"I should think so," said Nancy, "just smell that pastry burning now; that rule won't work in this kitchen, any how; if Mrs. Howe comes home, she'll be sure to scent it on the front door step, she has _such_ a nose."

"So you think the little boy will get along?" asked Mrs. Bond, following the doctor out into the entry.

"Oh, yes, madam, with time, and careful nursing; though he would stand a better chance if he had a larger apartment; these attics are bad for sick people. His mother appears to be quite worn out."

"She's young yet," said the old lady, desirous of attributing Rose's distress mainly to her anxiety for Charley; "she has had little experience."

The doctor would have liked to know more about his patients, but he had too much delicacy to ask questions; and placing a new recipe in Mrs.

Bond's hand, he withdrew, musing, as he went down the stairs, on the many painful phases of life to which his profession introduced him, and which his skill was powerless to remedy.

Mrs. Bond kissed Rose and Charley, tenderly, as she bade them good-by, for she could not leave her own household over night; and with a promise to come again, and an entreaty to the tearful Rose to bear up, she took a reluctant leave.

She would like to have seen Mrs. Howe before leaving the house, but Patty told her she had not yet returned. As she went through the front entry, she met Mr. Howe returning to dinner.

"Good-day, sir; I am glad to see you before I go; I have only a word; you will take it from an old lady who means well: The baby and its mother, sir--'As ye would that others should do unto you, do ye even so to them;'" and with a gentle pressure of his hand, she smiled, bowed, and went out.

"'As--ye--would--do--unto--them!' What does she mean?" said Mr. Howe. "I supposed they were comfortable enough. Mrs. Howe told me so. She said they had a room and every thing they needed. Mrs. Howe likes to manage things her own way, and I let her," said the easy man, hanging his coat on the peg; "but if they are not comfortable, that's another thing. That old lady meant something. I must look into it--after dinner; I am too hungry now."

CHAPTER XXIV.

Mrs. Howe returned with the lilac hat in her possession, and her purse lighter by some scores of dollars. She had also a new Honiton pelerine, a thirty-dollar _mouchoir_, and a gold bracelet, all of which she spread out upon the silken coverlet of her bed, walking round and round it, with very unequivocal glances of admiration.

"Has that old woman gone?" she asked, as Patty answered the bell.

"Yes, ma'am; just gone, and desired her respects to you."

"Well, her room is better than her company. Hand me my wine-colored brocade, Patty, from the wardrobe, a pair of silk stockings, and my black satin slippers. Now give me my frilled under-sleeves. Dinner going on, Patty? I thought I smelt something burning as I came in; perhaps it was only my fancy."

"I am sure it was, ma'am--the pies has had a lovely bake, and so has the custards and puddings."

"I hope Nancy put vanilla in her custards," said Mrs. Howe. "Tell her I want wine in the pudding-sauce; and tell her to strew grapes over the dishes of oranges."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And, Patty?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Tell Betty--where's my other slipper? Oh! here it is--tell Betty--did you take down my wine-colored brocade, Patty?--tell Betty--it's no matter, Patty; I don't know what I was going to tell you."

Patty had nearly closed the door, when she again heard her name called.

"I've just thought what I wanted to say, Patty: did you clean the silver, this morning?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And wash the parlor looking-gla.s.s?"

"You told me not to do that, ma'am."

"Oh! so I did. Where's my other under-sleeve? Gracious! you burned a hole in it, ironing it. Oh, no; it is a fuzz of black silk sticking to it. There, do go along, Patty; I want to dress;" and the fussy Mrs. Howe locked the door, and gave herself up to the undisturbed contemplation of her new Honiton pelerine and gold bracelet.

Dinner had been satisfactorily discussed, and Mrs. Howe sat back in her cushioned chair to the work of digestion, and self-appreciation, while John retired to smoke.

A visitor is announced. (_Enter Mrs. Flynn._)

The usual very sincere compliments, were tossed shuttle-c.o.c.k fashion from one lady to the other, Mrs. Howe, meanwhile, losing no opportunity to display her new bracelet and settle the folds of her new pelerine, which Mrs. Flynn persistently declined observing.

"I am _so_ tired," groaned Mrs. Howe, at length; "if I am stupid, my dear creature, you really must pardon me, for I have been at Du Pont's all the morning. I bought a few trifles of her, this pelerine, only forty dollars, and this cheap bracelet for fifty. Du Pont never is easy till I give her my opinion of her new millinery."

"She prefers the opinion of one qualified, by experience, to be a judge," said the vexed Flynn, alluding to Dolly's former chrysalis state.

Mrs. Howe bit her lip, and pulling the _mouchoir_ from her pocket, said, "I forgot to show you this seventy-five dollar handkerchief. I did not need any _common_ handkerchiefs, but I bought this to please Du Pont."

"I fancied I had seen that, as well as your pelerine and bracelet at Mrs. Gardiner's party last winter," said the fibbing, irritating Flynn.

"Last winter!"--screamed Mrs. Howe--"my dear creature, I wouldn't wear the same garter two winters."

"O, I must have been thinking of somebody else; pardon me, dear, my memory is _so_ bad. What kind of servants have you, dear? I am so plagued with servants."

"I have no trouble," replied Mrs. Howe, folding her hands complacently over her pelerine, "for I always pay the highest prices." The rising flush on Flynn's face announced this to be a dead shot.

Taking breath again, however, she came gallantly to the rescue.

"Yes my dear creature, but they are all alike about gossiping; now our Margy, came to me with a long story about a baby which she declares she saw up in your attic, and a young girl, beautiful as an angel, tending it, and an old woman, and a young doctor, and goodness knows what. I told her it was all nonsense, sheer nonsense, for of course you would have spoken of it had there been a baby in your house; did you ever hear such stuff?" asked Flynn, with a triumphant air.

"Never," replied the exasperated Mrs. Howe, stooping to settle her bracelet to conceal her vexation; "I never heed what they say."

"Of course not," said Flynn, who having accomplished her mission, was now ready to depart, before the enemy rallied sufficiently to charge back. "Call and see me, my dear creature; intimate friends like us should not stand upon ceremony. O, I forgot to tell you Finels called on me yesterday. Bon jour;" and Flynn made good her retreat with flying colors.

"Spiteful creature!" said Mrs. Howe, "she knows she never saw that pelerine, or bracelet, or _mouchoir_, before this morning. I shall go mad. And that baby business, too; if she had not floored me so unexpectedly on that, I could have said a few things that would have shut her mouth. I know that an own cousin of her husband is servant-man at Mr. Jenks's; but my bright thoughts never come till afterward. Yes, I will go and see her, as she requested. She shall hear of it yet, and then we will see. Finels call on _her_! Finels requires _mind_ in a female friend," and Dolly turned to the "marked pa.s.sages" for consolation.

CHAPTER XXV.

"Bless my soul! you don't mean to say you have been up _here_ all this time, Rose?" asked John, throwing open the door of the attic. "Why, bless my soul! Mrs. Howe told me that you were fixed very comfortable, and all that. I did not know any thing about it," said the penitent John, gazing at Charley's pale face. "This won't do; you must go down stairs. Why, bless my soul! you _shall_ go down stairs," and before Rose could reply, John had called Patty.

"Look here," said John, "take all those medicines and traps down into the best spare chamber, and bring up a blanket to wrap the baby in; for these folks are going down stairs."