CHAPTER VIII
Before setting out for his work the next morning, Sam Slawson tried toprepare Ma and Miss Lang for the more than probable appearance, duringthe day, of the officer of the law, he predicted Friedrich Langbeinwould have engaged to prosecute Martha.
"He has a clear case against you, mother, no doubt o' that. You'd nobusiness in his place at all, let alone that you assaulted an' batteredhim. He can make it hot for us, an' I don't doubt he will."
Mrs. Slawson attended with undivided care to the breakfast needs of suchof her flock as still remained to be fed. The youngsters had allvanished.
"If he wants to persecute me, let him persecute me. I guess Igot a tongue in my head. I can tell the judge a thing or two which,bein' prob'ly a mother himself, he'll see the sense of. Do you thinkI want Sammy growin' up under my very eyes, a beer-drinkin'wife-beater?--because he seen the eggsample of it set before'm by aDutchman, when he was a boy? Such things makes an impression on theyoung--which they ain't sense enough to know the difference between aeggsample an' a warnin'. An' the girls, too! As I told you las' night,it's bad for the country when matrimony ain't made to look like aprize-package, no matter what it _reely_ is. What's goin' to become o'the population, I should like to know? Here's Cora now, wantin' to be atelefoam-girl when she grows up, an' there's no knowin' what Francie'llchoose. But you can take it from me, they'll both of 'em drop theirvotes for the single life. They'll perfer to thump a machine o' theirown, with twelve or fifteen _per_, comin' to 'em, rather than be themachine that's thumped, an' pay for the privilege out'n their ownpockets besides."
As fate would have it, the day went placidly by, in spite of Mr.Slawson's somber prognostications. No one came to disturb the even tenorof its way. Then, at eveningfall, while Martha was still absent, therewas a gentle rap upon the door, and Claire, anxious to anticipate Ma,made haste to answer it, and saw a stranger standing on the threshold.It was difficult, at first, to distinguish details in the dusk of thedim hallway, but after a moment she made out the rotund figure of Mr.Langbein. She could not see his face, but his voice was more thanconciliatory.
"Eggscoose me, lady!" he began apologetically. "I haf for Mis' Slawson aliddle bresent here. I tink she like it. She look so goot-netchered, undI know she iss kind to bum animals. My vife, her Maltee cat vas havingsome liddle kittens already, a mont' ago. I tink Mis' Slawson, she ligeto hef von off dem pussies, ja? Annyhow, I bring her von here, und I eskyou vill gif it to her mit my tanks, und my kint regarts, und pestvishes und annyting else you tink I could do for her. You tell Mis'Slawson I lige her to esk me to do someting whenefer she needs it--yes?"
"Now what do you think of that?" was Martha's only comment, when Clairerelated the incident, and great Sam Slawson shook with laughter till hissides ached, and a fit of coughing set in, and said it was "a caution,but Mother always did have a winning way about her with the men."
"It's well I have, or I wouldn't 'a' drew you, Sammy--an' you shoor area trump--only I wisht you'd get rid o' that cough--You had it just aboutlong enough," Martha responded, half in mockery, half in affectionateearnest.
"An' now, me lad, leave us be, me an' Miss Claire. We has things ofimportance to talk over. It's to-morrow at ten she's to go see Mrs.Sherman. Miss Claire, you must be lookin' your best, for the first minitthe madam claps eyes to you, that'll be the decidin' minit for _you_.Have you everything you need, ready to your hand? Is all your littlelaces an' frills done up fresh an' tidy, so's you can choose thebecomingest? Where's that lace butterfly for your neck, I like so much?I washed it as careful as could be, a couple o' weeks ago, but have youwore it since?"
Claire hesitated. "I think I'll put on the simplest things I've got,Martha," she replied evasively. "Just one of my linen shirtwaists, withthe stiff collar and cuffs. No fluffy ruffles at all."
"But that scrap o' lace at your throat, ain't fluffy ruffles. An' stiff,starched things don't kinder become you, Miss Claire. They ain't yourstyle. You don't wanter look like you been dressed by your worst enemy,do you? You're so little an' dainty, you got to have delicate things togo _with_ you. Say, just try that butterfly on you now. I want to see ifit'll do, all right."
By this time Claire knew Martha well enough to realize it was useless toattempt to temporize or evade.
"I can't wear the butterfly, Martha dear," she said.
"Why can't you?"
"Well, now please, _please_ don't worry, but I can't wear it, because Ican't find it. I dare say it'll turn up some day when I least expect,but just now, it seems to be lost."
Martha looked grave. "It come out o' the wash all right, didn't it?" sheinquired anxiously. "I remember distinkly leavin' it soak in the suds,so's there wouldn't be no strain-like, rubbin' it, an' the dust'd justdrop out natural. But now I come to think of it, I don't recklectironin' it. Now honest, did it come outer the wash, Miss Claire?"
"No, Martha--but--"
"There ain't no _but_ about it. I musta gone an' lost your pretty lacefor you, an' it was reel at that!"
"Never mind! It's of no consequence. Truly, please don't--"
"Worry? Shoor I won't worry. What's the use worryin'? But I'll make itright, you betcher life, which is much more to the purpose. Say, Ishouldn't wonder but it got into the tub someways, an' then, when I letthe water out, the suckage drew it down the pipe. Believe _me,_ that'sthe very thing that happened, and--'I'll never see sweet Annie anymore!'"
"It doesn't make a particle of difference, Martha. I never liked thatbutterfly as much as you did, you know."
"Perhaps you did an' perhaps you didn't, but all the same you're _out_ aneck-fixin', an' it's _my_ fault, an' so you're bound to let me getsquare, to save my face, Miss Claire. You see how it is, don't you?Well, last Christmas, Mrs. Granville she give me a lace jabbow--reelIrish mull an' Carrickmacross (that's lace from the old country, as youknow as well as me). She told me all about it. Fine? It'd break yourheart to think o' one o' them poor innercent colleens over therepricklin' her eyes out, makin' such grandjer for the like o' me, when nodoubt she thought she was doin' it for some great dame, would besportin' it out loud, in her auta on Fifth Avenoo. What use have I, inmy business, for that kinder decoration, I should like to know! It'donly be distractin' me, gettin' in me pails when I'm scrubbin'. An' bythe time Cora an' Francie is grown up, jabbows will be _out_. I'd muchmore use for the five-dollar-bill was folded up in the box alongside._That_, now, was becomin' to my peculiar style o' beauty. But thejabbow! There ain't no use talkin', Miss Claire, you'll have to take itoff'n my hands, I mean my chest, an' then we'll be quits on thebutterfly business, an' no thanks to your nose on either side."
It was useless to protest.
The next morning when Claire started forth to beard the lioness in herden, she was tricked out in all the bravery of Martha's really beautiful"jabbow," and looked "as pretty as a picture, an' then some," as Mrs.Slawson confidentially assured Sam.
But the heart beneath the frilly lace and mull was anything but brave.It felt, in fact, quite as white and fluttery as the _jabbow_ looked,and when Claire found herself being actually ushered into the boudoir ofthe august _presence_, and told to "wait please," she thought it wouldstop altogether for very abject fright.
Martha had tried, in a sort of casual, matter-of-course way, to prepareher little lady for the trial, by dropping hints every now and then, asto the best methods of dealing with employers--the proper way to carryoneself, when one "went to live out in private fam'lies."
"You see, you always been the private fam'ly yourself, Miss Claire, soit'll come kinder strange to you first-off, to look at things the otherway. But it won't be so bad after you oncet get used to it. There's onething it's good to remember. Them high-toned folks has somehow got itfixed in their minds that _the rich must not be annoyed,_ so it'll bemoney in your pocket, as the sayin' is, if you can do your little stuntwithout makin' any fuss about it, or drawin' their attention. Just sawwood an' say nothin', as my husband says.
"Mrs. Sherman she told me, when
I first went there, an' Radcliffe was alittle baby, she 'strickly forbid anybody to touch'm.' It was on accounto' what she called _germs_ or somethin'. Well, I never had no particularyearnin' to inflect him with none o' my germs, but when she was offgallivantin', an' that poor little lonesome fella used to cry, an' putout his arms to be took, I'd take'm, an' give'm the only reelmother-huggin' he ever had in his life, an' no harm to any of us--to methat give it, or him that got it, or her that was no wiser. Then, later,when he was four or five, an' around that, she got a notion he was aangel-child, an' she'd useter go about tellin' the help, an' otherfolks, 'he must be guided by love alone.' I remember she said oncet he'dbe 'as good as a kitten for hours at a time if you only give'm a ball oftwine to play with.' Well, his nurse, she give'm the ball of twine oneday when she had somethin' doin' that took up all her time an' attentionon her own account, an' when she come back from her outin', you couldn'twalk a step in the house without breakin' your leg (the nurse she didsprain her ankle), on account o' the cat's-cradle effect the youngvillain had strung acrost the halls, an' from one doorknob to the other,so there wasn't an inch o' the place free. An' he'd got the tooth-pastetoobs, an' squoze out the insides, an' painted over every bit o'mahogany he could find--doors, an' furnitur', an' all. You can take itfrom me, that house was a sight after the angel-child got through withit. The girls an' me--the whole push--was workin' like mad clearin' upafter'm before the madam'd come home, an' the nurse cryin' her eyes outfor the pain, an' scared stiff 'less she'd be sent packin'. Also, 'ifRadcliffe asked questions, we was to answer them truthful,' was anotherrule. An' the puzzles he'd put to you! One day, I remember, he got mecornered with a bunch that was such fierce propositions, Solomon in allhis glory couldn't 'a' give him their truthful answers. Sayshe--Radcliffe, not Solomon--says he: 'I want another leg.'
"'You can't have it,' says I.
"'Why?' says he.
"'They ain't pervided,' I says. 'Little boys that's well-reggerlated,don't have but two legs.'
"'Why don't they?'
"'Because God thought two was enough for'm.'
"'Why did God think tho?'
"'You ask too many questions.'
"'Well, but--juth lithen--I want to know--now lithen--doth puthy-cathslay eggth?'
"'No!'
"'Why don't puthy-caths lay eggth?'
"'Because hens has a corner on the egg business.'
"'Why have they?'
"'Because they're born lucky, like Mr. Carnegie an' Mr. Rockefella.'
"'Doth Mr. Carnegie an' Mr. Rockefella--'
_"'No!'_
"'Why don't they?'
"'Say, Radcliffe, I ain't had a hard day,' says I. 'But _you_ make metired.'
"'Why do I? Now--juth wonth more--now--now lithen wonth more--ith God alady?'"
As Claire sat waiting for Mrs. Sherman, stray scraps of recollection,such as these, flitted through her mind and helped to while the timeaway. Then, as she still waited, she grew gradually more composed, lessunfamiliar with her surroundings, and the strange predicament in whichshe found herself. She could, at length, look at the door she supposedled into Mrs. Sherman's room, without such a quick contraction of theheart as caused her breath to come in labored gasps, could make somesort of sketchy outline of the part she was foreordained to take in thecoming interview, and not find herself barren of resource, even if Mrs.Sherman _should_ say so-and-so, instead of so-and-so.
She had waited so long, had had such ample time to get herself well inhand, that when, at last, a door opened (not Mrs. Sherman's door at all,but another), and a tall, upright masculine figure appeared in thedoorway, she at once jumped to the conclusion it was Shaw, the butler,come to summon her into _the presence,_ and rose to follow, without toomuch inner perturbation.
"Mrs. Sherman is prevented from keeping her appointment with you thismorning," descended to her from an altitude far above her own. "Shehopes you will excuse her. She has asked me to talk with you in herstead. You are Miss Lang, I believe? I am Mrs. Sherman's brother. Myname is Ronald."
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