Chapter VII: The Americans

MR. JOSIAH DICKS and his daughter arrived on the following day, just as we were about to sit down to luncheon. They drove in a fly from Chelmsford and brought with them a goodly array of trunks and valises, though they presently explained that this represented but a fraction of their luggage.

He was a tall, thin, cadaverous-looking man, and had the yellow, parchment-like complexion with which I had credited Professor Faulkner; but his restless movements and keen, alert glances showed him to be very much alive. His forehead was bald, save for a wisp of hair which stood up on it in such a manner as to give him somewhat the appearance of a cockatoo. His daughter was a tall, slight, smart-looking girl. Her face was rather pasty in its colouring; but the sharp, piquant features were not devoid of charm. She wore a most remarkable hat, with so many wings sticking out of it that one shuddered to think how many small birds had been slaughtered for the gratification of her vanity. I could not admire it, yet it was of a style that suited her. She was a striking figure as she entered the house wearing a long, drab travelling coat with gilt buttons, and a magnificent boa of Russian sable, with a muff of the same fur, depending from her neck by a gold chain.

"So this is 'Gay Bowers!'" she said in a high, thin voice with the unmistakable enunciation of an American as she looked about her, frankly observant, "and really it is as pretty as its name. I call this old hall perfectly lovely."

"It's real antique, this," said her father, speaking with a still more striking accent, "that staircase now—"

But here my aunt's advance cut short his words.

"Mr. Dicks, I believe?" she said.

"Right you are, ma'am," he replied; "you see Josiah Dicks of Indianapolis, and this is my daughter, Pollie—or, as she prefers to be called, Paulina. We've come, as I wrote you we should, and I hope you can take us in."

"I have some vacant rooms which I shall be happy to show you," said Aunt Patty, "but we were just going to lunch; will you not sit down with us, and we can discuss business matters later."

"I guess that will suit us excellently, eh! What say you, Pollie?" was his response. "The fact is, we left our hotel soon after ten, and the fresh country air on the way hither has given a decided edge to our appetites."

I took Miss Dicks to my room to refresh herself after the journey. She sniffed with her pretty little nose as we went up the staircase, and said, "How deliciously fresh it smells here! I hate the smell of London, don't you? Are there many people staying in the house?"

"Why, no," I said, rather embarrassed by the question. "You see it is a new thing for us to have boarders at 'Gay Bowers,' and at present there are only ourselves and Mr. Faulkner."

She laughed and shrugged her shoulders. "Well, to be sure, and I thought there would be twenty at least! I looked forward to music and dancing in the evening!"

I felt inclined to laugh too, but I answered gravely, "Then I am afraid our home will hardly suit you, for it is small, as you see, and we could never accommodate more than half the number you name."

"I see," she said with a little pout. "Well, I must make the best of it now, I suppose. I like the look of the lady, Mrs.—what is her name?"

"Mrs. Lucas," I said; "she is my aunt."

"Oh!" Thereupon she turned and looked at me from head to foot with a thoroughness which let slip no detail of my appearance. My colour rose, yet I gave her credit for intending no insolence by her cool survey.

A moment later, as she removed her hat with her eyes on the mirror, I took the opportunity to observe her more closely. Her hair was a pale brown and fairly plentiful. It presented an arrangement of poufs and combs, and tortoiseshell ornaments, which was quite novel to me. I found it more extraordinary than beautiful, though when I got used to the style I saw that it suited her.

The travellers had acquired the art of quickly making themselves at home. As we took our luncheon they spoke and acted as if "Gay Bowers" belonged to them. More than once I saw Aunt Patty flush with resentment at what she evidently considered an impertinence. But she had the good sense to hide her annoyance.

Cook, knowing that strangers were expected, had risen to the occasion and sent up some very dainty dishes. Josiah Dicks did ample justice to her excellent pastry, although he assured us he was a martyr to dyspepsia.

When luncheon was over, aunt offered to show our visitors the rooms she could give them. As they followed her from the room, Miss Dicks turned and said to me in a very audible undertone, "How very good-looking he is!" She jerked her head towards the window where Alan Faulkner stood playing with Sweep. It was extraordinary how that dog had taken to him. Ever since my arrival I had sought in vain to coax her into accompanying me on my walks. She had always preferred to wander alone about uncle's favourite haunts, or to crouch disconsolately on the mat outside his former sanctum; but now she was ready to follow Mr. Faulkner anywhere.

"Oh, hush!" I responded in a whisper to Miss Dicks's remark. "He may hear you."

"Would it matter if he did?" she returned coolly. "Men like to be told that they are good-looking."

"That may be," I replied; "but it is a taste I should not care to gratify."

She laughed.

"Pollie Dicks," called her father from the staircase, "are you coming to choose your room?"

"He means to stay," she said to me with a sagacious nod, "and I've no objection."

When she came downstairs a little later, Aunt Patty told me that Miss Dicks had chosen the room on the left of mine. It was a large room, commanding the front of the house. Her father had had to content himself with a smaller room at the back.

"He seems much pleased with the place," said my aunt, "but his daughter is evidently afraid of finding it dull."

"Do you like them, auntie?" I asked.

An odd smile crossed her face.

"They are mortals," she said. "I don't quite know what to make of them, but I mean to like them, Nan. I cannot afford to quarrel with my bread and butter."

"Still, I do think that they might have behaved a little more like 'guests' at luncheon," I said. "Mr. Dicks asked for 'crackers' just as if he were in an hotel."

"I must confess that I felt rather riled for a moment," said my aunt; "but I am sure he did not mean to annoy me. They are evidently used to hotel life, and they cannot guess, nor do I wish that they should, how it feels to me to receive strangers thus into my home. My common-sense tells me that I must not allow myself to be over-sensitive. I only hope Mr. Faulkner will like them."

"He seems to like them," I said.

Indeed I had been astonished to see the friendly interest in the newcomers which he displayed, and the readiness with which he talked to them.

The following day was Easter Sunday, and for once the weather was all that one could wish it to be upon that day. It was not exactly warm, but the sun shone brightly, and there was a delicious, indescribable feeling of spring in the air. The trees were budding, and the hedges breaking into leaf. Every day now showed some fresh sign of spring's advance.

We all went to church in the morning. Mr. Dicks was struck with the venerable beauty of our church, but he was severe in his criticism of the service and the sermon. He had no patience with the defects of our choir, and certainly their singing was very rural. He was anxious to impress us with the superior order of things to be found in America.

Jack joined us after the service, and we all, with the exception of my aunt, took a short walk before luncheon. Mr. Dicks explained that he was not fond of walking, but that his doctor had advised him to walk several miles every day. His daughter frankly said that she hated it, and certainly the smart pointed shoes she wore appeared ill adapted to our country roads. I saw Mr. Faulkner looking at them, and wondered whether he were admiring, or merely struck, as I was, with their unsuitability.

"Pollie is fond of cycling," said Mr. Dicks, looking at me. "Do you cycle?"

"I can," I said, "but unfortunately I have no bicycle of my own. I use my sister's sometimes when I am at home."

"That is a pity," he said. "Pollie's machine will be sent down to-morrow. It would be nice if you could ride with her."

"Do you cycle?" asked Miss Dicks, turning to Mr. Faulkner.

"I have not ridden since I came back from India," he said.

"Did you ride there?" she asked.

"Yes; I often rode with my students," he said. "In the province where I was living the roads were as smooth and level as a billiard-table, so that riding was delightful."

"Then I don't wonder that you have not ridden since," Jack said.

"Are the roads very bad about here?" she asked, glancing at him. "You ride, of course?"

"They are not so bad," he replied, "but I don't say they would compare favourably with a billiard-table."

"You will ride with me, won't you?" she said to him with a fascinating smile.

"With pleasure," he responded, adding loyally, "and we'll hire a machine at Chelmsford, so that Miss Nan can accompany us."

"And you will come, too, will you not?" she said, turning towards Professor Faulkner.

I did not hear his reply, for at that moment Mr. Dicks addressed a question to me; but it struck me that she was rather a forward young woman.

Two days later a consignment of trunks arrived for Miss Dicks. She had already displayed such a variety of pretty and fashionable changes of attire that I wondered how many more clothes she had. Judging by the size of her trunks she might have had a different gown for each day of the year.

She appeared delighted to receive her luggage, and spent the greater part of the next day in her room, engaged in unpacking the boxes. Late in the afternoon I was going upstairs when I heard a voice calling, "Nan, Nan!" Glancing upwards, I saw Miss Dicks standing at the door of her room. I had not given her permission to address me by my Christian name, and it would not have occurred to me to call her "Pollie." But this was only another instance of the inimitable coolness with which she made herself at home with us all. I could only conclude that her free and easy bearing was typically American, and endeavour to reconcile myself to it with as good a grace as possible.

"Do come here, Nan, and look at my things," she cried as she saw me.

As I entered her room I exclaimed at the sight it presented. Bed, sofa, table, chairs, and even the floor were littered with all kinds of choice and pretty things, making the place look like a bazaar. There were mosaics and marbles from Italy, Roman lamps, conchas, cameos, exquisite bits of Venetian glass, corals and tortoise-shells from Naples, silk blankets from Como, and olive-wood boxes from Bellagio. But it is vain to attempt to name all the things that met my eyes. I think there were specimens of the arts and manufactures of every place which she and her father had visited.

"Oh, how lovely!" I exclaimed. "But what will you do with all these things? Are you going to open a shop?"

"Not exactly," she said with a laugh. "I am going to take them back to America with me. Some are for myself, and some for my friends. Father wanted me not to unpack them till we got them home, but I felt that I must look and see if they were all safe."

For the next half-hour I had nothing to do but admire. There were little boxes packed with small and rare ornaments, which she opened one by one to show me the contents. I felt sure now that Josiah Dicks must be a millionaire. It was a delight to me to see so many pretty things, and their possessor seemed to enjoy my appreciation of them.

"Aunt Maria begged me to buy everything I wanted. She said, 'Now don't come home and say "I wish I had bought this, that, or the other." Get all that pleases you while you are there,'" Miss Dicks explained.

"You seem to have obeyed her most thoroughly," I remarked. "Does your aunt live with you at home?"

"Yes, I have no mother, you know," she said. "She died when I was a child. She nursed my little brother through scarlet fever. He died, and then she took it and died."

She told me this in the most matter-of-fact way; but somehow I felt differently towards her after she said that. I was feeling rather envious of the girl who had carte blanche to spend money so lavishly, and wondering what Olive and Peggy would say when they heard of it, but now I felt that, though we girls had so few of the things that money could buy, yet, as long as we had father and mother and one another, we were richer than Paulina Dicks.

When I had looked at everything, she startled me by saying:

"Now I want you to choose something for yourself."

My colour rose as I replied by saying hurriedly:

"Oh, no, I cannot do that!"

"Why not?" she asked, surveying me with frank surprise. "When you see that I have such heaps of things? I can never make use of them all myself." But I still decidedly declined.

"Take this coral necklace," she said. "You were admiring it, and it would look pretty on the black frock you wear of an evening. Why, what is the matter with you? Are you proud? I believe you are, for you never call me by my name, although I call you 'Nan.'"

"I will call you whatever you please," I said, "but I cannot accept any of your pretty things, for you did not buy them for me."

"No, because I did not know you when I bought them; but I meant to give a good many away. Oh, very well, Miss Darracott, I see you do not mean to be friendly with Paulina Dicks!"

So in the end I had to yield, and accepted a little brooch of Florentine mosaic, which I have to this day. And I promised that I would call her Paulina.

"Paulina Adelaide is my name," she said. "No one calls me Pollie except my father. And one other person," she added, as an afterthought.

Presently she asked me if I thought Mrs. Lucas would like to see her collection of pretty things. I said I was sure that she would, and ran to call my aunt. When aunt came, Paulina exhibited everything afresh, and described in an amusing fashion how she had made some of her purchases. The dressing-bell rang ere aunt had seen everything. Then their owner plaintively observed that she did not know how she should get them all into their boxes again. Unpacking was much easier than packing, she feared. Thereupon aunt and I pledged ourselves to help her after dinner, with the result that we were busy in her room till nearly midnight.

Paulina came to the dinner-table wearing a set of quaint cameo ornaments, which excited Mr. Faulkner's attention. It appeared that he knew something of cameos. He had passed through Italy on his way home from India, and he and the Americans were soon comparing their experiences of Vesuvius, Sorrento, and Capri, or discussing the sights of Rome.

I listened in silence, feeling out of it all and rather discontented as I compared Paulina's exquisitely-made Parisian frock with my own homely white blouse. I must have looked bored when suddenly I became aware that Alan Faulkner was observing me with a keen, penetrating glance that seemed to read my very thoughts.

"We are wearying Miss Nan with our traveller's talk," he said. "She has yet to learn the fascination of Italy. But the time will come, Miss Nan."

"Never!" I said almost bitterly. "I see not the least chance of such good fortune for me, and therefore I will not let my mind dwell on the delights of travel!"

The look of wonder and regret with which Alan Faulkner regarded me made me instantly ashamed of the morose manner in which I had responded to his kindly remark. I heartily wished that I could recall my words, or remove the impression they had created.

"Whatever he may think of Pollie Dicks," I said to myself as we rose from the table, "he cannot help seeing that she is more good-natured than I am."