Part 24 (1/2)
”It's a might jolly sort of club, too,” young Oram said.
”That is exactly what it has turned out to be,” Pauline laughed. ”Are the vases ready, s.h.i.+rley?”
s.h.i.+rley brought the tray of empty flower vases out on the veranda, and sent Harry Oram for a bucket of fresh water. ”Harry is to make the salad,” she explained to Pauline, as he came back. ”Before he leaves the manor he will have developed into a fairly useful member of society.”
”You've never eaten one of my salads, Miss Shaw,” Harry said. ”When you have, you'll think all your previous life an empty dream.”
”It's much more likely her later life will prove a nightmare,--for a while, at least,” s.h.i.+rley declared. ”Still, Paul, Harry does make them rather well. Betsy Todd, I am sorry to say, doesn't approve of him.
But there are so many persons and things she doesn't approve of; lawn-parties among the latter.”
Pauline nodded sympathetically; she knew Betsy Todd of old. Her wonder was, that the Dayres had been able to put up with her so long, and she said so.
”'Hobson's choice,'” s.h.i.+rley answered, with a little shrug. ”She isn't much like our old Therese at home, is she, Harry? But nothing would tempt Therese away from her beloved New York. 'Vairmon! Nevaire have I heard of zat place!' she told Harry, when he interviewed her for us.
Senior's gone to Vergennes--on business thoughts intent, or I hope they are. He's under strict orders not to 'discover a single bit' along the way, and to get back as quickly as possible.”
”You see how beautifully she has us all in training?” Harry said to Pauline.
Pauline laughed. Suddenly she looked up from her flowers with sobered face. ”I wonder,” she said slowly, ”if you know what it's meant to us--you're being here this summer, s.h.i.+rley? Sometimes things do fit in just right after all. It's helped out wonderfully this summer, having you here and the manor open.”
”Pauline has a fairy-story uncle down in New York,” s.h.i.+rley turned to Harry. ”You've heard of him--Mr. Paul Shaw.”
”Well,--rather! I've met him, once or twice--he didn't strike me as much of a believer in fairy tales.”
”He's made us believe in them,” Pauline answered.
”I think Senior might have provided me with such a delightful sort of uncle,” s.h.i.+rley observed. ”I told him so, but he says, while he's awfully sorry I didn't mention it before, he's afraid it's too late now.”
”Uncle Paul sent us Bedelia,” Pauline told the rather perplexed-looking Harry, ”and the row-boat and the camera and--oh, other things.”
”Because he wanted them to have a nice, jolly summer,” s.h.i.+rley explained. ”Pauline's sister had been sick and needed brightening up.”
”You don't think he's looking around for a nephew to adopt, do you?”
Harry inquired. ”A well-intentioned, intelligent young man--with no end of talent.”
”For making salads,” s.h.i.+rley added with a sly smile.
”Oh, well, you know,” Harry remarked casually, ”these are what Senior calls my 'salad days.'”
Whereupon s.h.i.+rley rose without a word, carrying off her vases of flowers.
The party at the manor was, like all the club affairs, a decided success. Never had the old place looked so gay and animated, since those far-off days of its early glory.
The young people coming and going--the girls in their light dresses and bright ribbons made a pleasant place of the lawn, with its background of s.h.i.+ning water. The tennis court, at one side of the house, was one of the favorite gathering spots; there were one or two boats out on the lake. The pleasant informality of the whole affair proved its greatest charm.
Mr. Allen was there, pointing out to his host the supposed end of the subterranean pa.s.sage said to connect the point on which the manor stood with the old ruined French fort over on the New York side. The minister was having a quiet chat with the doctor, who had made a special point of being there. Mothers of club members were exchanging notes and congratulating each other on the good comrades.h.i.+p and general air of contentment among the young people. s.e.xtoness Jane was there, in all the glory of her best dress--one of Mrs. Shaw's handed-down summer ones--and with any amount of items picked up to carry home to Tobias, who was certain to expect a full account of this most unusual dissipation on his mistress's part. Even Betsy Todd condescended to put on her black woolen--usually reserved for church and funerals--and walk about among the other guests; but always, with an air that told plainly how little she approved of such goings on. The Boyds were there, their badges in full evidence. And last, though far from least, in her own estimation, Patience was there, very crisp and white and on her best behavior,--for, setting aside those conditions mother had seen fit to burden her with, was the delightful fact that s.h.i.+rley had asked her to help serve tea.
The princ.i.p.al tea-table was in the studio, though there was a second one, presided over by Pauline and Bell, out under the awning at the edge of the lawn.
Patience thought the studio the very nicest room she had ever been in.
It was long and low--in reality, the old dancing-hall, for the manor had been built after the pattern of its first owner's English home; and in the deep, recessed windows, facing the lake, many a bepatched and powdered little belle of Colonial days had coquetted across her fan with her bravely-clad partner.