In Blue Creek Canon Part 22

"Yes," resumed the young man, eyeing her closely; "so I thought I'd run up here and see for myself; but I found a first-rate man was in ahead of me, so I must depart in search of a fresh field."

"Then you are not to stay long?" said Louise, as she smiled on him with all her former kindness. "Blue Creek is really a pleasant place when you are used to it. You are unfortunate in seeing it at this season."

Her companion made some light answer, and they went on chatting like a pair of old friends. Louise was soon delighted to find that the stranger cared for music as much as she did, and was familiar with the best works of the masters, while he showed a thorough acquaintance with New York and its surroundings which was remarkable in a man who professed to have spent his life in California. There was something indescribably charming in his quiet ease of manner and in his boyish fun; and Louise found herself thoroughly enjoying their pleasant, off-hand conversation, though all the time she was conscious of a hazy resemblance to some one whom she had met before. Moved by this uncertain idea, she studied him closely, while in her own mind she went over and over her list of acquaintances, trying to find the person of whom she was thinking. Nor could she tell wherein the resemblance lay, whether in the voice, the manner, or in some feature; and yet it was there all the time, a fleeting, haunting likeness to some former friend. Then she thought she had a clue, for, in answer to a sudden jest on her part, the stranger laughed until his gla.s.ses fell off and dropped to the floor, and as he stooped to pick them up, she caught sight of a tiny scar on his right eyelid. Surely she had seen that scar before, or, at least, one much like it; and once more she went through her friends, trying to place the mark, but with no better success than before.

For a long half hour they sat there, while Mr. Atherden entertained her so well that she was quite unconscious of Dr. Brownlee, who came to the parlor door more than once to cast a longing glance in her direction.

But her back was turned towards him, and she was too much interested in their talk to heed the proudly defiant glance with which Mr. Atherden met the gaze of his rival. The doctor was not so slow to interpret his meaning, and he gave his mustache a vicious jerk, as he walked away to pay his homage at some other shrine. Mr. Atherden watched him with an amused smile; then he turned to Allie who stood before him with a plate of sandwiches in her hand.

"Ah, thank you, my little maid," he said with infinite condescension, while he helped Louise and then himself. "Mrs. Fisher is to be congratulated upon having such charming a.s.sistants." And he looked straight up into the eyes of Allie, who flushed a rosy red as she hurriedly turned away.

But supper was over, and the tempting notes of a waltz rang out from the piano in the parlor. Mr. Atherden rose to his feet.

"It is a long time since I have danced, Miss Everett; may I not have the pleasure now?" And settling his gla.s.ses firmly on his nose, he smiled invitingly down at her, as he stood waiting to lead her to the parlor.

Louise hesitated for a moment. The doctor had asked her for this very waltz; but already the room was full of moving couples, and she could see him dancing with the pretty young teacher, lately come from the East. With a little feeling of pique she turned to her escort, and was soon gliding about the room with an apparent delight in her partner, who was dancing quite as well as he had talked. The waltz ended, she turned away, without a glance at the neglectful doctor, and followed her new acquaintance to their former seats in the hall.

"How well you waltz!" she said frankly, as she fanned herself. "It's such a rare thing to meet a really good dancer out here."

"Such a partner would inspire anyone," returned her companion gallantly, while he twirled his mustache with a complacent delight in it which convinced Louise that it was of recent growth.

Then he entered into a spirited account of his journey and his adventures in coming into the strange place, while Louise sat leaning back in her chair, watching him, haunted by that vague resemblance. Dr.

Brownlee was standing just inside the parlor door with his eyes fixed upon them longingly, although he was apparently engrossed by the sprightly conversation of his former partner. But Mr. Atherden made no motion as if to leave his place; he merely glared defiantly at the doctor, while he twisted his mustache and chatted on, and the doctor was forced to go away again.

Notwithstanding her apparent unconsciousness of his presence, Louise had looked after him with a little wistful expression in her blue eyes.

At that moment, she heard a sudden exclamation, and she turned back to face her companion once more, just in time to see the silky brown mustache yield to too violent a jerk and fall into his lap, while the young man, in no wise embarra.s.sed by the accident, leaned back in his chair and burst into a shout of laughter. One glance at him had told her the secret of the puzzling resemblance; and she echoed his laugh with a thorough enjoyment of the boyish caper.

"Charlie MacGregor, you incorrigible imp!" she exclaimed, when she could get her breath. "How did you ever dare to come here in this fas.h.i.+on?"

"Why not?" inquired Charlie. "You'd never have known me now, if this miserable mustache had only stuck where it belonged. But, honestly, Miss Lou, don't I make a fair actor?"

"Too good, Charlie," she answered, with a fresh laugh over the unexpected ending to her flirtation. "Why haven't you ever told us you could waltz so well, though?"

"I didn't suppose I could; it's so long since I've tried it. Besides, none of the other fellows do, and I was afraid they'd think 'twas silly for a boy," answered Charlie. "Allie started this scheme, and put on the finis.h.i.+ng touches. But didn't you really know me, Miss Lou?"

"Not a bit. n.o.body would ever have suspected, if you hadn't been quite so proud of your mustache, Mr. Atherden. By the way, where did you get the name?"

"It's my middle one; didn't you know that?"

"No; but," she added hastily, "here comes somebody. Really, Charlie, you don't want to spoil the joke by getting caught; you'd better go, now."

And she pushed him towards the door.

Five minutes later, she was offering to Mrs. Fisher the apologies of her stranger guest, for the sudden business which had called him away so abruptly. Then, after an inviting glance which promptly brought the doctor to her side, she led the way to the "den," where she pledged him to secrecy, and then told him the story of her recent companion.

"But there's one sure thing," Charlie said, with impenitent glee, as he was bidding Allie goodnight; "for once in my life, I cut Dr. Brownlee out with Miss Lou, and that's something to be proud of."

CHAPTER XVI.

THE COMPLETED STORY.

"They say there's a case of scarlet fever over the other side of the creek," remarked Mr. Everett at dinner, one night about a month after Charlie's unexpected appearance in society.

"Scarlet fever! Oh, dear, where?" asked Louise anxiously.

"You needn't be scared, Lou; people don't catch it at your age,"

responded Grant, with brotherly impertinence.

"I'm not afraid for myself," she answered seriously. "Where is it, papa?

I don't want the boys to get into it."

"It's way up beyond the smelter," replied Mr. Everett lightly. "You don't need to worry, Lou, for it is so far away, and only a light case.

The boys would better not go over that way, and then they'll be safe enough. Dr. Hofer has it in charge, so it will probably be all right."

"I suppose so; but I'm always afraid of it," said Louise uneasily. "I hope they'll quarantine them, or something."

"Of course they will," said her father. "No doctor that's half a doctor would let such a matter go unguarded. The board of health wouldn't allow it, either," he added, in a tone of such decision that Louise accepted his belief as final, and thought no more about the matter.

Ten days later she stood before her mirror, dressing for a _Mardi gras_ party at the Fishers'. For the past three weeks, this coming social event had been the chief theme of conversation in Blue Creek; for, taking place, as it did, at the very close of the season, it was intended to be a fitting climax to all the gayety which had gone before.

Louise had entered into the spirit of the occasion as heartily as a young and pretty girl could do, and had spent long hours in planning the new gown which her father had insisted she must have.

"Something simple and pretty, Lou; but good of its kind," had been his only instruction. "Don't spoil it, for the sake of a few dollars; just get something that can stand on its own merits, and not have to be patched out with laces and ribbons and all sorts of other gimcrackery.

You know what I mean; but I want my daughter to look her best."

Nevertheless, after all her antic.i.p.ations, Louise was looking a little troubled and anxious, as she stood there, arraying herself in the pale blue c.r.a.pe gown which fell about her in soft, clinging folds, unbroken by any ornament except the crescent of pearls that fastened the high, close ruff at her neck. For some reason, Ned had been feeling ill that day. He had complained of being cold, in the morning; and, instead of going to Mr. Nelson's as usual, he had lain on the sofa all day long, too miserable even to go with Grant to the Burnams', where the boys had been asked to spend the afternoon and dine. For the past day or two, Mr.

Everett had been away from home on business, and would only return just in time to take his daughter to the Fishers'; and Mrs. Pennypoker had made light of the boy's trouble, p.r.o.nouncing it merely a slight fit of indigestion which would be gone by the next morning. Still, Louise had been alarmed, unnecessarily so, Mrs. Pennypoker had told her. But the boy seemed thoroughly ill and feverish, and she had persuaded him to go to bed early, promising to hurry her dressing, and go in to sit with him until the carriage came for her.

Now, as she arranged her great bunch of white roses, and tied them with a long blue ribbon, before laying them ready beside her fan and gloves, she was half resolving to give up the party and stay quietly at home with Ned. Of the two boys, he was decidedly her favorite; and she disliked the idea of leaving him to the mercies of Mrs. Pennypoker, whose tenderness was a little too brazen in its nature to be acceptable to an affectionate, impressionable lad like Ned. However, she knew that her father was hurrying his return on purpose to act as her escort, so she was unwilling to disappoint him at the last moment. She was still hesitating what course to pursue, as she gathered up her train and started for her brother's room, with the largest of the roses in her hand, to leave with him when she went away. But, as soon as she came in sight of Ned's face, she felt no further doubt. Unaccustomed to illness as she was, she saw at a glance that the boy was worse, although he opened his eyes and smiled at her approvingly as she paused beside him.

"You look just gay," he said hoa.r.s.ely.

"Gayer than you feel?" Louise asked playfully, while she bent over him and laid her cool hand against his flushed cheek.

"I'm all right; only I'm so warm, and my throat's a good deal sore," Ned answered; then he settled back under the blankets, and closed his eyes again.

Louise watched him closely for a moment. In spite of Mrs. Pennypoker's a.s.surances, this was not like any form of indigestion she had ever seen, and she determined to send w.a.n.g k.u.m for Dr. Brownlee. From past experience, she knew that Mrs. Pennypoker would object to such a course, for she had unlimited faith in her stock of home medicines, and regarded the professional services of a doctor as invariably leading to the gloomy ministrations of the undertaker. Mrs. Pennypoker had never quite forgiven Mrs. Burnam for disregarding the poultice she had prescribed for Charlie's eye; and now, all day long, she had been persecuting Ned with alternate doses of ginger tea and "boneset bitters," which were her staple remedies for almost every ill to which flesh was heir. Louise had submitted, much against her better judgment; but now she felt that the time had come for decided action, so she stealthily made her way to the kitchen in search of w.a.n.g k.u.m.

"I wish you'd go over and ask Dr. Brownlee to come in here for a few minutes, as soon as he can, w.a.n.g," she said, in a low voice.

w.a.n.g k.u.m nodded wisely.

"All light; w.a.n.g sabe. You no wan' Mis' Pen'plok know." And he departed on his errand.

Quarter of an hour later the doctor came. w.a.n.g had interrupted him in the midst of dressing for the party, and he had hastily finished his toilet and hurried over to the Everetts, rather at a loss to account for the summons. Louise met him at the door.

"Dr. Brownlee!" she exclaimed, with an accent of relief; "it seemed as if you'd never come."