CHAPTER XXIX.
A TRUCE.
No more distasteful news could have come to the Pitkins than to learnthat Philip and their poor cousin had secured a firm place in the goodgraces of Uncle Oliver. Yet they did not dare to show their resentment.They had found that Uncle Oliver had a will of his own, and meant toexercise it. Had they been more forbearing he would still be an inmateof their house instead of going over to the camp of their enemies, forso they regarded Mrs. Forbush and Phil.
"I hate that woman, Mr. Pitkin!" said his wife fiercely. "I scorn suchunderhanded work. How she has sneaked into the good graces of poor,deluded Uncle Oliver!"
"You have played your cards wrong, Lavinia," said her husband peevishly.
"I? That is a strange accusation, Mr. Pitkin. It was you, to mythinking. You sent off that errand boy, and that is how the whole thingcame about. If he had been in your store he wouldn't have met UncleOliver down at the pier."
"You and Alonzo persuaded me to discharge him."
"Oh, of course it's Alonzo and me! When you see Rebecca Forbush and thaterrand boy making ducks and drakes out of Uncle Oliver's money you maywish you had acted more wisely."
"Really, Lavinia, you are a most unreasonable woman. It's no usecriminating and recriminating. We must do what we can to mend matters."
"What can we do?"
"They haven't got the money yet--remember that! We must try tore-establish friendly relations with Mr. Carter."
"Perhaps you'll tell me how?"
"Certainly! Call as soon as possible at the house on Madison Avenue."
"Call on that woman?"
"Yes; and try to smooth matters over as well as you can. Take Alonzowith you, and instruct him to be polite to Philip."
"I don't believe Lonny will be willing to demean himself so far."
"He'll have to," answered Mr. Pitkin firmly.
"We've all made a mistake, and the sooner we remedy it the better."
Mrs. Pitkin thought it over. The advice was unpalatable, but it wasevidently sound. Uncle Oliver was rich, and they must not let his moneyslip through their fingers. So, after duly instructing Alonzo in hispart, Mrs. Pitkin, a day or two later, ordered her carriage and drove instate to the house of her once poor relative.
"Is Mrs. Forbush at home?" she asked of the servant.
"I believe so, madam," answered a dignified man-servant.
"Take this card to her."
Mrs. Pitkin and Alonzo were ushered into a drawing-room more elegantthan their own. She sat on a sofa with Alonzo.
"Who would think that Rebecca Forbush would come to live like this?" shesaid, half to herself.
"And that boy," supplemented Alonzo.
"To be sure! Your uncle is fairly infatuated."
Just then Mrs. Forbush entered, followed by her daughter. She was nolonger clad in a shabby dress, but wore an elegant toilet, handsomebeyond her own wishes, but insisted upon by Uncle Oliver.
"I am glad to see you, Lavinia," she said simply. "This is my daughter."
Julia, too, was stylishly dressed, and Alonzo, in spite of hisprejudices, could not help regarding this handsome cousin with favor.
I do not propose to detail the interview. Mrs. Pitkin was on her goodbehavior, and appeared very gracious.
Mrs. Forbush could not help recalling the difference between herdemeanor now and on the recent occasion, when in her shabby dress shecalled at the house in Twelfth Street, but she was too generous torecall it.
As they were about to leave, Mr. Carter and Philip entered the room,sent for by Mrs. Forbush.
"How do you do, Philip?" said Mrs. Pitkin, graciously. "Alonzo, this isPhilip."
"How do?" growled Alonzo, staring enviously at Phil's handsome new suit,which was considerably handsomer than his own.
"Very well, Alonzo."
"You must come and see Lonny," said Mrs. Pitkin pleasantly.
"Thank you!" answered Phil politely.
He did not say it was a pleasure, for he was a boy of truth, and he didnot feel that it would be.
Uncle Oliver was partially deceived by his niece's new manner. He wasglad that there seemed to be a reconciliation, and he grew more cordialthan he had been since his return.
After awhile Mrs. Pitkin rose to go.
When she was fairly in the carriage once more, she said passionately:
"How I hate them!"
"You were awful sweet on them, ma!" said Alonzo, opening his eyes.
"I had to be. But the time will come when I will open the eyes of UncleOliver to the designs of that scheming woman and that artful errandboy."
It was Mrs. Pitkin's true self that spoke.