“Why, Polly said you were a bore,” explained Toady, with artless frankness. “You are fat, you know, and fierce sometimes, and folks are afraid of you. Good, wasn’t it?”
“Very! Mary is a nice, grateful, respectful, loving niece, and I shan’t forget her, she may depend on that,” and Aunt Kipp laughed grimly.
“May she? well, that’s jolly now. She was afraid you wouldn’t give her the money; so I’ll tell her it’s all right;” and innocent Toady nodded approvingly.
“Oh, she expects some of my money, does she?”
“Course she does; ain’t you always saying you’ll remember us in your will, because father was your favorite nephew, and all that? I’ll tell you a secret, if you won’t let Polly know I spoke first. You’ll find it out to-night, for you’d see Van and she were sweethearts in a minute.”
“Sweethearts?” cried Aunt Kipp, turning red in the face.
“Yes’m. Van settled it last week, and Polly’s been so happy ever since. Mother likes it, and I like it, for I’m fond of Van, though I do call him Baa-baa, because he looks like a sheep. We all like it, and we’d all say so, if we were not afraid of you. Mother and Polly, I mean; of course we men don’t mind, but we don’t want a fuss. You won’t make one, will you, now?”
Anything more expressive of brotherly good-will, persuasive frankness, and a placid consciousness of having “fixed it,” than Toady’s dirty little face, it would be hard to find. Aunt Kipp eyed him so fiercely that even before she spoke a dim suspicion that something was wrong began to dawn on his too-confiding soul.
“I don’t like it, and I’ll put a stop to it. I won’t have any ridiculous baa-baas in my family. If Mary counts on my money to begin housekeeping with, she’ll find herself mistaken; for not one penny shall she have, married or single, and you may tell her so.”
Toady was so taken aback by this explosion that he let go his shoe-strings, fell over with a crash, and lay flat, with shovel and tongs spread upon him like a pall. In rushed Mrs. Snow and Polly, to find the boy’s spirits quite quenched, for once, and Aunt Kipp in a towering passion. It all came out in one overwhelming flood of words, and Toady fled from the storm to wander round the house, a prey to the deepest remorse. The meekness of that boy at dinner-time was so angelic that Mrs. Snow would have feared speedy translation for him, if she had not been very angry. Polly’s red eyes, and Aunt Kipp’s griffinesque expression of countenance, weighed upon his soul so heavily, that even roly-poly pudding failed to assuage his trouble, and, taking his mother into the china-closet, he anxiously inquired “if it was all up with Polly?”
“I’m afraid so, for aunt vows she will make a new will to-morrow, and leave every penny to the Charitable Rag-bag Society,” sighed Mrs. Snow.
“I didn’t mean to do it, I truly didn’t! I thought I’d just ‘give her a hint,’ as you say. She looked all right, and laughed when I told her about being a bore, and I thought she liked it. If she was a man, I’d thrash her for making Polly cry;” and Toady shook his fist at Aunt Kipp’s umbrella, which was an immense relief to his perturbed spirit.
“Bless the boy! I do believe he would!” cried Mrs. Snow, watching the little turkey-cock with maternal pride. “You can’t do that: so just be careful and not make any more mischief, dear.”
“I’ll try, mother; but I’m always getting into scrapes with Aunt Kipp. She’s worse than measles, any day,—such an old aggrawater! Van’s coming this afternoon, won’t he make her pleasant again?”
“Oh, dear, no! He will probably make things ten times worse, he’s so bashful and queer. I’m afraid our last chance is gone, deary, and we must rub along as we have done.”
One sniff of emotion burst from Toady, and for a moment he laid his head in the knife-tray, overcome with disappointment and regret. But scorning to yield to unmanly tears, he was soon himself again. Thrusting his beloved jack-knife, with three blades and a file, into Polly’s hand, he whispered, brokenly,—
“Keep it forever’n’ever; I’m awful sorry!” Then, feeling that the magnitude of this sacrifice atoned for everything, he went to watch for Van,—the forlorn hope to which he now clung.
II.
“Sophy, I’m surprised at your want of judgment. Do you really mean to let your girl marry this Lamb? Why, the man’s a fool!” began Aunt Kipp, after dinner, by way of opening a pleasant conversation with her relatives.
“Dear me, aunt! how can you know that, when you never saw him?” mildly returned Mrs. Snow.
“I’ve heard of him, and that’s enough for me. I’ve a deal of penetration in judging character, and I tell you Van Bahr Lamb is a fool.”
The amiable old lady thought this would rouse Polly, against whom her anger still burned hotly. But Polly also possessed penetration; and, well knowing that contradiction would delight Aunt Kipp, she completely took the wind out of her sails, by coolly remarking,—
“I like fools.”
“Bless my heart! what does the girl mean?” ejaculated Aunt Kipp.
“Just what I say. If Van is a fool, I prefer simpletons to wiseacres. I know he is shy and awkward, and does absurd things now and then. But I also know that he has the kindest heart that ever was; is unselfish, faithful and loving; that he took good care of his old parents till they died, and never thought of himself while they needed him. He loves me dearly; will wait for me a dozen years, if I say so, and work all his days to make me happy. He’s a help and comfort to mother, a good friend to Toady, and I love and respect and am proud of him, though you do say he is a fool,” cried Polly heartily.
“And you insist on marrying him?” demanded Aunt Kipp.
“Yes, I do.”
“Then I wish a carriage immediately,” was the somewhat irrelevant reply.
“Why, aunt, you don’t mean to go so soon?” cried Mrs. Snow, with a reproachful glance at the rebellious Polly.
“Far from it. I wish to see Judge Banks about altering my will,” was the awful answer.
Polly’s face fell; her mother gave a despairing sigh; Toady, who had hovered about the door, uttered a suppressed whistle of dismay; and Mrs. Kipp looked about her with vengeful satisfaction.
“Get the big carryall and old Bob, so the boy can drive, and all of you come; the trip will do you good.”
It was like Aunt Kipp to invite her poor relations to go and “nip their own noses off,” as she elegantly expressed it. It was a party of pleasure that just suited her, for all the fun was on her side. She grew affable at once, was quite pressing in her invitation, regretted that Sophy was too busy to go, praised Polly’s hat; and professed herself quite satisfied with “that dear boy” for a driver. The “dear boy” distorted his young countenance frightfully behind her back, but found a balm for every wound in the delight of being commander of the expedition.
The big carryall appeared, and, with much creaking and swaying Mrs. Kipp was got into the back seat, where the big bonnet gloomed like a thunder-cloud. Polly, in a high state of indignation, which only made her look ten times prettier, sat in front with Toady, who was a sight to see as he drove off with his short legs planted against the boot, his elbows squared, and the big whip scientifically cracking now and then. Away they went, leaving poor Mrs. Snow to bewail herself dismally after she had smiled and nodded them out of sight.
“Don’t go over any bridges or railroad crossings or by any saw-mills,” said the old lady, as if the town could be suddenly remodelled to suit her taste.
“Yes’m,” returned Toady, with a crack which would have done honor to a French postilion.
It