"Well, it 'll do you good here," said Whitwell. "'N' the young lady, too. A few tramps over these hills 'll make you look like another woman." He added, as if he had perhaps made his remarks too personal to the girl, "Both of you.""Oh yes," the mother assented, fervently. " We shall count upon your showing us all their-mysteries."Whitwell looked pleased. "I'll do my best-whenever you're ready."He went on: "Why, Jeff, here, has just got back, too. Jeff, what was the name of that French boat you said you crossed on? I want to see if Ican't make out what plantchette meant by that broken shaft. She must have meant something, and if I could find out the name of the ship--Tell the ladies about it?" Jeff laughed, with a shake of the head, and Whitwell continued, "Why, it was like this," and he possessed the ladies of a fact which they professed to find extremely interesting. At the end of their polite expressions he asked Jeff again: "What did you say the name was?""Aquitaine," said Jeff, briefly.
"Why, we came on the Aquitaine!" said Mrs. Vostrand, with a smile for Jeff. "But how did we happen not to see one another?""Oh, I came second-cabin," said Jeff. "I worked my way over on a cattle-ship to London, and, when I decided not to work my way back, I found Ihadn't enough money for a first-cabin passage. I was in a hurry to get back in time to get settled at Harvard, and so I came second-cabin. It wasn't bad. I used to see you across the rail.""Well!" said Whitwell.
"How very--amusing!" said Mrs. Vostrand. "What a small world it is!"With these words she fell into a vagary; her daughter recalled her from it with a slight movement. "Breakfast? How impatient you are, Genevieve! Well!" She smiled the sweetest parting to Whitwell, and suffered herself to be led away by Jeff.
"And you're at Harvard? I'm so interested! My own boy will be going there soon.""Well, there's no place like Harvard," said Jeff. "I'm in my Sophomore year now.""Oh, a Sophomore! Fancy!" cried Mrs. Vostrand, as if nothing could give her more pleasure. "My son is going to prepare at St. Mark's. Did you prepare there?""No, I prepared at Lovewell Academy, over here." Jeff nodded in a southerly direction.
"Oh, indeed!" said Mrs. Vostrand, as if she knew where Lovewell was, and instantly recognized the name of the ancient school.
They had reached the dining room, and Jeff pushed the screen-door open with one hand, and followed the ladies in. He had the effect of welcoming them like invited guests; he placed the ladies himself at a window, where he said Mrs. Vostrand would be out of the draughts, and they could have a good view of Lion's Head.
He leaned over between them, when they were seated, to get sight of the mountain, and, "There!" he said. "That cloud's gone at last." Then, as if it would be modester in the proprietor of the view to leave them to their flattering raptures in it, he moved away and stood talking a moment with Cynthia Whitwell near the door of the serving-room. He talked gayly, with many tosses of the head and turns about, while she listened with a vague smile, motionlessly.
"She's very pretty," said Miss Vostrand to her mother.
"Yes. The New England type," murmured the mother.
"They all have the same look, a good deal," said the girl, glancing over the room where the waitresses stood ranged against the wall with their hands folded at their waists. "They have better faces than figures, but she is beautiful every way. Do you suppose they are all schoolteachers?
They look intellectual. Or is it their glasses?""I don't know," said the mother. "They used to be; but things change here so rapidly it may all be different. Do you like it?""I think it's charming here," said the younger lady, evasively.
"Everything is so exquisitely clean. And the food is very good. Is this corn-bread--that you've told me about so much?""Yes, this is corn-bread. You will have to get accustomed to it.""Perhaps it won't take long. I could fancy that girl knowing about everything. Don't you like her looks?""Oh, very much." Mrs. Vostrand turned for another glance at Cynthia.
"What say?" Their smiling waitress came forward from the wall where she was leaning, as if she thought they had spoken to her.
"Oh, we were speaking--the young lady to whom Mr. Durgin was talking--she is--""She's the housekeeper--Miss Whitwell."
"Oh, indeed! She seems so young--"
"I guess she knows what to do-o-o," the waitress chanted. " We think she's about ri-i-ght." She smiled tolerantly upon the misgiving of the stranger, if it was that, and then retreated when the mother and daughter began talking together again.
They had praised the mountain with the cloud off, to Jeff, very politely, and now the mother said, a little more intimately, but still with the deference of a society acquaintance: "He seems very gentlemanly, and I am sure he is very kind. I don't quite know what to do about it, do you?""No, I don't. It's all strange to me, you know.""Yes, I suppose it must be. But you will get used to it if we remain in the country. Do you think you will dislike it?""Oh no! It's very different."
"Yes, it's different. He is very handsome, in a certain way." The daughter said nothing, and the mother added: "I wonder if he was trying to conceal that he had come second-cabin, and was not going to let us know that he crossed with us?""Do you think he was bound to do so?"
"No. But it was very odd, his not mentioning it. And his going out on a cattle-steamer?" the mother observed.
"Oh, but that's very chic, I've heard," the daughter replied. "I've heard that the young men like it and think it a great chance. They have great fun. It isn't at all like second-cabin.""You young people have your own world," the mother answered, caressingly.
