Thereupon three or four collegians, bound for the university a few miles off, precipitated themselves out of their seats, the fortunate one who was first, hustling against the little old woman in black. “Will you take my seat?” taking off his cap to Phronsie.
“Thank you,” said Phronsie gravely. Then she touched the bent shoulder gently, and took hold of the pinched hand clinging to the strap; the other one she could now see was filled with bundles. “Here is a seat for you;” and before any one could say anything, she had led the little old white-haired woman to the vacated seat, arranged her bundles more comfortably in her lap, and gone down to the end of the car again.
The collegians’ faces got dreadfully red. No one of them dared to try it again, for an old gentleman who had seen it all had gotten out of his seat, and with a courtly bow was proffering it to her.
“Thank you,” Phronsie was saying, refusing it, with a smile. “I really do not mind standing.” And the three collegians melted out suddenly to the front platform, and away the car flew, and Phronsie was soon at the corner down which she was to turn to the three story brick house that had the honor to be owned by Miss Honora Fitzwilliam.
She was in, the trim maid said; and Phronsie gave a sigh of relief, as she stumbled on down the darkened hall, to find a seat in the still more darkened drawing-room, whose door the maid opened deferentially.
“What name?” she asked in the same manner.
Phronsie took out a card from her plain brown leather case. The maid departed, bearing this evidence that Miss Sophronia Pepper, The Oaks, Badgertown, was awaiting Miss Fitzwilliam’s pleasure.
It was fully half an hour before that lady made her appearance, with everything as fresh as possible about her, her side-curls beautifully gotten up. Even the lorgnette was ready.
“Oh! I am so glad to see you, my dear Miss Pepper,” she began effusively, extending both hands, “Phronsie, I may call you, may I not?” Phronsie did not answer, only to say, “Good-morning;” so Miss Fitzwilliam exclaimed hastily, “That stupid Eliza! this room is as black as midnight.” She stepped to the other side of the apartment, and gave a nervous twitch to the bell. “Let some light into this room,” as the maid came in; “how careless of you not to open the shutters by this time.”
Eliza opened her mouth to say something, but evidently was too frightened to carry out her intention, and throwing the shutters wide, hurried out of the room as if glad to get away.