and gazing at Nannie, and she did look sweet, sitting there in the
firelight. Nora is very pretty,--her features are so regular; but Nannie
has a _dear_ face: her brown eyes are big and shining, and her hair is
so thick and pretty; it's light brown, and little locks of it get loose
and curl up round her forehead and ears, and when she talks and laughs I
think she's every bit as pretty as Nora. Somehow there's a look about
Nannie's face that makes you know you can trust her through and through;
I tell you I'm awfully glad she's in the family; in fact, I don't know
what we'd any of us do without her, from papa to Alan.
Well, we told Max every single thing that had happened--good, bad, and
indifferent--since he went away, including, of course, about Phil's
going to college, and Fee's not going, and about aunt Lindsay's present
to Fee and Nannie,--all talking together, and as loud as we pleased (we
always do with Max) until we came to the new people that had moved in
across the way--and what do you suppose? Max knows them!
"They are the Ervengs," he said, "and the boy's name is
Hilliard,--Hilliard Erveng. The father is a partner in a large Boston
publishing house that has just opened an agency here, and I shouldn't
wonder if Erveng were in charge of the agency by his taking a house in
New York. That's the firm I thought would buy your father's book, if
he'd only finish it; but from what he told me this afternoon, it's
still a long way from completion." He glanced at Nannie as he spoke,
and she nodded her head sadly. "I used to know Erveng; he was a
classmate of mine," went on Max, thoughtfully, wrinkling up his
eyebrows at the fire. "I wonder how it would do to rake up the
acquaintance again, and bring him over unexpectedly to call on the
professor,"--papa's friends all call him Professor Rose,--"and
surprise him into showing Erveng the manuscript!"
[Illustration: "'THE BOY'S NAME IS HILLIARD ERVENG.'"]
"Oh, Max, that would never, never do," cried Nannie, quickly. "You know
how averse papa is to showing his work to any one; he couldn't do it,
I'm sure, and it might make him very angry."
"And yet, if he _did_ show it, think what a benefit to you all it might
be; for I am convinced the work is one that would be an acquisition to
the reading public; and Erveng would recognise that at once. Think of
what it means for all of you, Nancy Lee," urged Max,--"college for
Felix, drawing lessons for Nora, a fine violin for you, gymnasium for
Betty, a splendid military school for Jack,"--here Jack broke in rudely
with, "_Don't_ want any military school, this one's bad enough," and
was silenced by Phil's hand being laid suddenly and firmly over his
mouth,--"and all sorts of good things for everybody, if only Erveng
sees the manuscript of the Fetich" (Max knows what we call it).
Nannie still looked dubious, but Nora exclaimed: "I say, do it, Max! It
does seem a shame to have us suffering for things, and that manuscript
just lying down there; and perhaps then papa would stir himself a little
and finish it. I declare I would like to take some of the pages over and
show them to Mr. Erveng myself!"
We all knew that she wouldn't; but as she said the words, an idea
popped into my head, such a splendid idea--at least I thought it was
then--that I nearly giggled outright with delight, and I had positively
to hold myself in to keep from telling it. Happening to look up
suddenly at Phil, I caught him with a broad grin on _his_ face, and
winking violently at Felix, who winked back. That did not surprise
me,--those two are always signalling to each other in that way; but
when they both straightened their faces the instant I saw them, and
assumed a very innocent expression, then I began to suspect that they
were up to some mischief: little did I dream what it was, though! Phil
is a _fearful_ practical joker; you never know where he's going to
break out. I'm pretty bad, but he is ever so much worse; and Felix
helps him every time.
"What sort of a man _is_ Mr. Erveng?" asked Felix, with an appearance of
great interest.
Max laughed. "Well, he used to be considered rather eccentric," he said.
"I remember the fellows at college nick-named him 'Old-Woman Erveng,'
because--so they said--he had a large picture in his room of a fat old
woman in a poke bonnet; and at the social gatherings to which he could
be induced to go, he always devoted himself to the oldest and fattest
ladies in the room, without noticing the young and pretty girls. _I_
thought he was rather a nice sort of fellow; what's the matter, Betty,
want any assistance?"
What Max said fitted in so well with the plan I had in my mind
that--though I tried to keep it back--I had chuckled, and now they were
all looking at me.
"When Elizabeth 'chortles' in that fashion you may be sure there's
mischief in her mind," Felix remarked, eyeing me severely. "Out with
it, miss."
"Or I'll have to garote you," put in Phil, leaning over toward me with
extended thumb and finger; but I skipped away and got beside Max.
"Indeed, it's you and Felix that are up to something," I retorted. "I
can see it in your faces."
"Oh, tell us what your 'surprise' is, Max," put in Nannie, quickly. I
think she wanted to turn the conversation, and so keep us from
wrangling, this very first evening that Max was with us.
"Why, I've brought back a ward," answered Max. "His name is Chadwick
Whitcombe. He went to-day from the steamer to stay a week or two with
an old friend of his father's; then I shall bring him to see you, and
I'm going to ask you _all_"--here Max looked at each one of us--"to be
nice and friendly to him, for poor Chad is singularly alone: he has not
a relative in the world. Though he will come into a good deal of money
by and by, the poor fellow has knocked about from place to place with
his former guardian, who has just died, and he has had no home training
at all. May I count on your being kind to him?"
Of course we all said yes,--couldn't help ourselves,--but I heard Fee
sing, under his breath, so it shouldn't reach Max's ears:--
"Here comes Shad,
Looking very sad;
We'll hit him with a pad,
And make him glad!"
and when I laughed, Phil scowled at me, and muttered something about
"giving him to Betty to lick into shape." I couldn't say anything, for I
was right close to Max; but I made one of my worst faces at Phil. Soon
after this, Max went down to the study to spend the rest of the evening
with papa.
VI.
DISPOSING OF A FETICH.
TOLD BY BETTY.
I might as well tell you that my plan was to dress up, some afternoon
that week, in one of nurse's gowns, and her bonnet and veil,--if I could
possibly induce her to lend them all to me without having to tell why I
wanted them,--and to go and call on Mr. Erveng in regard to the Fetich.
What I should say when I met him didn't trouble me; you see there was
really only to tell him about the book, so he might make papa an offer
for it; but what _did_ weigh upon me was how to get dressed up and out
of the house without being caught: there are such a lot of us that
somebody or other's sure to be hanging around all the time. For several
days I couldn't get a chance: Monday it rained; Tuesday afternoon Phil
took Paul to the dentist, and nurse went along,--Judge is one of her
pets; Wednesday afternoon Jack and a whole lot of boys played close to
the house, and of course I couldn't walk right out before them,--it
would have been just like Jack to run up and say something, perhaps
offer to assist my tottering steps down the stoop. But at last, on
Thursday, the coast seemed clear: Nannie was in the study with papa,
Nora was practising, Jack was on the schoolroom sofa reading, the
children in the nursery, and Phil and Felix up in Fee's room; I could
hear a murmur of voices from there, and every now and then a burst of
laughter. This was my opportunity.
The door of nurse's room, which was next to the nursery, was open, and
as I stole in, hoping she was there, that I might ask her, I saw her
wardrobe door open, and hanging within easy reach a dress and shawl that
would just serve my purpose. But her bonnet and veil were not in their
usual place, which rather surprised me, for nurse is very particular
with us about those things, and I had to hunt before I found even her
oldest ones, in deadly fear all the time that I'd be caught in the act.
You see, I made up my mind I'd borrow the things, and then tell her
about it when I brought them back.
Flying into my room, I locked the door, and just "jumped" into those
clothes, as the boys would say; and I did look so funny when I was
dressed, that I had to laugh. In the first place, Max had said Mr.
Erveng liked fat old women; so I stuffed myself out to fill nurse's
capacious gown to the best of my ability, with pillows and anything else
I could lay my hands on; I think I must have measured yards and yards
round when I was all finished. Then I pinned my braid on the top of my
head, put on nurse's bonnet, and dividing the veil so that one part hung
down my back and the other part over my face, I was ready to start. I
had slipped on a pair of old black woollen gloves that I found in the
pocket of my new skirt, and, stealing cautiously down the stairs, I got
out of the house without meeting any one.
But I can't tell you how queer I felt in the street,--it seemed as if
everybody looked at me, and as if they must suspect what I was up to. I
forgot all about walking slowly, like an old woman, and fairly flew up
the flagged path to the Ervengs' stoop; and the ring I gave to the bell
brought a small boy in buttons very quickly to the door. "I wish to see
Mr. Erveng on business," I said, disguising my voice as well as I could.
Then, as he murmured something about "card,"--I had entirely forgotten
that,--I pushed my way past him, saying, "It is something _very_
important, that I _know_ your master will be glad to hear."
This seemed to satisfy him, and he ushered me into a room which looked
to be half drawing-room, half study: there were in it a sofa, some fancy
chairs, a set of well-filled Eastlake book-shelves, and a desk almost as
big as papa's. Portières hung at the end of the room. I took a seat
near one of the long windows opening on the balcony, and began to
arrange in my mind what I would say to Mr. Erveng, when suddenly,
glancing toward the gate, I saw some one open it and come slowly up the
walk,--a stout, elderly female, dressed in a black gown, a black shawl,
and a bonnet and veil, _precisely_ like the ones I had on! Her veil was
drawn closely over her face, she wore black woollen gloves, and held in
one hand a black reticule--which I would have declared was nurse's--and
in the other a clumsily folded umbrella. As I sat and stared at the
advancing figure, I wondered if I were dreaming, and actually gave
myself a pinch to assure myself I was awake. But who _could_ she
be,--this double of mine? I wouldn't like to tell Jack or any of the
others, you know, but I would really not have been sorry to have been
at home just then.
At this moment the old lady entered the room. Buttons closed the door,
and we were left alone facing each other,--for I had got up when she
came in,--and I must say the unknown seemed as much surprised as I was.
Then all at once she began to walk round and round me; and as I didn't
want her to get behind me, I kept turning too,--just as if I'd been on
a pivot; I believe I was fascinated by those big eyes glaring at me
through the thick black veil.
"Betty! 'by all that's abominable!'" suddenly exclaimed my double; and
_then_ I knew who it was.
"_Phil!_ you _mean_ thing!" I cried, intensely relieved; and darting
forward I caught hold of his bonnet and veil.
"Hands off!" he called out, wriggling away; "an ye love me, spare me
'bunnit.'" Then, as he got to a safe distance, and threw back his veil:
"Look here, old lady, if you lay violent hands on me again, I'll yell
for help, and bring the house about your ears. _Then_ you'll rue it."
This provoked me. "You're the one will rue it," I said. "You've just
spoilt the whole thing by spying on me and following me here--"
"Well, I like that!" Phil interrupted. "It seems to me the shoe's on the
other foot. What are _you_ doing here, in that outrageous costume, and
in a stranger's house? Whew! wouldn't there be a small circus if the
_pater_ should see you! I'd feel sorry for you, I tell you. And what
excuse do you propose to offer Mr. Erveng when he makes his appearance
here, as he will in a few minutes?" Sidling up to me, he nudged my
elbow, and added persuasively: "'There _is_ a time for _dis_-appearing.'
Say, Betty, my infant, one of us has _got_ to go, so I'd advise you to
fly at once. Buttons is out of the way, and in an excess of brotherly
affection I'll escort you to the door myself. Come--fly!" And he nudged
me again.
"No," I said obstinately, "I won't go; I was here first. I'm here, and
here I'll remain."
"Oh, very well," said Phil, in a resigned sort of tone, seating himself
in a most unladylike attitude on a three-cornered chair. "Then come sit
on the edge of my chair, you little fairy, and we'll pose for the
Siamese twins."
[Illustration: "'COME SIT ON THE EDGE OF MY CHAIR, YOU LITTLE FAIRY.'"]
But I was so disappointed I was afraid I'd cry. I had hoped _so_ much
from this interview with Mr. Erveng, and here was Phil spoiling
everything by his silliness. "I think you are simply _horrid_," I
broke out, very crossly. "I just wish Mr. Erveng would come in and
beat you, or turn you out, or _something_."
"If the old man shows fight, I'll have his blood," cried Phil,
tragically, springing from his chair. "Gore, _gore_! I _will_ have
gore!" He did look _very_ funny, striding up and down the room and
scraping his toes along the floor in our most approved "high tragedy"
style, with nurse's shawl hanging over one shoulder, his bonnet crooked
and almost off his head, and shaking the umbrella, held tight in a
black-woollen-gloved fist, at an imaginary foe.
Angry as I was, I _had_ to laugh, and I don't know what next he mightn't
have done--for Phil never knows when to stop--had we not just then
caught the sound of a distant footstep. Phil didn't seem to mind, but I
got so nervous that I didn't know what to do. "Oh, _won't_ you go?" I
cried in despair. "He'll think we are crazy! Oh, where _am_ I to go?"
"Goodness only knows!" answered Phil, trying to straighten his bonnet;
then, glancing around the room, "There isn't a piece of furniture here
large enough to hide your corpulent form," he said. "There he comes!
_Now_, I hope you're satisfied; you _wouldn't_ go when you could."
Sure enough, the footsteps were almost at the door. I looked frantically
about. I would gladly have escaped through the window, and climbed over
the balcony to the ground; but to put aside the delicate lace curtains
and unlatch the sash would have taken more time than we had to spare.
Suddenly Phil cried, "The _portières_, you dunce!" giving me a push in
that direction, and like a flash I got behind them. I heard Phil say
"Bother!" under his breath, as he stumbled over a footstool in his haste
to get seated, then the door opened, and some one entered the room.
Provoked as I was with Phil, I couldn't help hoping that his bonnet was
straight, and that he had on his shawl, for his figure wasn't as good as
mine. I heard a strange voice--Mr. Erveng's--say: "I'm sorry to have
kept you waiting so long, but I am extremely busy. Will you be kind
enough to state your business as briefly as possible?"
Then Phil began, imitating an old lady's voice to a nicety: "Having
heard that you publish a great many books, I thought you would like to
know of a very clever--really _re_markable--work which is being written
by a well-known scholar who lives in this street, and that perhaps you
would call on him and make him an offer for it." I knew the moment I
heard this speech that Felix had made it up, and just coached Phil; it
was certainly better than what I had thought of.
The portières behind which I had hid only covered a door, and, though I
squeezed up as tight as I could, I was awfully afraid they would part
and show me underneath. But, all the same, I couldn't resist peeping to
see what was going on. Phil had his back to me, but Mr. Erveng sat
facing me in the swing-chair that was by his desk, and I noticed at once
that he was the black-bearded man we'd seen the day the family moved in.
I listened eagerly for Mr. Erveng's answer. He said very coolly: "It is
not our custom to make an offer for a work of which we know nothing.
Manuscripts are generally submitted to us. What is the title of this
'remarkable work'?"
I didn't like the way he said this, and I thought he looked very
suspiciously at Phil; but Phil didn't seem to notice it, for he answered
eagerly: "It's called the Fe--'History of Some Ancient Peoples,' and
I've brought you a chapter or two to look at." Here I heard a rustling,
and peeping between the portières, what should I see but Phil handing
Mr. Erveng some _pages of the Fetich_!
I was so perfectly amazed that I had to stuff the portière into my
mouth to keep from calling out; how _had_ Phil ever got hold of those
chapters without papa's knowledge? I knew Nannie would never have
helped him after what she had said on Sunday to Max, and how had Phil
_dared_ to bring them here! What would papa say if he should know what
he had done,--indeed, what we had both done! Oh, how sorry I was that
I hadn't gone when Phil urged me to.
When I got over my surprise a little, and again looked through the
portières, Mr. Erveng stood holding the Fetich in his hands, and looking
over the pages with a frown on his face. "This is curious," I heard him
say. And then, suddenly, before I could guess what he was going to do,
he crossed the room and drew my portières aside! At first I held on to
them, with a desperate desire to lose myself in the scanty folds; but
they were firmly withdrawn, and there I stood,--a fac-simile of the fat,
black-robed, black-veiled person who sat on the three-cornered chair by
Mr. Erveng's desk!
"_Whew!_" whistled Phil, then tried to look as if he hadn't uttered a
sound, while Mr. Erveng took hold of my arm and walked me over to where
Phil stood. "Now," he said sternly, "I should like an explanation of
this extraordinary behaviour."
But not a word said either of us,--I couldn't, I was so frightened; I
assure you I wished myself home! And while we stood there--Mr. Erveng
waiting for an answer--the door opened, and the boy that Max had said
was Hilliard Erveng came into the room.
"Oh, I beg your pardon," he exclaimed, turning back, "I didn't know any
one was with you."
But his father called out to him, "Stay here, Hilliard!" Then turning
to us he said _very_ sternly, "I have reason to think that this
manuscript"--he still held the Fetich in his hand--"has been stolen
from its rightful owner, of whom I have heard, and to whom I shall take
pleasure in restoring his property. Unless you both at once take off
what I am convinced is a disguise, and offer a full and satisfactory
explanation, I shall be under the painful necessity of calling in a
policeman and giving you in charge."
"Oh, no! no! _no!_" I cried out. "We _didn't_ steal it--at least, it
belongs to our father, and--"
[Illustration: "THERE WE STOOD; A FINE PAIR WE MUST HAVE LOOKED!"]
But Phil strode over to my side. "Hush, Betty," he whispered; "I'll
explain." Sweeping off his bonnet and veil, he threw them--nurse's best
Sunday hat!--on a chair, and faced Mr. Erveng. You can't think how
comical he looked, with his handsome boy's face and rumpled hair above
that fat old woman's figure. And in a moment or two, I think, I must
have looked almost as comical too; for before Phil could begin, Mr.
Erveng said, "I insist upon that person removing her bonnet and veil
as well."
So off went mine, and there we stood; a fine pair we must have looked!
That boy Hilliard gave a little giggle,--Phil said afterwards he'd like
to have "punched" him for it, and I felt awfully foolish,--but Mr.
Erveng frowned.
Then Phil began and told who we were, and how something that had been
said by a friend of ours had given him, and me,--though neither knew
about the other,--the idea of coming over and asking him, Mr. Erveng,
to buy the Fetich (of course Phil called the Fetich by its proper
name), and thinking he might like to see some of the manuscript, he
had got hold of two chapters and brought them along to show.
"But why this absurd disguise, if all this is true?" asked Mr. Erveng
of us, looking from one to the other.
I began: "Because Ma--" but Phil gave me a hard nudge of the elbow: "Max
mightn't like us to tell that," he mumbled, which ended my explanation.
But I was determined to get in a few remarks: "Papa doesn't know a thing
about our doing this," I said very fast, for fear Phil would interrupt
again, "and we don't want him to. We just came here and told you about
the Fe--his book, because we were sure he'd never tell you, or let you
see it, himself, and we thought if you knew of it, you would want to
buy it from him, and that would make him finish it up,--papa's been
_years_ writing that book,--and then Felix could go to college and--"
"_Betty!_" broke in Phil, in such a sharp, angry tone, and with such a
red face, that I moved away from him.
"That's where I've seen you,--at college," exclaimed the boy; he talks
in a slow, deliberate way, something like Judge. "They _do_ live across
the way, father; I've seen him"--with a nod of his head at Phil--"going
in there."
"Ah, really, how kind of you to remember me!" cried Phil, with sarcasm.
"Please let me have that manuscript, Mr. Erveng, and we will go home."
"No," remarked Mr. Erveng, very decidedly. "There is something about the
affair that I don't understand, and I shall not feel satisfied until I
have restored this manuscript, which I know is valuable, to its owner,
and found for myself that the story you have told me is true."
"All right, then," Phil cried recklessly. "Come, Betty, let's put on our
'bunnits' and go face the music."
Deeply mortified, we "dressed up" again, and went home under the escort
of Mr. Erveng and his son. Hannah opened the door, and how she did stare
at the two fat, black-robed, closely veiled ladies who waddled past her
into the drawing-room! Hilliard did not come in with us, and when Mr.
Erveng found that neither Phil nor I would answer Hannah's "Please, what
name shall I say?" he took a card out and gave it to her, saying, "Ask
Mr. Rose if he will be kind enough to let me see him for a few minutes."
While we sat waiting, Fee came limping down the stairs and looked in on
us. "Hullo!" he exclaimed in astonishment; "_two_ here? What's up?" Then
he saw the stranger and stopped.
"Oh, we've had a dandy time!" said Phil, throwing back his veil, "and
it isn't over yet. Mr. Erveng, allow me to introduce to you my brother,
Felix Rose."
While the introduction was going on, papa came into the room, and the
expression of his face was something that can't be described when he
found that the two ladies to whom he had bowed when he entered were
indeed Phil and I. Mr. Erveng stated the case as briefly as possible,
making much more light of it than we had expected, and handed to papa
the pages of the Fetich that Phil had brought to him. Papa said very
little, but his face grew quite pale, and he accompanied Mr. Erveng to
the door, where they stood talking for a few minutes; then Mr. Erveng
went away.
Fee had disappeared with our bonnets and veils,--we would willingly have
divested ourselves of the other garments as well, but we knew he was
not equal to the accumulation of pillows, shawls, and gowns which that
would involve,--and we were sitting in dead silence when papa returned,
and, opening the folding doors, motioned us to go into the study.
Nannie sat there writing; but the merry little laugh with which she
greeted our entrance died quickly away as she guessed what we had been
doing, and her low, "Oh, Phil, oh, Betty, how _could_ you!" made me feel
more ashamed than a scolding would have.
Papa put the two chapters of the Fetich carefully away; then he took his
seat at his desk and said, "Now I wish to hear the meaning of this most
extraordinary and unwarrantable behaviour."
For an instant neither of us spoke; then, just as I opened my mouth,
Phil began. He made a very short story of it,--how, through Max, we had
heard of Mr. Erveng's being a publisher, and how the story about his
liking fat old ladies had put the idea into our heads to dress up and
call on him, and interest him in papa's book.
Papa frowned at us over his glasses. "What has Mr. Erveng to do with my
book?" he asked, sternly. "And why did my son put my most cherished work
into a stranger's hands without my knowledge?"
"Because--" began Phil; then he got as red as a beet, and stood
plucking at the skirt of nurse's gown without another word.