CHAPTER XVII
"Well now, what do you think o' that! Ain't it the end o' the law? Thehigh-handed way he has o' doin' things! Think o' the likes o' _me_closin' up my '_town-house' _an' takin' my fam'ly (includin' Flicker an'Nixcomeraus) 'to the country-place'--for all the world like I was alady, born an' bred.--Sammy, you sit still in your seat, an' eat thecandy Mr. Blennerhasset brought you, an' quit your rubberin', or thetrain'll start suddently, an' give you a twist in your neck you won'tget over in a hurry.... Ma, you comfortable?.... Cora an' Francie, seeyou behave like little ladies, or I'll attend to you later. See howquiet Sabina is--Say, Sabina, what you doin'? Now, what do you think o'that! If that child ain't droppin' off to sleep, suckin' the red plusho' the seat! For all the world like she didn't have a wink o' rest lastnight, or a bite or a sup this mornin'--an' she slep' the clock 'round,an' et a breakfast fit for a trooper. Say, Sabina--here, wake up! An'take your tongue off'n that beautiful cotton-backed plush, d'you hear?In the first place, the gen'l'men that owns this railroad don't wanttheir upholsterry et by little girls, an', besides, it's makin' yourmouth all red--an', second-place, the cars isn't the time tosleep--leastwise, not so early in the mornin'. Miss Claire, child, don'tlook so scared! You ain't committin' no crime goin' along with us, an'_he_'ll never suspicion anyhow. He's prob'ly on the boundin' biller bythis time, an' Mr. Blennerhasset he don't know you from a hole in theground. Besides, whose business is it, anyway? You ain't goin' as _his_guest, as I told you before. You're _my_ boarder, same's you've alwaysbeen, an' it's nobody's concern if you board down here or up there...
"Say, ain't these flowers just grand? The box looks kinder like a youngcoffin, but never mind that...
"A body would think all that fruit an' stuff was enough of a send-off,but Lor--_Mr_. Ronald, he don't do things by halves, does he? Itwouldn't seem so surprisin' now, if he'd 'a' knew you was comin' alongan' all this (Mr. Blennerhasset himself helpin' look after us, an' seeus off--as if I was a little tender flower that didn't know a railroadticket from a trunk-check), I say, it wouldn't seem so surprisin' ifhe'd 'a' knew _you_ was comin' along. I'd think it was on your account.What they calls _delicate attentions_. The sorter thing a gen'l'man doeswhen he's got his eye on a young lady for his wife, an' is sorterbreakin' it to her gently--kinder beckonin' with a barn-door, as thesayin' is.
"But Mr. Ronald ain't the faintest notion but you've gone back to yourfolks in Grand Rapids, an' so all these favors is for _me_, of course.Well, I certainly take to luckshurry like a duck takes to water. I neverknew it was so easy to feel comfortable. I guess I been a little hard onthe wealthy in the past. Now, if _you_ should marry a rich man, I don'tbelieve--"
Claire sighed wearily. "I'll never marry anybody, Martha. And besides, arich man wouldn't be likely to go to a cheap boarding-house for a wife,and next winter I--O, isn't it warm? Don't you _wish_ the train wouldstart?"
At last the train did start, and they were whirled out of the steamingcity, over the hills and far away, through endless stretches of sunlitcountry, and the long, long hours of the hot summer day, until, atnight, they reached their destination, and found Sam Slawson waitingthere in the cool twilight to welcome them.
Followed days of rarest bliss for Martha, when she could marshal out hersmall forces, setting each his particular task, and seeing it was donewith thoroughness and despatch, so that in an inconceivably short timeher new home shone with all the spotless cleanliness of the old, andadded comeliness beside.
"Ain't it the little palace?" she inquired, when all was finished. "Iwouldn't change my lodge for the great house, grand as it is, not foranything you could offer me! Nor I wouldn't call the queen my cousin nowwe're all in it together. I'm feelin' that joyful I'd like to have whatthey calls a house-swarmin', only there ain't, by the looks of it, anyneighbors much, to swarm."
"No," said Ma regretfully, "I noticed there ain't no neighbors--to speakof."
"Well, then, we can't speak o' them," returned Martha. "Which will saveus from fallin' under God's wrath as gossips. There's never any greatloss without some small gain."
"But we must have some sort of jollification," Claire insisted. "Doesn'tyour wedding-day--the anniversary of it, I mean--come 'round about thistime? You said the Fourth, didn't you?"
Martha nodded. "Sam Slawson an' me'll be fifteen years married comeFourth of July," she announced. "We chose that day, because we was sopoor we knew we couldn't do nothin' great in the line o' celebrationourselves, so we just kinder managed it, so's without inconveniencin'the nation any or addin' undooly to its expenses, it would do ourcelebratin' for us. You ain't no notion how grand it makes a body feelto be woke up at the crack o' dawn on one's weddin' mornin' with thenoise o' the bombardin' in honor o' the day! I'm like to miss it thisyear, with only my own four young Yankees spoilin' my sleep settin' offtorpeders under my nose."
"You won't miss anything," said Claire reassuringly, "but you mustn'tsay a word to Sam. And you mustn't ask any questions yourself, for whatis going to happen is to be a _wonderful_ surprise!"
"You betcher life it is!" murmured Martha complacently to herself, afterClaire had hastened off to confer with the children and plan a programfor the great day.
Ma to make the wedding-cake! Cora to recite her "piece." Francie andSammy to be dressed as pages and bear, each, a tray spread with thegifts it was to be her own task and privilege to contrive. Sabina tohover over all as a sort of Cupid, who, if somewhat "hefty" as toavoirdupois, was in all other respects a perfect little Love.
It seemed as if the intervening days were winged, so fast they flew.Claire never could have believed there was so much to be done for such asimple festival, and, of course, the entire weight fell on hershoulders, for Ma was as much of a child in such matters as any, andMartha could not be appealed to, being the _bride_, and, moreover, beingaway at the great house, where tremendous changes were in progress.
But at last came the wonderful day, and everything was in readiness.
First, a forenoon of small explosive delights for the children--then, asthe day waned, a dinner eaten outdoors, picnic-fashion on the grass,under the spreading trees, beneath the shadows of the mightymountain-tops.
What difference if Ma's cake, crowning a perfect feast, had suffered alittle in the frosting and its touching sentiment, traced in snowylettering upon a bridal-white ground, _did_ read
FIFTEEN YEARS OF MARRED LIFE.
It is sometimes one's ill-luck to misspell a word, and though awedding-cake is usually large and this was no exception, the space waslimited, and, besides, no one but Sam senior and Miss Lang noticed itanyhow.
A quizzical light in his eye, Mr. Slawson scrawled on a scrap of paperwhich he passed to Claire (with apologies for the liberty) the words:
"She'd been nearer the truth if she'd left out the two _rr_s while shewas about it, and had it:
FIFTEEN YEARS OF MA'D LIFE."
Then came Cora's _piece_.
Her courtesy, right foot back, knees suddenly bent, right hand on leftside (presumably over heart, actually over stomach), chin diving intothe bony hollow of her neck--Cora's courtesy was a thing to beremembered.
LADY CLARE
She announced it with ceremony, and this time, Martha noticed, therecalcitrant garter held fast to its moorings.
"''Twas the time when lilies blowAnd clouds are highest up in air,Lord Ronald brought a lily-white doe--'"
_"His!"_ prompted Martha in a loud stage-whisper. _"His_--not 'a'--"
Cora accepted the correction obediently, but her self-confidence wasshaken. She managed to stammer,
"'Give t-to--his c-cousin, L-Lady C-Clare,'"
and then a storm of tears set in, drowning her utterance.
"Well, what do you think o' _that_?" exclaimed Martha, amazed at theundue sensitiveness of her offspring. "Never mind, Cora! You done itgrand!--as far as you went."
To cover this slight mishap, Claire gave a hurried signal to the pages,who appeared forthwith in splendid form, if a little overweighted by
theburdens they bore. In some strange way Claire's simple gifts had beensecretly augmented until they piled up upon the trays, twin-mountains oftreasure.
When the first surprise was past, and the wonders examined and exclaimedover, Martha bent toward Claire, from her seat of honor on the grass.
"Didn't I think to tell you Mr. Blennerhasset come up on the earlytrain? Sammy, he drove down to the station himself to meet'm. Mr.Blennerhasset brought up all them grand things--for Mr. Ronald. Ain'the--I mean Mr. Ronald--a caution to 've remembered the day? I been sotook up with things over there to the great house, I musta forgot totell you about Mr. Blennerhasset. Ain't everything just elegant?--
"It's pretty, the way the night comes down up here. With the sharppin-heads o' stars prickin' through, one by one. They don't seem likethat in the city, do they? An' the moon's comin' up _great_!"
Claire's eyes were fixed on the grassy slope ahead.
"Who are those three men over there?" she asked. "What are they doing? Ican't make out in the dusk anything but shadow-forms."
"Sam, an' Mr. Blennerhasset, an'--an'--another fella from theneighborhood. Mr. Blennerhasset he brought up some fire-works tosurprise the young uns, an' they're goin' to set 'em off. It's earlyyet, but the sooner it's over the sooner to sleep. An' the kids has hada excitin' day."
Up shot a rocket, drawing the children's breaths skyward with it inlong-drawn "A-ahs!" of perfect ecstasy.
Then pin-wheels, some of which, not to belie their nature, balkedobstinately, refusing to be coerced or wheedled into doing their duty.
"Say, now, mother," cried Francie excitedly--"that pin-wheel--in themiddle of it was a cork. When it got over spinning fast, I saw thecork."
"Don't you never do that no more," cautioned Martha. "Never you see thecork. It's the _light_ you want to keep your eye on!" which, as Clairethought it over, seemed to her advice of a particularly shrewd andtimely nature.
She was still pondering this, and some other things, when she felt Mrs.Slawson's hand on her shoulder.
"It's over now, an' I'm goin' to take the young 'uns in, an' put 'em tobed. But don't you stir. Just you sit here a while in the moonlight, an'enjoy the quiet in peace by yourself. You done a hard day's work, an'you give me an' Sammy what we won't forget in a hurry. So you just stayout here a few minits--or as long as you wanter--away from thechildern's clatter, an'--God bless you!"
Claire's gaze, following the great form affectionately, saw it pass intothe darker shadows, then forth--out into the light that shone from theopen door of the lodge.
"She's _home_--and they're _together_!" Unconsciously, she spoke hergrateful thought aloud.
"Yes, she's _home_--and they're _together_!"
The words were repeated very quietly, but there was that in thewell-known voice, so close at hand, that seemed to Claire to shake theworld. In an instant she was upon her feet, gazing up speechless, intoFrancis Ronald's baffling eyes.
"You are kind to every one," he said, "but for me you have only a sting,and yet--I love you."
* * * * *
Martha was still busy wrestling with the pyramid of dishes left overfrom the feast, when at last Claire came in alone.
"Did you get a chance to compose yourself, an' quiet down some under thestars?" inquired Mrs. Slawson. "It's been a noisy day, with lots doin'.I don't wonder you're so tired--your cheeks is fairly blazin' with it,an' your eyes are shinin' like lit lamps."
"You knew--you knew he was here!" said Claire accusingly.
"_He?_ Who? O, you mean Mr. Ronald? Didn't I think to tell you, he comeup along with Mr. Blennerhasset? I been so flustrated with all theunexpected surprises of the day, it musta slipped my mind."
"I've seen Mr. Ronald!" Claire said." I've spoken with him!"
"Now, what do you think o' that! Wonders never cease!"
"Do you know what I did?"
"Search me!"
"I told him--the _truth_."
"We-ell?"
"And--_I'm going to marry him!"_
Mrs. Slawson sat down hard upon the nearest chair, as if the happy shockhad deprived her of strength to support her own weight.
"No!" she fairly shouted.
"_Yes!" _cried Claire. "And, O, Martha! I'm _so_ happy! And--did you ever_dream_ such a thing could possibly happen?"
"Well, you certaintly have give me a start. I often thought how I'd_like_ to see Mr. Ronald your _financiay_ or your _trosso_, or whateverthey call it. But, that it would really come to pass--" She paused.
"O, you don't know how I dreaded next winter," Claire said, as if shewere thinking aloud. "I went over it--and I went over it, in mymind--what I'd do--where I'd go--and now--_Now!_... I couldn't take thatfine job you had your eye on for me, not even if it had come tosomething. Don't you remember? I mean, the splendid job you had the ideaabout, that first night I was sick. I shan't need it now, shall I,Martha?"
"You got it!" said Martha.
Claire's wide eyes opened wider in wonderment. She stared silently atMrs. Slawson for a moment. Then the light began to break in upon herslowly, but with unmistakable illumination.
"You--don't--mean?" she stammered.
"Certaintly!" said Martha.
THE END
Martha By-the-Day Page 17