FullReads

“Why, no; he did not turn round. The strange man– the man in the rough coat–just touched him and spoke to him half-way down the aisle. Then papa whispered to him and he whispered back. Then, as soon as they came into the vestibule here, papa led him out at that side door, and did not seem to remember me. They almost ran across the street, and took George Gibb’s hack. I knew the horses.”

“That’s too bad,” said Laura; “I thought papa would walk home with us and tell us the story of the bears.”

Poor Mrs. Molyneux thought it was too bad, too; but she said nothing.

And Matty, when she joined her mother, said,–

“I shall feel a thousand times happier, mamma, if I go and see Mrs. Gilbert now.” And she explained who Mrs. Gilbert was. “Perhaps it may do some good. Anyway, I shall feel as if I were doing something. I will be home in time to finish the tree and things, for Horace will like to help me.”

And the poor girl looked her entreaties so eagerly that her mother could not but assent to her plan. So she made Beverly go up the avenue with her,–Beverly, who would have swum the Potomac and back for her, had she asked him,–as he was on his way to join his father at the Bureau.

As they came out upon the broad sidewalk, that odious Greenhithe, with some one whom Beverly called a blackguard of his crew, pushed by them, and he had the impudence to turn and touch his hat to Matty again.

Matty’s hand trembled on Beverly’s arm, but she would not speak for a minute, only she walked slower and slower.

Then she said: “I am so afraid, Bev, that Tom and he will get into a quarrel. Tom declares he will go into Willard’s and find out whether he does know anything.”

But Beverly, very mannish, tried to reassure her and make her believe that Tom would be very self-restrained and perfectly careful.

On Christmas Day the Jew’s dry-goods store, which had taken the place of old Mr. Gilbert’s notary’s office, was closed–not perhaps so much from the Israelite’s enthusiasm about Christmas as in deference to what in New England is called “the sense of the street.” Matty, however, acting from a precise knowledge of Washington life, rang boldly at the green door adjacent, Beverly still waiting to see what might turn up; and when a brisk “colored girl” appeared, Matty inquired if Mrs. Munroe was at home.

Now all that Matty knew of Mrs. Munroe was that her name was on a well-scoured brass plate on the door.

Mrs. Munroe was in. Beverly said he would wait in the passage. Mrs. Munroe proved to be a nice, motherly sort of a person, who, as it need hardly be said, was stone-deaf. It required some time for Matty to adjust her speaking apparatus to the exigency, but when this was done, Mrs. Munroe explained that Mr. Gilbert was dead,– that an effort had been made to continue the business with the old sign and the old good will, under the direction of a certain Mr. Bundy, who had sometimes been called in as an assistant. But Mr. Bundy, after some years, paid more attention to whiskey than he did to notarying, and the law business had suffered. Finally, Mr. Bundy was brought home by the police one night with a broken head, and then Mrs. Gilbert had withdrawn the signs, cancelled the lease, turned Mr. Bundy out-of- doors, and retired to live with a step-sister of her brother’s wife’s father near the Arsenal; good Mrs. Munroe was not certain whether on Delaware Avenue, or whether on T Street, U Street, or V Street. And, indeed, whether the lady’s name were Butman before she married her second husband, and Lichtenfels afterward–or whether his name were Butman and hers Lichtenfels, Mrs. Munroe was not quite sure. Nor could she say whether Mr. Gilbert took the account books and registers –there were heaps on heaps of them, for Mr. Gilbert had been a notary ever since General Jackson’s day–or whether Bundy did not take them, or whether they were not sold for old paper, Mrs. Munroe was not sure. For all this happened– all the break-up and removal–while Mrs. Munroe was on a visit to her sister not far from Brick Church above Little Falls, on your way to Frederic. And Mrs. Munroe offered this visit as a constant apology for her not knowing more precisely every detail of her old friend’s business.