Cloudy Jewel & Aunt Crete's Emancipation. Grace Livingston Hill
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making them ashamed before this handsome young man? and was he really their Western cousin? Luella felt that a joke was being played upon her, and she always resented jokes—at least, unless she played them herself.
Then Donald came to the front, for he feared for Aunt Crete’s poise. She must not lose her calm dignity and get frightened. There was a sharp ring in the other aunt’s voice, and the new cousin looked unpromising.
“And is this my Aunt Carrie? And my Cousin Luella?” He stepped forward, and shook hands pleasantly.
“I am glad to be able to speak with you at last,” he said as he dropped Luella’s hand, “though it’s not the first time I’ve seen you, nor heard your voice, either, you know.”
Luella looked up puzzled, and tried to muster her scattered graces, and respond with her ravishing society air; but somehow the ease and grace of the man before her overpowered her. And was he really her cousin? She tried to think what he could mean by having seen and talked with her before. Surely he must be mistaken, or—perhaps he was referring to the glimpse he had of her when Mr. Grandon bowed the evening before. She tossed her head with a kittenish movement, and arched her poorly pencilled eyebrows.
“O, how is that?” she asked, wishing he had not been quite so quick to drop her hand. It would have been more impressive to have had him hold it just a second longer.
“Why, I saw you the morning you left your home, as I was getting out of the train. You were just entering, and you called out of the window to a young lady in a pony-cart. You wore a light kind of a yellowish suit, didn’t you? Yes, I was very sure it was you.”
He was studying her face closely, a curious twinkle in his eyes, which might or might not have been complimentary. Luella could not be sure. The color rose in her cheeks and neck and up to her black-walnut hair till the red dress and the red face looked all of a flame. She suddenly remembered what she had called out to the young lady in the pony-cart, and she wondered whether he had heard or noticed.
“And then,” went on her handsome persecutor, “I had quite a long talk with you over the telephone, you know——”
“What!” gasped Luella. “Was that you? Why, you must be mistaken; I never telephoned to you; that is, I couldn’t get any one to the ’phone.”
“What’s all this about, Luella?” questioned her mother sharply, but Donald interposed.
“Sit down, Aunt Carrie. We are so excited over meeting you at last that we are forgetting to be courteous.” He shoved forth a comfortable chair for his aunt, and another for the blushing, overwhelmed Luella; and then he took Aunt Crete’s hands lovingly, and gently pushed her backward into the most comfortable rocker in the room. “It’s just as cheap to sit down, dear aunt,” he said, smiling. “And you know you’ve had a pretty full day, and must not get tired for to-night’s concert at the Casino. Now, Aunt Carrie, tell us about your ankle. How did you come to sprain it so badly, and how did it get well so fast? We were quite alarmed about you. Is it really better? I am afraid you are taxing it too much to have come down this evening. Much as we wanted to see you, we could have waited until it was quite safe for you to use it, rather than have you run any risks.”
Then it was the mother’s turn to blush, and her thin, somewhat colorless face grew crimson with embarrassment.
“Why, I——” she began; “that is, Luella was working over it, rubbing it with liniment, and all of a sudden she gave it a sort of a little pull; and something seemed to give way with a sharp pain, and then it came all right as good as ever. It feels a little weak, but I think by morning it’ll be all right. I think some little bone got out of place, and Luella pulled it back in again. My ankles have always been weak, anyway. I suffer a great deal with them in going about my work at home.”
“Why, Carrie,” said Aunt Crete, leaning forward with troubled reproach in her face, “you never complained about it.”
A dull red rolled over Mrs. Burton’s thin features again, and receded, leaving her face pinched and haggard-looking. She felt as if she were seeing visions. This couldn’t be her own sister, all dressed up so, and yet speaking in the old sympathetic tone.
“O, I never complain, of course. It don’t do any good.”
The conversation was interrupted by another tap on the door. Donald opened it, and received a large express package. While he was giving some orders to the servant, Mrs. Burton leaned forward, and said in a low tone to her sister:
“For goodness’ sake, Lucretia Ward, what does all this mean? How ever did you get tricked out like that?”
Then Donald’s clear voice broke in upon them as the door closed once more, and Luella watched him curiously cutting with eager, boyish haste the cords of the express package.
“Aunt Crete, your cloak has come. Now we’ll all see if it’s becoming.”
“Bless the boy,” said Aunt Crete, looking up with delighted eyes. “Cloak; what cloak? I’m sure I’ve got wraps enough now. There’s the cloth coat, and the silk one, and that elegant black lace——”
“No, you haven’t. I saw right off what you needed when we went out in the auto last night; and I telephoned to that Miss Brower up in the city this morning, and she’s fixed it all up. I hope you’ll like it.”
With that he pulled the cover off the box, and brought to view a long, full evening cloak of pale pearl-colored broadcloth lined with white silk, and a touch about the neck of black velvet and handsome creamy lace.
He held it up at arm’s length admiringly.
“It’s all right, Aunt Crete. It looks just like you. I knew that woman would understand. Stand up, and let’s see how you look in it; and then after dinner we’ll take a little spin around the streets to try you in it.”
Aunt Crete, blushing like a pretty girl, stood up; and he folded the soft garment about her in all its elegant richness. She stood just in front of the full-length mirror, and could not deny to herself that it was becoming. But she was getting used to seeing herself look well, and was not so much overpowered with the sight as she was with the tender thought of the boy that had got it for her. She forgot Carrie and Luella, and everything but that Donald had gone to great trouble and expense to please her; and she just turned around, and put her two hands, one on each of his cheeks, standing on her tiptoes to reach him, and kissed him.
He bent and returned the kiss laughingly.
“It’s lot of fun to get you things, Aunt Crete,” he said; “you always like them so much.”
“It is beautiful, beautiful,” she said, looking down and smoothing the cloth tenderly as if it had been his cheek. “It’s much too beautiful for me. Donald, you will spoil me.”
“Yes, I should think so,” sniffed Luella, as if offering an apology in some sort for her childish aunt.
“A little spoiling won’t hurt you, dear aunt,” said Donald seriously. “I don’t believe you’ve had your share of spoiling yet, and I mean to give it to you if I can. Doesn’t she look pretty in it, Cousin Luella? Come now, Aunt Carrie, I suppose it’s time to go down to dinner, or we sha’n’t get through in time for the fun. Are you sure your ankle is quite well? Are you able to go to the Casino to-night? I’ve tickets for us all. Sousa’s orchestra is to be there, and the programme is an unusually fine one.”
Luella was mortified and angry beyond words, but a chance to go to the Casino, in company with Clarence Grandon and his mother, was not to be lightly thrown away; and she crushed down her mortification, contenting herself with darting an angry glance and a hateful curl of her lip at Aunt Crete as they went out the door together. This, however, was altogether lost on that little woman, for she was watching her nephew’s face, and wondering how it came that such joy had fallen to her lot.
There was no chance for the mortified mother and daughter to exchange a word as they went down in the elevator or followed in the wake of their relatives, before whom all porters and office-boys