A GLAD SURPRISE
Doctor Joe stood at the doorway of the Institute. It was still in Madison Street, though it was to go up-town and be transformed into a college. The girls came trooping out,—they were really girls then, and had a deliciously girlish air.
"Oh, Joe!" cried Hanny, glancing up rather in amaze. What had happened?
He bowed gravely to some of her compeers. They thought Jim splendid; but they stood a little in awe of grave Doctor Joe.
"I have come for you to go and make a call," he said. "Let me take your books."
She glanced up the street.
"Oh, this isn't in style," he began laughingly. "I have neither coach nor four."
"Then we will have a nice walk. Where? Down at the Battery?"
She had such a sweet, eager face, and she was so easily pleased.
"We will go over to Broadway, first," he replied. "Then—well, wherever you like."
So they chatted as they walked along, across City Hall Square, where the fountain was still playing on sunny days.
The Astor House was yet in its glory. She wondered a little, as they walked up the stone steps, through the hall, and then up the thickly padded stairs, and into the spacious parlour.
A lady, dressed in black, was standing by the window, and turned smilingly. Hanny was bewildered by a familiar likeness. Then a young girl sprang up from the sofa; and Hanny caught a glint of golden curls, as she was clasped in the outstretched arms.
"Oh, Hanny!"
"Oh, Daisy!"
That was all they said for a moment or two. They cried a little, as people often do, out of pure gladness, and just hugged each other tighter.
"I was so afraid I never should see you again. Papa laughed. You know he has crossed the ocean so many times. If I hadn't been coming home, I suppose I shouldn't have been worried. But it seemed such a long, long while, and I was just crazy to see you, to get home. I don't believe I shall ever really want to go abroad again."
Hanny raised her head from Daisy Jasper's shoulder. Oh, what a tall girl she was! Her complexion was like pearl and blush roses; her hair was a wonderful gold; and her eyes, somehow, suggested the starry heaven at night. Hanny felt strangely abashed.
Then Mrs. Jasper claimed a greeting. Hanny knew that a year ago they had lost Aunt Ellen, with an attack of fever. Mrs. Jasper looked rather pale, but she had not changed.
"Why, you haven't grown a bit!" cried Daisy. "And look at me! You'll have to go to German baths, and all that, to get a good start. What a pity you did not go with us! I've had such a longing for girls. You don't get acquainted with them on the continent. They are always in the school-room. And I am just hungry, all the way through, for some one young and enthusiastic, and foolish and merry things to laugh at."
"But—I didn't know you were coming—"
"No, dear Doctor Joe kept the secret well. We did hope to be in on Saturday."
"Then you knew?" and she looked half reproachfully at her brother.
He laughed. He had only done Daisy's bidding.
"Now, if you want to keep Hanny to dinner, I'll come down this evening. I have a few calls to make," he announced presently.
"Indeed we do. You have so many folks, you might give me Hanny," and Daisy glanced at Doctor Joe with a bright, arch smile.
"If you took Hanny, you would have to take father and me, sure. The others might squeeze along without her; but I am afraid they would get thin on it."
Then the Doctor nodded and went his way.
"Now that you have Hanny, I will go and unpack one of the trunks," said Mrs. Jasper.
Hanny and Daisy went down in the corner of the long apartment, and took possession of a tête-à-tête.
"Oh, you are so changed!" cried the little girl "And so—so beautiful!"
"And so well! That's the loveliest thing. I can take long walks and dance, think of that! I am only a little lame. Just the merest crook in my back, and one leg a tiny bit shorter, but a thick sole makes it all right. And I've grown like a weed, while you are a tiny bit of something very choice,—a dainty little white rose. And I am so glad to have you again. Oh, don't let anything ever come between us! Let us be friends all our lives long. I have brought you a beautiful ring to bind friendship."
"Oh," sighed Hanny, in delight.
"And there have been so many changes! Oh, who do you think we met in London? Not Whittington and his cat, but Nora Whitney without her cat. And poor Pussy Gray is dead, and Nora is a tall young lady with a splendid voice, and will make a famous singer, I suppose. And Delia is getting to be famous too, I hear. It is odd, but she doesn't suggest a genius to my mind. I think you often are disappointed in geniuses. We saw some while abroad, and they did not come up to my expectations, or else one expects too much. Still there are some lovely faces."
"But she is just delightful! Only she keeps so busy, we do not see much of her."
"And poor little Tudie! How sad it was! I can sympathise with her sister now, for being an only child."
Then Hanny said Charlie had entered a theological seminary; and Daisy agreed being a clergyman would prove just the calling for him, he was so earnest and conscientious. Hanny had written everything, she thought; but Daisy was so eager to hear it all over again.
Mr. Jasper came in. He had been back and forth, and kept up the habit of calling on the Underhills, so nothing about Hanny surprised him.
The little girl felt rather startled when she went into the large dining-room. At this period, there were people who spent the whole season at the Astor House, though there were some newer hotels that were very attractive. It was like a grand party, Hanny thought. The ladies were so prettily attired, so bright and chatty.
When they went back to the parlour, that looked like a party, too. Hanny felt very plain in her school-dress. There were a number of Mr. Jasper's business friends, that he brought up to introduce to his wife and the two girls. But they were so busy talking, that they hardly noticed any one else.
Doctor Joe returned, armed with an invitation from Mrs. Underhill, for Mrs. Jasper and Daisy, to come up and make them a visit; and Mrs. Jasper said she should be glad to go somewhere, and find an old-fashioned American home-feeling. Daisy could hardly let Hanny go. Doctor Joe proposed that he should come for Daisy the next day, for she could not be of any special service to her mother until some plans were decided upon. That was a splendid thought.
They kissed and kissed, as if they were never to see each other again. Hanny's eyes were lustrous, and her cheeks pink with excitement. And there was so much to tell her mother.
"You must go to bed," declared Doctor Joe. "It is after ten."
"But, oh, my lessons! I have not looked at them."
"Never mind lessons now. You can get up early in the morning."
She was very tired, she had talked so much and listened so intently. And in five minutes she was asleep, in spite of the unlearned lessons.
She studied every moment the next morning, and all the way down in the stage, and managed to get through. She was a very good scholar ordinarily, and ambitious to have perfect recitations. But she kept counting the hours, for she could hardly believe Daisy Jasper was really at home.
Joe brought her up to the house when he had finished his round of calls. He handed her out quite as if she was a stylish young lady, though she was not in long gowns. But Joe was curiously proud of her, as being one of his first cases.
Everybody gave her a cordial welcome. Jim was at once her most devoted. Mrs. Underhill soon concluded foreign ways had not spoiled her; and grandmother said she was a pretty-behaved, intelligent girl. But, oh, the things she had seen, and done! She could talk French and German; she had taken painting-lessons from real artists, and had some pretty studies for Hanny, in a box not yet unpacked. She had brought the friendship ring, which was two tiny hands clasped over a sapphire with diamond sparks around it. Hanny's eyes shone with delight; she was getting quite a collection in the way of gifts.
Daisy seemed to bring a fascinating atmosphere. She was not forward, indeed there was often a pretty air of deprecation; but she had seen a good deal of society without being actually in it, and, since her aunt's death, had been her mother's companion. Her different lessons had mostly been given at home, except those in oil-painting; and there was no air of schools about her. She was so ready to be entertaining, so fresh, and yet with a charming simplicity.
"I am so glad for Hanny to have such a friend," her mother said to the Doctor. "She hasn't seemed to take any one to her heart since we have been up here; and it does make her seem a bit old-fashioned to be so much with elderly people."
"Yes. They seem to suit exactly."
Jim took them over to the Deans' one evening. Oh, what a merry talk they had about old times, for it did seem quite old to them. They recalled the day in summer, when the "caravan" went down Broadway to the store where Charles had been employed one vacation, and dear old First Street. Biddy Brady, who had danced for them, had run away and married a young Irishman. Old Mrs. McGiven still sold candies and cakes, and slate-pencils, and, oh, Washington pie that was almost as great a necessity to childhood then, as chewing-gum is now.
Mr. Jasper brought up the pictures when he escorted his wife. There were two pretty bits of landscape on the shore of Lake Geneva, and the other a Holland scene, with a stretch of canal and a queer house that looked as if it might topple over some day, if the foundation was washed out.
"But they never do," explained Daisy. "It's all so curious, and most of it so clean! And, oh, the windmills, and the queer costumes that have not changed in a century!"
Beside that there was a water-colour, a study of the most elegant tulips, painted from a real bed.
Hanny was wild with delight. They hung the pictures in her room, though Doctor Joe declared they ought to go in his study. He pretended to feel very badly that Daisy had not done anything for him.
"I will wait until I can paint something really worthy," she replied with a bright flush. "I owe you so much, that I ought to give you the very best. I mean to go on with my lessons. I love the work, and if I have any talent, it certainly is that."
"But you used to draw figures, faces," said Hanny, "and they were so real."
"In the summer I took lessons in miniature painting on ivory. I must confess that is my ambition; but it will take years to attain to perfection. I suppose now I ought to go to studying solid branches," and she laughed lightly. "I've begun wrong end first, with the accomplishments. But I had to talk German, for mamma wouldn't bother. And as she had not forgotten all her French, she went at that with me, and so I am a tolerable scholar. But I dare say Hanny could twist me all up with mathematics. I only know enough to count change. Still, I am quite an expert in foreign money. And, Hanny, were my sentences fearfully and wonderfully constructed, and did I slip up often on spelling?"
"I am quite sure you did not," protested Hanny.
"I do suppose she ought to go to a good school," said Mrs. Jasper.
"I am afraid I should not like school now. I could no longer be the heroine. And how could I descend to an ordinary station in life? Oh, Dr. Underhill, can't you interpose on the score of my still delicate health."
She had such a pretty colour in her cheeks, and her eyes shone with merriment.
"Doctor, you really must begin to be severe with her. She has her own way quite too much."
But it was a very charming way, they all thought. She roused Hanny to an unwonted brightness. Even grandmother laid claim to her, for she was delighted with her piquant description of places and people. She had heard Jenny Lind, and several other noted singers; but it seemed to her that the ovation to the Swedish Nightingale in New York must have been magnificent.
Jim claimed her when he was indoors; and they had many a merry bout. It hardly seemed possible that the few years could have wrought such a change in her. Ben took glowing accounts to Delia; and although she felt hurt and sore over the coolness of the Underhills, she did not abate one jot of her love for Ben.
She had been very busy arranging Nora's wardrobe, and now most of the care of the house devolved upon her. Mrs. Whitney would read for hours to Aunt Patty; often the old lady went soundly asleep. To be sure, matters were not attended to with the niceness of Mrs. Underhill; but Barbara was a treasure with her German neatness, and Bridget kept her kitchen at sixes and sevens. Mr. Theodore brought home one guest or three, with the same indifference; and if Ben's mother could have seen the cheerful manner in which Delia hurried about and arranged the table on short notice, she must have modified her opinion a little. Theodore was quite negligent about money-matters as well. Sometimes he was very lavish; then he would declare he was "dead broke," and she must do the best she could. Three or four of his friends would be in about ten, and couldn't she fix up a bit of something?
Sometimes she ran a little in debt; but when the good times came, she was only too eager to get matters straight. And she was so bright and gay with it all, and made Ben's visits so pleasant, that he sometimes forgot there was any trouble.
She had said decisively that they could not marry yet awhile; and Ben had accepted her fiat. But they did begin to plan for the journey abroad, and had a good deal of entertainment counting the cost, and considering where they would go.
"I should so like to see Daisy Jasper," she said.
"I will ask her to come down," answered Ben.
But Dolly invited them both up one Saturday, when Hanny and Daisy were to be there to tea. And Daisy told Delia about meeting Nora, and how happy she was in her new prospects.
She had been a little homesick, she wrote to Delia, but only for a few hours at a time. Madame Clavier was as careful as any mother could be, fussy, she thought sometimes; but no doubt it was for her good.
Daisy was very attractive to the children until Delia came, when they deserted their new friend for stories. Delia had not lost her girlish gift.
The Jaspers were a month making up their minds what to do, and then decided to board until spring at least. Joe found them a very pleasant place in their neighbourhood, to Hanny's delight. She was so glad to get her dear friend back again, sweet and unchanged; not but what she had found several charming girls at school, and some of them were just wild to see that lovely Miss Jasper, so her circle was widening all the time.
Margaret thought she ought to wear long dresses. Girls not quite grown up wore them to their gaiter-tops. Crisp, elegant button-boots had not come in, like a good many other excellent things. And Hanny was undeniably petite. Stretch up her very utmost, she hardly measured five feet. Women had not, by taking thought, added an inch to their stature by high heels. There were one or two "lifts" put in between the soles, called spring-heels; but the hats helped out a little.
"I haven't grown an inch this year," she declared ruefully. "And I am afraid I never will be any taller. It's queer, when all the rest of you are large."
"You are just right," said her father. "You will be my little girl all your life long."
Doctor Joe comforted her with the asseveration that he liked little women, "honest and true;" and Daisy also insisted she was just right.
"For you see how admirably your head goes down on my shoulder; and if we were the same size, we should be bumping heads. Queen Victoria is only five feet, and she is very queenly."
"But I am not queenly."
"No, but you could be, if you set about it."
She had some frocks to wear out that could not be let down; and her mother settled the question according to that for the present.
There was another thing that gave her a vague suspicion of being grown up, and that was cards.
The "quality" used visiting-cards; but it would have been considered underbred and pretentious to sow them around in the modern manner. They were kept for state occasions. Of course Dolly and Margaret had them; and Hanny thought Joseph B. Underhill, M. D., looked extremely elegant. Jim had some written ones in exquisite penmanship. He had not given up society because one girl had proved false and deceitful. He made a point of bowing distantly to Mrs. Williamson, and flushed even now at the thought of having been such a ninny!
Daisy Jasper's name was on her mother's cards. But you couldn't persuade Mrs. Underhill into any such nonsense. She declared if Joe brought her home any, she would put them in the fire. One day, however, he dropped a small white box into Hanny's lap, as she sat in his easy-chair, studying her lessons. It was too small for confectionery; it might be—she had coveted a pair of bracelets.
So she looked up with an inquiring smile.
"Open it, and see if they suit."
She was sure then it was bracelets.
There was white tissue-paper and something stiff. She tumbled the contents out in her lap. A few cards fell the plain side up. She turned one over. In very delicate script she saw—
"Miss Nan Underhill."
"Oh!" with a cry of delight. They called her Nan altogether at Stephen's, and the school-girls wrote her name in that manner. She often used it in writing notes. It looked so very attractive now.
"Oh, you lovely Joe!"
"They are nice to use with your girl-friends. There are a great many little society regulations that show refinement and good breeding, and I want you to observe them. When you get to be a middle-aged woman, Hannah Ann will look solid and dignified. I consulted Daisy and Mrs. Jasper, and both approved."
"Just a thousand thanks," and she threw up her arms to bring his face down within kissing reach.
The long skirt was settled by a rather peculiar circumstance.
We were beginning to have real literary aspirations, and some writers who attracted attention abroad. Miss Bremer had found a great many things to like in us; and Jenny Lind had been enthusiastic. Some Englishmen of note had been over and found we were not a nation of savages or red men, and that the best and highest in English literature was not unknown to us. Several of our writers had been abroad; and there was growing up a spirit of cordiality.
Then Thackeray was coming over to lecture on The English Humourists. Nearly everybody went to reading him. Some because it was, as we should say now, a "fad;" others because they wanted to appear conversant with his works; and a few because they had learned to understand and to love the wonderful touches of the master-pen. Boston received him with open arms. Then he was to visit the principal cities.
Ben and Delia were tremendously interested; and most of their talk was spiced with bits and quotations, and the telling scenes from his novels. Delia was beginning to have a good deal of discrimination and judgment. Sometimes, in moments of discouragement, she admitted to Ben that she was afraid she really hadn't any genius. Her novel had been recast ever so many times, and still languished.
Ben brought up tickets for Mr. Thackeray's second lecture. He had gone to the first one, and meant to hear them all. Joe must take Hanny, who would always regret it if she didn't hear him. He had seen Mr. Jasper; and they were all going the same evening.
Joe had meant to hear him. He was fond of hearing and seeing notable people, and kept his mind freshened up with all that was going on in the great world.
Hanny was delighted, of course, though the fact of listening with Daisy beside her added a great deal. They had an enthusiastic, rather school-girlish friendship. Daisy's mind was, of course, the more experienced. But with youthful fervor they were training themselves into perfect accord, en rapport, so they could look at each other and understand.
There was a really fine audience. And when the large, burly, broad-chested Englishman stepped on the platform, he had a cordial and enthusiastic welcome.
This evening he was at his best. His manner was clear and engaging; he moved his audience to tears and smiles. There was satire and tenderness and the marvellous insight that made him absolutely personify the writers he touched upon. The audience was charmed.
Hanny could not decide upon him. She was being won against her will, rather her preconceived notions; and yet her first feelings about him would return to disturb her. Mr. and Mrs. Jasper were delighted beyond expression; Joe was deeply interested, though he confessed he did not know Thackeray as he ought. He had read only one or two of the novels and the "Yellowplush Papers."
"I am going to read 'Vanity Fair' over again," said Hanny, when they reached home. "I didn't like it, really and truly."
"You are hardly old enough to enjoy such things," returned Joe. "Even I have not made up my mind, and I know I would not have liked them at seventeen. We believe in heroes and great deeds then, and the possibilities of life look grander to us than they do afterward. I suppose it is right that we should want to be pleased then."
Hanny felt that she wanted to be pleased with a story, or else very sorry for the misfortunes that no human power could seem to avert. But when mean and shallow and selfish people caused their own trials, were they worthy of sympathy?
They talked at school with the wide diversity of crude, girlish opinions. The papers were full of him as well.
Ben was one of his enthusiastic admirers. And now they planned to give a banquet,—printers and newspaper-men,—and Mr. Thackeray was to be the guest of the occasion; there was to be a dinner, with some of the bright literary lights, music, and dancing,—a really grand affair. Theodore Whitney was on the committee; and Ben had a lesser position. They meant to make it the affair of the season. Joe must surely take tickets. It was such a shame Dolly couldn't go; and, of course, Steve wouldn't. John and Cleanthe were not interested in such things; and, after thinking it over, Mrs. Hoffman declined.
"I shall have to look up a girl," said Joe. "Hanny, you have never been to a ball. Would you like to go?"
"Oh, I think a ball would be splendid! If Daisy could go, or Dolly."
"Yes, Daisy's mother or Dolly would have to go."
That gave him an idea, and he went down to see Mrs. Jasper.
"Why, I really think I would like to go myself," she said. "We do not consider Daisy quite a grown-up lady. I should like to keep her just a young girl for a long while; but, perhaps, that will not be possible."
"Hanny is a very young girl," returned Joe. "And I do not think father could stand it to have her grown up. But she keeps so small, I don't just know how we should get mother coaxed around. Both girls would enjoy it immensely."
"Oh, she would trust her with Mr. Jasper and me, if we were to take Daisy. Dear me—one festivity doesn't really signify. And yet—" she blushed and smiled with a certain girlishness. "They may be dangerous; I went to a Christmas ball when I was sixteen, and met Mr. Jasper. I was out on a holiday,—a mere school-girl."
"I don't believe Hanny or Daisy will find any one to fall in love with," said Joe, seriously; "they are so in love with each other."
"Oh, yes. They are planning to live together. There must be a settlement; for both will have to bring their respective families."
Joe was a good deal amused at that.