The saintliness of both boys during the afternoon’s ride took the sting out of Mrs. Burton’s defeat. They gabbled to each other about flowers and leaves and birds, and they assumed ownership of the few summer clouds that were visible, and made sundry exchanges of them with each other. When the dog Terry, who had surreptitiously followed the carriage and grown weary, was taken in by his master they even allowed him to lie at their feet without kicking, pinching his ears or pulling his tail.
THE JARDINIÈRE CAME DOWN WITH A CRASH
As for Mrs. Burton, no right-minded husband could wilfully torment his wife upon her birthday, so she soon forgot the humiliation of the morning, and came home with superb spirits and matchless complexion for the little party. Her guests soon began to arrive, and after the company had assembled Mrs. Burton’s chambermaid ushered in Budge and Toddie, each in spotless attire, and the dog Terry ushered himself in, and Toddie saw him and made haste to interview him, and the two got inextricably mixed about the legs of a light jardinière, and it came down with a crash, and then the two were sent into disgrace, which suited them exactly, although there was a difference between them as to whether the dog Terry should seek and enjoy the seclusion upon which his heart was evidently intent.
Then Budge retired with a face full of brotherly solicitude, and Mrs. Burton was enabled to devote herself to the friends to whom she had not previously been able to address two consecutive sentences.
Mrs. Burton occasionally suggested to her husband that it might be well to see where the boys were and what they were doing, but that gentleman had seldom before found himself the only man among a dozen comely and intelligent ladies, and he was too conscious of the rarity of such experiences to trouble himself about a couple of people who had unlimited ability to keep themselves out of sight, so the boys were undisturbed for the space of two hours. A sudden summer shower came up in the meantime, and a sentimental young lady requested the song “The Rain upon the Roof,” and Mrs. Burton and her husband began to render it as a duet; but in the middle of the second stanza Mrs. Burton began to cough, and Mr. Burton sniffed the air apprehensively, while several of the ladies started to their feet, while others turned pale. The air of the room was evidently filling with smoke.
“There can’t be any danger, ladies,” said Mrs. Burton. “You all know what the American domestic servant is. I suppose our cook, with her delicate sense of the appropriate, is relighting her fire, and has the kitchen door wide open, so that all the smoke may escape through the house instead of the chimney. I’ll go and stop it.”
The mere mention of servants had its usual effect; the ladies began at once that animated conversation which this subject has always inspired, and which it will probably continue to inspire until all housekeepers gather in that happy land, one of whose charms it is that the American kitchen is undiscernible within its borders, and the purified domestic may stand before her mistress without needing a scolding. But one nervous young lady, whose agitation was being manifested by her feet alone, happened to touch with the toe of her boot the turn-screw of a hot-air register. Instantly she sprang back and uttered a piercing scream, while from the register there arose a thick column of smoke.
“Fire!” screamed one lady.
“Water!” shrieked another.