CHAPTER XXXVII
LA FLEUR ASSUMES RESPONSIBILITIES
It was toward the middle of the afternoon that the good La Fleur satupon a bench under a tree by the side of the noble mansion ofCobhurst. She was enjoying the scene and allowing her mind to revel inthe future she had planned for herself. She was not even thinking ofthe dinner. Presently there drove into the grounds a boy in abowl-shaped trotting-wagon, bringing a telegram for Mr. Haverley. LaFleur went to meet him.
"He is not at home," she said.
"Well," said the boy, "there is seventy-five cents to pay, and perhapsthere is an answer."
"Are you sure the message was not prepaid?" asked La Fleur, suspiciously.
"Oh, the seventy-five cents is for delivery," said the boy. "We deliverfree in town, but we can't come way out here in the country for nothing.Isn't there somebody here who can 'tend to it?"
La Fleur drew a wallet from her pocket. "I will pay you," she said;"but if there is an answer you should take it back with you. Can't youwait a bit?"
"No," said the boy, "I can't. I shall be away from the office too longas it is."
La Fleur was in a quandary; there was no one at home but herself; atelegram is always important; very likely an immediate answer wasrequired; and here was an opportunity to send one. If the message werefrom his sister, there might be something which she could answer. At anyrate, it was an affair that must not be neglected, and Mr. Haverley hadgone off with his fishing-rod, and no one knew when he would get back.
"Wait one minute," she said to the boy, and she hurried into the kitchenwith the telegram. She put on her spectacles and looked at it; theenvelope was very slightly fastened. No doubt this was something thatneeded attention, and the boy would not wait. Telegrams were not likeprivate letters, anyway, and she would take the risk. So she opened theenvelope without tearing it, and read the message. First she wasfrightened, and then she was puzzled.
"Well, I can't answer that," she said, "and I suppose he will go as soonas he gets it."
She laid the telegram on the kitchen table and went out to the impatientboy, and told him there was no answer. Whereupon he departed at the topof his pony's speed.
La Fleur returned to the kitchen and reread the telegram. The signaturewas not very legible, and in her first hasty reading she had not made itout, but now she deciphered it.
"Panney!" she exclaimed, "R. Panney! I believe it is from that tricky oldwoman!" And with her elbows on the table she gave herself up to the studyof the telegram. "I never saw anything like it," she thought. "It looksexactly as if she wanted to frighten him without telling him what hashappened. It could not be worse than it is, even if his sister is dead,and if that were so, anybody would telegraph that she was very ill, so asnot to let it come on him too sudden. Nothing can be more dreadful thanwhat he'll think when he reads this. One thing is certain: she meant himto go when he got it. Yes, indeed!" And a smile came upon her face as shethought. "She wants him there; that is as plain as daylight."
At this moment a step was heard outside, and the telegram was slippedinto the table drawer. La Fleur arose and approached the open door; thereshe saw Phoebe.
"How d'ye do, ma'am?" said that individual. "Do let me come in an' sitdown, for I'm nearly tired to death, an' so cross that I'd like tofight a cat."
"What has happened to you?" asked La Fleur, when she and her visitor hadseated themselves.
"Nothin'," replied Phoebe, "except that I've been sent on a fool'serrand, an' made to walk all the way from Thorbury, here, an' a longeran' a dirtier an' a rockier road I never went over. I thought two orthree times that I should just drop. If I'd knowed how stiff my j'intswould be, I wouldn't 'a' come, no matter what she said."
"She said," repeated La Fleur. "Who?"
"That old Miss Panney!" said Phoebe, with a snap. "She sent me outhere to look after Mike, an' was too stingy even to pay my hack fare.She wanted me to come day before yesterday, but I couldn't get away'til to-day."
"Where is Miss Panney?" asked La Fleur, quickly.
"She's gone to the seashore, where the Bannisters an' Miss Miriam is. Shesaid she'd come here herself if it hadn't been for goin' thar."
"To look after Mike?" asked the other.
"Not 'zactly," said Phoebe, with a grin. "There's other things here shewanted to look after."
"Upon my word!" exclaimed La Fleur, "I can't imagine what there is onthis place that Miss Panney need concern herself about."
"There isn't no place," said Phoebe, "where there isn't somethin' thatMiss Panney wants to consarn herself in."
La Fleur looked at Phoebe, and then dropped the subject.
"Don't you want a cup of tea?" she asked, a glow of hospitality suddenlyappearing on her face. "That will set you up sooner than anything else,and perhaps I can find a piece of one of those meat pies your husbandlikes so much."
Phoebe was not accustomed to being waited upon by white people, and tohave a repast prepared for her by this cook of high degree flattered hervanity and wonderfully pleased her. Her soul warmed toward the good womanwho was warming and cheering her body.
"I say it again," remarked La Fleur, "that I cannot think what that oldlady should want to look after in this house."
"Now look here, madam," said Phoebe, "it's jes' nothin' at all. It'sjes' the most nonsensical thing that ever was. I don't mind tellin' youabout it; don't mind it a bit. She wants Mr. Hav'ley to marry Miss DoraBannister, an' she's on pins an' needles to know if the young woman hereis likely to ketch him. That's all there is 'bout it. She don't care twosnaps for Mike, an' I reckon he don't want no looking after anyway."
"No, indeed," answered the other; "I take the best of care of him. MissPanney must be dreadful afraid of our young lady, eh?"
"That's jes' what she is," said Phoebe. "I wonder she didn't take Mr.Hav'ley along with her when she went to the seashore."
La Fleur's eyes sparkled.
"Now come, Phoebe," said she; "what on earth did she want you to dohere?"
Phoebe took a long draught of tea, and put down the cup, with a sighof content.
"Oh, nothin'," said she. "She jes' wanted me to spy round, an' see if Mr.Hav'ley an' Miss Drane was fallin' in love with each other, an' then Iwas to go an' tell her about it the mornin' before she started. Now I'llhave to keep it 'til she comes back, but I reckon thar ain't nothin' totell about."
La Fleur laughed. "Nothing at all," said she. "You might stay here a weekand you wouldn't see any lovemaking between those two. They don't as muchas think of such a thing. So you need not put yourself to any troubleabout that part of Miss Panney's errand. Here comes your good Michael,and I think you will find that he is doing very well."
About ten minutes after this, when Phoebe and Mike had gone off to talkover their more than semi-detached domestic affairs, La Fleur took thetelegram from the drawer, replaced it in its envelope, which she closedand fastened so neatly that no one would have supposed that it had beenopened. Then she took from a shelf a railroad time-table, which lay incompany with her cookbook and a few other well-worn volumes; for the goodcook cared for reading very much as she cared for her own mayonnaisedressing; she wanted but little at a time, but she liked it.
"The last train to the city seems to be seven-ten," she said to herself."No other train after that stops at Thorbury. If he had been at home hewould have taken an early afternoon train, which was what she expected, Isuppose. It will be a great pity for him to have to go tonight, and forno other reason than for that old trickster's telegram. If anything hasreally happened, he'll get news of it in some sensible shape."
At all events, there was nothing now to be done with the telegram, so sheput it on the shelf, and set about her preparations for dinner, which hadbeen very much delayed.
Ralph had gone off fishing; but, before starting, he had put Mrs.Browning to the gig and had told Cicely that as soon as her work wasfinished, she must take her mother for a drive. The girl had beendelighted, and the two had gone off for a long jog through th
ecountry lanes.
It was late in the afternoon when Ralph came striding homewardacross the fields. He was still a mile from Cobhurst, and on a bit ofrising ground when, on the road below him, he saw Mrs. Browning andthe gig, and to his surprise the good old mare was demurely trottingaway from Cobhurst.
"Can it be possible," he exclaimed, "that they have just started!" Andhe hurried down toward the road. He now saw that there was only oneperson in the gig, and very soon he was near enough to perceive thatthis was Cicely.
"I expect you are wondering what I am doing here by myself, and where Iam going," she said, when she stopped and he stood by the gig. "I shalltell you the exact truth, because I know you will not mind. We startedout a long time ago, but mother had a headache, and the motion of the gigmade it worse. She was trying to bear it so that I might have a drive,but I insisted upon turning back. I took her as far as the orchard, whereI left her, and since then I have been driving about by myself and havingan awfully good time. Mother did not mind that, as I promised not to gofar away. But I think I have now gone far enough along this road. I likedriving ever so much! Don't you want me to drive you home?"
"Indeed I do!" said Ralph, and in he jumped.
"I expect Miriam must be enjoying this lovely evening," she said. "Andshe will see the sun set from the beach, for Barport faces westward, andI never saw a girl enjoy sunsets as she does. At this moment I expect herface is as bright as the sky."
"And wouldn't you like to be standing by her?" asked Ralph.
Cicely shook her head. "No," she said. "To speak truly, I should ratherbe here. We used to go a good deal to the seashore, but this is the firsttime that I ever really lived in the country, and it is so charming Iwould not lose a day of it, and there cannot be very many more days ofit, anyway."
"Why not?" asked Ralph.
"I am now copying chapter twenty-seventh of the doctor's book, and thereare only thirty-one in all. And as to his other work, that will notoccupy me very long."
Ralph was about to ask a question, but, instead, he involuntarily graspedone of the little gloved hands that held the reins.
"Pull that," he said quickly. "You must always turn to the right when youmeet a vehicle."
Cicely obeyed, but when they had passed a wagon, drawn by a team of oxen,she said, "But there was more room on the other side."
"That may be," replied Ralph, with a laugh, "but when you are driving,you must not rely too much on your reason, but must follow rules andtradition."
"If I knew as much about driving as I like it," said she, "I should be afamous whip. Before we go, I am going to ask Miriam to take me out withher, two or three times, and give me lessons in driving. She told me thatyou had taught her a great deal."
"So you would be willing to take your tuition secondhand," said Ralph. "Iam a much better teacher than Miriam is."
"Would you like to make up a class?" she asked. "But I do not know howthe teacher and the two pupils could ride in this gig. Oh, I see. Miriamand I could sit here, and you could walk by our side and instruct us, andwhen the one who happened to be driving should make a mistake, she wouldgive up her seat and the reins, and go to the foot of her class."
"Class indeed!" exclaimed Ralph; "I'll have none of it. I will take youout tomorrow and give you a lesson."
So they went gayly on till they came to a grassy hill which shut out thewestern view.
"Do you think I could go through that gate," asked Cicely, "and driveMrs. Browning up that hill? There is going to be a grand sunset, and weshould get a fine view of it up there."
"No," said Ralph, "let us get out and walk up, and as Mrs. Browning cansee the barn, we will not worry her soul by tying her to the fence. Ishall let her go home by herself, and you will see how beautifully shewill do it."
So they got out, and Ralph having fastened the reins to the dashboard,clicked to the old mare, who walked away by herself. Cicely was greatlyinterested, and the two stood and watched the sober-minded animal as shemade her way home as quietly and properly as if she had been driven. Whenshe entered the gate of the barnyard, and stopped at the stable door,Ralph remarked that she would stand there until Mike came out, and thenthe two went into the field and walked up the hill.
"I once had a scolding from Miriam for doing that sort of thing," saidRalph; "but you do not seem to object."
"I do not know enough yet," cried Cicely, who had begun to run up thehill; "wait until I have had my lessons."
They stood together at the top of the little eminence.
"I wonder," said Cicely, "if Miriam ever comes upon this hill at sunset.Perhaps she has never thought of it."
Ralph did not know; but the mention of Miriam's name caused him to thinkhow little he had missed his sister, who had seemed to live in his lifeas he had lived in hers. It was strange, and he could not believe that hewould so easily adapt himself to the changed circumstances of his homelife. There was another thing of which he did not think, and that wasthat he had not missed Dora Bannister. It is true that he had never seenmuch of that young lady; but he had thought so much about her, and madeso many plans in regard to her, and had so often hoped that he might seeher drive up to the Cobhurst door, and had had such charmingrecollections of the hours she had spent in his home, and of the travelsthey had taken together by photograph, her blue eyes lifted to his as ifin truth she leaned upon his arm as they walked through palace and park,that it was wonderful that he did not notice that for days his thoughtshad not dwelt upon her.
When the gorgeous color began to fade out of the sky, Cicely said hermother would be wondering what had become of her, and together they wentdown the hill, and along the roadside, where they stopped to pick sometall sprays of goldenrod, and through the orchard, and around by thebarnyard, where Mike was milking, and where Ralph stopped while Cicelywent on to the house.
Phoebe was standing down by the entrance gate. She was waiting for anoxcart, whose driver had promised to take her with him on his return toThorbury. She had arranged with a neighbor to prepare the minister'ssupper, but she must be on hand to give him his breakfast. As there wasnothing to interest her at Cobhurst, and nothing to report, she was gladto go, and considered this oxcart a godsend, for her plan of getting Miketo drive her over in the spring cart had not been met with favor.
Waiting at the gateway, she had seen Ralph and Cicely walk up the hill,and watched them standing together, ever and ever so long, looking at thesky, and she had kept her eyes on them as they came down the hill,stopped to pick flowers which he gave to her, and until they haddisappeared among the trees of the orchard.
"Upon my word an' honor!" ejaculated Mrs. Robinson, "if that old Frenchslop-cook hasn't lied to me, wus than Satan could do hisself! If themtwo ain't lovers, there never was none, an' that old heathen sinnerthought she could clap a coffee bag over my head so that I couldn't seenothin' nor tell nothin'. She might as well a' slapped me in the face,the sarpent!"
And unable, by reason of her indignation, to stand still any longer, shewalked up the road to meet the returning oxcart, whose wheels could beheard rumbling in the distance.
La Fleur had seen the couple standing together on the little hill, butshe had thought it a pity to disturb their tete-a-tete.