37. CHAPTER XXXVII.
VERY STATES HIS PRIVATE OPINION OF MISS SALLIANNA.
Fanny complimented Mr. Ralph Ashley with a very indifferent
bow, and went on talking with, or rather to, her companion
Verty.
Ralph tried to laugh at this; but not succeeding very well,
came suddenly to the very rational conclusion that something
unusual was going on in his breast. He had never before failed
to utter the most contagious laughter, when he attempted the
performance—what could the rather faint sound which now issued
from his lips be occasioned by?
Puzzled, and at his philosophy's end, Ralph began to grow
dignified; when, luckily, Redbud approached.
The young girl greeted him with one of her kind smiles, and
there was so much light and joy in her face, that Ralph's brow
cleared up.
They began to converse.
The chapter of accidents, whereof was author that distinguished
inventor of fiction, Miss Sallianna, promised to make the
present interview exceedingly piquant and fruitful in entertaining
misunderstanding; for the reader will observe the situation of the
parties. Miss Sallianna had persuaded Verty that Redbud was
in love with Ralph; and, in the second place, had assured Ralph,
a few moments before, that Fanny was in love with Verty.
Redbud was elinching Verty's doubts by smiling sweetly on
Ralph;—Fanny was causing dreadful jealousy and conviction of
his misfortune in Ralph, by making herself agreeable to Verty.
The schemes of the great Amazonian General, Sallianna,
seemed to be crowned with complete success; and, doubtless, all
would have turned out as she desired, but for one of those trivial
circumstances which overturn the most carefully matured conceptions
of the greatest intellects.
This was the simplicity of our friend Verty; and he unconsciously
commenced the overturning operation by saying:
“Redbud, did you find the flowers you wanted?”
The young girl replied:
“Oh, yes!”
“ `Beauties of nature,' Miss Sallianna would call 'em, would'nt
she?” continued Verty, with a smile.
“Now, Verty!” said Redbud, reproachfully.
“I can't help it,” returned Verty; “I don't like Miss Sallianna.”
“Not like that paragon!” cried Fanny.
“No.”
“Why not, sir?”
“She told me a story.”
“A story, sir!”
“Yes.”
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself to speak so disrespectfully
of such a divine creature—with so much maiden innocence
and intrinsic simplicity,” observed Miss Fanny, inclining her head
upon one shoulder, and rolling her eyes toward the sky.
Ralph began to laugh.
“I would'nt say it if it was'nt true,” Verty said; “but it is.”
“What story did she tell you, sir?” Fanny went on.
“She said that Redbud was in love with him—Ralph Ashley.”
And Verty smiled.
Fanny burst into a roar of laughter; Redbud blushed; Ralph
looked with astonishment at the plain-spoken Verty.
“You know that was a story,” said he, simply.
Everybody remained silent for a moment, and then the silence
was broken by Ralph, who cried, laughing:
“I'll back you, friend Verty! every word of it!”
“You, sir!” cried Fanny.
“Yes! I wonder if your divine creature—Sallianna by name
—did not tell me, ten minutes since, that you—yes, you, Miss
Fanny!—were desperately enamored of Mr. Verty!”
The whole party were so overcome by this ludicrous exposé
of Miss Sallianna's schemes, that a laugh much louder than the
first rang through the garden; and when Miss Sallianna was
descried sailing in dignified meditation up and down the portico,
her fan gently waving, her head inclined to one side, her eyes
fixed upon the sky, Mr. Ralph Ashley entered into a neighboring
mass of shrubbery, from which came numerous choking sounds,
and explosive evidences of overwhelming laughter.
Thus was it that our honest Verty at once cleared up all misunderstanding—and
made the horizon cloudless once again. If
everybody would only speak as plainly, when misconceptions and
mistakes arise, the world would have far more of sunshine in it!
“Just to think!” cried Fanny, “how that odious old tatterdemalion
has been going on! Did anybody ever?”
“Anan?” said Verty.
“Sir?” said Fanny.
“What's a tatterdemalion?” asked the young man, smilingly.
“I don't exactly know, sir,” said Fanny; “but I suppose it's
a conceited old maid, who talks about the beauties of nature, and
tries to make people, who are friends, hate each other.”
With which definition Miss Fanny clenched her handsome
little hand, and made a gesture therewith, in the direction of Miss
Sallianna, indicative of hostility, and a desire to engage in instant
combat.
Ralph laughed, and said:
“You meant to say, my dear child, that the lady in question
tried to make a quarrel between people who
loved each other—
not simply `were friendly.' For you know she tried to make us
dislike one another.”
Fanny received this insinuating speech with one of her expressive
“hums!”
“Don't you?” said Ralph.
“What, sir?”
“Love me!”
“Oh, devotedly!”
“Very well; it was not necessary to tell me, and, of course,
that pretty curl of the lip is only to keep up appearances. But
come now, darling of my heart, and light of my existence! as we
hav'nt quarreled, in spite of Miss Sallianna, and still have for each
other the most enthusiastic affection, be good enough to forget
these things, and turn your attention to material affairs. You
promised me a lunch!”
“Lunch!”
“Yes—and I am getting hungry.”
“When did I promise?”
“Yesterday.”
“Oh—now—”
“You remember; very well. It was to be eaten, you will
recollect, on the hill, yonder, to the west, to which our steps
were to tend.”
“Our picnic! Oh, yes! My goodness gracious! how could
I forget it! Come on, Reddie—come and help me to persuade
Mrs. Scowley to undo the preserve-jar.”
Redbud laughed.
“May I go!” said Verty.
“Certainly, sir; you are not at liberty to refuse. Who would
talk with Reddie?”
“I don't think—” murmured Redbud, hesitating.
“Now!” cried Fanny, “did anybody ever!”
“Ever what?” said Verty.
“Ever see anybody like this Miss Redbud!”
“I don't think they ever did,” replied Verty, smiling.
Which reply caused Miss Fanny and Mr. Ralph to laugh,
and Redbud to color slightly; but this soon passed, and the simple,
sincere look came back to her tender face.
Redbud could not resist the glowing picture which Fanny
drew of the picnic to be; and, with some misgiving, yielded.
In a quarter of an hour the young men and the young girls were
on their way to the beautiful eminence, swinging the baskets
which contained the commissariat stores, and laughing gleefully.
