A Ward of Colonel Starbottle's Page #6

"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

								

sensation as the first, although it was accompanied with equal
disturbance to the fair principals. Had he been a less conceited man he
might have noticed that their antagonism, although held in restraint by
their wholesome fear of him, was in danger of becoming more a conviction
than a mere suspicion. He was made aware of it through Pansy's
resentment towards them, and her revelation of a certain inquisition
that she had been subjected to in regard to his occupation, habits, and
acquaintances. Naturally of these things Pansy knew very little, but
this had not prevented her from saying a great deal. There had been
enough in her questioners' manner to make her suspect that her guardian
was being attacked, and to his defense she brought the mendacity
and imagination of a clever child. What she had really said did not
transpire except through her own comments to the colonel: "And of course
you've killed people--for you're a kernel, you know?" (Here the colonel
admitted, as a point of fact, that he had served in the Mexican war.)
"And you kin PREACH, for they heard you do it when you was here before,"
she added confidently; "and of course you own niggers--for there's
'Jim.'" (The colonel here attempted to explain that Jim, being in a free
State, was now a free man, but Pansy swept away such fine distinctions.)
"And you're rich, you know, for you gave me that ten-dollar gold piece
all for myself. So I jest gave 'em as good as they sent--the old spies
and curiosity shops!" The colonel, more pleased at Pansy's devotion than
concerned over the incident itself, accepted this interpretation of his
character as a munificent, militant priest with a smiling protest. But a
later incident caused him to remember it more seriously.

They had taken their usual stroll through the Alameda, and had made the
round of the shops, where the colonel had exhibited his usual liberality
of purchase and his exalted parental protection, and so had passed on to
their usual refreshment at the confectioner's, the usual ices and cakes
for Pansy, but this time--a concession also to the tyrant Pansy--a glass
of lemon soda and a biscuit for the colonel. He was coughing over his
unaccustomed beverage, and Pansy, her equanimity and volubility restored
by sweets, was chirruping at his side; the large saloon was filling up
with customers--mainly ladies and children, embarrassing to him as
the only man present, when suddenly Pansy's attention was diverted
by another arrival. It was a good-looking young woman, overdressed,
striking, and self-conscious, who, with an air of one who was in the
habit of challenging attention, affectedly seated herself with a male
companion at an empty table, and began to pull off an overtight glove.

"My!" said Pansy in admiring wonder, "ain't she fine?"

Colonel Starbottle looked up abstractedly, but at the first glance
his face flushed redly, deepened to a purple, and then became gray and
stern. He had recognized in the garish fair one Miss Flora Montague, the
"Western Star of Terpsichore and Song," with whom he had supped a few
days before at Sacramento. The lady was "on tour" with her "Combination
troupe."

The colonel leaned over and fixed his murky eyes on Pansy. "The room
is filling up; the place is stifling; I must--er--request you
to--er--hurry."

There was a change in the colonel's manner, which the quick-witted
child heeded. But she had not associated it with the entrance of the
strangers, and as she obediently gulped down her ice, she went on
innocently,--

"That fine lady's smilin' and lookin' over here. Seems to know you; so
does the man with her."

"I--er--must request you," said the colonel, with husky precision, "NOT
to look that way, but finish your--er--repast."

His tone was so decided that the child's lips pouted, but before she
could speak a shadow leaned over their table. It was the companion of
the "fine lady."

"Don't seem to see us, Colonel," he said with coarse familiarity, laying
his hand on the colonel's shoulder. "Florry wants to know what's up."

The colonel rose at the touch. "Tell her, sir," he said huskily, but
with slow deliberation, "that I 'am up' and leaving this place with
my ward, Miss Stannard. Good-morning." He lifted Pansy with infinite
courtesy from her chair, took her hand, strolled to the counter, threw
down a gold piece, and passing the table of the astonished fair one with
an inflated breast, swept with Pansy out of the shop. In the street he
paused, bidding the child go on; and then, finding he was not followed
by the woman's escort, rejoined his little companion.

For a few moments they walked silently side by side. Then Pansy's
curiosity, getting the better of her pout, demanded information. She had
applied a child's swift logic to the scene. The colonel was angry, and
had punished the woman for something. She drew closer to his side, and
looking up with her big eyes, said confidentially.

"What had she been a-doing?"

The colonel was amazed, embarrassed, and speechless. He was totally
unprepared for the question, and as unable to answer it. His abrupt
departure from the shop had been to evade the very truth now demanded of
him. Only a supreme effort of mendacity was left him. He wiped his brow
with his handkerchief, coughed, and began deliberately:--

"The--er--lady in question is in the habit of using a scent
called--er--patchouli, a--er--perfume exceedingly distressing to me.
I detected it instantly on her entrance. I wished to avoid it--without
further contact. It is--er--singular but accepted fact that some people
are--er--peculiarly affected by odors. I had--er--old cherished friend
who always--er--fainted at the odor of jasmine; and I was intimately
acquainted with General Bludyer, who--er--dropped like a shot on the
presentation of a simple violet. The--er--habit of using such perfumes
excessively in public," continued the colonel, looking down upon the
innocent Pansy, and speaking in tones of deadly deliberation, "cannot be
too greatly condemned, as well as the habit of--er--frequenting
places of public resort in extravagant costumes, with--er--individuals
who--er--intrude upon domestic privacy. I trust you will eschew such
perfumes, places, costumes, and--er--companions FOREVER and--ON ALL
OCCASIONS!" The colonel had raised his voice to his forensic emphasis,
and Pansy, somewhat alarmed, assented. Whether she entirely accepted the
colonel's explanation was another matter.

The incident, although not again alluded to, seemed to shadow the
rest of their brief afternoon holiday, and the colonel's manner was
unmistakably graver. But it seemed to the child more affectionate and
thoughtful. He had previously at parting submitted to be kissed by
Pansy with stately tolerance and an immediate resumption of his loftiest
manner. On this present leave-taking he laid his straight closely shaven

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