University of Virginia Library

52. CHAPTER LII.
BOB RECEIVES NEWS.

Miss Clytie Morpher found her visit at the
city very pleasant. Though Regina did not exactly
go into society, she was much sought by
gentlemen. In the evening her parlor was seldom
vacant. Clytie's sweet beauty caused Clytie
to be very popular. She was brilliant in
conversation, but she could make silence very
agreeable. She had a trick of talking with her
eyes, which often stands pretty young girls in
lieu of oral conversation. Nature had given her

the disposition to be a coquette, but had withheld
the dash and sparkle that usually enter into
the composition of that variety of girl. By no
means heartless, she was saved from great heart
troubles by the facility with which one image
was effaced by another. She would mourn the
loss of a lover only in case the loss was not supplied.

Clytie had sincerely loved Bob while Bob was
her daily companion at Red Mountain. She had
come to the city to visit Bob's sister, in the
sweet hope of becoming Bob's wife; but, once
in town, she found herself surrounded by handsome
gentlemen who were far more attentive
and deferential than Bob. Her sensuous but
not impure nature responded very quickly to
overtures which seemed prompted by love. She
wanted to be loved—not by one only, but by all
who approached her. So each by turn was
greeted with her soft, shy and melting glances,
and each thought himself the particular object of her
regard.

Clytie, therefore, was having a fine time. Bob's occasional
absence did not cause her much anxiety. In
time Bob ceased to occupy a prominent place in her
thoughts. His reticence on the important question of
marriage assisted her recovery from the wounds his
persuasive tongue had inflicted. The admiration
with which she inspired other gentlemen suggested
the idea that she was not entirely dependent on Bob
for a settlement in life.

The comedy which the artful Bob proposed to play,
and which Regina promised to aid, almost played itself.
An intimation from Regina that Mr. Hopp was
not insensible to her charms, disposed the unsophisticated
girl to be more than usually gracious. Mr.
Hopp was not a favorite with the ladies, and this graciousness
on the part of one so pretty and so much admired
was soothing to his feelings.

The evening after the conversation recorded in the
last chapter, Clytie was left to entertain Mr. Hopp,
while Regina and Bob paid Mr. and Mrs. Rhodes a
visit. The visit was an experiment on Regina's part
She carried in her pocket the telegram from Mr. Gray
containing simply these words: “Mlies is with me.”
This intelligence she had with great effort kept to herself.
She desired to know if the table, or the intelligence
that communicated through it, would impart
the same information.

Bob was presented in due form, and graciously received,
A pleasant conversation on ordinary topics
ensued, when Mrs. Rhodes asked Regina if she desired
a sitting. The young lady, of course, assented.

“Do you believe in ghosts, Mr. Shaw?” asked Mrs.
Rhodes.

“No,” replied Bob; “of course I don't.”

“Well,” replied the lady. “Regina and I have an
appointment with one this evening; but, if you don't
like their company, you and Mr. Rhodes can smoke a
cigar in another room while our conference lasts.”

“I see,” said Bob; “you want to get rid of us.
Lead the way, Captain.”

“Don't go unless you choose,” replied Mrs. Rhodes.
“We have no secrets.”

“But you don't mean to say that you are going to
interview a ghost?”

“That is precisely what we propose to do.”

“Well, if Regina stays, I guess I will. What do
you say, Captain?”

“With Miss Shaw's permission, I will stay where
she is.”

The room was darkened. Bob did not understand
what it all meant; but he thought he could stand it if
others could, and so said nothing.

“They are here in force,” said Mrs. Rhodes. “They
must have have some news to communicate.”

“Who are here?” asked Bob.

“The spirits.”

“Ah!” said Bob, “I see spirits are your favorite
joke.”

“Listen, Bob,” said Regina, clinging to his arm.

At this moment Mrs. Rhodes read slowly:

“How-is-my-little-princess-to-night?”

“Very well, thank you,” answered Regina.

“Well!” said Bob, “that's odd! The Governer used
to call you `Little Princess.”'

“Who-do-you-mean-by-the-Governor?” Mrs. Rhodes
asked, reading from the table.”

“I mean my respected sire,” answered Bob, replying,
as he supposed, to Mrs. Rhodes.

“Well,” came the answer, “I am your respected
sire.”

Bob laughed. He was evidently not much impressed
by ghostly influences.

“I've no objections to taking you for a sister—if the
captain is willing,” he replied; “but I don't think
you'd make an efficient father.”

“Hush, Bob!” remonstrated Regina. “You don't
know who you are talking to.”

Mrs. Rhodes continued reading from the table.

“Robert, do you remember the little affair you had
with a pretty school-mistress, about six years ago?”

“Let me see,” said Bob. “That is a long time to
remember a little affair of that nature.”

“I will refresh your recollection. You were kept
after school one afternoon.”

“Yes,” said Bob; “a good many afternoons.”

“One afternoon in particular. On this occassion
instead of studying your lessons, as you were doubtless
expected to, you made violent love to the school-teacher.”

“Perhaps,” replied Bob. “I don't remember the
circumstance.”

“The school-teacher did not like to go to her principal
with such a complaint, and she could not let it
pass in silence, so she took an early opportunity to call
on your respected sire.”

“Well,” said Bob; “what then?”

“Your respected sire summoned you to a private
interview. In the course of that interview you became
convinced of the impropriety of your conduct,
and the next day you asked the teacher's pardon.”

“Madam!” said Bob, addressing Mrs. Rhodes, “if
this joke pleases you, I can stand it; but I would like
to know how you know so much about my little affairs?”

“I know nothing about your little affairs,” answered
Mrs. Rhodes. “I only read what is written on the
table.”

“But, Madam, there is nothing written on the table.”

“Pardon me; I see letters, and the letters form
words. As fast as a word appears I read it, and it
gives place to another.

“This is very strange. Regie, can you see these
letters?”

“No; but I believe Mrs. Rhodes does.”

“But who writes them?”

“Why, the spirits, of course”

“Very well. I see you are amusing yourselves at
my expense. Go on; I can stand a joke. I'd like to
know, though, who told the spirits about that little
school-teacher.”

“Who could tell them?”

“No one but the little school-teacher herself, or our
respected sire.”

Mrs. Rhodes then continued:

“Some of these days, my son, I will convince you
who it is that speaks to you. To-night we have other
business to attend to. Regie, I have news for you.”

“From Mliss?”

“Yes. Have you revealed to any one the purport of
your last telegram from Mr. Gray?”

“Not to a human being.”

“You know, though, that Mr. Gray has found
Mliss?”

“I know he has.”

“Hold a minute,” cried Bob. “I'm a little interested
in this. What is it about Mr. Gray's finding
Mliss?”

“You heard what Mrs. Rhodes read.”

“Yes: but I'll be d—d if I understand it.”

“Well,” explained Mr. Rhodes, “the point of it is
this: We have a spiritual telegraph, which keeps us
posed in affairs that interest us in all quarters of the
glo.te We are interested in your friend Mliss, through
our sister and Mr. Gray. Now, Mr. Gray seems to
have found Mliss, and our spiritual telegraph naturally
informs us of the circumstance.”

“I think I'd like to own an interest in this spiritual
telegraph,” said Bob. “But is it true, sis, that Mr.
Gray has found Mliss?”

“I received a telegram from him to-day, in which
he says he has.”

“And the spiritual telegraph says so, too? Madam,
I'm a convert. This is the best news I've heard in
twenty odd years. So Mliss is alive, after all. By
Jove! I wish you would send me to New York by spiritual
telegraph! Madam, you've no idea what a splendid
girl she is! She is a regular brick. She is a girl
you can bet on and win every time!”

“O,” exclaimed Regina, “I've heard you talk in
the same strain before.”

“If you have it was when I was a raw and inexperienced
youth. Now I speak from mature conviction.
But let us have a little more talk through that machine.
Can't we manage to speak to Mliss, and let her
know we are here?”

“To do so we would need a machine at the other
end.”

“That's true,” said Bob; “at least, I suppose it is,
Madam,” he continued, addressing Mrs. Rhodes,
“wouldn't one of these accommodating spirits take a
trip to New York and see how the little girl is?”

“We know Mliss is well. She will be with you in
less than a month.”

“A month! That's a long time. What a lucky fellow
Gray is! He's always on hand at the right time.”

Bob plied the spirits with a thousand questions,
which need not be repeated. It was quite late when
they set out on their return home.

Meantime the correct Clytie had been left to herself.
Regina and Bob had set out early, leaving their guest
to entertain Mr. Hopp, and others who might chance
to call. For an hour or more her sole companion was
Aristides. Clytie experienced a sisterly affection for
the just youth, but his ordinary conversation was not
of a character to amuse her. He talked of boys and
boys' sports. His companions were wonderfully precocious
lads with queer names, and he felt it his duty
to tell Clytie all about them. There is doubtless a
period when girls are interested in boys. This period
terminates abruptly when they become interested in
men. Clytie, as has been remarked, at an earlier stage
in this history was an early bloomer. For some years
her heroes had worn beards. The boy fever had a
quick run and a complete cure. She dimly recognized
the necessity of having boys, in view of the greater
necessity of having men; but, at present, boyish exploits
had ceased to interest her. Aristides, incapable
of comprehending this condition of the feminine
mind, only arrested his sister's attention so far as to
cause her to wonder, at times, what he was talking
about.

About half-past eight the door-bell rang. Clytie
abruptly left the eloquent Aristides in the midst of a
thrilling narrative of adventure, and ran to the door.

“O, Mr. Hopp!” she said, with an impulsiveness
rare in her, “I am so glad you are come. Regina and
her brother have gone out and left me alone.”

Somehow she gave him two hands instead of one,
and blushed when she discovered she had done so.
The act, certainly, was unpremeditated. So young
and so inexperienced, she could hardly know that she
possessed two of those soft, yiedling, magnetic hands
that the staidest men like to bold.

“It isn't often,” said Mr. Hopp, “that Robert Shaw
does anything I can thoroughly approve of, but to-night
is an exception.”

“But Miss Regina is gone to.”

“Miss Regina knows how to compensate for her absence.”

Miss Clytie was helping Mr. Hopp take off his overcoat,
hanging his hat on the rack, and performing
other little services by which girls make themselves
indispensable without being in the least degree useful.
She blushed a little at his implied compliment, glanced
shyly up to his face, and seemed as innocently pleased
to be with him as if they were already in that fatal
declivity which so often ends in the dead-level of matrimony.

The young lady certainly had no designs on Hopp.
She still considered herself in a fair way to be engaged
some day to Bob; but it had been intimated that Mr.
Hopp was particularly pleased with her, and he was
a man of sufficient note to be a desirable addition to
her circle of admirers. And then she knew that there
was talk of a marriage between him and Regina, and
she had not strength of mind enough to forego a flirtation
with a friend's intended.

Mr. Hopp was precisely in the condition of mind to
fall a victim to a shy attack. He had seen too much
of the world to fall into the meshes of an ordinary adventuress,
however brilliant she might be; but this
charming little mountain girl could not be dangerous.
It was pleasant, however, to be made so much
of—to feel that his presence conferred pleasure—to
find himself preferred to another. He did not waver
in his purpose to make Regina his wife; but, meantime,
while Regina was making up her mind to accept
her fate, he might as well enjoy the pleasures Heaven
sent in his way.

They adjourned to the parlor. Aristides understood
that his hour was past, and took himself off.
The curtain rose on the first act of the comedy.

Clytie wheeled an easy chair before the fire and
placed her own at a little distance.

“Do you expect other callers?” asked Mr. Hopp.

“Not to-night. You are very late yourself. I began
to think you would not come.”

Miss Clytie was doing pretty for a novice. The remark
was not brilliant in an intellectual point of
view, but it pleased Mr. Hopp much better than any
reply Madame de Stael would probably have given under
the like circumstances.

“I dare say,” he replied, “there would be a thousand
here if they knew you wanted them to come.”

“But I don't want any one to come. The gentlemen
all come to see Miss Shaw, and she is away.”

Mr. Hopp's penetrating eyes turned upon the pretty
face and graceful form at his side.

“Here,” he said to himself, “is a sweet and modest
little girl who has not been spoiled by flattery. She
will never trouble her husband with her ideas. She
will have no mission but to make her husband happy.
She wouldn't know what to do with a vote if one
should be placed in her hand. She is such a helpless
simple creature that she ought to have a husband
older than herself, and wise enough to tell her just
what she ought to do. She won't want to shine in
society, as Regina does, nor attend conventions as
some of my lady friends do. She will make the right
man a nice wife.”

Mr. Hopp did not come to the conclusion at that
moment that he was the right man. He had still
hopes of Regina, and it was his habit never to abandon
a suit until it was lost. He was pleased with Clytie,
and was pleased that Clytie had looked forward to his
coming.

They talked on common-place subjects, and when
they gave out, Miss Clytie challenged her companion
to a game of backgammon. She was not a very skillful
player, but she handled the dice-boxes gracefully, and
had observed that this play afforded an opportunity to
make the most of a pair of handsome hands. These
hands must have confused the lawyer sadly, for Miss
Clytie, badly as she played, won almost every game.
The pretty hand perhaps suggested the propriety of
gloves on occasion, and when Regina and Bob came
home, Clytie had won gloves enough to last her alwinter.

“I see,” said Regina, coming up to Clytie, “I cannot
flatter myself that my absence has been regretted.

“My dear Regina,” replied Mr. Hopp, with
familiarity often assumed by a very old friend of the
family, “if you wish me to regret your absence, you
must not give me cause so often.”

“Hopp's rather got you, Regie,” said Bob, taking
his place at Clytie's shoulder and slyly playing with a
curl that dangled on her white neck. “Double-sixes
by Jove! Just what you wanted to win the game.”

“I believe,” said Mr. Hopp, good-humoredly,
“that Miss Clytie has double-sixes at her command.
All I have won this evening is the honor of supplying
her with gloves for some months to come.”

“It was your proposition, Mr. Hopp; I didn't want
to play for gloves.”

“I know you did not. I had an absurd idea that I
might win something from you, and am punished for
my folly.”

“Clytie will give you another chance,” said Bob.
“There's nothing mean about her.”

Mr. Hopp signified his intention to take the chance
if it was offered him, and soon after took his leave.

“What a desperate little flirt you are!” said Bob
pinching Clytie's flushing cheek. “Nothing will do
but you must go for a man that the San Francisco
girls have given up long ago.”

“I didn't go for him,” replied the correct Clytie, a
little shocked.

“Then you managed to make him go for you. It's
all the same in the end.”

“Bob,” said Regina, gravely; “you must break
yourself of the habit of using such expressions.
Young ladies do not go for gentlemen in refined society.”

“Don't they?” retorted Bob. “I've seen movements
that looked that way, but probably I was mistaken.”

“Of course you were mistaken.” replied Regina,
“Come, Clytie, let us leave this wicked boy all to himself.”

The ladies retired, and the “wicked boy” lighted a
cigar with the air of a man on whose conscience
small sins rested lightly.