"My Lord-she's pacing!" groaned my Father.
"Clever work!" said the Rich Man. "Was she ever in a Band? In a Jazz Band, you know, with Bantam Rooster whistles? And drums that bark like dogs?"
"In a what?" cried my Father. He was awful mad.
Our Aunt Esta tried to soothe him with something worse. She turned to me.
"Now, Ruthy-the-Rabbit," she said. "Let us see what you can do to redeem the ignominy of your impudent giggling!" She handed me the Bright Green and the Bright Red Celluloid fishes. She poked her wand at me. "Hopping all the way," she said. "Every step of the way, you understand,-bear these two fish to the Head-Waters of the Magic Brook,-the little pool under the apple tree will do,-and start them ex-ex-peditiously down the Brook towards Rosalee!"
"Yes'm," I said.
Our Aunt Esta turned to the Rich Man.
"Foul Menial," she said. "Push my chariot a little further down the Lawn into the shade!"
The Foul Menial pushed it.
My Father pushed a little too.
I hopped along beside them flopping my long ears. Our Aunt Esta looked ex-actly like a Witch! The Rich Man's black face was leaking a little but not much! It would have been easier if he hadn't tripped so often on his plaid shawl skirt! My Father's white wings flapped as he pushed! He looked like an angel who wasn't quite hatched! It was handsome!
When we got to the thickest shade there was a man's black felt hat bobbing along the top of the Japonica Hedge. It was rather a soft-boiled looking hat. It was bobbing just as fast as it could towards the house.
When our Aunt Esta saw the hat she screamed! She jumped from her chariot as though it had been flames! She tore the scraggly gray wig from her head! She tore the hump from her back! She kicked off her wooden shoes! Her feet were silk! She ran like the wind for the back door!
My Father ran for the Wood-Shed!
The Rich Man dove into the Lilac Bush!
When the Rich Man was all through diving into the Lilac Bush he seemed to think that he was the only one present who hadn't done anything!
"What you so scared about, Ruthy?" he said. "What's the matter with everybody? Who's the Bloke?"
"It's the New Minister," I said.
"Has he got the Cholera or anything?" said the Rich Man.
"No, not exactly," I explained. "He's just our Aunt Esta's Suitor!"
"Your Aunt Esta's Suitor?" cried the Rich Man. "Suitor? " He clapped his hand over his mouth. He burst a safety-pin that helped lash the plaid shawl around him. "What do you mean,-'Suitor?'" he said.
It seemed queer he was so stupid.
"Why a Suitor," I explained, "is a Person Who Doesn't Suit-so he keeps right on coming most every day to see if he does! As soon as he suits, of course, he's your husband and doesn't come any more at all-because he's already there! The New Minister," I explained very patiently, "is a Suitor for our Aunt Esta's hand!"
We crawled through the Lilac Bush. We peeped out.
Our Aunt Esta hadn't reached the back door at all. She sat all huddled up in a little heap on the embankment trying to keep the New Minister from seeing that she was in her stocking-feet. But the New Minister didn't seem to see anything at all except her hands. Being a Suitor for her hands it was natural, I suppose, that he wasn't interested in anything except her hands. Her hands were on her hair. The scraggly gray wig had rumpled all the seriousness out of her hair. It looked quite jolly. The New Minister stared! And stared! And stared! Except for having no lovingness in them, her hands looked very much like my Mother's.
"Our Aunt Esta's got-nice hands," I said.
The Rich Man burst another safety pin.
"Yes, by Jove," he said. "And nice feet, too!" He seemed quite surprised. "How long's this minister fellow been coming here?" he said.
"Oh, I don't know," I said. "He comes whenever our Aunt Esta comes."
The Rich Man made a grunt. He looked at the Minister's hat.
"Think of courting a woman," he said, "in a hat like that!"
"Oh, our Aunt Esta doesn't care anything at all about hats," I said.
"It's time she did!" said the Rich Man.
"We'll go out if you say so," I suggested, "and help them have a pleasant time."
The Rich Man was awful mad. He pointed at his plaid shawl! He pointed at his black face!
"What?" he said. "Go out like this? And make a fool of myself before that Ninny-Hat?"
"Why, he'd love it!" I said.
The Rich Man choked.
"That's quite enough reason!" he said.
There was a noise in the wood-shed. We could see the noise through the window. It was my Father trying to untie his wings. He couldn't.
The Rich Man seemed to feel better suddenly. He began to mop his face.
"It's a great Game, all right," he said, "if you don't weaken!" He pulled my ears. "But why in the world, Ruthy--" he worried, "did she have to go and tuck that forty-three cents on to the end of the bill?"
"Why, that's her profit!" I explained.
"Her-profit?" gasped the Rich Man. "Her Profit?"
"Why, she had to have something!" I explained. "She was planning to have more, of course! She was planning to go to Atlantic City! But everything costs so big! Even toys! It's--"
"Her Profit?" gasped the Rich Man. "Forty-three cents on a two hundred dollar deal?" He began to laugh! And laugh! "And she calls herself a Business Woman?" he said. "Why, she ought to be in an Asylum!-All women, in fact, ought to be in Asylums-or else in homes of their own!" Quite furiously he began to pull my ears all over again. "Business Woman," he said. "And both her feet would go at once in the hollow of my hand! Business Woman!"
Out in the roadway suddenly somebody sneezed.
It made the Rich Man jump awfully.
"Ruthy, stay where you are!" he ordered.
"I can't!" I called back. "I'm already hopped out!"
From my hop-out I could see the Person Who Sneezed! Anybody would have known that it was Posie-with-the-Sick-Bones! She was sitting in an automobile peering through the hedge! There was a black woman with her!
The Rich Man crackled in the bushes. He reached out and grabbed my foot. He pulled me back. His face looked pretty queer.
"Yes, she's been there all the time," he whispered. "But not a soul knows it!-I wanted her to see it work!-I wanted to be sure that she liked it-But I was afraid to bring her in! She catches everything so! And I knew there were children here! And I was afraid there might be something contagious!"
He peered out through the Lilac Branches. There was quite a good deal to peer at.
Down in the meadow Rosalee was still running up and down the soft banks of the brook trying to catch the Celluloid Fish. She had on a green dress. It was a slim dress like a willow wand. She had her shoes and stockings in one hand. And a great bunch of wild blue Forget-me-Nots in the other. Her hair was like a gold wave across her face. She looked pretty. The Springtime looked pretty too.-Out in the wood-shed my Father was still wrestling with his wings.
Up on the green mound by the house our Aunt Esta was still patting her hair while the New Minister stared at her hands.
The Rich Man turned very suddenly and stared at me.
"Contagious?" he gasped out suddenly. "Why, upon my soul, Ruthie-it's just about the most contagious place that I ever was in-in my life!"
He gave a funny little laugh. He glanced back over his shoulder towards the road. He groaned.
"But I shall certainly be ruined, Ruthie," he said, "if my little daughter Posie or my little daughter Posie's Black Woman ever see me at close range-in these clothes!" He took my chin in his hands. He looked very deep into my eyes. "Ruthie," he said, "you seem to be a very intelligent child.-If you can think of any way-any way, I say-by which I can slink off undetected into the house-and be washed--"