Part 51 (1/2)

This was his favorite expression; and when his house was done, and he stood, his broad, white s.h.i.+rt-front studded with diamonds and his coat thrown back to show them, surveying his possessions, he felt that he 'had licked the crowd.'

Jerrie felt so, too, as she followed the elegant Leo up the stairs and through the upper hall--handsomer, if possible than the lower one--to the pretty room where Ann Eliza lay, or rather reclined, with her lame foot on a cus.h.i.+on and her well one incased in a white embroidered silk stocking and blue satin slipper. She was dressed in a delicate blue satin wrapper, trimmed with swan's-down, and there were diamonds in her ears and on the little white hands which she stretched toward Jerrie as she came in.

'Oh, Jerrie,' she said, 'I am so glad to see you, for it is awfully lonesome here; and if one can be homesick at home, I am. I miss the girls and the lessons and the rules at Va.s.sar; much as I hated them when I was there; and just before you came in I wanted to cry. I guess my rooms are too big and have too much in them; any way, I have the feeling that I am visiting, and everything is strange and new. I do believe I liked the old room better, with its matting on the floor and the little mirror with the peac.o.c.k feathers ornamenting the top, and that painted plaster image of Samuel on the mantel. It is very ungrateful in me, I know, when father has done it mostly to please me. Do you believe--he has hunted me up a maid; Doris is her name; and what I am ever to do with her, or she with me, I am sure I don't know. Do you?'

Jerrie did not know either, but suggested that she might read to her while she was confined to her room. 'Yes, she might, perhaps, do that, if she can read,' Ann Eliza said. 'She certainly has pretentions enough about her to have written several treatises on scientific subjects. She was a year with Lady Augusta Hardy, in Ireland. Don't you remember the grand wedding father and mother attended in Allington two or three years ago, when Augusta Browne was married to an Irish lord, who had been bought by her money?--for of course he did not care much for her. Well, Doris went out with her as maid, and acts as if she, too, had married a peer. She came last night, and mamma and I are already as afraid of her as we can be, she is so fine and airy. She insisted upon dressing me this morning, and I felt all the while as if she were thinking how red and ugly my hair is, or counting the freckles on my face, and contrasting me with 'my Lady Augusta,' as she calls her. I wonder if she ever saw my lady's mother, Mrs. Rossiter-Browne, who told me once that I had a very _petty figger_, but she presumed it would _envelope_ as I grew older. But then people who live in gla.s.s houses shouldn't throw stones,' and Ann Eliza colored a little as she made this reference to her own father and mother, whose language was not much more correct than Mrs. Rossiter-Browne's.

For one brought up as she had been, Ann Eliza was a rather sensible girl, and although she attached a great deal of importance to money, she knew it was not everything, and that with her father's millions there was still a wide difference between him and the men to whose society he aspired; and knew, too, that although Jerrie had not a penny in the world, she was greatly her superior, and so considered by the world at large. She was very fond of Jerrie, who had often helped her with her lessons, and stood between her and the ridicule of her companions, and was never happier than when in her society. So now she made her bring an ottoman close beside her, and held her hand while she narrated in detail the events of the previous night, dwelling at length upon the fact that Tom had carried her in his arms, and wondering if he would call to inquire after her. Jerrie thought he would; and, as if in answer to the thought, Doris almost immediately appeared with his card. She _was_ very fine and very smart, and Jerrie herself felt awed by her dignity and manner as she delivered her message. 'The gentleman sends his compliments, and would like to know how you are this morning.'

'Jerrie, it's Tom! he has come!' Ann Eliza said, with joy in her voice.

'Surely I can receive him here, for this is my parlor.'

Jerrie thought she might, but the toss of the fine maid's head showed that she thought differently, as she left the room with her mistress'

message.

'Thunderation! I didn't want to see her. It's enough to have to call,'

was Tom's mental comment, when Doris told him he was to walk up stairs.

Indeed, he would not have come at all if Maude, to whom he related his adventure, had not insisted that he must.

'You needn't see her, of course; but you must go and inquire how she is.

According to your own statement you are to blame for her mishap; you dragged her along too fast.

Tom knew there was some truth in this, and so he went the more willingly; and, sending up his card, stood near the open door, ready to leave the moment Leo came down with the message he had received from Doris.

'I shall be cheek by jowl with these Peterkins, if I don't look out,' he thought, as he ascended the stairs to the hall, where Doris stood waiting to show him her mistress' room.

'What! Jerry! You here?' he exclaimed, his face clearing, and the whole aspect of matters changing at once, as she arose to meet him.

With Jerrie there the place seemed different, and he did not feel as if he were lowering himself, as he sat in the luxuriously furnished room, and joined in the dainty lunch which was brought up and served from Dresden china, and linen and cut gla.s.s, and was as delicate and dainty in its way as anything he had ever found at the Brunswick or Delmonico's. Mrs. Peterkin prided herself upon her _cuisine_, which she always superintended, and as Peterkin was something of an epicure and gourmand, the table was always supplied with every possible delicacy.

Tom enjoyed it all, and praised the chocolate, and the broiled chicken, and the jellies, and thought Ann Eliza not so very bad-looking in her blue satin wrapper, with the swan's-down tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs, and made himself generally agreeable. Maude was better, he said, and could talk a little, and he asked Jerrie to go home with him and see her. But Jerrie declined.

'I have a great deal of work to do yet,' she said, 'I must iron all those clothes you saw upon the line yesterday, and so I must be going.'

Tom frowned at the mention of the clothes which Jerrie had washed; while Ann Eliza insisted that she should stay until the dog-cart, which had been sent to the station for Billy, came back, when Lewis would take her home, as it was too warm to walk. Jerrie did not mind the walk, but she felt morally sure that Tom meant to accompany her, and greatly preferred the dog-cart and Lewis to another _tete-a-tete_ with him, for he did not act at all like a discarded lover, but rather as one who still hoped he had a chance. So she signified her intention to wait for the dog-cart, which soon came, with Billy in it, anxious when he heard of his sister's accident, delighted when he found Jerrie there, and persistent in saying that he and not Lewis would take her home.

'Well, if you will, you will,' she said, laughingly; and bidding Ann Eliza good-bye, and telling Tom to give her love to Maude and say to her that she did not believe she should be at the park that day, she had so much to do, she was soon in the dog-cart with Billy, whose face was radiant as he gathered up the reins and started down the turnpike, driving at what Jerrie thought a very slow pace, as she was anxious to get home.

Something of Billy's thoughts must have communicated itself to Jerrie, for she became nervous and ill at ease and talked rapidly of things in which she had not the slightest interest.

'What of the lawsuit?' she asked. 'Are you likely to settle it?'

'N-no,' Billy answered, hurriedly. 'It will h-have to co-come into co-court in a f-few days, and I am aw-awful sorry. I wa-wanted father to p-pay what they demanded, but he won't. Hal is subpoenaed on the other side, as he was in our office, and is supposed to know something about it; b-but I ho-hope he won't da-damage us m-much, as father would n-never forgive him if he went against us.'

'But he must tell the truth, no matter who is damaged,' Jerrie said.

'Ye-yes' Billy replied, 'of co-course he must, b-but he needn't volunteer information.'

Jerry began to think that Billy had insisted upon coming with her for the sake of persuading her to caution Harold against saying too much when he was called to testify in the great lawsuit between Peterkin & Co., manufacturers in Shannondale, and Wilson & Co., manufacturers in Truesdale, an adjoining town; but she was undeceived when her companion turned suddenly off upon the river road, which would take them at least two miles out of their way.