CHAPTER XII
"Those Dale girls are certainly remarkable!"
"I have always maintained that, Mary."
"Remarkably surprising, I mean," corrected Miss Ware, fingering thecoffee-cups noisily in rather an irritating manner as it seemed to herbrother, who was running over his voluminous morning mail.
"What have they done now?" he asked looking up at her over his glasses.
"To my mind a most unlady-like, vulgar thing. Here it is if you want tosee." A second look at a card in her hand before passing it over causedher to exclaim, "No! Is it possible! Mrs. Lennox has taken them up! Hername is actually printed on the card--it is the most astonishing thing Iever heard of!"
"If you mean their business cards, Mary, I was consulted and saw theoriginal draft and recommended the printer. Um," examining the cardcritically, "he has turned out an excellent piece of work, artistic andquiet in tone. I thought he could be relied upon."
"Philip, you are too exasperating! I believe if those girls sold paperson the street corner you would think it the finest thing ever done!"
"I probably should," he rejoined imperturbably. "As for these cards,they are something to be proud of! 'Salads, croquettes, fancysandwiches, jellies, salted nuts, etc., etc.,'" he went on, running hiseye down the list. "Gad! how they have pushed ahead! They mailed fivehundred of these yesterday," looking over at his sister, "and I fancyRadnor people will not be slow in responding."
"Oh! Mrs. Lennox's name will be an alluring bait," she said. "Peoplewill patronize them because she does, for a time, but they make a greatmistake in relying upon her; this is just one of her fads."
"I can't understand, Mary, how you take such delight in imputingdisagreeable motives to people. Mrs. Lennox is not patronizing thegirls--she has great respect for them. Neither are they relying on herin the least. They rely only on their own skill and ability to do theirwork to the satisfaction of their customers. Mrs. Lennox has kindlyallowed them to add her name by way of reference or indorsement forthose people who know nothing about them. It places them before thepublic in an unassailable position."
"Are they going to open a shop?" asked Miss Ware, a littlesuperciliously, interested in spite of herself.
"No, they mean to keep right on as they are, making things only toorder. They will have no stock on hand. It is the best they can do underthe circumstances, for it is impossible to branch out to anyconsiderable extent while their father needs them close at hand."
"Good gracious, Philip! you wouldn't advise a shop?" She made a wry faceover her coffee, in which, in the excitement of the discussion, she hadneglected to put any sugar.
"I don't know," the Doctor replied, stroking his beard thoughtfully, "Iam not sure. Being conducted in their home, a business such as theirsmust of necessity be limited, and the profits small. One must do thingsin large quantities to make money. I have thought a good deal about alittle shop--it may come to that eventually, but I am not sure that Iwant it to. They are not going to hold out forever; as it is they areliving on their nerves,--they have been too delicately reared to standsuch work." He pushed his plate away and folding his arms on the tableleaned forward confidentially. "Mary," he said, "I wish I could get youto care for those girls--to love all that is so sweet and lovable inthem."
"Perhaps I'd care more for them, Philip, if you did not care so much."
"What!" in astonishment, "why you aren't--you can't be jealous of them,Mary?"
"I don't know," she replied, looking away from him, "women are queer,even we old ones--perhaps we're queerest of all!"
"Why, Mary, what nonsense to be jealous of two little girls who regardme in the light of a venerable uncle."
"I should not call a fine-looking man in the prime of life 'venerable,'"said his sister resentfully, for she was immensely proud of herdistinguished brother. "I am sure it would be very odd if they did notadmire you for more reasons than one!"
"It is not a question of their admiring me, Mary, but of my admiringthem. And I am not the only one. People are beginning to talk about themaside from Mrs. Lennox. Mary, I want them to marry!"
"Marry!" she exclaimed. "No eligible man would marry girls who cook anddeliver boxes at people's doors and do goodness knows what besides."
"You are very much mistaken, and while you cling to your absurd opinionsI don't think it is desirable to continue the conversation." He rosewith dignity and passed into his office.
Miss Ware followed him. "Philip," she queried with feminine curiosity,"had you any one special in mind?"
The Doctor was lost in the depths of the morning paper.
"Philip, I--I dare say I expressed myself rather strongly;" (this fromMiss Ware was a great concession). "_Was_ there any one special in yourmind?"
"And what if there was, Mary?" answered the Doctor, slightly appeasedbut not wholly mollified, "would you really care to know?"
"Yes, I should. It is so unusual for you to be developing match-makingproclivities."
"That is true. I seldom think of such matters and, mind you, I do not byany means think that girls should marry just for the sake ofmarrying--that it is the end and aim of their existence--but in the caseof the Dales my heart is set upon it."
"I thought you approved of women who were self-supporting," remarked hissister, considerably surprised at the view he presented.
"So I do, when circumstances require it or their temperaments demandindependence and they are properly trained to stand shoulder to shoulderwith men in business or professional life. But these little girls arewrestling with the bare problems of existence, working with the nervoustension of a high-bred race-horse, using up their vitality over pots andkettles and pans and smiling, smiling all the time as if they liked it!"
"Why, I thought they did like it!" Verily this was a morning ofsurprises.
"Like it!" cried the Doctor, trying to keep down the anger in his voice,"would you like it to be taken out of a life of keen enjoyment--a lifecrowded with incidents and continuous change of scene such as the Daleslived and be put down in a comparatively strange place, unrecognizedsocially, without young companionship and, worse still, to see a fatherwhom they adore perfectly helpless and dependent on them for everymouthful of bread! It is a wonder to me the spirit is not crushed out ofthem!"
"I never quite thought of it like that, Philip."
"Of course you didn't, Mary. You thought they were rebellious,head-strong young things who liked being cramped up in a kitchen allday, beating their arms off over batches of dough and stirringmayonnaise until they are ready to fall into the bowl from sheerexhaustion! But I want you to look at it differently, I do indeed, and Iwant you to help me put a new interest in their lives."
"I will, Philip, there is my hand on it."
The Doctor clasped it warmly. "What do you think of Landor?" he said.
"Kenneth Landor? Does he know them?"
"He met Hester here one day and was immensely taken with her. Afterwardhe ran across them in my house in the apartment below them. There is aninvalid boy there whom Kenneth heard of--you know he is always findingout-of-the-way people and going to see them. He told me he only saw thegirls there a moment, but he's taken a violent fancy to the boy, whotalks about Julie and Hester by the hour together. Landor wants to meetthe girls again--he has asked me to ask him here to meet them, but Ihave always put him off on one pretext or another, knowing it wasuseless to try to do anything while you felt as you did, but now youwill arrange something, won't you, Mary? You have such a talent forlittle parties."
"The girls won't come. Have you heard them speak of Kenneth?"
"Only casually, most casually. Hester always gets the talk off onsomething else when I mention him."
"That's a good sign."
"A good sign!" said the Doctor, much puzzled, "I thought it was a badone."
"Oh! you men," laughed Miss Ware, "you don't know anything. When a girldoes not discuss a man it is usually because he interests her. Do youthink," she said seriously, "the girls, if they k
new, would like yourdisposing of one of them in this calm fashion?"
"Mary, I beg of you, do not misunderstand me. I have no wish to disposeof them. Kenneth may not fall in love with either of them, though Idon't see how he can help it" (this under his breath), "and neither ofthem may care in the least for him, but it would gladden my heart if thething could be. He is an admirable fellow in every way, and during thepast month he has gone into business with his father. Did you know that?There is no doubt that he could make a comfortable home for them all.Even if nothing comes of it I want him to know them--he'll be a betterman all his life for knowing them--and I want them to have a littlediversion, a little outside interest to take them out of the rut. I'llleave it all to you, Mary," he ended, with a comfortable feeling ofsecurity.
"I suppose, you know," she said as she was leaving, "that both the girlshave had several offers of marriage."
"No, I didn't know."
"Mr. Dale mentioned it when he was discussing the question of mychaperoning them this winter. He said he wanted me to understand thatthe girls were in some ways much older than their years and that havingbeen, through their constant companionship with him, thrown much intothe society of men, it was natural they should have had that experience.He also said that neither girl had the slightest desire to marry for thepresent or had ever shown any preference for one man above another. Ifancied from what he said that their manner toward men was frank, rathera sort of 'camaraderie' than the silly sentimental attitude some girlsaffect."
"You are perfectly right, Mary, they have a most engaging frankness ofmanner."
"May I ask you one thing, Philip?"
"Certainly," suddenly apprehensive of the question coming.
"How do you know they are beating their arms off over batches ofdough"--the phrase seemed to have stuck in her mind--"I mean how did yourealize it? Did they tell you?"
"Not they;" secretly relieved, "I hear it from Bridget. She worries herfaithful old heart out about them and vows me to secrecy when sheconfides in me, for she says they would never forgive her if they knewshe took it so hard."
"Good old Bridget," he said to himself, for his sister had vanishedwithout another word, "how my little girls would scold her!"
Good old Bridget indeed, who told much, but was far too loyal to tellall she knew!
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