Seventeen [33]
was placed in their mouths by the delicate hand of one of the Noblest, and the latter said that really she wanted to eat a little tweetie now and then herself, and not to spend her whole time feeding the Men. For Miss Pratt had the same playfulness with older people that she had with those of her own age; and she elaborated her pretended quarrel with the two young gentlemen, taking others of the dazzled company into her confidence about it, and insisting upon ``Mamma Batster's'' acting formally as judge to settle the difficulty. However, having thus arranged matters, Miss Pratt did not resign the center of interest, but herself proposed a compromise: she would continue to feed Mr. Bullitt and Mr. Watson ``every other tweetie''--that is, each must agree to eat a cake ``all by him own self,'' after every cake fed to him. So the comedietta went on, to the running accompaniment of laughter, with Mr. Bullitt and Mr. Watson swept by such gusts of adoration they were like to perish where they sat. But Mrs. Baxter's smiling approval was beginning to be painful to the muscles of her face, for it was hypocritical. And if William had known her thoughts about one of the Noblest, he could only have attributed them to that demon of groundless prejudice which besets all females, but most particularly and outrageously the mothers and sisters of Men.
A colored serving-maid entered with a laden tray, and, having disposed of its freight of bon- bons among the guests, spoke to Mrs. Baxter in a low voice.
``Could you manage step in the back hall a minute, please, ma'am?''
Mrs. Baxter managed and, having closed the door upon the laughing voices, asked, quickly-- ``What is it, Adelia? Have you seen Mr. William? Do you know why he doesn't come down?''
``Yes'm,'' said Adelia. ``He gone mighty near out his head, Miz Baxter.''
``What!''
``Yes'm. He come floppin' down the back stairs in his baf-robe li'l' while ago. He jes' gone up again. He 'ain't got no britches, Miz Baxter.''
``No WHAT?''
``No'm,'' said Adelia. ``He 'ain't got no britches at all.''
A statement of this kind is startling under Almost any circumstances, and it is unusually so when made in reference to a person for whom a party is being given. Therefore it was not unreasonable of Mrs. Baxter to lose her breath.
``But--it can't BE!'' she gasped. ``He has! He has plenty!''
``No'm, he 'ain't,'' Adelia assured her. ``An' he's carryin' on so I don't scarcely think he knows much what he's doin', Miz Baxter. He brung down some gray britches to the kitchen to see if I couldn' press an' clean 'em right quick: they was the ones Miss Jane, when she's paintin' all them sunsets, lef' her paint-box open, an' one them sunsets got on these here gray britches, Miz Baxter; an' hones'ly, Miz Baxter, he's fixed 'em in a condishum, tryin' to git that paint out, I don't believe it 'll be no use sendin' 'em to the cleaner. `Clean 'em an' press 'em QUICK?' I says. `I couldn' clean 'em by Resurreckshum, let alone pressin' 'em!' No'm! Well, he had his blue britches, too, but they's so ripped an' tore an' kind o' shredded away in one place, the cook she jes' hollered when he spread 'em out, an' he didn' even ast me could I mend 'em. An' he had two pairs o' them white flannen britches, but hones'ly, Miz Baxter, I don't scarcely think Genesis would wear 'em, the way they is now! `Well,' I says, `ain't but one thing lef' to do _I_ can see,' I says. `Why don't you go put on that nice black suit you had las' winter?' ''
``Of course!'' Mrs. Baxter cried. ``I'll go and--''
``No'm,'' said Adelia. ``You don' need to. He's up in the attic now, r'arin' roun' 'mongs' them trunks, but seem to me like I remember you put that suit away under the heavy blankets in that big cedar ches' with the padlock. If you jes' tell me where is the key, I take it up to him.''
``Under the bureau in the spare room,'' said Mrs. Baxter. ``HURRY!''
Adelia hurried; and, fifteen minutes later, William, for the last time that afternoon, surveyed himself in his mirror. His
A colored serving-maid entered with a laden tray, and, having disposed of its freight of bon- bons among the guests, spoke to Mrs. Baxter in a low voice.
``Could you manage step in the back hall a minute, please, ma'am?''
Mrs. Baxter managed and, having closed the door upon the laughing voices, asked, quickly-- ``What is it, Adelia? Have you seen Mr. William? Do you know why he doesn't come down?''
``Yes'm,'' said Adelia. ``He gone mighty near out his head, Miz Baxter.''
``What!''
``Yes'm. He come floppin' down the back stairs in his baf-robe li'l' while ago. He jes' gone up again. He 'ain't got no britches, Miz Baxter.''
``No WHAT?''
``No'm,'' said Adelia. ``He 'ain't got no britches at all.''
A statement of this kind is startling under Almost any circumstances, and it is unusually so when made in reference to a person for whom a party is being given. Therefore it was not unreasonable of Mrs. Baxter to lose her breath.
``But--it can't BE!'' she gasped. ``He has! He has plenty!''
``No'm, he 'ain't,'' Adelia assured her. ``An' he's carryin' on so I don't scarcely think he knows much what he's doin', Miz Baxter. He brung down some gray britches to the kitchen to see if I couldn' press an' clean 'em right quick: they was the ones Miss Jane, when she's paintin' all them sunsets, lef' her paint-box open, an' one them sunsets got on these here gray britches, Miz Baxter; an' hones'ly, Miz Baxter, he's fixed 'em in a condishum, tryin' to git that paint out, I don't believe it 'll be no use sendin' 'em to the cleaner. `Clean 'em an' press 'em QUICK?' I says. `I couldn' clean 'em by Resurreckshum, let alone pressin' 'em!' No'm! Well, he had his blue britches, too, but they's so ripped an' tore an' kind o' shredded away in one place, the cook she jes' hollered when he spread 'em out, an' he didn' even ast me could I mend 'em. An' he had two pairs o' them white flannen britches, but hones'ly, Miz Baxter, I don't scarcely think Genesis would wear 'em, the way they is now! `Well,' I says, `ain't but one thing lef' to do _I_ can see,' I says. `Why don't you go put on that nice black suit you had las' winter?' ''
``Of course!'' Mrs. Baxter cried. ``I'll go and--''
``No'm,'' said Adelia. ``You don' need to. He's up in the attic now, r'arin' roun' 'mongs' them trunks, but seem to me like I remember you put that suit away under the heavy blankets in that big cedar ches' with the padlock. If you jes' tell me where is the key, I take it up to him.''
``Under the bureau in the spare room,'' said Mrs. Baxter. ``HURRY!''
Adelia hurried; and, fifteen minutes later, William, for the last time that afternoon, surveyed himself in his mirror. His