Part 15 (1/2)
”I'm sorry; I always did lot on weddings.”
”You'll have to be the bride, then. Honest, Kitty, I don't like jokes on such subjects. Mr. Burke and I haven't an idea of being married, not for centuries.”
Kitty went white all in a minute. She is so quick tempered.
”Oh,” said she, ”you're going to throw him over. I thought as much! You were always writing to him when you first came to the city, and talking about him, at night when we brushed our hair; but lately you haven't spoken of him at all. You used to look happier when the postman brought you something from him. And you had his picture--”
”The postman's?” I interrupted, but Kitty kept on as if she were wound up:--
”--on the mantel-piece, in a white-and-gold frame with your own. You hid 'em both when you began to grow beautiful. I suppose you think you're too good for him. But don't go and break his heart; please don't, Princess; there's a dear.”
”Goose! I haven't the least notion of breaking his heart. I--why can't you let me alone? I'm--I'm very fond of him--if you will insist on talking about it.”
”Oh, I can see! If you'd noticed the poor fellow's face--”
”'Poor fellow!' If you'd seen him before you came! He doesn't need your pity. Why, it seems to have been with you a case of love at first sight,”
I said mockingly. ”He was rude to you, too; he never even noticed that you were in the room, after I came.”
”I don't care. I don't expect a man to notice me when he meets his sweetheart for the first time in ever so long; and such a sweetheart! But you--you--oh, I'm afraid of you! I'm afraid of you! What is this mystery?
What is it? Why have you grown so grand and terrible? What has become of my chum?”
She sat down flat on the floor and burst into pa.s.sionate weeping.
”Get up!” I cried.
”I won't!”
A sense of great loneliness came over me and I threw myself down beside her.
”Oh, Kitty,” I said, ”why aren't you old and wise and sensible instead of being just a silly girl like myself? Then you wouldn't sit here howling, but you'd kiss me and cuddle me and comfort me and tell me what to do.”
”I'm afraid of you! I'm afraid of you! It's--it's no' canny.”
”Kitty, Kitty! Why aren't you my fairy G.o.dmother, so that you could show me in a magic gla.s.s what to do, instead of scolding me, when I'm wretched enough already?”
”Wretched! You!” Her eyes fairly blazed. ”I wouldn't ever--_ever_ be wretched if I looked like you--not ever in this world!”
”Yes, you would. You'd be so puzzled about things; and bad girls would scold you, and there wouldn't be a single soul within two thousand miles to rely upon. And you'd be awkward and shy when folks looked at you. And then you'd--you'd--you'd cry.”
Afterwards we both wiped our eyes and made it all up; and I told her again that I really was fond of John.
Well, folks must eat. I went out to get some chops, a half dozen oranges and the other things for supper--we have lunch and supper, no dinner--and though I started so blue and wretched, I simply couldn't stay melancholy long, people stared at me and admired me so much. They crowded after me into the little corner grocery, and the room was so full that some one upset a tub of pickles and there they stood around in the vinegar to look at me.
It was frightful! But it was nice too; though I was so embarra.s.sed that I wanted to run away. I'll get used to it; but--why, my own mother wouldn't know me! It's no wonder Kitty is frightened.