A Little Girl in Old Chicago

by Amanda M. Douglas

As for sheets and blankets and table linen, they were to be evolved somehow, and pretty underwear, so dear to a girl's heart. There was still a scarcity of money about, and so one had to exercise one's wits.

The town was thrown into quite a ferment that entirely eclipsed our simple engagement. A Frenchman, one Pierre Maseurier, had been up to Chicago some weeks. He was much interested in the canal and trade generally, and had a large place at Vincennes, as well as some sugar interests in Louisiana. Small, old, but sharp and eager, as if he were just beginning life, instead of having it more than half spent. What brought him into contact with Granny Verrinder no one could explain, but he was quite a frequent caller. Suddenly the little town was astonished at another betrothal. Whether Polly Morrison had captured him, a widower of long standing, with two married sons, or whether he had tempted her with the brilliant prospect, no one could tell. She curtly dismissed her old admirers, there was an elaborate wedding gown sent for, and Polly, dressed in sumptuous furs and covered with a white wolf robe, was driven about as if she were a queen.

Two days after a night's debauch, Dan Hayne left for Buffalo. He knocked down a friend who offered him a teasing condolence, but vouchsafed no explanation to any one. Then there was a wedding at St. Mary's, with a nuptial mass and all the accessories of state. Bishop Quartier came up to marry them, and the lovely Saint Palais, who was afterward Bishop of Vincennes. It was a grand affair, and it seemed as if the whole town turned out. Polly looked as handsome as if she had just stepped out of a picture, and most people wondered afterward, for she had never been considered a beauty.

Mrs. Hayne felt so much relieved that she began to take a warmer interest in Sophie and the new house. There were other mothers who gave thanks, no doubt, for wild, wilful Polly had been a terror to them. First it was one lover sighing at her feet and then another. She certainly did delight in using her wiles on other girls' lovers, not that she wanted the admirers either, but just to try her power. There was only one man who won her heart as I came to know afterward, but money and position outweighed love.

Of course she had taken M. Maseurier for the luxury he could give her. No girl of eighteen would be likely to marry a wizened-up old man past sixty if he were poor. Everybody settled to that.

About six weeks afterward Granny Verrinder died very suddenly, though she was past ninety-six. She had been taken to her granddaughter's marriage, lifted in and out of a coach, and so bundled up that no one saw much of her except two staring black eyes. It was supposed Mrs. Morrison would rejoin her daughter, but whether granny had more money than any one thought, or that the wealthy son-in-law had made provision for her, no one was quite certain. She repaired and renovated her house, built on another room, distributed the furniture around more comfortably, took in an old negro woman, and though she did not enlarge the borders of her friendship, she came to look less careworn, went to church occasionally, and perhaps found a little happiness. At least, she was exempt from care.

We heard that Polly was living in great style and had everything heart could wish.

Dan came back three or four weeks afterward and went about his business as if nothing had happened, held up his head and was in no wise broken hearted. Indeed, I thought him improved. He took a real interest in Homer's house, advanced him some money, so that he could meet bills promptly, and was pleasant and brotherly to Sophie, who had always felt a little afraid of him.

It was a very delightful spring and early summer to me. Father was prosperous and jolly, and we were so interested in completing the trousseau and house equipment. When one goes out and orders a long list, has them sent home and put in their places, one misses the delight and interest of real home-making.

Then the wedding day was set. It would be in the church, of course, and that did fret Mrs. Hayne. There was no great fuss about mixed marriages then, though good Père Fischer hoped in his pleasant manner that sometime Homer would be numbered among those of the true faith.