XVI
MISS PURVIS'S ROMANCE
ON an afternoon towards the end of September Christina bounced into the shop, then stopped short, regarding her aunt with staring eyes and open mouth.
"What's up?" she gasped, dropping her school books on the floor.
Her aunt frowned, but a moment later forced a smile.
"You are home early to-day, Christina."
"Uh-ha. The teacher's got a gum-bile. Awfu' lucky. Eh?"
After delivering a brief lecture on respect for one's elders and those in authority, Miss Purvis said pleasantly—
"I see you are looking at my new dress. I hope you like it, Christina."
"Oh, it's fair gorgeous! But what wey"
"Not gorgeous, I trust," said Miss Purvis, laughing uneasily.
"Weel, it's awfu' stylish, auntie. The trimmin's fair faskinatin'. Did it jist come the day?"
"Yes; I am glad you like it, my dear. Now put away your books"
Christina kicked them into a corner.
"Not that way, Christina. When will you ever learn to respect and take care of your books?"
"Dear knows," said Christina, recovering the bag and slinging it through the half-open door of the living room.
Miss Purvis shook her head, but her niece took no notice and came round the counter to examine the new dress at close quarters.
"Ye've nae beads on it," she remarked presently.
"Beads?"
"Ay, beads. But maybe ye're no' auld enough for beads. I like the sleeves, though, an' the neck, an' the waist. My! ye're awfu' jimp aboot the waist, auntie! I doot ye've been tight-lacin' like the fashionable debewtanties"
"Hush, Christina!"
"I was readin' aboot a young lady that tight-laced till she grew three inches taller—"
"Hush! You must not talk of such things."
"Hooch, ay! Dinna excite! Yer hair's awfu' nice the day. That's a new style ye've got for it. If it was a wee thing puffier, ye wud be like a Gibson girl. Are ye wearin' a pad?"
"Really, Christina, I cannot listen to such talk! Pad, indeed!"
"Nae offence. Pads is a' the go noo-a-days. They're wore in the highest society—patronized wi' Royalty. But what's up?"
"Up, Christina?" Miss Purvis looked at her little silver watch.
"Ay! Are ye expectin' onybody to tea the nicht?"
"No; I am not expecting anybody—to tea, Christina," slowly replied Miss Purvis, avoiding her niece's gaze. "What a beautiful afternoon it is," she added hastily. "Are you not going a walk this afternoon, Christina? The fine weather will soon be over, and you ought to take advantage of it. Really, you ought."
Christina eyed her aunt steadily, but said nothing.
"I don't know when I saw such a beautiful afternoon," the spinster continued nervously. "It is really remarkable for the time of year. It is almost a sin to waste it indoors. It is indeed! Wouldn't you like to ask Jessie Ann to go a walk with you? I'm sure it would be delightful up the loch this afternoon, and"
"You can gang oot an' gi'e the folk a treat, auntie, an' I'll keep the shope till ye come back—eh? Are ye on?"
"I'm afraid I cannot do that. I—I have some accounts to make up." Miss Purvis suddenly fell to hunting among the papers in her desk.
"I'll help ye."
"Thank you, my dear; but it would be much better for you out-of-doors. And—a—you might call at the baker's and get some nice cakes—what you like best—for tea."
Christina regarded the top of her aunt's head with profound suspicion for nearly a minute. Then she said—
"It's ower warm for walkin'. I'll jist gang an' sit on the pier till the boat comes in."
Miss Purvis suppressed a groan. "Don't you think it would be much nicer up the loch?" she said feebly.
"Na," Christina returned firmly, adding, "I think I'll pit on ma guid things."
A frantic rustling of papers was the only response.
"I'm sayin', auntie, I think I'll put on ma guid things."
"Don't be absurd, child!" said the spinster irritably. "Why should you put on your good clothes to-day?"
"To keep ye comp'ny.... Oh, thonder's the boat comin'!"
"How would you like," said Miss Purvis desperately, still rummaging in her desk, "how would you like to walk up the loch and inquire if poor old Mrs. M'Phedron is keeping any better? I'm sure she would be very glad to see you."
"I dare say she wud. Can I get the lend o' a pair o' curlin'-tongs, please?"
"Certainly not! What on earth do you want to dress yourself for, Christina?"
"Oh, jist for fun.... But ye micht lend us a pair o' tongs, auntie. I'll no spile them, an' naebody'll ever ken they've been used." Christina edged towards the drawer where the stock of tongs was kept. "Ma hair's that leeky," she said mournfully. "Come on, auntie."
"Oh, well, take the tongs, Christina!" cried Miss Purvis weakly. "It is very wrong of me to allow you to encourage your vanity, but"
"Dinna fash yersel' aboot that, auntie," said the girl, as she gleefully selected the coveted implements. "It's you that's the toff the day. My! ye're dressed to kill at a thoosan' yards! Thenk ye, auntie."
"Don't burn yourself," said Miss Purvis, with a furtive glance through the window.
"Nae fears! I hope ye'll no' find it awfu' dull till I appear again." So saying Christina retired to the back premises and, having shut herself therein, stuffed her handkerchief in her mouth and skipped round the table some twenty times.
"Oh, Jamaica!" she said to herself at last, as she inserted the curling-tongs between the ribs of the grate, "there's something up this time. I was sure it was Baldyin's writin' on the letter she got this mornin'. An' then she couldna eat her breakfast. An' noo she's a' dressed up, an' doesna seem to ken what she's daein', an' wants me to gang oot a walk. But I'm no' sae green as I'm cabbage lookin'. There's something up, or I'm a duchess!... I've got it! He's comin' wi' the boat! That's why she didna want me to gang to the pier. An' it's no' his proper day for comin'. I wonder why he's comin' the day.... Oh, what if he was to propose! She's kin' o' temptin'-lookin' in her new things; but, oh! I hope she's no' jist triflin' an' flurtin' wi' him."
In these and many other reflections did Christina indulge during the next few minutes, while her aunt continued to burrow feverishly in the desk without any definite object whatsoever.
The door of the shop opened, and Miss Purvis let the lid of the desk fall with a loud bang. Christina, who was washing, put her soapy hand to her heart, gasping, "It's him! Oh, Jamaica!"
Then she heard a piping, childish voice say—
"Please, could ye oblige me wi' change for a penny?"
"What a suck!" muttered Christina, and resumed her ablutions.
But ere she had dried her face the hoped-for thing happened. Mr. Baldwin arrived. She heard him say, "Lovely day!" in his usual hearty tones, but immediately thereafter his voice seemed to sink to a mere whisper.
With the towel in her hands and her face still damp she crept to the door.
But she did not peep. Even as she touched the curtain covering the glass she drew back.
"Honour among thieves is the best policy," she said to herself, and retired to the shabby easy-chair, wondering where she had read the motto. She found it impossible to go on dressing herself. She could only sit still—and wait—and try to imagine what was happening in the shop.
Doubtless she imagined many vain things, and it never occurred to her that for more than a year she herself had been standing in the way of the match between Mr. Baldwin and her aunt. And it would surely have broken her young heart had she known that Miss Purvis had been striving all those months to make her "a young lady," in order that Miss Purvis might at last say, "Yes," without compunction, to Mr. Baldwin's repeatedly written proposals of marriage.
Huddled in the easy-chair, Christina wondered which knee Mr. Baldwin would sink on; and then it struck her that, whatever knee he sank on, he would hardly be able to see Miss Purvis for the counter. It was rather depressing. Nearly all her heroes had proposed in conservatories, or sylvan dells, or on moonlit moors, or sea-beat shores. A few had proposed in haunted castles, steam yachts, and motor-cars. But not once had she read of a proposal in a shop. On the other hand, she had read that "Love will find a way," and a vision of Mr. Baldwin, with one foot on a chair and one knee on the counter, did not strike her as the least funny.
Scarcely a sound reached her, and her ears almost ached with listening.
"I suppose the adorin' swine'll be whisperin' sweet nothin's," she said to herself. "I never heard Baldyin sae saft-spoken." She resisted another strong impulse to peep. "I hope she's no' ower coquettish wi' him. She should catch him when she gets the chance. Oh, my! I wish I kent what they was speakin' aboot."
At that moment Mr. Baldwin was saying—
"You might as well call me 'James.' And as for Christina, I hope she will some day call me 'Uncle James.' She needs an uncle as well as an aunt—in default of a father and mother. There is nothing wrong with the girl except her speech—she has a real, good heart, which is all you and I need to work on. We shall make a fine woman of Christina, you and I—Mary. Don't let her stand between us any longer; let her bring us together, my dear—ahem!"
It was then that Miss Purvis said, "James" for the first time, prefacing it with an "O" and at least three "J's."
And it was then, also, that Christina became sensible of the odour of burning wood, and realized that the handles of the red-hot curling-tongs were charred to cinders.
"If he doesna propose, I'm a waster," she told herself when, with the aid of shovel and poker, she had conveyed the ruined tongs to the sink and heard them hiss their last under a cold douche. "An' I ha'ena even curled ma hair. Oh, me! I doot I'm no' Fortune's favourite."
Returning to the easy-chair, she twisted her legs together, interlocked her fingers, and longed for something to happen.
"He's got nae' samples wi' him," she thought, "or I wud ha'e heard the tin things rattlin'. That proves he's no' here on business. Oh, he must be proposin'. If it wasna a sacred performance, I wud ha'e a squint at them. I wonder if he's printin' burnin' kisses on her taper finger.... I doot I'll never ha'e taper fingers.... But I suppose I'll never ha'e an adorin' swine, nor get engaged, nor blight ma troth." She sighed heavily. "I never heard o' a hero-ine wi' leeky hair like mine. Oh, never!... But I wudna mind it as much if Baldyin was ma uncle.—I maun remember to ca' him Maister Baldwin. If he was nuptailed to auntie I wud ca' him Uncle James. James is a nice front name. It's maybe no' as noble-like as Lionel an' Marmaduke. but, still, it's a nice name.... I wonder if auntie wud ha'e me for a bridesmaid. Oh, my! What fun! What gorgeousness! But I doot she thinks I'm no' genteel and discreet enough. Oh, I maun try to be genteel and discreet. I maun practise hard.... My! I wish I could see them wi'oot spyin'. They're keepin' terrible quate. I hope she hasna spurned him. It must be awfu' aggravatin' to be spurned.... Mercy! what's that? He's laughin'—an' she's laughin'!"
And Christina, her self-command giving way, let out a loud, long, hysterical cackle. For a few moments there was a dead silence in the shop, and then Miss Purvis and Mr. Baldwin laughed far louder than before. Christina hid her hot, angry face against the back of the chair. People who could laugh like that could not possibly be in love. It was all up a gum-tree! Alas! Alas!
Miss Purvis came softly into the living-room.
"Christina, my dear," she said, smiling, "Mr. Baldwin wishes to speak to you. He has something to tell you. What's the matter?"
"What's up?" Christina gruffly inquired, her face still hidden.
The spinster gently stroked the girl's hair, and, in a low voice, said—
"It will be a great surprise to you, but—Mr. Baldwin is going to be—your uncle."
"Hooray! " said Christina feebly. She meant to add that it was no surprise to her, but, somehow, a lump came into her throat, and, throwing her arms about her aunt's neck, she gave way to tears.
Ten minutes later, however, she was herself again, making extensive suggestions for the wedding which, Miss Purvis bashfully admitted, might possibly take place in March or April.
THE END
THE QUINN 4 BODEN CO. PRESS, RAHWAY, N. J.
"What did ye say was the name o' the pairty?" The maid looked bewildered.
"Wha sent ye?" Christina demanded.
"Mistress MacTougal!—I haf forgot the name of the house. I will have come to this place last night."
"Mistress MacDougall—Och, I ken about her. Seaview's her hoose. Mind that, so as ye'll no' get lost."