"well!" gasped happie. "my mercy me! it's that robert gaston!"
she said it aloud entirely forgetful of where she was, even of what she was, in the amazing discovery of the identity of her rescuer. she told her mother afterwards that it was nothing but good fortune and her size that kept her from falling into a teapot, a little like the dormouse, and only the lack of space that kept her from dropping to the floor.
she stood near mrs. jones-dexter as the amazing conviction rushed over her that robert gaston did not resemble her mental portrait of him in any particular, and that he was actually there and had been helping her serve tea for an hour. mrs. jones-dexter looked up disapprovingly. "do you mean to say that you have been allowing a young man whom you did not know to help you, miss secunda?" she demanded sternly. she had fallen into the habit of calling margery and happie and laura "prima, secunda and tertia."
happie gazed at her blankly. "that isn't the worst of it," she said. "the worst of it is that margery does know him, and that he is really very, very nice. i thought he'd be perfectly unbearable, but anybody could bear him easily. oh, dear, oh, dear! margery will [146]like him—i do myself!"
mrs. jones-dexter stared at happie for an instant, then she laughed. "i think i see!" she observed. "my dear, be consoled. there might be a degree of badness beyond this. prima might see his charm and you not see it. that would be far worse. and take an old woman's advice; don't grudge your sisters happiness of their own selection. it's better to float with currents than to beat yourself to tatters trying to stem them. if prima is drifting away, drift after her, don't hold back."
happie did not heed this excellent advice, based on mrs. jones-dexter's personal experiences. she was watching margery as she replied to robert's questions, and understood his laughing glances towards herself, surmising that he was relating to margery the story of his latest hour of usefulness.
herr lieder stopped playing, disturbed, perhaps, with the quick telepathic instinct of a musician, by laura's perturbation, which was nearly as great as happie's, when she saw margery greet the stranger and guessed his identity.
herr lieder went away quickly without a word, as he had preferred doing at the end of his first playing. after he had gone the people who had been lingering in the tea room stirred sighingly, and there was a rustle of general departure, leaving space and opportunity for margery to come down the room with robert gaston to where happie and gretta exchanged rapid whispers t[147]ill the approaching pair were at hand, when gretta hastily slipped away to safety in the rear.
"happie, dear," margery began, "i must introduce to you my friend, mr. gaston, but he already knows you. this is my happiness-sister, mr. gaston, of whom i used to speak so often—who let me go away to be idle and happy all summer, while she stayed in the ark, and bore the brunt of a great deal that was hard."
"and who did such great kindness thereby to a young man from baltimore and his sister mary, of whom she had never heard," added robert gaston, taking happie's hand with that mixture of old-fashioned formality and boyish simplicity which was his charm. "i hope miss happie is going to give me her friendship, quite independent of miss margery,—the way it was begun!" he added with a twinkle.
happie looked painfully embarrassed. "it won't matter about my friendship, i am three years younger than margery," she said awkwardly and not too relevantly.
"do you regard the affections of your family through the wrong end of a telescope, miss happie? i want the friendship of all the scollards, down to the dancing-school pupils there, who are devoutly wishing i'd take myself off and let their sisters lead them to class," said robert gaston, passing over happie's awkwardness so lightly that she was grateful. "i must carry out their[148] desires."
"you didn't know me the other day, in mr. felton's office?" asked happie.
"not a bit," declared robert. "wasn't it a jolly chance that let me box that impertinent stripling's ears for you? not knowing you were you, i mean! but you see i knew whom to expect when i came here; i mean, that i should find the unknown scollards here. i came intending to surprise you all,—i flatter myself i succeeded! when i came down the steps i saw you, miss happie, flying about, and i said to myself: 'by all that's wonderful! my little lady disdain of the office is miss margery's sister happie!' and so you are," he ended with a satisfied laugh that made happie smile up at him reluctantly.
"yes," she admitted grudgingly. "i am keren-happuch scollard. and you certainly were very nice, both in boxing ears and serving tea." this time she smiled cordially, and margery said as she put her arm over happie's shoulder: "this is the dearest of the scollards. you are coming to see mother, and the patty-pans?"
"as soon as you will let me," returned robert gaston. "to-night? thank you. perhaps your mother will let me borrow her two eldest daughters to show me the way to the charlefords' to-morrow night? i am anxious to recall myself to mrs. charleford as soon as possible."
[149]
"auntie cam does not forget old friends, mr. gaston," said margery. "i am sure you have lots of messages to deliver to her from your mother. i thought auntie cam and mrs. gaston were very fond of each other."
"to be sure i have, so many messages that i can't carry them alone. you and miss happie will have to help me. and i have messages from mother to you, 'the dove-eyed little girl'—you remember mother's name for you? and from mary! dear me, i can't remember half of mary's, but my consolation is that she will write you all that she told me to say and no end more!" robert glanced at margery, and happie saw the look of satisfaction with which he noted her fluttering, delighted embarrassment as he hinted his mother's and sister's admiration for her. happie's heart sank. he was nice, very nice. nothing but actually seeing him could have convinced her of how charming he was. but that was just the trouble; here he was already charming margery, her own margery, away into an atmosphere which rebellious fifteen-years-old happie could not breathe.
robert saw happie's face cloud, as she turned away. "please introduce me to the lesser scollards, the musical child, and your two sweet p's, and then i must leave the tea room and its maidens. where is the owner of the ark? miss margery wrote me the wonderful story of finding the will in the little worn-off horsehair trunk, up in the garret that snowy day. is your miss gretta here? please let me know you all, and then when [150]i come to-night i shall be among old friends. remember i'm an exile from the hospitable south and take me into your kindness, miss happie," he pleaded, with such a funny assumption of pathos that happie dimpled again. she took him in charge for presentations to gretta, laura and the two little girls, with whom margery immediately afterwards departed up-stairs, giving a pleasant little informal nod to the menacing friend, that somewhat reassured happie for the moment.
robert gaston did not linger longer than was required to win the hearty liking of gretta and laura. he had an instinctive sense of the right thing to say to put every one at ease. gretta found herself replying to him without fear, though she was still the shyest of the shy. laura was instantly won by the suggestion that she sing and play some of her own compositions to her sister's friend that night.
"i think i will make a song of your coming, unknown, among us, defending happie, and bearing tea to the thirsty and fainting in our hour of need," said queer laura in all sincerity.
the tea room was deserted, save for a woman who sipped her tea with a novel propped up before her, and a man who took immense swallows, scalded himself, wiped away the tears and fell to figuring frantically; forgot the tea was hot, scalded himself with another hasty mouthful, repeating the performance thrice over to the fascinated marvel of the girls, who watched him with ill-suppr[151]essed giggles.
with only two, and two such absorbed customers, happie, gretta and laura had no hesitation in discussing robert gaston, the one subject in the world just then, and they gave themselves up to it unreservedly, elbows on table, chins in hands, over in a corner that suggested privacy. from comparing notes on his personal appearance—regarded by happie differently, more analytically, since she knew him for himself—and agreeing that in face, air and manner there could hardly be a finer gentleman, they went on to praise his kindliness and universal good qualities till happie dropped her arms on the table and her face on them, and groaned dismally.
"what's the matter?" demanded laura, rather frightened.
"never mind, happie, he may be rude and disagreeable to margery," suggested gretta with an amused twist of the lips, understanding happie's groan better than laura did.
"oh, yes, it's likely!" said happie from the muffling bend of her elbow. "of course a blind man could see the end of this."
"you mean it's going to be a romance?" inquired laura. "of course any one would care for margery—i should think they would love her madly, she is so very calm herself. i'm sure i don't see what you're groaning about, happie. only think how perfectly beautiful margery would look under a bridal veil, walking slowly to [152]the strains of heavenly music! i'll write the music. i guess i'll have it a chanted march, something like the lohengrin one. i'll write the words, too. do you suppose the tea room will make enough money for us by that time so we can afford to hire a lot of boys in white surplices to walk ahead, chanting? no, i'd rather have them in velvet knee breeches, with buckles——"
"like bobby shafto," interrupted happie, but she laughed.
"and girls in—silver and pink!" cried laura triumphantly, having hesitated for an instant. "all chanting my lovely epitaphalium."
"your what? oh, laura, what are you talking about? epitaphs are for graves!" protested happie.
"maybe that isn't the right word," said laura with heightened color. "i believe it's epithalami-something, now i think of it. i was looking over the poets in our bookcase, and i saw they used to write epithalami-things for weddings. i thought i'd remember it in case any of you girls were married some day. only i should write music too. i believe i'll go now and compose something impertinent for mr. gaston's coming."
"oh, laura scollard, you are enough to make jeunesse dorée laugh! wouldn't you rather be sensible than clever? what can you mean by impertinent music? are you trying to say pertinent?" cried happie, forgetting h[153]er forebodings in a peal of such merry laughter that it won a glance from the lady of the propped-up-novel.
"it doesn't matter," said laura, walking away towards the piano with sufficient dignity to have compensated for mrs. malaprop's crooked tongue.
laura sat thoughtful before the key board for a while, then began to strike chords reminiscent of the lohengrin wedding march, at the same time singing below her breath words that were so satisfactory to herself that her color mounted in the pride of conscious poesy.
margery came down from mrs. stewart's just when this composition, of which she was innocently unsuspicious, was well under way.
"laura, dear," she said pausing at the piano. "mrs. stewart's pianist has not come; she has no music for her class this afternoon. won't you come up and play for her? i told her i was sure that we could spare you here."
"oh, margery, no, i don't want to! i should despise playing dance music the whole afternoon. i am doing something important, too," laura protested, instantly clouding.
"laura, my dear! how can you say you don't want to help mrs. stewart, when she is taking polly and penny into her class so kindly!" rebuked margery.
[154]
"but not me!" cried laura, betraying the feeling of some days' standing. "besides, she told you she took our children for aunt keren's sake. i should think that let us off from caring about it."
"laura! nothing would let us off, as you put it, from our share of the obligation. it is polly and penny, not aunt keren, who are benefited by the dancing class. in any case, if there were no polly and penny, wouldn't you be glad to do a kindness for sweet little mrs. stewart? dear laura, you positively must fight hard against selfishness; be at least as ready to give as to receive. and, however you feel about playing for mrs. stewart this afternoon, i must insist on your doing so."
margery rarely put forth her claim of obedience as the elder sister whom circumstances had given a large share of the mother's headship over the family, but when she did assert herself there was something in gentle margery that got the obedience she asked.
laura arose somewhat sulkily, quite unwillingly, but she arose at once, and went towards the door. "if you only knew what i was composing!" she grumbled.
"something that i shall care a great deal about, i'm sure, and something that will be all the better for my little sister's sacrifice, as all art gains from the artist's gain in character," said margery, putting her arm around laura affectionately. laura's brow cleared. if there were a person in the world whom she loved better than her[155] important little self, that person was margery.
"oh, margery, i don't mean to be unkind to people, but i don't seem to care one bit about them. i don't see how you can care for everybody's bothers, the way you do," said laura candidly.
"and i'm afraid you think that comes from your being wholly taken up with your little talents, my laura, and are a wee bit proud of it," said margery wisely, "when the truth is that the greatest artist, like the highest art, has a sympathy for sorrow, and a knowledge of human hearts far beyond that of ordinary mortals. wait. i must tell happie that i have carried you off, and that i will come back soon myself."
it was a listless laura that began to play the two-step which mrs. stewart placed before her on the piano rack, a laura not converted to zeal in her service by the little lady's warm thanks for her coming. but after a few minutes, as the rhythm of many feet chimed with the music, laura began to play with more spirit, and when the first dance was ended, and she had got mrs. stewart's consent to turning the piano a very little so that she might see the dancers, laura forgot that she was a genius—with a big g—wrested from her task of composing an epithalamium, and became only a little girl of thirteen who played remarkably well, and dearly loved dancing.
[156]
even the half hour in which the children were arranged in line to practice the waltz step up to a certain crack in the floor and back again to their starting point, did not dismay laura. she played her waltz over and over, but her eyes were dreamy, with the far-away look that margery, had she been there, would have understood, as a signal of inspiration, and her cheeks were red with excitement.
laura was watching little serena jones-dexter, filled with the thought of ralph and snigs, the unknown cousins, and fired with enthusiasm for the child's loveliness.
"now, partners, if you please, children, and waltz!" mrs. stewart announced, looking at her watch, and giving the longed-for signal for her little pupils to test their practice in proper waltzing. she stepped over and placed another waltz before laura, to give the children the incentive of new music, unassociated with drill. but laura did not see the notes before her. she began to play something so pretty, so dreamy, so full of the spirit of the waltz that mrs. stewart forgot her duty to listen, wondering where the little girl had found it.
she looked at laura. with her usually pale face aflame, her eyes fastened on serena as she floated around like a bit of milkweed silk, laura was playing, not looking at the keys, her fingers guided by instinct. and when the waltz was ended at the clapping of the little dancing mistress's hands, laura's face bowed suddenly forward, dropped into her hands, and she burst out crying tempest[157]uously.
"my dear, what is it?" cried mrs. stewart, frightened, as she hastened to her. serena ran over to the piano also. "i must take care of her, because she is lovely miss margery's sister," she said. and she gravely put one of her tiny hands over laura's clasped ones and stroked it.
"there isn't anything the mat-matter," sobbed laura, struggling to control herself. "only that was so beautiful."
"yes, dear; that was a charming waltz," said poor little mrs. stewart trying to meet the occasion. "i don't remember hearing it before."
"you never did," grieved laura. "that is just it. i made it up. and now nobody can ever hear it again, because i played it and played it, in a dream. and it was so beautiful! it was your waltz, serena, it was the waltz of the lost cousins."
mrs. stewart looked dismayed, as well she might, lacking the clue to laura's idea. "did you really improvise that pretty waltz, laura?" she asked.
"yes, thinking of serena, and what she doesn't know," returned mysterious laura. "i am all right now. shall i play another dance?"
"if you please, dear, the lanciers. we always end with a square dance, and a lively chassé which i call 'good-night,'" replied mrs. stewart. "there is your sister happie, come up for you."
[158]
"i should like to invent a dance for you—serena alone, and then with all the other children, like a song and its chorus. i think i should call it the dance-of-the-thistle-down," said laura. "serena is so little, and so light, and so white. please let me have the lanciers music, mrs. stewart."
"my dear laura, your young head is filled with nothing but your dreams of music, i am afraid," said mrs. stewart, pulling out the sheet laura asked for, and feeling inadequate to dealing with this strange little girl.
"i don't think i care much for anything else," said laura, and happie, who had joined them, frowned.
mrs. stewart shook her head. "there are other things, nevertheless. i knew some one once who was an extraordinary musician; i never heard any one else play as he played. yet for the sake of his music he wrecked not only his life, but another life, and his one little child died for want of his care. don't ever put your skill, not even your art, above love that makes the music of the world, laura. it is a fearful thing to have made another suffer as this poor man made one suffer—and suffered himself, suffered himself, i am sure!" mrs. stewart said these words very low, as if she had forgotten her surroundings, the girls, even that she was speaking.
then she aroused herself, and announced the lanciers, of which laura played the opening bars.
gretta had reversed the usual order of things by going to fetch bob from the office to the tea room, whence they wou[159]ld all go home together.
bob took happie's arm as they started out and told her, with many chuckles, the compliments paid her by mr. felton's two elder clerks and how much they regretted that she had been but a substitute among them.
"for hapsie is not harmed by taffy as laura is," bob thought admiringly.
happie laughed, then she looked very sober. "i have real news for you," she said holding him back from the rest of the little band, though margery and penny were separated from them by gretta, laura and polly. "whom do you suppose the young man who boxed dan lipton's ears for me is?"
"the spirit of perseus, or launcelot, or some of those maiden rescuers," hazarded bob.
"not one bit!" cried happie instantly. "he's a dragon that wants to devour the sweetest girl in the world, instead of being perseus to save her. he is robert gaston." she nodded hard towards margery to point her allusion to dragons.
"my soles and uppers!" ejaculated bob.
happie told the story of his coming, and how he had helped in the crowded hour of herr lieder's playing. "and he is coming this very night to see us all in the patty-pans. and mark my words, robert scollard: when we let him in to-night we shall never be able to drive him out again."
whatever the future held to fulfil or to disprove happie's prophecy, robert gaston was admitted that night. he went aw[160]ay leaving a critical group won over to his favor. even mrs. scollard, keenly observant of margery's friend, liked him greatly.
happie wound up her vociferous little one-day clock in her mother's room, whither she had strolled at bedtime.
"well, happie?" hinted mrs. scollard, smiling at happie's grave face.
"well, mother," echoed happie. "i could never have believed he would be so nice if i had not seen it."
