Part 29 (1/2)
She closed her eyes, and Lucy saw her face first harden into a rebellious frown, then relax into sleep. As soon as the girl was quite sure she would not be heard, she went to the window and, drawing aside the curtain, waved her handkerchief.
Evidently Martin Howe was awaiting the signal, for on receiving it he sprang up from the chopping block where he was sitting and, returning the salute, disappeared into the barn from which he presently emerged with his surrey and bay mare.
Lucy lingered to see him rattle out of the yard and pa.s.s over the crest of the hill. Then with a strange sense of comfort and companions.h.i.+p she went back to her aunt's room. She sat there until dusk, watching the sleeping woman upon the bed.
Then Melvina arrived. She proved to be a large, placid-faced woman with a countenance from which every human emotion had been eliminated until it was as expressionless as a bronze Buddha. If she had ever known sorrow, delight, affection, surprise, it was so long ago that her reactionary system had forgotten how to reflect these sensations. It was obvious that nothing concerned her outside her immediate calling and that she accepted this with a stoical immovability which was neither to be diverted nor influenced.
Taking Lucy's hand in a loose, pudgy grasp she remarked:
”A shock?”
”Yes, you see, my aunt----”
”How old is she?”
”A little over seventy-five. I was away and when I----”
”First shock?”
”Yes.”
”Where is she?”
”Upstairs. But before you see her I want to explain that she is a little--well, peculiar. You may find that she----”
”I shan't pay no attention,” replied Melvina indifferently. ”I've seen all sorts--fretters, groaners, whiners, scolders; they're all one to me. So you needn't give yourself any uneasiness.”
She spoke in a voice as humdrum and colorless as was her round, flabby face, and Lucy smiled in spite of herself.
”I fancy it isn't really necessary for me to tell you anything then,” she answered good-humoredly. ”Of course you have had a wonderful chance to study personalities.”
”I never had a chance to study anything,” responded Melvina in a matter-of-fact manner. ”All I know I've picked up as I went along.”
”By study I mean that you have had a wide opportunity to observe human nature,” explained Lucy.
”If by human nature you mean folks, I have,” Melvina said in her habitual monotone.
After answering the remark, however, she made no further attempt at conversation but lapsed into a patient silence, regarding Lucy with her big, faded blue eyes. As she stood there, one gained an impression that she could have stood thus for an indefinite length of time--forever, if necessary. Not once did her gaze wander to her surroundings, and when Lucy conducted her to the room that had been a.s.signed her she entered it without curiosity.
”I hope you will be comfortable here,” the girl murmured with a hostess's solicitude.
”I shall be.”
”And if there is anything you want----”
”I'll ask for it.”
Although there was no rebuke in the utterance, before this monument of composure, Lucy, like David Copperfield in the presence of the waiter, suddenly felt very young.
”Thank you; I wish you would,” she managed to stammer, hastily closing the door.