Stepping Heavenward [105]
this involved my doing all her absence left undone.
At last I got through with the kitchen, the Sunday dinner being well under way, and ran upstairs to put away the host of little garments the children had left when they took their flight, and to make myself presentable at lunch. Then I began to be uneasy lest Ernest should not be punctual, and Mary be delayed; but he came just as the clock struck one. I ran joyfully to meet him, very glad now that I had something good to give him. We bad just got through lunch, and I was opening my mouth to tell Mary she might go, when the doorbell rang once more, and Mrs. Fry, of Jersey City, was announced. I told Mary to wait till I found whether she had lunched or not; no, she hadn't; had come to town to see friends off, was half famished, and would I do her the favor, etc., etc. She had a fashionable young lady with her, a stranger to me, as well as a Miss Somebody else, from Albany, whose name I did not catch. I apologized for having finished lunch. Mrs. Fry said all they wanted was a cup of tea and a bit of bread and butter, nothing else, dear; now don't put yourself out.
"Now be bright and animated, and like yourself," she whispered, "for I have brought these girls here on purpose to hear you talk, and they are prepared to fall in love with you on the spot"
This speech sufficed to shut my mouth.
Mary had to get ready for these unexpected guests, whose appetites proved equal to a raid on a good many things besides bread and butter. Mrs. Fry said, after she had devoured nearly half a loaf of cake, that she would really try to eat a morsel more, which Ernest remarked, dryly, was a great triumph of mind over matter. As they talked and 'laughed and ate leisurely on, Mary stood looking the picture of despair. At last I gave her a glance that said she might go, when a new visitor was announced-Mrs. Winthrop, from Brooklyn, one of Ernest's patients a few years ago, when she lived here. She professed herself greatly indebted to him, and said she had come at this hour because she should make sure of seeing him. I tried to excuse him, as I knew he would be thankful to have me do, but no, see him she must; he was her "pet doctor," he had such "sweet, bedside manners," and "I am such a favorite with him, you know!"
Ernest did not receive his "favorite" with any special warmth; but invited her out to lunch and gallanted her to the table we had just left. Just like a man! Poor Mary! she had to fly round and get up what she could; Mrs. Winthrop devoted herself to Ernest with a persistent ignoring of me that I thought rude and unwomanly. She asked if he had read a certain book; he had not; she then said, "I need not ask, then, if Mrs. Elliott has done so? These charming dishes, which she gets up so nicely, must absorb all her time." "Of course," replied Ernest. "But she contrives to read the reports of all the murders, of which the newspapers are full."
Mrs. Winthrop took this speech literally, drew away her skirts from me, looked at me through her eye-glass, and said, "Yes?" At last she departed. Helen came home, and Mary went. I gave Helen an account of my morning; she laughed heartily, and it did me good to hear that musical sound once more.
"It is nearly five o'clock," I said, as we at last had restored everything to order, "and this whole day has been frittered away in the veriest trifles. It isn't living to live so. Who is the better for my being in the world since six o'clock this morning?"
"I am for one," she said, kissing my hot cheeks; "and you have given a great deal of pleasure to several persons. Your and Ernest's hospitality is always graceful. I admire it in you both; and this is one of the little ways, not to be despised, of giving enjoyment." It was nice in her to say that, it quite rested me.
At the dinner-table Ernest complimented me on my good housekeeping.
"I was proud of my little wife at lunch" he said.
"And yet you said that outrageous thing about my reading about nothing but murders!" I said.
"Oh, well, you understood it," he said, laughingly.
At last I got through with the kitchen, the Sunday dinner being well under way, and ran upstairs to put away the host of little garments the children had left when they took their flight, and to make myself presentable at lunch. Then I began to be uneasy lest Ernest should not be punctual, and Mary be delayed; but he came just as the clock struck one. I ran joyfully to meet him, very glad now that I had something good to give him. We bad just got through lunch, and I was opening my mouth to tell Mary she might go, when the doorbell rang once more, and Mrs. Fry, of Jersey City, was announced. I told Mary to wait till I found whether she had lunched or not; no, she hadn't; had come to town to see friends off, was half famished, and would I do her the favor, etc., etc. She had a fashionable young lady with her, a stranger to me, as well as a Miss Somebody else, from Albany, whose name I did not catch. I apologized for having finished lunch. Mrs. Fry said all they wanted was a cup of tea and a bit of bread and butter, nothing else, dear; now don't put yourself out.
"Now be bright and animated, and like yourself," she whispered, "for I have brought these girls here on purpose to hear you talk, and they are prepared to fall in love with you on the spot"
This speech sufficed to shut my mouth.
Mary had to get ready for these unexpected guests, whose appetites proved equal to a raid on a good many things besides bread and butter. Mrs. Fry said, after she had devoured nearly half a loaf of cake, that she would really try to eat a morsel more, which Ernest remarked, dryly, was a great triumph of mind over matter. As they talked and 'laughed and ate leisurely on, Mary stood looking the picture of despair. At last I gave her a glance that said she might go, when a new visitor was announced-Mrs. Winthrop, from Brooklyn, one of Ernest's patients a few years ago, when she lived here. She professed herself greatly indebted to him, and said she had come at this hour because she should make sure of seeing him. I tried to excuse him, as I knew he would be thankful to have me do, but no, see him she must; he was her "pet doctor," he had such "sweet, bedside manners," and "I am such a favorite with him, you know!"
Ernest did not receive his "favorite" with any special warmth; but invited her out to lunch and gallanted her to the table we had just left. Just like a man! Poor Mary! she had to fly round and get up what she could; Mrs. Winthrop devoted herself to Ernest with a persistent ignoring of me that I thought rude and unwomanly. She asked if he had read a certain book; he had not; she then said, "I need not ask, then, if Mrs. Elliott has done so? These charming dishes, which she gets up so nicely, must absorb all her time." "Of course," replied Ernest. "But she contrives to read the reports of all the murders, of which the newspapers are full."
Mrs. Winthrop took this speech literally, drew away her skirts from me, looked at me through her eye-glass, and said, "Yes?" At last she departed. Helen came home, and Mary went. I gave Helen an account of my morning; she laughed heartily, and it did me good to hear that musical sound once more.
"It is nearly five o'clock," I said, as we at last had restored everything to order, "and this whole day has been frittered away in the veriest trifles. It isn't living to live so. Who is the better for my being in the world since six o'clock this morning?"
"I am for one," she said, kissing my hot cheeks; "and you have given a great deal of pleasure to several persons. Your and Ernest's hospitality is always graceful. I admire it in you both; and this is one of the little ways, not to be despised, of giving enjoyment." It was nice in her to say that, it quite rested me.
At the dinner-table Ernest complimented me on my good housekeeping.
"I was proud of my little wife at lunch" he said.
"And yet you said that outrageous thing about my reading about nothing but murders!" I said.
"Oh, well, you understood it," he said, laughingly.