Part 8 (2/2)
”Another pair, and in the best chamber, too! What will come next?” And setting down her light, she wiped the drops of perspiration from her face, at the same time looking around in some alarm lest the owners of said boots should come forth.
Just at that moment Mrs. Jeffrey appeared. Alarmed by the unusual noise, and fancying the young gentlemen might be robbing the house as a farewell performance, she had donned a calico wrapper, and tying a black silk handkerchief over her cap, had taken her scissors, the only weapon of defense she could find, and thus equipped for battle she had sallied forth. She was prepared for burglars--nay, she would not have been disappointed had she found the young men busily engaged in removing the ponderous furniture from their rooms; but the sight of Madam Conway, at that unseasonable hour, was wholly unexpected, and in her fright she dropped the lamp which she had lighted in place of her candle, and which was broken in fragments, deluging the carpet with oil and eliciting a fresh groan from Madam Conway.
”Jeffrey, Jeffrey!” she gasped; ”what have you done?”
”Great goodness!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mrs. Jeffrey, remembering her adventure when once before she left her room in the night. ”I certainly am the most unfortunate of mortals. Catch me out of bed again, let what will happen;” and turning, she was about to leave the hall, when Madam Conway, anxious to know what had been done, called her back, saying rather indignantly, ”I'd like to know whose house I am in?”
”A body would suppose 'twas Miss Margaret's, the way she's conducted,”
answered Mrs. Jeffrey; and Madam Conway continued, pointing to the boots: ”Who have we here? These are not Margaret's, surely?”
”No, ma'am, they belong to the young men who have turned the house topsy-turvy with their tableaux, their Revolution celebration, their banner, and carousing generally,” said Mrs. Jeffrey, rather pleased than otherwise at being the first to tell the news.
”Young men!” repeated Madam Conway--”what young men? Where did they come from, and why are they here?”
”They are Douglas and Warner,” said Mrs. Jeffrey, ”two as big scapegraces as there are this side of Old Bailey--that's what they are. They came from Worcester, and if I've any discernment they are after your girls, and your girls are after them.”
”After my girls! After Maggie! It can't be possible!” gasped Mrs.
Conway, thinking of Arthur Carrollton.
”It's the very truth, though,” returned Mrs. Jeffrey. ”Henry Warner, who, in my opinion, is the worst of the two, got to chasing Margaret in the woods, as long ago as last April. She jumped Gritty across the gorge, and he, like a fool, jumped after, breaking his leg--”
”Pity it hadn't been his neck,” interrupted Madam Conway; and Mrs.
Jeffrey continued: ”Of course he was brought here, and Margaret took care of him. After a while his comrade Douglas came out, and of all the carousals you ever thought of, I reckon they had the worst. 'Twas the Fourth of July, and if you'll believe it they made a banner, and Maggie planted it herself on the housetop. They went off next morning; but now they've come again, and last night the row beat all. I never got a wink of sleep till after two o'clock.”
Here, entirely out of breath, the old lady paused, and, going to her room, brought out a basin of water and a towel, with which she tried to wipe off the oil. But Madam Conway paid little heed to the spoiled carpet, so engrossed was she with what she had heard.
”I am astonished at Margaret's want of discretion,” said she, ”and I depended so much upon her, too.”
”I always knew you were deceived by her,” said Mrs. Jeffrey, still bending over the oil; ”but it wasn't for me to say so, for you are blinded towards that girl. She's got some of the queerest notions, and then she's so high-strung. She won't listen to reason. But I did my country good service once. I went up in the dead of night to take down the flag, and I don't regret it either, even if it did pitch me to the bottom of the stairs, and sprained my ankle.”
”Served you right,” interposed Madam Conway, who, not at all pleased at hearing Margaret thus censured, now turned the full force of her wrath upon the poor little governess, blaming her for having suffered such proceedings. ”What did Margaret and Theo know, young things as they were? and what was Mrs. Jeffrey there for if not to keep them circ.u.mspect! But instead of doing this, she had undoubtedly encouraged them in their folly, and then charged it upon Margaret.”
It was in vain that the greatly distressed and astonished lady protested her innocence, pleading her sleepless nights and lame ankle as proofs of having done her duty; Madam Conway would not listen.
”Somebody was of course to blame,” and as it is a long-established rule that a part of every teacher's duty is to be responsible for the faults of the pupils, so Madam Conway now continued to chide Mrs.
Jeffrey as the prime-mover of everything, until that lady, overwhelmed with the sense of injustice done her, left the oil and retired to her room, saying as she closed the door: ”I was never so injured in all my life--never. To think that after all my trouble she should charge it to me! It will break my heart, I know. Where shall I go for comfort or rest?”
This last word was opportune and suggestive. If rest could not be found in Baxter's ”Saints' Rest,” it was not by her to be found at all; and, sitting down by the window in the gray dawn of the morning, she strove to draw comfort from the words of the good divine; but in vain. It had never failed her before; but never before had she been so deeply injured; and, closing the volume at last, she paced the floor in a very perturbed state of mind.
Meantime, Madam Conway had sought her granddaughter's chamber, where Theo in her fright had taken refuge under the bed, while Maggie feigned a deep, sound sleep. A few vigorous shakes, however, aroused her, when, greatly to the amazement of her grandmother, she burst into a merry laugh, and, winding her arms around the highly scandalized lady's neck, said: ”Forgive me, grandma, I've been awake ever since you came home. I did not mean to leave the dining room in such disorder, but I was so tired, and we had such fun! Hear me out,” she continued, laying her hand over the mouth of her grandmother, who attempted to speak; ”Mrs. Jeffrey told you how Mr. Warner broke his leg, and was brought here. He is a real nice young man, and so is Mr.
Douglas, who came out to see him. They are partners in the firm of Douglas & Co., Worcester.”
”Henry Warner is nothing but the Co., though; Mr. Douglas owns the store, and is worth two hundred thousand dollars!” cried a smothered voice under the bed; and Theo emerged into view, with a feather or two ornamenting her hair, and herself looking a little uneasy and frightened.
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