Dr. Lavendar's People Part 17

"Well," William said, smiling, "there's no haste, only I thought I'd just remind you. I'm always business-like myself; and that little matter of accommodation--"

Dr. Lavendar stared at him. "I am afraid I'm a stupid old fellow; I don't understand."

The stage-driver gathered up his reins; Miss Lydia nodded joyously on the back seat, the two other pa.s.sengers frowned at the delay; so William Rives made haste to explain: "Merely, sir, the stamp I had the pleasure of lending you. But pray don't incommode yourself; I merely remind you; it's of no--"

Dr. Lavendar pulled out his shabby leather pocket-book, his hands fairly trembling with haste, and produced the stamp; then he pulled the door to, and as the stage sagged forward and went tugging up the hill, he turned his astonished eyes on Miss Lydia. She had grown very pale, but she said nothing, only looking out of the window and rubbing her little cotton gloves hard together.

"Would you have asked him for a receipt?" Dr. Lavendar said, under his breath, chuckling. But when she tried to answer him, there was something in her face that turned Dr. Lavendar grave.

The stage jolted on; the two other pa.s.sengers chatted, then one fell asleep and the other read an almanac. Suddenly Miss Lydia turned sharply round. "It just kills me!" she said.

"Nonsense!" Dr. Lavendar told her. "He is a man of business, and I'm a forgetful old codger. I knew William, and I ought to have remembered."

But Miss Lydia's face had fallen into such drawn and anxious lines that Dr. Lavendar had to do his best to cheer her. He began to ask questions: How long was it since she had been in Mercer? Was she going to call on friends? Was she going to shop? "I believe you ladies always want to shop?" said Dr. Lavendar, kindly. And somehow Miss Lydia brightened up. Yes; she was going to shop! It was a secret: she couldn't tell Dr. Lavendar yet, but he should know about it first of all. She was so happy, so important, so excited, that her pain at William's business-like ways seemed forgotten; and when in Mercer they separated at the Stage House, she went bustling off into the suns.h.i.+ne, waving a shabby cotton glove at him, and crying, "I haven't a minute to lose!"

Dr. Lavendar stood still and shook his head. "Pity," he said--"pity, pity. But I suppose it can't be helped. There's no use telling William about her; he must see it. And there's no use telling her about William; she must see it. No--no use. But it's a pity--a pity."

Which shows that Dr. Lavendar had reached that degree of wisdom which knows that successful interference in love affairs must come from the inside, not from the outside.

He did not see Miss Lydia again until they met in the afternoon at the Stage House, and for a minute he did not recognize her. She came running and panting, laden with bundles, to the coach door. Indeed, she was so hurried that one of her innumerable packages, a long, slim bundle, slipped from her happy, weary arms, and, hitting the iron drop-step, crashed into fragments and splashed her dress with its contents. "Oh! that's one of my bottles of Catawba," said Miss Lydia.

"Dear, dear! Well, never mind; I'll order another."

The fragrance of the wine soaking her gloves and the front of her faded dress, filled the stage (in which they were the only pa.s.sengers), and Miss Lydia joyously licked the two bare finger-tips. "Too bad!" she said; "but accidents will happen."

Dr. Lavendar helped her pile her bundles on the front seat, and then he unhooked the swinging strap so that certain parcels could be put on the middle bench. Miss Lydia leaned back with a happy sigh. "The rest will come down to-morrow," she said.

"The _rest_?" said Dr. Lavendar.

"Oh, I've just got to tell somebody!" she said. "Promise you won't tell?"

"I won't tell," he a.s.sured her.

"Well," said Miss Lydia, "look here--do you see that?" She tore a little hole in a long, flat package, and Dr. Lavendar saw a gleam of blue. "That's a dress. Yes, a blue silk dress--for myself. I'm afraid it was selfish to get a thing just for myself, but that and a pair of white kid gloves and some lace are all I did get; and I've wanted a silk dress, a blue silk dress, ever since I got poor."

Dr. Lavendar looked at her and at the hole in the package, and at her again. "Lydia!" he said, "is it possible that you--? _Lydia!_" he ended, speechless with consternation.

"The other things are all for the party."

"The--party?"

"Presents!" she said, rubbing her hands. "Oh, dear! I'm so tired!

And I'm so happy! Oh, n.o.body was ever so happy. The party (that's the secret) is to be next Thursday a week; that gives me time to make my dress. I ordered the cake in Mercer. All pink-and-white icing--perfectly lovely! And I have a present for everybody. Here's a work-basket for Martha King. And I have a bird-cage and a canary for dear w.i.l.l.y (that is to come down to-morrow; I really couldn't carry everything). And I've got a knitted shawl for Maria Welwood, and a cloak for her dear Rose--that was rather expensive, but it's always cheap to get the best. And a cornelian breast-pin for Alice Gray. And a Roman sash for poor little Mary Gordon; she seems to me such a forlorn child--no mother, and that rough Alex for a brother.

And--well; oh, dear! I'm so excited I can hardly remember--a book for Mr. Ezra; a book for Mrs. Dale. Books are safe presents, don't you think?"

Dr. Lavendar groaned.

"And a picture for Rachel King--that's it; that square bundle. So pretty!--a little girl saying her prayers; sweet!--it's like her Anna.

And a box of candy for Sally Smith's little brothers; and a pair of agate cuff-b.u.t.tons for Sally--" She was moving her packages about as she checked them off, and she looked round at Dr. Lavendar with a sigh of pure joy. He could not speak his distracted thought.

"Oh, you mustn't see that," she cried, suddenly pus.h.i.+ng a certain package under the others with great show of secrecy; and Dr. Lavendar groaned again. "I think a party with presents for everybody will be very unusual, don't you?" she asked, heaping her bundles up carefully; two more fingers had burst through her cotton gloves, and as she leaned forward a b.u.t.ton snapped off her jacket. "I don't want to brag," she said, "but I think it will be as nice a party as we have ever had in Old Chester."

"But, Lydia, my dear," Dr. Lavendar said, gently, "I am afraid it is extravagant, isn't it, to try to give us all so much pleasure? And is a blue silk frock very--well, serviceable, I believe, you ladies call it?"

"No, indeed it isn't," she said, with sudden, pathetic pa.s.sion.

"_That's why I got it_. I never, since I was a girl, have had anything that wasn't serviceable."

"But," Dr. Lavendar said, "I rather hoped you would see your way clear to making your house a little more comfortable?"

"Why, but I'm perfectly comfortable," she a.s.sured him; "and even if I was not, I'd rather, just for once in my life, have my party and give my presents. Oh, just once in a lifetime! I'd rather," she said, and her eyes snapped with joy--"I'd rather have next Thursday night, and my house as it is, than just comfort all the rest of my days. Comfort!

What's comfort?"

"Well, Lydia, it's a good deal to some of us," Dr. Lavendar said. And then his eyes narrowed. "Lydia, my dear--does Mr. Rives know about this?"

Miss Lydia, counting her packages over, said, absently, "No; it is to be a surprise to William."

"If I am not mistaken," said Dr. Lavendar, "it will be a very great surprise to William."

And then he fell into troubled thought; but as he thought his face brightened. It brightened so much that by the time they reached Old Chester he was as joyously excited about the party as was Miss Lydia herself, who made him a thousand confidences about her dress and her presents and the food which would be offered to her guests. His joyousness had not abated when, the next morning, Mrs. Barkley presented herself, breathless, at the Rectory.

"I think," said she, in an awful ba.s.s, sitting up very straight and glaring at Dr. Lavendar, "that this is the most terrible thing that ever happened."

"There are worse things," said Dr. Lavendar.

"_I_ know of nothing worse," Mrs. Barkley said, with dreadful composure. "You may. You know what the unregenerate human heart may do. I do not. This is the worst. What will people say? What will Mrs. Dale say? It must be stopped! She ran in this morning and told me in confidence. She came, she said, to know if she could borrow my teaspoons next Thursday week. I said she could, of course; but I suppose I looked puzzled; I couldn't imagine--then she confessed. She said you knew, but no one else. Then, before I came to my senses, she ran out. I came here at once to say that you must stop it."

"In the first place," said Dr. Lavendar, thrusting his hands down into his dressing-gown pockets, "I couldn't stop it. In the second place, I haven't the right to stop it. And in the third place, I wouldn't stop it if I could."

"Dr. Lavendar!"

"I am delighted with the plan. We need gayety in Old Chester; _I think we'll get it_. I hope she'll have Uncle Davy in, with his fiddle, and we'll have a reel. Mrs. Barkley, will you do me the honor?"

It came over Mrs. Barkley, with a sudden chill, that there was something the matter with Dr. Lavendar.

"I have calculated," said the old minister, chuckling, "that Miss Lydia has in hand, at present, about $1.75 of our $100. This sum I trust she will give to Foreign Missions. The need is great. I shall bring it to her attention."

"Dr. Lavendar," said Mrs. Barkley; and paused.

"Ma'am?"

"I don't understand you, sir."

Dr. Lavendar looked at her and smiled.

IV

And so the night of Old Chester's festivity approached. Miss Lydia's invitations were delivered the morning of the day, but a rumor of the party was already in the air. There had been some shakings of the head and one or two frowns. "It will cost her at least $3," said Martha King, "and she could get a new bonnet with that."