Complete Works of L. Frank Baum
Page 384
They gave the usual order, and then, after a moment’s hesitation, she added:
“And a bottle of claret for the Major.”
Her father fairly gasped with amazement.
“Patsy!”
People at the near-by tables looked up as her gay laugh rang out, and beamed upon her in sympathy.
“I’m not crazy a bit. Major,” said she, patting the hand he had stretched toward her, partly in delight and partly in protest. “I’ve just had a raise, that’s all, and we’ll celebrate the occasion.”
Her father tucked the napkin under his chin then looked at her questioningly.
“Tell me, Patsy.”
“Madam Borne sent me to a swell house on Madison Avenue this morning, because all her women were engaged. I dressed the lady’s hair in my best style, Major, and she said it was much more becoming than Juliette ever made it. Indeed, she wrote a note to Madam, asking her to send me, hereafter, instead of Juliette, and Madam patted my head and said I would be a credit to her, and my wages would be ten dollars a week, from now on. Ten dollars. Major! As much as you earn yourself at that miserable bookkeeping!”
“Sufferin’ Moses!” ejaculated the astonished major, staring back into her twinkling eyes, “if this kapes on, we’ll be millionaires, Patsy.”
“We’re millionaires, now.” responded Patsy, promptly, “because we’ve health, and love, and contentment — and enough money to keep us from worrying. Do you know what I’ve decided, Major, dear? You shall go to make that visit to your colonel that you’ve so long wanted to have. The vacation will do you good, and you can get away all during July, because you haven’t rested for five years. I went to see Mr. Conover this noon, and he said he’d give you the month willingly, and keep the position for you when you returned.”
“What! You spoke to old Conover about me?”
“This noon. It’s all arranged, daddy, and you’ll just have a glorious time with the old colonel. Bless his dear heart, he’ll be overjoyed to have you with him, at last.”
The major pulled out his handkerchief, blew his nose vigorously, and then surreptitiously wiped his eyes.
“Ah, Patsy, Patsy; it’s an angel you are, and nothing less at all, at all.”
“Rubbish, Major. Try your claret, and see if it’s right. And eat your fish before it gets cold. I’ll not treat you again, sir, unless you try to look happy. Why, you seem as glum as old Conover himself!”
The major was positively beaming.
“Would it look bad for me to kiss you, Patsy?”
“Now?”
“Now and right here in this very room!”
“Of course it would. Try and behave, like the gentleman you are, and pay attention to your dinner!”
It was a glorious meal. The cost was twenty-five cents a plate, but the gods never feasted more grandly in Olympus than these two simple, loving souls in that grimy Duggan street restaurant.
Over his coffee the major gave a sudden start and looked guiltily into
Patricia’s eyes.
“Now, then,” she said, quickly catching the expression, “out with it.”
“It’s a letter,” said the major. “It came yesterday, or mayhap the day before. I don’t just remember.”
“A letter! And who from?” she cried, surprised.
“An ould vixen.”
“And who may that be?”
“Your mother’s sister Jane. I can tell by the emblem on the flap of the envelope,” said he, drawing a crumpled paper from his breast pocket.
“Oh, that person,” said Patsy, with scorn. “Whatever induced her to write to me?” “You might read it and find out,” suggested the major.
Patricia tore open the envelope and scanned the letter. Her eyes blazed.
“What is it, Mavoureen?”
“An insult!” she answered, crushing the paper in her hand and then stuffing it into the pocket of her dress. “Light your pipe, daddy, dear. Here — I’ll strike the match.”
CHAPTER IV.
LOUISE MAKES A DISCOVERY.
“How did you enjoy the reception, Louise?”
“Very well, mamma. But I made the discovery that my escort. Harry Wyndham, is only a poor cousin of the rich Wyndham family, and will never have a penny he doesn’t earn himself.”
“I knew that,” said Mrs. Merrick. “But Harry has the entree into some very exclusive social circles. I hope you treated him nicely, Louise. He can be of use to us.”
“Oh, yes, I think I interested him; but he’s a very stupid boy. By the way, mamma, I had an adventure last evening, which I have had no time to tell you of before.”
“Yes?”
“It has given me quite a shock. You noticed the maid you ordered to come from Madam Borne to dress my hair for the reception?”
“I merely saw her. Was she unsatisfactory?”
“She was very clever. I never looked prettier, I am sure. The maid is a little, demure thing, very young for such a position, and positively homely and common in appearance. But I hardly noticed her until she dropped a letter from her clothing. It fell just beside me, and I saw that it was addressed to no less a personage than my rich aunt, Miss Jane Merrick, at Elmhurst. Curious to know why a hair-dresser should be in correspondence with Aunt Jane, I managed to conceal the letter under my skirts until the maid was gone. Then I put it away until after the reception. It was sealed and stamped, all ready for the post, but I moistened the flap and easily opened it. Guess what I read?”
“I’ve no idea,” replied Mrs. Merrick.
“Here it is,” continued Louise, producing a letter and carefully unfolding it. “Listen to this, if you please: ‘Aunt Jane.’ She doesn’t even say ‘dear’ or ‘respected,’ you observe.”
‘Your letter to me, asking me to visit you, is almost an insult after your years of silence and neglect and your refusals to assist my poor mother when she was in need. Thank God we can do without your friendship and assistance now, for my honored father, Major Gregory Doyle, is very prosperous and earns all we need. I return your check with my compliments. If you are really ill, I am sorry for you, and would go to nurse you were you not able to hire twenty nurses, each of whom would have fully as much love and far more respect for you than could ever
‘Your indignant niece,
‘Patricia Doyle.’
“What do you think of that, mamma?’“
“It’s very strange, Louise. This hair-dresser is your own cousin.”
“So it seems. And she must be poor, or she wouldn’t go out as a sort of lady’s maid. I remember scolding her severely for pulling my hair at one time, and she was as meek as Moses, and never answered a word.”
“She has a temper though, as this letter proves,” said Mrs. Merrick; “and I admire her for the stand she has taken.”
“So do I,” rejoined Louise with a laugh, “for it removes a rival from my path. You will notice that Aunt Jane has sent her a check for the same amount she sent me. Here it is, folded in the letter. Probably my other cousin, the De Graf girl, is likewise invited to Elmhurst? Aunt Jane wanted us all, to see what we were like, and perhaps to choose between us.”
“Quite likely,” said Mrs. Merrick, uneasily watching her daughter’s face.
“That being the case,” continued Louise, “I intend to enter the competition. With this child Patricia out of the way, it will be a simple duel with my unknown De Graf cousin for my aunt’s favor, and the excitement will be agreeable even if I am worsted.”
“There’s no danger of that,” said her mother, calmly. “And the stakes are high, Louise. I’ve learned that your Aunt Jane is rated as worth a half million dollars.”
“They shall be mine,” said the daughter, with assurance. “Unless, indeed, the De Graf girl is most wonderfully clever. What is her name?”
“Elizabeth, if I remember rightly. But I am not sure she is yet alive, my dear. I haven’t heard of the De Grafs for a dozen years.’“
“Anyway I shall accept my Aunt Jane�
�s invitation, and make the acceptance as sweet as Patricia Doyle’s refusal is sour. Aunt Jane will be simply furious when she gets the little hair-dresser’s note.”
“Will you send it on?”
“Why not? It’s only a question of resealing the envelope and mailing it. And it will be sure to settle Miss Doyle’s chances of sharing the inheritance, for good and all.”
“And the check?”
“Oh, I shall leave the check inside the envelope. It wouldn’t be at all safe to cash it, you know.”
“But if you took it out Jane would think the girl had kept tit money, after all, and would be even more incensed against her.”
“No,” said Louise, after a moment’s thought, “I’ll not do a single act of dishonesty that could ever by any chance be traced to my door. To be cunning, to be diplomatic, to play the game of life with the best cards we can draw, is every woman’s privilege. But if I can’t win honestly, mater dear, I’ll quit the game, for even money can’t compensate a girl for the loss of her self-respect.”
Mrs. Merrick cast a fleeting glance at her daughter and smiled.
Perhaps the heroics of Louise did not greatly impress her.
CHAPTER V.
AUNT JANE.
“Lift me up, Phibbs — no, not that way! Confound your awkwardness — do you want to break my back? There! That’s better. Now the pillow at my head. Oh — h. What are you blinking at, you old owl?”
“Are you better this morning, Miss Jane?” asked the attendant, with grave deference.
“No; I’m worse.”
“You look brighter, Miss Jane.”
“Don’t be stupid, Martha Phibbs. I know how I am, better than any doctor, and I tell you I’m on my last legs.”
“Anything unusual, Miss?”
“Of course. I can’t be on my last legs regularly, can I?”
“I hope not, Miss.”
“What do you mean by that? Are you trying to insult me, now that I’m weak and helpless? Answer me, you gibbering idiot!”
“I’m sure you’ll feel better soon, Miss. Can’t I wheel you into the garden? It’s a beautiful day, and quite sunny and warm already.”
“Be quick about it, then; and don’t tire me out with your eternal doddering. When a thing has to be done, do it. That’s my motto.”
“Yes, Miss Jane.”
Slowly and with care the old attendant wheeled her mistress’s invalid chair through the doorway of the room, along a stately passage, and out upon a broad piazza at the back of the mansion. Here were extensive and carefully tended gardens, and the balmy morning air was redolent with the odor of flowers.
Jane Merrick sniffed the fragrance with evident enjoyment, and her sharp grey eyes sparkled as she allowed them to roam over the gorgeous expanse of colors spread out before her.
“I’ll go down, I guess, Phibbs. This may be my last day on earth, and I’ll spend an hour with my flowers before I bid them good-bye forever.”
Phibbs pulled a bell-cord, and a soft faraway jingle was heard. Then an old man came slowly around the corner of the house. His bare head was quite bald. He wore a short canvas apron and carried pruning-shears in one hand. Without a word of greeting to his mistress or scarce a glance at her half recumbent form, he mounted the steps of the piazza and assisted Phibbs to lift the chair to the ground.
“How are the roses coming on, James?”
“Poorly, Miss,” he answered, and turning his back returned to his work around the corner. If he was surly, Miss Jane seemed not to mind it. Her glance even softened a moment as she followed his retreating form.
But now she was revelling amongst the flowers, which she seemed to love passionately. Phibbs wheeled her slowly along the narrow paths between the beds, and she stopped frequently to fondle a blossom or pull away a dead leaf or twig from a bush. The roses were magnificent, in spite of the old gardener’s croaking, and the sun was warm and grateful and the hum of the bees musical and sweet.
“It’s hard to die and leave all this, Phibbs,” said the old woman, a catch in her voice. “But it’s got to be done.”
“Not for a while yet, I hope, Miss Jane.”
“It won’t be long, Phibbs. But I must try to live until my nieces come, and I can decide which of them is most worthy to care for the old place when I am gone.”
“Yes, Miss.”
“I’ve heard from two of them, already. They jumped at the bait I held out quickly enough; but that’s only natural. And the letters are very sensible ones, too. Elizabeth DeGraf says she will be glad to come, and thanks me for inviting her. Louise Merrick is glad to come, also, but hopes I am deceived about my health and that she will make me more than one visit after we become friends. A very proper feeling; but I’m not deceived, Phibbs. My end’s in plain sight.”
“Yes, Miss Jane.”
“And somebody’s got to have my money and dear Elmhurst when I’m through with them. Who will it be, Phibbs?”
“I’m sure I don’t know, Miss.”
“Nor do I. The money’s mine, and I can do what I please with it; and
I’m under no obligation to anyone.”
“Except Kenneth,” said a soft voice behind her.
Jane Merrick gave a start at the interruption and turned red and angry as, without looking around, she answered:
“Stuff and nonsense! I know my duties and my business, Silas Watson.”
“To be sure,” said a little, withered man, passing around the chair and facing the old woman with an humble, deprecating air. He was clothed in black, and his smooth-shaven, deeply lined face was pleasant of expression and not without power and shrewd intelligence. The eyes, however, were concealed by heavy-rimmed spectacles, and his manner was somewhat shy and reserved. However, he did not hesitate to speak frankly to his old friend, nor minded in the least if he aroused her ire.
“No one knows better than you, dear Miss Jane, her duties and obligations; and no one performs them more religiously. But your recent acts, I confess, puzzle me. Why should you choose from a lot of inexperienced, incompetent girls a successor to Thomas Bradley’s fortune, when he especially requested you in his will to look after any of his relatives, should they need assistance? Kenneth Forbes, his own nephew, was born after Tom’s death, to be sure; but he is alone in the world now, an orphan, and has had no advantages to help him along in life since his mother’s death eight years ago. I think Tom Bradley must have had a premonition of what was to come even though his sister was not married at the time of his death, and I am sure he would want you to help Kenneth now.”
“He placed me under no obligations to leave the boy any money,” snapped the old woman, white with suppressed wrath, “you know that well enough, Silas Watson, for you drew up the will.”
The old gentleman slowly drew a pattern upon the gravelled walk with the end of his walking-stick.
“Yes, I drew up the will,” he said, deliberately, “and I remember that he gave to you, his betrothed bride, all that he possessed — gave it gladly and lovingly, and without reserve. He was very fond of you, Miss Jane. But perhaps his conscience pricked him a bit, after all, for he added the words: ‘I shall expect you to look after the welfare of my only relative, my sister. Katherine Bradley — or any of her heirs.’ It appears to me, Miss Jane, that that is a distinct obligation. The boy is now sixteen and as fine a fellow as one often meets.”
“Bah! An imbecile — an awkward, ill-mannered brat who is only fit for a stable-boy! I know him, Silas, and I know he’ll never amount to a hill of beans. Leave him my money? Not if I hadn’t a relative on earth!”
“You misjudge him, Jane. Kenneth is all right if you’ll treat him decently. But he won’t stand your abuse and I don’t think the less of him for that.”
“Why abuse? Haven’t I given him a home and an education, all because Thomas asked me to look after his relatives? And he’s been rebellious and pig-headed and sullen in return for my kindness, so naturally there’s little love lost between us.”
“Sir!”
“All right, Jane; fly at me if you will,” said the little man, with a smile; “but I intend to tell you frankly what I think of your actions, just as long as we remain friends.”
Her stern brows unbent a trifle.
“That’s why we are friends, Silas; and it’s useless to quarrel with you now that I’m on my last legs. A few days more will end me, I’m positive; so bear with me a little longer, my friend.”
He took her withered hand in his and kissed it gently.
“You’re not so very bad, Jane,” said he, “and I’m almost sure you will be with us for a long time to come. But you’re more nervous and irritable than usual, I’ll admit, and I fear this invasion of your nieces won’t be good for you. Are they really coming?”
“Two of them are, I’m sure, for they’ve accepted my invitation,” she replied.
“Here’s a letter that just arrived,” he said, taking it from his pocket. “Perhaps it contains news from the third niece.”
“My glasses, Phibbs!” cried Miss Jane, eagerly, and the attendant started briskly for the house to get them.
“What do you know about these girls?” asked the old lawyer curiously.
“Nothing whatever. I scarcely knew of their existence until you hunted them out for me and found they were alive. But I’m going to know them, and study them, and the one that’s most capable and deserving shall have my property.”
Mr. Watson sighed.
“And Kenneth?” he asked.
“I’ll provide an annuity for the boy, although it’s more than he deserves. When I realized that death was creeping upon me I felt a strange desire to bequeath my fortune to one of my own flesh and blood. Perhaps I didn’t treat my brothers and sisters generously in the old days, Silas.”
“Perhaps not,” he answered.
“So I’ll make amends to one of their children. That is, if any one of the three nieces should prove worthy.”
“I see. But if neither of the three is worthy?”