"TO THE MARCH WIND.
"Loud and shrill, loud and shrill,
List to the wild March wind!
And the heart of the mariner trembles
As he sails his rudder behind.
"My dear, the 'member' is a little mixed! Does she mean the mariner sails behind the rudder, or the rudder sails behind the mariner? Did you ever, Millicent? I don't believe she knows which part of a ship the rudder is. And this is the second verse:
"And the bell on the bleak beach bellows.
"(There's alliteration for you. Fancy a bell bellowing!)
"And the fog-horn lifts its voice,
And the mariner goes to an early grave,
He has no other choice.
"Oh, Milly! isn't it funny? Why don't you laugh?"
"I am laughing," said Millicent, in a hoarse voice; "it makes me perfectly hysterical," and she hid her face for a moment in her handkerchief. Fortunately Elsie was at that moment called away.
Millicent found to her cost, as the afternoon wore on, that the climax had not been even then.
Joanna had come late to the fair, detained by school and luncheon until four o'clock. She had found no one at home, not even her mother, but she had heard from the maid a piece of news which caused her heart to bound with excitement and consternation.
Cousin Appolina had returned very unexpectedly from Washington!
Joanna decided that she must tell Millicent as soon as she reached the fair, so that the slippers might be removed at once. It would be better to be on the safe side, although it was extremely improbable that Cousin Appolina would visit the fair the first day of her return.
But just as Joanna came out of the front door Miss Briggs herself drove up in her carriage, and learning that no one was at home in either of her relatives' houses, but that all had gone to the fair, concluded to betake herself there also, and forthwith invited Joanna to get in and drive with her to Sherry's.
Joanna, nothing loth, accepted the invitation, feeling rather glad on the whole that her cousin had returned in time, for she would be sure to spend her money freely, and Joan was greatly interested in the success of the sale. And, alas! she forgot all about the worsted slippers!
They presented their tickets, and entered the room just as Millicent had buried her face in her handkerchief upon hearing the remarks of Elsie Pearson. When she emerged therefrom the first thing that met her astonished gaze was the tall and never-to-be-forgotten form of Cousin Appolina Briggs, and her heart sank with apprehension. For a moment the works of her unappreciated genius were forgotten. Her one thought was "slippers!"
"Oh, that I had never sent those horrible slippers!" she said to herself despairingly. "It will be just my luck to have her see them, and would serve me right, too, for having given away a present. Yes, she is going that way! Oh, if I could only make Peggy or Joan come here! They could go and buy the slippers before she gets there."
But Peggy and Joan were not forth-coming. The latter, full of business, had lost no time in retiring behind the screen which formed the "fish-pond," and was already baiting the hook with ardor, and queerly shaped packages, and Peggy had not yet seen her cousin, and supposed her to be safe at Washington.
But Miss Briggs was not one to remain long unnoticed. She was of commanding height and noble breadth. When she entered a room the rest of humanity seemed to grow smaller by comparison. Her voice was deep and had a penetrating quality which caused it to be heard at the unusual distance, and the gold lorgnette, without which she was never seen, and which she was in the habit of raising constantly to her short-sighted and somewhat prominent eyes, flashed and glittered in the light.
Truly Miss Appolina's was a presence calculated to make itself felt. And Peggy felt it, and she heard the voice, and a tremor that seemed like fear filled her naturally courageous heart. She looked at Cousin Appolina, and she looked at the poetry table. There was yet time. Leaving abruptly a customer who was on the verge of making an important purchase, who only needed a word of advice from Miss Peggy Reid as to which was the prettier, a centre-piece embroidered in yellow, or a table-cloth done in greens, she flew to the side of Millicent.
"The poems!" she gasped. "Have any of them sold?"
"Not one," said Millicent, "but oh, Peggy; there is Cousin Appolina!"
"I know," returned Peggy, breathlessly, as she turned over the booklets—"I know! That's just it!"
"But the slippers, Peggy! Go and get them. I don't dare."
"The slippers! They are nothing to the poetry. Oh, where is it?"
And she tossed the poems hither and thither, looking first into one, then into another.
"Oh, where is it?"
"What do you mean, Peggy? Don't waste time over the poetry. Do please go and buy those slippers! Give any price. There, she is getting to that table now! It is too late!"
There was a lull in the noise at that moment, and Miss Briggs's clear deep tones could be distinctly heard by the two culprits.
"I want a pair of knit slippers. I make a great many myself, but I never seem to have any for my own use. How much are these red and gray ones? A dollar and a half? Give them to me, please, and never mind about the change. I have not examined them thoroughly, but if they do not suit me I will give them away."
It was too late. She had bought her own slippers. Millicent hoped that the gold lorgnette would be smashed to atoms before the lady reached her home; that her spectacles would lose themselves; even that the world would come to an end before Miss Appolina found an opportunity to examine those red and gray worsted slippers. That she would recognize them Millicent felt no doubt, for they were knit in a fashion peculiar to herself, the two colors forming a little plaid.
Meanwhile Peggy had tossed about the poems with no result. She had only succeeded in bringing to the top those that had hitherto lain in safe insignificance at the bottom.
Now she stood by the table as if turned into stone, and awaited the approach of an avenging fate. The day of practical jokes was over for her.
"IS NOT MILLICENT CAPABLE OF SPEAKING FOR HERSELF?"
She knew, she felt absolutely confident, that just as surely as Cousin Appolina had chosen the slippers of her own make, just so surely would she pounce upon the poem that Peggy had written about her.
Miss Briggs drew near.
"Well, girls!" she said, in her great deep voice, the gold lorgnette raised to her eyes—"well, girls, you did not expect to see me back so soon, did you? Washington became insupportable. Too many odious-looking people. I could not endure it. What have we here?" staring at the sign, "'Poems by Pearl Proctor, a member of the congregation'? And who may she be? Proctor—Proctor? I don't remember the name in New York. Proctor is a Boston name. Who is it, Millicent?"
Millicent trembled.
"I—I—" she faltered.
"You!" thundered her cousin. "Never! What do you mean?"
"Milly didn't mean to say that," interposed Peggy. "She was probably going to say she couldn't tell who it is. It is an assumed name, we suppose, Cousin Appolina."
"Is not Millicent capable of speaking for herself?" inquired Miss Briggs, severely. "Since when did she lose the power of speech?"
The girls shook in their shoes, and held their peace.
"What are these things?" continued this terrible person, picking up the poems disdainfully, and again putting her lorgnette to her eyes: "'Ode to a Firefly,' 'Sonnet on the Caterpiller,' 'Some Lines to a Beggar Child.' Faugh! Who is the fool that is guilty of all this? But—but—what have we here?"
It had come, then! For this is what Miss Appolina read, but not aloud:
"Who is a dame of high degree?
Who's always scolded little me?
Who is a sight strange for to see?
Miss Appolina B.
"Who cannot with her friends agree?
Who loves to feed on cakes and tea?
Who prides herself on her pedigree?
Miss Appolina B.
"Who'll soon set sail across the sea?
Who will not take her cousins three?
Who is an ancient, awful she?
Miss Appolina B."
Miss Briggs looked from one to the other of the girls. The hum of the fair went on.
"I will buy all of these poems," she said in a voice which filled their souls with terror; "count them, and tell me the amount. And I wish to see you both to-morrow morning at ten o'clock."
Wondering, Millicent obeyed.
Peggy turned and fled.