"Here "tis," she said, in her forlornest quaver. "I hope you won"t do nothin" out o" the way with it. I should hate to git into trouble here.
I ain"t that kind."
Mrs. Blair was too excited to hear or heed her. She was briefly, flashingly, taking in the possibilities of the room, her bright black eyes darting here and there with fiery insistence. Suddenly she went to the closet, and, diving to the bottom of a baggy pocket in her "t"other dress," drew forth a ball of twine. She chalked it, still in delighted haste, and forced one end upon her bewildered room-mate.
"You go out there to the middle square o" the front winder," she commanded, "an" hold your end o" the string down on the floor. I"ll snap it."
Miss Dyer cast one despairing glance about her, and obeyed.
"Crazy!" she muttered. "Oh my land! she"s crazy"s a loon. I wisht Mis"
Mitch.e.l.l"d pitch her tent here a spell!"
But Mrs. Blair was following out her purpose in a manner exceedingly methodical. Drawing out one bed, so that it stood directly opposite her kneeling helper, she pa.s.sed the cord about the leg of the bedstead and made it fast; then, returning to the middle of the room, she snapped the line triumphantly. A faint chalk-mark was left upon the floor.
"There!" she cried. "Leggo! Now, you gi" me the chalk, an" I"ll go over it an" make it whiter."
She knelt and chalked with the utmost absorption, crawling along on her knees, quite heedless of the despised alpaca; and Miss Dyer, hovering in a corner, timorously watched her. Mrs. Blair staggered to her feet, entangled by her skirt, and pitching like a ship at sea.
"There!" she announced. "Now here"s two rooms. The chalk-mark"s the part.i.tion. You can have the mornin" sun, for I"d jest as soon live by a taller candle if I can have somethin" that"s my own. I"ll chalk a lane into the closet, an" we"ll both keep a right o" way there. Now I"m to home, an" so be you. Don"t you dast to speak a word to me unless you come an" knock here on my headboard,--that"s the front door,--an" I won"t to you. Well, if I ain"t glad to be alone! I"ve hung my harp on a willer long enough!"
It was some time before the true meaning of the new arrangement penetrated Miss Dyer"s slower intelligence; but presently she drew her chair nearer the window and thought a little, chuckling as she did so.
She, too, was alone.
The sensation was new and very pleasant. Mrs. Blair went back and forth through the closet-lane, putting her clothes away, with high good humor. Once or twice she sang a little--Derby"s Ram and Lord Lovel--in a cracked voice. She was in love with solitude.
Just before tea, Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l, in some trepidation, knocked at the door, to see the fruits of contention present and to come. She had expected to hear loud words; and the silence quite terrified her, emphasizing, as it did, her own guilty sense of personal responsibility. Miss Dyer gave one appealing look at Mrs. Blair, and then, with some indecision, went to open the door, for the latch was in her house.
"Well, here you are, comfortably settled!" began Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l. She had the unmistakable tone of professional kindliness; yet it rang clear and true. "May I come in?"
"Set right down here," answered Miss Dyer, drawing forward a chair.
"I"m real pleased to see ye."
"And how are you this afternoon?" This was addressed to the occupant of the other house, who, quite oblivious to any alien presence, stood busily rubbing the chalk-marks from her dress.
Mrs. Blair made no answer. She might have been stone deaf, and as dumb as the hearthstone bricks. Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l cast an alarmed glance at her entertainer.
"Isn"t she well?" she said, softly.
"It"s a real pretty day, ain"t it?" responded Miss Dyer. "If "twas summer time, I should think there"d be a sea turn afore night. I like a sea turn myself. It smells jest like Old Boar"s Head."
"I have brought you down some fruit." Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l was still anxiously observing the silent figure, now absorbed in an apparently futile search in a brocaded work-bag. "Mrs. Blair, do you ever cut up bananas and oranges together?"
No answer. The visitor rose, and unwittingly stepped across the dividing line.
"Mrs. Blair--" she began, but she got no further.
Her hostess turned upon her, in surprised welcome.
"Well, if it ain"t Mis" Mitch.e.l.l! I can"t say I didn"t expect you, for I see you goin" into Miss Dyer"s house not more"n two minutes ago.
Seems to me you make short calls. Now set right down here, where you can see out o" the winder. That square"s cracked, but I guess the directors"ll put in another."
Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l was amazed, but entirely interested. It was many a long day since any person, official or private, had met with cordiality from this quarter.
"I hope you and our friend are going to enjoy your room together," she essayed, with a hollow cheerfulness.
"I expect to be as gay as a cricket," returned Mrs. Blair, innocently.
"An" I do trust I"ve got good neighbors. I like to keep to myself, but if I"ve got a neighbor, I want her to be somebody you can depend upon."
"I"m sure Miss Dyer means to be very neighborly." The director turned, with a smile, to include that lady in the conversation. But the local deafness had engulfed her. She was sitting peacefully by the window, with the air of one retired within herself, to think her own very remote thoughts. The visitor mentally improvised a little theory, and it seemed to fit the occasion. They had quarrelled, she thought, and each was disturbed at any notice bestowed on the other.
"I have been wondering whether you would both like to go sleighing with me some afternoon?" she ventured, with the humility so p.r.o.ne to a.s.sail humankind in a frank and shrewish presence. "The roads are in wonderful condition, and I don"t believe you"d take cold. Do you know, I found Grandmother Eaton"s foot-warmers, the other day! I"ll bring them along."
"Law! I"d go anywheres to git out o" here," said Mrs. Blair, ruthlessly. "I dunno when I"ve set behind a horse, either. I guess the last time was the day I rid up here for good, an" then I didn"t feel much like lookin" at outdoor. Well, I guess you _be_ a new director, or you never"d ha" thought on"t!"
"How do you feel about it, Miss Dyer?" asked the visitor. "Will you go,--perhaps on, Wednesday?"
The other householder moved uneasily. Her hands twitched at their knitting; a flush came over her cheeks, and she cast a childishly appealing glance at her neighbor across the chalkline. Her eyes were filling fast with tears. "Save me!" her look seemed to entreat "Let me not lose this happy fortune!" Mrs. Blair interpreted the message, and rose to the occasion with the vigor of the intellectually great.
"Mis" Mitch.e.l.l," she said, clearly, "I may be queer in my notions, but it makes me as nervous as a witch to have anybody hollerin" out o" my winders. I don"t care whether it"s company nor whether it"s my own folks. If you want to speak to Miss Dyer, you come along here after me,--don"t you hit the part.i.tion now!--right out o" my door an" into her"n. Here, I"ll knock! Miss Dyer, be you to home?"
The little old lady came forward, fluttering and radiant in the excess of her relief.
"Yes, I guess I be," she said, "an" all alone, too! I see you go by the winder, an" I was in" hopes you"d come in!"
Then the situation dawned upon Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l with an effect vastly surprising to the two old pensioners. She turned from one to the other, including them both in a look of warm loving-kindness. It was truly an illumination. Hitherto, they had thought chiefly of her winter cloak and nodding ostrich plume; now, at last, they saw her face, and read some part of its message.
"You poor souls!" she cried. "Do you care so much as that? "O you poor souls!"
Miss Dyer fingered her ap.r.o.n and looked at the floor, but her companion turned brusquely away, even though she trod upon the part.i.tion in her haste.
"Law! it"s nothin" to make such a handle of" she said. "Folks don"t want to be under each other"s noses all the time. I dunno"s anybody could stan" it, unless "twas an emmet. They seem to git along swarmin"
round together."
Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l left the room abruptly.
"Wednesday or Thursday, then!" she called over her shoulder.
The next forenoon, Mrs. Blair made her neighbor a long visit. Both old ladies had their knitting, and they sat peacefully swaying back and forth, recalling times past, and occasionally alluding to their happy Wednesday.
"What I really come in for," said Mrs. Blair, finally, "was to ask if you don"t think both our settin"-rooms need new paper."
The other gave one bewildered glance about her.
"Why, "tain"t been on more "n two weeks," she began; and then remembrance awoke in her, and she stopped. It was not the scene of their refuge and conflict that must be considered; it was the house of fancy built by each unto herself. Invention did not come easily to her as yet, and she spoke with some hesitation.
"I"ve had it in mind myself quite a spell, but somehow I "ain"t been able to fix on the right sort o" paper."
"What do you say to a kind of a straw color, all lit up with tulips?"
inquired Mrs. Blair; triumphantly.