It was nearly half-past twelve when Lottie returned, looking flushed and excited. Like Sam, I believed the whole thing rot, but was anxious to hear what she had to tell me.
“Did you see Sam?” I asked, when we were alone.
“Yes, bodily,” she answered with a laugh. “He saw me on the way to the woods and followed, and just as a shadow was beginning to come on the glass, or I thought it was, he seized me round my shoulders and said, ‘Let me see how our faces look together!’ I came near falling into the well, and should have done so, if he had not held me back. He just spoiled it, but I mean to try again after the young ladies are here. They are coming to-morrow. Mother has a letter. Here it is.”
She handed it to me and I read as follows:
“New York, July —, 18—.
“Mrs. Parks,
“Madam:—You may expect me on Wednesday, with my cousin Rena.
“Yours, Miss Irene Burdick.”
The note sounded stiff and uppish, as Lottie said, and I at once conceived a dislike for Miss Irene, and a kind of sympathy for Rena, who was probably a poor relation and would act in the capacity of maid. Irene, who wrote the note, was of course the Miss Burdick, and the large corner room across the hall from mine was assigned to her. It had four windows and a fireplace, an ingrain carpet and Boston rocker, a high-post bedstead with “teaster and balance” like mine. It had a terrible daub of Beatrice Cenci on the wall, taken there from the parlor because Miss Burdick had been abroad and would feel more at home with a picture of the old masters, Mrs. Parks said, looking admiringly at the yellow-haired creation which bore but little resemblance to the original. There was a washstand in the room, with a hole on the top for the bowl to rest in, a piece of castile soap, and three towels on a line above the stand. There was a round cherry table which Mrs. Parks said was her grandmother’s and which she could have sold for a big price to some relic hunter, but Lottie wouldn’t let her, so she kept it, but didn’t see why there was such a craze for old things. The room adjoining Irene’s was long and narrow, with no fireplace. It had a rag carpet and single bedstead without “teaster” or “balance.” Its bureau of three drawers served as a washstand, and there were two towels on a line instead of three. But everything was clean and comfortable, and on Wednesday we filled the rooms with flowers, especially the one intended for Miss Irene. It was Mrs. Parks’ idea to put the most there and the best vases. Rena had broken-nosed pitchers and bowls, and flowers a little faded, until there came from the McPherson place a quantity of hot-house roses and lilies for the Misses Burdick and Miss Bennett. Nixon, who brought them, further said that the McPherson carriage would meet the young ladies at the station if Mrs. Parks would tell him on what train they were expected. She didn’t know, but it would probably be at four o’clock, and she nearly lost her head over the attention from Colin McPherson to her guests, and wondered how under the sun and moon he knew they were coming that day.
A young man and friend of Mr. Travers had arrived at the house the night before, Nixon said, and I began to think we might have some gay times with four city people in close proximity to each other. Mrs. Parks had taken possession of the flowers, and after giving me what she thought I ought to have, she put the larger proportion of the remainder in Irene’s room, saying it was quite proper for her to have the most from the greenhouse which would probably be hers. A few roses and lilies were accorded to Rena and put in a large tumbler which Mrs. Parks said had been used by her grandfather to mix toddy in when the minister called. I was not satisfied with the allotment to Rena, for whom my sympathy kept growing; and reserving for myself a single half-opened rose and one or two lilies, I took the rest to her room, putting them wherever I could find a place and in whatever I could find to put them. This done, the rooms were ready, and we waited with what patience we could for the train which was to bring the Burdicks. At half-past three we saw the McPherson carriage go by with Nixon. Half an hour later we heard the whistle of the train in the distance, and fifteen minutes later the McPherson carriage stopped at the gate, and while Lottie and I looked cautiously from my window, Mrs. Parks, in a flutter of pleasure and pride, went down the walk to meet the occupants of the carriage. The Burdicks had come.