CHAPTER THIRTEEN - AUNT MARY ENTRAPPED
Aunt Mary's arrival in the city just coincided with the arrival of thatday's five o'clock. Five o'clock in early June is very bright daylight,therefore she was rather bewildered when the train pulled up in thedarkness and electricity of the station's confusion. The change fromsunlight to smoke blinded her somewhat and the view from the car windowdid not restore her equanimity. When the porter, to whom she had beendiscreetly recommended by Joshua, came for her bags, she felt woefullydistressed and not at all like her usual self.
"Oh, do I have to get out?" she said. "I ain't been in this place fortwenty-five years, and I was to be met."
The porter's grin hovered comfortingly over her head.
"You can stay here jus' 's long as you like, ma'am," he yelled, in thevoice of a train dispatcher. "I'll send your friends in when theyinquiahs."
Aunt Mary eyed him gratefully, and gave him the nickel which she had beencarefully holding in her hand for the last hour.
Then she looked up, and saw Jack!
A perfectly splendid Jack, in resplendent attire, handsome, beaming, witha big bouquet of violets in his hand!
"For you, Aunt Mary," he said, and dropped them into her lap, and huggedher fervently. She clung to him with a cling that forgot the immediatepast, disinheriting and all. Oh! she was so glad to see him!
The porter approached with a beneficent look.
"Has he taken good care of you, Aunt Mary?" Jack asked, as the mangathered up the things and they started to leave the car.
"Yes, indeed," Aunt Mary declared.
So Jack gave the porter a dollar.
Then they left the train.
"I was so worried," Aunt Mary said, as she went along the platform hangingon her nephew's arm. "I thought you'd met with an accident."
"I couldn't get on until the rest got off," he said, gazing down on herwith a smile; "but I was on hand, all right. My, but it's good to thinkthat you're here, Aunt Mary! Maybe you think that I don't appreciate yourtaking all this trouble for me, but I do, just the same."
Aunt Mary smiled all over. Everyone who passed them was smiling, too, andthat added to the general joy of the atmosphere. Aunt Mary felt proud ofJack, and rejoiced as to herself. Her content with life in general was,for the moment, limitless. She did not stop to dissect the sources of herdelight. She was not in a critical mood just then.
"Why don't you stick those flowers in your belt, Aunt Mary?" her nephewasked, as they penetrated the worst of the human jungle, and thepreservation of the violets appeared to be the main question of the day."That's what the girls do."
His aunt looked vaguely down at herself. She had no belt to stick herviolets in. She wore no belt. She wore a basque. A basque is a beltlesssomething that you can't remember, but that females did, once upon a time,cover the upper half of their forms with. Basques buttoned down the frontwith ten to thirty buttons, and may be studied at leisure in any goodcollection of daguerreotypes. Ladies like Aunt Mary are apt to scorn suchfutilities as waning styles after they pass beyond a certain age, and forthat reason there was no place for Jack's violets.
"Never mind," he said cheerfully, having followed her dubiousness with hisunderstanding. "Just hang on to them a minute longer, and we'll be out ofall this."
His words came true, and they finally did emerge from the seething massand found a carriage, the door of which happened to be standingmysteriously open. Within, upon the small seat, some omniscient hands hadalready deposited Aunt Mary's bags. It did not take long to stow AuntMary, face to her luggage, and she was barely established there before hertrunk came, too; and, although the coachman looked so gorgeous, he wasnevertheless obliging enough to allow it to couch humbly at his feet.
Then they rolled away.
Jack sat sideways and looked at his aunt, holding her hand. His eyes wereunfeignedly happy, and his companion matched his eyes. Neither seemed torecollect that one was bitterly angry, and that the other was on the vergeof melancholia. Instead, Jack declared fervently:
"Aunt Mary, I've made up my mind to give you the time of your life!"
And Aunt Mary drew a sigh of relief in his words and anticipation of theirfulfillment.
"I'll be happy takin' care of you," she said, benevolently. "My!--but yourletter scared me. An' yet you look well."
He laughed.
"It's the knowing you were coming that's done that, Aunt Mary. You oughtto have seen me when I got your telegram. I almost turned a somersault."
Aunt Mary smiled rapturously and patted his hand.
And just then they drew up in front of the house. She looked out, and herface fell a trifle.
"It's awful high and narrow," she said.
"They all are," Jack replied, opening the carriage door and jumping out toreceive her.
The door at the top of the steps opened, and a man came down for the bags.In the hall above, a pretty maid waited with a welcoming smile.
Jack piloted his aunt, first up the entrance steps, and then up thestaircase within, and led her to the lovely room which had been vacatedfor her. The maid followed with tea and biscuits, and the man brought theluggage and ranged it unobtrusively in a corner. There was a lavishrichness about everything which made Aunt Mary and her trunk appear asgray and insignificant as a pair of mice, by contrast; but she didn't feelit, and so she didn't mind it.
Jack kissed her tenderly.
"Welcome to town, Aunt Mary," he said heartily, "and may you never live tolook upon this day as other than the luckiest of your life!" Then, turningto the servant, he said:
"Janice, you see that you do all that money can buy for my aunt."
The maid courtesied. She had arranged the tray upon a little table and thespout of the tea pot and the round hole in the middle of the toast-coverwere each pouring forth a pleasant suggestion.
Aunt Mary began at once to haul forth her keys.
"Why, Aunt Mary," Jack cried, wondering if her nose was deaf, too, orwhether she didn't feel hungry, "don't you see your tea? Or don't you wantany?"
Aunt Mary thumbed her trunk key.
"I want a nightgown," she said; "maybe I'll want something else later.Maybe."
"You're not going to _bed_!"
She drew herself up.
"I guess I can if I want to; I guess I can. There's the bed and here'sme."
"Whatever are you saying? It isn't half-past six o'clock."
"I'm not _prayin_' about anything," said the old lady. "I don't pray aboutthings. I do 'em when needful. And when I'm tired I go to bed."
"All right, Aunt Mary," with sugary sweetness and lamb-likesubmissiveness. "I thought we'd dine out together, but if you don't wantto, we needn't. And if you feel like it when you waken, we can."
"Dine out," said Aunt Mary, blankly; "has the cook left? I never was agreat approver of goin' and eatin' at boarding houses."
"Well, never mind," Jack said in a key pitched to rhyme with high C. "I'llleave you now--and we can see about everything later."
He kissed her, and retired from the room.
"Did he say we're goin' out to dinner?" Aunt Mary asked, when she was leftalone with the maid, who hurried to take her bonnet and shawl, and get herinto juxtaposition with the tea-tray as rapidly as possible.
"Yes, ma'am," the girl screamed, nodding.
"I don't want to," said the old lady firmly. "Lots of trouble comesthrough gettin' out of house habits. I've come here to take care of a sickboy and not to go gallivantin' round myself. I've seen the evils ofgallivantin' a good deal lately and I don't want to see no more. Not hereand not nowhere."
Then she began to eat and drink and reflect, all at the same time.
"By the way, what's your name?" she asked, suddenly. "Jack didn't tellme."
"Janice, ma'am."
"Granite?" said Aunt Mary. "What a funny idea to name you that! Did theycall you for the tinware or for the rocks?"
"I don't know," shrieked Janice, who was busily occupied in unpacking thetraveler's trun
k.
Her new mistress watched her with a critical eye at first, but it became amore or less sleepy eye as the warmth of the tea meandered slowly throughits owner. There was a battle within Aunt Mary's brain; she wanted toplease Jack, and she was almost dead with sleep.
"Do you think that I ought to try and go out with my nephew to-night?" sheasked Janice.
"If it was me, I should go," cried the maid.
"I never was called slow before," Aunt Mary said, bridling. "I'll thankyou to remember your place, young woman."
Janice explained.
"Oh! I didn't hear plainly," said Aunt Mary. "I don't always. Well go ornot go, I've got to sleep first. I'm dreadfully sleepy, and I've alwaysbeen a great believer in sleepin' when you're sleepy."
The fact of the sleepiness was so evident that no attempt was made togainsay it. Janice brought down a quilt from the closet and tucked hercharge up luxuriously on the great bed. Five minutes later she was indreamland.
Jack came in about seven and looked at her.
"She mustn't be disturbed," he said thoughtfully. "If she wakes up beforeten we'll go out then."
She awoke about nine, and when she opened her eyes the first thing thatshe saw was Janice, sitting near by.
"I feel real good," said Aunt Mary.
"I'm so glad," yelled Janice, and smiled, too.
The old lady sat up.
"I believe I could have gone out, after all," she said. "Only I don't wantto take dinner anywhere."
Then she paused and reflected. It was surprising how good she felt and howshe did want to make Jack happy. "After all boys will be boys," shethought, tenderly, "an' I ain't but seventy, so I don't see why Ishouldn't go out with him if he wants to. I'm a great believer in doin'what you want to--I mean, in doin' what other folks want you to. At anyrate I'm a great believer in it sometimes. To-day--this time."
"Your nephew is waiting," the maid howled. "Shall I tell him you want togo after all?"
"Is it late?" the old lady inquired.
"Oh, dear, no!"
"Wouldn't you go if you was me?" asked the old lady.
Janice smiled.
"Indeed I would."
Aunt Mary rose. A flood of metropolitan fever suddenly surged up andaround and over and through her.
"Tell him I'll be down in five minutes," she said.
"Can you change in that time?" Janice stopped to shriek.
"What should I change for?" Aunt Mary demanded in astonishment. "Ain't Iall dressed now?"
Janice did not attempt to shriek any counter-advice, and while she wasgone to find Jack, her mistress brushed herself in some places, soapedherself in others, and considered her toilet made. When Janice returnedshe caught up a loose lock of hair, and put the placket-hole of her skirtsquare in the middle of Aunt Mary's back, and dared go no further. Therewas an air even about the back of Jack's influential aunt which forbadetoo much liberty to those dealing with her.