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Lady Baltimore

Chapter 2 I Vary My Lunch

Word Count: 2266    |    Released on: 19/11/2017

quiet waves that ripple round her Southern front, speak in the church-bells on Sunday morning, and breathe not only in the soft salt air, but in the perfume of every gentle, old-fashioned rose that b

in gray moss, brooding with memories! W

with it in my mind, the quiet and strange romance which I saw happen, and came finally to share in. Why it is that my Aunt no longer wishes to know either the boy or the girl, or even to hear their names mentioned, you shall learn at

e in this name, a fitness to my

twelve, it was my habit to leave my Fanning researches for a while, and lunch at the Exchange upon chocolate and sandwiches most delicate in savor. As, one day, I was luxuriously biting one of these, I heard his voice and what he was saying. Both the voice and the interesting order he was giving caused me, at my small table, in the dim back of the room, to stop and watch him where he stood in the light at the counter to the right of the entrance door. Young he was, very young, twenty-two or three at the most, and as he stood, with hat in hand, speaking to the pretty girl behind the counter, his

ost had; but the blood in his cheeks

he counter: "We don't expe

be rather particularly engaged." His

. You will leave your address.

round one. Like this, you know!" His arms embrace

her side of the counter; there was, at any rate,

ery best. Each person would eat a pound, wouldn't they? Or would two be nearer? I think I had better

e found there; but with a customer, never. She always took my orders, and my money, and served me, with a silence and a propriety that have become, with ordinary shopkeepers, a lost art. They talk to one indeed! But this slim girl was a lady, and

e you want that?"

e? Yes, that i

acquainted with its price) and the cost of that rich article which convention has prescribed as the cake for weddings; at any rate, swift, sudden delicacy of feeling prevented her explaining any more to him, for she saw how it was: his means w

n speaking. "That's all,

ing back she, too, mu

loudly from my table: "But he hasn

d there he was at the door himself, rushing back. He, too, had remembered. It was almost a collision, an

iately. "I am sorry to be so carel

ou have given us more time than we need." She put complete, impersonal business into her

profile. Aunt Carola would have embraced her--and I should have liked to do so myself. She could not stand the idea of my having, after all these days of official reserve that she had placed between us, startled her into that rush to the door annihilated her dignity at a blow. So did I finish my sandwiches beneath her invisible but eloquent fire. What affair of mine was the cake? And what sort of impertinent, meddlesome person was I, shrieking out my suggestions to people with whom I had no acquaintance? These w

u please, of Lady Baltimore,"

ting second she replied, "Certainly," in her fit Regul

ng with Lady Baltimore. Oh, my goodness! Did you ever taste it? It's all soft, and it's

e to speak aloud, and with my mouth f

pliment." Then she walked straight back to my table. "I can't help it," she said, laughing still, and her delightful, insolent no

very agreeable t

th you for making me ridiculous. But you have admired my cake with such enthusiasm that you

ry much astonished that y

known all about

. I could easily misspell, if I chose; but how, even then, could I, for instance, make you hear her way of saying "about"? "Abo

about you," she repeated wi

ind telli

. "This place is deat

on the instant, enlighten me. "Th

you not heard ladies

led her words.

no

dull of me! Ladies

rolina archives at the library--and then that notebook you bring marked you out the

me!" s

ty for a moment interrupted her, before she continued, always mocking and always sweet: "Kings Port cannot boast intelligence offices for servants; but if you want to know the character and occupation of your friends, come to the Exchange!" How I wish I could gi

ing the small debt for my lunch I asked: "Since this is the proper place

And I thought you were quite a clev

you're quite a clever Reb--I

ouldn't you see that

erly ladies entered, the girl behind the counter stiffened to primness in a flash, and

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Lady Baltimore
Lady Baltimore
“S. Weir Mitchell With the Affection and Memories of All My Life To the Reader You know the great text in Burns, I am sure, where he wishes he could see himself as others see him. Well, here lies the hitch in many a work of art: if its maker--poet, painter, or novelist--could but have become its audience too, for a single day, before he launched it irrevocably upon the uncertain ocean of publicity, how much better his boat would often sail! How many little touches to the rigging he would give, how many little drops of oil to the engines here and there, the need of which he had never suspected, but for that trial trip! That's where the ship-builders and dramatists have the advantage over us others: they can dock their productions and tinker at them. Even to the musician comes this useful chance, and Schumann can reform the proclamation which opens his B-flat Symphony. Still, to publish a story in weekly numbers previously to its appearance as a book does sometimes give to the watchful author an opportunity to learn, before it is too late, where he has failed in clearness; and it brings him also, through the mails, some few questions that are pleasant and proper to answer when his story sets forth united upon its journey of adventure among gentle readers. How came my hero by his name? If you will open a book more valuable than any I dare hope to write, and more entertaining too, The Life of Paul Jones, by Mr. Buell, you will find the real ancestor of this imaginary boy, and fall in love with John Mayrant the First, as did his immortal captain of the Bon Homme Richard. He came from South Carolina; and believing his seed and name were perished there to-day, I gave him a descendant. I have learned that the name, until recently, was in existence; I trust it will not seem taken in vain in these pages. Whence came such a person as Augustus? Our happier cities produce many Augustuses, and may they long continue to do so! If Augustus displeases any one, so much the worse for that one, not for Augustus. To be sure, he doesn't admire over heartily the parvenus of steel or oil, whose too sudden money takes them to the divorce court; he calls them the 'yellow rich'; do you object to that? Nor does he think that those Americans who prefer their pockets to their patriotism, are good citizens. He says of such people that 'eternal vigilance cannot watch liberty and the ticker at the same time.' Do you object to that? Why, the young man would be perfect, did he but attend his primaries and vote more regularly,--and who wants a perfect young man? What would John Mayrant have done if Hortense had not challenged him as she did? I have never known, and I fear we might have had a tragedy. Would the old ladies really have spoken to Augustus about the love difficulties of John Mayrant? I must plead guilty. The old ladies of Kings Port, like American gentlefolk everywhere, keep family matters sacredly inside the family circle. But you see, had they not told Augustus, how in the world could I have told--however, I plead guilty. Certain passages have been interpreted most surprisingly to signify a feeling against the colored race, that is by no means mine. My only wish regarding these people, to whom we owe an immeasurable responsibility, is to see the best that is in them prevail. Discord over this seems on the wane, and sane views gaining. The issue sits on all our shoulders, but local variations call for a sliding scale of policy. So admirably dispassionate a novel as The Elder Brother, by Mr. Jervey, forwards the understanding of Northerners unfamiliar with the South, and also that friendliness between the two places, which is retarded chiefly by tactless newspapers. Ah, tact should have been one of the cardinal virtues; and if I didn't possess a spice of it myself, I should here thank by name certain two members of the St. Michael family of Kings Port for their patience with this comedy, before ever it saw the light. Tact bids us away from many pleasures; but it can never efface the memory of kindness.”
1 Chapter 1 A Word About My Aunt2 Chapter 2 I Vary My Lunch3 Chapter 3 Kings Port Talks4 Chapter 4 The Girl Behind The Counter--15 Chapter 5 The Boy Of The Cake6 Chapter 6 In The Churchyard7 Chapter 7 The Girl Behind The Counter--28 Chapter 8 Midsummer-Night's Dream9 Chapter 9 Juno10 Chapter 10 High Walk And The Ladies11 Chapter 11 Daddy Ben And His Seed12 Chapter 12 From The Bedside13 Chapter 13 The Girl Behind The Counter--314 Chapter 14 The Replacers15 Chapter 15 What She Came To See16 Chapter 16 The Steel Wasp17 Chapter 17 Doing The Handsome Thing18 Chapter 18 Again The Replacers19 Chapter 19 Udolpho20 Chapter 20 What She Wanted Him For21 Chapter 21 Hortense's Cigarette Goes Out22 Chapter 22 Behind The Times23 Chapter 23 Poor Aunt Carola!24 Chapter 24 Post Scriptum