The Yates Pride | Page 5

if not the forties. It was made of wood, with a leather buggy-top, and
was evidently very heavy.
Abby eyed it shrewdly. "If I am not mistaken," said she, "that is the
very carriage Eudora herself was wheeled around in when she was a
baby. I am almost sure I have seen that identical carriage before. When
we were girls I used to go to the Yates house sometimes. Of course, it
was always very formal, a little tea-party for Eudora, with her mother
on hand, but I feel sure that I saw that carriage there one of those times.

"I suppose it cost a lot of money, in the time of it. The Yateses always
got the very best for Eudora," said Julia. "And maybe Eudora goes
about so little she doesn't realize how out of date the carriage is, but I
should think it would be very heavy to wheel, especially if the baby is a
good-sized one."
"It looks like a very large baby," said Ethel. "Of course, it is so rolled
up we can't tell."
"Haven't you gone out and asked to see the baby?" said Abby.
"Would we dare unless Eudora Yates offered to show it?" said Julia,
with a surprised air; and the others nodded assent. Then they all
crowded to the front windows and watched from behind the screens of
green flowering things. It was very early in the spring. Fairly hot days
alternated with light frosts. The trees were touched with sprays of rose
and gold and gold-green, but the wind still blew cold from the northern
snows, and the occupant of Eudora's ancient carriage was presumably
wrapped well to shelter it from harm. There was, in fact, nothing to be
seen in the carriage, except a large roll of blue and white, as Eudora
emerged from the yard and closed the iron gate of the tall fence behind
her.
Through this fence pricked the evergreen box, and the deep yard was
full of soft pastel tints of reluctantly budding trees and bushes. There
was one deep splash of color from a yellow bush in full bloom.
Eudora paced down the sidewalk with a magnificent, stately gait. There
was something rather magnificent in her whole appearance. Her skirts
of old, but rich, black fabric swept about her long, advancing limbs; she
held her black-bonneted head high, as if crowned. She pushed the
cumbersome baby-carriage with no apparent effort. An ancient India
shawl was draped about her sloping shoulders.
Eudora, as she passed the Glynn house, turned her face slightly, so that
its pure oval was evident. She was now a beauty in late middle life. Her
hair, of an indeterminate shade, swept in soft shadows over her ears;
her features were regular; her expression was at once regal and gentle.

A charm which was neither of youth nor of age reigned in her face; her
grace had surmounted with triumphant ease the slope of every year.
Eudora passed out of sight with the baby-carriage, lifting her proud
lady-head under the soft droop of the spring boughs; and her inspectors,
whom she had not seen, moved back from the Glynn windows with
exclamations of astonishment.
"I wonder," said Abby, "whether she will have that baby call her ma or
aunty."
Meantime Eudora passed down the village street until she reached the
Lancaster house, about half a mile away on the same side. There dwelt
the Misses Amelia and Anna Lancaster, who were about Eudora's age,
and a widowed sister, Mrs. Sophia Willing, who was much older. The
Lancaster house was also a colonial mansion, much after the fashion of
Eudora's, but it showed signs of continued opulence. Eudora's, behind
her trees and leafing vines, was gray for lack of paint. Some of the
colonial ornamental details about porches and roof were sloughing off
or had already disappeared. The Lancaster house gleamed behind its
grove of evergreen trees as white and perfect as in its youth. The
windows showed rich slants of draperies behind their green glister of
old glass.
A gardener, with a boy assistant, was at work in the grounds when
Eudora entered. He touched his cap. He was an old man who had lived
with the Lancasters ever since Eudora could remember. He advanced
toward her now. "Sha'n't Tommy push--the baby-carriage up to the
house for you, Miss Eudora?" he said, in his cracked old voice.
Eudora flushed slightly, and, as if in response, the old man flushed, also.
"No, I thank you, Wilson," she said, and moved on.
The boy, who was raking dry leaves, stood gazing at them with a
shrewd, whimsical expression. He was the old man's grandson.
"Is that a boy or a girl kid, grandpa?" he inquired, when the gardener
returned.

"Hold your tongue!" replied the old man, irascibly.