“sakes alive, here she is! we were just a-talkin’ about you, me and biddy here, for germany can’t talk no more’n a cat to us.”
that was the welcome miss scrimp gave to hattie butler as she opened the door on the morning of her arrival in new york.
“good-morning, miss scrimp,” said the latter, in her ever quiet, lady-like way. “i have returned, you see.”
“yes’m, and i’m glad of it. i missed you so much. the girls have all been wild over what the papers said about you savin’ so many lives on the steamer. was it all so?”
“i suppose it was, miss scrimp.”
“sakes alive! have you been to breakfast?”
“yes; i took breakfast on the boat. the captain insisted on it.”
“well, it’s lucky, for the girls did eat so hearty this morning there isn’t much left, and it’s all cold before this time. there comes biddy—she’s heard your voice.”
“oh, you born angel!” cried biddy, running up to hattie and giving her a real, warm celtic hug. “i’ve got the new dress all made up—a real warrum one for winter wear, d’ye see. the mistress has hers, but it’s silk, and i’d rather have mine twice over. shall i get ye’s a real nice cup of coffee? i can make it quick.”
“no, thank you, biddy. i’ll run up to my room a[197] little while, and then i am going up town on a visit. i shall not go to the bindery until to-morrow.”
“why, you’re in mournin’! sakes alive, i didn’t notice that till this minute. i was so glad to see you. who’s dead, dear?” asked miss scrimp.
“my mother!” answered hattie, choking down a sob as she started up stairs for her room.
“her mother! poor thing! i’ll be a mother to her now!” said miss scrimp, thinking of that thousand dollar check most likely.
hattie found everything in her room as she had left it. she had long before had the lock put on herself, and it was one which no other key in the house fitted, or miss scrimp might have explored her apartment in her absence.
the young lady remained up stairs but a short time, and when she came out she took an up town street car, and started to see her kind friends, the legares and mrs. emory, as well as dear little jessie albemarle.
when she arrived there, such a welcome met her! lizzie, mrs. emory, and jessie covered her with kisses. mr. legare pressed her hand warmly, and poor frank stammered and blushed, and hardly knew what he said, though he tried to be very polite, and at the same time very ardent in his expressions of pleasure at seeing her once more.
and he hurried to inform her that mr. w—— had gone to california.
“one rival out of the way!” he said to himself.
but his hopes went below zero when she calmly told him she knew he was going before she left town, and he had telegraphed to her when he was on the point of starting.
“they’re engaged. i know they are!” groaned[198] frank to lizzie, while hattie was telling mrs. emory of the death of her mother.
“who, you goose?” asked lizzie. “what are you ready to blubber out a crying for?”
“ned w—— would never have telegraphed to her all about his going off if they weren’t engaged!” almost sobbed frank.
“pooh! what is it to us, anyway?”
“to me, who is almost dying for her love—to me it’s everything. i tell you plain, sister, if hattie butler will not have me, i’ll go and enlist as a private soldier in the army, and get killed by indians, or i’ll ship in a whaler, and fall overboard and break my neck!”
“or swallow a whale like jonah did,” said lizzie, laughing. “don’t be foolish, frank. if she’ll only love you, it will all come right, and if she will not—why, you wouldn’t want to marry a girl without love!”
“no,” said frank, with some hesitation. then he added: “if she loves him she can’t love me. i wish he was dead. who is she in mourning for?”
“her mother. i heard her tell aunt louisa so a few seconds ago.”
“poor thing! i wish father would adopt her. no, i don’t either, for then she’d be my sister, and i want her for my wife.”
hattie now had a hundred questions to answer about the storm, and the steamer, which she did cheerfully.
after dinner frank had the glory of escorting her home in the family carriage alone—lizzie pleading a headache, just to give the poor boy a chance to make love to hattie if he could.
but he never opened his mouth from the time he[199] left home till he set her down at the door of her boarding-house. he couldn’t have done it to save his life. he had caught the love-fever in dead earnest.
