The Man in Lonely Land

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The Man in Lonely Land Page 4

by Kate Langley Bosher


  IV

  DOROTHEA AND MR. LAINE

  "Pardonnez-moi!" Mademoiselle Antoinette stood at the door. Aroundand about her hung blushing apology, and her hands clasped andunclasped in nervous appeal. The hour had struck and her littlecharges must come. Would Monsieur pardon? She was so sorry, it wassad, but Madame would not like it. "Oh, of course!" Laine waved hishand. "Good night, Buster!" Channing was tossed in the air. "Ifthe gobblers get you to-night, don't mind. They're just turkey.Good night, Miss Wisdom!" Stooping, he kissed Dorothea and unwoundthe arms with which she clung to him. "I'm sorry, child, but abargain is a bargain, and your mother won't trust us if we don't playfair-- It's after eight and--" "But I haven't told you what was thespecialest thing I had to--" Dorothea turned to the woman standingin the door holding her brother's hand; spoke to her rapidly.

  "Je vous en prie, Mademoiselle Antoinette, Prenez Channing et nem'attendez pas. Je vous rejoindrai dans un instant. J'ai quelquechose de tres important a dier a mon oncle--deux minutes et j'arrive!"

  Antoinette hesitated, then, with a gesture of despair, left the room;and instantly Dorothea was on a stool at her uncle's feet.

  "Did you know?" Elbows on his knees and chin in the palms of herhands she looked up eagerly in his face. "Did you know my cousinClaudia was coming to-night?"

  "I did."

  "Isn't it grand!" Dorothea's hands came together, and in anotherminute she was dancing round and round the room, the tip ends of herskirt held by her fingers. "I'm crazy about my cousin Claudia.She's my only correspondent, the only one I love to write to, I mean.She writes things I like to hear about, and Christmas she sends mesomething I want. That's the way we began to write. She sent me apresent, and father made me thank her in writing myself, and then shewrote me and we've been friends ever since."

  Laine knocked the ashes from his cigar toward the grate. "I didn'tknow you knew Miss Keith."

  "I don't. But I'm going to like her all right. Some things you knowright here"--she put her hand on her breast. "Father's been wantingmother to ask her for a long time, but mother said she knew shedidn't have clothes like New York people wore, and it might make herfeel badly. I heard them talking one night, and father said theKeiths didn't have to depend on their clothes to show where theybelonged, so mother invited her; but I don't think she wanted to verymuch. Do you suppose?"--she came toward him, and, with her hands onthe arms of his chair, searched his face--"Do you suppose she will bevery country-looking?"

  "I really couldn't guess. People who live in the backwoods and milesfrom a railroad are not apt to be leaders of fashion. Doubtless herhands will be red and her face will be red and her hair will be red,but--"

  "I don't care how red she is, I'm going to love her. I can tell byher letters!" Dorothea's shoulders were back and her eyes wereshining. "And I don't see why you say things like that! I don'tthink you are very polite!"

  "I don't, either. I think I'm very impolite. It may be, you know,that her eyes will be blue and her lips will be blue and her skinwill be blue--"

  "And that will be worse than red. I thought you were going to beglad she was coming. Aren't you glad?"

  "Shall I tell the truth, or be polite?"

  "Both."

  "Impossible! If I told you I was glad I would be untruthful; ifsorry, I would be impolite."

  "But why aren't you glad? Are you too old to be glad over youngladies?"

  Laine laughed. "I think I am. Yes, I'm sure that's what's thematter. Not for some years have I been glad over them, I don't carefor girls older than you are, Dorothea. When they reach the grown-upage--"

  "Claudia has reached the age of twenty-six. She told me so in one ofher letters. What age have you reached, Uncle Winthrop?"

  "Middle age."

  "Is that very old?" Dorothea came closer, and her fingers slipped inand out of Laine's hair. "You're gray just a teensy bit, but I don'tthink she's a person who will mind if a man isn't truly young.You've got such nice strong arms, and I'm not afraid of lions ortigers or bears or--or mice or anything when you are with me. Pleaselike her, Uncle Winthrop!" Dorothea's face was pressed againstLaine's. "Next to father and mother and Channing I love you best,and I think I'm going to love her next after you."

  "Mademoiselle Dorothea!"

  From the steps outside Antoinette was calling, and Dorothea noddedher head at her uncle. "That's another thing my children are notgoing to have. They are never going to have a French governess toput them to bed and make them say their prayers in French. I don'tbelieve the Lord likes it. Good night, Uncle Winthrop. I hope mycousin Claudia will be politer about you than you've been about her,and I know she hasn't red hands." She waved her own and threw a kiss,but as she reached the door Laine called her back.

  "Come here, Dorothea."

  She turned and came toward him. "Did you call me, Uncle Winthrop?"

  "I did." He drew her on his knees. "Did you say you said yourprayers in French?"

  "Every night, unless for punishment I have to say a German one.Channing just shuffles his out and runs all the words together so Idon't believe even God can understand them. I don't like Frenchprayers."

  "Then why do you say them?"

  "Oh, we have to! All the children I know say their prayers inFrench. One day six of us had a race to see which could say themfastest and say the most. I beat. Want to hear me?"

  "Indeed I don't!" Laine's voice was emphatic. "But I don't likeFrench prayers for little American girls. I never cared for parrotsor--"

  "What kind do you say, French or American?" Dorothea was strokingher uncle's fingers one by one. "I always say my real prayers insideafter I get in bed--that is, if I'm not too sleepy; and they're justplain talking to the Lord. You see, we are not allowed to speak oneword except in French to Antoinette, and mother likes us to speak itto her, only she is always in such a hurry she forgets half the time.We speak English to father, all right, though; father says French forbreakfast is all foolishness, and I think so, too. We take breakfastwith father every morning, and we just have a grand time. Mother isnever very well in the mornings, so she don't get up; but we takelunch with her when there isn't company and she isn't going out. Didyou know the Dufferns had a new baby at their house?"

  Laine shook his head.

  "They have. It's a girl. They had four girls already, and Juliasays they're going to change their doctor. He always brings girls."

  "Madam-oiselle Dor-othea!"

  Dorothea slipped from her uncle's lap. "I know what that means.Whenever she says 'Madam-ois-elle Doro-thea!' through her nose it's aGerman prayer. Good night." And this time she was gone.

  Laine followed her to the steps to take upon himself theresponsibility of her delay, and as he came back in the room heglanced at the clock and took out his watch. It wouldn't do for agirl from the country to get into New York alone at this time ofnight, and, of course, he would have to meet her; but why did shecome at this hour of night? Ringing for his coat and hat, he putthem on, then stopped to light a cigar, and as the match was held toit the front door-bell rang sharply. A moment later some one wastalking to Timkins.

  "Is this Mr. Warrick's residence?"

  The voice that asked the question was fresh and clear, and carriedeasily to where he stood. He looked around quickly as if for escape.

  "Yes'm." He could picture the bow Timkins was making. Timkins wasthe politest person he knew. "Yes'm, and this is Miss Keith, isn'tit? Just come in, ma'm, we're expecting of you, though your trainmust have been a little earlier than usual, ma'm. Mr. Warrick is outof town, and Mrs. Warrick had a pressing engagement which couldn't bedenied, but she left messages for you, and I think a note. Yes'm,just this way." And Timkins, knowing Laine was in the library, ledthe stranger past the door and up the steps, over the banisters ofwhich was heard from Dorothea a cry of delight.

  "Oh, my Cousin Claudia! My Cousin Claudia! I'm so glad you've come!I'm so glad!"

  A laugh as f
resh as the dawn of perfect morning followed the kissesnext heard, and then the new voice spoke again.

  "You precious child! I'm so glad you're glad. It's so nice to havesomebody glad to see you!"

 

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