The Mystery of Metropolisville | Page 9

woman, to whom the arrival of any one was an excuse for
dressing if possible in worse taste than usual, or at least for tying an
extra ribbon in her hair, and the extra ribbon was sure to be of a hue
entirely discordant with the mutually discordant ones that preceded it.
Tired of talking to her mother, she readily found an excuse to buy
something--ribbons, or candles, or hair-pins, or dried
apples--something kept in the very miscellaneous stock of the
"Emporium," and she knew who would wait upon her, and who would
kindly prolong the small transaction by every artifice in his power, and
thus give her time to tell him about her Brother Albert. He would be so
glad to hear about Albert. He was always glad to hear her tell about
anybody or anything.
And when the talk over the counter at the Emporium could not be
farther prolonged, she had even stopped on her way home at Mrs.
Ferret's, and told her about Albert, though she did not much like to talk
to her--she looked so penetratingly at her out of her round, near-sighted
eyes, which seemed always keeping a watch on the tip of her nose. And
Mrs. Ferret, with her jerky voice, and a smile that was meant to be an
expression of mingled cheerfulness and intelligence, but which
expressed neither, said: "Is your brother a Christian?"
And Katy said he was a dear, dear fellow, but she didn't know as he
was a church-member.
"Does he hold scriptural views? You know so many people in colleges
are not evangelical."

Mrs. Ferret had a provoking way of pronouncing certain words
unctuously--she said "Chrishchen" "shcripcherral," and even in the
word evangelical she made the first e very hard and long.
And when little Katy could not tell whether Albert held "shcripcherral"
views or not, and was thoroughly tired of being quizzed as to whether
she "really thought Albert had a personal interest in religion," she made
an excuse to run away into the chamber of Mrs. Morrow, Mrs. Ferret's
mother, who was an invalid--Mrs. Ferret said "invaleed," for the sake
of emphasis. The old lady never asked impertinent questions, never
talked about "shcripcherral" or "ee-vangelical" views, but nevertheless
breathed an atmosphere of scriptural patience and evangelical fortitude
and Christian victory over the world's tribulations. Little Katy couldn't
have defined, the difference between the two in words; she never
attempted it but once, and then she said that Mrs. Ferret was like a
crabapple, and her mother like a Bartlett pear.
But she was too much excited to stay long in one place, and so she
hurried home and went to talking to Cousin Isa, who was sewing by the
west window. And to her she poured forth praises of Albert without
stint; of his immense knowledge of everything, of his goodness and his
beauty and his strength, and his voice, and his eyes.
"And you'll love him better'n you ever loved anybody," she wound up.
And Cousin Isa said she didn't know about that.
After all this weary waiting Albert had come. He had not been at home
for two years. It was during his absence that his mother had married
Squire Plausaby, and had moved to Minnesota. He wanted to see
everybody at home. His sister had written him favorable accounts of his
step-father; he had heard other accounts, not quite so favorable, perhaps.
He persuaded himself that like a dutiful son he wanted most to see his
mother, who was really very fond of him. But in truth he spent his
spare time in thinking about Katy. He sincerely believed that he loved
his mother better than anybody in the world. All his college cronies
knew that the idol of his heart was Katy, whose daguerreotype he
carried in the inside pocket of his vest, and whose letters he looked for

with the eagerness of a lover.
At last he had come, and Katy had carried him off into the house in
triumph, showing him--showing is the word, I think--showing him to
her mother, whom he kissed tenderly, and to her step-father, and most
triumphantly to Isa, with an air that said, "Now, isn't he just the finest
fellow in the world!" And she was not a little indignant that Isa was so
quiet in her treatment of the big brother. Couldn't she see what a
forehead and eyes he had?
And the mother, with one shade of scarlet and two of pink in her
hair-ribbons, was rather proud of her son, but not satisfied.
"Why _didn't_ you graduate?" she queried as she poured the coffee at
supper.
"Because there were so many studies in the course which were a dead
waste of time. I learned six times as much as some of the dunderheads