XXIII THE CLEMCY GARDEN PARTY
"You may go on those errands, Hortense, but first send Polly Pepper tome," commanded Mrs. Chatterton sharply.
The French maid paused in the act of hanging up a gown. "I will_re_-quest her, Madame. I should not like to send Mees Polly Peppaire."
"_Miss_ Polly Pepper!" Mrs. Chatterton was guilty of stamping her foot."Are you mad? I am speaking of Polly Pepper, this country girl, who isas poor and low-born here in this house, as if in her little brownhouse, wherever that may be."
Hortense shrugged her shoulders, and hung up the gown.
"Has Madame any further commands for me?" she asked, coming up to hermistress.
"Yes; be sure to get the velvet at Lemaire's, and take back the silkkimono. I will send to New York for one."
"Yes, Madame."
"That is all--besides the other errands. Now go." She dismissed her witha wave of her shapely hand. "But first, as I bade you, _send_ PollyPepper to me."
Hortense, with another elevation of her shoulders, said nothing, tillshe found herself the other side of the door. Then she shook her fist atit.
"It ees not Miss Polly who will be sent for; it ees Madame who will besent out of dees house, _j'ai peur_--ha, ha, ha!"
She laughed softly to herself all the way downstairs, with an insolentlittle fling to her head, that boded ill for her mistress's interests.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Chatterton was angrily pacing up and down the room."What arrant nonsense a man can be capable of when he is headstrong tobegin with! To think of the elegant Horatio King, a model for all men,surrounding himself with this commonplace family. Faugh! It is easyenough to see what they are all after. But I shall prevent it.Meanwhile, the only way to do it is to break the spirit of this PollyPepper. Once do that, and I have the task easy to my hand."
She listened intently. "It can't be possible she would refuse to come.Ha! I thought so."
Polly came quietly in. No one to see her face would have supposed thatshe had thrown aside the book she had been waiting weeks to read, sothat lessons and music need not suffer. For she was really glad whenMrs. Chatterton's French maid asked her respectfully if she would pleasebe so good as to step up to her mistress's apartments, "_s'il vousplait_, Mees Polly."
"Yes, indeed," cried Polly, springing off from the window-seat, andforgetting the enchanted story-land immediately in the rush of delight."Oh, I have another chance to try to please her," she thought, skimmingover the stairs. But she was careful to restrain her steps on reachingthe room.
"You may take that paper," said Mrs. Chatterton, seating herself in herfavorite chair, "and read to me. You know the things I desire to hear,or ought to." She pointed to the society news, _Town Talk_, lying on thetable.
Polly took it up, glad to be of the least service, and whirled it overto get the fashion items, feeling sure that now she was on the rightroad to favor.
"Don't rattle it," cried Mrs. Chatterton, in a thin, high voice.
"I'll try not to," said Polly, wishing she could be deft-handed likeMamsie, and doing her best to get to the inner page quietly.
"And why don't you read where you are?" cried Mrs. Chatterton. "Begin onthe first page. I wish to hear that first."
Polly turned the sheet back again, and obeyed. But she hadn't read morethan a paragraph when she came to a dead stop.
"Go on," commanded Mrs. Chatterton, her eyes sparkling. She hadforgotten to play with her rings, being perfectly absorbed in thedelicious morsels of exceedingly unsavory gossip she was hearing.
Polly laid the paper in her lap, and her two hands fell upon it. "Oh,Mrs. Chatterton," she cried, the color flying from her cheek, "pleaselet me read something else to you. Mamsie wouldn't like me to readthis." The brown eyes filled with tears, and she leaned forwardimploringly.
"Stuff and nonsense!" exclaimed Mrs. Chatterton passionately. "I commandyou to read that, girl. Do you hear me?"
"I cannot," said Polly, in a low voice. "Mamsie wouldn't like it." Butit was perfectly distinct, and fell upon the angry ears clearly; andstorm as she might, Mrs. Chatterton knew that the little country maidenwould never bend to her will in this case.
"I would have you to know that I understand much better than your motherpossibly can, what is for your good to read. Besides, she will neverknow."
"Mamsie knows every single thing that we children do," cried Pollydecidedly, and lifting her pale face; "and she understands better thanany one else about what we ought to do, for she is our mother."
"What arrant nonsense!" exclaimed Mrs. Chatterton passionately, andunable to control herself at the prospect of losing Polly for a reader,which she couldn't endure, as she thoroughly enjoyed her services inthat line. She got out of her chair, and paced up and down the longapartment angrily, saying all sorts of most disagreeable things, thatPolly only half heard, so busy was she debating in her own mind what sheought to do. Should she run out of the room, and leave this dreadful oldwoman that every one in the house was tired of? Surely she had triedenough to please her, but she could not do what Mamsie would neverapprove of. And just as Polly had about decided to slip out, she lookedup.
Mrs. Chatterton, having exhausted her passion, as it seemed to do nogood, was returning to her seat, with such a dreary step and forlornexpression that she seemed ten years older. She really looked veryfeeble, and Polly broke out impulsively, "Oh, let me read the other partof the paper, dear Mrs. Chatterton. May I?"
"Read it," said Mrs. Chatterton ungraciously, and sat down in herfavorite chair.
Polly, scarcely believing her ears, whirled over the sheet, anddetermined to read as well as she possibly could, managed to throw somuch enthusiasm into the fashion hints and social items, that presentlyMrs. Chatterton's eyes were sparkling again, although she was deprivedof her unsavory morsels.
And before long she was eagerly telling Polly to read over certaindictates of the Paris correspondent, who was laying down the law forfeminine dress, and calling again for the last information of themovements of members of her social set, till there could be no questionof her enjoyment.
Polly, not knowing or caring how long she had been thus occupied, solong as Mrs. Chatterton was happy, was only conscious that Hortense cameback from the errands, which occasioned only a brief pause.
"Put the parcels down," said Mrs. Chatterton, scarcely glancing at her,"I cannot attend to you now. Go on, Polly."
So Polly went on, until the fashionable and social world had been sothoroughly canvassed that even Mrs. Chatterton was quite convinced thatshe could get no more from the paper.
"You may go now," she said, but with a hungry glance for the first page.Then she tore her gaze away, and repeated more coldly than ever, "Youmay go."
Polly ran off, dismayed to find how happy she was at the release. Herfeet, unaccustomed to sitting still so long, were numb, and littleprickles were running up and down her legs. She hurried as fast as shecould into Mamsie's room, feeling in need of all the good cheer shecould find.
"Mrs. Fisher has gone out," said Jane, going along the hall.
"Gone out!" repeated Polly, "Oh, where? Do you know, Jane?"
"I don't exactly know," said Jane, "but she took Miss Phronsie; and Ithink it's shopping they went for. Mr. King has taken them in thecarriage."
"Oh, I know it is," cried Polly, and a dreadful feeling surged throughher. Why had she spent all this time with that horrible old woman, andlost this precious treat!
"They thought you had gone to the Salisbury School," said Jane, wishingshe could give some comfort, "for they wanted you awfully to go."
"And now I've lost it all," cried Polly at a white heat--"all thisperfectly splendid time with Grandpapa and Mamsie and Phronsie just forthe sake of a horrible--"
Then she broke short off, and ran back into Mamsie's room, and flungherself down by the bed, just as she used to do by the four-poster inthe bedroom of the little brown house.
"Why, Polly, child!" Mother Fisher's voice was very cheery as she camein, Phronsie hu
rrying after.
"I don't see her," began Phronsie in a puzzled way, and peering on allsides. "Where is she, Mamsie?"
Mrs. Fisher went over and laid her hand on Polly's brown head. "Now,Phronsie, you may run out, that is a good girl." She leaned over, andset a kiss on Phronsie's red lips.
"Is Polly sick?" asked Phronsie, going off to the door obediently, butlooking back with wondering eyes.
"No, dear, I think not," said Mrs. Fisher. "Run along, dear."
"I am so glad she isn't sick," said Phronsie, as she went slowly off.Yet she carried a troubled face.
"I ought to go and see how Sinbad is," she decided, as she wentdownstairs. This visit was an everyday performance, to be carefully gonethrough with. So she passed out of the big side doorway, to the veranda.
"There is Michael now," she cried joyfully, espying that individualraking up the west lawn. So skipping off, she flew over to him. Thiscaught the attention of little Dick from the nursery window.
"Hurry up there!" he cried crossly to Battles, who was having a hardtime anyway getting him into a fresh sailor suit.
"Oh, Dicky--Dicky!" called mamma softly from her room.
"I can't help it, mamma; Battles is slow and poky," he fumed.
"Oh, no, dear," said his mother; "Battles always gets you ready veryswiftly, as well as nicely."
Battles, a comfortable person, turned her round face with a smile towardthe door. "And if you was more like your mamma, Master Dick, you'd bethrough with dressing, and make everything more pleasant to yourself andto every one else."
"Well, I'm not in the least like mamma, Battles; I can't be."
"No, indeed, you ain't. But you can try," said Battles encouragingly.
"Why, Battles Whitney!" exclaimed Dick, whirling around on her. Inastonishment, or any excitement, Dicky invariably gave her the wholename that he felt she ought to possess; "Mrs. Mara Battles" not being atall within his comprehension. "What an _awful_ story!"
"Dicky--Dicky!" reproved Mrs. Whitney.
"Well, I can't help it, mamma." Dick now escaped from Battles' handsaltogether, and fled into the other room, the comfortable personfollowing. "She said"--plunging up to her chair in greatexcitement--"that I could be like you."
"I said you could try to be," corrected Battles, smoothing down herapron.
"And she knows I can't ever be, in all this world," declared Dick,shaking his short curls in decision, and glancing back to see theeffect, "for you're a woman, and I'm always going to be a man. Why, seehow big I am now!" He squared off, and strutted up and down the littleboudoir.
"And you'd be bigger if you'd let me fix your blouse and button it up,"declared Battles, laughing, and bearing down on him to fasten the bandand tuck in the vest. "And if you were more like your mother indisposition--that's what I mean--'twould be a sight comfortabler for youand every one else. Now, says I, your hair's got to be brushed." And sheled him back into the nursery, laughing all the way.
"What makes you shake so when you laugh, Battles?" asked Dick suddenly,and ignoring all references to his disposition.
"Can't help it," said Battles, beginning work on the curls; "that'sbecause there's so much of me, I suppose," and she laughed more thanever.
"There's so very much of you, Battles," observed Dick with a criticallook all over her rotund figure. "What makes it?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Battles. "Stand still, Dicky, and I'll bethrough all the sooner. Some folks is big and round, and some folks islittle and scrawny."
"What's scrawny?" asked Dick, who always got as many alleviations byconversation as possible out of the detested hair-brushing.
"Why, thin and lean."
"Oh, well, go on, Battles."
"And I'm one of the big and round ones," said Battles, seeing nooccasion in that statement to abate her cheerfulness. So she laughedagain.
"I like you big and round, Battles," cried little Dick affectionately,and whirling about so suddenly as to endanger his eye with the combdoing good execution. And he essayed to put his arms around her waist,which he was always hoping to be able to accomplish.
"That's good," said Battles, laughing, well pleased. "But you mustn'tjump around so. There now, in a minute you shall be off." And she tookup the brush.
"I must," declared Dick, remembering his sight of Phronsie runningacross the lawn; "do hurry, Battles," he pleaded, which so won her heartthat she abridged part of the brushing, and let him scamper off.
Phronsie was kneeling down in front of Sinbad's kennel.
"Can't you untie him to-day, Michael?" she asked, a question she hadpropounded each morning since the boys went back to school.
"Yes, Miss Phronsie, I think I can; he's wonted now, and the other dogsare accustomed to him. Besides, I've locked up Jerry since he fit him."
"I know," said Phronsie sorrowfully; "that was naughty of Jerry whenSinbad had only just come."
Michael scratched his head. He couldn't tell her what was on his mind,that Sinbad was scarcely such a dog as any one would buy, and thereforehis presence was not to be relished by the high-bred animals already athome on the place.
"Well, you know, Miss Phronsie," he said at last, "it's kinder difficultlike, to expect some dogs to remember their manners; and Jerry ain'tlike all the others in that respect."
"Please tell him about it," said Phronsie earnestly, "how good Prince isto Sinbad, and then I guess he'll want to be like him." For Phronsie hadnever swerved in her allegiance to Prince ever since he saved her fromthe naughty organ man in the little-brown-house days. And in all herconversations with the other dogs she invariably held up Jasper's bigblack dog, his great friend and companion since pinafore days, as theirmodel.
And just then Dicky ran up breathlessly.
"Dick," announced Phronsie excitedly, "Michael is going to let Sinbadout to-day." And she clasped her hands in delight.
"Jolly!" exclaimed Dick, capering about.
"Now, Master Dick, you must let the dog alone," cried Michael. "It'stime to try him with his freedom a bit. He's chafin' at that chain." Helooked anxiously at Dick. "Stand off there, both of you," and he slippedthe chain off.
Sinbad gave a little wiggle with his hind legs, and stretched his yellowbody. It was too good to be true! But it was, though; he was free, andhe shot out from his kennel, which was down in the gardener's quarters,and quite removed from the other dogs, and fairly tore--his raggedlittle tail straight out--across the west lawn.
"Oh, he'll run back to Joel at school," cried Dick, who had heard Joelsay he must be tied at first when everything was strange; and he startedon a mad run after him.
"You stay still," roared Michael; "that dog is only stretchin' his legs.He'll come back." But as well tell the north wind to stop blowing.Dicky's blouse puffed out with the breeze, as his small legs executedfine speed.
"Oh, Michael!" cried Phronsie in the greatest distress, "make Dicky comeback."
"Oh, he'll come back," said Michael reassuringly, though he quakedinwardly. And so Dicky did. But it was now a matter of Sinbad chasinghim; for as Michael had said, the dog, after stretching his legs as themad rush across the lawn enabled him to do, now was very much pleased toreturn for a little petting at the hands of those people who had givenhim every reason to expect that he should receive it; and supposing,from Dick's chase after him, that a race was agreeable, he set forth;his ears, as ragged as his tail, pricked up in the fullest enjoyment ofthe occasion.
But Dick saw nothing in it to enjoy. And exerting all his strength tokeep ahead, which he couldn't do as well for the reason that he wasscreaming fearfully, Sinbad came up with him easily. Dicky, turning hishead in mad terror at that instant, stumbled and fell. Sinbad, unable tostop at short notice, or rather no notice at all, rolled over with himin a heap.
This brought all the stable-boys to the scene, besides Mrs. Whitney whohad seen some of the affair from her window; and finally, wheneverything was beginning to be calmed down, Battles reached the lawn.
Sinbad was in Phronsie's lap
, who sat on the grass, holding him tightly.
"Oh, Phronsie!" gasped Mrs. Whitney at that. "Michael, do take himaway," as she fled by to Dick. One of the stable-boys was brushing offthe grime from his sailor suit.
"The dog is all right, ma'am," said Michael, "'twas only play; I s'poseMaster Joel has raced with him."
"'Twas only play," repeated little Dick, who, now that he found himselfwhole, was surprised the idea hadn't occurred to him before. "Hoh! I'mnot hurt, and I'm going to race with him again."
"Not to-day, Dicky," said Mrs. Whitney, looking him all over anxiously.
"He's all right, ma'am," declared Michael; "they just rolled overtogether, 'cause, you see, ma'am, the dog couldn't stop, he was a-goin'so fast, when the youngster turned right in his face."
And Dick, to prove his soundness of body and restoration of mind, ran upto Phronsie, and flung himself down on the grass by her side.
Sinbad received him as a most pleasant acquaintance, cocked up hisragged ears, and tried to wag his poor little scrubby tail, never quitegetting it into his head that it wasn't long and graceful. And then heset upon the task of licking Dick's hands all over, and as much of hisface as was possible to compass.
"See that now," cried Michael triumphantly, pointing, "that dog mayn'tbe handsome, but he hain't got a bad bone in his body, if he does looklike the Evil One hisself."
This episode absorbing all their attention, nobody heard or saw AlexiaRhys, running lightly up over the terrace. "Oh, my! what _are_ youdoing? And where's Polly?" she asked of Mrs. Whitney.
It being soon told, Alexia, who evidently had some exciting piece ofnews for Polly, ran into the house.
"Polly," she called. "Oh, Polly Pepper, where _are_ you?" running overthe stairs at the same time.
But Polly, as we have seen, was not in her room.
"Now then," Mother Fisher said at sound of Alexia's voice, "as we'vefinished our talk, Polly, why, you must run down and see her."
But Polly clung to her mother's neck. "Do you think I ought to go nextSaturday morning out shopping, Mamsie, after I've been so naughty?"
"Indeed, you ought," cried Mrs. Fisher, in her most decisive fashion."Dear me! that would be very dreadful, Polly, after we put it off foryou, when we thought you had gone down to the Salisbury School. Why, wecouldn't get along without you, Polly."
So Polly, with a happy feeling at her heart that she was really neededto make the shopping trip a success, and best of all for the long talkwith Mamsie, that had set many things right, ran down to meet Alexia,brimming over with her important news.
"Where _have_ you been?" demanded Alexia, just on the point of rushingout of Polly's room in despair. "I've looked everywhere for you, even inthe shoe-box." And without waiting for a reply, she dragged Polly back."Oh, you can't possibly guess!" her pale eyes gleaming with excitement.
"Then tell me, do, Alexia," begged Polly, scarcely less wrought up.
"Oh, Polly, the most elegant thing imaginable!" Alexia dearly loved tospin out her exciting news as long as possible, driving the girls almostfrantic by such methods.
"Well, if you are not going to tell me, I might as well go back again,up in Mamsie's room," declared Polly, working herself free from the longarms, and starting for the door.
"Oh, I'll tell, Polly--I'll tell," cried Alexia, plunging after. "MissSalisbury says--I've just been up to the school after my Germangrammar--that Mr. John Clemcy and Miss Ophelia have invited the wholeSalisbury School out there for next Saturday afternoon. Think of it,after that smashed vase, Polly Pepper!"
Polly Pepper sat down on the shoe-box, quite gone in surprise.
It was as Alexia had said: a most surprising thing, when one took intoconsideration how much Mr. John Clemcy had suffered from thecarelessness of a Salisbury pupil on the occasion of the accidentalvisit. But evidently one of his reasons--though by no means the onlyone--was his wish to salve the feelings of the gentlewomen, who wereconstantly endeavoring to show him their overwhelming sorrow, and tryingto make all possible reparation for the loss of the vase.
And he had stated his desire so forcibly on one of the many visits tothe school that seemed to be necessary after the accident, that MissSalisbury was unable to refuse the invitation, although it nearly threwher, self-contained as she usually was, into a panic at the very idea.
"But why did you promise, sister?" Miss Anstice turned on her on thewithdrawal of the gentleman, whose English composure of face and bearingwas now, in its victory, especially trying to bear. "I am surprised atyou. Something dreadful will surely happen."
"Don't, Anstice," begged Miss Salisbury, nervous to the last degree,since even the support of "sister" was to be withdrawn. "It was theleast I could do, to please him--after what has happened."
"Well, something will surely happen," mourned Miss Anstice. "You knowhow unfortunate it has been from the very beginning. I've never beenable to look at that gown since, although it has been washed till everystain is removed."
"Put it on for this visit, sister," advised Miss Salisbury, with ahealthy disapproval of superstitions, "and break the charm."
"Oh, never!" Miss Anstice raised her slender hands. "I wouldn't run sucha chance as to wear that gown for all the world. It will be unluckyenough, you will see, without that, sister."
But as far as anybody could see, everything was perfectly harmonious andsuccessful on the following Saturday afternoon. To begin with, theweather was perfect; although at extremely short intervals Miss Ansticekept reminding her sister that a tremendous shower might be expectedwhen the expedition was once under way.
The girls, when they received their invitation Monday morning from MissSalisbury in the long schoolroom, were, to state it figuratively, "takenoff their feet" in surprise, with the exception of those fortunateenough to have caught snatches of the news always sure to travel fastwhen set going by Alexia; and wild was the rejoicing, when they couldforget the broken vase, at the prospect of another expedition under MissSalisbury's guidance.
"If Miss Anstice only weren't going!" sighed Clem. "She is such a fussyold thing. It spoils everybody's fun just to look at her."
"Well, don't look at her," advised Alexia calmly; "for my part, I neverdo, unless I can't help it."
"How are you going to help it," cried Amy Garrett dismally, "when youare in her classes? Oh dear! I do wish Miss Salisbury would get rid ofher as a teacher, and let Miss Wilcox take her place."
"Miss Wilcox is just gay!" exclaimed Silvia. "Well, don't let's talk ofthat old frump any more. Goodness me! here she comes," as Miss Ansticeadvanced down the long hall, where the girls were discussing thewonderful invitation after school.
And as the day was perfect, so the spirits of the "Salisbury girls" wereat their highest. And Mr. Kimball and his associates drove them over inthe same big barges, the veteran leader not recovering from thesurprise into which he had been thrown by this afternoon party given tothe Salisbury School by Mr. Clemcy and his sister.
"Of all things in this world, this is th' cap-sheaf," he mutteredseveral times on the way. "A good ten year or more, those English folkshave been drawin' back in them pretty grounds, an' offendin' every one;an' now, to get a passel o' girls to run over an' stomp 'em all down!"
Being unable to solve the puzzle, it afforded him plenty of occupationto work away at it.
Mr. Clemcy and Miss Ophelia, caring as little for the opinion of thestage-driver as for the rest of the world, received the visitors on thebroad stone piazza, whose pillars ran the length of the house, and up tothe roof, affording a wide gallery above. It was all entwined withEnglish ivy and creepers taken from the homestead in Devonshire, andbrought away when the death of the old mother made it impossible forlife to be sustained by Miss Ophelia unless wrenched up from the rootswhere clustered so many memories. So Brother John decided to make thatwrench, and to make it complete. So here they were.
"I didn't know it was so pretty," cried Clem, after the ladies had beenwelcomed with the most gracious, old-time hospitality, and
theschoolgirls tumbled out of the barges to throng up. "It rained so whenwe were here before, we couldn't see anything."
"Pretty?" repeated Alexia, comprehending it all in swift, bird-likeglances. "It's perfectly beautiful!" She turned, and Mr. Clemcy, who wasregarding her, smiled, and they struck up a friendship on the spot.
"Miss Salisbury, allow me." Mr. Clemcy was leading her off. MissAnstice, not trusting the ill-fated white gown, rustled after in theblack silk one, with Miss Ophelia, down the wide hall, open at the end,with vistas of broad fields beyond, where the host paused. "Let theyoung ladies come," he said; and the girls trooped after, to crowdaround the elder people.
Amongst the palms and bookcases, with which the broad hall was lined,was a pedestal, whose top was half covered with a soft, filmy cloth.
Mr. Clemcy lifted this, and took it off carefully. There stood thelittle vase, presenting as brave an appearance as in its firstperfection.
THERE STOOD THE LITTLE VASE, PRESENTING AS BRAVE ANAPPEARANCE AS IN ITS FIRST PERFECTION.]
Miss Salisbury uttered no exclamation, but preserved her composure by aviolent effort.
"I flatter myself on my ability to repair my broken collection," beganMr. Clemcy, when a loud exclamation from the girls in front startledevery one. Miss Anstice, on the first shock, had been unable to findthat composure that was always "sister's" envied possession; so despitethe environment of the black silk gown, she gave it up, and sankgradually to the ground.
"I told you so," cried Clem, in a hoarse whisper to her nearestneighbors; "she always spoils everybody's fun," as Miss Anstice, at thehost's suggestion, his sister being rendered incapable of action at thissudden emergency, was put to rest in one of the pretty chintz-coveredrooms above, till such time as she could recover herself enough to jointhem below.
"I couldn't help it, sister," she said. "I've been so worried about thatvase. _You_ don't know, because you are always so calm; and then to seeit standing there--it quite took away my breath."
Oh, the delights of the rose-garden! in which every variety of theold-fashioned rose seemed to have had a place lovingly assigned to it.Sweetbrier clambered over the walls of the gardener's cottage, thestables, and charming summer-houses, into which the girls ran withdelight. For Mr. Clemcy had said they were to go everywhere and enjoyeverything without restraint.
"He's a dear," exclaimed Lucy Bennett, "only I'm mortally afraid ofhim."
"Well, I'm not," proclaimed Alexia.
The idea of Alexia being in any state that would suggest fear, being sofunny, the girls burst out laughing.
"Well, we sha'n't any of us feel like laughing much in a little while,"said Clem dolefully.
"What is the matter?" cried a dozen voices.
"Matter enough," replied Clem. "I've said so before, and now I know it'scoming. Just look at that."
She pushed aside the swaying branches of the sweetbrier, and pointedtragically. "I don't see anything," said one or two of the girls.
"_There!_" "There" meant Mr. Clemcy and Miss Salisbury passing down therose-walk, the broad central path. He was evidently showing her sometreasured variety and descanting on it; the principal of the SalisburySchool from her wide knowledge of roses, as well as of other subjects,being able to respond very intelligently.
"Oh, can't you see? You stupid things!" cried Clem. "He's going to marryour Miss Salisbury, and then she'll give up our school; and--and--" Sheturned away, and threw herself off in a corner.
A whole chorus of "No--no!" burst upon this speech.
"Hush!" cried Alexia, quite horrified. "Polly, do stop them; MissSalisbury is turning around; and she's been worried quite enough overthat dreadful Miss Anstice," which had the effect of reducing the girlsto quiet.
"But it isn't so," cried the girls in frantic whispers, "what Clemsays." And those who were not sure of themselves huddled down on thesummer-house floor. "Say, Alexia, you don't think so, do you?"
But Alexia would give them no comfort, but wisely seizing Polly's arm,departed with her. "I shall say something that I'll be sorry for," shedeclared, "if I stay another moment longer. For, Polly Pepper, I doreally believe that it's true, what Clem says."
And the rest of that beautiful afternoon, with rambles over the wideestate, and tea with berries and cream on the terraces, was a dream,scarcely comprehended by the "Salisbury girls," who were strangely quietand well-behaved. For this Miss Salisbury was thankful.
And presently Miss Anstice, coming down in the wake of Miss Ophelia, wasput carefully into a comfortable chair on the stone veranda, where shesat pale and quiet, Miss Clemcy assiduously devoting herself to her, anddrawing up a little table to her side for her berries and cream and tea.
"Now we will be comfortable together," said Miss Ophelia, the maidbringing her special little pot of tea.
"I am so mortified, my dear Miss Clemcy," began Miss Anstice, her littlehands nervously working, "to have given way;" all of which she had saidover and over to her hostess in the chintz-covered room. "And you are sokind to overlook it so beautifully."
"It is impossible to blame one of your delicate sensibility," said MissOphelia; with her healthy English composure, quite in her element tohave some one to fuss over, and to make comfortable in her own way."Now, then, I trust that tea is quite right," handing her a cup.