“Oh, yes,” said Sidney, “I should like it of all things.”
“Well, we’ll be going in half an hour or so. But wouldn’t you like to see your room? It’s the east chamber. Go up the stairs and turn to the right; it’s the second door.”
“Thanks,” said Sidney. “I would like to get rid of the dust a bit.”
He went up the dusky oak stair. The house was carefully darkened to keep out the heat and to discourage the flies. He found his room easily. His trunk was there. The air was fragrant with the perfume from a nosegay of sweet peas and mignonette which stood in a willow-pattern bowl of old blue. Associating each gracious deed with her gracious presence, he said to himself:
“Vashti—Queen Vashti—has been here.” Then he murmured to himself, “Vashti!”
“The first sweet name that led
Him down Love’s ways.”
When he descended in flannels a little later, he found the two girls waiting on the porch. Vashti was sitting on the steps. Mabella was leading a long-suffering cat up and down by its forepaws, a mode of progression which evidently did not please the cat, whose tail switched viciously at each step. It was released as Sidney stepped out of the hall, and relieved its feelings by deliberately walking over and scratching the old collie’s nose, as he lay sleepily waiting for the signal to start. The collie, rudely awakened from his dream, sneezed and turned an appealing look at Mabella, who caught him by his feathery ears and expressed her sympathy in words somewhat unintelligible to the human intellect, but evidently well understood by Bunker.
“Don’t forget them cups,” called Temperance after them. “And don’t spill all that milk afore you get there. It won’t make the crops grow.” Then she betook herself indoors, to muse upon the advisability of making hot biscuits for supper, and to commune with herself upon the absurdity of men who wore flannel trousers.
“My soul!” she said, in recounting the experience to one of her neighbours, “it gave me a turn when I saw him in them white things. First off, I says, ‘He’s forgot to dress himself.’ Then I saw they was white trousers. Poor crittur! He needs something to set himself off; he’s poor looking alongside of Lanty.”