Part 11 (1/2)

”Come into the garden,” said Beatrice, stepping forward in her usual bright way, forgetting herself completely, and in consequence putting every one else at their ease. ”We are very punctual people at Northbury,” she continued, ”and we are all wild to begin our game Captain Bertram, these are my friends, the Bells. May I introduce you?

This is Miss Matty, and this is Miss Alice, and this is Miss Sophy.

Matty, I put Captain Bertram into your charge. Albert,” she continued, looking at young Bell, ”will you and Daisy arrange a set for tennis?”

How Albert Bell did bless Beatrice! In a moment or two all the visitors were perambulating about the garden. Mr. Jones was escorted on one side by Polly Jenkins, on the other, he, in his turn, tried to escort Mabel Bertram, who did not talk a great deal and seemed somewhat out of her element. Catherine and Beatrice walked together, and Mrs. Meadowsweet, still sitting in her arm-chair, smiled as she saw them.

”That's a nice girl, and a fine looking girl,” she murmured, ”and very good company for my Bee. Very good company for her. Yes, the Bertrams are stylish but not of our set. My word, not a bit of our set. Bee, of course, might talk to anybody, but the rest of us--no, no, I'm the first to see the fitness of things, and the Bertrams don't belong to us nor we to them. Bee takes after her father, poor man, but the rest of us, we have no right to know the Bertrams. Now, do look at that young captain.

Why, he's making the little Bells laugh themselves into fits. Dear me, I'd better go out. These girls don't know manners, and their heads will be turned by that fine young spark. They are certain to believe any rubbish he talks to them.”

Mrs. Meadowsweet rose with difficulty, stepped out of the open window, and sailed in her rose-colored satin across the gra.s.s.

”Now, what's up?” she said. ”Fie, fie, Matty, your laugh is for all the world like a hen cackling.”

”He, he!” exclaimed the younger girls.

”Now, there you are off again, and all three of you this time!”

”It's Captain Bertram, ma'am,” began Matty.

”Captain Bertram!” echoed Alice.

”Bertram,” sighed Sophy.

”He says,” continued Matty, ”that we are all alike, and he doesn't know one from the other, and we are trying to puzzle him. It is such delicious fun.”

”Delicious fun!” said Alice.

”Fun!” gasped Sophy, through her peals of mirth.

”Now,” continued Alice, ”he shall begin again. He shall go through his catechism. Here we three stand in a row. Which is Matty, which is Alice, which is Sophy?”

Captain Bertram pulled his mustache, swept his dark eyes over the little eager palpitating group, and in a languid tone p.r.o.nounced the wrong one to be Matty.

The cackling rose to a shriek.

”You shall pay a forfeit, you bad man,” said the real Matty. She shook her little fat finger at him. ”Oh, yes, Mrs. Meadowsweet, he really shall--he _must_. This really is too sweetly delicious,--fancy his not knowing me from Alice--I call it ungallant. Now what shall the forfeit be, Alice and Sophy. Let's put our fingers on our lips and think.”

”He shall tell us,” exclaims Alice, ”he shall describe at full length his--”

She looked at her sisters.

”His first battle,” prompted Matty.

”No, no, better than that, better than that--” came from Sophy's girlish lips. ”Captain Bertram shall tell us about his--his first love.”

It may have been rude, but at this remark Captain Bertram not only changed color but turned in a very marked way from the Misses Bell, and devoted himself to his hostess.

He was attacked by a complaint somewhat in vogue in high life--he had a sudden fit of convenient deafness. He said a few words in a cold voice to Mrs. Meadowsweet, crushed the little Bells by his icy manner, and took the first opportunity of finding more congenial society.

An eager game of tennis was going on, and Beatrice, who did not play, stood by to watch. Northbury was accustomed to Beatrice, and did not therefore observe, what was very patent to Captain Bertram, that this girl was as perfectly well-bred as his own sisters. She wore a long, gray cashmere dress, slightly open at her throat, with ruffles of soft, real lace.