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As Mis' Battis judiciously remarked, "after a weddin' or a funeral, there ought to be somebody to stay a while and cheer up the mourners." This visit, that had been so full of happenings, was to have a strange occurrence still to mark it, before all fell again into the usual order. Aunt Etherege was to go on Thursday. On Wednesday, the three ladies sat together in the cool, open parlor, where Mr.
"Cross Corners will be under obligation to you. Mr. Armstrong is a man whom I greatly respect and admire." "So do I," said Miss Henderson. "And if I didn't, when a man is beset with thieves all the way from Jerusalem to Jericho, it's time for some kind of a Samaritan to come along." Next day, Mis' Battis heard the news, and had her word of comment to offer.
It was well that Mis' Battis had made waffles, and spread a tempting summer tea with these and her nice, white bread, and fruits and creams; and wished, with such faint impatience as her huge calm was capable of, that "they would jest set right down, while things was good and hot"; and that Hendie was full of his wonderful adventures by boat and train, and through the wilds; so that these first hours were gotten over, and all a little used to the old feeling of being together again, before there was opportunity for touching upon deeper subjects.
Still, I shall be absent at least a fortnight, and it might be well that she should divide her time, and come to Cross Corners for a few days, if it is only to see the house opened and ready. Luther can have a bed here, if Mis' Battis should be afraid." Mis' Battis was to improve the fortnight's interval for a visit to Factory Village. "Well, fix it your own way," said Miss Henderson.
Mis' Battis opened the Cross Corners house, and Faith went over, daily, to direct the ordering of things there. "Faith!" said Miss Henderson, on the Wednesday evening when they were to look confidently for the return of their travelers next day, "come here, child! I have something to say to you." Faith was sitting alone, there, with her aunt, in the twilight.
But her services as bridesmaid were not needed this time; there was nothing so exceedingly urgent in the invitation Faith's intimacy was with the Rushleighs, not the Livingstons that she could not escape its acceptance if she desired; and so there was a great deal to be done in summer preparation, which Mis' Battis, with her deliberate dignity, would never accomplish alone; also, there was the forget-me-not ring lying in her box of ornaments, that gave her a little troubled perplexity as often as she saw it there; and Faith excused herself in a graceful little note, and stayed at Cross Corners, helping her mother fold away the crimson curtains, and get up the white muslin ones, make up summer sacks for Hendie, and retouch her own simple wardrobe, which this year could receive little addition.
"I didn't ask your name," remarked Faith. "Oh! my name's Mis' Battis!" Faith escaped over the wet floor, sprang past the white-haired child at the doorstep, and was just in time to be put into the chaise by Dr. Wasgatt, who drove up as she came out.
Glory came over to help; and when all was done blinds shut, windows and doors fastened, fire out, ashes removed stove blackened Luther drove Mis' Battis and her box over to Mrs. Pranker's, and Glory took Faith's little bag for her to the Old House. This night she was to stay with her aunt. She wanted just this little pause and quiet before going to the Rushleighs'.
Just imagine what the woods must be this morning! How can we think of buckwheats?" Sounds and odors betrayed that Mis' Battis and breakfast were in the little room adjoining. "There is a thought of something akin to them, isn't there, under all this splendor? Men must live, and grass and grain must grow." Mr.
Mis' Battis came. She entered Mrs. Gartney's presence with nonchalance, and "flumped" incontinently into the easiest and nearest chair. Mrs. Gartney began with the common preliminary the name. Mis' Battis introduced herself as before. "But your first name?" proceeded the lady. "My first name was Parthenia Franker. I'm a relic'." Mrs.
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