MRS. HERRINGFORD'S PARTY.
"Jim," said Colonel Kerry, meeting the young man at the post-office,
"that cottage of Grant's, up near mine, has been rented at last. The
parties took possession today."
"Who got it, Colonel?"
"One of the big millionaires of St. Louis, they say; and he's arrived
with his wife and daughters and a whole gang of servants. Jarrod says
he's a capital fellow, but didn't mention the size of the capital.
Money won't buy health, Jim, and the poor Midas is an invalid and came
here to try to brace up."
Jim was white and staring.
"You--you didn't hear the name, Colonel?"
"Why, yes; it's Everton."
The young man gave a low, solemn whistle and walked away with a
guilty and disturbed demeanor, while the colonel favored a group that
had overheard his remarks with further particulars concerning the new
arrival.
There was considerable excitement in quiet Tamawaca over the advent of
the Evertons; for while the resort boasted several families of great
wealth, none was so marvelously rich or of such conspicuous note as the
well known patent medicine man who had won mountains of gold by the
sale of his remedies. And when it was understood his own poor health
had brought him to this place to seek relief the folks were really
shocked, and George B. Still declared he would send the poor man a
bottle of "Everton's Magic Healer" and ask him to read the printed
testimonials. The affair was a nine days' gossip because the people
had for the time exhausted the subject of Easton & Wilder and craved
excitement.
When Jim went to Susie with a hanging head and told her his father
had come to the very place where he had himself taken refuge, the
girl counselled with him seriously, and advised him not to run away
but rather to meet his family frankly and if possible resume friendly
relations with them.
"The only thing that Mr. Carleton urges against our engagement," she
said, "is that you have not treated your parents fairly in this matter.
And your poor father is ill, they say, and must be unhappy over the
desertion of his only son. How do you feel about it, Jim?"
"Why, I haven't looked at the matter in that light before, Susie," he
replied. "But I'll think it over and try to do what is right. What do
we do this evening?"
"We're invited to Mrs. Herringford's party, and I'm curious to go
and see what it will be like. The old lady is the mother of Mrs.
Drybug--you remember the Drybugs, don't you? Both the little dears
weigh about as much as a healthy schoolboy, and they remind one of ants
because they're so busy and you have to be careful not to step on them."
"I remember. If Mrs. Herringford is the mother of the Drybugs she ought
to be able to do stunts."
"Well, let's go."
So they went, as curious as every one else who had been invited, and
were glad they did not miss the show.
The oldest inhabitant could not remember when Mrs. Herringford had ever
entertained before. At the Yacht Club card parties she was always in
evidence, and the little lady played such an earnest, strenuous game
that the men rather avoided being her partners. Once George B. Still,
being caught, "bid" with such desperate recklessness that he set back
poor Mrs. Herringford far enough to ruin her game, and she went home
broken-hearted. But usually she glared at her partner so fiercely that
he played with unusual care and made the game a business and not a
diversion. Every one liked her, when she was at some other card table.
Tonight the lady wished to repay all her social obligations in a bunch
by giving a party at her cottage. Being rather nervous, she asked Mrs.
McCoy and the Widow Marsh to assist her to receive. Mrs. McCoy was a
sweet little woman who was every body's friend and therefore could
refuse Mrs. Herringford nothing that might please her, while the Widow
Marsh was possessed of such grace and beauty that she charmed every
male heart in spite of her modest ways and made the women with husbands
nervous whenever she was around.
With two such drawing cards the Herringford party could scarcely fail
of success, yet as the guests slowly arrived the atmosphere of gloom
that hung over the place was hard to dissipate. Mr. Idowno, one of the
first comers, began to look at his watch and suggest that it was time
to go, as "he had to work for a living;" but the Widow Marsh suspected
his intention and made him forget his worries by sitting at his side
and telling him how young he was growing.
The invited guests were so slow to arrive that some never came at all,
but bye and bye there were enough to start the card playing, and then
the hostess made them a clever speech.
"I haven't any prizes for the winners," she announced, "because I want
a very harmonious gathering here tonight and prizes always result in
disappointment, malice and envy. Besides, they're getting expensive.
But I hope you'll all play in a friendly spirit for the honor of
winning, and that you'll have a real good time."
Instead of applauding this speech, Mr. Idowno looked at his watch, but
his wife pinched him and made him put it away and take a seat at one of
the card tables.
It is impossible to repress Tamawaca folks when they are out for a
good time--which is the only reason they are ever out. "These people,"
whispered Lucy Kerry to her neighbor, "would enjoy themselves at a
funeral." "True," was the reply; "especially if they could pick the
corpse."
To relieve any chill in the temperature they at once began to laugh
and joke with one another, while Mrs. McCoy and the Widow Marsh
fluttered around to see that all were properly paired and the cards
were rightly sorted. The game began with as much energy as a lack of
prizes would warrant, but no effort could make it a whirlwind of joy,
so presently they gave up the cards and played blindman's bluff and
puss-in-the-corner. Mrs. Herringford was worried to death lest some one
should catch her and kiss her, but no man was so ungentlemanly.
Although these youthful frolics served to while away the front of the
evening, there was no temptation to linger very late, so when Mr.
Stakes suggested that they all "go home and have a good time" the party
was on the verge of breaking up.
"Wait--wait!" cried Mrs. Herringford. "We're going to have
refreshments."
Being cowed by wonder and made curious by the unexpected revelation,
they waited.
The hostess disappeared into the kitchen.
"It hardly seems possible," murmured Mrs. Purspyre, "but truth is
stranger than Mrs. Herringford. We shall see what we shall see. Her
grocery bill was twenty-eight cents last week, and she is said to have
half a million in government four-per-cents. Perhaps she's going to
open her heart, to prove she's alive and not a resuscitated Egyptian
mummy, as Mr. Wright claims she is. Let's wait."
They waited, and waited so long that the Widow Marsh and Mrs. McCoy had
hard work to prevent a stampede through the front door. But finally
the hostess appeared, bearing two plates and radiant with the joy of
generous hospitality.
"Run, Lucy and Grace and Ada and Mary," she called, "and help me bring
in the plates. The refreshments are all ready!"
They ran and brought in the plates. Upon each one was placed with
dainty care one soda cracker, one withered ginger-snap and one puffy
cracknel. The guests took the "refreshments" in dismal silence and
began to gnaw.
"But there's no plate for you, my dear," said Mrs. McCoy to the
hostess, in a solicitous tone.
"Never mind," returned the little lady, cheerfully; "I ain't hungry, so
I guess I can wait till breakfast."
Mrs. Purspyre choked on the puffy cracknel and was saved to the world
by a glass of water. Mrs. Herringford thoughtfully brought water for
them all.
"You'll find it nice and fresh," she said, with pardonable pride, as
she poured the precious fluid with a lavish hand.
"Then it's different from this ginger-snap," remarked Mr. Wogie,
nursing a jarred tooth.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" announced Mr. Sherlock, getting upon his
feet and waving one arm. "Let us thank Mrs. Herringford for her kind
entertainment, which will be a red letter event in our calendar of
glorious memories. This dissipation is unusual with us all, but I
hope in no case will it prove fatal. Once in a while it is good for
stagnant humanity to indulge in high life and cracknels--"
"Bravo!" shouted one of the Naylor girls, who had pocketed her
refreshments to carry home as a souvenir.
"Therefore," concluded the orator, "let us leave the glamour and
bewildering gaiety of these festivities and seek a more common-place
seclusion. Let us thank Mrs. Herringford once again--and go home."
"Bravo!" yelled Idowno, jumping up, and instantly the meeting
adjourned.