CHAPTER XXXVII.
A VERY PATHETIC MUTE.
In spite of the fact that the Warburton servants were a thoroughlydisciplined corps, and that domestic affairs, above stairs and below,usually moved with mechanical regularity, it was nearly two o'clockbefore Millie, armed with dusters and brushes, entered Alan's study todo battle with a small quantity of slowly-accumulated dust.
"Ah!" she exclaimed as she flung open the windows, "how gloomy the houseis! I s'pose Mr. Alan will set himself up as master now, and then,Millie, you'll get _your_ walking papers. Well, who cares; I don't likehim, anyhow." And she made a vigorous dash at the fireless grate.
Millie Davis was the joint protege of Leslie and Winnie, a rustic with apretty face, and scant knowledge of the world and its ways.
Up and down the study flitted Millie, dusting, arranging, and pausingvery often to admire some costly fabric, or bit of vivid color.
Almost the last article to come under her brush was Alan'scabinet-arsenal, and her feminine curiosity prompted her to peep in atthe door, which Alan had left ajar; and then Millie gasped and stoodaghast.
"Guns and pistols, and all manner of cuttin' and shootin' things," shesoliloquized, as she drew back and prepared to close the door of thecabinet. "Well, it takes a good while to find _some folks_ out!" Andthen, as a tuneful sound smote her ears, she turned swiftly from theopen cabinet to the window.
A hand organ grinding out the "Sweet By-and-by", is a thing most of usfail to appreciate. But Millie both appreciated and understood. It wasmusic, familiar music, and sweet; at least so thought Millie, and shehurried to the window nearest the cabinet, and looked out.
"My," she said, half aloud, "but that sounds cheerful!"
She leaned over the window-ledge and looked up and down the quiet sidestreet. Ah, there he was; quite near the window, resting his organagainst the iron railings, and playing, with his eyes turned toward her.Such beseeching eyes; such a good-looking, picturesque, sad-facedorgan-grinder!
Catching sight of Millie, he lifted his organ quickly, and without abreak in the "Sweet By-and-by", came directly under the window, gazingup at her with a look that was a wondrous mixture of admiration andpathos. Poor fellow; how sorrowful, how distressed, and how respectful,was his look and attitude!
"What a mournful-looking chap it is!" murmured Millie, drawing back alittle when the tune came to an end.
As the organ struck up a more cheerful strain, a new thought seized her,and she leaned out again over the sill.
"Look here, my man," she began, in a tone of gentle remonstrance, "youshouldn't play, come to think of it, quite so near the house. It won'tdo; stop, stop." And, as the man stared, hesitated, and then ground awaymore vigorously than before, she indulged in a series of franticgestures, seeing which the organ-grinder paused and stared wonderingly.Then, with a sudden gleam of comprehension, he smiled up at her, toucheda stop in his organ, and complacently began a different tune.
"_No! no! no!_" cried Millie; "not _that_; stop!" And she shook her headso violently that the little blue bow atop of her brown locks, flew offand fell at the feet of the minstrel, who, in obedience to the movementof her head and hand, stopped his instrument once more, stooped down,and picking up the blue bow, began to clamber up the iron railings, withhis organ still strapped to his side, evidently intent upon restoringthe bow in the most gallant manner.
"My! you shouldn't climb onto the railings like that," remonstratedMillie, as she put out her hand to receive the bit of ribbon.
But the minstrel, bracing one knee against the brick and mortar, thussteadying himself and giving his hands full play, began a series ofpantomines so strange that Millie involuntarily exclaimed:
"Why, what in the world ails the man!" And then, struck once more by thepitiful appeal in his eyes, she cried: "Look here, are you sick?"
Only renewed pantomines from the minstrel.
"Are you hungry?" Then, in a tone of discouragement: "What is he at,anyhow?"
But as the man's hand went from his lips to his ear, even Millie's dullcomprehension was awakened.
"Gracious goodness!" she exclaimed, "he's deaf and dumb."
Faster still flew the fingers of the minstrel, sadder and more pitifulgrew his face, and Millie watched his movements with renewed interest.
"He's talking with his fingers," muttered Millie. "I wonder--"
She stopped suddenly; he was doing something new in the way ofpantomine, and Millie guessed its meaning.
"A baby!" she gasped; "it's something about a baby. One, two, three, ah!five fingers; five babies, five years--oh, say, say, man; _say_man!"--and Millie's face was white with agitation, and she barely savedherself from tumbling out of the window, in the intensity and eagernessof her excitement--"you don't mean--you don't know anything about ourDaisy--you don't--"
But Millie's breath failed her, for even as she spoke, the sad-eyedorgan-grinder took from his pocket a dirty bit of paper, unfolded it,and displayed to the eager girl a tiny tress of yellow hair--just such atress as might have grown on little Daisy's head.
"Oh," she cried, "I'll bet that's it! I'll bet, oh,--" And with thislast interjection, any such small stock of prudence as Millie maynaturally have possessed, was scattered to the four winds.
"Wait here," she cried, utterly disregarding the fact that she wasaddressing a deaf man, but by a natural instinct suiting her gestures toher word. "Just you wait a minute. I know who can talk finger talk."
In another moment she had rushed from the room, shutting the door behindher with a sudden emphasis that must have been a surprise to thosestately panels, and the noiseless, slow-moving hinges on which theyswung.
Scarcely has Millie turned away from the window when the man outside,with two quick turns of the neck, has assured himself that for a momentat least, the window is not under the scrutiny of any passer-by. Nosooner has the study door closed, than the mute, without one shade ofpathos in look or action, grasps the window-sill, swings himself up, anddrops into the room, organ and all.
"So far, good," mutters this pathetic mute, under his breath. "This isAlan Warburton's study; not a doubt of that. Now, if I can continue tostay in it until he comes--"
He broke off abruptly, with his eyes fixed upon the half-open cabinet;moved briskly toward it, peeped in, and then, with a satisfied chuckle,stepped inside, and depositing his organ upon the floor of hishiding-place, drew the door shut, softly and slowly.
In another moment the study door opened quickly, and there was a rustle,and the patter of light feet, as Winnie French crossed the room rapidly,and leaned out of the window.
"Why, Millie," she said, looking back over her shoulder, "there's no onehere."
"Perhaps--" began Millie; then, catching her breath sharply, she tooleaned over the sill.
"Where is your pathetic mute, Millie?"
"Well, I never!" declared the girl, still gazing incredulously up anddown the street. "He _was_ here."
Winnie smiled as she turned from the window.
"Some one has imposed upon you, Millie," she said; "and you did a verycareless thing when you left such a stranger at an open window."
And a certain listener near by added to this exordium a mental amen.
"He might have entered--" continued Winnie.
"Oh, my!"
"And robbed the house."
"Bless me; I never thought of that!"
"Try and be more thoughtful in future, Millie. Close the window and letus go; ah!"
This last exclamation, uttered in a tone of unmistakable annoyance,caused Millie to turn swiftly.
Alan Warburton, having entered noiselessly at the door left ajar byMillie's reckless hand, was standing in the centre of the room, hiswell-bred face expressive of nothing in particular, his eyes slightlysmiling.
At sight of him, Millie shrank back, but Winnie came forward haughtily.
"You are doubtless surprised at seeing me here, sir," she said, withfreezing politeness, bent only upon screening Millie and beating a
norderly retreat. "I came--in search of Millie; and, being here, had adesire to take a view of Elm street. You will pardon the intrusion, Itrust." And she moved toward the door.
"Winnie," said Alan gently, "you entered to please yourself, and you arevery welcome here. Will you remain just five minutes, to please me?"
Winnie frowned visibly, but after a moment's hesitation, said:
"I think I may spare you five minutes. You may go, Millie."
And Millie, only too thankful to escape thus, went with absurd alacrity.
When the door had closed behind her,--for, retreating under Alan's eye,the fluttered damsel _had_ remembered to close the door properly--Winniestood very erect and silent before her host, and waited.
"Winnie," began Alan, consulting his watch as he spoke, "it is nowalmost three o'clock, and I expect a visitor soon; that is why I askedfor only a few moments."
"I am not anxious to remain," observed Winnie, glancing carelessly fromthe timepiece in Alan's hand to a _placque_ on the wall above his head.
"But I am most anxious that you should."
"Excuse me, Mr. Warburton, but you have such a peculiar way of makingyourself agreeable."
"Winnie!"
"Your interviews with ladies are liable to such dramatic endings: Iseriously object to fainting, and I remained here, as you must know, notbecause I cared to listen to you, but because of Millie's presence. Ithink it took you half an hour to talk Leslie into a dead faintyesterday, and as nearly as I can guess at time, one of your minutesmust be gone. You have just four minutes in which to reduce me tosilence."
"You are very bitter, Winnie," he said sadly. "I am bowed down withgrief--that you know. I am also burdened with such a weight of troubleas I pray Heaven you may never suffer. Will you let me tell you all thetruth; will you listen and judge between Leslie Warburton and me?"
She drew herself very erect, and turned to face him fully, thus shuttingfrom her view the door behind Alan.
"No," she answered, "I will listen to nothing from you concerningLeslie. Without knowing the cause, I know you are her enemy. If I everlearn why you hate her so, I will hear it from her, not from you. Leslieis not a child; and you must have said bitterly cruel words before youleft her in a dead faint on that library floor last night--"
A very distinct cough interrupted her speech, and they both turned, tomeet the respectful gaze of a jaunty-looking stranger, who said, as headvanced into the room:
"Pardon me; the servant showed me in somewhat unceremoniously,supposing the room unoccupied. I was instructed to wait here for Mr.Warburton."
Winnie was first to recover herself. Turning to Alan, she murmuredpolitely:
"I think my time has expired; good evening, Mr. Warburton."
As she swept from the room, the stranger approached Alan, saying:
"This, then, is Mr. Warburton. My name is Grip, sir; Augustus Grip."