Part 27 (1/2)
Bert joyfully undertook to bring Archie, and set off at once while Dr.
Helen gave Inga instructions for an especially festive supper, and with her own hands prepared a frozen dessert.
The four girls, who had barely slept apart in the week since Alice's arrival, were now walking along widely separate paths, each one feeling oddly alone, and yet not wholly disliking the sensation. Catherine, well-used to her mother's ways and beliefs, smiled to herself as she went off to tell stories and play cat's cradle with the washerwoman's little girl, who had a ”spine” and had to be ”kep' quiet with high epidemics somethin' fierce.”
”It's just like Mother,” she thought. ”She knew I was peevish and really needed to be alone. Just as she used to send me to my 'boudoir' to pout by myself when I was little. The hours with the girls seem so precious that I can't bear to lose one, but I suppose I did need to be alone. You know, Mr. Squirrel, or Mr. Oakkitten, as Frieda would call you, what George Herbert said:
'By all means use sometimes to be alone.
Salute thyself: see what thy soul doth wear.'
”You needn't scamper away up the tree so fast. I'm not going to stay round here long enough to interfere with your looking over your spiritual wardrobe. I wonder if your soul wears soft gray fur?” And the story-teller walked quickly on through the woods, chanting to herself: ”Old world, how beautiful thou art!” and planning for an unusually effective denouement for the tale of the Three Little Pigs.
Hannah, traversing the blistering length of Main Street, had arrived at the gloomy brick building labelled Hotel, and had inquired for Mrs.
Tracy of whom her prescription told her this much: ”Travelling man's wife, convalescent after long severe illness.”
Mrs. Tracy would receive her in her room, and Hannah followed the proprietor, who was also bell-boy and head waiter, up the shabby stairs, feeling decidedly foolish, but determined not to give up.
Once inside the room, she forgot her own feelings. It was a most doleful place, with ugly walls, cheap stained furniture and huge figured curtains; but she was met by a sweet-faced young woman in a soft blue negligee.
”Dr. Helen telephoned me that you were coming,” she said, taking Hannah's hand and looking into her eyes with a bright look that made Hannah feel interested at once.
”Will you take the place of honor?” She indicated a stiff little settee, upholstered in magenta cotton velvet.
”It must be what the _Courier_ advertis.e.m.e.nt meant, when it spoke of furniture, 'warranted upholstered,'” said Hannah seating herself, and smiling her most merry smile at her attractive little hostess.
The thin face almost dimpled with pleasure.
”So you read the _Courier_, too! Mr. Tracy bought back numbers of it to amuse me, and I've collected the most delightful clippings. You see, I'm alone so much. The nurse wasn't very entertaining, and my husband has to be away all the week, and I have to have some one to laugh with, or at least, something to laugh at!”
”What fun!” said Hannah. ”Do show me your clippings.”
”I was just pasting in a birth notice when you came,” said Mrs. Tracy, lifting a small sc.r.a.p-book from a table. ”It's about as good as anything. 'Mr. and Mrs. Ezra Kling are the proud parents of a fine baby girl. Present indications are that the lovely lump intends to stay.'”
”O!” Hannah shrieked and leaned forward to look. Mrs. Tracy handed her the book.
”That's why I cut them out and paste them. No one would believe them, otherwise. Here is a gem of music criticism: 'As he stepped to the edge of the platform, the word Artist came to every lip. His natural pathos mingled with his baritone in such a manner that it was impossible to tell where one left off and the other began. And in his dramatic numbers, the writhings of his face showed the convulsive agonies of a soul in pain.'”
”One of my friends told me about a singer coming to a little village, and they described her appearance and her dress, and wound up the paragraph by saying: 'The soloist wore white shoes. No other stage decorations were necessary.'”
”Delightful--unless it was deliberate wit! As it was in a Kansas paper, which spoke of some one's 'blowing large chunks of melody out of a flute.' But the charm of these Winsted gems is the entire unconsciousness of the writer. For instance, here: 'The elite lingerie of Winsted invited their gentleman friends to a leap-year ball!'”
”O, see here!” cried Hannah, turning the pages joyfully. ”'The hall was decorated with syringe blossoms!'”
”Only a misprint, and I saw in a Chicago paper the other day that one of the fas.h.i.+onable ladies wore a gown with a gold-colored y-o-l-k. This is partly a misprint, too, 'easy _hairs_ were scattered about with a lavish hand.' But I think it would take a hand that was powerful as well as lavish, to scatter easy chairs very generally! That was the same party where the hostess and her daughters 'dispensed with the refreshments in the dining-room!' But I am not going to keep you laughing over the _Courier_ all the afternoon,” and Mrs. Tracy tried to take the book away from Hannah.
”Just one more,” she begged. ”Listen! 'Mrs. Gray's speech was replete with wit, wisdom and winsome ways.' O dear, Mrs. Tracy! I never saw anything so funny as this book in all my life!”
”The trouble with it is that it gets one started on a certain line, and it is very hard to get away from it.”
”Like telling funny names you have heard,” suggested Hannah. ”Alice and Catherine and Frieda and I got to telling those last night, and we laughed so long and so hard that Dr. Helen came up and put us to bed!”
”Did you have any funnier than Pearl b.u.t.ton?”