Aunt Crete's Emancipation (10 page)

Perfectly conscious of her comely array, and strong in the strength of her handsome nephew who stood near to protect, she suddenly lost all fear of her fretful sister and bullying niece, and stepped forward with an unconscious grace of welcome that must have been hers all the time, or
it never would have come to the front in this crisis.

"Why, here you are at last, Luella! How nice you look in your red crape! Why, Carrie,
I'm
real glad you've got better so you could come down. How is your ankle?
And
here is Donald. Carrie, can't you see Hannah's looks in him?"

Amazement and embarrassment struggled in the faces of mother and daughter. They looked at Aunt Crete,
and they
looked at Donald, and then they looked at Aunt Crete again. It
couldn't
be, it wasn't, yet it was, the voice of Aunt Crete, kind and forgiving, and always thoughtful for
every one
, yet with a new something in it.
Or
was it rather the lack of something? Yes, that was it, the lack of a certain servile something that neither Luella nor her mother could name, yet which made them feel strangely ill at ease with this new-old Aunt Crete.

They looked at each other
bewildered,
and then back at Aunt Crete again, tracing line by line the familiar features in their new radiance of happiness, and trying to conjure back the worried V in her forehead, and the slinky sag of her old gowns.
Was the world turned
upside down? What had happened to Aunt Crete?

"Upon my word,
Lucretia
Ward, is it really you?" exclaimed her sister, making a wild dash into the conversation, determined to right
herself
and everything else if possible. She felt like a person suddenly upset in a canoe, and she struggled wildly to get her footing once more if there was any solid footing anywhere, with her sister Crete standing there calmly in an imported gown, her hair done up like a fashion-plate, and a millionaire's smile on her pleasant face.

But
Luella was growing angry. What did Aunt Crete mean by masquerading round in that fashion and making them ashamed before this handsome young man?
and
was he really their Western cousin? Luella felt that a joke
was being played
upon her, and she always resented jokes—at least, unless she played them herself.

Then Donald came to the front, for he feared for Aunt Crete's poise. She must not lose her calm dignity and get frightened. There was a sharp ring in the other aunt's voice, and the new cousin looked unpromising.

"And is this my Aunt Carrie?
And my Cousin Luella?"
He stepped forward, and shook hands pleasantly.

"I am glad to be able to speak with you at last," he said as he dropped Luella's hand, "though it's not the first time I've seen you, nor heard your voice, either, you know."

Luella looked up puzzled, and tried to muster her scattered graces, and respond with her ravishing society air; but somehow the ease and grace of the man before her overpowered her.
And
was he really her cousin? She tried to think what he could mean by having seen and talked with her before.
Surely
he must be mistaken, or—perhaps he was referring to the glimpse he had of her when Mr.
Grandon
bowed the evening before. She tossed her head with a kittenish movement, and arched her poorly
pencilled
eyebrows.

"
O
,
how is that?" she asked, wishing he had not been quite so quick to drop her hand. It would have been more impressive to
have had
him hold it just a second longer.

"Why, I saw you the morning you left your home, as I was getting out of the train. You were just entering, and you called out of the window to a young
lady
in a pony-cart. You wore a light kind of a yellowish suit,
didn't
you? Yes, I was very sure it was you."

He was studying her face closely, a curious twinkle in his eyes, which might or might not have been complimentary. Luella could not be sure. The color rose in her cheeks and neck and up to her black-walnut hair
till
the red dress and the red face looked all of a flame. She suddenly remembered what she had called out to the young
lady
in the pony-cart, and she wondered whether he had heard or noticed.

"And then," went on her handsome persecutor, "I had quite a long talk with you over the telephone, you know"

"What!" gasped
Luella.
"Was that you? Why, you must be mistaken; I never telephoned to you; that is, I
couldn't
get any one to the 'phone."

"What's all this about, Luella?" questioned her mother sharply, but Donald interposed.

"Sit down, Aunt Carrie. We are so excited over meeting you at last that we are forgetting to be courteous." He shoved forth a comfortable chair for his
aunt,
and another for the blushing, overwhelmed Luella; and then he took Aunt Crete's hands lovingly, and gently pushed her backward into the most comfortable rocker in the room. "It's just as cheap to sit down, dear aunt," he said, smiling. "And you know you've had a pretty full day, and must not get tired for tonight's concert at the Casino. Now, Aunt Carrie, tell us about your ankle. How did you come to sprain it so
badly,
and how did it get well so fast? We were quite alarmed about you. Is it really better? I am afraid you are taxing it too much to have come down this evening. Much as we wanted to see you, we could have waited until it was quite safe for you to use it, rather than have you run any risks."

Then it was the mother's turn to blush, and her thin, somewhat colorless face grew crimson with embarrassment.

"Why, I "she began; "that is, Luella was
working over it, rubbing it with liniment, and all of a sudden she gave it a sort of a little pull; and something seemed to give way with a sharp pain, and then it came all right as good as ever. It feels a little weak, but I think by morning
it'll
be all right. I think some little bone got out of place, and Luella pulled it back in again. My ankles have always been weak, anyway. I suffer a great deal with them in going about my work at home."

"Why, Carrie," said Aunt Crete, leaning forward with troubled reproach in her face, "you never complained about it."

A dull red rolled over Mrs. Burton's thin features again, and receded, leaving her face pinched and
haggard-looking
. She felt as if she were seeing visions. This
couldn't
be her own sister, all dressed up so, and yet speaking in the old sympathetic tone.

"O, I never complain, of course. It
don't
do any good."

The conversation was interrupted by another tap on the door
. Donald opened it, and received a large express package. While he was giving some orders to the servant, Mrs. Burton leaned forward, and said in a low tone to her sister:

"For goodness' sake,
Lucretia
Ward, what does all this mean?
How ever
did you get tricked out like that?"

Then Donald's clear voice broke in upon them as the door closed once more, and Luella watched him curiously cutting with eager, boyish haste the cords of the express package.

"Aunt Crete, your cloak has come. Now we'll all see if it's becoming."

"Bless the boy," said Aunt Crete, looking up with delighted eyes. "Cloak; what cloak?
I'm
sure I've got wraps enough now. There's the cloth coat, and the silk one, and that elegant black lace"

"No, you haven't. I saw right
off
what you
needed when we went out in the auto last night; and I telephoned to that Miss Brower up in the city this morning, and she's fixed it all up. I hope you'll like it."

With
that
he pulled the cover off the box, and brought to view a long, full evening cloak of pale pearl-colored broadcloth lined with white silk, and a touch about the neck of black velvet and handsome creamy lace.

He held it up at arm's length admiringly.

"It's all right, Aunt Crete. It looks just like you. I knew that woman would understand. Stand up, and let's see how you look in it; and then after dinner we'll take a little spin around the streets to try you in it."

Aunt Crete, blushing like a pretty girl, stood up; and he folded the soft garment about her in all its elegant richness. She stood just in front of the full-length mirror, and could not deny to herself that it was becoming.
But
she was getting used to seeing herself look well, and was not so much overpowered with the sight as she was with the tender thought of the boy that had got it for her. She forgot Carrie and Luella, and everything but that Donald had gone to great trouble and expense to please her; and she just turned around, and put her two hands, one on each of his cheeks, standing on her tiptoes to reach him, and kissed him.

He bent and returned the kiss laughingly.

"
It's
lot of fun to get you things, Aunt Crete," he said; "you always like them so much."

"It is beautiful, beautiful," she said, looking down and smoothing the cloth tenderly as if it had been his cheek. "It's much too beautiful for me. Donald, you will spoil me."

"Yes, I should think so," sniffed Luella, as if offering an apology in some sort for her childish aunt.

"A little spoiling won't hurt you, dear aunt," said Donald seriously. "I don't believe you've had your share of spoiling yet, and I mean to give it to you if I can.
Doesn't
she look pretty in it, Cousin Luella? Come now, Aunt Carrie, I suppose
it's
time to go down to dinner, or we
sha'n't
get through in time for the fun. Are you sure your ankle is quite well? Are you able to go to the Casino to-night?
I've
tickets for us all. Sousa's orchestra is to be there, and the
programme
is an unusually fine one."

Luella was mortified and angry beyond words, but a chance to go to the Casino, in company with Clarence
Grandon
and his mother, was not to
be lightly thrown
away; and she crushed down her mortification, contenting herself with darting an angry glance and a hateful curl of her lip at Aunt Crete as they went out the door together. This, however, was altogether lost on that little woman, for she was watching her nephew's face, and wondering how it came that such joy had fallen to her lot.

There was no chance for the mortified mother and daughter to exchange a word as they went down in the elevator or followed in the wake of their relatives, before whom all porters and
office
-
boys
and even head waiters bowed, and jumped to offer assistance. They were having their wish, to be sure, entering the dining-hall behind the handsome young man and the elegant, gray-clad, fashionably
coiffured
old
lady
, a part of the train, with the full consciousness of "belonging," yet in what a way! Both were having
ample opportunity
for reflection, for they could see at a glance that no one noticed them, and all attention was for those ahead of them.

Luella bit her lip angrily, and looked in wonder at Aunt Crete, who somehow had lost her dumpiness, and walked as gracefully beside her tall young nephew as if she had been accustomed to walk in the eyes of the world thus for years.
The true secret of her grace, if Luella had but known it, was that she was not thinking in the least of herself.
Her conscience was at rest now, for the meeting between the cousins was over, and Luella was to have a good time too. Aunt Crete was never the least bit selfish. It seemed to her that her good time was only blooming into yet larger things, after all.

Behind her walked her sister and niece in mortified humiliation. Luella was trying to recall just what she had said about "country cousins" over the telephone, and exactly what she had said to the girl in the pony-cart the morning she left home. The memory did not serve to cool her already heated complexion. It was beginning to dawn upon her that she had made a mighty mistake in running away from such a cousin and in such a manner.