Mrs. Whitney

“ She was always glad—poor Glory—when the springtime came. She took Bubby and Baby down to the Common, of a May Day, to see the processions and the paper-crowned queens; and stood there in her stained and drabbled dress, with the big year-and-a-half-old baby in her arms, and so quite at the mercy of Master Herbert Clarence, who defiantly skipped oft down the avenues, and almost out of her sight—she looking after him in helpless dismay, lest he should get a splash or a tumble, or be altogether lost; and then what would the mistress say? ”

“ Mrs. Whitney carried a chair to the bedside. "It is too bad to have roused you."
"I wasn't asleep—only thinking"—drearily—"I am glad you came in. Does
Dr. McLane hold out any hope?"
"Yes," and Mrs. Whitney's care-worn face brightened. "Is it not good news?"
"The very best," Kathleen smiled through her tears. "You must be worn out," and she stroked the hand on the bed with loving fingers. "You should take some rest."
"I am not tired," protested Mrs. Whitney. "The nurse has just come in from her afternoon constitutional, and I felt that I could leave Winslow for a little time. ”

“ Whether they menaced still, she thought not; a voice she knew and trusted was in her ear; a grasp of loving strength sustained her; she was utterly secure.
So vividly she felt the presence—so warm and sure seemed that love and strength about her—that waking out of such pause of peace, before her senses recognized anything that was real without, she stretched her hands, as if to find it at her side, and her lips breathed a name—the name of Roger Armstrong.
Then she started to her feet. The kind, protecting presence faded back into her dream.
The horrible smoke, the scorching smell, were true. ”

“ Mrs. Whitney appeared in the doorway, tears streaming down her white cheeks. "Kathleen is completely unnerved; come and help me quiet her."
At that moment Henry arrived, tray in hand. "I couldn't find the whiskey, sir," he explained, breathless with hurry. "But here's some cognac, sir. Let me pour it out," and he handed a filled liqueur glass to Whitney, who swallowed the stimulant at a gulp.
"Shouldn't mind having some of that myself," announced Miss Kiametia. "Bring the tray here, Henry," walking over to a table. "And, Winslow, take a glass to Kathleen; it will do her good. ”

“ Whitney stared at her in blank astonishment. "With whom?" and sudden, sharp anxiety lay behind the abrupt question.
"I suspect—Captain Miller."
"Miller? That silent—" Whitney checked his impetuous words. "Miller?
Good Lord!"
"What can you tell me about Captain Miller?" Her feminine curiosity was instantly aroused at his quick change of expression.
"Just what I have seen of him and nothing more. He never talks of himself."
"Such a relief," sighed Mrs. Whitney. "There is Randall Foster—talks always of his own achievements. Wait until Kiametia Grey marries him. I sometimes wonder...." ”

“ Whitney laughed. "Can't, my dear. I have important work ahead of me tonight."
"It must wait until tomorrow," coaxingly, stroking his cheek softly. "I don't like these lines, Dad. Your health is more to be considered than your work."
Whitney's air of tolerance turned to one of determination. "You are wrong; my work is of primary importance. It's only a matter of hours now, Kathleen; then I can loaf for the rest of my days."
She shook her head. "Unless you take rest you cannot stand the strain. ”

“ This tribute of affection and gratitude comes from one who was a friend of Whitney for more than forty years,—for a time an intimate friend,—who knew how he entered the various phases of sorrow and of joy in early, middle, and later life; who used to meet him daily in the household, upon long walks, in the college faculty, in hours of quiet study, or in the presence of learned men, where even in his youth, among the foremost, Whitney stood the first. It is a pleasure to have dwelt within the influence of an intellect so strong, a moral nature so pure, and a life so full of fruit. ”

“ Faith removed cups, glasses, forks, and spoons from the table to the sideboard, while the maid, returning with a tray, carried off to the lower regions the larger dishes.
"I haven't told you yet, Elizabeth, what I came to town for," said Aunt Faith, when Mrs. Gartney came back into the breakfast room. "I'm going to hunt up a girl."
"A girl, aunt! Why, what has become of Prudence?"
"Mrs. Pelatiah Trowe. That's what's become of her. More fool she."
"But why in the world do you come to the city for a servant? It's the worst possible place. Nineteen out of twenty are utterly good for nothing." ”

“ The long train gave its first spasm and creak at starting; up came the tangle of beauty; down fluttered the bit of paper to the platform; and Rodney came in with the rare garlands and tassels drooping all about him.
Everybody was delighted; Aunt Euphrasia dropped her book, and made her way out of her corner; Desire and Mr. Kirkbright handled and exclaimed; Mrs. Argenter opened her eyes, and held out her fingers toward them with a smile.
"Such a quantity—for everybody!" said Sylvie, as he put them into her lap, and she began to shake out the bunches. "How kind you were, Mr. Sherrett! ”

“ The fine parlor-maid was down in the kitchen at the force-pump, with Olivia and Adelaide to help and keep her at it. A nursery-girl was trying to wrap up the younger children in all sorts of wrong things, upside down.
"Take these children right over to my house," said Mrs. Hobart. "Barbara Holabird! Come up here!"
"I don't know what to do first," said Mrs. Marchbanks, excitedly. "Mr. Marchbanks has taken away his papers; but there's all the silver—and the pictures—and everything! And the house will be full of men directly!" ”

“ Bel had not looked in the glass yet: Aunt Blin was busy, and she really had not thought of it; she was happy just in being in that beautiful raiment—in the heart of its color and shine; feeling its softly rustling length float away from her, and reach out radiantly behind. What is there about that sweeping and trailing that all women like, and that becomes them so? That even the little child pins a shawl about her waist and walks to and fro, looking over her shoulder, to get a sensation of?
The door did shut, below. A step did come up the stairs, with a few light springs. ”

“ I'll stop for you on the way to the studio."
"Honest Injun, Dad?" And her father, nodding vigorous assent, watched her go up the stairs, then with a brisk step entered the reception room.
"How charming you look, Minna!" he exclaimed, in honest admiration.
"You think so?" and Mrs. Whitney dimpled with pleasure. "I do want to win the election tonight—and clothes count for so much in woman's politics."
"I back you to win against all comers," and Whitney gave her shapely shoulder a loving pat as he stooped to kiss her. "What is the matter with Kathleen tonight? Her behavior troubles me." ”

“ In her prim, plain dress, utterly innocent of style or bias, and her zealous ministry, good Miss Arabel might easily be taken for some comfortable, superior old servant; but partly from a sudden sense of fun,—Mrs. Marchbanks standing there in all her elegant dignity,—and partly from a jealous chivalry of friendship, Rosamond would not let it pass so.
"Good woman? Hush! she is one of our hostesses, the owner of the ground, and a dear friend of mine. Here she is. Miss Waite, let me introduce Mr. Archibald Mucklegrand. Mrs. Marchbanks will like some coffee, please." ”

“ Ruth came down late to breakfast.
Barbara was pushing back her chair.
"Mother,—or anybody! Do you want any errand down in town? I'm going out for a stramble. A party always has to be walked off next morning."
"And talked off, doesn't it? I'm afraid my errand would need to be with Mrs. Goldthwaite or Mrs. Hadden, wouldn't it?"
"Well, I dare say I shall go in and see Leslie. Rosamond, why can't you come too? It's a sort of nuisance that boy having come home!"
"That 'great six-foot lieutenant'!" parodied Rose. ”

“ Desire Ledwith looked what she was, to-day; a grand, pure woman; a fit woman to stand up beside a man like Christopher Kirkbright, in fair white garments, and say the words that made her his wife. There was a beautiful, sweet majesty in her giving of herself.
She did not disdain rich robes to-day,—she would give herself at her very best, with all generous and gracious outward sign.
She wore a dress of heavy silk, long-trained; the cream-white folds, unspoiled by any frippery of lace, took, as they dropped around her, the shade and convolutions of a lily. ”

“ I have some pride of blood, my boy, and I want to see our name perpetuated. You have frivolled enough, Whitney. You are twenty-four. I can honestly thank God that you’ve been nothing more than a fool. You are not vicious.”
“Thanks, awfully, pater. Being nothing more than a fool I suppose it is up to me to get married. Very well, then, I will. Give me your hand, dad; it’s a bargain.”
Whitney Barnes tossed away his cigarette and grasped his father’s hand in both of his. He had become intensely serious. ”

“ In the hushed voices and soft tread of the servants, in the subdued countenances of Sir John and Lady Whitney, and in the serious spirit that prevailed, the shadow might be seen. It is good to be in such a house as this: for the lessons learnt may take fast hold of the heart. It was good to hear John Whitney [457] talk: and I never quite made out whether he was telling of dreams or realities.
Tod was out of his element: as much so as a fish is out of water. ”

“ It was not a dress to be hurried with; every quill and gather of its trimming must be "set just so;" and there was still one flounce to be made, and these others were only basted, as also the corsage.
After the hours were up that afternoon, Miss Tonker called Aunt Blin aside. She uncovered the large white box in which it lay, unfinished.
"You have a nice room, Miss Bree. Can you take this home and finish it,—by Wednesday? In over-hours, I mean; I shall want you here daytimes, as usual. It has been tried on; all but for the hanging of the skirt; you can take the measures from the white one. ”

“ They have been with us too long."
"I only know what Henry told me he heard in the kitchen this morning," explained Mrs. Whitney.
"Oh, Henry!" exclaimed Kathleen contemptuously. "I wouldn't put any faith in what he says; he is forever making trouble in the kitchen. He is ..."
The violent ringing of the telephone bell interrupted her.
"I have finished my breakfast, I'll go," volunteered Mrs. Whitney, and she hastened into the pantry where a branch telephone had been installed for the use of the servants. Before the swing door closed tightly, they heard her say: "Oh, Kiametia ..." ”

“ Lockwood and Whitney came together. I was interested to see the greeting of Inez and her lover. Was it pure fancy, or did I detect a trace of coldness as though there had sprung up something between them? As far as Lockwood was concerned, I felt sure that he was eager to break down any barrier that kept them from being as they had been.
Whitney took her hand and held it, in a playful sort of way. "I wish I were a young buck," he smiled. "No one would dare look at you—much less try to carry you off. Yes, we must be more careful of our little beauty, or we shall lose her." ”

“ You have made me think, in your fresh, maidenly life, and your soul earnestness, of Miriam!
"When your way broadens out into busy sunshine, and mine lies otherwise, do not forget me!"
A solemn baptism of mingled grief and joy seemed to touch the soul of Faith. One hand covered her face, that was bowed down, weeping. The other lay in her companion's, who had taken it as he uttered these last words. So it rested a moment, and then its fellow came to it, and, between the two, held Roger Armstrong's reverently, while the fair, tearful face lifted itself to his. ”

“ She has read much and knows much, and shows incidentally and without pedantry her botany and geology and astronomy, and that she keeps up with the science and philosophy of the day, and is familiar with the best authors. . . . But, after all, we return to her genius for religion and for teaching religion by fictitious characters, characters working out their own salvation under ordinary human and New England circumstances, as the cardinal glory and charm of these books."
Mrs. Whitney has had four children—three daughters and a son, Theodore T. One daughter died in infancy. ”

“ I don't see what is to become of us, unless—and I wonder if maybe that isn't it?—we just do two or three rather right things in a no-particular sort of a way."
"Barbara, how nice you are!" cried Ruth.
"No. I'm a thorn. Don't touch me."
"We never have company when we are having sewing done," said Mrs. Holabird. "We can always manage that."
"I don't want to play Box and Cox," said Rosamond.
"That's the beauty of you, Rosa Mundi!" said Barbara, warmly. "You don't want to play anything. That's where you'll come out sun-clear and diamond bright!" ”

“ But Ray made no sign—to anybody. She had already hurried in toward the side door, through the yard, under the elm.
A neighborly looking woman—such a woman as always "steps in" on an emergency—met her at the entrance. "He's dreadful sick, I'm afraid, dear," she said, reaching out and putting her hand on Ray's shoulder. "The doctor's up-stairs; ben there an hour. And I believe my soul every identical child in the village's ben sent in for a brick loaf."
Marion and Sunderline kept on down the Underhill road. ”