David Harum - Edward Noyes Westcott (ap literature book list TXT) 📗

o'clock."

"Thank you very much, and I shall be delighted," he repeated.

Miss Clara looked at him for a moment with a hesitating air.

"There is another thing," she said.

"Yes?"

"Yes," she replied, "I may as well tell you that you will surely be asked to sing. Quite a good many people who have heard you in the quartette in church are anxious to hear you sing alone, Mrs. Benson among them."

John's face fell a little.

"You do sing other than church music, do you not?" she asked.

"Yes," he admitted, "I know some other music."

"Do you think it would be a bore to you."

"No," said John, who indeed saw no way out of it; "I will bring some music, with pleasure, if you wish."

"That's very nice of you," said Miss Clara, "and you will give us all a great deal of pleasure."

He looked at her with a smile.

"That will depend," he said, and after a moment, "Who will play for me?"

"I had not thought of that," was the reply. "I think I rather took it for granted that you could play for yourself. Can't you?"

"After a fashion, and simple things," he said, "but on an occasion I would rather not attempt it."

The girl looked at her sister in some perplexity.

"I should think," suggested Miss Verjoos, speaking for the second time, "that Mr. or Herr Schlitz would play your accompaniments, particularly if Mrs. Benson were to ask him, and if he can play for the violin I should fancy he can for the voice."

"Very well," said John, "we will let it go at that." As he spoke David came round the corner of the bank and up to the carriage.

"How d'y' do, Miss Verjoos? How air ye, Miss Claricy?" he asked, taking off his straw hat and mopping his face and head with his handkerchief. "Guess we're goin' to lose our sleighin', ain't we?"

"It seems to be going pretty fast," replied Miss Clara, laughing.

"Yes'm," he remarked, "we sh'll be scrapin' bare ground putty soon now if this weather holds on. How's the old hoss now you got him agin?" he asked. "Seem to 've wintered putty well? Putty chipper, is he?"

"Better than ever," she affirmed. "He seems to grow younger every year."

"Come, now," said David, "that ain't a-goin' to do. I cal'lated to sell ye another hoss _this_ summer anyway. Ben dependin' on't in fact, to pay a dividend. The bankin' bus'nis has been so neglected since this feller come that it don't amount to much any more," and he laid his hand on John's shoulder, who colored a little as he caught a look of demure amusement in the somber eyes of the elder sister.

"After that," he said, "I think I had better get back to my neglected duties," and he bowed his adieus.

"No, sir," said Miss Clara to David, "you must get your dividend out of some one else this summer."

"Wa'al," said he, "I see I made a mistake takin' such good care on him. Guess I'll have to turn him over to Dug Robinson to winter next year. Ben havin' a little visit with John?" he asked. Miss Clara colored a little, with something of the same look which John had seen in her sister's face.

"We are going to have some music at the house to-night, and Mr. Lenox has kindly promised to sing for us," she replied.

"He has, has he?" said David, full of interest. "Wa'al, he's the feller c'n do it if anybody can. We have singin' an' music up t' the house ev'ry Sunday night--me an' Polly an' him--an' it's fine. Yes, ma'am, I don't know much about music myself, but I c'n beat time, an' he's got a stack o' music more'n a mile high, an' one o' the songs he sings 'll jest make the windows rattle. That's my fav'rit," averred Mr. Harum.

"Do you remember the name of it?" asked Miss Clara.

"No," he said; "John told me, an' I guess I'd know it if I heard it; but it's about a feller sittin' one day by the org'n an' not feelin' exac'ly right--kind o' tired an' out o' sorts an' not knowin' jest where he was drivin' at--jest joggin' 'long with a loose rein fer quite a piece, an' so on; an' then, by an' by, strikin' right into his gait an' goin' on stronger 'n stronger, an' fin'ly finishin' up with an A--men that carries him quarter way round the track 'fore he c'n pull up. That's my fav'rit," Mr. Harum repeated, "'cept when him an' Polly sings together, an' if that ain't a show--pertic'lerly Polly--I don't want a cent. No, ma'am, when him an' Polly gits good an' goin' you can't see 'em fer dust."

"I should like to hear them," said Miss Clara, laughing, "and I should particularly like to hear your favorite, the one which ends with the Amen--the very _large_ A--men."

"Seventeen hands," declared Mr. Harum. "Must you be goin'? Wa'al, glad to have seen ye. Polly's hopin' you'll come an' see her putty soon."

"I will," she promised. "Give her my love, and tell her so, please."

They drove away and David sauntered in, went behind the desks, and perched himself up on a stool near the teller's counter as he often did when in the office, and John was not particularly engaged.

"Got you roped in, have they?" he said, using his hat as a fan. "Scat my ----! but ain't this a ring-tail squealer?"

"It is very hot," responded John.

"Miss Claricy says you're goin' to sing fer 'em up to their house to-night."

"Yes," said John, with a slight shrug of the shoulders, as he pinned a paper strap around a pile of bills and began to count out another.

"Don't feel very fierce for it, I guess, do ye?" said David, looking shrewdly at him.

"Not very," said John, with a short laugh.

"Feel a little skittish 'bout it, eh?" suggested Mr. Harum. "Don't see why ye should--anybody that c'n put up a tune the way you kin."

"It's rather different," observed the younger man, "singing for you and Mrs. Bixbee and standing up before a lot of strange people."

"H-m, h-m," said David with a nod; "diff'rence 'tween joggin' along on the road an' drivin' a fust heat on the track; in one case the' ain't nothin' up, an' ye don't care whether you git there a little more previously or a little less; an' in the other the's the crowd, an' the judges, an' the stake, an' your record, an' mebbe the pool box into the barg'in, that's all got to be considered. Feller don't mind it so much after he gits fairly off, but thinkin' on't beforehand 's fidgity bus'nis."

"You have illustrated it exactly," said John, laughing, and much amused at David's very characteristic, as well as accurate, illustration.

* * * * *

"My!" exclaimed Aunt Polly, when John came into the sitting room after dinner dressed to go out. "My, don't he look nice? I never see you in them clo'es. Come here a minute," and she picked a thread off his sleeve and took the opportunity to turn him round for the purpose of giving him a thorough inspection.

"That wa'n't what you said when you see me in _my_ gold-plated harniss," remarked David, with a grin. "You didn't say nothin' putty to me."

"Humph! I guess the's some diff'rence," observed Mrs. Bixbee with scorn, and her brother laughed.

"How was you cal'latin' to git there?" he asked, looking at our friend's evening shoes.

"I thought at first I would walk," was the reply, "but I rather think I will stop at Robinson's and get him to send me over."

"I guess you won't do nothin' o' the sort," declared David. "Tom's all hitched to take you over, an' when you're ready jest ring the bell."

"You're awfully kind," said John gratefully, "but I don't know when I shall be coming home."

"Come back when you git a good ready," said Mr. Harum. "If you keep him an' the hoss waitin' a spell, I guess they won't take cold this weather."


CHAPTER XXXVII.

The Verjoos house, of old red brick, stands about a hundred feet back from the north side of the Lake Road, on the south shore of the lake. Since its original construction a _porte cochere_ has been built upon the front. A very broad hall, from which rises the stairway with a double turn and landing, divides the main body of the house through the middle. On the left, as one enters, is the great drawing room; on the right a parlor opening into a library; and beyond, the dining room, which looks out over the lake. The hall opens in the rear upon a broad, covered veranda, facing the lake, with a flight of steps to a lawn which slopes down to the lake shore, a distance of some hundred and fifty yards.

John had to pass through a little flock of young people who stood near and about the entrance to the drawing room, and having given his package of music to the maid in waiting, with a request that it be put upon the piano, he mounted the stairs to deposit his hat and coat, and then went down.

In the south end of the drawing room were some twenty people sitting and standing about, most of them the elders of the families who constituted society in Homeville, many of whom John had met, and nearly all of whom he knew by sight and name. On the edge of the group, and halfway down the room, were Mrs. Verjoos and her younger daughter, who gave him a cordial greeting; and the elder lady was kind enough to repeat her daughter's morning assurances of regret that they were out on the occasion of his call.

"I trust you have been as good as your word," said Miss Clara, "and brought some music."

"Yes, it is on the piano," he replied, looking across the room to where the instrument stood.

The girl laughed. "I wish," she said, "you could have heard what Mr. Harum said this morning about your singing, particularly his description of The Lost Chord, and I wish that I could repeat it just as he gave it."

"It's about a feller sittin' one day by the org'n," came a voice from behind John's shoulder, so like David's as fairly to startle him, "an' not feelin' exac'ly right--kind o' tired an' out o' sorts, an' not knowin' jest where he was drivin' at--jest joggin' along with a loose rein fer quite a piece, an' so on; an' then, by an' by, strikin' right into his gait an' goin' on stronger an' stronger, an' fin'ly finishin' up with an A--men that carries him quarter way 'round the track 'fore he c'n pull up." They all laughed except Miss Verjoos, whose gravity was unbroken, save that behind the dusky windows of her eyes, as she looked at John, there was for an instant a gleam of mischievous drollery.

"Good evening, Mr. Lenox," she said. "I am very glad to see you," and hardly waiting for his response, she turned and walked away.

"That is Juliet all over," said her sister.