Out Of The Question - William Dean Howells

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      Maggie, finally: "But where is your hand-bag?"

      Leslie, with mystery, "Oh, he's bringing it."

      Maggie: "He?"

      Leslie, with reviving spirits: "A young man, the good genius of the drive. He's bringing it from the foot of the hill; the stage had its final disaster there; and I left him in charge of mamma and aunt Kate, and came on to explore and surprise, and he made me leave the bag with him, too. But that isn't the worst. I shall know what to io with the hand-bag when it gets here, but I shan't know what to do with the young man."

      Maggie: "With the young man? Why, Leslie, a young man is worth a thousand hand-bags in a place like this! You don't know what you 're talking about, Leslie. A young man " —

      Leslie, rising and going toward the window: "My dear, he's out of the question. You may as well make up your mind to that, for you'll see at once that he'll never do. He's going to stop here, and as he's been very kind to us it makes his never doing all the harder to manage. He's a hero, if you like, but if you can imagine it he isn't quite — well, what you've been used to. Don't you see how a person could be everything that was unselfish and obliging, and yet not — not" —

      Maggie, eagerly: "Oh yes!"

      Leslie: "Well, he's that. It seems to me that he's been doing something for mamma, or aunt Kate, or me, ever since we left the station. To begin with, he gave up his place inside to one of us, and when he went to get on top, he found all the places taken there; and so he had to sit on the trunks behind — whenever he rode; for he walked most of the way, and helped me over the bad places in the road when I insisted on getting out. You know how aunt Kate is, Maggie, and how many wants she has. Well, there wasn't one of them that this young man didn't gratify: he handed her bag up to the driver on top because it crowded her, and handed it down because she couldn't do without it; he got her out and put her back so that she could face the front, and then restored her to her place because an old gentleman who had been traveling a long way kept falling asleep on her shoulder; he buttoned her curtain down because she was sure it was going to rain, and rolled it up because it made the air too close; he fetched water for her; he looked every now and then to see if her trunks were all right, and made her more and more ungrateful every minute. Whenever the stage broke down — as it did twice before the present smash-up — he befriended everybody, encouraged old ladies, quieted children, and shamed the other men into trying to be of some use; and if it hadn't been for him, I don't see how the stage would ever have got out of its troubles; he always knew just what was the matter, and just how to mend it . Is that the window that commands a magnificent prospect of Ponkwasset Mountain — in the advertisement?"

      Maggie: "The very window!"

      Leslie: "Does it condescend to overlook so common a thing as the road up to the house?"

      Maggie: "Of course; but why?"

      Leslie, going to the open window, and stepping through it upon the gallery, whither the other young ladies follow her, and where her voice is heard: "Yes, there they come! But I can't see my young man. Is it possible that he's riding? No, there he is! He was on the other side of the stage. Don't you see him? Why he needn't carry my hand-bag! He certainly might have let that ride. I do wonder what he means by it! Or is it only absent-mindedness? Don't let him see us looking! It would be altogether too silly. Do let's go in!"

      Maggie, on their return to the parlor: "What a great pity it is that he won't do! Is he handsome, Leslie? Why won't he do?"

      Leslie: "You can tell in a moment, when you've seen him, Maggie. He's perfectly respectful and nice, of course, but he's no more social perspective than — the man in the moon. He's never obtrusive, but he's as free and equal as the Declaration of Independence; and when you did get up some little perspective with him, and tried to let him know, don't you know, that there was such a thing as a vanishing point somewhere, he was sure to do or say something so unconscious that away went your perspective — one simple crush."

      Maggie: "How ridiculous!"

      Leslie: "Yes. It was funny. But not just in that way. He isn't in the least common or uncouth. Nobody could say that. But he's going to be here two or three weeks, and it's impossible not to be civil; and it's very embarrassing, don't you see?"

      Lilly: "Let me comfort you, Miss Bellingham. It will be the simplest thing in the world. We 're all on the same level in the Ponkwasset Hotel. The landlord will bring him up during the evening and introduce him. Our table girls teach school in the winter and are as good as anybody. Mine calls me ' Lilly,' and I'm so small I can't help it. They dress up in the afternoon, and play the piano. The cook's as affable, when you meet her in society, as can be."

      Maggie: "Lilly!"

      Leslie, listening to Miss Roberts with whimsical trepidation: "Well, this certainly complicates matters. But I think we shall be able to manage." At a sound of voices in the hall without, Miss Bellingham starts from her chair and runs to the corridor, where she is heard: "Thanks ever so much. So very good of you to take all this trouble. Come into the parlor, mamma — there's nobody there but Maggie Wallace and Miss Roberts — and we 'll leave our things there till after tea." She reenters the parlor with her mother and her aunt Kate, Mrs. Murray; after whom comes Stephen Blake with Leslie's bag in his hand, and the wraps of the other ladies over his arm. His dress, which is evidently a prosperous fortuity of the clothing-store, lakes character from his tall, sinewy frame ; a smile of somewhat humorous patience lights his black eyes and shapes his handsome moustache, as he waits in quiet self-possession the pleasure of the ladies.

      III. Mrs. Bellingham, Mrs. Murray, and the Young Girls.

      Mrs. Bellingham, a matronly, middle-aged lady of comfortable, not cumbrous bulk, taking Miss Wallace by the hand and kissing her: "My dear child, how pleasant it is to see you so strong again! You 're a living testimony to the excellence of the air! How well you look!"

      Leslie: "Mamma, — Miss Roberts." Mrs. Bellingham murmurously shakes hands with Miss Roberts, and after some kindly nods and smiles, and other shows of friendliness, provisionally and expectantly quiesces into a corner of the sofa, while her sister-in-law comes aggressively forward to assume the burden of conversation.

      Mrs. Murray: "Well, a more fatiguing drive I certainly never knew! How do you do, Maggie?" She kisses Miss Wallace in a casual, uninterested way, and takes Lilly's hand. "Isn't this Miss Roberts? I am Mrs. Murray. I used to know your family — your uncle George, before that dreadful business of his. I believe it all came out right; he wasn't to blame ; but it was a shocking experience." Mrs. Murray turns from Lilly, and refers herself to the company in general: "It seems as if I should expire on the spot. I feel as if I had been packed away in my own hat-box for a week, and here, just as we arrive, the landlord informs us that he didn't expect us till tomorrow night, and he hasn't an empty room in the house!"

      Maggie: "No room! To-morrow night! What nonsense! Why it's perfectly frantic! How could he have misunderstood? Why, it seems to me that I've done nothing for a week past but tell him you were coming to-night!"

      Mrs. Murray, sharply: "I have no doubt of it. But it doesn't alter the state of the case. You may tell us to leave our things till after tea, Leslie. If they can't make up beds on the sofas and the piano, I don't know where we 're going to pass the night." In the moment of distressful sensation which follows Miss Wallace whispers something eagerly to her friend, Miss Roberts.

      Maggie, with a laughing glance at Leslie and her mother, and then going on with her whispering: "Excuse the little confidence!"

      Mrs. Bellingham: "Conspiracy, I'm afraid. What are you plotting, Maggie?"

      Maggie,

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