PAGE 9
A Late Supper
by
The tears were soon over with; and, as soon as it seemed decent, Mrs. Martha said, “Aunt Catherine, do tell me where you got that pretty hood! I wish I had seen it when I first got here, to take the pattern. Isn’t it a new stitch?”
“Dear me! haven’t I taken it off?” said Miss Catherine. “Well, you must excuse me if I am scatter-witted. I feel as if I had been gone a week.”
They had supper directly–that very late supper! They were all as hungry as hunters, even poor little Miss Stanby; and the re-action from such suspense made the guests merry enough, while, as was often said, Miss Catherine was always good company. The cream-tartar biscuits were none the less good for being cold. Joseph hadn’t eaten such gingerbread since he was there before; and the tea was made fresh over a dry-shingle fire, which blazes in a minute, as every one knows. There were more than enough pound-cakes; and Martha asked all over again how Miss Catherine made her preserves, for somehow hers were never so good; while Miss Catherine meekly said that she had not had such good luck as usual with the last she made.
At last they drove off down the road. The moon had come up, and was shining through the trees. It was so cool and fresh and bright an evening, with a little yellow still lingering in the west after the sunset! The guests went away very happy and light-hearted, for it seemed as if they had been spared a terrible sorrow.
“I saw the prettiest little old-fashioned table up in the garret,” said Mrs. Martha. “It only needs fixing up a little. I mean to ask your Aunt Catherine if I can’t have it when I go over again.”
“No, you won’t,” said her husband, with more authority than was usual with him.
Miss Catherine stood watching at the gate until they were out of sight. “I must settle down,” said she. “I feel as if it had been a wedding or a funeral or something; and I declare if it isn’t Wednesday evening, and what will they think has become of me at meeting?” though she could have trusted Mrs. Hilton to spread the story far and wide–by which you must not suppose that good Mrs. Hilton was a naughty gossip.
The next morning Miss Catherine waked up even more heavy-hearted than she had been the day before. I suppose she was tired after the unusual excitement. She wished she had talked to Joseph, she must talk with somebody. She wished she had not been such a fool as to get on those cars, for she was sure she never should hear the last of the joke; and, after the morning work was done, she sat down in the sitting-room with the clock ticking mockingly, and that intolerable feeling of despair and disgust came over her; there is nothing much harder to bear than that, if you know what it is I am sure you will pity her.
The afternoon seemed very long. It rained; and nobody came in until the evening, when Mrs. Hilton’s boy came with a letter. Miss Catherine had been to the post-office just before dinner, to send the money to Miss Ashton; and this surprised her very much. “It must have come by the seven-o’clock train,” said she. “I never get letters from that way;” and she took it to the window, and looked curiously at the address, and at last she opened it. It was a pretty letter to look at, and it proved a pleasant one to read. It was from Alice West, Miss Ashton’s niece; and Miss Catherine read it slowly, and felt as if she were in a dream.
“My Dear Miss Spring,–My aunt, Miss Ashton, wishes me to write to you, to ask if it would be convenient for you to take us to board. We are very much disappointed here, and are glad we did not positively engage our rooms until we had seen them. It is a very damp house, and I am sure my aunt ought not to stay, and would be uncomfortable in many ways. We should like two rooms close to each other, and we were each to pay ten dollars a week here, but are perfectly willing to pay more than that. We are almost certain that we shall like your house; but perhaps it will be the better way for me to come down and see you, and then I can make all the arrangements. If Brookton suits my aunt, we may wish to stay as late as October; and should you mind if one of my friends comes to stay with us by and by? She would share my room. If you will write me to-morrow morning, and if you think you can take us, I will go down in the early afternoon train.