When Mr. Sherwood returned from New York, he was accompanied by a Mr.
Plaisted, a gentleman of a speculative turn of mind, who had attached
himself to Mr. Sherwood with a persistency that showed he had "the cheek of
a drummer," and he had invited himself to accompany Mr. Sherwood to his
home in Halifax. Although fond of horses, there was nothing about the
appearance of Mr. Plaisted to suggest the jockey: he was what would have
been termed in a later day a fair specimen of the genus dude. He was of
medium height, and was decidedly foppish in his manner, and with his
elaborate neck-ties and perfumed curls, he was, in his own estimation at
least, quite irresistible. His hands and feet were unusually small for a
man. The latter he was very proud of, always encasing them in boots of the
very latest style; and, no doubt, the "cold cream" and other cosmetics
which he nightly used helped to give his hands and face the fair appearance
that so delighted himself.
His presence in the household seemed to have an opposite effect on the twin
girls. Gussie was delighted with his fine appearance and gallant speeches,
but Dexie seemed to see the ignoble nature behind and kept him at a
distance.
A few evenings after his arrival, when the family were assembled in the
parlor, Mr. Plaisted, who was leaning back in his chair, in an attitude
peculiar to Americans, asked: "Have you a son living in Boston, Sherwood? I
met a young fellow in a broker's office bearing your name. Any relation of
yours?"
"No, neither a son nor a relation; this is my only boy," Mr. Sherwood
replied, reaching for Georgie's ear in a playful manner.
"Ah! that's a pity now! a grown-up son would have been some use to you. If
one of the twins had happened to be a boy, you would have had quite an
assistant by now."
Dexie was sitting behind the window curtain, watching the passers-by. She
resented this speech, and the rude way it was uttered provoked her into
replying:
"One does not need to be born a boy to be of use in this world, allow me
to tell you, Mr. Plaisted! for in all things that he needs help, I am my
father's boy--not ghost!" she laughingly added, as Plaisted, startled by
her sudden appearance, almost overbalanced in his chair.
"Bless me! I didn't notice you were there, Miss Dexie," said he, regaining
his equilibrium with an effort. "Guess you've been studying Shakespeare for
my benefit, eh, Miss Dexie?"
"Oh! that's just like Dexie," said Gussie, with a frown. "She always likes
to make a scene when she can. She will want to go on the stage, I expect,
by and by."
"What nonsense! Gussie," said Dexie, smiling good-naturedly, "when all the
theatrical performances we are allowed to attend are those that take place
up in the attic."
"Oh! come now, Miss Dexie. How often do you slip off to plays with that
young chap next door?" said Plaisted, with a sly wink at Gussie. "I often
see you down street together."
"Your eyesight must be remarkably good, then," was the icy reply, "for I
think no one else can accuse me of 'slipping off' with any person."
"By the way, Miss Dexie, I have been wondering what your name is, ever
since I came. Is it an abbreviation or a nick-name?" said Plaisted, anxious
to turn the conversation. "I have never met with a young lady bearing your
name before."
"And you are not likely to meet one again," was the quick reply, as a flush
of anger covered her face.
Mr. Sherwood looked across at Dexie, knowing full well that Plaisted could
not have broached a more unfortunate subject. Dexie's full name was her
chief annoyance, so he answered in a quiet tone, "Her name is Dexter, but
she would like us all to forget the fact, and call her Dexie instead."
"Since Mr. Plaisted is so inquisitive, it would be wise to gratify his
curiosity at once, and have done with it," and Dexie turned sharply around
and faced the rest. "He had better learn the whole of our names, and the
history of them as well, and then, perhaps, he will be kind enough to drop
the subject forever. Here is the story: At the time father was married he
was doing business in Augusta, Maine; but it happened, unfortunately, that
mother was born and brought up in Dexter. For some reason, that I have
never been able to fathom, when we twins appeared we were honored by being
called after those respective places! Gussie was the smartest and
best-looking baby, I suppose, so she was selected to bear the name of the
capital city, while I had to bear the burden of Dexter! It is a wonder how
I managed to survive the christening, for the very name was enough to
finish one! Oh! I have wished a thousand times that the town of Dexter had
been visited by a conflagration, and wiped out of existence, before
mother's people ever went there! But there! I daresay they would have gone
to Skowhegan! Norrigewock! Mattawamkeg! or some other place with an
outlandish name, and, of course, I should have been named after it, just
the same! Dexie is bad enough, but Skowie, think of it!"
A peal of laughter interrupted Dexter's hot-spoken words; but the mention
of her name always touched a tender spot, and she added, in an injured
tone, that made her father smile in spite of himself:
"And there is Louie. Everybody thinks her name is Louisa, so she escapes
the questions of the curious; but her name is Louisiana, after the State
where grandma's old home is. We were there for a long visit when she was a
baby, and she is not likely to forget that fact all her life. Then papa has
a sister in Georgia; so of course we went to see her, too; but her
plantation was so lovely we were all delighted when papa consented to stay
there a year or two and help Uncle Edward set out some new groves, and get
everything in good running order. We were there when Georgie was born, so
he got off comparatively easy; but then! boys always do!"
Plaisted's shouts of laughter forbade further expressions of displeasure,
and Dexie turned her back again and looked out the window, while she
regained her composure. Nothing so aroused her indignation as the mention
of her name consequently few knew what it really was. Louie liked her
name, for by bearing it she became her grandmother's favorite, and Gussie
could look on the matter with indifference.
"I quite sympathize with Dexie," said Mrs. Sherwood, "but her father has a
New Englander's love for novel names, and gives no thought to the
unnecessary burden that it puts upon the children, one which they have to
bear all their lives."
"Oh! well, Gussie can't complain, I'm sure," said Mr. Sherwood. "No one
will become inquisitive over her name," he laughingly added.
"I have no doubt that Miss Gussie feels thankful she secured first choice,"
said Plaisted, "and that her good looks entitled her to it," and he looked
over at Gussie with bold admiration in his glance.
"I don't think looks had anything to do with it," said Mr. Sherwood, "else
this curly pate would have had first choice," reaching over to pass his
hand over the brown rings of hair.
"Seems to me this conversation is much too personal," said Dexie, rising
from her seat. "I think a change would be welcome to one and all," and she
sat down before the piano.
Mr. Sherwood smiled his approval. He was very proud of his daughter's
musical ability, for she could sing and play to suit the taste of any
audience, and could arouse the inner emotions of those who had any feelings
that were capable of being stirred at all. One of her accomplishments,
which she seldom exhibited before strangers, was that of whistling. Few
people have heard the exquisite notes that can be produced by an adept in
the art, but there are whistlers and whistlers, whose notes differ as much
as those of the linnet and the crow. While accompanying herself on the
piano, Dexie could produce such wonderful trills and quavers, with such
purity of tone, that she could almost rival the very birds themselves, and
she never failed to surprise and charm all that heard her. Wishing to
please her father, as well as convince Mr. Plaisted that her name did not
make her a "ninny," she selected some of her best pieces and sang her most
charming songs; then, after a few soft notes, she broke into a bird-song,
whistling the notes so faithfully true that Mr. Plaisted was startled as
well as delighted, and the conversation he had begun with Gussie came to an
abrupt end.
"Well, Miss Dexie, I must confess that you have surprised me," said he, as
Dexie resumed her seat at the window. "I never heard the equal of that from
the boards of any concert-room in New York. No one would object to paying
'dear for his whistle,' if that quality was purchasable. You would make a
fortune on the stage."
"I hope Dexie will never use her whistle as a money-making gift," said her
father; "but I think, myself, it is about as pretty music as one ever
hears."
"You can bet your life, Sherwood, she would create such a furore in musical
circles that she would make something besides money for you. Bring her out,
Sherwood; it will pay you better than speculating with horses."
"Heaven forbid!" replied Mr. Sherwood, extremely annoyed at the way
Plaisted spoke of his favorite daughter. "I fancy I can make a comfortable
living for my family, without turning my daughter into a public character."
"Thank you, papa," came the clear-cut tones from the window; "but pray do
not waste any more sentiment on Mr. Plaisted. He happens to be one of that
kind of men who would sell their own mothers for profit! But he can't help
it, poor man, he was born that way!" and before Plaisted could recover from
his surprise, Dexie had left the room.
"That was a pretty good slap, and no mistake," exclaimed Plaisted as he
drew out his handkerchief to wipe his hot face. "I meant no offence,
Sherwood, 'pon honor."
"Well, as my daughter did not take it so, be kind enough to be more guarded
in your remarks in the future. However, in a battle of words, I fancy she
is able to hold her own, and come off victor every time, too."
The matter was dismissed with a laugh, though memory lingered long over the
plain-spoken words; but in his secret heart Mr. Sherwood was glad that
Dexie had so answered this New York gentleman. Dexie had won her position
in her father's heart by her prompt and willing service. She it was who
could be depended on to do the numberless little tasks, insignificant in
themselves, perhaps, but of the greatest moment when taken together, for
the joy and comfort of home-life very largely depends on the way these
little things are attended to. Her sister, Gussie, was too fond of pleasing
herself to be of much service to others; but Dexie was quick to see
another's need, and she found it a pleasure to wait on her dear papa, who,
however active and energetic he might be when about his business, dearly
loved to be waited on when once he was inside his own home. He always found
Dexie willing and ready to give all her time for his pleasure. She had even
changed the style of her handwriting so as to help her father with his
correspondence, and she proved herself such an able assistant that, on
giving her verbal instructions, she could write out his letters quite as
clearly and business-like as if his own hand held the pen. Once, in Dexie's
absence, he had pressed Gussie into service, but Mr. Sherwood never
repeated the request, for Gussie's writing resembled the "sprawls of a
many-legged spider that had fallen into the ink bottle, and then wiped his
legs on the writing-paper," according to Mr. Sherwood's description of it.
But Gussie was pretty if she was not useful. She was a perfect blonde, with
a wealth of yellow hair, which she twisted round her head like a golden
coronet. Her eyes were as blue as fresh spring violets, and her slight,
willowy figure gave promise of much grace when fully developed. Her twin
sister, Dexie, was much unlike her in every way, having dark brown eyes,
while a mass of short, light-brown curls covered the well-poised head,
giving her something of a boyish air. She had a clear complexion, but was
not so fair as Gussie, and her figure was shorter and more rounded. She was
quick and alert in all her movements, and laughed when Gussie called her a
tomboy, but she was only thoroughly wide-awake, and enjoyed life with a
zest that was but natural in a girl of her years. She scorned the languid
air that Gussie affected, and looked with disdain on the one-legged storks
that her sister delighted to transfer to canvas, and she wondered how it
was possible for anyone to sit for hours over a bit of fancywork the
usefulness of which was doubtful; but this was the only kind of _work_ that
Gussie ever cared to do.
Since Aunt Jennie had taken up her abode in the family, Dexie had found
great delight in solving some of the mysteries of cookery, and the
toothsome articles she evolved, under her aunt's direction, were exhibited
with as much pride as Gussie felt when she adorned the new sofa pillow with
such gorgeous butterflies that no one dared use it thereafter. But Dexie
was at her best when seated before the piano; then her face glowed with a
beauty far exceeding that of her sister's, for the soul shone in her face,
and she would make the instrument respond to her feelings like a human
being. However ruffled her state of mind might be--for, be it known, Dexie
was not blessed with a very even temper--she could pour out her troubles to
her beloved instrument, as she would to a dear friend, and she always found
peace and consolation there.