"WHERE THERE IS NO JEALOUSY THERE IS LITTLE LOVE!"
It was a relief to Jay Gardiner when he found himself out of the house
and on the street. The short two hours he had passed in Sally's society
were more trying on his nerves than the hardest day's work could have
been.
He groaned aloud at the thought of the long years he was destined to
live though, with this girl as his companion.
He had come at seven, and made his adieu at nine. Sally then went
upstairs to her mother's room with a very discontented face, and entered
the _boudoir_ in anything but the best of humors.
Mrs. Pendleton looked up from the book she was reading, with an
expression of astonishment and wonder.
"Surely Doctor Gardiner has not gone so soon!" she exclaimed.
"Yes, he has," replied Sally, laconically.
"I suppose some important duty called him away so early?"
"He did not say so," returned her daughter, crossly.
"Is he coming soon again?" questioned Mrs. Pendleton, anxiously.
"I don't know," replied Sally; adding, slowly: "When I tried to find out
when he would call again, he seemed annoyed, and replied, curtly: 'That
will be hard for me to determine, Miss Pendleton. You must remember that
those in my profession have few leisure hours.' He would not set a time.
I had to let the matter rest at that."
"He is not very much in love, then, I fear, my dear Sally," said her
mother, reflectively. "Still, bad beginnings often make good endings.
But I had almost forgotten to tell you the startling news, my dear,"
added Mrs. Pendleton, hastily. "Your aunt, Sally Rogers, is here. Louisa
is entertaining her up in her _boudoir_. You must not be surprised, or
show too much amusement when you see her. She is a sight. We would be
eternally disgraced if the neighbors were to see her. She is fairly
covered with rags--yes, rags! There are holes in her shoes; there never
was such a bonnet worn since the time of the ark; and as for gloves, she
disdains such an article of feminine attire altogether. I do not think
one will have to wait long to come into possession of her fortune. But
run up to your sister's room and greet old Miss Sally as affectionately
as possible."
Sally was rather glad of this intelligence, for it prevented her from
having a very bad case of the blues in thinking over her lover's
coldness, and how irksome this betrothal was to him.
She found her sister doing her utmost to entertain the most grotesque
little old woman she had ever beheld. Her mother's description had
certainly not been overdrawn.
Sally felt like bursting into uproarious laughter the moment her eyes
fell upon Miss Rogers, and it was only by a most superhuman effort she
controlled herself from letting her rising mirth get the better of her.
"Dear me, _is_ this, _can_ this be jolly little Sally Pendleton, as you
used to sign the merry letters you wrote to me?" asked Miss Rogers,
stopping short in some remark she was making to Louisa, and gazing hard
at the slender, girlish figure that had just appeared on the threshold.
"Yes, it is I, Sally Pendleton," responded the girl, coming quickly
forward. "I just heard you were here, aunt, and I want to tell you how
delighted, enraptured, overjoyed I am to see you," she added, throwing
her arms around the bundle of rags which inclosed the thin little old
maid, with a bear-like hug and any amount of extravagant kisses, not
daring to look at Louisa the while.
"This is indeed a hearty welcome, my dear!" exclaimed Miss Rogers.
"Stand off, child," she added, holding Sally at arm's-length, "until I
get a good look at you."
And she gazed long and steadily.
Sally could not tell whether Miss Rogers was pleased or disappointed
with her, as her face never expressed her emotions.
"I will call you and your sister my nieces; but you are not so nearly
related to me as that---the line of relationship is a long way off.
There are many others as near to me as your family."
"But none who love you anywhere near as well," put in Sally, quickly.
"I hope you mean what you say," replied Miss Rogers, quietly; adding,
after a moment's pause, during which she wiped a suspicious moisture
from her eyes: "I am a very lonely woman, and life offers few charms for
me, because I am quite alone in the world, with no one to care for me. I
have often thought that I would give the whole world, if it were mine to
give, for just one human being to whom I was dear. I am desolate; my
heart hungers for sympathy and kindness, and--and a little affection. I
have neither father nor mother, sister nor brother, husband nor
children. I hope neither of you girls will ever experience the
hopelessness, the heartache conveyed in those words. It is hard,
bitterly cruel, to be left alone in the world. But I suppose Heaven
intended it to be so, and--and knows best."
"You shall never know loneliness again, dear aunt," murmured Louisa. "To
make every moment of your life happy will be our only aim."
"Thank you, my dear," replied Miss Rogers, tremulously.
"You shall live with us always, if you will, aunt," said Sally, "and be
one of the family. You may have my _boudoir_ all to yourself, and I will
take the small spare room next to it."
"You are very good to me," said Miss Rogers, huskily.
Mrs. Pendleton had been busy getting the handsome guest-chamber ready
for their wealthy kinswoman. She entered just in time to overhear
Sally's last remark.
"Miss Rogers shall have a larger, handsomer _boudoir_ than yours,
Sally," remarked her mother. "The entire suite of rooms on this floor is
at her disposal, if she will only allow us to persuade her to remain
with us. My dear daughters, you must add your entreaties on this point
to your father's and mine."
"How can I ever repay you for your deep interest in a lone body like
me?" murmured Miss Rogers.
The eyes of the girls and those of their mother met; but they did not
dare express in words the thought that had leaped simultaneously into
their minds at her words.
"You have had no one to look after your wardrobe, dear Aunt Rogers,"
said Mrs. Pendleton; "so do, I beseech you, accept some of my gowns
until you desire to lay them aside for fresher ones."
"I am bewildered by so much kindness," faltered Miss Rogers. And she was
more bewildered still at the array of silks and satins and costly laces
with which the three ladies deluged her.
The very finest rooms in the house were given her. Miss Sally made her a
strong punch with her own hands, "just the way she said she liked it,"
and Louisa bathed her face in fragrant cologne, and tried on a lace
night-cap with a great deal of fuss.
Some one came in to turn down the night-lamp a little later on--a
quiet, slender figure in a dark-brown gown. It was not Mrs. Pendleton,
nor was it either of her daughters.
"Who are you?" asked Miss Rogers, perceiving at a glance that she was
evidently no servant of the household. A sweet, pale, wan face was
turned toward her.
"I an Patience Pendleton," replied a still sweeter voice.
"Dear me!" exclaimed Miss Rogers, "I never heard that there were three
daughters in this family." She could see, even in that dim light, the
pink flush steal quickly over the wan, white face.
"I am a daughter by my father's first marriage," she answered, quietly.
"My step-mother and her daughters seldom mention me to any one."
There was no suspicion of malice in her tone, only sadness; and without
another word, save a gentle good-night, she glided from the room.
It was Sally, bright, jolly Sally, who awakened Miss Rogers the next
morning. Louisa insisted upon helping her to dress, while Mr. and Mrs.
Pendleton tapped at the door, and eagerly inquired if she had rested
well.
She was given the seat of honor at the breakfast-table, and a huge
bouquet of hot-house roses lay at her plate.
Sally had inquired the night before as to her favorite viands, and they
were soon placed before her deliciously prepared.
Louisa brought a dainty hassock for her feet, and Mrs. Pendleton a
silken scarf, to protect her from the slightest draught from the open
windows.
"You treat me as though I were a queen," said Miss Rogers, smiling
through her tears.
She could scarcely eat her breakfast, Sally and Louisa hung about her
chair so attentively, ready to anticipate her slightest wish. But
looking around, she missed the sweet, wistful face that she had seen in
her room the night before.
"Are all the family assembled here?" she inquired, wondering if it had
not been a dream she had had of a sweet white face and a pair of sad
gray eyes.
"All except Patience," replied Mrs. Pendleton, with a frown. "She's
rather queer, and prefers not to join us at table or in the
drawing-room. She spends all her time up in the attic bedroom reading
the Bible and writing Christmas stories for children for the religious
papers. We don't see her for weeks at a time, and actually forget she
lives in this house. She's quite a religious crank, and you won't see
much of her."
Miss Rogers saw the girls laugh and titter at their mother's remarks;
and from that moment they lowered in her estimation, while sweet
Patience was exalted.