Page:Lippincotts Monthly Magazine-40.djvu/529

Rh Still, there was chicken; a piece of the breast, too.

It was a very ancient fowl, which Bernard had bought because he thought it was so large and looked as though it might taste like turkey. He insisted that I should broil it, because Juliet liked it so, and I did, but I was not an expert in cooking, and I did not know that there was any way of making it more tender. Therefore it had lasted a long time. In private Bernard told me that it tasted like sleeve-buttons. He had sold his own to buy it.

Having proclaimed my larder, I sent Juliet back to the baby in the parlor, and I took off my hat and began to prepare her supper. I made the tea in a little china pot, and I cut the bread, and pared the peaches, and brought up the chicken and laid a rosebud on it, and carried the waiter into the parlor.

The Supreme Court, I told her, had decided that butter was against the law, but that fruit could be substituted; and here it was. And so I drew up a little table in front of her, took the baby, and sat down to see her eat.

I recollect how hungry I was, and how much I wished that I too had a peach, but when I remembered that all I could give Bernard was tea and bread, I stopped thinking of peaches for myself. And then in came Bernard, looking more happy than usual, and he took the baby from me, and together we made Juliet eat every bit of her chicken, although she declared it made her teeth ache. Bernard had news that cheered us all. His uncle Griswold had returned to the city, and he was amazed when he found that Bernard had no employment, and had said it must be attended to at once. "What I shall have to do, I do not know," he said, "but it will be something." And he kissed the baby, and then he kissed Juliet too.

On the sofa lay the book Juliet had been reading, and he picked it up and laughed at her choice. It was the history of a Pennsylvania Quaker settlement, and he said it was as dry as dust.

"But I like it," answered she, "and it is not at all dry if you read between the lines and see what must have happened. There was one of the family, Samuel Scatterworth, who was a preacher, and once going to yearly meeting he stopped at an inn, where he saw a God-fearing and modest young woman who pleased him. So as he mounted his horse the next morning he said, 'Phœbe Tatem, when I come again next year, if the Lord wills, I will marry thee.' Now read between that!"

"But did he marry her ?" said I.

"Why, of course, or why tell the story? Just think of her waiting a year on such an offer! and do you suppose there were no other young Quakers who wanted to marry her? But I don't know whether I should rather be called 'Tatem' or 'Scatterworth'."

"Talking of names," exclaimed Bernard, "I heard of an odorous one to-day, and it came in a letter from Duncan."

"From Duncan!" cried Juliet. "Is he coming home?"

"Not yet. He seems to have no end of work. And I expect it pays him well." Because he said this with a little sigh, Juliet asked, quickly and gently, what Duncan had written.