Produced by David Widger THE UNCLE OF AN ANGEL By Thomas A. Janvier Copyright, 1891, by Harper & Brothers [Illustration: Frontispiece 007 p60] [Illustration: Page 3 020] I. When Mr. Hutchinson. Port, a single gentleman who admitted that he was forty-seven years old and who actually was rising sixty, of strongly fixed personal habits, and with the most positive opinions upon every conceivable subject, came to know that by the death of his widowed sister he had been placed in the position of guardian of that sisterâs only daughter, Dorothy, his promptly formed and tersely expressed conception of the situation was that the agency by which it had been brought about was distinctively diabolical. The fact may be added that during the subsequent brief term of his guardianship Mr. Port found no more reason for reversing this hastily formed opinion than did the late King David for reversing his hastily expressed views in regard to the general tendency of mankind towards untruthfulness. The two redeeming features of Mr. Portâs trying situation were that his duties as a guardian did not begin at all until his very unnecessary ward was nearly nineteen years old; and did not begin actively--his ward having elected to remain in France for a season, under the mild direction of the elderly cousin who had been her motherâs travelling companion--until she was almost twenty. When she was one-and-twenty, as Mr. Port reflected with much satisfaction, he would be rid of her. Neither by nature nor by education had Mr. Hutchinson Port been fitted to discharge the duties which thus were thrust upon him. His disposition was introspective--but less in a philosophical sense than a physiological, for the central point of his introspection was his liver. That he made something of a fetich of this organ will not appear surprising when the fact is stated that Mr. Port was a Philadelphian. In that city of eminent good cheer livers are developed to a degree that only Strasburg can emulate. Naturally, Mr. Portâs views of life were bounded, more or less, by what he could eat with impunity; yet beyond this somewhat contracted region his thoughts strayed pleasantly afield into the far wider region of the things which he could not eat with impunity; but which, with a truly Spartan epicureanism, he did eat--and bravely accepted the bilious consequences! The slightly anxious, yet determined, expression that would appear upon Mr. Portâs cleanshaven, ruddy countenance as he settled himself to the discussion of an especially good and especially dangerous dinner betrayed heroic possibilities in his nature which, being otherwise directed, would have won for him glory upon the martial field. In minor matters--that is to say, in all relations of life not pertaining to eating--Mr. Port was very much what was to be expected of him from his birth and from his environment. Every Sunday, with an exemplary piety, he sat solitary in the great square pew in St. Peterâs which had been occupied by successive generations of Ports ever since the year 1761, when the existing church was completed. Every other day of the week, from his late breakfast-time for some hours onward, he sat at his own particular window of the Philadelphia Club and contemplated disparagingly the outside world over the top of his magazine or newspaper. At four, precisely, for his liverâs sake, he rode in the Park; and for so stout a gentleman Mr. Port was an excellent horseman. [Illustration: Mr. Port was an excellent horseman 024] On rare occasions he dined at his club. Usually, he dined out; for while generally regarded as a very disagreeable person at dinners--because of his habit of finding fault with his food on the dual ground of hygiene and quality--he was in social demand because his presence at a dinner was a sure indication that the giver of it had a good culinary reputation; and in Philadelphia such a reputation is most highly prized. An irrelevant New York person, after meeting Mr. Port at several of the serious dinnerparties peculiar to Philadelphia, had described him as the animated skeleton; and had supplemented this discourteous remark with the still more discourteous observation that as a feature of a feast the Egyptian article was to be preferred--because it did not overeat itself, and did keep its mouth shut. However, Mr. Portâs obvious rotundity destroyed what little point was to be found in this meagre witticism; and, if it had not, the fact is well-known in Philadelphia that New Yorkers, being descended not from an honorable Quaker ancestry but from successful operations in Wall Street, are not to be held accountable for their unfortunate but unavoidable manifestations of a frivolity at once inelegant and indecorous. In regard to his summers, Mr. Port--after a month spent for the good of his liver in taking the waters at the White Sulphur--of course went to Narragan-sett Pier. It may be accepted as an incontrovertible truth that a Philadelphian of a certain class who missed coming to the Pier for August would refuse to believe, for that year at least, in the alternation of the four seasons; while an enforced absence from that damply delightful watering-place for two successive summers very probably would lead to a rejection of the entire Copernican system. II. âPoor dear mamma and I did not have a harsh word for years, Uncle Hutchinson,â Miss Lee explained, in the course of the somewhat animated discussion that arose in consequence of Mr. Portâs declaration that a part of their summer would be passed, in accordance with his usual custom, at the White Sulphur, and of Dorothyâs declaration that she did not want to go there. This, her first summer in America, was the third summer after Mrs. Leeâs translation; and since Dorothy had come into colors again she naturally wanted to make the most of them. âNo, not a single harsh word did we ever have. We always agreed perfectly, you know; or if mamma thought differently at first she always ended by seeing that my view of the matter was the right one. The only serious difference that I remember since I was quite a little girl was that last autumn in Paris; when I had everything so perfectly arranged for a delightful winter in St. Petersburg, and when mamma was completely set in her own mind that we must go to the south of France. Her cough was getting very bad then, you know, and she said that a winter in Russia certainly would kill her. I donât think it would have killed her, at least not especially; but the doctor backed mamma up--and said some horrid things to me in his polite French way--and declared that St. Petersburg was not even to be thought of. âAnd so, when I found that they were both against me that way, of course I sacrificed my own feelings and told mamma that I would do just what she wanted. And mamma cried and kissed me, and said that I was an angel: wasnât it sweet of her? To be sure, though, she was having her own way, and I wasnât; and I think that I was an angel myself, for I did want to go to Russia dreadfully. After all, as things turned out, we might almost as well have gone; for poor dear mamma, you know, died that winter anyway. But Iâm glad I did what I could to please her, and that she called me an angel for doing it. Donât you think that I was one? And donât you feel, sir, that it is something of an honor to be an angelâs uncle? [Illustration: Suppose I kiss you right on your dear little bald spot 030] âNow suppose I kiss you right on your dear little bald spot, and that we make up our minds not to go to that horrid sulphur place at all. Everybody says that it is old-fashioned and stupid; and that is not the kind of an American watering-place that I want to see, you know. It would have been all very well if weâd gone there while I was in mourning, and had to be proper and quiet and retired, and all that; but Iâm not in mourning any longer, Uncle Hutchinson--and you havenât said yet how you like this breakfast gown. Do you have to be told that white lace over pale-blue silk is very becoming to your angel niece, Uncle Hutchinson? And now you shall have your kiss, and then the matter will be settled.â With which words Miss Lee--a somewhat bewildering but unquestionably delightful effect in blond and blue--fluttered up to her elderly relative, embraced him with a graceful energy, and bestowed upon his bald spot the promised kiss. âBut--but indeed, my dear,â responded Mr. Port, when he had emerged from Miss Leeâs enfolding arms, âyou know that going to the White Sulphur is not a mere matter of pleasure with me; it is one of hygienic necessity. You forget, Dorothyâ--Mr. Port spoke with a most earnest seriousness--âyou forget my liver.â âNow, Uncle Hutchinson, what is the use of talking about your liver that way? Havenât you told me a great many times already that it is an hereditary liver, and that nothing you can do to it ever will make it go right? And if it is bound to go wrong anyway, why canât you just try to forget all about it and have as pleasant a time as possible? Thatâs the doctrine that I always preached to poor dear mamma--she had an hereditary liver too, you know--and itâs a very good one. âAnyhow, Iâve heard mamma say countless times that Saratoga was a wonderfully good place for livers; now why canât we go there? Mamma always said that Saratoga was simply delightful--horse-racing going on all the time, and lovely drives, and rowing on the lake, and dancing all night long, and all sorts of lovely things. Letâs go to Saratoga, Uncle Hutchinson! Mamma said that the food there was delicious--and you know you always are grumbling about the food those sulphur people give you. âBut what really would be best of all for you, Uncle Hutchinson,â Miss Lee continued, with increasing animation, âis Carlsbad. Yes, thatâs what you really want--and while you are drinking the horrid waters I can be having a nice time, you know. Then, when you have finished your course, we can take a run into Switzerland; and after that, in the autumn, we might go over to Vienna--you will be delighted with the Vienna restaurants, and they do have such good white wines there. And then, from Vienna, we really can go on and have a winter in Russia. Just think how perfectly delightful it will be to drive about in sledges, all wrapped up in fursâ--Mr. Port shuddered; he detested cold weather--âand to go to the court balls, and even, perhaps, to be present the next time they assassinate the Czar! Oh, what a good time we are going to have! Do write at once, this very day, Uncle Hutchinson, to Carlsbad and engage our rooms.â To a person of Mr. Portâs staid, deliberate temperament this rapid outlining of a year of foreign travel, and this prompt assumption that the outline was to be immediately filled in and made a reality, was upsetting. His mental processes were of the Philadelphia sort, and when Miss Lee had completed the sketch of her European project he still was engaged in consideration of her argument in favor of throwing over the White Sulphur for Saratoga. However, he had comprehended enough of her larger plan to perceive that by accepting Saratoga promptly he might be spared the necessity of combating a far more serious assault upon his peace of mind and digestion. Travel of any sort was loathsome to Mr. Port, for it involved much hasty and inconsiderate eating. âVery well,â he said, but not cheerfully, for this was the first time in a great many years that he had not made and acted upon plans shaped wholly in his own interest, âwe will try Saratoga, since you so especially desire it; but if the waters affect my liver unfavorably we shall go to the White Sulphur at once.â âWhat! We are not to go to Carlsbad, then? Oh, Uncle Hutchinson, I had set my heart upon it! Donât, now donât be in a hurry to say positively that we wonât go. Think how much good the waters will do you, and think of what a lovely time you can have when your course is over, and you can eat just as much as you want of anything!â But even by this blissful prospect Mr. Port was not to be lured; and Dorothy, who combined a good deal of the wisdom of the serpent with her presumable innocence of the dove, perceived that it was the part of prudence not further to press for larger victory. âAnd from Saratoga, of course, we shall go to the Pier,â said Mr. Port, but with a certain aggressiveness of tone that gave to his assertion the air of a proposition in support of which argument might be required. âTo Narragansett, you mean? Oh, certainly. From what several people have told me about Narragansett I think that it must be quite entertaining, and I want to see it. And of course, Uncle Hutchinson, even if I didnât care about it at all, I should go all the same; for I want to fall in exactly with your plans and put you to as little trouble as possible, you know. For if your angel wasnât willing to be self-sacrificing, she really wouldnât be an angel at all.â Pleasing though this statement of Early Christian sentiment was, it struck Mr. Port--as he subsequently revolved it slowly in his slowly-moving mind--as lacking a little on the side of practicality; for Miss Lee, so far, unquestionably had contrived to upset with a fine equanimity every one of his plans that was not absolutely identical with her own. III. On the whole, the Saratoga expedition was not a success. Even on the journey, coming up by the limited train, Miss Lee was not favorably impressed by the appearance of her fellow-passengers. Nearly all of the men in the car (most of whom immediately betook themselves to the bar-room, euphoniously styled a buffet, at the head of the train) were of a type that would have suggested to one accustomed to American life that variety of it which is found seated in the high places of the government of the city of New York; and the aggressively dressed and too abundantly jewelled female companions of these men, heavily built, heavy browed, with faces marked in hard lines, and with aggressive eyes schooled to look out upon the world with a necessarily emphatic self-assertion, were of a type that, without special knowledge of American ways, was entirely recognizable. Albeit Miss Lee, having spent much time in the mixed society of various European watering-places, was not by any means an unsophisticated young person, and was not at all a squeamish one, she was sensibly relieved by finding that the chair next to hers was occupied by a silvery-haired old lady of the most unquestionable respectability; and her composure was further restored, presently, by the return to his chair, on the other side of her of Mr. Port: who had betaken himself to what the conductor had told him was the smoking-room, and who, finding himself in a bar-room, surrounded by a throng of hard-drinking, foul-mouthed men, had sacrificed his much-loved cigar in order to free himself from such distinctly offensive surroundings. At their hotel, and elsewhere, Miss Lee and her uncle encountered many of their fellow-passengers by the limited train, together with others of a like sort which previous trains had brought thither; and while, on the whole, these were about balanced by a more desirable class of visitors, they were in such force as to give to the life of the place a very positive tone. At the end of a week Dorothy avowed herself disappointed. âI never did think much of poor dear mammaâs taste, you know, Uncle Hutchinson,â she said, with her customary frankness, âand what she found to like in this place Iâm sure I canât imagine. Itâs tawdry and itâs vulgar; and as for its morals, I think that itâs worse than Monte Carlo. I suppose that there is a nice side to it, for I do see a few nice people; but, somehow, they all seem to stand off from each other as though they were afraid here to take any chances at all with strangers. And I donât blame them, Uncle Hutchinson, for I feel just that way myself. What you ought to have done was to have hired a cottage, and then people would have taken the trouble to find out about us; and when theyâd found that we were not all sorts of horrid things we should have got into the right set, and no doubt, at least if weâd stayed here through August, we should have had a very nice time. âBut weâre not having a nice time, here at this noisy hotel, Uncle Hutchinson, where the band canât keep quiet for half an hour at a time, and where the only notion that people seem to have of amusement is to overdress themselves and wear diamonds to dinner and sit in crowds on the verandas and dance at night with any stranger who can get another stranger to introduce him and to drive over on fine afternoons to that place by the lake and drink mixed drinks until some of them actually get tipsy. I really think that it all is positively horrid. And so Iâm quite willing now to go to the White Sulphur. It is stupid, I know, but Iâve always heard that it is intensely respectable. I will get my packing all done this afternoon, and we will start to-morrow morning; and I think that youâd better go and telegraph for rooms right away.â But to Dorothyâs surprise, and also to her chagrin, Mr. Port refused to entertain her proposition. He fully agreed with her in her derogatory estimate of Saratoga life as found at Saratoga hotels; and he cherished also a private grief incident to his (mistaken) belief that the cooking was not so good as he remembered it, bright in the glamour of his sound digestion in his youthful past. On the other hand, however, the waters certainly were having a most salutary effect upon his liver; and the move to Virginia would involve spending two days of hot weather in toilsome travel, sustained only by such food as railway restaurants afford. Therefore Mr. Port declared decidedly that until the end of July they would remain where they were--and so gave his niece the doubtful pleasure of an entirely new experience by compelling her to do something that she did not want to do at all. It was a comfort to Mr. Port, in later years, to remember that he had got ahead of Dorothy once, anyhow. Being a very charming young person, Miss Lee could not, of course, be grumpy; yet grumpiness certainly would have been the proper word with which to describe her mood during her last fortnight at Saratoga had she not possessed such extraordinarily fine gray eyes and such an admirably dimpled chin. The fact must be admitted that she contrived to make her uncleâs life so much of a burden to him that his staying powers were strained to the utmost Indeed, he admitted to himself that he could not have held out against such tactics for another week; and he perceived that he had done injustice to his departed sister in thinking--as he certainly had thought, and even had expressed on more than one occasion in writing--that in permitting her European movements to be shaped in accordance with her daughterâs fancies she had exhibited an inexcusable weakness. It was a relief to Mr. Portâs mind, and also to his digestion--for Dorothyâs grumpiness produced an effect distinctly bilious--when the end of July arrived and his own and his charming wardâs views once more were brought into harmony by the move to Narragansett Pier. Fortunately, while somewhat disposed to stand upon her own rights, Miss Lee was not a person who bore malice; a pleasing fact that became manifest on the moment that she began to pack her trunks. âI am afraid, Uncle Hutchinson,â she observed, on the morning that this important step towards departure was taken--âI am afraid that during the past week or so your angel may not have been quite as much of an angel as usual.â âNo,â replied Mr. Port, with a colloquial disregard of grammatical construction, and with perhaps unnecessary emphasis, âI donât think she has.â âBut from this moment onward,â Dorothy continued, courteously ignoring her uncleâs not too courteous interpolation, and airily relegating into oblivion the recent past, âshe expects to manifest her angelic qualities to an extent that will make her appear unfit for earth. Very possibly she may even grow a pair of wings and fly quite away from you, sir--right up among the clouds, where the other angels are! And how would you like that, Uncle Hutchinson?â In the sincere seclusion of his inner consciousness Mr. Port admitted the thought that if Dorothy had resolved herself into an angelic _vol-au-vent_ (a simile that came naturally to his mind) at any time during the preceding fortnight he probably would have accepted the situation with a commendable equanimity. But what he actually said was that her departure in this aerated fashion would make him profoundly miserable. Mr. Port was a little astonished at himself when he was delivered of this gallant speech; for gallant speeches, as he very well knew, were not at all in his line. On the amicable basis thus established, Miss Lee and her guardian resumed their travels; and, excepting only Mr. Portâs personal misery incident to the alimentary exigencies of railway transportation, their journey from the central region of New York to the seaboard of Rhode Island was accomplished without misadventure. IV. In regard to Narragansett Pier, Miss Leeâs opinions, the which she was neither slow in forming nor unduly cautious in expressing, at first were unfavorable. âAnd so _this_ is âthe Pier,â is it?â she observed in a tone by no means expressive of approval as she stood on the hotel veranda on the day of her arrival, and contemplated the rather limited prospect that was bounded at one end by the Casino and at the other by the coal-elevator. âIf those smelly little stones out there are âthe Rocksâ that people talk about at such a rate I must confess that I am disappointed in themâ--Mr. Port hastened to assure her that the Rocks were in quite a different direction--âand if that is the Casino, while it seems a nice sort of a place, I really think that they might have managed the arch so as not to have that horrid green house showing under it. And what little poor affairs the hotels are! Really, Uncle Hutchinson, I donât see what there is in this little place to make such a fuss about.â âDorothy,â replied Mr. Port, with much solemnity, âyou evidently forget--though I certainly have mentioned the fact to you repeatedly--that the climate of this portion of Rhode Island is the most distinctively antibilious climate to be found upon the whole coast of North America. For persons possessing delicate livers--â âOh, bother delicate livers--at least, I beg your pardon, Uncle Hutchinson,â for an expression of such positive pain had come into Mr. Portâs face at this irreverent reference to an organ that he regarded as sacred that even Dorothy was forced to make some sort of an apology. âOf course I donât want to bother your poor liver more than it is bothered anyway; but, you know, I havenât got a liver, and I donât care for climates a bit. What I mean is: what do people do here to have a good time?â âIn the morning,â replied Mr. Port, âthey bathe, and in the afternoon they drive to the Point. This morning we shall bathe, Dorothy--bathing is an admirable liver tonic--and this afternoon we shall drive to the Point.â âGood heavens! Is that all?â exclaimed Miss Lee. âWhy, itâs worse than Saratoga. Do you mean to say, Uncle Hutchinson, that people donât dance here, and donât go yachting, and donât have lunch-parties, and donât play tennis, and donât even have afternoon teas?â âI believe that some of these things are done here,â replied Mr. Port, in a tone that implied that such frivolities were quite beyond the lines of his own personal interests. âYes,â he continued, âI am sure that all of them are done here now--for the Pier is not what it used to be, Dorothy. The quiet air of intense respectability that characterized Narragansett when it was the resort only of a few of the best families of Philadelphia has departed from it--I fear forever! But, thank Heaven, its climatic characteristics remain intact. When you are older, Dorothy, and your liver asserts itself, you will appreciate this incomparable climate at its proper value.â âWell, it hasnât asserted itself yet, you know; and I must say Iâm devoutly thankful that something has happened to wake up the quiet and intensely respectable Philadelphians before I had to come here. But Iâm very glad, dear Uncle Hutchinson,â Miss Lee continued, winningly, âthat this climate is so good for you, and Iâm sure I hope that you wonât have a single bilious attack all the time that you are here. And youâll take your angel to the dances, and to see the tennis, and youâll give her lunch-parties, and youâll take her yachting, wonât you, you dear? But I know you will; and if this were not such a very conspicuous place, and might make a scandal, Iâd give you a very sweet kiss to pay you in advance for all the trouble that you are going to take to make your angel enjoy herself. You neednât bother about the teas, Uncle Hutchinson--for the most part theyâre only women, and stupid.â Being still somewhat cast down by painful memories of that trying final fortnight in Saratoga, during which he and his niece had pulled so strongly in opposite directions, Mr. Port heard with a lively alarm this declaration of a plan of campaign which, if carried out, would wreck hopelessly his own comfort of body and peace of mind. Obviously, this was no time for faltering. If the catastrophe was to be averted, he must speak out at once and with a decisive energy. âI need not tell you, Dorothy,â he began, speaking in a most grave and earnest tone, âthat it is my desire to discharge in the amplest and kindest manner my duties towards you as a guardian--â âIâm sure of it, and of course you neednât tell me, you dearest dear--and we might begin with just a little lunch to-day. The breakfast was horrid, and I didnât get half enough even of what there was.â âBut I must say now,â Mr. Port went on--keenly regretting the unfortunate beginning that he had given to his declaration of independence, but judiciously ignoring Dorothyâs shrewd perversion of it--âthat your several suggestions literally are impossibilities. I admit that dancing for a short period, at about an hour after each meal, is an admirable exercise that produces a most salutary effect upon the digestive apparatus; but persistent dancing until an unduly late period of the night is a practice as unhygienic as, in the mixed company of a watering-place, it is socially objectionable. âTennis is an absurdity worthy of the vacuous minds of those who engage in it.. To suggest that I shall sit in a cramped position in a draughty gallery for several hours at a stretch in order to watch empty-headed young men playing a perverted form of battledoor and shuttlecock across a net, is to imply that they and I are upon the same intellectual level; and this, I trust, is not the case. âAs you certainly should remember, Dorothy, all persons of a bilious habit suffer severely from seasickness; a fact that, of course, disposes effectually of your yachting plans. For you are not desirous, I am sure, of purchasing your own selfish enjoyment--if you possibly can have enjoyment on board a yacht--at the cost of my intense personal misery. âBut in regard to the lunches, my dearâ--Mr. Portâs tone softened perceptibly--âthere certainly is something to be said. The food here at the hotel, I admit, is atrocious, and at the Casino it is possible occasionally to procure something eatable. Yes, I shall have much pleasure in giving a lunch this very morning to my angelâ (Mr. Port, warming in advance under the genial influence of the croquette and salad that he intended to order, became playful), âfor what you said in regard to the breakfast, Dorothy, was quite true--it was abominable. If you will excuse me, I will just step down to the Casino now and give my order; then things will be all ready for us when we get back from the bath.â And such was Miss Leeâs generalship that she rested content with her success in one direction, and deferred until a more convenient season her further demands. She was a reasonable young woman, and was quite satisfied with accomplishing one thing at a time. V. Two or three days later Dorothy advanced her second parallel. In the interval they had bathed every morning and had driven to the Point every afternoon, and they had held converse upon the veranda of the hotel every evening until ten oâclock with certain eminently respectable people from Philadelphia, by whom Dorothy was bored, as she did not hesitate to confess, almost to desperation. Further, Mr. Port had given a lunch-party to which these same Philadelphians were invited; and his niece had informed him, when the festivity was at an end, that if he did anything like that again she certainly would either run away or drown herself. Any trials in this world or any dangers in the next, she declared, were preferable to sitting opposite to such a person as Mrs. Logan Rittenhouse, who talked nothing but uninteresting scandal and crochet, and next to Mr. Pennington Brown, who talked only about peoplesâ great-grandfathers and great-aunts. It was with a lively alarm that Mr. Port noted these signs of discontent, together with returning symptoms of the grumpiness which had disturbed his comfort and digestion at Saratoga; and it was most selfishly in his own self-interest that he tried to think of something that would afford his niece amusement. Miss Lee, when she perceived that her intelligently laid plans were working successfully, was graciously pleased to assist him. âIt is a great pity, Uncle Hutchinson,â she vouchsafed to remark on the fourth day of suppressed domestic sunshine, âthat you donât like tennis. Donât you think, for your angelâs sake, that you could go for just a little while this afternoon? Thereâs going to be a capital match this afternoon, and your angel does so want to see it. You havenât been very--very agreeable the past two or three days, you dear, and I fear that your liver must be a little out of order. Really, you havenât given your angel a single chance to be affectionate--and unless she can be affectionate and sweet and clinging, and things like that, you know, your poor angel is not happy at all. Suppose we try the tennis for just half an hour or so? It wonât be much of a sacrifice for you, and it will make your angel so happy that she will make herself dearer to you than ever, you precious thing.â This form of address was disconcerting to Mr. Port, for during the period to which Miss Lee referred he certainly had been trying--not very cleverly, perhaps, for such efforts were not at all in his line, but still to the best of his ability--to make himself as agreeable as possible; and the effort on the part of his niece to be angelic, of which she spoke so confidently, he could not but think had fallen rather more than a little short of absolute success. The one ray of comfort that he extracted from Dorothyâs utterance was her reference to herself as his angel; he had come to understand that the use of this term was a sign of fair weather, and he valued it accordingly. But even for the sake of fair weather Mr. Port was not yet prepared to expose his elderly joints to the draughty discomforts of the galleries overhanging the tennis-court; and he said so, pretty decidedly. Almost anything else he was willing to do, he added, but that particular thing he would not do at all. âAs you please, Uncle Hutchinson,â Dorothy answered, in a tone of gloomy resignation. âI am used to hearing that. It is just what poor dear mamma used to say. She always was willing, you know, to do everything but the thing that I wanted her to do. I remember, just to mention a single instance, how mamma broke up a delightful water party on Windermere that Sir Gordon Graham had arranged expressly for us. The weather was rather misty, as it is apt to be up there, you know, but nothing worth minding when you are well wrapped up. But mamma said that if she went out in such a drizzle she knew her cough would be ever so much worse--and of course she couldnât really know that it would be worse, for nobody truly knows what the weather is going to do to them--and so she wouldnât go. And Sir Gordon was very much hurt about it, and never came near us again. And unless Iâm very much mistaken, Uncle Hutchinson, mammaâs selfishness that day lost me the chance of being Lady Graham. So Iâm used to being treated in this way, and you neednât at all mind refusing me everything that I ask.â And, being delivered of this discourse, Miss Lee lapsed into a condition of funereal gloom. At the end of another twenty-four hours Mr. Port knuckled under. âI have been thinking, Dorothy,â he said, âabout what you were saying about tennis. Itâs a beastly game, but since you insist upon seeing it Iâll take you for a little while this afternoon.â This was not the most gracious form of words in which an invitation could be couched; but Dorothy, who was not a stickler for forms provided she was successful in results, accepted it with alacrity. Later in the day, as they returned from the Casino, she declared: âYour angel has had a lovely afternoon, Uncle Hutchinson, and she is sure that you have had a lovely afternoon too. And now that youâve found what fun there is in looking at tennis, weâll go every day, wonât we, dear? Sometimes, you know, you are just a little, just a very little prejudiced about things; but you are so good and sweet-tempered that your prejudices never last long, and so your angel cannot help loving you a great deal.â Mr. Port, who was not at all sweet-tempered at that moment, was prepared to reply to the first half of this speech in terms of some emphasis; for he was limping a little, and a shocking twinge took him in his left shoulder when he attempted to raise his arm. But Dorothyâs sudden shifting to polite personalities was of a nature to choke off his projected indignant utterance. Yet not feeling by any means prepared to meet in kind her pleasing manifestation of affection, Mr. Port was a little put to it to find any suitable form of response. After a momentâs reflection he abandoned the attempt to reply coherently, and contented himself with grunting. VI. Encouraged by the success that was attending her unselfish efforts to harmonize her own and her uncleâs conceptions of the temporal fitness of things, Miss Lee began to find life at the Pier quite supportable. âThereâs not much to do here,â she declared, with her customary candor, âand the hotels--all ugly and all in a row--make it look like an overgrown charitable institution; and most of the people, I must say, are such a dismal lot that they might very well be the patients out for an airing. But, on the whole, Iâve been in several worse places, Uncle Hutchinson; and if only youâd take me to a hop now and then, instead of sitting every evening on the pokey hotel veranda talking Philadelphia twaddle with that stuffy old Mr. Pennington Brown, I might have rather a good time here.â âYou will oblige me, Dorothy,â replied Mr. Port, âby refraining from using such a word as âstuffyâ in connection with a gentleman who belongs to one of the oldest and best families in Philadelphia, and who, moreover, is one of my most esteemed friends.â âBut he _is_ stuffy, Uncle Hutchinson. He never talks about anything but who peoplesâ grandfathers and grandmothers were; and _Watsonâs Annals_ seems to be the only book that he ever has heard of. Indeed, I do truly think that he is the very stuffiest and stupidest old gentleman that I ever have known.â Mr. Port made no reply to this sally, for his feelings were such that he deemed it best not to give expression to them in words; but he was not unnaturally surprised, after such a declaration of sentiments on the part of his niece, when she begged to be excused on the ensuing afternoon from her regular drive to the Point, on the ground that she had promised to make an expedition to the Rocks in Mr. Brownâs company. Had an opportunity been given him Mr. Port would have asked for an explanation of this phenomenon; but the carriage was in waiting that was to convey his ward and her extraordinary companion to the end of the road at Indian Rock--a slight rheumatic tendency, that he declared was hereditary, rendering it advisable for Mr. Brown to reduce the use of his legs to a minimum--and before Mr. Port could rally his forces they had entered it and had driven away. [Illustration: They had entered it and had driven away 050] In the evening Mr. Port found another surprise awaiting him. Miss Lee presently retired from the veranda for the avowed purpose of searching for a missing fan, thus leaving the two gentlemen together. [Illustration: What a charming girl your niece is 054] âWhat a charming girl your niece is, Port!â said Mr. Brown, as the fluttering train of Dorothyâs dress disappeared through the door-way. Mr. Port evidently considered that this possibly debatable statement was sufficiently answered by a grunt, for that was all the answer he gave it. Not permitting his enthusiasm to be checked by this chillingly dubious response, Mr. Brown continued: âShe certainly is one of the most charming girls I have met in a long time, Port. She is not a bit like the average of young girls nowadays. I rarely have known a young person of either sex to be so genuinely interested in genealogy, especially in Philadelphia genealogy; and I must say that her liking for antiquarian matters generally is very remarkable. I envy you, I really envy you, old boy, the blessing of that sweet young creatureâs constant companionship.â âUmph--do you?â was Mr. Portâs concise and rather discouraging reply. âIndeed I doâ--Mr. Brown was too warm to notice the cynical tone of his friendâs rejoinder--âand I have been thinking, Port, that we are a pair of selfish old wretches to monopolize every evening in the way that we have been doing this bright young flower. It is a shame for us to keep her in our stupid company--though she tells me that she finds our talk about old people and old times exceedingly interesting--instead of letting her have a little of the young society and a little of the excitement and pleasure of watering-place life. Now, how would it do for us to take her down to the Casino to-night? There is to be a hop to-night, she says; at least, that is to sayâ--Mr. Brown became somewhat confused--âI heard somewhere that there is to be a hop tonight, and while that sort of thing is pretty stupid for you and me, it isnât a bit stupid for a young and pretty girl like her. So suppose we take her, old man?â As this amazing proposition was advanced by his elderly friend, Mr. Portâs anger and astonishment were aroused together; and his rude rejoinder to it was: âHave you gone crazy, Brown, or has Dorothy been making a fool of you? Has she asked you to ask me to take her to the Casino hop? She knows there is no use in talking to me about it any longer.â âNo, certainly not--at least--that is to say--well, no, not exactly,â replied Mr. Brown, beginning his sentence with an asperity and positiveness that somehow did not hold out to its end. âShe did say to me, I confess, how fond she was of dancing, and how she had refrained from saying much about it to youâ--Mr. Port here interpolated a sceptical snort--âbecause she knew that taking her to the Casino would only bore you. And I do think, Port, that keeping her here with us all the time is grossly selfish; and if you donât want to take her to the hop I hope youâll let her go with me. But what weâd better do, old man, is to take her together--then we can talk to each other just as well, at least nearly as well, as we can here, and we can have the comfort of knowing that she is enjoying herself too. Come, Hutch; weâre getting old and rusty, you and I, but let us try at least to keep from degenerating into a pair of selfish old brutes with no care for anybodyâs comfort but our own.â Mr. Hutchinson Port might have replied with a fair amount of truth that so far as he himself was concerned the degeneration that his friend referred to as desirable to avoid already had taken place. But all of us like most to be credited with the virtues of which we have least, and he therefore accepted as his due Mr. Brownâs tribute of implied praise. And the upshot of the matter was that Dorothy, when she returned to the veranda again, was unaffectedly surprised (and considering how carefully she had planned her small campaign she did it very creditably) by discovering that her uncleâs edict against the Casino hops had been withdrawn. VII. Even Dorothy was disposed to believe that unless some peculiarly favorable combination of circumstances presented itself as a basis for her intelligent manipulation her strong desire for a yacht voyage must remain ungratified; for, now that his liver was decidedly the larger part of him, Mr. Port had a fairly catlike dread of the sea. To be sure, Dorothyâs character was a resolute one, and her staying powers were quite remarkable; but in the matter of venturing his bilious body upon the ocean she discovered that her uncle--although now reduced to a fairly satisfactory state of submission in other respects--had a large and powerful will of his own. Fortune, however, favors the resolute even more decidedly than she favors the brave. This fact Dorothy comprehended thoroughly, and uniformly acted upon. Each time that even a remote possibility of a yacht cruise presented itself she instantly brought her batteries to bear; and, with a nice understanding of her uncleâs intellectual peculiarities, she each time treated the matter as though it never before had been discussed. Therefore it was that when Miss Leeâs eyes were gladdened one day--just as she and her uncle were about to begin their lunch on the shady veranda of the Casino--by the sight of a trim schooner yacht sliding down the wind from the direction of Newport, the subject of the cruise was revived with a suddenness and point that Mr. Port found highly disconcerting. The yacht rounded to off the Casino, and the sound of a plunge and a clanking chain floated across the water as her anchor went overboard. [Illustration: The yacht rounded to off the Casino 060] âOh, isnât she a beauty!â exclaimed Dorothy, with enthusiasm. âNow, Uncle Hutchinson, her owner is coming ashore--they have just brought the gig round to the gangway--and if you donât know him you must get somebody to introduce you to him; and then you must introduce him to me; and then he will ask us to go on a cruise; and of course we will go, and have just the loveliest time in the world. I havenât been on board a yacht for nearly five years (just look at the gig: donât the men pull splendidly?)--not since that nice little Lord Alderhone took poor dear mamma and me up to Norway. We did have such a good time! Poor dear mamma, of course, was desperately sick--she always was horribly sea-sick, you know; but Iâm never sea-sick the least bit, and it was perfectly delightful. Look, Uncle Hutchinson, theyâve made the dock, and now heâs coming right up here. What a handsome man he is, and how well he looks in his club uniform! It seems to me Iâve seen him somewhere. Do you know him, Uncle Hutchinson?â A serious difficulty under which Mr. Port labored in his dealings with his niece was his inability--due to his Philadelphia habit of mind--to keep up with the exceptionally rapid flow of her ideas. On the present occasion, while he still was engaged in consideration of the irrational proposition that he should court the desperate misery that attends a bilious man at sea by as good as asking to be taken on a yacht voyage, he suddenly found his ideas twisted off into another direction by the reference to his sisterâs sufferings on a similar occasion in the past; and before he could frame in words the reproof that he was disposed to administer to Dorothy for what he probably would have styled her heartlessness, he found his thoughts shunted to yet another track by a direct question. It is within the bounds of possibility that Miss Lee had arrived at a just estimate of her relativeâs intellectual peculiarities, and that she even sometimes framed her discourses with a view to taking advantage of them. The direct question being the simplest section of Dorothyâs complex utterance, Mr. Port abandoned his intended remonstrance and reproof and proceeded to answer it. âYes,â he said, âI know him. Itâs Van Rensselaer Livingstone. His cousin, Van Ruy-ter Livingstone, married your cousin Grace--Grace Winthrop, you know. Heâs a great scamp--this one, I mean; gambles, and that sort of thing, Iâm told, and drinks, and--and various things. I shall have to speak to him if he sees me, I suppose; but of course I shall not introduce him to you.â âMr. Van Rensselaer Livingstone! Why so it is! How perfectly delightful! I know him very well, Uncle Hutchinson. He was in Nice the last winter we were there; and he broke the bank at Monaco; and he played that perfectly absurd trick on little Prince Sporetti: cut off his little black mustache when Prince Sporetti was--was not exactly sober, you know, and gummed on a great red mustache instead of it; and then, before the prince was quite himself again, took him to Lady Orrasbyâs ball. All Nice was in a perfect roar over it. And they had a duel afterwards, and Mr. Livingstone--he is a wonderful shot--instead of hurting the little prince, just shot away the tip of his left ear as nicely as possible. Oh, he is a delightful man--and here he comes.â And Dorothy, half rising from her chair, and paying no more attention to Mr. Portâs kicks under the table than she did to his smothered verbal remonstrances, extended her well-shaped white hand in the most cordial manner, and in the most cordial tone exclaimed: âWonât you speak to me in English, Mr. Livingstone? We talked French, I think it was, the last time we met. And how is your friend Prince Sporetti? Has his ear grown out again? You know my uncle, I think? Mr. Hutchinson Port.â Livingstone took the proffered hand with even more cordiality than it was given, and then extended his own to Mr. Port--who seemed much less inclined to shake it than to bite it. âI think that we are justified in regarding ourselves as relations now, Miss Lee, since our cousins have married each other, you know. Quite a romance, wasnât it? And how very jolly it is to meet you here--when I thought that you certainly were in Switzerland or Norway, or even over in that new place that people are going to in
{'title': 'The Uncle of an Angel by Thomas A. Janvier', 'source': 'Project Gutenberg', 'lang': 'en'}