Kitabı oku: «Barbara Ladd», sayfa 6
CHAPTER XI
From Second Westings that morning, after old Debby's alarm, Doctor John and Doctor Jim had came posthaste on horseback to Westings Landing. Now, however, it was found that Barbara was quite too worn out by the fatigues of her long, strenuous day to sit a horse for a ten mile's ride over rough roads in the dark. Priding herself not less on her endurance than on her horsemanship, she vehemently repudiated the charge that she was done up, and was determined to ride back on the liveliest of the Blue Boar's horses. But Doctor John and Doctor Jim, scanning critically her white face and the dark rims coming about her eyes, for once agreed in a professional judgment. They ordered the horses hitched to the roomy old chaise, which was one of the landlord's most cherished possessions; and Barbara had to accept, rebelliously enough, the supineness of a cushioned seat for the free lift and swing of the saddle. Before the lighted doorway of the inn was out of sight, however, she was glad of the decision. Her overwrought nerves began to relax under the soothing of the wood scents and the tender summer dark. In a little while she was asleep in the strong curve of Doctor Jim's right arm, – so deep asleep that all the ruts and jolts and corduroy bridges of an old Connecticut back-country road were powerless to disturb her peace. When they woke her up, at her aunt's door, she was so drenched with sleep that she forgot to dread the reckoning. With drowsy, dark eyes, and red mouth softly trustful as a baby's, she bewildered Mistress Ladd by a warm kiss and "I'm sorry, Aunt Hitty!" and went stumbling off to bed with her basket of sleeping kittens, oblivious and irresponsible as they.
Mistress Mehitable looked after her with small, stern mouth, but troubled eyes. Then she turned half helplessly to her friends, as if to say, "What can I – what ought I to do?"
Doctor John threw up both big, white hands in mock despair, and his sympathetic laugh said, "What do you expect?" But Doctor Jim, more direct and positive, said, "Best leave her alone till to-morrow, Mehitable; and then talk to her with no talk of punishing. She's not the breed that punishing's good for."
Mistress Mehitable looked sorrowful, but resolute.
"I fear that would not be right, Jim!" she said. But there was a note of deep anxiety in her voice. "People who do wrong ought to be punished. Barbara has done very, very wrong!"
Doctor Jim was as near feeling impatient as he could dare to imagine himself with Mistress Mehitable.
"Nonsense – I mean, dear lady, punishment's not in itself one of our numerous unpleasant duties. It's a means to an end, that's all. In this case, it just defeats your end. It's the wrong means altogether. Therefore – pardon me for saying it to you, Mehitable – it's wrong. It's hard enough to manage Barbara, I know, but to punish her, or talk to her of punishing, makes it harder still, eh, what?"
"Don't let your conscience trouble you, Mehitable," said Doctor John. "I'm thinking the little maid will manage to get for herself, full measure and running over, all the punishment that's coming to her. She's not the kind that punishment overlooks."
Was there a suspicion of criticism in all this? Could it be that John Pigeon and Jim Pigeon, her lifelong cavaliers, in whose sight all she did was wont to seem perfection, whose unswerving homage had been her stay through many an hour of faintness and misgiving, were now, at last, beginning to admit doubts? Two large tears gathered slowly in the corners of Mistress Mehitable's blue eyes, the resolution fled from her mouth, and her fine lips quivered girlishly. She twisted her shapely little hands in her apron, then regained her self-control with an effort.
"Dear friends," said she, "I fear I have made a sad failure of the duty which I so confidently undertook. I thought I could surely do so much for her, – could so thoroughly understand Winthrop's child. But that foreign woman – that strange blood! There is the trouble. That is what baffles all my efforts. Oh, perhaps it is partly my fault, too. Perhaps the child was right in the very singular letter she left for me, saying – just as if she were a grown woman and had the same rights as I had – that the trouble was that we could not understand each other! Oh, I fear I am not the right woman to have the care of Barbara!"
"You are the rightest woman in the world, Mehitable!" thundered Doctor Jim, in explosive protest against this self-accusation. "The rightest woman in the world to have the care of any man, woman, or child that ever lived."
"Jim Pigeon's right, Mehitable, as he usually is, outside of medicine and politics," declared Doctor John. "The little maid will be ready enough some day, I'll warrant, to acknowledge how lucky she was in having her Aunt Hitty to care for her. But here in Second Westings we are not just at the centre of things exactly, and it may be we get into ruts, thinking our ways are the only ways. Shall we try new ways with this very difficult little maid, Hitty?"
Mistress Mehitable brushed off the tears which had overflowed, and held out a hand to each of the big brothers.
"You are the best friends a woman ever had," she averred with conviction; "and if you both disagree with me, I must be wrong. It shall be your way to the best of my power. After you've had the horses put up, come back here and I'll have a hot bite ready for you. But – oh, I do wish Winthrop had married among his own people!"
"It is late, dear lady, and you are tired after your anxieties," said Doctor Jim. "But, nevertheless, since you are so gracious, we will soon return, – eh, what, John? – for a bowl of that hot sangaree which Mehitable's fair hands know how to brew so delicately."
"Don't misunderstand Jim, Mehitable," said Doctor John, as the two withdrew. "The comfort of your punch is nothing to us as the comfort of your presence. Had you ever consented to make one man happy, how miserable would you have made others, Mehitable!"
There was deep meaning and an old reproach under Doctor John's tender raillery; and Mistress Ladd's cheeks flushed as she stood a few moments motionless, alone in her low-ceiled, wide parlour. She was convicted of failure at every point. Well she knew how happy she might have made either one of the big-limbed, big-hearted brothers, had she not shrunk from making the other miserable. And she had never been able to decide which was the dearer to her heart; for, though she was apt to turn first to Jim in any need, or any joy, the thought of pain for John was ever hard for her to endure. Her heart was very full as she set about preparing the brew which they both loved: and before they came she stole noiselessly up-stairs to the room over the porch, and softly kissed the dark, unrepentant waves of the sleeping Barbara's hair.
CHAPTER XII
It was late morning when Barbara awoke – so late that she saw, by the position of the square of sunshine on the wall beyond her bed, that the hour for breakfast was over. Her first vague waking sense was one of joy to come, which she presently caught and fixed as the knowledge that her Uncle Bob would soon be with her. Then a great flood of depression rolled over her, blotting out the joy, as she remembered that she had Aunt Hitty yet to reckon with. To make matters worse, she had slept past breakfast time, – which was almost an immorality in that punctual household. A lump came up in her throat, and tears ached behind her eyes, for she had meant to try so hard to make up, – and now she had gone and sinned again. She shut her eyes tight, and made a determined effort to regain hold of the sleepiness which still drenched and clouded her brain. This effort was too much, and on the instant the last vestige of her drowsiness cleared away, and her brain grew keen as flame. She sat up, determined to face the conflict and get it over.
As she sat up, her eyes fell upon the little table by her bedside, whereon she was wont to keep her candle, her filagreed bottle of lavender water, her much marked copy of Sir Philip Sidney's sonnets, and her Bible, which was thumbed chiefly at Isaiah, Ecclesiastes, and the Song of Solomon. Her eyes opened very wide as she saw there now, – event unprecedented and unbelievable, – a little tray with white linen napkin. On the tray were a glass and a jug of milk, a plate of the seed-cakes which she particularly loved, a big slice of barley bread, and a bowl of yellow raspberries. She stared for half a minute, and rubbed her eyes, and thought. Abby, certainly, could not have done it. She would neither have dared nor cared to. Then – it was Aunt Hitty, – and after the way she had treated her, – and after that cold, hateful letter! She reached out a doubtful hand and touched the bread and berries. She started to eat a seed-cake, but it stuck in her throat, quite unable to get past a certain strange, aching obstruction, which had gathered there all at once. Tears suddenly streamed down her face; and springing impulsively out of bed, she ran, barefooted and in her white nightgown, straight to the little bow-windowed sewing-room, where she knew that at this hour her aunt would be busy with the needle.
Mistress Mehitable had just time to thrust aside her needle and the fine fabric she was fashioning before Barbara flung herself into her arms, sobbing passionately. The good lady's heart warmed in response to this outburst, and she held Barbara close to her breast, whispering, "There, there, dearie, we just won't talk about it at all! We'll just try hard to understand each other better in the future!"
At the same moment, while her eyes were filling with tears, she could not help a whimsical thought of what Doctor John would say. "He would say," – she said to herself at the back of her brain, – "'Seed-cakes may save a soul quicker than switchings, Mehitable!'" Mistress Mehitable's earnest mind had no apprehension of humour save as it reached her by reflection from Doctor John or Doctor Jim.
Presently Barbara found her voice.
"Forgive me, Aunt Hitty, forgive me!" she sobbed.
Mistress Mehitable held her a little closer by way of reply.
"I'm not worth your while, Aunt Hitty – I'm not one bit worth all the trouble you take for me – I'm nothing but a wretched little reptile, Aunt Hitty, – and I just wonder you don't hate and despise me!"
"There, there, dear," murmured Mistress Mehitable, patting her hair. She was sure of her feelings, but could not be quite sure that words would rightly express them at this crisis. If she talked, she knew she might say the wrong thing. She'd leave it all to Barbara, and be safe at least for the moment.
"I knew how bad I was," continued Barbara, justifying the statement by remembrance of some brief and scattered moments of self-questioning. "I knew how bad I was, but I couldn't say so, and I never, never knew how lovely you could be, Aunt Hitty! I was so dreading to see you this morning, – and then, oh, you just brought me the seed-cakes, and the yellow raspberries, and never said one word!"
As she dwelt on this magnanimity, Barbara's sobs broke forth afresh.
"There, there, dear," murmured Mistress Mehitable again, and kissed her tenderly, still refusing to be drawn from her intrenchments, but deeply rejoicing in the triumph of her new strategy.
"To think – why, I never really knew you till now, Aunt Hitty!" and Barbara hugged her with swift vehemence. "When I saw the things by my bed, and thought of you stealing in and putting them there, and stealing out without waking me, – oh, Aunt Hitty, I thought such a lot all in one instant, and I knew you couldn't have done that, after me being so bad, unless you loved me, – could you?"
"Indeed I couldn't!" answered Mistress Ladd, with conviction.
"And you will really and truly forgive me?" persisted Barbara.
This was a direct challenge, and Mistress Mehitable was too honest not to come forth and meet it. She gently pushed Barbara off, and held her so she could look straight into her fearless young eyes.
"I really and truly forgive you – and love you, Barbara!" she said. "And" – she continued, with a slight hesitancy, in an instant's resolve achieving a resolution, – "I ask you to forgive me for my misunderstandings of you, and all my many mistakes."
"Why, Aunt Hitty!" exclaimed Barbara, too tender in her mood to agree with these self-accusations, but too honest to contradict.
"I have failed to realise how, being so different from other girls, you required different treatment from other girls," went on Mistress Mehitable, firmly abasing herself. "I thought there was only one right mould, and I must try to force you into it, however much the effort should hurt us both, dear. I have been blind, very blind, and wrong. In this remote little world of ours, Barbara, we get into ruts, and come to think that the only way is our way."
Barbara's eyes were glowing with enthusiasm. She had discovered Aunt Kitty's heart, – and now she was discovering a breadth and insight which she could never have believed possible in that competent but seemingly restricted brain. If Aunt Hitty could thus lift herself to look beyond the atmosphere of Second Westings, and to understand people different from those she had always been used to, she must be a very great woman. Barbara's eyes flamed with the ardour of her appreciation. She did not know what to say, but her expression was eloquent.
"That's a quotation from Doctor John," said the conscientious Mistress Mehitable, suddenly afraid from Barbara's glowing look that she was getting more credit than her due. "But I have become convinced of its truth."
"How wise and good you are, Aunt Hitty! I'll never, never misunderstand you again!" cried Barbara, rashly, breaking down Mistress Mehitable's guard, and once more hugging her with vehemence.
Mistress Mehitable smiled, gratified but doubtful. She was surprised at her own unexpected appreciation of Barbara's demonstrativeness and warmth, so unlike anything that had ever before invaded the cool sphere of her experience. She felt it her duty, however, to qualify Barbara's extravagant expectations, not realising that what the impetuous girl intended to express was rather a hope than a conviction.
"We hardly dare expect quite that, dear," she said, gently. "But at least we can agree to trust each other's good intentions. We can promise that, can't we?"
"Of course, I'll always trust you now, Aunt Hitty, since I've seen your lovely heart!" exclaimed Barbara, with flattering fervour.
"I have failed to realise," continued Mistress Mehitable, "that you are no longer a little girl, but very nearly a grown woman. Many girls are grown women at your age, Barbara, so that I have decided on something that will surprise you. From this time forward, I shift my responsibility for you largely to your own shoulders, and shall hope to be more your friend than your guardian. I hand you over to yourself, Barbara. You must learn to discipline yourself!"
Barbara slipped down to the floor, and leaned against her aunt's knee, her dark, small face grown very thoughtful.
"All I dare say, Aunt Hitty," she said, slowly, weighing her words with unwonted care, "is that I'll try with all my might. But I warn you that you are leaving me in very bad hands. I want to be good, but sometimes I can't help being bad!"
"Well," said Mistress Mehitable, with a curious reflex of Doctor John's humour, "you'll have to punish yourself after this. I warn you that you must not look to me for punishment after this!"
Barbara's eyes got very wide, and danced; and she gave a little shriek of delight, such as that with which she was wont to greet Doctor John's whimsical sallies.
"Why, Aunt Hitty," she cried, clapping her hands, "you said that just like Doctor John!"
Mistress Mehitable flushed faintly, and laughed like a girl. She stooped over and kissed Barbara fairly on the mouth. Then she arose rather hurriedly.
"I have often wished I could make myself in many ways more like those two great-hearted gentlemen!" she said.
Barbara remained sitting upon the floor. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she stared out of the window.
"They are perfectly dear," she agreed, without reservation, "Isn't it splendid that they love us so, Aunt Hitty?"
"I'm going to the still-room now," said Mistress Mehitable, moving toward the door. "I put in the bergamot just before breakfast."
"I'll come and help you in a little while, – dear!" said Barbara, suddenly realising the changed relations, and suddenly making practical application of it. That caressing, equal, half-protecting "dear" sounded strange to Mistress Mehitable. It gave her something of a shock, yet she was not sure she didn't like it. It made her feel less alone than of old. She appeared not to notice it, however, merely saying before she vanished:
"If I'm not in the still-room, I'll be down the back garden, gathering herbs. The lemon-thyme's in flower, if you're going to distill any more of your 'Maryland Memories.' Uncle Robert might like a flask of it."
"Lovely," said Barbara, dreamily. "We will make him some. I'll hurry."
But for a few minutes she did not hurry at all. Her rich, rebellious hair all down about her vivid face, her thin little shapely feet peeping out from under the frills of her white nightgown, she sat in the square of sunshine and pondered. Since she fled away yesterday morning, what a change had come about! She felt as if that wild and foolish adventure was years behind her. A certain vague sense of responsibility oppressed her, a responsibility to herself hitherto unacknowledged. She made the momentous resolve that she would learn to know herself a little, as a step to enabling other people, Robert Gault and Aunt Hitty in particular, to understand her. She got up and scrutinised herself keenly in the glass.
"You didn't know you were getting so grown up, did you, you ugly, skinny, little black thing!" she muttered.
Then she flitted back to her own room, poured out a dish of milk for the hungry kittens, and snatched at her breakfast by mouthfuls, while she made her toilet and dressed. Last of all, before going to join Mistress Mehitable, she sat down on the edge of her bed, and took the kittens into her lap. One by one she held up their round, pinky-nosed faces, and gazed seriously into their enigmatic young eyes.
"I want you to remember, now, my babies," said she, insisting upon their unwilling attention, "that your missis is now most grow'd up – she's grow'd up in one night, like old Mr. Jonah's gourd. I want you to remember that we mustn't be silly and childish any more, except just in private, and where we can't help it. And I want you to remember that you mustn't try to coax your missis into mischief any more like you did yesterday, going and helping her run off with the canoe, and such foolishnesses. And I want you to remember that after this, if we can think of it, it isn't going to be 'Aunt Hitty' this, and 'Aunt Hitty' that, all the time, – but 'dear,' and 'honey' (as we used to say in Maryland), and 'blue-eyed lady,' and 'small person,' because we're just as tall as she is, – and we're too big to be punished any more, if we are bad, – and Uncle Bob's coming next week, – and Robert Gault may come any day, if he's impatient!"
With a face of unwonted sobriety, but dancing lights in her eyes, she went to the door. With her hand on the latch she changed her mind. Rushing to her glass, with a few deft touches she changed the arrangement of her hair, heaping it over her ears, and leaving just one crinkly curl to hang down over her left shoulder.
The change added years to her appearance. Then, snatching up a pair of scissors, she swiftly ripped out a deep tuck in her frock, letting the skirt down a good three inches. With vigorous brushings and assiduous pattings she smoothed out the crease so that it was not obtrusive; and severely checking her wonted rush and skip, she went to join Aunt Hitty in the fragrant mysteries of the still-room.
CHAPTER XIII
To both Mistress Mehitable and Barbara the new order of things proved itself, all through that first day, supremely satisfactory; and each vowed most solemnly in her heart that she, at least, would not be the one to blame if it did not last. During the afternoon, when Doctor John and Doctor Jim were drinking a pot of tea with them, and wondering delightedly at the unexpected atmosphere of peace, Barbara asked, suddenly:
"How did you ever manage, Aunt Hitty, to get Doctor John and Doctor Jim off after me so quickly. I thought I had such a good start! And how did you know which way I was going?"
Both men looked meaningly at Mistress Mehitable, but failed to catch her eye. Doctor Jim began to shake his head violently, but stopped in confusion under Barbara's look of questioning astonishment. But Mistress Mehitable, serenely unconscious, answered at once:
"Old Debby Blue," said she, "with whom you breakfasted, rode over as fast as she could to Doctor Jim with the news. The poor old woman was nearly dead from her exertions, I think you told me, Jim. She has a good heart, and truly loves you, Barbara. I am sorry if I have seemed harsh to her at times."
Barbara's eyes grew wide, her face darkened ominously, and her full, bowed lips drew together to a straight line of scarlet. Doctor John sat up straight, with twinkling eyes, expecting the outbreak of a characteristic Barbara storm, such as he always enjoyed in his big, dry way. But Doctor Jim made haste to interpose.
"You mustn't be too hard on Debby, Barbara, because she told what she had promised not to tell. What else could she do? You know well enough she couldn't stop you herself, you headstrong baggage. I won't have you unfair to Debby. She loves you, and nearly killed herself to save you!"
Barbara's look of anger changed to a sort of obstinate sullenness for an instant. Then with an effort she forced herself to smile, while tears sprang into her eyes.
"Of course, Debby was right," she acknowledged. "But I wish she'd done it some other way. She shouldn't have let me trust her. She fooled me when I trusted her. Oh, I'll forgive her, of course," she continued, bitterly, "but never, never, will I trust her again!" Then she sprang up impetuously, and ran and flung both arms around Mistress Mehitable. "Of course I'd forgive her, anyway, because if she hadn't fooled me I might have never found out how lovely you were, – honey!"
Both Doctor John and Doctor Jim were breathless with amazement for a moment. What was this miracle? Whence came this understanding and this sympathy, all in a night? They saw a new glad warmth in Mistress Mehitable's eyes. They exchanged significant glances.
"All I can say, Barbara," growled Doctor Jim, at length, "is that you've been a long while finding out what ought to have been as plain as the nose on your face, – eh, what?"
"For a young lady who was able to discern at first glance the fascinations of Jim Pigeon," chimed in Doctor John, "I think you have been rather undiscriminating, Barbara!"
"She could see two battered old tallow dips, when she couldn't see the moon!" added Doctor Jim, solemnly.
There was always a relish of peril in rallying Barbara, whose audacity in retort was one of the scandals of Second Westings. She flashed her white teeth upon them in a naughty smile, and her eyes danced as she kissed Mistress Mehitable on both cheeks.
"Of course," she cried. "Nobody knows better than you two great big dears what a perfect little fool I've been, not to be in love with Aunt Hitty all this time."
"Barbara!" protested Mistress Mehitable, in a tone of rebuke, – and then again, bethinking herself, "Barbara, child!" in a tone of appeal.
"But now, you can tell a hawk from a handsaw, eh, baggage?" chuckled Doctor John; while Doctor Jim exploded noisily, and then, checking himself, cast upon Mistress Mehitable a glance of apprehension.
But Barbara had heeded neither the rebuke nor the appeal.
"I know, I know," she went on, clapping her hands with delight. "You didn't want me to find her out, – you didn't want me to know how lovely she is! Conspirators! I won't love you any more, either of you. And I'm going to keep Aunt Hitty all to myself here; and not let you even see her; and make you both so jealous you'll wish you had let me run away in the canoe and get drowned in the rapids."
"Barbara, Barbara," murmured Mehitable.
Doctor Jim wagged his great head, and growled inarticulately.
"It's we who are the victims of conspiracy, John," said he. "If Mehitable and Barbara have discovered each other, what becomes of us, I'd like to know! But it sha'n't last. We'll sow seeds of dissension presently, – eh, what?"
"Just let us wait till Bobby Gault comes!" suggested Doctor John, with gentle malice.
Barbara's face grew grave on the instant.
"Of course, Aunt Hitty, they have told you all about Robert," she said, earnestly, "but all they know about his reasons is what he told them himself, you know. And he was determined to shield me, of course. But it was all my fault. How could he know how bad and foolish I was? I just mixed him all up; and it makes me ashamed to think how horrid I was; and I will never forgive myself. But you mustn't let them prejudice you against Robert, honey, – but just wait and see what you think of him yourself, won't you, please?"
Mistress Mehitable smiled, and exchanged looks with Doctor John and Doctor Jim.
"Really, dear," said she, "they have not given me any very bad impressions of Robert. I think both Doctor John and Doctor Jim knew where to put the blame. And I know, too!"
Barbara looked at her doubtfully. Such complete acceptance of her position almost seemed unkind and critical. But her aunt's smile reassured her. This was not criticism, but something as near raillery as Mistress Mehitable would permit herself.
"I believe they have been abusing me behind my back, – and they pretending to love me!" cried Barbara, tossing her head in saucy challenge.
"Never, child; we hug our delusions, Jim Pigeon and I," said Doctor John.
"No, hug me," laughed Barbara, darting around the tea-table and seating herself on his lap.
"You are our worst delusion, baggage!" said Doctor Jim, shaking a large finger at her. "And now I see you're setting out to delude your poor aunt, after making life a burden to her for two years. And poor Bobby Gault, – he'll find you a delusion and a snare!"
"I think you are unkind, even if you are just in fun," protested Barbara, half offended, half amused. But at this moment both men rose to go. Doctor John, as he raised his towering bulk from the chair, lifted Barbara with him as if she had been a baby, held her in his arms for a moment while he peered lovingly and quizzically into her swiftly clearing face, gave her a resounding kiss, and set her on her feet.
"Bless the child!" said Doctor Jim, noticing now for the first time the change in appearance. "What's become of our little Barbara? How she's grown up over night!"
"And how her petticoats have grown down!" added Doctor John, backing off to survey her critically. "Tut, tut, the wanton hussy! How did she dare to kiss me! Goodness gracious! To think I had a young woman like that sitting on my lap!"
"You had better be careful what you say, Doctor John," retorted Barbara, firmly, "or I will be grown up, and never kiss you or let you hold me on your lap any more!"
"I humbly crave your pardon, gracious fair. I am your most devoted, humble servant!" said Doctor John, setting his heels together at a precise right angle, and bowing profoundly over her hand till his brocaded coat-tails stuck out stiffly behind him.
Barbara rather liked this hand-kissing, after Robert's initiation, and took it with composure as her due. Why should she not have her hand kissed, as well as Aunt Hitty? But Doctor Jim made his farewell in different fashion.
"I won't have her grow up this way!" he growled, snatching her up and holding her as if he feared she would be taken away from him. "She's just our little Barby, our little, thorny brier-rose! Eh – what?"
"Our barby brier-rose, you mean!" interjected Doctor John, with a chuckle.
But every one ignored this poor witticism, and Doctor Jim continued, while Barbara softly kicked her toes against his waistcoat. "It would break my heart to have her grown up, and young missish, and prim. What have you done to her, Mehitable?"
Mistress Mehitable gave a clear little ripple of laughter, flute-like and fresh. She was feeling younger and gayer than she had felt for years.
"I have just tried to carry out your own suggestion, Jim!" said she, cheerfully. "I must say, I think it was a very wise suggestion. I have handed Barbara over to her own care, that's all. I am sorry you don't like the results!"
"Don't worry, Doctor Jim!" cried Barbara, purchasing her release by kissing him hard on both cheeks. "Don't worry about me being changed. I was born bad, you know. And I'm afraid I'll be just as bad as ever by to-morrow – except to Aunt Hitty! If I'm bad to you any more, dear," – and she turned impetuously to Mistress Mehitable, "I'll – I'll – " and feeling a sudden imperious threat of tears, she fled away to her own room. It had been a wonderful, wonderful day for her, and she felt that she must have a little cry at once. On her white bed she wept deliciously. Then she thought, and thought, and thought, and made resolves, in sympathetic communion with her pillow.
In the parlour below, Doctor Jim had said, before leaving:
"I think you are going to get a lot of comfort out of her now, Mehitable, eh, what?"
And Doctor John, troubled by a maudlin kind of moisture about his eyes, had said nothing.
And Mistress Mehitable had said, fervently:
"I hope she is going to get a lot of comfort out of me, Jim. I see that I have been greatly in the wrong!"
