Chapter XX
CALLERS
"Heavens!" cried Stella, leaping to her feet, "do you suppose it'scallers?"
She looked ruefully at her paint-stained fingers, at her old, soiledkhaki garden skirt which stopped at least six inches from the ground, andthen at my get-up, which consisted of a very dirty soft-collared shirt,no necktie, khaki trousers that beggared description, and soil-crustedboots. Some passengers from the motor were unquestionably coming up ourside path--they were coming around the corner by the lilac bush to thefront door--they were around the lilac bush--they were upon us!
We looked at them--at a large, ample female in a silk gown anything butample, at a young woman elaborately dressed, at a smallish man with whitehair, white moustache, and ruddy complexion, clad in a juvenile Norfolkjacket and white flannels.
"They are coming to call!" whispered Stella. "The Lord help us! John,I'm scared!"
We advanced to meet them, and as I glanced at my wife, and then at theample female, I was curiously struck with their resemblance to a coupleof strange dogs approaching each other warily. I fully expected to seethe stout lady sniff; she had that kind of a nose.
"How do you do," said she. "I'm Mrs. Eckstrom. I presume this is Mr.and Mrs. Upton?"
Stella nodded.
"We are your neighbours," she continued, with an air which said, "Youare very fortunate to have us for neighbours." "We live in the firstplace toward the village. This is Mr. Eckstrom, and my daughter, MissJulia."
"We can hardly offer our hands," said Stella. "Will you forgive us?You see, we are making a garden, and it's rather messy work."
"You like to work in the garden yourself, I see," said Mrs. Eckstrom."I, too, enjoy it. I frequently pick rose bugs. I pick them beforebreakfast, very early, while they are still sleepy. I find it is theonly way to save my tea roses."
"The early gardener catches the rose bug--I'll remember that," Stellalaughed. "Perhaps you would care to see the beginnings of our littlegarden?"
We moved down through the orchard and surveyed the pool. I suppose it didlook bare and desolate to the outsider, who did not see it, as we did,with the eye of faith--the bare soil green with grass, the lip ringedwith iris blades, the shrubbery bordered with a mass of blooms. At anyrate, the Eckstroms betrayed no enthusiasm.
We are your neighbours ... you are very fortunate to haveus for neighbours]
"Mr. Upton spaded all that lawn up himself, and we made the benchtogether," cried Stella.
"Well, well, you _must_ like to work," said Mr. Eckstrom. "It's somuch simpler to sic a few men on the job. Besides, they can usually doit better."
Stella and I exchanged glances, and she cautioned me with her eyes. Butpoliteness was never my strong point.
"Sometimes," said I, "it happens that a chap who wants a garden lacksthe means to sic a few men on the job. Under those conditions he mayperhaps be pardoned for labouring himself."
There was a slight silence broken by Stella, who said that we were goingto get some goldfishes soon.
"We can give them some out of our pool, can't we, father?" the othergirl said, with an evident effort to be neighbourly. "We really havetoo many."
"Certainly, certainly; have Peter bring some over to-night," her fatherreplied.
"Oh, thank you!" Stella cried. "And will you have Peter tell us theirnames?"
"Their what?" exclaimed Mrs. Eckstrom.
"Oh, haven't they names? The poor things!" Stella said. "I shall namethem as soon as they come."
"What a quaint idea," the girl said, with a smile. "Do you name allthe creatures on the place?"
"Certainly," said Stella. "Come, I'll show you Epictetus and Luella."
This was a new one on me, but I kept silent, while she led us around thehouse, and lifted the plank which led up from the sundial lawn to thesouth door. Under it were two enormous toads and two small ones.
"Those big ones are Epictetus and Luella," she announced, "and, dearme, two children have arrived to visit them since morning! Let me see."
She dropped on her knees and examined the toads carefully, while theytried to burrow into the soil backward, to escape the sun. Our callersregarded her with odd expressions of mingled amusement and amazement--orwas it pity?
"A son and daughter-in-law," she announced, rising. "They are Gladysand Gaynor."
A polite smile flickered on the faces of our three visitors, and diedout in silence. Stella once more shot a glance at me.
We turned toward the house. "If you will excuse me for a few moments, Iwill make myself fit to brew you some tea," said my wife, holding openthe door.
"That is very kind, but we'll not remain to-day, I think," Mrs.Eckstrom replied. "We will just glance at what you have done to thisawful old house. It was certainly an eyesore before you bought it."
"I _liked_ it all gray and weathered," Stella answered. "In fact,I didn't want it painted. But apparently you have to paint things topreserve them. Still, the Lord made wood before man made paint."
"He also made man before man made clothes," said I.
A polite smile from the girl followed this remark. Her father and motherseemed unaware of it. They gave our beautiful living-room a casualglance, and the man took in especially the books--in bulk.
"You are one of these literary chaps, I hear," he said. "I supposeyou need all these books in your business?"
"Well, hardly all," I answered. "Some few I read for pleasure. Willyou smoke?"
I offered him a cigar.
"Thanks, no," said he. "Doctor's orders. I can do nothing I want to.Diet, and all that. Damn nuisance, too. Why, once I used to----"
"Father," said the girl, "don't you want to see if the car is ready?"
The look of animation which had come over the man's face when he beganto talk about his ill health vanished again. He started toward the door.
"Let me," said I, springing ahead of him.
The car, of course, was waiting, the chauffeur sitting in it gazingvacantly down the road, with the patient stare of the true flunkey. Icame back and reported. With a polite good-bye and an invitation tocall and see their garden, our guests departed.
Stella and I stood in the south room and listened to the car rumble overthe bridge. Then we looked at one another in silence.
Presently she picked up what appeared like a whole pack of calling cardsfrom the table, and glanced at them.
"John," she said, "it's begun. They've called on me. I shall haveto return the call. Are all the rest like them, do you suppose? Are theyall so deadly dumb? Have they no playfulness of mind? I tried 'em outon purpose. They don't arrive."
"They're rich," said I. "Almost all rich people are bores. We boredthem. The old man, though, seemed about to become quite animated on thesubject of his stomach."
Stella laughed. "I'm _glad_ we were in old clothes," she said. "Andaren't Epictetus and Luella darlings?"
"By the way," I cried, "why haven't I met them before?"
"I just discovered them this noon," she answered. "You were workingat the time. I was saving them for a surprise after supper. I'm gladGladys and Gaynor brought no grandchildren, though. It would have beenhard to name so many correctly right off the bat, and it's terrible tostart life with a wrong name."
"As Mike would say, it is surely," I answered. "That is why they werecareful to call you Stella."
"Do you like the name?" she whispered, creeping close to me. "Oh,John, I'm glad we're not rich like them"--with a gesture toward thepack of calling cards--"I'm glad we can work in the garden with ourown hands and play games with toads and just be ourselves. Let's _never_be rich!"
"I promise," said I, solemnly.
Then we laughed and went to hear the hermit thrush.
The Idyl of Twin Fires Page 20