Part 2 (1/2)
It was fully a quarter of an hour before Iris returned, her face red from scrubbing and still showing dark traces of the ink on chin and cheek. She wore a plain little frock of white dimity, and smiled as she resumed her seat at the table.
”Now, Aunt Ursula,” she said, ”if you've any more ink to spill, spill it on this dress, and not on one of my best ones.”
”Fiddlestrings, Iris, I'll give you a new dress--I'll give you two. It was well worth it, to see you bite into that date! My! you looked so funny! And you look funny yet! There's ink marks all over your face!”
Mrs. Pell shook with most irritating laughter, and Iris flushed with annoyance.
”I know it, auntie; but I couldn't get them off.”
”Never mind, it'll wear off in a few days. And meantime, you can wrap it up in a blotter!”
Again the speaker chuckled heartily at her own wit, and the rector joined her, while Mrs. Bowen with difficulty achieved a smile.
She was sorry for Iris, for this sort of jesting offended the girl more than it would most people, and the kind-hearted woman knew it. But, afraid of her husband's disapproval, she said nothing, and smiled, at his unspoken behest.
Nor was Iris herself entirely forgiving. One could easily see that her calmly pleasant expression covered a deeper feeling of resentment and exasperation. She had the appearance of having reached her limit, and though outwardly serene was indubitably angry.
Her pretty face, ludicrous because of the indelible smears of ink, was pale and strained, and her deep brown eyes smoldered with repressed rage. For Iris Clyde was far from meek. Her nature was, first of all, a just one, and, to a degree, retaliatory, even revengeful.
”Oh, I see your eyes snapping, Iris,” exclaimed her aunt, delighted at the girl's annoyance, ”I'll bet you'll get even with me for this!”
”Indeed I will, Aunt Ursula,” and Iris' lips set in a straight line of determination, which, in conjunction with the ink stains, sent Mrs.
Pell off into further peals of hilarity.
”Be careful, Iris,” cautioned Mr. Bowen, himself wary, ”if you get even with your aunt, she may leave the diamond pin to me instead of to you.”
”Nixie,” returned Iris saucily, ”you've promised that particular diamond pin to me, haven't you, Auntie?”
”I certainly have, Iris. However often I change my will, that pin is always designated as your inheritance.”
”Where is it?” asked Mr. Bowen, curiously; ”may I not see it?”
”It is in a box in my lawyer's safe, at this moment,” replied Mrs. Pell.
”Mr. Chapin has instructions to hand the box over to Iris after my departure from this life, which I suppose you'd like to expedite, eh, Iris?”
”Well, I wouldn't go so far as to poison you,” Iris smiled, ”but I confess I felt almost murderous when I ran up to my room just now and looked in the mirror!”
”I don't wonder!” exclaimed Mrs. Bowen, unable to stifle her feelings longer.
”Tut! tut!” cried the rector, ”what talk for Christian people!”
”Oh, they don't mean it,” said Mrs. Pell, ”you must take our chaff in good part, Mr. Bowen.”
Dinner over, the Bowens almost immediately departed, and Iris, catching sight of her disfigured face in a mirror, turned angrily to her aunt.
”I won't stand it!” she exclaimed. ”This is the last time I shall let you serve me in this fas.h.i.+on. I'm going to New York to-morrow, and I hope I shall never see you again!”
”Now, dearie, don't be too hard on your old auntie. It was only a joke, you know. I'll get you another frock----”
”It isn't only the frock, Aunt Ursula, it's this horrid state of things generally. Why, I never dare pick up a thing, or touch a thing--without the chance of some fool stunt making trouble for me!”