“Yes; I spoke to the witch only to-day, and she told me that her heart was breaking for the count, and she was only flirting as a ‘mockery to her woe.’ I think mamma is well pleased. She has no longer high ambition for her girls; satisfied if they can only marry honest, temperate men. Poor mamma! She is so changed. Think of her going to our convention and listening to my address! She is by no means converted, but she can look at reforms now without any contempt. She said it troubled her, in spite of herself, to see me there making myself so public, and in the committee-room being addressed by men, entire strangers. She would have felt different if I were married. A husband always gives countenance and support to a woman.”
Susie laughed, and asked Clara what she answered. “I told her I was going to be married, and, making her promise to keep it a profound secret, I told her, to the Count Paul. ‘Has he asked you, my dear?’ she said, greatly excited. ‘No, mamma,’ I said, ‘I told you I was going to marry him.’ I do love to astonish mamma. Then I told her it would burst upon her some time; that there would be no pomp of circumstance, only just the steps necessary to make it legal. I am sure, conventional as she is, she would be so overjoyed at being the mother-in-law of Paul, that she would say nothing if the marriage ceremony should consist in jumping over a broomstick!”
“Well, now, to change the subject, Clara, what am I to do with Dan?”
“I cannot advise you, dear. He acts like a very goose.”
“I pity him so. He loves me as much as he can love; but it is only a feverish desire, not a sentiment having only my happiness at heart. He should respect me because I have grown beyond him, but he does not. It has no effect to tell him that I have not the slightest inclination to marry him. He doesn’t believe it. He thinks I can love him just as of old, if I only will; but I cannot will, and I have told him so. It makes him crazy to hear Minnie call Paul her papa. He is not glad, as I am, at the advantages the child has in being adopted by such a man.”
“It is too bad, Susie; but do not be induced to marry him out of pity. A woman wrongs herself when she does that.”
“There is no danger. The very thought is horrible to me; but what a position I am placed in! Here is your mother, coming here nearly every day, and treating poor Susie like a daughter, because she thinks, of course, I shall marry Dan. Oh, it is simply dreadful!” said the good little Susie. “She has taken so to Minnie too.”
In fact, everybody did that, and especially was Min popular among the children. She went everywhere to their parties, and picnic excursions, and everywhere introduced a new play, which she called the “Social Palace game.” One day when she had collected about a dozen children and twice as many dolls, on the front porch, and was marshalling them in true autocratic style, Dan came through the gate and sat on the steps. Min told him she could not have anybody in the Social Palace who was idle.
“Well, then, if that’s the case, you may give me some office.” Min looked at him a moment, her chubby hands in her apron pockets, like a stage soubrette, evidently studying what place he was fit to fill in the play.
“You are so big,” she said, “I don’t know what to do with you.” But a lucky thought struck her, and she told him he might be Monsieur Godin.