Chapter XIX

She is beautiful and therefore to be woo’d.—_1 Henry VI_, v, 3.

The horse had seen better days—better in the sense that he had been in his earlier youth a better horse. Grown old in the service of a livery stable in the town of Farmington—the next one to Whitfield on the left as you go from Utica—he still maintained a sort of dignity and absolute safety which made him a valuable asset when his owner had a request from timid women for what is technically known as a “rig.”

He drew a phaeton of the type built on the lines of Central New York styles of carriage building—distinctly unattractive and ungraceful. Driving the horse was a young woman whose impetuosity urged her steed to greater efforts in the matter of speed. The horse wore no “blinders,” and when his driver told him to get up, and beat him gingerly with a whip, he glanced casually back at her over his shoulder, as who should say, “If I go faster I may be very dangerous.” So he strolled on, and Julia Fowler’s efforts, directed toward swifter locomotion, met with no response from him. He knew his business. He was a safe horse, and he did not propose to risk his reputation by any undue exertion.

Miss Fowler herself was of a type distinctly different from that represented by her equipage. She could by no chance have been the product of Central New York. Possibly her ancestors might have been, but she was urban to her finger tips. Suburbanity had no accent on her appearance. Her beauty was of a spectacular order. She was the type of the twentieth century—its best expression—and she had come to Farmington to rest at the boarding-house of one Mrs. Moore. She had tired of it in a week, and her excursion to Whitfield was for the purpose of finding a place which might prove more attractive to her exacting demands.

She had been told that a certain Mrs. Hemingway in Whitfield conducted a boarding-house, and she was in search of this establishment when she caught sight of the Adams house. This seemed an ideal place to spend a few weeks, and being by no means timid, Miss Fowler concluded to make the attempt to induce the owner of the place to take her in for a time. She turned in at the gate, and when she saw Miss Esther on the veranda she was quite positive that she had found exactly what she was looking for.

Miss Esther watched the stranger as she jumped out of the phaeton, ran up the steps, and without invitation seated herself in one of the large rocking-chairs.

“Don’t mind me,” she said, pleasantly. “I always come in like that. I am Julia Fowler, and I am staying over in Farmington, but I don’t like it there, and somebody told me that Whitfield was lovely, and that Mrs. Hemingway kept a very nice boarding-house. I was on my way there when I noticed this house, and I thought I should like it here a great deal better. So won’t you please take me for a couple of weeks? I’m awfully good-natured and I won’t make a bit of trouble.”

Miss Esther looked at her visitor and came to the conclusion that she was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.

It was not only a beauty of feature and coloring; but the vivacity and charm of Julia Fowler were of a degree which exceeded anything Miss Esther had ever known. Though her manner was gay and informal to the verge of sauciness, yet it was tinged with a delightful deference, and Miss Esther proved herself no exception to the rule that whoever met Julia Fowler fell immediately under the spell of her wonderful charm.

“Nonsense, child,” said Miss Esther, smiling at her pretty visitor; “I don’t take boarders, but you will like it at Mrs. Hemingway’s, I’m sure. She can make you very comfortable.”

“But I like this house so much better,” said Julia, coaxingly; “and I’m sure you have room enough.”

“Yes, of course, there are rooms enough in the Adams house, but we never take boarders.”

“Oh, is this the Adams house?” asked Julia; “and are you Miss Adams, Miss Esther Adams? I have often heard of you in Farmington.”

“Yes, I am the one,” and Miss Esther smiled graciously. Somehow people always smiled graciously on Miss Fowler.

“Oh, then do let me stay. I have heard so much about your house and your library; and I’ll keep to myself when you don’t want me around, and I’ll be jolly good company when you do. You live alone, don’t you?”

Like a flash Miss Esther realized what it would be to have a young woman with such compelling attractions in her house, or, indeed, for that matter, in Whitfield at all. The three affairs which she was managing seemed to be complicated enough as it was, without an additional disturbing element. Putnam, she knew, would rave over her. Lincoln Dodd would flirt desperately, and she felt sure that Winthrop Brewster must also inevitably succumb to this bewitching beauty. It was apparent, then, to Miss Esther that it would never do to have Miss Fowler remain in Whitfield.

Miss Esther’s three girls were sweet and attractive, but she well knew that they would not shine by comparison with this exquisite and experienced woman of the world. Though probably not older in years, Miss Fowler was far more sophisticated than the Whitfield girls, and her own personality, helped by her social training, gave her a fascination which could not otherwise be attained.

The imminent danger of this catastrophe almost stunned Miss Esther. Something must be done, and that quickly, to prevent Miss Fowler’s staying in Whitfield. In consequence her attitude towards her visitor changed instantly.

“Yes, I live alone,” she said, “and it is from preference. I have small need for company, for I am never lonely, and I could not think of taking a boarder even for a short time. Pray do not ask me again.”

“Indeed, I shall ask you again,” said Julia, with one of her most ingratiating smiles. “I shall keep on coaxing until I persuade you to say yes.”

Had circumstances been otherwise, nothing would have pleased Miss Esther better than to have granted the request and taken this most attractive young woman into her house for a fortnight. This fact made it difficult for her to continue her refusals; but, awake to the seriousness of the situation, she answered decidedly, “No, I shall never say yes. I am not of a vacillating nature, and rarely change my mind. It is quite impossible for me to take you. Now that I think of it, I don’t believe that you would be satisfied at Mrs. Hemingway’s, either. They are plain people, and live very plainly.”

“That would just suit me,” said Julia. “I came up here for rest and quiet, and I love a simple country home.”

“But it is very dull in Whitfield,” continued Miss Esther. “There are no gayeties of any sort.”

“That would just suit me, too. I have a surfeit of gayety at home in the winter.”

Baffled at every turn, and determined to accomplish her end, Miss Esther deliberately drew upon her imagination. “There are five little children at Mrs. Hemingway’s, and they are a most spoiled, disagreeable lot. I am sure they’d make your life a burden there.”

“That alters the case,” said Julia, decidedly. “I detest spoiled children. How old are they?”

“I don’t know,” said Miss Esther, a little vaguely, which was only natural, considering the fact that there were really no children at the Hemingway house. “About four or five years old, I think.”

“Oh, I don’t mind such little children,” said Julia, airily; “but I dislike them when they get to be about ten years old.”

“Oh, there are several as old as that, too,” declared Miss Esther, whose imagination was equal to juveniles of any age.

“Then I won’t go there,” said Julia. “I’m surprised that she has any boarders. I think you might let me stay here.”

“I asked you not to mention that again,” said Miss Esther, with a sudden exhibition of the Adams dignity; “but if you really want country home life, there is a very delightful place at Westfield that I am sure would please you.”

“Where is Westfield?”

“About eight miles the other side of Farmington.”

“I’ll drive over there to-morrow,” said Julia, “and look at the place, and if I don’t like it I’ll come back here.”

This bit of bravado was accompanied by such a winning smile that Miss Esther could not respond as sternly as she would have liked to do.

“Will you have tea on the veranda or on Lieutenant Adams’s porch?” asked Nora, appearing at the door.

“On the East porch,” said Miss Esther, shortly.

“Oh, mayn’t I stay to tea?” exclaimed Julia. “Please let me. I’ll be very good, and go away immediately after.”

“Excuse me one moment,” said Miss Esther, without answering her guest’s question.

She went to the East porch where she knew Lincoln Dodd was reading. He was the only one of her guests at home.

“Lincoln,” she exclaimed, “come to my rescue, and come quick. What under the sun am I going to do?”

“What in the world’s the matter?” asked Dodd.

“Oh, it’s dreadful. The most beautiful girl in the world is on the front veranda.”

“Command my services,” said Lincoln, rising with alacrity. “What makes her so dreadful? Is she a maniac?”

“No, indeed. I only wish she were. She’s perfectly charming.”

“What am I to do for you? Do you want me to marry her?”

“Don’t be foolish. But don’t you see I expect the people home to tea at any minute now, and if any of those men see that raving beauty, they’ll fall in love with her on the spot.”

“Of course they will,” said Dodd. “Give her to me. I’ll take her off to a desert island.”

“No, but I want you to take her home in your automobile. That’s the only way I can get rid of her.”

“Where is her home? How did she come?”

“She came in a forlorn old gig, but I can let Michael take that home for her. And mind, now, you’re not to make yourself too entertaining, or ask her to come again, or let her know that I have any young men staying here. She’s the most dangerous thing I’ve ever seen. You get your machine and come around in front just as if you were going out for a drive, and I’ll do the rest.”

“All right,” said Dodd. “I’ll go, but I don’t know when I’ll be back. Don’t wait tea for me.”

“Now don’t go scouring all over the country with her. She lives in Farmington, and you can go there and back in an hour.”

“Perhaps I can and perhaps I can’t,” said Dodd, as he ran down the steps.

“And hurry,” called Miss Esther after him. “There’s no time to be lost.”

Miss Esther returned to the veranda, and in a few moments Lincoln came whirling up from the stables.

“Ah, Mr. Dodd,” called Miss Esther, “are you going anywhere in particular?”

“No,” said Lincoln, pleasantly; “just out for a little spin.”

“Well, then, suppose you take Miss Fowler home. My dear,” she said, turning to the young lady, “you’d like to drive over with Mr. Dodd, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, ever so much,” cried Julia, showing her most engaging dimples and laughing down at Dodd. “But what will become of my fractious steed?”

“Michael can drive him home for you,” said Miss Esther. “Run along quick, now. Mr. Dodd doesn’t like to wait.”

As the pair disappeared, Miss Esther drew a long breath of relief. Her manœuvre had been accomplished none too quickly, for they were hardly out of sight before Brewster, Putnam, and George Washington Dodd came strolling in to tea.

“That was a narrow escape,” she thought. “The times would have been very much out of joint if I had not set them right. I have rescued the Matrimonial Bureau from the jaws of one more danger.”