The dress _was_ cut off, and Laura, on calculating the amount, found that it would make a sad inroad on her little modicum. Being told that she must have also a new printed muslin, one was chosen for her with a beautiful sky blue for the predominant colour, and Laura found that this also was a very costly dress. She was next informed that she could not be presentable without a French pelerine of embroidered muslin.
Pelerines in great variety were then produced, and Laura found, to her dismay, that the prices were from ten to twenty-five dollars. She declined taking one, and Miss Frampton and Augusta exchanged looks which said, as plainly as looks could speak, "I suppose she has not money enough."
Laura coloured--hesitated--at last false pride got the better of her scruples. The salesman commended the beauty of the pelerines; particularly of one tied up in the front, and ornamented on the shoulders, with bows of blue riband--and our heroine yielded, and took it at fifteen dollars; those at ten dollars being voted by Miss Frampton "absolutely mean."
After this, Laura was induced to supply herself with silk stockings and white kid gloves, "of a new style," and was also persuaded to give five dollars for a small scarf, also of a new style. And when all these purchases were made, she found that three quarters of a dollar were all that remained in her purse. Augusta also bought several new articles; but Miss Frampton got nothing. However, she insisted afterwards on going into every fancy store in Washington street--not to buy, but "to see what they had": and gave much trouble in causing the salesmen needlessly to display their goods to her, and some offence by making invidious comparisons between their merchandise and that of Philadelphia. By the time all this shopping was over, the clock of the Old South had struck two, and it was found expedient to postpone till next day the intended visit to the milliner and mantua-maker, Miss Frampton and Augusta declaring that, of afternoons, they were never fit for anything but to throw themselves on the bed and go to sleep. Laura Lovel, fatigued both in body and mind, and feeling much dissatisfied with herself, was glad of a respite from the pursuit of finery, though it was only till next morning; and she was almost "at her wit's end" to know in what way she was to pay for having her dress made--much less for the fashionable new bonnet which her companions insisted on her getting--Augusta giving more than hints, that if she went with the family to Nahant, they should expect her "to look like other people;" and Miss Frampton signifying in loud whispers, that "those who were unable to make an appearance, had always better stay at home."
In the evening there were some visitors, none of whom were very entertaining or agreeable, though all the ladies were excessively dressed. Laura was reminded of the homely proverb, "Birds of a feather flock together." The chief entertainment was listening to Augusta's music, who considered herself to play and sing with wonderful execution.
But to the unpractised ears and eyes of our heroine, it seemed nothing more than an alternate succession of high shrieks and low murmurs, accompanied by various contortions of the face, sundry bowings and wavings of the body, great elevation of the shoulders and squaring of the elbows, and incessant quivering of the fingers, and throwing back of the hands. Miss Frampton talked all the while in a low voice to a lady that sat next to her, and turned round at intervals to assure Augusta that her singing was divine, and that she reminded her of Madame Feron.
Augusta had just finished a very great song, and was turning over her music-books in search of another, when a slight ring was heard at the street door, and as William opened it, a weak, hesitating voice inquired for Miss Laura Lovel, adding, "I hope to be excused. I know I ought not to make so free; but I heard this afternoon that Miss Laura, eldest daughter of the Reverend Edward Lovel of Rosebrook, Massachusetts, is now in this house, and I have walked five miles into town, for the purpose of seeing the young lady. However, I ought not to consider the walk as anything, and it was improper in me to speak of it at all. The young lady is an old friend of mine, if I may be so bold as to say so."
"There's company in the parlour," said William, in a tone not over respectful; "very particular company."
"I won't meddle with any of the company," proceeded the voice. "I am very careful never to make myself disagreeable. But I just wish (if I am not taking too great a liberty) to see Miss Laura Lovel."
"Shall I call her out," said William.
"I would not for the world give her the trouble," replied the stranger.
"It is certainly my place to go to the young lady, and not hers to come to me. I always try to be polite. I hope you don't find me unpleasant."
"Miss Lovel," said Miss Frampton, sneeringly, "this must certainly be _your_ beau."
The parlour-door being open, the whole of the preceding dialogue had been heard by the company, and Miss Frampton, from the place in which she sat, had a view of the stranger, as he stood in the entry.
William, then, with an unsuppressed grin, ushered into the room a little, thin, weak-looking man, who had a whitish face, and dead light hair, cut straight across his forehead. His dress was scrupulously neat, but very unfashionable. He wore a full suit of yellowish brown cloth, with all the gloss on. His legs were covered with smooth cotton stockings, and he had little silver knee-buckles. His shirt collar and cravat were stiff and blue, the latter being tied in front with very long ends, and in his hand he held a blue bandanna handkerchief, carefully folded up. His whole deportment was stiff and awkward.
On entering the room, he bowed very low with a peculiar jerk of the head, and his whole appearance and manner denoted the very acme of humility. The company regarded him with amazement, and Miss Frampton began to whisper, keeping her eye fixed on him all the time. Laura started from her chair, hastened to him, and holding out her hand, addressed him by the name of Pyam Dodge. He took the proffered hand, after a moment of hesitation, and said, "I hope I am properly sensible of your kindness, Miss Laura Lovel, in allowing me to take your hand, now that you are grown. Many a time have I led you to my school, when I boarded at your respected father's, who I trust is well. But now I would not, on any account, be too familiar."
(Laura pointed to a chair.)
"But which is the mistress of the house? I know perfectly well that it is proper for me to pay my respects to her, before I take the liberty of sitting down under her roof. If I may presume to say that I understand anything thoroughly, it is certainly good manners. In my school, manners were always perfectly well taught--my own manners, I learned chiefly from my revered uncle, Deacon Ironskirt, formerly of Wicketiquock, but now of Popsquash."
Laura then introduced Pyam Dodge to the lady of the house, who received him civilly, and then to Mr. Brantley, who, perceiving that the poor schoolmaster was what is called a character, found his curiosity excited to know what he would do next.
This ceremony over, Pyam Dodge bowed round to each of the company separately. Laura saw at once that he was an object of ridicule; and his entire want of tact, and his pitiable simplicity, had never before struck her so forcibly. She was glad when, at last, he took a seat beside her, and, in a low voice, she endeavoured to engage him in a conversation that should prevent him from talking to any one else. She found that he was master of a district school about five miles from Boston, and that he was perfectly contented--for more than that he had never aspired to be.
But vain were the efforts of our heroine to keep Pyam Dodge to herself, and to prevent him from manifesting his peculiarities to the rest of the company. Perceiving that Augusta had turned round on her music-stool to listen and to look at him, the schoolmaster rose on his feet, and bowing first to the young lady, and then to her mother, he said: "Madam, I am afraid that I have disturbed the child while striking on her pyano-forty. I would on no account cause any interruption--for that might be making myself disagreeable. On the contrary, it would give me satisfaction for the child to continue her exercise, and I shall esteem it a privilege to hear how she plays her music. I have taught singing myself."
Augusta then, by desire of her mother, commenced a new bravura, which ran somehow thus:--
Oh! drop a tear, a tender tear--oh! drop a tear, a tender, tender tear.
Oh! drop, oh! drop, oh! dro-o-op a te-en-der te-e-ear--a tender tear--a tear for me--a tear for me; a tender tear for me.
When I, when I, when I-I-I am wand'ring, wand'ring, wand'ring, wand'ring far, far from thee--fa-a-ar, far, far, far from thee--from thee.
For sadness in--for sadness in, my heart, my heart shall reign--shall re-e-e-ign--my hee-e-art--for sa-a-adness in my heart shall reign--shall reign.
Until--until--unti-i-il we fondly, fondly meet again, we fondly meet, we fo-o-ondly me-e-et--until we fondly, fondly, fondly meet--meet, meet, meet again--we meet again.
This song (in which the silliness of the words was increased tenfold by the incessant repetition of them), after various alternations of high and low, fast and slow, finished in thunder, Augusta striking the concluding notes with an energy that made the piano tremble.
When the bravura was over, Pyam Dodge, who had stood listening in amazement, looked at Mrs. Brantley, and said: "Madam, your child must doubtless sing that song very well when she gets the right tune."
"The right tune!" interrupted Augusta, indignantly.
"The right tune!" echoed Mrs. Brantley and Miss Frampton.
"Yes," said Pyam Dodge, solemnly--"and the right words also. For what I have just heard is, of course, neither the regular tune nor the proper words, as they seem to go every how--therefore I conclude that all this wandering and confusion was caused by the presence of strangers: myself, in all probability, being the greatest stranger, if I may be so bold as to say so. This is doubtless the reason why she mixed up the words at random, and repeated the same so often, and why her actions at the pyano-forty are so strange. I trust that at other times she plays and sings so as to give the proper sense."
Augusta violently shut down the lid of the piano, and gave her father a look that implied: "Won't you turn him out of the house?" But Mr.
Brantley was much diverted, and laughed audibly.
Pyam Dodge surveyed himself from head to foot, ascertained that his knee-buckles were fast, and his cravat not untied, and, finding all his clothes in complete order, he said, looking round to the company: "I hope there is nothing ridiculous about me. It is my endeavour to appear as well as possible; but the race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong."
"Upon my word," said Miss Frampton, leaning across the centre-table to Mrs. Brantley, "your _protegee_ seems to have a strange taste in her acquaintances. However, that is always the case with people who have never been in society, as my friend Mrs. Tom Spradlington justly remarks."
A waiter with refreshments was now brought in, and handed round to the company. When it came to Pyam Dodge, he rose on his feet, and thanked the man for handing it to him; then, taking the smallest possible quantity of each of the different articles, he put all on the same plate, and, unfolding his blue bandanna, he spread it carefully and smoothly over his knees, and commenced eating with the smallest possible mouthfuls, praising everything as he tasted it. The wine being offered to him, he respectfully declined it, signifying that he belonged to the Temperance Society. But he afterwards took a glass of lemonade, on being assured that it was not punch, and again rising on his feet, he drank the health of each of the company separately, and not knowing their names, he designated them as the lady in the blue gown, the lady in the white gown, the gentleman in the black coat, &c.
This ceremony over, Pyam Dodge took out an old-fashioned silver watch, of a shape almost globular, and looking at the hour, he made many apologies for going away so soon, having five miles to walk, and requested that his departure might not break up the company. He then bowed all round again--told Laura he would thank her for her hand, which, on her giving him, he shook high and awkwardly, walked backwards to the door and ran against it, trusted he had made himself agreeable, and at last departed.
The front-door had scarcely closed after him, when a general laugh took place, which even Laura could scarcely refrain from joining in.
"Upon my word, Miss Lovel," said Augusta, "this friend of yours is the most peculiar person I ever beheld."
"I never saw a man in worse taste," remarked Miss Frampton.
In a moment another ring was heard at the door, and on its being opened, Pyam Dodge again made his appearance in the parlour, to beg pardon of the lady of the house, for not having returned thanks for his entertainment, and also to the _young_ lady for her music, which, he said, "was doubtless well meant." He then repeated his bows and withdrew.
"What an intolerable fool!" exclaimed Augusta.
"Indeed," replied Laura Lovel, "he is, after all, not deficient in understanding, though his total want of tact, and his entire ignorance of the customs of the world, give an absurdity to his manner, which I confess it is difficult to witness without a smile. I have heard my father say that Pyam Dodge is one of the best classical scholars he ever knew, and he is certainly a man of good feelings, and of irreproachable character."
"I never knew a bore that was not," remarked Miss Frampton.
There was again a ring at the door, and again Pyam Dodge was ushered in.
His business now was to inform Miss Laura Lovel, that if she did not see him every day during her residence in Boston, she must not impute the infrequency of his visits to any disrespect on his part, but rather to his close confinement to the duties of his school--besides which, his leisure time was much occupied in studying Arabic; but he hoped to make his arrangements, so as to be able to come to town and spend at least three evenings with her every week.
At this intimation there were such evident tokens of disapproval, on the part of the Brantley family and Miss Frampton, and of embarrassment on that of Laura, that poor Pyam Dodge, obtuse as he was to the things of this world, saw that the announcement of his visits was not perfectly well received. He looked amazed at this discovery, but bowed lower than ever, hoped he was not disgusting, and again retreated.
Once more was heard at the door the faint ring that announced the schoolmaster. "Assuredly," observed a gentleman present, "this must be the original Return Strong."
This time, however, poor Pyam Dodge did not venture into the parlour, but was heard meekly to inquire of the servant, if he had not dropped his handkerchief in the hall. The handkerchief was picked up, and he finally departed, humbly hoping "that the gentleman attending the door, had not found him troublesome." The moment he was gone, the gentleman that attended the door was heard audibly to put down the dead-latch.
Next day Augusta Brantley gave a standing order to the servants, that whenever Miss Lovel's schoolmaster came, he was to be told that the whole family were out of town.
In the morning, Laura was conveyed by Augusta and Miss Frampton to the mantua-maker's, and Miss Boxpleat demurred a long time about undertaking the two dresses, and longer still about finishing them that week, in consequence of the vast quantity of work she had now on hand. Finally she consented, assuring Laura Lovel that she only did so to oblige Miss Brantley.