VI
WE LUNCH WITH MRS. TELFORD
The next day, right after luncheon, Mrs. Telford came to call. She is our nearest neighbor, save the residents of the House in the Hedge, and lives across the road, about a hundred yards south; her land runs down in front of us. Mrs. Telford is a widow of about fifty and has been setting her cap at the Major ever since last summer. I suppose I might call her the social leader of Eastmeadows, if such a tiny place can be said to have such a thing, and she is really very pleasant. She wears beautiful things, although they're sometimes rather startling. She goes to Paris every spring and comes home with trunks full of beautiful gowns. She had just returned when she came to call, having reached Eastmeadows the evening before. Of course, we were both glad to see her, and there was nothing for me to do but stay in and be nice to her, but I did sort of wish I might skip out. Of course, Aunt Myra started to tell her about the new occupants of the House in the Hedge, but Mrs. Telford had already heard.
“It's a positive disgrace,” she said. “I've heard all about it. The man is a Mr. Tolliver, or something like that, from New York. He belongs to one of those dreadfully fast sets over there, and they say he is a wine agent. He was hurt in some disgraceful automobile accident and his relatives sent him down here to recover. They say he is a chronic inebriate, my dear Miss Groves, and I do think it is unfortunate that they should have planked him down here right in our midst, so to speak. When I see Cleary I shall tell him what I think of him for renting the place to such people.”
I was certain that she was all wrong, but Mr. Tully had sworn me to secrecy and so I could say nothing. I did tell her, however, that I thought she was mistaken about his being a New York man and a wine agent; that I had been credibly informed that he was a Bostonian and was very well off.
“Well, my dear, I only know what I've been told,” she replied. “Whatever he is, it is certain that he was injured in an automobile accident, and you know what that means.”
Mrs. Telford has a stable full of horses and doesn't own a car. She pretends to think them common and undignified, although she doesn't say so to us.
“I'm sure,” she went on, “if I'd known Cleary was going to rent the House in the Hedge to such parties, I'd have rented it myself to keep them out. It's a wonder to me Major Pryde doesn't buy the place. It must be very objectionable for you, my dear Miss Groves; it's almost as though they were in your own grounds!”
“So far, ” replied auntie, resenting Mrs. Telford's questioning the Major's wisdom, “they have been quite ideal neighbors. We never hear a sound from them, or see them either. Of course, at first, when we heard that the gentleman was an insane patient we were quite worried, but that was a mistake. His attendant, Mr. Tully, tells us that he is absolutely sane.”
“He would say so, of course,” said Mrs. Telford. “Still, it is probably true. I fancy there is nothing wrong with the poor man but drink. That ruins so many of our young men,” she added with a sigh.
I was just dying to tell her that she didn't know what she was talking about, but of course, I couldn't. It was very exasperating, and I quite disliked Mrs. Telford for a while. But I knew she didn't mean any harm, and presently, when she began to tell us about the styles she had seen on the other side, I forgot about it.
“My dears, such perfectly stunning things as I saw this year. You must come over and let me show some of the gowns I brought back. Of course they are all quite simple things”
“Mrs. Telford,” I laughed, “you're just as mean as ever. You bring the most delicious things home and then, when we're all perfectly green with envy at so much splendor, you tell us they're just simple little things of no consequence!”
Mrs. Telford chuckled.
“Do I, my dear? That's horrid of me. But, really, what I've brought this time, really are simple, judged by Paris standards. Why, my dear, the wash waists over there are perfectly stunning; just covered with rattail braid, in flower designs and quite, quite low at the neck. And then the hand-embroidered ones! Fancy wearing such things in this country on trains, as they do there! As for grande toilettes, you should see some of the new creations in cotelé and shantung. I've brought such a pretty one home; you must see it; it's gold-color, rather pale, you know, and is made quite plainly. The seams are put together with lace insertion of the same color and there is a guimpe of hand embroidered marquisette of corn-flower blue. Skirts are very much fuller and are plaited all sorts of ways; Antoin assured me that the extremely narrow skirts are quite done for. You must both come over to-morrow and take luncheon with me, and let me show what I've brought.”
After she had gone, it was time to go to drive, and so I didn't get back to the tree that day. But in the morning I went up for just a little while. I didn't want him to think I had forgotten my promise, and, of course, as we were going to luncheon at Mrs. Telford's, it wasn't likely I would be able to be up there that afternoon. Whether he saw me I don't know, but I had a feeling that he did. Of course, as Mr. Tully was at home, he didn't speak. I stayed there long enough to read two chapters in my book and then came down and dressed for luncheon.
Sunnymead, Mrs. Telford's residence, is our show place at Eastmeadows. The house is quite gorgeous, with all sorts of gables and chimneys and funny corners. The lower story is of brick and the upper of plaster and timbers, like an English house. The grounds are beautiful and she has the best gardener in the country, so she says. At any rate, she pays him four thousand dollars a year, and, as Larry would say, that's going some. Larry doesn't like the place, because he says it looks like a German thiergarten, the allusion being to the trees and hedges, which are shaped into roosters and lions and all sorts of animals. We had a wonderful luncheon; Aunt Myra says Mrs. Telford is the only woman she knows who can tell you the price of every dish set before you without offending you; and afterwards we went upstairs and Mrs. Telford's maid brought out the new gowns and waists and lingerie. Aunt Myra pretends that she cares absolutely nothing about such things, but it's only pretense. She was quite as excited as I was. The things really were perfectly dear, and I made up my mind then and there that the first thing I should do when I was married, was to go to Paris and buy all the beautiful things I wanted. It's no fun going when you're just a girl and can't pick out what you want. The things I brought back last time weren't a bit nicer than I could have bought on Fifth Avenue. The only difference was that they cost more than twice as much. Aunt Myra selected them.
After we'd seen everything, Mrs. Telford insisted that we should go to drive with her behind her new pair, which cost—oh, I've forgotten how much, but they were very expensive. Then we came back and had tea, and there was another afternoon gone. I felt real conscience-stricken when I thought of that poor man lying helpless in bed and waiting for me to come and cheer him up. But the next afternoon nothing prevented, and at four o'clock I climbed into the elm tree, with some fancy work. There's no use trying to talk and read at the same time, but you can do fancy work and keep up a conversation. In a minute I heard the door open and saw Mr. Tully start out for his afternoon walk. For quite five minutes no sound came from the invalid's window and I began to think he was asleep.
Then I heard a low whistle.