Part 10 (1/2)
The boy paused at the door, and Martha whispered a few words into his ear. ”Do you understand?” she asked.
”Betcher life,” cried 109. ”I'm on, lady, I'm on.” And with a merry whistle and another wink at the excited Aunt Jane, 109 made a dignified and breezy exit, followed by the surprised Lizzie.
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”MORE FLOWERS AND FROM A MAN I HAVE NEVER SPOKEN TO.”]
”Well,” said Mrs. Anderson, grimly, sitting with her arms folded, ”I'm waiting.”
”Waiting for what, Aunt Jane?” inquired Martha.
”For an explanation of this extraordinary scene. Who sent you that money, and what do you intend to do with it?”
Martha half laughed at her earnestness.
”I can't tell you just now, Aunt Jane,” she said.
”But I must know. When Mr. Clayton brought you to me, he asked me to look out for you, and I mean to do so.”
”And so you have. You've been everything that you could be, dear and thoughtful, but it's got so I'm the laughing-stock of the entire company. I daren't take a step out of this house but you must be fully informed about everything I do and everywhere I go.”
”Mr. Clayton wishes to know.”
”If Mr. Clayton wishes to know, why doesn't he come and ask me? He hasn't been here more than twice in the past four months. Am I to blame if I wish some innocent amus.e.m.e.nt? He never thinks of me, and when some one else does seem to take an interest in my affairs, and show me a little attention, am I to blame if I like it?”
”You are to blame for accepting hundred-dollar bills.”
”But I haven't accepted them yet. I haven't been able to return them before this--”
”What? There were others?”
”For the past six weeks a messenger boy has brought me a note every Sat.u.r.day. Each letter contained a hundred-dollar bill.”
”Great heavens!” Aunt Jane collapsed on the sofa. ”And wasn't there any name signed to the letters?”
”Only the words 'From your unknown admirer.' I could not return the money, for I didn't know his name--until now. This letter I have just received gives his name.”
”Who is it, dearie?” inquired Aunt Jane, confidentially, coming to Martha's side. ”Perhaps I know him.”
”His name is--but there, it doesn't matter.” Martha turned away and put both letter and hundred-dollar bill into her handbag.
”It does matter,” cried Aunt Jane, indignation and curiosity battling for supremacy. ”This is a very serious thing. If a strange man sends a young girl hundreds of dollars, why, he must be crazy about you. Did he send you anything else?”
”A few trifles--some jewelry.”
”Has he asked you to marry him?”
”What nonsense,” laughed Martha. ”He has only asked me to dinner.”
”You must not go, Martha,” said Aunt Jane, decisively. ”You know Mr.
Clayton wouldn't like you to take dinner with other gentlemen.”
”Then why doesn't Mr. Clayton take me to dinner himself?” she cried pa.s.sionately.