CHAPTER XI
A TEA PARTY
"Prissie, Prissie," said Martine, in a teasing tone, "you are altogethertoo enthusiastic; I don't believe in these perfect people, and yourlittle Tory must be rather a prig, from what you say."
When Martine called her "Prissie," Priscilla knew that she meantmischief, and though in her inmost heart she admitted that Martine'steasing carried no real sting, she never stood this teasing with verygood grace.
"She isn't a Tory," she replied rather sharply; "there are no Tories inthese days, and Eunice Airton is not a prig."
But Martine only laughed; perhaps she retained too firmly in her mindthe remembrance of Priscilla's indifference to Yvonne and was now tryingto pay her back. Priscilla had just given an enthusiastic account of hernew acquaintance, and Mrs. Redmond and Amy had listened with greatattention. Mrs. Redmond, indeed, was pleased that Priscilla had foundsomething really to interest her. Although away from home not quite twoweeks, Priscilla had begun to show the good effects of the trip in roundand rosier cheeks, and in a slightly more animated manner. Yet it hadseemed to Mrs. Redmond that she was not quite as pleased with things ingeneral as the other two girls. She was sorry too to note the growingantagonism between Martine and Priscilla, though its cause was hard todiscover. At first Martine's teasing had proceeded from the merest loveof fun, and she thought that Priscilla took it all too seriously. Amyhad already cautioned her that she could soon disarm Martine, byreceiving everything she said as if said in pure fun. But Priscilla wassensitive, and she was just conscious enough of certain little foiblesof her own to realize that sometimes Martine was laughing at her.
"Even if Eunice were a Tory, I shouldn't care," she continued. "I neverheard any one talk as well as she does."
"Ah, that's just it, my dear Miss Prissie Prunes," retorted Martine;"I'll warrant that she's just as prim and precise as--"
Martine did not finish the sentence, but Priscilla realized well thatshe meant to say "as prim and precise as you are."
The day after this conversation Mrs. Airton called on Mrs. Redmond andthe girls. Martine was not at home, but the others were pleased with thedelicate little woman, in rather faded black, who was particularlycordial and anxious to have them see Annapolis at its best.
As she talked, it was easy to understand how Eunice came by her precisemanner and language, for there was a certain bookishness in her choiceof words, and correctness of expression, that, although not reallysubject to criticism, might become tiresome. Mrs. Airton had heard moreor less about Mrs. Redmond and her party from Dr. Gray, to whose familyMrs. Redmond had brought an introduction.
"Now I hope," she said, toward the end of her visit, "that you will giveus the pleasure of spending to-morrow afternoon with us and staying totea. I suppose 'tea' has gone out of fashion in the States, but it'sjust the height of the strawberry season now, and perhaps you'll accepthigh tea in place of a late dinner."
"We shall be delighted to accept your invitation," Mrs. Redmond replied,"and as for tea, why, we never have late dinner at home in summer. Weshall enjoy your hospitality."
Now it happened, unfortunately, that on the morning of Wednesday, theday for which Mrs. Airton had invited them, Martine and Priscilla hadtheir first falling out. Like most fallings out, it began in a verytrivial way. Among Martine's belongings was an elaborate toilet set ofsilver-mounted brushes and boxes; she had had the good sense not tocarry them in her travelling bag, but at Annapolis, where they were tostay longer than at some places, she had unpacked them all from hertrunk, and they were spread out in elaborate array on her bureau. Amyhad planned an excursion for the morning to Granville across theGranville Ferry to a certain picturesque spot on the other side. Whenshe and Priscilla were ready to start, they knocked at Martine's door,thinking that she too would be ready. To their surprise, they found herin a loose dressing-sack, busily engaged in polishing her silver.
"There, I forgot all about going with you," cried Martine; "the damp airhas blackened my brushes so that I just thought the best thing was tosit down and polish them."
"Oh, dear," rejoined Priscilla, "we are late as it is; for if we missthis ferry-boat, we'll have to wait so long for another that we won'thave any time on the other side."
"I can't help it," retorted Martine; "you can go without me if you like,though I'll drop what I'm doing and hurry to get dressed; but if you donot want to wait, it's all the same to me."
"Of course we'll wait," said Amy, gently. "I particularly wish you to bewith us, Martine, and though it will shorten our time a little, we mustmake the best of it now."
Priscilla looked at her watch. "We ought to take this next ferry-boat,and if we wait for Martine we shall lose it. Cleaning silver seems sucha waste of time when we're travelling."
Priscilla's manner rather than her actual words irritated Martine.
"I am the best judge of what wastes my own time," she said with unwontedsharpness, "and as a matter of fact, I'd rather stay here than go withyou."
Amy, looking at her earnestly, realized that this was not the time forfurther argument.
"Very well," she rejoined. "Priscilla, let us go on. Martine iscertainly the best judge of what she ought to do."
"I know I shouldn't have criticised Martine," apologized Priscilla, asthey walked along; "but it seems so silly to me that she should carry avaluable set of silver like that on a trip of this kind. I spoke beforeI thought."
"Martine has always been greatly indulged," said Amy. "At least, I'vebeen told that she sets no value on money, and so what would seem alittle extravagant to us does not seem so to her."
"Well, good taste is good taste," rejoined Priscilla, "and if I had tentimes as much money as I have, I'd never carry jewelry about with metravelling, nor expensive toilet-sets."
Amy did not reply to this. Her own view was much the same as that ofPriscilla, but she realized that it was not for her to criticise eithergirl.
The trip to Granville proved less satisfactory than she had hoped. Thetown itself, though small, was attractively situated, and she identifiedone or two historical spots that she had hoped to see; but she missedthe particular road for which she was looking, and on account of theirengagement at Mrs. Airton's, she had to hurry back to Annapolis withoutaccomplishing what she had set out to do. The mid-day sun was very hot,and she and Priscilla reached the house dusty and tired, to find Martinelooking tantalizingly cool and comfortable, seated on a rustic benchunder a tree in the orchard, busily working at a water-color sketch.
After their early dinner, Mrs. Redmond took Amy aside and said ratheranxiously:
"I wish you could persuade Martine to go with us this afternoon."
"Go with us?" returned Amy. "Why, of course. Mrs. Airton expects her."
"I don't quite understand it, but she says that she does not care to go,and in fact she has engaged a horse for a ride."
"On horseback! Who is going with her?"
"No one. She says that it's perfectly safe for her to go alone, andthough I tried to dissuade her, I can see that she is determined to haveher own way."
"I suppose that's what they mean by Martine's being difficult to manage.Thus far I had thought her remarkably amiable."
"There's one thing about it," rejoined Mrs. Redmond, "it may be betterto let her have her way this time than to have her take it without ourpermission. I have learned that the horse she is to have is perfectlysafe,--so safe in fact, that I fear she'll find it rather a bore,--andshe says that she'll only go over the road where we drove the otherafternoon, every step of which she knows; but I must say that I regrether discourtesy to Mrs. Airton, for her refusal of her invitation mustseem very strange. Why do you suppose she is unwilling to go?"
"I'm afraid it's because she and Priscilla had a little disagreementthis morning. It was so slight that I wouldn't have attached anyimportance to it, but apparently Martine has taken it more to heart."
When Priscilla learned of Martine's change of plan, she made no comment,believing in her i
nmost heart that Martine had taken this way to showher real distaste to those whom she called Priscilla's "Tory friends."When Mrs. Redmond and the other girls reached Mrs. Airton's early in theafternoon, they found their friend Mrs. Gray there, and one or two younggirls of the neighborhood. For a while they sat in the low-studdedsitting-room where Priscilla had looked at the commission signed by SirHenry Clinton. Their conversation did not concern itself entirely withthe past, but there were many questions about the present, of NovaScotia in general and Annapolis in particular, that the Americans wereanxious to ask and the others glad to answer.
Later, however, they got back to the subject in which Priscilla wasespecially interested,--the Loyalist refugees and the hard times theyexperienced. Eunice had shown her, among other things, hergreat-great-grandfather's silver breastplate, with his monogram and acrown finely engraved upon it, and one or two of his letters, the paperyellow with age and the ink faded.
"Since you are interested in such things," said Mrs. Airton, "perhapsyou would like to see some other letters. You might show her, Eunice,that one that we have that is a copy of the one that my great-grand-auntHester wrote to Sir Guy Carlton, when she was trying to arrange to leaveNew York. You know, my dear," she continued in explanation, "in thosedays people almost always made copies of their letters, and we have agood many that are really very interesting. I believe this lettercontained a request from Hester and her sister, Anne, whose husbands hadboth been killed toward the close of the war."
So Amy, taking up the paper, read without difficulty the clear, roundhandwriting:
"'The Memorial of Hester Danforth, widow of Benjamin Danforth, late captain of the Prince of Wales' American Regiment and Anne Dutton, widow of Josiah Dutton, Lt. in said Regt. Humbly sheweth That your Memorialist, Hester Danforth has two sons, one fourteen and the other twelve years old, and Anne Dutton three children, oldest son fourteen, youngest son seven and her daughter ten years old--That as they purpose to go to Nova Scotia with their children--
They wish to go on the ship with Dr. Peter Brown, who is about going with a company of refugees to St. Johns River.
That they may be indulged with drawing the land's Government may allow them in that quarter and with the company that goes under the direction of Dr. Brown or such other company of refugees as may appear to your Memorialists more eligible.
That they may be indulged with the liberty of taking with each of them a man and woman servant and allowances of provisions, clothing, etc. as to your Excellency may seem meet.
That, should your Excellency graciously order six months advance upon their pensions to be paid previous to their sailing, it will be very thankfully received as indeed their circumstances are such as they cannot go with reasonable Comfort and Decency without it.
As your Memorialists sufferings have been very long and great--They humbly ask as many Favours and Indulgences as to your Excellency shall appear anyways reasonable and fit, and as in duty bound they will ever pray etc.
HESTER DANFORTH ANNE DUTTON
NEW YORK, _June 2, 1783_.'"
"I always think that an interesting letter," said Mrs. Airton, "becauseboth of those ladies who signed it were brought up in the greatestluxury; their father had one of the large estates on the Hudson andtheir mother was of English birth and an heiress; but the family savednot a single shred of their fortune and it is rather touching to readbehind the lines of this letter and to see that both these young women,for they were under thirty-five, had for some time been suffering forthe necessities of life."
"'The fortune of war,'" commented Priscilla, in the very words that shehad used on her first visit to Eunice.
"I hope," added Amy, "that they found life comfortable after they camehere."
"Ah," said Mrs. Airton, shaking her head, "at first life here couldhardly be called comfortable. Imagine twenty-five hundred people crowdedinto this little town, which had not rooms for one tenth the number.Often a whole family had to content itself with one room, and delicatelyreared women and children had to spend at least a part of that firstwinter in tents. Several hundred, it is said, were herded together inthe church. Of course, after a few months they began to distributethemselves through the country. Sometimes they had great trouble intaking possession of the land granted them, because it was already inthe possession of the New Englanders who had settled on the farms of theAcadians twenty years before. Usually these pre-Loyalist settlers had arightful title to the land they claimed; then the refugees had to applyfor other lands. Many of these refugees were professional men ormerchants from New York City, and they found it hard in middle life tobecome farmers; but, as you say, my dear, it was the fortune of war, andin time they adapted themselves to the new conditions. In the course ofa few years some went back to New York, others sailed over to St. John,where, from the beginning, city life prevailed, and those who stayedhere in Nova Scotia seemed to be contented with their lot; although Ifor one feel very bitter when I think of all that my family in itsvarious branches lost. I feel it the more because I'm able to do solittle for my children, and they are reaching an age when a little moneywould mean so much."
"Ah, yes, mamma," interposed Eunice, "but if the money had stayed in thefamily after the Revolution it might all have been lost before this, andbesides, Balfour and I do not care half as much for wealth as--" andhere she stopped, for at this point Mrs. Gray interrupted her.
"Indeed, I think it a greater privilege to have grown up in Annapolisthan to have lived in the finest city of the United States. Why, I canassure you, Mrs. Redmond," turning to the latter, "that few places ofits size have had so many distinguished residents. When the fort wasgarrisoned, it was quite like an English town, and I've heard mygrandmother speak of the parties that were given here when she wasyoung; not to mention the Duke of Kent, who was here before her day,there have been such men in the garrison as Sir Colin Campbell,afterwards Lord Clyde, while Sir Fenwick Williams, the defender of Kars,was a native of the town, and surely no literary man in America has awider reputation than Judge Haliburton, whose house was just down therebeyond the hotel. I often think of the lines by Oliver Goldsmith, wholived here,--a grand-nephew, my dear," laying her hand on Amy's, "of thegreat English poet, who himself wrote 'The Rising Village,' describingAnnapolis."
"Oh, can't you recite a part of it?" asked Amy. She had alreadydiscovered a vein of sentimentality in Mrs. Gray, and she was right injudging that the request would please her.
"I'm sorry to say," replied Mrs. Gray, "that my memory is not what itused to be, and the only lines I recall do not touch on the social somuch as the natural charms of Annapolis."
"Oh, but please do say them." This time it was Priscilla, and Mrs. Graybegan:--
"'Here the broad marsh extends its open plain, Until its limits touch the distant main; There verdant meads along the uplands spring, And grateful odours to the breezes fling. Here crops of grain in rich luxuriance rise, And wave their golden riches to the skies; There smiling orchards interrupt the scene, Or gardens, bounded by some hedge of green; The farmer's cottage bosomed 'mong the trees, Whose spreading branches shelter from the breeze; The winding stream that turns the busy mill, Whose clacking echoes o'er the distant hill; The neat, white church, beside whose walls are spread, The grass-clad hillocks of the sacred dead.'"
"It sounds like 'The Deserted Village,'" said Priscilla, politely; "thatwas one of the poems that we studied at school last year; you recitethis beautifully."
"Ah, well, I'm aware that the first Oliver Goldsmith's poem is greaterpoetry, but here in Annapolis people were very fond of Oliver theyounger, and if ever you've time to read the whole poem, you will findthat he thoroughly appreciated Acadia."
But all the hours of that pleasant afternoon were not spent inhistorical conversation. Priscilla and Eunice, arm in arm, wandered outin the p
leasant orchard, and, swinging together in the hammock, talkedabout all kinds of things, more frivolous than serious, such as girlscare to talk about. In appearance the two girls were not unlike, thoughEunice was a little the taller, despite the fact that she was a fewmonths younger; her eyes were the same gray-blue and her hair the samepale brown as Priscilla's; not quite fair enough to be called golden,and hardly dark enough to be called brown.
"It is strange," Amy had said to her mother, after Eunice had firstcalled on them, "that Eunice Airton reminds me of some one I have known;I cannot say just who, but it is one of those resemblances that worryone; you feel as if you must decide whom it is she resembles, yet try asI can I cannot think."
While the girls were in the orchard, Eunice pointed out to Priscilla thevarious additions that had been made to the house. Little ells and roomshad been added, some of them only one story high, and the originalhouse, built by her Loyalist ancestor, was the very smallest part of thepresent dwelling.
"I thought it strange," said Priscilla, "when you said that this housewas built just after the Revolution, that it should have been so large,but now I understand."
"Oh, there's been an ell added for nearly every generation. To tell youthe truth," she concluded, "although my mother speaks so despondinglynow, the family have seen better days, even in Annapolis. My grandfatherBalfour was a very successful lawyer, and in spite of theRevolution"--here she smiled--"we might have been rich to-day if he hadnot sunk his money in unlucky speculation."
"Balfour?" queried Priscilla. "Where have I heard that name?"
"Oh, the name itself is not so very uncommon. There must be many of thename somewhere, although our family was the only one down here."
A little later the girls were looking over some of the old books on thebookshelves; they were chiefly history and poetry. There was Robertson's"Charles Fifth," a fine set of Pope's Complete Works, and Dodsley's"Miscellany," with the gilding on its calf binding not yet quite wornoff. Priscilla looked at these books with less interest than Amy showedfor them; she was not as ardent a lover of things ancient, although herrespect for Eunice increased when the young girl told her that she hadread nearly every book in the house.
"We have long winter evenings," she said, "and fewer amusements, Isuppose, than you have in the cities; and really I would rather readthan do anything else."
"But these books are so very old-fashioned, and Pope's poetry, don't youfind it pretty dull? I didn't care so very much for 'The Rape of theLock,' though some people call it amusing."
"I prefer Tennyson," replied Eunice, in a judicial tone, "but I feelthere are certain things one must read some time, and mother says that Imight as well read them now, while I have the books. Some time," andhere she sighed, "we may have to break up our home, and that might meanpacking away all our books; so it's well to 'make hay while the sunshines,'" she concluded with a bright smile that was in marked contrastwith the sigh of a moment before.
In the meantime Amy, in looking over some of the books, gave anexclamation of surprise; she had opened a large Bible, on the fly-leafof which was written "Audrey Balfour, Her book."
"There is something very familiar in that name," she cried, "AudreyBalfour, and yet for the moment I can't recall any one to whom itbelongs."
"It's a family name," said Eunice, "and I've always wished that it hadbeen given to me, for there has always been an Audrey in the family foreach generation until now."
At last supper was announced, and if any of the party had lackedappetite, the sight of the long table, with its delicate china andold-fashioned silver and glass, would have been an inspiration. Thesilver spoons, to be sure, were very, very thin, and the cups andsaucers were not without cracks, and here and there showed otherimperfections; but these things only emphasized the fact that silver andchina were really old; and the large silver dish, heaped with greatstrawberries, was of a style that Mrs. Redmond said would make it almostworth its weight in gold to a collector.
"I am so sorry," said Mrs. Airton, politely, "that Miss Martine is notwith you. I have seen her passing two or three times, and she is aparticularly attractive girl."
"She is indeed very attractive," responded Mrs. Redmond, "and on thisaccount we regret her occasional wilfulness; she had planned a ride tothe Bay Shore and we could not induce her to give it up. But she wishedme to thank you for her invitation, and she said that if she possiblycould, she would be here in time for tea; but it seems now as if she hasbeen unable to carry out this part of her plan."
"Oh, if she really goes to the shore," interposed Mrs. Gray, "I am sureshe will hardly be back in Annapolis before dark. It's a long ride, andI only hope she doesn't find the road too hard."
"Martine is a good horsewoman; her father told us that we might trusther on any horse, and had I not known this, I should have hesitated tolet her go."
"She did not go alone, I hope," said Mrs. Airton, anxiously.
"Oh, no; she consented rather reluctantly to an escort, and from thestable they sent a Mr. Frazer, an elderly man, who promised to lookafter her."
"Mr. Frazer!" Eunice laughed as she uttered the name. "Well, if he's onhis own horse and if Miss Martine keeps beside him, she'll certainlyhave a slow, safe ride."