Susan Warner - Nobody

All spoke now at once, and Philip heard a confused medley of "Mrs.Wishart" – "Miss Lothrop" – "staying with her" – "poor cousin" – "kind toher of course."

Mr. Dillwyn's countenance changed.

"Mrs. Wishart!" he echoed. "Mrs. Wishart is irreproachable."

"Certainly, but that does not put a penny in Miss Lothrop's pocket, norgive her position, nor knowledge of the world."

"What do you mean by knowledge of the world?" Mr. Dillwyn inquired withslow words.

"Why! you know. Just the sort of thing that makes the differencebetween the raw and the manufactured article," Miss Julia answered, laughing. She was comfortably conscious of being thoroughly"manufactured" herself. No crude ignorances or deficienciesthere. – "The sort of thing that makes a person at home and au fait everywhere, and in all companies, and shuts out awkwardnesses andinelegancies.

" Does it shut them out?"

"Why, of course! How can you ask? What else will shut them out? Allthat makes the difference between a woman of the world and a milkmaid."

"This little girl, I understand, then, is awkward and inelegant?"

"She is nothing of the kind!" Tom burst out. "Ridiculous!" But Dillwynwaited for Miss Julia's answer.

"I cannot call her just awkward ," said Mrs. Caruthers.

"N-o," said Julia, "perhaps not. She has been living with Mrs. Wishart, you know, and has got accustomed to a certain set of things. She doesnot strike you unpleasantly in society, seated at a lunch table, forinstance; but of course all beyond the lunch table is like London to aLaplander."

Tom flung himself out of the room.

"And that is what you are going to Florida for?" pursued Dillwyn.

"You have guessed it! Yes, indeed. Do you know, there seems to benothing else to do. Tom is in actual danger. I know he goes very oftento Mrs. Wishart's; and you know Tom is impressible; and before we knowit he might do something he would be sorry for. The only thing is toget him away."

"I think I will go to Mrs. Wishart's too," said Philip. "Do you thinkthere would be danger?"

"I don't know!" said Miss Julia, arching her brows. "I never cancomprehend why the men take such furies of fancies for this girl or forthat. To me they do not seem so different. I believe this girl takesjust because she is not like the rest of what one sees every day."

"That might be a recommendation. Did it never strike you, Miss Julia, that there is a certain degree of sameness in our world? Not in nature, for there the variety is simply endless; but in our ways of living.Here the effort seems to be to fall in with one general pattern. Housesand dresses; and entertainments, and even the routine of conversation.Generally speaking, it is all one thing."

"Well," said Miss Julia, with spirit, "when anything is once recognizedas the right thing, of course everybody wants to conform to it."

"I have not recognized it as the right thing."

"What?"

"This uniformity."

"What would you have?"

"I think I would like to see, for a change, freedom and individuality.Why should a woman with sharp features dress her hair in a manner thatsets off their sharpness, because her neighbour with a classic head candraw it severely about her in close bands and coils, and so only thebetter show its nobility of contour? Why may not a beautiful head ofhair be dressed flowingly, because the fashion favours the people whohave no hair at all? Why may not a plain dress set off a fine figure, because the mode is to leave no unbroken line or sweeping draperyanywhere? And I might go on endlessly."

"I can't tell, I am sure," said Miss Julia; "but if one lives in theworld, it won't do to defy the world. And that you know as well as I."

"What would happen, I wonder?"

"The world would quietly drop you. Unless you are a person ofimportance enough to set a new fashion."

"Is there not some unworthy bondage about that?"

"You can't help it, Philip Dillwyn, if there is. We have got to take itas it is; and make the best of it."

"And this new Fate of Tom's – this new Fancy rather, – as I understand, she is quite out of the world?"

"Quite. Lives in a village in New England somewhere, and grows onions."

"For market?" said Philip, with a somewhat startled face.

"No, no!" said Julia, laughing – "how could you think I meant that? No;I don't know anything about the onions; but she has lived among farmersand sailors all her life, and that is all she knows. And it isperfectly ridiculous, but Tom is so smitten with her that all we can dois to get him away. Fancy, Tom!"

"He has got to come back," said Philip, rising. "You had better getsomebody to take the girl away."

"Perhaps you will do that?" said Miss Julia, laughing.

"I'll think of it," said Dillwyn as he took leave.

Philip kept his promise. Thinking, however, he soon found, did notamount to much till he had seen more; and he went a few days after toMrs. Wishart's house.

It was afternoon. The sun was streaming in from the west, filling thesitting-room with its splendour; and in the radiance of it Lois wassitting with some work. She was as unadorned as when Philip had seenher the other day in the street; her gown was of some plain stuff, plainly made; she was a very unfashionable-looking person. But the goodfigure that Mr. Dillwyn liked to see was there; the fair outlines, simple and graceful, light and girlish; and the exquisite hair caughtthe light, and showed its varying, warm, bright tints. It was massed upsomehow, without the least artificiality, in order, and yet lying looseand wavy; a beautiful combination which only a few heads can attain to.

There was nobody else in the room; and as Lois rose to meet thevisitor, he was not flattered to see that she did not recognize him.Then the next minute a flash of light came into her face.

"I have had the pleasure," said Dillwyn. "I was afraid you were goingto ignore the fact."

"You gave us lunch the other day," said Lois, smiling. "Yes, Iremember. I shall always remember."

"You got home comfortably?"

"O yes, after we were so fortified. Mrs. Wishart was quite exhausted, before lunch, I mean."

"This is a pleasant situation," said Philip, going a step nearer thewindow.

"Yes, very! I enjoy those rocks very much."

"You have no rocks at home?"

"No rocks," said Lois; "plenty of rock , or stone; but it comes up outof the ground just enough to make trouble, not to give pleasure. Thecountry is all level."

"And you enjoy the variety?"

"O, not because it is variety. But I have been nowhere and have seennothing in my life."

"So the world is a great unopened book to you?" said Philip, with asmile regarding her.

"It will always be that, I think," Lois replied, shaking her head.

"Why should it?"

"I live at Shampuashuh."

"What then? Here you are in New York."

"Yes, wonderfully. But I am going home again."

"Not soon?"

"Very soon. It will be time to begin to make garden in a few days."

"Can the garden not be made without you?"

"Not very well; for nobody knows, except me, just where things wereplanted last year."

"And is that important?"

"Very important." Lois smiled at his simplicity. "Because many thingsmust be changed. They must not be planted where they were last year."

"Why not?"

"They would not do so well. They have all to shift about, likePuss-in-the-corner; and it is puzzling. The peas must go where the cornor the potatoes went; and the corn must find another place, and so on."

"And you are the only one who keeps a map of the garden in your head?"

"Not in my head," said Lois, smiling. "I keep it in my drawer."

"Ah! That is being more systematic than I gave you credit for."