Part 19 (1/2)
The treasures of the drawers hinted at, Simeon proceeded to exhibit other wonders. He possessed a coin brought from the sacred city of Lhasa and dropped through the ceiling into a closed and sealed box.
”There is no other known to the Western Hemisphere,” he said. ”The British Museum offered me a thousand pounds for it.”
To his mind all these slates, pictures, and flowers were evidences of the interest the great shades had taken in the work of converting Simeon Pratt to the faith, and the messages were intended to steady him in his convictions and to furnish him material with which to bring the world to his view. The man's faith was like to madness--without one ray of humor.
At any other time this astounding museum would have been a most absorbing study to Kate, but she was tingling with desire to get at the young seeress and her mother. ”What must they be,” she asked herself, ”to mix with this kind of idiocy?”
At last, when the favoring pause came, Britt explained to Pratt that Mrs. Rice was the sister of one who had known Viola in the West, and that she very much wished to see the psychic for a moment.
”I think Miss Lambert is engaged,” replied Simeon, sulkily; ”but I'll see,” and he led the way to a small sitting-room on the same floor.
”Stay here and I'll send your card up.”
”Tell her a sister of Professor Serviss.”
Simeon turned quickly. ”Serviss--ain't he one of the men that Clarke talks of having on the committee? Are you his sister?”
Kate bowed. ”Yes; my brother met Miss Lambert in the West.”
Pratt's face cleared. ”Well, well! I will send her right down. Your brother is the kind of man we want to reach,” he added, as he went out.
”Now, Dr. Britt,” began Kate, firmly, ”I want you to keep that boresome old man occupied while I talk with these women. I don't want him putting in his oar.”
”I'll do my best,” he answered, manfully, ”up to the measure of gagging him. I can't agree to order him out of the house.”
Kate was on her chair's edge with interest as she heard the rustle of skirts and the murmur of a pleasant voice, and when Viola, flushed, smiling, beautifully gowned, entered the room with outstretched hand, she rose with a spring, carried out of her well-planned reserve by the warmth and charm of the girl's greeting. She closed her gloved palm cordially on the fine hand so confidingly given. ”I am glad to know you. My brother has spoken so enthusiastically of you.”
Viola's flush deepened. ”Has he? I a.s.sure you we speak often of him.
I suppose he is too busy with his wonderful microbes to come and see poor, commonplace creatures like us.”
”He _is_ busy, but he only learned of your presence a few days ago.”
Viola turned. ”Mother, this is Mrs. Rice, Professor Serviss's sister.”
Kate liked Mrs. Lambert also, for she was looking remarkably handsome in a black gown of simple pattern. ”If these are adventuresses they are very clever in dress,” was her inward comment. ”I don't wonder Morton was captivated.” And she presently said: ”Can't you take me to your own room? I want to talk secrets with you.”
”Yes, let us do that.” Viola turned to her mother. ”Let's take Mrs.
Rice to our sitting-room.”
Mrs. Lambert a.s.sented timidly, with a quick glance towards Simeon, who was garrulously declaiming to Britt concerning the wonders of another painting by the Swedish cook.
Pratt, seeing the women rise, approached. ”Where are you going?” he asked, with a note of impatience in his voice.
”To my room,” answered Viola, firmly, and led the way up-stairs in silence; but when they were beyond earshot in the hall above she bitterly exclaimed: ”He spies on everything I do. He will hardly let me out of his sight. I am beginning to hate him, he has so little sense of decency.”
”Viola!” warned the mother.
”I don't care,” retorted the girl, defiantly. ”Why do we endure him--we are not dependent on him. He treats us precisely as if he owned us, and I'm tired of it. I wish papa would come on and take us home.”
”He may be a bore, but he houses you like royalty,” Kate remarked, as she glanced about the suite which Viola and her mother occupied. It formed the entire eastern end of the third floor of the house, and the decorations were Empire throughout, with stately canopied beds and a most luxurious bath-room.
”Oh yes, it's beautiful; but I would rather be this minute in our little log-cabin in the West,” answered the girl, with wistful sadness. ”Oh, these warm days make me homesick. When I was there I hated it, now I long to get back. I seem five years older--this winter has been terribly long to me.”