The Collected Works of Susan Coolidge: 7 Novels, 35+ Short Stories, Essays & Poems (Illustrated)
all.”
Clarence scowled, and went on with his supper. His mother seemed unable to let him alone. “Clarence, don’t take such large mouthfuls! Clarence, pray use your napkin! Clarence, your elbows are on the table, sir! Now, Clarence, don’t try to speak until you have swallowed all that bread,”—came every other moment. Katy felt very sorry for Clarence. His manners were certainly bad, but it seemed quite dreadful that public attention should be thus constantly called to them.
The evening was rather dull. There was a sort of put-in-order-for- company air about the parlor, which made everybody stiff. Mrs. Page did not sew or read, but sat in a low chair looking like a lady in a fashion plate, and asked questions about Hillsover, some of which were not easy to answer, as, for example, “Have you any other intimate friends among the school-girls beside Lilly?” About eight o’clock a couple of young, very young, gentlemen came in, at the sight of whom Lilly, who was half asleep, brightened and became lively and talkative. One of them was the Mr. Hickman, whose father married Mr. Page’s sister-in-law’s sister, thus making him in some mysterious way a “first cousin” of Lilly’s. He was an Arrowmouth student, and seemed to have so many jokes to laugh over with Lilly that before long they conversed in whispers. The other youth, introduced as Mr. Eels, was left to entertain the other three ladies, which duty he performed by sucking the head of his cane in silence while they talked to him. He too was an Arrowmouth Sophomore.
In the midst of the conversation, the door, which stood ajar, opened a little wider, and a dog’s head appeared, followed by a tail, which waggled so beseechingly for leave to come farther that Clover, who liked dogs, put out her hand at once. He was not pretty, being of a pepper-and-salt color, with a blunt nose and no particular sort of a tail, but looked good-natured; and Clover fondled him cordially, while Mr. Eels took his cane out of his mouth to ask, “What kind of a dog is that, Mrs. Page?”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” she replied; while Lilly, from the distance, added affectedly, “Oh, he’s the most dreadful dog, Mr. Eels. My brother picked him up in the street, and none of us know the least thing about him, except that he’s the commonest kind of dog,—a sort of cur, I believe.”
“That’s not true!” broke in a stern voice from the hall, which made everybody jump; and Katy, looking that way, was aware of a vengeful eye glaring at Lilly through the crack of the door. “He’s a very valuable dog, indeed,—half mastiff and half terrier, with a touch of the bull-dog,—so there, Miss!”
The effect of this remark was startling. Lilly gave a scream; Mrs. Page rose, and hurried to the door; while the dog, hearing his master’s voice, rushed that way also, got before her, and almost threw her down. Katy and Clover could not help laughing, and Mr. Eels, meeting their amused eyes, removed the cane from his mouth, and grew conversible.
“That Clarence is a droll chap!” he remarked confidentially. “Bright, too! He’d be a nice fellow if he wasn’t picked at so much. It never does a fellow any good to be picked at,—now does it, Miss Carr?”
“No: I don’t think it does.”
“I say,” continued Mr. Eels, “I’ve seen you young ladies up at Hillsover, haven’t I? Aren’t you both at the Nunnery?”
“Yes. It’s vacation now, you know.”
“I was sure I’d seen you. You had a room on the side next the President’s, didn’t you? I thought so. We fellows didn’t know your names, so we called you ‘The Real Nuns.’”
“Real Nuns?”
“Yes, because you never looked out of the window at us. Real nuns and sham nuns,—don’t you see?” Almost all the young ladies are sham nuns, except you, and two pretty little ones in the story above, fifth window from the end.”
“Oh, I know!” said Clover, much amused. “Sally Alsop, you know, Katy, and Amy Erskine. They are such nice girls!”
“Are they?” replied Mr. Eels, with the air of one who notes down names for future reference. “Well, I thought so. Not so much fun in them as some of the others, I guess; but a fellow likes other things as well as fun. I know if my sister was there, I’d rather have her take the dull line than the other.”
Katy treasured up this remark for the benefit of the S. S. U. C. Mrs. Page came back just then, and Mr. Eels resumed his cane. Nothing more was heard of Clarence that night.
Next morning Cousin Olivia fulfilled her threat of inspecting the girls’ wardrobe. She shook her head over the simple, untrimmed merinos and thick cloth coats.
“There’s no help for it,” she said, “but it’s a great pity. You would much better have waited, and had things fresh. Perhaps it may be possible to match the merino, and have some sort of basque arrangement added on. I will talk to Madame Chonfleur about it. Meantime, I shall get one handsome thick dress for each of you, and have it stylishly made. That, at least, you really need.”
Katy was too glad to be so easily let off to raise objections. So that afternoon she and Clover were taken out to “choose their material,” Mrs. Page said, but really to sit by while she chose it for them. At the dressmaker’s it was the same: they stood passive while the orders were given, and every thing decided upon.
“Isn’t it funny!” whispered Clover; “but I don’t like it a bit, do you? It’s just like Elsie saying how she’ll have her doll’s things made.”
“Oh, this dress isn’t mine! it’s Cousin Olivia’s!” replied Katy.
“She’s welcome to have it trimmed just as she likes!”
But when the suits came home she was forced to be pleased. There was no over-trimming, no look of finery: every thing fitted perfectly, and had the air of finish which they had noticed and admired in Lilly’s clothes. Katy almost forgot that she had objected to the dresses as unnecessary.
“After all, it is nice to look nice,” she confessed to Clover.
Excepting going to the dressmaker’s there was not much to amuse the girls during the first half of vacation. Mrs. Page took them to drive now and then, and Katy found some pleasant books in the library, and read a good deal. Clover meantime made friends with Clarence. I think his heart was won that first evening by her attentions to Guest the dog, that mysterious composite, “half mastiff and half terrier, with a touch of the bull-dog.” Clarence loved Guest dearly, and was gratified that Clover liked him; for the poor animal had few friends in the household. In a little while Clarence became quite sociable with her, and tolerably so with Katy. They found him, as Mr. Eels said, “a bright fellow,” and pleasant and good-humored enough when taken in the right way. Lilly always seemed to take him wrong, and his treatment of her was most disagreeable, snappish, and quarrelsome to the last degree.
“Much you don’t like oranges!” he said one day at dinner, in answer to an innocent remark of hers. “Much! I’ve seen you eat two at a time, without stopping. Pa, Lilly says she don’t like oranges! I’ve seen her eat two at a time, without stopping! Much she doesn’t! I’ve seen her eat two at a time, without stopping!” He kept this up for five minutes, looking from one person to another, and repeating, “Much she don’t! Much!” till Lilly was almost crying from vexation, and even Clover longed to box his ears. Nobody was sorry when Mr. Page ordered him to leave the room, which he did with a last vindictive “Much!” addressed to Lilly.
“How can Clarence behave so?” said Katy, when she and Clover were alone.
“I don’t know,” replied Clover. “He’s such a nice boy, sometimes; but when he isn’t nice, he’s the horridest boy I ever saw. I wish you’d talk to him, Katy, and tell him how dreadfully it sounds when he says such things.”
“No, indeed! He’d take it much better from you. You’re nearer his age, and could do it nicely and pleasantly, and not make him feel as if he were being scolded. Poor fellow, he gets plenty of that!”
Clover said no more about the subject, but she meditated. She had a good