Carolyn Wells - The Staying Guest стр 2.

This gray barege always makes me think of chicken-pie, said Miss Dorinda, unfolding an old-fashioned skirt.

Why? said Miss Priscilla, in muffled tones, by reason of her head and shoulders being deep in a huge trunk.

Because I wore it the day Ann Haskell came to see us. Do you remember? She came in the morning to spend the day, and she stayed a full-fledged week. I thought she never would clear herself off. And she wanted chicken-pie made for her.

Yes, said Miss Priscilla; and then when she got it she wouldnt eat it.

No; and we couldnt eat it, because she would have onions in it. And the cats wouldnt eat it: nothing would eat it, and at last we had to throw it away.

I suppose were not very hospitable, said Miss Priscilla; but I just hate to have company, they upset things so.

But sometimes it seems a duty, said her sister.

Not at all; thats where youre silly, Dorinda. I believe in charity, and giving of our worldly goods to help our less fortunate neighbors; but that doesnt mean were to open our doors and let them all come in and make themselves at home. Do you remember when Ann Haskell came again, and rode up in a hack from the station, bringing a big bag with her?

Yes; and you told the driver to come for her again directly after dinner.

I did, or she would have stayed another week. My, but she was surprised!

I know it; I couldnt do anything like that!

Then youre a coward, Dorinda. It is certainly cowardly to have company because youre afraid to tell them they cant stay. Now heres another matter. The Dorcas Circle wants to make up a box of clothing for those fire-sufferers; so what do you think of giving them some of Lavinias things?

Oh! gasped Miss Dorinda, in a startled tone.

I think we may as well, went on Miss Priscilla. Its fourteen years now since Lavinia died. They say, keep a thing seven years, and youll have use for it again; but weve kept these things twice over seven years, and I dont see how they can ever be of use to us, except to give away.

Well, said Miss Dorinda, still dazed, perhaps you are right.

Lavinia Flint, the younger, very much younger sister of these two ladies, had run away from her home fifteen years ago to marry a dashing young soldier named Jack Lovell, and had sailed with him to India. A year or so later the Flint ladies heard from Mr. Lovell that his wife had died, leaving a tiny baby named Lavinia. He sent them no address, so they could not have answered his letter if they had wanted to. And they had no desire to answer it, for they looked upon their sister as lost to them from the day of her elopement, and they had no wish to see her husband or child.

The Flints were a hard-hearted, stiff-necked race, and if one of the family did wrong, the others felt no relenting mercy because of ties of blood.

And so when Lavinia went away, her pretty dresses and other girlish finery were packed away in the attic, and had lain there ever since.

She was so much younger than her sisters that they had petted her as a child, and had taken great pleasure in her girlish enjoyments. But when she left them, with only a note to say she had eloped with Jack Lovell, their hearts hardened, and they now rarely mentioned her, even to each other.

And so year after year the trunks of Lavinias clothing had been looked over and put in order, with no reference to their future disposition, until now Miss Priscilla concluded the time had come.

But when they shook out the old-fashioned gowns, the lovely taffetas and organdies and embroidered muslins did seem inappropriate to send to people who were suffering for plain, substantial clothing.

Oh, my! said Mrs. Dolans granddaughter, her eyes as big as saucers, as she looked at the beautiful show, aint them just elegant! I wisht I was a fire-sufferer, or a freshet victim.

How well I remember Vinnie in that flowery frock, said Miss Dorinda; she looked like a spring blossom herself, she was so pretty and fresh.

Miss Dorinda sighed; but Miss Priscilla shut her teeth together with a snap, and returned the dresses to their trunks and shut down the trunk-lids with a snap, and the cleaning of the attic went on again.

Except during an interval for luncheon, the workers worked all day, and at five oclock the attic was cleaned, and the procession filed down-stairs again.

Deary me, said Miss Dorinda, as she reached her own room, how tired I am! I believe I grow older every year. Are you tired, sister?

Yes; but Im so thankful that the attic is done. When thats over I always feel like singing the long-meter doxology.

Well, Im too tired to sing; Ill rest a bit before dinner.

CHAPTER II

LADYBIRD

Dinner at Primrose Hall was rather an elaborate meal, and was always served promptly at six oclock. Old Josiah Flint had been very particular about his household appointments and habits, and since his death his daughters had made no changes.

After dinner the ladies always went to the library and read the village newspaper, or dozed over their knitting-work until bedtime.

But one evening in early June this routine was interfered with, by the arrival of a letter bearing a foreign postmark. It was addressed in what was evidently a mans hand, and the two good ladies were greatly excited. Miss Dorinda felt a pleasant flutter of anticipation, but Miss Priscilla felt a foreboding that something disagreeable was in the letter, and she hesitated before she opened it.

Its postmarked London, she said. Do we know any one in London? Maria Peters went there once, but she came back, and anyway, shes dead.

Open it, sister, implored Miss Dorinda. And after scrutinizing it thoroughly once more, Miss Priscilla did open it.

It is signed Thomas J. Bond, she exclaimed, looking at the signature. Now, can it be Tom Bond who was old Jonathan Bonds son? His mother was a Coriell.

Read it, sister, said Miss Dorinda.

So Miss Priscilla read the letter aloud, and this is what it said:

Miss Priscilla Flint,

Dear Madam:

During a recent visit to India I learned that a friend of mine, Jack Lovell, was living at Bombay, and I went there to see him. But it was my sad experience to reach his home the day after he had died from a sudden attack of fever. He left a little child, who told me that her mother had been dead many years, and, indeed, the poor child seemed utterly alone in the world. I tried to find out from Lovells papers something about his effects, but as he was of a roving and careless disposition, everything was left at sixes and sevens, and I am afraid there is no provision for the child. Therefore, since Jacks wife was your sister, I think the right thing to do is to send the little girl to you at once. And if I can find any money or property belonging to her I will advise you later.

My wife and I brought her from India to London with us, and I will send her to you on the next steamer.

Trusting that this letter will insure her a kindly reception, I am

To say that after reading this remarkable letter Miss Priscilla appeared surprised, amazed, astounded, excited, irritated, angry, umbrageous, furious, or even to say that she was in a state of high dudgeon, would give but an inadequate idea of the indignation shown in her face and manner.

But she only said, She cannot come! and snapped her teeth shut in the way she always did when very decided.