Kitty Canary | Page 3

she had never trusted me to do before and didn't write
herself, which is why I wasn't met. I did write the letter saying I was
coming, but I forgot to mail it and found it in my bag when I got off the

train and was looking for my trunk check. It was nearly eleven o'clock
and nobody around but some train people who looked at me and said
nothing. And then a young man who had got off the same train came up
and took off his hat and asked if he could not do something for me, and
I told him I hoped he could and I certainly would be obliged if he
would do it as quick as possible, as it was getting later every minute
and Mother would be terribly worried if she knew I hadn't been met.
"But where are you going?" he asked, and his eyes, which are his
best-looking part, took me in from top to toe. When I told him I was a
boarder for Miss Susanna Mason and would like to get to her house he
said if I didn't mind a pretty good walk he would take me there with
pleasure, and we started off. It was a perfectly gorgeous night. The stars
were as thick as buttercups in spring, and the moon was magnificent
and the air full of all sorts of old-fashioned fragrances, as if
honeysuckle and mignonette and tea-roses and heliotrope were all
mixed together; and as there didn't seem any real need of grieving
because there was no one to meet me, I thought I might as well enjoy
myself. I did. I could not help the train being late, and I didn't forget to
mail my letter on purpose; and it was an accident, or coincidence, that a
nice man should be on the same train I was, who lived in the place I
was going to spend the summer in, and knew very well the house I
wanted to get to. I didn't know he had been engaged to the niece of the
house and hadn't been to the latter since the engagement was broken,
and I must say as we walked along he didn't show any evidences of
despair or things of that sort. He couldn't possibly have been naturaler
or in better spirits, and he laughed from the time we left the station
until we reached Rose Hill. Not knowing his history, I told him I had
come to Twickenham Town because I thought it was the most delicious
old place in America; the sweetest, slowest, self-satisfiedest,
cocksuredest place on earth, and everybody in it was a character--that is,
everybody over thirty. He said that let him out, as he was only
twenty-five, but he wasn't sure some under twenty-five were not
somewhat queer. They are, I have found out since.
He had left his bag at the station, but he had mine, which was right
heavy, and seeing there was a good stretch of open road before we

began to go up the hill on the top of which was Miss Susanna's home, I
told him he had better sit down a minute and rest, and I got up on the
worm fence and twisted my feet around the rail below, and looked at
him before he knew what I was going to do. He coughed a little and
looked at his watch and said it was rather late to be resting, as Miss
Susanna might be going to bed, and that if I were not too tired he
thought we had better go on; and I told him all right. And then, because
I couldn't help it, I stood up on the top of the fence, balanced myself on
it, and, opening my arms as if I were going to fly, sprang off and ran up
the road ahead of him.
At the gate, which was open and through which I could see the
rose-bordered path leading up to the white-pillared porch on which
Miss Susanna and her niece were sitting, he shook hands with me and
told me good night and said he hoped he would see me very often while
I was in town, and I said I hoped he would. He put my bag down and
told me to send one of the servants out for it, and went on down the
road, which I thought was the queerest behavior I had ever seen in my
life. I didn't know, of course, about embarrassments and broken
engagements and things of that sort, and for a moment I stared at his
back and then picked up my bag and went up to the porch with it. All
the boarders had gone to bed and only Miss Susanna and her