And certainly a woman’s thought runs before her actions.—_As
You Like It_, iv, 1.
“Where’s Putnam?” asked Miss Esther, coming out on the East porch the
next morning.
“Don’t know,” said Lincoln. “I haven’t seen him since breakfast.”
Chub, seated on a low stool directly in front of Lincoln, regarding him
with worshiping eyes, volunteered the information that she “thaw him
picking a lot of wotheth,” and that he had afterward gone out of the
gate and walked rapidly up the street.
“Ah,” said Miss Esther, with a satisfied smile, “I suppose he has gone
over to Jean’s.”
“I thuppothe tho,” Chub acquiesced.
But when, a little later, Jean came over to the Adams house, Miss Esther
looked at her aghast. “Where’s Putnam?” she said, sternly.
“That’s what I want to know,” said Jean. “He asked me to play tennis
with him this morning.”
“Why, I don’t see where he can be,” said Miss Esther; “but he’ll
probably be back in a few minutes. Chub said he went up the road—”
“Oh, _up_ the road,” said Jean.
Jean sat down by Chub. “I did want to play tennis this morning,” she
said. “I think somebody else might take Lieutenant Adams’s place.”
“If that very obscure hint is aimed at all in my direction,” said
Lincoln, “I refuse to act upon it. When I play tennis I must have a
foeman worthy of my skill. Why don’t you ask Chub to play with you?”
Chub, taking this as an invitation, rose and began a search for Putnam’s
racket. “I will play with Couthin Jean,” she said, kindly, “becauthe bad
old Uncle Putnam hath ranned away, and ithn’t never coming back to play
with you.”
Although Miss Esther was used to Chub’s romancing, this oracular
utterance gave her a sudden but unmistakable shock. “Don’t mind what the
baby says,” she said.
“Couthin Jean doethn’t care if Couthin Putnam doethn’t never come back,”
insisted Chub.
“Oh, yes, she does, Chub,” said Lincoln; “we all love Cousin Putnam.”
“Yeth,” said Chub, who always agreed with Lincoln; “we all love Couthin
Putnam.”
“Do you?” asked Miss Esther, looking pointedly at Jean.
“Yes, I love him a lot. I began worshiping at his shrine the very day he
arrived. He seems to compel that sort of thing.”
“He’s an all-round good fellow,” said Lincoln.
“He is, indeed,” said Miss Esther, earnestly. “I don’t know what I shall
do without him. He says he can’t stay more than a fortnight longer. I
wonder where he is now? I thought he was over at your house.”
“I know where he ith,” said Chub, with the air of one who is possessed
of a state secret.
“Where?”
“I don’t think Uncle Putnam wanth me to tell.”
“Well, don’t tell if it’s a secret,” said Lincoln.
“It ith a thecret,” said Chub, “and I won’t tell, becauthe he don’t want
anybody to know he wath going to Farmington.”
“What did he go to Farmington for?” asked Miss Esther.
“I don’t know, but I gueth he wath going to thell wotheth.”
“There ought to be a good market for roses in Farmington,” said Lincoln,
reflectively.
“Well,” exclaimed Miss Esther; “if Putnam is carting roses over to Julia
Fowler—”
“Oh, maybe she likes roses,” remarked Jean, casually.
“Oh,” said Miss Esther, softening a little; “if you say it’s all right,
I suppose it is.”
“Of course it’s all right,” said Lincoln. “Whatever Putnam does is
right.”
“What an enviable reputation,” said Helen, appearing suddenly in the
doorway. “I wish people would say that whatever I did was always right.”
“But, my dear girl,” said Miss Esther, “you couldn’t expect to be looked
up to as such a paragon of all the virtues as my cousin is. Of course,
though, you’re always right—as far as you go.”
“I’ve gone pretty far this time,” said Helen.
“I thought as much,” said Jean. “When did it happen?”
“Last night—at the circus,” replied Helen, serenely.
“Good for you!” said Lincoln.
“What did Couthin Helen do at the thircuth?” asked Chub, with interest.
“She went and engaged herself to Mr. Brewster,” said Jean.
“What!” exclaimed Miss Esther. “Winthrop Brewster!”
“He’s the only Mr. Brewster I know,” said Helen, apologetically.
“He’s all right,” said Lincoln. “He’s the best Brewster going. I think
it’s great.”
Jean said nothing, but flew at Helen and bestowed upon her a few dozen
of that particular variety of kisses which are supposed to mean a
congratulatory acknowledgment of tidings such as these, and taking
possession of her, marched her down the steps and across the lawn.
“As President of the Matrimonial Bureau,” said Lincoln,
enthusiastically, “you are certainly making a screaming success of
yourself.”
“Yes,” said Miss Esther, still looking a little bewildered, “but I am so
surprised.”
“Why, you planned it yourself.”
“Yes, I know, but I thought my plans had all fallen through. Helen was
so haughty and Mr. Brewster was so reserved. I wasn’t half so surprised
when Lillian announced her engagement. I wish Helen would come back. I
want to ask her more about it.”
“Oh, she’s engaged all right—just as much as Lillian. Now that makes
two, and you only have Jean left on your books.”
“Yes,” said Miss Esther, complacently. “And she’s all right, too, for
I’m just as sure Putnam means to marry her as if he had said so.
Sometimes I think she’s engaged now.”
“Perhaps she is,” said Lincoln.
When Helen and Jean reached the gate they turned naturally in the
direction of Lillian’s house. They found her on the veranda, but when
she saw the excited visitors she jumped to the conclusion that the
exigencies of the occasion could only be met in the studio.
“Come on up,” she cried; “what is the matter?”
“Ask Helen,” said Jean.
“Well, you see,” began Helen, “you said that Miss Esther said that she
thought I ought to marry Mr. Brewster, and so—”
“And so she feels that she must,” interrupted Jean.
“How perfectly lovely,” cried Lillian; “I am so glad.”
“On the principle that misery loves company?” suggested Jean.
“Yes—on that principle, of course; but I don’t believe we call it
misery, do we, Helen?”
“Not yet,” said Helen.
“May I come in?” said a voice from the doorway; and without waiting for
a reply Miss Esther walked in. “I couldn’t wait another minute,” said
she; “I just had to see Helen and hear more about this affair.”
“Helen says it’s all your doing, anyway,” said Lillian.
“Well, I didn’t say exactly that,” replied Helen.
“Well, what did you say, then?” demanded Lillian.
“Why, I don’t know that I said anything.”
“Then it’s time you began,” said Jean; “and you’ve got to tell us every
single thing about it right straight away.”
“It was just this way,” said Helen; “Mr. Brewster said if I wanted to
marry him I could, and I said I did, and that was all there was about
it.”
“What a kind man he is,” remarked Lillian, reflectively.
“Did he tell you anything about his castle?” asked Jean.
“Yes, he described it at length. It has the most modern and approved
automatic drawbridges and an electric moat—”
“Is that anything like an electric motor?” asked Jean.
“Same thing,” replied Helen; “and it has a portcullis and scullions and
castellated turrets and—”
“And a Prince?” said Lillian.
“Yes; a very beautiful Prince, too.”
“Yes, Helen, he is,” said Miss Esther, “and I am very much pleased. He
seems to come pretty near realizing the ideals which you were discussing
last spring.”
“Yes,” said Helen, disdainfully; “Winthrop goes far beyond any ideals I
had then.”
“Well,” exclaimed Jean, “for a driveling idiot, give me a girl who has
been engaged something less than twenty-four hours!”
“I think so, too,” agreed Lillian; “I’ve been engaged most a week, and
I’m as sensible as a judge.”
“I wonder how I’d act if I were engaged,” said Jean, reflectively.
“Aren’t you?” said Miss Esther.
“When I am,” said Jean, “you shall be the first to know of it.”
“Of course I shall,” said Miss Esther; “I made Putnam promise that he’d
tell me the very first one.”
“Well, you keep right on asking him every day,” said Jean, “and perhaps
you’ll find out.”
“Just to think,” said Miss Esther, “only last spring we were discussing
the futures of you three girls, and now you are all practically settled.
Helen has her ideal Prince, Lillian has her fairy godfather, and Jean—”
“Jean isn’t engaged yet,” said Lillian.
“When I see how it affects you two girls,” said Jean, “I am not sure
that I want to be.”
“Sour grapes,” said Helen.
“Nothing of the sort,” said Miss Esther. “Jean can be engaged any minute
she wants to.”
“Well, I wish she’d hurry up, then,” said Lillian. “It makes me
embarrassed to have her left out.”
“Could you give me till to-morrow?” asked Jean, meekly.