Part 9 (1/2)

”It must be easy, certainly,” agreed Mrs. Carroll, sniffing delicately, after a well-remembered fas.h.i.+on.

Elizabeth laughed and shrugged her shoulders in a way she had caught from Evelyn Tripp. ”Now you know you are dying to lecture me, grandma,”

she said caressingly; ”but you see, dear, that things are decidedly different here in Boston, and-- But here comes Sam; he'll be so glad to see you.”

Mrs. Carroll was very cheerful and chatty with the young people that evening. She told them all the Innisfield news in her most spirited fas.h.i.+on, and never once by word or look expressed her growing disapproval of what her shrewd old eyes were telling her.

Miss McMurtry, who stood with her ear glued to the crack of the door for a long half hour, finally retired with a contemptuous toss of her black head. Then, the coast being clear, she found opportunity to convey to their destination the comestibles dutifully provided for maternal consumption. ”She's full as easy as the young one for all her meddlin'

ways,” said Miss McMurtry, ”an' she'll be leavin' in the mornin', so there'll be no back talk comin' from her.”

But for once Annita was mistaken in her premises. Mrs. Carroll, it is true, made no immediate reference to the disclosures afforded by her daring invasion of the kitchen fastnesses, nor did she even remotely allude to the probable date of her departure for Innisfield.

”I don't want you should make company of me, Lizzie,” she said pleasantly, ”or put yourself out a mite. I'll just join right in and do whatever you're planning to do.”

Elizabeth puckered her pretty forehead perplexedly; she was thinking that Grandma Carroll's unannounced visit would necessitate the hasty giving up of a gay luncheon and theatre party planned for that very afternoon. Tears of vexation sparkled in her brown eyes, as she took down the telephone receiver.

Mrs. Carroll listened to the one-sided conversation which followed without visible discomfiture. ”Now that's too bad,” she observed sympathetically. ”Why didn't you tell me you wanted to go, and I'd have eaten my lunch right here at home. There's plenty of cooked victuals in your kitchen pantry; I saw 'em yesterday whilst I was out helping around. I suppose your hired girl cooked that roast chicken and the layer-cake and the rolls for Samuel's noonings. I hope you'll see to it, Lizzie, that he takes a good, tasty lunch to work every day. But of course you do.”

Elizabeth stared. ”Why, grandma,” she said, ”Sam doesn't carry his lunch like a common workman. He eats it at a restaurant in South Boston.”

”Hum!” mused Mrs. Carroll, ”I wonder if he gets anything fit to eat there? Samuel appears to have gone off in his weight considerable since I saw him last,” she added, shaking her head wisely. ”He needs a gentian tonic, I should say, or--something.”

”You're mistaken, grandma,” Elizabeth said, with an air of offended wifely dignity. ”Sam isn't the least bit ill. Of course he works hard, but I should be the first to notice it if there was anything the matter with my husband.”

”Care killed a cat,” quoted grandma sententiously, ”and you appear to be pretty much occupied with other things. Home ought to come first, my dear; I hope you aren't forgetting that.”

Elizabeth's pretty face was a study; she bit her lip to keep back the petulant words that trembled on her tongue. ”Evelyn is coming, grandma,”

she said hurriedly, ”and please don't--discuss things before her.”

Miss Tripp was unaffectedly surprised and, as she declared, ”_charmed_”

to see dear Mrs. Carroll in Boston. ”I didn't suppose,” she said, ”that you ever _could_ bring yourself to leave dear, quiet Innisfield.”

Mrs. Carroll, on her part, exhibited a smiling blandness of demeanour which served as an incentive to the lively, if somewhat one-sided conversation which followed; a shrewd question now and then on the part of Mrs. Carroll eliciting numerous facts all bearing on the varied social activities of ”_dear_ Elizabeth.”

”I'm positively looking forward to Lent,” sighed Miss Tripp; ”for really I'm _worn_ to a _fringe_, but dear Elizabeth never seems tired, no matter how many engagements she has. It is a perfect _delight_ to look at her, isn't it, dear Mrs. Carroll?”

”Lizzie certainly does look healthy,” admitted the smiling old lady, ”but it beats me how she finds time to look after her husband and her hired girl with so many parties.”

The result of Mrs. Carroll's subsequent observations and conclusions were summed up in the few trenchant remarks addressed to her granddaughter the following day, as she was tying on her bonnet preparatory to taking the train for Innisfield.

”I hope you'll come again soon, grandma,” Elizabeth said dutifully.

”I mistrust you don't mean that, Lizzie,” replied Mrs. Carroll, facing about and gazing keenly at the young matron, ”and I may as well say that I'm not likely to interfere with your plans often. I like my own bed and my own rocking-chair too well to be going about the country much. But I couldn't make out from what your father said just what the matter was.”

Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders with a pretty air of forbearance. ”I was awfully sorry about daddy,” she murmured; ”but I don't see how I could have done anything else under the circ.u.mstances.”

”Well, _I_ do,” said Grandma Carroll severely. She b.u.t.toned her gloves energetically as she went on in no uncertain tones. ”I've always been a great believer in everybody minding their own business, but there's times when a little plain speech won't hurt anybody. Things aren't going right in your house, Lizzie; I can see that without half looking. _I warn you to keep an eye on your kitchen pantry._ I mistrust there's a leak there.”