Miss Dexie Part 50

"MR. DANUEL SHADRACH PLAISTED,"

and carried it herself to the post office.

As she pa.s.sed the fish market her attention was attracted by some very fine shad displayed for sale, and they immediately suggested a further means of accomplishing her revenge, so she ordered a supply.

Dexie sought her mother directly she arrived home.

"Don't you think we might ask Mr. Plaisted to dinner to-morrow, mamma?" she asked.

"Please yourself, Dexie; but if he is asked, you must see about the dinner yourself. It will not do to trust Eliza to get up anything extra, you know."

"The dinner shall be well served, but I have a favor to ask, mamma. If Mr.

Plaisted is present, will you praise or condemn the fish course--at the table, I mean; praise it highly, or condemn it heartily."

"Well, I cannot see your object in making such a request, Dexie," said her mother in surprise, "but I will not be indifferent, if that is what you mean."

The next morning, when Mr. Sherwood was drawing on his gloves to go to his office, Dexie followed him out to the hall, and as she brushed a few specks from his coat, asked:

"If you see Mr. Plaisted this morning, will you send or bring him up to dinner; but don't say that I told you to ask him?"

"Well, what's in the wind now? I thought you did not care for Mr.

Plaisted's society," regarding her intently.

"An invitation to dinner does not mean that I have changed my opinion of him, does it? He has been quite unbearable, so I'm going to 'heap coals of fire on his head.'"

The roguish gleam in her eyes, and the smile she could not conceal, made her father think that there was more in the invitation than he understood, and he surmised that the "coals of fire" were not absolutely figurative.

"All right! I'll see that he gets the invitation. What shall I order for dinner?"

"Nothing, papa; I have everything ready for our expected guest, so don't let him disappoint me."

"Hum-m! there's something up, sure enough; though I can't see through it yet," he said to himself as he walked thoughtfully away.

"So far, so good," said Dexie, _sotto voce_. "How I wish I could have seen Shadrach when he opened his valentine this morning!"

Dexie would have felt satisfied that her shaft had struck home had she seen Plaisted when he had "taken in" the contents of his valentine.

He had stepped into the office to mail Gussie's valentine, and was much surprised when a beautiful envelope was placed in his hands. It held something very sweet and delicate, no doubt, and as he turned aside he pressed it to his lips.

Observing the name of Shadrach, he felt sure it must have come from Gussie; no one else knew his second name, so she must have sent this sweet love-token. It was hardly fair to write out his name in full; but, of course, it was only done to make known the ident.i.ty of the sender. He thrust it into his pocket and hastened to his hotel, where in the privacy of his own room he could enjoy it without interruption. The loving words he expected to find were certainly there, yet as he read them a dark frown gathered on his brow:

"Dear Danuel Shadrach! thy valentine speaks, While the rosy red blushes surmantle her cheeks; And the joys of requital brings tears to her eye.

Now, Shadrach! my Shadrach! I'm yours till I die.

"The heart that was scornful and cold as a stone, Rejoices to hear the sweet sound of your name; Farewell to the miseries and griefs I have had, But I cannot forget them! dear Shadrach! my Shad!

"Dear Shadrach! my Shadrach! my troubles are o'er, My name in its fulness you'll whisper no more; Or your own sweet cognomen will make you feel sad, For I hold the whip-handle! Oh Shadrach! my Shad!"

Mr. Plaisted read the lines over several times before he comprehended their meaning, or understood what connection the absurd picture had with them; but when the whole force of the matter struck him, his rage was uncontrollable. He crumpled the valentine in his hands and threw it with all his force towards the fire, but in his anger he aimed too high, and it struck against the wall and bounced back at him, as if those hateful words were hurling themselves at him.

"Ha! if I only knew who sent that, I'd--"

Words failed to express the punishment awaiting the author of those insulting verses. But wait! did he know the handwriting? at thought of Dexie Sherwood's previous productions coming to his mind. Ah! that last verse seemed to throw out a hint! He looked at his tormentor closely, and doubted. That envelope, yes, Gussie must have sent it, for she had spelled his name "Danuel." He never would have thought that Gussie would be guilty of such a thing. He would go away on the next train and never look on her face again. Yes, he would go at once, and forget the whole cursed stuff--said "cursed stuff" being the affectionate lines which continued to haunt him after the manner of the mind-destroying craze which Mark Twain inflicted on a later generation, "Punch, brothers, punch with care;" for as he walked down the street the words kept time to his feet, the train bells echoed them, and it was those very words that pealed a warning at the crossing. So intent were his thoughts on the affectionate lines that he was oblivious to everything around him, and Mr. Sherwood spoke his name twice before Plaisted awoke from his reverie.

He felt inclined to refuse the kindly-worded invitation to dinner which Mr.

Sherwood extended to him, but, on second thoughts, accepted it; he would satisfy himself as to whether Gussie sent the valentine or not. But it took only a few questions to a.s.sure him that Gussie was innocent, after all, and she seemed so offended when he asked if she had told his name to anyone that he felt compelled to believe she knew nothing of the matter. Gussie was too much enraptured with her own valentine to take much note of Plaisted's abstracted manner, for even the sight of Gussie's pretty face did not put aside the memory of those tormenting lines.

But his torture was only begun. Dexie was determined to crowd into a few hours the annoyance he had spread over several days in her case. Her plans were well laid, and she had even studied a book of statistics for his benefit. A few minutes before dinner was announced, while Gussie was adding a few touches to her toilet, Dexie came into her room, and, after a few general remarks, said: "Mr. Plaisted has come to dinner, has he not?"

"Yes, papa sent him up. I hope you have something nice for dinner, Dexie."

This was the very question that Dexie hoped to hear, so she replied: "Oh!

yes, I think it will pa.s.s. There is some nicely-cooked shad for the fish course; but if that does not suit Mr. Plaisted's fancy, there is sufficient besides. Say, Gussie, I don't often ask a favor, but I wish to-day you would praise the shad."

"Praise the shad! Why on earth should I praise the shad! If it is cooked nice, isn't that enough?"

"No, Gussie, not for this occasion; I'm afraid Mr. Plaisted will not be partial to shad, but if the rest of us seem to like it, of course he cannot refuse it."

"Oh! all right. I'll not only praise the shad, but I'll make Mr. Plaisted think there is nothing I like better."

Gussie hastened down to the parlor, where Mr. Plaisted was waiting, while Dexie threw herself into a chair in m.u.f.fled shrieks of laughter.

"There, now, I guess I can keep a straight face till the time arrives;" and a few minutes later she followed the family to the dining-room.

There was certainly nothing amiss in the manner of the cooking or serving of the shad, and the presence of this particular fish at the table did not strike Plaisted as unusual, until Mr. Sherwood asked if he would be "helped to shad."

His mind by this time had become almost normal, but that one word threw him back into his former state, and brought again that tormenting refrain, "Dear Shadrach! my Shad!" He glared at the dish containing the fish as if he would annihilate it; but, hastily collecting his scattering senses, he took the plate Mr. Sherwood pa.s.sed him, thinking it a strange coincidence that the never-till-now hated fish should be thrust before him at this moment. He tried to be his natural self, but those haunting lines had full possession of him, and every mouthful seemed to choke him.

Dexie was watching him closely, and felt sure that his abstraction was due to the one cause, and she silently enjoyed his discomfiture.

Gussie, who sat opposite, also noticed it, and remembering her promise to Dexie, began:

"Oh! Mr. Plaisted, I'm afraid you do not care for shad! How unfortunate that we happen to have it for dinner to-day! We are all very fond of shad, myself especially, and this is very nicely cooked, just to my liking," and she gave Dexie a sideward look.

"Yes, we _all_ like shad, even to the cat," said the irrepressible Georgie.

"I found her with her nose in the basket the first thing."

"Be quiet, sir!" said the father sternly, and Georgie obediently subsided, while Dexie could hardly repress a giggle.

"Let me help you to another piece, Plaisted," said Mr. Sherwood. "What! not any more? It is not often we get such good shad in an inland town. Halifax is the place for fine shad! In the season, when the catch is fair, you can get your pick for a song almost, but here, I expect, their scarcity makes them of more value."

"Yes," replied Dexie, "they are rather dear, _dear shad_," and she looked intently at her plate, well knowing how Plaisted was glaring at her. "Yes,"

she added, "I call them dear shad when one has to pick over such a quant.i.ty of bones before getting a satisfactory mouthful, don't you, Mr. Plaisted?"

But Mr. Plaisted laid down his knife and fork, and returned her look with interest.

"I fear you are not making a dinner at all, Mr. Plaisted," Mrs. Sherwood put in. "You do not seem to care for shad."

"No! I detest them, though I was not aware of the fact till to-day," he replied.