Aikenside

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.