The Staying Guest

“Don’t be foolish, Priscilla,” said her sister; “be thankful you’re here to scrub at them, and not dead in your bed, hatcheted into eternity by a gory villain!”

“Oh, I am thankful,” moaned Miss Priscilla. “And to think we owe our lives to that blessed little dog! Ladybird, don’t you ever hint at giving him away! The Bateses can’t have him. Why, I wouldn’t be safe a minute without that dog in the house!”

And so the next day Ladybird went over to tell Mr. Bates she had changed her mind about giving him the dog.

That good man was greatly interested in the story of the burglars, but he seemed much more anxious to hear how the Flint ladies were affected by it than to learn the details of the burglary itself.

“And when the burglars heard Cloppy bark,” went on Ladybird, thrilled by the exciting mental picture, “they dropped their hatchet and ran. And the hatchet had a B cut on it.”

“It did?” said Mr. Bates, suddenly startled. “Oh, well, that stands for Burglar.”

“And he left a horrid old hat. And he must have been awful scared, for he only stole three things; but they were three of aunty’s pet treasures. And what do you think! We found them, all three, this morning, out on the piazza and lawn!”

“Then he did no real damage?” said Mr. Bates.

“Oh, yes; he smashed Aunt Priscilla’s head.”

“What?”

“Oh, I don’t mean her own head, but that big marble one, or plaster or something; it’s called ‘Cherry Ripe,’ and it was a work of art.”

“It was a civic calamity,” said Mr. Bates.

“I don’t know what civic means,” said Ladybird; “but it was an awful calamity, and Aunt Priscilla feels perfectly dreadful about it. But anyhow, Cloppy saved us all from our untimely ends, and so aunty says we’re going to keep Cloppy, and so it has all turned out right.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Bates, with a smile of deep satisfaction, “it all turned out right.”

CHAPTER XI

A MATRIMONIAL BUREAU

“Ladybird and Stella Russell seem to be great cronies,” observed Miss Dorinda one afternoon as she sat knitting by the window and watched the two girls walking down the garden path.

“Yes,” said her sister; “and in some ways it is a good thing for Lavinia. She is so hoydenish and daring that I think a nice, quiet girl like Stella Russell will have a refining influence over her.”

“Ladybird isn’t unrefined, Priscilla,” said Miss Dorinda. Insinuations against her niece were the one thing which could rouse the meek and mild ire which this good lady possessed.

“No, not unrefined, since she is a Flint; but you must admit, Dorinda, that at times she is exasperating beyond all measure. Why, only this morning she cut the strings from my best bonnet, and tied them round the kittens’ necks, because, she said, she never had seen kittens with black ribbons on, and she wanted to see how funny they looked; and she said, too, that the bonnet looked better without strings.”

“Yes, she’s thoughtless and careless,” sighed Miss Dorinda, “but not wicked. I think she means all right.”

“Then she very seldom expresses her meaning,” snapped Miss Priscilla.

“Well, she’s only a child,” said Dorinda; “you can’t put old heads on young shoulders. Sometimes I think perhaps Stella’s influence isn’t altogether good for her: it may fill her head with grown-up nonsense. You know she’s so imaginative.”

“Oh, Stella isn’t flighty,” said Miss Priscilla. “She’s a fine, wholesome young woman, and I am sure Lavinia is already better for having known her.”

At that moment Ladybird came flying in. Her cheeks were red, her eyes big and bright, and she seemed in a state of wild excitement. She flung her hat one way and her cape the other, and dropped into a chair.

“My, aunties,” she exclaimed, “what do you think! Stella Russell thinks maybe – perhaps – she’s going to be engaged to be married!”

“Goodness gracious me, child!” exclaimed Miss Priscilla, “what are you talking about?”

“I told you so,” said Miss Dorinda.

“And she doesn’t want to a bit,” Ladybird went on; “it’s perfectly awful. They’re making her do it – her cruel, cruel grandparents and that silly Charley Hayes; and there isn’t anybody else. And she wouldn’t have confidanted to me only I guessed it, and she said yes; and then I made her tell me all about it. And isn’t it perfectly awful, and can’t we help her some way?”

“Lavinia Lovell,” said Miss Priscilla, “do you know what you’re talking about? And if so, can you tell it so any one can understand it?”

“That’s the way it is, aunty; and if you can’t understand it, I can’t help it. Charley Hayes wants to marry Stella, and he says she must; and Stella’s grandfather and grandmother they say she must; so everybody wants her to, except Stella herself and me. I think it’s just dreadful. He’s as silly as a loon. He doesn’t know anything, and he’s awkward and rude and countrified and awful homely, and I don’t care if he is rich.”

“Lavinia,” said Miss Priscilla, with a tone of displeasure, “you have no business with these matters at all, and I am surprised that Stella should have talked to you about this.”

“She didn’t mean to, aunty,” said Ladybird, eagerly; “honest injun, it wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t going to say a word to me about it; but I couldn’t help seeing there was some fearful thing going on in her heart, and so I made her tell me what it was; and of course after I got her started she kept going, and now I know all about it.”

“You do!” said Miss Priscilla. “And, pray, what do you propose to do about it?”

“Oh, aunty, I don’t know; but let’s help her out some way, can’t we?”

“No, we can’t,” said Miss Priscilla, shortly. “It’s none of our affair, and I forbid you, Lavinia, ever to refer to the subject again.”

“Yes, aunty, I’ll remember; but just listen a minute.”

Ladybird had gone to her aunt’s side, and she perched on the arm of her chair, and caressed the withered old face as she talked.

“You see, aunty,” she went on, “both aunties,” – for she felt instinctively that Miss Dorinda would show more sentiment in this matter than her sister, – “Charley Hayes is not half, nor quarter, nor not even the least little mite good enough for my beautiful, lovely, sweet Stella. She’s so pretty, and so wise, that she ought to marry an earl, or a duke, or a king, at least.”

“Yes,” said Miss Dorinda, timidly, “I can’t help thinking it is all true, Priscilla.”

“It makes no difference how true it is,” said Miss Priscilla, angrily, “it is nothing to us; and I repeat, Lavinia, that I wish you to drop the subject at once and forever.”

“Yes, aunty,” said Ladybird, with every outward show of obedience; “but I’ve got the loveliest plan. You know there are places where you can advertise and get husbands.”

“What?” cried Miss Priscilla Flint, unable to believe her own ears.

“Yes, really, aunty; didn’t you know it? I’ve often wondered why you and Aunt Dorinda didn’t get some husbands that way. I didn’t know you didn’t know about it. It’s perfectly lovely. Martha told me about it; and you just send your name and the color of your eyes, and you say what kind of a husband you want, and they send them to you right away. What kind would you like, aunty?”

Miss Dorinda was speechless at these fearsome revelations; but Miss Priscilla was rarely affected that way.

“Lavinia Lovell,” she exclaimed, with flashing eyes, “hush this talk at once! I am more ashamed of you than I can say. Hush! do not speak another word.”

“No,” said Ladybird, “I won’t; but truly, Aunt Priscilla, it’s a great scheme. Martha knew a lady who got a lovely husband that way, and – ”

“Silence, Lavinia!”

“Yes, ’m. And he married her, and they lived happy ever after. Martha said so.”

“Lavinia, be quiet.”