Mrs. Cliff's Yacht

All agreed that this was a very correct view of the case, but not one of them volunteered to go and talk to Mrs. Cliff on the subject. This was not from timidity, nor from an unwillingness to meddle in other people's business, but from a desire on the part of each not to injure herself in Mrs. Cliff's eyes by any action which might indicate that she had a personal interest in the matter.

Miss Cushing voiced the opinion of the company when she said: "When a person has no heirs, relatives ought to be considered first, but if there are none of these, or if they aren't suitable, then friends should come in. Of course, I mean the oldest and best friends of the party without heirs."

No remark immediately followed this, for each lady was thinking that she, probably more than any one else in Plainton, had a claim upon Mrs. Cliff's attention if she were leaving her property to her friends, as she certainly ought to do.

In years gone by Mrs. Cliff had been a very kind friend to Miss Cushing. She had loaned her money, and assisted her in various ways, and since her return to Plainton she had put a great deal of work into Miss Cushing's hands. Dress after dress for Willy Croup had been made, and material for others was still lying in the house; and Mrs. Cliff herself had ordered so much work, that at this moment Miss Cushing had two girls upstairs sewing diligently upon it.

Having experienced all this kindness, Miss Cushing felt that if Mrs. Cliff left any of her money to her friends, she would certainly remember her, and that right handsomely. If anybody spoke to Mrs. Cliff upon the subject, she would insist, and she thought she had a right to insist, that her name should be brought in prominently.

Mrs. Ferguson had also well-defined opinions upon the subject. She had two daughters who were more than half grown, had learned all that they could be taught in Plainton, and she was very anxious to send them away to school, where their natural talents could be properly cultivated. She felt that she owed a deep and solemn duty to these girls, and she had already talked to Mrs. Cliff about them.

The latter had taken a great deal of interest in the matter, and although she had not said she would help Mrs. Ferguson to properly educate these girls, for she had not asked her help, she had taken so much interest in the matter that their mother had great hopes. And if this widow without any children felt inclined to assist the children of others during her life, how much more willing would she be likely to be to appropriate a portion of what she left behind her to such an object!

Mrs. Wells and Mrs. Archibald had solid claims upon Mrs. Cliff. It was known that shortly after the death of her husband, when she found it difficult to make collections and was very much in need of money for immediate expenses, they had each made loans to her. It is true that even before she started for South America she had repaid these loans with full legal interest. But the two matrons could not forget that they had been kind to her, nor did they believe that Mrs. Cliff had forgotten what they had done, for the presents she had brought them from France were generally considered as being more beautiful and more valuable than those given to anybody else, – except the Thorpedykes and the Perleys. This indicated a very gratifying gratitude upon which the two ladies, each for herself, had every right to build very favorable hopes.

Miss Inchman and Mrs. Cliff had been school-fellows, and when they were both grown young women there had been a good deal of doubt which one of them William Cliff would marry. He made his choice, and Susan Inchman never showed by word or deed that she begrudged him to her friend, to whom she had always endeavored to show just as much kindly feeling as if there had been two William Cliffs, and each of the young women had secured one of them. If Mrs. Cliff, now a widow with money enough to live well upon and keep a carriage, was making out her will, and was thinking of her friends in Plainton, it would be impossible for her to forget one who was the oldest friend of all.

So it is easy to see why she did not want to go to Mrs. Cliff and prejudice her against herself, by stating that she ought to make a will for the benefit of the old friends who had always loved and respected her.

Miss Cushing now spoke. She knew what each member of the little company was thinking about, and she felt that it might as well be spoken of.

"It does seem to me," said she, "and I never would have thought of it, if it hadn't been for the talk we had, – that we five are the persons that Mrs. Cliff would naturally mention in her will, not, perhaps, regarding any money she might have to leave – "

"I don't see why!" interrupted Mrs. Ferguson.

"Well, that's neither here nor there," continued Miss Cushing. "Money is money, and nobody knows what people will do with it when they die, and if she leaves anything to the church or to charity, it's her money! but I'm sure that Mrs. Cliff has too much hard sense to order her executors to sell all the beautiful rugs, and table-covers, and glass, and china, and the dear knows what besides is in her house at this moment! They wouldn't bring anything at a sale, and she would naturally think of leaving them to her friends. Some might get more and some might get less, but we five in this room at this present moment are the old friends that Mrs. Cliff would naturally remember. And if any one of us ever sees fit to speak to her on the subject, we're the people who should be mentioned when the proper opportunity comes to make such mention."

"You're forgetting Willy Croup," said Mrs. Wells.

"No," answered Miss Cushing, a little sharply, "I don't forget her, but I'll have nothing to do with her. I don't suppose she'll be forgotten, but whatever is done for her or whatever is not done for her is not our business. It's my private opinion, however, that she's had a good deal already!"

"Well," said Mrs. Ferguson, "I suppose that what you say is all right, – at least I've no objections to any of it; but whoever's going to speak to her, it mustn't be me, because she knows I've daughters to educate, and she'd naturally think that if I spoke I was principally speaking for myself, and that would set her against me, which I wouldn't do for the world. And whatever other people may say, I believe she will have money to leave."

Miss Cushing hesitated for a moment, and then spoke up boldly.

"It's my opinion," said she, "that Miss Inchman is the proper person to speak to Mrs. Cliff on this important subject. She's known her all her life, from the time when they were little girls together, and when they were both grown she made sacrifices for her which none of the rest of us had the chance to make.

"Now, for Miss Inchman to go and open the subject in a gradual and friendly way would be the right and proper thing, no matter how you look at it, and it's my opinion that we who are now here should ask her to go and speak, not in our names perhaps, but out of good-will and kindness to us as well as to Mrs. Cliff."

Mrs. Wells was a lady who was in the habit of saying things at the wrong time, and she now remarked, "We've forgotten the Thorpedykes! You know, Mrs. Cliff – "

Miss Cushing leaned forward, her face reddened. "Bother the Thorpedykes!" she exclaimed. "They're no more than acquaintances, and ought not to be spoken of at all. And as for Mrs. Perley, if any one's thinking of her, she's only been here four years, and that gives her no claim whatever, considering that we've been lifelong friends and neighbors of Sarah Cliff.

"And now, in behalf of all of us, I ask you, Miss Inchman, will you speak to Mrs. Cliff?"

Miss Inchman was rather a small woman, spare in figure, and she wore glasses, which seemed to be of a peculiar kind, for while they enabled her to see through them into surrounding space, they did not allow people who looked at her to see through them into her eyes. People often remarked that you could not tell the color of Miss Inchman's eyes when she had her spectacles on.

Thus it was that although her eyes were sometimes brighter than at other times, and this could be noticed through her spectacles, it was difficult to understand her expression and to discover whether she was angry or amused.

Now Miss Inchman's eyes behind her spectacles brightened very much as she looked from Miss Cushing to the other members of the little party who had constituted themselves the heirs of Mrs. Cliff. None of them could judge from her face what she was likely to say, but they all waited to hear what she would say. At this moment the door opened, and Mrs. Cliff entered the parlor.

CHAPTER X

THE INTELLECT OF MISS INCHMAN

It was true that on that morning Mrs. Cliff had been standing in her front yard looking as her best friends would not have liked her to look. There was nothing physically the matter with her, but she was dissatisfied and somewhat disturbed in her mind. Mr. Burke was so busy nowadays that when he stopped in to see her it was only for a few minutes, and Willy Croup had developed a great facility in discovering things which ought to be attended to in various parts of the town, and of going to attend to them with Andrew Marks to drive her.

Not only did Mrs. Cliff feel that she was left more to herself than she liked, but she had the novel experience of not being able to find interesting occupation. She was was glad to have servants who could perform all the household duties, and could have done more if they had had a chance. Still, it was unpleasant to feel that she herself could do so little to fill up her unoccupied moments. So she put on a shawl and went into her front yard, simply to walk about and get a little of the fresh air. But when she went out of the door, she stood still contemplating the front fence.

Here was a fence which had been an eyesore to her for two or three years! She believed she had money enough to fence in the whole State, and yet those shabby palings and posts must offend her eye every time she came out of her door! The flowers were nearly all dead now, and she would have had a new fence immediately, but Mr. Burke had dissuaded her, saying that when the new dining-room was brought over from the corner lot there would have to be a fence around the whole premises, and it would be better to have it all done at once.

"There are so many things which I can afford just as well as not," she said to herself, "and which I cannot do!" And it was the unmistakable doleful expression upon her countenance, as she thought this, which was the foundation of Miss Shott's remarks to her neighbors on the subject of Mrs. Cliff's probable early demise.

Miss Shott was passing on the other side of the street, and she was walking rapidly, but she could see more out of the corner of her eye than most people could see when they were looking straight before them at the same things.

Suddenly Mrs. Cliff determined that she must do something. She felt blue, – she wanted to talk to somebody. And, feeling thus, she naturally went into the house, put on her bonnet and her wrap, and walked down to see Miss Cushing. There was not anything in particular that she wanted to see her about, but there was work going on and she might talk about it; or, it might happen that she would be inclined to give some orders. She was always glad to do anything she could to help that hard-working and kind-hearted neighbor!

When Mrs. Cliff entered the parlor of Miss Cushing, five women each gave a sudden start. The dressmaker was so thrown off her balance that she dropped her sewing on the floor, and rising, went forward to shake her visitor by the hand, a thing she was not in the habit of doing to anybody, because, as is well known to all the world, a person who is sewing for a livelihood cannot get up to shake hands with the friends and acquaintances who may happen in upon her. At this the other ladies rose and shook hands, and it might have been supposed that the new-comer had just returned from a long absence. Then Miss Cushing gave Mrs. Cliff a chair, and they all sat down again.

Mrs. Cliff looked about her with a smile. The sight of these old friends cheered her. All her blues were beginning to fade, as that color always fades in any kind of sunshine.

"I'm glad to see so many of you together," she said. "It almost seems as if you were having some sort of meeting. What is it about, – can't I join in?"

At this there was a momentary silence which threatened to become very embarrassing if it continued a few seconds more, and Miss Cushing was on the point of telling the greatest lie of her career, trusting that the other heirs would stand by her and support her in whatever statements she made, feeling as they must the absolute necessity of saying something instantly. But Miss Inchman spoke before any one else had a chance to do so.

"You're right, Mrs. Cliff," said she, "we are considering something! We didn't come here on purpose to talk about it, but we happened in together, and so we thought we would talk it over. And we all came to the conclusion that it was something which ought to be mentioned to you, and I was asked to speak to you about it."

Four simultaneous gasps were now heard in that little parlor, and four chills ran down the backs of four self-constituted heirs.

"I must say, Susan," remarked Mrs. Cliff, with a good-humored smile, "if you want me to do anything, there's no need of being so wonderfully formal about it! If any one of you, or all of you together, for that matter, have anything to say to me, all you had to do was to come and say it."

"They didn't seem to think that way," said Miss Inchman. "They all thought that what was to be said would come better from me because I'd known you so long, and we had grown up together."

"It must be something out of the common," said Mrs. Cliff. "What in the world can it be? If you are to speak, Susan, speak out at once! Let's have it!"

"That's just what I'm going to do," said Miss Inchman.

If Mrs. Cliff had looked around at the four heirs who were sitting upright in their chairs, gazing in horror at Miss Inchman, she would have been startled, and, perhaps, frightened. But she did not see them. She was so much interested in what her old friend Susan was saying, that she gave to her her whole attention.

But now that their appointed spokeswoman had announced her intention of immediately declaring the object of the meeting, each one of them felt that this was no place for her! But, notwithstanding this feeling, not one of them moved to go. Miss Cushing, of course, had no excuse for leaving, for this was her own house; and although the others might have pleaded errands, a power stronger than their disposition to fly – stronger even than their fears of what Mrs. Cliff might say to them when she knew all – kept them in their seats. The spell of self-interest was upon them and held them fast. Whatever was said and whatever was done they must be there! At this supreme moment they could not leave the room. They nerved themselves, they breathed hard, and listened!

"You see, Sarah," said Miss Inchman, "we must all die!"

"That's no new discovery," answered Mrs. Cliff, and the remark seemed to her so odd that she looked around at the rest of the company to see how they took it; and she was thereupon impressed with the idea that some of them had not thought of this great truth of late, and that its sudden announcement had thrown them into a shocked solemnity.

But the soul of Miss Cushing was more than shocked, – it was filled with fury! If there had been in that room at that instant a loaded gun pointed towards Miss Inchman, Miss Cushing would have pulled the trigger. This would have been wicked, she well knew, and contrary to her every principle, but never before had she been confronted by such treachery!

"Well," continued Miss Inchman, "as we must die, we ought to make ourselves ready for it in every way that we can. And we've been thinking – "

At this moment the endurance of Mrs. Ferguson gave way. The pace and the strain were too great for her. Each of the others had herself to think for, but she had not only herself, but two daughters. She gave a groan, her head fell back, her eyes closed, and with a considerable thump she slipped from her chair to the floor. Instantly every one screamed and sprang towards her.

"What in the world is the matter with her?" cried Mrs. Cliff, as she assisted the others to raise the head of the fainting woman and to loosen her dress.

"Oh, I suppose it's the thought of her late husband!" promptly replied Miss Inchman, who felt that it devolved on her to say something, and that quickly. Mrs. Cliff looked up in amazement.

"And what has Mr. Ferguson to do with anything?" she asked.

"Oh, it's the new cemetery I was going to talk to you about," said Miss Inchman. "It has been spoken of a good deal since you went away, and we all thought that if you'd agree to go into it – "

"Go into it!" cried Mrs. Cliff, in horror.

"I mean, join with the people who are in favor of it," said Miss Inchman. "I haven't time to explain, – she's coming to now, if you'll all let her alone! All I've time to say is, that those who had husbands in the old graveyard and might perhaps be inclined to move them and put up monuments, had the right to be first spoken to. Although, of course, it's a subject which everybody doesn't care to speak about, and as for Mrs. Ferguson, it's no wonder, knowing her as we do, that she went off in this way when she knew what I was going to say, although, in fact, I wasn't in the least thinking of Mr. Ferguson!"

The speaker had barely time to finish before the unfortunate lady who had fainted, opened her eyes, looked about her, and asked where she was. And now that she had revived, no further reference could be made to the unfortunate subject which had caused her to swoon.

"I don't see," said Mrs. Cliff, as she stood outside with Miss Inchman, a few minutes later, "why Mr. Ferguson's removal – I'm sure it isn't necessary to make it if she doesn't want to – should trouble Mrs. Ferguson any more than the thought of Mr. Cliff's removal troubles me. I'm perfectly willing to do what I can for the new cemetery, and nobody need think I'm such a nervous hysterical person that I'm in danger of popping over if the subject is mentioned to me. So when you all are ready to have another meeting, I hope you will let me know!"

When Mrs. Ferguson felt herself well enough to sit up and take a glass of water, with something stimulating in it, she was informed of the nature of the statements which had been finally made to Mrs. Cliff.

"You know, of course," added Miss Cushing, still pale from unappeased rage, "that that Susan Inchman began as she did, just to spite us!"

"It's just like her!" said Mrs. Archibald. "But I never could have believed that such a dried codfish of a woman could have so much intellect!"

CHAPTER XI

THE ARRIVAL OF THE NEW DINING-ROOM

The little meeting at the house of Miss Cushing resulted in something very different from the anticipations of those ladies who had consulted together for the purpose of constituting themselves the heirs of Mrs. Cliff.

That good lady being then very much in want of something to do was so pleased with the idea of a new cemetery that she entered into the scheme with great earnestness. She was particularly pleased with this opportunity of making good use of her money, because, having been asked by others to join them in this work, she was not obliged to pose as a self-appointed public benefactor.

Mrs. Cliff worked so well in behalf of the new cemetery and subscribed so much money towards it, through Mr. Perley, that it was not many months before it became the successor to the little crowded graveyard near the centre of the town; and the remains of Mr. Cliff were removed to a handsome lot and overshadowed by a suitable monument.

Mrs. Ferguson, however, in speaking with Mrs. Cliff upon the subject, was happy to have an opportunity of assuring her that she thought it much better to devote her slender means to the education of her daughters than to the removal of her late husband to a more eligible resting-place.

"I'm sure he's done very well as he is for all these years," she said, "and if he could have a voice in the matter, I'm quite sure that he would prefer his daughters' education to his own removal."

Mrs. Cliff did not wish to make any offer which might hurt Mrs. Ferguson's very sensitive feelings, but she said that she had no doubt that arrangements could be made by which Mr. Ferguson's transfer could be effected without interfering with any plans which might have been made for the benefit of his daughters; but, although this remark did not satisfy Mrs. Ferguson, she was glad of even this slight opportunity of bringing the subject of her daughters' education before the consideration of her friend.

As to the other would-be heirs, they did not immediately turn upon Miss Inchman and rend her in revenge for the way in which she had tricked and frightened them, for there was no knowing what such a woman would do if she were exasperated, and not for the world would they have Mrs. Cliff find out the real subject of their discussion on that unlucky morning when she made herself decidedly one too many in Miss Cushing's parlor.

Consequently, all attempts at concerted action were dropped, and each for herself determined that Mrs. Cliff should know that she was a true friend, and to trust to the good lady's well-known gratitude and friendly feeling when the time should come for her to apportion her worldly goods among the dear ones she would leave behind her.

There were certain articles in Mrs. Cliff's house for which each of her friends had a decided admiration, and remarks were often made which it was believed would render it impossible for Mrs. Cliff to make a mistake when she should be planning her will, and asking herself to whom she should give this, and to whom that?

It was about a week after the events in Miss Cushing's parlor, that something occurred which sent a thrill through the souls of a good many people in Plainton, affecting them more or less according to their degree of sensibility.

Willy Croup, who had been driven about the town attending to various matters of business and pleasure, was informed by Andrew Marks, as she alighted about four o'clock in the afternoon at the house of an acquaintance, that he hoped she would not stop very long because he had some business of his own to attend to that afternoon, and he wanted to get the horse cared for and the cow milked as early as possible, so that he might lock up the barn and go away. To this Willy answered that he need not wait for her, for she could easily walk home when she had finished her visit.

But when she left the house, after a protracted call, she did not walk very far, for it so happened that Mr. Burke, who had found leisure that afternoon to take a drive in his barouche, came up behind her, and very naturally stopped and offered to take her home. Willy, quite as naturally, accepted the polite proposition and seated herself in the barouche by the side of the fur-trimmed overcoat and the high silk hat.

Thus it was that the people of the town who were in the main street that afternoon, or who happened to be at doors or windows; that the very birds of the air, hopping about on trees or house-tops; that the horses, dogs, and cats; that even the insects, whose constitutions were strong enough to enable them to buzz about in the autumn sunlight, beheld the startling sight of Willy Croup and the fine gentleman at the hotel riding together, side by side, in broad daylight, through the most public street of the town.

Once before these two had been seen together out of doors, but then they had been walking, and almost any two people who knew each other and who might be walking in the same direction, could, without impropriety walk side by side and converse as they went; but now the incident was very different.

It created a great impression, not all to the advantage of Mr. Burke, for, after the matter had been very thoroughly discussed, it was generally conceded that he must be no better than a fortune-hunter. Otherwise, why should he be paying attention to Willy Croup, who, as everybody knew, was not a day under forty-five years old, and therefore at least ten years older than the gentleman at the hotel.

In regard to the fortune which he was hunting, there was no difference of opinion; whatever Mrs. Cliff's fortune might be, this Mr. Burke wanted it. Of course, he would not endeavor to gain his object by marrying the widow, for she was entirely too old for him; but if he married Willy, her only relative, that would not be quite so bad as to age, and there could be no doubt that these two would ultimately come into Mrs. Cliff's fortune, which was probably more than had been generally supposed. She had always been very close-mouthed about her affairs, and there were some who said that even in her early days of widowhood she might have been more stingy than she was poor. She must have considerable property, or Mr. Burke would not be so anxious to get it.