A Ward of Colonel Starbottle's Page #4

"A Ward of Colonel Starbottle's" is a short story by Bret Harte that revolves around themes of love, social class, and the complexities of human relationships in the American West. The narrative follows Colonel Starbottle, a colorful and charismatic character, as he navigates the challenges of caring for his ward, a young woman named Miss Isabel from a respectable family. The story explores the interactions between the Colonel, his ward, and other characters in their small community, blending humor and poignant moments to highlight the contrasts between societal expectations and individual desires. Through engaging storytelling, Harte captures the spirit of frontier life while delving into the intricacies of personal connections.

• Short story

								

I knew you. I was a little skeert too; but NOW"--she succeeded in
buttoning the coat and making the colonel quite apoplectic,--"NOW I
ain't frightened one bit--no, not one TINY bit! But," she added, after a
pause, unbuttoning the coat again and smoothing down the lapels between
her fingers, "you're to keep on frightening the old cats--mind! Never
mind about the GIRLS. I'll tell them."

The colonel would have given worlds to be able to struggle up into an
upright position with suitable oral expression. Not that his vanity was
at all wounded by these irresponsible epithets, which only excited an
amused wonder, but he was conscious of an embarrassed pleasure in the
child's caressing familiarity, and her perfect trustfulness in him
touched his extravagant chivalry. He ought to protect her, and yet
correct her. In the consciousness of these duties he laid his white hand
upon her head. Alas! she lifted her arm and instantly transferred his
hand and part of his arm around her neck and shoulders, and comfortably
snuggled against him. The colonel gasped. Nevertheless, something must
be said, and he began, albeit somewhat crippled in delivery:--

"The--er--use of elegant and precise language by--er--young ladies
cannot be too sedulously cultivated"--

But here the child laughed, and snuggling still closer, gurgled: "That's
right! Give it to her when she comes down! That's the style!" and
the colonel stopped, discomfited. Nevertheless, there was a certain
wholesome glow in the contact of this nestling little figure.

Presently he resumed tentativery: "I have--er--brought you a few
dainties."

"Yes," said Pansy, "I see; but they're from the wrong shop, you dear old
silly! They're from Tomkins's, and we girls just abominate his things.
You oughter have gone to Emmons's. Never mind. I'll show you when we go
out. We're going out, aren't we?" she said suddenly, lifting her head
anxiously. "You know it's allowed, and it's RIGHTS 'to parents and
guardians'!"

"Certainly, certainly," said the colonel. He knew he would feel a little
less constrained in the open air.

"Then we'll go now," said Pansy, jumping up. "I'll just run upstairs and
put on my things. I'll say it's 'orders' from you. And I'll wear my new
frock--it's longer." (The colonel was slightly relieved at this; it had
seemed to him, as a guardian, that there was perhaps an abnormal display
of Pansy's black stockings.) "You wait; I won't be long."

She darted to the door, but reaching it, suddenly stopped, returned to
the sofa, where the colonel still sat, imprinted a swift kiss on his
mottled cheek, and fled, leaving him invested with a mingled flavor
of freshly ironed muslin, wintergreen lozenges, and recent bread and
butter. He sat still for some time, staring out of the window. It was
very quiet in the room; a bumblebee blundered from the jasmine outside
into the open window, and snored loudly at the panes. But the colonel
heeded it not, and remained abstracted and silent until the door opened
to Miss Tish and Pansy--in her best frock and sash, at which the colonel
started and became erect again and courtly.

"I am about to take my ward out," he said deliberately,
"to--er--taste the air in the Alameda, and--er--view the shops. We
may--er--also--indulge in--er--slight suitable refreshment;--er--seed
cake--or--bread and butter--and--a dish of tea."

Miss Tish, now thoroughly subdued, was delighted to grant Miss Stannard
the half holiday permitted on such occasions. She begged the colonel to
suit his own pleasure, and intrusted "the dear child" to her guardian
"with the greatest confidence."

The colonel made a low bow, and Pansy, demurely slipping her hand
into his, passed with him into the hall; there was a slight rustle of
vanishing skirts, and Pansy pressed his hand significantly. When they
were well outside, she said, in a lower voice:--

"Don't look up until we're under the gymnasium windows." The colonel,
mystified but obedient, strutted on. "Now!" said Pansy. He looked up,
beheld the windows aglow with bright young faces, and bewildering with
many handkerchiefs and clapping hands, stopped, and then taking off his
hat, acknowledged the salute with a sweeping bow. Pansy was delighted.
"I knew they'd be there; I'd already fixed 'em. They're just dyin' to
know you."

The colonel felt a certain glow of pleasure, "I--er--had already
intimated a--er--willingness to--er--inspect the classes;
but--I--er--understood that the rules"--

"They're sick old rules," interrupted the child. "Tish and Prinkwell are
the rules! You say just right out that you WILL! Just overdo her!"

The colonel had a vague sense that he ought to correct both the spirit
and language of this insurrectionary speech, but Pansy pulled him along,
and then swept him quite away with a torrent of prattle of the school,
of her friends, of the teachers, of her life and its infinitely small
miseries and pleasures. Pansy was voluble; never before had the
colonel found himself relegated to the place of a passive listener.
Nevertheless, he liked it, and as they passed on, under the shade of
the Alameda, with Pansy alternately swinging from his hand and skipping
beside him, there was a vague smile of satisfaction on his face.
Passers-by turned to look after the strangely assorted pair, or smiled,
accepting them, as the colonel fancied, as father and daughter. An odd
feeling, half of pain and half of pleasure, gripped at the heart of the
empty and childless man.

And now, as they approached the more crowded thoroughfares, the
instinct of chivalrous protection was keen in his breast. He piloted her
skillfully; he jauntily suited his own to her skipping step; he lifted
her with scrupulous politeness over obstacles; strutting beside her on
crowded pavements, he made way for her with his swinging stick. All
the while, too, he had taken note of the easy carriage of her head and
shoulders, and most of all of her small, slim feet and hands, that, to
his fastidious taste, betokened her race. "Ged, sir," he muttered
to himself, "she's 'Blue Grass' stock, all through." To admiration
succeeded pride, with a slight touch of ownership. When they went into
a shop, which, thanks to the ingenuous Pansy, they did pretty often,
he would introduce her with a wave of the hand and the remark, "I
am--er--seeking nothing to-day, but if you will kindly--er--serve my
WARD--Miss Stannard!" Later, when they went into the confectioner's for
refreshment, and Pansy frankly declared for "ice cream and cream cakes,"
instead of the "dish of tea and bread and butter" he had ordered in
pursuance of his promise, he heroically took it himself--to satisfy
his honor. Indeed, I know of no more sublime figure than Colonel
Starbottle--rising superior to a long-withstood craving for a
"cocktail," morbidly conscious also of the ridiculousness of his

								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes