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CHAPTER IX
THE RECTORY

A few weeks after Donald’s conversational duel with Mrs. Burke he started on a six-weeks’ vacation, which he had certainly earned; and as he busied himself with his packing,—Hepsey assisting,—he announced:

“When I come back, Mrs. Burke, I probably shall not come alone.”

He was strapping up his suit-case when he made this rather startling announcement, and the effect seemed to send the blood to his head. Mrs. Burke 112 did not seem to notice his confusion as she remarked calmly:

“Hm! That’s a good thing. Your grandmother can have the room next to yours, and we’ll do all we can to make the old lady comfortable. I’m sure she’ll be a great comfort to you, though she’ll get a bit lonesome at times, unless she’s active on her feet.”

Donald laughed, as he blushed more furiously and stuttered:

“No, I am not going to bring my grandmother here, and I strongly suspect that you know what I mean. I’m going to be married.”

“So you are going to get married, are you?” Hepsey remarked with due amazement, as if the suspicion of the fact had never entered her head before. “Well, I am mighty glad of it. I only wish that I was goin’ to be present to give you away. Yes, I’m mighty glad. She’ll make a new man of you up here, so long as she isn’t a new woman.”

“No, not in the slang sense of the word; although I think you will find her very capable, and I hope with all my heart that you’ll like her.”

“I’m sure I shall. The question is whether she’ll like me.”

Hepsey Burke looked rather sober for a moment, and Donald instantly asserted: 113

“She can’t help liking you.”

“We-ell now, I could mention quite a number of people who find it as easy as rolling off a log to dislike, me. But that doesn’t matter much. I have found it a pretty good plan not to expect a great deal of adoration, and to be mighty grateful for the little you get. Be sure you let me know when to expect you and your grandmother back.”

“Most certainly I shall,” he laughed. “It will be in about six weeks, you know. Good-by, and thank you a thousand times for all your kindness to me.”

There was considerable moisture in Hepsey’s eyes as she stood and watched Maxwell drive down the road. Then wiping her eyes furtively with one corner of her apron she remarked to herself:

“Well, I suppose I am glad, mighty glad; but somehow it isn’t the jolliest thing in the world to have one’s friends get married. They are never the same again; and in ten times out of six the lady in the case is jealous of her husband’s friends, and tries to make trouble. It takes a lady saint to share her husband’s interests with anybody, and maybe she ’aint to blame. Well, the next thing in order is to fix up the rectory in six weeks. The best way to repair that thing is with a match and some real good kerosene and a few shavings; however, we’ll have to do the 114 best we can. I think I’ll set Jonathan Jackson to work this afternoon, and go around and interview the vestry myself.”

Jonathan proved resignedly obedient to Hepsey’s demands, but the vestry blustered and scolded, because they had not been consulted in the matter, until Hepsey said she would be glad to receive any contribution they might choose to offer; then they relapsed into innocuous desuetude and talked crops.

As soon as the repairs were well under way, the whole town was wild with gossip about Maxwell and Miss Bascom. If he were going to occupy the rectory, the necessary inference was that he was going to be married, as he surely would not contemplate keeping bachelor’s hall by himself. At last Virginia had attained the height of her ambition and captured the rector! Consequently she was the center of interest in every social gathering, although, as the engagement had not been formally announced, no one felt at liberty to congratulate her. To any tentative and insinuating advances in this direction Virginia replied by non-committal smiles, capable of almost any interpretation; and the seeker after information was none the wiser.

Mrs. Roscoe-Jones, by virtue of her long intimacy with Hepsey and her assured social position in Durford’s 115 thirty gentry, felt that she was entitled to some definite information; and so, as they walked back from church one Wednesday afternoon, she remarked:

“I hear that the parish is going to repair the rectory, and that you are taking a great interest in it. You must be on very intimate terms with Mr. Bascom and the vestry!”

“Well, not exactly. Bascom and I haven’t held hands in the dark for some time; but I am going to do what I can to get the house in order for Mr. Maxwell.”

“I wonder where the money is coming from to complete the work? It seems to me that the whole parish ought to be informed about the matter, and share in the work; but I suppose Mr. Bascom’s shouldering it all, since there’s been no effort to raise money by having a fair.”

“I really don’t know much about it as yet, Sarah. Of course Bascom’s charitable work is mostly done in secret, so that nobody ever finds it out. He is a modest man and wouldn’t like to be caught in the act of signing a check for anybody else. It might seem showy.”

“Yes, I understand,” Mrs. Roscoe-Jones retorted dryly; “but under the circumstances, that is–” 116

“Under what circumstances?” Mrs. Burke inquired quickly.

“Oh, considering that Mr. Bascom is Virginia’s father and would want to make her comfortable, you know–”

“No, I don’t know. I’m awful stupid about some things. You must have discovered that before.”

“Now Hepsey, what is the use of beating around the bush like this? You must know the common gossip of the town, and you must be in Mr. Maxwell’s confidence. What shall I say when people ask me if he is engaged to Virginia Bascom?”

“Tell ’em you don’t know a blessed thing about it. What else can you tell ’em? You might tell ’em that you tried to pump me and the pump wouldn’t work ’cause it needed packin’.”

After this, Mrs. Roscoe-Jones felt that there was nothing left for her to do but retire from the scene; so she crossed the road.

When Mrs. Burke began the actual work on the rectory she quickly realized what she had to cope with. The workmen of Durford had a pleasing habit of accepting all offers of work, and promising anything, and making a start so as to get the job; and then, having upset the whole premises, they promptly “lit out” for parts unknown in order to get another 117 job, and no mortal knew when they would return. It always seemed promising and hopeful to see a laboring man arrive in his overalls with his dinner-pail and tools at seven; but when two hours later he had vanished, not to return, it was a bit discouraging. Mrs. Burke was not in a very good humor when, arriving at the rectory, she met Tom Snyder the plumber, at ten-thirty, walking briskly away from his job. She planted herself squarely across the walk and began:

“Good morning, Thomas; where are you going, if I may ask?”

“I am going back for my tools, Mrs. Burke.”

“Excuse me, Thomas, but you were never more mistaken in your life. You put the kitchen pipes out of business two weeks ago, and you must have been goin’ back for your tools ever since. I suppose you’re chargin’ me by the hour for goin’ backwards.”

Thomas looked sheepish and scratched his head with his dirty fingers.

“No, but I have to finish a little job I begun for Elias Warden on the hill. I’ll be back again right away.”

“None of that, Thomas. You’re goin’ back to the rectory with me now, and if the job isn’t finished by six o’clock, you’ll never get your hands on it again.”

The crestfallen Thomas reluctantly turned around 118 and accompanied Hepsey back to the rectory and finished his work in half an hour.

After much trial and tribulation the rectory was duly repaired, replastered, and papered. The grass had been cut; the bushes were trimmed; and the house had been painted. Then Mrs. Burke obtained a hayrack with a team, and taking Nickey and Jonathan Jackson with her, made a tour of the parish asking for such furniture as individual parishioners were willing to give. Late in the afternoon she arrived at the rectory with a very large load, and the next day Jonathan was made to set to work with his tools, and she started in with some paint and varnish, and the result seemed eminently satisfactory to her, even though her hands were stained, she had had no dinner, and her hair was stuck to her head here and there in shiny spots. As they were leaving the house to return home for supper, she scowled severely at Jonathan as she remarked:

“Jonathan, I do believe you’ve got more red paint on the top of your head than you left on the kitchen chairs. Do for mercy sake wash the end of your nose. I don’t care to be seen comin’ out of here with you lookin’ like that,” she added scathingly.

After that, it was, as Mrs. Burke remarked, just fun to finish the rectory; and though so much had 119 been given by the people of the parish, there were many new pieces of furniture delivered, for which no one could account. As neither Mr. Bascom nor Miss Bascom had sent anything, and as neither had appeared on the scene, excitement was at fever heat. Rumor had it that Virginia had gone to the city for a week or so, to buy her trousseau. Presently the report circulated that Maxwell was going to bring his bride back with him when he returned from his vacation.

The day before the one set for Maxwell’s arrival Mrs. Burke confessed the truth, and suggested that the rectory be stocked with provisions, so that the bride and groom should have something to eat when they first got home. The idea seemed to please the parish, and provisions began to arrive and were placed in the cellar, or on the newly painted pantry shelves, or in the neat cupboards. Mrs. Talbot sent a bushel of potatoes, Mrs. Peterson a pan of soda biscuit, Mrs. Andrews two loaves of bread; Mrs. Squires donated a pan of soda biscuit, Mrs. Johnson some frosted cake, and Mrs. Marlow two bushels of apples. Mrs. Hurd sent a pan of soda biscuit, Mrs. Waldorf three dozen eggs, and a sack of flour; Mrs. Freyburg sent a pan of soda biscuit, Mrs. Jones a boiled ham, Mrs. Orchardson two bushels 120 of turnips and half a pan of soda biscuit.

Mrs. Burke received the provisions as they arrived, and put them where they belonged. Just about supper time Mrs. Loomis came with a large bundle under her arm and remarked to Hepsey:

“I thought I’d bring something nobody else would think of—something out of the ordinary that perhaps Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell would relish.”

“I’m sure that was real thoughtful of you, Mrs. Loomis,” Hepsey replied. “What have you got?”

“Well,” Mrs. Loomis responded, “I thought I’d bring ’em two pans of my nice fresh soda biscuit.”

Mrs. Burke kept her face straight, and responded cheerfully:

“That was awful nice of you, Mrs. Loomis.”

“Oh, that’s all right. And if you want any more, just let me know.”

Finally, when the door was closed on the last contributor, Mrs. Burke dropped into a chair and called:

“Jonathan Jackson, come here quick.”

Jonathan responded promptly, and anxiously inquired:

“Hepsey, be you ill?”

“No, I’m not sick; but we have ten pans of soda biscuit. They are in the pantry, down cellar, in the woodshed, on the parlor table. For mercy’s sake 121 take eight pans out to the chickens or stick ’em on the picket fence. I just loathe soda biscuit; and if any more come I shall throw ’em at the head of the woman that brings ’em.”

CHAPTER X
THE BRIDE’S ARRIVAL

Next morning, when Nickey brought up the mail, Mrs. Burke looked anxiously over her letters until she came to the one she was expecting. She read it in silence.

The gist of the matter was that Maxwell had been married to the nicest girl in the world, and was looking forward to having Mrs. Burke meet her, and to have his wife know the woman who had been so supremely good to him in the parish. He closed by informing her that they were to return the next day at 123 five P. M., and if it were not asking too much, he hoped that she would take them in for a few days until they could find quarters elsewhere. The letter was countersigned by a pretty little plea for friendship from “Mrs. Betty.”

Mrs. Burke replaced the letter and murmured to herself, smiling:

“Poor little dear! Of course they could come and stay as long as they pleased; but as the rectory is in order, I think that I’ll meet them at the depot, and take them there direct. They’ll be much happier alone by themselves from the start. I’ll have supper ready for ’em, and cook the chickens while they’re unpackin’ their trunks.”

As Mrs. Burke thought it best to maintain a discreet silence as to the time of their arrival, there was no one but herself to meet them at the station when the train pulled in. As Maxwell presented his wife to Mrs. Burke, Hepsey took the girl’s two hands in hers and kissed her heartily, and then, looking at her keenly as the bride blushed under her searching gaze, she remarked:

“You’re a dreadful disappointment, Mrs. Maxwell. I’m afraid it’ll take me a long time to get over it.”

“I am horribly sorry to disappoint you so, Mrs. Burke.” 124

Maxwell laughed, while Mrs. Betty looked puzzled.

“Yes,” Mrs. Burke continued, “you’re a dreadful disappointment. Your picture isn’t half as sweet as you are.” Then turning to Maxwell, she said:

“Why didn’t you tell me? Who taught you to pick out just the right sort of wife, I’d like to know?”

“She did!” Maxwell replied, pointing delightedly to the young woman, who was still smiling and blushing under Hepsey’s inspection.

“But Mrs. Burke,” Mrs. Betty interposed, “can’t you give me a little credit for ‘picking out’ Donald, as you say?”

“Yes; Mr. Maxwell’s pretty fine, though I wouldn’t want to have you tell him so, for anything. But I know, because Durford is calculated to test a man’s mettle, if any place ever was. Now Mrs. Betty, if that’s what I’m to call you, if you’ll get into the wagon we’ll drive home and have some supper. You must be ’most famished by this time, if you stop thinkin’ about Mr. Maxwell long enough to have an appetite. I suppose that we might have had a committee of the vestry down here to bid you welcome to Durford; and Nickey suggested the village band and some hot air balloons, and that the boys of the parish 125 should pull the carriage up to the house after they’d presented you with a magnificent bouquet; but I thought you’d just like to slip in unnoticed and get acquainted with your parishioners one at a time. It’d be simply awful to have a whole bunch of ’em thrown at your head at once; and as for the whole vestry—well, never mind.”

They got into the “democrat” and started out at a smart trot, but when they came to the road which turned toward Thunder Cliff, Mrs. Burke drove straight across the green.

“Why, where are you going, Mrs. Burke?” Maxwell exclaimed.

“Well, I thought that maybe Mrs. Betty would like to get a sight of the town before we went home.”

When they came to the rectory and turned into the yard, the wonderful transformation dawned on Maxwell.

“My gracious, what a change! It’s perfectly marvelous,” he exclaimed. “Why Mrs. Burke, I believe you’ve brought us here to live!”

“Right you are, my friend. This is where you belong.”

“Well, you certainly do beat the Dutch. Who is responsible for all this, I’d like to know? But of course it’s you.” 126

“Well, I had a hand in it, but so did the whole parish. Now walk right in and make yourselves at home.”

Mrs. Burke enjoyed to the full Maxwell’s surprise and delight, as he and Mrs. Betty explored the house like a couple of very enthusiastic children. When they got into the china closet and Mrs. Betty found a silver tea-ball she exclaimed rapturously:

“Look here, Donald! Did you ever see the like of this? Here is a regular tea-ball. We will have tea every afternoon at four, and Mrs. Burke will be our guest. How perfectly delightful.”

This remark seemed to please Hepsey mightily, as she exclaimed:

“Oh, my, no! Do you want to spoil my nervous system? We are not given much to tea-balls in Durford. We consider ourselves lucky if we get a plain old-fashioned pot. Now you get fixed up,” she directed, “while I get supper ready, and I’ll stay just this time, if you’ll let me, and then if you can stand it, perhaps you’ll ask me again.”

Soon they sat down to a little table covered with spotless linen and a pretty set of white china with gold bands. Maxwell did not say much; he was still too surprised and delighted.

The broiled chickens and the browned potato balls were placed before Maxwell, who faced Mrs. Betty—Hepsey sitting between them.

“Now this is what I call rich,” Maxwell exclaimed as he carved. “I hadn’t the slightest suspicion that we were to come here and find all these luxuries.”

“However did the house get furnished?” chimed in Mrs. Betty.

“Oh well,” Mrs. Burke replied, “I always believe that two young married people should start out by themselves, you know; and then if they get into a family row it won’t scandalize the parish. The only new thing about the furnishings is paint and varnish. I drove around and held up the parish, and made them stand and deliver the goods, and Jonathan Jackson and I touched it up a little; that’s all.”

“We ought to acknowledge each gift personally,” Maxwell said. “You must tell us who’s given what.”

“Oh, no you won’t. When I took these things away from their owners by force, I acknowledged them in the politest way possible, so as to save you the trouble. You’re not supposed to know where a thing came from.”

“But there must have been a lot of money spent on the rectory to get it into shape,” Maxwell asserted. “Where did it all come from?”

Mrs. Burke grinned with amusement. 128

“Why, can’t you guess? Of course it was that merry-hearted, generous old Senior Warden of yours. Who else could it be? If there is anything you need, just let us know.”

“But the house seems to be very completely furnished as it is.”

“No, not yet. If you look around you’ll see lots of things that aren’t here.”

Mrs. Betty quite raved over the salad, made of lettuce, oranges, walnuts and a mayonnaise dressing. Then there came ice cream and chocolate sauce, followed by black coffee.

“This is quite too much, Mrs. Burke. You must be a superb cook. I am horribly afraid you’ll have spoiled Donald, so that my cooking will seem very tame to him,” Mrs. Betty remarked.

“Well, never mind, Mrs. Betty. If worst comes to worst there are seven pans of soda biscuit secreted around the premises somewhere; so don’t be discouraged. There are lots of things you can do with a soda biscuit, if you know how. Now we’ll just clear the table, and wash the dishes, and put things away.”

When about nine o’clock she arose to go, Maxwell took both Hepsey’s hands in his and said quietly:

“Mrs. Burke, I’m more indebted to you than I can possibly say, for all you have done for us. I wish I 129 knew how to thank you properly, but I don’t.”

“Oh, never mind that,” Mrs. Burke replied, a mist gathering in her eyes, “it’s been lots of fun, and if you’re satisfied I’m more than pleased.” Then, putting her arm around Mrs. Betty’s waist, she continued:

“Remember that we’re not payin’ this nice little wife of yours to do parish work, and if people interfere with her you just tell em to go to Thunder Cliff. Good-by.”

She was turning away when suddenly she stopped, an expression of horror on her face:

“My! think of that now! This was a bride’s dinner-party, and I put yellow flowers on the table, instead of white! What’d city folks say to that!”

CHAPTER XI
VIRGINIA’S HIGH HORSE

Mrs. Betty soon succeeded in winning a place for herself in the hearts of her parishioners, and those who called to look over her “clothes,” and see if she was going to “put on airs” as a city woman, called again because they really liked her. She returned the calls with equal interest, and soon had her part of the parish organization well in hand.

Maxwell’s choice was, in fact, heartily approved—except by Virginia Bascom and the Senior Warden. 131 The former took the opportunity to leave cards on an afternoon when all Durford was busily welcoming Betty at a tea; and was “not at home” when Betty duly returned the call. Virginia was also careful not to “see” either Betty or her husband if, by any chance, they passed her when in town.

Of all of which manœuvres Betty and Donald remained apparently sublimely unconscious.

As a means of making some return for the good-hearted generosity and hospitality of the inhabitants, represented by the furniture at the rectory and many tea-parties under various roof-trees, Mrs. Maxwell persuaded her husband that they should give a parish party.

So invitations were issued broadcast, and Mrs. Burke was asked to scan the lists, lest anyone be omitted. China sufficient for the occasion was supplemented by Hepsey Burke and Jonathan Jackson, and Nickey laid his invaluable services under contribution to fetch and carry—organizing a corps of helpers.

The whole adult village,—at least the feminine portion of it,—young and old, presented themselves at the party, dressed in their best bibs and tuckers, amusing themselves outdoors at various improvised games, under the genial generalship of their host; 132 and regaling themselves within at the tea-tables presided over by Mrs. Betty, whose pride it was to have prepared with her own hands,—assisted by the indefatigable Hepsey,—all the cakes and preserves and other confections provided for the occasion. The whole party was one whole-hearted, simply convivial gathering—with but a single note to mar it; and who knows whether the rector, and still less the rector’s wife, would have noticed it, but for Hepsey Burke’s subsequent “boiling over?”

When the games and feast were at full swing, Virginia Bascom’s loud-voiced automobile drove up, and the door-bell pealed. The guests ceased chattering and the little maid, hired for the occasion, hurried from the tea-cups to answer the haughty summons. Through the silence in the tea-room, produced by the overpowering clatter of the bell, the voice of the little maid,—quite too familiar for the proper formality of the occasion, in Virginia’s opinion,—was heard to pipe out cheerily:

“Come right in, Miss Virginia; the folks has eat most all the victuals—but I guess Mrs. Maxwell’ll find ye some.”

“Please announce ‘Miss Virginia Bascom’,” droned the lady, ignoring the untoward levity of the now cowering maid, and followed her to the door of the 133 room full of guests, where she paused impressively.

“Mrs. Bascom,” called the confused maid, through the solemn silence, as all eyes turned towards the door, “here’s,—this is,—I mean Miss Virginia says Miss Virginia Maxwell–” After which confusing and somewhat embarrassing announcement the maid summarily fled to the kitchen, and left Virginia to her own devices.

Betty at once came forward, and quite ignoring the error, smiled a pleasant welcome.

“Miss Bascom, it is very nice to know you at last. We have been so unlucky, have we not?”

Virginia advanced rustling, and gave Betty a frigid finger-tip, held shoulder-high, and cast a collective stare at hostess and guests through her lorgnette, bowing to Maxwell and ignoring his proffered handshake.

There was an awkward pause. For once even Betty-the-self-possessed was at a loss for the necessary tactics.

A hearty voice soon filled the empty spaces: “Hello there, Ginty; I always did say those auto’s was a poor imitation of a street-car; when they get balky and leave you sticking in the road-side and make you behind-time, you can’t so much as get your fare back and walk. None but royalty, duchesses, and the four-hundred 134 can afford to risk losing their cup o’ tea in them things.”

There was a general laugh at Hepsey’s sally, and conversation again resumed its busy buzzing, and Virginia was obliged to realize that her entry had been something of a frost.

She spent some minutes drawing off her gloves, sipped twice at a cup of tea, and nibbled once at a cake; spent several more minutes getting her hands back into her gloves, fixed a good-by smile on her face, murmured some unintelligible words to her hostess, and departed, annoyed to realize that the engine of the awaiting car—kept running to emphasize her comet-like passage through so mixed an assembly—had become quite inaudible to the company.

“Such an insult!” stormed the lady, as she returned home in high dudgeon. “I might have been a nobody, the way they treated me. Dad shall hear of this; and I’ll see that he puts them where they belong. The impudence! And after his t-treating me s-s-so!” she wept with chagrin, and malice that betokened no good to the rector and his little wife.

Even so, it is doubtful if the host and hostess would have permitted themselves to notice the supercilious rudeness of the leader of Durford “Society,” had Hepsey been able to curb her indignation. 135

As she and Betty and the little maid, assisted by Donald and Nickey and his helpers, were clearing up the fragments that remained of the entertainment, Hepsey broke forth:

“If I don’t set that young woman down in her place where she belongs before I’ve done, I’ve missed my guess: ‘Please announce Miss Virginia Bascom,’ indeed! If that isn’t sauce, I’m the goose.”

“Oh never mind, Mrs. Burke,” soothed Betty in a low voice; “she’ll soon realize that we’re doing things in good old country style, and haven’t brought any city ways with us to Durford. I dare say she thought–”

“Thought nothin’!” replied the exasperated Hepsey. “I’ll thought her, with her high looks and her proud stomach, as the psalmist says. I’d like—oh, wouldn’t I just like to send up a nice little basket of these left-over victuals to Ginty, ‘with Mrs. Maxwell’s regards.’”

She laughed heartily, but Betty was determined not to let herself dwell on anything so trivial, and soon, by way of changing the subject, she was putting Nickey up to the idea of forming a boy-scout corps, which, as she added, could present the village with a thoroughly versatile organization, both useful and ornamental. 136

“Gee,” remarked Nickey, who quickly saw himself captaining a body of likely young blades, “that’d be some lively corpse, believe me. When can we start in, Mrs. Maxwell?”

“You must ask Mr. Maxwell all about that, Nickey,” she laughed.

“But not now,” interposed his mother. “You come along with me this minute, and let Mr. Maxwell have a bit of peace; I know how he just loves these teas. Good night, all!” she called as she departed with her son under her wing.

“Donald! Wasn’t it all fun—and weren’t they all splendid?” Betty glowed.

“More fun than a barrel of Bascoms—monkeys, I mean,” he corrected himself, laughing at Betty’s shocked expression.