The man laughed again, pleasantly, and said:
"You know we like to know about our neighbors, and you are the newest neighbor."
"But are you going to write all I said?"
"Well, nearly all; but, Miss Doane, if there is anything you don"t want written, I"ll cut it."
Drusilla was embarra.s.sed.
"Have I said anything that I shouldn"t? If I had known you was from a paper, I"d "a" waited until Mr. Thornton come."
"I"m jolly glad you didn"t. Little copy could have been squeezed from that old lawyer. But don"t you worry, Miss Doane. There won"t be anything that will hurt you. It"s kind of you to see me. I have been trying for several days to get in, but couldn"t get past that butler of yours. He sure is a wonder."
"Did the butler stop you?"
"Well, yes; he stood at the door like an armored cruiser. I wouldn"t have made it to-day if I hadn"t waited until I saw him go out. I knew the second man was at his home and only a maid in charge of you."
Drusilla was unhappy.
"Perhaps I shouldn"t have seen you. It must have been Mr. Thornton"s orders, and he knows what is best for me."
She crossed over to the young man and looked rather pitifully up into his face.
"You look like a nice young man," she said; "I like your eyes. You won"t say nothing that"ll make Mr. Thornton unhappy?"
The reporter took the half-outstretched hand and smiled down into the kindly, wrinkled face. When he spoke there was almost a touch of tenderness in his voice.
"I don"t care about making Mr. Thornton unhappy, Miss Doane, but I wouldn"t do anything to make _you_ unhappy for the world; and if you ever want anything of the papers, here is my card. Just you send for me and I"ll do anything for you that I can."
And so ended Drusilla"s first interview.
To her amazement the next Sunday there was spread before her the paper with great headlines: MISS DRUSILLA DOANE, OUR NEWEST MILLIONAIRE. There was the picture of the Doane home for old ladies; there were pictures of the home at Brookvale taken from many angles, pictures of the garden, the conservatories; and in the middle of the page there was Drusilla herself, sitting in the high-backed chair.
The article was well written, filled with "heart interest." It told of her early struggles, her years of work, and her later life in the charity home. Evidently the young man had visited the village where she had lived and talked with all who knew her; and Mrs. Smith"s hand could plainly be seen in the account of the life of the inmates of the inst.i.tution over which she had charge. Even poor old Barbara had been called upon to tell about Drusilla, the many little acts of kindness which she had done for the poor and lonely. As Drusilla read it she laughed and said, "Well, I guess Barbara had her teeth in that day." The article ended with the account of the million dollar bequest, and suggested that quite likely the charities of New York would benefit by the newest acquisition to the ranks of its millionaires, as Miss Doane was alone in the world, and had no one on whom to lavish her enormous income or to leave the money when she was called to the other world.
Drusilla did not know it, but this last addition of the facile reporter"s pen set many heads of inst.i.tutions to thinking, and caused many a person to wonder how they could gain the affections or the pity of this old lady, and separate her from at least a part of her new-found inheritance.
Drusilla pa.s.sed many hours among the flowers in the conservatories, where she won the heart of the gardener by the keen interest she took in his work. He would walk around with her and tell her the names of the plants strange to her, pointing out their beauties and their peculiarities. He soon saw that the orchids and the rare blooms from foreign lands did not appeal to her as did the old-fashioned flowers she knew, and they made a little bargain that in the spring she should have some beds of mignonette, phlox, verbenas, and moss rose. One morning she watched him giving directions to one of the under-gardeners for the potting of small plants for the spring.
"Mr. Donald," she said, "I wish I could plant somethin". It"s been years since I dug around in the earth, and I want to plant somethin"
and see it grow."
"That"s easy, ma"am," said Scotch Mr. Donald. "I"ll fix a part of the house here and you can plant what you want in it"; and after that many mornings found Drusilla pottering happily around the conservatory with a trowel, planting seeds or "slipping" plants as she called it. It gave her something to do, and that was the one thing she needed. She missed the active life, the "doing something."
Everything was done for her--she had no duties. She, who had pa.s.sed her life in service for others, here had only to mention a wish and it was immediately carried out. She was not allowed even to look after her clothing. As soon as an article was removed it was whisked out of the room and when returned was brushed, mended, and ready for use again.
One afternoon Drusilla sat down by the window to mend a tear on the bottom of her skirt. Jeanne, coming into the room, quickly took the garment from her.
"Madame, she must not do that. _Quelle horreur!_ I will attend to it at once."
Drusilla laughed.
"Can"t I even patch my dress?" she said. "Jane, where are my stockin"s? I am sure there must be some darnin"."
Jeanne looked at her reproachfully.
"Madame does not wear darned stockings."
"Stuff and nonsense!" said Drusilla. "Why shouldn"t I wear darned stockin"s?"
"Yes, but it would not be _au fait_ for Madame to wear darned stockings."
Drusilla became a little angry.
"How foolish you are, Jane! I"ve wore darned stockin"s all my life.
A few darns don"t hurt one way or another. What becomes of my stockin"s? I saw a hole in one the other day."
Jeanne looked a little embarra.s.sed.
"Why--why--when they become not _convenable_ for Madame, I--I take them."
"Oh," said shrewd Drusilla, looking at Jeanne over her gla.s.ses. "And I presume you are the judge of when they become "_convenable_"
--whatever that means. But you"d better let me tell you when I think they"re ready to be pa.s.sed on."
Drusilla sat back in the chair with folded hands for a few moments; then she looked down at them as they lay idly in her lap.
"I don"t see what I"m goin" to do with my hands. I"ve always had a work-basket by my side whenever I set down, and now you just expect me to set. Well, I"m tired of it; I want to _do_ something."
A few of the neighbors, headed by Mrs. Thornton, the typical New York woman devoted to "society," made calls upon Drusilla; and when the first caller"s card was brought to Drusilla, she went into the drawing-room and greeted the stylishly dressed lady who rose to meet her, wondering why she had come. The lady sat down and talked to Drusilla about the weather, asked how she liked Brookvale, spoke of the opera season and of a new singer, asked her if she cared for symphonies, which Drusilla thought at first was something to eat, mentioned a ball that was being given at Sherry"s that night for charity; and then departed, leaving Drusilla still wondering why she came. Evidently she told her friends of her visit, as many came, some from curiosity and others from real kindliness and desire to be friendly with their newest neighbor.
One day Daphne saw the cards.
"Oh," she said, "has Mrs. Druer called, and Mrs. Cairns, and Mrs.
Freeman. I am so glad. You must return the call."
"Is that a call? What did they come for? I been wondering about it ever since they come."
"They are your neighbors."
"Oh, is that the way they are neighborly in the city? Set down and talk about nothing for ten minutes and then go home. Well, I don"t see as it"s very fillin"."
"They want to get acquainted."
"Well, why don"t they stay a while and git acquainted? We jest git started to talkin" when they go away. Where I lived when a neighbor come to see you, they brought their sewin" and spent the afternoon.
You can"t git acquainted settin" opposite each other and wonderin"
what to say. Why, they all look when they git ready to go, "Well, I"ve done my duty; thank goodness it"s over!""
Daphne laughed.
"You must go and return the calls."