XIX
WHILE he waited the cat looked up at him, curiously but pleasantly."Hello, old lady," he said; and she arched her back and rubbed lightlyagainst his nigh leg while the kittens tumbled over his shoes and playedfrantically with the frayed bottoms of his trousers.
This preliminary welcome seemed to comfort him out of all proportion toits significance; he gazed complacently about at the trees and flowers,drew in deep breaths of the lilac's fragrance, and waited, listeningcontentedly for the coming foot-fall.
He had not heard it when the door opened and a young girl appeared on thethreshold, standing with one hand resting on the inner knob; the othertouching the pocket of her apron, in which was a ball of yarn stuckthrough with two needles.
She was slim and red-haired and slightly freckled, and her mouth wasperhaps a shade large, and it curled slightly at the corners; and hereyes were quite perfectly made, except that one was hazel-brown and theother hazel-grey.
Hat in hand, Brown bowed; and then she did a thing which interested him;she lifted the edges of her apron between slender white thumbs andforefingers and dropped him the prettiest courtesy he had ever seen offthe stage.
"I came to inquire," he said, "whether you ever take summer boarders."
"What are boarders?" she asked. "I never heard of them except in navalbattles."
"Thank heaven," he thought; "this is remote, all right; and I havediscovered pristine innocence in the nest."
"Modern boarders," he explained politely, "are unpleasant people who comefrom the city to enjoy the country, and who, having no real homes, payfarmers to lodge and feed them for a few days of vacation and dyspepsia."
"You mean is this a tavern?" she asked, unsmiling.
"No, I don't. I mean, will you let me live here a little while as thoughI were a guest, and then permit me to settle my reckoning in accordancewith your own views upon the subject?"
She hesitated as though perplexed.
"Suppose you ask your father or mother," he suggested.
"They are absent."
"Will they return this morning?"
"I don't know exactly when they expect to return."
"Well, couldn't you assume the responsibility?" he asked, smiling.
She looked at him for a few moments, and it seemed to him as though, inthe fearless gravity of her regard, somehow, somewhere, perhaps in thecurled corners of her lips, perhaps in her pretty and unusual eyes, therelurked a little demon of laughter. Yet it could not be so; there wereonly serenity and a child's direct sweetness in the gaze.
"What is your name?" she asked.
"John Brown 4th."
"Mine is Elizabeth Tennant. Where do you live?"
"In--New York," he admitted, watching her furtively.
"I was there once--at a ball--many years ago," she observed.
"Not _very_ many years ago, I imagine," he said, smiling at her youthfulreminiscence.
"Many, many years ago," she said thoughtfully. "I shall go again someday."
"Of course," he murmured politely, "it's a thing to do and get done--likegoing abroad."
She looked up at him quickly.
"Years ago I knew a boy--with your easy humour and your trick of speech.He resembled you otherwise; and he wore your name becomingly."
He tried to recall knowing her in his extreme youth, but made no definiteconnection.
"You wouldn't remember," she said gravely; "but I think I know you now.Who is your father?"
"My father?" he repeated, surprised and smiling. "My father is John Brown3rd."
"And his father?"
"My grandfather?" he asked, very much amused. "Oh, he was John Brown 2nd.And _his_ father was Captain John Brown of Westchester; but I don't wantto talk D. A. R. talk to you about my great grandfather----"
"He fought at Pound Ridge," said the girl, slowly.
"Yes," said Brown, astonished.
"Tarleton's cavalry--the brutal hussars of the legion--killed him on theStamford Road," she said; "and he lay there in the field all day with onedead arm over his face and his broken pistol in his hand, and theterrible galloping fight drove past down the stony New Canaan road--andthe smoke from the meeting house afire rolled blacker and blacker andredder and redder----"
With a quickly drawn breath she covered her face with both hands andstood a moment silent; and Brown stared at her, astonished, doubting hiseyes and ears.
The next moment she dropped her hands and looked at him with a tremuloussmile.
"What in the world can you be thinking of me?" she said. "Alone in thisold house, here among the remoter hills of Westchester. I live so vividlyin the past that these almost forgotten tragedies seem very real to meand touch me closely. To me the present is only a shadow; the past islife itself. Can you understand?"
"I see," he said, intensely relieved concerning her mental stability;"you are a Daughter of the American Revolution or a Society of ColonialWars or--er--something equally--er--interesting and desirable----"
"I am a Daughter of the American Revolution," she said proudly.
"Exactly," he smiled with an inward shudder. "A--a veryinteresting--er--and--exceedingly--and--all that sort of thing," henodded amiably. "Don't take much interest in it myself--being a brokerand rather busy----"
"I am sorry."
He looked up quickly and met her strange eyes, one hazel-grey, onehazel-brown.
"I--I'll be delighted to take an interest in anything you--in--er--thisRevolutionary business if you--if you don't mind telling me about it," hestammered. "Evenings, now, if you have time to spare----"
She smiled, opened the door wider, and looked humorously down at himwhere he stood fidgeting on the step.
"Will you come in?" she asked serenely.