Mrs. Cliff's Yacht

by Frank R. Stockton

It was not strange, therefore, that a tear should sometimes come to the eye of Miss Barbara when she stood by the side of her sister and Mrs. Cliff and listened to them discussing the merits of some rich rugs or pieces of furniture, and when she reflected that the difference in price between two articles, one apparently as desirable as the other, which was discussed so lightly by Mrs. Cliff and Eleanor, would pay that bill which was eating into her soul, and settle, moreover, every other claim against herself and her sister. But the tears were always wiped away very quickly, and neither Mrs. Cliff nor the elder Miss Thorpedyke ever noticed them.

But although Willy Croup was not at all a woman of acute perceptions, she began to think that perhaps it was something more than the bustle and noise of New York which was troubling Miss Barbara. And once, when she saw her gazing with an earnest eager glare—and whoever would have thought of any sort of a glare in Miss Barbara's eyes—upon some bank-notes which Mrs. Cliff was paying out for a carved cabinet for which it was a little doubtful if a suitable place could be found, but which was bought because Miss Eleanor thought it would give an air of distinction in whatever room it might be placed, Willy began to suspect the meaning of that unusual exhibition of emotion.

"She's money hungry," she said to herself, "that's what's the matter with her!" Willy had seen the signs of such hunger before, and she understood what they meant.

That night Willy lay in her bed, having the very unusual experience of thinking so much that she could not sleep. Her room adjoined Miss Barbara's, and the door between them was partly open, for the latter lady was timid. Perhaps it was because this door was not closed that Willy was so wakeful and thoughtful, for there was a bright light in the other room, and she could not imagine why Miss Barbara should be sitting up so late. It was a proceeding entirely at variance with her usual habits. She was in some sort of trouble, it was easy to see that, but it would be a great deal better to go to sleep and try to forget it.

So after a time Willy rose, and, softly stepping over the thick carpet, looked into the other room. There was Miss Barbara in her day dress, sitting at a table, her arms upon the table, her head upon her arms, fast asleep. Upon her pale face there were a great many tear marks, and Willy knew that she must have cried herself to sleep. A paper was spread out near her.

Willy was sure that it would be a very mean and contemptible thing for her to go and look at that paper, and so, perhaps, find out what was troubling Miss Barbara, but, without the slightest hesitation, she did it. Her bare feet made no sound upon the carpet, and as she had very good eyes, it was not necessary for her to approach close to the sleeper.

It was a bill from William Bullock, a grocer and provision dealer of Plainton. It contained but one item,—'To bill rendered,' and at the bottom was a statement in Mr. Bullock's own handwriting to the effect that if the bill was not immediately paid he would be obliged to put it into the hands of a collector.

Willy turned and slipped back into her room. Then, after sitting down upon her bed and getting up again, she stepped boldly to the door and knocked upon it. Instantly she heard Miss Barbara start and push back her chair.

"What are you doing up so late?" cried Willy, cheerfully. "Don't you feel well?"

"Oh, yes," replied the other, "I accidentally fell asleep while reading, but I will go to bed instantly."