Deficient Saints: A Tale of MaineSaunders, Marshall
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Deficient Saints: A Tale of Maine
Saunders, Marshall
Maine -- Fiction
A DRIVE WITH A STRANGE GUIDE.
Two women--two of Mrs. Prymmer's chosen friends and satellites--were
calling on Derrice. Mrs. Prymmer had sent a message to her room, and
now sat smoothing her white apron, enjoyably anticipating the effect
that Derrice's red silk and cashmere gown would produce on her callers,
yet at the same time a prey to secret annoyance to think that she
herself was only of secondary importance.
To her chagrin, the girl sauntered into the room in a dull brown
walking suit, and with a single eyeglass mischievously fixed under one
light eyebrow.
Mrs. Prymmer was speechless. Such a thing had never before been heard
of in the length and breadth of Rossignol,--that one human being
should, through a solitary piece of glass, dare to stare at, examine,
and confuse another human being not blessed with a single piece of
glass. "The girl was as full of tricks as a monkey," she indignantly
reflected.
"Did you want me?" asked Derrice.
"Yes," stammered her mother-in-law, recovering her breath, and she
waved her hand toward the little dowdy widow in the black bonnet and
bead cape, and the young woman in the painful green dress, who was her
daughter, and the bride of a carpenter who lived around the corner.
"You have come to see me,--how kind in you," said Derrice, in her
infantine manner, and with so much sweetness that the two visitors,
who were not of her world and never would be, immediately fell into a
profound conviction that they were her friends for life.
The little widow, who was a kind-hearted person, but of limited ideas
and education, felt a strange flutter of interest as she regarded the
beautiful, gracious girl, and, losing her first fear of the eyeglass,
immediately expressed a hope that Derrice felt pretty smart after her
journey.
"Oh, yes, thank you, I am used to travelling."
The carpenter's wife, who had, until Derrice's entrance into the
room, been troubled with a nervous choking in her throat, now lost
all embarrassment, and interrupted a remark of her mother by an eager
inquiry as to whether Derrice would "appear out" next Sunday.
Derrice hesitated, and looked at her mother-in-law.
"She means," said Mrs. Prymmer, solemnly, "will you attend divine
service? It is the custom for brides."
"Yes," chimed in the widow, "then they stay home for three days and
receive visits. Will you do so, dear?"
"Well, I don't know," laughed Derrice. "Have you any saints' bones or
other curiosities in your church?"
"No, dear, no dead saints. We've got plenty of live ones."
"I like them better dead. I haven't gone into a church for years except
for sight-seeing."
"Why, ain't you a professor?" asked the carpenter's bride, and in her
dismay she leaned forward and laid a cotton-gloved hand on Derrice's
knee.
"No, I never taught anything. I suppose teachers do have to go to
church. Mine always did."
"She means a professor of religion," interposed Mrs. Prymmer.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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