Aunt Patty's Paying Guests by Eglanton Thorne

MR. JOSIAH DICKS and his daughter arrived on the following day, just as we were about to sit down to luncheon. They drove in a fly from Chelmsford and brought with them a goodly array of trunks and valises, though they presently explained that this represented but a fraction of their luggage.

He was a tall, thin, cadaverous-looking man, and had the yellow, parchment-like complexion with which I had credited Professor Faulkner; but his restless movements and keen, alert glances showed him to be very much alive. His forehead was bald, save for a wisp of hair which stood up on it in such a manner as to give him somewhat the appearance of a cockatoo. His daughter was a tall, slight, smart-looking girl. Her face was rather pasty in its colouring; but the sharp, piquant features were not devoid of charm. She wore a most remarkable hat, with so many wings sticking out of it that one shuddered to think how many small birds had been slaughtered for the gratification of her vanity. I could not admire it, yet it was of a style that suited her. She was a striking figure as she entered the house wearing a long, drab travelling coat with gilt buttons, and a magnificent boa of Russian sable, with a muff of the same fur, depending from her neck by a gold chain.

"So this is 'Gay Bowers! " she said in a high, thin voice with the unmistakable enunciation of an American as she looked about her, frankly observant, "and really it is as pretty as its name. I call this old hall perfectly lovely."

"It's real antique, this," said her father, speaking with a still more striking accent, "that staircase now-"

But here my aunt's advance cut short his words.

"Mr. Dicks, I believe? " she said.

"Right you are, ma'am," he replied; "you see Josiah Dicks of Indianapolis, and this is my daughter, Pollie-or, as she prefers to be called, Paulina. We've come, as I wrote you we should, and I hope you can take us in."

"I have some vacant rooms which I shall be happy to show you," said Aunt Patty, "but we were just going to lunch; will you not sit down with us, and we can discuss business matters later."

"I guess that will suit us excellently, eh! What say you, Pollie? " was his response. "The fact is, we left our hotel soon after ten, and the fresh country air on the way hither has given a decided edge to our appetites."

I took Miss Dicks to my room to refresh herself after the journey. She sniffed with her pretty little nose as we went up the staircase, and said, "How deliciously fresh it smells here! I hate the smell of London, don't you? Are there many people staying in the house?"

"Why, no," I said, rather embarrassed by the question. "You see it is a new thing for us to have boarders at 'Gay Bowers,' and at present there are only ourselves and Mr. Faulkner."

She laughed and shrugged her shoulders. "Well, to be sure, and I thought there would be twenty at least! I looked forward to music and dancing in the evening!"

I felt inclined to laugh too, but I answered gravely, "Then I am afraid our home will hardly suit you, for it is small, as you see, and we could never accommodate more than half the number you name."

"I see," she said with a little pout. "Well, I must make the best of it now, I suppose. I like the look of the lady, Mrs. -what is her name?"

"Mrs. Lucas," I said; "she is my aunt."

"Oh! " Thereupon she turned and looked at me from head to foot with a thoroughness which let slip no detail of my appearance. My colour rose, yet I gave her credit for intending no insolence by her cool survey.

A moment later, as she removed her hat with her eyes on the mirror, I took the opportunity to observe her more closely. Her hair was a pale brown and fairly plentiful. It presented an arrangement of poufs and combs, and tortoiseshell ornaments, which was quite novel to me. I found it more extraordinary than beautiful, though when I got used to the style I saw that it suited her.

The travellers had acquired the art of quickly making themselves at home. As we took our luncheon they spoke and acted as if "Gay Bowers" belonged to them. More than once I saw Aunt Patty flush with resentment at what she evidently considered an impertinence. But she had the good sense to hide her annoyance.

Cook, knowing that strangers were expected, had risen to the occasion and sent up some very dainty dishes. Josiah Dicks did ample justice to her excellent pastry, although he assured us he was a martyr to dyspepsia.

When luncheon was over, aunt offered to show our visitors the rooms she could give them. As they followed her from the room, Miss Dicks turned and said to me in a very audible undertone, "How very good-looking he is! " She jerked her head towards the window where Alan Faulkner stood playing with Sweep. It was extraordinary how that dog had taken to him. Ever since my arrival I had sought in vain to coax her into accompanying me on my walks. She had always preferred to wander alone about uncle's favourite haunts, or to crouch disconsolately on the mat outside his former sanctum; but now she was ready to follow Mr. Faulkner anywhere.