Julia The Apostate | Page 3

stalks in the pots."
Mrs. Ranger laughed, and directed her searching, level glance at the older woman, who combined in her comely, undisguised middle age something at once more matronly and more childish than the analytic authoress could ever find in her own mirror.
"Aha!" she cried, "then you are no friend of dear old Horace, after all, Miss Trueman! He and I, you see--"
The relation of these two urbanites was revealed no further, for a bustle in the little hall drew attention to a newcomer unknown not only to the guests but evidently to the hostesses, who rose, smiling uncertainly, as a portly, broad-shouldered man with iron-gray hair made his way through the group about the samovar.
"I'll have to introduce myself, I see," he began, not precisely with what an exigent society calls ease of manner, but with a certain practical self-possession quite as effective.
"I didn't expect the girls to remember me, but I thought perhaps you might, Julia."
Miss Trueman peered out from the shaded five-o'clock gloom so dear to Carolyn's soul.
"I don't seem--it's not--why, Cousin Lorando Bean, it's not you?"
"That's it," he said heartily, "that's just exactly it. And he's mighty glad to see some of his relations again, I can tell you. And these are Carrie and Lizzie, I suppose. Well, well, fifteen years is a long time, even to an old fellow like me, and you girls were just beginning to be young ladies when I left Connecticut. How are you all?"
If this simple greeting came like a breath of her native air to Miss True-man, it cannot be said to have had a similar effect on her nieces. Courtesy prevented a full expression of their feelings, but they affected no undue delight at the presence of their new-found relative--whom they had very sincerely forgotten, along with many other details of a somewhat inartistic youth--and turned to their other guests with a frank relief when they had established him, with a cup of tea, a sandwich, and Aunt Julia, in the near-by dining-room.
"A third or fourth cousin, I believe, who has lived a long time in the West," they explained. The company, some of whom doubtless possessed third or fourth cousins from the West, nodded comprehensively, and the interrupted function flowed smoothly on again.
Cousin Lorando Bean balanced his cup on his broad palm and gazed about appreciatively at the casts and water-colors on the dull green walls.
"Very snug little quarters, these," he volunteered, "but, do you know, Cousin Jule, I suppose it's all right for ladies, but I don't seem to breathe extra well in these little rooms, somehow! I've been in two or three of them like this, more or less, since I came to New York--people I used to know that I've been hunting up--and, by George, I began to feel as if I was getting red in the face, if you see what I mean."
"Yes, indeed, Cousin Lorando, I do," returned Miss Trueman eagerly, "I see exactly. And not having any cellar--you've no idea! Nor any attic, either. And often and often we have the gas lighted all through breakfast. Of course there are a great many conveniences," she added loyally, "and there's no doubt it saves steps. But I almost think I'd rather take 'em."
He nodded.
"What's become of the old place, Cousin Jule? I judge you've been out of it some time?"
"Two years, Cousin Lorando. The girls had been boarding up to then, and when Aunt Martha died they got up this plan for me to come down and live with them, for they couldn't afford it quite, alone, and then I could chaperon them."
Aunt Julia delivered herself of this phrase with a certain complacency. Mr. Bean looked up sharply.
"That means that nobody gets a show to abduct 'em while you're around, I take it?" he inquired.
"We-ell, not exactly," she demurred.
"But that's the idea? I thought so. Yes. How old is Lizzie now? Thirty?"
"Oh, no, Cousin Lorando; L---- Elise isn't twenty-nine yet. Carolyn is about thirty."
"I don't seem to recall any one chaperoning you and Hattie when you were thirty," he suggested thoughtfully.
She laughed involuntarily.
"Oh, Hattie was married, Cousin Lorando, and the children were ten years old! And, anyway, it was different then."
"The girls were just as pretty, I guess," he insisted. "And there were plenty of buggies, if anybody had designs."
There was a pause, and the buzz of voices from the other room rose loudly.
"They've neither of them got their mother's looks," he observed; and then, with apparent irrelevance: "When will they be considered safe to go about alone?"
"I don't know exactly what you mean," she began a little coldly, but his laugh reassured her.
"Oh, yes, you do," he contradicted, "and don't you be getting cross at your Cousin Lorando Bean! You know I always loved to tease you; it made your eyes