The Disagreeable Woman

"Dat is as God wills."

"Have you spoken to Miss Ruth on the subject?"

"No, not yet. I wish to speak to you first—I thought you might want to marry her yourself."

"You need have no anxiety on that subject; I never thought of such a thing."

"Dat is good. I feel better."

"Have you any idea that Miss Canby will agree to marry you?"

"I do not know. I am a Herr Professor," he said, proudly.

In Germany there is a high respect felt for titles of every kind, and the Professor evidently thought that his official dignity would impress the young woman from Macy's.

"Still, you are so much older than she, that she may not at first like the idea."

"You think she refuse me—that she gives me the mitten?" he said, uneasily.

"If you propose too quick. Will you take my advice?"

"Ja, ja!"

"Then don't propose at once. Let her get accustomed to your attentions."

"What shall I do first?" he asked, anxiously.

"Suppose you invite her to go to the theatre with you?"

"Ja, dat is good!"

"Perhaps you could take her to hear Patti?"

"No, no. It cost too much!" said he, shaking his head.

"Then you might invite her to the Star Theatre to see Crane."

"So I will."

He rose and shuffled out of the office in a very pleasant humor. He felt that there was no obstacle to his suit, now that I had disclaimed all intention of marrying the young woman from Macy's.

CHAPTER IX.

AN EVENING AT THE BOARDING-HOUSE

The confidence which Prof. Poppendorf had reposed in me, naturally led me to observe his behavior at table to the young woman from Macy's. There was a difficulty as I had to look round the "Disagreeable Woman," who sat next to me. Then I could not very well watch the Professor's expression, as his large, green goggles concealed so large a part of his face.

He still continued to devote the chief part of his time to the business of the hour, and his eyes were for the most part fixed upon his plate. Yet now and then I observed he offered her the salt or the pepper, a piece of attention quite new to him. I had some thought of suggesting to Miss Canby that she had awakened an interest in the heart of the gray old Professor, but it occurred to me that this would be hardly fair to the elderly suitor. It was only right to leave him a fair field, and let him win if Fate ordained it.

On Wednesday evenings it was generally understood that the boarders, such at any rate as had no other engagements, would remain after supper and gather in the little reception-room, till the dining-room was cleared, spending the evening socially.

On such occasions Mrs. Wyman would generally volunteer a song, accompanying herself if there was no one else to play. She had a thin, strident voice, such as one would not willingly hear a second time, but out of courtesy we listened, and applauded. The widow had one who fully appreciated her vocal efforts, and this was herself. She always looked pleased and complacent when her work was done.

It was on the first Wednesday after the Count's arrival that she induced him to remain.

"Don't you sing, Count?" she asked.

"Very little, madam," he said.

"But you are an Italian, and all Italians are musical."

He uttered a faint disclaimer, but she insisted.

"Do me a favor—a great favor," she said, persuasively, "and sing some sweet Italian air, such as you must know."

"No, I don't sing Italian airs," he said.

"What then?"

"I can sing 'Sweet Marie.'"

"I am sure we shall all be glad to hear it. I sometimes sing a little myself—just a tiny bit."

"I shall like much to hear you, signora."

"I shall feel very bashful about singing to an Italian gentleman. You will laugh at me."

"No, no, I would not be so rude."

"Then perhaps I may. Our friends always insist upon hearing me."

So at an early period in the evening she sang one of her routine songs.

I watched the Count's face while she was singing. I was amused. At first his expression was one of surprise. Then of pain, and it seemed to me of annoyance. When Mrs. Wyman had completed the song she turned to him a look of complacent inquiry. She was looking for a compliment.

"Didn't I do horribly?" she asked.

"Oh, no, no," answered the Count, vaguely.

"It must have seemed very bad to you."

"No, no—"

"Do you think it was passable?"

"Oh, signora, I never heard anything like it."

"Oh, you naughty flatterer," she said, smiling with delight. "I am sure you don't mean it."