The Unknown Nymph
One of the most striking differences
between a cat and a lie is that a cat has only nine
lives.
—Pudd’nhead Wilson’s Calendar
The company broke up reluctantly,
and drifted toward their several homes, chatting with
vivacity and all agreeing that it would be many a
long day before Dawson’s Landing would see the
equal of this one again. The twins had accepted
several invitations while the reception was in progress,
and had also volunteered to play some duets at an amateur
entertainment for the benefit of a local charity.
Society was eager to receive them to its bosom.
Judge Driscoll had the good fortune to secure them
for an immediate drive, and to be the first to display
them in public. They entered his buggy with
him and were paraded down the main street, everybody
flocking to the windows and sidewalks to see.
The judge showed the strangers the
new graveyard, and the jail, and where the richest
man lived, and the Freemasons’ hall, and the
Methodist church, and the Presbyterian church, and
where the Baptist church was going to be when they
got some money to build it with, and showed them the
town hall and the slaughterhouse, and got out of the
independent fire company in uniform and had them put
out an imaginary fire; then he let them inspect the
muskets of the militia company, and poured out an
exhaustless stream of enthusiasm over all these splendors,
and seemed very well satisfied with the responses
he got, for the twins admired his admiration, and
paid him back the best they could, though they could
have done better if some fifteen or sixteen hundred
thousand previous experiences of this sort in various
countries had not already rubbed off a considerable
part of the novelty in it.
The judge laid himself out hospitality
to make them have a good time, and if there was a
defect anywhere, it was not his fault. He told
them a good many humorous anecdotes, and always forgot
the nub, but they were always able to furnish it,
for these yarns were of a pretty early vintage, and
they had had many a rejuvenating pull at them before.
And he told them all about his several dignities,
and how he had held this and that and the other place
of honor or profit, and had once been to the legislature,
and was now president of the Society of Freethinkers.
He said the society had been in existence four years,
and already had two members, and was firmly established.
He would call for the brothers in the evening, if
they would like to attend a meeting of it.
Accordingly he called for them, and
on the way he told them all about Pudd’nhead
Wilson, in order that they might get a favorable impression
of him in advance and be prepared to like him.
This scheme succeeded—the favorable impression
was achieved. Later it was confirmed and solidified
when Wilson proposed that out of courtesy to the strangers
the usual topics be put aside and the hour be devoted
to conversation upon ordinary subjects and the cultivation
of friendly relations and good-fellowship—a
proposition which was put to vote and carried.
The hour passed quickly away in lively
talk, and when it was ended, the lonesome and neglected
Wilson was richer by two friends than he had been
when it began. He invited the twins to look in
at his lodgings presently, after disposing of an intervening
engagement, and they accepted with pleasure.
Toward the middle of the evening,
they found themselves on the road to his house.
Pudd’nhead was at home waiting for them and
putting in his time puzzling over a thing which had
come under his notice that morning. The matter
was this: He happened to be up very early—at
dawn, in fact; and he crossed the hall, which divided
his cottage through the center, and entered a room
to get something there. The window of the room
had no curtains, for that side of the house had long
been unoccupied, and through this window he caught
sight of something which surprised and interested
him. It was a young woman—a young
woman where properly no young woman belonged; for
she was in Judge Driscoll’s house, and in the
bedroom over the judge’s private study or sitting
room. This was young Tom Driscoll’s bedroom.
He and the judge, the judge’s widowed sister
Mrs. Pratt, and three Negro servants were the only
people who belonged in the house. Who, then,
might this young lady be? The two houses were
separated by an ordinary yard, with a low fence running
back through its middle from the street in front to
the lane in the rear. The distance was not great,
and Wilson was able to see the girl very well, the
window shades of the room she was in being up, and
the window also. The girl had on a neat and trim
summer dress, patterned in broad stripes of pink and
white, and her bonnet was equipped with a pink veil.
She was practicing steps, gaits and attitudes, apparently;
she was doing the thing gracefully, and was very much
absorbed in her work. Who could she be, and how
came she to be in young Tom Driscoll’s room?
Wilson had quickly chosen a position
from which he could watch the girl without running
much risk of being seen by her, and he remained there
hoping she would raise her veil and betray her face.
But she disappointed him. After a matter of
twenty minutes she disappeared and although he stayed
at his post half an hour longer, she came no more.
Toward noon he dropped in at the judge’s
and talked with Mrs. Pratt about the great event of
the day, the levee of the distinguished foreigners
at Aunt Patsy Cooper’s. He asked after
her nephew Tom, and she said he was on his way home
and that she was expecting him to arrive a little before
night, and added that she and the judge were gratified
to gather from his letters that he was conducting
himself very nicely and creditably—at which
Wilson winked to himself privately. Wilson did
not ask if there was a newcomer in the house, but
he asked questions that would have brought light-throwing
answers as to that matter if Mrs. Pratt had had any
light to throw; so he went away satisfied that he
knew of things that were going on in her house of
which she herself was not aware.
He was now awaiting for the twins,
and still puzzling over the problem of who that girl
might be, and how she happened to be in that young
fellow’s room at daybreak in the morning.