Nobody Part 62

CHAPTER XXV.

ROAST PIG.

Mrs. Barclay seemed to have entirely regained her usual composure and even her usual spirits, which indeed were never high. She said she enjoyed the walk, which she and Lois took in company, Madge having gone with her grandmother and Charity in Mrs. Marx's waggon. The winter evening was falling grey, and the grey was growing dark; and there was something in the dusky stillness, and soft, half-defined lines of the landscape, with the sharp, crisp air, which suited the mood of both ladies. The stars were not visible yet; the western horizon had still a glow left from the sunset; and houses and trees stood like dark solemn ghosts along the way before the end of the walk was reached. They talked hardly at all, but Mrs. Barclay said when she got to Mrs.

Marx's, that the walk had been delightful.

At Mrs. Marx's all was in holiday perfection of order; though that was the normal condition of things, indeed, where that lady ruled. The paint of the floors was yellow and shining; the carpets were thick and bright; the table was set with great care; the great chimney in the upper kitchen where the supper was prepared, was magnificent with its blazing logs. So was a lesser fireplace in the best parlour, where the guests were first received; but supper was ready, and they adjourned to the next room. There the table invited them most hospitably, loaded with dainties such as people in the country can get at Christmas time.

One item of the entertainment not usual at Christmas time was a roast pig; its brown and glossy back making a very conspicuous object at one side of the board.

"I thought I'd surprise you all," remarked the satisfied hostess; for she knew the pig was done to a turn; "and anything you don't expect tastes twice as good. I knew ma' liked pig better'n anything; and I think myself it's about the top sheaf. I suppose nothin' can be a surprise to Mrs. Barclay."

"Why do you suppose so?" asked that lady.

"I thought you'd seen everything there was in the world, and a little more."

"Never saw a roast pig before in my life. But I have read of them."

"Read of them!" exclaimed their hostess. "In a cook-book, likely?"

"Alas! I never read a cook-book."

"No more didn't I; but you'll excuse me, I didn't believe you carried it all in your head, like we folks."

"I have not a bit of it in my head, if you mean the art of cookery. I have a profound respect for it; but I know nothing about it whatever."

"Well, you're right to have a respect for it. Uncle Tim, do you just give Mrs. Barclay some of the best of that pig, and let us see how she likes it. And the stuffing, uncle Tim, and the gravy; and plenty of the crackle. Mother, it's done just as you used to do it."

Mrs. Barclay meanwhile surveyed the company. Mrs. Armadale sat at the end of the table; placid and pleasant as always, though to Mrs. Barclay her aspect had somewhat of the severe. She did not smile much, yet she looked kindly over her a.s.sembled children. Uncle Tim was her brother; Uncle Tim Hotchkiss. He had the so frequent New England mingling of the shrewd and the benevolent in his face; and he was a much more jolly personage than his sister; younger than she, too, and still vigorous.

Unlike her, also, he was a handsome man; had been very handsome in his young days; and, as Mrs. Barclay's eye roved over the table, she thought few could show a better a.s.semblage of comeliness than was gathered round this one. Madge was strikingly handsome in her well-fitting black dress; Lois made a very plain brown stuff seem resplendent; she had a little fleecy white woollen shawl wound about her shoulders, and Mrs. Barclay could hardly keep her eyes away from the girl. And if the other members of the party were less beautiful in feature, they had every one of them in a high degree the stamp of intellect and of character. Mrs. Barclay speculated upon the strange society in which she found herself; upon the odd significance of her being there; and on the possible outcome, weighty and incalculable, of the connection of the two things. So intently that she almost forgot what she was eating, and she started at Mrs. Marx's sudden question--"Well, how do you like it? Charity, give Mrs. Barclay some pickles--what she likes; there's sweet pickle, that's peaches; and sharp pickle, that's red cabbage; and I don' know which of 'em she likes best; and give her some apple--have you got any apple sauce, Mrs.

Barclay?"

"Thank you, everything; and everything is delicious."

"That's how things are gen'ally, in Mrs. Marx's hands," remarked uncle Tim. "There ain't her beat for sweets and sours in all the country."

"Mrs. Barclay's accustomed to another sort o' doings," said their hostess. "I didn't know but she mightn't like our ways."

"I like them very much, I a.s.sure you."

"There ain't no better ways than Shampuashuh ways," said uncle Tim. "If there be, I'd like to see 'em once. Lois, you never see a handsomer dinner'n this in New York, did you? Come now, and tell. _Did_ you?"

"I never saw a dinner where things were better of their kind, uncle Tim."

Mrs. Barclay smiled to herself. That will do, she thought.

"Is that an answer?" said uncle Tim. "I'll be shot if I know."

"It is as good an answer as I can give," returned Lois, smiling.

"Of course she has seen handsomer!" said Mrs. Marx. "If you talk of elegance, we don't pretend to it in Shampuashuh. Be thankful if what you have got is good, uncle Tim; and leave the rest."

"Well, I don't understand," responded uncle Tim. "Why shouldn't Shampuashuh be elegant, I don't see? Ain't this elegant enough for anybody?"

"'Tain't elegant at all," said Mrs. Marx. "If this was in one o' the elegant places, there'd be a bunch o' flowers in the pig's mouth, and a ring on his tail."

At the face which uncle Tim made at this, Lois's gravity gave way; and a perfect echo of laughter went round the table.

"Well, I don' know what you're all laughin' at nor what you mean," said the object of their merriment; "but I should uncommonly like to know."

"Tell him, Lois," cried Madge, "what a dinner in New York is like. You never did tell him."

"Well, I'm ready to hear," said the old gentleman. "I thought a dinner was a dinner; but I'm willin' to learn."

"Tell him, Lois!" Madge repeated.

"It would be very stupid for Mrs. Barclay," Lois objected.

"On the contrary!" said that lady. "I should very much like to hear your description. It is interesting to hear what is familiar to us described by one to whom it is novel. Go on, Lois."

"I'll tell you of one dinner, uncle Tim," said Lois, after a moment of consideration. "_All_ dinners in New York, you must understand, are not like this; this was a grand dinner."

"Christmas eve?" suggested uncle Tim.

"No. I was not there at Christmas; this was just a party. There were twelve at table.

"In the first place, there was an oval plate of looking-gla.s.s, as long as this table--not quite so broad--that took up the whole centre of the table." Here Lois was interrupted.

"Looking-gla.s.s!" cried uncle Tim.

"Did you ever hear anything so ridiculous?" said Charity.

"Looking-gla.s.s to set the hot dishes on?" said Mrs. Marx, to whom this story seemed new.

"No; not to set anything on. It took up the whole centre of the table.

Round the edge of this looking-gla.s.s, all round, was a border or little fence of solid silver, about six or eight inches high; of beautiful wrought open-work; and just within this silver fence, at intervals, stood most exquisite little white marble statues, about a foot and a half high. There must have been a dozen of them; and anything more beautiful than the whole thing was, you cannot imagine."

"I should think they'd have been awfully in the way," remarked Charity.

"Not at all; there was room enough all round outside for the plates and gla.s.ses."

"The looking-gla.s.s, I suppose, was for the pretty ladies to see themselves in!"

"Quite mistaken, uncle Tim; one could not see the reflection of oneself; only bits of one's opposite neighbours; little flashes of colour here and there; and the reflection of the statuettes on the further side; it was prettier than ever you can think."