Carroll had arrived home very unexpectedly that Sunday morning. The
family were at the breakfast-table. As a usual thing, Sunday-morning
breakfast at the Carrolls' was a desultory and uncertain ceremony,
but when Major Arms was there it was promptly on the table at eight
o'clock. He had not yet, in the relaxation of civilian life, gotten
over the regular habits acquired in the army.
"It isn't hard you'll find the old man on you, sweetheart," he told
Ina, "but there's one thing he's got to have, and that is his
breakfast, and a good old Southern one, with plenty to eat, at eight
o'clock, or you'll find him as cross as a bear all day to pay for it."
Ina laughed and blushed, and sprinkled the sugar on her cereal.
"Ina will not mind," said Mrs. Carroll. "She and Charlotte have never
been sleepy-heads."
Eddy glanced resentfully at his mother. He was a little jealous in
these days. He had never felt himself so distinctly in the background
as during these preparations for his sister's wedding.
"I am not a sleepy-head, either, Amy," said he.
"It is a pity you are not," said she, and everybody laughed.
"Eddy is always awake before anybody in the house," said Ina, "and
prowling around and sniffing for breakfast."
"And you bet there is precious little breakfast to sniff lately,
unless we have company," said Eddy, still in his resentful little
pipe; and for a second there was silence.
Then Mrs. Carroll laughed, not a laugh of embarrassment, but a
delightful, spontaneous peal, and the others, even Major Arms, who
had looked solemnly nonplussed, joined her.
Eddy ate his cereal with a sly eye of delight upon the mirthful
faces. "Yes," said he, further. "I wish you'd stay here all the time,
Major Arms, and stay engaged to Ina instead of marrying her; then all
the rest of us would have enough to eat. We always have plenty when
you are here."
He looked around for further applause, but he did not get it.
Charlotte gave him a sharp poke in the side to institute silence.
"What are you poking me for, Charlotte?" he asked, aggrievedly. She
paid no attention to him.
"Don't you think it is strange we don't hear from papa?" said
Charlotte.
Major Arms stared at her. "Do you mean to say you have not heard from
him since he went away?" he asked.
"Not a word," replied Mrs. Carroll, cheerfully.
"I am a little uneasy about papa," said Ina, but she went on eating
her breakfast quite composedly.
"I should be if I had ever known him to fail to take care of
himself," said Mrs. Carroll.
"It's the other folks that had better look out," remarked Eddy, with
perfect innocence, though would-be wit. He looked about for applause.
Arms's eyes twinkled, but he bent over his plate solemnly.
"Eddy, you are talking altogether too much," Anna Carroll said.
"You are unusually silly this morning, Eddy," said Charlotte. "There
is no point in such a remark as that."
"You said Arthur had gone to Chicago?" Arms said to Mrs. Carroll.
"Well, the funny part of it is, we don't exactly know whether he has
or not," replied Mrs. Carroll, "but we judge so. Arthur had been
talking about going to Chicago. He had spoken about the possibility
of his having to go for some time, and all of a sudden that morning
came a telegram from New York saying that he was called away on
business."
"Amy, of course he went to Chicago," Anna Carroll said, quickly. "You
know there is no doubt of it. He said he might have to go there on
business, and he had carried a dress-suit case in to the office, to
have it ready, and he had given you the Chicago hotel address."
"Yes, so he did, Anna," assented Mrs. Carroll. "I suppose he must
have gone to Chicago."
"You have written him there, I suppose?" said Arms, who was evidently
perturbed.
"Oh yes," replied Mrs. Carroll, easily, "I have written three times."
"Did you put a return address on the corner of the envelope in case
he was not there?"
"Oh no! I never do. I thought only business men did that."
"Amy doesn't even date her letters," said Ina.
"I never can remember the date," said Mrs. Carroll, "and I never can
remember whether it is Banbridge or Banridge, so I never write the
name of the place, either."
"And she always signs her name just Amy," said Charlotte.
"Yes, I do, of course," said Mrs. Carroll, smiling.
Arms turned to Anna Carroll. "You have not felt concerned?" said he
to her.
"Not in the least," she replied, calmly. "I have no doubt that he has
gone to Chicago, and possibly his business has taken him farther
still. I think nothing whatever of not hearing from him. Arthur, with
all of his considerateness in other respects, has always been
singularly remiss as to letters."
"Yes, he has, even before we were married," agreed Mrs. Carroll. "Not
hearing from Arthur was never anything to worry about."
"And I think with Amy that Arthur Carroll is perfectly well able to
take care of himself," said Anna, further, with her slight inflection
of sarcasm.
"I understood that he was going to Chicago, from something he said to
me some time ago," Arms said, thoughtfully.
"Of course he has gone there," Anna Carroll said again, with a sharp
impatience.
And then there was a whirring flash of steel past the window, and the
fiercely hitching curve of a boy's back.
"It's Jim Leech on his wheel, and he's got a telegram," proclaimed
Eddy, and made a dash for the door.
There was a little ripple of excitement. Charlotte jumped up and
followed Eddy, but he re-entered the room dancing aloof with the
telegram. In spite of her efforts to reach it, he succeeded in
tearing it open. Charlotte was almost crying and quite pale.
"Eddy," she pleaded, "please give it to me--please."
"Eddy, bring that telegram here," commanded his aunt, half rising
from her seat.
"It is only from Arthur, saying he is coming, of course," said Mrs.
Carroll, calmly sipping her coffee. "Arthur always telegraphs when he
has been away anywhere and is coming home."
"Eddy!" said Charlotte.
But Eddy essayed reading the telegram with an effect of being in the
air, such was his defensive agility. "He's coming, I guess," he said.
"I don't think anything very bad has happened. I don't think it's an
accident or anything, but the writing is awful. I should think that
telegraph man would be ashamed to write like that."
"Eddy, bring that telegram to me," said Anna; "bring it at once." And
the boy finally obeyed.
Anna read the telegram and her nervous forehead relaxed. "It is all
right," said she; then she read the message aloud. It was dated New
York, the night before:
"Am in New York. Shall take the first train home in the morning."
"He sent it last night at eight o'clock, and we have only just got
it," said Ina.
"He is all right," repeated Anna.
"Of course he is all right," said Mrs. Carroll. "Why doesn't Marie
bring in the eggs? We have all finished the cereal?"
"Eggs! Golly!" cried Eddy, slipping into his chair.
"Why, it must be time for him now!" Charlotte said, suddenly.
Arms looked at his watch. "Yes, it is," he agreed.
It was not long before Samson Rawdy drove into the grounds, and
everybody sprang up at the sound of the wheels.
"There's papa!" cried Eddy, and led the way to the door, slipping out
before the others.
Carroll was engaged in a discussion with the driver. He nodded his
head in a smiling aside in response to the chorus of welcome from the
porch, and went on conferring with the liveryman, who was speaking in
a low, inaudible voice, but gesticulating earnestly. Presently
Carroll drew out his pocket-book and gave him some money.
"My!" said Eddy, in a tone of awe, "papa's paying him some money."
Still the man, Samson Rawdy, did not seem quite satisfied. Something
was quite audible here about the rest of the bill, but finally he
smiled in response to Carroll's low, even reply, raised his hat,
sprang into his carriage, and turned round in a neat circle while
Carroll came up the steps.
"Arthur, dear, where have you been?" asked his wife, folding soft,
silken arms around his neck and putting up her smiling face for his
kiss. "We have not heard a word from you since you went away."
"You got my telegram?" replied Carroll, interrogatively, kissing her,
and passing on to his daughters. Eddy, meantime, was clinging to one
of his father's hands and making little leaps upon him like a pet dog.
"Yes," cried everybody together, "the telegram just came--just a
minute ago."
Anna had kissed her brother, then stepped quietly into the house. The
others moved slowly after her.
"How are you, old man?" Carroll asked Major Arms.
"First rate," replied Arms, grasping the proffered hand, yet in a
somewhat constrained fashion.
"Why didn't you write, Arthur dear?" Mrs. Carroll asked, yet not in
the least complainingly or reproachfully. On the contrary, she was
smiling at him with the sweetest unreserve of welcome as she entered
the dining-room by his side.
"Breakfast is getting cold, papa," said Charlotte. "Come right in."
"We have got a bully breakfast. No end to eat," said Eddy, as he
danced at his father's heels.
Carroll need not have answered his wife's question then, for her
attention was diverted from it, but he did. "I was very busy, dear,"
he said, rather gravely. "You were no less in mind. In fact, I never
had you all any more in mind."
"You must have had a hard night's journey, papa," Charlotte said, as
they all sat down at the table, and Marie brought in the eggs.
"Yes, I had a very hard night," Carroll replied, still with a curious
gravity.
Charlotte regarded him anxiously. "Why, papa," she said, "aren't you
well?"
"Very well indeed, honey," Carroll replied, and he smiled then.
The others looked at him. "Why, papa, you _do_ look sick!" cried Ina.
"Arthur, dear, you look as if you had been ill a month, and I never
noticed it till now, I was so glad to see you," cried Mrs. Carroll.
Suddenly she jumped from her seat and passed behind her husband's
chair and drew his head to her shoulder. "Arthur, dearest, are you
ill?"
"No, I am not, sweetheart."
"But, Arthur, you have lost twenty pounds!"
"Nonsense, dear!"
"Haven't you had anything to eat, papa?" Eddy asked, with sharp
sidewise eyes on his father.
Then Anna Carroll spoke. "Can't you see that Arthur wants his
breakfast?" said she, and in her tone was a certain impatience and
pity for her brother.
Major Arms, however, was not a man to take a hint. He also was
scrutinizing Carroll. "Arthur," he suddenly exclaimed, "what on earth
is the matter, lad? You do look pretty well knocked up."
Carroll loosened his wife's arm and gave her an exceedingly gentle
push. He laughed constrainedly at the same time. "Anna is about
right," he said. "I am starved. Wait until I have eaten my breakfast
before you pass judgment on my appearance."
"Haven't you eaten anything since you left Chicago, papa?" asked Ina.
"Never mind, dear," he replied, in an odd, curt tone, and she looked
a little grieved.
"Did you come on the flyer, papa?" asked Eddy. "What are you nudging
me for, Charlotte?"
"Papa doesn't want any more questions asked. He wants his breakfast,"
said Charlotte.
"No, I did not come on the flyer," Carroll answered, in the same curt
tone. Then for a moment there was silence, and Carroll ate his
breakfast.
It was Major Arms who broke the silence. "You got in last night," he
said, with scarcely an inflection of interrogation.
But Carroll replied, "I was in the hotel at midnight."
"We have been frightfully busy since you left, Arthur dear," said
Mrs. Carroll. "It is a tremendous undertaking to make a wedding."
"How do the preparations go on?" asked Carroll, while Ina bent over
her plate with a half-annoyed, half-pleased expression.
"Very well," replied Mrs. Carroll. "Ina's things are lovely, and the
dressmaker is so pleased that we gave her the trousseau. It will be a
lovely wedding."
"Where have you been all the week?" Carroll asked of Arms, who was
gazing with an utter openness of honest delight at Ina.
"Here some of the time, and in New York. I had to run up to Albany on
business for two days. I got home Wednesday night too late to come
out here, and I went into Proctor's roof-garden to see the vaudeville
show."
"Did you?" remarked Carroll, in an even voice. He sugared his cereal
more plentifully.
"Yes. I had the time on my hands. It was a warm night and I did not
feel like turning in, and I was trailing about and the lights
attracted me. And, by Jove! I was glad I went in, for I saw something
that carried me back--well, I won't say how many years, for I'm
trying to be as much of a boy as I can for this little girl
here--but, by Jove! it did carry me back, though."
"What was it?" asked Charlotte.
"Well, dear, it was nothing except a dance by a nigger. Maybe you
wouldn't have thought so much of it. I don't know, though; it did
bring down the house. He was called back I don't know how many times.
It was like a dance an old fellow on my father's plantation used to
dance before the war. Arthur, you must have seen old Uncle Noah dance
that. Why, now I think of it, you used to dance it yourself when you
were a boy, and sing for the music just the way he did. Don't you
remember?"
Carroll nodded laughingly, and went on eating.
"Used to--I guess you did! I remember your dancing that at Bud
Hamilton's when Bud came of age. Old Noah must have been gone then.
It was after the war."
"Oh, papa," cried Eddy, in a rapture, "do dance it sometime, won't
you?"
"I'll tell you what we will all do," cried Major Arms, with
enthusiasm, "we'll all go to the City to-morrow night, and we'll see
that dance. I tell you it's worth it. It's a queer thing, utterly
unlike anything I have ever seen. It is a sort of cross between a
cake-walk and an Indian war-dance. Jove! how it carried me back!"
Arms began to hum. "That's it, pretty near, isn't it, Arthur?" he
asked.
"Quite near, I should say," replied Carroll.
"Oh, papa, won't you sing and dance it after breakfast?" cried Eddy.
"Now, hush up, my son," said Arms. "Your father has the dignity of
his position to support. A gentleman doesn't dance nigger dances when
he is grown up and the head of a family. It's all very well when he
is a boy. But we'll all go to New York to-morrow night and we'll see
that dance."
"There is a great deal to do," Anna Carroll remarked.
"Nonsense!" said the major. "There's time enough. Where are the
Sunday papers? I'll see if it is on to-morrow. Have they come yet?"
"I am going down to get shaved, and I will bring them up," Carroll
said.
"Don't they bring them to the door in Banbridge?" asked Arms,
wonderingly.
"They used when we first came here," said Eddy. "I guess--" Then he
stopped in obedience to a look from his aunt.
"I will bring them when I come home," repeated Carroll.
"Well, we'll all go in to-morrow night, and we'll see that dance,"
said the major.
But when Carroll, on his return from the barber's shop, brought the
papers, Major Arms discovered, much to his disappointment, that that
particular attraction had been removed from the roof-garden. There
was a long and flattering encomium of the song and dance which upheld
him in his enthusiasm.
"Yes, it was a big thing; you can understand by what it says here,"
said he, "I was right. I'm mighty sorry it's off."