The next morning Anita appeared in the dining-room at the breakfast hour.
Mrs. Adams scanned her sharply, and looked a little disapprovingly at the short, scant skirt and slim, silken legs of her new boarder.
Anita, her dark eyes scanning her hostess with equal sharpness, seemed to express an equal disapproval of the country-cut gingham and huge white apron.
Not at all obtuse, Mrs. Adams sensed this, and her tone was a little more deferential than she had at first intended to make it.
Will you sit here, please, Miss Austin? she indicated a chair next herself.
No, thank you, Ill sit by my friend, and the girl slipped into a vacant chair next Saltonstall Adams.
Old Salt gave a furtive glance at his wife, and suppressed a chuckle at her surprise.
This is Mr. Tylers place, he said to the usurper, but I expect hell let you have it this once.
I mean to have it all the time, and Anita nodded gravely at her host.
All the time is this one meal only, crisply put in Mrs. Adams. Im sorry, Miss Austin, but we cant keep you here. I have no vacant room.
The entrance of some other people gave Anita a chance to speak in an undertone to Mr. Adams, and she said;
Youll let me stay till Letty comes, wont you? I suppose you are boss in your own house.
As a matter of fact almost any phrase would have described the man better than boss in his own house, but the idea tickled his sense of irony, and he chuckled as he replied, You bet I am! Here you stay as long as you want to.
Youre my friend, then? and an appealing glance was shot at him from beneath long, curling lashes, that proved the complete undoing of Saltonstall Adams.
To the death! he whispered, in mock dramatic manner.
Anita gave a shiver. What a way to put it! she cried. I mean to live forever, sir!
Doubtless, Old Salt returned, placidly. Youre a freak arent you?
That isnt a very pretty way of expressing it, but I suppose I am, and a mutinous look passed over the strange little face.
In repose, the face was oval, serene, and regular of feature. But when the girl smiled or spoke or frowned, changes took place, and the mobile countenance grew soft with laughter or hard with scorn.
And scorn was plainly visible when, a moment later, Adams introduced Robert Tyler, a fellow boarder, to Miss Austin.
She gave him first a conventional glance, then, as he dropped into the chair next hers, and said,
Only too glad to give up my place to a peach, she turned on him a flashing glance, that, as he expressed it afterward, wiped him off the face of the earth.
Nor could he reinstate himself in her good graces. He tried a penitent attitude, bravado, jocularity and indifference, but one and all failed to engage her interest or even attention. She answered his remarks with calm, curt speeches that left him baffled and uncertain whether he wanted to bow down and worship her, or wring her neck.
Old Salt Adams took this all in, his amusement giving way to curiosity and then to wonder. Who was this person, who looked like a young, very young girl, yet who had all the mental powers of an experienced woman? What was she and what her calling?
The other boarders appeared, those nearest Anita were introduced, and most of them considered her merely a pretty, new guest. Her manners were irreproachable, her demeanor quiet and graceful, yet as Adams covertly watched her, he felt as if he were watching an inactive volcano.
The meal over, he detained her a moment in the dining-room.
Why are you here, Miss Austin? he said, courteously; what is your errand in Corinth?
I am an artist, she said, looking at him with her mysterious intent gaze. Or, perhaps I should say an art student. Ive been told that there are beautiful bits of winter scenery available for subjects here, and I want to sketch. Please, Mr. Adams, let me stay here until Letty comes.
A sudden twinkle in her eye startled the old man, and he said quickly, How do you know she isnt coming?
That, in turn, surprised Anita, but she only smiled, and replied, I saw a telegram handed to Mrs. Adams at breakfast and then she looked thoughtfully at me, and oh, well, I just sort of knew it was to say Letty couldnt come.
You witch! You uncanny thing! If I should take you over to Salem, theyd burn you!
Ill ride over on a broomstick some day, and see if they will, she returned, gleefully.
And then along came Nemesis, in the person of the landlady.
Im sorry, Miss Austin, she began, but the girl interrupted her.
Please, Mrs. Adams, she said, pleadingly, dont say any thing to make me sorry, too! Now, you want to say you havent any room for me but that isnt true; so you dont know what to say to get rid of me. But why do you want to get rid of me?
Esther Adams looked at the girl and that look was her undoing.
Such a pathetic face, such pleading eyes, such a wistful curved mouth, the landlady couldnt resist, and against her will, against her better judgment, she said, Well, then, stay, you poor little thing. But you must tell me more about yourself. I dont know who you are.
I dont know, myself, the strange girl returned. Do we, any of us know who we are? We go through this world, strangers to each other dont we? And also, strangers to ourselves. Her eyes took on a faraway, mystical look. If I find out who I am, Ill let you know.
Then a dazzling smile broke over her face, they heard a musical ripple of laughter, and she was gone.
They heard her steps, as she ran upstairs to her room, and the two Adamses looked at each other.
Daffy, said Mrs. Adams. A little touched, poor child. I believe she has run away from home or from her keepers. Well hear the truth soon. Theyll be looking for her.
Perhaps, said her husband, doubtfully. But that isnt the way I size her up. Shes nobodys fool, that girl. Wish youd seen her give Bob Tyler his comeuppance!
Whatd she say?
Twasnt what she said, so much as the look she gave him! He almost went through the floor. Well, she says shes a painter of scenery and landscapes. Let her stay a few days, till I size her up.
You size her up! returned his wife, with good-natured contempt. If she smiles on you or gives you a bit of taffy-talk, youll size her up for an angel! Im not so sure she isnt quite the opposite!
Meanwhile the subject of their discussion was arraying herself for a walk. Equipped with storm boots and fur coat, she set out to inspect Corinth. A jaunty fur cap, with one long, red quill feather gave her still more the appearance of an elf or gnome, and many of the Adams house boarders watched the little figure as she set forth to brave the icy streets.
Apparently she had no fixed plan of procedure, for at each corner, she looked about, and chose her course at random. The snow had ceased during the night, and it was very cold, with a clear sunshiny frostiness in the air that made the olive cheeks red and glowing.
Reaching a bridge, she paused and stood looking over the slight railing into the frozen ravine below.
Long she stood, until passers-by began to stare at her. She was unaware of this, absorbed in her thoughts and oblivious to all about her.
Pinckney Payne, coming along, saw her, and, as he would have expressed it, fell for her at once.
Dont do it, sister! he said, pausing beside her. Dont end your young life on this glorious day! Suicide is a mess, at best. Take my advice and cut it out!
She turned, ready to freeze him with a glance more icy even than the landscape, but his frank, roguish smile disarmed her.
Freshman? she said, patronizingly, but it didnt abash him.
Yep. Pinckney Payne, if you must know. Commonly called Pinky.
I dont wonder, and she noticed his red cheeks. Well, now that youre properly introduced, tell me some of the buildings. Whats that one?
Dormitories. And that, pointing, is the church.
Really! And that beautiful colonnade one?
Thats Doctor Warings home. Him as is going to be next Prexy.
And that? And that?
He replied to all her questions, and kept his eyes fastened on her bewitching face. Never had Pinky seen a girl just like this. She looked so young, so merry, and yet her restless, roving eyes seemed full of hidden fire and tempestuous excitement.
Where you from? he said, abruptly. Where you staying?
At Mrs. Adams, she returned, is it a good house?
Best in town. Awful hard to get into. Always full up. Relative of hers?
No, just a boarder. I chanced to get a room some one else engaged and couldnt use.
Youre lucky. Met Bob Tyler?
Yes.
You dont like him! I see that. Met Gordon Lockwood?
No; whos he?
Hes Doctor Warings secretary, but hes mighty worthwhile on his own account. I say, may I come to see you?
Thank you, no. Im not receiving callers yet.
Well, you will be soon because Im coming. I say my aunt lives next door to Adams. May I bring her to call on you?
Not yet, please. Im not settled.
Soons you say the word, then. My aunt is Mrs. Bates, and shes a love. Shes going to marry Doctor Waring so you see were the right sort of people.
There are no right sort of people, said the girl, and, turning, she walked away.
CHAPTER III
THIRTEEN BUTTONS
Apparently Miss Austins statement that there were no right sort of people was her own belief, for she made no friends at the Adams house. Nor was this the fault of her fellow-boarders. They were more than willing to be friendly, but their overtures were invariably ignored.
Not rudely, for Miss Austin seemed to be a girl of culture and her manners were correct, but, as one persistent matron expressed it, you cant get anywhere with her.
She talked to no one at the table, merely answering a direct question if put to her. She retained the seat next Old Salt, seeming to rely on him to protect her from the advances of the others. Not that she needed protection, exactly, for Miss Anita Austin was evidently quite able to take care of herself.
But she was a mystery and mysteries provoke inquiry.
The house was not a large one, and the two-score boarders, though they would have denied an imputation of curiosity, were exceedingly interested in learning the facts about Miss Mystery, as they had come to call her.
Mrs. Adams was one of the most eager of all to know the truth, but, as he did on rare occasions, Old Salt Adams had set down his foot that the girl was not to be annoyed.
I dont know who she is or where she hails from, he told his wife, but as long as she stays here, shes not to be pestered by a lot of gossiping old hens. When she does anything you dont like, send her away; but so longs shes under my roof, shes got to be let alone.
And let alone she was not so much because of Adams dictum as because pestering did little good.
The girl had a disconcerting way of looking an inquisitor straight in the eyes, and then, with a monosyllabic reply, turning and walking off as if the other did not exist.
Why, said Miss Bascom, aggrievedly relating her experience, I just said, politely, Are you from New York or where, Miss Austin? and she turned those big, black eyes on me, and said, Where. Then she turned her back and looked out of the window, as if she had wiped me off the face of the earth!
Shes too young to act like that, opined Mrs. Welby.
Oh, she isnt so terribly young, Miss Bascom returned. Shes too experienced to be so very young.
How do you know shes experienced? What makes you say that?
Why, Miss Bascom hesitated for words, shes sort of sophisticated you can see that from her looks. I mean when anything is discussed at the table, she doesnt say a word, but you can tell from her face that she knows all about it I mean a matter of general interest, dont you know. I dont mean local matters.
Shes an intelligent girl, I know, but that doesnt make her out old. I dont believe shes twenty.
Oh, she is! Why, shes twenty-five or twenty-seven!
Never in the world! Im going to ask her.
Ask her! Miss Bascom laughed. Youll get well snubbed if you do.
But this prophecy only served to egg Mrs. Welby on, and she took the first occasion to carry out her promise.
She met Anita in the hall, as the girl was about to go out, and smilingly detained her.
Why so aloof, my dear, she said, playfully. You rarely give us a chance to entertain you.
As Mrs. Welby was between Anita and the door, the girl was forced to pause. She looked the older woman over, with an appraising glance that was not rude, but merely disinterested.
No? she said, with a curious rising inflection, that somehow seemed meant to close the incident.
But Mrs. Welby was not so easily baffled.
No, she repeated, smilingly. And we want to know you better. Youre too young and too pretty not to be a general favorite amongst us. How old are you, my dear child?
Just a hundred, and Miss Austins dark eyes were so grave, and seemed to hold such a world of wisdom and experience that Mrs. Welby almost jumped.
Too amazed to reply, she even let the girl get past her, and out of the street door, before she recovered her poise.
Shes uncanny, Mrs. Welby declared, when telling Miss Bascom of the interview. I give you my word, when she said that, she looked a hundred!
Looked a hundred! What do you mean?
Just that. Her eyes seemed to hold all there is of knowledge, yes and of evil
Evil! My goodness! Miss Bascom rolled this suggestion like a sweet morsel under her tongue.
Oh I dont say theres anything wrong about the girl
Well! If her eyes showed depths of evil, I should say there was something wrong!
The episode was repeated from one to another of the exclusive clientele of the Adams house, until, by exaggeration and imagination it grew into quite a respectable arraignment of Miss Mystery, and branded her as a doubtful character if not a dangerous one.
Before Miss Austin had been in the house a week, she had definitely settled her status from her own point of view.
Uniformly correct and courteous of manner, she rarely spoke, save when necessary. It was as if she had declared, I will not talk. If this be mystery, make the most of it.
Old Salt, apparently, backed her up in this determination, and allowed her to sit next him at table, without addressing her at all.
More, he often took it upon himself to answer a remark or question meant for her and for this he sometimes received a fleeting glance, or a ghost of a smile of approval and appreciation.
But all this was superficial. The Adamses, between themselves, decided that Miss Austin was more deeply mysterious than was shown by her disinclination to make friends. They concluded she was transacting important business of some sort, and that her sketching of the winter scenery, which she did every clear day, was merely a blind.