University of Virginia Library

11. A DAY WITH THIS WINSLOWS

Mrs. Winslow found Arabella's appearance much improved by Miss Alicia's purchases, and she was sincerely grateful for the change, since she had dreaded taking the little girl into the various shops with her, and to her own particular modiste.

Arabella had luncheon with Mrs. Winslow alone, as the children took their meals separately, in an apartment adjoining the schoolroom. Everything was very strange, and somewhat oppressive to the little heiress, in that great, solemn-looking place, where the portraits on the wall seemed to stare down at her. One of these was especially pointed out by Mrs. Winslow before sitting down to the table.

"That, my dear Arabella," she explained, "is your grandfather, Lawrence Allston, your father's father."

She did not add "who has left you all the money," nor was that fact uppermost in the little girl's mind. She was more impressed by the idea that that splendid gentleman, with his stern, bearded face and air of self-conscious importance, should be her grandfather, the parent of that father whom she had never known. The portrait, being a very real one, appeared to dominate the room. Arabella stole many a glance thereat, as she sat opposite Mrs. Winslow at the table, with its exquisite napery, glass and silver, and ate mechanically of the various dishes, which were all new to her, and most of which she did not like. Mrs. Winslow, who wanted to be kind, strove not to notice various details of the child's table manners, which jarred upon her excessively, and which appeared all the worse now that Arabella was sorely oppressed by her presence and that of the butler, who waited upon her with such stony impassibility. He was as silent, save for an occasional monosyllable, as the portraits on the wall. Even the dainty sweetmeats, and the fruit, which at another time she would have enjoyed, were eaten uncomfortably or refused altogether, out of very shyness.

She had a nervous suspicion that her grandfather was likewise observing her from out his gold frame, whence he seemed as if he were on the very point of speaking to her. When the meal was concluded Mrs. Winslow, trying to be kind, took Arabella's hand in her own slim and delicate one and led her about the room, showing her the other portraits.

"That is your grandmother," she observed, pausing before the representation of an elderly lady in a brocaded gown, with auburn hair smoothly brushed away from a high forehead.

"Oh, she is pretty!" cried Arabella, attracted by the face, which was so much milder than that of her husband.

"Yes, dear mother was very beautiful in her youth," said Mrs. Winslow, smiling at the child and pleased by her admiration, "and your father was very like her."

"You are very like her, too!" Arabella declared, bluntly, though she felt, without being able to express, the subtle difference. The pictured face was so much gentler, as if all the years which she had lived had smoothed away all that was hard or merely superficial, and the elder woman had evidently been much fairer in coloring.

"Ah, little flatterer!" Mrs. Winslow exclaimed lightly patting the child's hand, "I believe I am considered like her, though with a difference. And now, should you like to go up to the schoolroom and have a game with the children while I am dressing to go out? And I may as well confess that I take a little nap after luncheon."

To Arabella it seemed very strange that anybody could possibly go to sleep in the middle of the day, but she had come to the conclusion that everything was strange in this atmosphere. Mrs. Winslow rang the bell, and the nurse was summoned to take Miss Allston to the schoolroom, where George was the first to greet her.

"Oh, halloa!" he cried. "I'm glad you came. I want to show you a new book I just got from Uncle Fred."

Reginald and Carrie also greeted Arabella warmly, being, in truth, delighted to see any one who broke in on the monotony of their daily lives, for they were almost as tired of everything as their elders, upon whom pleasure and amusement, and all that money could buy had palled. George, meanwhile, from a shelf upon the wall, had produced a book, and squatting down upon the floor, invited Arabella to sit upon a tiny stool near by. While the little girl was hesitating about accepting the invitation George suddenly looked up and said:

"Say, Arabella, you look ever so much better to-day. You've got on those new clothes you were talking about."

"George!" said Carrie, reprovingly.

"It isn't any harm to say her clothes are nice," George remonstrated, indignantly. "Every girl likes to hear that. And her shoes are pretty, too. Just like yours, Carrie."

Arabella flushed with pleasure.

"We bought them yesterday," she answered, "just as soon as I was asked to come here."

"Did you get a hat, too?" George inquired, with interest.

"Yes," answered Arabella, "it's downstairs. But these ain't the clothes I told you about. They're not ready yet."

"You can get all the clothes you want," George observed, reflectively. "You're very rich, now."

"I suppose so," the heiress answered, carelessly. "I don't know nothing about money."

"It was our grandfather left it to you," George explained, ignoring the grammar.

"Yes, but I guess he was mine, too, wasn't he?"

"I suppose so. Did you ever see him?"

"No," Arabella answered, shaking her head.

"We often saw him. Didn't we, Carrie?"

"Yes," said Carrie, who had stood by exchanging glances with Reginald about George's bluntness. "He used to give us sweets, and silver money. Once he gave us a five dollar gold piece."

"Were you afraid of him," Arabella asked, thinking of the portrait below stairs.

"No; oh, no," answered Carrie. "I don't think children are ever afraid of their grandfathers."

"I was scared of his picture downstairs," Arabella confessed.

"Scared of a picture!" scoffed George. "Girls are such cowards, anyway. What harm could a picture do you?"

"It wasn't that," Arabella answered, "but all the time I was at the table I kinder felt as if he was lookin' at me, and that he was a-going to talk."

George pondered, feeling that the situation so described might be uncomfortable.

"But he couldn't speak," he exclaimed, at last. "Why, he's dead!"

Arabella did not attempt to explain further. She sat down upon the stool indicated, with Carrie kneeling beside her at one side and George upon the other, and together they examined the splendid, new book, full of beautiful pictures. Reginald sat down with something of the loftiness of his additional two years and read a book on his own account. The time passed pleasantly enough until the nurse, who, like the governess, had disappeared, leaving the children to their own devices, now reappeared to tell Miss Carrie that she must come and be dressed to go out driving with her mamma and her cousin.

Carrie clapped her hands with delight, and instantly obeyed the summons. Reginald excused himself at the same moment, saying he had to go down town on a message for his another, and Arabella was left alone with George. He was disposed to grumble that he could not go out driving, too, but he knew, as did everyone in that well-ordered house, that there was no appeal from any decision.

Arabella suddenly said, after a pause:

"I wonder why that old gentleman left me all that money."

"Why, because he was your grandfather, silly," answered George.

"I know!" declared Arabella, "But still, he didn't know me."

"Grandfathers always leave money," George decided. "He left us all some, too. Not that I care much for money. I'd like to be poor, and go and play with the boys in the street, and wear ragged clothes."

Then he regarded Arabella very earnestly, and said in a whisper:

"If I were you I'd stay poor. I shouldn't take the money."

Arabella looked puzzled.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because you can have a great deal more fun," George answered.

"Still," objected Arabella, "it's nice to have money and be able to buy things. I want to get presents for Mrs. Christie and Alicia, and if Mr. Christie will let me, I want to paint and paper our house."

"Oh, that'll be fun!" cried George. "Are you going to do it-yourself? I'd like to come down and help you. Where do you live?"

"In the country. At Kenoosha."

"Kenoosha? Where's that? Is it far away?"

"Pretty far. It took us a good while to come here in the train."

"Oh," said George, with a heavy sigh, "I'm afraid I won't be allowed to go, then."

"Perhaps you could in the summer," suggested Arabella. "Lots of folks come down there in the hot weather."

"Hurrah!" cried George. "I'm going to ask mamma to let me go."

"And I'll ask Mrs. Christie to let you come," Arabella added, "after the house is papered and painted."

"Why, isn't it your house?"

The girl shook her head.

"Oh, then, mamma won't let me go!"

"Perhaps she will, if Mrs. Christie asks; and the little girl can come, too, and your brother."

"That would be tip-top, for Reggie might bring his pony and Carrie her phaeton, and I'll bring — well, I don't know exactly what. But it would be more fun before the painting and papering are done. I'd like to wear overalls, like the man that's doing the house opposite, and paint."

Arabella was doubtful about this latter proposition, remembering the exact methods of Silas Christie.

"I guess Mr. Christie will want to do the painting himself," she admitted, despondently, "and he won't let no little boys help."

George sighed again, still more heavily, for well he knew the limitations of a boy's life. By that time, however, Carrie was ready, and Arabella was summoned by the obsequious nurse to have her hair tidied and her hands washed.

It may be said at once that the shops they visited that afternoon and the dressmakers to whom orders were given were very different, indeed, from those which Miss Alicia had patronized, and the purchases far beyond her wildest imaginings. And this despite the fact that Mrs. Winslow believed in simplicity for young girls, and eschewed finery which would be suitable only for their elders. But it was in the number and variety of things chosen, in the fineness of material and perfection of cut that her exquisite taste was displayed.

Mrs. Winslow was well aware of the unsuitability of some of these toilet accessories to life in the Christie homestead, but she considered the possibility of frequent visits to town on the part of her niece, and she was resolved that she should be provided with things requisite for every occasion.

In her communication to the personage known at Kenoosha as the "Purple Lady," concerning whom Mrs. Winslow had made discreet inquiries from the parish priest, she had clearly explained everything, and that in the event of her assuming the responsibility of Arabella's training she would be expected to cultivate her table manners, to correct her pronunciation and her grammar, and, in fact, to mould her to the requirements of her new station, and make association on an equal footing possible with her relatives and others of their set. She was thus, in every way, preparing for that constant communication between Arabella and the Allston family which the future seemed likely to bring forth.

She and Carrie made rapid strides towards a warm, childish friendship in the course of that afternoon, so that Arabella confided to her dainty little cousin that same project of which she had already spoken to George, of having them all down at Kenoosha in the summer.

"Of course, Mrs. Christie's house, where I live, ain't grand like yours," she said, "but city folks don't seem to care in the summer. There's lots of woods 'round there, and a lake to fish ill and nice walks and rides."

Carrie was almost as enthusiastic as George over the proposed expedition, and mentioned the subject to her mother, who did not give a very decided answer, but smiled and gently minded Arabella that she was not living in her own house.

That evening, on returning to Alicia's flat, the little girl told Mrs. Christie of what she had said to the children, and was surprised to find that Mrs. Christie received the proposition with something like dismay.

"For the land's sake!" she cried. "What on earth should I do with people like that? Why, there ain't a decent stick of furniture in the house; and the carpets, where there is any, is worn threadbare, and the paint is off most everywhere."

Arabella, crestfallen, nevertheless renewed her previous offer of spending enough money to renovate the house completely. Mrs. Christie kindled somewhat at the inspiring thought, a flush rose to her cheek and a light came into her faded eyes. Then the light faded and the flush died.

"I've been thinkin' over what you said the other night," she declared slowly, "but I'm most sure it can't be done. Silas Christie, he's awful set in his own way, and I don't expect he'll let us overhaul the house."

Arabella's face fell, and her hopes sank low. She remembered Silas' grim countenance, and slow, methodical ways, and began to fear that, indeed, the wife was right, and that it would scarcely be safe, even so much as to mention the subject before him. She went to bed feeling very downcast, and arguing within herself that it wasn't much use having money if you couldn't spend it as you wished. Her pleasant vision of a visit from her city cousins faded, also, for how could she ever invite them to the homestead, even if Mr. Christie were willing, with things in their present condition. She had already learned enough herself to be able to fancy how Reginald's politeness and Carrie's gentleness would strive to cover deficiencies and conceal their secret wonder, while George would, no doubt, express his honest surprise,and mortify them all by open criticism. Besides, it was always possible that Silas would not permit the invitation to be given at all, and Arabella began to realize that in her new elation and the fullness of her heart she had been guilty of an indiscretion in acting as if the house where she had merely been sheltered was actually her home. And yet, so curious are the workings of human destiny, that, as shall be seen hereafter, it was really Silas Christie who furthered her design, though not precisely as she had intended.