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Virginia's annoyance came from the fact that she perceived in Stephen a natural and merciless logic, a faculty for getting at the bottom of things. His brain did not seem to be thrown out of gear by local magnetic influences, by beauty, for instance. He did not lose his head, as did some others she knew, at the approach of feminine charms.
In fact, her love had already gone to him across thousands of miles of weary wasteland and through that love she had come clear up to these terrible wilds to find him. His speech, his bearing seemed already changed. He was remembering that he was a gentleman, one of Virginia's own kind. He already looked the part. Perhaps he was already on the way toward true regeneration.
Pendleton, who sat on an ottoman at the dressmaker's right hand and held a spool of thread and a pair of scissors in her lap, would say sternly, "Don't move, Jinny, stand straight or Miss Willy won't get the bows right." At these warning words, Virginia's thin shoulders would spring back and the filmy ruffles stir gently over her girlish breast.
Virginia's further objections were cut short by the violent clanging of the door-bell, and the entrance of a tall, energetic gentleman, whom Virginia had introduced to her as Major Sherman, late of the army, and now president of the Fifth Street Railroad. The Major bowed and shook hands. He then proceeded, as was evidently his habit, directly to the business on which he was come. "Mr.
But Fanny, busy just then with a customer in the outer shop, paid no attention to the summons. Virginia's new dress could wait it was a whole month to graduation day anyhow but business was not so good that one could afford to neglect a possible purchaser.
His clothes, usually neat, were awry, and his arms were full of various things, not the least conspicuous of which was a magnificent bronze clock. It was this object that caught Virginia's eye. But years passed before she laughed over it. Behind Mr. Mrs.
The boys could not hope to rival Virginia's Indian costume, but no wilder-looking little savages ever uttered a war-whoop than the two which presently dashed into the still April woods. Malcolm had ripped some variegated fringe from a table-cover to pin down the sides of his leather leggins.
Walking between the two who loved her, she felt that she was separated from them both by an eternity of experience. There were several blocks of Bolingbroke Street to walk before the Treadwells' house was reached, and as they sauntered slowly past decayed dwellings, Virginia's imagination ran joyously ahead of her to the meeting.
The stars sparkled in the heavens, and their lurid orbs were reflected, in trembling sparkles, from the tranquil bosom of the ocean. Virginia's eye wandered distractedly over its vast and gloomy horizon, distinguishable from the shore of the island only by the red fires in the fishing boats.
She thought of Virginia's passionate and dramatic protest, "Ma carried this book when she was married, she shall have it now!" and of Mary Lou's wail, "Oh, that I should live to see the day!" And she remembered Georgie's care in placing the lettered ribbon where it must be seen by everyone who came in to look for the last time at the dead. "Are we all actors? Isn't anything real?" she wondered.
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