The Rejuvenation of Aunt Mary Part 22

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - AUNT MARY EN FeTE

Aunt Mary descended the stairs about half-past nine; she thought it was about a quarter to eight, but the difference between the hour that it was and the hour that she thought that it was will be all the same a hundred years from now.

Jack came out of the Louis XIV. drawing room when he heard her step in the hall. There was another young man with him.

"This is my friend Burnett, Aunt Mary," her nephew roared. "You must excuse his not bowing lower, but you know he broke his collarbone recently."

Aunt Mary shook hands warmly; she knew all about the ribs and the collarbone, because they had formed big items in the testimony which had momentarily and as momentously relegated Jack to the comradeship of the devil himself, in her eyes. However, she recalled them merely as facts now-not at all in a disagreeable way-and gave Burnett an extra squeeze of good-fellowship, as she said:

"You had a narrow escape, young man."

"I didn't have any escape at all," said Burnett. "The escape went down at the back, and I had to jump from a cornice."

"Burnett is going out to dine with us, Aunt Mary," said Jack. "There's so little he can eat on account of his ribs that he's a good dinner guest for me."

Jack's aunt felt vaguely uncomfortable over this allusion to her grand-nephew's circ.u.mstances, and coughed in slight embarra.s.sment.

Burnett opened the door, and the carriage lamp shone below. (Is there ever anything more delightfully suggestive than a carriage lamp shining down below?) They took her down and put her in, and the carriage rolled away.

It was that June when "Bedelia" covered nearly the whole of the political horizon; it was the date of June when West Point, Va.s.sar, the Blue, the Red, the Black and Yellow and every known device for getting rid of young and growing-up America are all cast loose at once on our fair land. The streets were a scene of glorious confusion, and but for Aunt Mary no considerations could have kept Burnett's collarbone and Jack's melancholia cooped up in a closed carriage. As it was, they were both fidgeting like two youthful Uncle Sams in a European railway coupe, when the latter suddenly exclaimed: "Here we are!" and threw open the door as he spoke.

Then he got out and Burnett got out and between them they got Aunt Mary out.

Aunt Mary regarded the awning and carpet and general glitter with a more or less appalled gaze.

"Looks like-" she began; and was interrupted by a voice at her side:

"h.e.l.lo, Jack!"

"h.e.l.lo, Clover!"

She turned and saw him of the pale mustache whom we once met in Mrs.

Rosscott's drawing room. He was in no wise altered since that occasion except that his attire was slightly more resplendent and he had on a silk hat.

Jack shook hands warmly and then he turned to his relative.

"Aunt Mary, this is my friend Clover; he's often heard me speak of you."

"Glad to meet you, Mr. Rover," said Aunt Mary, cordially, and she, too, shook hands with that cordiality that flourishes beyond city limits.

Her nephew bent over her ear-trumpet.

"Clover!" he howled, with all the strength he owned.

"I heard before," said Aunt Mary, somewhat coldly.

"Come on and dine with us, Clover," said Jack; "that'll make four." (By the way, isn't it odd how many people ask their friends to dinner for the simple reason that, arithmetically considered, each counts as one!)

"All right, I will," said Clover, in his languid drawl.

Aunt Mary saw his lips.

"It's no use my deceivin' you as to my bein' a little hard of hearin',"

she said to him, "because you can see my ear-trumpet; so I'll trouble you to say that over again."

"All right, I will," Clover wailed, good-humoredly.

"What?" asked Aunt Mary. "I didn't-"

Jack cut her short by leading the party inside.

The scene within was as gorgeous with golden stucco as the dining-room of a German liner. Aunt Mary was so overcome that she traversed half the room before she became aware of the mighty attention which she and her three escorts were attracting. In truth, it is not every day that three good-looking young men take a tiny old lady, a bunch of violets and an ear-trumpet out to dine at ten o'clock.

"Everyone's lookin'," she said to Jack.

"It's your back, Aunt Mary," he replied, in a voice that shook some loose golden flakes from the ceiling. "I tell you, not many women of your age have a back like yours, and don't you forget it."

The compliment pleased Aunt Mary, because she had all her life been considered round-shouldered. It also pleased her because she never had received many compliments. The Aunt Marys of this world love flattery just as dearly as the Mrs. Rosscotts; the sad part of life is that they rarely get any. The women like Mrs. Rosscott know why the Aunt Marys go unflattered, but the Aunt Marys never understand. It's all sad-and true-and undeniable.

They went to a table, and were barely seated when another man came up.

"h.e.l.lo, Jack!"

"h.e.l.lo, Mitch.e.l.l!"

It was he of Scotch ancestry. Jack sprang up and greeted him with warmth, then he turned to Aunt Mary.

"Aunt Mary," he screamed, "this is my friend"-he paused, put on all steam and ploughed right through-"Herbert Kendrick Mitch.e.l.l."

"I didn't catch that at all," said Aunt Mary, calmly, "but I'm just as glad to meet the gentleman."

Mitch.e.l.l clasped her hand with an expression as burning as if it was real.

"I declare," he yelled straight at her, "if this isn't what I've been dreaming towards ever since I first knew Jack."

Aunt Mary fairly shone.

"Dear me," she began, "if I'd known-"

"You'd better dine with us, Mitch.e.l.l," said Jack; "that'll make five."

"It won't make but three for me," said Mitch.e.l.l. "I haven't had but two dinners before to-night."

Clover smiled because he heard, and Aunt Mary smiled because she didn't, but was happy anyway. She had altogether forgotten that she had demurred at dining out. They all sat down and shook out their napkins. Mitch.e.l.l and Clover shook Aunt Mary's for her and gave it a beautiful cornerways spread across her lap.