We Ten Part 4

A lot of things happened that week. To begin with, some new people moved into the house opposite us, that has been empty for so long. It's a small house,--nurse says it used to be a stable, and was turned into a dwelling-house since she has lived here,--set quite a good way back from the street, and with a low stoop to one side and a piazza off that. A tall iron railing, with an ornamental gate, encloses a front yard in which are some forlorn-looking shrubs, a rosebush or two, and a couple of scraggy altheas. Workmen had been about the place for some time, putting everything in order, and of course we took the liveliest interest in all that went on, from the pruning of the shrubs to the carrying in of the furniture; and the day the new people moved in, Miss Marston could hardly keep us younger ones from the windows: indeed, for that matter, Nora was just as curious as we were, for all she talks about "vulgar curiosity." They came in a carriage, and there were three of them,--a tall, black-bearded man, a little, fragile-looking lady, and a tall, lanky boy, perhaps as old as Felix, with a rather nice face, who shouldered a satchel and the travelling-rugs, and brought up the rear of the procession to the house, with the end of a shawl trailing on the ground behind him.

Jack heard from Henderson--who has become his shadow--that the gentleman has something to do with a newspaper, and that the boy goes to college, and Phil saw him there the other day; but it wasn't until the following Sunday, nearly a week after, that we heard their name and who they were,--and that came by way of a grand surprise.

We were sitting round the schoolroom fire, talking and singing hymns, when the door opened, and who should come walking in but--Max Derwent!

We _were_ surprised; for though he'd written to say he was coming, we didn't expect it would be so soon. Dear old Max! we were delighted to see him, and I do believe he was just as glad to see us. But just at first we couldn't any of us say very much; dear mamma was with us when Max was here last!

After a while, though, that feeling wore away, and I tell you our tongues did fly! Max measured us all by the closet door, where he took our measurements before he went away, and he says we have grown wonderfully,--particularly Nannie. He was so surprised when he first saw her, that he just held her hands and looked at her, until Nannie said, "Why, Max, you haven't kissed me; aren't you glad to see me?" I think she felt a little hurt, for he'd kissed the rest of us,--even to Phil and Felix,--and Nannie and he used to be such good friends.

"Why, Nancy Lee," Max said, "you have grown such a tall young lady since I've been away, that I didn't know whether you'd still allow me the dear old privilege; indeed I will kiss you;" and with that he stooped,--Max is tall,--and kissed her on her forehead, just where the parting of her hair begins.

But Max couldn't get over her being so grown, for he kept on gazing and gazing at Nannie, and she did look sweet, sitting there in the firelight. Nora is very pretty,--her features are so regular; but Nannie has a _dear_ face: her brown eyes are big and s.h.i.+ning, and her hair is so thick and pretty; it's light brown, and little locks of it get loose and curl up round her forehead and ears, and when she talks and laughs I think she's every bit as pretty as Nora. Somehow there's a look about Nannie's face that makes you know you can trust her through and through; I tell you I'm awfully glad she's in the family; in fact, I don't know what we'd any of us do without her, from papa to Alan.

Well, we told Max every single thing that had happened--good, bad, and indifferent--since he went away, including, of course, about Phil's going to college, and Fee's not going, and about aunt Lindsay's present to Fee and Nannie,--all talking together, and as loud as we pleased (we always do with Max) until we came to the new people that had moved in across the way--and what do you suppose? Max knows them!

"They are the Ervengs," he said, "and the boy's name is Hilliard,--Hilliard Erveng. The father is a partner in a large Boston publis.h.i.+ng house that has just opened an agency here, and I shouldn't wonder if Erveng were in charge of the agency by his taking a house in New York. That's the firm I thought would buy your father's book, if he'd only finish it; but from what he told me this afternoon, it's still a long way from completion." He glanced at Nannie as he spoke, and she nodded her head sadly. "I used to know Erveng; he was a cla.s.smate of mine," went on Max, thoughtfully, wrinkling up his eyebrows at the fire. "I wonder how it would do to rake up the acquaintance again, and bring him over unexpectedly to call on the professor,"--papa's friends all call him Professor Rose,--"and surprise him into showing Erveng the ma.n.u.script!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'THE BOY'S NAME IS HILLIARD ERVENG.'"]

"Oh, Max, that would never, never do," cried Nannie, quickly. "You know how averse papa is to showing his work to any one; he couldn't do it, I'm sure, and it might make him very angry."

"And yet, if he _did_ show it, think what a benefit to you all it might be; for I am convinced the work is one that would be an acquisition to the reading public; and Erveng would recognise that at once. Think of what it means for all of you, Nancy Lee," urged Max,--"college for Felix, drawing lessons for Nora, a fine violin for you, gymnasium for Betty, a splendid military school for Jack,"--here Jack broke in rudely with, "_Don't_ want any military school, this one's bad enough," and was silenced by Phil's hand being laid suddenly and firmly over his mouth,--"and all sorts of good things for everybody, if only Erveng sees the ma.n.u.script of the Fetich" (Max knows what we call it).

Nannie still looked dubious, but Nora exclaimed: "I say, do it, Max! It does seem a shame to have us suffering for things, and that ma.n.u.script just lying down there; and perhaps then papa would stir himself a little and finish it. I declare I would like to take some of the pages over and show them to Mr. Erveng myself!"

We all knew that she wouldn't; but as she said the words, an idea popped into my head, such a splendid idea--at least I thought it was then--that I nearly giggled outright with delight, and I had positively to hold myself in to keep from telling it. Happening to look up suddenly at Phil, I caught him with a broad grin on _his_ face, and winking violently at Felix, who winked back. That did not surprise me,--those two are always signalling to each other in that way; but when they both straightened their faces the instant I saw them, and a.s.sumed a very innocent expression, then I began to suspect that they were up to some mischief: little did I dream what it was, though! Phil is a _fearful_ practical joker; you never know where he's going to break out. I'm pretty bad, but he is ever so much worse; and Felix helps him every time.

"What sort of a man _is_ Mr. Erveng?" asked Felix, with an appearance of great interest.

Max laughed. "Well, he used to be considered rather eccentric," he said.

"I remember the fellows at college nick-named him 'Old-Woman Erveng,'

because--so they said--he had a large picture in his room of a fat old woman in a poke bonnet; and at the social gatherings to which he could be induced to go, he always devoted himself to the oldest and fattest ladies in the room, without noticing the young and pretty girls. _I_ thought he was rather a nice sort of fellow; what's the matter, Betty, want any a.s.sistance?"

What Max said fitted in so well with the plan I had in my mind that--though I tried to keep it back--I had chuckled, and now they were all looking at me.

"When Elizabeth 'chortles' in that fas.h.i.+on you may be sure there's mischief in her mind," Felix remarked, eyeing me severely. "Out with it, miss."

"Or I'll have to garote you," put in Phil, leaning over toward me with extended thumb and finger; but I skipped away and got beside Max.

"Indeed, it's you and Felix that are up to something," I retorted. "I can see it in your faces."

"Oh, tell us what your 'surprise' is, Max," put in Nannie, quickly. I think she wanted to turn the conversation, and so keep us from wrangling, this very first evening that Max was with us.

"Why, I've brought back a ward," answered Max. "His name is Chadwick Whitcombe. He went to-day from the steamer to stay a week or two with an old friend of his father's; then I shall bring him to see you, and I'm going to ask you _all_"--here Max looked at each one of us--"to be nice and friendly to him, for poor Chad is singularly alone: he has not a relative in the world. Though he will come into a good deal of money by and by, the poor fellow has knocked about from place to place with his former guardian, who has just died, and he has had no home training at all. May I count on your being kind to him?"

Of course we all said yes,--couldn't help ourselves,--but I heard Fee sing, under his breath, so it shouldn't reach Max's ears:--

"Here comes Shad, Looking very sad; We'll hit him with a pad, And make him glad!"

and when I laughed, Phil scowled at me, and muttered something about "giving him to Betty to lick into shape." I couldn't say anything, for I was right close to Max; but I made one of my worst faces at Phil. Soon after this, Max went down to the study to spend the rest of the evening with papa.

VI.

DISPOSING OF A FETICH.

TOLD BY BETTY.

I might as well tell you that my plan was to dress up, some afternoon that week, in one of nurse's gowns, and her bonnet and veil,--if I could possibly induce her to lend them all to me without having to tell why I wanted them,--and to go and call on Mr. Erveng in regard to the Fetich.

What I should say when I met him didn't trouble me; you see there was really only to tell him about the book, so he might make papa an offer for it; but what _did_ weigh upon me was how to get dressed up and out of the house without being caught: there are such a lot of us that somebody or other's sure to be hanging around all the time. For several days I couldn't get a chance: Monday it rained; Tuesday afternoon Phil took Paul to the dentist, and nurse went along,--Judge is one of her pets; Wednesday afternoon Jack and a whole lot of boys played close to the house, and of course I couldn't walk right out before them,--it would have been just like Jack to run up and say something, perhaps offer to a.s.sist my tottering steps down the stoop. But at last, on Thursday, the coast seemed clear: Nannie was in the study with papa, Nora was practising, Jack was on the schoolroom sofa reading, the children in the nursery, and Phil and Felix up in Fee's room; I could hear a murmur of voices from there, and every now and then a burst of laughter. This was my opportunity.

The door of nurse's room, which was next to the nursery, was open, and as I stole in, hoping she was there, that I might ask her, I saw her wardrobe door open, and hanging within easy reach a dress and shawl that would just serve my purpose. But her bonnet and veil were not in their usual place, which rather surprised me, for nurse is very particular with us about those things, and I had to hunt before I found even her oldest ones, in deadly fear all the time that I'd be caught in the act.

You see, I made up my mind I'd borrow the things, and then tell her about it when I brought them back.

Flying into my room, I locked the door, and just "jumped" into those clothes, as the boys would say; and I did look so funny when I was dressed, that I had to laugh. In the first place, Max had said Mr.

Erveng liked fat old women; so I stuffed myself out to fill nurse's capacious gown to the best of my ability, with pillows and anything else I could lay my hands on; I think I must have measured yards and yards round when I was all finished. Then I pinned my braid on the top of my head, put on nurse's bonnet, and dividing the veil so that one part hung down my back and the other part over my face, I was ready to start. I had slipped on a pair of old black woollen gloves that I found in the pocket of my new skirt, and, stealing cautiously down the stairs, I got out of the house without meeting any one.

But I can't tell you how queer I felt in the street,--it seemed as if everybody looked at me, and as if they must suspect what I was up to. I forgot all about walking slowly, like an old woman, and fairly flew up the flagged path to the Ervengs' stoop; and the ring I gave to the bell brought a small boy in b.u.t.tons very quickly to the door. "I wish to see Mr. Erveng on business," I said, disguising my voice as well as I could.

Then, as he murmured something about "card,"--I had entirely forgotten that,--I pushed my way past him, saying, "It is something _very_ important, that I _know_ your master will be glad to hear."

This seemed to satisfy him, and he ushered me into a room which looked to be half drawing-room, half study: there were in it a sofa, some fancy chairs, a set of well-filled Eastlake book-shelves, and a desk almost as big as papa's. Portieres hung at the end of the room. I took a seat near one of the long windows opening on the balcony, and began to arrange in my mind what I would say to Mr. Erveng, when suddenly, glancing toward the gate, I saw some one open it and come slowly up the walk,--a stout, elderly female, dressed in a black gown, a black shawl, and a bonnet and veil, _precisely_ like the ones I had on! Her veil was drawn closely over her face, she wore black woollen gloves, and held in one hand a black reticule--which I would have declared was nurse's--and in the other a clumsily folded umbrella. As I sat and stared at the advancing figure, I wondered if I were dreaming, and actually gave myself a pinch to a.s.sure myself I was awake. But who _could_ she be,--this double of mine? I wouldn't like to tell Jack or any of the others, you know, but I would really not have been sorry to have been at home just then.

At this moment the old lady entered the room. b.u.t.tons closed the door, and we were left alone facing each other,--for I had got up when she came in,--and I must say the unknown seemed as much surprised as I was.

Then all at once she began to walk round and round me; and as I didn't want her to get behind me, I kept turning too,--just as if I'd been on a pivot; I believe I was fascinated by those big eyes glaring at me through the thick black veil.

"Betty! 'by all that's abominable!'" suddenly exclaimed my double; and _then_ I knew who it was.

"_Phil!_ you _mean_ thing!" I cried, intensely relieved; and darting forward I caught hold of his bonnet and veil.

"Hands off!" he called out, wriggling away; "an ye love me, spare me 'bunnit.'" Then, as he got to a safe distance, and threw back his veil: "Look here, old lady, if you lay violent hands on me again, I'll yell for help, and bring the house about your ears. _Then_ you'll rue it."

This provoked me. "You're the one will rue it," I said. "You've just spoilt the whole thing by spying on me and following me here--"

"Well, I like that!" Phil interrupted. "It seems to me the shoe's on the other foot. What are _you_ doing here, in that outrageous costume, and in a stranger's house? Whew! wouldn't there be a small circus if the _pater_ should see you! I'd feel sorry for you, I tell you. And what excuse do you propose to offer Mr. Erveng when he makes his appearance here, as he will in a few minutes?" Sidling up to me, he nudged my elbow, and added persuasively: "'There _is_ a time for _dis_-appearing.'

Say, Betty, my infant, one of us has _got_ to go, so I'd advise you to fly at once. b.u.t.tons is out of the way, and in an excess of brotherly affection I'll escort you to the door myself. Come--fly!" And he nudged me again.

"No," I said obstinately, "I won't go; I was here first. I'm here, and here I'll remain."

"Oh, very well," said Phil, in a resigned sort of tone, seating himself in a most unladylike att.i.tude on a three-cornered chair. "Then come sit on the edge of my chair, you little fairy, and we'll pose for the Siamese twins."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'COME SIT ON THE EDGE OF MY CHAIR, YOU LITTLE FAIRY.'"]

But I was so disappointed I was afraid I'd cry. I had hoped _so_ much from this interview with Mr. Erveng, and here was Phil spoiling everything by his silliness. "I think you are simply _horrid_," I broke out, very crossly. "I just wish Mr. Erveng would come in and beat you, or turn you out, or _something_."

"If the old man shows fight, I'll have his blood," cried Phil, tragically, springing from his chair. "Gore, _gore_! I _will_ have gore!" He did look _very_ funny, striding up and down the room and sc.r.a.ping his toes along the floor in our most approved "high tragedy"

style, with nurse's shawl hanging over one shoulder, his bonnet crooked and almost off his head, and shaking the umbrella, held tight in a black-woollen-gloved fist, at an imaginary foe.