Jonas Bebee has one merit, if he possesses no other, and thatis, the merit of being able to make himself completely at home withall his friends, male or female, high or low, rich or poor, underany and all circumstances. His good opinion of himself leaves noroom for his imagination to conceive the idea, that possibly theremay be, in his character, certain peculiarities not agreeable toall. It never occurs to him, that he may chance to make a malapropos visit, nor that the prolongation of a call may be aserious annoyance; for he is so entirely satisfied with himselfthat he is sure every one else must feel his presence as a kind ofsunshine. Of course, such being the character of Mr. Jonas Bebee, it mayreadily be inferred that he is very likely to commit an occasionalmistake, and blunder, though unconsciously, into the commission ofacts most terribly annoying to others. His evening calls uponladies generally produce a marked effect upon those speciallyselected for the favor. The character of the effect will appear inthe following little scene, which we briefly sketch-"Gentleman in the parlor," says a servant coming into a roomwhere two or three young ladies sit sewing or reading. "Who is he?" is the natural inquiry. "Mr. Bebee." "Goodness!" "Say we are not at home, Kitty." "No--no, Kitty, you mustn't say that," interposes one. "Tell himthe ladies will be down in a little while." Kitty accordingly retires. "I'm not going down," says one, more self willed and independentthan the rest. You've as much right to be annoyed with him as we have," isreplied to this. "I don't care." "I wish he'd stay away from here. Nobody wants him." "He's after you, Aggy." "After me!" replied Agnes. "Goodness knows I don't want him. Ihate the very sight of him!" "It's no use fretting ourselves over the annoyance, we've got toendure it," says one of the young ladies. "So, come, let's put onthe best face possible."
"You can go, Cara, if you choose, but I'm in no hurry; nor willhe be in any haste to go. Say to him that I'll be along in thecourse of half an hour." "No, you must all make your own apologies." In the meantime Mr. Bebee patiently awaits the arrival of theladies, who make their appearance, one after the other, some timeduring the next half hour. He compliments them, asks them to singand play, and leads the conversation until towards eleven o'clock,when he retires in the best possible humor with himself and theinteresting young ladies favored with his presence. He has not evena distant suspicion of the real truth, that his visit wasconsidered an almost unendurable infliction. Mr. Bebee's morning calls are often more unwelcome. He walks in,as a matter of course, takes his seat in the parlor, and sends uphis name by the servant. If told that the lady is not at home, asuspicion that it may not be so does not cross his mind; for hecannot imagine it possible that any one would make such an excusein order to avoid seeing him. Should the lady not be willingto utter an untruth, nor feel independent enough to send word thatshe is engaged, an hour's waste of time, at least, must be herpenalty; for Mr. Bebee's morning calls are never of shorterduration. He knows, as well as any one, that visits of politenessshould be brief; but he is on such familiar terms with all hisfriends, that he can waive all ceremony--and he generally does so,making himself "at home," as he says, wherever he goes. One day Mr. Jonas Bebee recollected that he had not called upona certain Mrs. Fairview, for some weeks; and as the lady was, likemost of his acquaintances, a particular friend, he felt that he wasneglecting her. So he started forth to make her a call. It was Saturday, and Mrs. Fairview, after having been, for thegreater part of the morning, in the kitchen making cake, came up tothe parlor to dust and re-arrange some of the articles there alittle more to her liking. Her hair was in papers, and her morningwrapper not in a very elegant condition, having suffered a littleduring the cake-making process. It was twelve o'clock, and Mrs.Fairview was about leaving the parlor, when some one rung the bell.Gliding noiselessly to the window, she obtained a view of Mr.Bebee. "O, dear!" she sighed, "am I to have this infliction to-day? Butit's no use; I won't see him!" By this time the servant was moving along the passage towardsthe door. "Hannah!" called the lady, in a whisper, beckoning at the sametime with her hand. Hannah came into the parlor. "Say I'm not at home, Hannah." "Yes, ma'am," replied the girl, who proceeded on towards thestreet door, while Mrs. Fairview remained in the parlor.
"Is Mrs. Fairview in?" the latter heard the visitor ask. "No, sir," replied Hannah. "Not in?" "No, sir. She's gone out." By this time Mr. Bebee stood within the vestibule. "O, well; I reckon I'll just drop in and wait awhile. No doubtshe'll be home, soon." "I don't think she will return before two o'clock," said Hannah,knowing that her mistress, looking more like a scarecrow than agenteel lady, was still in the parlor, and seeing that the visiterwas disposed to pass her by and make himself a temporary occupantof the same room. "No matter," returned the gentleman, "I'll just step in for alittle while and enjoy myself by the parlor fire. It's a bittercold day--perhaps she will be home sooner." "O, no, sir. She told me that she would not come back untildinner-time," said the anxious Hannah, who fully appreciated thedilemma in which her mistress would find herself, should Mr. Bebeemake his way into the parlor. "It's no consequence. You can just say to her, if she does notreturn while I am here, that I called and made myself at home forhalf an hour or so." And with this, Mr. Bebee passed by the girl,and made his way towards the parlor. In despair, Hannah ran back to her place in the kitchen,wondering what her mistress would say or do when Mr. Bebee foundthat she was at home--and, moreover, in such a plight! In the meantime, Mrs. Fairview, who had been eagerly listeningto what passed between Hannah and the visiter, finding that he wasabout invading her parlor, and seeing no way of escape, retreatedinto a little room, or office, built off from and communicatingonly with the parlor. As she entered this room and shut the door,the cold air penetrated her garments and sent a chill through herframe. There was no carpet on the floor of this little box of aplace, and it contained neither sofa, chair, nor anything else tosit upon. Moreover, it had but a single door, and that one led intothe parlor. Escape, therefore, was cut off, entirely; and to remainlong where she was could not be done except at the risk of taking asevere cold. Through the openings in a Venitian blind that was hung againstthe glass door, Mrs. Fairview saw the self-satisfied Mr. Bebee drawup the large cushioned chair before the grate, and with a book inhis hand, seat himself comfortably and begin to make himselfentirely "at home." The prospect was, that he would thus remain "athome," for at least the next half hour, if not longer. What was sheto do? The thermometer was almost down to zero, and she was dressedfor a temperature of seventy.
"I shall catch my death a cold," she sighed, as the chilly airpenetrated her garments, and sent a shudder through her frame. Comfortably, and as much at home as if he were in his ownparlor, sat Mr. Bebee in front of the roaring grate, rockinghimself in the great arm-chair, and enjoying a new book which hehad found upon the table. As Mrs. Fairview looked at him, and saw the complete repose andsatisfaction of his manner, she began to feel in utter despair.Already her teeth were beginning to chatter, and she was shiveringas if attacked by a fit of ague. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty minuteselapsed--but there sat the visiter, deeply absorbed in his book;and there stood the unfortunate lady who was "not at home," sobenumbed with cold as almost to have lost the sense of bodilyfeeling. A certain feeling in the throat warned her that she wastaking cold, and would, in all probability, suffer frominflammation of the windpipe and chest. Five, ten, fifteen minutesmore went by; but Mr. Beebe did not move from his place. He was fartoo comfortable to think of that. At last after remaining in prison for nearly an hour, Mrs.Fairview, who by this time was beginning to suffer, besidesexcessive fatigue, from a sharp pain through her breast to her leftshoulder blade, and who was painfully aware that she had taken acold that would, in all probability, put her in bed for a week,determined to make her escape at all hazards. Mr. Beebe showed nodisposition to go, and might remain for an hour longer. Throwing anapron over her head and face, she softly opened the door, andgliding past her visiter, escaped into the hall, and ran panting upstairs. Mr. Beebe raised his head at this unexpected invasion ofthe parlor, but on reflection concluded that the person who sosuddenly appeared and disappeared was merely a servant in thefamily. About an hour afterwards, finding that Mrs. Fairview did notreturn, Mr. Beebe left his card on the table, and departed in hisusual comfortable state of mind. Poor Mrs. Fairview paid dearly for her part in this transaction.A severe attack of inflammation of the lungs followed, which camenear resulting in death. It was nearly three weeks before she wasable to leave her room, and then her physician said she must notventure out before the mild weather of the opening spring. A few days after the lady was able to go about the house again,Mr. Bebee called to congratulate her on her recovery. Two of herchildren were in the parlor; one eleven years old, and the other achild in her fourth year. "O, you naughty man, you!" exclaimed the latter, the moment shesaw Mr. Bebee. The oldest of the two children, who understood in amoment what her little sister meant, whispered: "H-u-s-h!-h-u-s-h!Mary!" "What am I naughty about, my little sis?" said Mr. Bebee. "O, because you are a naughty man! You made my mother sick, soyou did! And mother says she never wants to look in your faceagain. You are a naughty man!"
"Mary! Mary! Hush! hush!" exclaimed the elder sister, trying tostop the child. "Made your mother sick?" said Mr. Bebee. "How did I dothat?" "Why, you shut her up in that little room there, all in thecold, when you were here and staid so long, one day. And it madeher sick--so it did." "Shut her up in that room! what does the child mean?" said Mr.Bebee, speaking to the elder sister. "Mary! Mary! I'm ashamed of you. Come away!" was the onlyresponse made to this. Mr. Bebee was puzzled. He asked himself as to the meaning ofthis strange language. All at once, he remembered that after he hadbeen sitting in the parlor for an hour, on the occasion referredto, some one had come out of the little room referred to by thechild, and swept past him almost as quick as a flash. But it hadnever once occurred to him that this was the lady he had called tovisit, who, according to the servant, was not at home. "I didn't shut your mother up in that room, Mary," said he, tothe child. "O, but you did. And she got cold, and almost died." At this the elder sister, finding that she could do nothing withlittle Mary, escaped from the parlor, and running up stairs, made areport to her mother of what was going on below. "Mercy!" exclaimed the lady, in painful surprise. "She told him that you said you never wanted to look upon hisface again," said the little girl. "She did!" "Yes. And she is telling him a great deal more. I tried my bestto make her stop, but couldn't." "Rachel! Go down and bring that child out of the parlor!" saidMrs. Fairview, to a servant. "It is too bad! I had no idea that thelittle witch knew anything about it. So much for talking beforechildren!" "And so much for not being at home when you are," remarked asister of Mrs. Fairview, who happened to be present. "So much for having an acquaintance who makes himself at home inyour house, whether you want him or not." "No doubt you are both sufficiently well punished." "I have been, I know."
The heavy jar of the street door was heard at this moment. "He's gone, I do believe!" And so it proved. What else little Mary said to him was neverknown, as the violent scolding she received when her mother gothold of her, sealed her lips on the subject, or drove allimpressions relating thereto from her memory. Mr. Bebee never called again.