He was perhaps most beneficial when he put the child in its mother"s arms, and sat down beside the bed, and quietly talked, while Marcia occasionally put up a slender hand, and smoothed its golden brown hair, bending her neck over to look at it where it lay, with the action of a mother bird. They examined with minute interest the details of the curious little creature: its tiny finger-nails, fine and sharp, and its small queer fist doubled so tight, and closing on one"s finger like a canary"s claw on a perch; the absurdity of its foot, the absurdity of its toes, the ridiculous inadequacy of its legs and arms to the work ordinarily expected of legs and arms, made them laugh. They could not tell yet whether its eyes would be black like Marcia"s, or blue like Bartley"s; those long lashes had the sweep of hers, but its mop of hair, which made it look so odd and old, was more like his in color.
"She will be a dark-eyed blonde," Bartley decided.
"Is that nice?" asked Marcia.
"With the telescope sight, they"re warranted to kill at five hundred yards."
"Oh, for shame, Bartley! To talk of baby"s ever killing!"
"Why, that"s what they all come to. It"s what you came to yourself."
"Yes, I know. But it"s quite another thing with baby." She began to mumble it with her lips, and to talk baby-talk to it. In their common interest in this puppet they already called each other papa and mamma.
Squire g.a.y.l.o.r.d came alone, and when Marcia greeted him with "Why, father!
Where"s mother?" he asked, "Did you expect her? Well, I guess your mother"s feeling rather too old for such long winter journeys. You know she don"t go out a great deal _I_ guess she expects your family down there in the summer."
The old man was considerably abashed by the baby when it was put into his arms, and being required to guess its name he naturally failed.
"Flavia!" cried Marcia, joyfully. "Bartley named it after you."
This embarra.s.sed the Squire still more. "Is that so?" he asked, rather sheepishly. "Well, it"s quite a compliment."
Marcia repeated this to her husband as evidence that her father was all right now. Bartley and the Squire were in fact very civil to each other; and Bartley paid the old man many marked attentions. He took him to the top of the State House, and walked him all about the city, to show him its points of interest, and introduced him to such of his friends as they met, though the Squire"s dresscoat, whether fully revealed by the removal of his surtout, or betraying itself below the skirt of the latter, was a trial to a fellow of Bartley"s style. He went with his father-in-law to see Mr.
Warren in Jefferson Scattering Batkins, and the Squire grimly appreciated the burlesque of the member from Cranberry Centre; but he was otherwise not a very amusable person, and off his own ground he was not conversable, while he refused to betray his impressions of many things that Bartley expected to astonish him. The Events editorial rooms had no apparent effect upon him, though they were as different from most editorial dens as tapestry carpets, black-walnut desks, and swivel chairs could make them.
Mr. Witherby covered him with urbanities and praises of Bartley that ought to have delighted him as a father-in-law; but apparently the great man of the Events was but a strange variety of the type with which he was familiar in the despised country editors. He got on better with Mr. Atherton, who was of a man"s profession. The Squire wore his hat throughout their interview, and everywhere except at table and in bed; and as soon as he rose front either, he put it on.
Bartley tried to impress him with such novel traits of cosmopolitan life as a _table d"hote_ dinner at a French restaurant; but the Squire sat through the courses, as if his barbarous old appet.i.te had satisfied itself in that manner all his life. After that, Bartley practically gave him up; he pleaded his newspaper work, and left the Squire to pa.s.s the time as he could in the little house on Clover Street, where he sat half a day at a stretch in the parlor, with his hat on, reading the newspapers, his legs sprawled out towards the grate. In this way he probably reconstructed for himself some image of his wonted life in his office at home, and was for the time at peace; but otherwise he was very restless, except when he was with Marcia. He was as fond of her in his way as he had ever been, and though he apparently cared nothing for the baby, he enjoyed Marcia"s pride in it; and he bore to have it thrust upon him with the surly mildness of an old dog receiving children"s caresses. He listened with the same patience to all her celebrations of Bartley, which were often tedious enough, for she bragged of him constantly, of his smartness and goodness, and of the great success that had crowned the merit of both in him.
Mr. Halleck had called upon the Squire the morning after his arrival, and brought Marcia a note from his wife, offering to have her father stay with them if she found herself too much crowded at this eventful time. "There!
That is just the sort of people the Hallecks are!" she cried, showing the letter to her father. "And to think of our not going near them for months and mouths after we came to Boston, for fear they were stuck up! But Bartley is always just so proud. Now you must go right in, father, and not keep Mr. Halleck waiting. Give me your hat, or you"ll be sure to wear it in the parlor." She made him stoop down to let her brush his coat-collar a little. "There! Now you look something like."
Squire g.a.y.l.o.r.d had never received a visit except on business in his life, and such a thing as one man calling socially upon another, as women did, was unknown to the civilization of Equity. But, as he reported to Marcia, he got along with Mr. Halleck; and he got along with the whole family when he went with Bartley to tea, upon the invitation Mr. Halleck made him that morning. Probably it appeared to him an objectless hospitality; but he spent as pleasant an evening as he could hope to spend with his hat off and in a frock-coat, which he wore as a more ceremonious garment than the dress-coat of his every-day life. He seemed to take a special liking to Olive Halleck, whose habit of speaking her mind with vigor and directness struck him as commendable. It was Olive who made the time pa.s.s for him; and as the occasion was not one for personal sarcasm or question of the Christian religion, her task in keeping the old pagan out of rather abysmal silences must have had its difficulties.
"What did you talk about?" asked Marcia, requiring an account of his enjoyment from him the next morning, after Bartley had gone down to his work.
"Mostly about you, I guess," said the Squire, with a laugh. "There was a large sandy-haired young woman there--"
"Miss Kingsbury," said Marcia, with vindictive promptness. Her eyes kindled, and she began to grow rigid under the coverlet. "Whom did _she_ talk with?"
"Well, she talked a little with me; but she talked most of the time to the young man. She engaged to him?"
"No," said Marcia, relaxing. "She"s a great friend of the whole family. I don"t know what they meant by telling you it was to be just a family party, when they were going to have strangers in," she pouted.
"Perhaps they didn"t count her."
"No." But Marcia"s pleasure in the affair was tainted, and she began to talk of other things.
Her father stayed nearly a week, and they all found it rather a long week.
After showing him her baby, and satisfying herself that he and Bartley were on good terms again, there was not much left for Marcia. Bartley had been banished to the spare room by the presence of the nurse; and he gave up his bed there to the Squire, and slept on a cot in the unfurnished attic room; the cook and a small girl got in to help, had the other. The house that had once seemed so vast was full to bursting.
"I never knew how little it was till I saw your father coming down stairs,"
said Bartley. "He"s too tall for it. When he sits on the sofa, and stretches out his legs, his boots touch the mop-board on the other side of the room. Fact!"
"He won"t stay over Sunday," began Marcia, with a rueful smile.
"Why, Marcia, you don"t think I want him to go!"
"No, you"re as good as can be about it. But I hope he won"t stay over Sunday."
"Haven"t you enjoyed his visit?" asked Bartley.
"Oh, yes, I"ve enjoyed it." The tears came into her eyes. "I"ve made it all up with father; and he doesn"t feel hard to me. But, Bartley--Sit down, dear, here on the bed!" She took his hand and gently pulled him down. "I see more and more that father and mother can never be what they used to be to me,--that you"re all the world to me. Yes, my life is broken off from theirs forever. Could anything break it off from yours? You"ll always be patient with me, won"t you? and remember that I"d always rather be good when I"m behaving the worst?"
He rose, and went over to the crib, and kissed the head of their little girl. "Ask Flavia," he said from the door.
"Bartley!" she cried, in utter fondness, as he vanished from her happy eyes.
The next morning they heard the Squire moving about in his room, and he was late in coming down to breakfast, at which he was ordinarily so prompt.
"He"s packing," said Marcia, sadly. "It"s dreadful to be willing to have him go!"
Bartley went out and met him at his door, bag in hand. "Hollo!" he cried, and made a decent show of surprise and regret.
"M-yes!" said the old man, as they went down stairs. "I"ve made out a visit. But I"m an old fellow, and I ain"t easy away from home. I shall tell Mis" g.a.y.l.o.r.d how you"re gettin" along, and she"ll be pleased to hear it. Yes, she"ll be pleased to hear it. I guess I shall get off on the ten-o"clock train."
The conversation between Bartley and his father-in-law was perfunctory. Men who have dealt so plainly with each other do not a.s.sume the conventional urbanities in their intercourse without effort. They had both been growing more impatient of the restraint; they could not have kept it up much longer.
"Well, I suppose it"s natural you should want to be home again, but I can"t understand how any one can want to go back to Equity when he has the privilege of staying in Boston."
"Boston will do for a young man," said the Squire, "but I"m too old for it. The city cramps me; it"s too tight a fit; and yet I can"t seem to find myself in it."
He suffered from the loss of ident.i.ty which is a common affliction with country people coming to town. The feeling that they are of no special interest to any of the thousands they meet bewilders and hara.s.ses them; after the searching neighborhood of village life, the fact that n.o.body would meddle in their most intimate affairs if they could, is a vague distress. The Squire not only experienced this, but, after reigning so long as the censor of morals and religion in Equity, it was a deprivation for him to pa.s.s a whole week without saying a bitter thing to any one. He was tired of the civilities that smoothed him down on every side.
"Well, if you must go," said Bartley, "I"ll order a hack."
"I guess I can walk to the depot," returned the old man.
"Oh, no, you can"t." Bartley drove to the station with him, and they bade each other adieu with a hand-shake. They were no longer enemies, but they liked each other less than ever.
"See you in Equity next summer, I suppose?" suggested the Squire.
"So Marcia says," replied Bartley. "Well, take care of yourself.--You confounded, tight-fisted old woodchuck!" he added under his breath, for the Squire had allowed him to pay the hack fare.
He walked home, composing variations on his parting malison, to find that the Squire had profited by his brief absence while ordering the hack, to leave with Marcia a silver cup, knife, fork, and spoon, which Olive Halleck had helped him choose, for the baby. In the cup was a check for five hundred dollars. The Squire was embarra.s.sed in presenting the gifts, and when Marcia turned upon him with, "Now, look here, father, what do you mean?" he was at a loss how to explain.
"Well, it"s what I always meant to do for you."
"Baby"s things are all right," said Marcia. "But I"m not going to let Bartley take any money from you, unless you think as well of him as I do, and say so, right out."
The Squire laughed. "You couldn"t quite expect me to do that, could you?"