Volume Ii Part 13 (1/2)
”Well,” said the doctor, as they sat at breakfast the next morning, ”where are you going next?”
”To the concert, I must, to-night,” said Fleda. ”I couldn't help myself.”
”Why should you want to help yourself?” said the doctor. ”And to Mrs. Thorn's to-morrow night?”
”No, Sir; I believe not.”
”I believe you will,” said he, looking at her.
”I am sure I should enjoy myself more at home, uncle Orrin.
There is very little rational pleasure to be had in these a.s.semblages.”
”Rational pleasure!” said he. ”Didn't you have any rational pleasure last night?”
”I didn't hear a single word spoken, Sir, that was worth listening to; at least, that was spoken to me; and the hollow kind of rattle that one hears from every tongue, makes me more tired than anything else, I believe. I am out of tune with it, somehow.”
”Out of tune!” said the old doctor, giving her a look made up of humourous vexation and real sadness; ”I wish I knew the right tuning-key to take hold of you!”
”I become harmonious rapidly, uncle Orrin, when I am in this pleasant little room alone with you.”
”That wont do!” said he, shaking his head at the smile with which this was said ? ”there is too much tension upon the strings. So that was the reason you were all ready waiting for me last night? Well, you must tune up, my little piece of discordance, and go with me to Mrs. Thorn's to-morrow night ?
I wont let you off.”
”With you, Sir!” said Fleda.
”Yes,” he said. ”I'll go along and take care of you, lest you get drawn into something else you don't like.”
”But, dear uncle Orrin, there is another difficulty ? it is to be a large party, and I have not a dress exactly fit.”
”What have you got?” said he, with a comic kind of fierceness.
”I have silks, but they are none of them proper for this occasion ? they are ever so little old-fas.h.i.+oned.”
”What do you want?”
”Nothing, Sir,” said Fleda; ”for I don't want to go.”
”You mend a pair of stockings to put on,” said he, nodding at her, ”and I'll see to the rest.”
”Apparently you place great importance in stockings,” said Fleda, laughing, ”for you always mention them first. But, please don't get anything for me, uncle Orrin ? please don't!
I have plenty for common occasions, and I don't care to go to Mrs. Thorn's.”
”I don't care either,” said the doctor, working himself into his great coat. ”By the by, do you want to invoke the aid of St. Crispin?”
He went off, and Fleda did not know whether to cry or to laugh at the vigorous way in which he trod through the hall, and slammed the front door after him. Her spirits just kept the medium, and did neither. But they were in the same doubtful mood still an hour after, when he came back with a paper parcel he had brought home under his arm, and unrolled a fine embroidered muslin; her eyes were very unsteady in carrying their brief messages of thankfulness, as if they feared saying too much. The doctor, however, was in the mood for doing, not talking, by looks or otherwise. Mrs. Pritchard was called into consultation, and with great pride and delight engaged to have the dress and all things else in due order by the following night; her eyes saying all manner of gratulatory things as they went from the muslin to Fleda, and from Fleda to Dr.
Gregory.
The rest of the day was, not books, but needlefuls of thread; and from the confusion of laces and draperies, Fleda was almost glad to escape, and go to the concert ? but for one item; that spoiled it.