Wanted—A Match Maker

  "'Why, Swot,' cried Constance, 'nobody is going tokill you'"]

  Contents========

  ContentsIllustrationsWanted: A Match-Maker

  -*-

  To

  Bond and Edith Thomas

  as a Record of Our Friendship

  Illustrations=============

  "'Why, Swot,' cried Constance, 'nobody is going to kill you'"

  "Miss Durant sprang out and lifted the head gently"

  "Constance took the seat at the bedside"

  "'I have come here--I have intruded on you, Miss Durant,' hurriedly beganthe doctor"

  "The two were quickly seated on the floor"

  Wanted: A Match-Maker=====================

  "You understand, Josie, that I wouldn't for a moment wish Constance tomarry without being in love, but--"

  Mrs. Durant hesitated long enough to convey the inference that she wasunfeminine enough to place a value on her own words, and then, the pausehaving led to a change, or, at least, modification of what had almostfound utterance, she continued, with a touch of petulance which suggestedthat the general principle had in the mind of the speaker a specialapplication, "It is certainly a great pity that the modern girl should beso unimpressionable!"

  "I understand and sympathise with you perfectly, dear," consolinglyacceded Mrs. Ferguson. "And Constance has such advantages!"

  Quite unnoting that her friend replied to her thought rather than to herwords, Mrs. Durant responded at once eagerly, yet defensively: "That isit. No one will deny that Muriel is quite Constance's equal in mind, and,though perhaps I am not the one to say it, Doris surely excels her inlooks. Don't you think so, darling?" she added.

  "Unquestionably," agreed the friend, with much the quality of firmpromptness with which one would bolt a nauseous pill, or extrude an ailingoyster.

  "Yet merely because Constance has been out so much longer, and thereforeis much more experienced, she self--she monopolises the attentions of themen; you know she does, Josie."

  "Absolutely," once more concurred Mrs. Ferguson; and this time, though shespoke less quickly, her tone carried greater conviction. "Theyare--well--she--she undoubtedly--that is, she contrives--somehow--toeclipse, or at least overshadow them."

  "Exactly. I don't like to think that she manages--but whether she does ornot, the results are as bad as if she did; and thoughtlessness--if it isonly that, which I can't believe--is quite as blamable as--as moreintentional scheming."

  "Then of course," said Mrs. Ferguson, "every one knows about her mother'sfortune--and men are so mercenary in these days."

  "Oh, Josie, I don't like to speak of that myself, but it is such a reliefto have you say it. That is the whole trouble. What sort of a chance havemy poor dears, who will inherit so little compared to her wealth, and thatnot till--till we are through with it--against Constance? I call it reallyshameful of her to keep on standing in their light!"

  "Have you--Couldn't you let her see--drop a hint--of the unconsciousinjury she is--"

  "That is the cruelty of my position," moaned Mrs. Durant. "I should nothesitate a moment, but the world is so ill-natured about stepmothers thatone has to be over-careful, and with daughters of my own, I'm afraidpeople--perhaps my own husband--would think I was trying to sacrifice herto them."

  "But have you no friend you could ask to--?"

  "Josie! Would you?" eagerly interrupted Mrs. Durant. "She will beinfluenced, I know, by anything you--"

  "Gracious, my dear, I never dreamed of--of you asking me! Why, I don'tknow her in the least. I couldn't, really."

  "But for my sake? And you know her as well as--as any one else; forConstance has no intimates or--"

  "Don't you see that's it? I'd as soon think of--of--From me she would onlytake it as an impertinence."

  "I don't see why everybody stands so in awe of a girl of twenty-three,unless it's because she's rich," querulously sighed Mrs. Durant.

  "I don't think it's that, Anne. It's her proud face and reserved manner.And I believe those are the real reasons for her not marrying. Howevermuch men may admire her, they--they--Well, it's your kittenish, cuddlingkind of a girl they marry."

  "No; you are entirely wrong. Doubtless it is her money, but Constance hashad plenty of admirers, and if she were less self--if she considered theinterests of the family--she would have married years ago. But she iswholly blind to her duty, and checks or rebuffs every man who attempts toshow her devotion. And just because others take their places, she ispuffed up into the belief that she is to go through life with aneverlasting train of would-be suitors, and so enjoys her own triumph, withnever a thought of my girls."

  "Why not ask her father to speak to her?"

  "My dear! As if I hadn't, a dozen times at the least,"

  "And what does he say?"

  "That Constance shows her sense by not caring for the men _I_ invite tothe house! As if _I_ could help it! Of course with three girls in thehouse one must cultivate dancing-men, and it's very unfair to blame me ifthey aren't all one could wish."

  "I thought Constance gave up going to dances last winter?"

  "She did, but still I must ask them to my dinners, for if I don't theywon't show Muriel and Doris attention. Mr. Durant should realise that Ionly do it for their sakes; yet to listen to him you'd suppose it was myduty to close my doors to dancing-men, and spend my time seeking out thekind one never hears of--who certainly don't know how to dance, and whowould either not talk at my dinners, or would lecture upon one subject tothe whole table--just because they are what he calls 'purposeful men.'"

  "He probably recognises that the society man is not a marrying species,while the other is."

  "But there are several who would marry Constance in a minute if she'd onlygive any one of them the smallest encouragement; and that's what I meanwhen I complain of her being so unimpressionable. Muriel and Doris likeour set of men well enough, and I don't see what right she has to be soover-particular."

  Mrs. Ferguson rose and began the adjustment of her wrap, while saying, "Itseems to me there is but one thing for you to do, Anne."

  "What?" eagerly questioned Mrs. Durant.

  "Indulge in a little judicious matchmaking," suggested the friend, as sheheld out her hand.

  "It's utterly useless, Josie. I've tried again and again, and every timehave only done harm."

  "How?"

  "She won't--she is so suspicious. Now, last winter, Weston Curtis wassending her flowers and--and, oh, all that sort of thing, and so I invitedhim to dinner several times, and always put him next Constance, and triedto help him in other ways, until she--well, what do you think that girldid?"

  Mrs. Ferguson's interest led her to drop her outstretched hand. "Requestedyou not to?" she asked.

  "Not one word did she have the grace to say to me, Josie, but she wrote tohim, and asked him not to send her any more flowers! Just think of it."

  "Then that's why he went to India."

  "Yes. Of course if she had come and told me she didn't care for him, Inever would have kept on inviting him; but she is so secretive it isimpossible to tell what she is thinking about. I never dreamed that shewas conscious that I was trying to--to help her; and I have always been sodiscreet that I think she never would have been if Mr. Durant hadn't begunto joke about it. Only guess, darling, what he said to me once rightbefore her, just as I thought I was getting her interested in youngSchenck!"

  "I can't imagine."

  "Oh, it was some of his Wall Street talk about promoters of trusts alwayssecuring options on the properties to be taken in, before attempting aconsolidation, or something of that sort. I shouldn't have known what hemeant
if the boys hadn't laughed and looked at Constance. And then Jackmade matters worse by saying that my interest would be satisfied withcommon stock, but Constance would only accept preferred for hers. Men doblurt things out so--and yet they assert that we women haven't tonguediscretion. No, dear, with them about it's perfectly useless for me to doso much as lift a finger to marry Constance off, let alone her ownnaturally distrustful nature."

  "Well, then, can't you get some one to do it for you--some friend ofhers?"

  "I don't believe there is a person in the world who could influenceConstance as regards marriage," moaned Mrs. Durant. "Don't think that Iwant to sacrifice her, dear; but she really isn't happyherself--for--well--she is a stepdaughter, you know--and so can neverquite be the same in the family life; and now that she has tired ofsociety, she really doesn't find enough to do to keep busy. Constancewanted to go into the Settlement work, but her father wouldn't hear ofit--and really, Josie, every one would be happier and better if she onlywould marry--"

  "I beg your pardon for interrupting you, mama. I thought you were alone,"came a voice from the doorway. "How do you do, Mrs. Ferguson?"

  "Oh!" ejaculated both ladies, as they looked up, to find standing in thedoorway a handsome girl, with clear-cut patrician features, and an erectcarriage which gave her an air of marked distinction.

  "I only stopped to ask about the errand you asked me to do when I wentout," explained the girl, quietly, as the two women hunted for somethingto say.

  "Oh. Yes. Thank you for remembering, darling," stammered Mrs. Durant,finding her voice at last. "Won't you please order a bunch of somethingsent to Miss Porter--and--and--I'll be very much obliged if you'll attendto it, Constance, my dear."

  The girl merely nodded her head as she disappeared, but neither womanspoke till the front door was heard to close, when Mrs. Durant exclaimed,"How long had she been standing there?"

  "I don't know."

  "I hope she didn't hear!"

  "I don't think she could have, or she would have shown it more,"

  "That doesn't mean anything. She never shows anything outwardly. Andreally, though I wouldn't purposely have said it to her, I'm not sure thatI hope she didn't hear it--for--well, I do wish some one would give herjust such advice."

  "My dear, it isn't a case for advice; it's a case for match-making,"reiterated Mrs. Ferguson, as she once more held out her hand.

  Meanwhile Miss Durant thoughtfully went down the steps to her carriage, soabstracted from what she was doing that after the footman tucked the furrobe about her feet, he stood waiting for his orders; and finally,realising his mistress's unconsciousness, touched his hat and asked,--

  "Where to, Miss Constance?"

  With a slight start the girl came back from her meditations, and, after amoment's hesitation, gave a direction. Then, as the man mounted to hisseat and the brougham started, the girl's face, which had hitherto beenpale, suddenly flushed, and she leaned back in the carriage, so that noone should see her wipe her eyes with her handkerchief.

  "I do wish," she murmured, with a slight break in her voice, "that atleast mama wouldn't talk about it to outsiders. I--I'd marry to-morrow,just to escape it all--if--if--a loveless marriage wasn't even worse." Thegirl shivered slightly, and laid her head against the cushioned side, asif weary.

  She was still so busy with her thoughts that she failed to notice when thebrougham stopped at the florist's, and once more was only recalled toconcrete concerns by the footman opening the door. The ordering of someflowers for a d?butante evidently steadied her and allowed her to regainself-control, for she drove in succession to the jeweller's to select awedding gift, and to the dressmaker's for a fitting, at each place givingthe closest attention to the matter in hand. These nominal duties, but intruth pleasures, concluded, nominal pleasures, but in truth duties,succeeded them, and the carriage halted at four houses long enough toascertain that the especial objects of Miss Durant's visits "begged to beexcused," or were "not at home," each of which pieces of information, or,to speak more correctly, the handing in by the footman, in response to theinformation, of her card or cards, drew forth an unmistakable sigh ofrelief from that young lady. Evidently Miss Durant was bored by people,and this to those experienced in the world should be proof that MissDurant was, in fact, badly bored by herself.

  One consequence of her escape, however, was that the girl remained with anhour which must be got through with in some manner, and so, in a voicetotally without desire or eagerness, she said, "The Park, Wallace;" and inthe Park some fifty minutes were spent, her greatest variation from themonotony of the wonted and familiar roads being an occasional nod of thehead to people driving or riding, with a glance at those with each, or atthe costumes they wore.

  It was with a distinct note of anticipation in her voice, therefore, thatMiss Durant finally ordered, "Home, now, Murdock;" and, if the truth wereto be told, the chill in her hands and feet, due to the keen Novembercold, with a mental picture of the blazing wood fire of her own room, andof the cup of tea that would be drank in front of it, was producing almostthe first pleasurable prospect of the day to her.

  Seemingly the coachman was as eager to be in-doors as his mistress, for hewhipped up the horses, and the carriage was quickly crossing the plaza andspeeding down the avenue. Though the street was crowded with vehicles andpedestrians, the growing darkness put an end to Miss Durant's nods ofrecognition, and she leaned back, once more buried in her own thoughts.

  At Forty-second Street she was sharply recalled from whatever her mind wasdwelling upon by a sudden jar, due to the checking of the carriage, andsimultaneously with it came the sound of crashing of glass and splinteringof wood. So abrupt was the halt that Miss Durant was pitched forward, andas she put out her hand to save herself from being thrown into the bottomof the brougham, she caught a moment's glimpse of a ragged boy closebeside her window, and heard, even above the hurly-burly of the pack ofcarriages and street-crossers, his shrill cry,--

  "Extry _Woild_'r _Joinal_. Terrible--"

  There the words ended, for the distraught horses shied backwards andsideways, and the fore wheel, swung outwards by the sharp turn, struck thelittle fellow and threw him down. Miss Durant attempted a warning cry, butit was too late; and even as it rang out, the carriage gave a jolt andthen a jar as it passed over the body. Instantly came a dozen warningshouts and shrieks and curses, and the horses reared and plunged wildly,with the new fright of something under their feet.

  White with terror, the girl caught at the handle, but she did no more thanthrow open the door, for, as if they sprang from the ground, a crowd ofmen were pressing about the brougham. All was confusion for a moment; thenthe tangle of vehicles seemed to open out and the mob of people,struggling and gesticulating, fell back before a policeman while another,aided by some one, caught the heads of the two horses, just as the footmandrew out from under their feet into the cleared space something whichlooked like a bundle of rags and newspapers.

  Thinking of nothing save that limp little body, Miss Durant sprang out,and kneeling beside it, lifted the head gently into her lap, and smoothedback from the pallid face the unkempt hair. "He isn't dead, Wallace?" shegasped out.

  "I don't think he is, Miss Constance, though he looks like he was badhurt. An', indeed, Miss Constance, it wasn't Murdock's fault. The coup?backed right into our pole without--"

  "Here," interrupted a man's voice from the circle of spectators, "give himthis;" and some one handed to the girl the cup of a flask half full ofbrandy. Dipping her fingers into it, she rubbed them across the mouth andforehead; then, raising the head with one of her arms, she parted the lipsand poured a few drops between them.

  "Now, mum," suggested the policeman. "Just you let go of it, and we'lllift it to where it can stay till the ambulance gets here."

  "Oh, don't," begged Miss Durant. "He shouldn't be moved until--"

  "Like as not it'll take ten minutes to get it here, and we can't let thestreet stay blocked like this."

  "Ten minutes!" excla
imed the girl. "Isn't it possible--We must get helpsooner, or he--" She broke in upon her own words, "Lift him into mycarriage, and I'll take him to the hospital."

  "Can't let you, miss," spoke up a police sergeant, who meantime had forcedhis way through the crowd. "Your coachman's got to stay and answer forthis."

  "He shall, but not now," protested Miss Durant. "I will be responsible forhim. Wallace, give them one of my cards from the case in the carriage."

  "Miss Durant sprang out and lifted the head gently"]

  The officer took the bit of pasteboard and looked at it. "That's allright, miss," he said. "Here, Casey, together now and easy."

  The two big men in uniform lifted the urchin as if he were without weight,and laid him as gently as might be on the seat of the brougham. This done,the roundsman dropped the small front seat, helped Miss Durant in, andonce she was seated upon it, took his place beside her. The sergeantclosed the door, gave an order to the coachman, and, wheeling about, thecarriage turned up