Wired Love

by Ella Cheever Thayer

  CHAPTER IX.

  UNEXPECTED VISITORS.

  "It must be Miss Kling, overpowered by curiosity!" murmured Nattie.

  "No!" answered Cyn in a stage whisper, "the knock is too timid. Goodgracious! there it is again! Stand in front of the gas stove, Nat, lestit be Mrs. Simonson, while I go and invent some excuse for not lettingin whoever it is."

  And having given these hasty directions, Cyn opened the door thesmallest possible crack. As she did so, and before she could speak, itwas pushed back violently, almost knocking her over, and in burstQuimby. This, however, might not have much disconcerted them, as _he_could have been disposed of easily enough, had not at his heels came atall, fine-looking young man, a perfect stranger to both Cyn and Nattie.

  "You see I keep my word!" was the enigmatical remark the smiling Quimbymade as he entered. Then, catching sight of the festive board, hestopped short and stared, with an utterly confounded face, at that, atthe embarrassed Nattie, at Cyn, behind the door, and at the saucepancover, which, embellished with potato parings, occupied a prominentposition in the middle of the floor.

  His companion also paused, a surprised and amused smile lurking in hismerry brown eyes as he looked at Nattie, seemingly regardless ofanything else in the room.

  Cyn was the first to recover from the general petrifaction, and with theinvoluntary thought, "what an excellent stage situation!" came frombehind the door, where Quimby's impetuous entrance had thrust her,saying, with as much ease as she could possibly gather together,

  "Don't be frightened at what you see, friend Quimby; we were onlyextemporizing a little feast, that is all. Will you join us?"

  But Quimby only stared harder than ever; he was evidently struckspeechless.

  His companion, thus placed in the awkward position of an unintroducedintruder, withdrew his eyes from Nattie, took in the situation at aglance, and turning to Cyn, said, smiling,

  "I think we owe you an apology for our intrusion my friend Quimby, onwhom I called to day, in pity for my being a stranger in the city,kindly offered to introduce me to some friends of his. He informed me wewere expected, but I fear we have made a mistake."

  At this Quimby recovered his voice.

  "No!" he cried, in stentorian tones, "it was not--I _cannot_ have made amistake this time, you know! Cyn"--looking at her reproachfully--"youknew about it! I met you a short time ago, and asked you--and you saidwe might come, you know!"

  Half amazed and half amused, Cyn shook her head in denial, at whichaction Quimby started and turned pale.

  "Why I--I beg pardon--but in the hall! you said, 'certainly,' you know!"

  "Oh!" said Cyn, a light breaking in upon her. "I see, but I did not thenunderstand you, I suppose;" rallying from her embarrassment, "my mindwas so occupied with our feast, I was incapable of thinking of anythingelse; so please consider this an apology for the condition in which youfind us, to yourself and your friend, whom, you will pardon me forreminding you, you have _not_ introduced," and Cyn looking laughingly atthe stranger, who also laughed.

  "Oh! I--I beg pardon, I am sure, for--for all my stupidities. I--I amalways doing something wrong, but I--I am used to it, you know," saidthe disconcerted Quimby; then wiping the perspiration from his forehead,he added clumsily, "my friend, Mr. Stanwood--Cyn--and Miss--MissRogers."

  Mr. Stanwood gayly shook hands with Cyn, whom Quimby had nervouslyforgotten to honor with a Miss, and then advanced to Nattie, who had notstirred from her position as screen for the gas stove, saying,

  "I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Rogers."

  And as Nattie accepted his proffered hand, in an embarrassed way, notyet being able to rise to the situation, and observed the peculiarlyroguish expression with which he regarded her, she suddenly became awarethat she had seen him on some previous occasion, but where she wasutterly at loss to remember.

  Cyn, too, was struck by something a little odd in his manner to Nattie,and glanced at him curiously, as she said in her most cordial tones,

  "And now, gentlemen, as we have exchanged apologies all around, pleasebe seated."

  Quimby immediately bounced up from the music-stool, on which, in hisagitation, he had involuntarily dropped.

  "Oh, no!" he exclaimed hastily. "We--we did did not come to dinner, youknow!"

  Cyn smiled at Quimby's anxiety to disclaim intentions no one thought ofattributing to him, and turning to Mr. Stanwood, asked, thereby greatlyscandalizing Nattie,

  "But supposing you were invited to stay and share our banquet, wouldyou?"

  "Were I sure the invitation was heartfelt, I should be sorely tempted;wouldn't you, Quimby?" Mr. Stanwood replied, easily.

  Poor Quimby twirled his thumbs confusedly, and murmured something aboutleaving the ladies to enjoy their "feast" alone.

  "We have eatables enough for six, as Nat was just now intimating," wenton Cyn, who certainly had a touch of true Bohemianism in hercomposition, as well as Jo Norton. "But our dishes, 'ay, there's therub,'" and she laughingly held up the coffee-urn, while the lessadaptable Nattie thought apprehensively of the propensity of things tocool.

  Undaunted by the urn, Mr. Stanwood said, with humorous wistfulness, butlooking at Nattie,

  "You won't force us to eat the dishes, will you? and that steak smellsso nice, and I haven't had any dinner!"

  "Then away with ceremony and sit down to the banquet!" said the recklessCyn, regardless of the protest in Nattie's face; and truth to tell, theformer young lady was not at all averse to this addition to theirnumber.

  And to the consternation of Quimby, and dismay of Nattie, and possibly alittle to the surprise of Cyn, Mr. Stanwood replied by seating himselfdown in a rocking-chair, and saying gayly,

  "I feel positive that I am about to enjoy myself as I have not since Iwas a boy, and stole eggs, and cooked them on a flat rock behind myuncle's barn, and had raw turnip for dessert. Sit down, Quimby!"

  Upon this Quimby, with a blushing protest against an intrusion, that didnot seem to trouble his merry friend in the least, also sat down.

  As he did so, Nattie screamed; but too late. On the crowning glory ofthe feast, on those enticing Charlotte Russes, crowded from the table onto a chair, there was Quimby!

  "Bless my soul! what is the matter?" he asked, staring astounded atNattie's scream, but still sitting there, entirely of theruin he had wrought.

  Cyn's anguish knew no bounds, as she saw what had happened.

  "Get up!" she cried, wringing her hands, "can't you get up? goodgracious! don't you know what you are sitting on?"

  "Eh?" he queried, rising obediently, and looking at her with a blankexpression. "Sitting on?" then following her frantic gesture, he turnedand looked at the chair behind him, and instantly horror overspread hiscountenance.

  "Bless my soul!" he gasped, turning round and round, trying to get aglimpse of his own coat-tails. "How did it come there? what is it?"

  "It is--_was Charlotte Russe!_" said Nattie, in gloomy despair.

  "_Charlotte Russe!_" echoed Quimby, still turning himself around like arevolving light. "It--it don't look much like it, you know!"

  At this, Mr. Stanwood, who had with difficulty suppressed his laughteruntil now, burst into an uncontrollable roar, in which he was joined byCyn, and then by Nattie. They laughed until utterly exhausted, Quimbyall the time keeping up his rotatory motion, with a face whoselugubriousness cannot be described.

  "I--I--bless my soul! I will replace what I have destroyed! I--I assureyou, I will!" the unfortunate Quimby groaned, as soon as he could beheard. "I--what can I say, to express my sorrow--I--" and suddenlyceasing to revolve, he snatched Mr. Stanwood's hat, and started for thedoor.

  "Where are you going!" his friend questioned as gravely as he could.

  "More Charlotte Russes!" he responded incoherently, and with an agonizedface.

  "If I may be permitted to make a suggestion," said Mr. Stanwood withlabored gravity, "I should say, some little change in your toilet wouldbe quite appropriate before going on t
he street, and moreover, that myhat will not fit your head!"

  At this, Quimby dropped the hat he held as if it had been red-hot,glanced at the chair whereon he had so lately distinguished himself,took up the tails of his coat one in each hand, revolved again, and thenwithout a word darted from the room.

  As well as she could from laughing, Cyn called after him, telling himnot to mind about getting the Charlotte Russes, and to hurry back, buthe made no response.

  "Poor Quimby!" said Mr. Stanwood, wiping the tears of excessive mirthfrom his eyes. "He is such a good fellow, it is too bad he always is inhot water."

  "Yes," assented Cyn, removing the chair with the remains of what hadbeen clinging to it from sight, Nattie following it with a somewhatrueful glance. "Shall we wait for him? I fear our dinner is gettingcold."

  "I don't think we had better," Nattie, who had long been filled with asimilar presentiment, responded. "There is no knowing whether he willreturn or not, and it's no use in having everything spoiled."

  "I do not think he will expect us to wait," Mr. Stanwood said.

  "Well then," said Cyn, "here is a chair for you, Mr. Stanwood. It's allright, so you need not look before sitting. Luckily you are taller thanwe, and need no books to raise you. Now the question is, what shall wegive you to eat from? Ah! here is the bread plate! Nat, can't you findanother wooden cover? No? Then spread a piece of brown paper over'Scribner's.' How fortunate we have an extra knife and fork; you don'tmind their being oyster forks? I thought not! Nat and I will use thesame spoon, so you can have a whole one. Nat, you and I will have todrink from that cracked tumbler."

  "Allow me," interrupted Mr. Stanwood. "Do you know," solemnly, "acracked tumbler is and always was the height of my ambition."

  "Well then, we are all right!" said the jovial Cyn. "But I fear," sheadded, helping to steak, "if Quimby comes before we finish, he will haveto go foraging for his own dishes!"

  Mr. Stanwood was praising the steak, which he certainly ate as if theadmiration was genuine, when a timid rap announced Quimby's reappearanceon the scene. In complete change of raiment, smelling like a field ofnew-mown hay, and figuratively clothed in sackcloth and ashes, heentered.

  "I--I beg pardon," he said, looking not at those he addressed, buthumbly at the Duchess, who had been walking the floor impatiently andindignantly, but was now contentedly chewing. "I--I assure you I shallbe delighted to go out and get Charlotte Russes to replace those I sowantonly destroyed. Will you--may I be allowed?"

  "Not on any account," said Cyn, quickly. "Besides, the stores are closedto-day."

  "So they are, so they are!" he exclaimed, putting his hand to his headdejectedly.

  "But we can exist without Charlotte Russes, I think," Nattie said. Shehad quite recovered her good humor, and was reconciled even to Mr.Stanwood's company; indeed, had secretly confessed he was really anacquisition. Such is the power of good beefsteak!

  "Some other time we will talk about it," Cyn said. "And now, we mustimprovise you a cup, plate, knife, fork, and spoon. I know you must behungry after your exploit."

  Quimby blushed.

  "I--you shall have fifty Charlotte Russes tomorrow!" he ejaculated. "Butthe articles you mention--I--have in my room, and will bring them. Yousee I--sometimes have a little private lunch myself, you know," anddeparting, he in a moment returned with his dinner accouterments whichCyn commanded him to put down at once, lest he demolish them.

  "Let me see," she added, as he meekly deposited his burden on thenearest piece of furniture--which happened to be the piano. "I can makeroom for you here, next me, I think."

  "No! no!" he exclaimed quickly; "if you will be so kind, I--I wouldrather sit on that little stool in the corner, where I can do no damage,you know!"

  "Oh! we must not make a martyr of you!" laughed Nattie, as she cut a piewith a very dull knife, which caused the very unsteady table to shake,so that every one's coffee slopped over.

  "No, indeed; there is plenty of room here," added Mr. Stanwood,steadying his cracked tumbler. But Quimby shook his head.

  "Now, really--I--I shall feel much more comfortable if I may--if youwill allow me to sit on the stool. I--I am used to it, you know! 'Pon myword, I--I mean all right, but some way I always make a mess of it!"

  Cyn would have remonstrated further, but Mr. Stanwood said, "We hadbetter let him be happy in his own way; I suppose he will not be easyunless we do!"

  And so Quimby, much to his satisfaction, was allowed to eat his share ofthe feast on a low stool, in the corner, like a naughty school-boy.

  Visitors were destined to be numerous to-day, for hardly had Quimby beenserved, when a knock at the door was followed by the appearance of Jo,who tip-toed into the room, and in a mysterious whisper, said,

  "I saw Quimby enter this room, bearing utensils that could only be usedfor one purpose! I smelt a savory odor! and here I am!"

  "And welcome, too!" said Cyn, laughing; "come, sit here by me. Are youand Mr. Stanwood acquainted?"

  "Oh, yes!" replied Jo, perching himself on the arm of a rocking-chairclose to Cyn, and appropriating a wooden cover for a plate as he spoke."He and Quimby did me the honor to call on me to-day, but left for metalmore attractive--whether the dinner or you ladies, I will not pretend tosay!"

  "It was we ladies, you dreadful matter-of-fact creature!" said Nattie."Their presence at the dinner was quite accidental; Cyn and I startedout for a little quiet feast, and behold the result! Bohemian enough foreven you, isn't it, Jo?"

  "Exactly what I like!" replied Jo--and very close indeed to Cyn had Jomanaged to get, but then the table was very small--"But the idea of youtwo girls proposing to selfishly enjoy such a feast all alone!"

  "I begin to think we did make a mistake, in not making preparations for,and inviting a larger party," acquiesced Cyn.

  "I wonder if Miss Rogers has overcome her anger towards offending me?"questioned Mr. Stanwood, looking at her roguishly, as she helped him toa second piece of pie.

  "My anger towards you?" repeated Nattie, coloring.

  "Yes; you did not want me to accept Miss Archer's most kind invitation,and remain; now confess, did you?" he asked, laughing.

  Nattie was rather embarrassed at this instance of the young gentleman'sperceptive faculties, and not exactly able to refute the charge, wassomewhat at loss how to reply.

  "I--I do not get acquainted quite so easily as Cyn," she stammered.

  "Except on the wire!" Cyn added.

  "Except on the wire," repeated Nattie, with a smile; then meeting thecurious glance of Mr. Stanwood, it suddenly flashed upon her that he wasthe same young gentleman who had called at the office, and inquiredabout the tariff to Washington, for the sole object of talking, as shethen supposed.

  "I have seen you before!" she exclaimed, on the impulse of the moment.

  "That sounds like a novel! what is coming now?" ejaculated Jo, with hismouth full of pie.

  Mr. Stanwood laughed very heartily at Nattie's exclamation, and asked inreply,

  "Have you just discovered it? I recognized you the moment I entered theroom to-day. That is one reason I was so anxious to remain. She snubbedme most outrageously," he added to Cyn, in explanation, "and simplybecause I tried to be agreeable to her one day at the office."

  "But you had no business to be agreeable!" said Nattie, also laughing,and not at all displeased.

  "Of course you had not," interrupted Jo.

  "I never talk to strangers," concluded Nattie.

  "Except, perhaps, on the wire, as you said just now!" he suggested.

  "You have caught her now!" said Cyn gayly, as she peeled an orange. "Butyou will never do even that again, will you, Nat?"

  "One such experience is quite enough for me," Nattie replied.

  "Still, the next one might not have red hair, or smell of musk!" Joremarked.

  "He might be even worse, though!" interposed the penitent on the stool.

  With a strangely puzzled look, Mr. Stanwood glanced from one to theother, observing which, C
yn said,

  "You don't understand, of course. May I tell him, Nat?"

  "Ah! well--yes!" Nattie replied with an air of vexed resignation. "Isuppose I may as well make up my mind to be laughed at on account ofthat story forever and a day."

  "I am as much of a victim as you, for I was intensely interested in theunknown," laughed Cyn; then turning to Mr. Stanwood, she went on. "Itappears telegraph operators have a way of talking together over thewire, knowing little about each other, and nothing at all of theirmutual personal appearance. In this manner, Nat became acquainted with ayoung man whom she knew as 'C,' and grew, to speak mildly, interested inhim--Now, Nat, you know you did--and so, as I remarked previously, didI--we were introduced over the wire. In fact, he seemed everything thatwas nice and agreeable, and if we did not actually fall in love withhim--you see, I am sharing your glory all I can, Nat--it is a wonder."

  "If this 'C' knew the impression he made on two young ladies, he wouldcertainly feel complimented," Mr. Stanwood, who was playing with hisknife and fork, here interrupted.

  "Fortunately, he never really knew," replied Cyn, while Nattie lookedsomewhat gloomily at her goblet of coffee, in memory of the romance thatcollapsed. "To continue this ower true tale!--Thus far all wasmysterious, enchanting, romantic. But now comes the dark sequel. One day'C' called--bodily."

  Mr. Stanwood started and looked quickly up at Nattie, who, withoutobserving his glance, murmured contemptuously,

  "Odious creature!"

  At this he turned with a perplexed look again to Cyn, who proceeded.

  "Yes, an odious creature he proved to be. Only think, he had red hair,and dreadful teeth, smelt of musk, wore cheap jewelry, and, in short,was decidedly vulgar!"

  "What!" exclaimed Mr. Stanwood, staring at her as if he thought she wasbereft of her senses. "What!" and he dropped his knife and fork, andpushed his chair back violently, to the alarm of the Duchess, who wasimmediately behind.

  Cyn appeared astonished at his vehemence; but Nattie, too occupied withthoughts of this newly-revived grievance to observe it, repeated,

  "Red hair, all bear's grease, and everything to match!"

  "Do you mean to tell me," Mr. Stanwood asked, looking at her earnestly,and speaking with great energy, "that a person, such as you describe,called on you and represented himself to be 'C'?"

  "Exactly," Nattie replied; "first telling me he was going away tosubstitute for a day, and then coming upon me in all his odiousness."

  "The story seems to interest you," added Cyn, glancing at himscrutinizingly.

  Mr. Stanwood looked at her, at Nattie, mused a moment, and then burstinto a laugh, equal even to the one Quimby had caused.

  "It does interest me," he said, as soon as he could speak; "very much,indeed. It is really the best joke--considered from one point--I everheard. And, of course, after that day, 'C' was cut?"

  "Indeed he was," Nattie replied, scornfully.

  "The circuit was broken after that!" Jo added, technically.

  "And a romance was spoiled in the first act," added Cyn, rising from thenow vanished feast.

  "Poor 'C'!" said Mr. Stanwood, following her example. "Really, MissArcher, I have enjoyed this dinner better than any I ever had, and theclimax is the best of all!"

  "I wish we might have such a feast every day!" said Jo, regretfully.

  "And, except the damage--I don't refer to any done myself, I--I am usedto it, you know--I quite agree with you about the dinner. And as for thejoke--I--I--really it was quite a serious one to Miss Rogers, at thetime, I assure you. Bless my soul! You should have seen how--how blueshe was for a week, you know!" said Quimby.

  Nattie colored as Mr. Stanwood glanced at her, and knowing he could notbut notice the blush, thought angrily, "How dreadful it is to have suchhonest, outspoken people as Quimby about!"

  "Come, Nat, and help me clear away the remains," said Cyn. Apparentlyglad enough was Nattie to obey, and turn aside her burning face from thesight of those merry brown eyes.

  In a very few moments the banqueting hall was transformed to a parlor,with only Quimby sucking an orange on his stool that he refused toleave, Jo cracking nuts, and the Duchess eating a fig, to tell of whathad been.