Missy: A Novel

by Miriam Coles Harris

"Oh, very well," said Missy, seeing that Mr. Andrews was looking rather anxiously in their direction, and sank into her seat.

"I want to sit next to Missy," cried Jay. "Even if she was cross to me, I love her all the same, don't you, papa?"

"All the same," said Mr. Andrews, smiling, and not looking disconcerted, as he took the stopper out of the decanter by him. Missy was very angry for a moment. Why had he not been disconcerted, as she most unhappily was? But in a few moments she thought better of it, and was ashamed of herself. There was poor mamma, who had made such an effort to come down; she must have a cheerful hour at all events. And the miserable man next her must be put at ease. The room was rather warm, and his heat increased his agitation. His soup almost choked him, and Missy at one time thought she should have to introduce him to his napkin, he seemed too ill at ease to find it, though it was beside his plate. She put the salt within his reach, but he didn't see it, and a water bottle, but he was even beyond that. So she filled his glass and pushed it towards him. He saw it at last, and drank it off at one gulp.

"Mr. Andrews," said Missy, "can we have the door a little open? It is rather warm at this end of the room."

"Certainly, Miss Rothermel," exclaimed Mr. Andrews, getting up to open it. "Why didn't you speak before?"

"Heavens! Missy, what are you thinking about! The door open on my back. I should be ill with neuralgia in half an hour. Mr. Andrews, I beg you'll have a little mercy on us. Missy will kill off all the household if you let her have her way about ventilation."

"Oh! n'importe," cried Missy, as Mr. Andrews stood irresolute and embarrassed. "Mr. McKenzie and I may die of asphyxia, but that would be better than Aunt Harriet's getting neuralgia. Pray sit down, Mr. Andrews, I really am used to it."

"And I," said Miss Varian, going on uninterruptedly with her dinner, "am quite familiar with these cases of asphyxia. Pray don't be disturbed, Mr. Andrews. Miss Rothermel has them two or three times a week."

It was so ludicrous, the uninterrupted calm of Miss Varian, who knew she was going to have her own way, and the heat and agitation of the others; that, as Mr. Andrews reluctantly took his seat, they all laughed.

"It is quite true," said Mrs. Varian, wishing to reconcile him. "You know, Missy, you are very imprudent. I believe your aunt has saved you from a great many colds."