THE BRIDE-TO-BE
In the smallish house which all summer long, from morning until late at night, had resounded with the voices of young people, echoing their songs, murmurous with their theories of love, or vibrating with their glee, sometimes shaking all over during their more boisterous moods--in that house, now comparatively so vacant, the proprietor stood and breathed deep breaths.
``Hah!'' he said, inhaling and exhaling the air profoundly.
His wife was upon the porch, outside, sewing.
The silence was deep.He seemed to listen to it --to listen with gusto; his face slowly broadening, a pinkish tint overspreading it.His flaccid cheeks appeared to fill, to grow firm again, a smile finally widening them.
``HAH!'' he breathed, sonorously.He gave himself several resounding slaps upon the chest, then went out to the porch and sat in a rocking-
chair near his wife.He spread himself out expansively.``My Glory!'' he said.``I believe I'll take off my coat! I haven't had my coat off, outside of my own room, all summer.I believe I'll take a vacation! By George, I believe I'll stay home this afternoon!''
``That's nice,'' said Mrs.Parcher.
``Hah!'' he said.``My Glory! I believe I'll take off my shoes!''
And, meeting no objection, he proceeded to carry out this plan.
``Hah-AH!'' he said, and placed his stockinged feet upon the railing, where a number of vines, running upon strings, made a screen between the porch and the street.He lit a large cigar.
``Well, well!'' he said.``That tastes good!
If this keeps on, I'll be in as good shape as I was last spring before you know it!'' Leaning far back in the rocking-chair, his hands behind his head, he smoked with fervor; but suddenly he jumped in a way which showed that his nerves were far from normal.His feet came to the floor with a thump, he jerked the cigar out of his mouth, and turned a face of consternation upon his wife.
``What's the matter?''
``Suppose,'' said Mr.Patcher, huskily--``suppose she missed her train.''
Mrs.Parcher shook her head.
``Think not?'' he said, brightening.``I ordered the livery-stable to have a carriage here in lots of time.''
``They did,'' said Mrs.Parcher, severely.
``About five dollars' worth.''
``Well, I don't mind that,'' he returned, putting his feet up again.``After all, she was a mighty fine little girl in her way.The only trouble with me was that crowd of boys;--having to listen to them certainly liked to killed me, and I believe if she'd stayed just one more day I'd been a goner! Of all the dam boys I ever--''
He paused, listening.
``Mr.Parcher!'' a youthful voice repeated.
He rose, and, separating two of the vines which screened the end of the porch from the street, looked out.Two small maidens had paused upon the sidewalk, and were peering over the picket fence.
``Mr.Parcher,'' said Jane, as soon as his head appeared between the vines--``Mr.Parcher, Miss Pratt's gone.She's gone away on the cars.''
``You think so?'' he asked, gravely.
``We saw her,'' said Jane.``Rannie an' I were there.Willie was goin' to chase us, I guess, but we went in the baggage-room behind trunks, an' we saw her go.She got on the cars, an' it went with her in it.Honest, she's gone away, Mr.Parcher.''
Before speaking, Mr.Parcher took a long look at this telepathic child.In his fond eyes she was a marvel and a darling.
``Well--THANK you, Jane!'' he said.
Jane, however, had turned her head and was staring at the corner, which was out of his sight.
``Oo-oo-ooh!'' she murmured.
``What's the trouble, Jane?''
``Willie!'' she said.``It's Willie an' that Joe Bullitt, an' Johnnie Watson, an' Mr.Wallace Banks.They're with Miss May Parcher.They're comin' right here!''
Mr.Parcher gave forth a low moan, and turned pathetically to his wife, but she cheered him with a laugh.
``They've only walked up from the station with May,'' she said.``They won't come in.
You'll see!''
Relieved, Mr.Parcher turned again to speak to Jane--but she was not there.He caught but a glimpse of her, running up the street as fast as she could, hand in hand with her companion.
``Run, Rannie, run!'' panted Jane.``I got to get home an' tell mamma about it before Willie.I bet I ketch Hail Columbia, anyway, when he does get there!''
And in this she was not mistaken: she caught Hail Columbia.It lasted all afternoon.
It was still continuing after dinner.Thatt evening, when an oft-repeated yodel, followed by a shrill-wailed, ``Jane-ee! Oh, Jane-NEE-ee!''
brought her to an open window down-stairs.In the early dusk she looked out upon the washed face of Rannie Kirsted, who stood on the lawn below.
``Come on out, Janie.Mamma says I can stay outdoors an' play till half past eight.''
Jane shook her head.``I can't.I can't go outside the house till to-morrow.It's because we walked after Willie with our stummicks out o' joint.''
``Pshaw!'' Rannie cried, lightly.``My mother didn't do anything to me for that.''
``Well, nobody told her on you,'' said Jane, reasonably.
``Can't you come out at all?'' Rannie urged.
``Go ask your mother.Tell her--''
``How can I,'' Jane inquired, with a little heat, ``when she isn't here to ask? She's gone out to play cards--she and papa.''
Rannie swung her foot.``Well,'' she said, ``I guess I haf to find SOMEp'n to do! G' night!''
With head bowed in thought she moved away, disappearing into the gray dusk, while Jane, on her part, left the window and went to the open front door.Conscientiously, she did not cross the threshold, but restrained herself to looking out.On the steps of the porch sat William, alone, his back toward the house.
``Willie?'' said Jane, softly; and, as he made no response, she lifted her voice a little.
``Will-ee!''
``Whatchwant!'' he grunted, not moving.
``Willie, I told mamma I was sorry I made you feel so bad.''
``All right!'' he returned, curtly.
``Well, when I haf to go to bed, Willie,'' she said, ``mamma told me because I made you feel bad I haf to go up-stairs by myself, to-night.''
