One day, a few weeks later, as Mr. Sherwood was returning from his office,
he was much surprised to meet Mr. Plaisted on the street, and he stopped
and spoke to him cordially.
"Why, Sherwood! is it you? I never expected to meet you here," and Mr.
Plaisted shook hands with his former partner.
"I am settled here now," replied Mr. Sherwood. "What are you doing in this
part of the country?"
"I am travelling for a New York firm; just arrived in town this morning.
Did I understand you to say you were living here?"
"Yes; we removed from Halifax some time ago. Here is the address; drop in
and see us before you leave town, if you are not pressed for time," and he
handed him a card.
"Thanks! I shall be pleased to call this evening, my kind regards to the
family," and raising their hats the men separated, with but a passing
thought of their former differences.
The presence of Plaisted in the town was a great surprise to the Sherwood
family, and Dexie heard of his intended visit with a frown.
"I am astonished, papa, that you could ask him to call after all that has
happened; but it is like his impudence to accept the invitation, which he
might know was more an act of courtesy than a desire to renew his
acquaintance."
"Let bygones be forgotten, Dexie; it is poor policy to remember old scores
too long. It is enough that there will never be any more business relations
between us. His stay in town is likely to be short, so there is no fear
that he will trouble any of us long."
"Well, I hope you will be careful, and not say anything that he can
misconstrue into an invitation to remain with us overnight. But it will be
just like him to stay, and stay, and stay, till it is too late to go back
to the hotel," said Dexie. "But if he manages, after all, to foist himself
upon us, I'll take a cook's privilege and leave the house--until he is out
of it in the morning, anyway. So remember, papa, I have 'given warning,'"
and she shook her finger at him as she turned to leave the room.
But there was no frown on Gussie's face when she heard of Plaisted's
expected visit. She was only anxious to appear at her best, so she retired
to her chamber and spent the intervening time over a toilet that was meant
to impress Mr. Plaisted afresh. She was ready as ever to turn a listening
ear to his flattery, though she had ample opportunity to realize how empty
and meaningless were his words.
The family were assembled in the parlor when Mr. Plaisted was announced,
and he found no cause to complain of his reception, for even Dexie's cool
bow and formal greeting were so much like her former treatment of him that
when she ignored his offered hand he did not resent it openly. But in his
heart he vowed to "get even" with her. The frigid stare with which she
regarded him when he attempted to draw her into conversation reminded him
of past discomfitures, and, forgetting that he seldom came off victor when
crossing swords with Dexie, he determined to pay off old scores with
interest. As his business kept him in town for several days, his calls were
quite frequent, but he found no chance of annoying Dexie, save by the one
small and spiteful way of addressing her as "Miss Dexter," and the quick,
angry glance that was flashed at him as he said it told that she resented
it.
One afternoon, when he was in the parlor chatting with Gussie, Dexie came
into the room on some errand, and her slight bow of recognition gave him an
opportunity to ask, in his sneering manner, if she was "keeping her smiles
for the disconsolate lovers she had left behind her in Halifax?"
A sharp retort rose to her lips, but she repressed it, and her lip curled
with scorn as she answered his sallies in the coolest terms that common
civility allowed. He might as well have tried his cutting speeches on an
iceberg for all the satisfaction he received, so he dropped back to the
only source of annoyance at his command.
"Can I trouble you for a drink of water, Miss _Dexter_?" he said, with a
malicious grin.
Dexie took no notice of this request, knowing it was made only for the
purpose of using her detested name.
He repeated his request a second time, and even Gussie flushed at his
offensive tone, though she called Dexie's attention to the request.
"Dexie, Mr. Plaisted asks for a drink. Where are your manners?"
"I have sent them away for repairs, Gussie dear," Dexie replied, in her
sweetest tone, "and I fear they will not be returned to me until after Mr.
Plaisted has taken his departure. Very sorry, but they have experienced
such a strain these few days past that they were about worn out."
"Dexie, I am ashamed of you! Bring a drink of water for Mr. Plaisted
directly!"
"My dearest Gussie, if Mr. Plaisted wants a drink, pray get it for him
yourself," was the soft and sweet reply, "for he will surely die of thirst
before Dexter brings him a drop. Allow me to suggest that, as an
alternative, you can ring for the servant to wait on him, or lead him to
the pump like any other--beast," and unmoved by the looks cast upon her she
passed into the next room.
"You brought that upon yourself, Mr. Plaisted, but I am very, very sorry,"
said Gussie, who felt all the insolence of the words that were spoken with
such suavity. "Why will you call her _Dexter_ when you know that it makes
her throw aside all civility?"
"Well, it _is_ too bad, I will allow," replied Plaisted, "but I own that I
have only myself to blame when I provoke her into making such stinging
retorts; but the temptation to tease her is irresistible, and I owe her for
a good many tricks she has played on me."
"Well, were I in your place, I would not call her 'Dexter' any more; though
if your experience of her is not warning enough, I need say nothing more."
"Well, I must admit that she has always had the best of it so far; but I
will take good care she has no chance to repeat any of her former
tactics--though, if I am not mistaken, I have good cause to remember every
visit I ever made to your house, thanks to her. However, I ought to take
the old proverb to heart, 'Those that live in glass houses should not throw
stones,' for I should feel vexed enough if my second name were thrown at me
in the same manner. It is quite as odious to me as 'Dexter' is to her."
"What is your second name? 'D.S.' are your initials, are they not?"
"Yes; but you would never guess what the 'S.' stands for. When I was a
little shaver my father was particularly interested in the history of the
Prophet Daniel and his three friends, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, and
I believe he fully intended to name me after the four of them; but at my
christening mother drew the line at Shadrach. I am just as close regarding
my second name as Dexie is about her own--so close, in fact, that not one
of my schoolmates ever found it out."
"But did they never ask what the 'S.' stood for?" Gussie asked.
"Of course! but Dan_u_el gave it as Samuel, and had to answer to the name
of 'Dan_u_el Sam_u_el'; but that was better than the changes they would
have rung on my right name."
Dexie was an unintentional listener to this explanation, and it did not
raise Mr. Plaisted in her estimation. It was so like him to treat another
in a way he would object to himself; but after awhile the name came back to
her, "Shadrach." Where had she seen or heard that name before? "Shadrach;
Shadrach," she mused. "I have it!" she said at last; "the 'Widow Bedott'!"
and with the thought she flew up the stairs like a whirlwind.
Dexie was soon in the attic kneeling beside an old box filled with books
and papers. All housekeepers are apt to know by experience the state and
condition of this box, and to possess its counterpart in some out
of-the-way corner of the house. After a diligent search Dexie was rewarded
by finding a package of loose leaves which once formed a much-loved volume.
The very leaf she wanted seemed lost; but to her great joy a leaf, crumpled
and torn, proved to be the object of her search. She smoothed it out
carefully, glanced over it, and then laughed softly to herself.
"Now it is my turn, 'dear Shadrach, my Shad.' With the help of 'Widow
Bedott,' I fancy I can impress this visit upon your mind quite as indelibly
as your unwelcome visits in Halifax," and she slipped the loose leaves into
her pocket.
Still, as yet she had no definite plan in her mind as to how she would play
her game of retaliation; but during the evening she heard her father
inquire how long Mr. Plaisted intended to remain in the town.
"I leave the day after to-morrow," Plaisted replied. "I have an appointment
in H---- on the fifteenth."
"Oh, to-morrow is St. Valentine's day!" cried Gussie. "I really had
forgotten it. You must send me a valentine to remember you by"--this to
Plaisted, who had seated himself beside her on the sofa.
"Am I likely to be forgotten without some reminder?" was the low-spoken
reply. "I was hoping something quite different."
The mention of valentines gave Dexie an idea, and during the evening she
visited several stores where these tokens of sentiment were kept for sale,
but found nothing in the shape of a picture that would suit the verses of
tender sentiment so touchingly expressed for her beloved Shadrach by the
fair widow.
As she was returning home she passed a little shop, the windows of which
were decorated with valentines of the one and two cent variety, and one of
these caught her attention. It was one of the most common sort, and showed
in variegated colors a large fish with two tails for legs, two elongated
fins for arms, on one of which was a basket containing some smaller
specimens of its own species, while the other held to its mouth the
melodious fish-horn that delights our ears every morning.
Purchasing this caricature of a shad, she pasted below it a version of the
affectionate lines of Widow Bedott; then enclosing it in an elaborate
envelope, she addressed it with many flourishes to:
"MR. DANUEL SHADRACH PLAISTED,"
and carried it herself to the post office.
As she passed the fish market her attention was attracted by some very fine
shad displayed for sale, and they immediately suggested a further means of
accomplishing her revenge, so she ordered a supply.
Dexie sought her mother directly she arrived home.
"Don't you think we might ask Mr. Plaisted to dinner to-morrow, mamma?" she
asked.
"Please yourself, Dexie; but if he is asked, you must see about the dinner
yourself. It will not do to trust Eliza to get up anything extra, you
know."
"The dinner shall be well served, but I have a favor to ask, mamma. If Mr.
Plaisted is present, will you praise or condemn the fish course--at the
table, I mean; praise it highly, or condemn it heartily."
"Well, I cannot see your object in making such a request, Dexie," said her
mother in surprise, "but I will not be indifferent, if that is what you
mean."
The next morning, when Mr. Sherwood was drawing on his gloves to go to his
office, Dexie followed him out to the hall, and as she brushed a few specks
from his coat, asked:
"If you see Mr. Plaisted this morning, will you send or bring him up to
dinner; but don't say that I told you to ask him?"
"Well, what's in the wind now? I thought you did not care for Mr.
Plaisted's society," regarding her intently.
"An invitation to dinner does not mean that I have changed my opinion of
him, does it? He has been quite unbearable, so I'm going to 'heap coals of
fire on his head.'"
The roguish gleam in her eyes, and the smile she could not conceal, made
her father think that there was more in the invitation than he understood,
and he surmised that the "coals of fire" were not absolutely figurative.
"All right! I'll see that he gets the invitation. What shall I order for
dinner?"
"Nothing, papa; I have everything ready for our expected guest, so don't
let him disappoint me."
"Hum-m! there's something up, sure enough; though I can't see through it
yet," he said to himself as he walked thoughtfully away.
"So far, so good," said Dexie, _sotto voce_. "How I wish I could have seen
Shadrach when he opened his valentine this morning!"
Dexie would have felt satisfied that her shaft had struck home had she seen
Plaisted when he had "taken in" the contents of his valentine.
He had stepped into the office to mail Gussie's valentine, and was much
surprised when a beautiful envelope was placed in his hands. It held
something very sweet and delicate, no doubt, and as he turned aside he
pressed it to his lips.
Observing the name of Shadrach, he felt sure it must have come from Gussie;
no one else knew his second name, so she must have sent this sweet
love-token. It was hardly fair to write out his name in full; but, of
course, it was only done to make known the identity of the sender. He
thrust it into his pocket and hastened to his hotel, where in the privacy
of his own room he could enjoy it without interruption. The loving words he
expected to find were certainly there, yet as he read them a dark frown
gathered on his brow:
"Dear Danuel Shadrach! thy valentine speaks,
While the rosy red blushes surmantle her cheeks;
And the joys of requital brings tears to her eye.
Now, Shadrach! my Shadrach! I'm yours till I die.
"The heart that was scornful and cold as a stone,
Rejoices to hear the sweet sound of your name;
Farewell to the miseries and griefs I have had,
But I cannot forget them! dear Shadrach! my Shad!
"Dear Shadrach! my Shadrach! my troubles are o'er,
My name in its fulness you'll whisper no more;
Or your own sweet cognomen will make you feel sad,
For I hold the whip-handle! Oh Shadrach! my Shad!"
Mr. Plaisted read the lines over several times before he comprehended their
meaning, or understood what connection the absurd picture had with them;
but when the whole force of the matter struck him, his rage was
uncontrollable. He crumpled the valentine in his hands and threw it with
all his force towards the fire, but in his anger he aimed too high, and it
struck against the wall and bounced back at him, as if those hateful words
were hurling themselves at him.
"Ha! if I only knew who sent that, I'd--"
Words failed to express the punishment awaiting the author of those
insulting verses. But wait! did he know the handwriting? at thought of
Dexie Sherwood's previous productions coming to his mind. Ah! that last
verse seemed to throw out a hint! He looked at his tormentor closely, and
doubted. That envelope, yes, Gussie must have sent it, for she had spelled
his name "Danuel." He never would have thought that Gussie would be guilty
of such a thing. He would go away on the next train and never look on her
face again. Yes, he would go at once, and forget the whole cursed
stuff--said "cursed stuff" being the affectionate lines which continued to
haunt him after the manner of the mind-destroying craze which Mark Twain
inflicted on a later generation, "Punch, brothers, punch with care;" for as
he walked down the street the words kept time to his feet, the train bells
echoed them, and it was those very words that pealed a warning at the
crossing. So intent were his thoughts on the affectionate lines that he was
oblivious to everything around him, and Mr. Sherwood spoke his name twice
before Plaisted awoke from his reverie.
He felt inclined to refuse the kindly-worded invitation to dinner which Mr.
Sherwood extended to him, but, on second thoughts, accepted it; he would
satisfy himself as to whether Gussie sent the valentine or not. But it took
only a few questions to assure him that Gussie was innocent, after all, and
she seemed so offended when he asked if she had told his name to anyone
that he felt compelled to believe she knew nothing of the matter. Gussie
was too much enraptured with her own valentine to take much note of
Plaisted's abstracted manner, for even the sight of Gussie's pretty face
did not put aside the memory of those tormenting lines.
But his torture was only begun. Dexie was determined to crowd into a few
hours the annoyance he had spread over several days in her case. Her plans
were well laid, and she had even studied a book of statistics for his
benefit. A few minutes before dinner was announced, while Gussie was adding
a few touches to her toilet, Dexie came into her room, and, after a few
general remarks, said: "Mr. Plaisted has come to dinner, has he not?"
"Yes, papa sent him up. I hope you have something nice for dinner, Dexie."
This was the very question that Dexie hoped to hear, so she replied: "Oh!
yes, I think it will pass. There is some nicely-cooked shad for the fish
course; but if that does not suit Mr. Plaisted's fancy, there is sufficient
besides. Say, Gussie, I don't often ask a favor, but I wish to-day you
would praise the shad."
"Praise the shad! Why on earth should I praise the shad! If it is cooked
nice, isn't that enough?"
"No, Gussie, not for this occasion; I'm afraid Mr. Plaisted will not be
partial to shad, but if the rest of us seem to like it, of course he cannot
refuse it."
"Oh! all right. I'll not only praise the shad, but I'll make Mr. Plaisted
think there is nothing I like better."
Gussie hastened down to the parlor, where Mr. Plaisted was waiting, while
Dexie threw herself into a chair in muffled shrieks of laughter.
"There, now, I guess I can keep a straight face till the time arrives;" and
a few minutes later she followed the family to the dining-room.
There was certainly nothing amiss in the manner of the cooking or serving
of the shad, and the presence of this particular fish at the table did not
strike Plaisted as unusual, until Mr. Sherwood asked if he would be "helped
to shad."
His mind by this time had become almost normal, but that one word threw him
back into his former state, and brought again that tormenting refrain,
"Dear Shadrach! my Shad!" He glared at the dish containing the fish as if
he would annihilate it; but, hastily collecting his scattering senses, he
took the plate Mr. Sherwood passed him, thinking it a strange coincidence
that the never-till-now hated fish should be thrust before him at this
moment. He tried to be his natural self, but those haunting lines had full
possession of him, and every mouthful seemed to choke him.
Dexie was watching him closely, and felt sure that his abstraction was due
to the one cause, and she silently enjoyed his discomfiture.
Gussie, who sat opposite, also noticed it, and remembering her promise to
Dexie, began:
"Oh! Mr. Plaisted, I'm afraid you do not care for shad! How unfortunate
that we happen to have it for dinner to-day! We are all very fond of shad,
myself especially, and this is very nicely cooked, just to my liking," and
she gave Dexie a sideward look.
"Yes, we _all_ like shad, even to the cat," said the irrepressible Georgie.
"I found her with her nose in the basket the first thing."
"Be quiet, sir!" said the father sternly, and Georgie obediently subsided,
while Dexie could hardly repress a giggle.
"Let me help you to another piece, Plaisted," said Mr. Sherwood. "What! not
any more? It is not often we get such good shad in an inland town. Halifax
is the place for fine shad! In the season, when the catch is fair, you can
get your pick for a song almost, but here, I expect, their scarcity makes
them of more value."
"Yes," replied Dexie, "they are rather dear, _dear shad_," and she looked
intently at her plate, well knowing how Plaisted was glaring at her. "Yes,"
she added, "I call them dear shad when one has to pick over such a quantity
of bones before getting a satisfactory mouthful, don't you, Mr. Plaisted?"
But Mr. Plaisted laid down his knife and fork, and returned her look with
interest.
"I fear you are not making a dinner at all, Mr. Plaisted," Mrs. Sherwood
put in. "You do not seem to care for shad."
"No! I detest them, though I was not aware of the fact till to-day," he
replied.
"They are not cooked to your liking, I fear! I wish, Dexie, you had looked
after them a little better. How do you prefer your shad cooked, Mr.
Plaisted?" she added, in a concerned voice.
"I do not care for shad in any shape or form," he said, rather shortly,
which caused everyone to look up in dismay, all except Dexie, and she
seemed intent on finding the minutest bone.
"I am very sorry! You should have spoken about it sooner. Eliza, remove Mr.
Plaisted's plate. I hope we have something else you can relish."
He made a show at eating what was set before him, but it was hard work.
Could his entertainers talk of nothing else but shad? It appeared not, for
when the conversation seemed about to turn to other things a skilfully put
question, or a bit of information, brought the fish back to be discussed in
another light; consequently, the shad question was pretty well sifted. The
method of catching them, the amount caught during the last season, the
catch of the previous year compared with other years; in fact, Dexie seemed
to have the fishing reports at her finger-ends, or at the end of her
tongue, to speak literally, and Mr. Sherwood seemed delighted with the
chance to air the knowledge he possessed to such an attentive listener. But
Mr. Plaisted's thoughts were elsewhere; he was repeating to himself the
lines he had no power to forget, and when dinner was over he was almost a
mental wreck.
Dexie was exulting in his misery, and was longing to let him know she was
the author of it.
When they entered the parlor, Mr. Sherwood turned to Dexie, saying: "Give
us some music, Dexie; something to cheer us up and drive away the blues,"
and he nodded at Plaisted, who had thrown himself into a chair.
But seated at the piano, Dexie still kept up the torture of the dinner
table by selecting songs that suggested fishing, or fishermen's daughters,
until Plaisted rose and walked the floor in ill-concealed distress.
Feeling the crisis near at hand, she tried to think of something that would
"cap the climax," but as nothing occurred to her, she added a verse
impromptu to what she was singing:
"Oh! father dear, I've caught a fish; I'm sure it is a shad;
Pray help me take him off the hook; you see he's hurt so bad!"
This was too much for Plaisted. Taking a sudden turn he faced his
tormentor, but she heeded not his angry looks.
"I tell you what, Sherwood!" and he wheeled around angrily, "if I had a
daughter who would play such stuff as that, I'd--I'd smash the piano to
atoms!" and he brought his fist down on the table with a crash.
"What do you mean, sir!" and Mr. Sherwood was on his feet in a moment.
"Your words and actions are insulting!" By this time Dexie was by her
father's side, ready to give the finishing stroke to her enemy, and gently
pressing her father's arm, said:
"Let me settle this affair, papa. I think, Mr. Plaisted, we can cry quits
from to-day. You have found great delight in calling me 'Dexter.' I hope
you are equally delighted to hear your own name repeated in its most
obnoxious form. I find there is nothing more effective for a man of your
stamp than to treat him as he delights to treat others. It is through my
exertions that you have _enjoyed_ yourself so much to-day, and if you ever
wish to have the pleasure repeated, just call me 'Dexter,' and I'll do my
best to repeat the entertainment."
Everyone looked at Dexie in surprise, and fearing that Plaisted might still
have doubts as to her meaning, she swept him an elaborate courtesy, as she
said:
"Good-bye, my dear Shadrach! don't forget in the future that 'I hold the
whip-handle, dear Shadrach, my Shad!'" and before the family realized what
this scene meant, Dexie had left the room and her voice was heard in the
hall singing:
"Farewell to thee, oh Shadrach! my dearest Shad, adieu;
But Dexter has hereafter the upper hand of you."
Plaisted was about to spring after her when Mr. Sherwood caught his arm.
"What does all this mean, Plaisted? Explain yourself, sir!"
"It means that I am the victim of the most diabolical practical joke that
was ever perpetrated on an individual, and it appears that Miss Dexie is at
the bottom of it, though you have all assisted her in carrying it out."
"If there is any joke afloat I am entirely ignorant of it, Plaisted, I
assure you," said Mr. Sherwood. "I see that something is amiss, but I have
no idea what it is, though apparently Dexie is not so innocent."
"Let me explain," cried Mr. Plaisted. "Miss Dexie has, in some way, found
out what my second name is, and that it is as hateful to me as 'Dexter' is
to her, and she has made it the subject of a very cruel joke. As I supposed
that nobody knew my full name, you can judge of my surprise when I
received this from the office," and he held forth the valentine.
"Oh! that's only a valentine, Plaisted. You surely did not allow such a
little thing to disturb you?" said Mr. Sherwood.
"But see what the envelope contains," he urged, bringing out the bedecked
fish.
But if he expected any sympathy, he was disappointed, for when Mr.
Sherwood's eyes rested on the figure and read the lines beneath, shout
after shout of laughter rang through the room, and when Gussie stepped over
to see what the paper contained her shrill laughter joined the chorus.
"Well, it serves you just right, Mr. Plaisted," said she. "I told you she
would make you repent it if you used her name so freely. But I wonder how
she found out your name? Could she have been in the back parlor while we
were talking?"
"I believe she was!" Plaisted replied. "But the shad for dinner? Need you
have added that? The valentine was punishment enough!"
Another shout of laughter from Mr. Sherwood, and Gussie's perplexed looks
gave place to an amused smile.
"Dexie planned it herself! Ha! ha! ha! I see it all!" and Mr. Sherwood
roared again. "She marked this out as a day of punishment for you,
Plaisted, and she has carried it out pretty well! Ha! ha! It was she
herself who told me to ask you to dinner, saying she had everything ready
for you, and was going to 'heap coals of fire' on your head because you had
been treating her badly. Ha! ha! Guess you are pretty well scorched, sure
enough!" and he leaned back in his chair and wiped his hot face.
"Yes, she _has_ scorched me! Those verses are burnt into my memory and
repeat themselves in spite of me. But you seemed to have studied up the
whole business of shad-fishing just for the occasion."
"But, on my honor, Plaisted, I was entirely ignorant that my talk was
annoying you. Come to think of it, Dexie herself kept me at it. How she
must have enjoyed it!" and he laughed again. "I thought it strange that
she ordered shad for dinner," said Mrs. Sherwood. "Yet she actually asked
me to scold her before you all if they were not cooked satisfactorily."
"You will not have a chance to call her 'Dexter' again," said Gussie,
"unless you want to be addressed as Shadrach or Shad. Whichever you dislike
the most, you will be sure to get. Now I understand what she meant when she
asked me before dinner if I would praise the shad," and she joined her
father's laugh; it was so contagious.
"Well, I will be compelled to cry quits, sure enough," said Plaisted; "but
I never suspected that she could make such comical verses."
"Oh! that is second-hand poetry, Plaisted. She has been misquoting the
'Widow Bedott' for your benefit," said Mr. Sherwood.
"And who is the 'Widow Bedott'?"
"She is a character in a most amusing book. Let me advise you to take her
as a travelling companion with you to-morrow. After you have read about her
Shadrach, the poetry won't trouble you as being too personal."
A short time later Mr. Plaisted left the house, but his day's experience
still rankled, and he could truthfully say it was the most unpleasant day
he had ever spent. He mentally resolved that should he ever spend another
hour in the society of Dexie Sherwood he would treat her with the greatest
respect, for his day's punishment would be a lasting reminder of her power
of retaliation.