University of Virginia Library

10. THE DAYS IN TOWN

Never were any storm-tossed mariners better pleased to reach a haven than were those two wearied and sorely-tried companions to find themselves once more in Miss Alicia's tiny home above the shop, in the unaristocratic neighborhood of Third avenue. They did not have to wait this time. Alicia stood at the open door and ushered them into the cheeriness of a blazing fire, the smell of homely but savory viands, and the atmosphere of freedom and kindliness — the atmosphere of home.

Arabella then fully realized, for the first time, what the idea of home meant, and in her mind, which already seemed to have developed through the experiences of the day, she resolved to make for herself a home. And herein she was right, since it is beyond doubt the most precious thing upon earth. When they sat down together at the little round table and partook with excellent appetites of the good things which Alicia had provided, and drank the fragrant tea that could scarcely have been better anywhere, Arabella felt happier than she had ever done before. After the pleasant meal was over the three gathered once more around the fire, recounting the various experiences of the day, and heartily in sympathy. And this sympathy sometimes was indicated by long periods of silence, during which each was free to follow out her own thoughts.

Mrs. Christie felt deeply grateful to Arabella for her decision, and she really rejoiced in the prospect of having her still at the homestead. The possibility of her departure had given her an added value. Arabella, too, had learned to recognize that under all her exterior grimness Mrs. Christie was her friend. Alicia, for her part, could not feel sufficiently grateful to the little girl who had elected to remain with her sister, and who had shown such good will toward those who had sheltered her in youth. The little woman had an almost unlimited capacity for listening, which is an excellent and very popular gift to cultivate. She was never tired of hearing every detail of the memorable interview — of the interior and exterior of the house; of Mrs. Winslow, her dress, manners and appearance; of Mr. Frederick and Mr. Robert, whom Arabella had not yet learned to consider as uncles, and also of the children.

Arabella, in the rugged sincerity which she had learned from Mrs. Christie, told everything that was painful and mortifying, as well as what was pleasant. She repeated George's exact words, which caused Alicia to flush painfully as she exclaimed:

"Oh, my dear, wasn't that hard on you? am afraid he wasn't a very kind-hearted boy."

"Yes, he was," answered Arabella. "At least I think so. I liked him afterwards."

And she proceeded to relate the further happenings in the nursery, and how George had said he liked her and that he didn't care about clothes, so that Alicia was appeased in a moment, and declared that his first rudeness must have been only a boy's thoughtlessness.

Once, after a long pause, Arabella said decidedly:

"We must buy a lot of nice things for the house — carpets, curtains and new furniture."

"Wait," interposed Alicia, though she smiled in sympathy, "until you have a home of your own."

"That is my home," said Arabella, "for I will never go to live with any of my rich relations. They must come and see me, but I will never live anywhere else."

"But," protested Mrs. Christie, slowly, "it ain't any sort of a home for you, now you're rich."

"We can make it better," Arabella said. "We can have it papered and painted. That is," she added, as an afterthought, "if Mr. Christie doesn't mind."

Mrs. Christie sighed.

"Ah, you may well say, 'if Mr. Christie doesn't mind'!" she exclaimed, not without a touch of bitterness, "for there's just the point."

That night it was Mrs. Christie who made the first move to go to bed. The one day of city life, to which she was so long unaccustomed, and the unusual strain which she had undergone, had left her utterly wearied and exhausted. Arabella pleaded to be allowed to sit up a little longer with Miss Alicia, and the two fell into a confidential chat, during which the new-made heiress confided to her friend some of the plans which were floating disjointedly through her mind.

"You know," she said, "I would like to make the house more home-like, if Mrs. Christie is willing."

"I should think she would be delighted," answered Miss Alicia, "for you see, poor soul, she has never been able to do much. But I am not sure that Mr. Christie will agree."

"No," said Arabella, "neither am I."

For a sudden remembrance flashed into her mind of Silas Christie's fixed ways of acting, and his dislike to change and confusion of any sort.

"Well," said Alicia, hopefully, "perhaps you and his wife between you can persuade him," and being like Arabella herself, a dreamer of dreams, she could not quite help entering into her views and planning plans, even if they were never to be carried out.

"And you must come down next summer," Arabella said. "I know everybody will be glad to have you."

"Oh, my dear child," cried Alicia, "I have not been away from here for years and years. I can't afford to travel."

"But you must let me send you a ticket," Arabella answered. "Don't say no, please don't. For what's the use of my having money if no one will let me spend any of it."

"Well, we shall see about that when the summer comes," Alicia declared, "but in any case I suppose your aunt and cousins will go to visit you."

Arabella weighed this proposition in her mind. "I don't think the lady —"

"Your aunt," corrected Miss Alicia.

"Well, my aunt. I don't think she will ever come, but George and the little girl, and perhaps Reginald may."

"You will ask them all, of course. Reginald, from what you say, seems to be a very nice, gentlemanly boy."

"Yes," answered Arabella, "but he mightn't care much for the country."

"Oh, I'm sure he will," cried sanguine Alicia, "and then the others."

"The gentleman with the bald head," Arabella began.

"You mean your uncle Frederick," put in Alicia, who had a good memory. "And your other uncle?"

"Oh, he would never come," Arabella decided, "though I would be glad to have him."

So these two artless souls talked and laid plans until Alicia suddenly remembered that her little guest would be tired for all that was yet to come, and made her go to bed. And this was an excellent precaution, for the next three days were very busy ones indeed. In the first place a civil note came next morning from Mrs. Winslow, saying that she would send the carriage to bring her niece for luncheon at her house, after which they should do some shopping. They had scarcely finished reading this note when a loud knock sounded on the outer door, followed by the appearance of kindly Mr. Frederick.

"I came over very early," he explained, "to know what Arabella is going to do, and if there is anything Mrs. Christie and she would like to see."

Arabella then told him about the invitation already received, and her uncle said:

"In that case you will have to keep to-morrow for me. My little girl, Marion, is in a fever of excitement to see you. You have not heard, perhaps, that she is lame and has to go on crutches, so that she could not come to see you."

Mr. Frederick's bright eyes had been roaming around the little apartment, which pleased him very much, and he noted with pleasure the quaint but exquisitely neat figure of Alicia, to whom he was presently introduced.

"You must all come and take luncheon with me to-morrow," he declared genially, "and first, if the day be fine, we can take a spin in the park."

So unaffectedly cordial was his manner that the two elder women, surprised and somewhat flustered by the invitation, felt constrained to accept the proffered hospitality.

A third message arrived very shortly after Uncle Frederick had taken his departure, bringing a large box of sweets, such as Arabella had never seen, much less tasted, before. They were accompanied by a card, "From Uncle Robert."

It seemed to Arabella during that wonderful day as if some of the stories in her fairy book must surely have come true. She had not, however, much time to reflect upon these marvels, for she had to prepare for the mid-day meal at Mrs. Winslow's, which that lady called luncheon, but which Arabella still described as dinner.

Alicia, indeed, whirled her away to purchase a ready-made suit, a pair of trim walking shoes and a hat, which, though not so fine as that ordered upon the previous day, was a great improvement upon the one Arabella was wearing.

"They will not be able to make any remarks about your clothes this time," Alicia said, triumphantly, as she put the various parcels into the hansom cab hired for the occasion. This conveyed them home so quickly that the little girl had plenty of time to dress and confidently await the Winslow carriage. The latter vehicle conveyed the transformed heiress to the mansion on Fifth avenue.

Mrs. Christie felt a bit aggrieved at Mrs. Winslow's determined overlooking of her presence. Yet, after all, as Alicia said, such grand people could not be expected to ask them to their house, and they were happier and better where they were, which, indeed, proved to be the case, for they sat and talked, after they had taken their comfortable dinner of boiled bacon and cabbage with mealy potatoes and a custard rice pudding. And they fell into a pleasant vein of reminiscence, conjuring up from the past a thousand and one little happenings which had lain dormant in their minds, recalling the vanished and the dead, bringing to life their ghost-like girlhood and far-off, misty childhood. Hence the shadows that filled the room as the autumn afternoon wore to twilight were peopled with many that the two had known and loved. It was Arabella who almost seemed unreal as she burst in upon the gray-haired women, full of news, cheerful, exhilerated, and in the best of spirits. That night, when Alicia was tucking her into bed, she said, gravely:

"You will have to pray every day, dear child, that your heart may never grow hard nor selfish, for prosperity is less easy to bear than adversity, and riches sometimes make people forget a lot of things."

"I will never forget you, Miss Alicia," Arabella answered, earnestly, "nor Mrs. Christie. And I don't want to get hard. I would rather not be rich."

"Our Heavenly Father loves the rich and poor alike," Alicia added, gently, "and I hope He will keep you always as you are to-day."