The Siege of the Seven Suitors Part 7

"Pinkle!" exclaimed Miss Hollister disdainfully. "I cured myself of gun-shyness easily enough by having the gardener follow me about whenever I took my daily walks, firing a gun at irregular intervals just behind me. I was threatened with deafness when I began, but the agitation of my tympanums by the explosions of my gun has corrected the difficulty. I have mentioned my discovery of this remedy to a distinguished aurist, and he is preparing a paper on the subject--not, however, without my permission--which he expects to read shortly before one of the most learned societies in Europe. Cecilia, the chops are overdone again; please remind me to speak to the cook about it. If it were not that he is so expert in detecting spurious steam-mill corn-meal, which is constantly sold as a subst.i.tute for the Boydville water-ground article, I should discharge him for this. An ill-broiled chop can do much to shake one's faith in human nature. If I wanted to eat grilled patent leather I should order it."

In spite of her sharp observations it was quite clear to me that Miss Hollister's was the gentlest and sweetest of natures. I fully believed that her whims were the honest expression of a revolt against the tedious and conventional, and nothing in my later acquaintance disturbed this opinion. It was her privilege to do as she liked, and if she preferred cracking clay saucers with a shot-gun to knitting or darning stockings or gossiping, it was no one's business.

The mail arrived and was placed by her plate before we left the table.

She opened first a bulky envelope containing cuttings from a clipping bureau, and she mused aloud upon these as she read.

"This persistent story of a sunken galleon off the Bolivian coast sounds plausible, but I fear it is the work of some bright young journalist. Our minister in that benighted country does n't take any stock in it. I had a cable from him yesterday. If he had given the story credence I should have gone down at once with a steamer and crew of divers. The imaginative young newspaper men continue romancing, however; and it costs me five cents a clipping."

She next opened a letter that roused her to vigorous declamation.

"Cecilia," she began, "here is a letter from that Mrs. Stanford we met in Berne. She encloses a card that indicates her wish to be called Mrs. Appleby now, having, I believe, spent a few months since our meeting in one of our American States where the marital tie readily evaporates, and shaken Stanford, whom I have heard spoken of in the highest terms by persons of character. We live in an era of horseless carriages, wireless telegraphy, husbandless wives and wifeless husbands. I have hit upon a formula which I am tempted to utilize hereafter when I meet husbandless women. When they are introduced I shall ask:--

Shaken, Or taken?

signifying in the first instance a loss by way of Nevada, or, in the second, through the pearlier gates of that Paradise which is the hope of us all. Mr. Ames, as the butler has gone to sleep in the pantry, you will kindly pa.s.s the salt."

She had handed Cecilia a number of letters, which the girl opened and then to my surprise meekly turned over to her aunt. Miss Hollister surveyed them critically.

"I thought," she remarked, "that that young Henderson who was so attentive to you at Madrid was an impostor, and this note settles the matter. He flirted outrageously with Hezekiah behind your back. He asks if he may call upon you here. If he were the nephew of Colonel Abner Henderson of Roanoke, as he represented himself to be, he would not ask if he might call upon you, but would have appeared at once in his proper person to pay his addresses. An unchivalrous and wobbly character, who evidently expects you to make the advances. But such are the youth of our time. And besides, Cecilia, his stationery leaves much to be desired. As for these other gentlemen we need not discuss them. Their actions must speak for them."

Miss Hollister, having thus dismissed her niece's correspondents, rose and led the way to the library. Cecilia seemed in no wise depressed by her aunt's fling at Mr. Henderson, whoever he might be, but threw the notes upon the flames that blazed merrily in the fireplace.

I suggested immediately that as I had come to Hopefield Manor to inspect the flues I should now be about my business; but to my surprise Miss Hollister evinced no interest whatever in the matter. Her tone and manner implied that the condition of her chimneys was wholly negligible.

"There is no haste, Mr. Ames. I have suffered all my life from the ill-considered and hurried work of professional men. Even the clergy--and I have enjoyed the acquaintance of many--are quite reckless in giving opinions. I once asked the Bishop of Waxahaxie--was it Waxahaxie, Cecilia, or Tallaha.s.see?--well, it does n't matter anyhow--whether he honestly believed there are no women angels. He replied with unusual frankness for one in holy orders that he did n't know, but added that he was sure there are angel women. Just for that impertinence I cut in two my subscription to his cathedral building-fund. When I ask an expert opinion of an educated person I don't intend to be put off with mere persiflage. And to return to my chimneys, I beg that you give me the result of your most serious deliberations. At this hour I ride; Cecilia, will you dress immediately and accompany me?"

She disappeared at once and I stared mutely after her. I am by no means an idler, and this cool indifference to the value of my time would ordinarily have enraged me; but I believe I laughed, and when I turned to Cecilia I found her smiling.

"I 'm glad, Mr. Ames, that you are a person of humor. My aunt's conduct verifies what I said to you last night--that the flues in this house have given us no trouble; that they have indeed had little chance to do so in the short time we have spent here. It is true that this one acted queerly last night, and I have wondered about its temporary sulkiness a good deal. It will be well, of course, for you to go over it, and all the others in the house. It is no joke that my aunt is a believer in thoroughness, and one of these days, when she is ready to talk of chimneys, she will subject you to a most rigid examination."

"One of these days? Why, I have looked at the time-table, and it is my present intention to take the 12:03 into town. I have appointments at my office for the afternoon. I a.s.sure you, Miss Hollister, that I 'm a man of engagements, particularly at this season."

I remembered what Jewett had told me of Fortner, the painter, and his detention at Newport by Miss Octavia Hollister. I had no intention of being immured in any such fas.h.i.+on, and I was about to protest further when Cecilia took a step toward me, and after a glance at the door spoke in a low tone and with great earnestness.

"Mr. Ames, I have every reason to believe that you are a gentleman, and in that confident belief I 'm going to ask a favor of you. You have said that you know Mr. Hartley Wiggins well."

"I know no man better. You might not have inferred it from his manner last night, but he was undoubtedly surprised and embarra.s.sed by my presence, and did not act quite like himself."'

"I think I understand the cause of that. If I should ask you to see him to-day and give him a message for me, could you do so?"

"It will be an honor to serve you; and a very simple matter, as I should see him on my own account if he is still in the neighborhood."

"He is doubtless at the Prescott Arms. My message is a verbal one.

Please urge him not to make any effort to see me, and not to call here again. But at the same time, as the chimney smoked just as we were about to be left alone last night, I think--I think"--she hesitated a moment--"You may say that his interests have not been jeopardized by his temerity in calling."

In her pause before concluding this curious commission her eyes searched mine deeply, and I felt that she had not lightly entrusted me with this singular errand. Her dark eyes held mine an instant after she had spoken; then she smiled, and her face showed relief.

"Ask for anything you want. Aunt Octavia despises motors, so there 's no car here, but you will find plenty of horses and traps. Order whatever pleases you. I shall expect to meet you at dinner if not at luncheon--and so"--she smiled again--"will Aunt Octavia."

She nodded to me from the door, and I heard her running lightly upstairs.

Left to my own devices I rang the bell and ordered the library fire extinguished and the hearth cleaned. This required a little time; but the house man obeyed me readily, and soon, clad in my professional overalls and jumper, I was going carefully over the flue whose behavior had been so unaccountable the previous night. Guided by the servant I inspected the three fireplaces in the upper chambers that were served by flues in this chimney and finally dropped my torch and plumb-line from the chimney-pot. Never in all my experience had I seen better flues; but remembering my ghost at s.h.i.+nnec.o.c.k, I had the ashes thrown out of the dump in the cellar and found the chute in perfect order. I learned by inquiry that the other flues worked perfectly, but I nevertheless scrutinized them carefully. My freedom of the house afforded an excellent opportunity for a study of its beautiful construction. It was modern in every sense, with no dark, mysterious corners in which goblins might lurk. I prowled about with increasing admiration for Pepperton, and with a deepening sense of my own failure in the art which he adorned.

My professional labors were finished. I was quite ready for Miss Hollister's most searching inquiries. As for the library flue, I had decided that a little care in piling the logs in the hearth would obviate the possibility of any recurrence of the difficulty. And I thereupon hurried to my room, and after a tub (my vocation encouraged frequent tubbing) chose from the stable a neat trap for one horse.

Thus equipped I set out to find Wiggins.

The Prescott Arms is an inn that sprang into being with the advent of motoring. The tourist is advised of his approach to it by signs swung at the crossways, and its plaster and timber walls are in plain sight from one of the excellent state roads. Gasoline and other liquids are offered there; one may have tea or an ampler meal on short notice; and a few guests may be lodged in case of necessity. I remembered it well, having several times found it a haven on motor-flights with friends.

As I drove into the entrance I saw Wiggins pacing the long veranda. He waved a hand and came out to meet me, and when I had rid myself of the trap he suggested that we take a walk.

[Ill.u.s.tration: As I drove into the entrance.]

His manner was not cordial, and he wore the haggard look of a man on bad terms with his pillow. I attributed his appearance to preoccupation with his love-affair. When we had withdrawn a little way from the inn he turned on me sharply.

"Well?" he demanded.

"Well," I laughed.

"Oh, you needn't take that tone about it! Your being here is something that requires explanation; and your being _there_"--he flung out his arm toward Hopefield Manor--"your presence there is not a laughing matter."

"My dear Wiggins, I came here in a spirit of friends.h.i.+p, and you treat me like a pickpocket. I must say that if you had not acted like a clam the other night at the club, but had told me what was in the wind, we might not be meeting now like ancient enemies instead of old and intimate friends."

He vouchsafed no reply, but threw himself down under a scarlet maple and began to whittle a stick, while I went on with my story.

"I met Miss Octavia Hollister in the Asolando the day after our last dinner at the club. I had dropped into the tea-room merely to look at the place again. I had never seen her before in all my life. She is a whimsical old lady--but a lady, you must admit that--and we exchanged cards. On learning my occupation she at once declared that I must come up here to look at her chimneys. She made an appointment by mail for yesterday afternoon. It is not my fault that she treated me like a guest, or that she introduced me of necessity to her niece Cecilia.

And now I have finished my work, and after I have made my report I shall probably not meet her again. As for Miss Cecilia Hollister, I can only say, my dear Wiggins, that she is a rarely beautiful woman, and that if you wish to marry her you have my very best wishes for your success and happiness."

"It struck me that you were pretty well established there," he blurted.

"I confess that I took it for granted you were not there wholly on a professional errand; and I won't deny, Ames, that I was not pleased to see you."

"You honor me in a.s.suming that I might aspire to the hand of so splendid a woman as Cecilia Hollister; but, my dear Wiggins, I tell you I never laid eyes on her until last night."

"But you had been to the Asolando," he persisted, hacking away doggedly at his stick.

"Of course I had. I told you I had. I told you the whole story. But I did not see Cecilia Hollister there. She was n't there! I fancy that after you saw her there last spring and became infatuated with her and followed her to Europe instead of going to Dakota to harvest your blooming wheat--after that bit of history she never returned to the Asolando. Your lack of frankness in all this has pained me. And you left it for a gossiping chap like Jewett to tell me the whole story.

And to cap your duplicity you sneaked out of the club the other night while Jewett was talking to me and let the club people think you were bound for your ranch. I call it rather low down, Wiggins, after all the years we have known each other. My slate is clean; how about yours?"

He threw the stick at a sparrow whose chirp irritated him from a stone fence beyond us, and turned toward me a countenance on which dejection, humiliation, and chagrin were written large.

"d.a.m.n it all!" he bellowed, "I believe I 'm losing my mind. I don't know what I 'm doing. That old woman up there is responsible for all this. She 's as crazy as a March hare,--crazier! And she 's made a prisoner of that girl. I tell you Cecilia Hollister is the grandest girl in the world."

"Go it, son! Those descendants of Caesar's legions at work in the road down there are pausing to listen. Try to affect calmness if you don't feel it. I agree to all you say of Miss Cecilia. And please get it into your noddle that I have no intention of becoming your rival for her hand. But I must beg of you also not to speak in such terms of her aunt. She 's the most delightful woman I ever met."

"Mad, I tell you, quite mad!"

"Wise,--with the most beautiful wisdom; you simply don't understand her."

"I know all I want to about her. If she were not insane she would not build a wall of mystery about her niece and keep me camping out here not knowing where I stand. I tell you, Ames, that woman is a malevolent being; she 's perfectly fiendish."

There is no way of answering a man in this humor save by laughter; and I laughed long and loud, to the consternation of the Italian road-laborers who were now swallowing their luncheons a short distance away from us.