Wired Love

by Ella Cheever Thayer

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE FEAST.

  Pondering discontentedly over the perplexities of life, a habit she hadallowed herself to indulge in quite frequently of late, one day not longafter the final exit of the once interesting but now obnoxious "C,"Nattie suddenly became aware of a pair of merry brown eyes, belonging toa fine-looking young gentleman, observing her critically, and withapparently no intention of discontinuing their scrutiny. At which, inher present state of temper, Nattie turned very red and very angry. "Iam not on exhibition," she thought, indignantly, and risingmajestically, went towards him with the curt inquiry,

  "Did you wish to send a message, sir?" The young gentleman hesitated,and appeared slightly embarrassed, but did not take his eyes from herface, nevertheless.

  "I merely wished to ask the tariff to Washington," he replied, atlength.

  "Forty cents," Nattie answered, shortly.

  "Thank you," he said, but without moving, and after a moment, as ifdesirous of opening a conversation, he continued, smiling, "I hardlythink I will send a message to-day; I presume you will not object tobeing spared the trouble?"

  Nattie, having been quarreling all day with intangible somethings, wasrather glad than otherwise to find a real object upon which she couldvent the unamiability resulting from her surplus discontent. The youngman's evident desire to talk more than circumstances warranted, wasdispleasing to her, and she rejoined very stiffly,

  "It is a matter of perfect indifference to me," and turned away.

  With an amused smile, he looked at the back thus presented to his view,opened his lips to speak, hesitated, and finally walked away. Nattie,looking after him out of the corners of her eyes, saw him glance back ashe opened the door, and had a remorseful feeling that perhaps she hadbeen crosser to him than he really deserved, for he was certainly veryfine-looking. But what was done could not be undone, and with noexpectation of ever seeing him again, she dismissed the matter from hermind.

  The best, perhaps the only really pleasant part of Nattie's life now,was her evenings, passed almost invariably with Cyn. Indeed, Cyn seemedto be a magnet, around which all gathered--Quimby, although, of course,Cyn herself was not his chief attraction--Celeste Fishblate, whodeterminedly pushed herself into an intimacy, and Jo Norton, who, had itnot been for the fact so loudly proclaimed by himself, of his having nosentiment in his soul, would have been suspected of being on the road tofalling in love with Cyn, so strangely was he attracted to her company.But this, of course, was impossible for _him_!

  "That will not do, dear," Cyn remarked, when Nattie related her littleadventure with the young gentleman. "Do you know you have been in adreadful state of mind ever since 'C' intruded his personality?"

  Nattie colored a little as she replied, discontentedly, "Oh, it isn't_that_, I assure you; the truth is, I am ambitious, Cyn. I suppose Iforgot it, slightly, while I was so interested in 'C;' but I cannot becontent with a mere working on from day to day, in the same old routine,and nothing more."

  Cyn looked at her scrutinizingly, as she asked, "But in what particularway are you ambitious? to be rich, or what?"

  "Oh! not for money!" Nattie answered, with a slight contempt for thatnecessary and convenient article. "I am ambitious for fame! I want to bea writer; but when I think of the obstacles in my way to an opening,even, in that direction, I am daunted. I have attacks of energy, it istrue, but I fear it is fitful; it comes and goes."

  "I understand," Cyn replied, with more than wonted seriousness. "Yourambition is great enough to render you useless and discontented, but youneed something to stimulate your energy, else it will waste itself inidle dreams. Perhaps love may come to be that motive power; perhaps--"and a shade crossed her sunny face--"some great disappointment."

  There was a moment's silence, Nattie pondering thoughtfully on thesewords; and then Cyn continued,

  "But in the meantime, since you can at present accomplish nothing, whynot get all the enjoyment you can out of life, as it goes? So, when theopportunity comes, and you seize it, you will not have to look back onyears wasted in vain longings for the then unattainable. _That_ is myphilosophy--and I, too, am ambitious."

  "Your philosophy is cheery, at least," said Nattie, smiling. "But I amafraid it is very hard for ambitious people to take life easy: and thatis not all of my troubles," she continued, gayly, "I can't get anythinggood to eat!"

  "Poor child," said Cyn, with mock seriousness, "this _is_ coming from thesublime to the ridiculous. What is the cause of the lamentable fact?"

  "Oh! I am so tired of both boarding-houses and restaurants. In theformer they never have what one likes--and ah! such steak!--while inthe latter you have to pick out all the cheap dishes, or ruin yourselfat a meal."

  Cyn laughed.

  "I assure you I can appreciate your feelings, from sad experience! I,myself, am positively longing for a nice sirloin steak." Then, a suddenthought striking her, "I will tell you what we will do, Nat, we willhave a little feast!"

  "A feast?" repeated Nattie, not exactly comprehending.

  "Yes--I have a little gas stove--low be it said, lest Mrs. Simonson hearand bring in a terrific bill for extra gas!--I use it sometimes to cookmy dinner, when I do not feel like going out, and why should we not havea feast all to ourselves some day? and the sirloin steak shall beforthcoming! and what do you say to Charlotte Russe? In short, we willhave everything we can think of, and you shall be assistant cook!"

  "That would be splendid!" cried Nattie, delighted, "only it will have tobe some Sunday, as that is my only leisure day, you know."

  "All the better, for then we will be less liable to intrusion,"responded Cyn, gayly. "So make a memorandum to that effect, for nextweek. We must not let Mrs. Simonson know, however, on account of the gasstove; I pay her too much rent now. I am afraid we shall have a littledifficulty about dishes. The few I have are not exactly real Sevreschina, or even decently conventional. But--"

  "Oh! never mind the dishes!" interrupted Nattie. "Anything will do! Ihave myself a cracked tumbler, and a spoon, that will perhaps be usefulfor something."

  Agreeing therefore to hold dishes in strict contempt, the followingSunday found the two girls with closed doors, in the midst of greatpreparations for a truly Bohemian feast, as Cyn termed it; Nattie withher crimps tied down in a blue handkerchief, and Cyn with her sleevesrolled up, and an old skirt of a dress doing duty as apron.

  "Let me see," said Nattie merrily, taking account of stock. "Two poundsof steak--the first cut of the sirloin, I think you said?--waiting,expectant of making glad our hearts, on the rocking-chair, potatoes inplebeian lowliness under the table, tomatoes and two pies on your trunk,Charlotte Russes--delicious Charlotte Russes--where? Ah!--on yourbonnet-box, in a plate ordinarily used as a card receiver, and sugar,butter, et cetera, and et cetera lying around almost anywhere, and thefigs, oranges and homely, but necessary bread, where are they? I see, ontop of 'Dombey & Son!'"

  "And our dishes will not quarrel, because thev are none of them anyrelation to each other!" laughed Cyn, as she peeled the tomatoes. "Ifear goblets will have to take upon themselves the duties of cups, andthat cracked tumbler of yours must be used for something. I am sorrythat saucepan is so dilapidated, but it is the best I own!"

  "And in that saucepan we must both boil the potatoes and stew thetomatoes. Won't one cool while the other is doing?" queried Nattie,hovering lovingly over the steak.

  "I think not;" Cyn answered. "You won't mind the coffee being boiled ina tin can, once the repository of preserved peaches, will you?"

  "Ah, no!" replied Nattie emphatically, and sawing at the steak with avery dull knife, without a handle. "It will be just as good when it'spoured out."

  "I had a coffee-pot once, but I melted the nose off and forgot to buyanother yesterday," Cyn said, putting on the potatoes.

  "We will call our contrivance a coffee-urn; it sounds aristocratic,"suggested Nattie, as she cleared the books from the least shaky table,and spread it with three towels, in lieu of a table-clot
h. "But whatshall we do for plates to put the pies on?"

  "Take those two wooden box covers in the closet," promptly respondedCyn. "That is right, and see, here is room also for the coffee--pardonme, I had almost said commonplace coffee-pot!"

  "But the tomato! what _can_ we pour that in?" suddenly exclaimed Nattie,with great concern.

  Cyn scanned every object in the room with dismay.

  "The--the wash-bowl!" she insinuated at last, determined not to bedaunted.

  "Don't you think it rather large? to say nothing of its being toosuggestive?" said Nattie, laughing.

  Cyn did not press the point, but shook her head, dubiously.

  "I have it!" cried Nattie, "there is a fruit-dish in my room."

  "Just the thing!" interrupted Cyn ecstatically, "I will run and bringit, if you will attend to the cooking."

  "Look out for Miss Kling," said Nattie, warningly; "if she catches aglimpse of you making off with my fruit-dish, she will never rest untilshe finds out everything."

  "Rely on me for secrecy and dispatch," said Cyn, going. "If she sees me,I will mention nuts and raisins; merely mention them, you know."

  But Miss Kling, for once, was napping; perhaps dreaming of him Cyncalled the Torpedo--Celeste's father--and she obtained the dish, reachedher own door again without being seen by any one except the Duchess, andwas congratulating herself on her good luck, when suddenly, like anapparition, Quimby stood before her.

  Cyn started, murmured something about "oranges," slipped the soap-dishshe had also confiscated into her pocket, and tried to make the bigfruit-dish appear as small as possible.

  She might, however, have spared herself any uneasiness, for this alwaysthe most unobservant of mortals, was too much overburdened with someaffair of his own, to notice even a two-quart dish.

  "Oh! I--I beg pardon, I--I was coming with a a--request to your room,"he said eagerly. "I--would it be too much to--to bring a friend, heknows no one here, and I am sure he and you would fraternize at once, ifI might bring him, you know."

  "Certainly--yes!" replied Cyn, too anxious to get away to pay muchattention to his words, particularly as an odor of steak reached hernostrils.

  "Thank you! I--I never knew any one who understood me as well as you!"he said with a grateful bow, and without more words, Cyn left him.

  "How long you have been gone!" Nattie remarked, looking up, her cheeksvery red, and her nose embellished with a streak of smut, as Cynentered. "Did you see any one?"

  "No one except Quimby, who stopped me to ask about bringing a friend tocall some evening," Cyn replied, displaying the fruit, and producing thesoap-dish.

  "Mercy on us!" Nattie said, looking rather aghast, "it is rather large,isn't it? and what did you bring-that soap-dish for?"

  "I thought it might come handy," laughed Cyn. "We will make a potatoholder of it for the time. 'To what base uses may we come atlast?'--Why--" in a tone of surprise, "here is the Duchess!"

  And sure enough, up by the window sat that sagacious animal, winking andblinking complacently, and evidently determined to be a third in thefeast.

  "She came in unnoticed under the shadow that fruit-dish threw," saidNattie, teasingly.

  Cyn shook an oyster fork at her threateningly.

  "Say another such word and you shall have no steak!" she saidtragically, "instead, a dungeon shall be your doom. We will let theDuchess remain as a receiver of odds and ends. I suppose her suspicionswere excited by the sight of these articles. A rare cat! a learned cat!now please set the table, for our feast will soon be prepared!" and Cynbent over the sizzling steak, that emitted a most appetizing odor.

  Setting that table was no such easy matter as might appear, for whatwith the big fruit-dish, wooden covers, different sizes of plates andother incongruous articles, considerable management was necessary.

  "I shall have to put the sugar on in the bag," Nattie said, incautiouslybacking to view the general effect, and so stumbling over the saucepanof potatoes that sat on the floor, but luckily doing no damage.

  "Ah, well! Eccentricity is quite the rage now, you know," responded thephilosophical Cyn, "and certainly, a sugar-bowl so closely resembling abrown paper bag as not to be distinguishable from the real thing, isquite _recherche_. But my dear Nat, where am I to set the steak if youhave that big fruit-dish in the center of the table, taking up all theroom?"

  "I shall have to put it on the floor, then," Nattie answered,despairingly, "for I have tried it on all parts of the table! If you setit on the edge," she added hastily, seeing Cyn about to do so, "you willtip the whole thing over!"

  "Then we must have a side-board," Cyn announced, with a plate of steakin one hand, and the big fruit-dish in the other. "Put my writing-deskon a chair, please; spread a towel over it, and there you have it!"

  "But what a quantity of eatables we have! Two pounds of steak, ten bigpotatoes, a two-quart dish of tomatoes, two large pies, two CharlotteRusses, an urn of coffee, a dozen oranges and a box of figs--goodgracious! Think of two people eating all that!" exclaimed Nattie,decidedly dismayed at the prospect.

  "It is considerable," Cyn confessed, surveying the array with a slightlydaunted expression. "You see I am not used to buying for a family, and Iwas afraid of getting too little. But," brightening, "there isn't morethan one quart of the tomatoes, and there are _three_ of us, you know--theDuchess!"

  "To be sure; I had forgotten her!" Nattie said, recovering herequanimity, and glancing at the purring animal, who was looking onapprovingly, and evidently appreciated the difference between sirloinand her usual rations of round.

  "Then let the revels commence, at once!" cried Cyn, rolling down hersleeves, while Nattie wiped the smut from her face.

  But now another difficulty presented itself; the chairs were all too lowto admit of feasting with the anticipated rapture; this was soonovercome, however, by piling a few books in the highest chair, andappropriating the music-stool.

  "Now for a feast," exclaimed Nattie, exultantly, as they sat downtriumphant, and she brandished her very big knife and extremely smallfork, while Cyn poured the coffee from the--urn; an undertaking attendedwith some difficulty, and requiring caution and the Duchess looked onexpectantly.

  And then--the goal almost reached--upon their startled ears came adreadful sound--the sound of a knock at the door!

  Down to the ground went Nattie's knife and fork, the coffee-urn narrowlyescaped a similar fate, up went the back of the Duchess, and twodismayed Bohemians and one impatient cat gazed at each other.