Like a gentleman
B ■ * i ■ *#■ ?J** •■ t ' Tj*; & *£#. - • V *"*'■■♦■» V - *^ - i i J" fc a ■ > ^ l . -<. VTTfc *■ 2fib ■% •»... 4^ * ■<iSa mh- 3*.' Tf**^ I "fc:r LJ 2Z5 cMlMILLiI: * &: _ t«fe •""■iJ'i ' ' ij ' . I r, '.' I /■ r«€ - i ^ Boston Public Library pencil. Penalties for so dom >,J* m^achu8Ctt8. . TTTiheborrower on tne date This book teas issued to t,ie last stampedjeh-^ - - FORM N0. eoa: u..*.»" 6O0,i'  PUBLISHERS NEW YORK CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM 1882 (- I Copyright, 1881, By LEE AND SHEPARD. All rights reserved. \ :••: •••  ! , 'Slh 3. / 0 CONTENTS. PAGE CHAPTER I. Tony i CHAPTER II. Uncle Jack - . . . . 8 CHAPTER III. Mary Green 14 CHAPTER IV. The Rector 21 CHAPTER V. Taking a Stand 28 CHAPTER VI. Mary Geeen . . . 35 CHAPTER VII. The Darkened Library 43 CHAPTER VIII. Our Bishop at the "Evening" 51 CHAPTER IX. The Housekeeper 61 CHAPTER X. Tied up in a Rug 71 CHAPTER XI. The Package Untied 77 CHAPTER XH. The Nursery .84 ' CHAPTER XIII. A Test Question 87 iii IV CONTENTS. CHAPTER XIV. page Flower and Thorn 98 CHAPTER XV. At Saratoga 107 CHAPTER XVI. At the Hotel 118 CHAPTER XVII. A Disgrace to the Family 124 CHAPTER XVIII. No Champagne . 136 CHAPTER XIX. Our Excursion 146 CHAPTER XX. In the Lake! 153 CHAPTER XXI. Talking with Father 163 CHAPTER XXII. Something that Happened 167 CHAPTER XXIII. Will's Little Story 176 CHAPTER XXIV. A Little Brandy . . . * 187 CHAPTER XXV. The Bishop's Letter . 196 CHAPTER XXVI. Jack's Promise 204 CHAPTER XXVII. Saved! 211 LIKE A GENTLEMAN. CHAPTER I. TONY. KNOW ALL MEN BY THESE PRES- ENTS : that my name is Antonia ; that from my very cradle I have borne the blessed un-Roman diminutive of Tony ; that I am a tall, blond feminine, with plenty of will and ambition, whom most people, judging from my cognomen, consider a biped of the male per- suasion, until I dawn upon them in all the glory of a well-dressed girl of nineteen summers. Know, also, that I have an uncle Orlo Stande- wort, at present the proud incumbent of a guber- natorial office, whom all his friends and all the world exalt ; and an uncle Jack Meigs, whom his enemies and the world have been wont to slander ; and aunts and cousins to match. Uncle Orlo, it was said, drank like a gentle- man, but uncle Jack like a fish, with this dif- 2 LIKE A GENTLEMAN. ference, — that fish drink nothing but water, and uncle Jack any thing else. The assertion might be true, — was true, in fact ; but then, who that knew them intimately didn't like uncle Jack best, with his handsome tanned face, and his wondrously taking speech and ways ? The temperament of a man has something to answer for in the general summing-up of his follies, to call by no worse a name those thoughtless habits and wayward impulses that too often beset that unfortunate individual — "his own worst enemy." Open-hearted and open-handed as the day, uncle Jack made friends almost at a glance, with that rare illuminating smile of his. The dimples in his cheeks were like avant cotireurs, — they bespoke an interest before the finely- formed lips had moved. The whole man was charming ; and I don't wonder my aunt Flossy loved him dearly enough to marry him in the face of a great many warnings. Not but that it might have been better if she had listened ; but what woman, very deeply in love with a man whom everybody admires, and all his per- sonal friends idolize, ever would ? I was eighteen when aunt Flossy had been married nearly nine years, and there were five of the most beautiful babies you ever laid your eyes on at Fern Terrace. Yes, all babies ; TONY. 3 because there were two pairs of twins (the two eldest seven, the next two six), and Mabel, — in my eyes the seventh wonder of the world, — a cherubic girl just turned four. In her face was no trace of her earthly lineage. The pure dove-like eyes, large and liquid, and lambent as soft flickering flames, gave the heart a sweet pain as they rested wistfully on your own. Papa worshipped her. For the ruder boys — all boys the rest were — he did not seem to care, beyond a proud sense of grandfathership ; but with Mabel on his knee, he said he felt nearer heaven. " How did you leave them all ? ' he asked one day, as I came home with the little Mabel. He was always anxious when she came with me. " All well except uncle Jack : he was drunk, as usual," I said. Papa groaned. "Tony, I shall dread to see you marry," he said. " Nobody's prospects were better than poor Flossy's ; but" — he shook his head, sigh- ing. " Don't worry, papa," I said lightly. " I'm not one of the Flossy kind, you know." He smiled, looking at me fondly. " No, dear, that is true ; but equally, under certain circumstances, your life would be 4 LIKE A GENTLEMAN. wretched, and then it would be so hard to leave you ! " "I don't want you to leave me, you dearest of old darlings," I made haste to say, kissing him on his broad white forehead ; the soft curl- ing locks scattered over it were so silken and shining ! " Don't you know, when I was a wee mite I said I meant to marry the bishop ? Well, you just wait and see : I mean he shall ask me, anyway ; and you're not to talk of leav- ing me." At that papa made that queer little rattle in his throat, which is all his stock in trade when he wants to show me how alarm- ingly ill he is going to be ; and I, who had pulled off the child's pink hat, with its curling feather, and little white sheep-skin coat, also gloves of such diminutive size and fairy-like texture that I was almost afraid to lay them aside for fear they would vanish, tossed the little creature, laughing, in his lap, and did so enjoy the winsome picture, her heavenly face, and the golden hair lying in heavy waves all over his black coat, you would declare it was spun gold. "If Jack had been a poor man," said papa, his delicate blue-white chin resting on Mabel's softly-veined brow. " Then, you know, he'd have been in the gut- ter many a time," said I. "As it is, he almost TONY. 5 always comes genteelly home in a handsome carriage ; and if the neighbors should happen to see him creeping up the steps, or, haply, led by the coachman, why, though they may wink and shrug, they say nothing." " Poor Flossy ! " murmured papa. " Oh ! Flossy is used to it. She takes things easy, you see. It isn't as if he beat her." Papa looked up quick, shuddering. " Beat a woman ! " he said in his low, sweet voice. "Of course they do sometimes, even gentle- manly sots. But, O papa ! it is too bad, too vulgar to speak of, isn't it ? Only, I tell you, papa, I wish Flossy bad my spirit. I've ad- vised her, but all in vain. Some time she'll see it would have been bette r to listen, even to a crazy-brained niece." "And what would my foolish little Mentor do, supposing she had the reins in her own hands ? " asked papa. " Do ! " A thousand exclamation points would fail to indicate the emphasis with which my monosyllabic answer rang out upon the startled air. " Do ! I'd — poison him." "Poison Jack, — handsome, unfortunate Jack ? My dear, we should have to blacken our escutch- eon with a gallows." &' " I don't mean quite to death : he should be 6 LIKE A GENTLEMAN. poisoned, whipped, or somethinged, within an inch of his life. But, papa, haven't we had enough of this subject?" and I pointed to the sensitive child, who had turned her face away ; and when grandpa lifted it gently with his thumb and finger, great tears were rolling down her cheeks. The mischief was done. No matter how care- fully I tried to condone it, the child turned from me with a sob. "Why, darling," I said, trying to drive my own tears back, " don't you know I love uncle Jack — dear uncle Jack — almost as much as mamma and Mabel do ? " But the child was hurt, wounded almost unto death. Her little pulses beat fast and heavily, and her veins throbbed : I could see them under the tender skin. Her father was her idol, — always had been. In his intense joy at the birth of his first girl, he had almost promised Flossy, that, for the child's sake, he would give up the great fault that flawed his otherwise perfect character ; and the child seemed to him like a miracle of loveliness. She was his only girl : he adored her ; and, love begetting love, she adored him. Not long after that, she lay asleep upon my , • lap. Oh, wonderful incarnation of flesh and rblood in sinless infancy ! Such exceeding beau- "\ ter ma. TONY. ty seemed not of earth. Only for a long-drawn sobbing sigh now and then, and the rich carna- tion of the cheek, I should hardly have known she was breathing. LIKE A GENTLEMAN. CHAPTER II. UNCLE JACK. FERN TERRACE was a very nest of beau- tiful houses. Vines ran lovingly up from grassy bank to roof, and stretched their grace- ful length in all sorts of fanciful shapes, now making a bower of a bay-window, now running along under the eaves, then, in irregular but perfect grace, darting hither and thither in dainty festoons and delicate trailing lengths. The terrace consisted of four houses. At either end a small square, filled with flowering shrubs, charming trees, and fountains always in play, added to the attractiveness of the neigh- borhood. The property had been improved and beauti- fied by my great uncle, Harry Irwin, who, through almost unprecedented luck in specula- tion, had made a fabulous fortune, and changed a barren hundred acres from a wilderness to a town. Gradually the houses had crept to this outlying portion ; and, though considered still in the suburbs, it was in reality the best and hand- UNCLE JACK. 9 somest part of the city. The country smiled there, notwithstanding, in the great oaks, elms, and chestnuts, that cast their cool shadows over the lawns, and wherever they were allowed to remain. In certain sheltered spots, ferns of every variety had been planted ; for my great uncle was passionately fond of this simple frond. It was a fancy of his to name these houses, when he gave them to his daughters as they married, after three of his favorite mines. His own, now occupied by a stranger, he called "The Irwin." The others were respectively, " The Spur," "The Sheaf," "The Bend." Flossy, who had married handsome Jack Meigs, who was also wealthy, was the youngest and the prettiest of the Irwin girls, all of them conspicuous for beauty, grace, and the highest social qualities. Dear aunt Flossy ! she was in complete harmony with her home. Among her flowers she looked a flower herself : of all the adornments that met the eye everywhere, she was the fairest and brightest. She was a little creature, quick of movement, brilliant as a humming-bird, and brave as a lion. In her society days, rather, I should say, in the days of her belle-ship, no one had been -more sought after than Flossy Irwin. The life of every cir- cle, men hung upon her lightest words, and IO LIKE A GENTLEMAN. women envied as well as admired her. She was the last to leave Irwin House; and her father had very reluctantly yielded his consent to her marriage with Jack Meigs, though Jack was one of his favorites, and his father had been his bosom-friend. "You like Jack, do you not, papa?" she would say. " You are not afraid, dear father, that Jack will disgrace himself?" "Not a bit of it," was the reply. "I like the young fellow vastly : I like to drink a glass or two with him. Of course, he will always drink like a gentleman. It runs in the blood. I never saw old Dick Meigs upset in my life. I suspect «your Puritan always : but then, you see, Flossy, Irwin House won't seem the same to me without you ; someway I wanted you to stay till the old man was gone, for something tells me I shall go out like a snuffed candle." Flossy hung on his neck like a good child, cried a little, protested a great deal, declared that she would live single all her life if he demanded the sacrifice ; but, nevertheless, she went down to her handsome lover with the con- viction that there was only one man in the world worth living for and with, and that man was Jack Meigs. So it was not long before she was domiciled UNCLE JACK. II in her own beautiful home, — the loving gift of her doting father, castle-like, on a small scale, in its construction, with an interior adorned like a palace. I wish I could describe it. It would hardly seem, with its rare decorations, many of them imported, like going through the list of an upholsterer, or the catalogue of a modern bric-a-brac shop. Geraldine, my next oldest aunt, occupied house number two, The Bend. She had mar- ried the son of a well-known judge, and lived very happily with him and their only son Will, a youth of eighteen. She was a quiet, careful woman, very fond of home, indeed wholly de- voted to her domestic duties, and proud and a little afraid of her eldest sister, the manager and ruler of the family coterie. Aunt Catherine had been the first to enter upon possession at Fern Terrace. Her hus- band was reputed to be a million naire. He owned two distilleries, several wholesale stores, and lived, or appeared to live, in all the odor of sanctity. He was the principal warden of St. Stephen's, of which my only brother Philip was the rector. First and foremost in all good works, no name so often headed the high-toned subscription-lists of the various charities as his. Now you have the whole family, only I have 12 LIKE A GENTLEMAN. not described my aunt Kate. A few words will suffice to place her before the reader. She was exceptionally handsome, with a high-nosed red-and-white sort of beauty, seldom varied in her expression, and always looked as if ready to sit to some modern Gainsborough for her picture, wearing in winter trained gowns of the richest material, and in summer such marvels in white, that, what with their tucks and points and ruffles and flounces and lace edgings, they were the despair of every laundry in the city. Things and persons existed for her especial benefit : she existed only for herself. She was Mrs. Orlo Standewort, and uncle Orlo was very proud of her. You can hardly fail to understand that there was a wide gulf, socially speaking, between this stately representative of an old family and great wealth, and poor little, merry, dimpled, undig- nified Mrs. Jack Meigs. Jack himself, aunt Kate held in sublime abhorrence, and shook out the folds of her richly-perfumed lace hand- kerchief whenever he came near her. Poor dear uncle Jack! He did certainly smell of the wine-cup at times ; but if you had seen him in fresh white linen, as handsome and noble-looking a fellow as ever lived, beside uncle Orlo Standewort, in splendidly-fitting black broadcloth, stately, haughty, imposing, UNCLE JACK. 13 and had you been in want, you would not have hesitated a moment to ask the man in white, with his hand in his pocket among the loose change, for aid and comfort. And he would have given it. 14 LIKE A GENTLEMAN. CHAPTER III. MARY GREEN. AUNT FLOSSY and I were on the best of terms. Young as I was, she often came to me for comfort, and even advice. We lived some five squares away to the west of Fern Terrace, in an old-fashioned house that had been the Irwin homestead for five generations. That dear old pile, quaint and moss-grown ! I shall never see another like it. Never such maple-trees turning their silvery leaves heaven- ward with every sweet touch of the wind, such woods not twenty minutes away, with delight- fully intangible undergrowth all alive with birds, and quick with the hum of myriad denizens of leaf and mould. Never was I so happy as when, wandering at my own sweet will through this patch of woods which skirted my father's estate, I sought for the arbutus, trailing its soft glossy leaves like a silken net-work among the gnarled roots of the old trees. The drum of the par- tridge, and the tap of the woodpecker, are famil- iar sounds to me ; and I never hear the sad MARY GREEN. I 5 whistle of the quail, even now, without seeing myself as a child, lying under some grandly- spreading oak, listening in the drowsy silence .for the innumerable and witching voices of the underwold. V. And then the softly scattered snow of the pretty daisies, the shower of gold that starred all the green reaches, and the hills and valleys, called buttercups. To this day I love them with a love passing strange ; for to me no hot- house flower, no well-trained exotic, is so sweet. Aunt Kate Standewort has lectured me time and again, and railed at these evidences of a vulgar taste ; but, with all her aesthetic rallyings, she cannot lecture me out of my first love. And the house, God bless it ! Why, every nook and corner seems sacred to me, — the wide, low rooms ; the broad halls ; deep stair- cases ; the old carved furniture which Mrs. Hatch the housekeeper venerated because it was so English (she being an English woman) ; the waxed floors ; the library, with its immense baize-covered table always filled with papers, books, and magazines ; my father's leathern arm-chair ; the old tiled passage-way to the kitchen, where the sun always seemed shining on the yellow floor, and where Jenny Finch the cook, who had been with us for almost half a century, kneaded and mixed and beat and baked l6 LIKE A GENTLEMAN. and preserved season after season, always bare- armed, always ruddy, always smiling, always ready to lend a helping hand. It is one of the pictures of memory, that grand old kitchen, sparkling with sunbeams, old china, tins of every shape and variety, with its open door, where vines, trees, bushes, fruits, and flowers alternated in picturesque confusion ; while through them could be seen the gray rocks, down which, at all times, trickled the sweetest, coolest water in the world. One morning Flossy came over to the Rook- ery ; for though there never was and never will be a rook on the place, yet my great-grand- mother had christened it, and the house went by that name. " I'm so puzzled ! " she said, half-laughing ; "and you must help me choose." " Help you choose what ? " I queried. " Don't ask me, if it's gowns or bonnets ; for you know you never take anybody's advice." By this time I had straightened all the tidies, and pulled the table-covers even, and trodden on Pickwick's tail, — Pickwick is a glorious Maltese cat, — and reached the bay-window, all vine-covered, where Flossy sat, having thrown down her dainty parasol and her silken gloves. " Why, Pitney would get married, you know ; and though she said she would keep on just MARY GREEN. 1 7 the same — Such a capital children's nurse she is too ! I never can replace her." "Why, you don't tell me Pitney has gone?" I said, quite pained at her roundabout announce- ment of the fact. " Yes, for a reason that might have been ex- pected, of course. She intends to set up a nursery of her own ; though how they can afford it upon her husband's salary, — he is only a gardener, you know, — I can't imagine. The girl was so foolish ! She'll never find such another home (she herself admitted it) ; but, all the same, she's as happy as a queen. Well, Pitney being gone, the question is, Who can I get to take her place ? Jack put an advertise- ment in the paper yesterday and the day be- fore ; and this morning ten letters came by mail. Now, how am I to decide ? I wish I had the faculty of reading character by the hand- writing that some people profess to have. May- be you have. At any rate, I came over to see if you won't take the business off my hands." " Nothing particularly elegant or pathetic, I suppose," I said, as she emptied her satin reti- cule of the accumulated letters, and proceeded to read them. "Yes, there is just one there that quite touched me, an orphan-girl's, I think ; but she is ridiculously young, only seventeen." 1 8 LIKE A GENTLEMAN. " Yes, here it is, the first one I happened to open." I read : — Dear Madam, — I am an orphan, and staying at present with my aunt, who is in delicate health ; and, though she has a small pension, it is barely enough to support her own little family. Her husband, who was in the naval service, was lately lost at sea, leaving her with three children. I am respectably connected, and have a fair education ; can sew well, and fit children's garments. As to age, you may think me very young ; but I believe I can say with truth, that, having been early thrown on my own resources, I am more capable than my years might seem to warrant. I am anxious to find a good home ; and I should like fair wages, for it would be a pleasure to me to help my aunt, who is in very straitened circumstances. Hoping that I may obtain the place, and adding that I love children dearly, and have always been used to them, I subscribe myself Very respectfully yours, Mary Green. "There is something nice and lady-like about that letter," said aunt Flossy, looking straight at me with her great brown eyes. " It is well written, carefully punctuated, and not at all effusive. Jack says he would give her twenty dollars a month on the strength of it : you know we gave Pitney fifteen. Only just look at the others ! " she pointed to a bulky envelope. "There is one from a middle-aged lady, four pages long. She narrates all her troubles, and MARY GREEN. 1 9 I am sure would bore me to death in the same way with her tongue whenever she could get the chance. There is another, that one in the blue envelope, a widow in reduced circum- stances, who has been very wealthy. She, I am afraid, would expect too much. The others are simply abominable as to chirography and punctuation ; and I don't want an ignoramus, even for those little creatures. I wish to de- cide as soon as possible ; for by to-morrow and next day I shall perhaps be besieged with appli- cants, and nothing wearies me so much as letter-reading. What do you think ? What would you do ? " "I wish I knew how she looked," I said. "Yes, so do I. Poor Pitney was so humor- ously ugly, if I may use a figure of my own. While she was undeniably homely, there was a sort of sunshiny expression in her face, and I suppose that was what captivated the gardener. And then, you know, Pitney was used to Jack," added Flossy lugubriously. I laughed at that. There were scenes in- scribed on my memory too ludicrous, too gro- tesque, to forget. " And it makes me nervous," said Flossy, joining in the laugh; "for if she should hap- pen to be pretty or prudish, or extremely digni- fied, and if Jack sJiould — oh, dear!" There 20 LIKE A GENTLEMAN. was pain in her voice, though she affected to speak lightly. "Jack never means to do any thing compro- mising to his honor as a gentleman," I said, folding the letters, and replacing them. " Never, poor fellow ! only sometimes he don't know, unfortunately, what he is about one day out of three. It is such a trial ! you can't imagine it, Tony." THE RECTOR. 21 CHAPTER IV. THE RECTOR. PAPA came in just theri. He took Flossy's hand, gazing into her dark eyes wistfully ; and then he stooped and kissed her. She was his favorite sister, the youngest, who, as a baby- girl, he had nursed often on his knee, and he was very fond of her. She winked the tears away that had gathered on her lashes, and laughed and chattered to him as if she had never known a sorrow in her life. But, for all that, papa kept watching her with that wistful, questioning, almost grieved look, which I never saw in any face but his. Suddenly Rose, our house-dog, barked lustily from the garden. There seemed something in the air that brightened us all, even before we heard the little gate-latch click at the end of the garden-path. "It's Philip," said papa with smiling lips. " God bless him ! You can feel his coming like a sweet, clear mountain-breeze." Yes, that was an apt comparison. Phil's pres- 22 LIKE A GENTLEMAN. ence was sometimes like that ; sometimes, when the weather was depressing, and the rain falling, like an illumination. He did not stay with us, because St. Stephen's was in the eastern part of the city, miles down town, and his study in the old church was very easy of access, while he had a pleasant room and board that suited him in the parsonage occupied by his assistant and his family ; but he came to the Rookery almost every day, driving, or on horseback. The sight of his sunny, cheerful face, that looked as if the soul behind it had never found occasion to doubt or mistrust, never looked upon sadness or suffering, never felt any but the highest, purest impulses, toned me like some exhilarating draught. And yet, in his large parish he met, sometimes hourly, with the saddest experiences. But his heart was large, and full of noble desires, and his religious faith decided. The great secret of his strong, grand life, and of his exceptional success as a minister of God, was that he believed that which he preached, and lived close up to the requirements of the gospel ; and an important fact, and one not to be despised, he was in splendid health, from the sole of his foot to the crown of his head. He gave us a hug and a kiss all round, and then went to the fruit-basket, in which he was always sure of finding something sweet and toothsome. THE RECTOR. 23 " What mischief were you two girls hatching between you?" he asked, coming towards us, paring a rosy-cheeked apple. " We were talking about getting a new nurse," said Flossy. " Pitney's never going to leave ! ' exclaimed Phil, pausing in the act of finishing the paring of his apple. " I thought she was one of the fixtures of Fern Terrace." " So did I," said Flossy, picking up the letter which she had laid aside. "Read that." " Writes a pretty hand," said Philip, munch- ing his apple leisurely as he read, and taking a bite between each sentence. " Why, the letter is almost faultless," he concluded, handing it back to Flossy. " She must have had opportu- nities, and made the most of them. I hope she is nice, for your sake, Flossy; but Pitney — oh, it's such a misfortune to lose Pitney ! " Phil got up to walk, and hummed while he finished his apple. He was a striking-looking man, florid, broad-chested, with tawny-brown whiskers, deep-set, large, luminous eyes, a grand head, and a smile that was positively fascinating. If you were ever so annoyed with him, he had only to smile, and presto your anger vanished. Presently he seated himself at the piano, a semi-grand, which faced the avenue, and I took out my crochet-needles ; while Flossy bundled 24 LIKE A GENTLEMAN. up the letters which had been lying on her lap, and put them carefully in her reticule, looking meantime dreamily out into the garden. We always enjoyed Phil's playing. Chopin was his favorite among musical composers ; and he ren- dered that artist's delicious nocturnes with such fervor that I sometimes felt the tears stealing down my cheeks, for music is with me a rapture and a passion. Suddenly he cried out, — " Why, here are . the twins ! — all four of them." Flossy uttered a little cry, and ran to the window. I followed, incredulous. Yes, there they were, all strung in a line, hand in hand, moving forward with the precision of youthful grenadiers, in pink and blue sashes, with collars and without. I had almost said " one shoe on, the other shoe off ; " but they were, fortunately, well shod, though one of them had no cap, and all wearing a serenity, if not positive dignity, of expression that seemed to say, " We come with the profound conviction that we are doing our duty." " Bless their curly heads ! " cried Phil, making for the door. " I charged Phebe not to lose sight of them," said Flossy, distressed, yet half-laughing. "How did they manage it ? I shall certainly go dis- THE RECTOR. 25 tracted if I don't find a nurse immediately — Why, you blessed little rapscallions ! " as their sweet pink-and-white faces, all framed in golden curls, made entrance. " Hew dared you come with nobody to show you the way ? " And she looked from one to the other of the bright, laughing, dimpled darlings. Jack, one of the youngest twins, and the very image of his father, put his chubby finger to his lips, as, slinking a little behind the oth- ers, he lisped, — " Papa's junk!" " Oh, my boy ! " cried Flossy, with a clouded, pained face/' don't speak that way. — Jack must have come home, then, and I didn't expect him till to-morrow. He went hunting, you know, ■ with young Mr. Atley. I hope nothing has happened. Would the children have come if every thing had been straight ? Could he have hurt himself ? " She looked from Philip to me. Sudden terror had paled her cheek. " Did they bring papa home," she asked of the eldest twin, " on — on any thing ? " " No : he came alone in a big carriage ; but he tumbled coming up the steps, and he tum- bled in the hall ; and then Phebe" — Phebe was the parlor-girl — "she came, and helped him on the lounge." " Phebe is equal to it : she could take him up 26 LIKE A GENTLEMAN. bodily," said Phil, speaking lightly for her sake. But his forehead flushed as he turned away. "Where is Mabel?" asked Flossy, as she tied her bonnet-strings with trembling fingers. How we all pitied her ! " She sat in the little chair, and fanded him with his hat," said the youngest little man, wrinkling his broad sash with busy finger and thumb. " Should she be alone with him ? " asked Philip. " Oh, dear, yes ! Poor Jack is never unkind," said Flossy, trembling very much. Her cheeks were scarlet. Phil met my glance pityingly. " Perhaps I had better accompany you," he said to Flossy. "Oh, no, no, indeed! — if the boys can stay here for a time : they enjoy it so much ! " They all ran for a parting kiss, and came back quite content to remain. " Poor auntie ! ' sighed Phil, as he followed her retreating figure, so slight and graceful. "All her money don't compensate for that one drawback on her domestic happiness. If I could only kick that besotted fellow into decen- cy!" which was not very clerical, but honest and earnest. The boys were romping in and out of the rooms now, and had probably forgotten that THE RECTOR. 2J they ever had a father. Phil was soon in league with them ; and they all made a raid upon the pantry, notwithstanding the fact that Jenny Finch was setting the lunch-table, and laugh- ing at their antics. " Uncle Phil," called Johnny, with his mouth full of doughnuts, " ask Tiarry what were the last words of Lawrence." "Don't div up 'e slip ! " shouted the younger twin, dancing on his heels, and then falling on his head, where he lay for some time, placidly surveying the ceiling. 28 LIKE A GENTLEMAN. CHAPTER V. TAKING A STAND. AUNT KATE and aunt Geraldine called that afternoon. They always went to- gether. Dressed, as usual, with exquisite taste, they examined the chairs carefully before dar- ing to commit their precious garments to a closer vicinity ; for the numerous toys which we always kept at the Rookery, ready for the youngsters when we had the courage to invite them for the day, were scattered here and there. Phil had lunched, and gone off on an appointment with Bishop Woodville ; for there was a convocation in session, and my brother was the bishop's right-hand man. The voices of the twins, shrill, but not unmusical, be- trayed their near vicinity ; and that was the reason why the chairs were so closely inspect- ed. They were, in fact, on the green at the back of the house, playing at railroading, and had all the kitchen furniture which was mova- ble for cars, with a new-fangled washing-ma- chine, which we could never prevail upon the laundress to use, doing duty as the engine. TAKING A STAND. 29 " How can you bear the noise ? " said aunt Kate. "I could never endure it for an hour." "When papa is away, I rather enjoy it," was my reply. " Have you seen Flossy to-day ? " asked aunt Geraldine, who had taken up a bit of lace from the work in my basket, and was examining it through her daintily-mounted glasses. " She was here this morning," I made reply. " Did you know Pitney was gone ? Yes, I suppose she told you, of course." " She told me, and I read a letter from the nurse that will be. How did you know ? " I asked. " Oh ! I was over there," she said, clasping both hands over her portemonnaie. " How any woman can ! " " Yes, what do you think ! That poor crea- ture was just crying her eyes out, because Jack was sick with headache. We alF know what that means. I'm sorry Flossy is so weak." "Flossy is strong," I said with a girl's decis- ion. "I say she is weak, pitifully weak. Why, the man is a disgrace to his profession, to his sex. I'm glad for one thing, heartily glad, he don't go to the communion-table lately : that is something near consistency. He ought to stay away till he learns to conquer himself, if he ever does." 30 LIKE A GENTLEMAN. I had been an only child at home for many- years, and had always been accustomed to fol- low the impulse of my feelings. I almost worshipped my aunt Flossy, for I fancied I knew the depth and tenderness of her charac- ter. It seemed to me that both my elder aunts, feeling themselves superior to her, were contin- ually throwing stones in the shape of moral reflections ; and I felt as if it was time to show them that perhaps they themselves lived in houses of glass, which were liable to be shat- tered. " Why," I said, after counting a few threads, and feeling my pulses fluttering through my fingers, " so does uncle Standewort : don't he go to communion ? " " And I should like to know why he should not, Miss Tony ? " asked my aunt, looking severely at me, the thin outline of her Roman nose glistening. "Because," said I firmly, "he sells the very poison that makes uncle Jack a maniac ; and I think that is ever so much more wicked, be- cause it is done with cool, deliberate purpose of mind." "Why, you impertinent child!' exclaimed aunt Kate, her forehead growing red by de- grees, "you are entirely wanting in respect. What right have you to speak of your uncle TAKING A STAND. 3 1 Orlo in that way, and he doting on you ? I'm surprised. I'm very much hurt. I cannot come here, if my husband is to be insulted by you to my face. My husband keeps no bar, and his business is entirely in the wholesale line. He is respected for integrity throughout the city. He stands high in the church, and no one gives more for the support of the gospel. Don't carry your defence of poor Flossy's miserable husband too far, or you will disgust us all." "I canV help it if I do, aunt," I said, now thoroughly roused. " I tell you, in the day of judgment, I had rather be poor, weak uncle Jack than my much respected uncle Stande- wort." Aunt Kate stood up, and shook out her flounces. Lightning flashed from her indig- nant eyes, — and beautiful eyes they were, — odors from Araby seemed to float through the room, for aunt Kate used the best and costliest perfumes. She was very angry, looking down at me from her superb height. I felt a little frightened ; but, true to my convictions, I would not take back my words. " I am sorry you said what you did," said aunt Geraldine, who had waited for some con- cession on my part ; for, as I have intimated, she stood somewhat in awe of aunt Kate. " You have made her very angry, and me very 32 LIKE A GENTLEMAN. unhappy. To think you should speak that way of brother Orlo ! " She was following her sister, who did not deign to speak to me again. Uncle Orlo's image rose before me, tall, dig- nified, a careful man, who thought and worked and moved by rule, honored by the community, and reverenced by the church. It was the first time I had ever committed myself ; and I had experienced the usual fate of reformers. I told Philip about it when he came home later. He looked thoughtful, and merely remarked that I had been more zealous than wise. "But, my dear, honest brother," I said, "will men who destroy others, body and soul, have a place in heaven ?" "You are putting it strongly," he said. " But will they, can they ? " " I don't believe uncle Orlo has ever looked at it in that light. He has really nothing to do with the selling of it, you know." " Nothing to do with it ? Why, it is manu- factured in his distillery : it is sold in the bar of the hotel which he owns, and in the store where he is a partner." " Wholesale," said Phil, with a furtive smile. " Then it is murder by wholesale," was my reply. "You are getting excited," he made calm TAKING A STAND. 33 rejoinder. "I never thought my little sister would play the role of temperance fanatic." "I'm not a temperance fanatic," I responded with some heat. " I never went to a temper- ance meeting in my life, and I don't know any temperance people. I drink wine myself, just as you do, sometimes ; and all the badges, ban- ners, and upholstering that I see occasionally, when certain associations turn out, seem ridicu- lous to me ; but I never felt as I feel now, that there is one man's soul hanging in the balance. I'm sure the Bible says that no drunkard can inherit the kingdom of heaven ; and uncle Jack, with all his noble qualities, is most assuredly a drunkard. Now, if he isn't fit to go to your com- munion-table,— and he is not, — why should uncle Orlo, who makes the poison, be allowed to go there ?" "My dear," said Philip, "it's not my table : it's the Lord's table. I fully appreciate all you say ; but you are not in your usual mood : you are worried and irritated, and full of sympathy for aunt Flossy. Pray remember that uncle Jack is responsible for himself, and goes into danger with his eyes wide open. I love him, but I can't respect him. With such a wife, with such children, and every opportunity for usefulness, he is bent on throwing himself away. As for uncle Orlo, he also has to decide for 34 LIKE A GENTLEMAN. or against himself. I have thought of this mat- ter many times before : I have embodied my thoughts in certain sermons, which he could not have listened to without feeling some pricks of conscience. But, as I said, to his own mas- ter he standeth or falleth." MARY GREEN. 35 CHAPTER VI. MARY GREEN. PAPA was as happy as a prince at the din- ner-table, with the merry twins on either side. If now and then his dear face clouded, as he looked around on their bright eyes and laugh- ing lips, it was, perhaps, because he remembered their father as a bright, beautiful boy, the pride and hope of his parents, the handsomest child in all the country round. I was busy preparing them for their return home, when there came a knock at the door, and presently Jenny Finch ushered in a neat- looking girl with a charming face, who came forward, holding little Mabel by the hand. The child sprang to my neck, kissed me, and then I saw her sensitive lips quiver. How little one can know of what is going on in the heart of a child ! I do not doubt but that Mabel understood her father's condition, and could account for her mother's tears. She had been near her father almost all that day, and her little heart was nearly broken with the fear that he was going to die, and leave her. 36 LIKE A GENTLEMAN. " Are you the new nurse ? " I asked the young girl. " Yes, miss. I was visiting at my cousin's, who advised me to call on Mrs. Meigs ; and the lady took me at once. These are the little boys ? Oh, what lovely children ! " The girl in her exquisite neatness, and purity of speech and face, charmed me at once. I was glad for the children, glad for Flossy ; for Flossy dearly loved to have beautiful things about her, and Pitney was downright ugly, though people grew to like even her ugliness. " Children, this is your new nurse, ' I said. " You must be very good and kind to her. " " Yes ; and she must be very good and kind to us, " said Arthur pompously, as he put on his cap, and strutted to the door, followed by his twin-brother. Little Jack looked up confidingly in Mary Green's face. " Is my papa junk ? " he asked innocently. She did not understand him, nor why I whisked him round, and lured him into an ante- room, where I tried to impress his infant mind with the fact that it was very ungentlemanly to use such a word, and that he must never, never, never, so speak of his father again to his new nurse, or any one ; which advice or command I hastened to enforce by the gift of a little silver MARY GREEN. 37 trumpet I had been wearing as a charm, and which he received with a long-drawn, happy breath, exclaiming, — " I'll never say my papa is junk any more," adding with childish idiocy, "but he does, git junk, don't he ? " "Whether to tell this girl or not," Flossy said. That was some days afterward. I had run over to have an evening with her, while papa had gone to his Masonic lodge. " You see Jack gave me the most solemn pledges that last time." " But hasn't he given them to you before, Flossy dear ? " I asked. "Aren't you ashamed to put doubts in my head?' she rejoined, laughing nervously. " Yes, he has ; but it seems to me they were not as emphatic. He is doing beautifully now, beautifully ! And he is such a dear fellow, when he is himself ! You have no conception how charmingly he behaves to us all. Dear, dear! the world seems so pleasant, and life so glorious, when he is himself : we have every thing to make us happy." " Where is he to-night ? " I asked. 