Lavender and Old Lace [41]
after disaster at sea, and constantly withstandin' the blandishments of heathen women as endeavoured to wean him from his faith, and how, though very humble and scarcely darin to speak, he learned that she was willin' and they come a sailin' home together and lived happily ever afterward. Ain't that as it was, James?"
"Yes'm, except that there wa'n't no particular disaster at sea and them heathen women didn't exert no blandishments. They was jest pleasant to an old feller, bless their little hearts."
By some subtle mental process, Mr. Ball became aware that he had made a mistake. "You ain't changed nothin' here, Jane," he continued, hurriedly, "there's the haircloth sofy that we used to set on Sunday evenins' after meetin', and the hair wreath with the red rose in it made out of my hair and the white rose made out of your grandmother's hair on your father's side, and the yeller lily made out of the hair of your Uncle Jed's youngest boy. I disremember the rest, but time was when I could say'm all. I never see your beat for makin' hair wreaths, Jane. There ain't nothin' gone but the melodeon that used to set by the mantel. What's come of the melodeon?"
"The melodeon is set away in the attic. The mice et out the inside."
"Didn't you hev no cat?"
"There ain't no cat, James, that could get into a melodeon through a mouse hole, more especially the big maltese you gave me. I kept that cat, James, as you may say, all these weary years. When there was kittens, I kept the one that looked most like old Malty, but of late years, the cats has all been different, and the one I buried jest afore I sailed away was yeller and white with black and brown spots--a kinder tortoise shell--that didn't look nothin' like Malty. You'd never have knowed they belonged to the same family, but I was sorry when she died, on account of her bein' the last cat."
Hepsey, half frightened, put her head into the room. "Dinner's ready," she shouted, hurriedly shutting the door.
"Give me your arm, James," said Mrs. Ball, and Ruth followed them into the dining-room.
The retired sailor ate heartily, casting occasional admiring glances at Ruth and Hepsey. It was the innocent approval which age bestows upon youth. "These be the finest biscuit," he said, "that I've had for many a day. I reckon you made 'em, didn't you, young woman?"
"Yes, sir," replied Hepsey, twisting her apron.
The bride was touched in a vulnerable spot.
"Hepsey," she said, decisively, "when your week is up, you will no longer be in my service. I am a-goin'to make a change."
Mr. Ball's knife dropped with a sharp clatter. "Why, Mis' Ball," he said, reproachfully, "who air you goin' to hev to do your work?"
"Don't let that trouble you, James," she answered, serenely, "the washin' can be put out to the Widder Pendleton, her as was Elmiry Peavey, and the rest ain't no particular trouble."
"Aunty," said Ruth, "now that you've come home and everything is going on nicely, I think I'd better go back to the city. You see, if I stay here, I'll be interrupting the honeymoon."
"No, no, Niece Ruth!" exclaimed Mr. Ball, "you ain't interruptin' no honeymoon. It's a great pleasure to your aunt and me to hev you here--we likes pretty young things around us, and as long as we hev a home, you're welcome to stay in it; ain't she Jane?"
"She has sense enough to see, James, that she is interruptin' the honeymoon," replied Aunt Jane, somewhat harshly. "On account of her mother havin' been a Hathaway before marriage, she knows things. Not but what you can come some other time, Ruth," she added, with belated hospitality.
"Thank you, Aunty, I will. I'll stay just a day or two longer, if you don't mind--just until Mr. Winfield comes back. I don't know just where to write to him."
"Mr.--who?" demanded Aunt Jane, looking at her narrowly.
"Mr. Carl Winfield," said Ruth, crimsoning --"the man I am going to marry." The piercing eyes were still fixed upon her.
"Now about the letters, Aunty," she went on, in confusion, "you could help Uncle James with the book much better
"Yes'm, except that there wa'n't no particular disaster at sea and them heathen women didn't exert no blandishments. They was jest pleasant to an old feller, bless their little hearts."
By some subtle mental process, Mr. Ball became aware that he had made a mistake. "You ain't changed nothin' here, Jane," he continued, hurriedly, "there's the haircloth sofy that we used to set on Sunday evenins' after meetin', and the hair wreath with the red rose in it made out of my hair and the white rose made out of your grandmother's hair on your father's side, and the yeller lily made out of the hair of your Uncle Jed's youngest boy. I disremember the rest, but time was when I could say'm all. I never see your beat for makin' hair wreaths, Jane. There ain't nothin' gone but the melodeon that used to set by the mantel. What's come of the melodeon?"
"The melodeon is set away in the attic. The mice et out the inside."
"Didn't you hev no cat?"
"There ain't no cat, James, that could get into a melodeon through a mouse hole, more especially the big maltese you gave me. I kept that cat, James, as you may say, all these weary years. When there was kittens, I kept the one that looked most like old Malty, but of late years, the cats has all been different, and the one I buried jest afore I sailed away was yeller and white with black and brown spots--a kinder tortoise shell--that didn't look nothin' like Malty. You'd never have knowed they belonged to the same family, but I was sorry when she died, on account of her bein' the last cat."
Hepsey, half frightened, put her head into the room. "Dinner's ready," she shouted, hurriedly shutting the door.
"Give me your arm, James," said Mrs. Ball, and Ruth followed them into the dining-room.
The retired sailor ate heartily, casting occasional admiring glances at Ruth and Hepsey. It was the innocent approval which age bestows upon youth. "These be the finest biscuit," he said, "that I've had for many a day. I reckon you made 'em, didn't you, young woman?"
"Yes, sir," replied Hepsey, twisting her apron.
The bride was touched in a vulnerable spot.
"Hepsey," she said, decisively, "when your week is up, you will no longer be in my service. I am a-goin'to make a change."
Mr. Ball's knife dropped with a sharp clatter. "Why, Mis' Ball," he said, reproachfully, "who air you goin' to hev to do your work?"
"Don't let that trouble you, James," she answered, serenely, "the washin' can be put out to the Widder Pendleton, her as was Elmiry Peavey, and the rest ain't no particular trouble."
"Aunty," said Ruth, "now that you've come home and everything is going on nicely, I think I'd better go back to the city. You see, if I stay here, I'll be interrupting the honeymoon."
"No, no, Niece Ruth!" exclaimed Mr. Ball, "you ain't interruptin' no honeymoon. It's a great pleasure to your aunt and me to hev you here--we likes pretty young things around us, and as long as we hev a home, you're welcome to stay in it; ain't she Jane?"
"She has sense enough to see, James, that she is interruptin' the honeymoon," replied Aunt Jane, somewhat harshly. "On account of her mother havin' been a Hathaway before marriage, she knows things. Not but what you can come some other time, Ruth," she added, with belated hospitality.
"Thank you, Aunty, I will. I'll stay just a day or two longer, if you don't mind--just until Mr. Winfield comes back. I don't know just where to write to him."
"Mr.--who?" demanded Aunt Jane, looking at her narrowly.
"Mr. Carl Winfield," said Ruth, crimsoning --"the man I am going to marry." The piercing eyes were still fixed upon her.
"Now about the letters, Aunty," she went on, in confusion, "you could help Uncle James with the book much better