CHAPTER V
The Very Next Day
I was so tired last night, Diary, that I couldn't sleep, and Sarahblames you! She has just said, sternly, "No more writing, Miss Mavis,"and vanished from the room. Out you come, from under my pillow, inlawless defiance of the mandate. For it's raining and dull, and Ican't go out of doors, and so I must have something to occupy me, mustI not? But isn't it perfectly wonderful that the rain should depriveme of something? For, it was only a very short time ago that rain orsunshine meant very little to me, aside from aesthetic pleasure, andshut or open windows as the case might be! Now for a description ofthe Lawn Fete!
It was an early affair; three o'clock, to be exact. And very youngSeptember put on her very gayest appearance for me. Father and Sarah,Dr. Bill and Dr. Mac, constituted themselves a Committee on Decorationand Refreshments, and as a consequence we had a lawn gay with wickerchairs, hammocks, cushions, tables, flags, and flowers; and a veryimportant table loaded with sandwiches, tiny cakes, bonbons, andall manner of cool drinkables. And--then came the crowds! I dobelieve everyone in Green Hill turned out, from Sammy and hisRosie-of-the-Telegraph (I wonder what happened to the messages duringthat afternoon? Never mind! No one would have been home to receivethem!), to Peter and his small friends and old Granny Wallace, whodrove up in a dilapidated buggy, and wore a new black bonnet for theoccasion. I wore--and this will interest you--the mauve and turquoisenegligee, with various additions. One was a bunch of the loveliest,glowingest orchids you have ever seen, which was brought to me by Mr.John Denton, who made a flying half-hour's return trip for the expresspurpose, he said, of kissing my hands and delivering the flowers,which he assured me came from the donor of Wiggles. A card with theorchids read, "To match a delightful costume." So Mr. Denton, thevillain, has been talking! Under my laces, I wore Richard Warren'sjade lucky-piece, and in honor of the occasion I decorated Wiggles,much to his disgust, with a huge purple bow. It was very becoming tohis lively and brunette beauty, as all who saw him will attest.
It was a dear afternoon. Everyone was so happy for me. They fairlyoverwhelmed me with good wishes and affectionate, optimisticprophecies. My two medicos kept a very stern guard over me. It seemedas if I couldn't get rid of one or the other for more than a moment ata time. But I had Dr. Mac in a perfectly beautiful rage by accusinghim of trying to steal the Scandinavian heart of Hildeborg, my massivemasseuse. Oh yes, she was there too, marvellously gotten up, heryellow head very much in the foreground and her big voice booming outat the most inopportune moments in more than the most inopportuneremarks, thereby greatly endangering the preservation of gravity inthose present. Her public advice to Dr. Mac, along lines of reduction,was extremely exhilarating!
We had music, rendered slightly off key, but with all the good will inthe world, by the Green Hill Musical Four, consisting of a Simpson, aWatkins, and the Jones twins, who performed respectively upon acornet, a violin, a banjo, and a mouth-organ. It was, Diary, the verylast word in successful parties. Only one thing occurred to cast anyshadow over a wonderful day. And, of all people selected by an unkindFate to sully my happiness, it was Peter who, to mix metaphorssomewhat, cast the first stone. In the presence of at least sixvillagers, including Granny Wallace, the town gossip, he regarded myfrivolity of a lace and ribbon cap, and asked, as solemnly as a mouthfull to capacity with cake would permit, "Mavis, _how_ do you set yourcap?"
"How do I what?" I asked in all innocence, one hand to my headgear.
"Set it," he repeated. "Sally says that Adeline says that you aresetting your cap for Doctor Denton!"
Adeline, Diary, is Sally's sister, and Dr. Denton's cook.
Several in the group about me laughed, and Granny Wallace's ears grewvisibly in length.
"I can't imagine what you mean, Peterkins," I answered withwell-assumed carelessness, and turned to talk volubly with Mrs.Goodrich, who was adding to the gaiety by saying audibly, "Hush,Peter!"
But Peter was not to be silenced.
"Sally says," he protested, in his clear little voice, "that Adelinesays she told doctor Denton about it, your cap, you know, and that helaughed out loud and said you could for all of him!"
"What's that about Doctor Denton?" asked that individual, suddenlycoming up quietly behind the group.
Talk about bombshells!
Despite Mrs. Goodrich's frantic attempt to hush her young hopeful,Peter, his hand in Doctor Denton's, obligingly repeated his story.
"An'," he concluded, turning to me wistfully, "please, Mavis, won'tyou set it for me? I'd like to see how you do it!"
Amid an awestruck silence, Doctor Denton swung Peter, who squealedwith delight, up and up to his broad shoulder, and said, laughing buta little red,
"Nonsense, old chap, Miss Carroll won't set her cap for you for--well,about twenty years, more or less. But isn't it a pretty cap?" With awicked laugh he turned and strode off, Peter clinging to his shock ofdark hair and asking very loudly, "But does she do it like hens do,Doctor Uncle?"
I haven't the remotest idea what happened after that. I vaguelyremember Granny Wallace hurrying and cackling off, and the othermembers of the group trying to compose their features and to re-ordertheir conversation. That Mrs. Goodrich, before she left, bent over meand whispered, "Mavis dear, I'm _so_ sorry!" helped matters, as far asI was concerned, not one whit. By the same evening, I am certain thatthe story was all over Green Hill. Even Sarah said something to me,before I went to bed....
Somehow, I should have thought my helplessness would have protected mea little....
After my guests had gone, Doctor Denton appeared on the scene.
"MacAllister and I will carry you up to your room now, Miss Carroll,"he said cheerily.
I felt very tired, very cross, and behaved, I'm afraid, like aschoolgirl.
"If you'll get Doctor Mac and Father...."
He went quite white.
"Very well," he said stiffly, and turned away. I did not see himagain that day, or for several days thereafter.
I wonder if he really said that I "could for all of him?"
NEW YORK CITY September 11th
Contrary Princess!
Do you think it kind of Your Royal Benevolence to write me the most charming note in the world to thank me for my flowers, and then to almost ruin it by a postscript, a scolding--dare I say, nagging--postscript, in which you sternly forbid me to give myself pleasure and send you "anything more, ever"! You are an--an Indian _Receiver_, that's what you are! And I refuse to have any dealings with your postscript! I will separate it carefully from the rest of the letter, and consign it to candle flame.
I am glad you enjoyed your lawn party. Sorry, though, that anything should have happened during your At Home day to disturb you. Although you do not tell me what it was, I have put two and two together, made a hundred and six, and deducted that some member of my blundering and heavy-footed sex stepped upon your sensibilities. But I am sure you have forgiven him by now--although far be it from me to hold any brief for an unknown and hated rival!
Please, may I come to your next party? I am sure my mother would be willing to chaperone me. I forwarded her your last note; it was addressed to her and I did not dare keep it. But I read it (yes, I did) and I do not notice that you scolded her about those rose-grey bed socks! Indeed, you seemed very glad to have them. She has been fretting, I know, that they were not finished sooner, but she was called away, as no doubt she told you in her letter, by an illness in the family.
My respects to Wiggles. I wonder if he is entirely cognizant of his good fortune?
I have told you once that everything John Denton says of me is false, unless it is particularly pleasant. And then it hardly does me justice. Now, after my repeated demands, will you tell me what he said?
Yours very truly, RICHARD WARREN
P.S. I have found more in the business form of signature than I had dreamed existed. Let me repeat it another way,
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Very truly--yours, R. W.
UNDER-THE-TREES September 14th
Dear and Caviling Poet:
You deserved to be scolded. But we will say no more about it. And I have decided to relent and tell you what Mr. John Denton said. He said
That you were shy
That you were very blonde
That you were very impractical
That you were very generous
That you were an incorrigible dreamer
And that he thought you were in love!
What have you to reply to these six counts of his indictment?
Curiously yours, THE PRINCESS
NEW YORK CITY September 17th
Dear Portia:
Lies! All counts of the indictment to be immediately quashed--save the very last!
RICHARD WARREN
GREEN HILL September 19
Diary, I have a two-line letter from Richard Warren which I am afraidto answer. And it's all my fault!