The Rejuvenation of Aunt Mary Part 37

"It's odd," said Mrs. Rosscott thoughtfully. "It was really so simple. We are only women after all, whether it is I-or Aunt Mary-or all the rest of the world. We do so crave the knowledge that someone cares for us-for our hours-for our pleasures. It isn't the bonbons-it's that someone troubled to buy the bonbons because he thought that they would please _us_."

"Doesn't a man have the same feeling?" Jack asked. "It isn't the tea we come for-it's the knowledge that someone bothers to make it and sugar it and cream it."

"I wasn't laughing," said she.

"I wasn't laughing either," said he.

"But it's true," she went on, "and I think the solution of many unhappy puzzles lies there. Don't forget if you ever have a wife to pay lots of attention to her."

"I always have paid lots of attention to her, haven't I?" he demanded.

Mrs. Rosscott shook her head.

"We won't discuss that," she said. "We'll stick to Aunt Mary. Aunt Mary is a rock whose foundation is firm; when it comes to your relations toward other women-" she stopped, shrugging her shoulders, and he understood.

"But it's going to come out all right now, I'm sure," she went on after a minute, "and I'm so glad-so very glad-that the chance was given to me to right the wrong that I was the cause of."

[Ill.u.s.tration 6]

"'And now the fun's all over and the work begins,' she said, looking down."

He looked at her and his eyes almost burned, they were so strong in their leaping desire to fling himself at her feet and adore her goodness and sweetness and worldliness and wisdom from that vantage-ground of wors.h.i.+p.

She choked a little at the glance and put her hands together in her lap with a quick catching at self-control.

"And now the fun's all over and the work begins," she said, looking down.

"I know that," he a.s.severated.

She lifted up her eyes and looked at him so very kindly. And then-after a little pause to gain command of word and thought she spoke again, slowly.

"Listen," she said, this time very softly, but very seriously. "I want to tell you one thing and I want to tell it to you now. I had a good and sufficient reason for helping you out with Aunt Mary; but-" She hesitated.

"But?" he asked.

"But I've no reason at all for helping your Aunt Mary out with you, unless you prove worthy of her, and-"

"And?"

She looked at him, and shook her head slightly.

"I won't say 'and of me,'" she said finally.

"Why not?" he asked, a storm of tempestuous impatience raging behind his lips. "Do say it," he pleaded.

"No, I can't say it. It wouldn't be right. I don't mean it, and so I won't say it. I'll only tell you that I can promise nothing as things are, and that unless you go at life from now on with a tremendous energy I never shall even dream of a possible promising."

He rose to his feet and towered above her, tall and straight and handsome, and very grave.

"All right," he said simply. "I'll remember."

Ever so much later that evening he rose to bid her good-night.

"Whatever comes, you've been an angel to me," he said in that hasty five seconds that her hand was his.

"Shall I ever regret it?" she asked, looking up to his eyes.

"Never," he declared earnestly, "never, never. I can swear that, and I shall be able to swear the same thing when I'm as old as my Aunt Mary."

Mrs. Rosscott lowered her eyes.

"Who could ask more?" she said softly.

"I could," said Jack-"but I'll wait first."

CHAPTER NINETEEN - AUNT MARY'S RETURN

Joshua was at the station to meet his mistress, and Lucinda, full to the brim with curiosity, sat on the back seat of the carryall.

Aunt Mary quitted the train with a dignity which was sufficiently overpowering to counteract the effect of her bonnet's being somewhat awry.

She greeted Joshua with a chill perfunctoriness that was indescribable, and her glance glided completely over Lucinda and faded away in the open country on the further side of her.

Lucinda did not care. Lucinda was of a hardy stock and stormy glances neither bent nor broke her spirit.

"I'm glad to see you come back looking so well," she screamed, when Aunt Mary was in and they were off.

Aunt Mary raised her eyebrows in a manner that appeared a trifle indignant, and riveted her gaze on the hindquarters of the horse.

"I thought it was more like heaven myself," she said coldly. "Not that your opinion matters any to me, Lucinda."

Then she leaned forward and poked the driver.

"Joshua!" she said.

Joshua jumped in his seat at the asperity of her poke and her tone.

"What is it?" he said hastily.

"Jus' 's soon as we get home I want you to take the saw-that little, sharp one, you know-and dock Billy's tail. Cut it off as close as you can; do you hear?"

"I hear," was the startled answer.

"Did you have a good time?" Lucinda had the temerity to ask, after a minute.