Part 11 (1/2)
”What, mamma?” Jane asked as her mother paused.
”Well--it happens. People do get like that at his age, Jane.”
”Does everybody?”
”No, I suppose not everybody. Just some.”
Jane's interest was roused. ”Well, do those that do, mamma,” she inquired, ”do they all act like Willie?”
”No,” said Mrs. Baxter. ”That's the trouble; you can't tell what's coming.”
Jane nodded. ”I think I know,” she said. ”You mean Willie--”
William himself interrupted her. He returned violently to the doorway, his hair still tousled, and, standing upon the threshold, said, sternly:
”What is that child wearing her best dress for?”
”Willie!” Mrs. Baxter cried. ”Go brush your hair!”
”I wish to know what that child is all dressed up for?” he insisted.
”To please you! Don't you want her to look her best at your tea?”
”I thought that was it!” he cried, and upon this confirmation of his worst fears he did increased violence to his rumpled hair. ”I suspected it, but I wouldn't 'a' believed it! You mean to let this child--you mean to let--” Here his agitation affected his throat and his utterance became clouded. A few detached phrases fell from him: ”--Invite MY friends--children's party--ye G.o.ds!--think Miss Pratt plays dolls--”
”Jane will be very good,” his mother said. ”I shouldn't think of not having her, Willie, and you needn't bother about your friends; they'll be very glad to see her. They all know her, except Miss Pratt, perhaps, and--” Mrs. Baxter paused; then she asked, absently: ”By the way, haven't I heard somewhere that she likes pretending to be a little girl, herself?”
”WHAT!”
”Yes,” said Mrs. Baxter, remaining calm; ”I'm sure I've heard somewhere that she likes to talk 'baby-talk.'”
Upon this a tremor pa.s.sed over William, after which he became rigid.
”You ask a lady to your house,” he began, ”and even before she gets here, before you've even seen her, you pa.s.s judgment upon one of the--one of the n.o.blest--”
”Good gracious! _I_ haven't 'pa.s.sed judgment.' If she does talk 'baby-talk,' I imagine she does it very prettily, and I'm sure I've no objection. And if she does do it, why should you be insulted by my mentioning it?”
”It was the way you said it,” he informed her, icily.
”Good gracious! I just said it!” Mrs. Baxter laughed, and then, probably a little out of patience with him, she gave way to that innate mischievousness in such affairs which is not unknown to her s.e.x. ”You see, Willie, if she pretends to be a cunning little girl, it will be helpful to Jane to listen and learn how.”
William uttered a cry; he knew that he was struck, but he was not sure how or where. He was left with a blank mind and no repartee. Again he dashed from the room.
In the hall, near the open front door, he came to a sudden halt, and Mrs. Baxter and Jane heard him calling loudly to the industrious Genesis:
”Here! You go cut the gra.s.s in the back yard, and for Heaven's sake, take that dog with you!”
”Gra.s.s awready cut roun' back,” responded the amiable voice of Genesis, while the lawnmower ceased not to whir. ”Cut all 'at back yod 's mawnin'.”
”Well, you can't cut the front yard now. Go around in the back yard and take that dog with you.”
”Nemmine 'bout 'at back yod! Ole Clem ain' trouble n.o.body.”