THE MACHINATIONS OF MABEL.
Dee must have laid it on rather thick with Mabel Binks, as anything like
that young woman's change of manner towards Annie could not have been
brought about by a light touch. I am afraid Dee represented Mr. Pore's
brother, the present baronet, as in the last stages of some wasting
disease, and by some juggling of facts in regard to English titles gave
the impression that Annie was in a fair way to become the Duchess of
Marlborough or at least the Honourable Anne. She afterwards told Dum and
me when we accused her of not having drawn it mild, that she had
neglected to tell Mabel the exact connection with the earl, but had
hinted that it was very close and one likely to lead to untold honours
to our little friend.
"I saw to it that your haughty relative, Mrs. Garnett, was informed of
the coincidence of Annie's mother and your mother being friends and of
their being at the house party of the big bugs together. Mrs. Garnett
was duly impressed and somewhat astonished, intimating that her cousin,
Dr. Allison, had picked up an English wife with no connections to speak
of. She will evidently have a higher opinion of you now that she knows
that your mother and grandfather were on visiting terms with an earl."
Dee pretended to be in jest about Cousin Park, but it was the truth that
she had always rather looked down on my mother for not being Virginian.
She never lost the chance to inform any stranger when I was introduced
that my name was not the Virginia Pages. With her, F. F. V's were the
first and last and only families worth considering in the Union or out
of it. Of course, English nobility was in a way admirable, since it had
given birth to F. F. V.dom, but the claim of inhabitants of any other
state to aristocracy was brushed aside with scornful disdain.
I remember a story my father used to tell of an old gentleman who said
he considered it very bad taste to ask any man where he came from. "If
he is a Virginian, he is sure to let you know it without your asking,
and if he is not, there is no use in rubbing it in on the poor fellow by
making him own up to it."
Mabel's being invited to supper was a question that had been discussed
up and down by the Tuckers, principally down; but they had finally
determined that it was on the whole up to them. Dee had been appointed
inviter as being the tactful member of the team, and Mabel naturally
jumped at the chance, overlooking the fact that she did not consider us
properly chaperoned.
Her politeness and cordiality to Annie were entirely unlooked for by
that shy maiden, who almost fainted from astonishment; and she actually
gushed over Mr. Pore. He looked at her for a moment through his ultra
gold glasses and then, deciding that she was nothing but a vulgar
"Amehriken," he never seemed to see her again, although he was forced to
hear her very often. She addressed many remarks to him and tried in
every way to make him notice her, but an "Aw, reahly!" was about all she
could get from him.
"I simply adore the English!" she exclaimed. "They have so much
reserve. Do you know, my grandfather Binks was English, and indeed he
never lost his accent although he lived in this country for a great many
years. I remember so well how he dropped his aitches and put them on in
the most unexpected places."
"Aw, reahly now!"
"Aren't you and your sweet daughter going back to England soon? You
don't know how we dote on your little Annie," and so on and so on, until
it was indeed sickening. It was easy to see that Miss Binks was as
anxious to get an invitation to England as she had been to Richmond,
while Mr. Pore was entirely unconscious of what she was driving at. He
looked upon her as some kind of escaped lunatic and Annie sat in
open-eyed wonderment, expecting every moment to be insulted as of yore.
They did not dream of Dee's having turned the tables on Mabel Binks as
she had done. Mr. Pore was still the country store-keeper and Annie was
the same shy girl with her wardrobe as limited as ever, but the wily Dee
had turned them into dukes and duchesses in Mabel's eyes, and the
snobbish creature was grovelling at the feet of the nobility. I have
never seen two persons have as much fun as Tweedles did that evening.
They were very quiet but spent the time "sicking Mabel on," as Dee
expressed it.
I was pleased to see that Annie did not unbend in the least to her
one-time persecutor. In spite of Annie's shyness she had a dignity that
was most admirable; and while she was perfectly polite to Mabel, she
permitted no advances. Getting invitations to England to visit in grand
country houses that still belong to older brothers was certainly up-hill
work. Winding purple and grey yarn for Mrs. Garnett and fetching and
carrying for her, even agreeing with her at every point, was child's
play to this thing of flattering a middle-aged Englishman who seemed to
have no conversation at his command but "Aw, reahly!" or "My word!" and
trying to undo the work of the last year and make a little English girl
forget all the rudeness she had suffered at the hands of her persistent
tormentor.
I kept wondering how about the lard and molasses that the middle-aged
Englishman would perhaps spend the rest of his life weighing out and
drawing from the barrel for his negro customers as well as white; also
if Mrs. Binks would still think Gresham too democratic in the class of
pupils it enrolled. I so naturally hate a snob that I did not have a
pleasant evening at all, and I could not quite see the fun in it that
Tweedles did.
I was glad when it was over and we could stretch out on our cots with
the pure sea air blowing on us, and, lulled by the soothing sound of the
waves lapping the shore, sleep the sleep of the just. We could be
thankful, at least, that Mabel Binks was, after all, none of us and when
we left Willoughby Beach we might never have to see her again.
As we lay side by side, all of us so quiet that one would have thought
sleep held us fast, there was a sudden upheaval from Mary's cot and a
sound that might have been sobbing.
"Mary! Mary! What is it?" we demanded. "Are you ill?" And then the
possible sobs turned into unmistakable giggles.
"Oh! Oh! Oh! I can't get to sleep for thinking of Mr. Pore's
countenance when Mabel told him of her Binks grandfather who dropped his
aitches." Then we all went off into shrieks of laughter that very little
would have turned into hysterics, if Zebedee had not knocked sternly on
our dressing-room door and bade us remember that we had other guests. Of
course he meant we must not do anything to make Mr. Pore think we were
not perfect ladies, so we subsided with only an occasional upheaval and
a smothered snicker.
And while we lay there I thought of a title for a short story and almost
got a plot worked out; but I went to sleep before it was quite clear.
The title was: "The Machinations of Mabel."