Lippincotts Magazine, July 1885 | Page 6

not a little by suggesting
that they should lie down all the evening.
"Why, we haven't turned a hair. We are as fit as a fiddle," they
exclaimed, and looked anything but unstrung.
Ethel had made one speech that astonished Bijou considerably. "Do
you know, I have been watching you ever since I have known you," she
said, "to see if it was true? That is, that the American ladies spat on all
occasions, as I have read. Don't think me rude to mention it."
"We don't quarrel any more than any one else," said Bijou, quite
misunderstanding.
"I don't mean that, you know: expectorate. And I see it was not true at
all. I have not seen it once," explained Ethel.
"I should think not! Well, I do think! How could you believe such
ridiculous nonsense?" asked Bijou indignantly.
"Don't be vexed, Bijou dear. I did not mean to make unkind reflections.
It was only that I had read a stupid book about America," said Ethel;
and peace was restored.
As for the other members of the party, they had gone to a handsome
church in Kalsing, which boasted the best stained glass in the country
and was thoroughly churchly and attractive. Here they not only heard
good music, but one of the most eloquent preachers in "the American
branch of the English establishment," as Sir Robert called the
Episcopalian communion.
It amused Mr. Ketchum not a little to see the way in which the baronet
conducted his devotions,--his preliminary prayer in his silk hat, from
which streamed a halo of side-whiskers, the heartiness with which he
joined in the service, especially the way in which, avoiding all the
compromises the male American practises in prayer-time (such as
bending forward a little, or leaning back pensively with the hand
shading the face), he plumped squarely down on his knees, turned up a
pair of shoes half as long as his very respectable, tightly-rolled
umbrella, and made his responses in a clear, audible voice, like an
honest gentleman and a miserable sinner.
It did not escape Mr. Ketchum's keen eyes, either, that although Sir
Robert contributed a five-dollar bill to the offertory, he first rolled it up
into a tiny, unrecognizable wad before dropping it into the alms-basin.

The service over, Sir Robert and the eminent divine were made
acquainted. The latter said he would call as soon as he could snatch a
moment, and Sir Robert, his hands folded behind his back, holding his
hat and gloves, made the rounds of the church, inspecting every bit of
carving, frescoing, glass, and brass, and making the most intelligent
criticisms upon what he saw to Miss Noel in a whisper. Mrs. Sykes sat
still in the pew, fuming at being "let in for a charity sermon," for some
inexplicable reason, seeing she had given nothing to the charity. Miss
Noel was stopped at the door by no less a person than Captain Kendall,
who had suddenly discovered that he had a great-aunt living in Kalsing,
whom he must see, and now stood there saying, "Where is Miss Ethel?
How is it that you are here without her? I hope she is quite well."
"My niece, Miss Heathcote, is quite well, thanks, and has gone to
church elsewhere," said Miss Noel, with dignity, intending to mildly
repress a young gentleman whom she thought a little too free with his
"Miss Ethels."
"Then I will have the pleasure of calling upon you to-morrow," said
Captain Kendall, unabashed and joyous, as he walked away.
So active an intelligence as Sir Robert's requires plenty of food, and
when Mrs. Ketchum senior issued from her room about ten the next
morning, whom should she meet in the hall but the baronet in a state of
the most overflowing energy and brilliant good humor, dressed in a suit
of striped red-and-white "pajamas," having on his head a paper cap,
under his arm a roll of designs, and in his mind the delightful intention
of painting the ceiling of Mabel's boudoir!
"Good-morning, madam. Here we are," he said, shaking his box of
paints and stencils at her. "I have improvised a scaffolding, and am now
going to work on my outlines. I planned the whole thing in bed last
night, and, unless I am much mistaken, we are going to have the
prettiest boudoir in this part of the country. I shall do a panel or two to
get the effect, and any workman can finish it."
"But can you do it?" asked Mrs. Ketchum, amazed, but interested.
"You shall see. I frescoed the chapel on my place at home, and I may
say there have been worse pieces of work," replied Sir Robert,
descending the stairs as he spoke, eager to get to work.
"Is he _raving crazy_,