Lavender and Old Lace | Page 3

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Etext prepared by Dianne Bean of Phoenix, AZ using Omnipage Pro
software donated by Caere.

LAVENDER AND OLD LACE by Myrtle Reed
1902

I. THE LIGHT IN THE WINDOW II. THE ATTIC. III. MISS
AINSLIE IV. A GUEST V. THE RUMOURS OF THE VALLEY VI.
THE GARDEN VII. THE MAN WHO HESITATES VIII. SUMMER
DAYS IX. BY HUMBLE MEANS X. LOVE LETTERS XI. THE

ROSE OF ALL THE WORLD XII. BRIDE AND GROOM XIII.
PLANS XIV. "FOR REMEMBRANCE" XV. THE SECRET AND
THE DREAM XVI. SOME ONE WHO LOVED HER XVII. DAWN

I. The Light in the Window
A rickety carriage was slowly ascending the hill, and from the place of
honour on the back seat, the single passenger surveyed the country with
interest and admiration. The driver of that ancient chariot was an
awkward young fellow, possibly twenty-five years of age, with sharp
knees, large, red hands, high cheek-bones, and abundant hair of a shade
verging upon orange. He was not unpleasant to look upon, however, for
he had a certain evident honesty, and he was disposed to be friendly to
every one.
"Be you comfortable, Miss?" he asked, with apparent solicitude.
"Very comfortable, thank you," was the quiet response. He urged his
venerable steeds to a gait of about two mles an hour, then turned
sideways.
"Be you goin' to stay long, Miss?"
"All Summer, I think."
"Do tell!"
The young woman smiled in listless amusement, but Joe took it for
conversational encouragement. "City folks is dretful bashful when
they's away from home," he said to himself. He clucked again to his
unheeding horses, shifted his quid, and was casting about for a new
topic when a light broke in upon him.
"I guess, now, that you're Miss Hathaway's niece, what's come to stay
in her house while she goes gallivantin' and travellin' in furrin parts, be
n't you?"

"I am Miss Hathaway's niece, and I have never been here before.
Where does she live?"
"Up yander."
He flourished the discarded fish-pole which served as a whip, and
pointed out a small white house on the brow of the hill. Reflection
brought him the conviction that his remark concerning Miss Hathaway
was a social mistake, since his passenger sat very straight, and asked no
more questions.
The weary wheels creaked, but the collapse which Miss Thorne
momentarily expected was mercifully postponed. Being gifted with
imagination, she experienced the emotion of a wreck without bodily
harm. As in a photograph, she beheld herself suddenly projected into
space, followed by her suit case, felt her new hat wrenched from her
head, and saw hopeless gravel stains upon the tailored gown which was
the pride of her heart. She thought a sprained ankle would be the
inevitable outcome of the fall, but was spared the pain of it, for the
inability to realise an actual hurt is the redeeming feature of
imagination.
Suddenly there was a snort of terror from one of the horses, and the
carriage stopped abruptly. Ruth clutched her suit case and umbrella,
instantly prepared for the worst; but Joe reassured her.
"Now don't you go and get skeered, Miss," he said, kindly; "'taint
nothin' in the world but a rabbit. Mamie can't never get used to rabbits,
someways." He indicated one of the horses--a high, raw-boned animal,
sketched on a generous plan, whose ribs and joints protruded, and
whose rough white coat had been weather-worn to grey.
"Hush now, Mamie," he said; "'taint nothin'."
"Mamie" looked around inquiringly, with one ear erect and the other at
an angle. A cataract partially concealed one eye, but in the other was a
world of wickedness and knowledge, modified by a certain lady-like
reserve.

"G' long, Mamie!"
Ruth laughed as the horse resumed motion in mincing, maidenly steps.
"What's the other one's name?" she asked.
"Him?