The Rejuvenation of Aunt Mary
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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - "GRANITE" - CONTINUED.
Mary and Arethusa--Aunt Mary's two nieces--were not uncommonly mercenary;but about three weeks after the new arrival they became seriously troubledover the ascendancy that she appeared to be gaining over the mind of theiraunt. Lucinda's duties had included for many years the writing of a weeklyletter which contained formal advices of the general state of affairs, andafter Janice's establishment, these letters became so provocative ofgradually increasing alarm that first Mary, and then Arethusa thought itadvisable to make the journey for the purpose of investigating the affairpersonally. They found the new maid apparently devoid of evil intent, butcertainly fast becoming absolutely indispensable to the daily happiness oftheir influential relative. Mary feared that a codicil for five thousanddollars would be the result; but Arethusa felt, with a sinking heart, thatthere was another naught going on to the sum, and that, unless the tideturned, the end might not be even then.
Aunt Mary was so cool that neither niece stayed long, and Lucinda'sletters had to be looked to for the progress of events. Lucinda's letterswere frequent and not at all reassuring. After the sisters had talked themover, they sent them on to Jack.
She [thus Lucinda invariably began] is the same as ever. It's cross the heart and bend the knee, an' then you ain't down far enough to suit her. But she's gettin' so afraid she'll go that she's wax in her hands. It would scare you. She won't let her out of her sight a minute. I must say that whatever she's giving her, she certainly is earning the money, for she works her harder every day. The poor thing is hopping about, or singing, or playing cards, from dawn to dark, and unless it's a provision in her will I can't see what would pay her enough for working so. Lord knows I considered I earned my wages without skipping around with my legs crossed like she does, and she has no end of patience too, even if she won't ever let her take a walk. She's getting as pale as she is herself. Seems like something should be done.
Respectfully,
L. COOKE.
Three days later Lucinda wrote again:
She does seem to be getting worse and worse. She makes her sleep on a sofa beside her, and she begins to look dreadfully worn out. I do believe she'll kill her, before she dies herself. I told her so to-day, but she only smiled. It's funny, but I like her even if I am bolted out all the time. I ain't jealous, and I'm glad of the rest. I should think her throat would split with talking so much, but she certainly does hear her better than anyone else. I think something must be done, though. She's getting as crazy as she is herself. They play cards and call each other "aunty" for two hours at a stretch some days.
Respectfully,
L. COOKE.
At the end of the week Lucinda wrote again:
I think if you don't come, she will surely die. She is very feeble herself, but that don't keep her from wearing her to skin and bone. She keeps her doing tricks from morning to night. Every minute that she is awake she keeps her jumping. It's a mercy she sleeps so much, or she wouldn't get any sleep at all. I can't do nothing, but I can see something has got to be done. She's killing her, and she's getting where she don't care for nobody but her, and if she's to be kept in trim to keep on amusing her she'll have to have some rest pretty quick.
Respectfully,
L. COOKE.
If the sisters were perturbed by the general trend of these epistles, Jackwas half wild over the situation. He swore vigorously and he tramped upand down his room nights until the people underneath put it in theirprayers that his woes might suggest suicide as speedily as possible. Invain he wrote to Mrs. Rosscott to restore Janice to her proper place intown; Mrs. Rosscott answered that as long as Aunt Mary desired Janice ather side, at her side Janice should stay. Jack knew his lady well enoughto know that she would keep her word, and although he longed to assert hisauthority he was man enough to feel that he had better wait now and settlethe debt after marriage.
Nevertheless the whole affair was unbearably vexatious and at last he feltthat he could endure it no longer.
"I'm a fool," he said, in a spirit of annoyance that came so close toanger that it led to an utter loss of patience. "I'll take the train forAunt Mary's to-day, and straighten out that mess in short order."
It was Saturday, and he arranged to leave by the noon train. He laid in aheavy supply of bribes for his aged relative and of reading matter forhimself, and went to the station with a heart divided 'twixt manydifferent emotions. It was an unconscionably long ride, but he did getthere safely about ten o'clock.
It was a pleasant night--not too cold--even suggestive of some lingeringIndian summer intentions on the part of Jack's namesake. The young manthought that he would walk out to his childhood's home, and his decisionwas aided by the discovery that there was no other way to get there.
So he took his suit-case in his hand and set off with a stride thatcovered the intervening miles in short order and brought him, almostbefore he knew it, to where he could see Lucinda's light in thedining-room and her pug-nosed profile outlined upon the drawn shade.Everyone else was evidently abed, and as he looked, she, too, arose andtook up the lamp. He hurried his steps so that she might let him in beforeshe went upstairs, but in the same instant the light went out and with itswithdrawal he perceived a little figure sitting alone upon the doorstep.
His heart gave a tremendous leap--but not with fright--and he made threerapid steps and spoke a name.
She lifted up her head. Of course it was Janice, and although she had beenweeping, her eyes were as beautiful as ever.
"Oh, Jack!" she exclaimed, and happy the man who hears his name called insuch a tone--even if it be only for once in the whole course of hisexistence.
He pitched his suit-case down upon the grass and took the maid in hisarms.
What did anything matter; they both were lonely and both neededcomforting.
He kissed her not once but twenty times,--not twenty times but a hundred.
"It's abominable you're being here," he said at last.
"I am very, very tired," she confessed.
"And you'll go back to the city when I go?" he asked.
"I don't know," she said, doubtfully. "I don't know whether she'll letme."
Jack laughed.
"To-morrow I will beard Aunt Mary in her den," he declared; "now let's goin and--and--"
The hundred and first!