Hilda Strafford: A California Story — Text and Context

obert Strafford was offering but a desolate home to his bride. Outside at least there were flowers and creepers, and ranges of splendid mountains, and beautiful soft lights and shades changing constantly, and fragrances in the air born of spring; but inside this dreary little house, there was nothing to cast a glamour of cheerfulness. Nothing. For the moment Ben’s heart sank, but when he glanced at his friend, he forced himself to smile approvingly.

“You’ve bought a capital little coal-oil stove, Bob,” he said. “That is the best kind, undoubtedly. I’m going to have scores of cosy meals off that, I can tell you. I think you could have done with two or three more saucepans, old man. But that is as nice a little stove as you’ll see anywhere. A rocking-chair! Good. And a cushion too, by Jove! And a book-shelf, with six brand-new books on it, including George Meredith’s last novel and Ibsen’s new play.”

“Hilda is fond of reading,” said Robert Strafford, gaining courage from his friend’s approval.

“And some curtains,” continued Ben. “And a deucèd pretty pattern too.”

“I chose them myself,” said the other, smiling proudly,--“and, what’s more, I stitched them myself!”

So they went on, Ben giving comfort and Bob taking it; and then they made a few alterations in the arrangement of the furniture, and they tried the effect of the table-cloth and the lamp-shade, and Bob put a few flowers in the vase, and stood at the door to see how everything looked.

“Will it smile to her, will it smile to her, I wonder?” he said, anxiously.

“Of course it will,” said Ben, also stepping back to see the whole effect.

“That lamp-shade and that table-cloth and that vase and that toasting-fork settle the whole matter, in my mind!”

“If there were only some nice neighbours,” said Robert Strafford. “But there isn’t a soul within six miles.”

“You are surely forgetting the deaf lady with the ear-trumpet,” remarked Ben, mischievously.

“Don’t be a fool, Ben,” said Robert Strafford, shortly.

“She is not exactly a stimulating companion,” continued Ben, composedly, “but she is better than no one at all. And then there’s myself. I also am better than no one at all. I don’t think you do so badly after all, in spite of your grumblings. Then eight miles off live Lauderdale and Holles and Graham. Since Jesse Holles returned from his travels, they are as merry a little company as you would wish to see anywhere.”

“Hilda is so fond of music,” said Robert Strafford, sadly, “and I have no piano for her as yet.”

“That is soon remedied,” answered Ben. “But why didn’t you tell me these things before? The ear-trumpet lady has a piano, and I daresay with a little coaxing she would lend it to you. I’m rather clever at coaxing through a trumpet; moreover, she rather likes me. I have such a gentle voice, you know, and I believe my moustache is the exact reproduction of one owned by her dead nephew! Her dead nephew certainly must have had an uncommonly fine moustache! Well, about the piano. I’ll see what I can do; and meanwhile, for pity’s sake, cheer up.”

He put his hand kindly on his friend’s shoulders.

“Yes, Bob, I mean what I say,” he continued; “for pity’s sake, cheer up, and don’t be receiving her ladyship with the countenance of a boiled ghost. That will depress her far more than anything in poor old California. Be your old bright self again, and throw off all these misgivings. You’ve just worked yourself out, and you ought to have taken a month’s holiday down the coast. You would have come back as strong as a jack-rabbit and as chirpy as a little horned toad.”

“Oh, I shall be all right,” said Robert Strafford; “and you’re such a brick, Ben. You’ve always been good to me. I’ve been such a sullen cur lately. But for all that--”

“But for all that, you’re not a bad fellow at your best,” said Ben, smiling; “and now come back with me. I can’t have you mooning here by yourself to-night. Come back with me, and I’ll cook you a splendid piece of steak, and I’ll send you off in excellent form to meet and marry her ladyship to-morrow morning. Then whilst you are off on that errand, I’ll turn in here and make the place as trim as a ship’s cabin, and serve up a nice little dinner fit for a king and queen. Come on, old man. I half think there may be rain to-night.”