We soon shall meet upon that shore
Where love is free from doubt and care,
And you and I shall part no more.’
Loud crew the cock, the shadow fled;
No more her Sandy did she see;
But soft the passing spirit said,
‘Sweet Mary, weep no more for me.’”
“The constant jollity of that boy is worth a fortune to him. He’ll never sink with such a buoyant spirit to keep him afloat through life,” said Mrs Jo, as the roses were tossed back with much applause when the song ended.
“Not he; and it’s a blessing to be grateful for, isn’t it? We moody people know its worth. Glad you like my first tableau. Come and see number two. Hope it isn’t spoilt; it was very pretty just now. This is ‘Othello telling his adventures to Desdemona’.”
The second window framed a very picturesque group of three. Mr March in an arm-chair, with Bess on a cushion at his feet, was listening to Dan, who, leaning against a pillar, was talking with unusual animation. The old man was in shadow, but little Desdemona was looking up with the moonlight full upon her into young Othello’s face, quite absorbed in the story he was telling so well. The gay drapery over Dan’s shoulder, his dark colouring, and the gesture of his arm made the picture very striking, and both spectators enjoyed it with silent pleasure, till Mrs Jo said in a quick whisper:
“I’m glad he’s going away. He’s too picturesque to have here among so many romantic girls. Afraid his ‘grand, gloomy, and peculiar’ style will be too much for our simple maids.”
“No danger; Dan is in the rough as yet, and always will be, I fancy; though he is improving in many ways. How well Queenie looks in that soft light!”
“Dear little Goldilocks looks well everywhere.” And with a backward glance full of pride and fondness, Mrs Jo went on. But that scene returned to her long afterward and her own prophetic words also.
Number three was a tragical tableau at first sight; and Mr Laurie stifled a laugh as he whispered “The Wounded Knight”, pointing to Tom with his head enveloped in a large handkerchief, as he knelt before Nan, who was extracting a thorn or splinter from the palm of his hand with great skill, to judge from the patient’s blissful expression of countenance.
“Do I hurt you?” she asked, turning the hand to the moonlight for a better view.
“Not a bit; dig away; I like it,” answered Tom, regardless of his aching knees and the damage done to his best trousers.
“I won’t keep you long.”
“Hours, if you please. Never so happy as here.”
Quite unmoved by this tender remark, Nan put on a pair of large, round-eyed glasses, saying in a matter-of-fact tone: “Now I see it. Only a splinter, and there it is.”
“My hand is bleeding; won’t you bind it up?” asked Tom, wishing to prolong the situation.
“Nonsense; suck it. Only take care of it tomorrow if you dissect. Don’t want any more blood-poisoning.”
“That was the only time you were kind to me. Wish I’d lost my arm.”
“I wish you’d lost your head; it smells more like turpentine and kerosene than ever. Do take a run in the garden and air it.”
Fearing to betray themselves by laughter, the watchers went on, leaving the Knight to rush away in despair, and the Lady to bury her nose in the cup of a tall lily for refreshment.
“Poor Tom, his fate is a hard one, and he’s wasting his time! Do advise him to quit philandering and go to work, Jo.”
“I have, Teddy, often; but it will take some great shock to make that boy wise. I wait with interest to see what it will be. Bless me! what is all this?”
She might well ask; for on a rustic stool stood Ted trying to pose on one foot, with the other extended, and both hands waving in the air. Josie, with several young mates, was watching his contortions with deep interest as they talked about “little wings”, “gilded wire twisted”, and a “cunning skull-cap”.
“This might be called ‘Mercury Trying to Fly’,” said Mr Laurie, as they peeped through the lace curtains.
“Bless the long legs of that boy! how does he expect to manage them? They are planning for the Owlsdark Marbles, and a nice muddle they will make of my gods and goddesses with no one to show them how,” answered Mrs Jo, enjoying this scene immensely.
“Now, he’s got it!” “That’s perfectly splendid!” “See how long you can keep so!” cried the girls, as Ted managed to maintain his equilibrium a moment by resting one toe on the trellis. Unfortunately this brought all his weight on the other foot; the straw seat of the stool gave way, and the flying Mercury came down with a crash, amid shrieks of laughter from the girls. Being accustomed to ground and lofty tumbling, he quickly recovered himself, and hopped gaily about, with one leg through the stool as he improvised a classic jig.
“Thanks for four nice little pictures. You have given me an idea, and I think some time we will get up regular tableaux of this sort and march our company round a set of dissolving views. New and striking; I’ll propose it to our manager and give you all the glory,” said Mrs Jo, as they strolled towards the room whence came the clash of glass and china, and glimpses of agitated black coats.
Let us follow the example of our old friends and stroll about among the young people, eavesdropping, so gathering up various little threads to help in the weaving of the story. George and Dolly were at supper, and having served the ladies in their care stood in a corner absorbing nourishment of all kinds with a vain attempt to conceal hearty appetites under an air of elegant indifference.
“Good spread, this; Laurence does things in style. First-rate coffee, but no wine, and that’s a mistake,” said Stuffy, who still deserved his name, and was a stout youth with a heavy eye and bilious complexion.
“Bad for boys, he says. Jove! wish he could see us at some of our wines. Don’t we just ‘splice the main-brace’ as Emil says,” answered Dolly, the dandy, carefully spreading a napkin over the glossy expanse of shirt-front whereon a diamond stud shone like a lone star. His stutter was nearly outgrown; but he, as well as George, spoke in the tone of condescension,
which, with the blasé airs they assumed, made a very funny contrast to their youthful faces and foolish remarks. Good-hearted little fellows both, but top-heavy with the pride of being Sophs and the freedom that college life gave them.
“Little Jo is getting to be a deuced pretty girl, isn’t she?” said George, with a long sigh of satisfaction as his first mouthful of ice went slowly down his throat.
“H’m—well, fairish. The Princess is rather more to my taste. I like ’em blonde and queenly and elegant, don’t you know.”
“Yes, Jo is too lively; might as well dance with a grasshopper. I’ve tried her, and she’s one too many for me. Miss Perry is a nice, easy-going girl. Got her for the german.”
“You’ll never be a dancing man. Too lazy. Now I’ll undertake to steer any girl and dance down any fellow you please. Dancing’s my forte.” And Dolly glanced from his trim feet to his flashing gem with the defiant air of a young turkey-cock on parade.
“Miss Grey is looking for you. Wants more grub. Just see if Miss Nelson’s plate is empty, there’s a good fellow. Can’t eat ice in a hurry.” And George remained in his safe corner, while Dolly struggled through the crowd to do his duty, coming back in a fume, with a splash of salad dressing on his coat-cuff.
“Confound these country chaps! they go blundering round like so many dor-bugs, and make a deuce of a mess. Better stick to books and not try to be society men. Can’t do it. Beastly stain. Give it a rub, and let me bolt a mouthful, I’m starved. Never saw girls eat such a lot. It proves that they ought not to study so much. Never liked co-ed,” growled Dolly, much ruffled in spirit.
“So they do. ’Tisn’t ladylike. Ought to be satisfied with an ice and a bit of cake, and eat it prettily. Don’t like to see a girl feed. We hard-working men need it, and, by Jove, I mean to get some more of that meringue if it’s not all gone. Here, waiter! bring along that dish over there, and be lively,” commanded Stuffy, poking a young man in a rather shabby dress-suit, who was passing with a tray of glasses.