"Nonsense! Of course you"ll come," insisted Livingstone, laying a gently compelling hand on the arm of each.
Fifteen minutes later Hezekiah stood looking about him with wondering eyes.
"Well, well, Abby, ain"t this slick?" he cried.
His wife did not reply. The mirrors, the lights, the gleaming silver and gla.s.s had filled her with a delight too great for words. She was vaguely conscious of her husband, of Mr. Livingstone, and of a smooth-shaven little man in gray who was presented as "Mr. Harding." Then she found herself seated at that wonderful table, while beside her chair stood an awesome being who laid a printed card before her. With a little ecstatic sigh she gave Hezekiah her customary signal for the blessing and bowed her head.
"There!" exulted Livingstone aloud. "Here we--" He stopped short. From his left came a deep-toned, reverent voice invoking the divine blessing upon the place, the food, and the new friends who were so kind to strangers in a strange land.
"By Jove!" muttered Livingstone under his breath, as his eyes met those of Jim across the table. The waiter coughed and turned his back. Then, the blessing concluded, Hezekiah raised his head and smiled.
"Well, well, Abby, why don"t ye say somethin"?" he asked, breaking the silence. "Ye hain"t said a word. Mr. Livin"stone"ll be thinkin" ye don"t like it."
Mrs. Warden drew a long breath of delight.
"I can"t say anythin", Hezekiah," she faltered. "It"s all so beautiful."
Livingstone waited until the dazed old eyes had become in a measure accustomed to the surroundings, then he turned a smiling face on Hezekiah.
"And now, my friend, what do you propose to do after luncheon?" he asked.
"Well, we cal"late ter take in Bunker Hill an" Faneuil Hall sure,"
returned the old man with a confidence that told of new courage imbibed with his tea. "Then we thought mebbe we"d ride in the subway an" hear one of the big preachers if they happened ter be holdin" meetin"s anywheres this week. Mebbe you can tell us, eh?"
Across the table the man called Harding choked over his food and Livingstone frowned.
"Well," began Livingstone slowly.
"I think," interrupted Harding, taking a newspaper from his pocket, "I think there are services there," he finished gravely, pointing to the glaring advertis.e.m.e.nt of a ten-cent show, as he handed the paper across to Livingstone.
"But what time do the exercises begin?" demanded Hezekiah in a troubled voice. "Ye see, there"s Bunker Hill an"--sugar! Abby, ain"t that pretty?" he broke off delightedly. Before him stood a slender gla.s.s into which the waiter was pouring something red and sparkling.
The old lady opposite grew white, then pink. "Of course that ain"t wine, Mr. Livingstone?" she asked anxiously.
"Give yourself no uneasiness, my dear Mrs. Warden," interposed Harding.
"It"s lemonade--pink lemonade."
"Oh," she returned with a relieved sigh. "I ask yer pardon, I"m sure.
You wouldn"t have it, "course, no more"n I would. But, ye see, bein"
pledged so, I didn"t want ter make a mistake."
There was an awkward silence, then Harding raised his gla.s.s.
"Here"s to your health, Mrs. Warden!" he cried gayly. "May your trip----"
"Wait!" she interrupted excitedly, her old eyes alight and her cheeks flushed. "Let me tell ye first what this trip is ter us, then ye"ll have a right ter wish us good luck."
Harding lowered his gla.s.s and turned upon her a gravely attentive face.
""Most fifty years ago we was married, Hezekiah an" me," she began softly. "We"d saved, both of us, an" we"d planned a honeymoon trip. We was comin" ter Boston. They didn"t have any "lectric-cars then nor any steam-cars only half-way. But we was comin" an" we was plannin" on Bunker Hill an" Faneuil Hall, an" I don"t know what all."
The little lady paused for breath and Harding stirred uneasily in his chair. Livingstone did not move. His eyes were fixed on a mirror across the room. Over at the sideboard the waiter vigorously wiped a bottle.
"Well, we was married," continued the tremulous voice, "an" not half an hour later mother fell down the cellar stairs an" broke her hip. Of course that stopped things right short. I took off my weddin" gown an"
put on my old red caliker an" went ter work. Hezekiah came right there an" run the farm an" I nursed mother an" did the work. "T was more"n a year "fore she was up "round, an" after that, what with the babies an"
all, there didn"t never seem a chance when Hezekiah an" me could take this trip.
"If we went anywhere we couldn"t seem ter manage ter go tergether, an"
we never stayed fer no sight-seein". Late years my Jennie an" her husband seemed ter think we didn"t need nothin" but naps an" knittin", an" somehow we got so we jest couldn"t stand it. We wanted ter go somewhere an" see somethin", so."
Mrs. Warden paused, drew a long breath, and resumed. Her voice now had a ring of triumph.
"Well, last month they got the "lectric-cars finished down our way. We hadn"t been on "em, neither of us. Jennie an" Frank didn"t seem ter want us to. They said they was shaky an" noisy an" would tire us all out. But yesterday, when the folks was gone, Hezekiah an" me got ter talkin" an"
thinkin" how all these years we hadn"t never had that honeymoon trip, an" how by an" by we"d be old--real old, I mean, so"s we couldn"t take it--an" all of a sudden we said we"d take it now, right now. An" we did.
We left a note fer the children, an"--an" we"re here!"
There was a long silence. Over at the sideboard the waiter still polished his bottle. Livingstone did not even turn his head. Finally Harding raised his gla.s.s.
"We"ll drink to honeymoon trips in general and to this one in particular," he cried, a little constrainedly.
Mrs. Warden flushed, smiled, and reached for her gla.s.s. The pink lemonade was almost at her lips when Livingstone"s arm shot out. Then came the tinkle of shattered gla.s.s and a crimson stain where the wine trailed across the damask.
"I beg your pardon!" exclaimed Livingstone, while the other men lowered their gla.s.ses in surprise. "That was an awkward slip of mine, Mrs.
Warden. I must have hit your arm."
"But, Bill," muttered Harding under his breath, "you don"t mean--"
"But I do," corrected Livingstone quietly, looking straight into Harding"s amazed eyes.
"Mr. and Mrs. Warden are my guests. They are going to drive to Bunker Hill with me by and by."
When the six o"clock accommodation train pulled out from Boston that night it bore a little old man and a little old woman, gray-haired, weary, but blissfully content.
"We"ve seen "em all, Hezekiah, ev"ry single one of "em," Abigail was saying. "An" wan"t Mr. Livingstone good, a-gittin" that carriage an"
takin" us ev"rywhere; an" it bein" open so all "round the sides, we didn"t miss seein" a single thing!"
"He was, Abby, he was, an" he wouldn"t let me pay one cent!" cried Hezekiah, taking out his roll of bills and patting it lovingly. "But, Abby, did ye notice? "Twas kind o" queer we never got one taste of that pink lemonade. The waiter-man took it away."
When Aunt Abby Waked Up
The room was very still. The gaunt figure on the bed lay motionless save for a slight lifting of the chest at long intervals. The face was turned toward the wall, leaving a trail of thin gray hair-wisps across the pillow. Just outside the door two physicians talked together in low tones, with an occasional troubled glance toward the silent figure on the bed.
"If there could be something that would rouse her," murmured one; "something that would p.r.i.c.k her will-power and goad it into action! But this lethargy--this wholesale giving up!" he finished with a gesture of despair.