Phebe, Her Profession Part 20

"No; sometime isn't ever, and I wants to hear it now. I do 'clare, mamma, you've put in my best coat." And before she could stop him, he had pounced upon it and pulled it out, upsetting a superstratum of gowns in the process.

"Mac, let that be."

"But I want it, mamma. I want to wear it. I look just too sweet in it."

"Mac!"

"Well, vat's what Lizabuf said. Will Lizabuf go too?"

"No."

"Who will take care of me, and put me into my coatsleeves ven?"

"I shall."

"I'd ravver have Lizabuf. Oh, mamma, is vat your swishy dress? It's so beautiful!" This time, Mac lost his balance and plunged headlong into the trunk. For one moment, his chubby legs waved in the air; then his mother seized him and set him down in a chair at the farther side of the room.

"Now, Mac, I want you to stay there," she said with decision.

There was a brief silence. Then Mac remarked,--

"You act and look awful bangy, to-day, mamma, just as if you were going to sweep rooms right away."

Five days later, Mrs. Holden acknowledged to herself that she felt "bangy." It was her first long journey without her husband and, less independent than her sisters, she would have dreaded it in any case.

Without Mr. Holden, the trip was an undertaking; with Mac, it was almost insupportable. She embarked with a lunch basket, with picture books and with theories. She landed, a chastened woman. Within twelve hours, the basket was empty, the picture books were in shreds, and Mac, bareheaded, coated with cinders and wreathed in smiles, was prancing up and down the car, heedless of her admonitions. By day, the other pa.s.sengers petted him and encouraged him to all manner of pertnesses. At night, they murmured, not always among themselves, when he waked up and in stentorian tones demanded a drink. No child of three is altogether a desirable companion on a long journey, least of all McAlister Holden. Small wonder that it was a pale and haggard Hope who drove up to The Savins, one night in late June, while Mac was as vivacious as at the start!

He went through the introductions with the nonchalance of his years, though he resisted Theodora's efforts to kiss him, and sniffed disdainfully at Phebe who was trying for her sister's sake to conceal her dislike of children. By Mrs. McAlister's side, he paused and looked straight up into her face. Then he tucked his hand into hers confidingly.

"Are you my grandma?"

"Yes, dear."

"Why, you look too new," he said frankly, and then put up his rosy lips for a kiss. For the moment, the cherub side was uppermost, and his mother, as she reflected upon the permanence of first impressions, rejoiced that it was so, and she hurried the child off to bed, for fear he might do something to destroy the illusion.

"Mamma," he said sleepily, as she left him, to go down for her own dinner; "will you please tell me just vis much?"

"Well?"

"Were you a mamma when you lived here before?"

"No, Mac."

"And now you've grown out into a beautifully mamma. Good-night!" And he went to sleep with the saintly side of his character still uppermost.

The Farringtons and Cicely dined at The Savins; but, directly after dinner, Cicely excused herself and went home to do some practising.

"No; I suppose it could wait," she said to Allyn who followed her to the door; "but it must be done some time. It is ages since you were all here together, and you ought to be just by yourselves to-night."

"But you are one of the family," Allyn protested.

"That's nice of you, Allyn; but it isn't quite the same thing. Besides, if I practise now, I shall have more time for fun, to-morrow. Go back to your sister. Isn't she a dear?"

"Yes, Hope is a good one," Allyn said, though without much enthusiasm; "but Ted is worth ten of her, according to my notions." And Cicely nodded up at him in token of agreement.

By the time dinner was over, the evening had grown chilly, and the McAlisters drew up their chairs around the open fire.

"All here once more, thank G.o.d!" the doctor said contentedly, as he settled himself between Theodora and Mrs. Holden.

"This seems just like the good old times," Theodora added. "It's five years since we were all here together, like this. Doesn't it make you feel as if you had never been away, Hope?"

"Yes, almost. If Allyn weren't quite so grown up and Billy so lively, I should believe we were children again. Ted, do you remember the first night that Archie came here?"

"The night I went slumming and stole the child? I should say I did. Archie didn't take it kindly at all, when he found the infant in his bed."

"That reminds me, papa," Phebe said abruptly; "Isabel and I want to take some fresh-air children, next week."

"Why, Babe, I don't see how you can," Theodora remonstrated.

"I didn't ask you, Teddy. I have thought it all over, and I can't see any objections. I should take all the care of it, and I want to do it."

"But the house is so full, Babe," Mrs. McAlister said. "There isn't any room for one."

"It could sleep on the lounge in my room. I wouldn't let it trouble you any. It is a fine charity, and this is such a good place for a child to play. Isabel will take one for a week, if I will, and I said I would.

There is just time, before I go away," Phebe said with an air of finality which would have ended the subject, had it not been for Allyn's last shot,--

"They'd better get its life insured, then, for there's no telling how long it will be before Babe takes it as a subject for her scalpel."

"Don't be foolish, Allyn," Phebe returned; but Hubert interposed,--

"Isn't Archie going to come on at all, this summer, Hope?"

"I'm afraid not. Summer is his busy time, and he will be out in camp till snow flies."

"I don't see the use of having that kind of a husband," Phebe observed severely.

"You like the kind like me better; don't you, Babe?"

"No; I should get sick of having you everlastingly around the house, Billy. I want a man to have hours and stick to them, not keep running in and out. I sha'n't marry. If I did, I would insist on a ten-hour law; then I could be sure of getting some time to myself."

"Archie lives on a ten-month law," his wife said regretfully. "Of course, I can go out to camp to be with him; but it's not good for Mac. He picks up all the talk of the miners and retails it at inopportune times, and runs wild generally. Archie usually comes home for a day, every two or three weeks; but, this year, he is too far out for that, so I thought it was best for me to come East now."

"You had an easy journey; didn't you?" Hubert asked.

"Yes; at least, as easy as it could be with Mac."

"I think you have slandered Mac," Mrs. McAlister observed. "He seems as gentle as a cooing dove."

Hope and Theodora exchanged glances, as Hubert said laughingly,--