“How are you, my dears?” she said. “I don’t suppose you remember me.”
“Surely we do,” said Jane, putting out her hand with a sudden cordiality. She saw that Mrs. Mivle looked a great deal older, and sad and worn, and, Jane-like, was moved to welcome her. “Surely we remember you, Mrs. Mivle. You were very nice to me when I was so silly as to bother you.”
“No trouble at all,” said Mrs. Mivle, tears springing to her eyes. “You were an awfully pretty pair to drop into a body’s room so unexpected. It does a body good to see girls like you. And now you don’t call me Miss Aldine, but you give me my sainted Petey’s name. I suppose you saw by the papers my loss?”
“No, we haven’t seen,” said Jane, feeling her way. “I noticed you were in mourning. It isn’t—you don’t mean——”
“Yes, I do!” sobbed Mrs. Mivle. “My blessed Petey took sick, and before we knew he was more’n kind of off his feed, you might say, he was past all hope—appendicitis! Ain’t it awful? Sydney Fleming—you remember, his stage name, that was?—was simply great in the lead, could do anything. We acted together like we were made for it. And it’s my belief we were. Things come out like that in this world, once in a while; folks sent into it to be with certain other folks, for work and pleasure. And say, we were happy, honest! Petey and me got on when we was in private life just like the leading lady and her support does in the slickest plays. It’s broke me up something fierce to lose him. See, I’m wearing his ring! I won’t part with it while I can hold it, but I’m down on my luck. Comp’ny burst up, couldn’t get a leading man fit to take Pete’s place, I was all in; couldn’t do justice to my repertoire, we played to poor houses, manager was up against it; sorry for me, sorry Pete died, but sorry for himself when he run behind. He had to shut down, and it took pretty much every cent I had to get home; we was playin’ the State of Washington when the end come. So I don’t know how long I’ll be keeping poor blessed Petey’s ring.”
The poor creature, kind and honest, though grotesque and slangy, pulled off her shabby glove and displayed the huge diamond, of yellowish cast, which Jane and Florimel remembered on her lost “Petey’s” hand.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” murmured Jane. “I’m truly sorry. Not that it does you any good. What will you do?”
“My dear, that’s exactly what I’ve come to ask you,” returned Mrs. Mivle earnestly. “You come once to ask my advice. Says I to myself, I believe I’ll go hunt up that little handsome red-haired girl, and her little beauty black-haired sister, and ask them to find me a job. I haven’t one friend outside the perfession. I’ve gotter go to work at some ordinary job. My acting days are over. Not an act left in me; haven’t the heart. Do you suppose I could act Lady of Lyons with another playing Claude Melnotte in Petey’s place? Not on your life! Do you think there’d be anything for me to do here in Vineclad? There often is work, and few to do it, in one-night-stand kind of towns—I beg your pardon! It’s a real nice place, but you’ve got to admit it’s small and slow! You can ask any one about me. There isn’t a thing to be said of me I wouldn’t just as lieves as not was said. I’m honest, if I do say it, and I’m good natured. Pete always said any one had a cinch keeping his temper living with me. I’d do anything I could do; no pride left in me. All my pride was perfesh’nal, and, as I say, my acting days is over, with Petey’s life. Get me a job at anything, there’s a dear child! I’ll do my best, though, to tell the truth, I wouldn’t advise any one to get me to cook. Petey used to say: ‘Nettie,’ he’d say, ‘the quality of mercy is not strained; neither is your soup.’ Oh, my Petey! Always like that, jokin’, and witty, and great, simply great!” Peter’s widow gulped painfully. There was no doubt that her grief was profound.
“You wouldn’t care to look after children all day, would you?” asked Jane. “We have a charity we are starting here. It began in a sort of play; we began it, my other sister and I, but it is going to be a real charity, and go on far and long, we hope. We’ll tell you about it. But you must have lunch with us. Please excuse me a moment, while I tell my mother and sister you are here, and then we’ll have lunch. Why, I forgot! Florimel, please take Mrs. Mivle up to my room and let her cool her face and hands with fresh water. I know one doesn’t care to eat after one has been talking fast and feeling sad. You mustn’t say a word, Mrs. Mivle! As you told me about my visit to you: it isn’t any trouble!” Jane ran away, and, as rapidly as she could, prepared her mother and Mary for what they were to meet. Mary apprehended the situation quicker, having already known of the former Miss Aldine. But after Mrs. Garden understood, she was as ready as her girls were to befriend this unfortunate one, who stood on the lowest rung of the ladder of fame, on which, and in another and higher form of dramatic art, Lynette Devon’s little feet had once balanced.
Mrs. Mivle was completely overcome by the kindness which she received. Before lunch was over Mrs. Mivle had been offered and had accepted the post of matron of the Day Nursery. It was arranged that she was to return to New York, where she had left her slender belongings, and fetch them to Vineclad at once. She went away immediately after lunch in the station carriage summoned for her, tearfully grateful, relieved, and nearer happy than had seemed possible to her ever to be again.