“I’ll go to the door, dear--you keep on waitin’ on the table. I’m
expecting the house agent,” said Miss Scrimp to Little Jessie, who
started when she heard the bell ring.
And while Miss Scrimp went to the front door, Hattie Butler, in her
usual leisurely way, left the table, as if going to her own room. But,
when out of the dining-room, she hurried up the first flight of stairs,
and turned into the room used both as sitting-room and chamber by Miss
Scrimp. While at the head of the stairs she heard her landlady say:
“Come right in, sir, you’re expected. Come right in.”
The curiosity of Miss Scrimp to know what important business her
boarder could have, made the old spinster even cordial to a horrid man.
In another minute Miss Scrimp shuffled in in her slip-shod shoes, and
she was followed by Mr. W----.
When the door was closed, Hattie formally introduced the famous and
wealthy proprietor of the bindery to her boarding mistress, and then
added:
“If you please, Mr. W----, you can mention your business in the
presence of this lady. I will answer for her silence in regard to it
hereafter, whatever it may be.”
“Certainly, Miss Hattie,” said he.
But he was a little confused, and evidently would not have had that
vinegar-faced woman there if he could help it. But in his own note he
had told her to have witnesses to the interview if she desired, and
surely it was prudent to have that hideous old ghost of a landlady
there--perhaps policy, too, for in contrast Hattie looked positively
angelic.
Mr. W---- had never seen that wealth of glossy raven hair floating in
shining, curling masses down over her white shoulders clear to her
waist, before, and she had put on a neat, real lace collar when she
went to her room; and a pair of daintily ruffled cuffs made her small
hands look even yet more delicate, and they were such beautiful hands,
without a single ring to mar their delicate contour.
Mr. W---- hesitated only a moment, while his eager eyes drank in that
flood of beauty, and then he said:
“I was sent to you by Mr. Legare, who has a wealthy, widowed
sister-in-law, a Mrs. Louisa Emory, residing in a neighboring city, who
is childless and lonely. She is a lady in every sense, of a sweet and
loving disposition, and a companion like yourself would be a treasure
to her. If you will consent, Mr. Legare, who, like myself, is truly
and sincerely your friend, and deeply interested in your welfare, will
propose to her that she adopt you as a daughter--to receive all a
daughter’s love and privileges.”
Hattie looked at Mr. W---- with astonishment. The thought of being
adopted as a daughter by a lady of wealth whom she had never seen,
and who had never seen her, was so strange. And it was just like the
stupidity of mankind to go to work that way about it.
“You can think of it leisurely, Miss Hattie, and give me your answer in
writing, if you like,” continued Mr. W----.
“I will give you an answer before you leave, Mr. W----,” said Hattie,
quietly. “But before I do so I would ask your opinion about this
affair?”
“Really, Miss Hattie, I consider it one of the most brilliant chances
of your young life. You are too well educated, too talented, and,
believe me, I say it not in flattery, too beautiful, to drudge your
life away in a book-bindery, when you can ornament the highest
circles of society. If you ask it as advice, I would say accept this
proposition, for it would not have been made by Mr. Legare without he
knew it would prove a happiness to his often sad-hearted sister-in-law.
She is now visiting at his house, and to-morrow an interview between
you would soon show how you would like her.”
“She might not like me,” said Hattie, with a smile.
“How could she help it?” said Mr. W----, impulsively.
“There will be no need for her to try,” said Hattie, gently but firmly.
“Gratefully, but positively, I must decline the tempting offer. I
am content, Mr. W----, to continue in my present condition in your
bindery. Miss Scrimp here makes it as pleasant as possible for her
boarders, and in receiving your visit to-night has broken over one of
her strictest rules--never to permit the visits of gentlemen to the
house.”
“For which I thank her in sincerity,” said Mr. W----, bowing gracefully
to the old maid.
“Is your decision final? Must I take that answer back to Mr. Legare?”
he continued, addressing Hattie, and not noticing the simpering smile
with which Miss Scrimp received his thanks.
“Yes, Mr. W----. I am at least independent now, so long as health and
strength last, and, thanks to your generous increase of salary, I am
laying up money which will keep me so, even should sickness reach me.”
“Heaven prevent that!” exclaimed Mr. W----. “I can but admire your
independence, and rejoice, selfishly, that I am not to lose your
valuable services at the bindery. But I know Mr. Legare will grieve at
your decision. He said that if he had not children of his own he would
adopt you himself.”
“I am grateful for his interest, and yours also, Mr. W----, while I
decline the bright future you would make for me. By the way, Mr. W----,
let me run up stairs to my room and get that portfolio of drawings, or,
rather, pencil sketches, which Mr. Legare wished to see--that is, if it
is not too much trouble for you to take them.”
“It is not a trouble, but a pleasure instead,” he said, and away she
went.
“The dear creetur! Who’d think she’d refuse such a chance? Most any
girl in the world would just snap at it,” said Miss Scrimp, determined
to keep the “horrid man” interested while in her presence.
“She is superior to most of her sex,” said Mr. W----, with a sigh.
“That’s true as gospel,” said Miss Scrimp. And she sighed, just to keep
him company, you know.
Hattie was gone but a few seconds. Flushed in color by her
exercise--for she had run up and down stairs--her beauty seemed
heightened when she returned, bearing a portfolio, with a clasp, and on
it a monogram--the letters “G. E. L.”
“They are all in here, and when he has looked them over he can take any
that he desires at his own price, and hand the rest back to you,” said
Hattie, as she handed the portfolio to Mr. W----.
“And I hope to be allowed to purchase what he leaves, if indeed any,”
said Mr. W----. “The drawing you made in his book was a pleasant
surprise to me. I did not know we had such a talented artist in the
bindery.”
Mr. W---- arose to go, and Miss Scrimp stood ready to see him to the
door.
“Please wait here a minute, dear--I want to say something to you,” she
whispered to Hattie as she went out.
After seeing Mr. W---- out, Miss Scrimp hurried back and found Hattie
waiting.
“What luck!” said the former, as she shuffled into the room. “Not a
girl in the house saw him come or go. And what a nice man he is! Why,
Miss Hattie, I’d almost have him myself, if he’d ask me. And I’d make
no mean match, either. I’m just forty-six, and I’ve a thousand dollars
in bank for every year of my life. Now, don’t tell him so--or if you
should happen to let it slip, be sure and tell him not to tell any one
else. I’ve got it safe in the best bank in the city.”
“Was that all you wanted to say to me, Miss Scrimp?” asked Hattie,
not at all impressed by the bank account of the ancient young lady of
acknowledged forty-six.
“Well, no; I wanted to say how I admired your independence in refusing
such a grand offer, and that I’d keep your secret ever so close.”
“Miss Scrimp, it is no secret. I am utterly indifferent whether it is
known or remains unknown. It is enough for me to keep your secrets.”
And Hattie moved out of the room with the air of a queen.
“Oh, the wretch! I could just scratch her eyes out!” hissed Miss
Scrimp, when the door closed and she was alone. “I’m in her power,
or I’d--I’d--the mercy only knows what I wouldn’t do! I’ll bet that
bindery man’ll try to marry her. But he sha’n’t, not if I can help it.
I’ll marry him myself first. I’ve got nigher sixty thousand dollars in
bank, than what I told her, and if he has got something to put with it,
he could give up book-binderies, and I’d let out the boarding-house
business to the first one who’d take it. I don’t like horrid men, but I
do like him, he smiled so sweet when he thanked me for breakin’ over my
rules on his account.”
And the old spinster rubbed her thin, skinny hands together, and stood
up before her cracked looking-glass, and made all sorts of pretty faces
at herself, while she smoothed down her false hair and tried to see how
interesting she could look in the glass.
Satisfied, after wriggling into a dozen different positions, she went
down stairs to see if things were cleared up at the table, and to take
another cup of tea in the kitchen, for she was a great tea-drinker.