An Unwilling Guest (11 page)

A week went by and a distant cousin, to whom she had written in her desperation, answered that she was sorry, but it seemed absolutely necessary for her to go to Boston for a little while, and she was not sure how long it would be before she would return; while another friend, still in her summer home in Tuxedo, apologized for not being able to invite her as she was having a terrible time with her servants and the house had been full of company and
the baby was sick into the bar
gain. Evelyn curled her lip over the excuses through which she felt sure she could see, and settled herself to stay where she was with as good a grace as possible.

Then one morning a caller came to see Allison. After a few minutes in the parlor that young woman went to her mother with very red cheeks and the expression on her face that her mother knew always meant that she hoped she would say "No," to whatever request she made.

"Mother," she said, speaking in a low, nervous tone, "Ethel Haines has come to ask me t
o change places with her for to
morrow night— the club meeting, you know. She was to have it there and had arranged the whole
programme
and everything, but her invalid aunt arrived unexpect
edly last night and is so ill t
-day that they had to send for a trained nurse. She says they can't have the least bit of noise about the house, and her
programme
has a good deal of music, and you know the girls could never be still. It is quite impossible for her to have it. She wants to bring everything over here and just borrow our house, and she says she will fix everything for me when my turn comes and I can go over there. I told her I thought it was impossible, it would be too hard for you when Mary is gone. You don't think we could do it, do you?"

There was a note of almost distress in the daughter's voice as she asked this last question that made her mother look at her curiously:

"Why, daughter, I don't see why you ca
nnot do it. It will be very lit
tle trouble. Mrs. Munson is coming to sweep the whole house the next morning, and if she brings her things over we shall only have a few cups and plates to wash. Certainly I would accommodate her if I could. It is very hard for Mrs. Haines to have her poor aunt ill so
much. Tell her yes. It will help to relieve the monotony for our guest also. She is having a very dull time, I fear, with you busy so much of the time and no one even to talk to but me."

"O mother!" exclaimed Allison in
real dismay now, "don't you un
derstand? We can't have it here when she is here. She would
criticize
and laugh everything to scorn. You have not heard her talk and I have, I undertook to tell her about this club once and mother, what do you think she said? 'Do you dance or are you devoted to cards?' Can't you see how out of place she would be among us and how she would be a wet blanket on the whole thing?"

The mother looked grave. "Allison, I think you are really very wrong. In the first place, it matters very little what she may think of it at all or whether she laughs or scoffs. I should think this was clearly your duty. In the second place I give Miss Rutherford credit for being more of a lady than to manifest any feeling she may happen to have before a gathering of respectable young people. They may not be such as she is accustomed to be with and their habits may be different, but they live in the same world and speak the same language and have been educated in much the same courtesies. I am sure our guest will be a lady, whatever she may feel in her heart. As for being a wet blanket to the rest of you, if your club has no more spirit than to be quelled by the sight of one poor, lonely stranger from a different class in society I am ashamed of you. For one evening try to amuse her, even though it may be at the expense of a laugh or two. Laughs cannot hurt you when you are in the way of right."

"Mother, I do not like to be laughed at," said Allison, her eyes very bright.

"No, most people don't," said her mother, "but there are occasions when one might even have to pass through the fiery furnace of a laugh and trust the Form of the Fourth to keep the flames from consuming you."

Allison swallowed hard and looked down at the table. Her cheeks had grown redder, if possible. Her eyes looked as if she would like to cry if only she did not
have to go back to that girl in
the parlor. Mother certainly had a very blunt way of putting things sometimes. There was no getting around the truth when mother chose to speak it.

The daughter turned slowly and walked back to the parlor, to give an invitation most reluctant and ungracious for the usually hospitable Allison Grey.

The arrangements which the caller talked over with her in detail failed to interest her as much as usual and she feared that Ethel thought her not responsive enough, but her mind would wander to her own part in spite of herself and questions kept crowding into her thoughts thick and fast. What would Miss Rutherford think of it all? Would she condescend to come downstairs? Perhaps she would choose to remain in her room. Oh the relief that would be to this poor, tired soul! But if she did come down would she array herself in the low-necked dress or perhaps another one still worse? Oh, the horror of the thought! And how could it be prevented? She could not tell her and it would likely be resented if she did. She had a right, of course, to wear what she chose.

On the whole, poor Allison's mind was in a tumult that night as she lay and tossed, trying to forget it all and go to sleep.

It
remained for Rebecca
Bascomb
to settle the question of full dress in
Hillcroft
and to set Evelyn Rutherford's mind in a tumult.

It was just after breakfast the next morning and the mother and daughter were hurrying to get the dishes out of the way that they might have all the preparations for the evening complete early in the day. The sun had come out bright and clear. The air was cold and a glowing fire was burning in the corner fireplace in the parlor. At one side of this Evelyn was sitting with a book
in
her hand. She was not reading, but looking into the fire with a dreamy ex
pression. Something she read re
called to mind the expression of Doctor Grey's face during that view they had together on the hilltop. She was not always thinking of him. There had been two days when she banished every thought of the new influence which had come into her life, and though she performed her promise, she did it hastily and perfunctorily. She wrote many letters home and began to hope to get away soon. She had even written to her brother, as a last resort, though she was not quite sure where he was. His plans were not always confided t
o his family. Occasionally, how
ever, the new and startling thought of a Christ—and for her—would come to her piercingly, and with it a clear vision of the face of the young man who had given it to her. She was wondering again about his life and if it was always as beautiful and spotless all through as it had seemed the few times she had seen him, when there came an interruption to her thoughts.

A wide shadow entered the hall doorway. If
she had not been ab
sorbed she would have noticed a strange voice in the kitchen and know
n that Mrs. Grey had asked some
one to go into the parlor and sit down a minute while she went to look for a certain skirt pattern desired. Mrs. Grey was not a woman who entered people's kitchen doors uninvited and without knocking, and n
either did she care to have pry
ing eyes watching her every movement to report the same as soon as possible to the entire speaking acquaintance of the owner of those same prying eyes. However, there
were people in
Hillcroft
who em
ployed this method of making friendl
y calls, and Mrs. Grey used dis
cretion in getting them into the parlor as the case demanded.

Rebecca
Bascomb
wore old, soft congress
gaiters and a pair of de
crepit "gum shoes," as she designated them, three sizes too large, therefore her step was not heralded.

Evelyn looked up, and she nodded a pleasant good-morning, with a motion half bow and half a ducking curtsy which suited her bulk. She approached Evelyn and eyed her with expectation and enjoyment as one approaches a particularly dainty morsel, rolling her tongue with anticipation.

Evelyn moved her chair back and would have risen to leave the room if she had realized that this stranger had come to stay, but Miss
Bascomb
said in a voice that Allison used to say was "all meal and oil": "Oh, don't you move. I'll set right here.
Mis
' Grey has gone to find a pattern for my sister. Are you Maurice Grey's wife?"

She fixed her bright, brown, little eyes on Evelyn's beautiful face and Evelyn, for some reason utterly unknown to her and thoroughly disturbing, was aware that the blood had leaped into her face and mounted even to her brow. She was aware also that the twinkling eyes had observed this with satisfaction an
d laid it away to put with what
ever facts might develop thereafter.

"I beg your pardon," stammered Evelyn, trying to summon her haughty manner and sitting up straight. She would have left the room without answering had it been any other man in the world whose wife she had been taken for, but for som
e strange reason she did not un
derstand, she felt she must injustice to him set this matter right.

"Be you young Doctor Grey's wife?" came the direct question again, and the little eyes fixed her once more as a pin does a fluttering moth.

"I am Miss Rutherford, of New York," Evelyn answered in her most freezing manner.

"Oh, you don't say! Met him in New York, did you? Well, you're
real handsome, anyway. I told my sister when I see you go by with that bright circus sack you wore the other day that I guessed
Maurrie
had picked up some actor woman, and I knew that would be hard on
Mis
' Grey,
feelin
' as she does about bare necks and short sleeves, an' I knew they mostly wore '
em
. But, Rutherford, d' you say?" a new intelligence coming into the bright eyes. "Why, now you
ain't
any relation to Miss Joan Rutherford, be you? I wonder now! If you are, I was mistook. No member of Miss Rutherford's family ever wore anything indecent."

"Miss Rutherford is my aunt. I will wish you good-morning," said Evelyn, with a grand sweep of her fine figure, as she left the room at last, to almost come into collision with Allison, who stood wide-eyed and red-cheeked by the hall door.

Allison grasped her hand convulsively and she returned the clasp with her own, as by common consent they fled from the spot swiftly and silently.

"What did she dare to say to you?" questioned Allison excitedly, when they came to a standstill in a safe place, which happened to be Allison's own room, whither she had,
without realizing it, drawn Eve
lyn. "I heard only the last few words, but I know she is capable of saying a great deal. The idea of her daring to speak of that lovely coat of yours in that way. 'Circus sack,' indeed!" And then both girls sat down and burst into peals of laughter.

It was perhaps the best thing that could have happened to them. Evelyn felt almost hysterical from the experience through which she had just passed, and she was not a girl who often cried. Besides, the laughter created a bond of sympathy between them.

"She is a meddlesome busybody!" said Allison, when she could speak. "Mother does not like to have her here, but is fond of her poor old sister. We always treat her well and get h
er away as soon as possi
ble when she comes over. But she is just dreadful. She would fairly cut your heart out to see your thoughts if she knew how, and there is nothing—absolutely nothing—she does not dare to say."

"But what did she mean about your mother's feeling about bare necks? Doesn't your mother approve of
decollete
dresses?" Evelyn asked the question curiously, but there was enough of her old tinge of
superior scorn in the tone to bring the bright blood into Allison's face and deeply embarrass her,

Evelyn was quick. She had noticed that the family did not array themselves in fine garments for dinner, and she had not done so again; but she had set this down to the quiet home customs of the family and had not dreamed that there was a principle concerned, neither did she suppose that they did not wear evening dress on some occasions.

"It is not the custom to wear evening dress here," began Allison in confusion, and then her bravery came to the front and she looked up with a fine smile of loyalty. "No, my mother does not approve of it, but it seems discourteous to say so to you when you think differently about it. I know that people in society universally dress in that way."

The other girl did not argue the question. It had appeared to her only as an idiosyncrasy of this town. Allison was relieved when she asked quietly:

"The
n what are you going to wear to
night at this—what do you call it—club meeting? You must tell me what to wear. I don't want to be dressed out of keeping with the occasion, you know. It might come to the ears of our friend downstairs and shock her."

They both laughed again, and the returning stiffness that threatened passed away.

With the question,
"What are you going to wear to
night?" there came a cloud over Allison's face.

"I don't know," she answered hesitating. "I hoped my new dress would be done in time, but the dressmaker sent word this morning that she had been sick and could not finish i
t till next week. It is very an
noying, for the last time I wore my blue silk waist I spilled some cream down the front, and try as hard as I could I have not been able to get the spot out so but that it shows a little."

"Dear me! That's too bad. Can't you cover it up with lace in some way? Where is it? Let me see it. Perhaps I can suggest some way," said Evelyn, glad to find a little chance to help this other girl, and interested at once, as she always was, in a matter of clothes.

"What a lovely shade!" she exclaimed, as Allison reluctantly brought out a blue waist of good silk plainly made. She knew it would
not shine beside Miss Rutherford's elegant and varied wardrobe, and she would rather have kept it to herself, but her real anxiety to cover the spot made her glad of the help.

"That is just the shade of your eyes," said Evelyn, holding the silk to match them. "Come
in
my room and let me see if I have not a lace collar that will exactly cover that spot,
and I know I have a velvet rib
bon just the same color that will make the sweetest knot for your hair, unless you have one."

Allison acknowledged that she had not, and looked with wistfulness at the scientific carelessness of the other girl's arrangement of hair. She longed to ask her how she accomplished such results, but did not feel close enough. However, Evelyn was more interested now than she had been since the son of the house departed. She had some pleasant work to do with which she was familiar.

"Oh, let me dress you up and fix your hair, and then we can tell just how it will look. May I?" She said it w
ith so much eagerness that Alli
son was amazed. This was a new girl, not the Miss Rutherford that had been with them for several days. She felt as if she might sometime get acquainted with this girl. So she submitted.

It was marvelous what a difference the deft touches of the artist gave to Allison's already pretty head. The
arrangement of the hair was sim
plicity itself, with the tiny knot of turquoise blue velvet tucked in among the golden masses, but there was something about it which gave a needed finish to Allison and set
on" her quiet beauty to perfec
tion. Evelyn would have called this something "style," but the mother, when she looked, called it "artistic." Allison in her heart knew that it was stylish, and she felt a certain satisfaction
in
seeing it belong to herself. The collar that Evelyn produced from the depths of one of the big trunks was a delicate sheer muslin, embroidered in a fine new-old-fashioned way and edged with the fines
t of real lace, dainty and unob
trusive. It fitted about the shoulders and over the soiled front in a, pretty way, as if it had been made for the purpose.

"But I must not wear your collar," said Allison, surveying the effect with a lingering pleasure.

"I will give it to you, and then it will be yours, not mine, you see,"
said the irresistible Evelyn. "I am tired of it, anyway. Now you shall tell me what to wear," and Allison had the pleasure of going through the marvelous contents of those trunks, handling pretty materials and gaining many new ideas of originality in dress. It was a pleasure, for Evelyn had money and taste
and her clothes were generally a work of art. Allison reveled in the pretty things until she suddenly remembered that it was growing late and there we
re many things to be done. Rais
ing her eyes from the trunk she saw t
he other girl looking at her in
tently.

"You look fine," said Evelyn sincere
ly, as if she were merely think
ing aloud. "If you were in New York and dressed well you would make an impression."

Allison's cheek vied with the scarle
t of the dying sage flowers bor
dering the garden path, and she might have turned and fled, so much was her sensitive nature stirred, had not her mother, coming in search of her just then, seen her though the half-open door and stepping softly in kissed her gently on the cheek.

"What has she done to you, my little girl?" she said, holding her lovingly at arm's length and looking with pleased eyes at the sweet, blushing face. "It is very lovely." Allison, looking into those loving eyes and hearing the gentle praise, was soothed and pleased.

Thus was the perplexing question of dress settled for the evening and the two girls were brought nearer together. Dress has much sin and sorrow to answer for in the world. It is well when now and then it can be used for good.

Pleased with her effort at help, Evelyn grew interested in the evening affair. What were they going to do? Have refreshments? Could she help in setting the table? She always set the tables for any spe
cial af
fairs at home, and was very fond of helping in the arrangement for charity fairs. Perhaps she might relieve them a little. And Allison, charmed with the idea of having things arranged in true New York style, surrendered the dining room into her hands. The result was a thing of beauty. Evelyn even went so far as to rifle her trunk of a bolt of narrow crimson ribbon, and several yards of wide satin ribbon to match. The satin ribbon she fastened in large bows to the four corners
of the tablecloth while the four long ends met each other and were fastened in an ingenious way under a branch of red leaves on the gas fixture. Allison had picked the last of the scarlet sage and that was massed in a big glass bowl in the center of the table.