Part 6 (1/2)

”Don't look at me like that--please, Sam!” faltered Elizabeth. ”I--I didn't mean to buy that dress; truly I didn't. I had paid for all the others, and I had twenty-seven dollars left, and Evelyn told me that Madame Pryse had a--a remnant of blue velvet which she would make up for me for a song. And--I--let her do it. I thought she would send the bill to me, and I would----”

”Did she send it to you?”

”Y-yes, twice. But Evelyn said for me not to worry. She said Madame Pryse's customers never paid her right away, and there was so much else--just at the last, I didn't like to ask daddy; Uncle Caleb always gives me fifty dollars for my birthday, and I thought--” Elizabeth's voice had grown fainter as she proceeded with her halting explanations.

But she started up with a little cry, ”Oh, Sam! what are you going to do?”

For her husband was examining the bill with an expression about his mouth which she had never seen there before. ”I don't see that you have been credited with the twenty-seven dollars,” he said quietly. Then with a sorry attempt at a smile, ”These _mesdames_ appear to pile up the items sky-high when it comes to building a gown; better have a cast-iron contract with 'em, I should say, and pay up when the job's finished.”

Elizabeth's tear-stained face was hidden on her husband's shoulder.

”I--I spent the twenty-seven dollars for--for gloves,” she confessed.

”Evelyn said I didn't have enough long--ones.”

”_Confound Evelyn!_” said the young man strongly. ”Come, Betty, dear, you're not to let this thing bother you, it isn't worth it. I'll pay this bill to-morrow. It's lucky I've the money in the bank; and I'll write to Mrs. Van D., too.” He clenched his fist as though he would like to use something more powerful than his pen.

”But, Sam, you oughtn't to--I can't let you pay--for----”

”Well, I guess I can buy my wife a dress if I want to, and that blue velvet's a stunner. You haven't worn it yet, have you, dear? but when you do you'll look like a posy in it. Come, sweetheart, this was a tough proposition, I'll admit, but don't you let it bowl you over completely.

And, Betty, you won't tell the Tripp lady about it, will you?

I--er--couldn't stand for that, you know.”

Elizabeth stole one look at the strong, kind face bent toward her. For the first time, though happily not for the last, she was realising the immense, the immeasurable comfort to be found in her husband's love.

”I'll never--do such a thing again,” she quavered. ”I knew all the time I was being extravagant; but I didn't expect--I never supposed----”

”You couldn't very well have foreseen the Pryse woman's astonis.h.i.+ng business methods, nor Mrs. Van D.'s Christian forbearance.” His tone was bitter as he spoke the last words. ”But what I can't seem to understand is how that bill ever found its way to my esteemed sixteenth cousin.”

Elizabeth's eyes overflowed again. ”I'm afraid it was Evelyn,” she stammered. ”She--told Madame Pryse that you--were Mrs. Van Duser's nephew.”

Sam Brewster whistled. Then he fell into a fit of revery so prolonged that Elizabeth nestled uneasily in the strong circle of his arm. He was reviewing the events of the immediate past in the cold light of the present, and the result was not altogether complimentary to Miss Tripp.

”I say, little girl,” he said at length, looking down at the tear-stained face against his shoulder, ”I don't want to be disagreeable, but--er--I can't for the life of me see why Miss Tripp should interest herself so--intimately--in our affairs. Don't you think you might--er--discourage her a bit?”

Elizabeth sighed reminiscently. ”I wouldn't hurt Evelyn's feelings for the world,” she said, ”but I--I'll try.”

CHAPTER VII

The very next morning as Elizabeth was engaged in putting the finis.h.i.+ng touches upon the arrangements of her new home, with all the keen delight of nest-building, so strong in some women and so utterly lacking in others, Miss Evelyn Tripp was announced, and a moment later stepped airily from the laborious little elevator. ”Oh, here you are _at last_, you _darling_ girl!” she exclaimed, clasping and kissing Elizabeth with _empress.e.m.e.nt_. ”I knew you were expected last night--indeed, I was here all the morning helping, but as I told your mother and that dear, quaint grandmamma of yours, I wouldn't have intruded upon your very first evening _for the world_! How delightfully well and pretty you are looking, and isn't this the _sweetest_ little place? and oh! I nearly forgot, _did_ you find Mrs. Van Duser's note? I a.s.sure you I pounced upon _that_, and took good care to put it where you would both see it the _very_ first thing. I don't mind confessing that I am simply devoured with _curiosity_. _Was_ it a cheque, dear? And _is_ she going to do something nice for you in a social way?”

Elizabeth's cheeks burned uncomfortably. ”It was only a--a friendly--at least I think--I am sure she meant it to be a friendly letter. She said so, anyway. Sam put it in his pocket and took it away with him,” she made haste to add, forestalling the urgent appeal in Miss Tripp's luminous gaze.

”Well, I am sure that was _most_ sweet and gracious of Mrs. Van Duser.

Didn't you find it so, my dear? So _dear_ of her to personally welcome you to _Boston_! You'll call, of course, as soon as she returns from her country place. She will expect it, I am sure; such women are _most_ punctilious in their code of social requirements, and you can't be _too_ careful not to offend. You'll forgive me for saying this much, won't you, dear?”

Elizabeth was conscious of a distinct sense of displeasure as she met Miss Tripp's anxiously solicitous eyes. ”You are very good, Evelyn,”

she said, ”but Sam--Mr. Brewster--thinks it will be best for us not to--” She paused, her candid face suffused with blushes. ”I'd--prefer not to talk about Mrs. Van Duser, if you please. We don't _ever_ expect to go and see her.”