THE LITTLE CARD.
Left to herself, Ester found her train of thought so thoroughly disagreeable that she hastened to rid herself of it, and seized upon the new comer to afford her a substitute.
This cousin, whom she had expected to influence for good, had at last arrived. Ester's interest in him had been very strong ever since that evening of her arrival, when she had been appealed to to use her influence on him—just in what way she hadn't an idea. Abbie had never spoken of it since, and seemed to have lost much of her eager desire that the cousins should meet. Ester mused about all this now; she wished she knew just in what way she was expected to be of benefit. Abbie was evidently troubled about him. Perhaps he was rough and awkward; school-boys often were, even those born in a city. Very much of Ralph's life had been spent away from home, she knew; and she had often heard that boys away from home influences grew rude and coarse oftentimes. Yes, that was undoubtedly it. Shy, too, he was of course; he was of about the age to be that. She could imagine just how he looked—he felt out of place in the grand mansion which he called home, but where he had passed so small a portion of his time. Probably he didn't know what to do with his hands, nor his feet; and just as likely as not he sat on the edge of his chair and ate with his knife—school was a horrid place for picking up all sorts of ill manners. Of course all these things must annoy Abbie very much, especially at this time when he must necessarily come so often in contact with that perfection of gentlemanliness, Mr. Foster. "I wish," thought Ester at this point, growing a little anxious, "I wish there was more than a week before the wedding; however I'll do my best. Abbie shall see I'm good for something. Although I do differ with her somewhat in her peculiar views, I believe I know how to conduct myself with ease, in almost any position, if I have been brought up in the country." And by the time the lunch-bell rang a girl more thoroughly satisfied with herself and her benevolent intentions, than was this same Ester, could hardly have been found. She stood before the glass smoothing the shining bands of hair, preparatory to tying a blue satin ribbon over them, when Abbie fluttered in.
"Forgive me, a great many times, for rushing off in the flutter I did, and leaving you behind, and staying away so long. You see I haven't seen Ralph in quite a little time, and I forgot everything else. Your hair doesn't need another bit of brushing, Ester, it's as smooth as velvet; they are all waiting for us in the dining-room, and I want to show you to Ralph." And before the blue satin ribbon was tied quite to her satisfaction, Ester was hurried to the dining-room, to take up her new role of guide and general assistant to the awkward youth.
"I suppose he hasn't an idea what to say to me," was her last compassionate thought, as Abbie's hand rested on the knob. "I hope he won't be hopelessly quiet, but I'll manage in some way."
At first he was nowhere to be seen; but as Abbie said eagerly: "Ralph, here is Cousin Ester!" the door swung back into its place, and revealed a tall, well-proportioned young man, with a full-bearded face, and the brightest of dancing eyes. He came forward immediately, extending both hands, and speaking in a rapid voice.
"Long-hoped-for come at last! I don't refer to myself, you understand, but to this much-waited-for, eagerly-looked-forward-to prospect of greeting my Cousin Ester. Ought I to welcome you, or you me—which is it? I'm somewhat bewildered as to proprieties. This fearfully near approach to a wedding has confused my brain. Sis"—turning suddenly to Abbie—"Have you prepared Ester for her fate? Does she fully understand that she and I are to officiate? that is, if we don't evaporate before the eventful day. Sis, how could you have the conscience to perpetrate a wedding in August? Whatever takes Foster abroad just now, any way?" And without waiting for answer to his ceaseless questions he ran gaily on.
Clearly whatever might be his shortcomings, inability to talk was not one of them. And Ester, confused, bewildered, utterly thrown out of her prepared part in the entertainment, was more silent and awkward than she had ever known herself to be; provoked, too, with Abbie, with Ralph, with herself. "How could I have been such a simpleton?" she asked herself as seated opposite her cousin at table she had opportunity to watch the handsome face, with its changeful play of expression, and note the air of pleased attention with which even her Uncle Ralph listened to his ceaseless flow of words. "I knew he was older than Abbie, and that this was his third year in college. What could I have expected from Uncle Ralph's son? A pretty dunce he must think me, blushing and stammering like an awkward country girl. What on earth could Abbie mean about needing my help for him, and being troubled about him. It is some of her ridiculous fanatical nonsense, I suppose. I wish she could ever talk or act like anybody else."
"I don't know that such is the case, however," Ralph was saying, when Ester returned from this rehearsal of her own thoughts. "I can simply guess at it, which is as near an approach to an exertion as a fellow ought to be obliged to make in this weather. John, you may fill my glass if you please. Father, this is even better wine than your cellar usually affords, and that is saying a great deal. Sis, has Foster made a temperance man of you entirely; I see you are devoted to ice water?"
"Oh, certainly," Mrs. Ried answered for her, in the half contemptuous tone she was wont to assume on such occasions. "I warn you, Ralph, to get all the enjoyment you can out of the present, for Abbie intends to keep you with her entirely after she has a home of her own—out of the reach of temptation."