Saturday came at last, a balmy September day, when all nature seemed
conspiring to welcome the travelers for whom so extensive preparations
were making at Aikenside. They were expected at about six in the
afternoon, and just before that hour the doctor rode up to be in
readiness to meet them. In the dining-room the table was set as Maddy
had never seen it set before, making, with its silver, its china, and
cut-glass, a glittering display. There was Guy's seat as carver, with
Agnes at the urn, while Maddy felt sure that the two plates between
Agnes and Guy were intended for Jessie and herself, the doctor
occupying the other side. Jessie would sit next her mother, which
would leave her near to Guy, where he could see every movement she
made. Would he think her awkward, or would he, as she hoped, be so
much absorbed with the doctor as not to notice her? Suppose she should
drop her fork, or upset one of those queer-looking goblets, more like
bowls than anything else? It would be terrible, and Maddy's cheeks
tingled at the very thought of such a catastrophe. Were they goblets
really, those funny colored things, and if they were not, what were
they? Summoning all her courage, she asked the doctor, her prime
counselor, and learned that they were the finger-glasses, of which she
had read, but which she had never seen before.
"Oh, must I use them?" she asked, in so evident distress that the
doctor could not forbear a laugh as he told her it was not of the
slightest consequence whether she used them or not, advising her to
watch Mrs. Agnes, who was _au fait_ in all such matters.
Six o'clock came, but no travelers. Then an hour went by, and there
came a telegram that the cars had broken down and would not probably
arrive until late in the night, if indeed they did till morning.
Greatly disappointed, the doctor, after dinner, took his leave,
telling the girls they had better not sit up. Consequently, at a late
hour they both retired, sleeping so soundly as not to near the noise
outside the house; the banging of doors, the setting down of trunks,
the tramp of feet, Mrs. Noah's words of welcome, one pleasant voice
which responded, and another more impatient one which sounded as if
its owner were tired and cross.
Agnes and Guy had come. As a whole, Agnes' season at Saratoga had been
rather disagreeable. Guy, it is true had been exceedingly kind. She
had been flattered by brainless fops. She had heard herself called
"that beautiful Mrs. Remington," and "that charming young widow," but
no serious attentions had been paid, no millionaire had asked to be
her second husband. If there had, she would have said yes, for Agnes
was not averse to changing her state of widowhood. She liked the
doctor, but if he did not propose, and some other body did, she should
accept that other body, of course. This was her intention when she
left Aikenside, and when she came back, it was with the determination
to raise the siege at once, and compel the doctor to surrender. She
knew he was not wealthy as she could wish, but his family were the
Holbrooks, and as she positively liked him, she was prepared to waive
the matter of money. In this state of mind it is not surprising that
the morning of the return home she should listen with a troubled mind
to Jessie's rather exaggerated account of the number of times the
doctor had been there, and the nice things he had said to her and
Maddy.