Hills of the Shatemuc Part 57

"I had the advantage, for I did expect to see you."

"How do you do, Mr. Landholm?"

"Why, as well as a man can do, in want of a shirt," said Rufus comically.

"Mr. Landholm? --"

"You see, Mrs. Nettley," Rufus went on, "I have come all the way from North Lyttleton to dine with a friend and my brother here; and now I am come, I find that without your good offices I haven't a ruffle to ruffle myself withal; or in other words, I am afraid people would think I had packed myself bodily into my valise, and thereby conclude I was a smaller affair than they had thought me."

"Mr. Landholm! -- how you do talk! --but can I do anything?"

"Why yes, ma'am, -- or your irons can, if you have any hot."

"O that's it!" exclaimed Mrs. Nettley as Rufus held out the crumpled frills, -- "It's to smooth them, -- yes sir, my fire is all out a'most, but I can iron them in the oven. I'll do it directly, Mr. Landholm."

"Well," said Rufus with a quizzical face, -- "any way -- if you'll ensure them against damages, Mrs. Nettley -- I don't understand all the possibilities of an oven."

"We are very glad to have your brother in your room, Mr.

Landholm," the good lady went on, as she placed one of her irons in the oven's mouth, where a brilliant fire was at work.

"I should think you would, ma'am; he can fill it much better than I."

"Why Mr. Landholm! -- I should think -- I shouldn't think, to look at you, that your brother would weigh much more than you -- he's broader shouldered, something, but you're the tallest, I'm sure. But you didn't mean that."

"I won't dispute the palm of beauty with him, Mrs. Nettley, nor of ponderosity. I am willing he should exceed me in both."

"Why Mr. Landholm! -- dear, I wish this iron would get hot; but there's no hurrying it; -- I think it's the wood -- I told George I think this wood does _not_ give out the heat it ought to do. It makes it very extravagant wood. One has to burn so much more, and _then_ it doesn't do the work -- Why Mr. Landholm -- you must have patience, sir -- Your brother is excellent, every way, and he's very good looking, but you are the handsomest."

"Everybody don't think so," Rufus said, but with a play of lip and brow that was not on the whole unsatisfied. Mrs. Nettley's attention however was now fastened upon the frills. And then came in Mr. Inchbald; and they talked, a sort of whirlwind of talk, as his sister not unaptly described it; and then, the ruffles being in order Rufus put himself so, and Winthrop and he talked themselves all the way down to No. 11, on the Parade.

Their welcome was most hearty, though the company were already at table. Place was speedily made for them; and Rufus hardly waited to take his before he became the life and spirit of the party. He continued to be that through the whole entertainment, delighting everybody's eye and ear. Winthrop laughed at his brother and with him, but himself played a very quiet part; putting in now and then a word that told, but doing it rarely and carelessly; the flow and freshness of the conversation calling for no particular help from him.

Mr. Herder was there; also Mr. Satterthwaite, who sat next to Winthrop and addressed several confidential and very unimportant remarks to him, and seemed to look upon his brother as a sort of meteoric phenomenon. President Darcy, of Mr. Herder's College, was the only other guest. Elizabeth sat next to Winthrop, but after the first formal greeting vouchsafed not a single look his way; she was in a dignified mood for all the company generally, and Rose's were the only feminine words that mixed with the talk during dinner. Very feminine they were, if that word implies a want of strength; but coming from such rosy lips, set round about with such smiles of winningness, they won their way and made easy entrance into all the ears at table. With the trifling exception of a pair or two.

"What is the matter with you?" said Rose, when she and her cousin had left the gentlemen and were alone in the drawing- room.

"Nothing at all."

"You don't say a word."

"I will, when I have a word to say."

"I thought you always had words enough," said Rose.

"Not when I haven't time too."

"Time? what, for words?"

"Yes."

"What was the matter with the time?"

"It was filled up."

"Well, you might have helped fill it."

"Nothing can be more than full, very well," said Elizabeth contemptuously. "I never want _my_ words to be lost on the outside of a conversation."

"You think a great deal of your words," said her cousin.

"I want other people should."

"You do! Well -- I never expect them to think much of mine."

"That's not true, Rose."

"It isn't?"

"No; and your smile when you said it spoke that it wasn't."

"Well, I don't care, they _are_ thought enough of," said Rose, half crying.

Elizabeth walked to the window and stood within the curtain, looking out into the street; and Rose bestowed her pouting lips and brimful eyes upon the full view of the fire.

"What's made you so cross?" she said after a quarter of an hour, when the tears were dried.

"I am not cross."

"Did you ever see anybody so amusing as Rufus Landholm?"

"Yes, he's amusing. -- I don't like people that are too amusing."

"How can anybody be _too_ amusing?"

"He can make it too much of his business."

"Who? -- Rufus?"

"No, anybody. You asked how _anybody_ could."

"Well I dont see how you can think he is too amusing."

"Why, that is all you care for in a man."

"It isn't! I care for a great deal else. What do _you_ care for?"

"I don't know, I am sure," said Elizabeth; "but I should say, everything else."

"Well, I think people are very stupid that aren't amusing,"