Ramshackle House. Footner Hulbert

      “Don’t you get lonely?”

      A shadow crossed the young man’s open countenance. “No, I’m fed up with people,” he said shortly. “…That is, city people,” he added with a glance through his lashes at Pen.

      A sudden flame of jealousy burned Pen’s breast. “There have been many women in his life!” And immediately: “Oh, what a fool I am!” she promptly added.

      Pendleton glanced admonishingly at his daughter. Where was the courtesy to strangers for which the Broomes were famous? The glance was wasted upon Pen. An awkward silence resulted.

      Finally the young man said politely: “I came to see if I could get some butter and eggs.”

      “Certainly,” said Pen stiffly. “Eggs are twenty cents a dozen, butter forty cents the pound.”

      She bit her tongue as soon as it was out, but could not have helped herself. Some power stronger than her will forced her to put her worst foot foremost. Pendleton père was frankly shocked, but the young man was not put out at all. He grinned at her delightfully and murmured too low for her father to hear:

      “Cheap at half the price!”

      It did not help Pen any. “He’s laughing at me!” she said to herself in a rage. “Thinks he can have me at his own price!… He’ll see!”

      Pendleton coughed behind his hand as a direct reminder to Pen of the time-honored hospitality of their house. Pen didn’t get it. The effort to master her inexplicable emotions made her look almost stupid. In the end Pendleton himself was obliged to say:

      “You will have dinner with us?”

      Counsell’s face lighted up. “You are very kind, but…” He looked at Pen again.

      “We’ll be very pleased to have you,” Pen said as primly as a school-marm, and despising herself for it. Why couldn’t she be natural?

      “Well, thanks, I will,” Counsell said heartily. “After three days in camp a square meal will be a god-send! I may say I’m no great shakes of a cook.”

      Pen’s breast warmed at the thought of feeding the youth. “Dinner” had the effect of recalling her scattered faculties. Her mind flew to the question: What is there…? The ham-bone…? Impossible! Stuffed eggs…lettuce…radishes…strawberries. There is that bottle of my three year old grape wine… Not enough for a hungry man. He’s so vigorous!… If I could put it off until half-past one I might get the boys to catch me some soft crabs… No, the tide is too high!… I have it! The cheese soufflé!”

      Excusing herself she went into the house to get her preparations under way. In the hall she came to a dead stop with her arms hanging limply, and looked into the future with a sort of horror. Her thought was: “I’m a goner!… I have lost myself…lost…!” She pulled herself together with a jerk and flew into the kitchen, where for the next half hour things hummed. Aunt Maria Garner loved to cook for company.

      Later, Pen having changed her dress, was setting the table. Through the open window she could hear her father retailing the Broome family history in the slightly throaty voice of self-importance. Pen knew his tale by heart.

      “…Settled here since 1710… 2500 acres…the estate runs four miles up the Bay shore.… The first house built here was a fine Colonial mansion with a pillared portico. Burned by the British on their expedition against Washington in the 1812 affair. A comfortable farmhouse with great chimneys arose out of its ruins. The present structure was erected in 1869. This was the style then, a great square block with a cupola. Considered magnificent in its day. Very fine rooms. You’ll see them presently. It contains the oldest bath-room in Southern Maryland. Unfortunately out of order at present.

      “This house was built by my father on his return from Peru. He was a man of resource. When everybody hereabouts was ruined by the war he emigrated to South America. Got in with the right people in Peru and made a great fortune in a year or two. Invested it in Peruvian bonds. He returned and laid out the old family place on a princely scale, princely. Laid out twenty miles of roads through the woods for his guests to take horse exercise. At one time he had five hundred employees on the place white and black. How well I remember as a child when the family departed for Newport where my father had another place, they would all be lined up to say good-by in a double row extending far beyond the gate. We would walk between and my father would shake hands with each one and say a few kind words. There was scarcely a dry eye among them!”

      Pen, listening to this innocent tale, felt her cheeks burn.

      Pendleton concluded with a sigh: “Unfortunately there was a revolution in Peru. The dastardly cutthroats who seized the reins of government repudiated the obligations of their country.”

      “In other words the bonds were N.G.,” murmured Counsell.

      “Exactly. My father’s fortune was swept away overnight. Since then it has been a struggle. Too much land and too little money. But I look for better times…better times.”

      Counsell asked a question.

      “The railway,” Pendleton answered with an air. “The Broome’s Point railway. It will terminate in that gully down to the right there. It was first projected forty years ago, the right of way all graded and the trestles built ready for the rails. Unfortunately there was chicanery somewhere; construction was held up. Since then the enterprise has been revived from time to time, but something has always happened. But it will, it must come some day. I am bringing influence to bear. I have made liberal offers of land to the promoters. That is the finest harbor on the coast that lies before you. Baltimore is jealous. Powerful interests were brought to bear against the project the last time it was started. Trumped-up charges laid against the promoter.”

      “What happened to him?” asked Counsell.

      “Well, he’s in jail at present,” said Pendleton ruefully. “But he will come out with flying colors. He enjoys my entire confidence. He explained everything to me. The railway must come before long. My place is all laid out in town lots.”

      Pen gritted her teeth. She could picture the worldly-wise young man laughing at her foolish little father from behind his grave face.

      She called them into lunch. She was painfully conscious of the discrepancies of her house, but as a matter of fact Counsell was astonished when he entered. Pen had full control within the house and the squalor was left out of doors. The furniture, what there was left of it, dated from the same ugly period as the house, but there were certain touches; the lofty rooms were cool, inviting, full of charm. Poor as the Broomes were one could never mistake it for other than a lady’s house. Particularly the dining-room with its velvety smooth walnut table, the hand-made mats, the dull old silver, the flowers, the delicious looking food.

      “Oh! but I’m hungry!” Counsell said involuntarily, showing all his white teeth.

      Glancing at Pen he found her eyes obstinately hidden, but she betrayed a dimple.

      Not until she heard Counsell pick up his knife and fork did she venture to look at him. She had been waiting for the moment when his attention would be distracted by food. The smooth turn of his ruddy cheek and his long, curved lashes hurt her with delight. There was something affectingly boyish about him for all his strength and his assured air. Pen yearned to mother that shining head against her breast. She never looked at him but the once, yet she was aware of every mouthful he took, and every mouthful gave her satisfaction.

      Pendleton Broome opened his eyes rather at the spread. The glance of reproof that he sent across to Pen suggested that while hospitality was the first law of the Broomes, still there should be reason in all things. From that moment with true male consistency he began to cool towards their young guest.

      Nevertheless, charmed to have a sophisticated listener, he aired all his quaint and impractical theories. He dabbled in chemistry amongst other things, and had a great store of pseudo-scientific patter. Counsell listened politely and made the suitable rejoinders, but never lost an opportunity of trying to draw Pen into the