In Her Own Right Page 5

  V

  MISS CARRINGTON

  Croyden was sitting before the house, later in the afternoon, when anelderly gentleman, returning leisurely from town, turned in at theClarendon gates.

  "My first caller," thought Croyden, and immediately he arose and wentforward to meet him.

  "Permit me to present myself, sir," said the newcomer. "I am CharlesCarrington."

  "I am very glad to meet you, Captain Carrington," said Croyden, takingthe proffered hand.

  "This is your first visit to Hampton, I believe, sir," the Captainremarked, when they were seated under the trees. "It is notNorthumberland, sir; we haven't the push, and the bustle, and thesmoke, but we have a pleasant little town, sir, and we're glad towelcome you here. I think you will like it. It's a long time sinceClarendon had a tenant, sir. Colonel Duval's been dead nearly ten yearsnow. Your father and he were particular friends, I believe."

  Croyden assured him that such was the case.

  "Yes, sir, the Colonel often spoke of him to me with great affection. Ican't say I was surprised to know that he had made him his heir. He wasthe last of the Duvals--not even a collateral in the family--there wasonly one child to a generation, sir."

  Manifestly, it was not known in Hampton how Hugh Croyden came to be theColonel's heir, and, indeed, friendship had prompted the money-loan,without security other than the promise of the ultimate transfer ofClarendon and its contents. And Croyden, respecting the Colonel's wish,evident now, though unexpressed either to his father or himself,resolved to treat the place as a gift, and to suppress the fact thatthere had been an ample and adequate consideration.

  After a short visit, Captain Carrington arose to go.

  "Come over and take supper with us, this evening, sir," said he. "Iwant you to meet Mrs. Carrington and my granddaughter."

  "I'll come with pleasure," Croyden answered, thinking of the girl withthe blue-black hair and slender ankles.

  "It's the house yonder, with the white pillars--at half-after-six,then, sir."

  * * * * *

  As Croyden approached the Carrington house, he encountered MissCarrington on the walk.

  "We have met before," she said, as he bowed over her hand. "I was youroriginal guide to Clarendon. Have you forgot?"

  "Have I forgot?" said Croyden. "Do you think it possible?" looking herin the eyes.

  "No, I don't."

  "But you wanted to hear me say it?"

  "I wanted to know if you could say it," she answered, gayly.

  "And how have I succeeded?"

  "Admirably!"

  "Sufficiently well to pass muster?"

  "Muster--for what?" she asked, with a sly smile.

  "For enrollment among your victims."

  "Shall I put your name on the list--at the foot?" she laughed.

  "Why at the foot?"

  "The last comer--you have to work your way up by merit, you know."

  "Which consists in?"

  "_That_ you will have to discover."

  "I shall try," he said. "Is it so very difficult of discovery?"

  "No, it should not be so difficult--for you," she answered, with aflash of her violet eyes. "Mother!" as they reached the piazza--"let mepresent Mr. Croyden."

  Mrs. Carrington arose to greet him--a tall, slender woman, whose agewas sixty, at least, but who appeared not a day over forty-five,despite the dark gown and little lace cap she was wearing. She seemedwhat the girl had called her--the mother, rather than the grandmother.And when she smiled!

  "Miss Carrington two generations hence. Lord! how do they do it?"thought Croyden.

  "You play Bridge, of course, Mr. Croyden," said Miss Carrington, whenthe dessert was being served.

  "I like it very much," he answered.

  "I was sure you did--so sure, indeed, I asked a few friends inlater--for a rubber or two--and to meet you."

  "So it's well for me I play," he smiled.

  "It is indeed!" laughed Mrs. Carrington--"that is, if you care aughtfor Davila's good opinion. If one can't play Bridge one would betternot be born."

  "When you know Mother a little better, Mr. Croyden, you will recognizethat she is inclined to exaggerate at times," said Miss Carrington. "Iadmit that I am fond of the game, that I like to play with people whoknow how, and who, at the critical moment, are not always throwing thewrong card--you understand?"

  "In other words, you haven't any patience with stupidity," saidCroyden. "Nor have I--but we sometimes forget that a card player isborn, not made. All the drilling and teaching one can do won't givecard sense to one who hasn't any."

  "Precisely!" Miss Carrington exclaimed, "and life is too short tobother with such people. They may be very charming otherwise, but notacross the Bridge table."

  "Yet ought you not to forgive them their misplays, just because theyare charming?" Mrs. Carrington asked. "If you were given your choicebetween a poor player who is charming, and a good player who isdisagreeable, which would you choose, Mr. Croyden?--Come, now behonest."

  "It would depend upon the size of the game," Croyden responded. "If itwere half a cent a point, I should choose the charming partner, but ifit were five cents or better, I am inclined to think I should preferthe good player."

  "I'll remember that," said Miss Carrington. "As we don't play, here,for money stakes, you won't care if your partner isn't very expert."

  "Not exactly," he laughed. "The stipulation is that she shall becharming. I should be willing to take _you_ for a partner though youtrumped my ace and forgot my lead."

  "_Merci_, _Monsieur_," she answered. "Though you know I should doneither."

  "Ever play poker?" Captain Carrington asked, suddenly.

  "Occasionally," smiled Croyden.

  "Good! We'll go down to the Club, some evening. We old fellows aren'tmuch on Bridge, but we can handle a pair or three of-a-kind, prettygood. Have some sherry, won't you?"

  "You must not let the Captain beguile you," interposed Mrs. Carrington."The men all play poker with us,--it is a heritage of the olddays--though the youngsters are breaking away from it."

  "And taking up Bridge!" the Captain ejaculated. "And it is just aswell--we have sense enough to stop before we're broke, but theyhaven't."

  "To hear father talk, you would think that the present generation is noearthly good!" smiled Miss Carrington. "Yet I suppose, when he wasyoung, his elders held the same opinion of him."

  "I dare say!" laughed the Captain. "The old ones always think the youngones have a lot to learn--and they have, sir, they have! But it's ofanother sort than we can teach them, I reckon." He pushed back hischair. "We'll smoke on the piazza, sir--the ladies don't object."

  As they passed out, a visitor was just ascending the steps. MissCarrington gave a smothered exclamation and went forward.

  "How do you do, Miss Erskine!" she said.

  "How do you do, my dear!" returned Miss Erskine, "and Mrs.Carrington--and the dear Captain, too.--I'm charmed to find you all athome."

  She spoke with an affected drawl that would have been amusing in ahandsome woman, but was absurdly ridiculous in one with her figure andunattractive face.

  She turned expectantly toward Croyden, and Miss Carrington presentedhim.

  "So this is the new owner of Clarendon," she gurgled with an 'a' sobroad it impeded her speech. "You have kept us waiting a long time, Mr.Croyden. We began to think you a myth."

  "I'm afraid you will find me a very husky myth," Croyden answered.

  "'Husky' is scarcely the correct word, Mr. Croyden; _animated_ would bebetter, I think. We scholars, you know, do not like to hear a word usedin a perverted sense."

  She waddled to a chair and settled into it. Croyden shot an amusedglance toward Miss Carrington, and received one in reply.

  "No, I suppose not," he said, amiably. "But, then, you know, I am not ascholar."

  Miss Erskine smiled in a superior sort of way.

  "Very few of us are properly careful of our mode of speech," sh
eanswered. "And, oh! Mr. Croyden, I hope you intend to open Clarendon,so as to afford those of us who care for such things, the pleasure ofstudying the pictures, and the china, and the furniture. I am told itcontains a Stuart and a Peale--and they should not be hidden from thosewho can appreciate them."

  "I assume you're talking of pictures," said Croyden.

  "I am, sir,--most assuredly!" the dame answered.

  "Well, I must confess ignorance, again," he replied. "I wouldn't know aStuart from a--chromo."

  Miss Erskine gave a little shriek of horror.

  "I do not believe it, Mr. Croyden!--you're playing on my credulity. Ishall have to give you some instructions. I will lecture on Stuart andPeale, and the painters of their period, for your especialdelectation--and soon, very soon!"

  "I'm afraid it would all be wasted," said Croyden. "I'm not fond ofart, I confess--except on the commercial side; and if I've anypictures, at Clarendon, worth money, I'll be for selling them."

  "Oh! Mrs. Carrington! Will you listen--did you ever hear such heresy?"she exclaimed. "I can't believe it of you, Mr. Croyden. Let me lend youan article on Stuart to read. I shall bring it out to Clarendonto-morrow morning--and you can let me look at all the dear treasures,while you peruse it."

  "Mr. Croyden has an appointment with me to-morrow, Amelia," saidCarrington, quickly--and Croyden gave him a look of gratitude.

  "It will be but a pleasure deferred, then, Mr. Croyden," said MissErskine, impenetrable in her self conceit. "The next morning will do,quite as well--I shall come at ten o'clock--What a lovely evening thisis, Mrs. Carrington!" preparing to patronize her hostess.

  The Captain snorted with sudden anger, and, abruptly excusing himself,disappeared in the library. Miss Carrington stayed a moment, then, witha word to Croyden, that she would show him the article now, before theothers came, if Miss Erskine would excuse them a moment, bore him off.

  "What do you think of her?" she demanded.

  "Pompous and stupid--an irritating nuisance, I should call her."

  "She's more!--she is the most arrogant, self-opinionated,self-complacent, vapid piece of humanity in this town or any othertown. She irritates me to the point of impoliteness. She never seesthat people don't want her. She's as dense as asphalt."

  "It is very amusing!" Croyden interjected.

  "At first, yes--pretty soon you will be throwing things at her--orwanting to."

  "She's art crazy," he said. "Dilettanteism gone mad."

  "It isn't only Art. She thinks she's qualified to speak on everysubject under the sun, Literature--Bridge--Teaching--Music. Oh, she isintolerable!"

  "What fits her for assuming universal knowledge?" asked Croyden.

  "Heaven only knows! She went away to some preparatory school, andfinished off with another that teaches pedagogy. Straightway she becamean adept in the art of instruction, though, when she tried it, she hadthe whole academy by the ears in two weeks, and the faculty asked herto resign. Next, she got some one to take her to Europe--spent sixweeks in looking at a lot of the famous paintings, with the aid of aguide book and a catalogue, and came home prepared to lecture onArt--and, what's more, she has the effrontery to do it--for the benefitof Charity, she takes four-fifths of the proceeds, and Charity gets thebalance.

  "Music came next. She read the lives of Chopin and Wagner and some ofthe other composers, went to a half dozen symphony concerts, looked uptheory, voice culture, and the like, in the encyclopaedias, and nowshe's a critic! Literature she imbibed from the bottle, I suppose--itcame easy to _her_! And she passes judgment upon it with the utmostease and final authority. And as for Bridge! She doesn't hesitate toarraign Elwell, and we, of the village, are the very dirt beneath herfeet. I hear she's thinking of taking up Civic Improvement. I hope itis true--she'll likely run up against somebody who won't hesitate totell her what an idiot she is."

  "Why do you tolerate her?" Croyden asked. "Why don't you throw her outof society, metaphorically speaking."

  "We can't: she belongs--which is final with us, you know. Moreover, shehas imposed on some, with her assumption of superiority, and theykowtow to her in a way that is positively disgusting."

  "Why don't you, and the rest who dislike her, snub her?"

  "Snub _her_! You can't snub her--she never takes a snub to herself. Ifyou were to hit her in the face, she would think it a mistake and meantfor some one else."

  "Then, why not do the next best thing--have fun with her?"

  "We do--but even that grows monotonous, with such a mountain ofEgotism--she will stay for the Bridge this evening, see if shedoesn't--and never imagine she's not wanted." Then she laughed: "Ithink if she does I'll give her to you!"

  "Very good!" said he. "I'd rather enjoy it. If she is any morecantankerous than some of the women at the Heights, she'll be aninteresting study. Yes, I'll be glad to play a rubber with her."

  "If you start, you'll play the entire evening with her--we don't changepartners, here."

  "And what will _you_ do?" he asked.

  "Look on--at the _other_ table. She will have my place. I was going toplay with you."

  "Then the greater the sacrifice I'm making, the greater the credit Ishould receive."

  "It depends--on how you acquit yourself," she said gayly. "There arethe others, now--come along."

  There were six of them. Miss Tilghman, Miss Lashiel and Miss Tayloe,Mr. Dangerfield, Mr. Leigh, and Mr. Byrd. They all had heard ofCroyden's arrival, in Hampton, and greeted him as they would one ofthemselves. And it impressed him, as possibly nothing else could havedone--for it was distinctly new to him, after the manners of chillinessand aloofness which were the ways of Northumberland.

  "We are going to play Bridge, Miss Erskine, will you stay and join us?"asked Miss Carrington.

  "I shall be charmed! charmed!" was the answer. "This is an idealevening for Bridge, don't you think so, Mr. Croyden?"

  "Yes, that's what we _thought_!" said Miss Tilghman, dryly.

  "And who is to play with me, dear Davila?" Miss Erskine inquired.

  "I'm going to put Mr. Croyden with you."

  "How nice of you! But I warn you, Mr. Croyden, I am a very exactingpartner. I may find fault with you, if you violate rules--just drawyour attention to it, you know, so you will not let it occur again. Icannot abide blunders, Mr. Croyden--there is no excuse for them, exceptstupidity, and stupidity should put one out of the game."

  "I'll try to do my very best," said Croyden humbly.

  "I do not doubt that you will," she replied easily, her manner plainlyimplying further that she would soon see how much that "best" was.

  As they went in to the drawing-room, where the tables were arranged,Miss Erskine leading, with a feeling of divine right and an appearanceof a Teddy bear, Byrd leaned over to Croyden and said:

  "She's the limit!"

  "No!" said Leigh, "she's past the limit; she's the sublimated It!"

  "Which is another way of saying, she's a superlative d---- fool!"Dangerfield ended.

  "I think I understand!" Croyden laughed. "Before you came, she tackledme on Art, and, when I confessed to only the commercial side, and anintention to sell the Stuart and Peale, which, it seems, are atClarendon, the pitying contempt was almost too much for me."

  "My Lord! why weren't we here!" exclaimed Byrd.

  "She's coming out to inspect my 'treasures,' on Thursday morning."

  "Self invited?"

  "I rather think so."

  "And you?"

  "I shall turn her over to Moses, and decamp before she gets there."

  "Gentlemen, we are waiting!" came Miss Erskine's voice.

  "Oh, Lord! the old dragoon!" said Leigh. "I trust I'm not at hertable."

  And he was not--Miss Tilghman and Dangerfield were designated.

  "Come over and help to keep me straight," Croyden whispered to MissCarrington.

  She shook her head at him with a roguish smile.

  "You'll find your partner amply able to keep you straight," sheanswered.

&nb
sp; The game began. Miss Tilghman won the cut and made it a Royal Spade.

  "They no longer play Royal Spades in New York," said Miss Erskine.

  "Don't know about New York," returned Miss Tilghman, placidly, "but_we're_ playing them here, this evening. Your lead, Miss Amelia."

  The latter shut her thick lips tightly, an instant.

  "Oh, well, I suppose we must be provincial a little longer," she said,sarcastically. "Of course, you do not still play Royal Spades inNorthumberland, Mr. Croyden."

  "Yes, indeed! Play anything to keep the game moving," Croydenanswered.

  "Oh, to be sure! I forgot, for the instant, that Northumberland _is_ arapid town.--I call that card, Edith--the King of Hearts!" as MissTilghman inadvertently exposed it.

  A moment later, Miss Tilghman, through anger, also committed a revoke,which her play on the succeeding trick disclosed.

  That it was a game for pure pleasure, without stakes, made nodifference to Miss Erskine. Technically it was a revoke, and she waswithin her rights when she exclaimed it.

  "Three tricks!" she said exultantly, "and you cannot make game thishand."

  "I'm very sorry, partner," Miss Tilghman apologized.

  "It's entirely excusable under the circumstances," said Dangerfield,with deliberate accent. "You may do it again!"

  "How courteous Mr. Dangerfield is," Miss Erskine smiled. "To my mind,nothing excuses a revoke except sudden blindness."

  "And you would claim it even then, I suppose?" Dangerfield retorted.

  "I said, sudden blindness was the only excuse, Mr. Dangerfield. Had youobserved my language more closely, you doubtless would haveunderstood.--It is your lead, partner."

  Dangerfield, with a wink at Croyden, subsided, and the hand wasfinished, as was the next, when Croyden was dummy, without furtherjangling. But midway in the succeeding hand, Miss Erskine began.

  "My dear Mr. Croyden," she said, "when you have the Ace, King, and _nomore_ in a suit, you should lead the Ace and then the King, to showthat you have no more--give the down-and-out signal. We would have madean extra trick, if you had done so--I could have given you a diamond totrump. As it was, you led the King and then the Ace, and I supposed, ofcourse, you had at least four in suit."

  "I'm very sorry; I'll try to remember in future," said Croyden withaffected contrition.

  But, at the end of the hand, he was in disgrace again.

  "If your original lead had been from your fourth best, partner, I couldhave understood you," she said. "As it was, you misinformed me. Underthe rule of eleven, I had but the nine to beat, I played the ten andMr. Dangerfield covered with the Knave, which by the rule you shouldhave held. We lost another trick by it, you see."

  "It's too bad--too bad!" Croyden answered; "that's two tricks we'velost by my stupid playing. I'm afraid I'm pretty ignorant, MissErskine, for I don't know what is meant by the rule of eleven."

  Miss Erskine's manner of cutting the cards was somewhat indicative ofher contempt--lingeringly, softly, putting them down as though shescorned to touch them except with the tips of her fingers.

  "The rule of eleven is usually one of the first things learned by abeginner at Bridge," she said, witheringly. "I do not always agree withMr. Elwell, some of whose reasoning and inferences, in my opinion, aremuch forced, but his definition of this rule is very fair. I give it inhis exact words, which are: 'Deduct the size of the card led fromeleven, and the difference will show how many cards, higher than theone led, are held outside the leader's hand.' For example: if you leada seven then there are four higher than the seven in the other threehands."

  "I see!" Croyden exclaimed. "What a bully rule!--It's very informing,isn't it?"

  "Yes, it's very informing--in more ways than one," she answered.

  Whereat Miss Tilghman laughed outright, and Dangerfield had to retrievea card from the floor, to hide his merriment.

  "What's the hilarity?" asked Miss Carrington, coming over to theirtable. "You people seem to be enjoying the game."

  Which sent Miss Tilghman into a gale of laughter, in which Dangerfieldjoined.

  Miss Erskine frowned in disapproval and astonishment.

  "Don't mind them, Mr. Croyden," she said. "They really know better, butthis is the silly season, I suppose. They have much to learn, too--muchto learn, indeed." She turned to Miss Carrington. "I was explaining afew things about the game to Mr. Croyden, Davila, the rule of elevenand the Ace-King lead, and, for some reason, it seemed to move them tojollity."

  "I'm astonished!" exclaimed Miss Carrington, her violet eyes gleamingwith suppressed mirth.

  "I hope Mr. Croyden does not think we were laughing at _him_!" criedMiss Tilghman.

  "Of course not!" returned Croyden solemnly, "and, if you were, mystupidity quite justified it, I'm sure. If Miss Erskine will only bearwith me, I'll try to learn--Bully thing, that rule of eleven!"

  It was now Croyden's deal and the score, games all--Miss Erskine havingmade thirty-six on hers, and Dangerfield having added enough to MissTilghman's twenty-eight to, also, give them game.

  "How cleverly you deal the cards," Miss Erskine remarked. "You'reparticularly nimble in the fingers."

  "I acquired it dealing faro," Croyden returned, innocently.

  "Faro!" exclaimed Miss Carrington, choking back a laugh. "What isfaro?"

  "A game about which you should know nothing, my dear," Miss Erskineinterposed. "Faro is played only in gambling hells and mining camps."

  "And in some of the Clubs _in New York_," Croyden added--at which MissTilghman's mirth burst out afresh. "That's where I learned to copperthe ace or to play it open.--I'll make it no trumps."

  "I'll double!" said Miss Tilghman.

  "I'll go back!"

  "Content."

  "Somebody will win the rubber, this hand," Miss Erskineplatitudinized,--with the way such persons have of announcing a selfevident fact--as she spread out her hand. "It is fair support,partner."

  Croyden nodded. Then proceeded with much apparent thought anddeliberation, to play the hand like the veriest tyro.

  Miss Erskine fidgeted in her seat, gave half smothered exclamations,looked at him appealingly at every misplay. All with no effect. Croydenwas wrapped in the game--utterly oblivious to anything but thecards--leading the wrong one, throwing the wrong one, matchingpasteboards, that was all.

  Miss Erskine was frantic. And when, at the last, holding only athirteener and a fork in Clubs, he led the losing card of the latter,she could endure the agony no longer.

  "That is five tricks you have lost, Mr. Croyden, to say nothing of therubber!" she snapped. "I must go, now--a delightful game! thank you, mydear Davila. So much obliged to you all, don't you know. Ah, CaptainCarrington, will you see me as far as the front gate?--I won't disturbthe game. Davila can take my place."

  "Yes, I'll take her to the gate!" muttered the Captain aside toCroyden, who was the very picture of contrition. "But if she only werea man! Are you ready, Amelia?" and he bowed her out.

  "You awful man!" cried Miss Carrington. "How could you do it!"

  "I think it was lovely--perfectly lovely!" exclaimed MissTilghman.--"Oh! that last hand was too funny for words.--If only youcould have seen her face, Mr. Croyden."

  LEADING THE WRONG ONE, THROWING THE WRONG ONE, MATCHINGPASTEBOARDS, THAT WAS ALL]

  "I didn't dare!" laughed he. "One look, and I'd have given the wholething away."

  "She never suspected.--I tell you, she is as dense as asphalt," saidMiss Carrington. "Come, now we'll have some Bridge."

  "And I'll try to observe the rule of eleven!" said Croyden.

  He lingered a moment, after the game was ended and the others had gone.When he came to say good-night, he held Miss Carrington's slenderfingers a second longer than the occasion justified.

  "And may I come again soon?" he asked.

  "As often as you wish," she answered. "You have the advantage ofproximity, at least."