CHAPTER XII
THE MISTLETOE BOUGH
After breakfast the next morning the judge proposed a sleigh ride, andsoon the entire party were skimming over the ground in two bigold-fashioned sleighs. Though the day was fairly cold, the guests weretoo warmly wrapped to pay any attention to the weather, and keenlyenjoyed every moment of the ride.
After lunch a mysterious council took place in the library, and directlyafter a visit was made to the attic, Grace having received permission torummage there. Later Reddy and Tom Gray were seen staggering down thestairs under the weight of a huge cedar chest, and later still the girlshurried down, their arms piled high with costumes of an earlier period.
Christmas dinner was to be a grand affair, and the judge had invitedhalf a dozen friends of his own age to share "his borrowed children."
The girls had saved their prettiest gowns for the occasion, and the boyshad put on evening dress. The judge viewed them with unmistakable prideas they stood grouped about the drawing room, awaiting the announcementof dinner. An almost imperceptible frown gathered between his brows,however, as his eyes rested upon Marian Barber, who was wearing afearfully and wonderfully made gown of gold-colored silk, covered withspangles, that gave her a serpentine effect, and made her look ten yearsolder than the other girls.
On going upstairs to dress, Marian had asked Eva Allen if she objectedto dressing with Miriam Nesbit, and Eva had obligingly taken herbelongings into Miriam's room after obtaining the latter's permission todo so. Marian had engaged the attention of Miss Putnam's maid for thegreater part of an hour, and when she did appear the varied expressionsupon the faces of her friends plainly showed that she had succeeded increating a sensation.
"For goodness sake, what ails Marian!" growled Reddy Brooks in anundertone to David. "Can't the girls make her see that she looks like afright beside them?"
"Anne told me that Grace and Eva have both talked to her," replied Davidin guarded tones. "Grace thinks Hammond has put this grown-up idea intoher head."
"Humph!" growled Reddy in disgust. "She used to be a mighty pleasant,sensible girl, but lately she acts like a different person. I don'tthink much of that fellow Hammond. He's too good to be true."
"What have we here?" whispered Hippy to Nora under cover of generalconversation. "I never before saw so many spingles and spanglescollected in one spot."
"Sh-h-h!" pleaded Nora. "Don't make me laugh, Hippy. Marian is lookingthis way, and she'll be awfully cross if she thinks we are making sportof her."
"She reminds me of a song I once heard in a show which went somethinglike this," and Hippy naughtily sang under his breath:
"My well-beloved circus queen, My human snake, my Angeline!"
There was a queer choking sound from Nora and she walked quickly down tothe other end of the drawing room and earnestly fixed her gaze upon aportrait of one of the judge's ancestors, until she could gain controlof her risibles.
The dinner was a memorable one to both the judge and his guests, and itwas after nine o'clock before the last toast had been drunk in fruitpunch. Then every one repaired again to the drawing room.
Shortly after, Grace, Anne, Nora, Jessica, Eva and Miriam, accompaniedby David, Tom, Hippy and Reddy disappeared, closing the massive doorsbetween the drawing room and the wide hall. Half an hour later ArnoldEvans announced that all those wishing to attend the pantomime, "TheMistletoe Bough," could obtain front seats in the hall.
There was a general rush for the hall where the spectators found rows ofchairs arranged at one end.
Hardly had they seated themselves when the first notes of that quaintold ballad, "The Mistletoe Bough," sounded from the piano in the drawingroom, Nora O'Malley appeared in the archway, and in her clear, sweetvoice sang the first verse of the song.
As she finished, the strains of a wedding march were heard, and from theroom at the opposite side of the hall came a wedding procession.
Anne, as the bride, was attired in an old-time, short-waisted gown ofwhite satin with a long lace veil, yellow with age, while David in asquare-cut costume with powdered wig, enacted the part of thebridegroom. Arnold Evans was the clergyman, Grace and Tom the parents ofthe bride, while Reddy, Jessica, Hippy and Eva were the wedding guests.
All were garbed in the fashion of "ye olden time," the boys in wigs andsquare cuts, the girls in short-waisted, low-necked gowns, with haircombed high and powdered.
Then the ceremony was performed in pantomime and the bride and groomreceived the congratulations of their friends. The groom bowed low overthe bride's hand and led her to the center of the hall. The othercouples formed in line behind them and a stately minuet was danced.
While the minuet was in progress the bride suddenly stopped in the midstof the figure and professing weariness of the dance, ran out of theroom, after signifying to her husband and guests that she would hide,and after a brief interval they should seek for her.
Entering into her fun, the young husband and guests smilingly lingered amoment after her departure, and then ran eagerly off to find her. Thisclosed the scene, and Nora again appeared and sang the next verse.
The cedar chest, brought from the attic by the boys, had been set on thebroad landing at the turn of the open staircase, and in the next sceneAnne appeared, alone, and discovering the chest climbed gleefully intoit and drew the lid down.
Then followed the vain search for her and the deep despair of the younghusband at the failure to find his bride, with the final departure ofthe wedding guests, their joy changed to sorrow over the bride'smysterious disappearance.
There was a brief wait until the next scene, during which another verseof the ballad was sung. Then the husband, grown old, appeared and inpantomime reviewed the story of the strange vanishing of his beautifulbride on her wedding night so many years before. In the next scene twoservants appeared with orders to clean out and remove the old chest fromthe landing. Hippy and Jessica, as the two mischievous prying servants,enacted their part to perfection. Hippy carrying a broom and dust pan,did one of the eccentric dances, for which he was famous, while Jessica,armed with a huge duster, tried to drive him to work.
Finally both lay hold of the old chest, the rusted lock broke and thelid flew open. After one look both servants ran away in terror, andbeckoned to the forsaken husband who had appeared in the meantime,seating himself on the oak settee in the lower hall. With eager gesturesthey motioned him to the landing where the old chest stood. The finaltableau, depicted the stricken husband on his knees beside the chestwith a portion of the wedding veil in his shaking hands, while theservants, ignorant of the story of the lost bride, looked on in wonder.
During the last tableau Nora softly sang the closing verse and therefrain. Even after the last note had died away the spectators satperfectly still for a moment. Then the applause burst forth and Davidbowing in acknowledgment, turned and helped Anne out of the chest, whereshe had lain quietly after hiding.
The chest had been set with the side that opened toward the wall. Whileplanning for the pantomime the boys had arranged the lid so that it didnot close, yet the opening was not perceptible to those seated below.Thus there had been no danger of Anne meeting the fate of theill-starred Ginevra, the heroine of the ballad.
"You clever children," cried the old judge. "How did you ever get upanything like that on such short notice? It was beautifully done. I havealways been very fond of 'The Mistletoe Bough.' My sister used to singit for me."
"Grace thought of it," said Anne. "We found all those costumes up in thegarret in the old cedar chest. We knew the story by heart, and we knewthe minuet. We danced it at an entertainment in Oakdale last winter. Wehad a very short rehearsal this afternoon in the garret and that's all."
"Anne arranged the scenes and coached David in his part of thepantomime," said Grace. "She did more than I."
The judge's guests, also, added their tribute of admiration to that ofthe judge.
"It was all so real. I could scarcely refrain from telling that pooryoung
husband where his bride had hidden herself," laughed one oldgentleman.
"Why don't you children have a little dance?" asked the judge. "Thishall ought to make a good ball room, and you can take turns at thepiano."
"Oh, may we, Judge?" cried Grace in delight. "I am simply dying to havea good waltz on this floor."
"I'll play for you for a while," volunteered Miriam, "then Eva andJessica can take my place."
Five minutes later the young folks were gliding about the big hall tothe strains of a Strauss' waltz, while the judge and his friends lookedon, taking an almost melancholy pleasure in the gay scene of youthfulenjoyment.
"Will you dance the next waltz with me, Miss Harlowe!" said HenryHammond to Grace, as she sat resting after a two-step.
After a second's hesitation Grace replied in the affirmative. Despiteher resolve to make peace with him, up to that moment Grace had beenunable to bring herself to the point of speaking pleasantly to him.
The waltz began, and as they glided around the room she was obliged toacknowledge herself that Henry Hammond's dancing left nothing to bedesired.
"Perhaps my impressions of him are unjust, after all," thought Grace. "Isuppose I have no right to criticize him so severely, even though he wasrude to me the other night. I was rude, too. Perhaps he will turn out--"
But Grace's reflections were cut short by her partner, who had stoppedin the center of the hall.
"Miss Harlowe," he said with a disagreeable smile, "you are standingdirectly under the mistletoe. I suppose you know the penalty."
Grace looked at him with flashing eyes. "Mr. Hammond," she replied,flushing angrily, "you purposely halted under the mistletoe, and if forone minute you think that you can take advantage of a foolish traditionby so doing you are mistaken. When we girls coaxed Judge Putnam underthe mistletoe the other night, it was merely with the view of offering apretty courtesy to an elderly gentleman. None of our boys would think ofbeing so silly, and I want you to distinctly understand that not one ofour crowd is given to demonstrations of that sort."
"Miss Harlowe," replied Henry Hammond between his teeth, "you are aninsolent, ill-bred young woman, and it is plain to be seen that you aredetermined to misconstrue my every action and incur my enmity. So be it,but let me warn you that my hatred is no light matter."
"Your friendship or your enmity are a matter of equal indifference tome, Mr. Hammond," answered Grace, and with a cool nod she crossed theroom and joined Nora and Hippy, who were sitting on the stairs playingcats' cradle with the long silver chain of Nora's fan.