CHAPTER III
The Prince
Miss Upton's accounts were still in a muddle when she reached Keefe. Tryas she might her unruly thoughts would wander back to the golden hairand dark, wistful eyes of that forlorn girl.
"I was such a fool to lose her!" she kept saying to herself. "Such afool."
Arrived at her station she left the car, encumbered by her bulging bagand the umbrella which had performed a nobler deed to-day than keepingoff the rain.
"I don't know, though," soliloquized Miss Mehitable. "If I hadn't had myumbrella I couldn't have stopped him and he'd have sat with her and Ishouldn't be havin' a span-tod now."
From the car in front of her she saw descend a young man with a bag. Hewas long-legged, lean and broad-shouldered, and Miss Upton, who hadknown him all his life, estimated him temperately as a mixture ofAdonis, Apollo, and Hercules. He caught sight of his friend now and amerry look came into his eyes. Miss Mehitable's mental perturbation andphysical weariness had given her plump face a troubled cast, accented bythe fact that her hat was slightly askew. The young man hurried forwardand was in time to ease his portly friend down the last step of her car.
"Howdy, Miss Mehit?" he said. "You look as if the great city hadn'ttreated you well."
"Ben Barry, was you on this train?" she asked dismally.
"I was. My word, you're careful of your complexion! An umbrella withsuch a sky as this!"
"You don't know what that umbrella has meant to me to-day," returnedMiss Upton with no abatement of the portentous in her tone. "Let me havemy bag, Ben. The top don't shut very good and you might drop somethingout."
"You must let me take you home," he said. "You don't look fit to walk.You have certainly had a big day. Anything left in the shops? The UptonEmporium must be going to surprise the natives."
As he talked, the young man led his friend along the platform to where ahandsome motor waited among the dusty line of vehicles. "Gee, I'm offfor a vacation and I'm beginning to appreciate Keefe, Miss Upton. Theair is great out here."
"That's nice for your mother," observed Miss Mehitable wearily.
They both greeted the chauffeur, who wore a plain livery. Miss Uptonsank back among the cushions. "It's awful good of you to take me home,Ben. I'm just beat out."
"Miss Upton's celebrated notions, I suppose," returned the young fellowas the car started. "They get harder to select every year, perhaps."
"I've come home with just one notion this time," returned his companionwith sudden fierceness. "It is that I'm a fool."
"Now, Mehit, don't tell me you've fallen a prey in the gay metropolisand lost a lot of money."
"That's nothin' to what has happened. I'm poor and I don't know what I'ddo if I lost money, but, Ben Barry, it's much worse than that."
"Look here, you're scaring me. I'm timid."
"If I'd seen you on the train I could have told you all about it; butthere isn't time now." In fact the motor was rapidly traversing theshort distance up the main street and was now approaching a shop on theelm-shaded trolley track which bore across its front a sign reading:"Upton's Notions and Fancy Goods."
Before Miss Mehitable disembarked, and this was a matter of somemoments, she turned wistfully to her companion.
"Ben, do you think your mother ever gets lonely?"
"I've never seen any sign of it. Why? What were you thinking of--that Iought to give up the law school and come home and turn market-gardener?I sometimes think I'd like it."
Miss Upton continued to study his clean-cut face wistfully.
"Don't she need a secretary, or a sort of a--a sort of a companion?"
"Why? Have you had about as much of Bright-Eyes as you can stand? Do youwant to make a present of her to some undeserving person?"
Miss Upton shook her head. "No, indeed, it ain't poor Charlotte I'mthinkin' of, Ben," again speaking impressively. "Can you spare time tocome over and see me a little while to-morrow afternoon? I know yourmother always has a lot of young folks in for tea for you Sundays."
"She won't to-morrow. I told her I wanted to lie in the grass under theapple-blossoms and compose sonnets; but your feelings will do just aswell."
"I must tell somebody, and you know Charlotte isn't sympathetic."
"No, except perhaps with a porcupine. You might try her with one ofthose. Tether it in the back yard, and when she is in specially goodform turn her out there and let them sport together.--Easy now,Mehit--easy." For Miss Upton's escort had jumped out and she wasessaying to leave the car.
"If I ever knew which foot to put first," she said desperately,withdrawing the left and reaching down gingerly with her right.
"Let me have the bag and the umbrella," suggested her companion. "Now,then, one light spring. Steady!" For clutching both the young man'shands she made him quiver to the shock as she fell against him.
"I'm clumsy when I'm tired, Ben," she explained. "I'm so much obliged toyou, and you will come over to-morrow afternoon?"
"To hear about the umbrella? Yes, indeed! Look at its fine opencountenance. You can see at once that it has performed some great deedto-day." He shook the capacious fluttering folds and handed it to itsowner.
"Thank you so much, Ben, and give my love to your mother."
The young fellow jumped into the car and sped away and Miss Uptonplodded slowly up to her door whose bell pealed sharply as it was pulledopen by an unseen hand, and a colorless, sour-visaged woman appeared inthe entrance. Her hay-colored hair was strained back and wound in atight, small knot, her forehead wore a chronic scowl, and her one-sidedmouth had a vinegary expression.
"Think you're smart, don't you?" was her greeting; "comin' home in agrand automobile with the biggest ketch in the village."
"Yes, wasn't I lucky?" responded Miss Upton nasally. "I hope thekettle's on, Charlotte. I'm beat out."
"Well, what did you stay so long for? That's what you always do--staytill the last dog's hung and wear yourself out." The speaker snatchedthe bag and umbrella and Miss Mehitable followed her into the house,through the shop, and into the little living-room at the back where anopen fire burned in the Franklin stove and the tea-table was neatly setfor two.
Miss Upton regarded the platter of sliced meat, the amber preserve, andnapkin-enfolded biscuit listlessly.
"How nice you always make a table look," she said.
"Well, set right down and give me your hat and jacket. Drink some teabefore you talk any more. I should think you'd have some sense by thistime."
Scolding away, Charlotte poured the tea and Miss Mehitable drank it insilence. Her companion's monotonous grumbling was like the ticking ofthe clock so far as any effect it had upon her. The autumn before, thiswoman's drunken husband, Whipp by name, had passed out of her life. Shewas penniless, not strong, and friendless as much by reason of hersharp tongue as by her poor circumstances. Miss Upton hired her one daya week for cleaning and once upon a time fell ill herself, when thisunpromising person developed such a kindly touch in nursing and so muchcommon sense in tending the little shop, that Miss Mehitable, seeingwhat a godsend it would be to the poor creature, asked her to stay on;since which time, though no gratitude had ever been expressed in words,Mrs. Whipp had taken upon herself the ruling of the small establishmentand its mistress with all the vigor possible. Miss Upton had told her tobring with her anything she valued and the widow had twisted her thin,one-sided mouth: "There ain't a thing in that shanty I don't wish wasburned except Pearl," she said. "I'll bring her if you'll let me. She'sa Malty cat."
"Oh, bring her along," Miss Mehitable had replied. "I suppose I won'treally sense that I'm an old maid until there's a cat in the house."
So Pearl came, and to-night she sat blinking at the leaping flame in theopen stove while the two women ate their supper in the long springevening.
"I brought some things home in my bag," said Miss Upton, "but most o'them are comin' out Monday."
"Put in a good day, did you?" asked Charlotte, who, now that her mindwas relieved of rebukes, was
ready to listen to the tales she alwaysexpected when Miss Mehitable returned from her trips.
"Yes, I think I did pretty well," was the answer.
But the widow regarded her friend with dissatisfaction. This dispiritedmanner was very different from the effervescence which usually bubbledover in anecdote.
"Well, next time don't stay till you're worn to a frazzle," she said.
"I missed the train, Charlotte. That was what happened."
"Well, didn't Mr. Barry have anything to say comin' out on the train?"asked Mrs. Whipp, determined to get some of her usual proxy satisfactionfrom Miss Upton's outing.
"I never saw him till we got to Keefe. Oh, Charlotte, if I'd ever met aboy like him when I was young I wouldn't be keepin' a store now withanother woman and a cat."
"H'm, you're better off as you are. Ben Barry's young yet. He'll be inplenty of mischief before he's forty. His mother was in the shop to-day.With all her money it's queer she never married again."
"Oh, she's just wrapped up in her flowers and chickens," remarked MissMehitable.
"Well," returned Charlotte, "seems to me if I had a big house andgrounds like that, I'd want somebody around besides servants."
Miss Mehitable lifted her eyes from her meat and potato and gazed at hercompanion.
"Queer you should say that," she returned. "I was speakin' of that verything to Ben to-day. I should really think his mother would likesomebody; somebody young and--and pleasant, you know."
"Well," returned Charlotte, breaking open a biscuit, "I suppose havin'got rid of her husband she thinks she'll let well enough alone. She'sthe happiest-lookin' woman in town. Why not? She's got the most moneyand no man to bother her."
"Why, Charlotte Whipp, you don't know what you're sayin'. Ben's fatherwas a fine man. For years after he died Mrs. Barry couldn't hardlysmile. Yes"--Miss Upton's thoughtful manner returned--"Ben's away somuch I should think she'd like to have somebody, say a nice young girlwith her. Of course, to folks with motors Keefe ain't much more'n asuburb to the city now, and Mrs. Barry, with her three months in townand three months to the port and six months here, has a full, pleasantlife, and I s'pose that fine son fills it. Wasn't she fortunate to gethim out o' the war safe? You'd ought to 'a' seen him in his NavalAviation uniform, Charlotte. He looked like a prince; but he could 'a'bitten a board nail because he never got to go across the water. Is'pose his mother's average patriotic, but I guess she thanked Heaven hecouldn't go. She didn't dare say anything like that before him, though.It was a terrible disappointment. Oh, Charlotte"--Miss Upton bent awistful smile on her table-mate--"I can't help thinkin' what awonderful home the Barry house would be for some needy girl--a lady, youknow."
"H'm!" Charlotte's twisted mouth contracted further as she gave a drylittle sniff. "She'd probably fall in love with Ben, and he wouldn'tgive a snap for her, so she'd be miserable anyway."
Miss Mehitable shook her head. "If all your probablys came true,Charlotte, what a world this would be."
"What a world it _is_!" retorted the other. "Have some more tea"--thenas Miss Mehitable demurred--"Yes, have some. It'll do you good and maybebrighten up your wits so's you can remember somethin' that's happened toyou to-day."
Miss Upton cudgeled her brain for the small occurrences of her shoppingand managed to recall a few items; but she was not in her usual form andCharlotte received her offerings with scornful sniffs and silence.
Miss Upton's dreams that night were troubled and the sermon next morningfell on deaf ears. Ben and his mother were both in the Barry pew nearthe memorial window to his father. She could not resist the drawingwhich made her head turn periodically to make certain that Ben wasreally there. Miss Mehitable respected men in general, especially intime of trouble, and in this case the legal mind attracted her. Ben wasgoing to be a lawyer even if he wasn't one yet. The Barrys had money andinfluence, they were always friendly to her, and while she could notimpart poor little Geraldine's story to Mrs. Barry direct withoutappearing to beg, it might reach and interest her via Ben.
When the last hymn had been sung and the benediction pronounced, MissUpton watched with jealous eyes the various interruptions to the Barrys'progress down the aisle. Everybody liked to have a word with them. Allthe girls were willing to make it easy to be asked to the hospitablehouse for Sunday tea. Miss Mehitable glowered at the bolder and moreaggressive of these as she moved along a side aisle.
When mother and son finally reached the sunlit out-of-doors they foundMiss Upton waiting beside the steps.
"Why, if here isn't the fair Mehit," remarked Ben as they approached,and his mother smiled and shook her regal head and Miss Upton's handsimultaneously.
"I don't understand why you allow Ben to be so disrespectful," she said.
"Law, Mrs. Barry," replied Miss Upton, "you must know that women don'tcare anything about bein' _respected_. What they want is to be _liked_;and Ben's a good friend o' mine."
"Sure thing," remarked the young fellow, something in Miss Mehitable'seyes reminding him of her portentous yesterday and his promise. "Oh, Iforgot to tell you, mother, Miss Upton is going home to dinner with usto-day."
"No, no, I'm not, Ben," put in Miss Mehitable hastily. "I couldn't leaveCharlotte alone for Sunday dinner; but"--she looked at Mrs. Barry--"I dowant to see Ben about something and he promised me a little time thisafternoon."
"Mehit got into trouble yesterday," Ben explained to his mother."Somebody tried to rob her of her notions and she beaned him with herumbrella. She's scared to death and she wants to consult the law." Thespeaker delivered a blow on his chest.
"I know you hate to spare him the little time he's home, Mrs. Barry,"said Miss Upton apologetically; "but I'll keep him only a short timeand--and I couldn't hardly sleep last night, though it ain't any o' mybusiness, _really_."
"It's a good business if you're in it, I know that," said Mrs. Barrykindly, "and I'll lend you Ben with pleasure if he can do you any good!"
"Then when will you be over, Ben?" asked Miss Mehitable anxiously. "I'dlike to know just when to expect you."
"You don't tr-r-ust me, that's what's the matter," he returned. "Willyou promise to muzzle Merry Sunshine?"
"I--I think perhaps Charlotte will go out to walk," returned Miss Upton,somewhat troubled herself to know how to insure privacy in herrestricted domain. "She does, sometimes, Sundays."
"How does it affect the Keefe springtime to have her walk out in it?"inquired Ben solicitously.
"I'll tell you, Ben," said his mother, sympathetic with the anxiety inMiss Mehitable's face, "bring Miss Upton over to see ourapple-blossoms, and you can have your talk at our house."
Relief overspread Miss Upton's round countenance.
"Certainly. I'll call for you at three," said Ben, "Blackstone under myarm. If Merry Sunshine attacks me it will be a trusty weapon. Hop intothe car, Mehit, and we'll run you home."
Mrs. Barry laughed. "The sermon doesn't seem to have done him any goodthis morning, Miss Upton. We shall be glad to take you home."
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