Phoebe Deane (11 page)

" Good for Miranda!" he said. " She'll do, and Aunt Amelia'll never know what happened to poor old Matthew, who was probably sitting quietly by the hearth purring out his afternoon nap. Well, little girl, I'm glad you didn't have to answer Aunt Amelia's questions. Leave her to me. I'll shoulder all the blame and exonerate you. Don't worry."

" But, David," began Marcia, in her troubled tone, " Miranda ought not to tell things that are not exactly true. How can I teach her ? "

"Well, Miranda's standards are not exactly right, and we must try little by little to raise them higher, but I'll miss my guess if she doesn't manage some way to protect you, even if she does have to tell the truth."

And thus it was that Miranda Griscom became a fixture in the household of David Spafford, and did about as she pleased with her master and mistress and the baby, because she usually pleased to do pretty well.

The years had gone by and little Rose Spafford had grown into a lovely, laughing, dimpled child with charming- ways that reminded one of her mother, and Miranda was her devoted slave.

On the Sunday after Phoebe Deane's birthday, David and Marcia, and Rose, and Miranda were all in church together. Little Rose, in dainty pantalettes and frock, with her rebellious curls brushed smoothly, her fat hands folded demurely in her lap, sat between her mother and Miranda, and waited for the sugared caraway seeds that she knew would be sure to be dropped occasionally into her nicely starched lap if she were good. David sat at the end of his pew, happy and devout, with Marcia, sweet and worshipful, beside him, and Miranda alert, one eye on her worship, the other on what might happen about her—or was it, quaint soul, but her way of watching for an opportunity to do good in her way?

Across the aisle the sweet face of Phoebe Deane attracted her attention. It was clouded with trouble. Miranda's keen eyes read that at once. Miranda had often noticed that about Phoebe Deane, and wondered, but there were so many other people that Miranda knew better to look after, that Phoebe Deane had heretofore not received her undivided attention.

But this particular morning Phoebe looked so pretty in her buff merino, which after much hesitation she had finally put on for church because her old church dress was so exceedingly shabby, that Miranda was all attention at once. Miranda, who had always been homely and red-haired and freckled, whose clothes had most of them been made over from Hannah Heath's cast-off wardrobe, yet loved beautiful things and beautiful people, and Phoebe, with her brown hair and deep, starry eyes, seemed like a lovely picture to her in the buff merino and with her face framed in its neat straw bonnet. The bonnet Miranda had seen for two or three summers past, hut the frock was new, and a thing of beauty; therefore she studied its every detail and rejoiced that her position in the pew gave her a pretty good view of the young girl across the aisle, for something was wrong with the hinge of the door of Albert Deane's pew, and it stood open wide.

As her eyes traveled over Phoebe’s frock they came finally to the face, so grave and sweet and troubled, as if already life was too filled with perplexities to have much joy left in it. Her keen gaze detected the droop to the pretty lips and the dark lines under the eyes; and then she looked at the sharp lines of Emmeline's sour face with its thin, pursed lips, and decided that Emmeline was not a pleasant woman to live with. Alma, preening herself in her Sunday clothes with her self-conscious smirk, was not a pleasant child, either, and she wondered if Phoebe could possibly take any pleasure in putting on her little garments for her, and planning surprises, and plays, the way she did for Rose. It seemed impossible. Miranda, the homely, looked down tenderly at the little Rose, and then gratefully toward David and Marcia at the end of the pew, and pitied the beautiful Phoebe, wishing for her the happiness that had come into her own barren life.

The service was about to commence when Judge Bristol, with his daughter Janet, and her cousin Nathaniel Graham, walked up the aisle to their pew, just in front of Albert Deane's.

Now there had been much debate in the heart of Phoebe Deane about coming to church that morning, for she could not keep out of her mind the thought of the stranger who had been so kind to her but a few days before, and it was impossible not to wonder if he would be there, and whether he would see her, and speak to her. It was in order to crucify this thought that she had half made up her mind not to wear the buff merino to church, and then nature triumphed and she put it on, realizing that her mother had made it for her to wear, and she had a perfect right to wear it, though Emmeline should disapprove. And Emmeline had disapproved in no uncertain tones. When she came downstairs ready for church Emmeline lifted her disagreeable eyebrows and exclaimed: "You're not going to wear that ridiculous rig to church, I hope? I should think you'd be ashamed to be decked out like that in the house of God! I'd sooner stay at home! "

And poor Phoebe would gladly have stayed at home if it had not been that Hank would have been there, and that she would have had to explain her reasons to Albert.

" I s'pose she wants people to know she's rich," piped in Alma, after a pause. This reference to her poor little pittance had been made almost hourly since Albert had told her of it, and it was growing unbearable to Phoebe. Altogether it was not with a very happy heart that she rode to church that morning, and she was half ashamed of herself for that undeniable wish to see the stranger once more. When she got out of the carryall at the church she would not look around nor even lift her eyes to see who was standing by the door. She had resolved not to think about him. If he came up the aisle, she would not know it, and her eyes should be otherwise occupied. No one should dare to say she was watching for him.

Nevertheless, as Janet and her cousin came up the aisle, Phoebe knew by the wild little beating of her heart that he was coming, and she commanded her eyes most strenuously that they should not lift from the psalm-book she had opened, albeit upside down. Yet, in spite of all resolves, when the occupants of the Bristol pew had entered it and were about to sit down, and while Nathaniel Graham stood so that his head and shoulders were just above the top of the high-back pew, those truant eyes fluttered up for one instant's glance, and in that instant were caught and held by the eyes of the young man in front in pleased recognition. 'Twas but a flash and Phoebe's eyes were back upon her book, and the young man was seated in the pew with only the top of his fine dark head showing, yet the pretty color flew into the cheek of the girl, and in the eyes of the young man there was a light of satisfaction that lasted all through the service. The glance had been too brief for any actual act of recognition like a bow or a smile, and neither would it have been in place, for the whole audience could have seen them as he was faced about; moreover the service had begun. It had merely been the knowledge that each had of the other's presence in a warm glow like sunshine through the being. Not a soul had witnessed the glance, save the keen-eyed Miranda, and instantly she recognized a certain something which put her on the watch. She at once pricked up the ears of her consciousness, and if she had been living to-day would have said to herself, " There's ' somethin' doing' there." So Miranda, whether to her shame or her praise, sat through the whole long service, studied the faces of those two, and wove a pretty romance for herself out of the golden fabric of a glance.

CHAPTER VIII

When the service was ended Phoebe took good care of her eyes that they should not look toward the stranger. Nathaniel Graham was kept busy for the first few moments shaking hands with old friends, and talking with the minister, who came down from the pulpit on purpose to greet him, and when he turned, as he did on the first opportunity, the pew behind him was empty, and the eyes that had met his when he came in were nowhere to be seen. He looked anxiously over the receding audience towards the open door, and caught the glimmer of the buff merino. Hastily excusing himself to Janet on the plea that he wished to speak to someone and would join her later, Nathaniel made his way down the aisle, disappointing some good old ladies who had been friends of his mother, and who were lying in wait for him at various pew doors.

Miranda, who had been awaiting the pleasure of David and Marcia, saw it all, and her eager eyes watched to see if he would catch Phoebe. The way being open just then, she pressed out into the aisle, and, for once leaving Rose to follow with her mother, hurried to the door.

Nathaniel did not overtake Phoebe until she had gone down the church steps, and was on the path in front of the church-yard that led to the shed where many of the conveyances were tied. He stepped up beside her, taking off his hat with a cheery, " Good morning," and Phoebe's pink cheeks and smiling eyes welcomed him happily.

" I wanted to be quite sure you were all right after your adventure the other day," he said, looking down into the lovely face with real pleasure; and then, before she could even answer, Hiram Green stepped up airily as if he belonged, and looked at Nathaniel questioningly as though he were intruding, saying, " Well, here you are, Phoebe; I lost track of you at the church door. We better step along. The carryall is waitin'."

Nathaniel looked up annoyed, then puzzled, recognized Hiram, with astonishment, and said, " I beg your pardon, I did not know I was keeping you from your friends," to Phoebe, and, lifting his hat with a courteous " Good morning, Mr. Green," to Hiram, stepped back among the little throng coming out of the church door.

Now Miranda had been close behind, for she was determined to read every chapter of her romance that appeared in sight. She saw the whole maneuver on Hiram Green's part, and the color that flamed angrily into Phoebe's cheek when she recognized Hiram's interference. She also saw the dismay that showed in the girl's face as Nathaniel left her and Hiram Green made as if to walk beside her. Phoebe looked wildly about. There seemed no escape from him as a companion without making a deliberate scene, yet her whole soul revolted at having Nathaniel Graham see her walk off with Hiram.

Quick as a flash Miranda caught the meaning of Phoebe's look and flew to her assistance.

She called quite clearly, " Phoebe! Phoebe Deane! Wait a minute, I want to tell you something!" She had raised her voice on purpose, for she stood directly behind Nathaniel, and, as she had hoped, he turned to see Phoebe respond. She noted the sudden light in his eyes as he saw that the girl to whom he had just been talking responded to the name, but she did not know that it was a light of satisfaction because he had found out her name without asking anyone. He stood a moment and looked after them. He saw quite plainly that Phoebe dismissed the sulky Hiram with a word and went off with Miranda. He saw that Hiram did not even raise his hat on leaving Phoebe, but slouched off angrily without a word.

" Say, Phoebe Deane," said Miranda, familiarly, " my Mrs. Spafford,"—this was Miranda's common way of speaking of Marcia in the possessive—" she's ben talkin' a long time 'bout you, and wishin' you'd come to see her, an' she's ben layin' out to ask you to tea, but things hes prevented. So, could you come Tuesday? You better come early and stay all the afternoon, so you can play with Kose. She's the sweetest thing! "

" Oh, I'd love to come," said Phoebe, her face aglow with pleasure. " I've always admired Mrs. Spafford so much, and little Eose is beautiful, just like a rose. Yes, tell her I will come."

Just then came the strident voice of Emmeline.

" Phoebe! Phoebe Deane! Was you intendin' to go home with us, or had you calculated to ride with Hiram Green? If you're comin' with us we can't wait all day."

With scarlet cheeks, angry heart, and trembling limbs Phoebe bade Miranda a frightened good-by and climbed into the carriage, not daring to look behind her to see who had heard the hateful words of her sister-in-law. Oh, had the stranger heard them ? How dreadful if he had! How contemptible, how unforgivable in Emmeline! How could she endure this persecution any longer? She did not even dare lift her eyes as they drove by the church, but sat with drooping lashes and burning cheeks, so missing the glance of the young man Nathaniel as he stood on the sidewalk with his cousin, waiting for another opportunity to lift his hat. Perhaps it was as well, for she would have been most unmercifully teased and cross-questioned if Emmeline and Alma had seen him speak to her.

Miranda watched the Deanes drive away, and turned with a vindictive look of triumph to stare at Hiram Green getting into his chaise alone. Then she began to reflect upon what she had done.

About four o'clock that afternoon, the dinner dishes being well out of the way, and the Sunday quiet resting upon the house, Miranda presented herself before Marcia with the most guilty look upon her face that Marcia had ever seen her wear.

" Well, I've up an' done it now, Mrs. Marcia, an' no mistake. I expect I'll have to leave you, an' the thought of it jes' breaks my heart."

" Why, Miranda! " said Marcia, sitting up very suddenly from the couch where she had been reading Bible stories to Eose. " You're not—you're surely not going to get married!"

" Not by a jugful I ain't. Do you s'pose I'd hev enny man that would take up with freckles an' a turn-up nose in a wife? I've gone and done sumpin' you'll think is a heap worse'n gittin' married. But I didn't tell no lie. I was keerful enough 'bout that. I only told her you'd been talkin' 'long back 'bout askin' her, an' you hed all right 'nough, only I oughtn't to a ast her, an' set the day an' all 'thout you knowin'. I knowed it at the time well 'nough, but I hed to do it, 'cause the circumstances wuz sech. You see thet squint-eyed Hiram Green was makin' it out that she was somewhat great to him, a paradin' down the walk there from the church, an' a driven' off that nice city cousin of Janet Bristol's with his nice, genteel manners, an' his tippin's of his hat, an' her a lookin' like she'd drop from shame, so I called her to wait, an' I runs up an' talks to her, an' course then she tels Hiram Green he needn't to trouble to wait fer her, an' we goes off together in full sight of all. My, I was glad I beat that skin-flint of a Hiram Green, but I was that excited I jes' couldn't think of 'nother thing to do 'cept to invite her."