Cupids Understudy | Page 4

course Valentine was quite capable of attending to the
unpacking. Still, one likes to inspect everything one is to wear,
especially when one is expecting a guest to dinner. "Then," said Dad, "I
think I'll order dinner, and go for a walk., shall we have dinner here?"
"Oh, by all means! This is so much more homelike than a public dining
room."
"I'll not be gone more than an hour or two. . . Hullo! Come in."
A small boy entered, carrying a box quite as big as himself. "For Miss
Middleton," he said.
"Another present from you, Dad?"
"Open it, my dear."
"I thought so," he remarked, as the removal of the cover displayed
more American Beauties. (There were five dozen;) I counted them after
Dad had gone. Another million roses and in the middle of January!
"Who's the spendthrift this time, Elizabeth?"
"His name," I said, slipping a card: from the envelope that lay on a
huge bow of red ribbon, "is Mr. Blakely Porter."
Although I know, now, there are many things more beautiful, I believed,
then, that nothing more beautiful had ever happened; for it was the first
time a man had ever sent me roses. Nineteen years old, and my first
roses! They made me so happy. Paris seemed very far away; the
convent was a mythical place I had seen in a dream; nothing was real
but Dad, and America, and the roses somebody, had sent. Somebody!
Chapter Four
Mr. Porter arrived on time to the minute, looking perfectly splendid in a

wonderful furlined coat. And if his eyes were anxious, and his manner
a bit constrained at first, it didn't last long; Dad's greeting was too
cordial, not to make him feel at home. Indeed, he talked delightfully all
through dinner, and with the coffee, half laughingly, half apologizingly
told us the story of his life. "For," said he, "although I feel as if I'd
known you always," (he looked at Dad, but I was sure he meant me, too)
"you may not feel the same in regard to me--and I want you to."
It was sweet to see Dad grow almost boyish in his insistence that he felt
as Mr. Porter did. "Nonsense!" he said. "It seems the most natural thing
in the world to have you here. Doesn't it Elizabeth!"
It was rather embarrassing to be asked such a question in Mr. Porter's
presence, but I managed to murmur a weak "Yes, indeed!" Inside,
though, I felt just as Dad did, and I was fearfully interested in Mr.
Porter's account of himself. I could see, too, that he belittled the real
things, and magnified the unimportant. According to his narrative, the
unimportant things were that he was a civil engineer, that he had been
in Peru building a railroad for an English; syndicate, and that the
railroad was now practically completed; he seemed, however, to attach
great importance to the cable that had called him to London to appear
before a board of directors, for that had been the indirect means of his
taking passage on the same ship with me. Then there was the wonderful
fact that he was to see us in California. He had been in harness now for
four years, he said, and he felt as if he'd earned a vacation. At all events,
he meant to take one.
As neither he nor Dad would hear of my leaving them to their cigars, I
sat by and listened, and loved it all, every minute of it. I didn't know,
then (I don't know to this day) whether I liked Mr. Porter best for being
so boyish, or so manly. But manly men who retain all the enthusiasms
of youth have a certain charm one likes instinctively, I think.
There is no doubt that Mr. Porter quite captivated Dad. "You make me
feel like a boy," he said, after listening to a delightfully whimsical
account of conditions in Peru. "By George, that's a country for you!
And Ecuador, I've always thought that must be an interesting place.
Have you ever been there?"

Yes, Mr. Porter had been to Ecuador. And there was a certain rail- road
in India he had helped put through. India! Now that WAS a place! Had
Dad ever been to India?
No, Dad had never been to India, but . . . "Good Lord, boy, how old are
you, anyway?"
"Thirty-two."
"Well, I never would have guessed it. Would you, Elizabeth?"
This, too, was rather embarrassing, but I managed to say I thought Mr.
Porter didn't look a day over twenty-eight.
"It's the life he leads," Dad declared with an air of proprietorship--"out
of doors all day long. It must be great!"
"It IS interesting. But I think I like it best for what it has