The Rejuvenation of Aunt Mary

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN - A REPOSEFUL INTERVAL

  The next date upon the little gold and ivory memorandum card which hungbeside Aunt Mary's watch was that set for Burnett's picnic, but itsdawning found both host and guest too much attached to their beds todesire any fetes champetre just then.

  Burnett was in that very weak state which follows in the immediate wake ofonly too many yachts,--and Aunt Mary was sleeping one of her long drawn outand utterly restorative sleeps.

  Jack went in and looked at her.

  "It did storm awfully," he said to Janice, who was sitting by the window.The maid just smiled, nodded, and laid her finger on her lip. She neverencouraged conversation when her charge was reposing.

  Jack went softly out and turned his steps toward the room of the otherwreck.

  "Well, how are stocks to-day?" he asked cheerfully on entering.

  Burnett was stretched out pillowless and looked black under his holloweyes. But he appeared to be on the road to recovery.

  "Jack," he said seriously, "what in thunder makes me always so ready to goon the water? I should think after a while I'd learn a thing or two."

  Jack leaned his elbows on the high carved footboard and returned hisfriend's look with one of equal seriousness.

  "What makes all of us do lots of things?" he asked. "Why don't we alllearn?"

  Burnett sighed.

  "That's a fact; why don't we?" he said weakly. And then he shut his eyesagain and turned his back to his caller.

  Jack went down to lunch. Clover and Mitchell were playing cards in thelibrary.

  "Well, how is the hospital?" Clover asked, looking up while he shuffledthe pack.

  "Never mind about Burnett," said Mitchell, "but do relieve my mind aboutAunt Mary. Is the one sheet still taking effect, or has she begun to rallyon a diet of two?"

  "She's asleep," said the nephew.

  "God bless her slumber," declared Clover piously. "I very much approve ofAunt Mary asleep. When our dearly beloved aunt sleeps we know we've gother and we don't have to yell. Shall I deal for three?"

  "They are bringing up lunch," said the latest arrival,--"no time to begin ahand. Better stack guns for the present."

  "So say I," said Mitchell, "with me everything goes down when lunch comesup. It's quite the reverse with Burnett, isn't it?" He laughed brutally athis own wit.

  "To think how enthusiastic Burr was," said Clover, evening the cardspreparatory to slipping them into their holder on the side of the table."He's always so enthusiastic and he's always so sick. In his place Ishould feel that, if a buoyant nature is a virtue, I didn't get muchreward."

  The gong sounded just then, and they all went down to lunch, not at allsaddened by the sight of their comrade's empty chair.

  "Now, what are we going to do next?" Clover demanded as they finished thebouillon.

  "Have a meat course, I suppose," said Mitchell.

  "I don't mean that; I mean, what are we going to do next with Aunt Mary?"

  "She hasn't but two days more," said Jack meditatively. "Of course--even ifshe was all chipper--this storm has knocked any picnic endways."

  "I am not an ardent upholder of picnics, anyhow," said Mitchell. "Theyrequire a constant sitting down on the ground and getting up from theground to which I find our respected aunt very far from being equal.Burnett mentioned that we should go to the scene on a coach. That also didnot meet my approval. Going anywhere on a coach requires a constantgetting up on the coach and getting down from the coach to which I alsoconsider the lady unequal. The events of yesterday have left a deepimpression on my mind. I--"

  "Go on and carve," interrupted Clover, "or else shove me the platter. I'mhungry."

  "So'm I," said a voice at the door. A weak voice--but one that showeddecision in its tone.

  They looked up and saw Burnett, dressed in a pink silk negligee withflowing sleeves.

  "I'm ravenous," he exclaimed explanatorily. "I haven't had anything sinceday before yesterday at breakfast. I didn't know I wanted anything till Ismelt it,--then I dressed and came down."

  "How sweet you look," said Clover. "The effect of your pajama cuffs andcollar where one greedily expects curves and contour is lovely. Where didyou find that bath-robe?"

  "In the bureau drawer," said Burnett. "It appeared to have been hastilyshoved in there some time. I would have thought that it was a woman'ssomething-or-other, only I found one of Jack's cards in the pocket."

  They all began to laugh--Clover and Mitchell more heartily than the ownerof the card.

  "Sit down," said Mitchell finally with great cordiality. "You may as wellsit down while they mess you up some weak tea and wet toast."

  "Tea and toast?" cried the one in pink. "I'm good for dinner. _UmGotteswillen_, what do you suppose I came down for?"

  "I wasn't sure," said his friend mildly; "you must admit yourself thatyour attire is misleading. My book on social etiquette says nothing as towhen it is correct to wear a pink silk robe over blue and white stripedpajamas. However, there's no denying your presence, and what can't bedenied must be supplied, so what will you have?"

  "Everything."

  Mitchell dived into the edibles generally and Burnett's void was providedwith fulfillment.

  "We were talking about Aunt Mary," Clover said presently. "We were sayingthat neither you nor she would be up to a coach or down to a picnic forone while."

  "Oh, I don't know," said Burnett. "I feel up to pretty nearly anything nowthat I can eat again. Pass over the horseradish, will you?"

  "You're one thing, my sweet pink friend," said Clover gently, "but AuntMary's another. I'm not saying that New York has not had a wonderfullyBrown-Sequardesque effect on her, but I am saying that if she is to beraised and lowered frequently, I want to travel with a portable crane."

  "Hum, hum, hum!" cried Jack. "May I just ask who did most of the heavylabor of Aunt Mary yesterday?--As the man in the opera sings twenty timeswith the whole chorus to back him--''Twas I, 'twas I, 'twas I, 'twas I--'"

  "Hand over the toast, Clover," said Burnett. "I don't care who it was--itwas a success anyhow, for she's upstairs and still alive, and I say she'denjoy coaching out Riverside way, and--" he choked.

  "Slap him anywhere," said Mitchell. "On his mouth would be the properplace. Such poor manners,--coming down to a company lunch in another man'sbath-robe and then trying to preach and eat dry toast at once."

  Burnett gasped and recovered.

  "There," said Clover, who had risen to administer the proposed slap, "he'soff our minds and we may again pick up Aunt Mary and put her back on."

  "We want to send her home in a blaze of glory," said Jack thoughtfully. "Iwant her to feel that the fun ran straight through."

  "That's just what I mean," interposed his particular friend; "we want herto go home on the wings of a giant cracker, so to speak."

  "How would it do," said Clover suddenly, "to just make a night of it andtake her along? Stock up, stack up, and ho! for it. You all know the kindof a time I mean."

  "Clover," said Jack gravely, "does it occur to you that Aunt Mary belongsto me and that I have a personal interest in keeping her alive?"

  "Nothing ever occurs to him," said Mitchell. "Occasionally an idea bangsup against him inadvertently, and as it splinters a sliver or twopenetrate his head--that's all."

  "I don't see why the last sliver he felt wasn't to the point," saidBurnett, turning the cream jug upside down as he spoke. "I think she'denjoy it of all things. She enjoys everything so. I'll guarantee that whenshe gets back home she'll even enjoy the yachting trip. Lots of people aremade like that. In the winter I always enjoy yachting, myself. Pass me thehot bread."

  "Burnett," said Mitchell warmly, "I wish that you would remember that acollapse invariably follows an inflated market."

  "Is it Aunt Mary who is on the market, or myself?"

  "You."

  "Oh, the rule is reversed in my case--the collapse went first. I'm onlyinflating up to the usual limit again. Is there any gravy left?"
>
  "No, there isn't," said Clover, looking in the dish, "there isn't much ofanything left."

  "Let's go to the library," said Mitchell, rising abruptly. "It alwaysmakes me ill to see goose-stuffing before Thanksgiving. Come on."

  "I'm done," said Burnett, springing up and winding his lacey draperiesabout his manly form. "Come on yourself; and once settled and smoking, letus canvass the question and agree with Clover."

  "You know there are nights about town and nights about town," said Clover,as they climbed the staircase. "I do not anticipate that Aunt Mary willbring up with a round turn in the police station, as her young relativeonce did."

  "Well, that's some comfort," said Mitchell. "I did not feel sure as tojust where you did mean her to bring up. You will perhaps allow me toremark that making a night of it with Aunt Mary in tow is a subject thatreally is provocative of mature reflection. Making a night of it is afrothy sort of a proposition in which our beloved aunty may not beat up toquite the buoyancy of you and me."

  As he finished this sage remark they all re-entered the library andgrouped themselves around the table of smoking things.

  "That's what I say," said Jack. "I think she's much more likely to beatout than to beat up--I must say."

  "I'll bet you she doesn't," cried Burnett eagerly. "I'll bet five dollarsthat she doesn't."

  "I declare," said Clover, "what a thing a backer is to be sure. I feelpositive that Aunt Mary will go through with it now. I had my doubtsbefore, but never now. Six to five on Aunt Mary for the Three-year-oldStakes."

  "The best way is to hit a happy medium," said Mitchell thoughtfully,scratching a match for the lighting of his new-rolled cigarette. "I thinkthe wisest thing would be for us just to take Aunt Mary and sally forthand then keep it up until she must be put to bed. What say?"

  "Well," said Jack, reflectively, "I don't suppose that taking it that way,it would really be any worse than the other nights--"

  "Worse!" cried Clover. "Hear him!--slandering those brilliant occasions,everyone of which is a jewel in the crown of Aunt Mary's bonnet."

  "We'll begin by dining out," said Burnett. "I'll give the dinner. One ofthe souvenir kind of affairs. A white mouse for every man and a canarybird for the lady. We'll have a private room and speeches and I'll getmegaphones so we can make her hear without bustin'."

  "My dear boy," said Mitchell, "where is this private room to be in whichthe party can converse through megaphones? I had two deaf uncles once whoplayed cribbage with megaphones, but they were influential and the rest ofthe family were poor. Circumstances alter cases. I ask again where you canget a private dining-room for the use of five people and four megaphones?"

  "I'll see," said Burnett; "I wish," he added irritably, "that you'd waituntil I finished before beginning to smash in like that, you knockeverything out of my head."

  "It'll do you good to have a little something knocked out of you," saidMitchell gently. "It may enlarge your premises, give you a spare roomsomewhere, so to speak. I should think that you'd need some spare roomsomewhere after such a breakfast."

  "I'll tell you what I think;" said Clover. "I think it's a great scheme.It's a sort of pull-in-and-out, field-glass species of idea. We candevelop it or we can shut it off; in other words, we can parade Aunt Maryor bring her home just when we darn please."

  "That's what I said," said Burnett. "Begin with my dinner, white mice andall, and when all is going just let it slide until it seems about time toslide off."

  "Yes," said Mitchell dryly, "it's always a good plan to slide on until youslide off. It would be so easy to reverse the game."

  "And then, too,--" began Burnett.

  "Excuse me," said a voice at the door,--a woman's voice this time.

  It was Janice, very pretty in her black dress and white decorations, handsin pockets, smile on lips.

  "What's up now?" the last speaker interrupted himself to ask, "Aunt Mary?"

  "No, she's not up," said the maid; "but she's awake and wants to knowabout the picnic."

  "There, what did I say!" cried Burnett; "isn't she a hero? I tell you AuntMary'd fight in the last ditch--she'd never surrender! She's one of thosedead-at-the-gun chaps. I'm proud to think we have known the companionshipof joint yachting results."

  "She says she feels as well as ever," said Janice, opening her eyes atrifle as she noted Burnett's pink silk negligee, "and wishes to know whenyou want to start."

  "Bravo," said Mitchell; "I, too, am fired by this exposition of pluck. Ilike spirit. She reminds me of the horse who was turned out to grass andthen suddenly broke the world's record."

  "What horse was that?" asked Burnett.

  "Pegasus," said Mitchell cruelly; "I didn't say what kind of a record hebroke, did I?"

  "What shall I tell Miss Watkins?" asked the maid.

  Jack, who had risen at her entrance and gone to the window, faced aroundhere and said:

  "Tell her that if she'll dress we'll go out bonnet-shooting and afterwardsdrive in the park."

  Janice hesitated.

  "She will surely ask where you are to dine," said she, half-smiling.

  Jack looked at the crowd.

  "Fellows," he said, "we must save up for to-morrow's blow-out; suppose youlet Mitchell and me dine Aunt Mary somewhere very tranquilly to-night andwe'll get her home by eleven."

  "Yes, do," said Janice, with sudden earnest entreaty. "Honestly, there isa limit."

  "Of course, there is a limit," said Mitchell. "Even cities have theirlimits. This one tried to be an exception, but San Francisco yelled 'Keepoff' and she drew in her claws again. Aunt Mary, possessing many points incommon with New York, also possesses that. She has limits. Her limits tookin more than we bargained for,--for they have taken us into the bargain.Still they are there, and we bow to necessity. A cheerful drive, a quiettea, early to bed. And _pax vobiscum_."

  "No wonder," said Burnett, "it's easy for you to agree when you're to beone of the dinner party." "I don't mind being left out," said Clovercontentedly. "I shall sit on the sofa and whisper to 'the one behind.'Whispering is an art that I have almost forgotten, but inspired by thatpink--"

  "Then I'll tell Miss Watkins to dress for the going out," said Janice,pointedly addressing herself to Jack.

  "Yes, please do."

  The maid left the room and went upstairs. Aunt Mary was tossing about onher pillow.

  "Well, what's it to be?" she asked instantly.

  "The storm has made it too wet to picnic," replied Janice. "Mr. Denhamwants to take you to drive and afterwards you and Mr. Mitchell and he areto dine--"

  "And Burnett and Clover?" cried Aunt Mary in appalled interruption; "whereare they goin'?"

  "Really, I don't know."

  "I don't like the idea," said Aunt Mary; "we'd ought to all be together. Inever did approve of splittin' up in small parties. Did Jack say anythin'about my gettin' another bonnet?"

  "Yes, he thought that you would go to a milliner first."

  "I don't know about lookin' sillier," said Aunt Mary. "Strikes me a womancan't look more foolish than she does without a bonnet. However, I don'tfeel like makin' a fuss over anythin' to-day. I've had a good rest and Ifeel fine. I'll dress and go out with Jack, an' I know one thing, I'llenjoy every minute I can, for this week is goin' like lightnin' and whenit's over--well, you never saw Lucinda, so it's no use tryin' to make youunderstand, but--" she drew a long breath and shook her head meaningly.

  Janice did not reply. She busied herself with the cares of the toilet ofher mistress, and when that was complete the carriage was summoned for theshopping tour.

  Jack saw that the bonnet was attended to first of all and then they wentto another store and purchased a scarf pin for Joshua and a workbox forLucinda. After that Aunt Mary decided that she wanted her four friendseach to have a souvenir of her visit, so she insisted upon being conductedto that gorgeous establishment which is lighted with diamonds instead ofelectricity and ordered four dressing-cases to be constructed, everythingwith gold tops, to be engrav
ed with the proper initials and also theinscription, "from M.W. in memory of N.Y." Jack rather protested at this,asking her if she realized what the engraving would come to.

  "I don't know," said Aunt Mary recklessly and lavishly. "I don't care whatit comes to either. It's comin' to me, anyhow, ain't it? I rather thinkso. Seems likely."

  The clerk took down the order, and then as he was ushering them door-wardshe fell by the wayside and craved permission to show some tiaras ofemeralds and some pearl dog-collars. Jack rebelled.

  "You don't want any of those," he exclaimed, trying to propel her by.

  "I ain't so sure," said Aunt Mary. "I might have a dog some day."

  But her nephew got her back into their conveyance, and they drove away. Itwas so late that they could not consider the park and so had to make atour of Fifth Avenue to use up the time left before dinner. Then when theyheaded toward the cafe they were delighted to observe Mitchell awaitingthem just where he was to have been.

  "I see him," said Aunt Mary. "My! I'd know him as far off as I'd knowanybody." But then she sighed. "I wish the others were there, too," shesaid sadly; "seems awful--just three of us."

  The dinner which followed echoed her sentiment. It was a very nice dinner,but painfully quiet, and Aunt Mary grew very restless.

  "Seems like wastin' time, anyhow," she said uneasily. "I don't see why theothers didn't come. Well, can't we go to Coney Island or the Statue ofLiberty or somewhere when we're through?"

  Mitchell looked at Jack.

  "Why, you see, Aunt Mary," the latter promptly shrieked, "we thought we'dbe good and go home early and sort of rest up to-night so as to have ahigh old time to-morrow."

  Aunt Mary's face, which had fallen during the first part of their speech,brightened up at the last words.

  "What are we goin' to do?" she inquired with unfeigned interest.

  "Burnett's going to give us a dinner," Jack answered, "and then afterwardswe're going to help you see the town."

  "Oh!" said Aunt Mary. A pleasant gleam fled over her face.

  "I never was a great believer in bein' out nights," she said, "but I guessI'll make an exception to-morrow. I might as well be doin' that asanythin', I presume. Maybe better--very likely better."

  "Oh, very much better," said Mitchell. "It is the exceptions that furnishall the oil in life's machinery. The exceptions not only generally provetoo much for the rule, but they also generally prevent the rule fromproving too much for us. They--"

  "But I don't see why we couldn't go to two or three vaudevilles to-night,too," said the old lady, suddenly. "I feel so sort of ready-for-anythin'."

  "You always feel that way, Miss Watkins," screamed Mitchell. "It is wethat are the blind and the halt. You are ever fresh, but we falter andfaint. You see it's you that go out, but it's we that you get back. You--"

  "We could go to one vaudeville, anyway," said Aunt Mary abstractedly; "an'if we saw any places that looked lively we could stop a few minutes thereon our way back. I've never been into lots of things here."

  Jack looked at Mitchell this time.

  "I'm sorry, Miss Watkins," he roared, "but _I'll_ have to go home, anyhow.You see, I'm not used to the lively life which has been enlivening us allthis week and, being weakly in my knees, needs must look out."

  Aunt Mary looked very disappointed.

  "Then Jack and I'll go, too," she said, "but oh! dear, I do hate to wastemy stay in the city sleepin' so much. I can sleep all I want after I gethome, but--" she paused, and then said with deep feeling, "Well, you don'tunderstand about Lucinda an' so you don't understand about anythin'."

  Both the young men felt truly regretful as they put her into the carriagefor the return trip. Her deep enjoyment was so genuine and naive that theysympathized with her feelings when cut off from it.

  But it was best that this one night should pass unimproved, and so allfive threw themselves into their respective beds with equal zest andslept--and slept--and slept.