Quaint Courtships | Page 7

sure
I always try to say them politely. But to save you I would say
anything!"
"But I enjoy seeing people, and--"
"It is bad for you to be tired," Mary said, her thin face quivering still
with the effort she had made; "and they sha'n't tire you while I am here
to protect you." And her protection never flagged. When Captain Price
called, she asked him to please converse in a low tone, as noise was bad
for her mother. "He had been here a good while before I came in," she
defended herself to Mrs. North, afterwards; "and I'm sure I spoke
politely."
The fact was, the day the Captain came, Miss North was out. Her
mother had seen him pounding up the street, and hurrying to the door,
called out, gayly, in her little, old, piping voice, "Alfred--Alfred Price!"
The Captain turned and looked at her. There was just one moment's
pause; perhaps be tried to bridge the years, and to believe that it was
Letty who spoke to him--Letty, whom he had last seen that wintry night,
pale and weeping, in the slender green sheath of a fur-trimmed pelisse.
If so, he gave it up; this plump, white-haired, bright-eyed old lady, in a
wide-spreading, rustling black silk dress, was not Letty. It was Mrs.
North.
The Captain came across the street, waving his newspaper, and saying,
"So you've cast anchor in the old port, ma'am?"
"My daughter is not at home; do come in," she said, smiling and
nodding. Captain Price hesitated; then he put his pipe in his pocket and
followed her into the parlor. "Sit down," she cried, gayly. "Well,
_Alfred!_"
"Well,--_Mrs. North!_" he said; and then they both laughed, and she

began to ask questions: Who was dead? Who had so and so married?
"There are not many of us left," she said. "The two Ferris girls and
Theophilus Morrison and Johnny Gordon--he came to see me yesterday.
And Matty Dilworth; she was younger than I,--oh, by ten years. She
married the oldest Barkley boy, didn't she? I hear he didn't turn out well.
You married his sister, didn't you? Was it the oldest girl or the second
sister?"
"It was the second--Jane. Yes, poor Jane. I lost her in fifty-five."
"You have children?" she said, sympathetically.
"I've got a boy," he said; "but he's married."
"My girl has never married; she's a good daughter,"--Mrs. North broke
off with a nervous laugh; "here she is, now!"
Mary North, who had suddenly appeared in the doorway, gave a
questioning sniff, and the Captain's hand sought his guilty pocket; but
Miss North only said: "How do you do, sir? Now, mother, don't talk too
much and get tired." She stopped and tried to smile, but the painful
color came into her face. "And--if you please, Captain Price, will you
speak in a low tone? Large, noisy persons exhaust the oxygen in the air,
and--"
_"Mary!"_ cried poor Mrs. North; but the Captain, clutching his old felt
hat, began to hoist himself up from the sofa, scattering ashes about as
he did so. Mary North compressed her lips.
"I tell my daughter-in-law they'll keep the moths away," the old
gentleman said, sheepishly.
"I use camphor," said Miss North. "Flora must bring a dust-pan."
"Flora?" Alfred Price said. "Now, what's my association with that
name?"
"She was our old cook," Mrs. North explained; "this Flora is her
daughter. But you never saw old Flora?"
"Why, yes, I did," the old man said, slowly. "Yes. I remember Flora.
Well, good-by,--Mrs. North."
"Good-by, Alfred. Come again," she said, cheerfully.
"Mother, here's your beef tea," said a brief voice.
Alfred Price fled. He met his son just as he was entering his own house,
and burst into a confidence: "Cy, my boy, come aft and splice the
main-brace. Cyrus, what a female! She knocked me higher than
Gilroy's kite. And her mother was as sweet a girl as you ever saw!" He

drew his son into a little, low-browed, dingy room at the end of the hall.
Its grimy untidiness matched the old Captain's clothes, but it was his
one spot of refuge in his own house; here he could scatter his tobacco
ashes almost unrebuked, and play on his harmonicon without seeing
Gussie wince and draw in her breath; for Mrs. Cyrus rarely entered the
"cabin." "I worry so about its disorderliness that I won't go in," she
used to say, in a resigned way. And the Captain accepted her decision
with resignation of his own. "Crafts of your bottom can't navigate in
these waters," he agreed, earnestly; and, indeed, the room was so
cluttered with his belongings that voluminous hoop-skirts could not get
steerageway. "He has so much rubbish," Gussie complained; but it was
precious rubbish to the old man.