Part 22 (1/2)
”He's gone into the yard, ma'am, I couldn't keep him back,” said Marthy.
”As soon as he caught sight of that pile of bricks he wanted to begin building.”
”Well, we'll go, too,” replied Virginia. ”That child is simply crazy about building. Has Oliver paid the driver, mother? And what has become of him? Susan, have you spoken to Oliver?”
No, Susan hadn't, but as they turned, he appeared on the porch and came eagerly forward. Her first impression was that he had grown handsomer than she had ever believed possible; and the next minute she asked herself how in the world he had managed to exercise his vitality in Matoaca City. He was one of those men, she saw, in whom the spirit of youth burned like a flame. Every year would pa.s.s as a blessing, not as a curse, to him, and already, because of her intenser emotions and her narrower interests, Virginia was beginning to look older than he. There was a difference, too, in their dress, for he had the carefully groomed and well-brushed appearance so rare in Dinwiddie, while Virginia's clothes might have been worn, with equal propriety, by Miss Priscilla Batte. She was still lovely, but it was a loveliness, Susan felt with a pang, that would break early.
”Why, there's Susan!” exclaimed Oliver, coming toward her with an eager pleasure in his face which made it more boyish than ever. ”Well, well, it's good to see you, Susan. Are you the same old dear I left behind me?”
”The same,” said Susan laughing. ”And so glad about your plays, Oliver, so perfectly delighted.”
”By Jove, you're the first person to speak of them,” he replied. ”n.o.body else seems to think a play is worth mentioning as long as a baby is in sight. That's a delusion of Virginia's, too. I wish you'd convince her, Susan, that a man is of some use except as a husband and a father.”
”But they are such nice babies, Oliver.”
”Oh, nice enough as babies go. The boy's a trump. He'd be a man already if his mother would let him. But babies ought to have their season like everything else under the sun. For G.o.d's sake, Susan, talk to me about something else!” he added in mock despair.
Virginia was already in the house, and when Oliver and Susan joined her, they found Mrs. Pendleton trying to persuade her to let Marthy carry the sleeping Jenny up to the nursery.
”Give me that child, Jinny,” said Oliver, a trifle sharply. ”You know the doctor told you not to carry her upstairs.”
”But I'm sure it won't hurt me,” she responded, with an angelic sweetness of voice. ”It will wake her to be changed, and the poor little thing has had such a trying day.”
”Well, you aren't going to carry her, if she wakes twenty times,”
retorted Oliver. ”Here, Marthy, if she thinks I'd drop her, suppose you try it.”
”Why, bless you, sir, I can take her so she won't know it,” returned Marthy rea.s.suringly, and coming forward, she proved her ability by sliding the unconscious child from Virginia's arms into her own.
”Where is Harry?” asked Mrs. Pendleton anxiously. ”n.o.body has seen Harry since we got here.”
”I is, ma'am,” replied the cheerful Marthy over her shoulder, as she toiled up the stairs, with Virginia and little Lucy noiselessly following. ”I've undressed him and I was obliged to hide his clothes to keep him from putting 'em on again. He's near daft with excitement.”
”Perhaps I'd better go up and help get them to bed,” said Mrs.
Pendleton, turning from the rector to Oliver. ”I'm afraid Jinny will be too tired to enjoy her supper. Harry is in such a gale of spirits I can hear him talking.”
”You might as well, my dear,” rejoined the rector mildly, as he stooped over to replace one of the baby's bottles in the basket from which it had slipped. ”Don't you think we might get some of these things out of the way?” he added. ”If you take that alcohol stove, Oliver, I'll follow with these caps and shawls.”
”Certainly, sir,” rejoined Oliver readily. He always addressed the rector as ”sir,” partly because it seemed to him to be appropriate, partly because he knew that the older man expected him to do so. It was one of Oliver's most engaging characteristics that he usually adapted himself with perfect ease to whatever life or other people expected of him.
While they were carrying the baskets into the pa.s.sage at the back of the dining-room, Mrs. Pendleton, whose nervous longing had got at last beyond her control, deserted Susan, with an apology, and flitted up the stairs.
”Come up and tell Jinny good-night before you go, dear,” she added; ”I'm afraid she will not get down again to see you.”
”Oh, don't worry about me,” replied Susan. ”I want to say a few words to Oliver, and then I'm coming up to see Harry. Harry appears to me to be a man of personality.”
”He's a darling child,” replied Mrs. Pendleton, a little vaguely, ”and Jinny says she never saw him so headstrong before. He is usually as good as gold.”
”Well, well, it's a fine family,” said the rector, beaming upon his son-in-law, when they returned from the pa.s.sage. ”I never saw three healthier children. It's a pity you lost the other one,” he added in a graver tone, ”but as he lived such a short time, Virginia couldn't take it so much to heart as if he had been older. She seems to have got over the disappointment.”
”Yes, I think she's got over it,” said Oliver.
”It will be good for her to be back in Dinwiddie. I never felt satisfied to think of her so far away.”