Shawl-Straps Part 8

A proud native informed the strangers that it was a poor boy whose exquisite voice was the pride of the town, and would in time make his fortune. As the choir-boys came racing down stairs after service, pulling off their dingy robes as they ran, Lavinia tried to pick out the little angel, but gave it up in despair, for a more uninteresting set of bullet-headed, copper-coloured sprigs she never saw.

Rain drove the wanderers back to the hotel, and there they made a night of it. Ordering a fire in the largest of the three stuffy little cells which they occupied, they set about being comfortable, for it had turned chilly, and a furious wind disported itself in and out through numberless crevices. Lavinia was inspired to mull some wine, and brewed a mild jorum that cheered, but did not inebriate. Amanda produced her Shakspeare, and read aloud while the simmering and sipping went on.

Matilda sketched the n.o.ble commander as she lay upon the sofa, with her Egyptian profile in fine relief, and her aristocratic red slippers gracefully visible. A large grey cat of a social turn joined the party, and added much to the domesticity of the scene by sitting on the hearth in a cosy bunch and purring blissfully.

'Now it is your turn to propose something for the general amus.e.m.e.nt, Mandy,' said Mat, when the beakers were drained dry and the Montagues and Capulets comfortably buried.

'Let us attend to the culture of our nails,' replied Amanda, producing her _polissoir_, powder, and knife.

Three cups of tepid water were produced, and the company sat eagerly soaking their finger tips for a time, after which much pruning and polis.h.i.+ng went on, to the great bewilderment of Puss, who poked her own paws into the cups, as if trying to test the advantages of this remarkable American custom.

'What _would_ our blessed mother say if she saw us now?' said Mat, proudly examining ten pointed pink nails at the tips of her long fingers.

'People told us we should get demoralised if we came abroad, and this is the first step on the downward road,' returned Lavinia, shaking her head over her own backslidings.

'No: it's the second step. We ate calves' brains for dinner, and what I'm sure were frogs' legs with mushrooms. You know we vowed we wouldn't touch their horrid messes, but I really begin to like them,' confessed Mat, who had p.r.o.nounced every dish at dinner 'De-licious!'

'Ha! I will write a poem!' cried Amanda, and leaping from the sofa she grasped her pen, flung open her portfolio, and in a few brief moments produced these inspired stanzas.

THE DOWNWARD ROAD.

Two Yankee maids of simple mien, And earnest, high endeavour, Come sailing to the land of France, To escape the winter weather.

When first they reached that vicious sh.o.r.e They scorned the native ways, Refused to eat the native grub, Or ride in native shays.

'Oh, for the puddings of our home!

Oh, for some simple food!

These horrid, greasy, unknown things, How can you think them good?'

Thus to Amanda did they say, An uncomplaining maid, Who ate in peace and answered not Until one day they said-- How _can_ you eat this garbage vile Against all nature's laws?

How _can_ you eat your nails in points, Until they look like claws?'

Then patiently Amanda said, 'My loves, just wait a while, The time will come you will not think The nails or victuals vile.'

A month has pa.s.sed, and now we see That prophecy fulfilled; The ardour of those carping maids Is most completely chilled.

Matilda was the first to fall, Lured by the dark gossoon, In awful dishes one by one She dipped her timid spoon.

She promised for one little week To let her nails grow long, But added in a saving clause She thought it very wrong.

Thus did she take the fatal plunge, Did compromise with sin, Then all was lost; from that day forth French ways were sure to win.

Lavinia followed in her train, And ran the self-same road, Ate sweet-bread first, then chopped-up brains, Eels, mushrooms, pickled toad.

She cries, 'How flat the home _cuisine_ After this luscious food!

Puddings and brutal joints of meat, That once we fancied good!'

And now in all their leisure hours One resource never fails, Morning and noon and night they sit And polish up their nails.

Then if in one short fatal month A change like this appears, Oh, what will be the next result When they have stayed for years?

Tremendous applause greeted this masterly effort, and other poems were produced with the rapidity of genius by Amanda and Lavinia, each writing the alternate verse, _a la_ Beaumont and Fletcher, which gave a peculiar charm to these effusions.

When Matilda was called upon for a festive suggestion, she promptly replied, with a graceful yawn:--

'Let's go to bed.'

The meeting, therefore, broke up, and the younger ladies retired to their cells in good order. But the Raven, excited by the jocund hour, continued to rustle and patter about the warm room in a state of inexpressible hilarity, most exasperating to the others, who desired to sleep. Not content with upsetting the fire-irons occasionally, singing to the cat, and slamming the furniture about, this restless bird kept appearing first at one cell door with a conundrum, then at the other with a joke, or insisted on telling funny stories in her den, till the exhausted victims implored her to take an opium pill and subside before they became furious. She obeyed, and after a few relapses into wandering and joking, finally slumbered.

Then occurred the one thrilling adventure of this happy journey. In the darkest hour before dawn Mat awoke, heard a suspicious noise in the middle room, and asked if Lavinia was on the rampage again. No reply, and, listening, a low, rasping, rustling sound was heard.

'Thieves, of course. Our watches and purses are on the table, and Lavinia has probably forgotten to lock the door. I must attend to this.'

And up rose the dauntless Matilda, who feared neither man nor ghost.

Grasping her dagger, hitherto used as a paper cutter, but always eager to be steeped in the gore of brigands, robbers, or beasts of prey, she crept to the door and peeped in. The pale glow of the fire showed her a dark figure crouching in the opposite door-way. The click of a pistol caught her ear, but dodging quickly, the heroic girl cried sternly from the shelter of Lavinia's bed-curtain,--

'Come out, or I'll fire!'

'Mio Dio! is it only you?' answered a familiar voice, as Amanda, shrouded in a waterproof, sprang up and lit a match.

'What are you prowling about for?' demanded Mat.

'To blow your brains out, apparently,' answered Mandy, lowering her arms. 'Why are you abroad?'

'To stab you, I fancy,' and Mat sheathed her dagger balked of its prey.

'I heard a noise.'

'So did I.'

'Let's see what it is,' and lighting a candle, the fair Amazons looked boldly about the shadowy room.

Lavinia lay wrapt in slumber, with only the end of her sarcastic nose visible beyond the misty cloud that enveloped her venerable countenance.

The outer door was fast, and the shutters closed. No booted feet appeared below the curtains, no living eyes rolled awfully in the portrait of the salmon-coloured saint upon the wall. Yet the rustling and rasping went on, and with one impulse the defenders of sleeping innocence made for the table in the corner.

There was the midnight robber at his fell work!--the big cat peacefully gnawing the cold chicken, and knocking about the treasured crusts dragged from the luncheon-basket carefully packed for an early start.

'Wake and behold the ruin your pet has made!'

'We might be murdered or carried off a dozen times over without her knowing it. Here's a nice duenna!'

And the indignant ladies shook, pinched, and shouted till the hapless sleeper opened one eye, and wrathfully demanded what the matter was.

They told her with eloquent brevity, but instead of praising their prowess, and thanking them with fervour, the ungrateful woman shut her eye again, merely saying with drowsy irascibility,--

'You told me to go to sleep, and I went; next time fight it out among yourselves, but don't wake me.'

'Throw the cat out of window and go to bed, Mat,' and Amanda unc.o.c.ked her pistol with the resignation of one who had learned not to expect grat.i.tude in this world.

'Touch a hair of that dear creature and I'll raise the house!' cried Lavinia, roused at once.

Puss, who had viewed the fray sitting bolt upright on the table, now settled the vexed question by skipping into Lavinia's arms, feeling with the instinct of her race that her surest refuge was there. Mat retired in silent disgust, and the Raven fell asleep soothed by the grateful purring of her furry friend.

'Last night's experiences have given me a longing for adventures,' said Mat, as they journeyed on next morning.

'I've had quite enough of that sort,' growled Lavinia.

'Let us read our papers, and wait for time to send us something in the way of a lark,' and Amanda obscured herself in a grove of damp newspapers.

Lavinia also took one and read bits aloud to Mat, who was mending her gloves, bright yellow, four-b.u.t.toned, and very dirty.