CHAPTER VI. GREAT-AUNT ELIZA'S VISIT
It was a diamond winter day in February--clear, cold, hard, brilliant.The sharp blue sky shone, the white fields and hills glittered, thefringe of icicles around the eaves of Uncle Alec's house sparkled. Keenwas the frost and crisp the snow over our world; and we young fry of theKing households were all agog to enjoy life--for was it not Saturday,and were we not left all alone to keep house?
Aunt Janet and Aunt Olivia had had their last big "kill" of marketpoultry the day before; and early in the morning all our grown-ups setforth to Charlottetown, to be gone the whole day. They left us manycharges as usual, some of which we remembered and some of which weforgot; but with Felicity in command none of us dared stray far out ofline. The Story Girl and Peter came over, of course, and we all agreedthat we would haste and get the work done in the forenoon, that we mighthave an afternoon of uninterrupted enjoyment. A taffy-pull after dinnerand then a jolly hour of coasting on the hill field before supper wereon our programme. But disappointment was our portion. We did manage toget the taffy made but before we could sample the result satisfactorily,and just as the girls were finishing with the washing of the dishes,Felicity glanced out of the window and exclaimed in tones of dismay,
"Oh, dear me, here's Great-aunt Eliza coming up the lane! Now, isn'tthat too mean?"
We all looked out to see a tall, gray-haired lady approaching the house,looking about her with the slightly puzzled air of a stranger. We hadbeen expecting Great-aunt Eliza's advent for some weeks, for she wasvisiting relatives in Markdale. We knew she was liable to pounce down onus any time, being one of those delightful folk who like to "surprise"people, but we had never thought of her coming that particular day. Itmust be confessed that we did not look forward to her visit with anypleasure. None of us had ever seen her, but we knew she was very deaf,and had very decided opinions as to the way in which children shouldbehave.
"Whew!" whistled Dan. "We're in for a jolly afternoon. She's deaf as apost and we'll have to split our throats to make her hear at all. I've anotion to skin out."
"Oh, don't talk like that, Dan," said Cecily reproachfully. "She's oldand lonely and has had a great deal of trouble. She has buried threehusbands. We must be kind to her and do the best we can to make hervisit pleasant."
"She's coming to the back door," said Felicity, with an agitated glancearound the kitchen. "I told you, Dan, that you should have shovelled thesnow away from the front door this morning. Cecily, set those potsin the pantry quick--hide those boots, Felix--shut the cupboard door,Peter--Sara, straighten up the lounge. She's awfully particular and masays her house is always as neat as wax."
To do Felicity justice, while she issued orders to the rest of us,she was flying busily about herself, and it was amazing how much wasaccomplished in the way of putting the kitchen in perfect order duringthe two minutes in which Great-aunt Eliza was crossing the yard.
"Fortunately the sitting-room is tidy and there's plenty in the pantry,"said Felicity, who could face anything undauntedly with a well-stockedlarder behind her.
Further conversation was cut short by a decided rap at the door.Felicity opened it.
"Why, how do you do, Aunt Eliza?" she said loudly.
A slightly bewildered look appeared on Aunt Eliza's face. Felicityperceived she had not spoken loudly enough.
"How do you do, Aunt Eliza," she repeated at the top of her voice."Come in--we are glad to see you. We've been looking for you for ever solong."
"Are your father and mother at home?" asked Aunt Eliza, slowly.
"No, they went to town today. But they'll be home this evening."
"I'm sorry they're away," said Aunt Eliza, coming in, "because I canstay only a few hours."
"Oh, that's too bad," shouted poor Felicity, darting an angry glance atthe rest of us, as if to demand why we didn't help her out. "Why, we'vebeen thinking you'd stay a week with us anyway. You MUST stay overSunday."
"I really can't. I have to go to Charlottetown tonight," returned AuntEliza.
"Well, you'll take off your things and stay to tea, at least," urgedFelicity, as hospitably as her strained vocal chords would admit.
"Yes, I think I'll do that. I want to get acquainted with my--my nephewsand nieces," said Aunt Eliza, with a rather pleasant glance around ourgroup. If I could have associated the thought of such a thing with mypreconception of Great-aunt Eliza I could have sworn there was a twinklein her eye. But of course it was impossible. "Won't you introduceyourselves, please?"
Felicity shouted our names and Great-aunt Eliza shook hands all round.She performed the duty grimly and I concluded I must have been mistakenabout the twinkle. She was certainly very tall and dignified andimposing--altogether a great-aunt to be respected.
Felicity and Cecily took her to the spare room and then left her in thesitting-room while they returned to the kitchen, to discuss the matterin family conclave.
"Well, and what do you think of dear Aunt Eliza?" asked Dan.
"S-s-s-sh," warned Cecily, with a glance at the half-open hall door.
"Pshaw," scoffed Dan, "she can't hear us. There ought to be a lawagainst anyone being as deaf as that."
"She's not so old-looking as I expected," said Felix. "If her hairwasn't so white she wouldn't look much older than your mother."
"You don't have to be very old to be a great-aunt," said Cecily. "KittyMarr has a great-aunt who is just the same age as her mother. I expectit was burying so many husbands turned her hair white. But Aunt Elizadoesn't look just as I expected she would either."
"She's dressed more stylishly than I expected," said Felicity. "Ithought she'd be real old-fashioned, but her clothes aren't too bad atall."
"She wouldn't be bad-looking if 'tweren't for her nose," said Peter."It's too long, and crooked besides."
"You needn't criticize our relations like that," said Felicity tartly.
"Well, aren't you doing it yourselves?" expostulated Peter.
"That's different," retorted Felicity. "Never you mind Great-auntEliza's nose."
"Well, don't expect me to talk to her," said Dan, "'cause I won't."
"I'm going to be very polite to her," said Felicity. "She's rich. Buthow are we to entertain her, that's the question."
"What does the Family Guide say about entertaining your rich, deaf oldaunt?" queried Dan ironically.
"The Family Guide says we should be polite to EVERYBODY," said Cecily,with a reproachful look at Dan.
"The worst of it is," said Felicity, looking worried, "that there isn'ta bit of old bread in the house and she can't eat new, I've heard fathersay. It gives her indigestion. What will we do?"
"Make a pan of rusks and apologize for having no old bread," suggestedthe Story Girl, probably by way of teasing Felicity. The latter,however, took it in all good faith.
"The Family Guide says we should never apologize for things we can'thelp. It says it's adding insult to injury to do it. But you run overhome for a loaf of stale bread, Sara, and it's a good idea about therusks. I'll make a panful."
"Let me make them," said the Story Girl, eagerly. "I can make real goodrusks now."
"No, it wouldn't do to trust you," said Felicity mercilessly. "Youmight make some queer mistake and Aunt Eliza would tell it all over thecountry. She's a fearful old gossip. I'll make the rusks myself. Shehates cats, so we mustn't let Paddy be seen. And she's a Methodist, somind nobody says anything against Methodists to her."
"Who's going to say anything, anyhow?" asked Peter belligerently.
"I wonder if I might ask her for her name for my quilt square?"speculated Cecily. "I believe I will. She looks so much friendlier thanI expected. Of course she'll choose the five-cent section. She's anestimable old lady, but very economical."
"Why don't you say she's so mean she'd skin a flea for its hide andtallow?" said Dan. "That's the plain truth."
"Well, I'm going to see about getting tea," said Felicity, "so the restof you will have to entertain her. You better go in and show her theph
otographs in the album. Dan, you do it."
"Thank you, that's a girl's job," said Dan. "I'd look nice sitting upto Aunt Eliza and yelling out that this was Uncle Jim and 'tother CousinSarah's twins, wouldn't I? Cecily or the Story Girl can do it."
"I don't know all the pictures in your album," said the Story Girlhastily.
"I s'pose I'll have to do it, though I don't like to," sighed Cecily."But we ought to go in. We've left her alone too long now. She'll thinkwe have no manners."
Accordingly we all filed in rather reluctantly. Great-aunt Elizawas toasting her toes--clad, as we noted, in very smart and shapelyshoes--at the stove and looking quite at her ease. Cecily, determined todo her duty even in the face of such fearful odds as Great-aunt Eliza'sdeafness, dragged a ponderous, plush-covered album from its corner andproceeded to display and explain the family photographs. She did herbrave best but she could not shout like Felicity, and half the time, asshe confided to me later on, she felt that Great-aunt Eliza did not hearone word she said, because she didn't seem to take in who the peoplewere, though, just like all deaf folks, she wouldn't let on. Great-auntEliza certainly didn't talk much; she looked at the photographs insilence, but she smiled now and then. That smile bothered me. It was sotwinkly and so very un-great-aunt-Elizaish. But I felt indignant withher. I thought she might have shown a little more appreciation ofCecily's gallant efforts to entertain.
It was very dull for the rest of us. The Story Girl sat rather sulkilyin her corner; she was angry because Felicity would not let her makethe rusks, and also, perhaps, a little vexed because she could not charmGreat-aunt Eliza with her golden voice and story-telling gift. Felixand I looked at each other and wished ourselves out in the hill field,careering gloriously adown its gleaming crust.
But presently a little amusement came our way. Dan, who was sittingbehind Great-aunt Eliza, and consequently out of her view, began makingcomments on Cecily's explanation of this one and that one among thephotographs. In vain Cecily implored him to stop. It was too good funto give up. For the next half-hour the dialogue ran after this fashion,while Peter and Felix and I, and even the Story Girl, suffered agoniestrying to smother our bursts of laughter--for Great-aunt Eliza could seeif she couldn't hear:
CECILY, SHOUTING:--"That is Mr. Joseph Elliott of Markdale, a secondcousin of mother's."
DAN:--"Don't brag of it, Sis. He's the man who was asked if somebodyelse said something in sincerity and old Joe said 'No, he said it in mycellar.'"
CECILY:--"This isn't anybody in our family. It's little Xavy Gautier whoused to be hired with Uncle Roger."
DAN:--"Uncle Roger sent him to fix a gate one day and scolded himbecause he didn't do it right, and Xavy was mad as hops and said 'Howyou 'spect me to fix dat gate? I never learned jogerfy.'"
CECILY, WITH AN ANGUISHED GLANCE AT DAN:--"This is Great-uncle RobertKing."
DAN:--"He's been married four times. Don't you think that's oftenenough, dear great-aunty?"
CECILY:--"(Dan!!) This is a nephew of Mr. Ambrose Marr's. He lives outwest and teaches school."
DAN:--"Yes, and Uncle Roger says he doesn't know enough not to sleep ina field with the gate open."
CECILY:--"This is Miss Julia Stanley, who used to teach in Carlisle afew years ago."
DAN:--"When she resigned the trustees had a meeting to see if they'd askher to stay and raise her supplement. Old Highland Sandy was alive thenand he got up and said, 'If she for go let her for went. Perhaps she formarry.'"
CECILY, WITH THE AIR OF A MARTYR:--"This is Mr. Layton, who used totravel around selling Bibles and hymn books and Talmage's sermons."
DAN:--"He was so thin Uncle Roger used to say he always mistook him fora crack in the atmosphere. One time he stayed here all night and went toprayer meeting and Mr. Marwood asked him to lead in prayer. It had beenraining 'most every day for three weeks, and it was just in haymakingtime, and everybody thought the hay was going to be ruined, and oldLayton got up and prayed that God would send gentle showers on thegrowing crops, and I heard Uncle Roger whisper to a fellow behindme, 'If somebody don't choke him off we won't get the hay made thissummer.'"
CECILY, IN EXASPERATION:--"(Dan, shame on you for telling suchirreverent stories.) This is Mrs. Alexander Scott of Markdale. She hasbeen very sick for a long time."
DAN:--"Uncle Roger says all that keeps her alive is that she's scaredher husband will marry again."
CECILY:--"This is old Mr. James MacPherson who used to live behind thegraveyard."
DAN:--"He's the man who told mother once that he always made his owniodine out of strong tea and baking soda."
CECILY:--"This is Cousin Ebenezer MacPherson on the Markdale road."
DAN:--"Great temperance man! He never tasted rum in his life. He tookthe measles when he was forty-five and was crazy as a loon with them,and the doctor ordered them to give him a dose of brandy. When heswallowed it he looked up and says, solemn as an owl, 'Give it to meoftener and more at a time.'"
CECILY, IMPLORINGLY:--"(Dan, do stop. You make me so nervous I don'tknow what I'm doing.) This is Mr. Lemuel Goodridge. He is a minister."
DAN:--"You ought to see his mouth. Uncle Roger says the drawing stringhas fell out of it. It just hangs loose--so fashion."
Dan, whose own mouth was far from being beautiful, here gave animitation of the Rev. Lemuel's, to the utter undoing of Peter, Felix,and myself. Our wild guffaws of laughter penetrated even Great-auntEliza's deafness, and she glanced up with a startled face. What we wouldhave done I do not know had not Felicity at that moment appeared in thedoorway with panic-stricken eyes and exclaimed,
"Cecily, come here for a moment."
Cecily, glad of even a temporary respite, fled to the kitchen and weheard her demanding what was the matter.
"Matter!" exclaimed Felicity, tragically. "Matter enough! Some of youleft a soup plate with molasses in it on the pantry table and Pat gotinto it and what do you think? He went into the spare room and walkedall over Aunt Eliza's things on the bed. You can see his tracks plain asplain. What in the world can we do? She'll be simply furious."
I looked apprehensively at Great-aunt Eliza; but she was gazingintently at a picture of Aunt Janet's sister's twins, a most stolid,uninteresting pair; but evidently Great-aunt Eliza found them amusingfor she was smiling widely over them.
"Let us take a little clean water and a soft bit of cotton," cameCecily's clear voice from the kitchen, "and see if we can't clean themolasses off. The coat and hat are both cloth, and molasses isn't likegrease."
"Well, we can try, but I wish the Story Girl would keep her cat home,"grumbled Felicity.
The Story Girl here flew out to defend her pet, and we four boys sat on,miserably conscious of Great-aunt Eliza, who never said a word to us,despite her previously expressed desire to become acquainted with us.She kept on looking at the photographs and seemed quite oblivious of ourpresence.
Presently the girls returned, having, as transpired later, been sosuccessful in removing the traces of Paddy's mischief that it was notdeemed necessary to worry Great-aunt Eliza with any account of it.Felicity announced tea and, while Cecily conveyed Great-aunt Eliza outto the dining-room, lingered behind to consult with us for a moment.
"Ought we to ask her to say grace?" she wanted to know.
"I know a story," said the Story Girl, "about Uncle Roger when he wasjust a young man. He went to the house of a very deaf old lady and whenthey sat down to the table she asked him to say grace. Uncle Roger hadnever done such a thing in his life and he turned as red as a beetand looked down and muttered, 'E-r-r, please excuse me--I--I'm notaccustomed to doing that.' Then he looked up and the old lady said'Amen,' loudly and cheerfully. She thought Uncle Roger was saying graceall the time."
"I don't think it's right to tell funny stories about such things," saidFelicity coldly. "And I asked for your opinion, not for a story."
"If we don't ask her, Felix must say it, for he's the only one who can,and we must have it, or she'd be shocked."
"Oh, as
k her--ask her," advised Felix hastily.
She was asked accordingly and said grace without any hesitation, afterwhich she proceeded to eat heartily of the excellent supper Felicity hadprovided. The rusks were especially good and Great-aunt Eliza ate threeof them and praised them. Apart from that she said little and during thefirst part of the meal we sat in embarrassed silence. Towards the last,however, our tongues were loosened, and the Story Girl told us a tragictale of old Charlottetown and a governor's wife who had died of a brokenheart in the early days of the colony.
"They say that story isn't true," said Felicity. "They say what shereally died of was indigestion. The Governor's wife who lives there nowis a relation of our own. She is a second cousin of father's but we'venever seen her. Her name was Agnes Clark. And mind you, when father wasa young man he was dead in love with her and so was she with him."
"Who ever told you that?" exclaimed Dan.
"Aunt Olivia. And I've heard ma teasing father about it, too. Of course,it was before father got acquainted with mother."
"Why didn't your father marry her?" I asked.
"Well, she just simply wouldn't marry him in the end. She got over beingin love with him. I guess she was pretty fickle. Aunt Olivia said fatherfelt awful about it for awhile, but he got over it when he met ma.Ma was twice as good-looking as Agnes Clark. Agnes was a sight forfreckles, so Aunt Olivia says. But she and father remained real goodfriends. Just think, if she had married him we would have been thechildren of the Governor's wife."
"But she wouldn't have been the Governor's wife then," said Dan.
"I guess it's just as good being father's wife," declared Cecilyloyally.
"You might think so if you saw the Governor," chuckled Dan. "Uncle Rogersays it would be no harm to worship him because he doesn't look likeanything in the heavens above or on the earth beneath or the watersunder the earth."
"Oh, Uncle Roger just says that because he's on the opposite side ofpolitics," said Cecily. "The Governor isn't really so very ugly. I sawhim at the Markdale picnic two years ago. He's very fat and bald andred-faced, but I've seen far worse looking men."
"I'm afraid your seat is too near the stove, Aunt Eliza," shoutedFelicity.
Our guest, whose face was certainly very much flushed, shook her head.
"Oh, no, I'm very comfortable," she said. But her voice had the effectof making us uncomfortable. There was a queer, uncertain little soundin it. Was Great-aunt Eliza laughing at us? We looked at her sharplybut her face was very solemn. Only her eyes had a suspicious appearance.Somehow, we did not talk much more the rest of the meal.
When it was over Great-aunt Eliza said she was very sorry but she mustreally go. Felicity politely urged her to stay, but was much relievedwhen Great-aunt Eliza adhered to her intention of going. When Felicitytook her to the spare room Cecily slipped upstairs and presently cameback with a little parcel in her hand.
"What have you got there?" demanded Felicity suspiciously.
"A--a little bag of rose-leaves," faltered Cecily. "I thought I'd givethem to Aunt Eliza."
"The idea! Don't you do such a thing," said Felicity contemptuously."She'd think you were crazy."
"She was awfully nice when I asked her for her name for the quilt,"protested Cecily, "and she took a ten-cent section after all. So I'dlike to give her the rose-leaves--and I'm going to, too, Miss Felicity."
Great-aunt Eliza accepted the little gift quite graciously, bade usall good-bye, said she had enjoyed herself very much, left messages forfather and mother, and finally betook herself away. We watched her crossthe yard, tall, stately, erect, and disappear down the lane. Then,as often aforetime, we gathered together in the cheer of the redhearth-flame, while outside the wind of a winter twilight sang throughfair white valleys brimmed with a reddening sunset, and a faint, serene,silver-cold star glimmered over the willow at the gate.
"Well," said Felicity, drawing a relieved breath, "I'm glad she's gone.She certainly is queer, just as mother said."
"It's a different kind of queerness from what I expected, though," saidthe Story Girl meditatively. "There's something I can't quite make outabout Aunt Eliza. I don't think I altogether like her."
"I'm precious sure I don't," said Dan.
"Oh, well, never mind. She's gone now and that's the last of it," saidCecily comfortingly.
But it wasn't the last of it--not by any manner of means was it! Whenour grown-ups returned almost the first words Aunt Janet said were,
"And so you had the Governor's wife to tea?"
We all stared at her.
"I don't know what you mean," said Felicity. "We had nobody to teaexcept Great-aunt Eliza. She came this afternoon and--"
"Great-aunt Eliza? Nonsense," said Aunt Janet. "Aunt Eliza was in towntoday. She had tea with us at Aunt Louisa's. But wasn't Mrs. GovernorLesley here? We met her on her way back to Charlottetown and she toldus she was. She said she was visiting a friend in Carlisle and thoughtshe'd call to see father for old acquaintance sake. What in the worldare all you children staring like that for? Your eyes are like saucers."
"There was a lady here to tea," said Felicity miserably, "but we thoughtit was Great-aunt Eliza--she never SAID she wasn't--I thought she actedqueer--and we all yelled at her as if she was deaf--and said things toeach other about her nose--and Pat running over her clothes--"
"She must have heard all you said while I was showing her thephotographs, Dan," cried Cecily.
"And about the Governor at tea time," chuckled unrepentant Dan.
"I want to know what all this means," said Aunt Janet sternly.
She knew in due time, after she had pieced the story together fromour disjointed accounts. She was horrified, and Uncle Alec was mildlydisturbed, but Uncle Roger roared with laughter and Aunt Olivia echoedit.
"To think you should have so little sense!" said Aunt Janet in adisgusted tone.
"I think it was real mean of her to pretend she was deaf," saidFelicity, almost on the verge of tears.
"That was Agnes Clark all over," chuckled Uncle Roger. "How she musthave enjoyed this afternoon!"
She had enjoyed it, as we learned the next day, when a letter came fromher.
"Dear Cecily and all the rest of you," wrote the Governor's wife, "Iwant to ask you to forgive me for pretending to be Aunt Eliza. Isuspect it was a little horrid of me, but really I couldn't resist thetemptation, and if you will forgive me for it I will forgive you for thethings you said about the Governor, and we will all be good friends. Youknow the Governor is a very nice man, though he has the misfortune notto be handsome.
"I had just a splendid time at your place, and I envy your Aunt Elizaher nephews and nieces. You were all so nice to me, and I didn't dareto be a bit nice to you lest I should give myself away. But I'll makeup for that when you come to see me at Government House, as you all mustthe very next time you come to town. I'm so sorry I didn't see Paddy,for I love pussy cats, even if they do track molasses over my clothes.And, Cecily, thank you ever so much for that little bag of pot-pourri.It smells like a hundred rose gardens, and I have put it between thesheets for my very sparest room bed, where you shall sleep when you cometo see me, you dear thing. And the Governor wants you to put his name onthe quilt square, too, in the ten-cent section.
"Tell Dan I enjoyed his comments on the photographs very much. They werequite a refreshing contrast to the usual explanations of 'who's who.'And Felicity, your rusks were perfection. Do send me your recipe forthem, there's a darling.
"Yours most cordially,
AGNES CLARK LESLEY.
"Well, it was decent of her to apologize, anyhow," commented Dan.
"If we only hadn't said that about the Governor," moaned Felicity.
"How did you make your rusks?" asked Aunt Janet. "There was nobaking-powder in the house, and I never could get them right with sodaand cream of tartar."
"There was plenty of baking-powder in the pantry," said Felicity.
"No, there wasn't a parti
cle. I used the last making those cookiesThursday morning."
"But I found another can nearly full, away back on the top shelf,ma,--the one with the yellow label. I guess you forgot it was there."
Aunt Janet stared at her pretty daughter blankly. Then amazement gaveplace to horror.
"Felicity King!" she exclaimed. "You don't mean to tell me that youraised those rusks with the stuff that was in that old yellow can?"
"Yes, I did," faltered Felicity, beginning to look scared. "Why, ma,what was the matter with it?"
"Matter! That stuff was TOOTH-POWDER, that's what it was. Your CousinMyra broke the bottle her tooth-powder was in when she was here lastwinter and I gave her that old can to keep it in. She forgot to take itwhen she went away and I put it on that top shelf. I declare you mustall have been bewitched yesterday."
Poor, poor Felicity! If she had not always been so horribly vain overher cooking and so scornfully contemptuous of other people's aspirationsand mistakes along that line, I could have found it in my heart to pityher.
The Story Girl would have been more than human if she had not betrayed alittle triumphant amusement, but Peter stood up for his lady manfully.
"The rusks were splendid, anyhow, so what difference does it make whatthey were raised with?"
Dan, however, began to taunt Felicity with her tooth-powder rusks, andkept it up for the rest of his natural life.
"Don't forget to send the Governor's wife the recipe for them," he said.
Felicity, with eyes tearful and cheeks crimson from mortification,rushed from the room, but never, never did the Governor's wife get therecipe for those rusks.