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CHAPTER X. Mrs. Easterfield writes a Letter
When Miss Port had left her, Olive was so much disturbed by what that
placid spinster had told her that she totally forgot Claude Locker's
proposal of marriage, as well as the other things she had been thinking
about. These things had been not at all unpleasant; she had been
thinking of her uncle and her return to the toll-gate house. Her visit
to Broadstone was drawing to a close, and she was getting very tired of
Mr. Locker and Mr. and Mrs. Fox. She found, now her anger had cooled
down, that she was actually missing her uncle, and was thinking of him
as of some one who belonged to her. Her own father had never seemed to
belong to her; for periods of three years he was away on his ship; and,
even when he had been on shore duty, she had sometimes been at school;
and when she and her parents had been stationed somewhere together, the
lieutenant had been a good deal away from home on this or that naval
business. When a girl she had taken these absences as a matter of
course, but since she had been living with her uncle her ideas on the
subject had changed. She wanted now to be at home with him: and as
Broadstone was so near the toll-gate she had no doubt that Mrs.
Easterfield would sometimes want her to come to her when, perhaps, she
would have different people staying with her.
This was a very pleasant mental picture, and the more Olive had looked
at it, the better she had liked it. As to the reconciliation with her
uncle, it troubled her mind but little. So often had she been angry with
people, and so often had everything been made all right again, that she
felt used to the process. Her way was simple enough; when she was tired
of her indignation she quietly dropped it; and then, taking it for
granted that the other party had done the same, she recommenced her
usual friendly intercourse, just as if there had never been a quarrel or
misunderstanding. She had never found this method to fail--although, of
course, it might easily have failed with one who was not Olive--and she
had not the slightest doubt that if she wrote to her uncle that she was
coming on a certain day, she would be gladly received by him when she
should arrive.
But now? After what that woman had told her, what now? If her uncle had
said she was not coming back, there was an end to her mental pictures
and her pleasant plans. And what a hard man he must be to say that!
Slowly walking over the grass, Olive went to look for Mrs. Easterfield,
and found her in her garden on her knees by a flower-bed digging with a
little trowel.
"Mrs. Easterfield," said she, "I am thinking of getting married."
The elder lady sprang to her feet, dropping her trowel, which barely
missed her toes. She looked frightened. "What?" she exclaimed. "To
whom?"
"Not to anybody in particular," replied Olive. "I am considering the
subject in general. Let's go sit on that bench, and talk about it."
A little relieved, Mrs. Easterfield followed her. "I don't know what you
mean," she said, when they were seated. "Women don't think of marriage
in a general way; they consider it in a particular way."
"Oh, I am different," said Olive; "I am a navy girl, and more like a
man. I have to look out for myself. I think it is time I was married,
and therefore I am giving the subject attention. Don't you think that is
prudent?"
"And you say you have no particular leanings?" the other inquired.
"None whatever," said Olive. "Mr. Locker proposed to me less than an
hour ago, but I gave him no answer. He is too precipitate, and he is
only one person, anyway."
"You don't want to marry more than one person!" exclaimed Mrs.
Easterfield.
"No," said Olive, "but I want more than one to choose from."
Mrs. Easterfield did not understand the girl at all. But this was not to
be expected so soon; she must wait a little, and find out more.
Notwithstanding her apparent indifference to Claude Locker, there was
more danger in that direction than Mrs. Easterfield had supposed. A
really persistent lover is often very dangerous, no matter how
indifferent a young woman may be.
"Have you been considering the professor?" she asked, with a smile. "I
noticed that you were very gracious to him yesterday."
"No, I haven't," said Olive. "But I suppose I might as well. I did try
to make him have a good time, but I was still a little provoked and felt
that I would like him to go back to my uncle and tell him that he had
enjoyed himself. But now I suppose I must consider all the eligibles."
"Why now?" asked Mrs. Easterfield quickly; "why now more than any
previous time?"
Olive did not immediately answer, but presently she said: "I am not
going back to my uncle. There was a woman here just now--I don't know
whether she was sent or not--who informed me that he did not expect me
to return to his house. When my mother was living we were great
companions for each other, but now you see I am left entirely alone. It
will be a good while before father comes back, and then I don't know
whether he can settle down or not. Besides, I am not very well
acquainted with him, but I suppose that would arrange itself in time. So
you see all I can do is to visit about until I am married, and therefore
the sooner I am married and settled the better."
"Perhaps this is a cold-blooded girl!" said Mrs. Easterfield to herself.
"But perhaps it is not!" Then, speaking aloud, she said: "Olive Asher,
were you ever in love?"
The girl looked at her with reflective eyes. "Yes," she said. "I was
once, but that was the only time."
"Would you mind telling me about it?" asked Mrs. Easterfield.
"Not at all," replied the girl. "I was between thirteen and fourteen,
and wore short dresses, and my hair was plaited. My father was on duty
at the Philadelphia Navy-Yard, and we lived in that city. There was a
young man who used to come to bring messages to father; I think he was a
clerk or a draftsman. I do not remember his name, except that his first
name was Rupert, and father always called him by that. He was a
beautiful man-boy or boy-man, however you choose to put it. His eyes
were heavenly blue, his skin was smooth and white, his cheeks were red,
and he had the most charming mouth I ever saw. He was just the right
height, well shaped, and wore the most becoming clothes. I fell madly in
love with him the second time I saw him, and continued so for a long
time. I used to think about him and dream about him, and write little
poems about him which nobody ever saw. I tried to make a sketch of his
face once, but I failed and tore it up."
"What did he do?" asked Mrs. Easterfield.
"Nothing whatever," said Olive. "I never spoke to him, or he to me. I
don't believe he ever noticed me. Whenever I could I went into the room
where he was talking to father, but I was very quiet and kept in the
background, and I do not think his eyes ever fell upon me. But that did
not make any difference at all. He was beautiful above all other men in
the world, and I loved him. He was my first, my only love, and it almost
brings tears in my eyes now to think of him."
"Then you really could love the right person if he were to come along,"
said Mrs. Easterfield.
"Why do you think I couldn't? Of course I could. But the trouble is he
doesn't come, so I must try to arrange the matter with what material I
have."
When Mrs. Easterfield left the garden she went rapidly to her room.
There was a smile on her lips, and a light in her eye. A novel idea had
come to her which amused her, pleased her, and even excited her. She sat
down at her writing-table and began a letter to her husband. After an
opening paragraph she wrote thus:
"Is not Mr. Hemphill, of the central office of the D. and J., named
Rupert? It is my impression that he is. You know he has been to our
house several times to dinner when you invited railroad people, and I
remember him very well. If his name is Rupert will you find out, without
asking him directly, whether or not he was engaged about seven years ago
at the navy-yard. I am almost positive I once had a conversation with
him about the navy-yard and the moving of one of the great buildings
there. If you find that he had a position there, don't ask him any more
questions, and drop the subject as quickly as you can. But I then want
you to send him here on whatever pretext you please--you can send me any
sort of an important message or package--and if I find it desirable, I
shall ask him to stay here a few days. These hard-worked secretaries
ought to have more vacations. In fact, I have a very interesting scheme
in mind, of which I shall say nothing now for fear you may think it
necessary to reason about it. By the time you come it will have been
worked out, and I will tell you all about it. Now, don't fail to send
Mr. Hemphill as promptly as possible, if you find his name is Rupert,
and that he has ever been engaged in the navy-yard."
This letter was then sent to the post-office at the gap with an
immediate-delivery stamp on it.
When Mrs. Easterfield went down-stairs, her face still glowing with the
pleasure given by the writing of her letter, she met Claude Locker,
whose face did not glow with pleasure.
"What is the matter with you?" she asked.
"I feel like a man who has been half decapitated," said he. "I do not
know whether the execution is to be arrested and my wound healed, or
whether it is to go on and my head roll into the dust."
"A horrible idea!" said Mrs. Easterfield. "What do you really mean?"
"I have proposed to Miss Asher and I was treated with indifference, but
have not been discarded. Don't you see that I can not live in this
condition? I am looking for her."
"It will be a great deal better for you to leave her alone," replied
Mrs. Easterfield. "If she has any answer for you she will give it when
she is ready. Perhaps she is trying to make up her mind, and you may
spoil all by intruding yourself upon her."
"That will not do at all," said Locker, "not at all. The more Miss Asher
sees of me in an unengaged condition the less she will like me. I am
fully aware of this. I know that my general aspect must be very
unpleasant, so if I expect any success whatever, the quicker I get this
thing settled the better."
"Even if she refuses you," said Mrs. Easterfield.
"Yes," he answered; "then down comes the axe again, away goes my head,
and all is over! Then there is another thing," he said, without giving
Mrs. Easterfield a chance to speak. "There is that mathematical person.
When will he be here again?"
"I do not know," replied Mrs. Easterfield; "he has merely a general
invitation."
"I don't like him," said Locker. "He has been here twice, and that is
two times too many. I hate him."
"Why so?"
"Because he is unobjectionable," Locker answered, "and I am very much
afraid Miss Asher likes unobjectionable people. Now I am
objectionable--I know it--and the longer I remain unengaged the more
objectionable I shall become. I wish you would invite nobody but such
people as the Foxes."
"Why?"
"Because they are married," replied Locker. "But I must not wait here.
Can you tell me where I shall be likely to find her?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Easterfield, "she is with the Foxes, and they are
married."
Read next: Chapter 11. Mr. Locker Is Released On Bail
Read previous: Chapter 9. Miss Port Takes A Drive With The Butcher
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