A GLAD SURPRISE
Doctor Joe stood at the doorway of the Institute. It was still in
Madison Street, though it was to go up-town and be transformed into a
college. The girls came trooping out,--they were really girls then, and
had a deliciously girlish air.
"Oh, Joe!" cried Hanny, glancing up rather in amaze. What had happened?
He bowed gravely to some of her compeers. They thought Jim splendid; but
they stood a little in awe of grave Doctor Joe.
"I have come for you to go and make a call," he said. "Let me take your
books."
She glanced up the street.
"Oh, this isn't in style," he began laughingly. "I have neither coach
nor four."
"Then we will have a nice walk. Where? Down at the Battery?"
She had such a sweet, eager face, and she was so easily pleased.
"We will go over to Broadway, first," he replied. "Then--well, wherever
you like."
So they chatted as they walked along, across City Hall Square, where the
fountain was still playing on sunny days.
The Astor House was yet in its glory. She wondered a little, as they
walked up the stone steps, through the hall, and then up the thickly
padded stairs, and into the spacious parlour.
A lady, dressed in black, was standing by the window, and turned
smilingly. Hanny was bewildered by a familiar likeness. Then a young
girl sprang up from the sofa; and Hanny caught a glint of golden curls,
as she was clasped in the outstretched arms.
"Oh, Hanny!"
"Oh, Daisy!"
That was all they said for a moment or two. They cried a little, as
people often do, out of pure gladness, and just hugged each other
tighter.
"I was so afraid I never should see you again. Papa laughed. You know he
has crossed the ocean so many times. If I hadn't been coming home, I
suppose I shouldn't have been worried. But it seemed such a long, long
while, and I was just crazy to see you, to get home. I don't believe I
shall ever really want to go abroad again."
Hanny raised her head from Daisy Jasper's shoulder. Oh, what a tall girl
she was! Her complexion was like pearl and blush roses; her hair was a
wonderful gold; and her eyes, somehow, suggested the starry heaven at
night. Hanny felt strangely abashed.
Then Mrs. Jasper claimed a greeting. Hanny knew that a year ago they had
lost Aunt Ellen, with an attack of fever. Mrs. Jasper looked rather
pale, but she had not changed.
"Why, you haven't grown a bit!" cried Daisy. "And look at me! You'll
have to go to German baths, and all that, to get a good start. What a
pity you did not go with us! I've had such a longing for girls. You
don't get acquainted with them on the continent. They are always in the
school-room. And I am just hungry, all the way through, for some one
young and enthusiastic, and foolish and merry things to laugh at."
"But--I didn't know you were coming--"
"No, dear Doctor Joe kept the secret well. We did hope to be in on
Saturday."
"Then _you_ knew?" and she looked half reproachfully at her brother.
He laughed. He had only done Daisy's bidding.
"Now, if you want to keep Hanny to dinner, I'll come down this evening.
I have a few calls to make," he announced presently.
"Indeed we do. You have so many folks, you might give me Hanny," and
Daisy glanced at Doctor Joe with a bright, arch smile.
"If you took Hanny, you would have to take father and me, sure. The
others might squeeze along without her; but I am afraid they would get
thin on it."
Then the Doctor nodded and went his way.
"Now that you have Hanny, I will go and unpack one of the trunks," said
Mrs. Jasper.
Hanny and Daisy went down in the corner of the long apartment, and took
possession of a _tete-a-tete_.
"Oh, you are so changed!" cried the little girl "And so--so beautiful!"
"And so well! That's the loveliest thing. I can take long walks and
dance, think of that! I am only a little lame. Just the merest crook in
my back, and one leg a tiny bit shorter, but a thick sole makes it all
right. And I've grown like a weed, while you are a tiny bit of something
very choice,--a dainty little white rose. And I am so glad to have you
again. Oh, don't let anything ever come between us! Let us be friends
all our lives long. I have brought you a beautiful ring to bind
friendship."
"Oh," sighed Hanny, in delight.
"And there have been so many changes! Oh, who do you think we met in
London? Not Whittington and his cat, but Nora Whitney without her cat.
And poor Pussy Gray is dead, and Nora is a tall young lady with a
splendid voice, and will make a famous singer, I suppose. And Delia is
getting to be famous too, I hear. It is odd, but she doesn't suggest a
genius to my mind. I think you often are disappointed in geniuses. We
saw some while abroad, and they did not come up to my expectations, or
else one expects too much. Still there are some lovely faces."
"But she is just delightful! Only she keeps so busy, we do not see much
of her."
"And poor little Tudie! How sad it was! I can sympathise with her sister
now, for being an only child."
Then Hanny said Charlie had entered a theological seminary; and Daisy
agreed being a clergyman would prove just the calling for him, he was so
earnest and conscientious. Hanny had written everything, she thought;
but Daisy was so eager to hear it all over again.
Mr. Jasper came in. He had been back and forth, and kept up the habit of
calling on the Underhills, so nothing about Hanny surprised him.
The little girl felt rather startled when she went into the large
dining-room. At this period, there were people who spent the whole
season at the Astor House, though there were some newer hotels that were
very attractive. It was like a grand party, Hanny thought. The ladies
were so prettily attired, so bright and chatty.
When they went back to the parlour, that looked like a party, too. Hanny
felt very plain in her school-dress. There were a number of Mr. Jasper's
business friends, that he brought up to introduce to his wife and the
two girls. But they were so busy talking, that they hardly noticed any
one else.
Doctor Joe returned, armed with an invitation from Mrs. Underhill, for
Mrs. Jasper and Daisy, to come up and make them a visit; and Mrs. Jasper
said she should be glad to go somewhere, and find an old-fashioned
American home-feeling. Daisy could hardly let Hanny go. Doctor Joe
proposed that he should come for Daisy the next day, for she could not
be of any special service to her mother until some plans were decided
upon. That was a splendid thought.
They kissed and kissed, as if they were never to see each other again.
Hanny's eyes were lustrous, and her cheeks pink with excitement. And
there was so much to tell her mother.
"You must go to bed," declared Doctor Joe. "It is after ten."
"But, oh, my lessons! I have not looked at them."
"Never mind lessons now. You can get up early in the morning."
She was very tired, she had talked so much and listened so intently. And
in five minutes she was asleep, in spite of the unlearned lessons.
She studied every moment the next morning, and all the way down in the
stage, and managed to get through. She was a very good scholar
ordinarily, and ambitious to have perfect recitations. But she kept
counting the hours, for she could hardly believe Daisy Jasper was really
at home.
Joe brought her up to the house when he had finished his round of calls.
He handed her out quite as if she was a stylish young lady, though she
was not in long gowns. But Joe was curiously proud of her, as being one
of his first cases.
Everybody gave her a cordial welcome. Jim was at once her most devoted.
Mrs. Underhill soon concluded foreign ways had not spoiled her; and
grandmother said she was a pretty-behaved, intelligent girl. But, oh,
the things she had seen, and done! She could talk French and German; she
had taken painting-lessons from real artists, and had some pretty
studies for Hanny, in a box not yet unpacked. She had brought the
friendship ring, which was two tiny hands clasped over a sapphire with
diamond sparks around it. Hanny's eyes shone with delight; she was
getting quite a collection in the way of gifts.
Daisy seemed to bring a fascinating atmosphere. She was not forward,
indeed there was often a pretty air of deprecation; but she had seen a
good deal of society without being actually in it, and, since her aunt's
death, had been her mother's companion. Her different lessons had mostly
been given at home, except those in oil-painting; and there was no air
of schools about her. She was so ready to be entertaining, so fresh, and
yet with a charming simplicity.
"I am so glad for Hanny to have such a friend," her mother said to the
Doctor. "She hasn't seemed to take any one to her heart since we have
been up here; and it does make her seem a bit old-fashioned to be so
much with elderly people."
"Yes. They seem to suit exactly."
Jim took them over to the Deans' one evening. Oh, what a merry talk they
had about old times, for it did seem quite old to them. They recalled
the day in summer, when the "caravan" went down Broadway to the store
where Charles had been employed one vacation, and dear old First Street.
Biddy Brady, who had danced for them, had run away and married a young
Irishman. Old Mrs. McGiven still sold candies and cakes, and
slate-pencils, and, oh, Washington pie that was almost as great a
necessity to childhood then, as chewing-gum is now.
Mr. Jasper brought up the pictures when he escorted his wife. There were
two pretty bits of landscape on the shore of Lake Geneva, and the other
a Holland scene, with a stretch of canal and a queer house that looked
as if it might topple over some day, if the foundation was washed out.
"But they never do," explained Daisy. "It's all so curious, and most of
it so clean! And, oh, the windmills, and the queer costumes that have
not changed in a century!"
Beside that there was a water-colour, a study of the most elegant
tulips, painted from a real bed.
Hanny was wild with delight. They hung the pictures in her room, though
Doctor Joe declared they ought to go in his study. He pretended to feel
very badly that Daisy had not done anything for him.
"I will wait until I can paint something really worthy," she replied
with a bright flush. "I owe you so much, that I ought to give you the
very best. I mean to go on with my lessons. I love the work, and if I
have any talent, it certainly is that."
"But you used to draw figures, faces," said Hanny, "and they were so
real."
"In the summer I took lessons in miniature painting on ivory. I must
confess that is my ambition; but it will take years to attain to
perfection. I suppose now I ought to go to studying solid branches," and
she laughed lightly. "I've begun wrong end first, with the
accomplishments. But I had to talk German, for mamma wouldn't bother.
And as she had not forgotten all her French, she went at that with me,
and so I am a tolerable scholar. But I dare say Hanny could twist me all
up with mathematics. I only know enough to count change. Still, I am
quite an expert in foreign money. And, Hanny, were my sentences
fearfully and wonderfully constructed, and did I slip up often on
spelling?"
"I am quite sure you did not," protested Hanny.
"I do suppose she ought to go to a good school," said Mrs. Jasper.
"I am afraid I should not like school now. I could no longer be the
heroine. And how could I descend to an ordinary station in life? Oh, Dr.
Underhill, can't you interpose on the score of my still delicate
health."
She had such a pretty colour in her cheeks, and her eyes shone with
merriment.
"Doctor, you really must begin to be severe with her. She has her own
way quite too much."
But it was a very charming way, they all thought. She roused Hanny to an
unwonted brightness. Even grandmother laid claim to her, for she was
delighted with her piquant description of places and people. She had
heard Jenny Lind, and several other noted singers; but it seemed to her
that the ovation to the Swedish Nightingale in New York must have been
magnificent.
Jim claimed her when he was indoors; and they had many a merry bout. It
hardly seemed possible that the few years could have wrought such a
change in her. Ben took glowing accounts to Delia; and although she felt
hurt and sore over the coolness of the Underhills, she did not abate one
jot of her love for Ben.
She had been very busy arranging Nora's wardrobe, and now most of the
care of the house devolved upon her. Mrs. Whitney would read for hours
to Aunt Patty; often the old lady went soundly asleep. To be sure,
matters were not attended to with the niceness of Mrs. Underhill; but
Barbara was a treasure with her German neatness, and Bridget kept her
kitchen at sixes and sevens. Mr. Theodore brought home one guest or
three, with the same indifference; and if Ben's mother could have seen
the cheerful manner in which Delia hurried about and arranged the table
on short notice, she must have modified her opinion a little. Theodore
was quite negligent about money-matters as well. Sometimes he was very
lavish; then he would declare he was "dead broke," and she must do the
best she could. Three or four of his friends would be in about ten, and
couldn't she fix up a bit of something?
Sometimes she ran a little in debt; but when the good times came, she
was only too eager to get matters straight. And she was so bright and
gay with it all, and made Ben's visits so pleasant, that he sometimes
forgot there was any trouble.
She had said decisively that they could not marry yet awhile; and Ben
had accepted her fiat. But they did begin to plan for the journey
abroad, and had a good deal of entertainment counting the cost, and
considering where they would go.
"I should so like to see Daisy Jasper," she said.
"I will ask her to come down," answered Ben.
But Dolly invited them both up one Saturday, when Hanny and Daisy were
to be there to tea. And Daisy told Delia about meeting Nora, and how
happy she was in her new prospects.
She had been a little homesick, she wrote to Delia, but only for a few
hours at a time. Madame Clavier was as careful as any mother could be,
fussy, she thought sometimes; but no doubt it was for her good.
Daisy was very attractive to the children until Delia came, when they
deserted their new friend for stories. Delia had not lost her girlish
gift.
The Jaspers were a month making up their minds what to do, and then
decided to board until spring at least. Joe found them a very pleasant
place in their neighbourhood, to Hanny's delight. She was so glad to get
her dear friend back again, sweet and unchanged; not but what she had
found several charming girls at school, and some of them were just wild
to see that lovely Miss Jasper, so her circle was widening all the time.
Margaret thought she ought to wear long dresses. Girls not quite grown
up wore them to their gaiter-tops. Crisp, elegant button-boots had not
come in, like a good many other excellent things. And Hanny was
undeniably petite. Stretch up her very utmost, she hardly measured five
feet. Women had not, by taking thought, added an inch to their stature
by high heels. There were one or two "lifts" put in between the soles,
called spring-heels; but the hats helped out a little.
"I haven't grown an inch this year," she declared ruefully. "And I am
afraid I never will be any taller. It's queer, when all the rest of you
are large."
"You are just right," said her father. "You will be my little girl all
your life long."
Doctor Joe comforted her with the asseveration that he liked little
women, "honest and true;" and Daisy also insisted she was just right.
"For you see how admirably your head goes down on my shoulder; and if we
were the same size, we should be bumping heads. Queen Victoria is only
five feet, and she is very queenly."
"But I am not queenly."
"No, but you could be, if you set about it."
She had some frocks to wear out that could not be let down; and her
mother settled the question according to that for the present.
There was another thing that gave her a vague suspicion of being grown
up, and that was cards.
The "quality" used visiting-cards; but it would have been considered
underbred and pretentious to sow them around in the modern manner. They
were kept for state occasions. Of course Dolly and Margaret had them;
and Hanny thought Joseph B. Underhill, M. D., looked extremely elegant.
Jim had some written ones in exquisite penmanship. He had not given up
society because one girl had proved false and deceitful. He made a
point of bowing distantly to Mrs. Williamson, and flushed even now at
the thought of having been such a ninny!
Daisy Jasper's name was on her mother's cards. But you couldn't persuade
Mrs. Underhill into any such nonsense. She declared if Joe brought her
home any, she would put them in the fire. One day, however, he dropped a
small white box into Hanny's lap, as she sat in his easy-chair, studying
her lessons. It was too small for confectionery; it might be--she had
coveted a pair of bracelets.
So she looked up with an inquiring smile.
"Open it, and see if they suit."
She was sure then it was bracelets.
There was white tissue-paper and something stiff. She tumbled the
contents out in her lap. A few cards fell the plain side up. She turned
one over. In very delicate script she saw--
"Miss Nan Underhill."
"Oh!" with a cry of delight. They called her Nan altogether at
Stephen's, and the school-girls wrote her name in that manner. She often
used it in writing notes. It looked so very attractive now.
"Oh, you lovely Joe!"
"They are nice to use with your girl-friends. There are a great many
little society regulations that show refinement and good breeding, and I
want you to observe them. When you get to be a middle-aged woman, Hannah
Ann will look solid and dignified. I consulted Daisy and Mrs. Jasper,
and both approved."
"Just a thousand thanks," and she threw up her arms to bring his face
down within kissing reach.
The long skirt was settled by a rather peculiar circumstance.
We were beginning to have real literary aspirations, and some writers
who attracted attention abroad. Miss Bremer had found a great many
things to like in us; and Jenny Lind had been enthusiastic. Some
Englishmen of note had been over and found we were not a nation of
savages or red men, and that the best and highest in English literature
was not unknown to us. Several of our writers had been abroad; and there
was growing up a spirit of cordiality.
Then Thackeray was coming over to lecture on The English Humourists.
Nearly everybody went to reading him. Some because it was, as we should
say now, a "fad;" others because they wanted to appear conversant with
his works; and a few because they had learned to understand and to love
the wonderful touches of the master-pen. Boston received him with open
arms. Then he was to visit the principal cities.
Ben and Delia were tremendously interested; and most of their talk was
spiced with bits and quotations, and the telling scenes from his novels.
Delia was beginning to have a good deal of discrimination and judgment.
Sometimes, in moments of discouragement, she admitted to Ben that she
was afraid she really hadn't any genius. Her novel had been recast ever
so many times, and still languished.
Ben brought up tickets for Mr. Thackeray's second lecture. He had gone
to the first one, and meant to hear them all. Joe must take Hanny, who
would always regret it if she didn't hear him. He had seen Mr. Jasper;
and they were all going the same evening.
Joe had meant to hear him. He was fond of hearing and seeing notable
people, and kept his mind freshened up with all that was going on in the
great world.
Hanny was delighted, of course, though the fact of listening with Daisy
beside her added a great deal. They had an enthusiastic, rather
school-girlish friendship. Daisy's mind was, of course, the more
experienced. But with youthful fervor they were training themselves into
perfect accord, _en rapport_, so they could look at each other and
understand.
There was a really fine audience. And when the large, burly,
broad-chested Englishman stepped on the platform, he had a cordial and
enthusiastic welcome.
This evening he was at his best. His manner was clear and engaging; he
moved his audience to tears and smiles. There was satire and tenderness
and the marvellous insight that made him absolutely personify the
writers he touched upon. The audience was charmed.
Hanny could not decide upon him. She was being won against her will,
rather her preconceived notions; and yet her first feelings about him
would return to disturb her. Mr. and Mrs. Jasper were delighted beyond
expression; Joe was deeply interested, though he confessed he did not
know Thackeray as he ought. He had read only one or two of the novels
and the "Yellowplush Papers."
"I am going to read 'Vanity Fair' over again," said Hanny, when they
reached home. "I didn't like it, really and truly."
"You are hardly old enough to enjoy such things," returned Joe. "Even I
have not made up my mind, and I know I would not have liked them at
seventeen. We believe in heroes and great deeds then, and the
possibilities of life look grander to us than they do afterward. I
suppose it is right that we should want to be _pleased_ then."
Hanny felt that she wanted to be pleased with a story, or else very
sorry for the misfortunes that no human power could seem to avert. But
when mean and shallow and selfish people caused their own trials, were
they worthy of sympathy?
They talked at school with the wide diversity of crude, girlish
opinions. The papers were full of him as well.
Ben was one of his enthusiastic admirers. And now they planned to give a
banquet,--printers and newspaper-men,--and Mr. Thackeray was to be the
guest of the occasion; there was to be a dinner, with some of the bright
literary lights, music, and dancing,--a really grand affair. Theodore
Whitney was on the committee; and Ben had a lesser position. They meant
to make it the affair of the season. Joe must surely take tickets. It
was such a shame Dolly couldn't go; and, of course, Steve wouldn't.
John and Cleanthe were not interested in such things; and, after
thinking it over, Mrs. Hoffman declined.
"I shall have to look up a girl," said Joe. "Hanny, you have never been
to a ball. Would you like to go?"
"Oh, I think a ball would be splendid! If Daisy could go, or Dolly."
"Yes, Daisy's mother or Dolly would have to go."
That gave him an idea, and he went down to see Mrs. Jasper.
"Why, I really think I would like to go myself," she said. "We do not
consider Daisy quite a grown-up lady. I should like to keep her just a
young girl for a long while; but, perhaps, that will not be possible."
"Hanny is a very young girl," returned Joe. "And I do not think father
could stand it to have her grown up. But she keeps so small, I don't
just know how we should get mother coaxed around. Both girls would enjoy
it immensely."
"Oh, she would trust her with Mr. Jasper and me, if we were to take
Daisy. Dear me--one festivity doesn't really signify. And yet--" she
blushed and smiled with a certain girlishness. "They may be dangerous; I
went to a Christmas ball when I was sixteen, and met Mr. Jasper. I was
out on a holiday,--a mere school-girl."
"I don't believe Hanny or Daisy will find any one to fall in love
with," said Joe, seriously; "they are so in love with each other."
"Oh, yes. They are planning to live together. There must be a
settlement; for both will have to bring their respective families."
Joe was a good deal amused at that.