ABOUT VISITING
"GOOD-BY, Tommy, dear. Be sure to tell Mamma that I thought she would
not mind my staying, when Mrs. Merryweather was so perfectly heavenly as
to ask me. Be sure to tell her that my skirt is _all_ cockled up, so
that you could put it in your waistcoat pocket, Tom; and that the _only_
way to save it is to press it _damp_, and let it _dry_ before I put it
on. Tell her that I have got on a dress of the Snowy's that is simply
_divine_,--more becoming than anything I ever had on; and that my silk
waist has run--oh, tell her it has run _miles_, Tom, so that I can
never--"
"There, there, Vi!" cried Tom Vincent, pushing his boat off. "_I_ must
run, before you swamp me entirely with messages. I'll come back for you
to-morrow, and bring your toggery. Ever so many thanks, everybody.
You've been awfully good. I've had a corking time. Good-by!"
The sail filled, the boat swung round, and was soon speeding along the
lake, while her owner still waved his cap and looked back to the wharf,
where the campers stood, giving back his greeting with hearty good will.
"Nice chap!" said Gerald to Phil.
"Corker!" said Phil to Gerald.
"Nor," added Gerald, turning to look after the girls as they walked back
along the slip, "nor is the sororial adjunct totally devoid of
attraction. What thinkest, Fergy?"
He shot a quick glance at his brother, and seemed to await his reply
with some eagerness.
"I think she's as pretty as a picture," said Phil, soberly.
"You have a nose on your face, if it comes to that," said Gerald. "At
least it passes for one. _Weiter!_"
"I think she's awfully jolly, and all that," said Phil. "Nice, jolly,
good-natured girl."
"Granted; she's great fun."
"But," Phil went on, slowly,--"oh, well! you know what I mean. If our
girls went on like that, we should be under the painful necessity of
ducking them. Now, Peggy--"
He paused and examined the mooring of the boat, critically.
"Now, Peggy," Gerald repeated, jogging him with his elbow. "Always
finish a sentence when you can, son. It argues poverty of invention to
have to stop in the middle. You can always fall back on 'tooral looral
lido,' if you can't think of anything else. What about Peggy?"
"Oh, nothing. Only she is just like the rest of us, and that seems more
natural; that's all."
"And 'beyond a doubt we are the people; and wisdom will perish with
us,'" quoted Gerald, his face brightening as he spoke. "'Tis well. Come
on, thou antiquated ape, and let us pump out the float."
Meantime the girls had sought their favorite pine parlor, and were deep
in talk. _High_ would be a more descriptive adjective; for Viola Vincent
was the principal talker, and her shrill, clear treble quivered up to
the very tree-tops, startling the birds in their nests, and sending the
squirrels scampering to and fro with excitement.
"My dear, this is too delicious, simply _too_! I should expire, if I
lived here, of pure joy. Oh, Snowy, what a darling you are! Your nose is
just as straight as ever, isn't it? Rulers, my dear, are crooked beside
it, aren't they? If I had a straight nose, I should pass away from sheer
bliss. My nose turns up more every year; it's the only aspiring thing
about me. Pothooks are straight by comparison. Isn't it a calamity?"
"Tiptilted like the petal of a flower," said Gertrude, laughing. "I
always thought your nose one of your prettinesses, Vanity, and I believe
you think so, too."
"Oh! my _dear_, how _can_ you?" cried Viola, caressing her little nose,
which was certainly piquant and pretty enough to please any one. "You
don't really mean it, do you? You just say it to comfort me, don't you?
You _are_ such a comforting darling! Where did you get that heavenly
shade of green, Snowy? I never saw anything so lovely in my life. It is
just the color of jade. My dear, I saw some jade bracelets the other day
that were simply _made_ for you. I wanted to tear them from the girl's
arms, and say, 'What are you doing with the Snowy's bracelets?' She was
a dump, with a complexion like Doctor Somebody or other's liniment. A
person who can wear jade is simply the--"
"Oh, come, Vanity!" said Peggy, good-naturedly. "Come out of the
millinery business, and tell us about yourself, and about the other
girls. What has become of Vex--of Vivia Varnham?"
"My dear! haven't you heard?"
"Not a word! You have never written, you know, since we left school, and
she would not be likely to."
"You didn't love each other quite to distraction, did you?" said Viola.
"Poor V. V.! she really was the limit sometimes, wasn't she? I never
minded her, of course, because I never listened to what she said.
Besides, she was like pickles, you know; you just took her with the rest
of your dinner, and she didn't make much difference. I used to tell her
so. Well, poor V. V.! You never could guess: married, my dear!"
"Married!" echoed Peggy and Gertrude.
"Married! to a missionary; widower, with four children. Gone to China!
You need not believe it unless you like; I don't believe it myself,
though I saw them married."
"It is hard to believe, Vi!" said Gertrude. "How did it happen?"
"My dear, _the_ limit! positively, the boundary line, arctic circle, and
that sort of thing. Love at first sight, on both sides. Spectacles,
bald,--not the spectacles, but he,--snuffy to a degree! You really never
_did_! I was the first person she told. I simply screamed. 'My dear!' I
said, 'you _cannot_ mean it. You could _not_ live with that waistcoat!'
"She told me I was frivolous--which I never attempted to deny--and said
I did not understand, which was the truth. She looked really quite sweet
in her wedding-dress, and when she went away she was quite softened, she
truly was, and wept a little weep, and so did I. You see, Snowy, the
very first thing I can remember in my life is V. V.'s breaking my doll
over my head. I miss her dreadfully, I do indeed; nobody has been--well,
acidulated, to me since she went, and I need the tonic. And speaking of
tonics, where is Beef? where is the Fluffy? You know"--turning to
Margaret--"I used to call the Snowy and the Fluffy and the Horny my
triple tonic, Beef, Wine, and Iron; and the Fluffy was Beef. Steady and
square, you know, and red and brown; exactly like beef; simply _no_
difference except the clothes. How is she, Snowy?"
"The Fluffy--Bertha Haughton, you know, Margaret--is teaching in
Blankton High School; very busy, very happy, indeed, perfectly absorbed
in her work. I have a letter from her in my pocket this minute, that
came last night. Would you like to hear it?"
And amid a clamor of eager assent, she drew out the letter and read as
follows.
"'Dear Snowy: It is good to hear about all the jolly times at Camp. I
wish I could come, but see no way to it just now. Yes, I know school is
over, but there are the rank lists to make out, and all kinds of odd
end-of-the-year chores to be done; besides, two of my boys have
conditions to work out,--going to college in the fall,--and I am
tutoring them. They are two of the dearest boys that ever were, only not
very bright, and I have promised to stand by them.' This is the way she
behaves, after teaching all the year; she is incorrigible! 'All the
others passed without conditions, and three of them got honors, so I am
very proud and happy. This has been the best year of all; but then, I
say that every year, don't I? I do feel more and more that I am doing
the thing in the whole world that I like best to do.'
"The rest is just messages, and so on; but you see how happy she is, and
how utterly absorbed."
"My dear, it is _too_ amazing!" cried Viola Vincent. "The very thought
of teaching makes me simply dissolve with terror; little drops of water,
my dear, would be all that would be left of poor Vanity; not a grain of
sand to hold her together. Hush! let me tell you something! Last year I
tried to teach a class in Sunday school,--great, terrible boys, taller
than I was,--and I _almost_ expired, I assure you I did. They never knew
their lessons, and two of them made eyes at me, and the rest made faces
at each other; it was simply excruciating. Then the rector asked me if I
didn't think I could dress more simply; said I set an example, and so
on. I told him I was dressed like a broomstick then, as far as
simplicity was concerned, and so I was, simply and positively like a
broomstick; only my dress--it was a rose-colored foulard, _the_ most
angelic shade you ever saw, girls; just like a sunset cloud, somebody
said--happened to have ruffles to the waist, and ribbons fluttering
about more or less. He _said_ I fluttered, and I told him I certainly
did. 'I always flutter, Mr. Monk,' I said. 'When I don't flutter, I
shall be dead.' Which was true. He was quite peevish, but I was firm;
you know you _have_ to be firm about such things. Only, the next Sunday
he happened to come by when one of those great dreadful boys asked me if
Solomon's seal was tame, and I said I didn't think it was. Well, I
_didn't_! But he wrote me a note next day, saying he thought teaching
was not my _forte_, and perhaps I would like visiting better. I fully
agreed with him, so now I visit, and it is simply dandy. I just love
it!"
"Tell us about your visiting, Vi!" said Gertrude. "I am going to take it
up next winter, and I should like to know how you do it."
"My dear! Such sport! There are some dear old ladies I go to see,
perfect old ducks; in a Home, you know. I go once a week, and I put on
_all_ my frills, and never wear the same dress twice if I can help it,
and I tell them all about the parties I go to, and what I wear, and what
my partners are like, and about the suppers, and take them my German
favors, and they simply _love_ it! Mr. Monk thinks it's terrible that I
don't read them tracts; my dear, they abominate tracts, and so do I; we
found that out at once. So I read them the gayest, frilliest little
stories I can find, that are really _nice_, and they _adore_ it. One
day--my _dears_! will you promise never to breathe it if I tell you
something? never even to _sneeze_ it?"
"We promise! We promise!" cried all the girls.
"Well--hush! It was simply fierce; and _the_ greatest sport I ever had
in my life. There is one old lady in the Home who is too perfectly sweet
for anything. Miss Bathsheba Barry; did you ever hear such a delicious
name? She is just my height, and as pretty as a picture in her cap and
kerchief. They all wear caps and kerchiefs, and little gray gowns, the
most becoming costume you ever saw; I am going into the Home the very
minute my looks begin to go, because I _do_ look quite--but wait! Hush!
not a word! Well! I had been teasing Miss Barry for ever and ever so
long to let me dress up in her things, because I knew they would suit
me, and at last, one day, the dear old thing consented. It was the time
for the matron's afternoon visit, and she is very jolly, and I wanted to
surprise her. So I put on the little gray gown, and the delicious cap,
just like Rembrandt's mother, and the white net kerchief--don't you
adore white net, Snowy? it softens the face so!--and the apron; and then
I went and sat down in Miss Barry's chair by the window, with her
knitting, and put on her spectacles--oh! how she did laugh. Then we
heard steps, and Miss Barry went into the closet and shut the door all
but a crack to peep through, and I turned my head away from the door,
and knitted away for dear life. Oh, girls! The door opened, and I heard
Mrs. Poddle say, 'This way, gentlemen! This is Miss Barry's room.'
_Gentlemen!_ My dears, I thought I should pass away! Then there came
great, loud men's steps, and I heard Mr. Monk's voice--'This is one of
our most interesting inmates, Bishop! Eighty-seven years old, and as
sprightly as a girl. A most pious and exemplary person. Good morning,
Miss Barry! How is your rheumatism to-day?'
[Illustration: "'SIMPLY FIERCE, YOUR REVERENCE!' SAID I."]
"'Simply fierce, your reverence!' said I, in a little squeaky voice, as
like Miss Barry's as I could make it. I kept my face turned away, and
pretended to be counting stitches very hard.
"'Ahem!' said Mr. Monk. I could hear that he was surprised, for, of
course, Miss Barry wouldn't say 'simply fierce,' but it slipped out
before I knew it.
"'Miss Barry,' he said, 'I have brought Bishop Ballantyne to see you. I
am sure you will be glad to receive him.'
"'Oh, I should perfectly _love_ to see the Bishop!' I said; because
Bishop Ballantyne is simply a duck, an adorable duck; but still I did
not turn round; and I could hear Miss Barry squeaking with laughter in
the closet, and it was really getting quite awful. But now Mr. Monk
began to suspect something. I believe he thought I had been drinking, or
rather that Miss Barry had, poor old dear. He said, in a pretty awful
voice: 'What does this mean? Miss Barry, I desire that, if you are
unable to rise, you will at least turn round, and receive Bishop
Ballantyne in a fitting manner. I cannot conceive--I must beg you to
believe, Bishop, that this has never happened before. I am beyond
measure distressed. Miss Barry,--'
"And then he stopped, for I turned round. I had to, of course; there was
nothing else to do.
"'How do you do, Bishop Ballantyne?' I said. 'Can you tell me whether
Solomon's seal was tame or not?'
"For a minute they both stared as if they had seen a ghost; but then the
Bishop went off into a great roar of laughter, and I thought he would
laugh himself into fits, and me, too; and the more solemn Mr. Monk
looked, the more we laughed; and Miss Barry was cackling like a hen in
the closet--oh, it was great, girls, it truly was! At last Mr. Monk had
to laugh too, he couldn't help it; it was simply too utter, you know. He
said I was enough to break up an entire parish; and the Bishop said he
would take me into his, cap and all. And then the matron came back, and
Miss Barry came out, and we all stayed to tea, the Bishop and Mr. Monk
and I, and had the time of our lives; at least, I did.
"So you see, girls, visiting _can_ be the greatest sport in the world,
if you only know how to do it. But we all had to promise Mr. Monk and
Mrs. Poddle not to tell, because they said it was enough to break up the
discipline of the Home, and I suppose it was."