Part 53

Silvia, in matters of dress never being willing to show surprise, preserved her composure. "That's nothing," she managed to say indifferently: "it can't be real, such a lot of it, and around her neck too."

Down into the old colonial kitchen, with its corner fireplace, wide and roomy, and bricked to the ceiling, Mr. Clemcy led the way. It was a big room, and not used for its original purpose; being filled with cabinets, and shelves on which reposed some of the most beautiful specimens of china and various relics and curiosities and mementos of travel, Miss Salisbury thought she had ever seen. And she had been about the world a good bit; having utilized many of her vacations, and once or twice taking a year off from her school work, for that purpose. And being singularly receptive to information, she was the best of listeners, in an intelligent way, as Mr. Clemcy moved about from object to object explaining his collection. He seemed perfectly absorbed in it, and, as the girls began to notice, in his listener as well.

Lucy Bennett was frightfully romantic, and jumped to conclusions at once. "Oh, do you suppose he will marry her?" she cried under her breath to Silvia, as the two kept together.

"Who? What are you talking about?" demanded Silvia, who was very matter-of-fact.

"Why, that old man--Mr. Whatever his name is," whispered Lucy.

"Mr. Clemcy? do get names into your head, Lu," said Silvia crossly, who wanted to look at things and not be interrupted every minute.

"I can't ever remember names, if I do hear them," said Lucy, "so what is the use of my bothering to hear them, Sil?"

"Well, do keep still," said Silvia, trying to twist away her arm, but Lucy clung to it.

"Well, I can't keep still either, for I'm mortally afraid he is--that old man, whatever you call him--going to marry her."

"Who?" demanded Silvia sharply.

"Our Miss Salisbury, and--"

"Lu Bennett!" Silvia sat down in the first chair she could find. It was very fortunate that the other groups were so absorbed that nobody noticed them.

"Oh, you do say such perfectly silly things!" declared Silvia, smothering the peal of laughter that nearly escaped her.

"Well, it isn't silly," cried Lucy in an angry whisper, "and it's going to happen, I know, and she'll give up our school to Miss Anstice, and come and live here. Oh my!" She looked ready to cry on the spot. "Look at them!"

Now, Silvia had called Lucy Bennett "silly" hundreds of times, but now as she looked at Mr. Clemcy and Miss Salisbury, she began to have an uneasy feeling at her heart. "I won't go to school to Miss Anstice," she declared passionately. Then she began to plan immediately. "I'll get mother to let me go to boarding school."

"And I'll go with you," exclaimed Lucy radiantly. All this was in stage whispers, such a buzz going on around them that no one else could possibly catch a word. And so in just about two minutes, they had their immediate future all planned.

"Well, you better get up out of that chair," said Lucy presently, and picking at Silvia's sleeve.

"I guess I'm not hurting the chair," said Silvia, squinting sideways at the high, carved back. "They asked us in here,--at least he did."

"Well, he didn't ask us to sit down," said Lucy triumphantly.

"And if he's going to marry her," said Silvia, in a convincing whisper, "I guess I can sit in all the chairs if I want to."

"Hush!" warned Lucy, "here comes Miss Anstice."

Miss Anstice, with her front breadth all stained with jelly cake and marmalade, was wandering around, quite subdued. It was pitiful to see how she always got into the thickest of the groups to hide her gown, trying to be sociable with the girls. But the girls not reciprocating, she was at last taken in tow by Miss Ophelia, who set about showing her some rare old china, as a special attention.

Now, Miss Anstice cared nothing for rare old china, or indeed, for relics or curiosities of any sort; but she was very meek on this occasion, and so she allowed herself to be led about from shelf to shelf; and though she said nothing, Miss Ophelia was so enchanted by her own words and memories, as she described in a fluent and loving manner their various claims to admiration, that she thought the younger Miss Salisbury quite a remarkable person.

"Show her the Lowestoft collection, sister," called Mr. John Clemcy, from across the apartment, and breaking off from his animated discussion over an old Egyptian vase, in which Miss Salisbury had carried herself brilliantly.

"I will, Brother John," assented Miss Clemcy, with great affability. "Now here," and she opened the door to its cabinet, "is what will interest you greatly, I think."

Suddenly, a crash as of breaking porcelain struck upon the ear. Every one in the old room jumped, save the persons who might be supposed to be the most interested--Mr. Clemcy and his sister. Their faces did not change.

Miss Salisbury deserted the Egyptian vase. "Who," she demanded, hurrying to the centre of the apartment, a red spot on either cheek, "has done this?"

Mr. John Clemcy followed her. "Do not, I beg," he said quietly, "notice it."