Part 10 (2/2)

Geoffrey started violently, and turned around. Vesta was standing framed in the dark doorway. The clear whiteness of her beauty had never seemed more wonderful. The faint rose in her cheeks only made the white more radiant; her eyes were no longer agate-like, but soft and full of light; only her smile remained the same, shadowy, elusive, a smile in a dream.

When the young doctor remembered his manners and rose to his feet--after all, it was only a moment or two--he saw that Miss Vesta was standing behind her niece, a little gray figure melting into the gloom of the twilight hall. The two now entered the room together.

”Aunt Vesta wanted you to see my new hat, Aunt Tree,” said the girl.

”Do you like it?”

”Yes!” said Miss Vesta, coming forward timidly. ”Good evening, Aunt Marcia. Oh, good evening to you, Doctor Strong. The hat seemed to me so pretty, and you are always so kindly interested, Aunt Marcia! I ought to apologise to you, Doctor Strong, for introducing such a subject.”

”Vesta, don't twitter!” said Mrs. Tree. ”Is there anything improper about the hat? It's very well, child, very well. I always liked a scoop myself, but folks don't know much nowadays. What do you think of it, young man?”

Geoffrey thought it looked like a lunar halo, but he did not say so; he said something prim and conventional about its being very pretty and becoming.

”Are you going to sit down?” asked Mrs. Tree. ”I can't abide to see folks standing round as if they was hat-poles.”

Miss Vesta slipped into a seat, but the younger Vesta shook her head.

”I must go on!” she said. ”Aunt Phoebe is expecting a letter, and I must tell her that there is none.”

”Yes, dear, yes!” said Miss Vesta. ”Your Aunt Phoebe will be impatient, doubtless; you are right. And perhaps it will be best for me, too--”

she half rose, but Mrs. Tree pulled her down again without ceremony.

”You stay here, Vesta!” she commanded. ”I want to see you. But you”--she turned to Geoffrey, who had remained standing--”can go along with the child, if you're a mind to. You'll get nothing more out of me, I tell ye.”

”I am going to send you a measles bacillus to-morrow morning,” said the young doctor. ”You must take it in your coffee, and then you will want to see me every day. Good-bye, Mrs. Tree! some day you will be sorry for your cruelty. Miss Vesta--till tea-time!”

Aunt and niece watched the young couple in silence as they walked along the street. Both walked well; it was a pleasure to see them move. He was tall enough to justify the little courteous bend of the head, but not enough to make her anxious about the top of her hat--if she ever had such anxieties.

”Well!” said Mrs. Tree, suddenly.

Miss Vesta started. ”Yes, dear Aunt Marcia!” she said. ”Yes, certainly; I am here.”

”They make a pretty couple, don't they?” said the old lady. ”If she would come out of her tantrums,--hey, Vesta?”

”Oh, Aunt Marcia!” said Miss Vesta, softly. She blushed very pink, and looked round the room with a furtive, frightened glance.

”No, there's no one behind the sofa,” said Mrs. Tree; ”and there's no one under the big chair, and Phoebe is safe at home with her knitting, and the best place for her.” (Mrs. Tree did not ”get on” with her niece Phoebe.) ”There's no use in looking like a scared pigeon, Vesta Blyth.

I say they make a pretty couple, and I say they would make a pretty couple coming out of church together. I'd give her my Mechelin flounces; you'll never want 'em.”

”Oh, Aunt Marcia!” said dear Miss Vesta, clasping her soft hands. ”If it might be the Lord's will--”

”The Lord likes to be helped along once in a while!” said Mrs. Tree.

”Don't tell me! I wasn't born yesterday.” And this statement was not to be controverted.

CHAPTER X.

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