CHAPTER VI
MISS DOLLY BEEKMAN
It seemed curiously still after the boys went away. Margaret took twomusic lessons a week and gave the little girl half a one. And one dayStephen came in and said:
"Go dress yourself, Dinah, in gorgeous array, And I'll take you a-drivin' so galliant and gay."
"Both of us?" asked the little girl.
"Yes--both of us. I have my new buggy and silver-mounted harness. Youmust go out and christen it for good luck. Hurry, Peggy, and put on yourwhite dress."
Miss Blackfan had been again and made them two white frocks apiece. Thelittle girl had "wings" over her shoulders and they made her less slim.She wore a pink sash and her hair was tied with pink. Her stockings wereas white as "the driven snow," and her slippers looked like dolls' wear.They were bronze and laced across the top several times with narrowribbon tied in a bow at her instep. She had a new hat, too, a leghornflat with pale pink roses on it. It cost a good deal, but then it would"do up" every summer and last years and years. Fashions didn't changeevery three months then. Margaret had a pretty gipsy hat, with a biglight-blue satin bow on the top, and the strings tied under her chin,and it made quite a picture of her. Her sleeves came a little below theelbow, and both wore black silk "openwork" mitts that came half-way upthe arm.
There had been a shower the night before and the dust was laid. Theywent over Second Street to the East River, where one or two blocks werequite given over to colored people. There was an African M. E. church,that the little girl was very curious to see. Folks said in revivaltimes they danced for joy. Crowds used to go to hear the singing.
"But do they dance?" asked the little girl wonderingly. She couldn'tquite reconcile it with the gravity of worship.
"They simply march up and down the aisles keeping time to the tunes.Well--the Shakers dance in the same fashion." Stephen had been up toLebanon.
Then a little farther on was another Methodist church, where severalnotable lights had preached. Nearer the river were some queer oldhouses, and at almost every corner a store. Saloons were a rarity. Overyonder was Williamsburg, up a little farther Astoria, just a place ofcountry greenery. There were a few boats going up and down, and theferry-boats crossing.
The houses were no longer in rows. There were some vegetable gardens,and German women were weeding in them; then tracts of rather rocky land,wild and unimproved. After a while it began to grow more diversified andbeautiful--country residences and well-kept grounds full of shrubbery atthe front and vegetables in the rear, with barns and stables, betrayinga rural aspect. The air was so sweet and fresh.
"Oh!" exclaimed Margaret, "Annette Beekman must live somewhere abouthere. I promised her we would come up some day."
Stephen turned into a country road. There were many grand old elms,hemlocks, pines, and fruit-trees as well. A table stood under one, andsome ladies were sitting there sewing and chatting, while severalchildren ran about. And while they were glancing at them a girl in apretty blue muslin sprang up and ran down to the wide-open gate.
"Oh, Margaret!" cried Annette Beekman. "Why, this is lovely of you,Stephen! Can't you turn in and stop a while with us?"
"I'm showing Margaret New York," said Steve, with his pleasant laugh."She has begun to think straight down to Rutgers Institute comprisedevery bit there was of it."
"Oh, Stephen!" deprecatingly.
Some one else came out; a fair, tall girl with great braids of flaxenhair and a silver comb in the top to make her look taller still. Shesmiled very sweetly.
"Oh, Mr. Underhill!" she exclaimed.
"This is my big sister and this is my little one," explained Stephen."And this," to Margaret, "is Miss Dolly Beekman."
A warm color rose in Margaret's cheeks as a half-suspicion stole overher.
"You must get out and rest a while after this long ride," said MissDolly with winsome cordiality. "The rain last evening was delightful,but the day is warm. We are all living out-of-doors, as you see. Andthis, I suppose, is your little sister? Drive up and help the girls out,and then go round to the barn. You will find some one there."
Stephen wound slowly up the driveway, nodding to the group of ladies.Dolly walked along the grassy path. She wore a white dotted suisse gownwith a "baby waist," and had a blue satin sash with ends that fellnearly to the bottom of the skirt. Her sleeves came to the elbow andwere composed of three rather deep ruffles edged with lace. Round herpretty white neck she had an inch-wide black velvet, fastened with atiny diamond that Stephen had brought her a week ago. She looked like apicture, Margaret thought, and later her portrait in costume wasexhibited at the Academy of Design.
Stephen lifted his sisters down. Dolly took Margaret's arm and thelittle girl's hand and introduced them to almost as many sisters andcousins and aunts as there were in "Pinafore." The small person was notquite comfortable. She had a feeling that the back of her nice frock wasdreadfully crushed. Margaret was a little confused. Stephen seemed so athome among them all. Annette had spoken so familiarly of him, yet shehad not suspected. How blind she had been!
There was young Mrs. Beekman, thirty or so, already getting stout, andwith the fifth Beekman boy that she would gladly have changed for agirl; Mrs. Bond, the next sister, with a boy and a girl; Aunt GittyBeekman, some Vandewater cousins, and some Gessler cousins from Nyack.
They had rush-bottomed and splint chairs, several rockers, some rusticbenches, and two or three tables standing about, with work-baskets andpiles of sewing and knitting, for people had not outgrown industry inthose days, and still taught their children the verses about the busybee.
Dolly put Margaret in a rocker, untied her bonnet, and took off her softwhite mull scarf--long shawls they were called, and the elder ladieswore them of black silk and handsome black lace. They were held up onthe arms and sometimes tied carelessly, and the richer you were, themore handsomely you trimmed them at the ends. Then for cooler weatherthere were Paisley and India long shawls.
Hanny kept close to her sister and leaned against her knee. She feltstrange and timid with the eyes of so many grown people upon her. Butthey all took up their work and talked, asking Margaret variousquestions in sociable fashion.
There were three Beekman boys and one little Bond running about. Thegirl was very shy and would sit on her mother's lap. The Beekmans werefat and chubby, with their hair cut quite close, but not in the modernextreme. They wore long trousers and roundabouts, and low shoes withlight gray stockings, though their Sunday best were white. We should saynow they looked very queer, and unmistakably Dutch. You sometimes seethis attire among the new immigrants. But there were no littleFauntleroy boys at that period with their velvet jackets andknickerbockers, flowing curls and collars.
The boys tried to inveigle Hanny among them. Pety offered her the smallwooden bench he was carrying round. Paulus asked her "to come and seeMolly who had great big horns and went this way," brandishing his headso fiercely that the little girl shuddered and grasped Margaret's hand.
"Don't tease her, boys," entreated their mother. "She'll get acquaintedby and by. I suppose she isn't much used to children, being theyoungest?"
"No, ma'am," answered Margaret.
The boys scampered off. Annette knelt down on the short grass, andpresently won a smile from the little girl, who was revolving aperplexity as to whether big boys were not a great deal nicer thanlittle boys. Then Stephen came back and Mr. Paulus Beekman, who wasstout and dark, and favored his mother's side of the family. The ladieswere very jolly, teasing one another, telling bits of fun, comparingwork, and exchanging cooking recipes. Miss Gitty asked Margaret abouther mother's family, the Vermilyeas. A Miss Vermilye, sixty or seventyyears ago, had married a Conklin and come over to Closter. She seemed tohave all her family genealogy at her tongue's end, and knew all therelations to the third and fourth generation. But she had a rather sweetface with fine wrinkles and blue veins, and wore her hair in longringlets at the sides, fastened with shell combs that had been hermother's, and were very dear
to her. She wore a light changeable silk,and it still had big sleeves, such as we are wearing to-day. But theyhad mostly gone out. And the elder ladies were combing their hair downover their ears. There were no crimping-pins, so they had to braid it upat night in "tails" to make it wave, unless one had curly hair. Most ofthe young girls brushed it straight above their ears for ordinary wear,and braided or twisted it in a great coil at the back, though it wasoften elaborately dressed for parties.
Aunt Gitty was netting a shawl out of white zephyr. It was tied in thesame manner that one makes fish-nets, and you used a little shuttle onwhich your thread was wound. It was very light and fleecy. Aunt Gittyhad made one of silk for a cousin who was going abroad, and it had beenvery much admired. The little girl was greatly interested in this, andventured on an attempt at friendliness.
Dolly took them away presently to show them the flower-beds. Mr. Beekmanhad ten acres of ground. There were vegetables, corn and potato fieldsand a pasture lot, beside the great lawn and flower-garden. Old Mr.Beekman was out there. He was past seventy now, hale and hearty to besure, with a round, wrinkled face, and thick white hair, and he waspassionately fond of his grandchildren. He had not married until he wasforty and his wife was much younger.
There were long walks of dahlias of every color and kind. They were afavorite autumn flower. A great round bed of "Robin-run-away," bergamot,that scented the air and attracted the humming-birds. All manner ofold-fashioned flowers that are coming around again, and you could seewhere there had been magnificent beds of peonies. In the early seasonpeople drove out here to see Peter Beekman's tulip-beds.
There were borders of artemisias, as they were called, that diffused apungent fragrance. We had not shaken hands so neighborly with Japanthen, nor learned how she evolved her wonderful chrysanthemums.
The little girl grew quite talkative with Mr. Beekman. You see, in thosedays there was a theory about children being seen and not heard, and noone expected a little six-year-old to entertain or disturb a room fullof company. The repression made them rather diffident, to be sure. ButMr. Beekman gathered her a nosegay of spice pinks, carnations now, andtook her to see his beautiful ducks, snowy white, in a little pond, andanother pair of Muscovy ducks, then some rare Mandarin ducks from China.She told him about the ducks and chickens at Yonkers and how sorry shewas to leave them.
And then came the handsome white Angora cat with its long fur andcurious eyes that were almost blue, and when she said "mie-e-o-u" in arather delighted tone, it seemed as if she meant "O master, where haveyou been? I'm so glad to see you!"
He stood and patted her and they held quite a conversation as she archedher neck, rubbed against his leg, and turned back and forth. Then shestretched way up on him and gave him her paw, which was very cunninglydone.
"This is a nice little girl who has come to see me," he said, as sheseemed to look inquiringly at Hanny. "She's fond of everything, kittiesespecially."
Kitty looked rather uncertain. Hanny was a little afraid of such acurious creature. But presently she came and rubbed against her with asoft little mew, and Hanny ventured to touch her.
"She likes you," declared old Mr. Beekman, much pleased. "She doesn'toften take fancies. She loves Dolly, and she won't have anything to dowith Annette, though I think the girl teases her. Nice Katschina," saidher master, patting her. "Shall we buy this little girl?"
Perhaps you won't believe it, but Katschina really said "yes," andsmiled. It was very different from the grin of the "Chessy cat" thatAlice saw in Wonderland.
Some one came flying down the path.
"Father," exclaimed Dolly, "come and have a cup of tea or a glass ofbeer. Stephen and his sister think they can't stay to supper. But may bethey'll leave the little girl--you seem to have taken such a notion toher."
Hanny didn't want to be impolite and she really _did_ like Mr. Beekman,but as for staying--her heart was up in her throat.
Dolly picked up Katschina and carried her in triumph. Two white paws layover Dolly's shoulder.
There was a table with a shining copper tea-kettle, a pewter tankard ofhome-brewed ale, bread and butter, cold chicken and ham, a great dish ofcurd cheese, pound cake, soft and yellow, fruit cake, a heaping dish ofdoughnuts and various cookies and seed cakes. Scipio, a young coloredlad, passed the eatables. Young Mrs. Beekman poured the tea. The mothersat near her. She was short and fat and wore her hair in a highPompadour roll, and she laughed a good deal, showing her fine whiteteeth of which she was very proud.
Katschina sat in her master's lap, and the little girl was beside him.The boys were given their hands full and sent away. It was a very prettypicture and the little girl felt as if she was reading an entertainingstory. One of the Gessler cousins had been knitting lace, doubleoak-leaf with a heading of insertion. It looked marvellous to the littlegirl. She said she was making it to trim a visite. This was a Frenchysort of garment lately come into vogue, though the little girl did notknow what it was, and was too well trained to ask questions. But thelace might be the desire of one's heart.
They sipped their tea or raspberry shrub, or enjoyed a glass of ale.They were all very merry. The little girl wondered how Dolly dared to beso saucy with Stephen when she only knew him such a little. Mrs. Beekmancould hardly accept the fact that they would not stay to supper, andsaid they must come soon and spend the day, and have Stephen drive upfor them, and that she hoped soon to see Mrs. Underhill. "It is quitedelightful and we are all well satisfied," she added, nodding rathermysteriously.
Dolly put on the little girl's hat and kissed her, giving her abreathless squeeze. Miss Gitty kissed her as well and told her she was a"very pretty behaved child." The buggy came round and Stephen put themin amid a chorus of good-bys.
"The little one looks delicate," commented the younger Mrs. Beekman whenthey had driven away. "I'm afraid she doesn't run and play enough. Butshe's beautifully behaved. And what a fancy father took to her!"
"Miss Underhill doesn't seem like a real country girl," said another.
"The Underhills are a good family all through, English descent from someLord Underhill. They were staunch Royalists at one time."
"And the Vermilyeas are good stock," said Aunt Gitty. "There's nothinglike being particular as to family. It tells in the long run."
"Well, Dolly, we think he will do," said Mrs. Beekman laughingly, asDolly, having said her good-bys, sauntered back to the circle. "He mightbe richer, of course. There's a large family and they can't have muchapiece."
"Stephen Underhill's got the making of a good substantial man in him,"grunted father Beekman. "If he'd been a poor shoat he wouldn't have hungaround here very long, would he, Katschina? We'd 'a put a flea in hisear, wouldn't we."
Katschina arched her back. Dolly laughed and blushed. Stephen was herown true-love anyway, but she was glad to have them all like him. Withthe insistence of youth she felt she never could have loved any otherman.
Stephen clicked to Prince, who was rested and full of spirits. Theydrove almost straight across the city, about at the end of our firsthundred numbered streets. But the road wound around to get out of a lowmarshy place, a pond in the rainy season, and some rocks that seemedtumbled up on end. They struck a bit of the old Boston Post Road, andthat caused the little girl to stop her prattle and think of the oldladies they had never visited. She must "jog" her father's memory. Thatwas what her mother always said when she recalled half-forgotten things.
Stephen and Margaret had only spoken in answer to the little girl. Hehad a young man's awkwardness concerning a subject so dear to his heart.Margaret was awed by the mystery of love, captivated by Dolly'sfriendliness, and puzzled to decide what her mother would think of it.Stephen married! Any of them married for that matter. How strange itwould seem! And yet she had sometimes said, "When I am married."
The place was wild enough. You would hardly think so now when hollowshave been filled and hills levelled, and rocks blasted away. After theyturned a little stream wound in and out through the trees and bushes.Am
id a tangled mass the little girl espied some wild roses.
"Oh, Steve!" she cried, "may I get out and pick some?"
"I will." He handed the reins over to Margaret and sprang down, runningacross a little bridge, and soon gathered a great handful.
"Oh, thank you," and her eyes shone. "What a funny little bridge."
"That's Kissing Bridge."
"Who do you have to kiss?" asked the little girl mirthfully.
"Well, a long while ago, in Van Twiller's time, I guess," with a twinklein his eye, "there wasn't any bridge. The lovers used to carry theirsweethearts over, and the charge was a kiss."
"But there wasn't any kissing _bridge_ then," she said shrewdly.
"When the bridge was built they stopped and kissed out of remembrance."
"Was it really so, Margaret?"
"It has been called that ever since I can remember."
"You unkind girl, not to believe me!" exclaimed Stephen, with an air ofoffended dignity. "And I am ever so much older than Margaret."
"You didn't carry _me_ over, but you carried the roses, so you shallhave the kiss all the same," and as she reached up to his cheek theyboth smiled.
Then they came down Broadway to Bleecker Street, and over home. FatherUnderhill was sitting on the stoop reading his paper. Jim begged to takethe horse round to the stable. Margaret went up-stairs to pull off herbest dress and put on her pink gingham. She had just finished and wascalling for Hanny, when Stephen caught her in his arms.
"Dear Peggy--you must have guessed."
"Oh, Stephen! It seems so strange. Is it really so? I never dreamed----"
"I fell in love with Dolly months ago. There were so many caring for herthat I hardly hoped myself. But there's some mysterious sense about it,and I began to see presently that she preferred me. Though I didn'treally ask her until Sunday night. And they all consented. We areregularly engaged now."
"Oh, Stephen! To lose you!"
That is the first natural thought of the household.
"You are not going to lose me. We shall be engaged a long while; a yearsurely."
"But, father--and our coming here."
"That is all right. It can't make any difference. Only you will have anew sister. Oh, Peggy, try to love her," persuasively, yet knowing shecould not resist her.
"She is very sweet."
"Sweet! She's just cream and roses and all the sweetest things of lifeput together! I tell you, Peggy, I'm a lucky fellow. Of course it willseem a little strange at first. But some day you'll have your romance,only I don't believe you can ever understand how glad the other fellowwill be to get you. Girls can't. And you'll try to make things smoothwith mother if she feels a little put out at first? Dolly wants to loveyou all. She's admired Joe so much, and they are all proud of him."
The supper bell rang impatiently. Stephen kissed his sister and gave hera rapturous hug.
Hanny came up-stairs and Margaret hurried through her change of attire.
"I thought you never were coming," began their mother tartly. "'Milyer,you're the worst of the lot when you get your nose buried in anewspaper. Boys, do keep still, though I suppose you're half starved,"with a reproachful look at those who had delayed the meal.
The little girl had eaten so many of the delicious cookies that shewasn't a bit hungry. So she entertained her father with the miles ofdahlias and the wonderful cat, so soft and furry and different fromtheirs, and with truly blue eyes, and who could understand everythingyou said to her. And Mr. Beekman was very nice, but not as nice asfather. The little boys were so short and so funny. "And I don't believeI like _little_ boys. Jim and Benny, Frank and all of you are nicer.Perhaps it _is_ the bigness."
They all laughed at that.
She sat in her father's lap afterward and went on with her quaint story,until her mother came and routed her out and said, "I do believe,'Milyer, you'd keep that child up all night."
Afterward Mr. Underhill went out on the front stoop, where he andStephen had a long talk, while Margaret sat at the piano making up forher afternoon's dissipation, but in the soft, vague light she could seeDolly Beekman with her laughing eyes and crown of shining hair, and wassure she would make a delightful sister. Mrs. Underhill sat and darnedstockings and sighed a little. Yet she was secretly proud of Margaret,even if she did study French and music. Whether they would ever help herto keep house was a question. Where would she have found time for suchthings?