Lavender and Old Lace Part 26

"Well, now, I don't know," she answered, visibly softening, "but I'll think it over, and let you know."

"What would you like, Uncle James?"

"You needn't trouble him about it," explained his wife. "He'll like whatever I do, won't you, James?"

"Yes'm, just as you say."

After dinner, when Ruth broached the subject of furniture, she was gratified to find that Aunt Jane had no serious objections. "I kinder hate to part with it, Ruth," she said, "but in a way, as you may say, it's yours."

"'Tisn't like giving it away, Aunty--it's all in the family, and, as you say, you're not using it."

"That's so, and then James and me are likely to come and make you a long visit, so I'll get the good of it, too."

Ruth was momentarily stunned, but rallied enough to express great pleasure at the prospect. As Aunt Jane began to clear up the dishes, Mr. Ball looked at his niece, with a certain quiet joy, and then, unmistakably, winked.

"When you decide about the wedding present, Aunty, let me know, won't you?" she asked, as Mrs. Ball came in after the rest of the dishes. "Mr.

Winfield would like to send you a remembrance also." Then Ruth added, to her conscience, "I know he would."

"He seems like a pleasant-spoken feller," remarked Aunt Jane. "You can ask him to supper to-night, if you like."

"Thank you, Aunty, but we're going to Miss Ainslie's."

"Huh!" snorted Mrs. Ball. "Mary Ainslie ain't got no sperrit!" With this enigmatical statement, she sailed majestically out of the room.

During the afternoon, Ruth finished her packing, leaving out a white shirt-waist to wear to Miss Ainslie's. When she went down to the parlour to wait for Winfield, Aunt Jane appeared, with her husband in her wake.

"Ruth," she announced, "me and James have decided on a weddin' present.

I would like a fine linen table-cloth and a dozen napkins."

"All right, Aunty."

"And if Mr. Winfield is disposed to it, he can give me a lemonade set--one of them what has different coloured tumblers belongin' to it."

"He'll be pleased to send it, Aunty; I know he will."

"I'm a-layin' out to take part of them two hundred dollars what's sewed up in James's belt, and buy me a new black silk," she went on. "I've got some real lace to trim it with, whet dames give me in the early years of our engagement. Don't you think a black silk is allers nice, Ruth?"

"Yes, it is, Aunty; and just now, it's very stylish."

"You appear to know about such things. I guess I'll let you get it for me in the city when you buy the weddin' present. I'll give you the money, and you can get the linin's too, while you're about it."

"I'll send you some samples, Aunty, and then you can take your choice."

"And--" began Mrs. Ball.

"Did you know Mrs. Pendleton was going away, Aunty?" asked Ruth, hastily.

"Do tell! Elmiry Peavey goin' travellin'?"

"Yes, she's going somewhere for a visit--I don't know just where."

"I had laid out to take James and call on Elmiry," she said, stroking her ap.r.o.n thoughtfully, while a shadow crossed Mr. Ball's expressive face; "but I guess I'll wait now till I get my new black silk. I want her to know I've done well."

A warning hiss from the kitchen and the odour of burning sugar impelled Aunt Jane to a hasty exit just as Winfield came. Uncle James followed them to the door.

"Niece Ruth," he said, hesitating and fumbling at his belt, "be you goin' to get merried?"

"I hope so, Uncle," she replied kindly.

"Then--then--I wish you'd take this and buy you sunthin' to remember your pore old Uncle James by." He thrust a trembling hand toward her, and offered her a twenty dollar bill.

"Why, Uncle!" she exclaimed. "I mustn't take this! Thank you ever so much, but it isn't right!"

"I'd be pleased," he said plaintively. "'Taint as if I wan's accustomed to money. My store was wuth five or six hundred dollars, and you've been real pleasant to me, Niece Ruth. Buy a hair wreath for the parlour, or sunthin' to remind you of your pore old Uncle."

Winfield pressed her arm warningly, and she tucked the bill into her chatelaine bag. "Thank you, Uncle!" she said; then, of her own accord, she stooped and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

A mist came into the old man's eyes, and he put his hand to his belt again, but she hurriedly led Winfield away. "Ruth," he said, as they went down the hill, "you're a sweet girl. That was real womanly kindness to the poor devil."

"Shall I be equally kind to all 'poor devils'?"

"There's one more who needs you--if you attend to him properly, it will be enough."

"I don't see how they're going to get Aunty's silk gown and a ring like mine and a haircloth parlour suit and publish a book with less than two hundred dollars, do you?"

"Hardly--Joe says that he gave Hepsey ten dollars. There's a great discussion about the spending of it."

"I didn't know--I feel guilty."

"You needn't, darling. There was nothing else for you to do. How did you succeed with your delicate mission?"

"I managed it," she said proudly. "I feel that I was originally destined for a diplomatic career." He laughed when she described the lemonade set which she had promised in his name.

"I'll see that the furniture is shipped tomorrow," he a.s.sured her; "and then I'll go on a still hunt for the gaudy gla.s.sware. I'm blessed if I don't give 'em a silver ice pitcher, too."

"I'm in for a table-cloth and a dozen napkins," laughed Ruth; "but I don't mind. We won't bury Uncle's wedding present, will we?"

"I should say not! Behold the effect of the card, long before it's printed."

"I know," said Ruth, seriously, "I'll get a silver spoon or something like that out of the twenty dollars, and then I'll spend the rest of it on something nice for Uncle James. The poor soul isn't getting any wedding present, and he'll never know."

"There's a moral question involved in that," replied Winfield. "Is it right to use his money in that way and a.s.sume the credit yourself?"

"We'll have to think it over," Ruth answered. "It isn't so very simple after all."

Miss Ainslie was waiting for them in the garden and came to the gate to meet them. She wore a gown of lavender taffeta, which rustled and shone in the sunlight. The skirt was slightly trained, with a dust ruffle underneath, and the waist was made in surplice fashion, open at the throat. A bertha of rarest Brussels lace was fastened at her neck with the amethyst pin, inlaid with gold and surrounded by baroque pearls. The ends of the bertha hung loosely and under it she had tied an ap.r.o.n of sheerest linen, edged with narrow d.u.c.h.esse lace. Her hair was coiled softly on top of her head, with a string of amethysts and another of pearls woven among the silvery strands.

"Welcome to my house," she said, smiling, Winfield at once became her slave. She talked easily, with that exquisite cadence which makes each word seem like a gift, but there was a certain subtle excitement in her manner, which Ruth did not fail to perceive. When Winfield was not looking at Miss Ainslie, her eyes rested upon him with a wondering hunger, mingled with tenderness and fear.