That Mother-in-Law of Mine Part 10

His mother abruptly stopped stirring her coffee, and her spine visibly stiffened, but she said nothing.

"The event will occur without delay. Of course it is useless to inform you who is the-"

"Quite useless," Mrs. Pinkerton broke in; "my wishes in the matter are not of the slightest consequence to you."

"On the contrary. Now, look here; don't be so infernally quick to antic.i.p.ate my wilfulness. I want to conform to your wishes if I can.

_Que faire?_"

"We will talk about it after breakfast."

Accordingly, there was a serious pa.s.sage-at-arms in the library after breakfast. George left the house a conqueror, but the conquered had no sort of intention of abandoning the campaign after a Bull Run defeat. In fact, war had only just been declared. It must not be supposed that it was a war the movements of which could be followed by the acutest military observer; the batteries were all masked, but the gunpowder was there. I felt confident that George would carry everything before him, and he did. He brought Miss Van over to spend the evening, and we had the pleasantest time imaginable. He would not allow his mother to say a word against Miss Van, and made a fair show of proving that the latter had, not only better blood, but also better breeding and a truer sense of propriety than my mother-in-law, that is, "when it came to the scratch," as George said. "But who would give a snap for a young woman who can't throw aside the shackles of conventionality once in a while, and be herself?"

Miss Van was her own jolliest, sweetest self at this time. Her beauty had never been so noticeable: joy is an excellent cosmetic, and love paints far better than rouge or powder.

As soon as Mrs. Pinkerton had recovered from her defeat, and when the engagement had become an acknowledged fact which all the world might know, the wedding began to loom up before us, and I could not help wondering if St. Thomas's Church was to be the scene of as fashionable and grand a display as on the occasion when Bessie and myself were made one.

I felt reasonably certain that Mrs. Pinkerton would make an effort to that end, and I was curious to see how George would look on it.

Bessie, I think, would have been glad to see the marriage take place with as much pomp and show as possible. She was intensely interested in what Clara should wear, and every visit from that young woman was the occasion for a vast deal of confidential and no doubt highly important _tete-a-tete_ consultation.

Mother-in-law sailed into the library one evening with unusual celerity of movement.

"George, dear," she said, "this cannot be true! You would not permit such an eccentric, uncivilized proceeding. Surely you will not offend our friends by-"

"Avast there! Our friends be hanged!" cried George wickedly. "Yes, it's true, too true. The ceremony will be private, and no cards. You can come, though! Next Wednesday, at two o'clock, sharp!"

This was cruel. I could see his mother almost stagger under the blow.

She attempted to remonstrate, but it was too late. George a.s.sured her that "it was all fixed," and that Clara had agreed with him regarding the details.

"Honest old John Stephens will tie the knot," said he, "and it will be just as tight as if Dr. McCanon manipulated the holy bonds. I trust we shall have the pleasure of your company, mother. Consider yourself invited. A few of the choicest spirits will be on hand. Clara will wear the most exquisite gray travelling suit you ever laid eyes on."

The widow was flanked, outgeneralled, routed along the whole line. She brought forward all her reserve forces of good-breeding, and thus escaped a disastrous panic by retiring in good order.

The ceremony occurred, as George had announced, the following Wednesday. The near relatives and best friends of the young couple were present, and it was a quiet and thoroughly enjoyable affair for all who partic.i.p.ated. An hour after they had been p.r.o.nounced man and wife, George and his bride rode away to take the train for the mountains.

"And on her lover's arm she leant, And round her waist she felt it fold, And far across the hills they went In that new world which is the old."

CHAPTER XII.

BABY TALK, OLD DIVES, AND OTHER THINGS.

The cottage seemed dull enough after the departure of George with his bride. Bessie was so absorbed by the care of our little one that she had very little time to think of anything else, and in fact the new-comer, for the time being, monopolized the attention of his grandmother as well as of his mother. I was therefore left to my own resources.

"Baby is not very well, Charlie," Bessie informed me, one morning, with an anxious air. "Do you think it would do to wrap him up well and take him for a little ride this afternoon?"

"Yes, that's a good idea. If I can get that black horse at the livery stable, I'll bring him around this afternoon. But I don't see why you should wrap him up. It's hot as blazes."

"You don't know anything about babies, Charlie. Go along. Get a nice, easy carriage, and we'll take mother with us. I long for a ride."

I departed, and secured the desired "team."

Towards two o'clock I drove up to the cottage, and the entire family bundled into the vehicle, and we were off. I chose a pleasant, shady road, and drove slowly, while Bessie and her mother filled the air with baby talk.

As we were climbing the hill near Linwood, I saw, a short distance ahead of us, the form of an elderly gentleman toiling up the ascent in the sun. He seemed fatigued, and stopped as we drew near him, to wipe the beads of perspiration from his brow.

"Why, it's Mr. Desmond!" exclaimed Bessie.

Sure enough! As he turned toward us I recognized the white vest, the expansive shirt-front, and the resplendent watch-chain that could belong to no other than "old Dives" himself.

"How d'ye do?" I cried, halting our fiery steed.

"Ah! Mr. Travers, Mrs. Pinkerton, how do you do? Delighted to meet you.

It's very warm."

"How came you so far out in the country afoot?" I asked.

"I had some business at Melton, and lost the 2:30 train back to town, so I started to walk to Linwood with the purpose of taking a train on the other road. They told me it was only a mile and a half, but-." And he sighed significantly.

"How fortunate that we met you," said Mrs. Pinkerton quickly, taking the words out of my mouth. "Get in and ride to Linwood with us. We have a vacant seat, you see."

I seconded her invitation, and without much hesitation he accepted, and took a seat by my side. The conversation turned naturally upon the "young couple" (Bessie and I were no longer referred to in that way), and Mr. Desmond extolled his niece unreservedly. Mother-in-law was evidently somewhat impressed, but I think she made some mental reservations.

"Will you smoke, Mr. Desmond?" I asked, offering him a cigar.

"No, I thank you."

"Oh, I had forgotten you did not approve of the habit. Excuse me."

Mrs. Pinkerton explained to Mr. Desmond, apologetically, that I was an irresponsible victim of the nicotine poison. I laughed, but Mr. Desmond received the explanation solemnly, and expressed his abhorrence for "the weed."

The old gentleman professed great admiration for baby, and said that he looked exactly like his mother; in fact, the resemblance was almost startling.

By the time we had got to Linwood, our pa.s.senger had talked himself into a state of good-humor, and we left him at the railroad station, bowing and smiling with true old-school _aplomb_.

Bessie thought the ride did Charlie, junior, good, and so it became a regular thing, on pleasant afternoons, to take him out for a little airing. Mrs. Pinkerton overcame her scruples, and usually accompanied us. A sample of the sweet converse held with my son and heir on the back seat will suffice:-

"Sodywazzaleetlecatchyk.u.ms! 'Esoodavab.o.o.bangy! Mamma's cunnin'

kitten-baby!"

One day, just before noon, when I had been making a mental calculation as to how I should be able to cover the livery-stable bill, a fine equipage stopped in front of the bank, and through the window I saw the stately driver hand a note to our errand-boy. In a moment Tommy appeared in the room and handed me the billet, which ran thus:-

MY DEAR MR. TRAVERS,-I trust you will not take it amiss if I send my coachman out your way once in a while to exercise the ponies. Since Clara's taking-off, they have stood still too much, and knowing that you go to ride occasionally with your family, I take the liberty of putting them at your disposal for the present, with instructions to John, who is a careful and trustworthy driver, to place himself at your service whenever you are so disposed. The obligation will be entirely on my part, if you will kindly take a turn behind the ponies whenever you choose. My regards to your wife and Mrs. Pinkerton.

Believe me yours sincerely,