Stories of Mystery | Page 4

smiling into his,
and doing dreadful execution. Then she put her white arms around his
neck, laid her dear, fair head on his breast, and peered up archly into his
stern visage. Spite of himself, he could not keep the fixed lines on his
face from breaking confusedly into a faint smile. Somehow or other,
his hands came from behind him, and rested on her head. There! That's
all. Dr. Renton surrendered at discretion! One of the solid men of
Boston was taken after a desperate struggle,--internal, of course, --for
he kissed her, and said, "Dear little Netty!" and so she was.
The phantom watched her with a smile, and wavered and brightened as
if about to glide to her; but it grew still, and remained.
"Pa in the sulks to-night?" she asked, in the most winning, playful,
silvery voice.
"Pa's a fool," he answered in his deep chest-tones, with a vexed good-

humor; "and you know it."
"What's the matter with pa? What makes him be a great bear? Papa-sy,
dear," she continued, stroking his face with her little hands, and patting
him, very much as Beauty might have patted the Beast after she fell in
love with him; or as if he were a great baby. In fact, he began to look
then as if he were.
"Matter? Oh! everything's the matter, little Netty. The world goes
round too fast. My boots pinch. Somebody stole my umbrella last year.
And I've got a headache." He concluded this fanciful abstract of his
grievances by putting his arms around her, and kissing her again. Then
he sat down in the easy-chair, and took her fondly on his knee.
"Pa's got a headache! It is t-o-o bad, so it is," she continued in the same
soothing, winning way, caressing his brow with her tiny hands. "It's a
horrid shame, so it is! P-o-o-r pa. Where does it ache, papa-sy, dear? In
the forehead? Cerebrum or cerebellum, papa--sy? Occiput or sinciput,
deary?"
"Bah! you little quiz," he replied, laughing and pinching her cheek,
"none of your nonsense! And what are you dressed up in this way for,
to-night? Silks, and laces, and essences, and what not! Where are you
going, fairy?"
"Going out with mother for the evening, Dr. Renton," she replied
briskly; "Mrs. Larrabee's party, papa-sy. Christmas eve, you know. And
what are you going to give me for a present, to-morrow, pa-sy?"
"To-morrow will tell, little Netty."
"Good! And what are you going to give me, so that I can make my
presents, Beary?"
"Ugh!" But he growled it in fun, and had a pocket-book out from his
breast-pocket directly after. Fives--tens--twenties--fifties--all crisp, and
nice, and new bank-notes.

"Will that be enough, Netty?" He held up a twenty. The smiling face
nodded assent, and the bright eyes twinkled.
"No, it won't. But that will," he continued, giving her a fifty.
"Fifty dollars, Globe Bank, Boston!" exclaimed Netty, making great
eyes at him. "But we must take all we can get, pa-sy; mustn't we? It's
too much, though. Thank you all the same, pa-sy, nevertheless." And
she kissed him, and put the bill in a little bit of a portemonnaie with a
gay laugh.
"Well done, I declare!" he said, smilingly. "But you're going to the
party?"
"Pretty soon, pa."
He made no answer; but sat smiling at her. The phantom watched them,
silently.
"What made pa so cross and grim, to-night? Tell Netty--do," she
pleaded.
"Oh! because;--everything went wrong with me, to-day. There." And
he looked as sulky, at that moment, as he ever did in his life.
"No, no, pa-sy; that won't do. I want the particulars," continued Netty,
shaking her head, smilingly.
"Particulars! Well, then, Miss Nathalie Renton," he began, with mock
gravity, "your professional father is losing some of his oldest patients.
Everybody is in ruinous good health; and the grass is growing in the
graveyards."
"In the winter time, papa?--smart grass!"
"Not that I want practice," he went on, getting into soliloquy; "or
patients, either. A rich man who took to the profession simply for the
love of it, can't complain on that score. But to have an interloping
she-doctor take a family I've attended ten years, out of my hands, and

to hear the hodge-podge gabble about physiological laws, and woman's
rights, and no taxation without representation, they learn from her,
--well, it's too bad!"
"Is that all, pa-sy? Seems to me _I_'d like to vote, too," was Netty's
piquant rejoinder.
"Hoh! I'll warrant," growled her father. "Hope you'll vote the Whig
ticket, Netty, when you get your rights."
"Will the Union be dissolved, then, pa-sy,--when the Whigs are
beaten?"
"Bah! you little plague," he growled, with a laugh. "But, then, you
women don't know anything about politics. So, there. As I was saying,
everything went wrong with