Phebe, Her Profession Part 21

"That's because he paid you a compliment. Your judgment isn't a fair one."

But Hope only added,--

"Wait and see what the morrow may bring forth."

The morrow brought forth Mac, rested, refreshed, ready for mischief.

Before breakfast was on the table, he had had an unfriendly interview with Patrick, had come into collision with Melchisedek, and Mrs.

McAlister met him hurriedly retiring from the kitchen with both hands full of fried potatoes. The next that was seen of him, he was playing horse on the front lawn, and Allyn was the horse. Even in his brief survey of the family, the night before, Mac had come to a decision upon two points. He did not like his Aunt Phebe; he did like his Uncle Allyn.

And Allyn, unaccustomed to children though he was, promptly became the slave of his imperious young nephew.

"Oh, Hope, it is good to have you here," Theodora said, with a tempestuous embrace, when Mrs. Holden appeared at the door of the writing-room, that morning.

"Then I am not in the way?"

"Not a bit. I'm not writing, to-day; I can't settle myself, when I know you are within reach."

"Perhaps I'd better go back to Helena," Hope suggested.

"No; I shall calm down in time; but I never get used to having you so far away. It never seems quite right, when the rest of us are all here together."

"I am a little terrified at the prospect of the coming week," Hope said, as she sat down on the couch and looked across the lawn to where Mac was playing.

"What now?"

"Babe is to have her fresh-air child."

"Hope! You don't mean it?"

"Yes, she has coaxed papa into giving his consent. Is it a new idea to you?"

Theodora dropped her duster, and sat down beside her sister.

"It's new to us all," she said despairingly. "We never heard of it till last night. What will that girl do next? She detests children, and she has about as much idea of discipline as she has about--raising poultry.

It is Isabel St. John's doing, I know. She is Babe's best-beloved friend; and where one leads, the other will follow."

"Babe seems to be in earnest about it," Hope said charitably.

"She's in earnest about everything--by fits and starts. It only doesn't last. She seems to be losing something of her medical fervor, and probably this is taking its place. I suppose she has met somebody who slums for a living, and the idea enchants her. I used to have aspirations that way, myself; but I am coming to the conclusion that for me charity begins at home, and that it counts for more to make Billy comfortable than to make his life a burden with my hobbies."

"Blunt as ever, Teddy?" Hope's laugh had no sting.

"Yes. I haven't reformed yet. Things 'rile' me, just as they used to, things and people. I'm a good hater, Hope." There was a suspicious glitter in her eyes; but it vanished, as Hope's hand touched her own.

"And a good lover, too, dear. I wasn't criticising, for I think you are in the right of it. But Babe really seems rather practical. She only wants the child for a week, and she agrees to take all the care of it and give it its meals away from the table."

"Yes; but what will she do with it?" Theodora's tone showed her perplexity. "There's no telling what may happen in the course of a week.

She will test all the theories of all the cranks on the one poor baby, one theory a day, and by the end of the week, there won't be any baby left to send home again."

"My chief worry is for Mac," Hope said resignedly.

"Oh, I don't think the child will hurt him," Theodora rea.s.sured her.

"They won't dare send a very bad one."

"No; but it may work the other way about. I am a good deal more worried in regard to Mac's effect on the child, and--"

"Mam-ma!"

"No, Mac. I told you that you mustn't come here. This is Aunt Teddy's house, and people don't come here, unless she invites them."

The door swung open a little way, and a chubby face appeared in the crack.

"Ven please 'vite me now, Aunt Teddy."

"You may come in, Mac."

Mac came in, wriggled his fat little body into the narrow s.p.a.ce between his mother and his aunt, and gave a sigh of relief.

"Vere," he said gravely; "we're all fixed nice, Aunt Teddy, just ve way my mamma does when she's going to give me somefing good to eat."

CHAPTER TWELVE

"I really can't see why they should call this cottage Valhalla," Dr.

McAlister said thoughtfully.

"Probably because there isn't any hall, and the dining-room is a tight fit for five of us," Phebe answered, as she took a cup from the china closet without troubling herself to leave her seat at the table.

"Teddy's establishment boasts the poetic name of Dandelion Lodge," Mrs.

McAlister added. "There isn't a dandelion in sight, and, architecturally speaking, it is more like a hen-house than a lodge. Still, I suppose it is well to have a name, even if there isn't anything in it."

"No matter," Hope said contentedly; "it's good to be free from the everlasting Belviews and Wavecrests. Valhalla isn't trite; Babe and I will be the Valkyries, and we have caught one hero already." She smiled at her father, as she spoke.

"I intend to have another before I leave here," Phebe proclaimed, as she pa.s.sed her plate for more fish. "One hero isn't enough for us; we need one apiece."

"Where will you get him, sister Valkyrie?"

"I don't know; out of the briny deep perhaps, but time will show."

"'Or old Valhalla's roaring hail, Her ever-circling mead and ale,'"

the doctor sang, and Phebe joined his song,--

"'Where for eternity unite The joys of wa.s.sail ad the fight,'"

for the stirring ballad was a favorite with them both.