Chapter XI

He well may be a stranger, for he comes to an honored
triumph.—_Pericles_, ii, 2.

After leaving Brewster at Dr. Bushnell’s, Mark explained to his companions that he had forgotten to go to the post-office as he had promised Miss Esther he would do. They all went with him. When they reached the Adams house there was no one on the front veranda.

“We’re late,” said Helen, “and yet I don’t see any appearance of tea-things. I wonder where everybody is?”

“Some fearful accident must have happened in this well-regulated family to have interfered with the tea routine,” said Lillian.

“Yes,” exclaimed Kenneth, “the fearful accident is Putnam Adams. He has regulations of his own, and he has hypnotized Cousin Esther into thinking that they are hers. He’s probably having tea in that padded cell of his.”

“From the racket, I should say he had a whole tea-party,” said Mark.

“We’ll invite ourselves to it,” said Lillian.

They sauntered slowly toward the porch, Lillian and Mark ahead, and Helen following with Kenneth.

“That’s Mark’s laugh,” said Edwina. “The boys are coming, Ed.”

The Butler twins flew to the vine-framed window and looked out to see Mark and Kenneth apparently very much interested in two merry young women. At the same moment Lillian spied the twin faces in the leafy frame. “There,” she cried, “are the girls out of your lockets!”

“Edwina Butler!” yelled Mark, dropping in an astonished heap on the grass. “Whichever one of you belongs to me, come out here—quick!”

“No, you come up here. Aren’t you awful glad to see us? We’re a surprise party,” said Edwina.

“You certainly are,” said Kenneth, bounding up the steps. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

Lillian and Helen followed Kenneth, and Brewster introduced them to the Butler twins. Just as Mark rose to go, too, Jean came around the corner of the house. “Where’s everybody?” she said.

“Up in Putnam’s porch,” replied Mark. “Come on up.”

“Here comes Mark with another girl,” said Edwina to Brewster. “Is he making a collection?”

“Yes, I think he is,” replied Brewster; “and I admire his taste in gems.”

“His latest acquisition seems to be a sparkling one.”

“She’s all of that,” said Brewster. “Jean Richards is a witch; but I’m not sure that I would call her Mark’s acquisition.”

“Is she yours?”

“No, not that either. Lieutenant Adams—”

Just at this moment Mark came up and Edwina lost interest in Brewster’s sentence.

“Mark has good taste,” thought Brewster, glancing at Miss Butler, “but for myself—” He deliberately walked across the porch and seated himself beside Helen Fairbanks.

Miss Esther and Mrs. Westcott appeared at the door.

“The Mother!” shrieked Kenneth, and sprang to meet her.

“What a lot of people for tea,” said Miss Esther. “We must all go out on the front veranda right away. Everything is ready.”

“We are going to have tea here to-day,” said Putnam.

He looked at Miss Esther with that air of absolute finality which she had already learned meant ultimate acquiescence on her part; and while she felt it necessary to parley a little, if only for a compromise with her own dignity, yet she was secretly pleased with the positive knowledge that she would capitulate at last. In a word, she enjoyed Putnam’s despotism.

“But we always have it on the front veranda. We’ll have to go out there,” she said.

“No,” said Putnam; “it is to be served here. Sit down.”

Miss Esther sat down.

“Now, Miss Richards,” began Putnam, “you will kindly ask Nora to superintend moving all that tea baggage out here, and you Westcott boys get busy and do the boosting.”

Usually Putnam’s orders were carried out to the letter, but when Jean reached the front veranda, she was surprised to see a strange young man sitting there. He was a fat little man, who looked as though he might be merry in favoring circumstances. But just now he sat in an attitude of deep dejection, his round face showing a most woe-begone expression.

“Don’t cry!” said Jean. “It’s all right. What’s the matter?”

“Somebody’s broke the doorbell, and I can’t get in. Sit down, won’t you?”

Jean sat down beside him. “I really must be going,” she said; “they’re waiting for me inside.”

“Can’t I go in, too? I’m expected. I am Abraham Lincoln Dodd.”

Jean regarded him critically. “You don’t look like Abraham Lincoln,” she said.

“No; I favor the Dodds. We are the Dodds of Lawrence. We spell our name D-o-double-d. It is pronounced Dodd—the final d is silent.”

“How interesting,” said Jean.

“Yes, isn’t it? Putnam Adams wrote for me to come down here. He said that his Cousin Esther said I might. Are you his Cousin Esther?”

“Oh, no. Miss Adams is a lady of about fifty.”

“Yes, so Putnam said.”

“Where are you, Miss Richards?” called Mark from the doorway.

“Here I am. Come out and meet Mr. Dodd.”

“Certainly,” said Mark, dropping down on the top step. “Did Putnam tell you to keep Mr. Dodd out here?”

“We can’t get in,” said Abraham Lincoln Dodd. “Nobody answered my ring, and I can’t find Putnam.”

“What’s up?” asked Kenneth, coming out after more teacups.

“I’ve found a stranger,” said Jean, “and I took him in. Want to see him?”

“She hasn’t taken me in _yet_,” said Dodd, cheerfully.

“She will, though,” said Kenneth, sitting down beside his brother. “It’s a happy little faculty Miss Richards possesses. But you’re not a stranger. Putnam expected you.”

“Yes, Miss Adams was kind enough to invite me. They said to come as soon as I could, and so I came right away. I drove over from Richfield Springs in my automobile.”

“You did?” cried Jean. “Have you got an automobile? Will you take me out in it?”

“All right,” replied Dodd. “Get your hat.”

“There’s a riot on the east porch,” said Brewster, appearing suddenly. “_Where_ is that tea-table?”

“Never mind the tea,” exclaimed Jean. “Here’s Mr. Dodd, and he’s got an automobile! Come out and see him.”

“Where is it?” asked Brewster, joining the group.

“Why,” said Dodd, “it was most unfortunate. Just as I was coming through the village it had a pain, so I left it at the blacksmith’s. It will be all right by to-morrow.”

“I can go to-morrow,” said Jean. “We’ll all go.”

“How many are there of us?” asked Dodd.

“Oh, there’s a lot of us,” replied Jean. “There’s Miss Esther—”

“Yes, here’s Miss Esther,” said that lady coming through the hall. “What is going on? Are you going to keep these boys here all the afternoon?”

“Why,” said Jean, “I’m entertaining your company. Mr. Dodd is here.”

“Oh, Putnam’s Mr. Dodd?”

“Your Mr. Dodd, if you will have me,” said Abraham Lincoln, rising.

“Certainly I will. Consider yourself one of my adopted boys. I have a great many. Won’t you come in?”

“I’ve been trying to get in, but Miss Richards has kept me out.”

“She is quite capable of it. You’re a bad girl, Jean. Go back to the east porch at once. Putnam wants you. Also, I left two girls weeping for the Westcott boys. Mr. Brewster, tell Putnam that Mr. Dodd is here. I’ll bring him out there directly.”

“It was right down good of you to ask me over here, Miss Adams,” said Dodd as they were left alone.

“I am glad to have you. Any friend of Putnam’s is welcome. I am very fond of that boy.”

“Yes, he’s an all-round good fellow. I’m sorry he’s laid up, but this is certainly an ideal spot to be laid up in. The country is beautiful, and I’m glad I brought my sketching-traps.”

“Oh, yes. Putnam told me you painted. I’m so glad.”

“You won’t be when you see my pictures. I don’t paint very well.”

“But you take an interest in art?”

“Oh, yes. I like pictures and I like people who like pictures.”

It was with great satisfaction that Miss Esther showed Abraham Lincoln Dodd to his room. When she came down stairs she paused a moment in the library. “It’s nothing short of providential,” she thought. “Just when I had to give up all hopes of one of those Westcott boys for Lillian, here comes along an even better candidate. He is not only available along the art lines, but Putnam says he is rich and so, of course, he could take Lillian abroad or anywhere she wants to go. I really think he’ll do very well. Dodd isn’t a much prettier name than Briggs, and I did want Westcott; but I must not sit too long on trifles. It is working out admirably. There does seem to be a special providence that waits on Matrimonial Bureaus. If all goes well, Lillian can sail by the middle of August after all.”