Phoebe Deane (14 page)

David Spafford when he entered the parlor not only filled it with pleasure for his wife and little girl, but he brought an added cheer for the guest as well, and Phoebe found herself talking with this man of literature and politics and science as easily as if she had known him well all her life. Afterward she wondered at herself for it. Somehow he took it for granted that she knew as much as he did, and made her feel at her ease at once. He had ready a bright story from the newspaper office that exactly fitted someone's remark, and a joke for his little one. He asked after Albert Deane as though he were an old friend, and seemed to know more about him than Phoebe dreamed. " He has a good head," he added in response to Phcebe's timid answer about the farm and some improvements that Albert had introduced. " I had a long talk with him the other day and enjoyed it." Somehow that little remark made Phoebe more at home. She knew Albert's short-comings keenly herself, and she was not deeply attached to him, yet he was all she had, and he had been kind to her. He stood for relatives to her before the world, and it was nice to not have him at a discount, even though there were some men brighter, and Phoebe knew it.

Miranda had just called to supper, and they had reached the table, and the little preliminary flutter of getting settled in the right places, when the knocker sounded through the hall.

Phoebe looked up, startled! Living as she did in the country a guest who was not intimate enough to walk in without knocking was rare, and an occasion for the knocker to sound was wont to bring forth startled exclamations in the Deane family. But Marcia gave the sign to be seated, and Miranda hastened to the door.

" It's just one of the boys from the office, I think, Marcia," said David Spafford. " I told him to bring up the mail if anything important came. The coach wasn't in when I left."

But a man's voice was heard conversing with Miranda.

" I won't keep him but a minute! I'm sorry to disturb him." A moment more and Miranda appeared with a guileless face.

" A man to see you, Mr. Spafford. I think it's that new view of Jedge Bristol's. Shall I tell him you're eatin' supper ? "

" What! Nathaniel Graham ? No indeed, Miranda; just put on another plate and bring him right in. Come in, Nathaniel, and take tea with us while you tell your errand. You're just the one we need to complete our company."

Miranda, innocent and cheerful, hurried away to obey orders, while David helped the willing guest off with his overcoat, and brought him out to the table. She felt there was no need to say anything of a little conversation she had held with Judge Bristol's " nevview " about half past four that afternoon. It was while Marcia was playing the pianoforte in the parlor. Miranda had gone into the garden to pick a bunch of parsley for her chicken gravy, and as was her wont, to keep a good watch upon all outlying territory. She had sauntered up to the fence for a glance about to see if there was anything of interest happening, and Nathaniel Graham had happened. She had watched him coming, wistfully. Yet she dared not add another guest to her tea-party, though the very one she would have chosen had wandered her way.

He had tipped his hat to her and smiled. Miranda liked to have hats tipped to her even though she was freckled and red-haired. This young man had been in the highest grade of village school when she entered the lowest class, yet he remembered her enough to bow, freckled though she was, and working for her living. Her heart had swelled with pride in him, and she decided he would do for the part she wished him to play in life.

" Ah, Miss Miranda," he had paused when almost past, and stepped back a pace, " do you happen to know if Mr. Spafford will be at home this evening? I want to see him very much for a few minutes."

Now, though Miranda had dared not invite another guest, she saw no reason why she should not put him in the way of an invitation, so inclining her head thoughtfully on one side and squinting her eyes introspectively, as if she were the keeper of David Spafford's engagements, she had said, thoughtfully: " Let me see! Yes, I think he's at home to-night. Thur's one night this week I heerd him say he was goin' out, but I'm pretty sure it ain’t this night. But I'll tell you what you better do ef your real anxious to see him, you better jest stop 'long about'' six o’ clock. He’s always home then, 'thout fail, 'n' he'll tell if he ain’t goin' to be in."

The young man's face had lighted gratefully.

" Thank you," he had said, quite as if he were speaking to a lady Miranda thought, " that will suit me very well. I need not keep him long and he can tell if he will be in later in the evening. I shall be passing here about that time."

Then Miranda had hustled in with satisfaction to see if her biscuits were beginning to brown. If this plan worked well there was nothing further to be desired.

She had spent the remainder of the afternoon stealthily vibrating between the kitchen and the parlor door unseen, she could inspect the conversation from time to time and keep advised as to any possible developments. She had set out to see if Phoebe Deane needed any help, and she meant to leave no stone unturned to get at the facts.

So it all happened just as Miranda would have planned. Things were happening her way these days, mostly, she told herself with a chuckle and a triumphant glance over at the lights in her grandmother's kitchen, as she went to get another sprigged plate for Nathaniel Graham. And when Marcia was not looking she slid another plate of quivering jelly, amber tinted to match Phoebe's frock, in between Phoebe’s and Nathaniel's plates.

Meantime Phoebe’s heart was in a great flutter over the introduction to her knight of the forest. The pretty color came into her cheeks, and her eyes shone like stars in the candle light as David said: " Nathaniel, let me make you acquainted with our friend Miss Phoebe Deane. I think she is a newcomer since you left us. Miss Deane, this is our friend Mr. Graham."

And then she found herself murmuring an acknowledgment as the young man took her hand and bowed low over it, saying: " Thank you, David, but I am not so far behind the times as you think. I have met Miss Deane before."

That frightened her quite, so that she hardly could manage to seat herself with her chair properly drawn up to the table, and she fell to wondering if they had noticed how her cheeks burned. Ah! If they had they were keeping it to themselves, especially Miranda, who was dishing up the chicken. Wily Miranda! She had called them to supper without dishing it up, making due allowance for the digression of another guest which she had planned.

The meal moved along quite smoothly, the conversation flowing easily around until Phoebe had regained her balance and could take her small shy part in it. She found pleasure in listening to the talk of David and Nathaniel, so different from that of Albert and Hiram.

It was all about the great outside world. Politics, and the possibilities of war; money and banks and failures, and the probabilities of the future; the coming election and the part it would have in the finance of the world; the trouble with the Indians; the rumblings of trouble about slavery; the annexation of Texas; the extension of the steam railway, and its hindrances by the present state of finance.

It was all new and interesting to Phoebe, to whom had come but a stray word now and again of all these wonderful happenings. Who, for instance, was this " Santa Anna" whose name was spoken of so familiarly? Neither a saint nor a woman, apparently. And what had he or she to do with affairs so grave?

And who was this brave Indian chief, Osceola, languishing in prison because he and his people could not bear to give up the home of their fathers? Why had she never heard of it all before? 0, life was very hard for everybody. She had never thought of the Indians before as anything but terrible, bloodthirsty savages, and lo! they had feelings and loves and homes like others. Her cheeks glowed and her eyes were alight with feeling, and when young Nathaniel turned to her now and again he thought how wondrously beautiful she was, and marvelled that he had not heard her praises rung from every mouth so soon as he had reached the town. He had been very little at home during his college life and years of law study.

Then the conversation came nearer home, and David and Nathaniel talked of their college days. Nathaniel spoke a great deal of Eliphalet Nott, the honored president of his college, and told many a little anecdote of his wisdom and wit.

" This chicken reminds me," he began, laughingly, as he held up a delicate wishbone toward Phoebe, " of a story that is told of Dr. Nott. It seems a number of students had planned a raid upon his chicken-house. Dr. Nott's family consists of himself and wife and his daughter Miss Sally. Well, the rumor of this plot against his chickens reached the good president's ears, and he prepared to circumvent it.

" The students had planned to go to a tree where it was known that several favorite fowls roosted, and one was to climb up while the others stood below and took the booty. They waited until it was late, and the lights in the doctor's study went out, and then they stole silently into the yard and made for the hen-roost. The man who was to catch the chickens climbed carefully, silently, into the tree so as not to disturb the sleeping birds, and the others waited in the dark below.

" The first hen made a good deal of cackling and fuss as she was caught and while this was going on the students below the tree saw some one approaching them from the house. Very silently they scattered into the dark and fled, leaving the poor man in the tree alone. Dr. Nott, well muffled about his face, came quietly up and took his stand below the tree, and in a moment the man in the tree handed down a big white rooster.

"' This is Daddy Nott,' he said, in a whisper, and the man below received the bird without a word.

" In a moment more a second fowl was handed down. ' This is Mammy Nott,' whispered the irreverent student. Again the bird was received without comment. Then a third hen was handed down with the comment: ' This is Sally Nott.' The Doctor received the third bird and disappeared into the darkness and the student in the tree came down to find his partners fled, with no knowledge of who had taken the fowls. They were much troubled about the circumstance, but hoped that it was only a joke some fellow student had played upon them. They were however extremely anxious the next day when each one concerned in the affair received an invitation to dine with Dr. Nott that evening. Not daring to refuse, nor being able to find any suitable excuse, they presented themselves dubiously at Dr. Nott's house at the appointed hour, and were received courteously as usual. They were beginning to breathe more freely when they were ushered out to dinner, and there, before the Doctor's place, lay three large platters, each containing a fine fowl cooked to a turn. They dared not look at one another, but their embarrassment came to a climax when Dr. Nott looked up pleasantly at the student on his right, who had been the man to climb the tree, and asked, ' Hastings, will you have a piece of Daddy Nott, or Mammy Nott, or Sally Nott ?' pointing in order to each platter. I think if it hadn't been for the twinkle in the Doctor's eye those boys would have taken their hats and left without making any adieus, for they say Hastings looked as if you could knock him over with a feather, but that twinkle broke the horror of it, and they all broke down and laughed until they were most heartily ashamed of themselves, and every man there was cured forever of robbing chicken-roosts. But do you know, the Doctor never said another word to those fellows about that, and they were his most loyal students from that time on."

Amid the laughter over this story they rose from the table. Little Eose, who had fallen asleep at the table, was whisked off to bed by the faithful Miranda, and the others went into the parlor where Marcia played exquisite melodies as David and Nathaniel called for them, and Phoebe, entranced, listened, and did not know how her charmed day was spending itself, until suddenly she realized that it was half past eight o'clock and she was some distance from home.

Now, for a maiden to be abroad after nine o'clock in those days was little short of a crime. It would be deemed most highly improper and disreputable by every good person; therefore, as Phoebe noted the time by the great clock she started to her feet in a panic and made her adieus with haste. Marcia went after her bonnet, and tied it lovingly beneath her chin, kissing her and saying she hoped to have her come soon again. David made as if he would take her home, but Nathaniel waved him back and begged for that privilege himself, and so with happy good-nights the young man and the maiden went out into the quiet village street together and hastened along the way, where already many of the lights were out in the houses and the inhabitants gone to sleep.

CHAPTER XI

Phoebe’s heart, as she stepped out into the moonlight with the young man, fluttered so she scarcely could speak without letting her voice shake. It seemed so wonderful that she, of all the girls in the village, should be going home with this bright, handsome, noble man. There was nothing foolish or vain in her thought about it. He was not to be anything more to her for this walk, for his life was set otherwhere, and he belonged to others—notably, in all likelihood, to his cousin Janet. Nevertheless she felt highly honored that he should take the trouble to see her home, and she knew in her heart that the memory of this walk, her first alone with a young man who was not her brother, would remain long a pleasant spot in her life.

He seemed to enjoy her company as much as he had done David's, for he talked on about the things that had interested them in the evening. He told more college stories, and even spoke of his literary society, so that Phoebe, remembering Albert's words, asked if it was true that he had once been president of the Philomatheans, and he modestly acknowledged it, as though the office gave him honor, not he the office. She asked him shyly of the meetings and what they did and he gave her reminiscences of his college days. Their voices rang out now and then in a merry laugh, whereat all the little cornshuck ladies huddled in the moonlight seemed to wave sinister arms and shake their heads mournfully to hear mirth at so unseemly an hour. Out in the quiet country road the young man suddenly asked her: