Mr. Pat's Little Girl Part 9

The Partons' was a square house, with a wide hall dividing it through the middle and opening on a porch at either end. When the weather at all permitted, these doors stood wide open, and dogs and cats and children ran in and out as they pleased. In the afternoons Colonel Parton sat on the front porch smoking and reading, threatening the dogs and the children indiscriminately, receiving not the slightest attention from either.

As she pa.s.sed him now, Belle mischievously deposited the kitten on his shoulder.

"You baggage, you! Take this thing off me," thundered the colonel, as the kitten made its claws felt in a frantic endeavor to hold on in its perilous position.

"O father! don't hurt her," Belle cried, running to the rescue, and in the scuffle that followed, the unfortunate kitten escaped.

"Don't you let me catch you doing a thing like that again," scolded the colonel, as he picked up his paper and settled himself in his chair again.

Belle laughed, and held up her face for a kiss, which her father gave with a hearty good will.

Mrs. Parton was not the only one who felt dress to be a matter of importance on this occasion. Charlotte Ellis stopped at the bank gate to ask Katherine what she was going to wear.

"My blue lawn, I think," Katherine answered. "Mother says it is nice enough, and that I must keep my new white dress for Commencement."

"Your blue dress is very pretty, I am sure," Charlotte said. She was two years older than Katherine, and her manner was mildly patronizing. "I think I shall wear white. Of course it is not a party, but we want to make a good impression on a stranger."

Katherine felt the force of this, but Maurice, who overheard Charlotte, was inclined to jeer. "Much difference it will make to her what you have on," he said, as Charlotte left them. "Her," meant Rosalind.

"How do you know it won't make any difference?" asked Katherine.

"Because she is not that kind."

"What kind? How do you know?"

Now Maurice had kept his interview with Rosalind to himself, saying nothing to any one when he returned her book. His sudden interest in Shakespeare had not pa.s.sed unnoticed; but as this or something else had caused longer intervals of cheerfulness, the family had not ventured to disturb the agreeable change by asking questions.

"I know, because I talked to her the other day," he replied.

"Maurice, really?" cried Katherine. "I don't believe it"

"You needn't if you don't want to," was her brother's lofty answer.

On the appointed evening the guest of honor was the last to arrive, and the others were in such a state of expectancy they could not settle down to an examination of Miss Betty's puzzle drawer with which she usually entertained her young guests until supper was announced. Miss Betty, who adored puzzles and problems of all kinds, was continually adding to her collection, and this evening there was a brand new one, brought from the city only the day before; but even Belle, who was especially good at puzzles, and besides affected not to care about Rosalind Whittredge, could not keep her eyes from the window.

The application of French chalk had been successful, and she wore her blue and white silk; Katherine, in her blue muslin, with ribbons to match on her smooth braids, wished her mother had been more impressed with the importance of the occasion. Charlotte was complacent in her white dress with a large ribbon bow on top of her head, in a new fas.h.i.+on just received from her cousin in Baltimore.

"That's the way Rosalind wears hers," whispered Katherine.

The boys fingered the puzzles and talked about the ball game to be played to-morrow, but they shared the feeling of antic.i.p.ation. Their hostess bustled back and forth.

"Children," she said, pausing in the door, "I want you to be as nice as possible to Rosalind. Remember she is a stranger, and we wish her to have a pleasant impression of Friends.h.i.+p."

"Here she is!" announced Belle, and the rest crowded around the window.

"There's Miss Genevieve," whispered Charlotte; "girls, she is coming in!"

The Whittredge carriage had stopped before the gate and Miss Genevieve, a marvel of grace in soft chiffons that rippled and curled about her slender height and emphasized the fairness of her skin, was actually escorting her niece to the door.

"Isn't she lovely?" sighed Charlotte, in an ecstasy.

"Not so sweet as Miss Celia," said loyal Belle.

Miss Betty met them on the porch, while her guests in the parlor craned their necks to catch a glimpse, through the open door, of the new arrivals. The languid sweetness of Miss Genevieve's tone floated in above Miss Betty's crisper utterance.

"Mamma is just as usual, thank you. Yes, it was very kind of you to ask her; I have no doubt she finds it dull. Yes, we expect Allan in a week or two, but there is no counting on him."

So absorbed were the listeners, they did not begin their retreat soon enough, and their hostess, ushering Rosalind in, encountered a scene of confusion. Katherine in the excitement fell backward over a footstool and was rescued, flushed and shamefaced, by Jack Parton. Charlotte smoothed her dress and tried to look dignified. Belle and Maurice were in fits of laughter.

Miss Betty surveyed them in surprise. Rosalind stood beside her, and the girls at once noted that she wore pink.

"Is anything the matter?" asked Miss Betty, observing Katherine's flushed face. "I want to introduce Rosalind Whittredge to you. Rosalind, this is Charlotte Ellis, and Katherine Roberts, and Belle Parton--"

Still laughing, Belle held out her hand. "We were peeping at you," she said.

"Didn't you know I was coming in?" Rosalind asked, a gleam of fun in her own eyes.

"We wanted to see Miss Genevieve," added Belle.

As Miss Betty proceeded to name the boys, Rosalind said, "Oh, I know Maurice," quite as if he were an old friend; and she added, standing beside him, "I am so much obliged to you for bringing my book home."

"Does Maurice know her?" whispered Belle.

Katherine nodded, although she had had her doubts until this minute.

Maurice was agreeably conscious of Belle's eyes as he talked to Rosalind.

He was not at all unwilling to have the distinction of being the only one to know the new-comer.

"I read the story," he said. "I did not know till after you had gone that it was one of Shakespeare's plays. We read Julius Caesar at school last winter."

"I know that too," Rosalind answered. I have Lamb's stories. Cousin Louis used to read them to me, and then from the real plays, but I like the story of the Forest best."

"Dear me! they are talking about Shakespeare," Belle exclaimed.

Rosalind looked across the room at her, and smiled in a way that seemed an invitation.

"It is a little funny for her to sit down beside a boy the first thing, don't you think?" Charlotte said in a low tone to Katherine, who a.s.sented because she was in the habit of agreeing with Charlotte.

Belle overheard. "Silly!" she said, and to show her scorn she went over and sat on an arm of the sofa beside Rosalind.

"Do you like to read?" she asked.

Rosalind opened her eyes. "Of course I do, don't you?"

Belle, who had browsed in her father's library since she had learned her letters, was known as a great reader, and felt rather proud of her reputation; but she found the stranger had read as much as she, and seemed to think nothing of it.

In the warmth of a discussion of favorite stories any stiffness is sure to melt rapidly away. Jack, hearing mention of "The Talisman," joined in and the others drew up their chairs, so that when Miss Betty rustled back from an excursion to the dining room she found the ice broken and sociability prevailing. But she startled them all by an exclamation.