Cousin Maude - Page 105/138

Maude's chamber was ready at last, and very inviting it looked with

its coat of fresh paint, its cheerful paper, bright carpet, handsome

bedstead, marble washstand, and mahogany bureau, on which were

arranged various little articles for the toilet.

The few pieces of furniture which Mrs. Kennedy had ordered from the cabinet-maker's

had amounted, in all, to nearly one hundred dollars, but the bill

was not yet sent in; and in blissful ignorance of the surprise

awaiting him the doctor rubbed his hands and tried to seem pleased

when his wife, passing her arm in his, led him to the room, which

she compelled him to admire.

"It was all very nice," he said, "but wholly unnecessary for a blind

girl. What was the price of this?" he asked, laying his hand upon

the bedstead.

"Only twenty-five dollars. Wasn't it cheap?" and the wicked black

eyes danced with merriment at the loud groan which succeeded the

answer.

"Twenty-five dollars!" he exclaimed. "Why, the bedstead Matty and I

slept on for seven years only cost three, and it is now as good as

new."

"But times have changed," said the lady. "Everybody has nicer

things; besides, do you know people used to talk dreadfully about a

man of your standing being so stingy? But I have done considerable

toward correcting that impression. You aint stingy, and in proof of

it you'll give me fifty cents to buy cologne for this." And she took

up a beautiful bottle which stood upon the bureau.

The doctor had not fifty cents in change, but a dollar bill would

suit her exactly as well, she said, and secretly exulting in her

mastery over the self-willed tyrant, she suffered him to depart,

saying to himself as he descended the stair, "Twenty-five dollars

for one bedstead. I won't stand it! I'll do something!"

"What are you saying, dear?" a melodious voice called after him, and

so accelerated his movements that the extremity of his coat

disappeared from view, just as the lady Maude reached the head of

the stairs.

"Oh!" was the involuntary exclamation of Louis, who had been a

spectator of the scene, and who felt intuitively that his father had

found his mistress.

During her few weeks residence at Laurel Hill Maude Glendower had

bound the crippled boy to herself by many a deed of love, and

whatever she did was sure of meeting his approval. With him she had

consulted concerning his sister's room, yielding often to his artist

taste in the arrangement of the furniture, and now that the chamber

was ready they both awaited impatiently the arrival of its occupant.

Nellie's last letter had been rather encouraging, and Maude herself

had appended her name at its close.