 | CHAPTER X. "Boarding out" |  |
10. CHAPTER X.
Three weeks have now passed, and with
them has gone into the “oblivious stream” a
long catalogue of trials. Mr. Barclay is not,
as formerly, always at home in the evening;
the air-tight stove gives him a headache, and
so he visits his friends. Mrs. Barclay sometimes
wonders he stays so late, but he tells
her, “he prefers not to return till Bumblefoot
is ensconced in bed, so annoying does he
find him.” Sometimes the head clerk and he
are adjusting business at the store till a late
hour; but oftener (oh! I hate to record it) Mr.
Barclay is found in convivial parties! It has
been decided, since that interview at Bond's,
that their two boys shall remain a short time
longer out of town, for, in reality, another
boarding-house is on foot. And truly, here
may we quote the old saying, we know not
what to-morrow will bring; that to-morrow
the breakfast-table, save the unaccountable absence
of Madam Shortt and Colonel Bumblefoot
(for madam sometimes gives the old man
this title). Miss Sylvia, however, presides
with her wonted grace; and Captain Ingersoll
seems in a high flow of spirits. Caleb thinks
“he shall have an order to buy him some stock
to-day.” But all at once is heard a loud rap
upon the table, and the old captain rises as if
commanding a “man-of-war” ship.
“Fellow-messmates!” he begins, “I wish
you to give me your undivided attention.” (All
are breathless; Caleb even puts his hand against
his ear.) “We live in a world of change”
(Caleb bows profoundly), “and these changes
are about affecting us in a most sensible manner.”
(Sylvia wipes her eyes.) “Our ever-to-be-respected
hostess is about entering the
holy bands of wedlock with Colonel Bumblefoot!”
(Caleb suppresses a cough.) “She
intends vacating her present position one fortnight
from next Thursday; and, from that
landlord, if you choose to put yourselves under
his protection. He has often `doubled the
Cape,' and never wrecked a crew; and, before
he hauls into port for the last time, proposes
making one more trading voyage, if he finds a
crew!”
“Amen!” ejaculated the bishop's widow,
no doubt forgetting herself for the moment;
but this conclusion was from her book of “Common
Prayer.”
Caleb burst into a roar of laughter, and,
wishing to disguise the cause from the august
lady who provoked it, said, “In short, Madam
Shortt is no more to be in our midst!”
“I have one word more,” continued Captain
Ingersoll, “which is, that Colonel Bumblefoot
desires me to make his compliments to every
member of this board, and requests the pleasure
of their company on Wednesday evening, February
29th, at this table, the evening previous
to Mr. and Mrs. Bumblefoot's taking passage
in the steam-ship for Liverpool!”
“Then, of course,” quoth Caleb, “as `the
board' are invited, I am particularly so. Wonder
how large an order I shall fill!”
I suppose every body has seen and heard
the varieties of attitudes and expressions which
are called forth by an agreeable surprise; but
no imagination can do justice to Captain Ingersoll's
announcement. After a little deliberation
(for a breakfast is perfectly indigestible
when such emotions are felt), it is concluded
that a meeting of the aforesaid “board,” at
which Mr. Flash is to act the part of scribe
and moderator, shall be held at Esquire Holman's
rooms, to see what testimonial of respect
shall be presented to Madam Shortt, “in
consideration” of what Caleb calls her “shortcomings.”
Shall it be a silver cup? Not
enough can be collected. A gold watch?
Bumblefoot presented her with one yesterday.
A gold pencil? Nobody ever saw her write
a word! “In short,” says Mr. Flash, “let
every one give as his inclination prompts; in
virtue of which resolution, I present Madam
caricature of Americans to his Cricket on the
Hearth!” Captain Ingersoll followed with a
Chinese smoke-pipe; and the colonel and his
other half gave a volume of Holy Writ, “to be
read on the voyage.” The bishop's widow
gave “Remarks on Puseyism, addressed to the
Thoughtful;” and thus from each one was some
little token elicited, save Barclay! His old
prejudice revived; the key, old Bumblefoot's
remarks, and his being a new boarder exonerated
him, it was fairly agreed on all hands.
But Mrs. Barclay would not be thought
“mean;” and, not going out of her husband's
line of business (as he was in the cotton trade),
she presented a piece of sheeting, which, madam
remarked, in her card of thanks, “was just
the needed article!” Suffice it to say, there
is more laxity now in government where Madam
Shortt resides. Even “little Fan” has her
high chair at the table, and the nursery woman
is permitted to get a little hot water from
the kitchen, without being reminded that this
will be considered an “extra!”
“But the wedding is near at hand,” thought
Mrs. Barclay; “Fanny Jones must be present;
it would so amuse her.” Of course, she
immediately dispatches a note by the omnibus,
and tells her of the strange affair, in which she
is unexpectedly obliged to quit her boarding-house.
“And,” thought she, “what a merciful
release is thus opened to us, without being
bored by our whole round of acquaintances
with, `How came you, Mrs. Barclay, to make
so short a stay at Madam Shortt's?”' Marriages
and deaths seem sometimes wisely ordered!
But let us hear Fanny's answer; and
if surprise has been already experienced, what
can we suppose were Mrs. Barclay's emotions
now? This is Cousin Fanny's note:
“I was just at my writing-desk, dictating a
note to be sent to you, as your kind one arrived.
Do not think me, Cousin Hepsy, a
maniac, ranting in an untrue style, when I tell
you I had accepted an invitation to stand as
announcement of her marriage was made to
you! My partner (for I will tell the whole)
is Rev. Mr. Milnor, our former clergyman, now
of your city, who knew Colonel Bumblefoot
many years in England, and many since in
America; and, at his urgent request, has consented
to stand nearest him during the ceremony!
But your exclamations are not over
yet. I suppose, at no very distant day, your
cousin, Fanny Jones, may sign her name as
`Fanny Milnor!' You will please communicate
this to your good husband; and if I can
be of any service to you again in a chase for
a boarding-house, you are welcome to my services.
“Can it be so?” thought Mrs. Barclay, as
she opened the letter, re-read it, threw it down,
and read it over again. “It may be, after all,
one of Fanny's hoaxes to surprise me.”
But, then, she had often heard Fanny speak
of Mr. Milnor; she knew he called upon her
walked out with him; and that she told her of
his visits to a very indigent family, for whom
she intended to interest herself. “Yes,” said
she, “I now can read it all;” and she so longed
to communicate it, that forthwith she proceeded
to her husband's counting-room. There
she found him in earnest conversation, the conclusion
of which was, “and I may depend on
it to-morrow?” Every business man knows
the meaning of that sentence, and, probably,
most women too. They are portentous words!
Her husband, at the time overburdened with
cares in endeavoring to meet the payment of
some heavy notes, and oppressed at heart with
the little prospect of domestic peace before
him, did not manifest an equal surprise with
herself at the reception of the news she carried.
Indeed, many had observed, of late, that
Robert Barclay seemed depressed; and while
his neighbors in trade attributed it to losses
and rumors of unfortunate speculations, the
friends of Mrs. Barclay only believed it to be
his home, which every body knew he
warmly cherished; and, in exchange for reciprocal
greetings of friends, he was forced
abroad to wear out existence as best he might!
But there are many things to divert Mrs.
Barclay from observing the moody silence
which her husband maintains. There is to be
a large party at Bond's; report says he is introducing
gas into his house preparatory to the
event; there is to be the wedding, a new boarding-house
to be procured, and Cousin Fanny is
to be married!
| CHAPTER X. "Boarding out" | |