A Romance of Toronto Part 16

"Your dark leather chairs and handsome sideboard look well against the brown paper on the walls, and oh, you won't mind telling me who hung your drapings, _portiere_ hangings, and all that, they are in such good taste."

"Murray did them for me; it was a case of two heads being better than one, where I was at fault he set me right."

"Your home is small, but all so home-like, except for one great want, a man to hang his hat up in the hall as your husband, and a child to call you mother."

"Quite a tempting picture, Ella," she answered, a little sadly, "but '_l'homme propose Dieu dispose_."

"Take the man, when he proposes, Elaine; I cannot bear to see you alone."

"That is my advice to my friends also, Ella; but, speaking of living alone, will you and Miss Crew come to me when you place Garfield at school, and during the absence of Mr. Dale north-east with Mr.

Buckingham; say you will, it won't be for long."

"It's the thing above all others that will please me, Elaine. Excuse my Irish blood, but I must give vent to my feelings by giving you a hug,"

she said, merrily, as they rose from table.

"Angels and ministers of grace defend us, Elaine, here's a lady visitor; and now that her umbrella is down, I see Mrs. Smyth. But, fond as I am of her, I wish her back to her home, for I wanted the morning alone with you."

"You are both looking charming, it's a pity I am not a gentleman caller, but what lazy people you are," said lively Mrs. Smyth.

"Now that I have emerged from the under side of Fortune's wheel, I do believe I am growing epicurean," said Mrs. Gower, gaily.

"Don't I look too sweet for anything, Mrs. Smyth?" said Mrs. Dale, promenading up and down the room; "haven't I grown stout?"

"But you are all uneven," laughed Mrs. Smyth.

"Now, that is cruel, Mrs. Smyth; 'tis 'love's labor lost,' after having utilized all the mats, towels and pillow-shams in my bedroom as stuffing, to be simply told I am uneven."

"Stuffing never goes down with me, Mrs. Dale," laughed Mrs. Smyth.

"It's a good thing for us you are not a man," said Mrs. Dale, demurely.

"Women all angles would cry 'hear, hear!'" laughed Mrs. Gower.

"But you don't ask me what brought me in this morning."

"No, I am too glad to have you; but is it a call of a mouth full of news?"

"Yes, which I shall stuff you with 'as pigeons do their young.'"

"Me, too!" piped Mrs. Dale.

"Mr. King is in town, Mrs. Gower; there, I thought I should electrify you, but you don't seem to care."

"I do, for we shall now have news of the Coles."

"And is that all you will welcome him all the way from Ottawa for?"

"That is all, Lilian; these little flirtations, _pour pa.s.sez le temp_, soon burn themselves out."

"What a funny woman you are, Elaine; sometimes I can't make you out at all."

"Don't try to, dear, when I puzzle you; life is too short for problem-solving, though our little friend here doesn't think so. But did Mr. King name the Coles?"

"He did."

"Thank you, Thomas," said Mrs. Gower, receiving her letters, which had been put in the letter-box by the letter-carrier.

"One moment, you will excuse me, dears, while I run my letters over."

One marked "Immediate," she read to herself as follows:

"THE QUEEN'S, Wed. Eve., Nov. 9th.

"MY DEAR MRS. GOWER,--It is with extreme pleasure I again find myself in the same city with yourself, and am antic.i.p.ating with intense eagerness an interview. I go west to-morrow p.m., so shall go up to Holmnest in the morning.

"As ever, yours devotedly, "CYRIL KING.

"MRS. GOWER, "Holmnest, West Toronto."

"Oh, dear! oh, dear! he may be here any moment, and I am in a quandary as to what I shall do with him. This little settling up of one's _affaires de coeur_ is distasteful, but I have not been a bit to blame here," she thought, quietly tearing up the note, and making a holocaust of it.

"Oh, I can a.s.sure you, Mrs. Dale, she had scarcely any waist covering at all," said Mrs. Smyth, in disgust, "she looked simply dreadful."

"Who is the woman this time, dear?" asked Mrs. Gower, amusedly, as she fastened some camellias to her gown; "what fair one are you throwing mud at now, Lilian?"

"Oh, that Mrs. St. Clair. Miss Hall walked down with me as far as College Street this morning, and she says, or rather mouthed, for she is too full of affectation to speak plain, but managed to convey that Mrs.

St. Clair's dress began too late during the Langtry season. Her dress was _couleur de rose_ (what there was of it), no sleeves, well there was an invisible band, Miss Hall said (I wondered at her, the way she talked, as she is so thick there). Now, what do you think of Mrs. St.

Clair, Elaine?"

"I think that she would be the cynosure of all eyes--men's, for she is very fair to look upon."

"But, Elaine, she is enamelled! Miss Hall's description reminded me of how an American paper describes such--as if they in their opera boxes sat in a bath tub."

"Oh, that's hard," said Mrs. Dale; "who was she with, and was the boy Noah ready with his pinchers?"

"No, it was that horrid boy's night off, I suppose, for his father was on duty; the little wretch nearly gave me cancer; the two Wilber girls and our Mr. Buckingham were the party; oh, Elaine, it's most absurd, but Mr. Buckingham is the 'foreign count' gossip said Mr. St. Clair is jealous of."

"I am not surprised; all Grundy's scandal brews are a froth of lies, Lilian."

"But it _is_ true that Mrs. St. Clair flirts and enamels."

"If so, she is very pretty, and has a husband with an eagle eye--and,"

she added gaily, "a son with claws that even you speak feelingly of."

"Well, good-bye, it is getting near our dinner hour, I must off; and, as I live, here is the King from Ottawa; you are here opportunely to play gooseberry, Mrs. Dale; oh, I must tell you, you know, how quiet Mrs.

Tremaine is. Well, she went back in the dark last Sunday evening for her dolman, it was so cold, but when she hung it over the front of the pew it proved to be the Captain's trousers!"

"How do you do, dear Mrs. Gower?" he said with _empress.e.m.e.nt_, his strikingly handsome face aglow with pleasure.