knew nothing of the game, and did not appear capable of learning it. And
yet when Lanigan Beam appeared, having just arrived on horseback from
Romney, Mrs. Cristie would not allow the Greek scholar to give up his
place to the younger man. She insisted on his finishing the game, and
when it was over she declared the morning too warm to play any more.
As she and Lodloe stood together for a moment, their rackets still in
their hands, Mrs. Cristie smiled, but at the same time frowned.
"It is too provoking," she said; "I wish Douglas would wake up and
scream his very loudest. I was just on the point of asking Ida to go
with me into the garden to pick sweet peas, when Mr. Beam hands her that
horrible bunch of wild flowers, crammed full of botany, I've no doubt.
And now just look at them! Before one could say a word, there they are
on that bench, heads together, and pulling the weeds to pieces. Think of
it! Studying botany with _him_, and Mr. Tippengray on the same lawn with
her!"
"Oh, he's too hot to teach anything," said Lodloe. "You don't seem to
approve of Mr. Beam's attentions to that young woman."
"I do not," said she. "You know what he is as well as I do."
"Better," said Lodloe. For a moment he paused, and then continued: "Mrs.
Cristie, I wish you would let me go into the garden with you to pick
sweet peas and to talk about Mr. Beam."
"Mr. Beam!" she repeated.
"Yes," said Lodloe; "I wish very much to speak to you in regard to him,
and I cannot do it here where we may be interrupted at any moment."
As a young and pretty woman who knew her attractions, and who had made
resolutions in regard to the preponderance of social intercourse in a
particular direction, Mrs. Cristie hesitated before answering. But as a
matron who should know all about a young man who was paying very special
attention to a younger woman in her charge, she accepted the invitation,
and went into the garden with Lodloe.
The sweet pea-blossoms crowded the tall vines which lined one side of a
path, and as she picked them he talked to her.
He began by saying that he had noticed, and he had no doubt that she had
noticed, that in all the plain talk they had heard about Mr. Beam there
had been nothing said against his moral character except that he did not
pay his debts nor keep his promises. To this Mrs. Cristie assented, but
said that she thought these were very bad things. Lodloe agreed to this,
but said he thought that when a young man of whom even professional
slanderers did not say that he was cruel, or that he gambled, or drank,
or was addicted to low company and pursuits, had determined to reform
his careless and thoughtless life, he ought to be encouraged and helped
in every possible way. And then when she asked him what reason he had to
suppose that Mr. Beam had determined to reform, he straightway told her
everything about Lanigan, Chicago oats and all, adding that the young
man did not wish him to say anything about this matter, but he had taken
it upon himself to do so because Mrs. Cristie ought to know it, and
because he was sure that she would not mention it to any one. When Mrs.
Cristie exclaimed at this, and said that she thought that the sooner
everybody knew it the better, Lodloe told her of the state of affairs
between Calthea Rose and Lanigan Beam, and why the latter did not wish
his reform to be known at present.
Mrs. Cristie dropped upon the ground every sweet-pea blossom she had
gathered.
"I cannot imagine," she said, "how you can take the part of a man who
would deliberately attempt to lower himself in the eyes of one woman in
order that he might have a better chance to win another woman."
"Mrs. Cristie," said Lodloe, "I am a young man, and I have lived much
among young men. I have seen many of them in dangerous and troubled
waters, floating down to ruin and destruction, and now and then I have
seen one who had turned and was trying to strike out for the shore. In
every case of this kind I have tried to give the poor fellow a hand and
help him get his feet on firm ground. Sometimes he jumped in again, and
sometimes he didn't, but all that was not my affair; I was bound to help
him when I saw him facing the right way, and that is just the way I feel
about young Beam. I do not approve of all his methods, but if he wants
moral support I say he ought to have it."
Mrs. Cristie looked at the pink, blue, and purple blossoms on the
ground. "His sentiments are good and generous ones," she thought, "and I
shall not say one word against them, but Ida Mayberry shall not marry
that exceedingly slippery young man, and the good Mr. Tippengray shall
not be caught by Calthea Rose." She came to this resolution with much
firmness of purpose, but as she was not prepared to say anything on the
subject just then, she looked up very sweetly at Lodloe, and said:
"Suppose we drop Mr. Beam."
He looked for an instant into her eyes.
"Gladly," he exclaimed, with an impulse like a lightning-flash, "and
speak of Walter Lodloe."
"Of you?" she said.
"Yes, of me," he replied; "of myself, of a man who has no scheme, no
plan, no concealments, and who only wishes you to know that he loves you
with all his heart."
She looked at him steadfastly for a moment.
"Was it for this," she said, "that you asked me to come with you and
pick sweet-pea blossoms?"
"Not at all," he exclaimed; "I meant no more than I said, and thought of
no more. But the flowers we came to gather you have dropped upon the
ground."
"They can easily be picked up again," she said.
"Not at all," he cried, and, stepping forward, put his foot upon the
fragrant blossoms. Then with a few rapid dashes he gathered a bunch of
sweet peas and extended them towards Mrs. Cristie.
"Will you not take these instead?" he said.
She put her hands behind her back.
[Illustration: "WILL YOU NOT TAKE THESE INSTEAD?"]
"I do not mean," he said, speaking low but strongly, "that in accepting
them you accept me. I only want to know that you will talk to me of what
I said, or at any rate think of it."
But still she kept her hands behind her back. In her heart she knew that
she wanted those flowers, but the knowledge had come so suddenly, so
unexpectedly, and so unreasonably, that she did not even look at them,
and clasped her fingers together more tightly.
"Some one is coming," said Lodloe. "Tell me quickly, must these flowers
be dropped?"
Steps could plainly be heard not far away. Mrs. Cristie looked up.
"I will take one," she said; "the very smallest."
He thrust the bunch of flowers towards her, and she hastily drew from it
one which happened to be the largest of them all.
The person who now appeared in the garden walk was Calthea Rose. She
experienced no emotions but those of mild amusement at seeing these two
together. At present she did not care very much about either of them,
although, when she had heard of the expected coming of the young widow,
she had been afraid of her, and was prepared to dislike her. But finding
her, as she supposed, already provided with a lover, Calthea was quite
satisfied with Mrs. Cristie. She liked Lodloe on general principles,
because he was a man. Her greeting was very pleasant. It often happened
that the people whom Calthea Rose neither liked nor disliked were those
who found her the most pleasant.
She was inclined to walk on and leave them among the sweet-pea blossoms,
but Mrs. Cristie would not allow this. She joined Calthea, and the three
went on together. When they stepped upon the open lawn, Calthea gave a
quick glance around, and the result was very satisfactory. Ida Mayberry
and Lanigan were still sitting together under a tree, and she saw Mr.
Tippengray talking to Mrs. Petter not far from the summer-house. Nothing
could be better arranged. Lanigan was on the right road, and it would be
quite as natural for her immediately to join Mrs. Petter as it would be
easy to get rid of her.
The party separated, Lodloe going to his room and Calthea walking
towards the summer-house. She had come that day to the Squirrel Inn with
a purpose; she was going to be taught by Mr. Tippengray. In this world
we must adapt ourselves to circumstances, and she was going to adapt
herself to the Greek scholar's hobby. She was a sensible woman, and did
not for a moment purpose to ask him to teach her the dead languages,
philosophy, or science, things in which he knew she took no interest.
Indeed, she would not ask him to teach her anything, but she was going
to give him the opportunity to do so, and she was quite sure that that
would be sufficient for her purpose.
She intended to make herself an audience of one, and to listen in a way
she knew would please him to the recital of his travels and experiences.
Of these he had often essayed to talk to her, but she had not encouraged
him. She never liked to talk upon subjects of which other people knew
more than she did, and she always endeavored to bring the conversation
into a channel where she could take an equal part. If she could lead, so
much the better. But now she was going to let Mr. Tippengray talk to her
just as much as he pleased, and tell her all he wanted to tell her. She
now knew him better than she had done before, and she had strong hopes
that by this new string she would be able to lead him from the Squirrel
Inn to Lethbury whenever she chose.
Mrs. Petter had long been accustomed to look upon Calthea Rose as a
person whose anger would blaze up very suddenly, but would go out quite
as promptly--which was true, when Miss Calthea chose to put it out--but
she was a little surprised that Calthea, after so recently going away in
a huff, should treat Mr. Tippengray with such easy friendliness. If the
Greek scholar himself felt surprised, he did not show it, for he was
always ready to meet a cordial overture.
Miss Calthea had just accepted an invitation to be seated in the
shade,--which she knew would very soon be followed by Mrs. Petter's
going into the house, for that good woman was seldom content to sit long
out of doors,--when up stepped Ida Mayberry.
"Mr. Tippengray," said she in the clear, distinct way in which she
always spoke, "here is something which I have been trying to explain to
Mr. Beam, but I am afraid I haven't a quite correct idea about it
myself. Will you please read it, and tell me how it strikes you!"
[Illustration: "I HAVE DISSECTED ONE."]
This was too much for the patience of Calthea Rose. Her resolutions of
geniality and good nature could not stand for a moment against such an
interruption at such a time. She turned sharply upon the nurse-maid,
and, without attempting to disguise her feelings, said it seemed to her
that a person so anxious to learn would be much better employed in
attending to her business and in trying to learn something about babies
than in interrupting conversation in this impertinent way.
"Learn something about babies!" exclaimed Miss Mayberry. "Nobody knows
more about babies than I do--I have dissected one."
At this Mrs. Petter gave a cry of horror, and Miss Calthea stepped back,
speechless with amazement. As for the Greek scholar, he suddenly retired
to a little distance and leaned over a bench, his back to the company.
He was greatly agitated.
Without further remark Miss Mayberry closed her book, and, with dignity,
walked back to Lanigan Beam.
XIX
THE AROUSED ROSE
The soul of Miss Calthea Rose was now filled with one burning purpose,
and that was to banish from the Squirrel Inn that obtrusive and utterly
obnoxious collegiate nurse-maid who had so shamelessly admitted a desire
for surgical research in connection with the care of an infant. It was
of no use for Miss Calthea to think at this moment of her plans in
regard to Mr. Tippengray, nor indeed of anything but this one absorbing
object. Until she had rid herself of Ida Mayberry she could expect to do
nothing that she wished to do. Leaving Mr. Tippengray to the quiet
enjoyment of his agitations, Miss Calthea and Mrs. Petter immediately
set off to find Mrs. Cristie.
"She must instantly know," said the former, "what sort of a serpent she
has in her service. If I were in her place I would never let that
creature touch my baby again."
"Touch the baby!" exclaimed Mrs. Petter, "I wouldn't let her touch me.
When a person with such a disposition begins on infants there is no
knowing where she will stop. Of course I don't mean that she is
dangerous to human life, but it seems to me horrible to have any one
about us who would be looking at our muscles, and thinking about our
bones, and wondering if they worked together properly, and if they would
come apart easily. Ugh! It's like having a bat in the room."
Mrs. Cristie was not in the mood to give proper attention to the
alarming facts which were laid before her by the two women, who found
her sitting by the window in her room. It had been so short a time since
she had come from the garden, and the blossom of the sweet pea, which
she still held in her hand, had been so recently picked from its vine,
that it was not easy for her to fix her mind upon the disqualifications
of nurse-maids. Even the tale that was told her, intensified by the
bitter feeling of Miss Rose, and embellished by the imagination of Mrs.
Petter, did not have the effect upon her that was expected by the
narrators. She herself had been a student of anatomy, and was still fond
of it, and if she had been able properly to consider the subject at that
moment, she might not have considered it a bad thing for Ida Mayberry to
have the experience of which she had boasted.
But the young widow did not wish at that moment to think of her
nurse-maid or even of her baby, and certainly not to give her attention
to the tales of her landlady and the spinster from Lethbury.
"I must admit," she said, "that I cannot see that what you tell me is so
very, very dreadful, but I will speak to Ida about it. I think she is
apt to talk very forcibly, and perhaps imprudently, and does not always
make herself understood."
This was said with an air of abstraction and want of interest which
greatly irritated Miss Calthea. She had not even been thanked for what
she had done. Mrs. Cristie had been very civil, and was evidently trying
to be more so, but this was not enough for Miss Calthea.
"We considered it our duty," she said, with a decided rigidity of
countenance, "to tell you what we know of that girl, and now we leave
the matter with you"; which was a falsehood, if Miss Calthea was capable
of telling one.
Then with much dignity she moved towards the door, and Mrs. Petter
prepared to follow; but before going she turned with moist eyes towards
Mrs. Cristie, and said:
"Indeed, indeed, you ought to be very careful; and no matter how you
look at it, she is not fit for a nurse, as everybody can see. Make up
your mind to send her away, and I'll go myself and get you a good one."
Glancing out of the door to see that the Lethbury lady was out of
hearing, Mrs. Cristie said:
"You are very good, Mrs. Petter, and I know you wish me well, but tell
me one thing; wasn't it Miss Rose who proposed that you should come to
me with this story about Ida!"
"Of course I should have told you myself," said Mrs. Petter, "though I
might have taken my time about it; but Calthea did not want to lose a
minute, and said we must go right off and look for you. She was as mad
as hops any way, for we were talking to Mr. Tippengray at the time, and
Calthea does hate to be interrupted when she is talking to him. But
don't you worry yourself any more than you can help, and remember my
promise. I'll stick to it, you may count on that."
When Mrs. Cristie had been left to herself she gave enough time to the
consideration of what had been told her to come to the following
conclusion: "She shall not have him; I have made up my mind to that.
Interrupted by Ida! Of course that is at the bottom of it." And having
settled this matter, she relapsed into her former mood, and fell to
thinking what she should do about the sweet-pea blossom.
She thought until the supper-bell rang, and then she rose and with a
pretty smile and flush upon her face, which showed that her thoughts had
not in the least worried her, she put the sweet-pea blossom into a
little jar which she had brought from Florence, and which was just big
enough for one small flower.
At supper Walter Lodloe was very quiet and very polite, and Mrs.
Cristie, who was opposite to him, though not at all quiet, was also very
polite, but bestowed her attention almost entirely upon Mr. Tippengray,
who sat beside her. The Greek scholar liked this, and his conversation
sparkled.
Miss Calthea Rose, who had accepted Mrs. Petter's invitation to spend
the night,--for if ever she was going to do anything at the Squirrel
Inn, this was the time to do it,--did not like Mrs. Cristie's
politeness, and her conversation did not sparkle. In fact she was
quieter than Mr. Lodloe, and paid little heed to the chatter of her
neighbor, Lanigan Beam. This young man was dissatisfied. There was a
place at the table that was sometimes filled and sometimes not filled.
At present it was empty.
[Illustration: MRS. CRISTIE CONSIDERS.]
"I cannot see," said he, speaking to the company in general, "why babies
are not brought to the table. I think they ought to be taught from the
very beginning how to behave themselves at meals."
Mr. Petter fixed his eyes upon him, and, speaking through the young man,
also addressed the company.
"I'm not altogether in favor of having small children at the table,"
said he. "Their food is different from ours, and their ways are often
unpleasant; but I do think--"
"No, you don't," interrupted Mrs. Petter from the other end of the
table--"you don't think anything of the kind. That has all been fixed
and settled, and there's no use in bringing it up again."
Mr. Petter looked at his wife with a little flash in his eye, but he
spoke quietly.
"There are some things," he said, "that can be unfixed and unsettled."
Mrs. Cristie hastened to stop this discussion.
"As I own the only baby in the house," she said, with a smile, "I may as
well say that it is not coming to the table either by itself or in any
other way."
A thought now tickled Mr. Tippengray. Without any adequate reason
whatever, there came before him the vision of an opossum which he once
had seen served at a Virginia dinner-table, plump and white, upon a
china dish. And he felt almost irresistibly impelled to lean forward and
ask Mr. Lodloe if he had ever read any of the works of Mr. Jonathan
Carver, that noted American traveler of the last century; but he knew it
wouldn't do, and he restrained himself. If he had thought Lodloe would
understand him he would have made his observation in Greek, but even
that would have been impolite to the rest of the company. So he kept his
joke to himself, and, for fear that any one should perceive his
amusement, he asked Mrs. Petter if she had ever noticed how much finer
was the fur of a cat which slept out of doors than that of one which had
been in the house. She had noticed it, but thought that the cat would
prefer a snug rug by the fire to fine fur.
Calthea Rose said little and thought much. It was necessary that she
should take in every possible point in the situation, and she was doing
it. She did not like Mrs. Cristie's attention to Mr. Tippengray, because
it gave him pleasure, and she did not wish that other women should give
him pleasure; but she was not jealous, for that would have been absurd
in this case.
But the apparent state of feeling at the table had given her an idea.
She was thinking very bitterly of Mrs. Cristie, and would gladly do
anything which would cause that lady discomfort. There seemed to be
something wrong between her and Mr. Lodloe, otherwise the two lovers
would be talking to each other, as was their custom. Perhaps she might
find an opportunity to do something here. If, for instance, she could
get the piqued gentleman to flirt a little with her,--and she had no
doubt of her abilities in this line,--it might cause Mrs. Cristie
uneasiness. And here her scheme widened and opened before her. If in
any way she could make life at the Squirrel Inn distasteful to Mrs.
Cristie, that lady might go away. And in this case the whole problem
that engrossed her would be solved, for of course the maid would go with
the mistress.
Calthea's eyes brightened, and with a smile she half listened to
something Lanigan Beam was saying to her.
"Yes," she thought; "that would settle the whole business. The widow is
the person I ought to drive away; then they would all go, and leave him
to me, as I had him before."
And now she listened a little, and talked a little, but still kept on
thinking. It was really a very good thing that her feeling towards Mrs.
Cristie had so suddenly changed, otherwise she might never have thought
of this admirable scheme.
XX
AN INGENUOUS MAID
Mrs. Cristie was unusually prompt that evening in going to the relief of
Ida Mayberry, but before she allowed that young woman to go down to her
supper she put a question to her.
"What do you mean, Ida," she said, "by talking about dissecting babies?
Whatever you may have done in that line, I do not think it is very nice
to bring it forward when you have charge of a child."
"Of course it wasn't nice," replied Ida, "and I should never have
thought of speaking of it if it had not been for that thing from
Lethbury. She makes me so angry that I don't know what I say. You ought
to hear Lanigan Beam talk about her. He has confided to me, although I
am not sure that he should have done it."
"Of course not," said Mrs. Cristie, very promptly; "he should not have
confided anything to you."
"Well," continued Ida, "he told me, but said he would not breathe it to
any one else, that the great object of his life at present was to rid
this neighborhood of Calthea Rose. He says she has been a plague to
this community ever since he has known her. She is always ready to make
mischief, and nobody can tell when or how she is going to do it. As for
himself, he vows she has made it impossible for him to live here; and as
he wishes to live here, he wants her to go."
"And how does he propose to make her go?" asked Mrs. Cristie.
"He wants her to marry Mr. Tippengray, which she is very willing to do,
and then he is quite sure that they will go away and travel, and stay
abroad for a long time. He knows that this will be the very thing that
she would want to do."
"And I suppose," said Mrs. Cristie, "that Mr. Beam told you all this in
order that you might be induced to help on the match between Mr.
Tippengray and Miss Rose."
"That was exactly his object," said Ida; "he said that everybody ought
to help in this good work."
"And then, I suppose, he would like to marry you," remarked Mrs.
Cristie.
"He hasn't said so yet," replied Miss Mayberry, "but I think he would
like to do it."
Mrs. Cristie brought down her little fist upon the table, regardless of
her slumbering child.
"That man is utterly without a conscience," she exclaimed. "If he hadn't
kept on engaging himself over and over again to Calthea Rose, she might
have married somebody else, and gone away long ago. He has no one but
himself to blame that she is still here to worry him and other people.
And as to his wishing to sacrifice Mr. Tippengray to his ease and
comfort, I think it is the most shameful thing I ever heard of. I hope,
Ida, that you did not encourage him in this iniquitous scheme."
Ida laughed, but quietly--remembering the baby.
"Not much," she said; "in fact, I have determined, if I can, to rescue
Mr. Tippengray from that clutching old thing."
"How?" asked Mrs. Cristie, quickly.
"By marrying him myself," said the nurse-maid.
"Ida Mayberry!" exclaimed Mrs. Cristie.
"Yes," said the other; "I have been considering the matter a good deal,
and I think it can be done. He is much older than I am, but that isn't
of great importance when people suit in other ways. Of course I would
not wish to marry a very old man, even if he were suitable, for I should
have to look forward to a married life so short that it would not pay;
but Mr. Tippengray was not born so dreadfully far back, and he is one of
those men who keep young for a long time. I think he likes me, and I am
sure I can easily make him like me more, if I choose. There is nobody
here that I need be afraid of, excepting you, perhaps."
Mrs. Cristie looked at her in amazement.
"Me!" she exclaimed.