Chateau d'Or, Norah, and Kitty Craig

by Mary Jane Holmes

But Lottie grew tired at last of the same daily routine, and wanted something new, and devised a little musicale, which was to be held in her parlors and to be highly exclusive and recherché. Only the creme-de-la-creme were to be there, and these by invitation—said invitation to be in the form of cards, for which five dollars were to be paid, and the proceeds appropriated to a new mission school, in which Lottie was greatly interested, and of which John Craig was superintendent. This had latterly thrown John and Lottie together again, and they were the best of friends; and Lottie’s little dainty hand had more than once rested on John’s coat sleeve, and Lottie’s eyes looked straight into his while she talked of some ragged boy, or devised some new scheme for the advancement of the school.

The musicale was her hobby now, and she must have Mr. Craig in at least three of the quartettes. And she asked if he would come to rehearsal at her house, and go with her to see the Misses Barrows, whose voices were wonderful for depth and richness, and one of whom played accompaniments remarkably well? It did not matter now that they sold bonnets and ribbons on Broadway during the week, and that Lottie would never dream of inviting them to her house except on an occasion like this, when she needed their services. She wanted them, and John must go with her and see them.

This was down in the office, and her fine face was all aglow with excitement, and her carriage was at the door, and John felt his blood stir a little as he looked at her and thought of a drive up Broadway with that fashionable turnout. Yes, he would go to see the Misses Barrows; and he went and met them that night at Mrs. Steele’s, and before Kitty came back from a visit she had made at home everything was arranged, and he had promised to sing in four pieces at least, and possibly five, and meet at Mrs. Steele’s for practice three evenings in a week.

What Kitty said to him when she heard of it made him doubt a little the propriety of going to a house where his wife’s existence had never yet been recognized by so much as an inquiry, and to which she would not in all human probability be invited; and when next day Lottie drove down to the office to consult with him about some new idea, he mustered courage to tell her that he wished she would find some one to take his place as now that his wife had returned he did not like being away from her evenings, as he necessarily must be if he perfected himself in the difficult passages assigned to him. Womanlike, Lottie understood him at once, and knew that some bold move on her part was requisite if she would not lose him. And she could not do that now. He was too necessary to the success of her musicale, and with a mental anathema against the offending Kitty, she exclaimed:

“Oh, Mr. Craig, you know I cannot do without you and will not. Tell your wife so, please. When did she return, and how is little Freddie Steele? By the way, I do not believe I have sent her invitation yet, have I? She was gone, you know. Suppose I write her a little note now; that will be more friendly than a card,” and snatching up a pen Lottie dashed off a half-formal, half-familiar note to Kitty, inviting her to the musicale and apologizing for not having sent the invitation earlier.

“That will settle it,” she thought, while John, who saw only the flashing eyes and beaming face, began to descend from his stilts, and in his delight at having an autograph letter for Kitty from this high-born lady, forgot that in all the two years and a half of his married life this was the first time his wife had ever been alluded to.

But Kitty did not forget, nor seem as much elated with Lottie’s autograph note as John thought she ought to be.

“She was much obliged to Mrs. Steele,” she said, “for the invitation, but she could not for a moment think of accepting it. She should feel out of place among so many strangers.”

And to this decision she firmly adhered, insisting, however, that her husband should go on with his practice, and not disappoint Mrs. Lottie. But to this John objected. There was something amiss somewhere, and his better way was to remain at home with Kitty, and so the next morning he wrote Mrs. Lottie a note, saying positively that he could not take the parts assigned to him, and mentioning as a substitute Will Archer, whose voice was quite as good as his own, and who read music even better than himself.

“Will Archer! That clown in my parlors! Never!” was Lottie’s indignant exclamation, as she threw the note aside. “Cannot spend the time! Why wasn’t he frank enough to say that obstinate wife of his would not let him? It all comes of those thoughtless words she heard me say at the sewing society. She has never been there since, and I really was sorry for it.”