Stanford Eveleth - Miss Dexie

S >> Stanford Eveleth >> Miss Dexie

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34

"The heart that was scornful and cold as a stone,
Rejoices to hear the sweet sound of your name;
Farewell to the miseries and griefs I have had,
But I cannot forget them! dear Shadrach! my Shad!

"Dear Shadrach! my Shadrach! my troubles are o'er,
My name in its fulness you'll whisper no more;
Or your own sweet cognomen will make you feel sad,
For I hold the whip-handle! Oh Shadrach! my Shad!"

Mr. Plaisted read the lines over several times before he comprehended their
meaning, or understood what connection the absurd picture had with them;
but when the whole force of the matter struck him, his rage was
uncontrollable. He crumpled the valentine in his hands and threw it with
all his force towards the fire, but in his anger he aimed too high, and it
struck against the wall and bounced back at him, as if those hateful words
were hurling themselves at him.

"Ha! if I only knew who sent that, I'd--"

Words failed to express the punishment awaiting the author of those
insulting verses. But wait! did he know the handwriting? at thought of
Dexie Sherwood's previous productions coming to his mind. Ah! that last
verse seemed to throw out a hint! He looked at his tormentor closely, and
doubted. That envelope, yes, Gussie must have sent it, for she had spelled
his name "Danuel." He never would have thought that Gussie would be guilty
of such a thing. He would go away on the next train and never look on her
face again. Yes, he would go at once, and forget the whole cursed
stuff--said "cursed stuff" being the affectionate lines which continued to
haunt him after the manner of the mind-destroying craze which Mark Twain
inflicted on a later generation, "Punch, brothers, punch with care;" for as
he walked down the street the words kept time to his feet, the train bells
echoed them, and it was those very words that pealed a warning at the
crossing. So intent were his thoughts on the affectionate lines that he was
oblivious to everything around him, and Mr. Sherwood spoke his name twice
before Plaisted awoke from his reverie.

He felt inclined to refuse the kindly-worded invitation to dinner which Mr.
Sherwood extended to him, but, on second thoughts, accepted it; he would
satisfy himself as to whether Gussie sent the valentine or not. But it took
only a few questions to assure him that Gussie was innocent, after all, and
she seemed so offended when he asked if she had told his name to anyone
that he felt compelled to believe she knew nothing of the matter. Gussie
was too much enraptured with her own valentine to take much note of
Plaisted's abstracted manner, for even the sight of Gussie's pretty face
did not put aside the memory of those tormenting lines.

But his torture was only begun. Dexie was determined to crowd into a few
hours the annoyance he had spread over several days in her case. Her plans
were well laid, and she had even studied a book of statistics for his
benefit. A few minutes before dinner was announced, while Gussie was adding
a few touches to her toilet, Dexie came into her room, and, after a few
general remarks, said: "Mr. Plaisted has come to dinner, has he not?"

"Yes, papa sent him up. I hope you have something nice for dinner, Dexie."

This was the very question that Dexie hoped to hear, so she replied: "Oh!
yes, I think it will pass. There is some nicely-cooked shad for the fish
course; but if that does not suit Mr. Plaisted's fancy, there is sufficient
besides. Say, Gussie, I don't often ask a favor, but I wish to-day you
would praise the shad."

"Praise the shad! Why on earth should I praise the shad! If it is cooked
nice, isn't that enough?"

"No, Gussie, not for this occasion; I'm afraid Mr. Plaisted will not be
partial to shad, but if the rest of us seem to like it, of course he cannot
refuse it."

"Oh! all right. I'll not only praise the shad, but I'll make Mr. Plaisted
think there is nothing I like better."

Gussie hastened down to the parlor, where Mr. Plaisted was waiting, while
Dexie threw herself into a chair in muffled shrieks of laughter.

"There, now, I guess I can keep a straight face till the time arrives;" and
a few minutes later she followed the family to the dining-room.

There was certainly nothing amiss in the manner of the cooking or serving
of the shad, and the presence of this particular fish at the table did not
strike Plaisted as unusual, until Mr. Sherwood asked if he would be "helped
to shad."

His mind by this time had become almost normal, but that one word threw him
back into his former state, and brought again that tormenting refrain,
"Dear Shadrach! my Shad!" He glared at the dish containing the fish as if
he would annihilate it; but, hastily collecting his scattering senses, he
took the plate Mr. Sherwood passed him, thinking it a strange coincidence
that the never-till-now hated fish should be thrust before him at this
moment. He tried to be his natural self, but those haunting lines had full
possession of him, and every mouthful seemed to choke him.

Dexie was watching him closely, and felt sure that his abstraction was due
to the one cause, and she silently enjoyed his discomfiture.

Gussie, who sat opposite, also noticed it, and remembering her promise to
Dexie, began:

"Oh! Mr. Plaisted, I'm afraid you do not care for shad! How unfortunate
that we happen to have it for dinner to-day! We are all very fond of shad,
myself especially, and this is very nicely cooked, just to my liking," and
she gave Dexie a sideward look.

"Yes, we _all_ like shad, even to the cat," said the irrepressible Georgie.
"I found her with her nose in the basket the first thing."

"Be quiet, sir!" said the father sternly, and Georgie obediently subsided,
while Dexie could hardly repress a giggle.

"Let me help you to another piece, Plaisted," said Mr. Sherwood. "What! not
any more? It is not often we get such good shad in an inland town. Halifax
is the place for fine shad! In the season, when the catch is fair, you can
get your pick for a song almost, but here, I expect, their scarcity makes
them of more value."

"Yes," replied Dexie, "they are rather dear, _dear shad_," and she looked
intently at her plate, well knowing how Plaisted was glaring at her. "Yes,"
she added, "I call them dear shad when one has to pick over such a quantity
of bones before getting a satisfactory mouthful, don't you, Mr. Plaisted?"
But Mr. Plaisted laid down his knife and fork, and returned her look with
interest.

"I fear you are not making a dinner at all, Mr. Plaisted," Mrs. Sherwood
put in. "You do not seem to care for shad."

"No! I detest them, though I was not aware of the fact till to-day," he
replied.

"They are not cooked to your liking, I fear! I wish, Dexie, you had looked
after them a little better. How do you prefer your shad cooked, Mr.
Plaisted?" she added, in a concerned voice.

"I do not care for shad in any shape or form," he said, rather shortly,
which caused everyone to look up in dismay, all except Dexie, and she
seemed intent on finding the minutest bone.

"I am very sorry! You should have spoken about it sooner. Eliza, remove Mr.
Plaisted's plate. I hope we have something else you can relish."

He made a show at eating what was set before him, but it was hard work.
Could his entertainers talk of nothing else but shad? It appeared not, for
when the conversation seemed about to turn to other things a skilfully put
question, or a bit of information, brought the fish back to be discussed in
another light; consequently, the shad question was pretty well sifted. The
method of catching them, the amount caught during the last season, the
catch of the previous year compared with other years; in fact, Dexie seemed
to have the fishing reports at her finger-ends, or at the end of her
tongue, to speak literally, and Mr. Sherwood seemed delighted with the
chance to air the knowledge he possessed to such an attentive listener. But
Mr. Plaisted's thoughts were elsewhere; he was repeating to himself the
lines he had no power to forget, and when dinner was over he was almost a
mental wreck.

Dexie was exulting in his misery, and was longing to let him know she was
the author of it.

When they entered the parlor, Mr. Sherwood turned to Dexie, saying: "Give
us some music, Dexie; something to cheer us up and drive away the blues,"
and he nodded at Plaisted, who had thrown himself into a chair.

But seated at the piano, Dexie still kept up the torture of the dinner
table by selecting songs that suggested fishing, or fishermen's daughters,
until Plaisted rose and walked the floor in ill-concealed distress.

Feeling the crisis near at hand, she tried to think of something that would
"cap the climax," but as nothing occurred to her, she added a verse
impromptu to what she was singing:

"Oh! father dear, I've caught a fish; I'm sure it is a shad;
Pray help me take him off the hook; you see he's hurt so bad!"

This was too much for Plaisted. Taking a sudden turn he faced his
tormentor, but she heeded not his angry looks.

"I tell you what, Sherwood!" and he wheeled around angrily, "if I had a
daughter who would play such stuff as that, I'd--I'd smash the piano to
atoms!" and he brought his fist down on the table with a crash.

"What do you mean, sir!" and Mr. Sherwood was on his feet in a moment.
"Your words and actions are insulting!" By this time Dexie was by her
father's side, ready to give the finishing stroke to her enemy, and gently
pressing her father's arm, said:

"Let me settle this affair, papa. I think, Mr. Plaisted, we can cry quits
from to-day. You have found great delight in calling me 'Dexter.' I hope
you are equally delighted to hear your own name repeated in its most
obnoxious form. I find there is nothing more effective for a man of your
stamp than to treat him as he delights to treat others. It is through my
exertions that you have _enjoyed_ yourself so much to-day, and if you ever
wish to have the pleasure repeated, just call me 'Dexter,' and I'll do my
best to repeat the entertainment."

Everyone looked at Dexie in surprise, and fearing that Plaisted might still
have doubts as to her meaning, she swept him an elaborate courtesy, as she
said:

"Good-bye, my dear Shadrach! don't forget in the future that 'I hold the
whip-handle, dear Shadrach, my Shad!'" and before the family realized what
this scene meant, Dexie had left the room and her voice was heard in the
hall singing:

"Farewell to thee, oh Shadrach! my dearest Shad, adieu;
But Dexter has hereafter the upper hand of you."

Plaisted was about to spring after her when Mr. Sherwood caught his arm.

"What does all this mean, Plaisted? Explain yourself, sir!"

"It means that I am the victim of the most diabolical practical joke that
was ever perpetrated on an individual, and it appears that Miss Dexie is at
the bottom of it, though you have all assisted her in carrying it out."

"If there is any joke afloat I am entirely ignorant of it, Plaisted, I
assure you," said Mr. Sherwood. "I see that something is amiss, but I have
no idea what it is, though apparently Dexie is not so innocent."

"Let me explain," cried Mr. Plaisted. "Miss Dexie has, in some way, found
out what my second name is, and that it is as hateful to me as 'Dexter' is
to her, and she has made it the subject of a very cruel joke. As I supposed
that nobody knew my full name, you can judge of my surprise when I
received this from the office," and he held forth the valentine.

"Oh! that's only a valentine, Plaisted. You surely did not allow such a
little thing to disturb you?" said Mr. Sherwood.

"But see what the envelope contains," he urged, bringing out the bedecked
fish.

But if he expected any sympathy, he was disappointed, for when Mr.
Sherwood's eyes rested on the figure and read the lines beneath, shout
after shout of laughter rang through the room, and when Gussie stepped over
to see what the paper contained her shrill laughter joined the chorus.

"Well, it serves you just right, Mr. Plaisted," said she. "I told you she
would make you repent it if you used her name so freely. But I wonder how
she found out your name? Could she have been in the back parlor while we
were talking?"

"I believe she was!" Plaisted replied. "But the shad for dinner? Need you
have added that? The valentine was punishment enough!"

Another shout of laughter from Mr. Sherwood, and Gussie's perplexed looks
gave place to an amused smile.

"Dexie planned it herself! Ha! ha! ha! I see it all!" and Mr. Sherwood
roared again. "She marked this out as a day of punishment for you,
Plaisted, and she has carried it out pretty well! Ha! ha! It was she
herself who told me to ask you to dinner, saying she had everything ready
for you, and was going to 'heap coals of fire' on your head because you had
been treating her badly. Ha! ha! Guess you are pretty well scorched, sure
enough!" and he leaned back in his chair and wiped his hot face.

"Yes, she _has_ scorched me! Those verses are burnt into my memory and
repeat themselves in spite of me. But you seemed to have studied up the
whole business of shad-fishing just for the occasion."

"But, on my honor, Plaisted, I was entirely ignorant that my talk was
annoying you. Come to think of it, Dexie herself kept me at it. How she
must have enjoyed it!" and he laughed again. "I thought it strange that
she ordered shad for dinner," said Mrs. Sherwood. "Yet she actually asked
me to scold her before you all if they were not cooked satisfactorily."

"You will not have a chance to call her 'Dexter' again," said Gussie,
"unless you want to be addressed as Shadrach or Shad. Whichever you dislike
the most, you will be sure to get. Now I understand what she meant when she
asked me before dinner if I would praise the shad," and she joined her
father's laugh; it was so contagious.

"Well, I will be compelled to cry quits, sure enough," said Plaisted; "but
I never suspected that she could make such comical verses."

"Oh! that is second-hand poetry, Plaisted. She has been misquoting the
'Widow Bedott' for your benefit," said Mr. Sherwood.

"And who is the 'Widow Bedott'?"

"She is a character in a most amusing book. Let me advise you to take her
as a travelling companion with you to-morrow. After you have read about her
Shadrach, the poetry won't trouble you as being too personal."

A short time later Mr. Plaisted left the house, but his day's experience
still rankled, and he could truthfully say it was the most unpleasant day
he had ever spent. He mentally resolved that should he ever spend another
hour in the society of Dexie Sherwood he would treat her with the greatest
respect, for his day's punishment would be a lasting reminder of her power
of retaliation.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

Among the many social gatherings which the "Sherwood twins" attended were
the weekly meetings of the Temperance and Benevolent Society, or the "T.
and B.," as it was usually styled.

This society included among its members most of the young people connected
with the best families in the town.

It was not so aggressive in the temperance cause as some of the other
existing societies, but it had its place, as its ever-increasing membership
clearly showed. It accepted no one as a member who had at any time been
addicted to the use of liquor, and it kept many young men from falling into
the pernicious habit of using intoxicants.

Among the number who had lately signed their names to the constitution of
the society was Guy Traverse, the young manager of a large furniture
establishment in the town. He had but recently been appointed to the
position, but his pleasant, affable manners won him friends from all
quarters.

He was quite an acquisition to the T. and B. Society: a fine reader, a good
declaimer, witty and quick at repartee, the Social Committee of the society
soon learned his value, and a smile of welcome greeted him wherever he made
his appearance.

Being on the Social Committee, Dexie Sherwood was frequently thrown into
his society, but by some mistake or unintentional oversight they had never
been introduced, and there was something in Dexie's manner that forbade him
to make any advances without this formal introduction.

As it was taken for granted that all the members had been duly presented to
each other, no one gave the matter a thought, and though the committee held
several meetings, at which both were present, no one noticed the fact that
these two were the only ones who did not exchange ideas on the matters
before them.

One evening after the usual business matters were disposed of, the society
proceeded to elect new officers for the ensuing quarter, and Guy Traverse's
popularity was sufficient to place him in the highest office in the gift of
the society. When asked if he would like to name his own assistant, he
turned to the speaker and smilingly replied:

"I would be happy to have the assistance of the society's organist, but as
we have not yet been introduced, perhaps she would prefer that I did not
give her name."

"What! do you mean to say that you have never been presented to Miss
Sherwood! How did that happen? Come with me at once." There was much
merriment over the long delayed introduction, and Dexie smilingly consented
to accept the office of assistant, in addition to that of organist. This
gave Guy Traverse the chance he had long been looking for, and at the close
of the meeting he offered himself as her escort home.

This Dexie politely declined, adding in her kindest tone,

"Our house is just at the corner, Mr. Traverse, so I will not trouble you,"
and she slipped away.

The distance was short, for as Guy stood at the outer entrance of the T.
and B. rooms he could hear the front gate shut after her, yet he would have
enjoyed even that short walk with his fair assistant.

"She is not inclined to be friendly, it seems," he soliloquized, as he
stroked his long silken moustache. "I must find out the reason."

The next time opportunity offered he again asked permission to escort her
home, but again his offer was so pleasantly declined that he could not feel
offended, though it put him upon his mettle. He determined to overcome her
prejudice, or whatever it was that made her treat him with so much reserve.
As he turned to go home, Gussie came down the steps, and with his hand to
his hat he said, smilingly,

"I almost fear to risk a second refusal to-night, Miss Sherwood, but will
you accept the escort that your sister has declined?"

It was a blow to her pride that Dexie had been asked first, but such an
eligible young man could not be snubbed on that account, so Gussie smiled
her sweetest as she walked by his side.

"Have I done anything to displease your sister?" he asked, as they stood a
few moments at the gate. "I find her very hard to get acquainted with,
though I can readily see that it is not her nature to be unfriendly."

"You have not offended her, of that I am sure," Gussie replied.

"Then you think she had no particular reason for refusing my company
to-night?"

"She may have some objection to any company, but not yours in particular."
"Has someone else a prior claim?" he smilingly asked. "Believe me, Miss
Sherwood," he added, in an apologetic tone, "I am not asking out of
curiosity alone."

Gussie believed there was someone else, for Dexie had a gentleman
correspondent.

"Then she is engaged, I suppose, but if the fortunate man is absent she
might allow others the pleasure of her company occasionally."

But the opportunity of meeting Dexie at his own pleasure came with an
introduction to Mr. Sherwood, and on learning that Mr. Traverse was a good
hand at chess (Mr. Sherwood's one weakness) he was made right welcome and
became a frequent visitor.

Mr. Sherwood's residence was so centrally situated that the young people of
both sexes found it very convenient to drop in for a few minutes on their
way up or down town. Mr. Sherwood loved to see the rooms filled with
laughing faces, and encouraged this free-and-easy intercourse, and he
looked forward to the evening's pleasure with the ardor of a young man.
When Guy Traverse made his appearance he was sure of a hearty greeting, and
the weeks flew by very pleasantly until summer was ushered in, and still
there was little seeming difference in Dexie's attitude toward her father's
friend.

One evening as a number of young ladies were assembled in the pleasant
rooms of the T. and B. Society, discussing a coming convention, the
society's Vice-President, Miss Edith Wolcott, said in decided tones:

"Before this convention meets, we ought to make some new badges; these are
positively disgraceful! Will someone suggest something, or must I take the
responsibility of seeing that this society has decent and respectable
tokens of membership?"

"There can be but one opinion where the badges are concerned," said Ada
Chester, smiling, "so let us draw from the funds of the society sufficient
money to purchase the material for new ones, then we can meet somewhere and
make them up."

"Capital legislation! Now announce the place of meeting and the matter is
settled," and Frank Fenerty joined the group around the table. "Better set
the time and place of meeting without delay, for when you ladies begin to
realize the amount of work which the making of these badges involves, you
will each and all remember that you have a pressing engagement somewhere
else."

"That's so," said George Linton, as he drew a chair beside his friend; "but
where's Traverse? As President of this society he ought to take the ladies
at their word, and set them to work before their ardor has time to cool."

"There is not a house in town so convenient for all as the Sherwoods," said
Ada Chester; then turning to Gussie she asked:

"Could we go to your house to make up the badges, Miss Sherwood?"

"Certainly; that is, I think so. Dexie is the acting manager at home, so
you had better consult with her," replied Gussie, pleasantly.

"Come here, Dexie," and Edith turned to where Dexie was evoking sweet music
from the organ. "May we go to your house to make the badges?"

"That depends on what night you wish to come. If to-morrow evening is too
soon to appoint for the meeting, you could come Saturday. You know I have
to be at the church on Friday evening."

"To be sure! I forgot about the meeting, and there is to be choir practice
afterwards, so I'm engaged for Friday evening as well. How shall we arrange
it?" and Edith looked inquiringly around the group.

"Put it to vote," and Frank Fenerty rose to his feet. "Hands up now for
to-morrow night at Miss Sherwood's--or not there at all, is that it?"

"No," Dexie laughingly replied; "our latch-string is out every night, but
neither Gussie nor I would be at home Friday evening."

"What is to prevent us from accepting Miss Sherwood's invitation for
Thursday. I would rather go there than any other place in town," said the
truthful fellow, having long admired Gussie from afar.

"We have to buy the material before we can meet to make it up," Edith
replied. "Great Scott! how much material do you want to buy anyhow," said
Fenerty. "I could buy out a store while you ladies were selecting the
ribbons for your neck."

While they were speaking, Mr. Traverse made his appearance, and learning
the cause of the discussion, presented a cheque for the amount needed to
renew the badges, and volunteered his services as "needle-threader" for the
evening.

"Come now, Traverse, you can't thread needles for the crowd," said Fred
Foster, "but if the ladies will only invite the male members, we will
promise to keep them supplied with threaded needles, _ad infinitum_."

"Have you decided to come to our house Thursday? If so, all members of the
T. and B. are invited, but we will keep you gentlemen up to your promise in
regard to the needle-threading, so let no one imagine he can come and shirk
his duty," and the group separated.

The next evening the parlor of the Sherwoods presented a busy scene.
Several small tables placed about the room were surrounded by groups, whose
nimble fingers cut and sewed the bunches of ribbon that were provided; and
as there were several "needle-threaders" for every group, there seemed no
reason why the work should not progress with the greatest of despatch. The
ever-increasing pile of finished badges which appeared on the several
tables gave evidence that their fingers were as nimble as their tongues,
and amusement and work were intermingled.

Amidst the fun and merriment that was taking place in the room, Dexie's
abstracted and absent-minded manner was not noticed, except by one pair of
eyes--and very little that concerned Dexie Sherwood escaped the notice of
Guy Traverse.

He was finding it hard to check the feelings with which he had long
regarded her, for he had become attached to her from the very first, and
his eyes were keen to note her varying moods. His frequent visits to the
house gave him opportunity to study her character, and the more he saw of
her, the higher grew his respect. A more tender feeling also was growing
within his breast, that gave him secret pleasure, though he kept well in
check any sign of its existence. He never had found the opportunity of
asking the truth of her engagement; but being assured that she had a
gentleman correspondent, he felt he had little cause to hope. He had been
present on more than one occasion when Dexie had discussed with the rest of
the family various extracts from letters which had come from over the sea.
To be sure, these extracts were mostly descriptions of places that the
writer had visited, or accounts of amusing episodes met with while
travelling; but there lingered an undefined impression on Guy Traverse's
mind that these letters were not so sacred as one would naturally suppose
they should be if the writer were dear to the heart of the recipient.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34