“I’ll contribute my moiety,” he thought, and bringing the rose from the office, he placed it on the table.
It was very fragrant, and filled the room with perfume, and Mark smiled as he thought: “They can’t help noticing it, but will not know it came from ’Tina’s grave.”
It lacked but half an hour of the time for the New York train. The scorching heat of the day had given place to a feeling of rain. In the west great banks of clouds had obscured the setting sun, while growls of thunder, growing louder and nearer, heralded the storm, which came on so fast that by the time the hotel carriage was ready for the station the wind was blowing a gale, and the rain falling in torrents.
“Great guns!” Uncle Zacheus exclaimed as he saw one of the horses rear on his hind feet when a peal of thunder, which shook the house, broke over its head. “If Jake hain’t got out the bloods! They are as ’fraid of thunder and lightnin’ as they can be. He can’t hold ’em a minit. Somebody’ll have to go with him and see to the ladies. Mark, do you feel like it?”
“Certainly,” Mark answered, and Craig saw him in the hall a few minutes later habited in his mackintosh and wide-rimmed hat, which shed water like an umbrella.
Owing to the storm the train was late, and Mrs. Taylor was greatly worried lest her broiled chicken and coffee should be spoiled. She had put on her second best dress, with a pretty little cap and lavender bow, and with her white apron looked the embodiment of the buxom landlady, as she hovered between the kitchen and the salon and the front door, giving a sharp reproof to Jeff, who came sliding down the banister, nearly upsetting her as, with a summersault, he landed on his feet. Jeff was also interested in the expected guests, and if the future had stretched backward and touched both Mark and Craig, it had grasped him as well, making him seem more possessed than ever as he rolled around the house wherever there was room for his athletics.
“There they be,” he exclaimed, as the carriage drove up with Mark on the box, the water dripping from his hat and coat, for it was still raining heavily.
With a bound he sprang to the ground just as Jeff came darting out with an umbrella and opened the carriage door. On the walk were pools of water, and Mark’s feet splashed in them as he stepped to the side of Jeff just as one of the ladies put her head from the door and then, with a cry of dismay, drew back.
“I can never go through all that water; it is actually a pond,” she said, and Mrs. Taylor, who was holding a lamp in the door, felt sure that the voice belonged to the matron of the party.
“Let me assist you,” Mark said, and, taking her in his arms, he ran up the walk with her and deposited her in the hall.