CHAPTER II.
A LOOKING OVER BY THE PACK.
Jan. 2.
If women are not meant to study, Prof. Darmstetter should be pleasedwith me. Instead of working up my laboratory notebooks, I have satuntil midnight, dreaming.
"Go to bed early and get your beauty sleep," says Aunt, but I push openthe window and lean upon the sash and let the cold air blow over me.I'd like to dance a thousand miles in the moonlight; I'm so young, andso strong, and such glorious things are coming!
To-morrow I shall have a foretaste of the future; I shall know whatother people--not John and my relatives--think of me. Ah, there's onlyone thing they can think! To-morrow'll be the beginning of the world tome.
To-morrow! To-morrow! Aunt Frank has sent out cards for an "At Home."And it's to-morrow!
Oh, I'm glad I came here! I revel in the new home.
I like the house; it looks so big and solid. I like my cousins--quietlittle creatures. They wait upon me, anticipate my smallest wish, anddefer to my opinions as if I were a white star queen dropped from theether; all but Boy, and even he respects me because I can construeCaesar.
I like my Aunt--devoted to clubs and committees, though she's forgottenthem now in her eagerness to introduce me. Ah, to-morrow! Blessedto-morrow! And I like Aunt Marcia Baker. I wonder if, when I am older,I too shall be serene and stately, with a face that seems to haveoutlived sorrow; I can hardly believe now that I shall care to live atall when people's eyes have ceased to follow my beauty. When for methere are no more to-morrows.
I think I shall like Mr. Hynes; he's almost one of the family, for heis betrothed to Milly, and I'm glad--ah, so glad I'm not she! What alife she looks forward to--each day exactly like its fellows; adroning, monotonous existence, keeping house, overseeing thecooking--perhaps doing it herself; for he's only a young lawyer, juststarting in life!
But I like his face, so full of impulse and imagination. I believe he'sa man who might go far and achieve much. Why should he handicap himselfwith an early marriage?
It's well enough for Milly; she doesn't understand her limitations.Why, she's almost as eager over to-morrow as if it could mean to herwhat it does to me; and that is an outlook into a life so glad, sowonderful!
Dear, good Aunt Frank proposed the tea before my trunks were fairlyunpacked.
"Won't your Professor give you a holiday from--is it microbes youstudy?" she inquired. "Sure they're not dangerous?"
"The afternoon tea bacillus is not wholly innocuous," suggested Uncle,pinching her cheek.
It was good to see the loving look that reproved and repaid him.
"Why, Bake," she protested, "tea never hurt anybody."
"Oh, I've time enough," I said; "I have no regular days for going toProf. Darmstetter, and the other studies--"
It was on my tongue to add: "and the other studies don't matter," but Ichecked the words.
"Well, you'll find it takes time," Aunt reminded me. "How aboutclothes, now? Suppose you show me what you brought."
And in a few minutes we were all chattering at once in discussion of mymodest little wardrobe. I could feel, as each new dress was shaken fromits folds, that Aunt was more dissatisfied than she would confess.
"Everything's pretty and tasteful," she conceded at last; "but--for atea--if you could--"
If she had dared, she'd have offered to get me a dress herself.
"Oh, of course I'll need something new," I said hurriedly; "I meant toask your advice. Nothing very costly," I was reluctantly adding. But atthat moment an inspiration came to lighten the gloom.
The very thing! I'd use the money I'd saved for the microscope! I don'tneed one the least bit.
So I was able to add with some philosophy:--
"I never did have a nice dress, and I'd like something pretty good thistime. Why, I haven't nearly spent all my allowance," I cried withkindling enthusiasm, jumping up to pace the floor. "Tell me what Iought to have--just exactly what is most suitable. I don't know muchabout teas, but I'd like something--fine!"
Aunt's face glowed with excitement. I think she saw in imaginationfifty Helens dancing before he eyes in a kaleidoscopic assortment ofdresses.
"You're right. We'll get--oh, what shall we--what shall we get that'llbe good enough for you?" she cried in a flutter. "Something simple ofcourse, you're so young; but--I'll tell you: We'll go right to Mrs.Edgar!"
Perhaps my own face burned, too.
"Who's she? Some one on the Avenue?"
"No; no one knows her, but--she's a marvel! It'd mean the world and allto her to please some one sure to be noticed, like you. She's a widow;has two children."
So to Mrs. Edgar we went. Her eyes devoured me. She is a mite of awoman, young, white-faced, vivacious.
"For a tea?" she asked. "A--a large one?"
She spoke with forced calmness, but her hands had the artist's flutter,the enthusiast's eagerness to be doing.
"I'll get samples," she went on; "there's not a minute to be lost;not--one--moment! I'll work all night rather than fail her. You willnot wish"--she dismissed us abruptly--"to go with me to the shops?"
"No; Miss Winship attracts too much attention."
Alas, it's true! It has become an ordeal for me to venture into a shop.But what a blessed thing if my beauty should bring success and ease tothis poor, struggling little widow--just by my wearing a dress she hasmade! Oh, she'll not be the only one! What if Kitty sometime wins fameby painting my picture, or Cadge by writing of me in her"Recollections?" Why shouldn't I inspire great poems and noble deedsand fine songs, like the famous beauties Miss Coleman told about? Yes,even more than they; there was not one of them all like me!
Next evening when Aunt brought the samples upstairs, I was reading tothe Judge in the library, and the others were listening as if stocksand bonds were more fascinating than romances.
"Shall we pray for a second Joshua, arresting the sun, pendingdeliberation?" asked Uncle, displeased at the interruption.
"Why, Bake, there's scarcely ten days, and how we'd feel if Nellydidn't look well!" cried Aunt Frank; and we all broke out laughing atthe bare idea of my looking ill!
"I never saw any one to whom dress mattered so little," Aunt Marciasaid, as she folded up her silk knitting. "But Mrs. Edgar insists uponher four fittings like any Shylock haggling for his pound of flesh; itis written in the bond."
When she had trotted away home with her prim elderly maid, like a pairout of "Cranford," Ethel made an impressive announcement:--
"The General will pour."
"Returned hero from the Philippines?"
"Oh, dear, no. Meg Van Dam could face Mausers, but a Red Cross bazaarwas as near as she got to the war. We call her the General because--oh,you'll find out. Meg is Mrs. Robert Van Dam."
"Oh, I think I've seen that name in the papers. Aren't they grandpeople?"
"Why, yes; rather; we don't know the Van Dams; Meg's only just married.You might have read about her mother-in-law, Mrs. Marmaduke Van Dam, orher aunt-in-law, Mrs. Henry Van Dam, or Mrs. Henry's daughters; thefamily's a tribe. But Meg, why, we went to school with Meg; she's justthe General."
My dress came home to-night--white and dainty. Ah, at last I'vesomething to wear that's not "good" and "plain" and "durable"! Butthere was an outcry, as there has been at every fitting, because Iwon't wear stays. Eccentric, they call me; as if Nature and beauty wereabnormal!
When I was arrayed in it, Aunt and Ethel led me to the library forUncle's inspection.
"Is to-morrow the day set to exhibit to Helen other aspects of New Yorkthan the scholastic?" he asked, looking up from his paper. "The firstappearances of a young girl in modern society are said to be comparablewith a 'Looking Over by the Pack,' as described by Mr. Kipling. MayMrs. Baloo and Mrs. Bagheera and Mrs. Shere Khan have good huntingto-night, and be kind to-morrow to our womanling."
"Why, Bake, you know just as well as I do there aren't any such peoplecoming. I believe it's just one of your jokes," sputtered Aunt. "Nelly,dear, turn slowly rou
nd."
She had dropped on her knees beside me, busy with pins and folds, andJoy was lisping the caution, born perhaps of experience, "Don't youthoil it, Cothin Nelly, or Nurthey'll vip you," when Milly came intothe library; and with her was Mr. Hynes.
"Lovely! Isn't it, Ned?" cried Milly. "It's for to-morrow."
Mr. Hynes scarcely glanced at the dress, then looked away again, withindifference that somehow hurt me.
"Very pretty," he said languidly. "Classic, isn't it? By the way,Judge, I think you'd be interested--"
And then he began to tell Judge Baker about some horrid auction sale ofold books!
I was surprised. I couldn't account for it. To hide mydisappointment--for I do want to look my best to-morrow, and theneverybody has taken so much pains---I bent over Joy, tying and untyingthe ribbons that held the rings of soft hair in front of her ears.
"Thop, Cothin Nelly; you hurt!" she screamed.
As soon as I could, I ran to take off the dress. How could Aunt soparade me? Of course the women Mr. Hynes knows must have all theirdresses from city dressmakers.
But I believe, after all, he did notice, for I saw him colour before heturned sharply away. To please Milly, he might at least--
He called the dress classic; it's just long, soft folds without messytrimmings; and, oh, it's not vanity to peep at myself again and againand to dream of to-morrow. I'm gloriously, gloriously beautiful! IfJohn comes to-morrow, I do hope he'll wear gloves. He has good hands,too; well-shaped--
Why, of course; Mr. Hynes must admire me.
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