“You always have that feeling,” said her daughter, “as soon as you pass outside the gate.”
“And I’m usually right about it,” said Mrs. Trescott. “It isn’t any use. My system has got into that condition in which I’m in misery if I’m off that farm. Josie drags me away from it sometimes; and I do enjoy meeting people! But I like to meet ’em out there the best; and I want to urge you to come often, Mrs. Barslow, while you’re here. And in case you move here, I hope you’ll like us and the farm well enough so that we’ll see a good deal of you.”
I was presented to Mrs. Trescott, and reintroduced to the young lady, with whom Alice seemed already on friendly terms. I was surprised at this, for she was not prone to sudden friendships. There was something so attractive in the girl, however, that it went far to explain the phenomenon. For one thing, there was in her manner that same steadiness and calm which I had noticed in her voice in the dusk last night. It gave one the impression that she could not be surprised or startled, that she had seen or thought out all possible combinations of events, and knew of their sequences, or adjusted herself to things by some all-embracing rule, by which she attained that repose of hers. The surprising thing about it, to my mind, was to find this exterior in Bill Trescott’s daughter. I had seen the same thing once or twice in people to whom I thought it had come as the fruit of wide experience in the world.
While Miss Trescott was slim, and rather below the medium in height, she was not at all thin; and had the great mass of ruddy dark hair and fine brown eyes which I remembered so well, and a face which would have been pale had it not been for the tan—the only thing about her which suggested those occupations by which she became her father’s “right-hand man.” There was intelligence in her face, and a grave smile in her eyes, which rarely extended to her handsome mouth. If mature in face, form, and manner, she was young in years—some years younger than Alice. I hoped that she might stay to dinner; but she went away with her mother. In her absence, I devoted some time to praising her. Jim failed to join in my pæans further than to give a general assent; but he grew unaccountably mirthful, as if something good had happened to him of which he had not yet told us.
“I have invited a few people to my parlors this evening,” said he, “and, of course, you will be the guests of honor.”
My wife demurred. She had nothing to wear, and even if she had, I was without evening dress. The thing seemed out of the question.
“Oh, we can’t let that stand in the way,” said he. “So far as your own toilet is concerned, I have nothing to say except that you are known to be making a hurried visit, and I have an abiding faith, based on your manner of stating your trouble, that it can be remedied. I saw your eye take on a far-away look as you planned your costume, even while you were declaring that you couldn’t do it. Didn’t I, now?”
“You certainly did not,” said Alice; and then I noticed the absorbed look myself. “But even if I can manage it, how about Albert?”
“I’ll tell you about Albert. I’ll bet two to one there won’t be a suit of evening clothes worn. The dress suit may come in here with street cars and passenger elevators, but it lacks a good deal of being here yet, except in the most sporadic and infrequent way. And this thing is to be so absolutely informal that it would make the natives stare. You wouldn’t wear it if you had it, Al.”
“Who will come?” said Mrs. Barslow.