to that old thing from
Lethbury; but as she also said that he is heartily tired of the
engagement, I don't see why it should be considered. He is as likely to
correct his errors of matrimonial inclination as he is those of
mathematical computation, and as for her, I should not let her stand in
my way for one minute. Any woman who is as jealous about a man as she is
about Mr. Tippengray has waived her right in all other men."
About this time a phaeton, drawn by a stout sorrel horse, and containing
Miss Calthea Rose, was turning from the highroad into this lane. As a
rule, Miss Calthea greatly preferred walking to driving, and although
her father had left her a horse and several vehicles, she seldom made
personal use of them; but to-day she was going to Romney, which was too
far away for walking, and she had planned to stop at the Squirrel Inn
and ask Mrs. Cristie to go with her.
It was necessary, for the furtherance of Miss Calthea's plans, that she
should be on good terms with Mrs. Cristie. She ought, in fact, to be
intimate with her, so that when the time came she could talk to her
freely and plainly. It was desirable, indeed, that she should maintain
a friendly connection with everybody at the Squirrel Inn. She had not
yet met Lanigan Beam, and it would be well if he should be made to feel
that she looked upon him merely as an old companion, and cared for him
neither more nor less than one cares for ordinary old companions. Thus
he would feel perfectly free to carry out his own impulses and her
desires.
Towards Mr. Tippengray she had decided to soften. She was still very
angry with him, but it would not do to repel him from herself, for that
might impel him towards another, and spoil two of her plans. Even to
that impertinent child's nurse she would be civil. She need have but
little to do with the creature, but she must not let any one suppose
that she harbored ill feeling towards her, and, with the exception of
Mrs. Petter, no one would suppose she had any reason for such feelings.
In fact, as Miss Calthea's mind dwelt upon this subject, she came to
think that it would be a very good thing if she could do some kindness
or service to this girl. This would give effect to what she might
afterward be obliged to say about her.
Having reached this point in her cogitations, she also reached the point
in the road where Ida Mayberry still sat making her plans, and concealed
from the view of those coming from the direction of the highroad by a
mass of projecting elderberry bushes. Hearing an approaching vehicle,
the young woman on the horizontal limb, not wishing to be seen perched
upon this elevated seat, sprang to the ground, which she touched about
four feet from the nose of the sorrel horse.
This animal, which was trotting along in a quiet and reflective way, as
if he also was making plans, was greatly startled by this sudden flash
of a light-colored mass, this rustle, this waving, this thud upon the
ground, and he bounded sidewise entirely across the road, stopping with
his head in the bushes on the other side.
Miss Calthea, who was nearly thrown from her seat, could not repress a
scream, and, turning, perceived Ida Mayberry.
"Did you do that?" she cried.
"I am sorry that I made your horse shy," said Ida, approaching the
vehicle; "but he seems to be perfectly quiet now, and I hope nothing is
broken. Horses ought to be taught not to shy, but I suppose that would
be difficult, considering the small size of their brain cavities."
"If some people had as much brains as a horse," muttered Miss Calthea,
"it would be better for them. Back, Sultan! Do you hear me! Back!" And
she tugged with all her strength upon the reins.
But the sorrel horse did not move; he had two reasons for refusing to
obey his mistress. In the first place, on general principles he disliked
to back, and was fully conscious that Miss Calthea could not make him do
it, and in the second place, he wanted a drink, and did not intend to
move until he got it. Just here the brook was at its widest and deepest,
and it came so near the road that in shying Sultan had entered it so far
that the front wheels of the phaeton nearly touched the water. Standing
more than fetlock deep in this cool stream, it is no wonder that Sultan
wanted some one to loosen his check-rein and let him drink.
"I am afraid you are not strong enough to back him out of that," said
Ida; "and if there were not so much water all around him I would go and
take him by the head."
"Let him alone," cried Miss Calthea. "Back, Sultan! Back, I say!" And
she pulled and pulled, tiring herself greatly, but making no impression
upon the horse.
Now appeared upon the scene Mrs. Cristie, pushing her baby-carriage. She
had come to look for Ida. She was full of sympathy when she heard what
had happened, and, pushing Douglas into a safe place behind a tree, came
forward and proposed that some one go for a man. But Calthea Rose did
not want a man. She was very proud of her abilities as a horsewoman, and
she did not wish a man to behold her inferiority in emergencies of this
sort. She therefore opposed the suggestion, and continued to pull and
tug.
"That will never do," said Ida Mayberry, who had been earnestly
regarding the situation. "You cannot make him move, and even if we did
go into the water, he might jump about and tread on us; but I have
thought of a way in which I think we can make him back. You are pretty
heavy, Miss Rose, and Mrs. Cristie is lighter than I am, so she ought to
get into the phaeton and take the reins, and you and I ought to help
back the phaeton. I have seen it done, and I can tell you how to do
it."
[Illustration: "BACK!"]
To this Miss Calthea paid no immediate attention; but as Mrs. Cristie
urged that if Ida knew about such things it would be well to let her try
what she could do, and as Miss Calthea found that tugging at Sultan's
bit amounted to nothing, she stepped out of the low vehicle and demanded
to know what the child's nurse proposed to do.
"Now jump in, Mrs. Cristie," said Ida, "and when I give the word you
pull the reins with all your might, and shout 'Back!' at him. Miss Rose,
you go to that hind wheel, and I will go to this one. Now put one foot
on a spoke, so, and take hold of the wheel, and when I say 'Now!' we
will both raise ourselves up and put our whole weight on the spoke, and
Mrs. Cristie will pull on him at the same instant."
Somewhat doggedly, but anxious to get out of her predicament, Miss
Calthea took her position at the wheel and put one foot upon an almost
horizontal spoke. Ida did the same, and then giving the word, both women
raised themselves from the ground; Mrs. Cristie gave a great pull, and
shouted, "Back!" and as the hind wheels began slowly to revolve, the
astonished horse, involuntarily obeying the double impulse thus given
him, backed a step or two.
"Now! Again!" cried Ida, and the process was repeated, this time the
horse backing himself out of the water.
"Bravo!" cried Lanigan Beam, who, with Walter Lodloe, had arrived on the
scene just as Calthea Rose and Ida Mayberry had made their second
graceful descent from an elevated spoke to the ground.
XV
THE BABY IS PASSED AROUND
"Good for you, Calthy," cried Lanigan Beam, advancing with outstretched
hands. "How do you do? Old Sultan is at his tricks again, is he,
declining to back? But you got the better of him that time, and did it
well, too."
In his admiration of the feat he had witnessed, the credit of which he
gave entirely to his old and well-tried fiancee, Lanigan forgot for the
moment his plan for the benefit of Lethbury.
Irritated and embarrassed as she was, Miss Calthea did not forget her
intention of treating Lanigan Beam as a person between whom and herself
there could be nothing of a connecting order which could be set up as
something of an obstructing order between herself and any one else. She
therefore took his hand, made a few commonplace remarks about his
return, and then, excusing herself, approached Mrs. Cristie, who was
just about to alight from the phaeton, and gave her the invitation to
drive to Romney. That lady hesitated a few moments, and then,
remembering some shopping she would like to do, accepted; and the
attention of Miss Mayberry having been called to the baby-carriage
behind the tree, the two ladies drove off.
Ida Mayberry gazed for a moment at the parting vehicle, and then,
turning to Mr. Beam, she said:
"She might at least have thanked me for getting her out of that scrape."
"Was that your idea?" said Lanigan.
"Of course it was," said the young woman: "if I hadn't shown her how to
make the horse back, she would have pulled her arms out for nothing. It
is easy to see that she does not know anything about managing horses."
Lanigan laughed outright.
"I would advise you not to say that to her," he said.
"I would as soon say it to her as not," said Ida; "somebody ought to do
it. Why, if that horse had shied towards me instead of away from me when
I jumped from that tree, I might have been very much hurt."
Lanigan laughed again, but this time inwardly.
"Do you like yellow flowers, Miss Mayberry?" said he. "The largest wild
coreopsis I ever saw grows in this region. I noticed some in a field we
just passed. Shall I gather a few for you?"
"I am very fond of that flower," said Ida; and Mr. Beam declaring that
if she would step a little way with him he would show her a whole field
of them, the two walked up the road.
Walter Lodloe had been gazing with some dissatisfaction at the departing
phaeton. His mind was getting into a condition which made it unpleasant
for him to see people take Mrs. Cristie away from him. He now turned
and looked at the baby-carriage, in which the infant Douglas was sitting
up, endeavoring by various noises to attract attention to himself.
Lodloe pulled the vehicle into the road, and, finding that the motion
quieted its occupant, he began slowly to push it towards the Squirrel
Inn. When Walter Lodloe turned into the open space about the inn he met
Mr. Tippengray with a book in his hand.
[Illustration: "HE BEGAN SLOWLY TO PUSH IT TOWARDS THE SQUIRREL INN."]
"Really," said the latter, elevating his eyebrows, "I heard the creaking
of those little wheels, and I--"
"Thought Miss Mayberry was making them creak," said Lodloe. "But she is
not, and you may as well postpone the lesson I suppose you want to give
her. She is at present taking lessons in botany from another professor";
and he hereupon stated in brief the facts of the desertion of the infant
Douglas. "Now what am I going to do with the little chap?" he continued;
"I must search for Mrs. Petter."
"Don't do that," said the Greek scholar, quickly; "it would look badly
for the young woman. Let me have the child; I will take care of it until
she comes. I will wheel it down to my summer-house, where it is cool and
shady."
"And an excellent spot to teach Greek," said Lodloe, laughing.
"A capital place," gaily replied Mr. Tippengray, putting his book into
his pocket, and taking hold of the handle of the little carriage, elated
by the feeling that in so doing he was also, for a time, getting a hold
upon Miss Mayberry.
[Illustration: "I WILL WHEEL IT DOWN TO MY SUMMER-HOUSE, WHERE IT IS
COOL AND SHADY."]
"Yes," he continued, "it is just the place for me; it suits me in all
sorts of ways, and I have a mind to tell you of a most capital joke
connected with it. It is too good a thing to keep to myself any longer,
and now that I know you so well, I am perfectly willing to trust you.
Would you believe it? I know the Rockmores of Germantown. I know them
very well, and hate them for a lot of prigs. But I never told Stephen
Petter. Not I. In some way or other he took it for granted that I did
not possess the valuable acquaintanceship, and I let him think so. Ha!
ha! That's the way I got the summer-house, don't you see? Ha! ha! ha!"
Lodloe laughed. "Your secret is safe with me," said he; and the two
having reached the little garden, he left the Greek scholar and went to
his room.
When Ida Mayberry had her arms full of the great yellow flowers she
suddenly appreciated the fact that she must be a long way from the baby,
and ought immediately to return to it. She thereupon hastened back
across the uneven surface of the field. When she reached the spot where
the baby had been left, no baby was there.
"My goodness!" she exclaimed, "Mr. Lodloe has taken the child away, and
there is no knowing which way he has gone."
"Oh, the youngster's all right," said Lanigan. "Sit down and rest
yourself, and we will walk to the inn."
"Not a bit of it!" exclaimed Ida. "You go that way, and I will go this,
and if you see him, call out as loud as you can."
Very reluctantly Mr. Beam obeyed orders, and hurried in the direction of
the highroad.
As he sat down by his open window Walter Lodloe looked out and saw Ida
Mayberry running. Instantly there was a shout from the summer-house and
the wave of a handkerchief. Then the nurse-maid ceased to run, but
walked rapidly in the direction of the handkerchief-waver, who stood
triumphantly pointing to the baby-carriage. After a glance at the baby
to see that he was all right, Miss Mayberry seated herself on a bench in
the shade, and took off her hat. In a few moments the Greek scholar was
seated by her, the book was opened, and two heads were together in
earnest study.
About ten minutes later Lodloe saw Lanigan Beam appear upon the lawn,
walking rapidly. In a moment he caught sight of the group at the
summer-house, and stopped short. He clenched his fists and slightly
stamped one foot.
Lodloe now gave a low whistle, and Lanigan glancing upward at the sound,
he beckoned to him to come to his tower-room. The young man at first
hesitated, and then walked slowly towards the little garden, and
ascended the outside stairway.
Lodloe greeted him with a smile.
"As you seem doubtful about joining the little company down there, I
thought I would ask you up here," he said.
Lanigan walked to the window and gazed out at the summer-house.
"They are having a good, cozy time of it," said he, "but that won't do.
That sort of thing has got to be stopped."
"Why won't it do?" asked Lodloe. "What is the matter with it, and who is
going to stop it?"
"It's sheer nonsense," said Beam, turning away from the window and
throwing himself into a chair; "why should an old fellow like Tippengray
take up all the spare time of that girl? She doesn't need to learn
anything. From what she has said to me I judge that she knows too much
already."
"It strikes me," said Lodloe, "that if he likes to teach her, and she
likes to learn, it is nobody's business but their own, unless Mrs.
Cristie should think that her interests were being neglected." He spoke
quietly, although he was a little provoked at the tone of his companion.
"Well," said Mr. Beam, stretching his legs upon a neighboring chair, "I
object to that intimacy for two reasons. In the first place, it keeps
me away from Miss Mayberry, and I am the sort of person she ought to
associate with, especially in her vacation; and in the second place, it
keeps old Tippengray away from Calthea Rose. That is bad, very bad. Mrs.
Petter tells me that before Miss Mayberry arrived Calthea and the Greek
were as chummy and as happy together as any two people could be. It is
easy to see that Calthea is dead in love with him, and if she had been
let alone I am confident she would have married him before the summer
was over."
"And you think that desirable?" asked Lodloe.
"Of course I do," cried Lanigan, sitting up straight in his chair and
speaking earnestly; "it would be the best thing in the world. Calthea
has had a hard time with her various engagements,--all of them with
me,--and now that she has found the man she likes she ought to have him.
It would be a splendid match; he might travel where he pleased, and
Calthea would be an honor to him. She could hold her own with the
nobility and gentry, and the crowned heads, for that matter. By George!
it would make him two inches taller to walk through a swell crowd with
Calthea on his arm, dressed as she would dress, and carrying her head as
she would carry it."
"You seem to be a matchmaker," said Lodloe; "but I don't meddle in that
sort of thing. I greatly prefer to let people take care of their own
affairs; but I feel bound to say to you that after Ida Mayberry
neglected her duty to go off with you, I determined to advise Mrs.
Cristie to dispense with the services of such a very untrustworthy
nurse-maid."
Lanigan Beam sprang to his feet. "Don't you do that!" he cried. "I beg
of you not to do that."
"Why not?" said Lodloe. "That would aid your philanthropic plan in
regard to Miss Rose and Mr. Tippengray. The maid away, there is no
reason why they should not come together again."
"Now I am a straightforward, honest man," said Lanigan, "and I tell you
plainly that that would be very hard on me. I've come here to my native
place to settle down, and if I settle I've got to marry, and I have
never seen a girl whom I would rather marry and settle with than Miss
Mayberry. She may be a little slack about taking care of the baby, but
I'll talk to her about that, and I know she will keep a closer eye on
him. Now if you want to see everybody happy, don't prejudice Mrs.
Cristie against that girl. Give me a chance, and I'll win her into the
right way, and I'll do it easily and naturally, without making hard
blood or hurting anybody. Then old Tip and Calthea will come together
again, and everything will be jolly. Now don't you go and blast the
happiness of all of us, and get that poor girl turned off like a drunken
cook. And as for taking good care of the baby, just look at her now."
Lodloe looked out of the window. Ida Mayberry was leaning forward on the
bench, twirling a great yellow flower before the child, who was laughing
and making snatches at it. In a moment appeared Mr. Tippengray with a
large white daisy; he leaned over the other side of the carriage and
twirled his flower in front of the baby. The little fellow was in great
glee, first clutching at one blossom and then at the other, and Mr.
Tippengray laughed, and Miss Mayberry laughed, and the three laughed
together.
"Confound it!" said Lanigan Beam, with a frown, "this thing must be
stopped."
Lodloe smiled. "Work matters your own way," he said; "I shall not
interfere."
An hour later when Calthea Rose and Mrs. Cristie returned from Romney,
Ida Mayberry was walking by the side of the baby-carriage, which Lanigan
Beam was pushing towards the spot from which there was the best view of
the western sky.
[Illustration: "HE LEANED OVER THE OTHER SIDE OF THE CARRIAGE."]
Mrs. Cristie looked at them, and said to herself:
"I don't altogether like that sort of thing, and I think it must be
stopped."
Calthea Rose appeared to have recovered her good humor. She looked about
her apparently satisfied with the world and its ways, and readily
accepted Mrs. Petter's invitation to stay to tea.
XVI
MESSRS. BEAM AND LODLOE DECLINE TO WAIT FOR THE SECOND TABLE
As has been before mentioned, Walter Lodloe had grown into a condition
of mind which made it unpleasant for him when people took Mrs. Cristie
away or occupied her time and attention to the exclusion of his
occupancy of the same. As a literary man he had taken an interest in
studying the character of Mrs. Cristie, and he had now come to like the
character even better than he liked the study.
A pretty woman, of a lively and independent disposition, and quick wit,
and yet with certain matronly and practical points in her character
which always surprised as well as pleased him when they showed
themselves, Mrs. Cristie could not fail to charm such a man as Lodloe,
if the two remained long enough together. She had charmed him, and he
knew it and liked it, and was naturally anxious to know whether, in the
slightest degree, she thought of him as he thought of her. But he had
never been able to perceive any indication of this. The young widow was
kind, gracious, and at times delightfully intimate with him, but he
knew enough of the world to understand that this sort of thing in this
sort of place might not in the least indicate that what was growing up
in him was growing up in her.
On the afternoon of the day after Miss Calthea Rose had taken tea at the
Squirrel Inn Walter Lodloe came down from his room in the tower with no
other object in life than to find Mrs. Cristie. It was about the hour
that she usually appeared on the lawn, and if there should follow
tennis, or talking, or walking, or anything else, one thing would be the
same as another to Lodloe, provided he and she took part. But when he
saw Mrs. Cristie her avocation was one in which he could not take part.
She was sitting on a bench by Mr. Tippengray, Ida Mayberry was sitting
at his other side, and the everlasting baby-carriage was standing near
by. The Greek scholar and the nurse-maid each had a book, but these were
closed, and Mr. Tippengray was talking with great earnestness and
animation, while the young women appeared to be listening with eager
interest. It was plain that the two were taking a lesson in something or
other.