miss lizzie bettie pryor lifted the heavy black veil with which her face was covered and looked up and down the long dusty street, half asleep in the full heat of a july day. then she walked up the steps of mrs. deford's house and into the hall, the door of which was open. from the porch at the back she could hear voices, and for a moment she hesitated. the requirements of custom were punctiliously observed by miss lizzie bettie, and though two months had passed since the death of her father she had paid no visits to friends or relatives, and this first one was now being made in the expectation of a talk alone with mrs. deford. everybody had been kind and everything had been done that could be done, but people were doubtless tired of coming to see six black crows sitting in a darkened parlor, and had stopped doing it, with the result that she did not know what was going on as fully as she should, and it was time to find out.
she put down her parasol and walked to the end of the hall. in the door she stood a moment, looking at the south end of the long porch, then advanced slowly toward it. miss georganna brickhouse and lily deford were nearest the railing, and near them were the latter's mother and miss puss jenkins. annie steele, her little boy on her lap, was listening with her left ear—her right being deaf—to something mrs. deford was saying, and, as miss lizzie bettie came nearer, jumped as if caught in an unrighteous act.
"good gracious, lizzie bettie, you frightened me nearly to death!" mrs. deford got up and pushed her chair forward. "you came up like a black ghost. do pray take that heavy veil off. it makes me hot just to look at you!"
"then don't look." miss lizzie bettie's voice was huffy. she had expected a different greeting. for weeks she had not been outside of her house except on business and to church and the cemetery, and now to be spoken to as if she'd been over every day was a jar. she did not like it.
"i can't help looking if you sit in front of me. it's a heathenish custom, this shrouding of one's self in black, and so unbecoming. lily, get lizzie bettie a glass of iced tea, or would you rather have lemonade?" and mrs. deford stopped fanning long enough to put her lorgnette to her eyes and look at her latest visitor critically. she had on a new dress and looked better in it then anything she had ever seen her wear before. she wondered where it came from.
"i don't care for tea or lemonade either." miss lizzie bettie unpinned her hat and veil and laid them on the chair behind her, drew off her gloves and, opening her bag of dull jet beads, took from it a handkerchief with a heavy black border, and wiped her lips with careful deliberation. "how are you, miss puss? i heard you were going away."
"i did expect to, but i've had dyspepsia so bad in my left foot that i haven't been able to finish my sewing. when i have dyspepsia in my foot this way it feels like it hasn't a bit of feeling in it, and makes me so nervous i'm not fit for a thing. it's a great deal worse than gout. i have gout in my right foot and can put my finger on the spot, but when you feel bad and can't exactly find the place that hurts and haven't any name to call it by it gets on your nerves so that—"
"everybody runs when they see you coming. for goodness' sake don't get on nerves, puss. where are you going?" mrs. deford looked up. lily, her daughter, was trying to get by.
"i want to see sarah sue moon about something," she said. "i promised to be there by twelve and it's nearly half-past. excuse me, miss georganna! did i step on your toe? good-bye." she nodded to the others and went into the hall, and her mother, getting up, took the chair she had left and drew it a little apart from her guests.
"lily doesn't look well, laura." miss georganna brickhouse, who always talked through her nose and seemingly with it, owing to the nervous twitching of her nostrils, looked at mrs. deford. "you ought to take her away."
"ought i? if you had a daughter eighteen who didn't want to go away how would you make her do it? up to this summer we've never had any discussions on the subject. she has always done as i said and gone where i decided, but this year she persists in staying in this dead-and-buried place, and says she don't want to go away. she is very well, but she's got to go the first of august."
"where are you going? certainly do wish i had somebody to make me do things. every time i make up my mind to do this, i wish i'd made it up to do that. but i'm like lily. i'm more comfortable at home then anywhere else, and i don't think yorkburg's dead and buried. things are moving too fast for me. i wish i could make them stop and let it stay just like it is forever and ever. where are you going in august?"
mrs. deford turned and looked at miss puss, her lorgnette at a withering angle. "we are going to the coast of maine." she took up her embroidery and held it off at arm's-length to get its effect. "how is your mother, lizzie bettie?"
"very well, thank you, though she thinks she's sick. i want mother to go away. i wish she and maria could go to the coast of maine. maria's as nervous as a cat, and if she don't go somewhere we'll all be to pieces before the summer's over. where will you stay, laura? is it very expensive? i've heard some places up there are very cheap."
"cheap? nothing's cheap after you leave washington. but we are not going to a hotel. we are going to visit friends."
"must be ashamed of them, as you don't mention their names.
wouldn't have asked if i'd known it was a secret." and miss lizzie
bettie took the fan out of miss georganna brickhouse's hands and
began to use it as if hot with something more than summer heat.
"you needn't get so mad about it." mrs. deford threaded her needle deliberately with a strand of scarlet silk. "and if you are so very anxious to know where we are going i don't mind telling you. we are to be mrs. maxwell's guests for the month of august."
"so she's asked you at last, has she? knew you were terribly afraid she wouldn't?" miss puss jenkins put the gouty foot on the dyspeptic one and rubbed it vigorously. "i heard mrs. maxwell's father left her barrels of money and she's rich even for new york. is she? you visit her and ought to know. somebody was telling me her house is magnificently furnished, and she tried footmen and butlers in livery, but she couldn't keep that up. john made such a fuss she had to stop. mrs. maxwell always was the most pretentious, ostentatious sort of person, and i never could understand how her son could be such a natural kind of a fellow with such a mother. he's like his father. they say his father's family was rather plain once, but his mother comes of very good new jersey stock. mr. maxwell was a fine man, which is more than you can say of his wife, and i never did have any use for her. but i suppose if she invited me to spend a month with her in her summer home i'd go. didn't somebody tell me john had gone to europe?"
mrs. deford turned quickly. "who said so?"
miss puss looked at mrs. steele, whose little boy, now on the grass playing with the dog, was satisfactorily disposed of. "who told us, annie? oh yes, i know. it was miss gibbie gault. we met her in the library yesterday morning and she said she and mary cary were going away on the twenty-first of this month and stay until the middle of september. i asked her where john was going. a blind man could see he is in love with mary, and i thought he'd be with them, but miss gibbie said he was going to norway, or was it russia, annie? i declare i haven't a bit of memory. but, anyhow, he was going somewhere and wasn't to be with miss gibbie this summer. i wonder if mary has kicked him!"
"kicked him?" mrs. deford's lips twisted in an up-curling movement and her eyebrows lifted, ridging her forehead in fine furrows. again she held off her embroidery and looked at it. "mary cary will never have the chance to discard john maxwell. he is sorry for her and is very kind to her. he knew her when she was in the asylum here, but he has about as much idea of marrying her as of marrying—"
"lily. that's just what i was saying the other day," and miss georganna brickhouse took off her spectacles and wiped them. "some one told me he heard john and lily were engaged, but i knew it wasn't so. a man can't even be polite to a girl these days without somebody gobbling him up and telling him he's done for. i told whoever it was told me i knew john's mother had her eye on something better known in the newspapers than lily or mary, either, and she'd never let him marry in yorkburg if she could help it. everybody says he's a fine man and a girl would do well to catch him, but—"
"he'll never be caught by mary cary. she's tried hard enough. it's a pity somebody don't tell her how it looks to be seen going about with him as she does. she hardly lets him get out of her sight when he's in town. i invited them to tea the last time they were here and she wouldn't let him come; kept him at her house, made some flimsy excuse, and had the evening with him to herself. she's tried her best to get him, but—"
miss lizzie bettie pryor took up her gloves and pulled out each finger separately. "she's done nothing of the kind, laura, and you know it. i've got no sympathy with some of the things she's doing here, but mary's not trying to marry anybody. i'll say that much for her. i'm surprised to hear john is going to europe again. people step over there now just like it was across the street."
mrs. deford looked miss lizzie bettie in the face, and this time her head was not on the side. "john maxwell has no idea of going to europe. i am better qualified to speak of john's movements than miss gibbie. i have very good reasons for being better qualified." she hesitated, tapped her lips significantly with her lorgnette, and smiled mysteriously. "poor miss gibbie! it won't be her fault if mary cary don't marry john. she's done her best to run him down."
"miss gibbie may be a crank all right, but when she says a thing is so, it is so." miss lizzie bettie's gloves came down with emphasis on the palm of her right hand. "and if she says john is going abroad, he is certainly going. i don't think it is very polite of him if his mother has invited you and lily to spend august with her, but i never saw a man in my life who had good manners when they interfered with his pleasure. it was your brother who told me he'd heard john and lily were engaged"—she turned to miss georganna brickhouse—"and, like you, i told him i didn't believe there was a word of truth in it. but if laura doesn't deny it, maybe there is."
mrs. deford got up and shook her skirt. "do any of you see my needle? i've dropped it somewhere. where did miss gibbie say she and mary were going, puss? she gives much information about others, but never about herself. where are they going?"
"here's your needle." mrs. steele held it toward mrs. deford. "she didn't say just where they were going, did she, miss puss?" mrs. steele, who talked little and agreed always with the last one who spoke, looked at the lady rubbing the foot that felt as if it had no feeling in it, and nodded toward her. "she said something about nova scotia, i believe, and boston in september, as mary wanted to see some schools up there, but she didn't mention just where they were going."
"of course she didn't. and if yorkburg knew what was good for it, all these yankee ideas mary cary is bringing down here would be stopped. she spends money in every direction, sends this person away and that one away, and gives picnics and parties to people nobody ever heard of until lately. people of that class are ruined by having the things done for them that she is doing. after awhile they'll be wanting to move up on king street and expect us to speak to them as if they were our friends."
"she says they are hers."
"perhaps they are." mrs. deford's lips again made their favorite curve. "she evidently has a strong leaning toward poor whites. but there is one direction in which she will lean in vain, and that is—oh, well—" she put her head on the side and shrugged her shoulders. "i really feel very sorry for her, but a girl can't make a man love her just because she wants him to."
"and a woman can't make a man marry where she'd like him to." miss
lizzie bettie pinned on her hat hurriedly. "that's a black cloud
coming toward us. if we don't look out we'll get caught in a storm.
when congratulations are in order let us know. good-bye. come on,
miss puss." and without further waste of words she was gone.
in the street she and miss puss hurried in one direction, mrs. steele and miss georganna in another, and half-way home the rain began to fall. the one parasol was hastily opened and held close down over their heads, so close that a couple coming toward them with umbrella held in the same position as theirs bumped into them. with a hurried apology they passed on, but not before miss lizzie bettie had seen who they were.
she turned and looked behind and then at miss puss. "a new way to come from sarah sue moon's house," she said. "that's the second time this week i've seen them together."
"who is it?" miss puss pulled her skirts up higher and stepped carefully aside from a puddle of water. "i can't see a thing with your parasol right over my face. who was it?"
"lily deford and that pugh boy. the one who stays in the bank."
"what!" miss puss stopped in the now pouring rain. "in broad daylight? i've heard they've been seen together several times lately in the evenings. his father keeps a livery stable and his father before him! do you suppose laura knows?"
"of course she doesn't! lily's soul doesn't belong to her, and if her mother knew this boy was in love with her—well, she mightn't kill him, but he'd be safer out of sight. of all the ambitious mothers i've ever seen—do pray hurry, miss puss! we'll be drenched if you don't walk faster!"
