Lippincotts Magazine, July 1885 | Page 5

mean that he is really
unhappy at all. He should not say such things, they are so very
misleading."
When quiet was restored, a discussion followed about the parties in the
English Church, and, the question being raised as to who was the head
of the Low Church party, Mr. Ketchum had just said, "Why, _Lucifer_,
of course," when, amid general merriment, Miss Brown walked in,
saying, "I never heard of such an uproarious Sunday party. Are you
ready, Ethel? We ought to be off,"--which practically ended the meal,
for first Mr. Ramsay and then the others left the table, he to talk to
Bijou, they to get ready for church. Job's eyes followed Mr. Ramsay,
and he said to Sir Robert, "What a charming girl Mrs. De Witt was in
the old Cheltenham days! Heathcote didn't make the landing there, and
I'm sorry."
"So am I. She is an immense favorite of mine," said Sir Robert. "As
charming as ever! It was a more serious thing than I thought it would
be. I doubt whether he ever marries."
"She was a born enchantress, Jenny was," he replied. "Some women are
like poison oak,--once get them in your system, and they will break out
on you every spring for fifty years, if you live that long, fresh and
painful as ever. But as for his marrying, some one of our girls will enter
for the Consolation stakes, very likely, and he will be married before he
knows what has hurt him."
"A consummation devoutly to be wished," said Sir Robert. "He is my
heir, you know."
In a few minutes Ethel joined Bijou, who looked at her rather hard, as
she felt. Ethel wore a simple serge dress, heavy boots, a stout frieze
jacket, and a hat of a shape unknown in America, that seemed to be all
cocks' plumes. Her eyes being weak, she had put on her smoked glasses.
The day being damp, and her chest delicate, she had added her
respirator. "I am nicely protected, am I not?" she said contentedly. "I

had a severe cold last winter, from which I am not quite recovered, and
auntie thinks I had best be prudent. Are you ready?"
"Not quite," said Bijou. "I want to see Mrs. Ketchum a moment." She
ran off, accordingly, into the library in search of the old lady, whom
she found there looking out the lessons, it being her practice to verify
every word the clergyman read, and no small satisfaction to catch him
tripping. "Do, Mrs. Ketchum, speak to Ethel and get her to take off
those machines and put on something stylish," said Bijou. "I am really
ashamed to take her into our pew; people will stare so. She is a perfect
fright. The idea of a girl making herself look like that!"
Mrs. Ketchum, however, declined to interfere, and when Bijou got back
to the drawing-room Ethel was missing. Taking advantage of Bijou's
absence, she had gone up-stairs, and, during the library interview, was
saying to her aunt, "You never saw anything got up as she is,--silk, and
satin, and lace, and bracelets, and feathers, and what not. And for
church, too! I wonder she should turn out like that: she should have
better taste. I really don't quite like going with her, she looks so
conspicuous,--just as if she were going to a garden-party or
flower-show, for all the world." When they met again, both girls looked
a little conscious, and Ethel said, "How very smart you are!"
"Why, this is an old dress that I put on for fear it might rain," said Bijou.
"Don't you hate having to wear goggles and cages and things? It must
be perfectly horrid."
"I don't mind. Of course one isn't looking one's best; but that is of no
consequence. Health is the first consideration," said Ethel. "Ah! there
comes your father."
Of the walk it need only be said that it was very pleasant going, and
rained a little coming back; that Ethel produced her "goloshes," put up
her umbrella, and walked home as serenely as her concern for Bijou
would admit. That young lady had on paper-soled boots that got
soaking wet, a fine summer parasol that she seemed to think fulfilled
every office that was desirable in shielding her bonnet, a dress ill fitted
to resist chill or dampness. She persisted that she was "all right," while
her pretty teeth chattered; but she caught a violent cold, and was in bed
a week, while Ethel came down to dinner as rosy as Baby Ketchum,
and ate as heartily as Mr. Ramsay and Mr. Heathcote, who certainly
showed themselves good trenchermen. Mrs. Ketchum persisted in

regarding the two young men very much as though they had been
returned Arctic travellers, and amused them