Part 46 (2/2)

”Oh, I can't--I can't,” she screamed.

”Rachel,” the minister's wife called gently after her. But Rachel stormed on, ”Oh, I can't; dear me, I can't!”

So Mrs. Henderson mounted the stairs and sat down on the top one, and took Rachel's hands, nervously beating together.

”My child, you must listen to me.”

It was said very quietly; but Rachel knew by this time what the parsonage people meant when they said a thing, so she answered meekly in a m.u.f.fled voice because of the ap.r.o.n over her head:

”Yes'm.”

”Take down your ap.r.o.n,” said Mrs. Henderson.

Down fell the ap.r.o.n, disclosing a face of so much distress, that for a moment the heart of the parson's wife failed her, but it must be done.

”My child,” she began very gently, ”it is best that you should go to see Miss Parrott. She will be a good friend to you.”

”I don't want no friends,” said Rachel doggedly, in her distress relapsing into her old tenement-house disregard of the rules of speech; ”no more 'n I've got her.”

”Ah, child, that is not a wise way to talk,” said Mrs. Henderson, shaking her head. ”One cannot have too many friends.”

”She'd be too many,” said Rachel; ”that old woman that came the other day in that carriage all full of bones.”

”You must not talk so, dear. She is a very fine woman. Now, Rachel, she has asked to have you spend the day there, and we have promised that you shall go.”

There was an awful pause. A big blue-bottle over in the corner under the rafters was making a final decision to explore the filmy lace web beneath the window where a fat old spider had been patiently waiting for him, and he gave his last buzz of freedom before he hopped in. This was all the sound that broke the silence. Rachel held her breath, and fixed her black eyes at a point straight ahead, positively sure if she withdrew her gaze she would burst out crying.

”So you will be ready to go at ten o'clock, Rachel, for Miss Parrott will send for you then,” Mrs. Henderson was saying. And in a minute more the parson's wife was going down the garret stairs; Rachel, with a heart full of woe, slowly following, leaving the big garret to the fat old spider, who was busily weaving her silken threads in glee over her prisoner.

And Rachel's woeful face was more than matched by the countenances of the two boys of the parson's family, who were not at all pleased that the companion sent to them by Mrs. Fisher, and who had turned out surprisingly just to their liking, should be suddenly torn away from them even for a single day. And they followed disapprovingly around, hanging upon all the preparations for the momentous visit, with a very bad influence upon Rachel's endeavor to control herself. Seeing which, their mother sent them off on an errand to Grandma Bascom.

So, when the ancient carriage, with its well-seasoned coachman who rejoiced in the name of Simmons, made its appearance, there was no one to see Rachel off, save the patron's wife, the minister himself being away on a call lo a sick paris.h.i.+oner.

Rachel went steadily down the walk between the box-borders, feeling her heart sink at each step. Mrs. Henderson, well in advance, was down at the roadside to help her in, with a last bit of good advice.

”Good-morning, Simmons,” said the parson's wife pleasantly.

”Good-morning, Madam,” Simmons touched his hat, and spoke with the air of state, for he kept his English ways. Secretly, the parson's wife was always quite impressed by them, and she looked at Rachel for some sign to that effect. But the child was scowling, and biting her thin lips, and she suffered Mrs. Henderson to a.s.sist her into the wide old vehicle without any further change of expression. When once in, she gazed around, then leaned forward on the slippery old green leather seat.

”Can't Peletiah come?” she gasped; ”there's lots o' room.”

”No,” said Mrs. Henderson. ”Now be a good girl”--all her fears returning as she saw Rachel's face.

Simmons starting up the horses, that, although an old pair, yet liked to set off with a flourish, the movement bounced Rachel violently against the back of her seat and knocked her bonnet over her face. This gave her something to think of, and changed her terror to a deep displeasure. When the drive was ended, therefore, and the brougham, after its progress through an avenue of fine old trees, was brought to a standstill before the ancestral mansion where Miss Parrott's father and grandfather had lived before her, the visitor was in no condition to enjoy the pleasures thrust upon her.

Miss Parrott, in the stiff, black silk gown that she had worn the day when she called at the parsonage, met her on the big stone steps. She put out a hand in a long, black lace mitt, ”I am very glad to see you, child,” she said, in old-time hospitality.

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