CHAPTER XLI
PANNEYOPATHY AND THE ASH-HOLE
Neither Ralph nor his sister nor either of the Drane ladies had the leastreason to believe that Dora minded the news contained in Miriam's note,except that it had given her a heartfelt delight and joy, and that it hadmade her unable to wait a single moment longer than was necessary to comeand tell them all how earnestly she congratulated them, and what acapital good thing she thought it was. She caught Ralph by himself andspoke to him so much like a sympathetic sister that he was a little,just the least little bit in the world, pained.
As Cicely had never had any objection to Miss Bannister, excepting herfrequent appearances in Ralph's conversation, she received Dora'sfelicitations with the same cordiality that she saw in her lovely eyesand on her lips. And Mrs. Drane thought that if this girl were a sampleof the Haverleys' friends and neighbors, her daughter's lot would be evenmore pleasant than she had supposed it would be. As for Miriam, she andDora walked together, their arms around each other's waists, up and downin the garden, and back and forward in the orchard, until the Bannistercoachman went to sleep on his box.
During this long interview, the younger girl became impressed, not onlywith the fact that Dora thought so well of the match, that, if she hadbeen looking for a wife for Ralph, she certainly would have selected MissDrane, but with the stability of Miss Bannister's affection for her,which did not seem to be affected in the least by the changes which wouldtake place in the composition of the Cobhurst household. Dora had said,indeed, that she had no doubt that she and Miriam would be more intimatethan ever, because Mr. Haverley would be so monopolized by his wife.
This was all very pleasant to Miriam, but it did not in the least causeher to regret Ralph's choice. Dora was a lovely girl, but it was nowplainer than ever that she was also a very superior one, whereas Cicelywas just like other people and did not pretend to be anything more, and,moreover, she would not have wished her brother to marry anyone whoseidea of matrimony was the monopoly of her husband, and she knew thatCicely had no such idea. But Dora was the dearest of good friends, Miriamwas very sure of that.
The Bannister carriage had scarcely left the Cobhurst gates when the dog,Congo, came bounding after it. Dora looked at him as his great brown eyeswere turned up towards her, and his tail was wagging with the joy offollowing her once more, she knew that his training was so good that shehad only to tell him to go back and he would obey her, sorrowfully, withhis tail hanging down. He was Ralph's dog now, and she ought to send himback, but would she? She looked at him for a few moments, considering thequestion, and then she said,--
"Come, Congo" and with a bound he was in the carriage and at her feet."You were not an out and out gift, poor fellow," she said, stroking hishead. "I expected you to be partly my dog, all the same, and now we willsee if she will let him claim you."
The dog heard all this, but Dora spoke so low, the coachman could nothear it, and she did not intend that any one else should know it unlessthe dog told.
Ralph did not miss Congo until the next morning, and then, having becomeconvinced that the dog must have followed the Bannister carriage, heexpressed, in the presence of Cicely, his uncertainty as to whether itwould be better for him to go after the dog himself, or to send Mike.
"If I were you," said Miss Cicely, "I would not send for him at all. IfMiss Bannister really wants to get rid of him, and does not know anybodyelse who would take him, she may send him back herself. But it seems tome that a setter is not the best sort of a dog for a farm like this. Ishould think you ought to have a big mastiff, or something of that sort."
"It is a great pity," said Ralph, musingly, "that he happened to beunchained."
"The more I think about it," said Cicely, "the less I like setters. Theyare so intimately connected with the death of the beautiful. Did you everthink of that?"
Ralph never had, and as a man now came up to talk to him about hay, thedog and everything connected with it passed out of his mind.
When Miss Panney reached home after her abrupt parting from DoraBannister, she took a dose of the last medicine that Dr. Tolbridge hadprescribed for her. It was against her rules to use internal medicines,but she made exceptions on important occasions, and as this was a remedyfor the effects of anger, she had taken it before and she took it now.Then she went to bed and there she stayed until three o'clock the nextafternoon. This greatly disturbed the Wittons, for they had alwaysbelieved that this hearty old lady would not be carried off by anydisease, but when her time had come would simply take to her bed and diethere, after the manner of elderly animals.
About the middle of the afternoon Mrs. Witton came up into her room. Shedid not do this often, for the old lady had always made everybody in thehouse understand that this room was her castle, and when any one waswanted there, he or she would be summoned.
"You must be feeling very badly," said the meek and anxious Mrs. Witton"don't you think it would be better to send for a doctor?"
"There is no doctor," said Miss Panney, shortly.
"Oh yes," said the other, "there are several excellent doctors inThorbury, and Dr. Parker takes all of Dr. Tolbridge's practice whilehe is away."
"Stuff!" remarked Miss Panney. "I spanked Dr. Parker, when he worelittle frocks, for running his tin wheelbarrow against me so that Inearly fell over it."
"But he has learned a great deal since then," pleaded Mrs. Witton "and ifyou do not want any new doctors, isn't there something I can do for you?If you will tell me how you feel, it may be that some sort of herbtea--or a mustard plaster--"
"Gammon and spinach!" cried Miss Panney, throwing off the bedclothes asif she were about to spring into the middle of the floor. "I want no teasnor plasters. I have had as much sleep as I care for, and now I am goingto get up. So trot downstairs, if you please, and tell Margaret to bringme up some hot water."
For an hour or two before supper time, Miss Panney occupied herself inclearing out her medicine closet. Every bottle, jar, vial, box, orpackage it contained was placed upon a large table and divided into twocollections. One consisted of the lotions and medicines prescribed forher by Dr. Tolbridge, and the other of those she herself, in the courseof many years, had ordered or compounded,--not only for her own use, butfor that of others. She had long prided herself on her skill in this sortof thing, and was always willing to prepare almost any sort of medicinefor ailing people, asking nothing in payment but the pleasure of seeingthem take it.
When everything had been examined and placed on its appropriate end ofthe table, Miss Panney called for an empty coalscuttle, into which shetumbled, without regard to spilling or breakage, the whole mass ofmedicaments which had been prepared or prescribed by herself, and shethen requested the servant to deposit the contents of the scuttle inthe ash-hole.
"After this," she said to herself, "I will get somebody else to do myconcocting," and she carefully replaced her physician's medicines onthe shelves.
It was three days later when Miss Panney was told that Dr. Tolbridge wasin the parlor and wished to see her.
"Well," said the old lady, as she entered the parlor, "I supposed thatafter your last call here, you would not come again."
"Oh, bless my soul!" said the doctor, "I haven't any time to considerwhat has happened, I must give my whole attention to what is happening ormay happen. How are you? and how have you been during my absence?"
"Oh, I had medicines enough" said she, "if I had needed them, butI didn't."
"Well, I wanted to see for myself, and, besides, I was obliged to come,"said the doctor; "I want to know what has happened since we left. We gothome late last night, and I have not seen anybody who knows anything."
"And so," said the old lady, "you will swallow an insult in order togratify your curiosity."
"Insult, indeed!" said he. "I have a regular rule about insults. Whenanybody under thirty insults me, I give her a piece of my mind if she isa woman, and a taste of my horsewhip if he is a man. But between thirtyand fifty, I am very careful about
my resentments, because people arethen very likely to be cracked or damaged in some way or other, either inbody or mind, and unless I am very cautious, I may do more injury than Iintend. But toward folks over fifty, especially when they are oldfriends, I have no resentments at all. I simply button up my coat andturn up my collar, and let the storm pelt; and when it is fine weatheragain, I generally find that I have forgotten that it ever rained."
"And when a person is in the neighborhood of seventy-five, I suppose youthank her kindly for a good slap in the face."
The doctor laughed heartily.
"Precisely," said he. "And now tell me what has happened. You are allright, I see. How are the Cobhurst people getting on?"
"Oh, well enough," said Miss Panney. "The young man and that Cicely Draneof yours have agreed to marry each other, and I suppose the old ladywill live with them, and Miriam will have to get down from her high horseand agree to play second fiddle, or go to school again. She is too youngfor anything else."
The doctor stared. "You amaze me!" he cried.
"Oh, you needn't be amazed," said Miss Panney; "I did it!"
"You?" said the doctor, "I thought you wanted him to marry Dora."
"If you thought that," said Miss Panney, flashing her black eyes uponhim, "why did you lend yourself to such an underhanded piece of businessas the sending of that Drane girl there?"
"Oh, bless my soul!" exclaimed the doctor, "I did not lend myself toanything. I did not send her there to be married. Let us drop that, andtell me how you came to change your mind."
"I have a rule about dropping things," said the old lady, "and withpeople of vigorous intellect, I never do it, but when any one is gettingon in years and a little soft-minded, so that he does what he is told todo without being able to see the consequences of it, I pity him and dropthe subject which worries his conscience. I have not changed my mind inthe least. I still think that Dora would be the best wife young Haverleycould have, and after I found that you had added to your treacheries orstupidities, or whatever they were, by carrying her off to Barport, Iintended to take advantage of the situation, so I got Dora to inviteMiriam there, feeling sure that the Drane women would have sense enoughto know that they then ought to leave Cobhurst; but they had not senseenough, and they stayed there. Then I saw that the situation wascritical, and went to Barport myself, and sent the young man a telegramthat would have aroused the heart of a feather-bed and made it be with mein three hours, but it did not rouse him and he did not come; and beforethat silly Mrs. Bannister got back with the two girls, the mischief wasdone, and that little Drane had taken advantage of the opportunity I hadgiven her to trap Mr. Ralph. Oh, she is a sharp one! and with you and meto help her, she could do almost anything. You take off her rival, and Isend away the interfering sister; and all she has to do is to snap up theyoung man, while her mother and that illustrious cook of yours stand byand clap their hands. But I do not give you much credit. You are merelyan inconsiderate blunderer, to say no more. You did not plan anything; Idid that, and when my plans don't work one way, they do in another. Thisone was like a boomerang that did not hit what it was aimed at, but camebanging and clattering back all the same. And now I will remark that Ihave given up that sort of thing. I can throw as well as ever, but I amtoo old to stand the back-cracks."
"You are not too old for anything," said the doctor, "and you and I willdo a lot of planning yet. But tell me one thing; do you think that thisHaverley-Drane combination is going to deprive me of La Fleur?"
"Upon my word!" cried the old lady, springing to her feet, "never did Isee a man so steeped in selfishness. Not a word of sympathy for me! Inall this unfortunate affair, you think of nothing but the danger oflosing your cook! Well, I am happy to say you are going to lose her. Thatwill be your punishment, and well you deserve it. She will no more thinkof staying with you, after the Dranes set up housekeeping at Cobhurst,than I would think of coming to cook for you. And so you may go back toyour soggy bread, and your greasy fries, and your dishwater coffee, andget yellow and green in the face, thin in the legs, and weak in thestomach, and have good reason to say to yourself that if you had let MissPanney alone, and let her work out that excellent plan she had confidedto you, you would have lived to a healthy old age, with the best cook inthis part of the country making you happy three times a day, andsatisfied with the world between meals."
"Deal gently with the erring," said the doctor. "Don't crush me. I wantto go to Cobhurst this morning, to see them all, and find out my fate.Wouldn't you like to go with me? I have a visit to make, two or threemiles above here, but I shall be back soon, and will drive you over. Whatdo you say?"
"Very good," said Miss Panney. "I have been thinking of calling on thehappy family."
As soon as the doctor had departed Miss Panney ordered her phaeton.
"I intended going to Cobhurst to-day," she said to herself, "but I do notpropose to go with him. I shall get there first and see how the landlies, before he comes to muddle up things with his sordid anxieties abouthis future victuals and drink."
The Girl at Cobhurst Page 41