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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/15511-8.txt b/15511-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..99c1acb --- /dev/null +++ b/15511-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7440 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Mr. Pat's Little Girl, by Mary F. Leonard, +Illustrated by Chase Emerson + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Mr. Pat's Little Girl + A Story of the Arden Foresters + + +Author: Mary F. Leonard + +Release Date: March 31, 2005 [eBook #15511] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. PAT'S LITTLE GIRL*** + + +E-text prepared by David Garcia, Emmy, and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (www.pgdp.net) from page images generously +made available by the Kentuckiana Digital Library (http://kdl.kyvl.org) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 15511-h.htm or 15511-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/5/1/15511/15511-h/15511-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/5/1/15511/15511-h.zip) + + Images of the original pages are available through the Electronic + Text Collection of the Kentuckiana Digital Library. See + http://kdl.kyvl.org/cgi/t/text/text-idx?;page=simpleext + + + + + +MR. PAT'S LITTLE GIRL + +A Story of the Arden Foresters + +by + +MARY F. LEONARD + +Author of _The Spectacle Man_, etc. + +With Illustrations by Chase Emerson + +W.A. Wilde Company +Boston and Chicago + +1902 + + + + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + + +TO + +A.E.F. + +IN LOVING MEMORY + +this story is lovingly dedicated + +BY HER NIECE + + + + +[Illustration: "HOW SWEET THE BREATH BENEATH THE HILL OF SHARON'S LOVELY +ROSE."] + + + + +CONTENTS. + + CHAPTER + + I. THINGS BEGIN TO HAPPEN + "A magician most profound in his art." + + II. ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HEDGE + "Give me leave to speak my mind." + + III. FRIENDSHIP + "True it is that we have seen better days." + + IV. AN UNQUIET MORNING + "You amaze me, ladies!" + + V. MAURICE + "The stubbornness of fortune." + + VI. PUZZLES + "How weary are my spirits." + + VII. THE MAGICIAN MAKES TEA + "If that love or gold + Can in this place buy entertainment, + Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed." + + VIII. "TO MEET ROSALIND" + "Put you in your best array." + + IX. THE LOST RING + "Wear this for me." + + X. CELIA + "One out of suits with fortune." + + XI. MAKING FRIENDS + "Is not that neighborly?" + + XII. THE GILPIN PLACE + "This is the Forest of Arden." + + XIII. IN PATRICIA'S ARBOR + "O, how full of briers is this working-day world." + + XIV. THE ARDEN FORESTERS + "Like the old Robin Hood of England." + + XV. A NEW MEMBER + "In the circle of this forest." + + XVI. RECIPROCITY + "Take upon command what we have." + + XVII. A NEW COMRADE + "I know you are a gentleman of good conceit." + + XVIII. AN IMPRISONED MAIDEN + "The house doth keep itself, + There's none within." + + XIX. OLD ACQUAINTANCE + "And there begins my sadness." + + XX. THE SPINET + "Though art not for the fashion of these times." + + XXI. "UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE" + "Must you then be proud and pitiless?" + + XXII. CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE + "I sometimes do believe and sometimes do not." + + XXIII. THE DETECTIVE + "'Twas I, but 'tis not I." + + XXIV. AT THE AUCTION + "Assuredly the thing is to be sold." + + XXV. QUESTIONS + "They asked one another the reason." + + XXVI. THE PRESIDENT + "--And good in everything." + + XXVII. OLD ENEMIES + "Kindness nobler ever than revenge." + + XXVIII. BETTER THAN DREAMS + "I like this place." + + XXIX. AT THE MAGICIAN'S + "I would have you." + + XXX. OAK LEAVES + "Bid me farewell." + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + + "'How sweet the breath beneath the hill + Of Sharon's lovely rose'" (Frontispiece) + + "Do you know Miss Betty?" + + "Looking up, he discovered his visitors" + + "They crossed over to speak to her" + + "She chose a chest of drawers" + + + + + +CHAPTER FIRST. + +THINGS BEGIN TO HAPPEN. + +"A magician most profound in his art." + + +It was Sunday afternoon. The griffins on the doorstep stared straight +before them with an expression of utter indifference; the feathery foliage +of the white birch swayed gently back and forth; the peonies lifted their +crimson heads airily; the snowball bush bent under the weight of its white +blooms till it swept the grass; the fountain splashed softly. + + "'By cool Siloam's shady rill + How fair the lily grows,'" + +Rosalind chanted dreamily. + +Grandmamma had given her the hymn book, telling her to choose a hymn and +commit it to memory, and as she turned the pages this had caught her eye +and pleased her fancy. + +"It sounds like the Forest of Arden," she said, leaning back on the garden +bench and shutting her eyes. + + "'How sweet the breath beneath the hill + Of Sharon's lovely rose.'" + +She swung her foot in time to the rhythm. She was not sure whether a rill +was a fountain or a stream, so she decided, as there was no dictionary +convenient, to think of it as like the creek where it crossed the road at +the foot of Red Hill. + +Again she looked at the book; skipping a stanza, she read:-- + + "'By cool Siloam's shady rill + The lily must decay; + The rose that blooms beneath the hill + Must shortly pass away.'" + +The melancholy of this was interesting; at the same time it reminded her +that she was lonely. After repeating, "Must shortly pass away," her eyes +unexpectedly filled with tears. + +"Now I am not going to cry," she said sternly, and by way of carrying out +this resolve she again closed her eyes tight. It was desperately hard +work, and she could not have told whether two minutes or ten had passed +when she was startled by an odd, guttural voice close to her asking, +"What is the matter, little girl?" + +If the voice was strange, the figure she saw when she looked up was +stranger still. A gaunt old man in a suit of rusty black, with straggling +gray hair and beard, stood holding his hat in his hand, gazing at her with +eyes so bright they made her uneasy. + +"Nothing," she answered, rising hastily. + +But the visitor continued to stand there and smile at her, shaking his +head and repeating, "Mustn't cry." + +"I am not crying," Rosalind insisted, glancing over her shoulder to make +sure of a way of escape. + +With a long, thin finger this strange person now pointed toward the house, +saying something she understood to be an inquiry for Miss Herbert. + +Miss Herbert was the housekeeper, and Rosalind knew she was at church; but +when she tried to explain, the old man shook his head, and taking from his +pocket a tablet with a pencil attached, he held it out to her, touching +his ear as he uttered the one word "Deaf." + +Rosalind understood she was to write her answer, and somewhat flurried she +sat down on the edge of the bench and with much deliberation and in large +clear letters conveyed the information, "She is out." + +The old man looked at the tablet and then at Rosalind, bowing and smiling +as if well pleased. "You'll tell her I'm going to the city to-morrow?" he +asked. + +There was something very queer in the way he opened his mouth and used his +tongue, Rosalind thought, as she nodded emphatically, feeling that this +singular individual had her at an unfair advantage. At least she would +find out who he was, and so, as she still held the tablet, she wrote, +"What is your name?" + +He laughed as if this were a joke, and searching in his pocket, produced a +card which he presented with a bow. On it was printed "C.J. Morgan, +Cabinet Work." + +"What is your name?" he asked. + +Rosalind hesitated. She was not sure it at all concerned this stranger to +know her name, but as he stood smiling and waiting, she did not know how +to refuse; so she bent over the tablet, her yellow braid falling over her +shoulder, as she wrote, "Rosalind Patterson Whittredge." + +"Mr. Pat's daughter?" There was a twinkle in the old man's eye, and +surprise and delight in his voice. + +Rosalind sprang up, her own eyes shining. "How stupid of me!" she cried. +"Why, you must be the magician, and you have a funny old shop, where +father used to play when he was little. Oh, I hope you will let me come to +see you!" Suddenly remembering the tablet, she looked at it despairingly. +She couldn't write half she wished to say. + +Morgan, however, seemed to understand pretty clearly, to judge from the +way he laughed and asked if Mr. Pat was well. + +Rosalind nodded and wrote, "He has gone to Japan." + +"So far? Coming home soon?" + +With a mournful countenance she shook her head. + +Morgan stood looking down on her with a smile that no longer seemed +uncanny. Indeed, there was something almost sweet in the rugged face as he +repeated, "Mr. Pat's little girl, well, well," as if it were quite +incredible. + +Rosalind longed to ask at least a dozen questions, but it is dampening to +one's ardor to have to spell every word, and she only nodded and smiled in +her turn as she handed back the tablet. + +"I wish father had taught me to talk on my fingers," she thought, feeling +that one branch of her education had been neglected. "Perhaps Uncle Allan +will, when he comes." + +She watched the odd figure till it disappeared around a turn in the trim +garden path, then she picked up the big red pillow which had fallen on the +grass, and replacing it in one corner of the bench, curled herself up +against it. The hymn book lay forgotten. + +"I believe things are really beginning to happen," she said to herself. +"You need not pretend they are not, for they are," she added, shaking her +finger at the griffins with their provoking lack of expression. "You +wouldn't make friends with anybody, not to save their lives, and it seemed +as if I were never to get acquainted with a soul, when here I have met the +magician in the most surprising way. And to think I didn't know him!" + +The dream spirit was abroad in the garden. Across the lawn the shadows +made mysterious progress; the sunlight seemed sifted through an enchanted +veil, and like the touch of fairy fingers was the summer breeze against +Rosalind's cheek, as with her head against the red pillow, she travelled +for the first time in her life back into the past. + +Back to the dear old library where two students worked, and where from the +windows one could see the tiled roofs of the university. Back to the world +of dreams where dwelt that friendly host of story-book people, where only +a few short weeks ago Friendship, too, with its winding shady streets and +this same stately garden and the griffins, had belonged as truly as did +the Forest where that other Rosalind, loveliest of all story people, +wandered. + +Friendship was no longer a dream, and Rosalind, her head against the red +pillow, was beginning to think that dreams were best. + +"If we choose, we may travel always in the Forest, where the birds sing +and the sunlight sifts through the trees." + +These words of Cousin Louis's in his introduction to the old story pleased +Rosalind's fancy. She liked to shut her eyes and think of the Forest and +the brave-hearted company gathered there, and always this brought before +her the fair face of the miniature on her father's desk and a faint, sweet +memory of clasping arms. + +When the doctor with a grave face had said that only rest and change of +scene could restore Cousin Louis's health, and when Rosalind understood +that this must mean for her separation from both her dear companions, it +was to the Forest she had turned. + +"I'll pretend I am banished like Rosalind in the story," she had said, +leaning against her father's shoulder, as he looked over the proofs of +"The Life of Shakespeare" on which Cousin Louis had worked too hard. "Then +I'll know I am certain to find you sometime." + +Her father's arm had drawn her close,--she liked to recall it now, and +how, when she added, "But I wish I had Celia and Touchstone to go with +me," he had answered, "You are certain to find pleasant people in the +Forest of Arden, little girl." And putting aside the proofs, he had talked +to her of her grandmother and the old town of Friendship. + +She had been almost a week in Friendship now, and--well, things were not +altogether as she had pictured them. Silver locks and lace caps, +arm-chairs and some sort of fluffy knitting work, had been a part of her +idea of a grandmother, and lo! her own grandmother was erect and slender, +with not a thread of gray in her dark hair, nor a line in her handsome +face. + +She was kind--oh, yes, but so sad in her heavy crepe. Aunt Genevieve in +her trailing gowns was charming to behold, but no more company for +Rosalind--at least not much more--than the griffins. Miss Herbert was not +a merry, comfortable person like their own Mrs. Browne at home. The house +was very quiet. The garden was beautiful, but she longed to be outside its +tall iron gates; and she longed--how she longed--for her old companions! + +Cousin Louis had given her her favorite story in a binding of soft +leather, delicious to hold against one's cheek, and her father had added a +copy of the beautiful miniature. With these treasures she had set out upon +her journey. But she had begun to feel as if in the great Forest she had +lost her way, when the friendly face of the magician reassured her. + +The sound of sweeping draperies broke in upon her thoughts. It was Aunt +Genevieve, and she had not learned her hymn. Picking up her book, she +stole swiftly across the grass till she was hidden by some tall shrubbery. +Before her was a high hedge of privet; beyond it, among the trees, the +chimneys of a red brick house. + +Walking back and forth, Rosalind began to study in earnest. Looking first +at her book and then up at the blue sky, she repeated:-- + + "'Lo! such the child whose early feet + The paths of peace have trod. + Whose secret heart with influence sweet + Is upward drawn to God.'" + + + + +CHAPTER SECOND. + +ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HEDGE. + +"Give me leave to speak my mind." + + +There was another garden on the other side of the hedge; not so large, nor +so beautifully kept perhaps, but a pleasant garden, for all that. The red +brick house to which it belonged was by no means so stately as the one +whose doorstep the griffins guarded, yet it had an importance all its own. +On week days, when the heavy shutters on the lower front windows were +open, _The National Bank of Friendship_ was to be seen in gilt letters on +the glass; on Sundays, however, when they were closed, there was little to +suggest that it was anything more than a private dwelling. It was a +square, roomy house, and the part not in use for bank purposes was +occupied by the cashier, Mr. Milton Roberts, and his family. + +While Rosalind, curled up on the garden seat, was thinking of home, +Maurice Roberts lay in the hammock under the big maple near the side +porch, where his mother and Miss Betty Bishop sat talking. He held a book, +but instead of reading was allowing himself the lazy entertainment of +listening to their conversation. + +From his position, a little behind the visitor, he had an excellent view +of her as she sat erect in the wicker chair, her parasol across her lap. +Miss Betty was plump and short, and had a dimple in her chin. Her hair, +which was turning gray, waved prettily back from her forehead into the +thickest of braids, and altogether there was a pleasant air of crispness +about her; though something in the keenness of her glance, or the firmness +with which her lips met, suggested that on occasion she might be +unyielding. "The Barnwell stubbornness," she herself would have explained, +with the same complacency she manifested when displaying her grandmother's +tea-set. + +Mrs. Roberts, Maurice's mother, was a gentle person, with large, soft eyes +and a quiet manner. + +The preliminary conversation had not been interesting, pertaining chiefly +to flowers and the weather, and Maurice gave a sigh of satisfaction when, +after a moment's pause, Miss Betty straightened herself and remarked, +"Well, I hear the will is certain to be sustained." + +"Then the property will have to be sold?" questioned Mrs. Roberts. + +"Yes, and I may as well say good-by to the cream-jug and sugar-dish that +Cousin Anne always said should be mine. Still, I never shall believe +Cousin Thomas was out of his mind when he made that last will, it was too +much like him. Dear knows it ought to be broken, but not on that ground. +It was a case of pure spite." + +"Oh, Betty!" + +Maurice smiled to himself at his mother's tone. + +"I assure you it was. I knew Cousin Thomas. Didn't Cousin Anne tell me +dozens of times in his presence, 'Betty, this is your cream-jug and +sugar-dish, because they match your teapot'?" + +"I should think you had enough silver, Betty; still it was a shame Miss +Anne left that list unsigned," said Mrs. Roberts. + +"If you knew Cousin Anne at all, Mrs. Roberts, you knew how hesitating +she was. She couldn't decide whether to leave the Canton china to Ellen +Marshall or to Tom's wife. She changed her mind any number of times, but +she was always clear about my cream-jug and sugar-dish. If Cousin Thomas +had had any decency, he would have considered her wishes. Think of my own +grandmother's things put up at public auction!" + +"Most of Mr. Gilpin's money goes to the hospital, I suppose," remarked +Mrs. Roberts. + +"Pretty much everything but the real estate in and around Friendship, and +the contents of the house, all of which will have to be sold and divided +among his first cousins or their heirs. The only bequests made besides the +money to the hospital are to Celia Fair and Allan Whittredge. Celia is to +have the spinet, and Allan that beautiful old ring, if ever it comes to +light again. I wish Cousin Thomas had left Celia some money. She was one +person for whom he had a little affection." + +Maurice wished so too. He admired Miss Celia Fair, and felt it was too bad +she should get only an antiquated piano. + +"Are the Fairs related to the Gilpins?" his mother asked. Not being a +native of Friendship, she had difficulty in mastering the intricacies of +its relationships. + +It was ground upon which Miss Betty was entirely at home, however. "They +were kin to Cousin Thomas's wife," she explained. "Mrs. Fair's grandmother +was half-sister to Cousin Emma's mother, and raised Cousin Emma as her own +child. Of course it is not very near when it comes to Celia. The spinet +belonged to old Mrs. Johnson,--Celia's great-grandmother, you know,--whose +name was also Celia. Saint Cecilia, they used to call her, because she was +so good and played and sang so sweetly. It is right the spinet should go +to Celia, but that would not have influenced Cousin Thomas a minute if he +had not wished her to have it." + +"And the ring has never been heard of?" Mrs. Roberts asked, as her visitor +paused for breath. + +"I doubt if it ever comes to light. It is nearly three years now since it +disappeared," was the reply. Miss Betty looked up at the vines above her +head, and her lips curled into a sort of half smile. "I should like to +hear Cousin Ellen Whittredge on the will," she added. "I don't think she +cares much about the money, however; it is more that old feeling against +Dr. Fair. You remember he testified to Mr. Gilpin's sanity." + +"And her son?" asked Mrs. Roberts. + +"Allan? It is hard to find out what Allan thinks, but there is no +bitterness in him. He is like his father, poor man! What I am curious to +know is, what Cousin Thomas meant by saying in his will that Allan knew +his wishes in regard to the ring. That strikes me as a little sensational. +I asked Allan about it the last time I saw him, but he only laughed and +said he'd have to get it before he could dispose of it." + +Miss Betty now made some motions preliminary to rising, but as if on +second thought, she laid her parasol across her knees again and asked, +"Have you heard that Patterson's daughter is here?" + +"Yes, I think I saw her in the carriage with her grandmother yesterday," +was Mrs. Roberts's reply. + +This was news to Maurice, and he listened with interest. + +Miss Betty shook her head. "I am surprised," she said. "That marriage of +Patterson's was a dreadful blow to Cousin Ellen." + +"It seems to me she was unreasonable about it. I am glad she sent for him +before his father died." Mrs. Roberts spoke with some hesitation. She did +not often array her own opinions against those of her friends. + +"I don't blame her as some do. A person of that sort, and Patterson the +very light of her eyes! How would you feel if Maurice some day should do a +thing like that?" + +Maurice laughed softly. His thoughts were not much occupied with marriage. +His mother ignored the question, and in her turn asked, "Did Mrs. +Whittredge ever see her daughter-in-law?" + +"No, indeed. This child was not more than three when she died." + +"Poor little thing!" Mrs. Roberts sighed. + +"Such a name! I detest fancy names. Rosalind!" Miss Betty rose. + +"A good old English name and very pretty, I think. Was it her mother's?" + +"I suppose so, but I don't know. Yes, I must go; Sophy will think I am +lost. Good-by," and Miss Betty stepped briskly down the path. + +The gate had hardly closed when Maurice heard some one calling him. +Looking over his shoulder, he saw his sister Katherine beckoning. + +"Maurice, Maurice, do come here; I want you to see something." + +Her tone impressed him as unduly mysterious. "What is it?" he asked +indifferently. + +"Come, and I'll show you." + +"I sha'n't come till you tell me," he persisted. + +"Oh, I think you might, because if I stop to tell you she may be gone." + +"Who'll be gone? You might have told it twice over in this time." + +"The girl I want you to see," explained Katherine, drawing nearer in +desperation. "Did you know there was a girl next door?" + +"Yes, of course." There was nothing in Maurice's tone to indicate how +brief a time had passed since this information had been acquired. + +"Truly? I don't believe it," Katherine faltered. + +"She is Mrs. Whittredge's granddaughter, and her name is Rosalind, so +now!" + +Privately, Katherine thought her brother's power of finding things out, +little short of supernatural. "Don't you want to see her?" she asked +meekly. "There is a thin place in the hedge behind the calycanthus bush, +and she is walking to and fro studying something." Would Maurice declare +he had already seen this girl? + +Maurice sat up and reached for a crutch that rested against the tree. He +had his share of curiosity. He was a tall, well-grown boy of thirteen, and +it was apparent as he swung himself after Katherine, that accident and not +disease had caused his lameness. + +Rosalind, studying her hymn all unconscious of observation, was a pleasant +sight. + +"Isn't she pretty?" whispered Katherine, but Maurice silenced her so +sternly she concluded he did not agree with her. + +In reality he thought very much as she did, although he would not have +used the same adjective. There was something unusual about this girl. Why +it was, he did not understand, but she seemed somehow to belong in a +special way to the sweet old garden with its June roses. Maurice had +fancies that would have astonished Katherine beyond measure if she could +have known anything about them. But how was she to know when he pinched +her arm and looked sternly indifferent? + +The tea bell called them back to the house; on the way Katherine's +enthusiasm burst forth afresh. + +"Isn't she sweet? and such a beautiful name--Rosalind. How old do you +think she is? and do you suppose she is going to live there? Oh, Maurice, +shouldn't you be afraid of Mrs. Whittredge?" + +"I don't know anything about her," Maurice replied, forgetting for the +moment that he bad been pretending to know a great deal. + +"I should like to have my hair tied on top of my head with a big ribbon +bow as hers is," continued Katherine, who would innocently persist in +laying herself open to brotherly scorn. + +"I suppose you think you will look like her then," was his retort. + +"Now, Maurice, I don't. I know I am not pretty." Katharine's round face +grew suddenly long, and tears filled her blue eyes. + +"Don't be a goose, then. I'll tell you what she made me think of, that +statue of Joan of Arc--don't you remember? Where she is listening to the +voices? We saw it at the Academy of Fine Arts." + +"Why, Maurice, how funny! She is much prettier than that," said +Katherine. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRD. + +FRIENDSHIP. + +"True it is that we have seen better days." + + +A rambling, sleepy town was Friendship, with few aspirations beyond the +traditions of its grandfathers and a fine indifference toward modern +improvements. + +During the era of monstrous creations in black walnut it had clung to its +old mahogany and rosewood, and chromos had never displaced in its +affections the time-worn colored prints of little Samuel or flower-decked +shepherdesses. In consequence of this conservatism Friendship one day +awoke in the fashion. + +There were fine old homes in Friendship which in their soft-toned browns +and grays seemed as much a part of the landscape as the forest trees that +surrounded them and shaded the broad street. Associated with these +mansions were names dignified and substantial, such as Molesworth, +Parton, Gilpin, Whittredge. + +In times past the atmosphere of the village had seemed to be pervaded by +something of the spirit of its name, for here life flowed on serenely in +old grooves and its ways were the peaceful ways of friendship. But of late +years, alas! something alien and discordant had crept in. + + '"And what is Friendship but a name--'" + +quoted the cabinet-maker sadly one morning when after climbing the hill +from the wharf he paused to rest on the low stone wall surrounding the +Gilpin place. + +Landing Lane ended at the top of the hill, and here at right angles to it +the Main Street of Friendship might be said to begin, slowly descending to +a level and following the leisurely curves of the old stage road till it +came to a straggling end at the foot of another prominence known as Red +Hill. + +In forty years a life takes deep root, and this time had passed since +Morgan, a raw Scotch boy of eighteen, had come to Friendship as assistant +to the village cabinet-maker. A year or two later an illness deprived him +of his hearing, but fortunately not of his skill, and upon the death of +his employer he succeeded to the business, his kindly, simple nature, +together with his misfortune, having won the heart of Friendship. + +His fame for making and doing over furniture had spread beyond the borders +of the town; his opinion was valued highly by collectors, and it was said +he might have made a fortune in the city. But what use had he for a +fortune? It was the friendly greetings, the neighborly kindnesses, the +comradeship with the children of the village, that made his life. + +In spite of its rugged lines his face as he grew older had taken on a +singularly sweet expression, but it was sad to-day as he sat on the wall +in his knit jacket and work apron, looking down on the town, its roofs and +spires showing amongst the trees. It seemed to him that the times were out +of joint, and his cheerful philosophy was beginning to fail him. Something +had been wrong ever since Patterson Whittredge went away, more than a +dozen years ago. + +Morgan never failed to follow with interest the careers of the boys of +Friendship as they went out into the world, and of all the boys of the +village Patterson had been his favorite. He had understood the trouble as +well as if it had been carefully explained to him. His deafness had +quickened his insight. A girl's lovely face on Pat's dressing-table, seen +when he replaced a broken caster, partly told the story, and Mrs. +Whittredge's pride and determination were no secret to any one. + +Judge Whittredge's whitening head and heavy step, his fruitless search for +health abroad, his return to die at last in his old home, Patterson's +coming,--sent for by his heart-broken mother,--this was the rest of the +story. But before this family difference had been settled by the stern +hand of death, the removal of Thomas Gilpin had precipitated another +quarrel upon the town. + +It was a puzzle to Morgan that a man like his old friend Mr. Gilpin, who +had it in his power to do so much good, should have chosen to do harm +instead. As he rose to go, he looked over his shoulder at the old house, +closed and deserted since the death of its owner. + +The site was a beautiful one, commanding a view of valley and hill and the +narrow winding river. The house, an unpretentious square of red brick, +with sloping roof and dormer windows, wore its hundred years with dignity, +and amid its fine trees was an object of interest to strangers, of pride +to the villagers. + +Below it on the slope stood a more modern house, in what had been until +recently a handsome garden. Morgan, as he passed recalled how proud Dr. +Fair had been of his flowers. Celia, who was entering the gate, nodded and +smiled brightly. He noted, however, that her face was losing its soft +curves and rose tints. Celia was another of his favorites, and he knew she +was having her battle with misfortune, meeting it as bravely as a young +woman could. Thomas Gilpin might so easily have smoothed the way for her. +The spinet was an interesting heirloom, no doubt, but would not help Celia +solve the problem of bread and butter. + +The shop of the cabinet-maker was just off Main Street, at the foot of the +hill. To its original two rooms he had added two more, and here he lived +with no companions but a striped cat and a curly dog, who endured each +other and shared the affection of their master. + +Morgan's housekeeping was not burdensome. Certain of his neighbors always +remembered him on baking day, and his tastes were simple. His shop opened +immediately on the street; back of it was his living room and the small +garden where he cultivated the gayest blooms. The living room had an open +fireplace, for it was one of the cabinet-maker's pleasures to sit in the +firelight when the work of the day was over, and a small oil stove +sufficed for his cooking. On one side of the chimney was a high-backed +settle, and above it a book shelf. Like most Scotch boys, he had had a +fair education, and possessed a genuine reverence for books and a love of +reading. In the opposite corner was an ancient mahogany desk where he kept +his accounts, and near by in the window a shelf always full of plants in +the winter. A cupboard of his own manufacture, a table, a lamp, and an +arm-chair completed the furniture of the room. The walls he had painted a +dull red, and over the fireplace in fanciful letters had traced this +motto: "Good in everything." + +To this cheerful belief Morgan held firmly, although there were times like +this morning, when coming out of the sunlight and feeling a little weary, +he noticed that the walls were growing dingy and the motto dim, and sighed +to think how hard it was to see the good in some things. + +He placed a paper in the old secretary and was turning toward the shop +when he stopped short in amazement, for in the doorway stood Rosalind, her +face full of eagerness. Behind her was Miss Herbert, whom Morgan entirely +overlooked in his pleasure at seeing Mr. Pat's little girl again. + +He shook hands warmly and offered the arm-chair, but Rosalind had no +thought of sitting down. As she gazed with bright-eyed interest around the +room, her glance fell on the motto, and she pointed to it and then to +herself. + +The cabinet-maker was puzzled. "Is it your motto?" he asked. + +She nodded brightly. + +Morgan turned to the shelf, took down a large volume of Shakespeare's +plays, and laying it on the table began to turn the pages rapidly. +Rosalind looked over his arm. He ran his finger down a leaf presently and +pointed to the line. "There," he said. + +Rosalind turned back a page and pointed to her own name, and then they +both laughed as if it were a great coincidence. + +A sharp tap on his arm made Miss Herbert's presence known to Morgan. Miss +Herbert was not of Friendship. She knew the value of time if the +cabinet-maker did not, and had no idea of waiting while he discussed +Shakespeare in pantomime with Rosalind. + +Miss Herbert with the aid of the tablet, and Morgan with many queer +gestures to help out his faltering tongue, so long without the guide of +hearing, contrived to despatch the business relating to a claw-footed +sofa. When it was finished, Rosalind was missing, and was discovered in +the little garden, making friends with the black poodle, while the striped +cat looked on from the fence. + +It was with evident reluctance she accompanied Miss Herbert to the +carriage. Before she left she took the tablet and wrote, "I am going to +learn to talk on my fingers." + +"Good," the cabinet-maker answered, and he followed them to the street, +smiling and nodding. "Come again," he called as they drove away. + +When he returned to the shop, the world seemed brighter, the mist of doubt +had lifted. + +"The rough places can't last always," he told himself as he sandpapered +the claw toes of the sofa. "We are certain to come to a turn in the lane +after a while. There's good in everything, somewhere." + +Perhaps the coming of Mr. Pat's little girl was a good omen. To him at +least it was a most interesting event, nor was he the only person in +Friendship who found it so. + + + + +CHAPTER FOURTH. + +AN UNQUIET MORNING. + +"You amaze me, ladies." + + +Farther up the street on the other side, but within sight of the +Whittredges', was Mrs. Graham's Boarding and Day School for Young Ladies. + +The broad, one story and a half mansion, with rooms enough for a small +hotel, was still known as the Bishop place, although nearly twenty years +had passed since the little brown and white house on Church Street had +opened its doors to Miss Betty and her invalid father, and to such of the +massive furniture as could be accommodated within its walls. In her +circular Mrs. Graham was careful to state that her school was commodiously +housed in the mansion of the late distinguished Senator Charlton H. +Bishop, and many a daughter groaned over her algebra or French verbs in +the very room where her mother or grandmother before her had fleeted the +time carelessly in evenings long past, for brilliant was the tradition of +the Bishop hospitality. + +Celia Fair, who taught drawing in the school, and on occasion kept study +hour in what had once been the long drawing-room, had a fancy that the +spirit of those days was responsible for many an outburst of mischief. At +present Mrs. Graham's pupils were in a fever of curiosity over the new +arrival at the Whittredges'. + +The Whittredge place had been invested by them with something of a halo of +romance, founded chiefly on the seclusion In which it pleased Mrs. +Whittredge to live. Bits of gossip let fall by their elders were eagerly +treasured; it became the fashion, to rave over the beauty of the haughty +Miss Genevieve, and even her brother who was not haughty, but quite like +other people, was allowed a share of the halo on account of his connection +with the lost ring, made famous by the contested will. + +Katherine Roberts, returning to school after several days' absence, found +herself unusually popular. Katherine lived next door to the unknown; she +had seen her; it was even said she had heard her speak. Excitement grew +as the news spread. + +The girls were standing in groups on the porch and steps, laughing and +talking together, and at sight of Katherine gave her an uproarious +greeting. + +Round, rosy-faced, blue-eyed Katherine, with her brown hair in two tight +plaits turned under and tied with a ribbon behind her ears, was a little +abashed at the attention she excited. + +"What is she like, Katherine? tell us--the new girl at the Whittredges'." + +"She is standing at the gate now," answered Katherine, looking over her +shoulder. + +"Is she? Oh, where?" + +"Let's walk by and see her." + +"We'll be tardy if we do, and at any rate there is the carriage; perhaps +they will drive past." + +"Look! there's Miss Genevieve. No, they are going the other way." + +"What are you staring at?" demanded Belle Parton, joining the group. Belle +was a gypsy-looking girl with merry black eyes, and hair that refused to +be smooth like Katherine's, but continually fell in her eyes. As she spoke +she put her hat on the step and proceeded to adjust the round comb she +wore. + +"The Whittredge girl. Have you seen her, Belle?" asked Charlotte Ellis. + +"No; what is she like?" + +"Katherine is the only one who has seen her; she says she is lovely." + +"Oh, she is! You ought to see her, Belle. Maurice and I peeped through the +hedge and saw her walking to and fro studying something. And her name is +Rosalind. Isn't that a beautiful name?" + +"I don't believe she is much," Belle announced, with a turn of her head. +The only reason she had for saying this was the naughty one of wishing to +snub Katherine, who took everything in earnest and now looked crestfallen. + +"Never mind, Kit; tell us some more about her," urged one of the others. + +"Grandmamma says she is surprised at Mrs. Whittredge's having her here. +You know she would have nothing to do with her son after he married, until +lately, and she never saw her granddaughter before, I think family +quarrels are awfully interesting; don't you?" As Charlotte spoke, the +bell rang, and the girls turned toward the house. + +"Do you, Charlotte?" exclaimed Katherine, who was accustomed to pin her +faith to her friend's opinions, but thought that quarrels being wrong +could not be interesting. + +"I think so, too. They are so delightfully mysterious," echoed another of +the girls. + +"Nonsense! What is there that is mysterious?" put in pugnacious Belle. + +It may have been the alluring summer day, or the fact that it was near the +end of the term, and discipline had relaxed, but certain it was that a +general restlessness and inclination to whisper pervaded the study hour. +It was the fashion among the girls to adore Celia. Fair, and usually she +had no difficulty in keeping order, but this morning even her presence was +without effect. + +Belle Parton had her history propped up before her in a way that suggested +some mischief going on behind its shelter, rather than any serious study. +Katherine, who was honestly trying to study, was distracted by the signals +flying around her. Charlotte Ellis, whose seat was near the window, +seemed principally occupied in peeping between the sash curtains. + +Celia had looked up for the second time to say, "Girls, I must have better +order," and things had for several minutes quieted down, when Charlotte +suddenly announced in a loud whisper, "Here they come!" and with that +there was a rush for the windows. + +The cause of the excitement was of course the Whittredge carriage, but all +anybody caught was a fleeting glimpse of a white dress beside Miss +Genevieve's black one, and, as luck would have it, Mrs. Graham opened the +door just in time to witness the scramble for a view. + +"Young ladies, you amaze me! What is the meaning of this?" she demanded, +as the girls, half of whom had rushed because the others had, returned +abashed to their seats. + +"I never knew them to behave so before," said Celia, in apology. +"Something seems to be wrong to-day." + +"Wrong, indeed," repeated Mrs. Graham, who was a person of somewhat +majestic appearance. Then her glance fell on Belle's desk. "And this +explains the rapid disappearance of my chalk!" she added, holding up to +view a pen tray on which were arranged a number of tiny goblets and dishes +neatly cut out of chalk. + +Katherine, who had not left her seat, laughed nervously. She stood in +great awe of the principal, and she did not in the least wish to laugh. + +Mrs. Graham looked at her sternly, "One mark in deportment, Katherine, and +three to those who left their desks, and you will all spend your recess +indoors. Belle, I will see you in the office." + +Belle followed Mrs. Graham, with her head held high, her lips pursed up +saucily, her black eyes snapping. Katherine, through her own tear-filled +ones, watched her in astonishment. + +When Belle returned study hour was over, and the culprits who were +condemned to stay indoors had grouped themselves beside the window. + +"What did she do to you, Belle?" they cried. + +"Nothing,--just talked. She said it was wasting time and chalk, and that +it wasn't honest. Such a fuss about a little chalk!" + +Celia Fair, who had her hat on, ready to go home, came behind Belle, and +with a hand on either side of her face she lifted it till the saucy eyes +looked into her own. "Does that make any difference, really--because it is +just chalk?" she asked. + +Belle wriggled out of her hands, only to clasp her around the waist. "I +wouldn't take your chalk," she said, laughing. + +"I don't know what to think of you to-day," Miss Fair continued, looking +around the group. "I am afraid Mrs. Graham will not trust me to keep study +hour after this." + +There was a general cry of, "Oh, Miss Celia, why not?" + +"Do you think she can have a high opinion of my ability to keep order?" + +"But no one else could do any better." + +"If Mrs. Graham had been here, you would not have rushed to the window, I +know very well." + +"But we are so much fonder of you, Miss Celia," urged Charlotte. + +"If that is the case I'd like you to show it by behaving," said Celia, as +she left the room. + +When Belle told at home about the day's occurrences, her father laughed. + +"I shall tell Mrs. Graham she must introduce manual training. 'Satan finds +some mischief still,' you see. Maybe Belle will turn out a famous +sculptor." + +"At any rate, colonel, you ought not to encourage her in such pranks," +Mrs. Parton remarked, shaking her head at her husband, who never saw +anything to criticise in the one little daughter among his five boys. + + + + +CHAPTER FIFTH. + +MAURICE. + +"The stubbornness of fortune." + + +It was the first of the month, and a steady stream of people passed in and +out of the bank. Maurice sat on the steps leading up to the private +entrance, and with few exceptions each new-comer had a pleasant greeting +or kindly inquiry for him. + +Miss Betty Bishop rustling out, bank book in hand, called, "How are you, +Maurice? When are you and Katherine coming to take tea with me? Let me +know and I'll have waffles." + +The cabinet-maker came to the foot of the steps to ask about the lame +knee, and shook his head in sympathy with Maurice's doleful face. + +Colonel Parton, a tall, gray-mustached man, accompanied by two hunting +dogs, hailed him: "Not going with the boys? Ah, I forgot your knee. Too +bad! Jack's got the dandiest new fishing-rod you ever saw." + +"As if I didn't know it," growled Maurice, us the colonel entered the +bank. + +The next person to accost him was Miss Celia Fair. She hadn't any bank +business, but seeing Maurice as she passed, stopped to speak to him. She +sat down beside him and tried in her pretty, soft way to cheer him. + +"Don't look so gloomy, dear; you know if you are careful you will soon be +all right again," she said. + +At this Maurice poured forth all his disappointment at not being able to +go with the Parton boys on their excursion down the bay. + +"I am just as sorry for you as I can be," said Celia, clasping her hands +in her lap--such slender hands--and looking far away as if she were tired +of everything near by. It was only for a moment, then she said with a +little laugh, "You can't possibly understand, Maurice, but I shouldn't +mind a sprained knee in the least; I think I could even enjoy it, if I +hadn't any more responsibility than you have." + +"But you don't care to go fishing," he suggested. + +"Oh, yes, I do; I like to fish." With a smile she said good-by, and went +away. + +After this Maurice settled down into deeper despondency than before. He +had refused an invitation to drive, hid treated with bitter scorn +Katherine's suggestion that he might like to go out to the creek with her +and Blossom. "You could ride in the stage, you know, and have to walk only +the least little bit," she said. + +"Thank you; it is _such_ fun to throw stones in the water," he replied, +with elaborate politeness. + +That Maurice was badly spoiled was no secret. The only boy in the family, +with bright, engaging ways when things went to please him, he had been +petted and humored by his parents, given up to by Katherine, and treated +as a leader by his boy friends, until he had come to look upon his own +pleasure as the most important thing in the universe. Not that he realized +this. He would have been greatly surprised to hear he was selfish. + +The accident by which his knee had been sprained severely was an +experience as trying as it was new to him. At first the petting he +received at home, and the attentions of his friends, added to his sense of +importance and made it endurable, but this could not continue +indefinitely. Ball playing and other sports must go on, and Maurice, to +his aggrieved surprise, found they could go on very well without him. + +This morning his mother had expostulated mildly. "My son, you ought not to +make yourself so miserable. You could not be more unhappy if you were to +be lame always." + +"It is _now_ I care about," he replied petulantly. + +"I don't know what to do with Maurice," he overheard her say to his father +in the hall. + +"Let him alone. I am ashamed of him," was Mr. Roberts's reply. + +And now, deserted and abused, Maurice was very miserable, and when he +could stand it no longer he sought a distant spot in the garden and threw +himself face down in the grass. + +He had been lying here some time when a voice apparently quite near asked, +"Have you hurt yourself?" + +Lifting his flushed, unhappy face, he saw peeping at him through the hedge +the girl Katherine had been so interested in on Sunday. She, too, was +lying on the grass, and her fair hair was spread out around her like a +veil. Maurice raised himself on his elbow and surveyed her in surprise, +forgetting to reply. + +"What is the matter?" she asked again, looking at him with a pair of +serious gray eyes. + +"Nothing," he answered. + +The gray eyes grew merry. Rosalind laughed, as she said, "Then you ought +not to groan. I thought when I heard you, perhaps you had fallen from a +tree." + +"I wasn't groaning," he protested, feeling ashamed. + +"Maybe you call it sighing, but it was dreadfully deep." + +"Well, I think a fellow has a right to sigh when he can't do anything or +go anywhere; and everybody else is having a good time," Maurice felt +anxious to vindicate himself. + +"I am not having a good time," said Rosalind, "at least not very; but then +you know if you stay in the Forest of Arden, something pleasant is bound +to happen before long." + +Maurice stared at her blankly. + +"Perhaps you don't know the story," Rosalind suggested. + +"What story?" + +"Its real name is 'As You Like It,' but I call it 'The Story of the +Forest.'" + +"What is it about?" + +"Oh,--about a banished duke, who lived in the Forest, like Robin Hood, you +know, with a lot of people who were fond of him. He had a daughter, named +Rosalind, and after a while she was banished too and went to look for her +father in the Forest. Her cousin Celia and a funny clown, Touchstone, went +with her, and they were all disguised. And--well, there is a great deal +more to it--but they were all cheerful and brave--everybody is in the +Forest of Arden, because they are sure there is good in everything if you +only try to find it." + +"But that is all a story. It isn't true." + +"Oh, yes, it is." + +"There wasn't a bit of good in hurting my knee and having the whole summer +spoiled." Maurice's tone was undeniably fretful. + +"If you had been banished as Rosalind was, I suppose you would not have +thought there was any good in that; but she didn't cry about it. She made +the best of it, and had a good time in spite of it." + +"Who says I was crying?" Maurice demanded angrily. + +Rosalind opened her gray eyes wide, then she sat up and tossed back her +hair. Maurice felt convicted of rudeness. Was she going? He hoped not, for +he wished to talk to her. + +"I suppose I am rather cross," he acknowledged; "but don't you think it is +pretty hard to hurt your knee and have to walk with a crutch, and stay at +home when the other boys go fishing?" + +"Yes, indeed. Does it hurt much?" Rosalind asked, with ready sympathy. + +"No, not now; it did at first, but the doctor says it will be five or six +months before it is well again." + +"Then it isn't for always? That is something good." + +Maurice somehow felt uncomfortable. He did not wish the emphasis laid on +the good. It seemed wise to change the subject. "What a lot of hair you +have," he remarked. + +"It has been washed, and grandmamma said I might dry it in the sun," +Rosalind explained, shaking her head so vigorously she was enveloped in a +shining cloud. + +"Isn't it a great bother? Kit hates to have hers braided." + +"Who is Kit?" + +"She is my sister Katherine." + +"It must be nice to have a sister. I haven't anybody but father and Cousin +Louis, and of course they are better than any one else. There are +grandmamma and Aunt Genevieve, but I am not very well acquainted with them +yet. I should love to have some children related to me." + +I have a little sister, too; her name is Blossom. That is, her real name +is Mary, and we call her Blossom." + +"Kit and Blossom; and what is your name?" Rosalind asked. + +"Maurice Roberts." + +Rosalind tossed back her hair and began to twist it into a shining rope. +"I am Rosalind Whittredge," she said. "I should not think you would ever +be unhappy," she added. + +"Do you know, I saw you last Sunday when you were studying something. Kit +and I peeped at you through the hedge." + +"I was learning a hymn for grandmamma. Why didn't you speak to me?" + +"I didn't know whether you'd like it." + +"Why, of course I should have liked it. I was beginning to think that day +I should never get acquainted with any one, and I was feeling dreadfully +lonesome when the magician came in." + +"The magician?" Maurice exclaimed. Certainly this was a singular girl who +talked about magicians in an everyday tone. + +Rosalind laughed. "I mean Morgan, who does cabinet work. Do you know him?" + +"Everybody in Friendship knows Morgan. He is a good fellow, too. Why do +you call him the magician?" + +"Because that is what father called him when he was a little boy. Once +when Morgan had made an old desk look like new, grandfather said he was a +magician, and father, who heard him, thought he meant it really. Father +and Uncle Allan used to play in his shop and talk on their fingers to him. +Can you do that?" + +"Why, yes; I'll teach you if you like." + +"I should like it very much. It is so tiresome to write things." + +"Morgan is very clever, too, about understanding. You only begin to spell +a word when he guesses what you want to say," Maurice added. + +"I went to his shop the other day with Miss Herbert, but she wouldn't let +me stay long. I made friends with his funny dog." + +"Do you know what we call him? Curly Q. And the cat--did you see him? He +is Crisscross." + +"How funny," said Rosalind. "I think they are very good names. Crisscross +wouldn't have anything to do with me." + +"Are you going to live here?" Maurice asked. + +"No; but I shall be here a long time. I think Friendship is a nice place, +and funny too, because it has a bank with a garden around it. At home our +banks are all on the street and have offices over them." + +"Yes; Friendship isn't a city," Maurice acknowledged apologetically. "I +should like to live in a big city." + +"I like Friendship. It only seems a little odd, you know," Rosalind +hastened to add. "Do they ever let you go into the bank part of your +house?" + +"Why, of course, I can go in whenever I choose. My father is the cashier, +and it is to take care of the bank that we live here." + +The conversation was brought to an end by a maid sent to find Rosalind. +After she had gone Maurice saw a book on the grass where she had been +lying, and reaching through the hedge with his crutch, he drew it toward +him. When he removed the outside cover, even his uncritical eye saw it was +a handsome hook. "Shakespeare's 'As You Like It.' Edited by Louis A. +Sargent," he read. "Why, it is one of Shakespeare's plays," he said, in +surprise. So this was the story Rosalind was talking about. + +On the fly-leaf was some writing in small clear letters. "For Rosalind, +with the wish that she may meet the hard things of life as bravely, and +find as much happiness by the way, as did her namesake in the Forest of +Arden. From her friend, Louis A. Sargent." + +"Meet the hard things of life as bravely--" Maurice's face grew hot. "You +wouldn't have thought there was any good in that." The touch of scorn in +Rosalind's tone stung as he recalled it. He turned the leaves and began to +read. + +It was a pleasure to look at the large clear type; he soon became +interested. + +Half an hour later Katherine's voice broke in upon the Forest of Arden. +"Maurice, Maurice, what are you doing? Mother sent me to find you." + +"I am reading. Don't bother, please," was the reply, in a tone so far +removed from melancholy that Katherine, reassured, obediently retired. + + + + +CHAPTER SIXTH. + +PUZZLES. + +"How weary are my spirits!" + + +Up to this time life had been a simple and joyous matter to Rosalind. She +had known her own small trials and perplexities, but her father or Cousin +Louis were always at hand to smooth out tangles and show her how to be +merry over difficulties. Now all was different. There were puzzles on +every side and no one to turn to. + +The house behind the griffins was not exactly a cheerful place. Rosalind +found herself stealing about on tiptoe lest she disturb the silence of the +spacious rooms. She hardly ventured to more than peep into the +drawing-room, where Miss Herbert's liking for twilight effects had full +sway. There was a pier table here, supported by griffins, the counterpart +in feature of those on the doorstep, which she longed to examine, but the +shades were always drawn and the handsome draperies of damask and lace +hung in such perfect folds she dared not disturb them. + +Where was the charm of her father's stories of Friendship? Was it because +her grandfather was dead that everything had changed? This was why her +grandmother wore black dresses and added that heavy veil when she went +out. Rosalind once drew a corner of it over her own face and the gloom +appalled her. + +She ventured to say one day as they drove along a pleasant country road, +"Grandmamma, you don't know how bright the sunshine is," and Mrs. +Whittredge replied, "I do not wish to know, Rosalind; nothing can ever +again be bright to me." Yet if she would only look, she must see that it +was bright. This was one puzzle. + +Aunt Genevieve's manner was another. It was as if she scorned everything, +and sometimes it made Rosalind almost angry. + +On the day of her meeting with Maurice, she ate her lunch with a glance +every few minutes at her great-uncle Allan on the opposite wall. A very +black portrait, it seemed only a meaningless blur till in a certain light +the strong face and stern eyes shone out of the surrounding gloom with +startling effect. She sometimes wondered rather anxiously if the uncle to +whose home-coming she looked forward, could by any possibility be like the +person for whom he was named. It was not an agreeable face, yet it drew +her gaze with an irresistible attraction. She was convinced that on +occasion the heavy brows contracted and the eyes grew even sterner. + +In the next panel hung Matilda, his wife, as the massive marble in the +cemetery said,--a youthful person with side curls and a comfortable smile. + +Even with its southern windows the dining room was sombre in its massive +furnishings of Flemish oak. Very different from the one at home, with its +sunshine and flowers, its overflow of books from the study, and the odds +and ends of pottery picked up by father and Cousin Louis in their travels. + +Rosalind was thinking that the plain little room of the magician was the +pleasantest place she knew in Friendship, when Martin entered with +something in his hand, announcing in his courtly way, "A book for Miss +Rosalind." It seemed to her that Martin, with his grizzled head and dusky +face, had the most beautiful manners ever seen. + +"For me, Martin?" she exclaimed. + +"The young gentleman from next door left it," said Martin. + +"I did not know you knew any one next door, Rosalind," Mrs. Whittredge +remarked questioningly. + +"I am not very well acquainted, grandmamma," Rosalind answered, seeing +suddenly in the handsome face a likeness to the dark portrait; "but I +talked to Maurice through the hedge this morning. I remember now, I had my +book. I must have left it on the grass." + +"I believe Rosalind seldom loses an opportunity to speak to people. Miss +Herbert says she is on quite intimate terms with Morgan," remarked Miss +Genevieve. + +"Father told me about Morgan," Rosalind began apologetically, adding more +confidently, "I like to know people." + +"Your father over again," Mrs. Whittredge said, smiling. "What is your +book, dear?" + +"'As You Like It.' Cousin Louis gave it to me." As she spoke Rosalind +caught the glance exchanged by her grandmother and aunt. + +"When I was a little girl Cousin Louis told me the story because it is +about Rosalind, you know, and ever since I have called it my story, +because I like it best of all." + +No comment was made on this explanation, and it seemed to her the next +time she looked in his direction, that Uncle Allan frowned. + +When luncheon was over she went out to the garden seat under the birch, +carrying with her an old green speller found in a bookcase upstairs. In +the back of it she had discovered the deaf and dumb alphabet, so now she +would not have to wait for Maurice to teach her; she could learn it by +herself. It did not seem difficult. With the spelling book propped open in +one corner of the bench she went carefully over it, and then tried to +think of words she was most likely to want to use in talking with Morgan; +but this was slower work, and the thought that for some unknown reason her +grandmother was displeased with her kept claiming her attention. + +When father was displeased with her--and this was not often--he always +told her, and they talked it over frankly, but grandmamma and Aunt +Genevieve only looked at each other and said nothing. It both puzzled her +and hurt her dignity to be treated in this way. + +Presently it occurred to her that her grandmother might have been vexed at +her carelessness in leaving her book on the grass. It was careless; father +would have said so. Well, she could let grandmamma know she was sorry, and +feeling relieved at having found a possible solution of the problem, she +closed the spelling book. + +Mrs. Whittredge looked up in evident surprise when Rosalind entered the +room and announced, "I am sorry I left my book on the grass, grandmamma." + +"What do you mean, my dear?" she asked. + +"I thought you didn't like it because I was careless." + +"I suppose it was careless, my pet, but I had not thought of it. But tell +me what makes you care so much for that book. It seems to me there are +many stories that would be more interesting to a little girl. Suppose you +put it away and let me find you something else." + +The color deepened in Rosalind's face. "It is my own, own book," she +cried, clasping it to her heart. + +"Very well, you need not be tragic about it," Mrs. Whittredge said coldly, +turning to her writing. + +Again Rosalind knew she had offended, and this time her resentment was +aroused. "I don't like to be spoken to in that way," she told herself, as +she walked from the room. + +Before she had reached the head of the stairs her grandmother's voice +called her hack. Reluctantly she returned. + +Mrs. Whittredge had risen and now came to meet her and put her arm around +her, and her voice was soft and full of affection as she asked, "Do you +want to go to the cemetery with me this afternoon, pet? Aunt Genevieve has +the carriage, and I think a walk will do me good." + +The walk along the shady street and through the grassy lane to the gate at +the foot of the hill was as pleasant as a walk could be that summer day. +Rosalind kept sedately by her grandmother's side, and the face under the +drooping hat was grave. Behind them walked Martin with some garden tools +and a watering-pot. + +The serious eyes brightened, and the lips curved into a smile at sight of +Maurice and Katherine playing dominos under the maple. How lovely it must +be to have a brother or sister to play with and talk to! + +The cemetery was not new to Rosalind, for Mrs. Whittredge on her daily +drive usually stopped there, and its winding paths and green slopes, its +drooping willows and graceful oaks, and the flowers that bloomed +everywhere, around the stately shafts of marble and the low headstones, +seemed to her very pleasant. Here, however, her grandmother's sadness took +on a deeper tinge as she moved among the mounds that lay in the shadow of +the massive granite monument with "Whittredge" in letters of bronze at its +base. + +As Martin went to work trimming the ivy under his mistress's direction, +Rosalind wandered away by herself across the hill-top, pausing now and +then to read an inscription and do a sum in subtraction, on the result of +which her interest largely depended. "Lily, born 1878, died 1888," stirred +her imagination, and she sat down to consider it at length. How old would +Lily be now if she had lived? She tried to think how her own name would +look on a stone. It was still and peaceful on that sunny hillside; it +reminded her of "Sharon's lovely rose." The idea of a grave here was not +unattractive. She was considering it pensively when her eyes fell on a +long-stemmed, creamy rose, lying not far from her on the ground. With +instant pleasure in its beauty she took it up and held it against her +cheek. + +Where had it come from? Some one must have dropped it. She stood up and +looked around, but there was no one in sight. On the other side of a holly +bush, however, a number of just such roses lay on a grave. Rosalind walked +over and stooped to read the name on the low headstone. "Robert Ellis +Fair," she repeated half aloud as she laid her rose beside the others. + +When she lifted her head she met the surprised gaze of a young lady, who +came across the grass with a watering-pot in her hand. She was decidedly +pretty to look at, and she smiled pleasantly as she began watering the +flowers in an iron vase. + +Rosalind felt she must explain, so she said, smiling in her turn, "I found +a rose on the grass, and I thought it must belong here." + +"Thank you. I suppose I dropped it. Won't you tell me who you are? I am +sure you do not live in Friendship." + +"No, I am visiting my grandmother. I am Rosalind Whittredge." + +A strange expression crossed the face of the young lady at this +announcement. Could it be that something displeased her? After a moment +she spoke gravely, "I think some one is looking for you," she said. + +Turning, Rosalind saw Martin in the distance, and as there seemed nothing +else to do or say, she walked away. After she had gone some little +distance she could not resist looking back, and just as she did so she saw +the young lady fling something from her across the grass, and--it looked +like a rose! Could it be her rose? Rosalind felt her cheeks growing hot. +How very strange! Here was a puzzle, indeed. + +Aunt Genevieve had come for them in the carriage, and as they drove home +Rosalind tried to describe the young lady she had seen, saying nothing +about the rose, however. + +"It must have been Celia Fair, mamma, don't you think so?" asked +Genevieve. + +"Fair was the name on the stone," said Rosalind, adding, "She was pretty." + +Miss Whittredge looked at her mother, then as that lady was silent, she +remarked, in her usual languid tone, "I think you may as well know, +Rosalind, that we have nothing to do with the Fairs." + +Why did it make any difference to Rosalind? Why did everything seem wrong? +Why did she feel so unhappy in spite of the blue sky and the sweet summer +air? + +When they reached home she sat on the garden bench and looked up at the +griffins, and the fancy floated through her mind that it might be +comfortable to be as unfeeling as they. + +"O, dear! I am afraid I am getting out of the Forest. What shall I do? +Perhaps the magician could help me;" she clasped her hands at the +thought. Why not go to see him? She knew the way. + +"I will take my book to show him," she said; and running to the house for +it, forgetful of everything but her longing for sympathy, a few minutes +later she flitted down the driveway and out of the gate. + + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTH. + +THE MAGICIAN MAKES TEA. + + "--If that love or gold + Can in this place buy entertainment, + Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed; + Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd + And faints for succour." + + +The magician was at work in his small garden adjusting some wire netting +for the sweet peas, while Curly Q. looked on with interest, and Crisscross +finished his saucer of milk. + +Rosalind came through the shop so softly that only the cat was aware of +it. He gazed at her in evident doubt whether to continue work on the rim +of his saucer or take refuge on the fence. + +"I should like to have a little house, and a dog and cat to live with me," +she thought, sitting down on the step to wait till she should be +observed. Yes, this was more like the Forest of Arden than any place she +knew; her unhappiness seemed melting away in the peaceful atmosphere. + +Crisscross decided she was not dangerous, and keeping an eye on her by way +of precaution went on with his supper. It was not long, however, before +Curly Q. discovered her presence and came bounding to her side, with a +sharp bark of welcome, then back to call his master's attention. + +"Why! Why!" exclaimed the magician, holding up a pair of rather grimy +hands. + +There could be no doubt about his being glad to see Rosalind. He asked how +she was, over and over, and apologized for his hands, and smiled and +nodded and indulged in all sorts of absurd gestures, which made her laugh +so she couldn't try her new accomplishment of talking on her fingers. +Directly he hurried into the house, where she could hear him washing his +hands, and then he came out again with a teakettle, which he filled at the +cistern, and carrying it back set it on a small oil stove, which he +lighted. + +"We'll have some tea," he said, sitting down beside her and asking again +how she was. + +Rosalind summoned all her learning and spelled out carefully, with the aid +of some very dainty fingers, "I-am-lon--" + +"Lonesome?" repeated the magician. "That is too bad. Mr. Pat wouldn't like +that." + +Rosalind shook her head. The tears were near the surface, but she kept +them back, and remembering her book she laid it on the magician's knee, +open at the words Cousin Louis had written: "If we choose we may travel +always in the Forest where the birds sing and the sunlight sifts through +the trees; where although we sometimes grow footsore and hungry we know +that the goal is sure. Just outside is the dreary desert in which, alas! +many choose to walk, shutting their eyes to the beauty and peace of the +Forest, and losing by the way the sacred gift of happiness." + +The magician read it slowly through, then he smiled at Rosalind over his +glasses. "That's so," he said. "It is hard to keep out of the desert +sometimes, but it all comes right in the end. Why, the other day I was--" +here he shook his head and put on a woe-begone expression of countenance +that made his meaning plain, and caused Rosalind to laugh--"and I looked +up and there you stood in the door and pointed to the motto, 'Good in +everything,' and I felt better." + +"Did I really cheer you up?" cried Rosalind, delighted; and nodding quite +as if he heard, the magician answered, "Now I'll cheer you up." Rising, he +beckoned her to follow him inside, and she obeyed, feeling as if she were +somebody in a story. + +The kettle was already singing merrily, and from a shelf the magician took +down a fat little teapot and, rinsing it with boiling water, proceeded to +make tea. Next he spread a white cloth on a small table, and from the +cupboard took out some blue and white cups and plates. + +"Let me set it," begged Rosalind, in pantomime, entering gayly into the +spirit of the thing. + +Laughing, the magician left it to her and went off to his store-room, from +which he emerged with a pitcher of milk and a loaf of brown bread. + +There was nothing in the appointments of this simple meal to offend the +most fastidious taste, and it was a sight to bring a smile to the +dolefulest countenance, to see Rosalind and the magician sitting opposite +to each other drinking tea. In the midst of it Morgan jumped up and went +to the store-room, returning with a tumbler of jelly. "Miss Betty Bishop's +jelly," he said. "Do you know Miss Betty?" + +Rosalind shook her head. + +"She makes good things," he added, as he unscrewed the top. + +Rosalind's afternoon in the open air had given her an appetite, and she +did full justice to the brown bread and jelly, the novelty of the occasion +adding a flavor. Through the open door and window came the glow of the +sunset, and the air was sweet with some far-off fragrance. All trouble had +faded from her face; it was as if in the heart of the Forest she had come +upon some friendly inn. Such a small matter as dinner in the house behind +the griffins quite escaped her memory. + +"Well, upon my word!" + +[Illustration: "DO YOU KNOW MISS BETTY?"] + +Startled in the act of feeding Curly Q., Rosalind looked toward the door, +and saw there a lady in a crisp, light muslin. More than this she did +not at once take in, for behind her in the semi-darkness of the shop was +Martin's face. The conviction that he was looking for her, and that +grandmamma would be vexed, overshadowed everything else. She rose, while +the magician greeted the lady as Miss Betty, and offered her a cup of tea. + +"I'se been searchin' high and low for you, Miss Rosalind," Martin +exclaimed, coming forward. + +"I'm dreadfully sorry, Martin; I forgot," said Rosalind. + +Miss Betty, who had declined the tea, now held out her hand. "This is +Rosalind Whittredge, of course; I am your Cousin Betty." + +"I didn't know I had any cousins," said Rosalind. + +"You will find a few if you stay long enough," replied Miss Betty. "How do +you come to be eating supper with Morgan, I'd like to know? I was sitting +on my porch when you went in, so when Martin came along I was able to help +him." + +"I like Morgan. I wanted to see him. Father told me about him." Rosalind +felt she couldn't explain exactly. + +"I used to know your father very well indeed," said Miss Betty, as they +walked together to the street, after Rosalind had told the magician +good-by. "As you seem to like going out to tea, I hope you will come and +take supper with me sometime," she added, with a twinkle in her eye. + +When she reached home Miss Herbert stood at the gate, and in the door was +Mrs. Whittredge. Rosalind's face was full of brightness as she ran up the +path. + +"Grandmamma, I meant only to stay a minute, and then I forgot." + +"I have been worried about you, Rosalind," Mrs. Whittredge said gravely. +"Why did you not come to me and tell me where you wished to go? Where have +you been?" + +"To see the magician--Morgan, I mean. I wanted so much to see him I did +not think of anything else." + +"Why did you wish to see him?" continued her grandmother. + +The glow was fading from Rosalind's face. "Because--" she hesitated, +"because--" + +"Well?" + +"Because I was lonely, grandmamma, and I was afraid I was going to cry. I +promised father I would be brave, and--well--Morgan knows about the +Forest, and is very good to cheer you up. He made tea in the dearest +little teapot, and it was so amusing, I forgot. I am sorry." + +"Do you mean you took supper with Morgan? Well, Rosalind, you are +amazing!" Aunt Genevieve spoke from the hall. + +"Never mind, Genevieve," said her mother. "I am sorry you were lonely, +Rosalind, but I do not understand why you should go to Morgan. And what do +you mean by the 'forest'?" + +Rosalind's face was grave again. "I don't know, grandmamma," she faltered, +and indeed she could not have told if her life had depended on it. + +"I think you were very easy on her, mamma. It was certainly naughty of her +to run away," Genevieve remarked, after Rosalind, worn out by the +conflicting experiences of the day, had gone to bed. + +Mrs. Whittredge did not reply at once. On her lap lay her granddaughter's +little volume of "As You Like It," and she had been reading the words +about the Forest. It had a way of opening to that page. + +"She is a peculiar, fanciful child, and quite old enough to know better. +Professor Sargent may be a brilliant man, but it seems to me he has filled +the child's head full of nonsense. I can't see what Patterson has been +thinking of," Genevieve continued. + +"I am not inclined to find much fault with her. I did not expect her to be +perfect. She seems naturally sweet and happy," her mother replied. + +"Losing by the way the sacred gift of happiness," Mrs. Whittredge's eyes +went back to the book. Surely happiness had slipped from her grasp, +leaving nothing but regret. It was sad to realize that her children found +all their pleasure apart from her. Somewhere she had failed, but pride +told her it was fate; that sorrow and disappointment were the common lot, +that gratitude was not to be looked for. + +After her bitter disappointment in her oldest son she had been the more +determined to have her way with Allan. With what result? The extended +tour abroad, planned with a purpose just as his college course was ended, +had weaned him completely from his home. His interests were elsewhere, and +although as joint executor with her of his father's estate he was often in +Friendship, his visits were usually brief. Between herself and her +daughter there was little sympathy. Genevieve, calm and inflexible, had +early declared her independence. But more than all else put together was +her haunting sorrow for her husband. Words of Dr. Fair, spoken long ago in +cruel bluntness, still rang in her ears: "Madam, you are killing your +husband by your obstinacy." Her mind dwelt with morbid persistency upon +them. Had the reconciliation with her son come too late? + +At a time of utter weariness with herself she acceded to Patterson's +proposal to send his daughter to her. Genevieve had expostulated, +insisting she would be impossible, a child with no bringing up. Rosalind +had come, and even Genevieve had to admit, so far as manners and +appearance were concerned, she was not impossible. + +In the fair young face, with its serious eyes, in whose glance there was +often a singular radiance, Mrs. Whittredge found something that touched +her heart. Her granddaughter had not the Whittredge beauty, she was +nothing of a Whittredge, and yet--One day she had taken up the miniature +on Rosalind's table, with a glance over her shoulder; and when she put it +down and turned away, it was with the reluctant feeling that perhaps there +had been some excuse for her son when he left father and mother and +kindred and home for this young girl. + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTH. + +TO MEET ROSALIND. + +"Put you in your best array." + + +Miss Betty Bishop lived in a small white house with brown trimmings, which +she herself likened to a white cake with chocolate filling. Everything +about it was snug and neat and seemed to the observer a pleasant +expression of that kindly, busy, cheery lady; but Miss Betty was in the +habit of declaring it had taken her twenty years to get settled in those +small, low-ceiled rooms, and that she didn't feel quite in yet. + +There had been a great sacrifice of fine old furniture when the big house +on Main Street had to be exchanged for the little one in Church Lane, and +it was no wonder Miss Betty sighed at the thought. None the less she had +accepted courageously the reverses which at twenty brought her gay +girlhood to an end, and for fifteen years was a cheerful, devoted nurse +to her invalid father. Since his death she lived alone with only Sophy, +her old mammy, to cook and care for her. + +When it became known that Miss Betty had invited certain of her young +friends to tea to meet Rosalind Whittredge, a wave of excitement swept +over Friendship. + +All the children of the town had heard stories of Miss Betty's beauty and +belleship, but those Washington winters belonged to twenty years ago and +had no connection with her present popularity. Sophy's skill as a cook no +doubt had something to do with the fame of her mistress's tea parties, but +besides this Miss Betty knew how to make her guests, whether young or old, +have a good time. + +When asked if she was fend of children, she was sure to reply, "Some +children. I don't like disagreeable children any better than I do +disagreeable grown persons." And for this reason, perhaps, it had come to +be esteemed something of an honor to be asked to her house. + +Miss Betty had at first felt a prejudice against Patterson Whittredge's +daughter, deciding in her own mind that she was probably a spoiled little +thing; but the sight of Rosalind taking tea with Morgan, and more than +this, the frank gaze of those disarming gray eyes, had touched her kindly +heart. She knew as well as anybody that it must be lonely in the +Whittredge house; and so she had thought of the tea party. + +The interest felt in Patterson Whittredge's daughter was very general. +Patterson belonged to those old times when peace had reigned in +Friendship. He had been a favorite in the village, and to many it seemed +only the other day that he had gone away. It was incredible that this tall +girl seen walking by Mrs. Whittredge's side could be his daughter. There +were those like Mrs. Graham's pupils, who were inclined to invest her with +a halo of romance; others criticised her as not at all the Whittredge +style, not what one had a right to expect in Mrs. Whittredge's +granddaughter. Some pitied Mrs. Whittredge for the responsibility thrust +upon her, others pitied Rosalind, and still more, envied her. + +In view of all the discussion, it was not possible to regard an invitation +to meet her as quite an everyday matter. + +"I do wish you had not soiled your embroidered muslin, Belle. You will +have to wear your summer silk," said Mrs. Parton, addressing her daughter, +who sat on the dining-room floor entertaining a Maltese kitten with a +string and spool. + +"I forgot to tell you, mother, Jack dropped some wax candle on it last +Sunday night, when we were looking for a penny in the grass," Belle +replied, lifting her merry black eyes for a moment. "Anyway, it isn't a +dress-up party--only to supper." + +"Bring that dress to me at once. I am astonished at you. The only decent +thing you have!" Mrs. Parton sat down and clasped her hands in an attitude +of desperation. + +Followed by the kitten, Belle departed, returning directly with the blue +and white checked silk over her arm. + +"Whatever it is," her mother continued, I want you to look nice; Betty +says Rosalind Whittredge has beautiful clothes." + +"I just know she is a prig," remarked Belle, caressing the kitten. + +"No, she isn't!" A tumbled head and a pair of eyes very like Belle's own +peered out suddenly from beneath the table cover. "If she was, she +wouldn't have run away to take supper with Morgan." + +"Mercy upon us, Jack! you are enough to startle the sphinx. Come out from +under that table at once," commanded his mother. + +"Did she do that?" asked Belle, with some interest, adding, "Is it very +bad, mother? Can you clean it? How do you know she did, Jack?" + +Mrs. Parton shook her head; "I'll try French chalk," she said. + +"Miss Betty said so. She saw her," put in Jack. + +Mrs. Parton rose. "Another time when you lose a penny, I will make it good +rather than have your best dress spoiled," she remarked. + +"But you see, mother, it was a church penny," Belle explained, as if she +were mentioning some rare and peculiar coin. "Arthur brought the +collection home because Uncle Ranney wasn't there, and when he untied his +handkerchief on the porch a penny dropped out and rolled into the grass." + +"Who is going to Miss Betty's?" Jack asked, as his mother left the room. + +"Maurice and Katherine and you and me, and the Ellises, and--I don't know +who." + +"I know it will be stupid; I don't think I'll go." + +"If it is stupid, you will make it so," retorted his sister, adding, "and +you will go, too, for mother will make you; besides, you know you wouldn't +miss Sophy's waffles." Belle departed with the kitten, leaving Jack to +return to the latest Henty book and his retreat under the table. + +The Partons' was a square house, with a wide hall dividing it through the +middle and opening on a porch at either end. When the weather at all +permitted, these doors stood wide open, and dogs and cats and children ran +in and out as they pleased. In the afternoons Colonel Parton sat on the +front porch smoking and reading, threatening the dogs and the children +indiscriminately, receiving not the slightest attention from either. + +As she passed him now, Belle mischievously deposited the kitten on his +shoulder. + +"You baggage, you! Take this thing off me," thundered the colonel, as the +kitten made its claws felt in a frantic endeavor to hold on in its +perilous position. + +"O father! don't hurt her," Belle cried, running to the rescue, and in the +scuffle that followed, the unfortunate kitten escaped. + +"Don't you let me catch you doing a thing like that again," scolded the +colonel, as he picked up his paper and settled himself in his chair again. + +Belle laughed, and held up her face for a kiss, which her father gave with +a hearty good will. + +Mrs. Parton was not the only one who felt dress to be a matter of +importance on this occasion. Charlotte Ellis stopped at the bank gate to +ask Katherine what she was going to wear. + +"My blue lawn, I think," Katherine answered. "Mother says it is nice +enough, and that I must keep my new white dress for Commencement." + +"Your blue dress is very pretty, I am sure," Charlotte said. She was two +years older than Katherine, and her manner was mildly patronizing. "I +think I shall wear white. Of course it is not a party, but we want to +make a good impression on a stranger." + +Katherine felt the force of this, but Maurice, who overheard Charlotte, +was inclined to jeer. "Much difference it will make to her what you have +on," he said, as Charlotte left them. "Her," meant Rosalind. + +"How do you know it won't make any difference?" asked Katherine. + +"Because she is not that kind." + +"What kind? How do you know?" + +Now Maurice had kept his interview with Rosalind to himself, saying +nothing to any one when he returned her book. His sudden interest in +Shakespeare had not passed unnoticed; but as this or something else had +caused longer intervals of cheerfulness, the family had not ventured to +disturb the agreeable change by asking questions. + +"I know, because I talked to her the other day," he replied. + +"Maurice, really?" cried Katherine. "I don't believe it" + +"You needn't if you don't want to," was her brother's lofty answer. + +On the appointed evening the guest of honor was the last to arrive, and +the others were in such a state of expectancy they could not settle down +to an examination of Miss Betty's puzzle drawer with which she usually +entertained her young guests until supper was announced. Miss Betty, who +adored puzzles and problems of all kinds, was continually adding to her +collection, and this evening there was a brand new one, brought from the +city only the day before; but even Belle, who was especially good at +puzzles, and besides affected not to care about Rosalind Whittredge, could +not keep her eyes from the window. + +The application of French chalk had been successful, and she wore her blue +and white silk; Katherine, in her blue muslin, with ribbons to match on +her smooth braids, wished her mother had been more impressed with the +importance of the occasion. Charlotte was complacent in her white dress +with a large ribbon bow on top of her head, in a new fashion just received +from her cousin in Baltimore. + +"That's the way Rosalind wears hers," whispered Katherine. + +The boys fingered the puzzles and talked about the ball game to be played +to-morrow, but they shared the feeling of anticipation. Their hostess +bustled back and forth. + +"Children," she said, pausing in the door, "I want you to be as nice as +possible to Rosalind. Remember she is a stranger, and we wish her to have +a pleasant impression of Friendship." + +"Here she is!" announced Belle, and the rest crowded around the window. + +"There's Miss Genevieve," whispered Charlotte; "girls, she is coming in!" + +The Whittredge carriage had stopped before the gate and Miss Genevieve, a +marvel of grace in soft chiffons that rippled and curled about her slender +height and emphasized the fairness of her skin, was actually escorting her +niece to the door. + +"Isn't she lovely?" sighed Charlotte, in an ecstasy. + +"Not so sweet as Miss Celia," said loyal Belle. + +Miss Betty met them on the porch, while her guests in the parlor craned +their necks to catch a glimpse, through the open door, of the new +arrivals. The languid sweetness of Miss Genevieve's tone floated in above +Miss Betty's crisper utterance. + +"Mamma is just as usual, thank you. Yes, it was very kind of you to ask +her; I have no doubt she finds it dull. Yes, we expect Allan in a week or +two, but there is no counting on him." + +So absorbed were the listeners, they did not begin their retreat soon +enough, and their hostess, ushering Rosalind in, encountered a scene of +confusion. Katherine in the excitement fell backward over a footstool and +was rescued, flushed and shamefaced, by Jack Parton. Charlotte smoothed +her dress and tried to look dignified. Belle and Maurice were in fits of +laughter. + +Miss Betty surveyed them in surprise. Rosalind stood beside her, and the +girls at once noted that she wore pink. + +"Is anything the matter?" asked Miss Betty, observing Katherine's flushed +face. "I want to introduce Rosalind Whittredge to you. Rosalind, this is +Charlotte Ellis, and Katherine Roberts, and Belle Parton--" + +Still laughing, Belle held out her hand. "We were peeping at you," she +said. + +"Didn't you know I was coming in?" Rosalind asked, a gleam of fun in her +own eyes. + +"We wanted to see Miss Genevieve," added Belle. + +As Miss Betty proceeded to name the boys, Rosalind said, "Oh, I know +Maurice," quite as if he were an old friend; and she added, standing +beside him, "I am so much obliged to you for bringing my book home." + +"Does Maurice know her?" whispered Belle. + +Katherine nodded, although she had had her doubts until this minute. + +Maurice was agreeably conscious of Belle's eyes as he talked to Rosalind. +He was not at all unwilling to have the distinction of being the only one +to know the new-comer. + +"I read the story," he said. "I did not know till after you had gone that +it was one of Shakespeare's plays. We read Julius Caesar at school last +winter." + +"I know that too," Rosalind answered. I have Lamb's stories. Cousin Louis +used to read them to me, and then from the real plays, but I like the +story of the Forest best." + +"Dear me! they are talking about Shakespeare," Belle exclaimed. + +Rosalind looked across the room at her, and smiled in a way that seemed an +invitation. + +"It is a little funny for her to sit down beside a boy the first thing, +don't you think?" Charlotte said in a low tone to Katherine, who assented +because she was in the habit of agreeing with Charlotte. + +Belle overheard. "Silly!" she said, and to show her scorn she went over +and sat on an arm of the sofa beside Rosalind. + +"Do you like to read?" she asked. + +Rosalind opened her eyes. "Of course I do, don't you?" + +Belle, who had browsed in her father's library since she had learned her +letters, was known as a great reader, and felt rather proud of her +reputation; but she found the stranger had read as much as she, and seemed +to think nothing of it. + +In the warmth of a discussion of favorite stories any stiffness is sure to +melt rapidly away. Jack, hearing mention of "The Talisman," joined in and +the others drew up their chairs, so that when Miss Betty rustled back from +an excursion to the dining room she found the ice broken and sociability +prevailing. But she startled them all by an exclamation. + +"Jack Parton, for pity's sake, sit up! and you too, Katherine; I cannot +allow my guests to sit on their spines." + +"But it is so much more comfortable," protested lazy Jack, slowly screwing +himself into a more erect position, while Katherine straightened up with a +blush. + +"There seems to be something wrong with the spines of this generation, and +the first thing you know it will react on their mental and moral natures. +People without backbone are odious," Miss Betty continued. + +"I wish you children could have seen Miss Patricia Gilpin as I saw her +once when I was a little child, more than thirty years ago. She was +straight as an arrow and pretty as a picture. Such old ladies have gone +out of fashion. I remember hearing her describe the backboard and spiked +collar she wore for several hours each day when she was a child." + +"What was the spiked collar for?" Rosalind asked. + +"To keep her head in the correct position." + +"I am glad I didn't live then," said Belle. + +At this point Miss Betty's sermon was interrupted by the appearance of a +small, brown boy in a white apron, who announced supper. + + + + +CHAPTER NINTH. + +THE LOST RING. + +"Wear this for me." + + +The old mahogany table had never reflected a circle of brighter faces than +gathered about it that evening to do justice to Sophy's good things served +on Miss Hetty's pretty china. + +Rosalind at the left hand of her hostess looked around the company with +frank enjoyment of the novelty of the occasion. These young people were +very entertaining, particularly Belle; and more amusing than anything was +the small waiter, at whom Miss Betty glanced so sternly when he showed a +disposition to laugh at the jokes. + +It was when Miss Betty began to serve the strawberries that some one +remarked on the old cream-pitcher of colonial glass, and thus started her +on her favorite topic of the cream-jug and sugar-dish that exactly +matched her teapot and should have been hers. + +This was the first time Rosalind had heard mention of old Mr. Gilpin and +the will. + +"My grandmother and Cousin Thomas's mother were sisters," Miss Betty +explained, "and when their father and mother died the family silver was +divided between them. In this way the teapot came down to me, and some of +the other pieces to Cousin Anne, who was, you know, Cousin Thomas's +sister." + +"Was old Mr. Gilpin related to me, Cousin Betty?" asked Rosalind. + +"Why, certainly, my dear; it is time you were learning about your +relations. He was your grandfathers own cousin. Your great-grandmother was +Mary Gilpin before she married Mr. Whittredge." + +"Rosalind looks puzzled," said Belle, laughing. + +Rosalind laughed too. "I never knew about relations before. Does father +know all this?" + +"I should hope so; this is not much to know." + +"Miss Betty, you promised to tell us about the ring, sometime; Rosalind +would like to hear it, I am sure. Wouldn't you, Rosalind?" asked Belle. + +Rosalind wished very much to hear it, and Miss Betty, with a glance around +the table, remarked, "I shall be glad to tell what I know if you care to +have me, and Jack will sit up." + +"Send for a pillow, Miss Betty; that is what mother does," Belle +suggested, to the delight of the small waiter, who was compelled to retire +suddenly to the hall, where he was heard giggling. + +"As some of you know," Miss Betty began, "the ring belonged to Miss +Patricia Gilpin, who was an aunt of Cousin Thomas's, and your +great-great-aunt, Rosalind. If it is still in existence, it is not far +from eighty years old. You might suppose from the way in which they are +spoken of now, that in the early part of the century all young women were +beauties and belles; but if there is any truth in her miniature, Patricia +Gilpin was a really beautiful woman." + +"Wasn't she married? I thought it was an engagement ring," said Charlotte. + +"It was, but she never married. The young naval officer to whom she was +engaged was killed in the War of 1812. They had known each other only a +short time; it was love at first sight, I suppose. He had the ring made +for her, and I always heard that she received it and the news of his death +at nearly the same time. The last message she had from him was, 'Wear this +for me,' which he had written on a card and enclosed with the ring; and +she always wore it. She was a girl of eighteen at the time, and greatly +admired; but she never forgot her lover." + +"Did she live in Friendship?" Rosalind asked. + +"During her father's lifetime this was her home. She was born in the old +Gilpin house, which was new then; and perhaps you know that the rustic +summer-house at the top of the hill on the left is called Patricia's +arbor. For some years after her lover's death she lived in seclusion, +seeing no one; and always when the weather permitted she would sit in the +arbor, looking out upon the river. + +"It was said that this was the scene of their courtship, but it may be +only a story. + +"After her father's death she lived in Washington, but she often visited +Cousin Anne in the old place. As I have said, I remember seeing her and +hearing her talk, when I was a child of six or seven. She was a stately +and beautiful old lady, and as I recall it now, her face showed she had +borne her share of trouble and disappointment bravely; and you can't say +more than that for anybody." + +"That is what Cousin Louis says," remarked Rosalind, smiling at Maurice. + +"But you haven't told us what the ring was like," put in Charlotte. + +"I never could tell a straight story," replied Miss Betty, laughing. +"Well, it was a broad band of open lace-work of a most delicate and +beautiful pattern, and made of pure gold. The stone was an oval sapphire +of great depth and purity of color, in a setting of tiny stars, made of +little points of gold. When Miss Patricia died she left the ring to Cousin +Anne, her niece, along with many other valuable things. Cousin Anne never +wore it, but she used to show it to me sometimes as a great treat, and I +have tried it on more than once. Cousin Anne ought to have made a will; +but at best she was an undecided person, and she had a long illness. It +was generally supposed she would leave it to your aunt Genevieve, +Rosalind, or else to Patricia Marshall. Indeed, there were half a dozen of +them who would have given their heads for it. Cousin Anne knew it, and she +hated to disappoint anybody, so she ended by disappointing everybody." + +"Why didn't she leave it to you. Miss Betty?" asked Jack. + +"Miss Patricia was not related to me. She was aunt to Cousin Thomas and +Cousin Anne on their father's side, and I am connected through the +Barnwells, his mother's family, just as Rosalind's grandmother is," she +explained; adding, "As Cousin Anne left no will, everything she owned went +to her brother; and you have all heard about his will. Most of his money +was to go to the endowment of a hospital, all the other property to be +sold and the proceeds divided among his first cousins or their children, +except the ring and an old spinet that came to him through his wife. The +first he left to Allan Whittredge, the other to Celia Fair." + +"To Uncle Allan?" asked Rosalind, greatly interested. + +"Yes, and everybody wonders why. However, when they came to take an +inventory, the ring was not to be found." + +"And they haven't the least idea what became of it," remarked Maurice. + +"I think it was stolen," said Miss Betty, "although I acknowledge there is +something mysterious about it. Cousin Thomas was subject to attacks of +heart failure, and was found one evening unconscious in his arm-chair +before the open door of the safe, where he kept his valuables. Morgan had +left him an hour before, apparently as well as usual. He was discovered in +this condition by old Milly, who is honest as the day, and she sent at +once for Dr. Fair, next door, but it was some time before he could be +found, and in the excitement it seems quite possible the ring might have +been stolen. After Dr. Fair had partially revived the old man, he noticed +the open safe and closed it. Cousin Thomas never regained consciousness +entirely, and died the next day. It must have been a week before the ring +was missed. The strange thing is that there were jewels of greater value +in the safe, which were not disturbed." + +"Don't you wish your uncle would give it to you if it is found?" Charlotte +asked Rosalind. + +"In his will Mr. Gilpin said he left the ring to Allan, who was aware of +his wishes in regard to it. I have no idea what those wishes were, but I +hardly think he had Rosalind in mind," Miss Betty said, smiling. + +"Uncle Allan must know what he meant. How strange!" + +"Like a story, isn't it?" said Belle. + +"Have they looked everywhere for it?" continued Rosalind. + +"Yes; the most, thorough search has been made, to no effect." + +The rest of the evening was spent in games, and from the laughing that +went on, Miss Betty's guests must have enjoyed themselves. When Martin +came for her and Rosalind said good night to her new friends, she did not +feel like the same girl who had had to go to the magician to be cheered a +few days ago. The face she lifted to the stars as she walked home was very +bright indeed. + +Grandmamma and Aunt Genevieve sat in the hall. + +"Have you had a pleasant time?" Mrs. Whittredge asked. + +"A beautiful time, grandmamma. I do like to know people. And Miss Betty--I +mean Cousin Betty--told us about the lost ring and--was she my +aunt?--Patricia? Did you ever see her, grandmamma?" + +"Yes, a number of times. She visited at our house when I was a child. She +died a few years after my marriage. Your Aunt Genevieve is thought to +resemble the miniature done of her in her girlhood." + +Rosalind looked in the direction of the arm-chair where her aunt half +reclined, her eyes on a book, her clear profile in relief against the dark +leather, the mellow lamp-light bringing out the copper tints in her hair. +"Then I know she must have been lovely," she said. + +Mrs. Whittredge laughed, and Genevieve lifted her eyes to ask, "What is +that?" + +"Rosalind is sure Patricia Gilpin must have been handsome if you resemble +her," her mother replied. + +Genevieve shrugged her shoulders, and her lips curled a little, although +she smiled; "Thank you, Rosalind," she said. + +"I don't believe," thought Rosalind, as she slowly prepared for bed, "that +Miss Patricia--Aunt Patricia--looked as if she didn't care about anything. +She bore hard things bravely, Miss Betty said, and I believe people who do +that have a kind look." Here her glance fell upon the miniature on her +dressing-table. The sweet eyes smiled on her. Taking it up she pressed it +to her lips; "Like you, my dear beautiful," she whispered. + + + + +CHAPTER TENTH. + +CELIA. + +"One out of suits with fortune." + + +"O Celia!" called Miss Betty Bishop, from her front door, "come in a +minute. I had a tea party last night, and I want to send your mother some +of Sophy's marshmallow cake. I am so glad you happened by," she added, as +Celia came up the walk, "I was wondering how I should get it to her." + +"It is very kind of you, Miss Betty," said Celia, following her into the +dining room. + +"There is no kindness about it," asserted Miss Betty, opening the cake +box. "I am just proud of Sophy's good things and like to make other people +envy me." + +"That is not hard," Celia answered, thinking that life seemed easy and +pleasant in this snug little house. Miss Betty had had her hard times, she +knew, but the troubles of others are apt to seem easier to bear than +one's own, just as in bad weather the best walking is always on the other +side of the street. + +Celia was warm and tired, and the dim, cool room was grateful to her as +she sat resting in silence while Miss Betty fluttered back and forth. + +"Perhaps you'll think I'd better mind my own business," she said, +returning after a moment's absence, "but here is something I saw in the +_Gazette_. It might be worth trying." + +Celia knew by heart the advertisement held out to her. "Work at home. +Fifteen dollars a week made with ease, etc." She accepted it meekly, +however, not wishing to hurt her friend's feelings. + +"Talking about minding your own business," continued Miss Betty, "in my +experience it does not pay. I once saw Cousin Anne Gilpin looking at +taffeta at Moseley's, and I knew as well as I knew my name that the piece +she selected wouldn't wear. At first I thought I'd tell her; then I +decided it was none of my business,--Cousin Anne was old enough to know +about the quality of silk. And what do you think? She sent me a waist +pattern off it for a Christmas gift!" + +Celia laughed as she rose to go. "Thank you for the cake, even if it isn't +a kindness. Mother will enjoy it," she said. + +"You haven't noticed my hall paper," Miss Betty remarked, escorting her +visitor to the door. "I don't expect you to say it is pretty, for it +isn't. I have to confess wall paper is too much for me. This entry is so +small I could not put anything big and bright on it, so I thought I was +getting the very thing when I selected this,--and what does it look like? +Nothing in the world but a clean calico dress. Now it is done I see it +would have been better with plain paper." + +"It is clean and unobtrusive," Celia agreed, smiling. Her smiles were a +little forced this morning, it was easy to see; and Miss Betty, laying a +kind hand on her arm, said, "Don't worry too much, Celia. I know something +about hard times, and you will work through after a while." + +Celia felt the tears rising, and she left Miss Betty with an abruptness +that made her ashamed of herself as she recalled it. After the exertion +of climbing the hill she stopped to rest on the rustic seat just inside +her own gate. "I wonder," she asked herself, "if there is anything much +harder to bear than seeing a house you love going to ruin and not to be +able to save it." + +A branch of the honeysuckle that twined about the gate-post touched her +shoulder, as if to remind her there was still some sweetness in life after +all; but she did not heed it, nor the rose vines and clematis which made +the old gray house beautiful in spite of needed repairs. Celia saw only +rotting woodwork and sagging steps. She thought how the flower garden had +been her father's pride, and how in his spare moments, few as they were, +he was sure to be found digging and trimming and training, with the +happiness of the born gardener. Ah, those days! She remembered the +half-incredulous wonder with which she had been used to hear people speak +of the certainty of trouble. She had felt so certain that joy overbalanced +sorrow, that smiles were more frequent than tears. Now she understood, +since she had tried to hide her own grief under a smiling face. + +From her babyhood she had been her father's companion and confidante, +driving about the country with him, interested in all that concerned his +large practice. A warm-hearted, impulsive man, open handed to the point of +extravagance, Dr. Fair had had few enemies and many friends; and loving +his work, life had been full of joy to him. In contrast with those happy +years the bitterness of his last days seemed doubly cruel to Celia. +Whenever she was tired and discouraged, the memory of that dark time rose +before her. + +She had been only a child when Patterson Whittredge left home, but she +could remember how warmly her father had taken his side, and how this had +caused the first coolness between him and his boyhood friend, Judge +Whittredge. The judge was influenced by his wife, and between the stubborn +doctor and imperious Mrs. Whittredge there had been no love lost. + +The storm had passed after a while, and when the judge's health began to +fail Dr. Fair had been called in. But Mrs. Whittredge had not forgotten, +and the doctor's position was not an easy one. Only his devotion to his +old friend had kept him from giving up the case at the beginning. The +Gilpin will and her father's testimony to the old man's sanity had added +to the trouble, and upon this had come the accusation which, whispered +about, had broken the doctor's heart. Harassed by the hard times and the +failure of investments, denied a place at the bedside of his friend, he +had fallen an easy victim to pneumonia, outliving Judge Whittredge only a +few days. The memory of it lay like lead upon Celia's heart. + +"I have left you nothing but a heritage of misfortune, Celia," had been +his last words to her. + +"Don't think of that, father; I'll manage," she answered; and she had +tried, but the solving of the problem was costing her the bloom of her +youth. There were the two brothers to be educated, and a delicate, almost +invalid mother to be cared for, and an income that would little more than +pay the taxes on their home. To sell or rent it was not at present +practicable, and she could not take boarders, for no one boarded in +Friendship. Neither could she leave to try her fortune in the city, so she +had been doing whatever her hand found to do. Sewing, embroidering, a +little teaching, and, in season, pickling and preserving. Friends had been +kind, but Celia was proud and determined to fight her own battle, and +sometimes, as this morning, kindness made her burden seem harder to bear. + +The worst of it was the root of bitterness in her heart. She could never +forgive Mrs. Whittredge. Few guessed the intensity hidden beneath Celia's +gentle manner. Only now and then a spark from her dark blue eyes revealed +it. The general construction put upon her proud reserve was that she was +unsociable. + +There is no loneliness like that of the unforgiving heart. Celia had never +felt it so strongly as after her meeting with Rosalind Whittredge in the +cemetery. There had been something in the soft gaze of the gray eyes that +she could not forget. It had made her take up the rose again after she +flung it away and carry it home with her. + +But she must not linger here any longer. There was an order from the +Exchange in the city which should be promptly filled if she hoped for +others. As she rose she confronted Morgan entering the gate. + +"Good morning," he said, and there was an odd sort of embarrassment in his +manner as he added, "Some of your window frames need fixing, Miss Celia." + +She smiled and shook her head. "Can't afford it." + +"Miss Celia, let me do it, I've lots of time, and the doctor was very good +to me," he said. + +Again Celia shook her head, but the hurt look on Morgan's face made her +relent. "Well, perhaps the worst ones," she spelled. She would trust to +being able to make it up to him sometime. + +"That's right," he exclaimed, joyfully, adding, as he turned to go, "Don't +you worry, Miss Celia. There's good in it somewhere." + + + + +CHAPTER ELEVENTH. + +MAKING FRIENDS. + +"Is not that neighborly?" + + + +Miss Betty's tea party was the beginning of a new and happier state of +affairs for Rosalind; one pleasant thing followed another. There were +letters from the travellers, long and delightful and full of the genial +spirit of the Forest, making her more than ever certain that they and she +were alike journeying beneath its shelter, and at some turn of the road +would surely meet again. + +Mrs. Whittredge also had a letter, "I trust you will not keep Rosalind +secluded," her son wrote. "I want her to have companions of her own age, +and to learn to know and love the old town as I loved it. She has lived +too much with Louis and me and story books; it is time she was waking up." + +This explains why the Roberts children and the Partons received special +invitations to call on Rosalind. Friendship began to seem to her a very +different place as her acquaintance with it grew and neighborly relations +were established with Maurice and Katherine. The gap in the hedge became a +daily meeting-place, and grew slowly, but steadily, wider. + +A few days after the tea party, Katherine asked Rosalind to go out to the +creek with her, and on the way they stopped for Belle. While she went to +find her hat, Rosalind made the acquaintance of the colonel and several +dogs. Then the three strolled along the wide street, under the shade of +tall maples, past pleasant gardens and inviting houses, until the street +turned into a country road, and before them was Red Hill and the little +bridge over Friendly Creek at its foot. + +Under the bridge the water rippled and splashed over the stones, and out +of sight, back somewhere among the trees, it could be heard rushing over a +dam. The children seated themselves on a bit of pebbly beach. + +"How nice to be near the real country!" Rosalind exclaimed. "At home we +are near the park, but that is not the real country. We have to go miles +to get there." + +"But there are such lovely stores and things in the city," said Katherine. + +"Still, you can't go about by yourself, as you can here," Rosalind +answered; and Belle added, "I like to go to the city for a little while, +but I'd rather live in Friendship, where the houses aren't so close +together." + +As they sat there, throwing stones in the water and writing in the sand, +Rosalind heard a great deal about school, which would close next +week,--how the girls had rushed to the window to see her and had lost +their recess, and how Belle had been sent to the office, besides, for +making chalk dishes. It was all very amusing, but she could not understand +why the girls wanted to see her. + +"Well, you know they are all interested in your house, and in Miss +Genevieve; and then everybody was surprised at your coming to visit your +grandmother." + +"I can't see why," Rosalind said, opening her eyes. + +"Oh, well--because you never had before, you know." Belle's manner was +hesitating, as if she felt conscious of being on dangerous ground. + +What she said was certainly true. Rosalind herself did not exactly +understand it. She knew only that there had been some reason why her +father had not visited his old home for many years. She wondered if these +girls knew more about it than she. + +"You see, you are something new," Belle added, laughing. "Didn't Miss +Celia scold us that morning, Katherine?" + +"Why, no, Belle, she didn't exactly scold," said Katherine. + +"She didn't throw back her head and frown and say 'Young ladies, I am +amazed!'"--here Bell gave an excellent imitation of Mrs. Graham's +manner--"so you don't call it scolding. She just said, 'Girls, I don't +know what to think!' and we felt as mean! I love Miss Celia." + +"So do I," echoed Katherine. + +"Is she one of your teachers?" Rosalind asked. + +"Yes; she is Miss Celia Fair. She teaches drawing and sometimes keeps +study hour, and she is as sweet as she can be," Belle concluded, with +enthusiasm. + +The name brought to mind one of Rosalind's greatest puzzles,--the +hillside, the young lady who looked as if she might be as Belle described +her--sweet; the strange incident of the rose, and Aunt Genevieve's words, +"We have nothing to do with the Fairs." + +"I saw her once," she remarked gravely. + +"I forgot the Fairs and the Whittredges don't speak. Perhaps you know +about it," said Belle. + +Rosalind shook her head. + +"I think it was about the will; wasn't it, Katherine? Mrs. Whittredge +wanted to break it because she thought Mr. Gilpin was crazy, but Dr. Fair +said he wasn't, and testified in court." + +Rosalind listened with interest. "Isn't Dr. Fair dead?" she asked. + +"Yes. He used to be our doctor, and I liked him so much." + +"The Fairs have lost all their money now, so Miss Celia has to teach and +do all sorts of things," Katherine remarked. + +"Her name belongs to the Forest," thought Rosalind, looking at the +ripples, Belle had thrown herself back and was gazing at the sky from +under her hat brim; Katherine was busy with a collection of pebbles; the +stillness was broken only by the hum of insects and the murmur of Friendly +Creek. Suddenly Rosalind seemed to hear with perfect distinctness what it +said, + +"Be fr-ie-nds, be fr-ie-nds," with a little trill on the words. + +From experience she knew very little of unfriendliness. All this about +quarrels and having nothing to do with people was new to her. As she +considered it she remembered that Oliver hated Orlando, and Rosalind's +uncle had treated her and her father unkindly, in the story. "But it all +came right in the end," she told herself, "when they met in the Forest." +It was a cheering thought, and she smiled over it. + +"What are you smiling at?" Belle asked, sitting up. + +Rosalind's eyes had a far-away look as she replied, "I was thinking about +the Forest." + +"What forest?" Belle began to ask, when a curly dog rushed down upon them, +and on the bridge above their heads they saw the magician waving his +hand. + +"Well, Curly Q. How are you?" cried Rosalind. + +"There's Morgan," said Belle; "you know him, don't you?" + +"Of course I do. I took tea with him last week," Rosalind answered, +laughing. + +"And, Belle, she calls him the 'magician,'" Katherine said. + +"Do you? Why?" + +"Because he is one. Didn't you know it?" Rosalind danced up the slope, +with Curly Q. after her. + +"Rosalind says you are a magician. Are you?" Belle spelled rapidly when +they had joined Morgan on the bridge. + +The old man's eyes twinkled as he replied, "That's a secret; you mustn't +tell anybody." + +"Ask him if he knows about the Forest," said Rosalind. + +Belle asked the question. + +Morgan laughed. "'Where the birds sing--'" he quoted. + +"Tell me about it, please," begged Belle. "Does Katherine know?" + +Rosalind promised she would sometime; and as Katherine did not know +either, and as it was growing late, Belle agreed to wait. + +It was rather an odd and pleasant sight, if any one had stopped to think +of it--the old man with his bright, wistful eyes, his tool box on his +shoulder, and his three companions, walking home together. Demure +Katherine, dainty Rosalind, saucy Belle,--all as merry as merry could +be,--and Curly Q. running in and out among them in an ecstasy of delight, +and at imminent danger of upsetting somebody. + +"Well, Pigeon, how do you like your new friend?" asked the colonel, as his +daughter took her seat beside him on the door-step. + +Belle gazed thoughtfully across the lawn. "I like her," she answered, "but +she is funny. I suppose it is because she hasn't gone much to school. She +isn't like Charlotte, or Katherine, or me. She isn't prim, and yet--it is +queer, father, but she makes me feel as I do when I am with Miss +Celia--like behaving." + +The colonel laughed his hearty ha, ha! "I hope you'll cultivate her +society," he said, adding, "she is like Pat, as high-toned a fellow as +ever lived. He was something of a dreamer, too, and this child has the +eyes of a poet." + +"They are gray," remarked Belle. "But I know what you mean, father; she +looks as if she saw things far away. She was looking so this afternoon, +and when I asked her what she was thinking about she said 'the forest.' I +don't know what she meant, but Morgan knew." + +"You have plenty of sense," said her father, looking fondly upon her. + +"Of course I have, I am your child," laughed Belle, jumping up to give him +a hug. + + + + +CHAPTER TWELFTH. + +THE GILPIN PLACE. + +"This is the Forest of Arden." + + + +Rosalind, walking in the garden next morning, heard her name called from +the other side of the hedge. + +"Is that you, Maurice?" she asked, bending to peep through the narrow +opening where they had first become acquainted. + +"Yes; don't you want to go up to the Gilpin place?" + +"I'd rather go there than anywhere," Rosalind assented eagerly, "I am so +interested in Aunt Patricia and the ring." + +"The house is closed, you know, but the grounds are pretty. I'll meet you +at the gate whenever you are ready," Maurice answered. + +He considered Rosalind his special friend by right of first acquaintance, +and had no thought of allowing Katherine or Belle to get the advantage of +him, and for this reason he had planned the expedition. He also wished to +talk over "As You Like It" without interruption, and was decidedly +provoked when she called to Katherine, who was shelling peas on the side +porch, "We are going to the Gilpin place; can't you come when you have +finished?" + +Katherine, who had tried in vain to find out from Maurice where he was +going, was more than delighted at the invitation. + +"It would have been nicer if we had stayed to help her," Rosalind +remarked, as they walked up the street. + +"Girls' work," Maurice growled. + +"Well, I am a girl. And why shouldn't boys shell peas? They eat them." + +Maurice scorned such logic, but her eyes were so merry it was with an +effort he kept himself from smiling. + +"Katherine is such a bother," he said. + +"I like Katherine; she is so pleasant," Rosalind observed, with a side +glance at her companion. + +"Perhaps you'd rather go with her and have me stay at home?" he suggested, +with much dignity. + +"And shell peas?" Rosalind laughed. + +What a provoking girl this was! And yet he liked her, and somehow at the +vision of himself shelling peas he couldn't help laughing, too, and thus +harmony was restored. + +After climbing the hill, a good deal of exertion for Maurice with his +crutch, they paused to rest on the steps leading up from the gate of the +Gilpin place. + +Rosalind, looking at the dignified mansion among the trees, felt the +atmosphere of mysterious interest that always surrounds a closed and +deserted house, particularly an old one upon which several generations +have left their impress. She thought of the young and lovely Patricia, and +the sailor lover who never came back. + +"Do you know, I feel very sorry for Aunt Patricia, Maurice. To have some +one you love never come back--it must be very hard. I can understand a +little now since father and cousin Louis went away. Miss Betty said she +bore it bravely, too." + +"It was a long time ago," said Maurice, feeling that it was a waste of +emotion to grieve over things that had happened so far back in the past. + +"But there is the ring. It is not so very long ago since that was here. +Don't you wish we could go into the house and look for it? I believe it is +there somewhere;" Rosalind spoke with assurance. + +"But they searched every nook and cranny," said Maurice. + +"If it were in a story, there would be a secret drawer somewhere. I wonder +if Aunt Patricia isn't sorry it is lost." Rosalind sat in silence for a +few moments, looking down at the town. "I like Friendship," she said. +"There are a great many interesting things happening here, more than ever +happen at home." + +The Gilpin house stood on an elevation of its own, from which the ground +sloped gently in all directions. Its late owner had cared little for +flowers and shrubs, but had taken pride in his trees, which still +preserved the dignity of their forest days. At the back of the house there +was a view of the little winding river, and halfway down the slope a once +flourishing vegetable garden had turned itself into a picturesque +wilderness of weeds. The charm of it all grew upon Rosalind as they walked +about. + +"I should like to live here, Maurice. I like it better than our +garden--grandmamma's, I mean. Let's sit on the grass, where we can see the +river." + +Not far from them was the rustic summer-house which Miss Betty had called +Patricia's arbor. + +"Maurice," Rosalind exclaimed, with conviction in her tone, "this is the +Forest of Arden." + +"You talk about it as if it were all true, instead of only a story," said +Maurice. + +"But it is true--one kind of true. Cousin Louis explained it to me +once--ever so long ago, when I had a sore throat and couldn't go to the +Christmas tree, at the president's. I cried and was dreadfully cross, and +wouldn't look at my Christmas things; and after a while he asked me if I +should like to live in the Forest of Arden. I was so surprised I stopped +crying, and he told me that when we were brave and happy, we made a +pleasant place for ourselves, where lovely things could happen, and when +we were cross and miserable we made a desert for ourselves, where pleasant +things couldn't possibly come about, just as if you want flowers to grow, +you have to have good soil. + +"Cousin Louis can tell things in a very interesting way, and by and by I +began to feel ashamed, and I made up my mind to try it; and when I told +father, he said he would try too, and we found it was really true, +Maurice. He and Cousin Louis and I--oh, we had such good times! We even +told the president about it, and Cousin Louis said he was going to start a +secret society of the Forest of Arden. Then he was ill, and everything +stopped. + +"I know it isn't easy to stay in the Forest always, particularly when you +are dreadfully lonesome, but the magician says if you keep on trying you +will find the good in it after a while." + +"How can there be good in bad things?" Maurice demanded. + +"Did you read what was in my book? I know it by heart. 'If we choose, we +may walk always in the Forest, where the birds sing and the sunlight sifts +through the trees, where, although we sometimes grow footsore and hungry, +we know that the goal is sure.' That means it will all come right in the +end. Don't you know how, in the story, the people who hated each other all +came to be friends in the Forest?" + +The sun travelling around the beech tree encroached upon their +resting-place, and Maurice proposed moving farther down the slope. "Tell +me about the secret society," he said, as they again settled themselves. + +"It was a very nice plan," Rosalind answered, clasping her knees and +looking up into the tree top. "He told me about it one evening when he +wasn't well and had to lie on the sofa, while father did the proofs. Only +those could belong who made the best of things and knew the secret of the +Forest. We were sure the president would join because he had had a great +trouble and was very brave; and there was Mrs. Brown, who had lost all her +money, and kept house for us. Then, I didn't have anything much to be +brave about, but I have since, for I did so want to go with father and +Cousin Louis. Perhaps that doesn't seem much," she added apologetically, +"'but small things count,' Cousin Louis said." + +"I should think it might," Maurice agreed. + +"Aunt Patricia could have belonged," said Rosalind, her eyes still in the +tree top. "I wonder if she knew about the Forest?" + +Maurice felt stirred by the picture her words called up of a great company +of people all bearing hard things bravely. "There is Morgan," he +suggested. "It must be hard to be deaf, yet he is always cheerful." + +"Yes, indeed, he could belong. He knows the secret of the Forest. And +Maurice, you have a beautiful chance to be brave." + +Maurice's face grew red, he pushed his crutch impatiently from him. "I +haven't been brave," he said. + +"No, you haven't," Rosalind acknowledged frankly; "but then you did not +know about the Forest. Maurice, let's start a society, you and I, and +perhaps some of the others will join. The magician will, I know." + +A shrill whistle was heard at this moment. + +"It is Jack," said Maurice; and sure enough that individual presently +appeared and dropped down beside them, breathless from his run up the +hill. + +"What are you two doing?" he puffed. + +"Talking. How warm you are!" and Rosalind offered her broad-brimmed hat +for a fan. "Have you seen anything of Katharine?" + +"She and Belle are on the way. Say, what were you talking about? It seemed +to be interesting." Jack rolled over on his back and blinked at the sky. + +Rosalind looked at Maurice. "Would you tell him?" + +"No," was the prompt reply, "he wouldn't care for it." He felt certain +harum-scarum Jack would only be bored by the Forest, perhaps would make +fun. + +Jack turned his face to Rosalind, "Tell me," he urged; "Maurice doesn't +know what I like." + +"I will, then, as soon as the girls come." + +It was not long before Belle was heard calling, and she and Katherine came +running across the grass and joined the group under the tree. + +"We are waiting for you; Jack wants to hear about the Forest," said +Rosalind. + +"Yes, you promised to tell us what you meant, and how Morgan came to know +about it." Belle cast her hat on the grass and shook back her hair. + +Maurice looked discontented. Jack and Belle would think it silly, and +Katherine wouldn't understand. + +"Maurice knows about it, and perhaps some of the rest of you have read the +story of the Forest of Arden," began Rosalind. + +Belle had, but Katherine and Jack had not so much as heard of it, so +Rosalind told the story of the banished Duke and his followers who lived +in the Forest, and were happy because they had learned to make the best of +things and to find good even in trouble and disappointment; how Rosalind, +the daughter of the Duke, was also banished, and with her cousin and the +clown went to seek her father in the Forest; how Orlando, turned out of +his home by his cruel elder brother, also went to the Forest in company +with his old servant Adam; of their adventures there; and how finally the +wicked Duke and the heartless brother, who were pursuing the runaways, +came under the spell of the same Forest and repented of their evil deeds; +and the story ended in forgiveness and love under the greenwood tree. + +It was just the day and place for the story. The joyous, lavish beauty of +summer was everywhere around them, and as Rosalind told it her eyes took +on the look Belle had described to her father. There was silence after she +finished. Jack lay with his head on his arms, looking out on the river; +Maurice was drawing beech leaves in his note-book, the discontent all gone +from his face; Belle absently plaited the hem of her dress; while +Katherine twisted a wreath of honeysuckle around her hat. + +"Is that all?" Belle asked, after a little. + +"That is the story; then I was telling Maurice about the meaning Cousin +Louis found in it." + +"Tell us that," said Jack. + +Rosalind explained the Forest idea, and the plan for a secret society. +This at once appealed to Belle. + +"That would be fun," she exclaimed. "We could have 'The Forest' for a +watchword, and hold meetings out of doors somewhere." + +"Yes; 'under the greenwood tree,'" said Maurice. + +"I don't understand," said Katherine. "What are we to do?" + +"We promise to bear hard things bravely, and--" + +"Let's be like Robin Hood," Belle interrupted, "and help down-trodden +people." + +"Do you know any?" asked her brother, turning over. + +"Jack makes me think of the dormouse in 'Alice,'" laughed Rosalind. "He is +always going to sleep and waking up." + +"I'll tell you!" cried Belle, "let's search for the ring." + +"But we don't know where to look," said Katherine. + +"A thing isn't much lost if you know where to look, goosie," answered +Maurice. + +"You see, it is partly pretend," Rosalind explained. "I think it is a +beautiful idea, don't you, boys?" she asked. + +"Maurice, are you going to promise to bear hard things bravely?" Jack +asked, with a quizzical look. It seemed to tickle him greatly, for he went +off into a fit of laughing. "'See, the conquering hero comes,'" he hummed. + +Maurice pave him a thump with his crutch. "You aren't much of a hero, +either," he said. "Who took the roof off when his tooth was pulled?" + +"But that hurt," said Jack, still laughing. + +"I am willing to own I have been making an awful fuss, but someway I +hadn't thought about it, and I am willing to try if the rest are." + +"But I haven't any trouble," said Katherine. + +"Everybody has hard things to bear sometimes," replied Rosalind. + +"Doesn't Maurice ever snub you?" asked irrepressible Jack. + +"What shall we call our society?" Rosalind inquired, looking around the +group for suggestions. + +Maurice tore a leaf from his note-book and divided it carefully into five +parts, handing a slip to each of his companions. + +"Now be still for a while and think, and then write down a name." + +All was quiet for a time. "Now," said Maurice, "what is yours, Rosalind?" + +"The Secret Society of the Forest," said Rosalind. + +"Sons and Daughters of the Forest," announced Belle. + +"The Forest Society," said Jack. + +Katherine had not been able to think of a name. Maurice's was "The Arden +Foresters," suggested, he said, by Belle's "Robin Hood." + +"I believe it is the best," said Rosalind, and so they all agreed finally, +and the new society was named. + +"Now we must have a book and write in it what we promise," said Belle. + +"Let's appoint Rosalind and Maurice to draw up a--what do you call it?" +suggested Jack. + +"I know," said Belle; "a constitution." + +"I meant to go into Patricia's Arbor, and I forgot," remarked Rosalind, as +they walked home together. + +"I thought I saw some one sitting there when Belle and I passed," said +Katherine. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. + +IN PATRICIA'S ARBOR. + +"O, how full of briers is this working-day world." + + +On this same bright morning when Rosalind for the first time saw the +Gilpin place, Celia Fair carried her sewing, a piece of dainty lace work, +to the old rustic summer-house. It made some variety in the monotony of +things to sit here where she could lift her eyes now and then, and looking +far away across the river to the hills, let them rest on a bit of sunny +road that for a little space emerged from the shadow to disappear again on +its winding way. + +On this stretch, of road the sunshine seemed always to lie warm and +bright, and to Celia it brought a sense of restfulness. Perhaps in some +far-off time the sunlight would again lie on her path. + +She loved the old place, and the thought that in all probability it would +soon pass into the hands of strangers, troubled her. She had often sat +here in Patricia's Arbor, beside old Thomas Gilpin, and listened to his +reminiscences. She had been a favorite with the old man, all of the +tenderness of whose nature had spent itself upon the wife who lived only a +brief time; and in Celia's relationship to her, distant though it was, lay +the secret of his regard. + +One of her earliest recollections was of taking tea at the Gilpin house in +company with Genevieve and Allan Whittredge. Mild, fair-faced Miss Anne +and her grim-visaged, cross-grained brother were a strangely assorted +pair. Celia's childish soul had been filled with awe on these occasions. +She had difficulty in keeping her seat in the stiff old haircloth chairs, +or in crossing the polished floor of the drawing-room without slipping. + +At one end of this room stood the ancient spinet, long ago the property of +her own great-grandmother, which she was told would some day be hers. +Celia had been proud of this until Miss Anne, displaying her chief +treasures, Patricia's miniature and ring, remarked upon Genevieve's +likeness to her great-aunt. Genevieve, with the ring on her finger, +looked complacently over her shoulder at the long mirror, and Celia was +smitten with sudden envy. A great-grandmother called Saint Cecilia was not +half so interesting as a beautiful great-aunt with a romantic love story; +and an old and useless spinet not to be compared to a ring like +Patricia's. That the ring was to be Genevieve's she never doubted. + +Allan had made fun of his sister and treated heirlooms in general with +scorn, calling Celia to look at a print of Jonah in knee breeches and shoe +buckles, emerging front the mouth of the whale. Allan always saw the fun +in things. + +Between those days and the present there was a great gulf fixed. She had +resolutely put away from her all these memories, and to-day she was +annoyed that they should return in such force. They brought only pain to +her tired heart. + +Her hands fell in her lap, and she gazed with unseeing eyes at the hills. +After all, Patricia, mourning her lover, had not known the bitterest +sorrow. + +The thought of her work, which must be done, aroused her. "What a weak +creature I am, thinking my lot harder than that of any one else," she +exclaimed, and taking up her needle she determinedly fixed her mind on the +present. There was the suit Tom needed, and the grocery bill that should +be paid the first of the month. She must work hard and not waste time in +regrets. The summer that meant leisure and pleasure for many, meant only +added cares for her. + +A surprising announcement broke in upon these dreary thoughts: "This is +the Forest of Arden!" + +The voice was a sweet, girlish one, and came from somewhere behind the +arbor, but the vines grew so thick she could not get a glimpse of the +speaker. Celia went on with her work, feeling at first a little annoyed +that her quiet should be disturbed, yet the suggestion of sylvan joy in +the words grew upon her. The Forest of Arden--where they fleeted the time +carelessly--what a rest for tired spirits it seemed to offer! + +"If we will, we may travel always in the Forest, where the birds sing and +the sunlight sifts through the trees--" the same voice repeated. A stir of +wind set the leaves rustling, and Celia lost the rest. + +"That means it will all come right in the end." + +"The people who hated each other all came to be friends in the Forest." + +Fragments like these floated in to Celia. Then she heard Maurice Roberta's +voice saying, "Let's go farther down the slope." She went to the door of +the arbor and looked out. As she had suspected, Maurice's companion was +the girl she had encountered in the cemetery, Rosalind carried her hat in +her hand, and as they crossed an open space the sunshine turned her hair +to gold. + +Celia went back to her work. "It will all come right in the end,"--this +was what Morgan had told her yesterday; it was strange that this child +should cross her path again, and with the same message. + +"Even people who hated each other came to be friends in the Forest." To +travel always in the Forest! How restful the idea! How would it seem not +to hate anybody? To be really at peace? But it was not possible for her. + +Her thoughts would persist in dwelling upon Rosalind Whittredge. Again she +recalled with shame the impulse that made her scorn the rose. She was +glad she had picked it up and carried it home. Why should she have any +feeling against Patterson Whittredge's daughter? Had not her father taken +Patterson's side in the family trouble over his marriage? Ah, but that was +long ago, and it was hard to forget that Rosalind, with her sweet, serious +eyes, was after all Mrs. Whittredge's granddaughter, Genevieve's niece. + +"I wish she wasn't, and that I could see her and speak to her, and ask her +what she means by the Forest," she thought. "She is gentle and sweet; she +is not like the Whittredges. Why should I dislike her because she belongs +to them? Oh, it is dreadful to hate people!" Celia hid her face in her +hands, "but I do--I do," she added. + + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEENTH + +THE ARDEN FORESTERS + +"Like the old Robin Hood of England." + + +"Article I. This Society shall be called 'The Arden Foresters,'" read +Maurice. "That will do, won't it?" + +"Yes; and then let's put the object. It doesn't come next in this, but we +shan't need so many articles," Rosalind answered, running her finger down +the page of a blue bound book. + +The committee appointed to draw up a constitution for The Arden Foresters +had set about it with great seriousness. Their surroundings may have had +something to do with this, for their papers were spread out on the +leather-covered table in the directors' room at the bank, immediately +under the eye of a former president, whose portrait hung over the +mantel-piece, while the large-faced clock on the wall gave forth its +majestic "tick, lock." + +The blue book which was serving as a model, Rosalind had found on her +aunt's table, and asked permission to use. + +"Well, then, 'Article II. The object of this Society shall be, To remember +the Secret of the Forest; to bear hard things bravely; to search for the +ring--' Anything else?" + +"Maurice, that is beautiful. Is there anything else?" Rosalind pressed her +lips with a forefinger. + +"Belle wanted to have 'to help the needy,' or something of the kind." + +"The down-trodden," said Rosalind, laughing. "I don't like that, do you?" + +"Let's wait; we may think of something after a while. Where shall we meet? +That might come next." + +"Under the trees at the Gilpin place, and when it rains we can go to +Patricia's Arbor. What fun it would be to have a meeting in the rain!" A +great pattering on the window-pane emphasized Rosalind's remark. + +Maurice wrote busily for a minute, looking up to ask, "What day shall we +meet?" + +"Let's not say any day, and then we can do as we choose," Rosalind +suggested, feeling that the restrictions of a constitution might be +burdensome. + +Article III then read: "This Society shall hold its meetings at the Gilpin +place." + +"Maurice, here are qualifications for membership. Ought we to have that?" + +"I don't know; what are they?" + +Rosalind bent over the book, "Let me see--'Intelligence, character, and--' +such a funny word. 'R e c i p r o c i t y'; what is that?" + +Maurice looked over her shoulder, "'Rec--' Oh, I know, 'reciprocity.'" + +"What does it mean?" Rosalind asked. + +"I think it is something political." + +"Then we don't want it." + +However, as there was a dictionary in the room, it was thought best to +consult it. + +"Here it is, 'mutual giving and returning,'" Maurice announced, when he +found the place. + +"'Giving and returning,'" Rosalind repeated; "Maurice, look for 'mutual.'" + +"It means almost the same thing,' something reciprocal, in common,'" he +said presently. + +"Then it means to do things for each other. I like that. Why couldn't we +put that in Article II? It means 'helping.'" + +"How about qualifications, then?" asked Maurice. + +"I don't think I'd have any. We'll only ask the people we want." + +So reciprocity was added to Article II. As he wrote, Maurice laughed. +"I'll bet they won't any of them know what it means," he said. + +"Then Article IV will be the watchword, 'The Forest,'" added Rosalind. +"And, Maurice, don't you think it would be nice to choose a leaf for a +badge? But perhaps we'd better decide that at the next meeting. Don't you +think it is going to be fun?" + +Maurice agreed that it was, feeling sure Jack and Belle and Katherine must +be impressed with the result of their afternoon's work. He had a new +blank-book ready for the constitution, and on the first page he had +already written: "The Arden Foresters--Secret Society," and at Rosalind's +suggestion he now added the motto, "Good in everything." + +They surveyed it with pride, and Rosalind said, "I am just crazy to show +it to somebody. Where is Katherine?" + +But Maurice thought it wouldn't be fair to the others to show it to her +first. + +The rain continued to patter against the window. Rosalind sat with her +elbows on the table, and her chin in her hands, watching Maurice as he +folded the sheet of legal-cap paper on which the constitution was written, +and placed it in the book. + +"Maurice," she said suddenly, lifting her eyes to the benevolent face of +the bank president, "do you know Miss Celia Fair?" + +"Miss Celia? Why, of course I do." + +"Everybody seems to know everybody in Friendship. It's funny," Rosalind +commented thoughtfully. "Then you can tell me just what sort of a person +she is." + +"She is tip-top; I like Miss Celia," Maurice replied, with emphasis. + +"Do you think she is kind?" + +"Yes, indeed. The day I felt so badly about not going fishing,--the day +you spoke to me through the hedge,--she came in and sat on the step and +tried to cheer me up. Oh, yes, Miss Celia is kind." + +"But do you think she would be kind to some one she didn't know?" Rosalind +persisted. + +Maurice looked at her in surprise, she seemed so much in earnest in these +inquiries. "How can you be kind to people you don't know?" he asked. + +"I'll tell you about it if you won't tell. You see I am not quite sure." +Then Rosalind told the incident of her meeting with Miss Fair in the +cemetery. "She looked pleasant and as if she wanted to be friends at +first, but she didn't say anything after I told her my name, and when I +looked back, I am sure--almost sure--saw her throw the rose away." + +"Miss Celia wouldn't do a thing like that," Maurice asserted stoutly. "She +couldn't have any reason for it; she doesn't know you." + +"Do you really think she wouldn't?" Rosalind asked, in a tone of relief. +"You know there is a kind of a quarrel between her family and ours,--Belle +said so,--and I thought perhaps that had something to do with it; but I am +going to try to think I was mistaken about the rose." + +[Illustration: "LOOKING UP HE DISCOVERED HIS VISITORS."] + +While they talked the rain had ceased, and some rays of watery sunshine +found their way in at the window. + +"Let's go to the magician's and show him the constitution and ask him to +join," Rosalind proposed. + +Maurice was willing, and without a thought of the clouds they started +gayly up the street. They were almost there when Rosalind said, "I believe +it is going to rain, and we haven't an umbrella." + +"Perhaps we shall have to stay to supper with Morgan," Maurice suggested, +laughing. + +"I had a very good supper there," said Rosalind. "I don't see why +everybody should think it was so very funny in me to go." + +"No one else would have done it, that's all." + +When they looked in at the door of the magician's shop, he was busy with +some scraps of leather. Around him were bottomless chairs, topless tables, +and melancholy sofas with sagging springs exposed to view, and in one +corner a tall, empty clock-case. With his spectacles on the tip of his +nose and a pair of large shears in his hand, Morgan might have sat for the +picture of some wonder-working genius. Looking up, he discovered his +visitors, and a smile illumined his rugged face, as he waved them a +welcome with the big shears. He was never too busy for company. + +"Come in, come in," he said; and jumping up he got out a feather duster +and whisked off a chair for Rosalind, remarking that dust didn't hurt +boys. + +Rosalind laid the book on the table among the scraps of leather, open at +the page where Maurice had written the name of the society and the motto. +Pointing to it, they explained that they wished him to join. + +Adjusting his spectacles, the magician carefully read the constitution. + +"The Secret of the Forest? What's that?" he asked. + +Rosalind pointed to the motto, whereupon he nodded approvingly, and went +on. "Search for the ring--" he looked up questioningly; but when it was +explained, he shook his head. "Stolen," he said. + +Reciprocity seemed to amuse him greatly. He repeated it several times, +glancing from one to the other of his visitors. + +"Do you suppose he knows what it means?" Maurice asked Rosalind. + +The magician's quick eyes understood the question. "Golden Rule?" he +asked. + +"Why, I did not think of that!" cried Rosalind. + +"Morgan has a lot of sense," Maurice replied, with an air of +proprietorship. + +When he had read it all, the magician nodded approvingly. "I'll have to +join because you have my motto," he said. + +"Then we have six members to begin with," Rosalind remarked joyfully. + +By this time it had grown dark again and the rain was beginning to fall, +and while the magician, having a good deal on hand, continued his work, +Maurice and Rosalind sat on the claw-footed sofa, regardless of dust. +Curly Q. and Crisscross both sought refuge in the shop, and the latter +proved himself capable of sociability by jumping up beside Rosalind. + +"Morgan really does make me think of a magician," she said, stroking +Crisscross and looking at the cabinet-maker. "I saw a picture once called +'The Magician's Doorway.' It was all of rich, polished marble, and you +could look down a long dim passage where a blue light burned. Just at the +entrance a splendid tiger was chained, and above his head hung a silver +horn." + +"Was the horn to call the magician?" asked Maurice. + +"Yes, I suppose so; and you couldn't get it without going very near the +tiger. Cousin Louis promised to write a story about it, but he never had +time." + +A flash of lightning, followed immediately by a clap of thunder, startled +them. Maurice went to the door and looked out. "It is going to be a big +storm," he said. + +As he spoke the rain began to fall in torrents, hiding Miss Betty's house +across the street from view. Suddenly a solitary figure with a dripping +umbrella was almost swept into the shop. + +"Why, Miss Celia!" cried Maurice. + +"I began to think I would be drowned," she said, laughing breathlessly. + +The magician dropped his shears and took her umbrella. + +"You are wet; we must have a fire," he said. + +Celia protested. A summer shower wouldn't hurt. It was too warm for a +fire. Rosalind meanwhile sat in the shadow, Crisscross beside her, the +thought of the rose and of Aunt Genevieve's words making her hope Miss +Fair would not see her. Her face was gentle; was it possible she could be +unkind and disdainful? + +The magician came to the rescue. He didn't believe in quarrels anyway, and +if he had considered the matter he probably would have argued that +Rosalind could have no concern with those she knew nothing about; and +observing her in the corner he said, with a wave of the dripping umbrella, +"This is Mr. Pat's little girl, Miss Celia. You remember Mr. Pat?" + +Celia, shaking out her wet skirts, turned in surprise. As her eyes met +Rosalind's she smiled. "Yes," was all she said. + +But after a while she came over and patted Crisscross, and said Rosalind +must be a witch to have gained his affection so soon, and asked what she +and Maurice were doing there, not as if she wanted an answer so much as +just to be friendly. + +Rosalind felt a great relief, and her eyes were soft as she responded +shyly. + + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. + +A NEW MEMBER. + +"In the circle of this Forest." + + +In Friendship the summer was never fairly ushered in until Commencements +were over. When the boys of the Military Institute, a mile beyond the +village, had yelled their last yell from the back platform of the train as +it swept around the curve, and Mrs. Graham's boarders had departed, +accompanied by their trunks and the enthusiastic farewells of the town +pupils, then, and not before, Friendship settled down to the enjoyment of +picnics, crabbing parties, and moonlight excursions. + +Going away for the summer was almost unknown in Friendship; a week or two +at the shore or in the mountains was as much as any of its loyal +inhabitants dreamed of. To the few who like Genevieve Whittredge found the +place dull at any season, the warm days afforded a welcome excuse for +flitting. + +After the final decision in the Gilpin will case Friendship drew a long +breath and acquiesced in the inevitable. Arguments and discussion lost +their interest, and something like the old peace settled down on the town. + +The Gilpin house and its contents must now be sold, but summer was not an +advantageous season, and the sale had been postponed till early fall in +the hope of attracting from a distance lovers of old furniture. + +Thus the place was left untenanted. Weeds ran riot in the garden, the +grass crept stealthily over the walks, and the clematis and honeysuckle on +the low stone wall mingled their sweetness in undisturbed luxuriance. The +Arden Foresters were free to come and go as they chose, the only other +trespasser being Celia Fair, who when her household tasks were done often +brought her sewing to Patricia's Arbor, with the feeling that her days +there were numbered. + +At the Whittredges' Genevieve was making her preparations to leave soon +after the return of her brother Allan, who was looked for any day. Her +mother's restless mind had taken a sudden fitful interest in some +genealogical question, and welcoming anything that diverted her thoughts +from herself had thrown all her energies into the subject, spending most +of her time at her desk or in reading old letters. + +Rosalind was left to go her ways; if she appeared at meal-time, no +questions were asked, Miss Herbert, indeed, shook her head at such +liberty. A girl of Rosalind's age should be learning something useful, +instead of running about the village or poring over story books. She could +not know that with a certain old play for a textbook the children she +thought so harum-scarum were learning brave lessons this summer. + +Rosalind was happy. The hours when she was not with one or all of these +new friends of hers were few, and these she usually spent in the garden, +which she was beginning to love, with a book. She had discovered some old +books of her father's, given to him in his boyhood, with his name and the +date in them, in itself enough to cast a halo over the most stupid tale. + +When the sun shone on the garden seat beside the white birch, there was +another favorite spot in the shade of a tall cedar, where an occasional +stir of wind brought the spray from the fountain against her face. + +Yes, in spite of the puzzles, Rosalind was beginning to love Friendship. +It was weeks since Great-uncle Allan had seemed to frown on her, and even +the griffins wore a friendlier look; as for the rose, she had come to +doubt the evidence of her own eyes since that afternoon at the magician's +when Miss Fair had shown such friendliness. + +The summer so dreary in prospect to Maurice bade fair to be endurable +after all. Rosalind's gray eyes, now merry, now serious, but always +seeking the good in things, her contagious belief in the Forest, had +stirred his manliness, making him conscious of his fretfulness, and then +ashamed. His mother, who had dreaded the long holiday, wondered at his +content. Katherine wondered a little too. The Forest of Arden made a very +nice game, and it was pleasant to have Maurice in a good humor, but she +did not quite understand the connection. + +Soon after the close of school Colonel Parton took his two older boys away +on a western trip, leaving Jack with no resource but Maurice and the +girls. The two boys were great chums, and as Maurice's knee made active +sports impossible, Jack, too, gave them up for the most part. + +As for Belle, her indifference to Rosalind had turned into ardent +admiration. She and Charlotte Ellis had a sharp dispute over the +new-comer. Charlotte confessed she was disappointed in her, and pronounced +her odd, all of which Belle deeply resented, the result being a decided +coolness between them. + +"I am as glad as I can be Charlotte is going away this summer," she was +heard to remark. + +"She can't be as glad as I am that we aren't going to be in the same +town," was Charlotte's retort when the speech was repeated to her. + +The cleverness of Maurice and Rosalind was duly impressed upon the other +three when the constitution of The Arden Foresters was read, and after +careful consideration it had been copied in the blank-book, and beneath it +the members signed their names. The excitement of Commencement week being +over, a meeting was called to decide on a badge. + +It had been decided that any member might call a meeting, and the method +was suggested by Belle. In each garden a spot was selected,--an althea +bush at the Partons', a corner of the hedge at the Roberts's, a cedar near +the gate at the Whittredges',--in which the summons, a tiny roll of paper +tied with grass, was to be deposited. + +On the morning appointed for this meeting of The Arden Foresters, Celia +Fair, knowing nothing about it, of course, had just settled herself in the +arbor with a cushion at her back and her work-basket beside her, when +Rosalind looked in. She carried a book and a bunch of leaves, and she +seemed surprised to find the summer-house occupied. Her manner was +hesitating as, after saying good morning, she asked if Miss Fair had seen +Maurice or Belle. + +"No; are you expecting them? Won't you come in and sit down while you +wait?" Celia asked, noticing the hesitation. + +"I wonder what they have told her about me?" was her thought. It brought a +flush to her face, and yet why did she care? + +Rosalind accepted the invitation shyly. "I must be early," she said. "I +was to meet the others here at ten, but I went to drive first with +grandmamma." + +"It is still ten minutes of ten," Celia said, looking at her watch. "Are +you going to have a picnic?" + +"No; only a meeting of our society." + +"What sort of a society?" Celia asked. + +"A secret society," Rosalind replied, with a demure smile. + +"Oh, is it? That sounds interesting, but I suppose I can't know any more. +What is your book? That isn't part of the secret, is it?" + +Rosalind slipped off the paper cover and laid the little volume in Celia's +lap. + +The young lady took it up, exclaiming with delight over the binding of +soft leather, the handmade paper, and beautiful type. It fell open at the +fly-leaf with the inscription. + +"And Professor Sargent gave you this Lovely book?" she said. + +Rosalind's eyes shone at this tribute. "Cousin Louis gave it to me just +before he and father started for Japan, and he wrote that about the hard +things because I wanted so much to go with them and I couldn't," she +explained. + +"Rosalind, what was it you were talking to Maurice about, here behind the +arbor one day? I couldn't help hearing a little. It had something to do +with a forest." Celia had dropped the book in her lap and looked at +Rosalind with something that was almost eagerness in her lace. + +Rosalind thought a moment, "Why, did you hear us? I know now what it was," +and she turned the leaves and pointed to the paragraph beginning, "If we +will, we may travel always in the Forest," then she added shyly, "You +ought to belong to the Forest because of your name." + +"'So losing by the way the sacred gift of happiness,'" Celia repeated, her +eyes on the book. "What do you mean by belonging to the Forest?" she +asked, looking up. + +Rosalind seldom needed to be urged to talk on this subject, and she had a +sympathetic listener as she explained the Forest secret, and told how it +had helped her in the loneliness of those first days in Friendship. + +Celia was lonely and sad. She had held aloof so long in her proud reserve +that now there seemed nowhere to turn for the sympathy she longed for, and +Rosalind's little allegory, with its simple message of patience and hope, +fell upon ground well prepared. + +"Oh, Rosalind," she cried, "show me how to live in the Forest!" and with a +manner altogether out of keeping with the Celia known to most persons, she +drew the child to her. "I wish you would love me, dear," she said. + +Rosalind's shyness faded away. She forgot about the rose, and Aunt +Genevieve's words. Here was a new friend, one who cared about the Forest. +She responded warmly to Celia's caress, and when a few minutes later the +other Arden Foresters rushed upon the scene, the two were talking together +as if they had known each other always. + +"Miss Celia, are you going to join our society?" asked Belle, the ardent, +flying to her side and giving her a hug. + +"Don't stick yourself on my needle! I haven't been invited yet. Rosalind +tells me it is a secret society, and of course I am dying to know about +it." + +"Let's tell her," said Katherine. + +"Girls always want to tell everything," remarked Jack, causing Belle to +frown upon him sternly. + +"The magician has joined," added Rosalind. + +"Then I don't see why Miss Celia can't. Do you, Maurice?" asked Belle. + +"Listen, Belle," said Celia, laughing, and without waiting for Maurice's +reply, "there may be some difference of opinion as to whether I should be +a desirable member or not; suppose you go over there under the oak and +talk it over. Then if you want me I'll consider the question." + +This seemed a sensible suggestion, and the Foresters retired to the shade +of the scarlet oak to discuss the matter. Jack had meant nothing but a +fling at the feminine fondness for telling things, and was astonished that +his remark could be supposed to reflect upon Miss Celia; and as no one +else found any objection to the new member, they returned presently to +inform her that she was by unanimous consent invited to become an honorary +member of their society. + +"As honorary members aren't expected to do much, I'll consider it. Now +please tell me about it. What is its name and object?" + +Maurice produced the book and read, "'The name of this Society shall be +The Arden Foresters.'" + +"That sounds like Robin Hood, don't you think?" Belle put in. + +"'The object,'" Maurice continued, "'shall be to remember the Secret of +the Forest, to bear hard things bravely, to search for the ring, and +reciprocity.'" + +"What ring?" Celia asked, smiling at the queer ending to this article. + +"Don't you know? Patricia's ring. The one that is lost," Rosalind +explained, sorting her leaves. + +"I fear it is a hopeless quest." + +"Maurice," Rosalind exclaimed, "that is the word we wanted,--the 'quest' +of the ring. Let's put it in." + +"What does it mean?" asked Katherine. + +"A search," Celia answered. + +"Then why won't 'search' do?" + +"But 'quest' sounds more like the Forest," Rosalind urged. + +"More romantic," added Belle, adjusting her comb and tying her ribbon. + +"One word is as good as another if it means what you want to say," +insisted Jack. "They think they are so smart with their 'reciprocity,' and +they got it out of a book." + +Rosalind glanced at him reproachfully. "We looked in the dictionary for +the meaning," she said. + +"I see no objection to getting it out of a book. Most constitutions are +patterned after others, and reciprocity is a good word. Is there any +more?" Miss Celia spread her work on her knee and turned to Maurice. + +"Just the watchword 'The Forest.'" + +"I like your society very much and want to join if, as you suggested, I +can be an honorary member. I can try to bear hard things bravely, and +remember the Forest secret, although I haven't any time to give to the +quest of the ring." + +"Then let her write her name under the magician's," said Rosalind, +clapping her hands. "Now we have seven members." + +Maurice had his fountain-pen in his pocket, just as if he had expected a +new member this morning, and Celia signed her name in the book beneath +"C.J. Morgan, Magician." + +"He wrote that for fun, because Rosalind calls him 'the magician,'" Belle +explained. + +"I haven't heard that old title for many a year," Celia remarked, as she +waited for her signature to dry. + +"Now we have to choose a badge," said Belle. + +Rosalind spread out her collection of leaves. "We thought a leaf would be +appropriate," she added. There were beech, and maple, and poplar, and oak +in several varieties. + +"I think I should choose this," and Celia pointed to a leaf from the +scarlet oak. "Not only because it is beautiful in shape, but because the +oak tree stands for courage. A 'heart of oak' has become a proverb, you +know." + +Rosalind's eyes grew bright. "I didn't think of its having a meaning. I +like that." + +"And in the fall we'll have scarlet badges instead of green ones," said +Jack. + +There could be no better choice than this, they all agreed; and Jack +gathered a handful, that they might put on their badges at once. + +"On our way home we must stop and tell the magician about it," Rosalind +said, as she pinned a leaf on Celia's dress. + + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEENTH. + +RECIPROCITY. + + "Take upon command what we have, + That to your wanting may be ministered." + + +"Celia Fair, do you realize what you have done?" + +It was Celia who asked herself the question. She was suffering, as +reserved people must, from the reaction that follows an unusual outburst +of feeling. That had been a happy morning in the arbor; she had let +herself go, had listened to her heart and forgotten her pride, and in the +company of the merry Arden Foresters, the old joy of youth had asserted +itself. The brightness had stayed with her for days; she had dreamed she +could make a fairy tale of life, spending her hours in an enchanted +forest, and now had come the awakening. + +It seemed destined from the beginning to be a day of misfortunes. She woke +with a dull, listless feeling, and the first thing to greet her eyes when +she went downstairs was the woolly head of Bob, the grandson of her sole +dependence, Aunt Sally, waiting on the doorstep to impart the cheering +information that granny had the "misery" in her side mighty bad, and +couldn't come to-day. + +At another time it might not have mattered so much, for the boys were away +from home, and breakfast for two did not offer any insuperable +difficulties to Celia, but there were currants and raspberries waiting to +be made into jelly and preserves. To complicate matters, Mrs. Fair had one +of her severe headaches. + +The fruit would not keep another day, and Celia couldn't leave the house +to go down the hill in search of help, even if she had known just where to +seek it. After making her mother as comfortable as possible, she began on +the currants with sombre energy. + +"May I come in, Miss Celia? Will you lend me a cup?" It was Jack who stood +in the door. + +"Help yourself," she replied, "I am too busy to stop." + +"We want to get some water from the spring," he explained. "Aren't you +coming over to-day?" + +Celia shook her head. + +Jack surveyed the piles of fruit. "Jiminy! have you all this to do?" + +"Yes; Aunt Sally is sick this morning, and it can't wait." + +Jack disappeared, leaving Celia to her gloomy thoughts, but ten minutes +had not passed before he was back again, accompanied by the other Arden +Foresters. + +"We have come to help," they announced. + +For a moment Celia was annoyed. She had made up her mind to be a martyr +and did not care to be disturbed. + +"Indeed, you can't," she said. "I am very much obliged, but you would +stain yourselves, and--" + +"Give us some aprons," interrupted Belle. "Mother lets us help her." + +Maurice added, "It is reciprocity, Miss Celia." + +Celia's ill temper wavered and went down before the row of bright faces. +"Well, perhaps you may help if you really want to, but it is tiresome +work." + +They did not seem to find it so, as they sat around the table on the +porch, carefully done up in checked aprons, three of them at work on the +raspberries, and two helping Celia with the currants. + +Each wore a fresh oak leaf, and nothing would do but Rosalind must run +back to get one for Miss Celia; and there must have been magic in it, so +suddenly did Celia's courage revive. + +"I feel better," she said, stopping to turn the leaves of the cook-book. +"Let me see,--'boil several hours till the juice is well out of the +fruit,'--Sally always lets it drip over night into the big stone jar. I +shall have these currants out of the way by dinner-time. You are really a +great help. I wish there was something I could do for you." + +"Tell us a story, Miss Celia," Belle suggested promptly. + +"I don't know any." + +"Something about when you were a little girl," said Katherine. + +Celia hesitated. "The only story I know is about a magician and a tiger, +Rosalind's calling Morgan 'the magician' reminded me of it." + +"I love magicians and tigers," Rosalind remarked. "Do you remember the +picture I told you about, Maurice? Do tell it to us, Miss Celia." + +Celia wondered afterward how she could have done it, but now she thought +of nothing but her desire to please the children, so she began:-- + +"Once there was a little girl who loved fairy tales and believed with all +her heart in fairies, magicians, and ogres. In the town where she had +recently come to live she had a playmate, a boy, who laughed at her for +thinking there were such creatures in the world, and the two often argued +the matter. + +"One day this little girl was sitting on the fence looking up at the sky +and wishing something would happen, when she heard the boy calling her. +She answered, and he came running across the grass and climbed up beside +her, and with an air of great mystery told her he knew a secret. Of course +the little girl was anxious to hear it, and of course the boy tried to +tease her by refusing to tell. But by and by he could keep it no longer, +and in tones of awe he whispered that he knew a magician who lived in +their very town. + +"The little girl clapped her hands; for if her playmate believed in +magicians, he must surely come to believe in fairies too. + +"The boy went on to explain that this magician appeared exactly like other +men, so that few guessed his mysterious power. He lived in a house quite +like other houses except that its door was painted black; but behind this +door lay a tiger, always ready to spring upon any one who tried to enter. +On this great tiger in some way depended the magician's power. + +"There had been a fire in the village recently, which, the boy said, had +been caused by the magician, as well as certain other calamities, such as +scarlet-fever and measles, and the time had come when this must be +stopped. The boy claimed to have discovered--he did not say how--that the +magician's tiger had three white whiskers, all the rest being black, and +in these white whiskers resided all his power. If in any way they could be +removed, he and his master would be harmless forevermore. + +"But how was this to be done? the little girl wanted to know, feeling +deeply impressed meanwhile by the tragedy of the situation. + +"The only way, the boy replied, was to catch the tiger while he slept, and +then--a snip of the scissors, and he could do no more harm. The little +girl had some round-pointed scissors hanging from a ribbon around her +neck, for she was fond of cutting things; she took them in her hand now +and looked at them with a shiver as the boy added in a tragic whisper, +'_We_ must do it!' + +"Although she was very much afraid, she never thought of objecting. It was +her duty, and she had great confidence in her companion. He could do many +things she couldn't do, and he was ten and she only six; so when he +examined the scissors and said they would answer, without a word of +objection she slipped down from the fence and trotted beside him. + +"It seemed quite natural that the way should be over fences and through +back yards instead of along the street. They climbed rails and squeezed +through hedges until the little girl was breathless and had not the least +idea where she was, when she found herself in a narrow garden-path, on +either side of which grew hollyhocks and sunflowers. + +"'There is the door,' the boy whispered; and--yes--at the end of the path +she saw the black door. + +"'This is the hour when he sleeps,' the boy said, in thrilling tones, +looking at an imaginary watch. 'We have timed it well. I will open the +door softly, and you have your scissors ready; I will hold him while you +cut off the whiskers.' The little girl's heart almost stopped beating, but +she had no thought of running away. + +"They reached the door; the boy had his hand on the knob. He was opening +it very gently--when something happened! He stumbled, or his hand slipped. +It flew open and there before them stood the magician, brandishing a +glittering sword, and beside him were the gleaming eyes of a tiger. + +"With a cry of terror the little girl fell all in a heap, grasping her +scissors, shutting her eyes tight till all should be over. Then some one +picked her up and asked if she was hurt, and slowly gaining courage she +opened her eyes and looked into the kind face of Morgan, the +cabinet-maker. At his side was Tiger, the great striped cat, and on the +work-bench lay his shining saw. The boy stood by, laughing." + +"I thought he must be fooling her," remarked Katherine, in a tone of +relief. + +"You don't mean it!" said Maurice, with fine sarcasm. + +"But finish, Miss Celia," begged Rosalind. "What did the little girl +think?" + +"I believe for a long time she was greatly puzzled. There seemed to have +been magic somewhere. She examined Tiger's whiskers and found them all +black, and this made her think it possible that some one else had cut out +the white ones, and thus turned him into a harmless cat. She felt a little +uneasy at times, for fear the cabinet-maker would turn again into the +wicked magician, but it never happened." + +"And did she go on believing in fairies?" Rosalind asked. + +"Oh, yes, for a while. I am not sure she doesn't yet." + +"Cousin Louis says that is one of the advantages of the 'Forest of Arden,' +you can believe in all those delightful things." + +"Were there fairies there?" asked Belle. "I don't remember any." + +"There would have been if occasion had called for them," Celia answered. + +"But you don't want to believe things if they aren't true, do you?" +Katherine looked puzzled. "I wish there were fairies now, but I know there +aren't." + +"You can't prove there aren't," asserted Jack, mischievously. + +"Why, Jack, you know there aren't any fairies really." + +"I said you couldn't prove it." + +"How can you say they do not exist unless you have seen one not existing? +Isn't that the argument in 'Water Babies'?" laughed Celia, as she carried +the currants into the kitchen. "It is the difference between fact and +fancy, Katherine," she said, coming back. + +"I love to pretend things," said Rosalind. + +"So do I," echoed Belle. + +"Fancy does more than that, it really makes things beautiful. For +instance, it makes the difference between a plain, straight letter such as +you see in the newspaper and such a letter as I was embroidering +yesterday. Some one's fancy saw the plain S ornamented with curving lines +and sprays of flowers, and so it came to be made so." + +"That makes me think of those beautiful books the monks used to make," +said Maurice. + +"The illuminated manuscripts, you mean? That word expresses what fancy +does for us,--it illuminates the plain facts, and fills them with beauty." + +"Oh, Miss Celia, that is a lovely idea," cried Rosalind. "I must remember +it to tell Cousin Louis." + +"I fear be wouldn't find it very new," Celia answered, smiling. + +By noon the fruit was all picked over, and as Celia stood at the gate +watching her helpers out of sight, old Sally came laboring up the walk. + +"Law, honey, look like I couldn't rest from studyin' how you was gwine to +git them berries done, an' I 'lowed, misery or no misery, I was comin' to +help you," she announced. + + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH. + +A NEW COMRADE. + +"I know you are a gentleman of good conceit." + + +Rosalind and Maurice sat on the garden bench discussing "The Young +Marooners," one of the story books found in the garret. + +"I shouldn't like to be carried off by a big fish as they were, but I do +think some sort of an adventure would be interesting. Don't you?" asked +Rosalind. + +"We'll have to do something," Maurice agreed, "Don't you wish we could get +inside the Gilpin house? Mr. Wells, the teller in our bank, sleeps there. +I wish he would drop the key." + +"Grandmamma says it will be open for people to go through before the sale, +but then it will be too late to look for the ring. Belle is so good at +thinking of things, I wish she would find a way for us to get in," +Rosalind added. + +A bell was heard ringing on the other side of the hedge, and Maurice +rose. "Dinner is ready," he said. + +Rosalind walked to the gate with him. "Uncle Allan is coming to-morrow," +she remarked, "and I just wonder what he is like." + +Turning toward the house again, she became aware of a stranger standing +beside the griffins. He was not waiting to get in, for the door was open +behind him, and furthermore he had the air of being at home. Something in +his height and the breadth of his shoulders suggested her father, and as +she drew nearer a certain resemblance to Aunt Genevieve developed. + +He watched her approach with a look of puzzled interest. "Surely, this +isn't Rosalind," he said. + +Rosalind paused on the bottom step. "Why, yes, it is. Are you Uncle +Allan?" + +"A great tall girl like you my niece? Pat's daughter? Impossible!" There +was a twinkle in his eye. Clearly, Uncle Allan was a tease. + +"I suppose I shall have to be identified," said Rosalind, merrily. + +"I begin to see a look of Pat about you." He came down the steps now and +took her hand. "Let's sit here and get acquainted," he said, leading the +way to the bench under the birch tree. + +Two pairs of eyes, the brown and the gray, looked into each other steadily +and soberly for a few seconds, then a dimple began to make itself visible +in Rosalind's check, whereat the brown eyes twinkled again. "Well, what do +you think of me?" they asked. + +"You aren't much like Great-uncle Allan," said Rosalind, laughing. + +"Heavens! was that your idea of me? And I expected you to be a child of +tender age, although I should have known better. It is nearly fourteen +years since Pat went away." + +"Uncle Allan, did you know my mother?" It was the first time Rosalind had +mentioned her mother since she had been in Friendship. She could not have +explained her silence any more than she could this sudden question. + +"I did not know her, Rosalind. I wish I might have. I saw her once, and I +have never forgotten her face." + +"I can remember her just a little, but father and Cousin Louis have told +me about her, and I have her picture." + +"I think," said Uncle Allan, confidently, "that we are going to be +friends. Tell me how you like Friendship." + +"I like it now. I was dreadfully lonely at first, till things began to +happen. Then there was Cousin Betty's tea party, where I met Belle and +Jack and the rest, and now--oh, I like it very much! It is a funny place. +Aunt Genevieve says you don't like it any better than she does." +Rosalind's tone was questioning. + +"I believe it does seem rather a stupid old town," he acknowledged. "What +do you find interesting about it?" + +"There is the magician and his shop; and the out of doors is so +beautiful--almost like the country; and the houses are different from +those in the city; and there is the will, and the lost ring." Rosalind +suddenly remembered her uncle's connection with the ring. + +He did not seem to understand, for he asked, "What ring?" then added, "Oh, +you mean the Gilpin will. Who has told you about that?" + +"Cousin Betty; and she told us the story of Patricia's ring, Uncle Allan, +don't you wish we could find it?" + +Allan Whittredge smiled at the eager face. "I can't say I care much about +it," he replied; then seeing her disappointment, he added, "It was a +handsome old ring. Should you like to have it?" + +"I'd like to see it; but of course it wasn't meant for me. Cousin Betty +said--" Rosalind paused, for the expression on her uncle's face was more +than ever like Aunt Genevieve, and he exclaimed impatiently, "Stuff!" + +She felt rather hurt. She had expected him to be as interested in the ring +as she was. What did he mean by "stuff"? And why didn't he like +Friendship? Rosalind fell to pondering all this, sitting in the corner of +the bench, looking down at her hands, crossed in her lap. + +After some minutes' silence she felt her chin lifted until her eyes met +the gaze of the merriest brown ones, from which all trace of disdain or +impatience was gone. + +"What are you thinking about so soberly? Are you disappointed in me, after +all?" + +Rosalind laughed. "I am just sorry you don't like Friendship." + +"Perhaps it is because I have been away so long. I used to like it when I +was a boy." + +"Can't you turn into a boy again?" + +"Perhaps I might, if you will show me how." + +Rosalind clapped her hands. "I don't think I am a bit disappointed in you, +and I am almost sure you will like the Forest." + +"What forest?" + +"I'll show you the book and tell you about it sometime; and then maybe you +will join our society." + +"This sounds interesting; I believe I shall like Friendship." + +Rosalind surveyed him thoughtfully. "I think I'll begin by taking you to +see the magician," she said. + +By what witchery did she divine that the shortest path to his boyhood was +by way of the magician's? + +"The magician? Oh, that is Morgan, I suppose." Allan's eyes rested +absently on the drooping hydrangea a few feet away. + +Presently a soft hand stole beneath his chin, and Rosalind demanded +merrily, as she tried to turn his face to hers, "What are you thinking +about? Are you disappointed in me?" + +"Not terribly," her uncle replied, and seizing the hand he drew her to +him and gave her the kiss of friendship and good-fellowship. + +Rosalind was fastidious about kisses. She reserved them for those she +loved, and received them shrinkingly from those she did not care for; but +in this short interview she had found a friend, and she returned the +caress with an ardor of affection pretty to see. + +Martin, announcing lunch, interrupted their talk, and, hand in hand, +Rosalind and her new comrade walked to the house. In the exuberance of her +content, she patted one of the griffins as she passed. Her uncle observed +it. + +"Have you ever noticed the resemblance between Uncle Allan Barnwell and +the griffins?" he asked. + +The idea amused Rosalind greatly, and as she took her seat at the table, +the sight of the haughtily poised head and eagle eyes of the portrait made +her laugh. Things were indeed taking a turn when that stern face caused +amusement. + +With Uncle Allan at the foot of the table, luncheon was transformed into a +festive occasion. Masculine tones were almost startling from their +novelty; Rosalind found herself forgetting to eat. Grandmamma was +wonderfully bright, and Aunt Genevieve showed a languid animation most +unusual. + +"It was like you, Allan, after putting us off so long, to end by +surprising us," his sister said. + +"I trust you intend to stay for a while," his mother added, almost +wistfully. + +Genevieve laughed half scornfully, as if she considered this a forlorn +hope. + +Allan looked at her a moment before he replied, "I don't know; I shall +probably be here some time." He had more than half promised his friend +Blanchard to join him in a trip over the Canadian Pacific in August. At +present he felt inclined to give it up and remain in Friendship. He would +not commit himself. + +He thought it over lazily after lunch, resting in the sleepy-hollow chair +by the east window in the room that had been his ever since he graduated +from the nursery. All about him were devices for comfort and adornment +that spoke of his mother's hand. She knew the sort of thing he liked,--his +handsome, unhappy mother. It was a shame to leave her so much alone; yet +she never complained, but seemed always self-sufficient and independent. + +And then Allan began to reflect on the singular fact that he was seldom +quite at ease with his mother, although he admired her, and at one time +had been very much under her influence. If he had ceased to care for his +home, it was her fault for sending him away for so long. "Poor mother!" he +thought. "We have all disappointed her; but she was never quite fair to +any of us. She wanted us to go her way, and, being her children, we +preferred our own." + +The sound of Rosalind's voice floated in at the window. He looked out. She +was crossing the lawn, after an interview with Katherine through the +hedge. + +"When are we to begin?" he called. + +"Whenever you like," she answered. + +He went down and joined her in the garden, thinking what a difference she +made in the place. He had not supposed a girl of twelve could be so +charming; but then, she was his brother's daughter, with something of her +father about her, and he had felt a little boy's admiration for this older +brother. + +Rosalind told him it was almost like having father or Cousin Louis to talk +to; and as they wandered about the garden Allan found himself feeling +flattered at her evident pleasure in his society. + +She brought out her treasured book to show him, and explained about the +Forest; and Allan listened absently, noting the soft curve of her cheek +and the length of the dark lashes, his memory going back to that one +occasion when he had seen the gentle and lovely girl who was afterward his +brother's wife. + +"And now we must go to the magician's," said Rosalind. + +Not many of the inhabitants of Friendship were abroad in the middle of a +summer afternoon, and they had the street almost to themselves when they +set out. The quiet, the bowed shutters, the deserted porches, suggested a +universal nap. Allan looked up at the tall maples, whose branches met +across the road just as they had done in his childhood. Truly, there was a +charm about the old town, with its homelike dwellings and generous +gardens, he acknowledged to himself. "I believe we are the only people +awake," he remarked. + +"The magician will be awake," Rosalind replied; and so he was, rubbing +down the clock case to-day, but by no means too much occupied for company, +and he welcomed his visitors cordially, saying Allan was one of his boys. + +Rosalind was amazed at the ease and rapidity with which her uncle talked +with the cabinet-maker. + +"Have you come home to stay this time, Mr. Allan?" Morgan asked. + +Allan laughed, and said he did not know about that. + +"Two--four--eight years--" the magician told them off on his fingers, +shaking his head. "Too long. Take root somewhere, Mr. Allan; too much +travel spoils you. Your father loved Friendship." + +"Yes," said Allan, gravely. + +"You make him join the society," Morgan said, turning to Rosalind. + +"He means our secret society," she explained. "He belongs, and he has our +motto on the wall," and she drew her uncle to the door of the back room +and pointed it out. + +"Oh, I remember Morgan's motto, 'Good in everything.' Does one have to +subscribe to that in order to join this society?" + +[Illustration: "THEY CROSSED OVER TO SPEAK TO HER."] + +"That is one thing." + +"If there are many such requirements, I fear I shall prove not eligible." + +"Does that mean you can't join?" Rosalind asked, looking disappointed. + +"Well, I'll consider it. I'll try to be broad-minded and practise +believing impossible things, like Alice." + +"'Six impossible things before breakfast,'" quoted Rosalind. "I am so glad +you know Alice; but it was the White Queen, wasn't it?" + +"I shouldn't wonder if it was," Allan answered, laughing. + +They went out to the little garden to see the sweet peas and nasturtiums, +and the magician insisted upon gathering some. While they waited Rosalind +told her uncle about the time she took tea with him. + +When at last they left the shop, Miss Betty was standing in her door, and +they crossed over to speak to her. + +"Well, Allan, I am glad to see you at last," she said, coming down the +walk to meet them. + +"You do not appear to have pined away in my absence," he replied, shaking +hands. + +Miss Betty shrugged her shoulders. "I was never much on pining, but my +curiosity has been sadly strained." + +"What about?" + +"You know very well. That ring." + +"Now, if that isn't like Friendship," said Allan, laughing, as he followed +her to the porch and made himself comfortable in one of the big rocking +chairs. Rosalind sat on the step arranging her flowers and listening. + +"I would have you know I have something else to think about besides +foolish and unreasonable wills and lost jewels," Allan continued. "I +regret I cannot relieve the strain, but so far as I know, the ring has not +been heard of and is not likely to be." + +"But if it should be found?" said Miss Betty. "Stranger things have +happened." + +"Yes," said Allan. + +"Then the question is, do you know what you are going to do with it?" + +"That is a question with which I shall not trouble myself until it is +found. I am a lazy person, as you know, Cousin Betty." + +"I know nothing of the sort, Allan. Now, there is one thing you might +tell me. Do you know what Cousin Thomas meant, or was it one of his jokes? +Yes or no." + +"No," answered Allan, promptly. + +Miss Betty looked puzzled; then she laughed. "It is like playing tit, tat, +toe, to talk to you," she exclaimed. "I might have known you'd get ahead +of me." + +"I have answered your question as you desired; now let's change the +subject," he suggested gravely. + +Rosalind gave a gentle little chuckle. Miss Betty looked at her. "What do +you think of your uncle, Rosalind?" she asked. + +"You certainly have the gift for asking pointed questions," Allan +remarked, before Rosalind could speak. "I can tell you what she expected. +She had an idea that I resembled Uncle Allan Barnwell." + +"Gracious! You must be relieved. I could have told you better than that." + +"I didn't really think it; I only wondered," said Rosalind. + +Miss Betty laughed in a reminiscent sort of way. "Do you remember him, +Allan? But no, I fancy you were too little. He used to visit at our house +when I was a child, and I was never so afraid of any one. I suppose you +have heard the story of his wedding?" + +"I have a dim recollection of the story. Tell it to Rosalind." + +"Well," she began, "Uncle Allan was a minister, you know. A Presbyterian +of the sternest stuff, rich in eloquence and power of argument, but poor +in this world's goods. However, he judiciously fell in love with Matilda +Greene, the only daughter of a wealthy Baltimore merchant. As was natural, +Matilda chose for her wedding-gown a gorgeous robe of white satin, and all +the preparations for the event were on a lavish scale. When the day came +and the guests had assembled, and the bride in her beautiful gown and lace +veil appeared before the eyes of the bridegroom, Uncle Allan created a +sensation by sternly declaring that such a dress was inappropriate for the +bride of a humble minister of the Gospel. + +"And the meek Matilda, instead of telling him he could marry her as she +was or not at all, took off her satin, put on a simple muslin, and the +ceremony was performed. Uncle Allan always referred to his wife as 'My +Matilda'; and if the truth were known, I fancy she couldn't call her soul +her own." + +"I remember the story," said Allan, laughing. "We come of a stubborn +family. What would have happened if Matilda had asserted herself?" + +"He had her at a disadvantage,--the guests waiting,--but she missed the +chance of a lifetime," said Miss Betty. + +"Was Matilda fond of him?" asked Rosalind. + +"Let us hope so; at any rate she always spoke of him as 'My Allan.'" + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH. + +AN IMPRISONED MAIDEN. + + "The house doth keep itself, + There's none within." + + +It was plain to Rosalind that for some reason her uncle did not wish to +discuss the ring; nor did he seem to care whether or not it was found. It +was also plain that he did not agree with his mother and sister on the +question of the will. + +On one occasion when Genevieve made some scornful reference to the +probable motives of those who upheld the later one, Allan exclaimed in a +tone of irritation, "It is beyond my comprehension how you can have so +much feeling in the matter. I have seen no reason to suppose the old man +incapable of making a will. The testimony seemed to point the other way; +and as nobody except the hospital had anything to gain by this last win, +it strikes me as worse than absurd to impute motives of jealousy to +people who were only giving their honest opinion." + +"It must be because we are not blest with your truly amiable disposition," +Genevieve observed languidly. + +A smile flitted across Rosalind's face; her uncle had spoken with a good +deal of heat. Allan himself laughed. His fits of irritation usually ended +in this way. + +"Well, it is all over now, and we may as well make the best of it. You +shall have Patricia's miniature if I can get it for you." + +"Thank you," said Genevieve, really gratified. "I fear you do not know +what you are promising." + +Rosalind wondered how her uncle felt in regard to the Fairs, and she once +or twice mentioned Celia, watching him furtively meanwhile. There was, +however, no shadow of a change in his expression, and he made no comment. + +A vast difference was made in the house by Allan's return. He stood in no +awe of Miss Herbert, had no qualms about disturbing the drawing-room +blinds or leaving the front door open from morning till night,--a +Friendship custom which did not recommend itself to the housekeeper. A +high cart and a swift-footed mare made their appearance, and Rosalind was +often her uncle's companion on his visits to the farms belonging to the +estate. + +Allan was continually expecting his interest in Friendship to languish, +but it did not, and after a few weeks he gave up all thought of the +western trip. + +The middle of July saw Genevieve on her way to the North, and a little +later Miss Herbert went home on a holiday. After their departure peace +settled down upon the house behind the griffins. + +The Arden Foresters found the summer days none too long. They still met +Celia in the arbor now and then; and it was her stories of the Gilpin +house, of the ring and the spinet, together with the constant sight of the +closed shutters and doors, that led to an adventure one warm August day. + +"Important meeting at the oak tree this afternoon,--a discovery!" was the +startling announcement Rosalind found within the grass-tied missive on the +cedar when she returned from a drive with her uncle one morning. She could +hardly eat her luncheon for eagerness to know what the discovery might +be, and the sound of Maurice's low whistle further upset her. + +Mrs. Whittredge was rigid where table manners were concerned. Rosalind +might not be excused until every one had finished; and to-day Uncle Allan +dallied over his dessert, discussing business and the new mills with his +mother, while Rosalind's impatience grew. + +She looked up despairingly at the stern countenance of Great-uncle Allan, +and then at the placid smile of his Matilda, which seemed a rebuke to her +restlessness. "I wonder what you did with your satin dress?" she suddenly +remarked aloud. + +Grandmamma turned toward her in surprise, and Allan, deep in a description +of the manufacture of a new kind of paper, looked at her blankly. + +"Do you think it is polite to interrupt?" asked Mrs. Whittredge. + +"I beg your pardon, Uncle Allan, I was just thinking. I did not mean to +say it out loud," Rosalind explained, in great contrition. + +"Evidently you were not interested in my learned discourse," he said, +with a terrible frown, which was not at all alarming. + +The diversion, however, caused him to remember his pudding, and in a few +minutes Rosalind was free to join Maurice and Katherine at the gate. + +Belle, who had called the meeting, was waiting for them at the top of the +hill. + +"I thought you were never coming," she cried; "we have made such a +discovery!" And as they walked toward the house she explained that her +mother had sent her that morning with a message to Miss Celia, and not +finding her at home, she and Jack, who was with her, went over to the +Gilpin place to wait. As they wandered about the grounds, something put it +into Jack's head to try one of the cobwebby cellar windows, and lo! it +opened. Poking their heads in, they saw it was over a stairway, which +could be easily reached by walking a few feet on a ledge of stone. +Delighted with the discovery, they scrambled in, and making their way up +the steps found the door at the top unbolted. + +"Jack opened it and peeped into the hall, and then we were as scared as +anything, and ran, and oh! we had such a time getting out. Now, what do +you think of it? We can look for the ring really!" Belle paused, out of +breath. + +"What fun!" cried Rosalind. + +"Just what we have been wishing for," added Maurice. "I have been trying +to think how we could get in." + +Katherine was the only one who was not enthusiastic over the adventure. +She hung back a little and wanted to know what Belle had been afraid of. + +"Oh, I don't know. It was so dark, and mysterious, and creepy; but it was +such fun!" + +"We shan't mind if we are all together," said Rosalind, reassuringly. +"We'll pretend we are storming a castle to rescue somebody." + +If it occurred to any of them that it might not be exactly right to break +into a closed house in this fashion, the idea was quickly dismissed. + +Jack was watching for them, sprawled at his ease on the grass by the +window. He was rather proud of having been the discoverer of it. + +In the heart of the country it could hardly have been quieter than it was +in the Gilpin grounds that afternoon. Now and then some vehicle could be +heard going up or down the hill, or the whistle of a canal-boat broke in +upon the drowsy droning hum that was part of the summer stillness. There +was no one to interfere. Even if Celia brought her work to the arbor, it +was on the other side of the house, out of sight and hearing. + +The first obstacle the expedition encountered was the impossibility of +Maurice's getting through to the stairway with his crutch. It was plain +that it was out of the question, yet it was terribly hard to give up. +There was a spice of daring in the adventure that appealed to him. For a +moment he had a most uncomfortable sensation in his throat; and the old +pettishness returned as he thundered at Katherine, in response to her +reiterated, "You mustn't do it, Maurice," "I wish you'd hush. I know what +I can do!" + +"We are dreadfully sorry, Maurice, but you can keep watch and give the +alarm if any one comes," said Belle. + +Rosalind's oak leaf, as she stood before him, recalled him, and suggested +that here was a hard thing to be bravely borne. + +"Go on," he said; "I'll wait for you here. I don't mind." His tone was +almost cheerful. His ill temper came near getting the better of him +however, when Katherine insisted upon staying too. Katherine couldn't +understand that people sometimes did not want to be pitied; and she was +not very anxious, if the truth were known, to join the exploring party. + +There was no way of escape for her. The others were too urgent, and +Maurice did not want her. + +"There is an imprisoned maiden in the tower, and we are going to rescue +her." As she spoke Rosalind pointed to the garret window. + +"What fun! Come on," cried Belle. + +Jack had already wriggled in. + +"It is rather dusty, isn't it?" Rosalind peeped in at the cobwebs +doubtfully, but the thought of the imprisoned maiden overcame her dislike +to dust. "Her name is Patricia," she paused on the sill to say. + +"And we are going to release her and restore her ring, which a wicked +magician has turned into lead," added Belle, with sudden inspiration. + +"Why, Belle, I never thought of that. Perhaps it is the reason nobody can +find it," laughed Rosalind, taking one step on the ledge and giving a +little shriek of dismay. + +"You won't fall. Give me your hand," commanded Jack, with masculine +confidence. + +The damp gloom of the cellar was rather frightful after the bright +sunshine outside. No wonder Katherine crowded close to Belle and their +voices sank to awed whispers. It was a relief to step out into the hall +above, where the fanlight over the door made it seem less grewsome. The +dust lay thick on the Chippendale table and chairs, and from its corner +the tall clock looked down on them solemn and voiceless. There was no +denying that it was scary, as Belle expressed it. What light there was +seemed unreal, and the closed rooms when they peeped in were cheerless and +ghostly. + +They stole about on tiptoe, keeping close together and talking in low +tones. The library, where old Mr. Gilpin had been found unconscious and +where the ring had last been seen, was the most ghostly of all. Belle +paused on the threshold. + +"Let's go upstairs," she suggested. As she spoke she saw on the floor at +her feet a ring of some dull metal, such as is used on light curtain-rods, +but under the circumstances there was something a little startling in its +being there. + +Jack seized it, "Here is Patricia's ring!" he cried. + +"Oh, Jack, hush!" whispered Belle, as his voice woke a hundred lonely +echoes. + +"I'll tell you; let's take it to the magician--our magician--and ask him +to break the spell," said Rosalind. + +"Oh, I wish you wouldn't talk so," entreated Katherine. "It makes me feel +as if it were true." + +It was plain that nobody wished to be last on the way upstairs, nor was +the post of leader very ardently desired, so they settled it by crowding +up four abreast. In the rooms above they breathed more freely, and grew +bolder as they wandered about, recognizing things Celia had described. + +"Do come here," called Belle, from a small room, hardly more than a +closet, which opened from one of the bed chambers, "and see this funny +picture." + +There was one window in this room, and the outside shutters had round +openings near the top through which the light came. The others looked at +the print, and then Rosalind returned to a work-table that pleased her +fancy, Katherine following her. As Belle lingered, Jack, in a spirit of +mischief, suddenly pulled the door to. + +"Jack! Jack! please let me out," she cried. + +"Why don't you come out, goosie?" + +"You have locked the door. Please, Jack!" + +"It isn't locked," Jack insisted, but when he tried to open it he found +the knob immovable. + +"Maybe it is a dead latch," suggested Rosalind. "He is trying, Belle, +really." + +"Are you sure you can't open it from the inside?" Jack asked anxiously. + +"Yes. I can turn the key both ways, but something holds the knob." Belle's +voice was tremulous. + +"I am dreadfully sorry. What shall we do?" asked Jack, meekly, turning to +Rosalind, after their efforts had proved fruitless. + +"Couldn't we open a window and call to Maurice? He would go for some one." + +Jack acted upon this and opened a shutter of the hall window, but when he +looked out no Maurice was to be seen, nor was there any response to his +whistle. + +"I'll have to go myself," he said, "unless you'd rather go." + +"No, Katherine and I will stay with Belle while you go," Rosalind +answered, adding, "Jack, I think Morgan is working at the Fairs'. He could +get the door open, I am sure." + +"All right," said Jack, but as he turned to go Katherine began to cry. "I +am afraid to stay here," she sobbed, quite beside herself with terror. + +"Oh! what are you going to do?" came in a wail from the other side of the +door. + +Rosalind and Jack looked at each other. "Take her with you; I don't +mind--much," she said. + +Jack was disposed to argue with Katherine. "There is nothing to be afraid +of. You ought to stay with Rosalind," he urged, but Katherine was beyond +reasoning with her fears. + +"Never mind, if you hurry it won't be long, Belle and I can talk through +the keyhole." + +Very reluctantly Jack left her, accompanied by the tearful Katherine. + +"Belle, you aren't afraid?" asked Rosalind, softly, as the sound of +retreating steps grew faint. + +"Not v-ery," whispered Belle. "But you don't know how queer those holes in +the shutters look--like big round eyes staring at me. I have tried to open +them but I can't." + +"Belle, it is funny, isn't it, that there is an imprisoned maiden after +all?" + +"Oh, Rosalind, I know how it feels now. It is awful!" + +"I think I know a little about it too," said Rosalind, sure that it was +almost as bad to have that lonely, echoing house behind her as to be +locked in. "Did you remember your oak leaf?" she asked. + +"Yes, and I am not going to cry. Rosalind, we might have let Maurice in at +the door. Wasn't it stupid of us?" + +"Why, Belle! of course we might." + +Katherine and Jack meanwhile had made their way out, the latter requiring +a good deal of help, for getting in was easier than getting out. Jack was +very indignant with her for not staying with Rosalind, and treated her +with a cold disdain most trying. + +As soon as she was in the open air, Katherine bitterly repented of her +cowardice. She followed Jack meekly as he strode across the grass toward +the Fairs', utterly ignoring her. + +A sound of voices came from the summer-house, and Jack looked in to +discover Maurice talking to Miss Celia. He briefly explained the trouble, +adding, "If Morgan is at your house, Miss Celia, I'll go for him." + +"I think you will find him. But what a thing for you children to do!" +Celia exclaimed, "Who stayed with Belle?" + +"Rosalind. Katherine was afraid." + +Katherine, who lingered outside, shrunk back as he said this. Her tears +began afresh. They all thought her a coward. She didn't want Miss Celia or +Maurice to see her. She turned and ran away. + + + + +CHAPTER NINETEENTH. + +OLD ACQUAINTANCE. + +"And there begins my sadness." + + +Allan Whittredge, strolling up the hill toward the Gilpin place late in +the afternoon, became aware of a dejected figure approaching, which +presently resolved itself into Katherine Roberts, who paused every few +minutes to press her handkerchief to her eyes. + +"Why, Katherine, what is the trouble?" he asked, when he reached her side. + +She stood still, not answering, and with her eyes covered. No one was in +sight up or down the street. Allan drew her toward a convenient carriage +block and, sitting beside her, asked his question again. His manner was +winning, and Katherine, in great need of sympathy, sobbed, "They won't +like me any more." + +"Who won't?" + +"Jack or Rosalind, or any of them," came in quivering tones. + +"Why, what have you done that is so terrible? I thought quarrels were +unknown in the Forest." + +Katherine shook her head. "It wasn't a quarrel. I was afraid because it +was dark,--and Jack said I was a coward. He told Maurice and Miss Celia +so." The confession ended in more tears. + +Patiently Allan questioned and listened until he had a fairly clear idea +of the situation. Then he spoke with cheerfulness. + +"You all ought to be dealt with for getting into such mischief," he said. +"And now don't cry any more. Many a soldier has run away from his first +battle-field. If I were you, I'd own up I had been a coward and say I was +sorry. Do you want to come back with me, and see the end of this +adventure?" + +Greatly comforted, Katherine dried her eyes and decided to go with Mr. +Whittredge. Jack might not be so hard on her when he saw her under such +protection. + +By this time Jack had found Morgan and brought him to the Gilpin house, +where Celia and Maurice were waiting; and at Celia's suggestion he went +in and opened the side door, thus making entrance easy for the others. + +"How silly not to have thought of letting Maurice in this way before," he +exclaimed. + +The old house, a moment before so ghostly, now rang with the sound of +voices as Rosalind, leaning over the stair rail, joyfully welcomed the +rescuers. + +The magician had some tools with him, but be seemed puzzled at first as to +what the trouble could be, when Celia said, "I know what the matter is. +Belle, isn't there a little catch at the side of the lock that moves up +and down? Try." + +"Yes," answered Belle, after a moment's investigation. + +"Then push it up," said Celia, but before the words were out of her mouth +Belle had the door open and was being as warmly welcomed by Rosalind as if +they had been separated for years instead of minutes. + +Belle was really pale from the trying experience, and had to wink rapidly +to keep the tears of relief out of her eyes, while Celia explained the +accident. + +"You see, when Jack banged the door the catch fell and kept the knob from +turning. We have one that has given us a good deal of trouble." Then she +put her arm around Belle and reminded her that the way of transgressors is +hard. + +"But I wasn't doing anything wrong," replied Belle. + +"Everything came true, Maurice," Rosalind said merrily. "First Belle found +a ring, and then the imprisoned maiden was rescued; but her name wasn't +Patricia, after all." + +"I don't believe she wants to play the part again," said Celia. + +"Indeed, I don't," answered Belle. "Here is the enchanted ring, Rosalind. +Ask the magician to break the spell." + +"What children you are!" Celia laughed, and her face was full of +brightness as she descended the stairs with Belle beside her, the others +following. Three steps from the bottom she came face to face with Allan +Whittredge and Katherine. + +Celia hated herself for her burning cheeks as she bowed gravely. One hand +held her work big, the other was on Belle's shoulder; and if, us for a +fleeting instant she thought, Allan was about to hold out his hand, he +changed his mind. His manner was calmly, unconcernedly polite as he spoke +her name. + +"Uncle Allan, what are you doing here?" called Rosalind. + +Under the chorus of greetings and explanations Celia slipped away. Her +thoughts were in a tumult as she hurried across the grounds to her own +home. + +Her mother was on the porch with a caller, and Celia took her seat there +and went on with her sewing. The visitor remarked on her improved color, +and Mrs. Fair looked at her daughter in some perplexity, Celia had been so +pale of late. + +All the evening she worked with feverish energy, writing labels for fruit +jars and pasting them on, until no shadow of an excuse remained for not +going to bed. + +When at length she went to her room, it was to sit at the open window +gazing blankly out into the darkness. She had been telling herself +fiercely how silly and weak she was, but she had not succeeded in +conquering her unhappiness. Now she resisted no longer. + +She had not met Allan Whittredge face to face before for six years, +although since his father's death he had been frequently in Friendship. +She had known it must happen sometime, and had schooled herself to think +it would mean nothing to her, but instead it had brought back a host of +vain regrets. + +She had been happier of late. Association with those light-hearted +children had brought back something of her old hopefulness. That a chance +meeting with Allan Whittredge could change all this, humiliated her. + +"You haven't any pride, Celia Fair. It was your own doing." + +"I had to do it; it was forced on me." + +"And a fortunate thing it was. Do you suppose he would care now? These +years which he has spent out in the world--what have they done for you? +They have turned a happy-hearted girl into a bitter, disappointed woman." +So she argued with herself. + +Resting her head on the sill, she let her thoughts go where they would. + +"You are sure you won't forget, Celia? It is going to be a long time," +Allan had said. She was still a schoolgirl, and he just through college, +and no one but her father knew about it. Dr. Fair had shaken his head, but +he loved Allan almost as much as he loved Celia. Allan must do as his +mother wished and go abroad. Time would show of what stuff their love was +made, he said. + +She had been so happy. She had been glad no one knew. Her happiness was +all her own. + +Then had come Judge Whittredge's illness, the trouble about the Gilpin +will, and the cruel slander that had crushed her father. The brief letter +with which she returned Allan's letters and ring, was the result of her +bitter resentment and grief. In her sorrow over her father's death she +told herself her love was dead, and for a time she believed it. Now she +knew it was not so. + +"At least, I will be honest with myself. I do care. Perhaps I shall always +care. Oh, it is cruel to come so near happiness and miss it. But it is +something to have come near it. + +"O God, help me--" she prayed, "not to choose the desert way. I do not +want to be bitter and hard." + +As she lay back in her chair, too weary to think; through her mind floated +Rosalind's words, "Things always come right in the Forest." + + * * * * * + +It was after dinner. The sun had set, leaving the sky full of opal tints. +The delicate leaves of the white birch barely moved, so still was the air. +The whir of the last locust had died away, and the soft splash of the +fountain was the only sound, as Rosalind in her white dress flitted past +the griffins and joined her uncle on the garden bench. He welcomed her +with a smile, and smoked on in silence. They were too good comrades to +need to talk. + +After a while Rosalind spoke: "Uncle Allan, do you know Miss Celia Fair?" + +"I used to." + +Silence again. + +"I like her very much. I think she is sweet, and she bears hard things +bravely. Belle says, since her father died they haven't any money, so Miss +Celia works, and the boys are troublesome, and her mother is ill a great +deal." + +Another silence. + +"Uncle Allan, was it any harm for me to know her? Belle said there was a +quarrel, and Aunt Genevieve said, 'We have nothing to do with the Fairs.'" + +As he flicked the ash from his cigar, Allan smiled at Rosalind's +unconscious imitation of Genevieve's tone. + +"I see no reason why you should take up other people's quarrels," he said +gravely. + +Then Rosalind told him of her first meeting with Celia, and the incident +of the rose. "But I think now I must have been mistaken," she added. + +"Perhaps," said Allan, and again he smiled to himself in the twilight, so +vividly did the story recall the occasional passionate outbursts of the +child Celia, usually so gentle, so timidly reserved. + +That strange letter of hers had puzzled while it hurt. Far away from the +scene of the trouble, he could not understand the bitterness of the +strife. That for a village quarrel--some unkind words, perhaps--she could +break the bond between them--was this the Celia he thought he knew so +well? + +The wound had rankled, but after a time he told himself it was for the +best. Travel and study had broadened and matured him, and he could smile +now as he recognized, what was unsuspected at the time, that his mother +had planned these years of absence in the determination to cure him of a +boyish fancy which her eyes had been keen enough to detect. + +And yet--his thought would dwell upon her as she stood on the step, her +arm around Belle, the laughter fading from her face. Not the little +schoolgirl, but a woman, gracious and tender. + +Rosalind danced away to join Maurice and Katherine, whose humble penitence +had restored her to favor; and over the hedge came the sound of their +voices singing an old tune. On the still night air, in their clear treble, +the words carried distinctly:-- + + "Should auld acquaintance be forgot?"-- + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTIETH. + +THE SPINET. + +"Thou art not for the fashion of these times." + + +"Where are you going to put it, Celia?" asked Mrs. Fair. + +"In Saint Cecilia's room, I suppose," her daughter replied. Her father had +given this name to the sitting room which was her own special property, +and in which she would have nothing that was not associated in some way +with her great-grandmother. + +"I don't believe you ever enter it now," Mrs. Fair continued +discontentedly. + +"The spinet won't mind that; it is used to being alone," Celia answered +cheerfully, standing before the mirror, fastening an oak leaf on her +dress. It reminded her that even if her heart was heavy and her life full +of difficulties, she could still be courageous. + +"Things are sure to come right in the Forest," she had said to herself +again and again. Not because she believed it, but because she longed to, +and sometimes she did believe it,--just for a little while,--as she looked +from Patricia's Arbor across to that bit of sunny road. + +Since the adventure of the Arden Foresters the cellar windows of the +Gilpin house had been securely fastened, and its bolts and bars made proof +against more experienced house breakers than they. And now preparations +for the sale became evident. Circulars containing an inventory of the +things to be disposed of were spread abroad, and it was known that the +proprietor of the new mills, a stranger in Friendship, had been through +the house with the idea of purchasing. + +As she unlocked the door of Saint Cecilia's room, Celia could not help +remembering the days when she had looked forward so happily to owning the +spinet, and seeing it stand beneath her great-grandmother's portrait. + +From the cushioned window-seat, where there was a glimpse of the river +through the trees, she had loved to survey the calm orderliness of the +little room. At heart something of a Puritan, the straight-backed chairs +and unreposeful sofa, the secretary with its diamond-paned doors and glass +knobs, the quaint old jardinières brought from China a century ago, +pleased her fancy. + +How Genevieve Whittredge had smiled and shrugged her shoulders! In those +days their half antagonistic friendship had not suffered a complete break. +She must have color and warmth and lavishness, and Celia acknowledged her +unerring taste and admired the beauty and richness Genevieve found +necessary to her happiness, even while she returned contentedly to her own +prim little room. + +It had been her dreaming place, and when dreams were crowded out by an +exacting present, she had closed the door and turned the key. It was so +much the less to take care of. + +"I don't see why Mr. Gilpin couldn't have left you some money," her mother +said, following her. "It would be such a help just now. How are we to keep +Tom at the university another year?" + +Mrs. Fair had a way of bringing up problems just when her daughter had +succeeded in putting them aside. + +"I think we can manage in some way, mother. Don't worry," she said. + +"But some one has to worry." + +"Then let me do it," Celia answered, smiling. + +Half an hour later she was standing by the spinet, absently touching the +tuneless keys, when a voice from the window startled her. It was Morgan, +who with his elbows on the sill, was looking in. + +"Better sell it, Miss Celia." + +Sell it! The idea had never occurred to her. "What could I get for it?" +she asked, going to the window. + +"Two hundred--maybe more." + +Two hundred dollars would be a great help toward Tom's expenses, but to +give up her grandmother's spinet? It took on a new value. + +"Let me have it to do over and I guarantee you two hundred dollars," said +Morgan. + +"I'll think of it and let you know," was Celia's answer. + +"It seems like the irony of fate," she told herself, "to have to sell it +almost before it is really mine; and yet when two hundred dollars lie +within my reach, I can't refuse to take them. Poor old spinet, it is too +bad to send you away. I shouldn't do it if I could help it; but you don't +fit in with these times. Or rather, you are helping me out; that is the +way to look at it." + +So it was that the spinet did not long keep company with the portrait of +Saint Cecilia, its original owner, but was harked away to the shop of the +magician and the society of the clock case and the claw-footed sofa. + +Here Allan Whittredge saw and recognized it one day, and questioned +Morgan. Allan remembered the prim little sitting room, and how Celia had +looked forward to owning the spinet, and it troubled him to think she was +compelled to part with it. When he left the shop he went over to Miss +Betty's. + +After talking for a while about other things, he asked, "Betty, is it true +that Dr. Fair left his family with very little?" + +"True? Of course it is. Have you just found that out? Celia is working her +fingers to the bone, and I wish I were sure those boys are worth it," was +her reply. + +"How did it happen?" + +"Well, I don't think Dr. Fair had the best judgment in the world when it +came to investments; at the same time, a lot of other people lost in the +West View coal mines. His death was a great shock; I loved Dr. Fair." + +"I too," said Allan. "He was a good man." + +"I don't know whether you know it, Allan. Perhaps I ought not to tell you; +but there was some talk of Dr. Fair's treatment having done your father +harm. I really believe your mother was out of her mind with anxiety, and +you know she disliked the doctor. He was dismissed, you remember; and this +was whispered about and exaggerated until I think it almost broke his +heart. Of course there was no truth in it--that was made clear in the +end--and his death put a stop to the talk, for everybody loved and +respected Dr. Fair; but it has been terribly hard on Celia." + +Allan sat looking at Miss Betty absently. "Terribly hard on Celia,"--the +words repeated themselves over and over in his mind. + +"This is the first I ever heard of it," he said at length. + +Miss Betty watched him as he walked away. "As usual I have been minding +some one else's business," she said to herself; "but he ought to know it. +Allan is a fine fellow." + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-FIRST. + +UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE. + +"Must you then be proud and pitiless?" + + +The book containing the constitution of the Arden Foresters lay on the +garden bench. The Foresters themselves were spending the afternoon at the +creek at the foot of Red Hill. All was quiet in the neighborhood. The bank +doors had closed two hours ago, and Friendship seemed to have retired for +its afternoon nap. + +Allan Whittredge unfolded the _County News_ and glanced over it, then laid +it on his knee and gazed across the lawn with a thoughtful frown. The +_County News_ presented no problems, but life in this quiet village of +Friendship did. His talk with Miss Betty had brought him face to face with +them. He was conscious now that his attitude had been one of complacent +superiority. He had held himself above the pettiness of village life only +to discover, as he admitted frankly, that he had been a conceited fool. + +His own indignation helped him to realize something of what Celia must +have felt at the cruel affront to her father. And his silence all this +while made him seem a party to it. It was an intolerable thought, but +Allan was not one to brood over difficulties; a gleam of what Miss Betty +called the Barnwell stubbornness shone in his eyes as he made an inward +vow to find some way to convince Celia of his ignorance of much which had +happened at the time of his father's death, and to gain from his mother an +admission of her mistake. The question how to accomplish this, filled him +with a helpless impatience. + +He took up the book that lay beside him and opened it. "The secret of the +Forest: Good in everything," he read. "To remember the secret of the +Forest, to bear hard things bravely--" He turned the leaves and saw under +Morgan's straggling characters the once familiar writing of Celia +Fair,--the firm, delicate backhand, so suggestive, to one who knew her, of +the determination that lay beneath her gentleness. Did Celia believe there +was good in everything? Surely not in all this trouble. Yet she was +bearing hard things bravely, if all he heard were true. It hurt him to +think of her carrying a load of responsibility and care. His own life +seemed tame from its very lack of care. + +He closed the book with decision. His task was to unravel these twisted +threads of hatred and misunderstanding, and he would do it. + +Meanwhile, he found time for other things. He began to cultivate the +society of the Arden Foresters, and to be a boy again in earnest. + +Boating on the picturesque little river was one of the pleasures of +Friendship. Jack Parton and his brothers owned a boat, the _Mermaid_; and +Allan now provided himself with one, which he delighted Rosalind by naming +for her. After this the _Mermaid_ and the _Rosalind_ might frequently be +seen following the narrow stream in its winding course, making their way +among water lilies and yellow and purple spatter-dock, between banks +fringed with willows and wild oats and here and there a dump of cat-tails. +What pleasanter way than this of spending the early summer mornings? And +then to find some shady anchorage, where lunch could be eaten and the +hours fleeted away merrily until the cool of the afternoon. + +With only three in each boat, it was light work for the oarsman; and as +rowing was something Maurice could do, and as the girls liked to take +their turn, it often happened that Mr. Whittredge had nothing to do but +enjoy himself. + +Allan smiled sometimes to think how much pleasure he found in the society +of these young people. He usually carried a book or magazine, but as often +as not it was unopened. + +"I suppose the real Arden Foresters did not read books," he remarked one +day as, after glancing through the pages of a late novel, he tossed it +disrespectfully into the empty lunch basket. + +They had eaten their picnic dinner and were resting in easy attitudes on +the grass,--Miss Betty not being present to mention spines,--in sight of +their boats, swinging gently at anchor. + +"Not any?" exclaimed Rosalind, to whom the idea of no books was a dreadful +one. + +"But they were in a story and were having lots of fun," said Belle. + +"And they found their books in brooks, didn't they?" added Maurice. + +"When you are having fun, you don't read so much, that is true," Rosalind +said, burying her hands in the mass of clover blooms Katherine tossed into +her lap. "We'll make a long, long chain, Katherine, and let it trail +behind us as we go home." + +"Give me your experience," said Allan, stretched at lazy length, with his +arms under his head. "Have you found that there is good in things +invariably?" + +"I like Mr. Allan because he talks to us as if we were grown up," Belle +whispered to Rosalind. + +"There is more than you would think, till you try." Maurice answered. + +"I think so. Uncle Allan," said Rosalind. "I shouldn't have had this good +time and learned to know all of you, if father had not gone with Cousin +Louis. He said if I stayed in the Forest of Arden, I was sure to meet +pleasant people, and I have." Rosalind looked at her companions with a +soft light in her gray eyes. + +"If it were not for you, we shouldn't be having half so much fun," said +Belle, promptly. + +"I think you would always have a good time, Belle," answered Rosalind; +"but I'm afraid if I hadn't come to know all of you, I couldn't have +stayed in the Forest much longer, though the magician did cheer me up." + +"Then the idea is, that it is only when you stay in the Forest that you +find the good in things?" said Allan. + +"That was the way in the story. Everything came right in the Forest," +Rosalind answered. + +"I believe," said Allan, "I should like to be an Arden Forester." + +This announcement was received with enthusiasm. + +"That is, if I understand it. 'To remember the Forest secret, to bear hard +things bravely--'" + +"And if you are an honorary member, like Miss Celia and Morgan, you won't +have to search for the ring," put in Belle. + +"The ring is found, and is waiting till the magician breaks the spell. You +know, Uncle Allan, he has hung it on a nail in his shop, by the door, just +as if he were trying really," Rosalind explained. + +"I think I shall ask to be taken on probation," Mr. Whittredge continued. + +"What's that?" asked Jack. + +"On trial. I might not do you credit, you know." + +The Arden Foresters refused to admit the possibility of this, and Belle +and Rosalind began delightedly to enumerate their members. + +They rowed homeward slowly, for it was up stream, and as they went they +unwound the clover chain, and let it trail far behind them until it caught +among the reeds and was broken. + +When they passed the Gilpin place, on their way from the landing, a stop +was made for a fresh supply of oak leaves from their favorite tree, and +Rosalind pinned one on her uncle's coat. + +"I invite the Arden Foresters to meet with me to-morrow under the +greenwood tree," said Mr. Whittredge, surveying his badge. + +"That's poetry, go on," said Jack. + +"I'll have to fall back into prose to finish. At the foot of Red Hill, at +half-past seven P.M." + +"What tree does he mean?" asked Katherine. + +"Under the greenwood tree is a poetical figure," Mr. Whittredge explained. + +"It will be dark at half-past seven," said Jack. + +"Of course it will be, and that's going to be the fun," cried Belle. + +"There will be a moon," added Maurice, who was wise in such matters. + +"And what are we to do there?" asked Rosalind. + +"That remains to be seen," was all the satisfaction her uncle would give +her. + +Anticipation was the order of the next day, and the hours of the afternoon +rather dragged. At dinner Rosalind could not keep her eyes from the clock, +while her uncle ate in his usual leisurely manner, smiling at her +quizzically now and then. + +"It will not take more than twenty minutes to walk out," he remarked, at +length, when the hands pointed to seven o'clock. + +Mrs. Whittredge looked inquiring. + +"We are to have a little moonlight party at the creek to-night. We shall +not be late, Rosalind and I," Allan added. + +"You are making a new departure, are you not? A picnic yesterday, another +to-night. You are really falling into the ways of Friendship." + +"I am only beginning again where I left off years ago, Rosalind is showing +me how," Allan smiled across the table, this time a smile of +good-fellowship. + +The August nights were cool, and Rosalind carried her cape with its +pointed hood, when, the long ten minutes having passed, they set out. +Maurice and Katherine were watching for them, and farther down the street +the Partons joined them. + +Under the trees that grew so thick, it was already dim twilight, but when +they reached the more open country react there was still a glow in the +sky, and over Red Hill floated the golden moon, attended by a single star. +On the little sandy beach beneath the bridge, where the water rippled so +pleasantly over the stones, a fire was burning, and before it on a log, +with Curly Q. by his side, sat the magician, whittling. + +"Is this the party? How lovely! What fun!" they cried, running down to +join Morgan and be received by Curly Q. with ecstatic barks. + +The magician was evidently expecting them, for he at once began +distributing pointed sticks. + +"What are they for?" asked Belle. + +This was soon explained. Mr. Whittredge produced a tin box from somewhere +and proceeded to open it, and Katherine, who was next him, said, +"Marshmallows." + +"Yes, this is a marshmallow roast," he replied; and fixing one of the +white drops on the pointed stick, he held it toward the glowing embers. + +The others followed his lead without loss of time,--the magician and all; +and Curly Q. sat erect and eager, giving an occasional muffled "woof" to +remind them that he liked marshmallows too. + +The rose tints faded from the sky; the moon sailed higher; and the glow of +the fire grew deeper. The Arden Foresters toasted and talked, and ate +their marshmallows, not forgetting Curly Q., and were as merry as the +crickets that chirped around them,--as merry, at least, as those insects +are said to be. + +When it was really impossible to eat another one, they built up the fire +for the pleasure of watching it, and sang songs and told stories, the +magician, with his elbows on his knees, looking from one to another and +laughing as if he understood all the fun. + +The glow of their fire and the sound of their voices could be seen and +heard far up on Red Hill; so Celia Fair told them, emerging suddenly out +of the darkness into the firelight. In her white dress, with something +fleecy about her head and shoulders, she suggested a piece of thistledown. + +The children gave her a rapturous welcome and proffered marshmallows; the +magician looked on smiling. Allan had gone in search of firewood. Celia +had been up the hill to visit an old servant who was ill, and returning, +with Bob for guard, had seen the fire and heard the voices. + +"At first I thought of gypsies, and then Rosalind's pointed hood suggested +witches, and it was only when I reached the bridge that I recognized you," +she said; adding, "No, I can't stay. Bob is taking me home." + +"Do stay; I'll take you home, Miss Celia," said Jack, as Rosalind bestowed +marshmallows on the grinning Bob. + +Celia hesitated, then turned, as if about to dismiss her escort, when +Allan Whittredge stepped into the circle and cast an armful of wood on the +fire. Celia retreated into the shadow. "I must go, dear," she whispered +to Belle's urging. + +A chorus of protest followed her as she hurried up the bank. She had +hardly reached the road when she heard her name spoken quietly, and +turning, she faced Allan Whittredge in the moonlight. + +There was some hesitation in his manner as he said, "I can understand your +wish to avoid me, and yet I am anxious to have a few moments' talk with +you, now or at any time that may suit you." As he spoke, a sense of the +absurdity of this formality between old playmates swept over him, almost +bringing a smile to his lips. + +Celia spoke gently. "I think not. I mean I can imagine no reason for +it--no good it could do." + +"But you can't judge of that until you know what I have to say. Something +I did not understand has recently been made clear to me and--it is of that +I wish to speak." + +"If it has anything to do with the--the difference between your family and +mine, it is needless--useless. I cannot listen, I can only try to forget." +On the last word Celia's voice broke a little. + +Allan took a step forward; "I do not think you have a right to refuse. You +should grant me the privilege of defending myself against--" + +Celia interposed, "I have not accused you, Mr. Whittredge; there is no +occasion for defence, I must say good night." + +Nothing could have been more final than her manner as she moved away +toward Bob, who waited at a discreet distance. There was no uncertainty in +her voice now, nor in the poise of her head. + +Allan stood in the road, looking after her retreating figure. He had +bungled. If he had begun in the right way, she would have been compelled +to listen. What could he do to obtain a hearing? After two years of +silence he could not wonder at her refusal to listen to him now. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-SECOND. + +CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE. + +"I sometimes do believe and sometimes do not." + + +"Belle!" called Mrs. Parton from the porch, addressing her daughter, who +swung lazily to and fro in the hammock, her eyes on a book, "I can't find +Jack, and I want you to take this money to Morgan. Your father reminded me +of the bill just before he left, and I haven't thought of it from that day +to this." + +"Oh, mother, can't--?" + +"Can't who? You know there isn't a soul to send but you, and I must have +this off my mind. Manda is helping me with the sweet pickles, and Tilly +has gone to camp-meeting." + +Belle rose reluctantly, tossed back her hair, and went in search of her +hat. + +"Be sure now to get a receipt," Mrs. Parton said, as she gave the money +into Belle's hands. "I am not afraid of Morgan, but the colonel is +certain to accuse me of not paying it if I haven't a receipt to show +him." + +Belle tucked her book under her arm and walked off. + +"Now, Belle," protested her mother, "why can't you leave that book at +home? Don't let me hear of your reading as you go along the street." + +"I won't, but I like to carry it," answered Belle, patting it lovingly. +She was deeply interested in the story, and begrudged the time it took to +walk to the magician's. Once there, she decided she would stay awhile to +rest and finish the chapter. + +The day was warm, and she strolled along in lazy fashion. The Whittredge +house as she passed looked deserted. The front shutters were closed, and +no one was to be seen. Rosalind had gone away with her uncle for a few +days. Belle amused herself by imagining that Rosalind's having been there +at all was a dream, and she succeeded in producing a bewildering sense of +unreality in her own mind. + +Morgan was not in his shop, but that he had been there recently was +evident, for his tools lay scattered about. + +After the heat of the street the shop was cool and inviting, and a corner +of an old sofa offered itself as a desirable spot in which to continue the +story. It stood against the wall, and with several other pieces of +furniture before it, was a secluded as well as a comfortable +resting-place. Belle settled herself to her liking and was at once lost in +her book. She finished the chapter and read another, and was beginning a +third when something aroused her. For a moment she couldn't remember where +she was, then with a finger in her book she peeped around the clock case, +which with a high-backed chair screened her corner. + +The magician stood in the middle of the room, with his back toward her, +gazing intently at something in his hand. Belle was about to come out of +her hiding-place when he stepped to the window, and holding the object up +between his thumb and finger, let the sunlight fall upon it, laughing +gleefully like a child over a toy. + +Belle drew back quickly. Was she dreaming still? She pinched herself. No, +she was awake, and in the magician's shop, and the thing she had seen in +his hand was nothing less than Patricia's ring! She had heard it +described too often not to recognize it. But how came it in Morgan's +possession? She sat still and thought. + +Meanwhile, after turning it over and over, and nodding and laughing to +himself in a way that would have seemed rather crazy to one who did not +know him, the magician disappeared into the back room, closing the door +behind him. Belle seized the opportunity to steal from the shop. It would +be easier to think out of doors. + +The little brown and white house across the lane was keeping itself +to-day. Miss Betty had gone to the city, and Sophy was at camp-meeting, as +Belle happened to know, so she went over and sat on the porch step beside +a large hydrangea. She must decide what to do. She remembered very +distinctly the circumstances connected with the disappearance of the ring. +Morgan had been one of the last persons to speak to old Mr. Gilpin before +the attack of heart failure that ended his life, but no one had dreamed of +suspecting him. Could he have had it all this time? + +Belle felt ashamed of herself for the thought. If there was an honest +person in the world, it was Morgan. She had heard her father talk of +circumstantial evidence, and how easy it was to draw wrong conclusions. +She was puzzled. One thing was certain, she had seen the ring in his hand. + +"Now, if he were really a magician, I might think he had broken the spell +on the ring we found in the Gilpin house," she said to herself. + +She must go back and pay the bill; for if she did not, her mother would +have to know the reason, and Belle was not sure it would be wise to tell +her about the discovery. Mrs. Parton acknowledged frankly she couldn't +keep a secret, and Belle was wise enough to see it wouldn't do to spread +the news abroad. + +"I wish Rosalind was here," she thought. + +When at length she made up her mind to go back, the magician was at work +and greeted her just as usual. Belle wondered if she had not dreamed it +after all. While he went into the next room to make change and receipt the +bill, she looked for the ring she and Rosalind had hung on a nail beside +the door. It was gone. Had any one ever known such a perplexing state of +affairs? + +The magician must have wondered what made the usually merry Belle so +grave, for he asked if she was well as he gave her the bill. + +As she walked slowly homeward, she noticed a large, dignified gentleman +coming toward her. He did not belong to Friendship, she knew, and she +wondered a little who he might be. He looked down on her benevolently +through his spectacles as he passed, and for a moment seemed about to +speak. Belle quickly forgot him, however, for the ring occupied her +thoughts to the exclusion of everything else. Even the story so +fascinating an hour ago, had lost its charm. + +"Does your head ache?" her mother asked, seeing her sitting on the +doorstep, her chin in her hand, her book unopened beside her. + +"No, mother; I am just thinking," was Belle's reply. + +She was trying to decide whom to tell. "I wish father was at home," she +said to herself. + +She went to bed with the matter still undecided, and the first thing she +thought of when she opened her eyes the next day was the ring. A +conversation overheard between her mother and Manda, the cook, added to +her uneasiness. + +"Miss Mary, did you know there was a 'tective loafin' round town?" + +"A detective? No, I did not. If there is, it won't make any difference to +you and me," answered Mrs. Parton. + +"Maybe it don't make no difference to white folks, but looks like they's +always 'spicioning niggers," continued Manda, with a shake of her head. +"Tilly 'lows it's that thar ring of old Marse Gilpin's." + +"Hardly," said Mrs. Parton, with a laugh. Belle, remembering the stranger, +wondered if it might not be true. + +Such talk among the servants of Friendship was nothing new. Since the +first excitement over the disappearance of the ring, it had broken out +periodically; but to Belle this morning it seemed a strange coincidence. +Suppose some one else had seen the ring in Morgan's possession? And now it +occurred to her to tell Miss Celia. + +On her way to the Fairs' she met the stranger again, this time in front of +Mrs. Graham's school. He was looking about him with an air of interest, +and as Belle approached he asked if this was not the Bishop residence. + +"It was," she answered, "but it is a school now." + +The gentleman thanked her and walked on. + +"I believe he is a detective," she said to herself. + +Celia was in her usual place in the arbor bending over a piece of +embroidery, when Belle found her. + +"Miss Celia, I have the strangest thing to tell you," she began, and then +unfolded her story. + +Celia listened in astonishment. "Why, Belle, it isn't possible--you don't +think--" + +"Miss Celia, I don't know. I saw the ring, and I know Morgan isn't a +thief, but I don't understand it." + +"No, indeed. Morgan, whom we have always known--who is honest as the day!" +Celia was silent for a moment, then she said, "Belle, it seems to me the +only thing for you to do is to tell Mr. Whittredge. The ring belongs to +him; he will know what to do far better than we, and he will think of +Morgan, too." + +"I would have told him, but he has gone away." + +"Gone?" + +Belle wondered a little at Miss Celia's tone; it was as if she cared a +great deal. + +"I don't think he will be gone long. He took Rosalind with him," she +added. + +"Then I should wait till his return. A few days more can't make much +difference. You have been very wise not to mention it to any one." + +But when Belle told about the supposed detective, Celia laughed and said +she had a vivid imagination, and that it was only a coincidence that the +old rumors should be revived just now. + +As Belle went down the hill, feeling somewhat crestfallen and rather tired +of the whole matter of the ring, she met Maurice and Jack. Jack had spent +the night with Maurice, and now they were on their way to the landing to +take some pictures with Maurice's new camera. They made no objection to +her proposal to join them, so she turned back, feeling strongly tempted to +tell her story to them; but she had agreed with Miss Celia that it was +best not to talk about it until Mr. Whittredge's return, and Belle prided +herself on her ability to keep a secret. + +The interest of deciding what view would make the best picture made her +forget the ring for a while; but as they sat on the edge of the dock +waiting to catch a sailboat about to start out, she suddenly said, "Boys, +I believe I saw a detective this morning," and she described the stranger. + +"Why do you think he is a detective?" asked Maurice. + +"Well, you know they always wear spectacles and try to look like +ministers," she answered confidently. + +"Pshaw! they have all sorts of disguises," said Jack. + +"I don't care, I'm sure he is one, and I think he is looking for the +ring." Belle pursed up her lips as much as to say she might tell more. + +"You are trying to make us believe you know something," remarked Jack, +with brotherly scorn. + +"I do. Something I can't tell for--well, for several days." + +"Who knows it beside you?" asked Maurice. + +"Just Miss Celia." + +If Miss Celia knew, it seemed worthy of more respect. "How did you find it +out?" asked Jack. + +"I can't tell you. It is a mystery; but, boys, I want to keep an eye on +that man and see what he does," Belle said impressively. + +"How about taking his picture?" suggested Maurice. + +"Just the thing!" Belle clapped her hands. "Let's go look for him now." + +Anything that promised some fun was hailed with delight. It had been a +little dull in Rosalind's absence. When she was with them nobody was +conscious of her leadership, but now she was away they were at a loss. + +They waylaid old Mr. Biddle, driving in from the country with a load of +apples, and demanded a ride which he good-naturedly allowed them, and they +drove down the hill in state. When they came within sight of the +post-office, Belle clutched Maurice's arm. "There he is," she whispered. +"Let's get out and wait for him. You have your camera ready." + +The obliging Mr. Biddle stopped his horse and let his passenger out. As +for the stranger, if he had known what was wanted of him, he couldn't have +been more accommodating. He came slowly down the steps of the post-office, +and stood within a few yards of the doorway, where three giggling young +persons had taken shelter. Maurice had time for half a dozen pictures if +he wanted them. + +"He isn't a detective," whispered Jack, "I'll bet a dime he is a +minister." + +"I said he looked like a minister," Belle retorted. + +"I am going to Burke's to get him to show me about developing," said +Maurice, as the stranger moved away, "Wouldn't it be fun if we could have +his picture to show Rosalind when she comes to-morrow?" + +"Is she coming to-morrow? Oh, I am glad!" said Belle. + +"Let's follow and see where he goes," Jack proposed, as Maurice left them; +and Belle nothing loath, they dogged the steps of the supposed detective. +She was both alarmed and triumphant when he was seen to turn into Church +Lane, but all other emotions were swallowed up in surprise when, instead +of crossing to the magician's shop, he entered Miss Betty Bishop's front +gate. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-THIRD. + +THE DETECTIVE. + +"'Twas I, but 'tis not I." + + +The next morning Belle and Jack awaited the 10.30 train, seated together +on a trunk on the station platform. Celia saw them from the door of the +express office across the road. Presently they recognized her and began to +wave, and then Belle came flying over to tell her how they had taken the +detective's picture and had afterward seen him enter Miss Betty's gate. + +"Why should a detective go to Miss Betty's?" Celia asked, much amused. + +"Why should he go if he wasn't a detective?" Belle demanded. + +"Why not? He may be an agent, or a friend," Celia suggested, laughing. + +A whistle in the distance left no time for argument. Belle flew back to +the platform, where Maurice had joined Jack. Celia turned toward home. + +She was more perplexed over Belle's story about the ring than she cared to +own. Not for a moment did she think Morgan had taken it; and yet he was +getting to be an old man and she recalled something she had heard her +father say about a certain brain disease that first showed itself in acts +wholly out of keeping with the character of its victim. Could this be the +explanation? + +It was a relief to know that it would soon be in Allan Whittredge's hands. +That he would do the kindest, wisest thing, she never thought of doubting. + +She had heard with a sinking of heart that he had gone away, and she +scorned herself for the sensation of relief when Belle added, it was only +for a few days. Celia deeply regretted the way in which she had met his +request to speak with her that night at Friendly Creek. Why could she not +have listened quietly? In these days she was torn by conflicting feelings. +The spirit of the Forest was slowly tempering the bitterness in her heart, +but it sometimes seemed to her that her loyalty to her father was +weakening. + +It was fortunate matters at home demanded her thoughts. Plans for the +winter, getting the boys off to school, and the many small cares of the +housekeeper left little time for brooding. + +At the station Belle, in her eagerness to be the first to greet Rosalind, +had to be dragged back out of harm's way by the baggage master, as the +long train swept around the curve. + +"You'll find yourself killed one of these days if you don't look out," +remarked Jack, descending from the trunk. + +But Belle gave small heed. "I am so glad you have come," she cried, +seizing upon Rosalind almost before she had her foot on the ground. "Such +lots of things have happened." + +"Aren't you glad to see me too?" asked Mr. Whittredge. + +"Yes, I am especially glad to see you, because I have something to tell +you. Something I can't tell any one else." + +"Bless me! this is interesting. Just wait till I find my checks, and we'll +walk up town together." + +Belle, however, was not destined to relate her story just then, for no +sooner had they started out, she in front with Mr. Whittredge, and +Rosalind and the boys following, than Mr. Molesworth joined them and began +talking about the paper mills. There was nothing for her but to fall back +with the others, and this was not without its compensation, for now she +could have a share in telling Rosalind about the detective. + +"It's all nonsense. I don't believe he was a detective at all, but it was +fun taking his picture," said Jack. + +"I'll have it to show you to-morrow," added Maurice. + +"Why don't you ask Cousin Betty who he is?" suggested Rosalind. + +Belle's deep sense of the mystery of things had kept her from thinking of +this simple method of solving the problem. + +"Of course we might," she acknowledged. + +"I want to stop at Morgan's a moment," Allan looked back to say. + +At the magician's corner Mr. Molesworth left them; but as it was only a +step to the shop, the secret still remained untold. + +Morgan seemed delighted beyond all reason at sight of them. He greeted +Allan as if he had been away years instead of days; and tapping his own +breast, he exclaimed, looking from one to another, "I am Morgan, the +magician!" Then pointing to the nail where the children had hung the brass +ring, he added, "I have broken the spell!" With this he disappeared for a +moment into the back room, but he was with them again before they had +recovered from their surprise at his strange manner; and now he held +something in his hand which he waved aloft gleefully. + +Belle began to understand that all her anxiety had been needless. + +"What does this mean?" asked Allan, as Morgan put into his hand a little +worn case. + +The children crowded around him as he opened it and disclosed the +long-lost, much talked of sapphire ring. In his delight the cabinet-maker +almost danced a jig, and continued to repeat, "I'm a magician." + +"It's found; it's found!" cried Rosalind. + +"And I knew it," said Belle. + +"Hello!" exclaimed Jack. "Was this your secret? Did Morgan tell you?" + +Belle tried to explain her discovery, but so great was the excitement +nobody would listen. It was really beyond belief that Patricia's ring was +actually in their hands. It was some time before they quieted down +sufficiently to hear Morgan's story. + +He had begun work on the spinet several days ago, he said, and upon +removing the top had noticed something wedged in under the strings, which +upon investigation he found to be the case containing the ring. + +"But where is the other ring?" Rosalind asked. + +The magician laughed and said that was another story, and he told how the +evening before the real ring was found, Crisscross had been seized with a +fit of unusual playfulness, and jumping up on the chest, above which the +ring hung, had begun to move it to and fro with his paw, presently +knocking it off and sending it rolling across the floor. He darted after +it under tables and chairs but apparently never found it; nor could the +magician, although he searched carefully. + +"So the mystery is not ended yet. We do not know what became of the magic +ring, nor how the real ring came to be in the spinet," Allan remarked. + +"It is exactly like a sure enough fairy tale," added Belle; and then she +whispered her part of the story, turning her back to the magician, for +fear he might see what she was talking about. + +"And how about the detective? Did you think he was coming to arrest +Morgan?" asked Maurice. + +Belle looked a little shamefaced. "I didn't know," she said. + +Mr. Whittredge wanted to hear about the detective, and was much amused at +her description of the taking of his picture. + +Rosalind as she listened held the ring in her hand--Patricia's ring. She +had thought a great deal about Patricia, and this seemed to bring her near +and make her more real--the young girl who had looked like Aunt Genevieve, +only more kind. + +"Let's show the ring to Miss Betty! May we, Mr. Whittredge?" asked Belle. + +Allan did not appear enthusiastic over the suggestion, but he did not +refuse, and followed the children at a distance as they raced across the +street. + +"There's the detective now," cried Jack, at the gate. + +"Where?" the others asked breathlessly. + +"On the porch with Miss Betty." + +Sure enough, partially shielded from view by the vines, in one of Miss +Betty's comfortable chairs, sat the stranger. + +"Why--" began Rosalind, stopping short, "it looks like--Why, Dr. +Hollingsworth! I didn't know you were here!" + +At the same moment the gentleman started up, exclaiming, "Well, Rosalind, +they said you were out of town. I am very glad to see you," and they met +and clasped hands like warm friends. + +"Children!" cried Rosalind, turning to her companions, "this is our +president, Dr. Hollingsworth." + +"And these are the young people who took my photograph yesterday," Dr. +Hollingsworth observed gravely. There was a twinkle in his eye, however. + +By this time Mr. Whittredge had arrived on the scene and was introduced. + +"So this is the detective," he said. + +The culprits looked at each other and meditated flight, but changed their +minds when Dr. Hollingsworth shook hands with them, and said he knew how +it was to have a new camera and want to take everything in sight, and that +he really felt complimented. + +Belle thought she wouldn't have minded, except for the detective part of +it, over which Mr. Whittredge made so much fun. + +The ring was exhibited, and the whole matter made clear after a while, and +Dr. Hollingsworth said he was glad to have figured in any capacity in such +an interesting occurrence. + +"And how in the world did it get in the spinet?" asked Miss Betty. "I +believe Cousin Thomas put it there himself, as a practical joke." + +Miss Betty might have been holding a reception that morning, so full of +people did her small porch appear, and so continuous was the hum of +voices. + +Dr. Hollingsworth, it seemed, had been in the habit of visiting in +Friendship twenty years ago, and finding himself in the vicinity, he had +made it convenient to call upon his old friends; but, as he said, things +had been rather against him. His college friend, the Presbyterian +minister, was away on his vacation, Miss Bishop out of town for the day, +and Rosalind, he did not know where. + +"And so there was nothing for me to do but loaf about that first +afternoon," he explained, "but little did I think to what dark suspicions +I was laying myself open," and he smiled at Belle. + +"Cousin Betty, you never told me you knew our president," Rosalind said +reproachfully. + +Miss Hetty laughed. "You see it had been such a long, long time, +Rosalind--" + +"That she had forgotten me," added the president. + +"Oh, no, I hadn't," she insisted. + +They all felt that they should like to see more of him, and that it was +too bad he had to leave on the five o'clock train. The last hour was spent +with the Whittredges, and Rosalind and Allan accompanied him to the +station. Here, while they waited, Rosalind had an opportunity to tell him +about the society of Arden Foresters, in which he seemed greatly +interested, and was saying he should like to belong, when the gong +sounded the approach of the train, and there was only time for good-by. + +"I shall be in this part of the country late in October, and may look in +upon you again," the president put his head out of the window to say, as +the conductor called, "All aboard." + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-FOURTH. + +AT THE AUCTION. + +"Assuredly the thing is to be sold." + + +Although the September days were warm, it was plain that summer was +departing. The flutter of yellow butterflies along the road told it, so +did the bursting pods of the milkweed, and the golden-rod and asters, +wreathing the meadows in royal colors. + +The potting of plants began in the gardens, housewifely minds turned to +fall cleaning, the spicy odor of tomato catsup pervaded the atmosphere, +and the sound of the school bell was heard in the land. + +It was always so, Belle groaned. Just when out of doors grew most +alluring, lessons put in their superior claim. To be sure, there were some +free afternoons and always Saturdays, but one did not want to lose a +moment of the fleeting beauty. + +Rosalind missed somewhat the constant companionship of her friends. Mrs. +Whittredge thought it hardly worth while to enter her in school for two +months, but at the instigation of Miss Herbert some home instruction was +begun. This Uncle Allan had no conscience about interrupting whenever he +wanted Rosalind for a drive or walk. As yet he said nothing about leaving +Friendship. A few brief sentences had been exchanged with his mother upon +the subject that weighed most heavily on his mind. + +"Has anything ever been done, any step taken, to correct the unfounded +report which got out at the time of my father's death, in regard to Dr. +Fair's treatment of the case?" he asked abruptly one evening. + +The color rose in Mrs. Whittredge's face, and she looked up from her work. +"I do not understand you. How do you know it was unfounded?" + +"For one thing, because I have taken pains to investigate. I saw Dr. Bell +in Baltimore." + +"May I ask why this sudden zeal?" His mother went on taking careful +stitches in a piece of linen. + +"For the reason that until a few weeks ago I knew nothing about it. Now I +cannot rest till the cruel wrong has been in some measure righted." + +"And you conclude without question, at once, that all the wrong is on one +side. But I should not be surprised. I have ever been the last to be +considered by my children." + +"You are not quite fair, mother," Allan answered gently, touched by the +unhappy bit of truth in this remark; "but I'll not defend myself more than +to say that I am not judging any one. I only wish the wrong on our side +made right." And he added, what he realized afterward had the sound of a +threat, "Unless it is done, I can never call Friendship my home." + +Here it ended for the time. + + * * * * * + +And now, after a week of rain, October began with perfect weather, and +from the strangers who flocked to the auction, attracted by reports of +Lowestoft plates and Sheraton furniture, were heard many expressions of +delight at the beauty of the old town. + +For two hours before the sale began, a stream of people passed through +the house, examining its contents, or wandered about the grounds, admiring +the view and the fine beech trees. Friendship itself was well represented +in the throng, but rather in the character of interested onlookers than +probable purchasers. + +Miss Betty was there to watch the fate of her silver, and Allan Whittredge +had brought Rosalind, who was eager to see for herself what an auction was +like. She hung entranced over Patricia's miniature, which with some other +small things of value had been placed in a glass case in the library, +until her uncle told her if she would select some article of furniture +that particularly pleased her, he would try to get it for her. This +delighted her beyond measure, and after much consideration she chose a +chest of drawers, with a small mirror above it, swung between two sportive +and graceful dolphins. "The little dolphin bureau," she called it. + +[Illustration: "SHE CHOSE A CHEST OF DRAWERS."] + +The sale was to begin at eleven o'clock, and silverware and china were +first to be disposed of. The long drawing-room was full of camp chairs, +and the audience had begun to assemble when Rosalind entered and sat down +in a corner to wait for her uncle, who was interviewing the auctioneer. +Two rows in front of her she saw Miss Betty, with Mrs. Parton and Mrs. +Molesworth. + +"Do you expect to bid on your cream-jug and sugar-bowl when they are put +up, Betty?" asked Mrs. Parton; adding, "How this chair squeaks! I wonder +if it will hold me." + +"I haven't made up my mind," was the answer. "It goes against the grain to +give money for what is really mine already. I can't get over the +impression that this is a funeral instead of a sale." + +"I wonder if the Whittredges will buy anything. I saw Allan in the hall," +said Mrs. Molesworth. She was a tall, angular person, with a severe +manner, a marked contrast to Mrs. Parton, with her ample proportions and +laughing face. "By the way, Betty," she continued, "what has become of the +ring?" + +"I know no more than you." + +The entrance of several strangers and some confusion about seats, kept +Rosalind from hearing any more of the conversation for a time. A portly +man completely blocked the way, and she began to wonder if her uncle +would be able to get to the chair she was keeping for him. + +When things were quiet again, she heard Mrs. Molesworth say, leaning over +Miss Betty and speaking to Mrs. Parton, "Why, she was an actress, wasn't +she?" + +"I don't see that that was such an insuperable objection," Mrs. Parton +replied, "In point of family she was just as good as he, perhaps a little +better. The colonel and I met a lady at Cape May who knew them well. This +girl was left an orphan early, and through the rascality of her guardian +found herself penniless at seventeen. She had inherited the artistic gift +of her family, only in her it took the dramatic turn, and necessity and +her surroundings all combined to lead her in that direction. Then just as +she was making a success she gave it up to marry--" Another interruption, +and Rosalind did not hear whom she married. + +Her uncle now managed to join her by stepping over the backs of chairs, +and it was not long before the sale began. + +From the start it was evident the city people had not come to look on. +Bidding was spirited, and Miss Betty's silver soon went "out of sight," +as Mrs. Parton expressed it. + +Rosalind was highly entertained, and whenever her uncle put in a quiet +bid, as he did now and then, she held her breath, fairly, for fear he +would not get what he wanted. + +To Allan there was an unreality about it all. It seemed so short a time +since he and Genevieve and Celia had been children together, taking tea +with Cousin Thomas and Cousin Anne. What a strange household the two had +constituted in this old mansion, where their whole lives had been spent. +As he thought of it, he felt he had an inkling of why Thomas Gilpin had +done as he did. Perhaps he had felt it would be better to have a clean +sweep, and thus make possible for some one a fresh beginning in the old +place. A fine substantial house it was, needing only a few improvements to +make of it, with its spacious, high-ceiled rooms and wide hall, a most +desirable residence. + +Rosalind's voice recalled him. "May I come again this afternoon, Uncle +Allan? They may begin on the furniture." + +The auction continued for three or four days. Rosalind became the proud +possessor of the dolphin bureau; and her uncle obtained also the miniature +of Patricia, for what seemed indeed an extravagant sum, but he had given +his promise to his sister. + +At the close of the sale on the second day, Allan went into the library to +examine some books. The throng of onlookers and buyers had dispersed; only +the auctioneer's assistants remained at work in the hall. Purchases had +been promptly removed, and the house already seemed dismantled and bare. + +Absorbed in his search for a volume not on the catalogue, but which he +felt sure was somewhere on the shelves, he became aware of Celia Fair's +voice just outside the door. The next moment she entered the library and, +going to the fireplace, stooped to examine the andirons. She had not +observed him. Should he go quietly out, or make one more appeal to be +heard? Allan hesitated. + +With her hand on the high mantel-shelf and her head against her hand, +Celia stood looking down on the vacant hearth. There was something of +weariness in the attitude. What a delicate bit of porcelain she seemed! +Allan had a sudden, illogical vision of a fire of blazing logs, and +himself and Celia sitting before it. + +He moved out of the shadow and she saw him; but though she stood erect and +tense in a moment, she did not, as he expected, hasten from the room. +Instead, she hesitated, and there was an appeal in her eyes very different +from the defiance of a few weeks ago. + +"I didn't know there was any one here," she said; adding, "Mr. Whittredge, +I have wanted to have an opportunity to say that I regret my rudeness. I +was unreasonable--I am sorry." + +The childishness of the speech went to Allan's heart. He was conscious of +keeping a very tight rein on himself as he answered, "Do not say that. I +can understand a little of what you must feel. But does it mean that I may +speak now and tell you that only a few weeks ago I first learned the +cruel, the unwarranted, charge against your father? I had not understood +before." + +Celia lifted her hand as if to ward off a blow, but she did not speak. + +Allan continued, "My silence must have seemed like a consent to it. And +now, can we not meet, if only for a few minutes, on common ground? Must we +be enemies because--" + +"Not enemies--oh, no," Celia said, looking toward the door as if she +wished to end the interview. + +"Then--you will think me very insistent--but there is something I must +explain to you. First, won't you let me give you a chair?" + +"Thank you, I'll stand," Celia answered; she moved, however, to a table +and leaned against it. + +"It is about the ring. You perhaps remember the wording of the will? +Before I left home to go abroad, so long ago, when I bade good-by to old +Mr. Gilpin, he said to me, with that odd chuckle of his, 'Allan, I want +Celia to have the ring when I die,' I replied that I hoped he would leave +it to you in his will. Again, as I was leaving him, he called after me, +'Remember, Celia is to have the ring,' It escaped my mind until I heard of +the will, then of course I remembered. I think he had a feeling that if he +left it to anybody it should be to a member of our family, and yet he +wished you to have it. Now we both know what the old man had in mind; +but, although things have changed between us since then, the fact remains +that the ring is yours." Allan took the little worn case from his breast +pocket and held it out. + +Celia looked at his extended hand, and shook her head. "I cannot take it," +she said. + +"But it does not belong to me; you must take it. You put me in an awkward +position by refusing." + +Celia's eyes flashed. "And how about my position if I should take it? Has +not all Friendship been speculating about the meaning of the Gilpin will? +Is not everybody wondering what you are going to do with it? What--" She +paused, clearly unable to keep her voice steady. + +She seemed about to hurry away when Allan intercepted her. "Forgive +me--wait--just a moment. I see now. I was unpardonably stupid. I am not in +the habit of considering what people say or may think, but I can see it +would not do. I seem to be always annoying you," he concluded helplessly. + +A faint smile dawned on Celia's face. "No one can help it; it is just an +awkward situation," she said, and left him. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-FIFTH. + +QUESTIONS. + +"They asked one another the reason." + + +Although the auction was over, the air of Friendship still vibrated from +the stir. Bereft of its treasures, the Gilpin house stood an empty shell, +facing an unknown future; for beyond the statement that he was from +Baltimore, nothing was known of its purchaser. + +"Why in the world should a man from Baltimore want it?" Mrs. Parton asked; +and the question was echoed on all sides. Not to live in, at all events, +it appeared, as weeks passed and it remained undisturbed. + +Nor was this the only unanswered question. There was the ring. Miss Betty +said it might as well have been left in the spinet, for all the good it +did any one. + +Allan had his own unanswered question; without doubt his mother had hers, +as had Celia Fair, but they gave no sign to the outside world, nor asked +any help in finding an answer. + +And now came a new excitement. Dr. Pierce, the Presbyterian minister, +announced impressively one Sunday that on a week from that day his pulpit +would be occupied by his distinguished friend, Dr. Hollingsworth. + +It was explained that he had been South on business relating to a bequest +to the university, and found it convenient to stop over on his way home. +Still, with several large cities within easy reach, his presence was an +undoubted compliment to the village, and Friendship began at once to +refresh its memory in regard to its expected guest. + +Mrs. Molesworth came across the street to ask Mrs. Parton if she had ever +heard Dr. Hollingsworth was not orthodox. + +Mrs. Parton had not, and seemed to consider it a minor matter, for she +went on to tell how pleasant he was, and how fully he appreciated the joke +of being taken for a detective by Belle. + +"I trust, indeed, it is not true," said Mrs. Molesworth, going back to the +original question. + +"Well, I shouldn't worry, Cornelia. He is not likely to do much harm in +one sermon," Mrs. Parton answered easily. + +Mrs. Molesworth shook her head. "You can never be sure. It is not for +myself I fear, but for the boys. I have tried to protect them." + +"If your boys are like mine, they won't get any harm from a sermon. I do +manage to drag them to church, but it is like taking a horse to water--it +is another matter to make them listen." + +Mrs. Molesworth returned home feeling that Mary Parton treated serious +subjects with undue levity. Mrs. Parton, seeing Miss Betty Bishop +approaching, lingered at the gate. + +"Well, Betty, I suppose you know we are to have Dr. Hollingsworth at our +church Sunday." + +She had heard it, but did not seem disposed to enlarge upon it, as was her +custom with a piece of news. + +"Cornelia Molesworth is worrying because she has heard he is not +orthodox." + +"She is not obliged to hear him, is she? Nobody can amount to anything +nowadays without being accused of heresy; however, I fancy Dr. +Hollingsworth can bear up under Mrs. Molesworth's disapproval." + +Mrs. Parton surveyed Miss Betty with a twinkle in her eye. "I declare, +Betty," she remarked, irrelevantly, "you are growing younger. You look +nearer twenty than forty this minute." + +"Perhaps it is my new hat," Miss Betty suggested; but surely she had +passed the age when one flushes over the possession of a becoming hat. + +Mrs. Parton laughed to herself as she went back to the house, "Do you +suppose that is why he is coming? Goodness! I wish the colonel was here." + +The news was discussed all over town that Monday morning. + +"What brings Dr. Hollingsworth here?" Dr. Barnes asked, meeting Colonel +Parton in the bank. "He is a friend of the Whittredges, I understand. +Anyway, it is a compliment to Friendship." + +"Friendship is a great place. He liked our looks when he was here a month +or so ago," and the colonel laughed his easy laugh. + +"More than likely he thinks we need a little stirring up," Mr. Roberts +remarked from his desk. + +"Did you hear the joke on my Belle?" the colonel asked, and proceeded to +relate the story of the supposed detective and the photograph. + +The Arden Foresters in their turn talked it over that afternoon, sitting +in a row near the red oak, which lavished badges of crimson and gold upon +them now. The October air was delicious. They had raced up the hill and +down to the landing and back again, for pure joy of moving in the +sparkling atmosphere. + +"I have something to tell you," Rosalind announced. "You must all come to +church next Sunday, for our president is going to preach." + +"Is that what you have to tell? because I knew it already," said Belle, +whose cheeks matched the oak leaf she was pinning on her jacket. + +"No, it is something even better than that. I have a letter to read to +you." As she spoke, Rosalind tossed a handful of leaves at Maurice. + +"That's right, wake the professor up," cried Jack, following her example. + +"Or bury him," said Belle, joining the onslaught. + +Maurice, who had been gazing rather absently into the distance, was +aroused to defend himself, and the battle resolved itself into a +hand-to-hand combat between the two boys. + +Maurice's crutch had been discarded, and his knee was almost as strong as +ever, although rough sports, such as foot-ball, were still denied him. He +had recently arrived at the dignity of long trousers, being tall for his +age, and Jack had immediately nicknamed him "the professor." + +"Now, boys, that is enough," Rosalind said, with decision; "Maurice is +waked up, I think." + +"Am I awake, or not?" Maurice demanded of the struggling Jack, as he held +him down and sat upon him. + +"Mercy, yes!" Jack cried, freeing himself with a mighty effort. "But you +must smile; I can't have you looking so melancholy. _Smile!_" + +In spite of himself Maurice obeyed the command. + +"That's right; now sit down and behave," Jack added, laughing. + +Rosalind took out her letter. "Listen," she said:-- + + "MY DEAR ROSALIND: I am coming back to Friendship in a + few days, and I want to ask if the Arden Foresters will admit a + new member to their circle? I am greatly interested in what I + have heard of it. I have been travelling in the Forest for a + good many years, with just an occasional lapse into the desert, + but I should like the right to wear an oak leaf and have my name + in the Arden Foresters' book, on the page with the magician's. + + "Hoping that this is not asking too much, I am + + "Yours affectionately, + + "CHARLES W. HOLLINGSWORTH." + +"Isn't that dear of him?" + +"Does he mean it really?" asked Maurice. + +"What is the matter with you, Maurice? Of course he does," cried Belle. +"He is grand! The detective," and she laughed at the recollection. + +"Rosalind is going home before long, and I didn't know whether we would +keep it up," Maurice said. + +"But I shall come back again next summer, and,--oh, I hope we aren't going +to give it up!" Rosalind looked anxiously at her companions. + +"Never!" cried Belle. + +"No indeed," said Jack. "I am an Arden Forester forever." + +"A monkey forever," growled Maurice. + +"That is better than a bear, anyway," retorted Jack. + +"Maurice reminds me of the day I first talked to him through the hedge," +Rosalind remarked, smiling at him. + +Maurice laughed. "I was pretty cross that day. I don't mean that I want to +give the society up, only we can't meet here much longer, and it seems as +if our fun was nearly over." + +"It will soon be too cold to have our meetings out of doors; let's ask the +magician if we can't meet there," Belle proposed. + +"What fun! I almost wish I wasn't going home. You must all write to me +about what you do," said Rosalind. + +"We shall miss you dreadfully," Belle said, looking pensive for a moment. + +"But she hasn't gone yet, so what is the use of thinking about something +that is going to happen, when you are having a pretty good time now?" +asked Jack, philosophically. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-SIXTH. + +THE PRESIDENT. + +"--And good in everything." + + +Friendship was without doubt a churchgoing community,--the different +denominations could all boast of creditable congregations on Sunday +mornings,--but on the occasion of Dr. Hollingsworth's visit, the other +churches had a mere handful to divide between them, while at the +Presbyterian church chairs had to be placed in the aisles. Such an unusual +event afforded a pleasing variety in the customary Sabbath monotony. +Something of a festive air pervaded the assembly. + +Celia Fair and Miss Betty Bishop, both deserters from the Episcopal +church, chanced to be seated together. Rosalind's urgent invitation to +come and hear our president preach, had brought Celia, and it was, of +course, for old friendship's sake that Miss Betty was there. + +"Isn't that Mrs. Whittredge?" she whispered to Celia, as Allan with his +mother and Rosalind passed up the aisle. "I don't know when she has been +at church before." Then at sight of Mrs. Molesworth Miss Betty gave a +slight shrug. + +A flutter of interested anticipation was noticeable when Dr. Pierce +entered the pulpit accompanied by the stranger, and it must be confessed +that the service preceding the sermon was gone through with perfunctorily +by the greater part of the congregation. After the notices for the week +had been given, there was a general settling back and recalling of +wandering attention as Dr. Hollingsworth came forward and stood in the +pastor's place at the desk. + +Mrs. Molesworth twisted her neck in an endeavor to see if he had notes; +Colonel Parton decided promptly that here was no orator; Belle smiled at +Rosalind across the aisle, thinking of the detective. + +In the president's gaze, as it rested upon the assembly, was the same +genial kindliness that had attracted Belle when she first met him on Main +Street. It seemed to draw his audience closer to him, to make of it a +circle of friends. His manner was simple, his tone almost conversational. +At the announcement of his text Celia leaned forward with a sudden +conviction that here was a message for her:-- + +"It is the Father's good pleasure to give you the Kingdom." + +Varied were the opinions afterward expressed of the sermon that followed. +What Celia carried away with her was something like this:-- + +"I shall speak to you this morning," he said, "upon a subject that touches +each one of us very nearly, from the oldest to the youngest; for whatever +our circumstances, whether we are rich or poor, learned or simple, whether +our lot is cast in protected homes or in the midst of the world's great +battle-field, our task is one and the same: to become citizens of the +Kingdom of God. This being so, we cannot think too often or too much about +this Kingdom, or inquire too minutely into its laws, or ask ourselves too +earnestly why it is that so few of us accept the gift in anything like its +fulness. + +"Although it is offered as a gift, there are conditions to be fulfilled, +difficulties to be overcome. Our Lord recognized this when He said that +the gate was strait and the way narrow, but He also said that this +Kingdom was worth any price, or was beyond all price, to be obtained at +any sacrifice. He emphasized this by a strong figure. It was better to +enter into life maimed, He said,--with hand or foot cut off--rather than +to miss life altogether.... The conditions of entrance into the Kingdom +are apparently so simple it is strange we find them so difficult. I think +they may be sifted down to two: love and faith,--the love from which +service springs, the faith that means joy and peace. If we are to be the +children of our Heavenly Father we must love, and we must have in our +hearts that joy which grows out of trust. + +"Jesus said, 'Seek first the Kingdom of God.' If we do this we need +concern ourselves with nothing else, and by concern I mean burden +ourselves. The daily round--the vast machinery of life--must go on, but +after all only he who belongs to the Kingdom is fitted to meet its +problems. He brings to them a calm confidence, a clear vision. His heart +does not beat quick with hate or envy. His energy is not weakened by +worry. His sight is not dimmed by doubt.... Perhaps some of you are +saying--what is so often said--that it is easy to preach; and you ask how +one can cease to worry when the path is dark before him; how one can look +upon the terrible problems of sin and suffering, and not feel their +crushing weight. If what I am saying this morning were simply what I think +about it, you are right to doubt. But these are not my words. Can you +believe that our Lord when He told His disciples to seek the Kingdom and +all other needful things would be added, was simply giving utterance to a +beautiful but impracticable theory? For my part, I cannot. + +"I would ask you to notice that Jesus founded all he has to say on one +great fact: the love of your Heavenly Father for you individually. Are you +struggling with poverty, perhaps? Your Heavenly Father knoweth. Try, if +but for a day, to put aside your anxiety and fix your thought on this. The +things you need shall be given, and you shall find strength for another +day of trust. + +"Have you been wronged? do you find it hard to forgive? are you bitter? +Your Heavenly Father knoweth. He will take care of your cause. Leave it to +Him; do not be afraid to forget it. Seek, ask, knock, that you may obtain +entrance into the Kingdom of love. + +"Are you crushed by sorrow or physical pain? Your Father knoweth. Cease to +fight against it. Come into His Kingdom. Suffering endures but a little +while; and if you will have it so, out of it will come a diviner joy. + +"Is the world full of dark problems? Your Heavenly Father knoweth. It is +His world. Your part is to do, not to despair. + +"Are you full of youth and hope and glad anticipation? Your Father +knoweth. He made you so, and in a special sense the Kingdom belongs to +you. The simple-hearted, the teachable, the joyous,--of such is the +Kingdom. Enter in, and immortal youth shall be yours.... Oh, if I might +help you to know the beauty, the joy, the peace of the Kingdom into which +we may enter now and here, if we will. Yet we go on our way, oppressed by +care, warped by envy and hate, our eyes blinded by what we call worldly +wisdom." + +Something like this was what came to Celia; and as she listened, forgetful +of her surroundings, it linked itself in her thought to the Forest +secret. + +It was not so much the words as the aspirations they stirred,--the new +belief in the possibility of high and joyous living, the new courage that +thrilled in her veins. She was still under the spell when after the +benediction Miss Betty asked, with a certain timidity, if she had liked +the sermon. + +Celia looked at her blankly for a second before she replied, "Oh, so much! +It was beautiful. I should like to know him." She turned away with a +smile; she was not ready to discuss it yet. She wanted to think. + +"He held my attention, I grant, but I don't call it a sermon; it was too +elementary,--it was nothing but a talk," she heard Mrs. Molesworth saying. + +"If it wasn't a sermon, it was something better," answered cheery Mrs. +Parton. + +"Most magnetic speaker," the colonel was remarking to some one. + +And now Rosalind and Belle claimed Celia's attention, demanding to know +what she thought of the detective; and she must come back to earth and +listen and reply and enter into their gayety--an easier matter, to be +sure, than responding to the comments of grown people. + +The next morning, on her way to class, Celia met Miss Betty and Dr. +Hollingsworth walking up the hill toward the Gilpin house, and Miss Betty +stopped and presented her companion. + +After some moments' chat about other things, as they were separating, +Celia said, "I want to thank you, Dr. Hollingsworth, for my share of your +sermon yesterday." Her face made it evident that this was no merely +conventional speech, and the president looked down upon her benignly +through his glasses. + +"I thank you for being willing to take any of my thoughts to yourself," he +said. + +Celia now noticed for the first time that he wore an oak leaf, and she +remembered with what delight Rosalind and Belle had told her of his wish +to be an Arden Forester. "I believe," she added, laughing a little, "that +I have the Kingdom of Heaven and the Forest somewhat mixed." + +"You will find when you have lived as long as I have that there are often +many names for the same thing," the president answered, smiling. + +"And do you believe that things always come right in the Forest?" The +wistful note in Celia's voice told something of her struggle. + +"It has been my experience so far on the journey. But, my dear young lady, +the one way to test it is to live there." + +"I mean to," she said earnestly. + +Whatever the opinion in Friendship of Dr. Hollingsworth's ability as a +preacher, he left behind him a most agreeable impression as a mere man, to +quote Mrs. Parton. + +The Arden Foresters would not soon forget a tramp with him over Red Hill. +They found him interested in everything, in a light-hearted, boyish way +that made them overlook the fact that he was the president of a great +university. When they stopped on the hilltop to rest and enjoy the view, +he sat on the fence with them and talked foot-ball and cricket, and told +stories of college pranks without deducing a single useful lesson +therefrom. This was a surprise to Jack, for Dr. Pierce, who lived next +door to the Partons, was fond of morals, and went about with his pockets +full, so to speak. + +Before they knew it, they found themselves confiding to him their plans +for the future. + +"You must all come to our university," Rosalind said, with decision, +"mustn't they, Dr. Hollingsworth? Jack can study forestry, and Maurice +can study law; and Belle and Katherine--" + +"I mean to study medicine if father will let me," Belle put in. + +Dr. Hollingsworth smiled upon the bright-eyed little girl, in whose every +movement self-reliance and energy were written. "Don't be in haste to +decide," he said. "There is sure to be something for you to do, and +Rosalind and I shall be glad if, whatever it is, it brings you to our +university." + +As they watched the president sign his name in the Arden Foresters' book +that afternoon, there was stirred in each young heart an impulse to be and +to do something worth while in the world. + +Meantime, the report spread that in returning to Friendship, Dr. +Hollingsworth had had another object than merely to preach for Dr. +Pierce. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVENTH. + +OLD ENEMIES. + +"Kindness nobler ever than revenge." + + +If things came right in the Forest, it was not through effort. One had +simply to surrender to its spell, to breathe in the beauty and the calm, +to live there, as the president had said. + +Celia's thoughts were interrupted by Sally's hurried entrance. + +"Laws a mercy! Miss Celia, honey, Mrs. Whittredge's in the parlor. I come +mighty nigh askin' her what she wanted in dis yere house." + +Celia looked up in astonishment. Mrs. Whittredge! What could it mean? "And +she asked for me?" she repeated. + +"I done tol' her your mamma was sick, but she 'lowed 'twas you she +wanted." + +Celia recovered herself. "Very well, Sally," she said, but it was with a +beating heart she walked the length of the hall. Her enemy! What did it +mean? + +Mrs. Whittredge, her heavy veil thrown back a little, stood beside the +table in the centre of the room. + +"You are surprised, Celia," she said, as they faced each other, "but there +is something I wish to say to you. No, I will stand, thank you." + +Celia waited, feeling, even in the midst of a tumult of emotion, the +tragic beauty of the dark eyes. + +Mrs. Whittredge seemed to find words difficult. She looked down at the +table on which her right hand rested. "I have made many mistakes," she +began, "but--I have never meant to wrong any one. At the time of my +husband's illness I--there were things said--I did not agree with Dr. +Fair, and I may have gone too far. It is my misfortune to be intense. I +was very unhappy. I thought the case was not understood. It was my +mistake." She paused. + +"And my father died, crushed by the knowledge that he was unjustly blamed +for the death of his friend! The discovery of your mistake comes too +late." Celia's voice was tense with the stored up pain of those two years. + +Mrs. Whittredge drew back. "You are hard," she said. "We look at things +from different standpoints. I have told you I wish to wrong no one, +but--ah, your father was cruel--cruel to me!" + +"My father was never cruel," Celia cried. + +"Listen! He told me I was killing my husband. I, who worshipped him. I, +who--God knows--would have given my life to--" she broke off in a passion +of grief, sinking into a chair and burying her lace in her hands. + +Celia stood abashed and trembling before this revelation of a sorrow +deeper than her own,--the sorrow of self accusation and unavailing regret. + +"Have you been wronged, are you hard and bitter? Seek the Kingdom of love. +Your Heavenly Father knoweth. He will take care of your cause." For a +moment Celia struggled against the wave of pity that was sweeping over +her, then forgetting everything but the suffering of this woman bowed +before her, she knelt by her side. + +"Forgive me," she whispered. "I do not want to be hard. I, too, have +suffered, though not like you. Perhaps we wronged the dead by keeping +bitterness in our hearts. Perhaps to them it is all made right now. I will +forgive; I will try to forget." + +Mrs. Whittredge lifted her head. Her face was drawn and white. + +"I cannot forget," she said; "it is my misery. But I have no wish to make +other lives as unhappy as my own. Will you believe me when I say I regret +the wrong I did, and that I want to interfere with no one's happiness +hereafter?" + +"I will believe it," Celia said, holding out her hand. + +Mrs. Whittredge did not refuse it; but her own was very cold in Celia's +clasp. Drawing her veil over her face, without another word she left the +house. + +Celia sat still, dazed by the sudden onward sweep of things. A meaning, a +possible motive, beneath Mrs. Whittredge's words occurred to her as her +heart began to beat more quietly. "To interfere with no one's happiness +hereafter." Could Allan--but no, she would not let herself think it. She +would stay in the Forest, and work and wait, and trust in its beneficent +spell. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHTH. + +BETTER THAN DREAMS. + + "I like this place, + And willingly could waste my time in it." + + +The engagement of Miss Betty Bishop and Dr. Hollingsworth was announced. +As Miss Betty said, there was no use in trying to keep it a secret with +Mrs. Parton spreading her suspicions abroad. + +"If you had confided in me and asked me not to tell, I shouldn't have +breathed it," that lady protested. + +"Oh, yes, you would," Miss Betty said, laughing. "You know you tell +everything; but, after all, there's no harm done, and no reason why it +should not be known. I don't blame people for being surprised, either. I +am surprised myself, and I see the absurdity, but--" + +"There is no absurdity about it. I am delighted. Dr. Hollingsworth is +charming. I'd be willing to marry him myself if it wasn't for the +colonel, and you are going to be as happy as happy can be." Mrs. Parton +laughed her pleasant laugh, clearly overjoyed at what seemed to her the +good fortune of her friend. + +Rosalind first heard the news from Belle. "Why," she said, "if he marries +Cousin Betty, the president will be related to me." + +"Let's frame Dr. Hollingsworth's picture and give it to her," Maurice +suggested. + +This was hailed as a brilliant idea, and that afternoon the five might +have been seen in the picture store in search of a frame for the stolen +photograph. It was an excellent likeness of the president, and an equally +good one of black Bob, who, happening to pass at the critical moment, had +been included unintentionally. + +The proprietor of the store, getting an inkling of the joke, hunted up a +small frame which, with the help of a mat, answered very well. Then the +Arden Foresters proceeded to Miss Betty's, where they delivered the +package into Sophy's hands and scampered away, their courage not being +equal to an encounter with her mistress. + +At the bank gate they separated, Belle going in with Katherine to practise +a duet they were learning, and Jack hurrying home with the fear of his +Latin lesson before his eyes. Maurice walked on with Rosalind. + +"Come in for a while," she said. + +The air was crisp, but the sunshine was bright, and the bench under the +bare branches of the white birch seemed more inviting than indoors. As +they took their seat there, Rosalind said gayly, "Father will be here this +week. We are not sure what day." + +"And then you will have to go," Maurice added discontentedly. + +"Yes, and I am partly sorry and partly glad. I am so glad I came to +Friendship, Maurice. Just think how many friends I have made!" + +"How long ago it seems--that day when you spoke to me through the hedge. +You must have thought I was a dreadful muff," said Maurice. + +Rosalind laughed. "I thought you were cross." + +"I was in a horrid temper, but I didn't know how horrid until you told me +the story and I read in the book what your cousin wrote about bearing +hard things bravely. I suppose if it had not been for you, I should have +gone on being a beast." + +"I was feeling pretty cross myself that day. I didn't know then what a +pleasant place Friendship is. I think I have found a great deal of joy by +the way, as Cousin Louis said," Rosalind continued meditatively. + +"And I thought my summer was spoiled," Maurice added. + +"It just shows you can never tell," Rosalind concluded wisely. + +"Are you sure you won't forget us when you go away?" Maurice wanted to say +"me," instead of "us," but a sudden shyness prevented. + +"Why, Maurice, I couldn't! Especially you; for you were my first friend." +The gray eyes looked into his frankly and happily. + +After Maurice had gone, Rosalind still sat there in the wintry sunshine. +Things seemed very quiet just now, with Uncle Allan away for a week and +Aunt Genevieve not yet returned. She and her grandmother were keeping each +other company, and becoming better acquainted than ever before. Mrs. +Whittredge's glance often rested upon her granddaughter with a sort of +wistful affection, and once, when their eyes met, Rosalind, with a quick +impulse, had gone to her side and put her arms around her. Mrs. Whittredge +returned the caress, saying, "I shall be sorry to give you up, dearie." + +On another occasion Rosalind had told how surprised she had been to find +that her grandmother did not wear caps and do knitting work. "But I like +you a great deal better as you are," she added. + +Mrs. Whittredge smiled. "I fear I am in every way far from being an ideal +grandmother," she said. + +Rosalind thought of all this, her eyes on the dismantled garden. The +flower beds were bare, the shrubs done up in straw, the fountain dry, and +yet something recalled the summer day when she had sat just here learning +her hymn. She remembered her old dreams of Friendship, and now she decided +that the reality was best. She shut her eyes and tried to think just how +she had felt that Sunday afternoon. + +"What is the matter, little girl?" The magician's words, but not his +voice; nor was it his face she looked into. + +"Father!" she cried,--"you dear! Where did you come from?" + +It was some time before any connected conversation was possible. + +"Why, father, how brown you are!" + +"And Rosalind, how tall you are, and how rosy! To think I have lost six +months of your life!" + +"And I want to tell you everything just in one minute. What shall I do?" +Rosalind said, laughing, as she held him fast. + +It did indeed seem a task of alarming proportions to tell all there was to +tell; Rosalind felt a little impatient at having to share her father with +her grandmother that evening. And there was almost as much to hear,--of +Cousin Louis, whose health was now restored, but who was to spend some +months in England, of their adventures, and the sights they had seen. + +"We shall want something to talk about when we get home," she was +reminded. + +It would have been plain to the least observant that Patterson +Whittredge's life was bound up with that of this little daughter. As he +talked to his mother, his eyes rested fondly on Rosalind, and every +subject led back to her at last. + +Rosalind, looking from her father to her grandmother, noted how much alike +were their dark eyes, but here the resemblance ended. Mrs. Whittredge's +oldest son, although he might possess something of her strong will, had +nothing of her haughty reserve. His manner, in spite of the preoccupation +of the student, was one of winning cordiality. Older and graver than +Allan, there was yet a strong likeness between the brothers. + +Rosalind could not rest until she had taken her father to all the historic +spots, as she merrily called them,--Red Hill, the Gilpin place, the +cemetery, and the magician's shop, of course. + +"Friendship has been good for you, little girl," he said, as they set out +far a walk next day. + +"I used to think that stories were better than real things, father, but it +isn't so in Friendship. At first I was--oh, so lonely; I thought I never +could be the least bit happy without you and Cousin Louis; but the +magician and the Forest helped me, and since then I have had a beautiful +time. I love Friendship. I almost wish we could live here." + +"And desert Cousin Louis and the university?" + +"No, I suppose not; but we can come back in the summer, can't we? And, oh, +father dear, you'll join the Arden Foresters, won't you?" + +As they walked up the winding road at the cemetery, Mr. Whittredge heard +something of those puzzles which had so disturbed Rosalind's first weeks +in Friendship, beginning with the story of the rose. + +"It's funny, father, but I hadn't thought till then that grown people had +quarrels. I might have known it from the story of the Forest; I remembered +that afterward, and how things all came right." + +"Poor little girl! You should have been warned; and yet in spite of it you +have learned that realities are better than dreams." + +"Father," Rosalind asked abruptly, "why was it you did not come to +Friendship for so many years? Did not grandmamma like my mother? I think +I ought to know." + +Mr. Whittredge smiled at the womanly seriousness of the lifted face. "I +think you ought, dear," he answered. + +With her hand clasped in his he told her the story briefly, for even now +he could not dwell upon it without pain, and as Rosalind listened she +discovered that she had already heard a bit of it from Mrs. Parton and +Mrs. Molesworth at the auction. + +"We must try, you and I, not to think too hardly of grandmamma now. She +has suffered a great deal, and it was your mother's earnest wish that the +trouble might be healed if the opportunity ever came." Patterson said +nothing of his own struggle to forgive his mother's attitude toward his +young wife. + +"I think, father," Rosalind said, "that perhaps grandmamma is sorry. One +day, not long ago, I saw her looking at mother's picture. She did not know +I was there. She took it from the table and held it in her hand, and I am +sure she was crying a little." + +That was a happy day, for now they put aside sad memories, and turned to +the merry side of life, Rosalind kept forgetting that her father had been +in Friendship before, and continued to point out objects of interest with +which he had been familiar long before she was born. So full were the +hours that it was growing dusk when they turned into Church Lane to call +on the magician. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-NINTH. + +AT THE MAGICIAN'S. + +"I would have you." + + +Over his work these days the magician often smiled. It seemed to him that +the good in things was beginning to show very plainly. The atmosphere of +Friendship was clearing; the trouble which had first shown itself when +Patterson Whittredge left his home had begun to lift with the coming of +his daughter. Not that Rosalind had anything to do with it; it was only +one of those bits of poetical justice that go to make life interesting. + +An onlooker might have observed that he smiled oftener when engaged on the +spinet than at other times; but if the magician had made any more +discoveries in connection with it, he kept them to himself. + +Now that the days were growing chill, a cheerful fire blazed on his +hearth, before which Crisscross and Curly Q. dozed; he had found time to +renew the motto over the chimney-piece, and the window-shelf was full of +plants. The Arden Foresters appeared to regard the place as a club-room +for their special benefit, and dropped in at all hours. The magician liked +to have them there. As he sandpapered and oiled and polished, it was +pleasant to glance in, now and then, at the open door, at a row of bright +faces in the chimney-corner. + +Once in a while Celia joined them for a few minutes. She wanted to know +about the purchaser of the spinet, but Morgan seemed inclined to evade her +questions. He did not deny that there was a purchaser, but the name had +apparently escaped him. + +Belle suggested that it might be the same mysterious individual who had +bought the house, and Morgan accepted this as a happy solution when it was +mentioned to him. + +The cabinet-maker was a very queer person at times. + +Celia sat in one corner of the high-backed settle alone this afternoon. +Belle, who had come in with the news of the arrival of Rosalind's father +the evening before, had just gone, and Celia, who had spent a busy +morning, was reflecting that it was too late to begin a new task, and that +she might as well allow herself to rest. Of late she hid taken life more +quietly. + +"Morgan seems to have gone out. May I come in?" It was Allan Whittredge +who spoke, standing in the door. + +"He was there a moment ago," Celia answered, rising. + +"May I wait for him here? You agreed we were not to be enemies; can't we +go a step farther, and be friends?" + +Celia found no reply to this, but she sat dawn again. + +Allan took the arm-chair and faced her. "I seem to be always forcing +myself on you, but I'll promise you this is the last time," he said. + +Still Celia had nothing to say, but she allowed him a glance of her dark +eyes which was not discouraging. + +Allan went on: "I am so tired of mistakes and misunderstandings that, +before the subject is closed forever between us, I want you to know the +exact truth in regard to my feelings. + +"When I received your letter putting an end to things, at first I was hurt +and angry, and I tried to persuade myself that it was for the best after +all. You see, I did not know your side, and you will forgive me if I +confess I thought you childish and lacking in deep feeling. Then, two +years later, I saw you with the children, coming down the stairs at the +Gilpin house, and something made me feel dimly that I had wronged you; but +still I could not understand, until some words of Cousin Betty's suddenly +made it clear. It was maddening to think what my long silence must have +seemed to mean to you. Then, for the first time, I saw the real barrier +between us, and the more I thought of it, the more impenetrable it became. + +"But it is hard for me to give up. I have looked at it on all sides; I +went away that I might think more clearly about it, and of late I have +begun to hope. I believe that love worthy of the name lives on in spite of +everything, and I have dared to wonder if your love could have weathered +this storm; if you still cared, though it might be only enough to give me +the chance to win you again." Allan bent forward in his earnestness, his +eyes fixed appealingly upon the small, still figure in the corner of the +settle. + +"Do you not care at all, Celia?" he asked, after a moment's silence. + +Celia lifted her eyes. "Care?" she cried, "I have always cared,--through +everything! When I thought you knew and believed the cruel charge against +my father; when I knew his heart was broken; when he was dead,--when I +wanted to hate you, still I cared. Have you cared like that?" + +This vehement confession, with its note of defiance, was bewildering. +Allan hesitated before this unapproachable, tempestuous Celia. Then he +drew his chair nearer. "Celia, dear heart, do not speak so; I have not +been tried like you, but give me the chance and see how I will atone for +the past." + +Suddenly Celia held out her hand; "Oh, Allan, I am so very bad-tempered. I +seem always determined to quarrel," she said, with a laugh that was half a +sob. + +This was enough, the strain was broken; Allan forsook the arm-chair for +the settle. + +It was perhaps some fifteen minutes later when he asked Celia if she +remembered the magician, and the tiger with three white whiskers. "What a +brave little girl you were," he added. + +"Little goose," said Celia. + +"Does that mean you will no longer follow me blindly?" + +She laughed. "What made you think of it?" she asked. + +"Rosalind inquired the other day if I was the boy." + +"Allan, I don't know why I told the children that story." + +"At least it gave me the courage to try my fate." + +"I don't think it required much courage." + +"You don't know," Allan replied, smiling over her head. "But now, dearest, +we are going to begin again and live in a fairy tale and forget all the +hard and cruel things. Do you know, I had a vision that day, in the +library of the old house? I saw a fire of blazing logs, and you and I sat +before it, and we weren't quarrelling." + +"Dear old house! I can't bear to look at it now," Celia sighed. + +"I am sorry to hear that, for I was planning to live there." + +"Allan--you? Wasn't it sold?" + +"I bought it through an agent. I thought perhaps I might want to sell +again if--if things did not come out as I hoped." + +"Even then you were thinking about it?" + +"I have thought of nothing else since the day I saw you on the stairs with +your arm around Belle." + +"How unhappy I was! I did not dream that you still cared. It seems so long +ago. Did you know your mother came to see me, Allan?" + +"Yes. She has keen eyes; she knew what it meant to me. Poor mother!" + +"I thought I could never forgive, but I believe I do now,--not +always,--but I shall after a while." + +Allan pressed his lips to the hand he held; then, still holding it, he +took the little case from his pocket and put the sapphire ring on her +finger. "I hope Cousin Betty will be satisfied now," he remarked. + +Celia looked down at the quaint old ring. "How much it seems to stand +for!" she said. "Rosalind will be glad," she added. "Do you know, I did +not realize how bitter and unhappy I was until I met her one day in the +cemetery. Her eyes were so sweet, they made me ashamed." + +"She told me about it," Allan answered. + +"Not about the rose? Did she see that? Oh, Allan--but I picked it up again +and carried it home." + +"She long since came to the conclusion that she was mistaken in thinking +it was her rose you threw away." + +It was growing dark. The magician, who had come in long ago, wisely +refrained from interrupting his guests, but went about putting away his +tools and smiling to himself. He was just lighting his lamp, when the shop +door opened and Rosalind danced in, followed by her father. + +"Mr. Pat!" exclaimed the magician. "I heard you were here. I wondered if +you wouldn't come to see me;" and he shook hinds as if he would never +stop, while Rosalind circled around them merrily. + +"Mr. Pat was one of my boys," Morgan announced, as if it were a piece of +news; adding, "We ought to make some tea." + +Rosalind clapped her hands, and nodded emphatically, "Let's!" she cried. +"Why, there's Uncle Allan! Where did you come from?" + +"I arrived at home a few hours ago and found nobody, so I started out in +search of some one. How are you, Patterson?" and the brothers clasped +hands warmly. + +"We are going to have tea, just as I did that day when I was so lonely, +and--here's Miss Celia!" Rosalind paused in surprise. + +Celia stood rather shyly in the door. She would gladly have escaped if she +could. + +At Rosalind's exclamation, Allan drew his brother forward. "You remember +Celia Fair, Patterson?" he said. + +"Certainly I do. She was about Rosalind's age when I last saw her." + +"I remember you very well, Mr. Whittredge," Celia said, as Patterson took +both her hands, and looked into her glowing face. + +"I haven't been told anything, but--" he glanced inquiringly at Allan, who +nodded, smiling. + +Rosalind caught sight of the ring on Celia's finger. "Oh," she said, "was +that what the will meant? Are you going to wear it always? I know Aunt +Patricia would be glad!" and she hugged Celia joyfully. + +That what followed was a childish performance cannot be denied, but alas +for those who do not sometimes enjoy putting away grown-up dignity! +Rosalind had set her heart on having tea, and the magician was no less +pleased at the idea. He lighted up and filled the kettle, and she set the +table, while the others looked on and laughed. + +"I began being a boy again four months ago, and I like it. How old are +you?" Allan asked, passing Celia her cup. + +"About six," she answered. + +"Then I am ten." + +"Then you are too little for me to play with," said Rosalind. "How old are +you, father?" + +"If Allan is ten I ought to be about sixteen, I suppose." + +"Here's to the magician!" cried Allan, and they drank the cabinet-maker's +health right merrily. + +"I drink to the ring which has come to its own again," said Rosalind's +father; and so the fun went on. + +Celia forgot her shyness and was a happy little girl once more. + +"Let us drink to the Forest and all who have learned its secret," she +proposed. + +In the midst of it all, Miss Betty walked in. + +"Well!" she exclaimed, "I think you might have asked me." + +"It isn't too late. This is an impromptu affair in honor of Patterson," +said Allan, offering her a chair. + +"You have no idea what a noise you are making," she said, greeting the +stranger. "I had just come in from a guild meeting, and the unusual +illumination and the sounds of hilarity were too much for my curiosity." +Here her glance rested in evident surprise upon Celia. + +"Celia has something to show you, Cousin Betty," Allan said mercilessly, +"and you are not to bother me about it any more." + +Miss Betty went around to Celia and kissed her. "It is what I have been +hoping all along," she whispered. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTIETH. + +OAK LEAVES. + +"Bid me farewell." + + +"I have something to tell you," said Belle, as the Arden Foresters walked +up the hill toward the Gilpin place. + +"So have I," added Rosalind, "something lovely," and she waved a small +package aloft. + +"Is it something for us?" Katherine asked. + +"Let Belle tell hers first. Mine must wait till we get to the oak tree." + +"It is about the ring. I have found out how it came to be in the spinet," +Belle announced. + +"Really? How?" + +"Lucy Brown, Aunt Milly's granddaughter, put it there," she began, all +eagerness to tell her news. "Aunt Milly, you know, was Mr. Gilpin's cook, +and Lucy had come in from the country to stay with her a few days, when he +was taken ill. The morning he died she found the case with the ring in it +under the library table, and she carried it into the drawing-room, where +she was dusting, meaning to show it to her grandmother. Just as she had +opened the spinet some one called to her to run for Dr. Fair, that Mr. +Gilpin was dying, and in a great hurry she pushed the ring case under the +strings and closed the lid and forgot all about it. She went home before +anybody knew the ring was lost, and never thought of it again till she +came to Friendship the other day and our Manda was telling her about the +magician's finding it." + +"I am almost sorry we know how it happened," said Rosalind. "I liked to +think the magician had really broken the spell." + +It was the last meeting of the Arden Foresters before Rosalind's +departure, and in spite of the wintry day they decided it must be held +under the oak tree; and little cared they for the weather as they rustled +through the fallen leaves beneath the bare brown trees. + +"I believe it is going to snow," said Jack, turning up his collar. + +"If you'll stay we'll take you coasting down the Gilpin hill," Maurice +added. + +"I am afraid if I waited it wouldn't snow," Rosalind answered, laughing, +"And now I have something to show you." They had reached the arbor, and +sitting down she opened the box she carried. + +"You know we have been wondering what we should do for badges when the +leaves were gone. Just see what the president has sent!" and she displayed +to their delighted gaze five small, enamelled oak leaves. + +If Dr. Hollingsworth was sensitive to compliments, his ears must have +burned badly about this time. Belle summed them up by remarking, "I just +believe he is almost the nicest man I ever knew." + +They stood together under the oak tree, and Rosalind pinned on the new +badges. "Let's promise to be friends, whatever happens," she said, +"because we know the Forest secret and have had such good times this +summer." + +The sun shone out brightly for a moment as the wind swept over the +hilltop, rattling the vines on Patricia's Arbor; under the autumn sky the +winding river sparkled as gayly as when its banks were green; on the +far-away stretch of yellow road the wintry sunshine lay; and under the red +oak they clasped hands and promised to be friends always. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. 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Leonard</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} /* page numbers */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + img {border: 0;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em;} + hr.full { width: 100%; } + pre {font-size: 8pt;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Mr. Pat's Little Girl, by Mary F. Leonard, +Illustrated by Chase Emerson</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Mr. Pat's Little Girl</p> +<p> A Story of the Arden Foresters</p> +<p>Author: Mary F. Leonard</p> +<p>Release Date: March 31, 2005 [eBook #15511]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. PAT'S LITTLE GIRL***</p> +<p> </p> +<h4>E-text prepared by David Garcia, Emmy,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (www.pgdp.net)<br /> + from page images generously made available by<br /> + the Kentuckiana Digital Library + (<a href="http://kdl.kyvl.org/">http://kdl.kyvl.org/</a>)</h4> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="10" style="background-color: #ccccff;"> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + Note: + </td> + <td> + Images of the original pages are available through the Electronic + Text Collection of the Kentuckiana Digital Library. See<br /> + <a href="http://kdl.kyvl.org/cgi/t/text/text-idx?;page=simpleext"> + http://kdl.kyvl.org/cgi/t/text/text-idx?;page=simpleext</a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2"></a><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3"></a></p> + +<h1>Mr. Pat's Little Girl</h1> + +<h2><span class='smcap'> A Story of the Arden Foresters</span> </h2> + +<h3>BY</h3> +<h2>MARY F. LEONARD</h2> + +<p class="center">AUTHOR OF <i>THE SPECTACLE MAN</i>, ETC.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS ST CHASE EMERSON</i></p> + +<p class="figcenter"><img src="./images/emblem.jpg" alt="emblem" title="emblem" /></p> + +<p class="center">W.A. WILDE COMPANY</p> + +<p class="center">BOSTON AND CHICAGO</p> +<p class="figcenter"><img src="./images/divider.jpg" alt="divider" title="divider" /></p> + +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4"></a>1902</p> +<p> </p> + + +<p class="figcenter"><img src="./images/divider.jpg" alt="divider" title="divider" /></p> + + +<p class="center"><span class='smcap'> Mr. Pat's Little Girl.</span><br /> <a name="Page_5" id="Page_5"></a> +<span class='smcap'> to</span><br /> +<span class='smcap'> A.E.F.</span><br /> +<span class='smcap'> in loving memory</span><br /> +<span class='smcap'> this story is lovingly dedicated</span><br /> +<span class='smcap'> by her niece</span> +<a name="Page_6" id="Page_6"></a></p> + +<p class="figcenter"><img src="./images/divider.jpg" alt="divider" title="divider" /></p> + +<p class="figcenter"><a href="./images/1.jpg"><img src="./images/1-tb.jpg" alt=""HOW SWEET THE BREATH BENEATH THE HILL OF SHARON'S LOVELY ROSE."" title=""HOW SWEET THE BREATH BENEATH THE HILL OF SHARON'S LOVELY ROSE."" /></a><a name="HOW_SWEET_THE_BREATH" id="HOW_SWEET_THE_BREATH" ></a></p> +<p class='center'>"HOW SWEET THE BREATH BENEATH THE HILL OF SHARON'S LOVELY ROSE."</p> +<p><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7"></a></p> + +<p class="figcenter"><img src="./images/divider.jpg" alt="divider" title="divider" /></p> + +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align='center'>CHAPTER</td> +<td align='left'></td> +<td align='center'>PAGE</td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_FIRST"><b>I.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>Things Begin to Happen</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_11"><b>11</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>A magician most profound in his art.</i>"</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_SECOND"><b>II.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>On the Other Side of the Hedge</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_21"><b>21</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>Give me leave to speak my mind.</i>"</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_THIRD"><b>III.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>Friendship</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_32"><b>32</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>True it is that we have seen better days.</i>"</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_FOURTH"><b>IV.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>An Unquiet Morning</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_41"><b>41</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>You amaze me, ladies!</i>"</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_FIFTH"><b>V.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>Maurice</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_50"><b>50</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>The stubbornness of fortune.</i>"</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_SIXTH"><b>VI.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>Puzzles</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_62"><b>62</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>How weary are my spirits.</i>"</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_SEVENTH"><b>VII.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>The Magician Makes Tea</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_74"><b>74</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">"<i>If that love or gold</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;"><i>Can in this place buy entertainment,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;"><i>Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed.</i>"</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_EIGHTH"><b>VIII.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>"To Meet Rosalind"</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_85"><b>85</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>Put you in your best array.</i>"</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_NINTH"><b>IX.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>The Lost Ring</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_100"><b>100</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>Wear this for me.</i>"</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_TENTH"><b>X.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>Celia</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_110"><b>110</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>One out of suits with fortune.</i>"</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_ELEVENTH"><b>XI.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>Making Friends</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_118"><b>118</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>Is not that neighborly?</i>"</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_TWELFTH"><b>XII.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>The Gilpin Place</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_127"><b>127</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>This is the Forest of Arden.</i>"</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_THIRTEENTH"><b>XIII.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>In Patricia's Arbor</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_141"><b>141</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>O, how full of briers is this working-day world.</i>"</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_FOURTEENTH"><b>XIV.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>The Arden Foresters</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_147"><b>147</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>Like the old Robin Hood of England.</i>"</span><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8"></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_FIFTEENTH"><b>XV.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>A New Member</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_158"><b>158</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>In the circle of this forest.</i>"</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_SIXTEENTH"><b>XVI.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>Reciprocity</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_171"><b>171</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>Take upon command what we have.</i>"</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_SEVENTEENTH"><b>XVII.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>A New Comrade</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_182"><b>182</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>I know you are a gentleman of good conceit.</i>"</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_EIGHTEENTH"><b>XVIII.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>An Imprisoned Maiden</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_198"><b>198</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>The house doth keep itself,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;"><i>There's none within."</i></span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_NINETEENTH"><b>XIX.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>Old Acquaintance</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_212"><b>212</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>And there begins my sadness.</i>"</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTIETH"><b>XX.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>The Spinet</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_222"><b>222</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>Though art not for the fashion of these times.</i>"</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY_FIRST"><b>XXI.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>"Under the Greenwood Tree"</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_225"><b>225</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>Must you then be proud and pitiless?</i>"</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY_SECOND"><b>XXII.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>Circumstantial Evidence</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_242"><b>242</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>I sometimes do believe and sometimes do not.</i>"</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY_THIRD"><b>XXIII.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>The Detective</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_254"><b>254</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>'Twas I, but 'tis not I.</i>"</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY_FOURTH"><b>XXIV.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>At The Auction</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_265"><b>265</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>Assuredly the thing is to be sold.</i>"</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY_FIFTH"><b>XXV.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>Questions</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_276"><b>276</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>They asked one another the reason.</i>"</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY_SIXTH"><b>XXVI.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>The President</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_284"><b>284</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"—<i>And good in everything.</i>"</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY_SEVENTH"><b>XXVII.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>Old Enemies</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_294"><b>294</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>Kindness nobler ever than revenge.</i>"</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY_EIGHTH"><b>XXVIII.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>Better Than Dreams</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_298"><b>298</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>I like this place.</i>"</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY_NINTH"><b>XXIX.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>At the Magician's</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_308"><b>308</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>I would have you.</i>"</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_THIRTIETH"><b>XXX.</b></a></td> +<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>Oak Leaves</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_319"><b>319</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'></td> +<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"<i>Bid me farewell.</i>"</span></td></tr> +</table></div> +<p><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9"></a></p> + +<p class="figcenter"><img src="./images/divider.jpg" alt="divider" title="divider" /></p> + +<h2> +ILLUSTRATIONS.</h2> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustration List"> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='right'>PAGE</td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>"'How sweet the breath beneath the hill<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of Sharon's lovely rose'"</span></td> +<td align='right'><i>Frontispiece</i> <a href="#HOW_SWEET_THE_BREATH"><b>12</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>"Do you know Miss Betty?"</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#DO_YOU"><b>78</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>"Looking up, he discovered his visitors"</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#LOOKING_UP"><b>153</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>"They crossed over to speak to her"</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#THEY_CROSSED_OVER_TO_SPEAK"><b>193</b></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>"She chose a chest of drawers"</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#SHE_CHOSE"><b>268</b></a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<p><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10"></a><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11"></a></p> + +<p class="figcenter"><img src="./images/divider.jpg" alt="divider" title="divider" /></p> + +<h2>Mr Pat's Little Girl</h2> + + + +<p class="figcenter"><img src="./images/divider.jpg" alt="divider" title="divider" /></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FIRST" id="CHAPTER_FIRST" ></a>CHAPTER FIRST.</h2> + +<h3>THINGS BEGIN TO HAPPEN.</h3> + +<p class="center">"A magician most profound in his art."</p> + + +<p>It was Sunday afternoon. The griffins on the doorstep stared straight +before them with an expression of utter indifference; the feathery foliage +of the white birch swayed gently back and forth; the peonies lifted their +crimson heads airily; the snowball bush bent under the weight of its white +blooms till it swept the grass; the fountain splashed softly.</p> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Hymn"> +<tr><td align='left'>"'By cool Siloam's shady rill</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">How fair the lily grows,'"</span></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p>Rosalind chanted dreamily.</p> + +<p>Grandmamma had given her the hymn book, telling her to choose a hymn and +commit it to memory, and as she turned the pages this had caught her eye +and pleased her fancy.<a name="Page_12" id="Page_12"></a></p> + +<p>"It sounds like the Forest of Arden," she said, leaning back on the garden +bench and shutting her eyes.</p> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="How sweet the breath"> +<tr><td align='left'>"'How sweet the breath beneath the hill</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of Sharon's lovely rose.'"</span></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p>She swung her foot in time to the rhythm. She was not sure whether a rill +was a fountain or a stream, so she decided, as there was no dictionary +convenient, to think of it as like the creek where it crossed the road at +the foot of Red Hill.</p> + +<p>Again she looked at the book; skipping a stanza, she read:—</p> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="By Siloam's shady rill"> +<tr><td align='left'>"'By cool Siloam's shady rill</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">The lily must decay;</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: .5em;">The rose that blooms beneath the hill</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Must shortly pass away.'"</span></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p>The melancholy of this was interesting; at the same time it reminded her +that she was lonely. After repeating, "Must shortly pass away," her eyes +unexpectedly filled with tears.</p> + +<p>"Now I am not going to cry," she said sternly, and by way of carrying out +this resolve she again closed her eyes tight. It was desperately hard +work, and she could not have told whether two minutes or ten had passed +when she was startled <a name="Page_13" id="Page_13"></a>by an odd, guttural voice close to her asking, +"What is the matter, little girl?"</p> + +<p>If the voice was strange, the figure she saw when she looked up was +stranger still. A gaunt old man in a suit of rusty black, with straggling +gray hair and beard, stood holding his hat in his hand, gazing at her with +eyes so bright they made her uneasy.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," she answered, rising hastily.</p> + +<p>But the visitor continued to stand there and smile at her, shaking his +head and repeating, "Mustn't cry."</p> + +<p>"I am not crying," Rosalind insisted, glancing over her shoulder to make +sure of a way of escape.</p> + +<p>With a long, thin finger this strange person now pointed toward the house, +saying something she understood to be an inquiry for Miss Herbert.</p> + +<p>Miss Herbert was the housekeeper, and Rosalind knew she was at church; but +when she tried to explain, the old man shook his head, and taking from his +pocket a tablet with a pencil attached, he held it out to her, touching +his ear as he uttered the one word "Deaf."</p> + +<p>Rosalind understood she was to write her answer, and somewhat flurried she +sat down on the <a name="Page_14" id="Page_14"></a>edge of the bench and with much deliberation and in large +clear letters conveyed the information, "She is out."</p> + +<p>The old man looked at the tablet and then at Rosalind, bowing and smiling +as if well pleased. "You'll tell her I'm going to the city to-morrow?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>There was something very queer in the way he opened his mouth and used his +tongue, Rosalind thought, as she nodded emphatically, feeling that this +singular individual had her at an unfair advantage. At least she would +find out who he was, and so, as she still held the tablet, she wrote, +"What is your name?"</p> + +<p>He laughed as if this were a joke, and searching in his pocket, produced a +card which he presented with a bow. On it was printed "C.J. Morgan, +Cabinet Work."</p> + +<p>"What is your name?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Rosalind hesitated. She was not sure it at all concerned this stranger to +know her name, but as he stood smiling and waiting, she did not know how +to refuse; so she bent over the tablet, her yellow braid falling over her +shoulder, as she wrote, "Rosalind Patterson Whittredge."<a name="Page_15" id="Page_15"></a></p> + +<p>"Mr. Pat's daughter?" There was a twinkle in the old man's eye, and +surprise and delight in his voice.</p> + +<p>Rosalind sprang up, her own eyes shining. "How stupid of me!" she cried. +"Why, you must be the magician, and you have a funny old shop, where +father used to play when he was little. Oh, I hope you will let me come to +see you!" Suddenly remembering the tablet, she looked at it despairingly. +She couldn't write half she wished to say.</p> + +<p>Morgan, however, seemed to understand pretty clearly, to judge from the +way he laughed and asked if Mr. Pat was well.</p> + +<p>Rosalind nodded and wrote, "He has gone to Japan."</p> + +<p>"So far? Coming home soon?"</p> + +<p>With a mournful countenance she shook her head.</p> + +<p>Morgan stood looking down on her with a smile that no longer seemed +uncanny. Indeed, there was something almost sweet in the rugged face as he +repeated, "Mr. Pat's little girl, well, well," as if it were quite +incredible.</p> + +<p>Rosalind longed to ask at least a dozen questions, but <a name="Page_16" id="Page_16"></a>it is dampening to +one's ardor to have to spell every word, and she only nodded and smiled in +her turn as she handed back the tablet.</p> + +<p>"I wish father had taught me to talk on my fingers," she thought, feeling +that one branch of her education had been neglected. "Perhaps Uncle Allan +will, when he comes."</p> + +<p>She watched the odd figure till it disappeared around a turn in the trim +garden path, then she picked up the big red pillow which had fallen on the +grass, and replacing it in one corner of the bench, curled herself up +against it. The hymn book lay forgotten.</p> + +<p>"I believe things are really beginning to happen," she said to herself. +"You need not pretend they are not, for they are," she added, shaking her +finger at the griffins with their provoking lack of expression. "You +wouldn't make friends with anybody, not to save their lives, and it seemed +as if I were never to get acquainted with a soul, when here I have met the +magician in the most surprising way. And to think I didn't know him!"</p> + +<p>The dream spirit was abroad in the garden. Across <a name="Page_17" id="Page_17"></a>the lawn the shadows +made mysterious progress; the sunlight seemed sifted through an enchanted +veil, and like the touch of fairy fingers was the summer breeze against +Rosalind's cheek, as with her head against the red pillow, she travelled +for the first time in her life back into the past.</p> + +<p>Back to the dear old library where two students worked, and where from the +windows one could see the tiled roofs of the university. Back to the world +of dreams where dwelt that friendly host of story-book people, where only +a few short weeks ago Friendship, too, with its winding shady streets and +this same stately garden and the griffins, had belonged as truly as did +the Forest where that other Rosalind, loveliest of all story people, +wandered.</p> + +<p>Friendship was no longer a dream, and Rosalind, her head against the red +pillow, was beginning to think that dreams were best.</p> + +<p>"If we choose, we may travel always in the Forest, where the birds sing +and the sunlight sifts through the trees."</p> + +<p>These words of Cousin Louis's in his introduction to the old story pleased +Rosalind's fancy. She <a name="Page_18" id="Page_18"></a>liked to shut her eyes and think of the Forest and +the brave-hearted company gathered there, and always this brought before +her the fair face of the miniature on her father's desk and a faint, sweet +memory of clasping arms.</p> + +<p>When the doctor with a grave face had said that only rest and change of +scene could restore Cousin Louis's health, and when Rosalind understood +that this must mean for her separation from both her dear companions, it +was to the Forest she had turned.</p> + +<p>"I'll pretend I am banished like Rosalind in the story," she had said, +leaning against her father's shoulder, as he looked over the proofs of +"The Life of Shakespeare" on which Cousin Louis had worked too hard. "Then +I'll know I am certain to find you sometime."</p> + +<p>Her father's arm had drawn her close,—she liked to recall it now, and +how, when she added, "But I wish I had Celia and Touchstone to go with +me," he had answered, "You are certain to find pleasant people in the +Forest of Arden, little girl." And putting aside the proofs, he had talked +to her of her grandmother and the old town of Friendship.<a name="Page_19" id="Page_19"></a></p> + +<p>She had been almost a week in Friendship now, and—well, things were not +altogether as she had pictured them. Silver locks and lace caps, +arm-chairs and some sort of fluffy knitting work, had been a part of her +idea of a grandmother, and lo! her own grandmother was erect and slender, +with not a thread of gray in her dark hair, nor a line in her handsome +face.</p> + +<p>She was kind—oh, yes, but so sad in her heavy crepe. Aunt Genevieve in +her trailing gowns was charming to behold, but no more company for +Rosalind—at least not much more—than the griffins. Miss Herbert was not +a merry, comfortable person like their own Mrs. Browne at home. The house +was very quiet. The garden was beautiful, but she longed to be outside its +tall iron gates; and she longed—how she longed—for her old companions!</p> + +<p>Cousin Louis had given her her favorite story in a binding of soft +leather, delicious to hold against one's cheek, and her father had added a +copy of the beautiful miniature. With these treasures she had set out upon +her journey. But she had begun to feel as if in the great Forest <a name="Page_20" id="Page_20"></a>she had +lost her way, when the friendly face of the magician reassured her.</p> + +<p>The sound of sweeping draperies broke in upon her thoughts. It was Aunt +Genevieve, and she had not learned her hymn. Picking up her book, she +stole swiftly across the grass till she was hidden by some tall shrubbery. +Before her was a high hedge of privet; beyond it, among the trees, the +chimneys of a red brick house.</p> + +<p>Walking back and forth, Rosalind began to study in earnest. Looking first +at her book and then up at the blue sky, she repeated:—</p> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="'Lo! such the child"> +<tr><td align='left'>"'Lo! such the child whose early feet</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">The paths of peace have trod.</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: .5em;">Whose secret heart with influence sweet</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Is upward drawn to God.'"</span></td></tr> +</table></div> +<p><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SECOND" id="CHAPTER_SECOND" ></a>CHAPTER SECOND.</h2> + +<h3>ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HEDGE.</h3> + +<p class='center'>"Give me leave to speak my mind."</p> + + +<p>There was another garden on the other side of the hedge; not so large, nor +so beautifully kept perhaps, but a pleasant garden, for all that. The red +brick house to which it belonged was by no means so stately as the one +whose doorstep the griffins guarded, yet it had an importance all its own. +On week days, when the heavy shutters on the lower front windows were +open, <i>The National Bank of Friendship</i> was to be seen in gilt letters on +the glass; on Sundays, however, when they were closed, there was little to +suggest that it was anything more than a private dwelling. It was a +square, roomy house, and the part not in use for bank purposes was +occupied by the cashier, Mr. Milton Roberts, and his family.<a name="Page_22" id="Page_22"></a></p> + +<p>While Rosalind, curled up on the garden seat, was thinking of home, +Maurice Roberts lay in the hammock under the big maple near the side +porch, where his mother and Miss Betty Bishop sat talking. He held a book, +but instead of reading was allowing himself the lazy entertainment of +listening to their conversation.</p> + +<p>From his position, a little behind the visitor, he had an excellent view +of her as she sat erect in the wicker chair, her parasol across her lap. +Miss Betty was plump and short, and had a dimple in her chin. Her hair, +which was turning gray, waved prettily back from her forehead into the +thickest of braids, and altogether there was a pleasant air of crispness +about her; though something in the keenness of her glance, or the firmness +with which her lips met, suggested that on occasion she might be +unyielding. "The Barnwell stubbornness," she herself would have explained, +with the same complacency she manifested when displaying her grandmother's +tea-set.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Roberts, Maurice's mother, was a gentle person, with large, soft eyes +and a quiet manner.</p> + +<p>The preliminary conversation had not been <a name="Page_23" id="Page_23"></a>interesting, pertaining chiefly +to flowers and the weather, and Maurice gave a sigh of satisfaction when, +after a moment's pause, Miss Betty straightened herself and remarked, +"Well, I hear the will is certain to be sustained."</p> + +<p>"Then the property will have to be sold?" questioned Mrs. Roberts.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and I may as well say good-by to the cream-jug and sugar-dish that +Cousin Anne always said should be mine. Still, I never shall believe +Cousin Thomas was out of his mind when he made that last will, it was too +much like him. Dear knows it ought to be broken, but not on that ground. +It was a case of pure spite."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Betty!"</p> + +<p>Maurice smiled to himself at his mother's tone.</p> + +<p>"I assure you it was. I knew Cousin Thomas. Didn't Cousin Anne tell me +dozens of times in his presence, 'Betty, this is your cream-jug and +sugar-dish, because they match your teapot'?"</p> + +<p>"I should think you had enough silver, Betty; still it was a shame Miss +Anne left that list unsigned," said Mrs. Roberts.</p> + +<p>"If you knew Cousin Anne at all, Mrs. Roberts, you <a name="Page_24" id="Page_24"></a>knew how hesitating +she was. She couldn't decide whether to leave the Canton china to Ellen +Marshall or to Tom's wife. She changed her mind any number of times, but +she was always clear about my cream-jug and sugar-dish. If Cousin Thomas +had had any decency, he would have considered her wishes. Think of my own +grandmother's things put up at public auction!"</p> + +<p>"Most of Mr. Gilpin's money goes to the hospital, I suppose," remarked +Mrs. Roberts.</p> + +<p>"Pretty much everything but the real estate in and around Friendship, and +the contents of the house, all of which will have to be sold and divided +among his first cousins or their heirs. The only bequests made besides the +money to the hospital are to Celia Fair and Allan Whittredge. Celia is to +have the spinet, and Allan that beautiful old ring, if ever it comes to +light again. I wish Cousin Thomas had left Celia some money. She was one +person for whom he had a little affection."</p> + +<p>Maurice wished so too. He admired Miss Celia Fair, and felt it was too bad +she should get only an antiquated piano.<a name="Page_25" id="Page_25"></a></p> + +<p>"Are the Fairs related to the Gilpins?" his mother asked. Not being a +native of Friendship, she had difficulty in mastering the intricacies of +its relationships.</p> + +<p>It was ground upon which Miss Betty was entirely at home, however. "They +were kin to Cousin Thomas's wife," she explained. "Mrs. Fair's grandmother +was half-sister to Cousin Emma's mother, and raised Cousin Emma as her own +child. Of course it is not very near when it comes to Celia. The spinet +belonged to old Mrs. Johnson,—Celia's great-grandmother, you know,—whose +name was also Celia. Saint Cecilia, they used to call her, because she was +so good and played and sang so sweetly. It is right the spinet should go +to Celia, but that would not have influenced Cousin Thomas a minute if he +had not wished her to have it."</p> + +<p>"And the ring has never been heard of?" Mrs. Roberts asked, as her visitor +paused for breath.</p> + +<p>"I doubt if it ever comes to light. It is nearly three years now since it +disappeared," was the reply. Miss Betty looked up at the vines above her +head, and her lips curled into a sort of <a name="Page_26" id="Page_26"></a>half smile. "I should like to +hear Cousin Ellen Whittredge on the will," she added. "I don't think she +cares much about the money, however; it is more that old feeling against +Dr. Fair. You remember he testified to Mr. Gilpin's sanity."</p> + +<p>"And her son?" asked Mrs. Roberts.</p> + +<p>"Allan? It is hard to find out what Allan thinks, but there is no +bitterness in him. He is like his father, poor man! What I am curious to +know is, what Cousin Thomas meant by saying in his will that Allan knew +his wishes in regard to the ring. That strikes me as a little sensational. +I asked Allan about it the last time I saw him, but he only laughed and +said he'd have to get it before he could dispose of it."</p> + +<p>Miss Betty now made some motions preliminary to rising, but as if on +second thought, she laid her parasol across her knees again and asked, +"Have you heard that Patterson's daughter is here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think I saw her in the carriage with her grandmother yesterday," +was Mrs. Roberts's reply.<a name="Page_27" id="Page_27"></a></p> + +<p>This was news to Maurice, and he listened with interest.</p> + +<p>Miss Betty shook her head. "I am surprised," she said. "That marriage of +Patterson's was a dreadful blow to Cousin Ellen."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me she was unreasonable about it. I am glad she sent for him +before his father died." Mrs. Roberts spoke with some hesitation. She did +not often array her own opinions against those of her friends.</p> + +<p>"I don't blame her as some do. A person of that sort, and Patterson the +very light of her eyes! How would you feel if Maurice some day should do a +thing like that?"</p> + +<p>Maurice laughed softly. His thoughts were not much occupied with marriage. +His mother ignored the question, and in her turn asked, "Did Mrs. +Whittredge ever see her daughter-in-law?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed. This child was not more than three when she died."</p> + +<p>"Poor little thing!" Mrs. Roberts sighed.</p> + +<p>"Such a name! I detest fancy names. Rosalind!" Miss Betty rose.</p> + +<p>"A good old English name and very pretty, I think. Was it her mother's?"<a name="Page_28" id="Page_28"></a></p> + +<p>"I suppose so, but I don't know. Yes, I must go; Sophy will think I am +lost. Good-by," and Miss Betty stepped briskly down the path.</p> + +<p>The gate had hardly closed when Maurice heard some one calling him. +Looking over his shoulder, he saw his sister Katherine beckoning.</p> + +<p>"Maurice, Maurice, do come here; I want you to see something."</p> + +<p>Her tone impressed him as unduly mysterious. "What is it?" he asked +indifferently.</p> + +<p>"Come, and I'll show you."</p> + +<p>"I sha'n't come till you tell me," he persisted.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I think you might, because if I stop to tell you she may be gone."</p> + +<p>"Who'll be gone? You might have told it twice over in this time."</p> + +<p>"The girl I want you to see," explained Katherine, drawing nearer in +desperation. "Did you know there was a girl next door?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course." There was nothing in Maurice's tone to indicate how +brief a time had passed since this information had been acquired.</p> + +<p>"Truly? I don't believe it," Katherine faltered.</p> + +<p>"She is Mrs. Whittredge's granddaughter, and her name is Rosalind, so +now!"<a name="Page_29" id="Page_29"></a></p> + +<p>Privately, Katherine thought her brother's power of finding things out, +little short of supernatural. "Don't you want to see her?" she asked +meekly. "There is a thin place in the hedge behind the calycanthus bush, +and she is walking to and fro studying something." Would Maurice declare +he had already seen this girl?</p> + +<p>Maurice sat up and reached for a crutch that rested against the tree. He +had his share of curiosity. He was a tall, well-grown boy of thirteen, and +it was apparent as he swung himself after Katherine, that accident and not +disease had caused his lameness.</p> + +<p>Rosalind, studying her hymn all unconscious of observation, was a pleasant +sight.</p> + +<p>"Isn't she pretty?" whispered Katherine, but Maurice silenced her so +sternly she concluded he did not agree with her.</p> + +<p>In reality he thought very much as she did, although he would not have +used the same adjective. There was something unusual about this girl. Why +it was, he did not understand, but she seemed somehow to belong in a +special way to the sweet old garden with its June roses. Maurice had +fancies that would have astonished Katherine <a name="Page_30" id="Page_30"></a>beyond measure if she could +have known anything about them. But how was she to know when he pinched +her arm and looked sternly indifferent?</p> + +<p>The tea bell called them back to the house; on the way Katherine's +enthusiasm burst forth afresh.</p> + +<p>"Isn't she sweet? and such a beautiful name—Rosalind. How old do you +think she is? and do you suppose she is going to live there? Oh, Maurice, +shouldn't you be afraid of Mrs. Whittredge?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything about her," Maurice replied, forgetting for the +moment that he bad been pretending to know a great deal.</p> + +<p>"I should like to have my hair tied on top of my head with a big ribbon +bow as hers is," continued Katherine, who would innocently persist in +laying herself open to brotherly scorn.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you think you will look like her then," was his retort.</p> + +<p>"Now, Maurice, I don't. I know I am not pretty." Katharine's round face +grew suddenly long, and tears filled her blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"Don't be a goose, then. I'll tell you what <a name="Page_31" id="Page_31"></a>she made me think of, that +statue of Joan of Arc—don't you remember? Where she is listening to the +voices? We saw it at the Academy of Fine Arts."</p> + +<p>"Why, Maurice, how funny! She is much prettier than that," said +Katherine.<a name="Page_32" id="Page_32"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_THIRD" id="CHAPTER_THIRD" ></a>CHAPTER THIRD.</h2> + +<h3>FRIENDSHIP.</h3> + +<p class='center'>"True it is that we have seen better days."</p> + + +<p>A rambling, sleepy town was Friendship, with few aspirations beyond the +traditions of its grandfathers and a fine indifference toward modern +improvements.</p> + +<p>During the era of monstrous creations in black walnut it had clung to its +old mahogany and rosewood, and chromos had never displaced in its +affections the time-worn colored prints of little Samuel or flower-decked +shepherdesses. In consequence of this conservatism Friendship one day +awoke in the fashion.</p> + +<p>There were fine old homes in Friendship which in their soft-toned browns +and grays seemed as much a part of the landscape as the forest trees that +surrounded them and shaded the broad street. Associated with these +mansions <a name="Page_33" id="Page_33"></a>were names dignified and substantial, such as Molesworth, +Parton, Gilpin, Whittredge.</p> + +<p>In times past the atmosphere of the village had seemed to be pervaded by +something of the spirit of its name, for here life flowed on serenely in +old grooves and its ways were the peaceful ways of friendship. But of late +years, alas! something alien and discordant had crept in.</p> + +<p class='center'> +'"And what is Friendship but a name—'" +</p> + +<p>quoted the cabinet-maker sadly one morning when after climbing the hill +from the wharf he paused to rest on the low stone wall surrounding the +Gilpin place.</p> + +<p>Landing Lane ended at the top of the hill, and here at right angles to it +the Main Street of Friendship might be said to begin, slowly descending to +a level and following the leisurely curves of the old stage road till it +came to a straggling end at the foot of another prominence known as Red +Hill.</p> + +<p>In forty years a life takes deep root, and this time had passed since +Morgan, a raw Scotch boy of eighteen, had come to Friendship as <a name="Page_34" id="Page_34"></a>assistant +to the village cabinet-maker. A year or two later an illness deprived him +of his hearing, but fortunately not of his skill, and upon the death of +his employer he succeeded to the business, his kindly, simple nature, +together with his misfortune, having won the heart of Friendship.</p> + +<p>His fame for making and doing over furniture had spread beyond the borders +of the town; his opinion was valued highly by collectors, and it was said +he might have made a fortune in the city. But what use had he for a +fortune? It was the friendly greetings, the neighborly kindnesses, the +comradeship with the children of the village, that made his life.</p> + +<p>In spite of its rugged lines his face as he grew older had taken on a +singularly sweet expression, but it was sad to-day as he sat on the wall +in his knit jacket and work apron, looking down on the town, its roofs and +spires showing amongst the trees. It seemed to him that the times were out +of joint, and his cheerful philosophy was beginning to fail him. Something +had been wrong ever since Patterson Whittredge went away, more than a +dozen years ago.<a name="Page_35" id="Page_35"></a></p> + +<p>Morgan never failed to follow with interest the careers of the boys of +Friendship as they went out into the world, and of all the boys of the +village Patterson had been his favorite. He had understood the trouble as +well as if it had been carefully explained to him. His deafness had +quickened his insight. A girl's lovely face on Pat's dressing-table, seen +when he replaced a broken caster, partly told the story, and Mrs. +Whittredge's pride and determination were no secret to any one.</p> + +<p>Judge Whittredge's whitening head and heavy step, his fruitless search for +health abroad, his return to die at last in his old home, Patterson's +coming,—sent for by his heart-broken mother,—this was the rest of the +story. But before this family difference had been settled by the stern +hand of death, the removal of Thomas Gilpin had precipitated another +quarrel upon the town.</p> + +<p>It was a puzzle to Morgan that a man like his old friend Mr. Gilpin, who +had it in his power to do so much good, should have chosen to do harm +instead. As he rose to go, he looked over his shoulder at the old house, +closed and deserted since the death of its owner.<a name="Page_36" id="Page_36"></a></p> + +<p>The site was a beautiful one, commanding a view of valley and hill and the +narrow winding river. The house, an unpretentious square of red brick, +with sloping roof and dormer windows, wore its hundred years with dignity, +and amid its fine trees was an object of interest to strangers, of pride +to the villagers.</p> + +<p>Below it on the slope stood a more modern house, in what had been until +recently a handsome garden. Morgan, as he passed recalled how proud Dr. +Fair had been of his flowers. Celia, who was entering the gate, nodded and +smiled brightly. He noted, however, that her face was losing its soft +curves and rose tints. Celia was another of his favorites, and he knew she +was having her battle with misfortune, meeting it as bravely as a young +woman could. Thomas Gilpin might so easily have smoothed the way for her. +The spinet was an interesting heirloom, no doubt, but would not help Celia +solve the problem of bread and butter.</p> + +<p>The shop of the cabinet-maker was just off Main Street, at the foot of the +hill. To its original two rooms he had added two more, and here he lived +with no companions but a striped <a name="Page_37" id="Page_37"></a>cat and a curly dog, who endured each +other and shared the affection of their master.</p> + +<p>Morgan's housekeeping was not burdensome. Certain of his neighbors always +remembered him on baking day, and his tastes were simple. His shop opened +immediately on the street; back of it was his living room and the small +garden where he cultivated the gayest blooms. The living room had an open +fireplace, for it was one of the cabinet-maker's pleasures to sit in the +firelight when the work of the day was over, and a small oil stove +sufficed for his cooking. On one side of the chimney was a high-backed +settle, and above it a book shelf. Like most Scotch boys, he had had a +fair education, and possessed a genuine reverence for books and a love of +reading. In the opposite corner was an ancient mahogany desk where he kept +his accounts, and near by in the window a shelf always full of plants in +the winter. A cupboard of his own manufacture, a table, a lamp, and an +arm-chair completed the furniture of the room. The walls he had painted a +dull red, and over the fireplace in fanciful letters had traced this +motto: "Good in everything."<a name="Page_38" id="Page_38"></a></p> + +<p>To this cheerful belief Morgan held firmly, although there were times like +this morning, when coming out of the sunlight and feeling a little weary, +he noticed that the walls were growing dingy and the motto dim, and sighed +to think how hard it was to see the good in some things.</p> + +<p>He placed a paper in the old secretary and was turning toward the shop +when he stopped short in amazement, for in the doorway stood Rosalind, her +face full of eagerness. Behind her was Miss Herbert, whom Morgan entirely +overlooked in his pleasure at seeing Mr. Pat's little girl again.</p> + +<p>He shook hands warmly and offered the arm-chair, but Rosalind had no +thought of sitting down. As she gazed with bright-eyed interest around the +room, her glance fell on the motto, and she pointed to it and then to +herself.</p> + +<p>The cabinet-maker was puzzled. "Is it your motto?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She nodded brightly.</p> + +<p>Morgan turned to the shelf, took down a large volume of Shakespeare's +plays, and laying it on the table began to turn the pages rapidly. +Rosalind <a name="Page_39" id="Page_39"></a>looked over his arm. He ran his finger down a leaf presently and +pointed to the line. "There," he said.</p> + +<p>Rosalind turned back a page and pointed to her own name, and then they +both laughed as if it were a great coincidence.</p> + +<p>A sharp tap on his arm made Miss Herbert's presence known to Morgan. Miss +Herbert was not of Friendship. She knew the value of time if the +cabinet-maker did not, and had no idea of waiting while he discussed +Shakespeare in pantomime with Rosalind.</p> + +<p>Miss Herbert with the aid of the tablet, and Morgan with many queer +gestures to help out his faltering tongue, so long without the guide of +hearing, contrived to despatch the business relating to a claw-footed +sofa. When it was finished, Rosalind was missing, and was discovered in +the little garden, making friends with the black poodle, while the striped +cat looked on from the fence.</p> + +<p>It was with evident reluctance she accompanied Miss Herbert to the +carriage. Before she left she took the tablet and wrote, "I am going to +learn to talk on my fingers."<a name="Page_40" id="Page_40"></a></p> + +<p>"Good," the cabinet-maker answered, and he followed them to the street, +smiling and nodding. "Come again," he called as they drove away.</p> + +<p>When he returned to the shop, the world seemed brighter, the mist of doubt +had lifted.</p> + +<p>"The rough places can't last always," he told himself as he sandpapered +the claw toes of the sofa. "We are certain to come to a turn in the lane +after a while. There's good in everything, somewhere."</p> + +<p>Perhaps the coming of Mr. Pat's little girl was a good omen. To him at +least it was a most interesting event, nor was he the only person in +Friendship who found it so.<a name="Page_41" id="Page_41"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FOURTH" id="CHAPTER_FOURTH" ></a>CHAPTER FOURTH.</h2> + +<h3>AN UNQUIET MORNING.</h3> + +<p class='center'>"You amaze me, ladies."</p> + + +<p>Farther up the street on the other side, but within sight of the +Whittredges', was Mrs. Graham's Boarding and Day School for Young Ladies.</p> + +<p>The broad, one story and a half mansion, with rooms enough for a small +hotel, was still known as the Bishop place, although nearly twenty years +had passed since the little brown and white house on Church Street had +opened its doors to Miss Betty and her invalid father, and to such of the +massive furniture as could be accommodated within its walls. In her +circular Mrs. Graham was careful to state that her school was commodiously +housed in the mansion of the late distinguished Senator Charlton H. +Bishop, and many a daughter groaned over her algebra or French verbs in +the very room where her mother or grandmother before <a name="Page_42" id="Page_42"></a>her had fleeted the +time carelessly in evenings long past, for brilliant was the tradition of +the Bishop hospitality.</p> + +<p>Celia Fair, who taught drawing in the school, and on occasion kept study +hour in what had once been the long drawing-room, had a fancy that the +spirit of those days was responsible for many an outburst of mischief. +At present Mrs. Graham's pupils were in a fever of curiosity over the new +arrival at the Whittredges'.</p> + +<p>The Whittredge place had been invested by them with something of a halo of +romance, founded chiefly on the seclusion In which it pleased Mrs. +Whittredge to live. Bits of gossip let fall by their elders were eagerly +treasured; it became the fashion, to rave over the beauty of the haughty +Miss Genevieve, and even her brother who was not haughty, but quite like +other people, was allowed a share of the halo on account of his connection +with the lost ring, made famous by the contested will.</p> + +<p>Katherine Roberts, returning to school after several days' absence, found +herself unusually popular. Katherine lived next door to the unknown; she +had seen her; it was even said she <a name="Page_43" id="Page_43"></a>had heard her speak. Excitement grew +as the news spread.</p> + +<p>The girls were standing in groups on the porch and steps, laughing and +talking together, and at sight of Katherine gave her an uproarious +greeting.</p> + +<p>Round, rosy-faced, blue-eyed Katherine, with her brown hair in two tight +plaits turned under and tied with a ribbon behind her ears, was a little +abashed at the attention she excited.</p> + +<p>"What is she like, Katherine? tell us—the new girl at the Whittredges'."</p> + +<p>"She is standing at the gate now," answered Katherine, looking over her +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Is she? Oh, where?"</p> + +<p>"Let's walk by and see her."</p> + +<p>"We'll be tardy if we do, and at any rate there is the carriage; perhaps +they will drive past."</p> + +<p>"Look! there's Miss Genevieve. No, they are going the other way."</p> + +<p>"What are you staring at?" demanded Belle Parton, joining the group. Belle +was a gypsy-looking girl with merry black eyes, and hair that refused to +be smooth like Katherine's, but continually fell in her eyes. As she spoke +she put <a name="Page_44" id="Page_44"></a>her hat on the step and proceeded to adjust the round comb she +wore.</p> + +<p>"The Whittredge girl. Have you seen her, Belle?" asked Charlotte Ellis.</p> + +<p>"No; what is she like?"</p> + +<p>"Katherine is the only one who has seen her; she says she is lovely."</p> + +<p>"Oh, she is! You ought to see her, Belle. Maurice and I peeped through the +hedge and saw her walking to and fro studying something. And her name is +Rosalind. Isn't that a beautiful name?"</p> + +<p>"I don't believe she is much," Belle announced, with a turn of her head. +The only reason she had for saying this was the naughty one of wishing to +snub Katherine, who took everything in earnest and now looked crestfallen.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, Kit; tell us some more about her," urged one of the others.</p> + +<p>"Grandmamma says she is surprised at Mrs. Whittredge's having her here. +You know she would have nothing to do with her son after he married, until +lately, and she never saw her granddaughter before, I think family +quarrels are awfully interesting; don't you?" As Charlotte <a name="Page_45" id="Page_45"></a>spoke, the +bell rang, and the girls turned toward the house.</p> + +<p>"Do you, Charlotte?" exclaimed Katherine, who was accustomed to pin her +faith to her friend's opinions, but thought that quarrels being wrong +could not be interesting.</p> + +<p>"I think so, too. They are so delightfully mysterious," echoed another of +the girls.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! What is there that is mysterious?" put in pugnacious Belle.</p> + +<p>It may have been the alluring summer day, or the fact that it was near the +end of the term, and discipline had relaxed, but certain it was that a +general restlessness and inclination to whisper pervaded the study hour. +It was the fashion among the girls to adore Celia. Fair, and usually she +had no difficulty in keeping order, but this morning even her presence was +without effect.</p> + +<p>Belle Parton had her history propped up before her in a way that suggested +some mischief going on behind its shelter, rather than any serious study. +Katherine, who was honestly trying to study, was distracted by the signals +flying around her. Charlotte Ellis, whose seat <a name="Page_46" id="Page_46"></a>was near the window, +seemed principally occupied in peeping between the sash curtains.</p> + +<p>Celia had looked up for the second time to say, "Girls, I must have better +order," and things had for several minutes quieted down, when Charlotte +suddenly announced in a loud whisper, "Here they come!" and with that +there was a rush for the windows.</p> + +<p>The cause of the excitement was of course the Whittredge carriage, but all +anybody caught was a fleeting glimpse of a white dress beside Miss +Genevieve's black one, and, as luck would have it, Mrs. Graham opened the +door just in time to witness the scramble for a view.</p> + +<p>"Young ladies, you amaze me! What is the meaning of this?" she demanded, +as the girls, half of whom had rushed because the others had, returned +abashed to their seats.</p> + +<p>"I never knew them to behave so before," said Celia, in apology. +"Something seems to be wrong to-day."</p> + +<p>"Wrong, indeed," repeated Mrs. Graham, who was a person of somewhat +majestic appearance. Then her glance fell on Belle's desk. "And this +explains the rapid disappearance of my <a name="Page_47" id="Page_47"></a>chalk!" she added, holding up to +view a pen tray on which were arranged a number of tiny goblets and dishes +neatly cut out of chalk.</p> + +<p>Katherine, who had not left her seat, laughed nervously. She stood in +great awe of the principal, and she did not in the least wish to laugh.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Graham looked at her sternly, "One mark in deportment, Katherine, and +three to those who left their desks, and you will all spend your recess +indoors. Belle, I will see you in the office."</p> + +<p>Belle followed Mrs. Graham, with her head held high, her lips pursed up +saucily, her black eyes snapping. Katherine, through her own tear-filled +ones, watched her in astonishment.</p> + +<p>When Belle returned study hour was over, and the culprits who were +condemned to stay indoors had grouped themselves beside the window.</p> + +<p>"What did she do to you, Belle?" they cried.</p> + +<p>"Nothing,—just talked. She said it was wasting time and chalk, and that +it wasn't honest. Such a fuss about a little chalk!"</p> + +<p>Celia Fair, who had her hat on, ready to go <a name="Page_48" id="Page_48"></a>home, came behind Belle, and +with a hand on either side of her face she lifted it till the saucy eyes +looked into her own. "Does that make any difference, really—because it is +just chalk?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Belle wriggled out of her hands, only to clasp her around the waist. "I +wouldn't take your chalk," she said, laughing.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what to think of you to-day," Miss Fair continued, looking +around the group. "I am afraid Mrs. Graham will not trust me to keep study +hour after this."</p> + +<p>There was a general cry of, "Oh, Miss Celia, why not?"</p> + +<p>"Do you think she can have a high opinion of my ability to keep order?"</p> + +<p>"But no one else could do any better."</p> + +<p>"If Mrs. Graham had been here, you would not have rushed to the window, I +know very well."</p> + +<p>"But we are so much fonder of you, Miss Celia," urged Charlotte.</p> + +<p>"If that is the case I'd like you to show it by behaving," said Celia, as +she left the room.</p> + +<p>When Belle told at home about the day's occurrences, her father laughed.<a name="Page_49" id="Page_49"></a></p> + +<p>"I shall tell Mrs. Graham she must introduce manual training. 'Satan finds +some mischief still,' you see. Maybe Belle will turn out a famous +sculptor."</p> + +<p>"At any rate, colonel, you ought not to encourage her in such pranks," +Mrs. Parton remarked, shaking her head at her husband, who never saw +anything to criticise in the one little daughter among his five boys.<a name="Page_50" id="Page_50"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FIFTH" id="CHAPTER_FIFTH" ></a>CHAPTER FIFTH.</h2> + +<h3>MAURICE.</h3> + +<p>"The stubbornness of fortune."</p> + + +<p>It was the first of the month, and a steady stream of people passed in and +out of the bank. Maurice sat on the steps leading up to the private +entrance, and with few exceptions each new-comer had a pleasant greeting +or kindly inquiry for him.</p> + +<p>Miss Betty Bishop rustling out, bank book in hand, called, "How are you, +Maurice? When are you and Katherine coming to take tea with me? Let me +know and I'll have waffles."</p> + +<p>The cabinet-maker came to the foot of the steps to ask about the lame +knee, and shook his head in sympathy with Maurice's doleful face.</p> + +<p>Colonel Parton, a tall, gray-mustached man, accompanied by two hunting +dogs, hailed him: "Not going with the boys? Ah, I forgot your knee. Too +bad! Jack's got the dandiest new fishing-rod you ever saw."<a name="Page_51" id="Page_51"></a></p> + +<p>"As if I didn't know it," growled Maurice, us the colonel entered the +bank.</p> + +<p>The next person to accost him was Miss Celia Fair. She hadn't any bank +business, but seeing Maurice as she passed, stopped to speak to him. She +sat down beside him and tried in her pretty, soft way to cheer him.</p> + +<p>"Don't look so gloomy, dear; you know if you are careful you will soon be +all right again," she said.</p> + +<p>At this Maurice poured forth all his disappointment at not being able to +go with the Parton boys on their excursion down the bay.</p> + +<p>"I am just as sorry for you as I can be," said Celia, clasping her hands +in her lap—such slender hands—and looking far away as if she were tired +of everything near by. It was only for a moment, then she said with a +little laugh, "You can't possibly understand, Maurice, but I shouldn't +mind a sprained knee in the least; I think I could even enjoy it, if I +hadn't any more responsibility than you have."</p> + +<p>"But you don't care to go fishing," he suggested.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I do; I like to fish." With a smile she said good-by, and went +away.<a name="Page_52" id="Page_52"></a></p> + +<p>After this Maurice settled down into deeper despondency than before. He +had refused an invitation to drive, hid treated with bitter scorn +Katherine's suggestion that he might like to go out to the creek with her +and Blossom. "You could ride in the stage, you know, and have to walk only +the least little bit," she said.</p> + +<p>"Thank you; it is <i>such</i> fun to throw stones in the water," he replied, +with elaborate politeness.</p> + +<p>That Maurice was badly spoiled was no secret. The only boy in the family, +with bright, engaging ways when things went to please him, he had been +petted and humored by his parents, given up to by Katherine, and treated +as a leader by his boy friends, until he had come to look upon his own +pleasure as the most important thing in the universe. Not that he realized +this. He would have been greatly surprised to hear he was selfish.</p> + +<p>The accident by which his knee had been sprained severely was an +experience as trying as it was new to him. At first the petting he +received at home, and the attentions of his friends, added to his sense of +importance and made it endurable, but this could not continue +<a name="Page_53" id="Page_53"></a>indefinitely. Ball playing and other sports must go on, and Maurice, to +his aggrieved surprise, found they could go on very well without him.</p> + +<p>This morning his mother had expostulated mildly. "My son, you ought not to +make yourself so miserable. You could not be more unhappy if you were to +be lame always."</p> + +<p>"It is <i>now</i> I care about," he replied petulantly.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what to do with Maurice," he overheard her say to his father +in the hall.</p> + +<p>"Let him alone. I am ashamed of him," was Mr. Roberts's reply.</p> + +<p>And now, deserted and abused, Maurice was very miserable, and when he +could stand it no longer he sought a distant spot in the garden and threw +himself face down in the grass.</p> + +<p>He had been lying here some time when a voice apparently quite near asked, +"Have you hurt yourself?"</p> + +<p>Lifting his flushed, unhappy face, he saw peeping at him through the hedge +the girl Katherine had been so interested in on Sunday. She, too, was +lying on the grass, and her fair hair was spread out around her like a +veil. Maurice <a name="Page_54" id="Page_54"></a>raised himself on his elbow and surveyed her in surprise, +forgetting to reply.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" she asked again, looking at him with a pair of +serious gray eyes.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," he answered.</p> + +<p>The gray eyes grew merry. Rosalind laughed, as she said, "Then you ought +not to groan. I thought when I heard you, perhaps you had fallen from a +tree."</p> + +<p>"I wasn't groaning," he protested, feeling ashamed.</p> + +<p>"Maybe you call it sighing, but it was dreadfully deep."</p> + +<p>"Well, I think a fellow has a right to sigh when he can't do anything or +go anywhere; and everybody else is having a good time," Maurice felt +anxious to vindicate himself.</p> + +<p>"I am not having a good time," said Rosalind, "at least not very; but then +you know if you stay in the Forest of Arden, something pleasant is bound +to happen before long."</p> + +<p>Maurice stared at her blankly.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you don't know the story," Rosalind suggested.</p> + +<p>"What story?"<a name="Page_55" id="Page_55"></a></p> + +<p>"Its real name is 'As You Like It,' but I call it 'The Story of the +Forest.'"</p> + +<p>"What is it about?"</p> + +<p>"Oh,—about a banished duke, who lived in the Forest, like Robin Hood, you +know, with a lot of people who were fond of him. He had a daughter, named +Rosalind, and after a while she was banished too and went to look for her +father in the Forest. Her cousin Celia and a funny clown, Touchstone, went +with her, and they were all disguised. And—well, there is a great deal +more to it—but they were all cheerful and brave—everybody is in the +Forest of Arden, because they are sure there is good in everything if you +only try to find it."</p> + +<p>"But that is all a story. It isn't true."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, it is."</p> + +<p>"There wasn't a bit of good in hurting my knee and having the whole summer +spoiled." Maurice's tone was undeniably fretful.</p> + +<p>"If you had been banished as Rosalind was, I suppose you would not have +thought there was any good in that; but she didn't cry about it. She made +the best of it, and had a good time in spite of it."<a name="Page_56" id="Page_56"></a></p> + +<p>"Who says I was crying?" Maurice demanded angrily.</p> + +<p>Rosalind opened her gray eyes wide, then she sat up and tossed back her +hair. Maurice felt convicted of rudeness. Was she going? He hoped not, for +he wished to talk to her.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I am rather cross," he acknowledged; "but don't you think it is +pretty hard to hurt your knee and have to walk with a crutch, and stay at +home when the other boys go fishing?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed. Does it hurt much?" Rosalind asked, with ready sympathy.</p> + +<p>"No, not now; it did at first, but the doctor says it will be five or six +months before it is well again."</p> + +<p>"Then it isn't for always? That is something good."</p> + +<p>Maurice somehow felt uncomfortable. He did not wish the emphasis laid on +the good. It seemed wise to change the subject. "What a lot of hair you +have," he remarked.</p> + +<p>"It has been washed, and grandmamma said I might dry it in the sun," +Rosalind explained, shaking her head so vigorously she was enveloped in a +shining cloud.<a name="Page_57" id="Page_57"></a></p> + +<p>"Isn't it a great bother? Kit hates to have hers braided."</p> + +<p>"Who is Kit?"</p> + +<p>"She is my sister Katherine."</p> + +<p>"It must be nice to have a sister. I haven't anybody but father and Cousin +Louis, and of course they are better than any one else. There are +grandmamma and Aunt Genevieve, but I am not very well acquainted with them +yet. I should love to have some children related to me."</p> + +<p>I have a little sister, too; her name is Blossom. That is, her real name +is Mary, and we call her Blossom."</p> + +<p>"Kit and Blossom; and what is your name?" Rosalind asked.</p> + +<p>"Maurice Roberts."</p> + +<p>Rosalind tossed back her hair and began to twist it into a shining rope. +"I am Rosalind Whittredge," she said. "I should not think you would ever +be unhappy," she added.</p> + +<p>"Do you know, I saw you last Sunday when you were studying something. Kit +and I peeped at you through the hedge."</p> + +<p>"I was learning a hymn for grandmamma. Why didn't you speak to me?"<a name="Page_58" id="Page_58"></a></p> + +<p>"I didn't know whether you'd like it."</p> + +<p>"Why, of course I should have liked it. I was beginning to think that day +I should never get acquainted with any one, and I was feeling dreadfully +lonesome when the magician came in."</p> + +<p>"The magician?" Maurice exclaimed. Certainly this was a singular girl who +talked about magicians in an everyday tone.</p> + +<p>Rosalind laughed. "I mean Morgan, who does cabinet work. Do you know him?"</p> + +<p>"Everybody in Friendship knows Morgan. He is a good fellow, too. Why do +you call him the magician?"</p> + +<p>"Because that is what father called him when he was a little boy. Once +when Morgan had made an old desk look like new, grandfather said he was a +magician, and father, who heard him, thought he meant it really. Father +and Uncle Allan used to play in his shop and talk on their fingers to him. +Can you do that?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes; I'll teach you if you like."</p> + +<p>"I should like it very much. It is so tiresome to write things."</p> + +<p>"Morgan is very clever, too, about understanding. You only begin to spell +a word <a name="Page_59" id="Page_59"></a>when he guesses what you want to say," Maurice added.</p> + +<p>"I went to his shop the other day with Miss Herbert, but she wouldn't let +me stay long. I made friends with his funny dog."</p> + +<p>"Do you know what we call him? Curly Q. And the cat—did you see him? He +is Crisscross."</p> + +<p>"How funny," said Rosalind. "I think they are very good names. Crisscross +wouldn't have anything to do with me."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to live here?" Maurice asked.</p> + +<p>"No; but I shall be here a long time. I think Friendship is a nice place, +and funny too, because it has a bank with a garden around it. At home our +banks are all on the street and have offices over them."</p> + +<p>"Yes; Friendship isn't a city," Maurice acknowledged apologetically. "I +should like to live in a big city."</p> + +<p>"I like Friendship. It only seems a little odd, you know," Rosalind +hastened to add. "Do they ever let you go into the bank part of your +house?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course, I can go in whenever I <a name="Page_60" id="Page_60"></a>choose. My father is the cashier, +and it is to take care of the bank that we live here."</p> + +<p>The conversation was brought to an end by a maid sent to find Rosalind. +After she had gone Maurice saw a book on the grass where she had been +lying, and reaching through the hedge with his crutch, he drew it toward +him. When he removed the outside cover, even his uncritical eye saw it was +a handsome hook. "Shakespeare's 'As You Like It.' Edited by Louis A. +Sargent," he read. "Why, it is one of Shakespeare's plays," he said, in +surprise. So this was the story Rosalind was talking about.</p> + +<p>On the fly-leaf was some writing in small clear letters. "For Rosalind, +with the wish that she may meet the hard things of life as bravely, and +find as much happiness by the way, as did her namesake in the Forest of +Arden. From her friend, Louis A. Sargent."</p> + +<p>"Meet the hard things of life as bravely—" Maurice's face grew hot. "You +wouldn't have thought there was any good in that." The touch of scorn in +Rosalind's tone stung as he recalled it. He turned the leaves and began to +read.<a name="Page_61" id="Page_61"></a></p> + +<p>It was a pleasure to look at the large clear type; he soon became +interested.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later Katherine's voice broke in upon the Forest of Arden. +"Maurice, Maurice, what are you doing? Mother sent me to find you."</p> + +<p>"I am reading. Don't bother, please," was the reply, in a tone so far +removed from melancholy that Katherine, reassured, obediently retired.<a name="Page_62" id="Page_62"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SIXTH" id="CHAPTER_SIXTH" ></a>CHAPTER SIXTH.</h2> + +<h3>PUZZLES.</h3> + +<p class='center'>"How weary are my spirits!"</p> + + +<p>Up to this time life had been a simple and joyous matter to Rosalind. She +had known her own small trials and perplexities, but her father or Cousin +Louis were always at hand to smooth out tangles and show her how to be +merry over difficulties. Now all was different. There were puzzles on +every side and no one to turn to.</p> + +<p>The house behind the griffins was not exactly a cheerful place. Rosalind +found herself stealing about on tiptoe lest she disturb the silence of the +spacious rooms. She hardly ventured to more than peep into the +drawing-room, where Miss Herbert's liking for twilight effects had full +sway. There was a pier table here, supported by griffins, the counterpart +in feature of those on the doorstep, which she longed to examine, but <a name="Page_63" id="Page_63"></a>the +shades were always drawn and the handsome draperies of damask and lace +hung in such perfect folds she dared not disturb them.</p> + +<p>Where was the charm of her father's stories of Friendship? Was it because +her grandfather was dead that everything had changed? This was why her +grandmother wore black dresses and added that heavy veil when she went +out. Rosalind once drew a corner of it over her own face and the gloom +appalled her.</p> + +<p>She ventured to say one day as they drove along a pleasant country road, +"Grandmamma, you don't know how bright the sunshine is," and Mrs. +Whittredge replied, "I do not wish to know, Rosalind; nothing can ever +again be bright to me." Yet if she would only look, she must see that it +was bright. This was one puzzle.</p> + +<p>Aunt Genevieve's manner was another. It was as if she scorned everything, +and sometimes it made Rosalind almost angry.</p> + +<p>On the day of her meeting with Maurice, she ate her lunch with a glance +every few minutes at her great-uncle Allan on the opposite wall. A <a name="Page_64" id="Page_64"></a>very +black portrait, it seemed only a meaningless blur till in a certain light +the strong face and stern eyes shone out of the surrounding gloom with +startling effect. She sometimes wondered rather anxiously if the uncle to +whose home-coming she looked forward, could by any possibility be like the +person for whom he was named. It was not an agreeable face, yet it drew +her gaze with an irresistible attraction. She was convinced that on +occasion the heavy brows contracted and the eyes grew even sterner.</p> + +<p>In the next panel hung Matilda, his wife, as the massive marble in the +cemetery said,—a youthful person with side curls and a comfortable smile.</p> + +<p>Even with its southern windows the dining room was sombre in its massive +furnishings of Flemish oak. Very different from the one at home, with its +sunshine and flowers, its overflow of books from the study, and the odds +and ends of pottery picked up by father and Cousin Louis in their travels.</p> + +<p>Rosalind was thinking that the plain little room of the magician was the +pleasantest place <a name="Page_65" id="Page_65"></a>she knew in Friendship, when Martin entered with +something in his hand, announcing in his courtly way, "A book for Miss +Rosalind." It seemed to her that Martin, with his grizzled head and dusky +face, had the most beautiful manners ever seen.</p> + +<p>"For me, Martin?" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"The young gentleman from next door left it," said Martin.</p> + +<p>"I did not know you knew any one next door, Rosalind," Mrs. Whittredge +remarked questioningly.</p> + +<p>"I am not very well acquainted, grandmamma," Rosalind answered, seeing +suddenly in the handsome face a likeness to the dark portrait; "but I +talked to Maurice through the hedge this morning. I remember now, I had my +book. I must have left it on the grass."</p> + +<p>"I believe Rosalind seldom loses an opportunity to speak to people. Miss +Herbert says she is on quite intimate terms with Morgan," remarked Miss +Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"Father told me about Morgan," Rosalind began apologetically, adding more +confidently, "I like to know people."<a name="Page_66" id="Page_66"></a></p> + +<p>"Your father over again," Mrs. Whittredge said, smiling. "What is your +book, dear?"</p> + +<p>"'As You Like It.' Cousin Louis gave it to me." As she spoke Rosalind +caught the glance exchanged by her grandmother and aunt.</p> + +<p>"When I was a little girl Cousin Louis told me the story because it is +about Rosalind, you know, and ever since I have called it my story, +because I like it best of all."</p> + +<p>No comment was made on this explanation, and it seemed to her the next +time she looked in his direction, that Uncle Allan frowned.</p> + +<p>When luncheon was over she went out to the garden seat under the birch, +carrying with her an old green speller found in a bookcase upstairs. In +the back of it she had discovered the deaf and dumb alphabet, so now she +would not have to wait for Maurice to teach her; she could learn it by +herself. It did not seem difficult. With the spelling book propped open in +one corner of the bench she went carefully over it, and then tried to +think of words she was most likely to want to use in talking with Morgan; +but this was slower work, and the thought that for some unknown reason her +grandmother <a name="Page_67" id="Page_67"></a>was displeased with her kept claiming her attention.</p> + +<p>When father was displeased with her—and this was not often—he always +told her, and they talked it over frankly, but grandmamma and Aunt +Genevieve only looked at each other and said nothing. It both puzzled her +and hurt her dignity to be treated in this way.</p> + +<p>Presently it occurred to her that her grandmother might have been vexed at +her carelessness in leaving her book on the grass. It was careless; father +would have said so. Well, she could let grandmamma know she was sorry, and +feeling relieved at having found a possible solution of the problem, she +closed the spelling book.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Whittredge looked up in evident surprise when Rosalind entered the +room and announced, "I am sorry I left my book on the grass, grandmamma."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, my dear?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I thought you didn't like it because I was careless."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it was careless, my pet, but I had not thought of it. But tell +me what makes you care so much for that book. It seems to me <a name="Page_68" id="Page_68"></a>there are +many stories that would be more interesting to a little girl. Suppose you +put it away and let me find you something else."</p> + +<p>The color deepened in Rosalind's face. "It is my own, own book," she +cried, clasping it to her heart.</p> + +<p>"Very well, you need not be tragic about it," Mrs. Whittredge said coldly, +turning to her writing.</p> + +<p>Again Rosalind knew she had offended, and this time her resentment was +aroused. "I don't like to be spoken to in that way," she told herself, as +she walked from the room.</p> + +<p>Before she had reached the head of the stairs her grandmother's voice +called her hack. Reluctantly she returned.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Whittredge had risen and now came to meet her and put her arm around +her, and her voice was soft and full of affection as she asked, "Do you +want to go to the cemetery with me this afternoon, pet? Aunt Genevieve has +the carriage, and I think a walk will do me good."</p> + +<p>The walk along the shady street and through the grassy lane to the gate at +the foot of the <a name="Page_69" id="Page_69"></a>hill was as pleasant as a walk could be that summer day. +Rosalind kept sedately by her grandmother's side, and the face under the +drooping hat was grave. Behind them walked Martin with some garden tools +and a watering-pot.</p> + +<p>The serious eyes brightened, and the lips curved into a smile at sight of +Maurice and Katherine playing dominos under the maple. How lovely it must +be to have a brother or sister to play with and talk to!</p> + +<p>The cemetery was not new to Rosalind, for Mrs. Whittredge on her daily +drive usually stopped there, and its winding paths and green slopes, its +drooping willows and graceful oaks, and the flowers that bloomed +everywhere, around the stately shafts of marble and the low headstones, +seemed to her very pleasant. Here, however, her grandmother's sadness took +on a deeper tinge as she moved among the mounds that lay in the shadow of +the massive granite monument with "Whittredge" in letters of bronze at its +base.</p> + +<p>As Martin went to work trimming the ivy under his mistress's direction, +Rosalind wandered away by herself across the hill-top, pausing <a name="Page_70" id="Page_70"></a>now and +then to read an inscription and do a sum in subtraction, on the result of +which her interest largely depended. "Lily, born 1878, died 1888," stirred +her imagination, and she sat down to consider it at length. How old would +Lily be now if she had lived? She tried to think how her own name would +look on a stone. It was still and peaceful on that sunny hillside; it +reminded her of "Sharon's lovely rose." The idea of a grave here was not +unattractive. She was considering it pensively when her eyes fell on a +long-stemmed, creamy rose, lying not far from her on the ground. With +instant pleasure in its beauty she took it up and held it against her +cheek.</p> + +<p>Where had it come from? Some one must have dropped it. She stood up and +looked around, but there was no one in sight. On the other side of a holly +bush, however, a number of just such roses lay on a grave. Rosalind walked +over and stooped to read the name on the low headstone. "Robert Ellis +Fair," she repeated half aloud as she laid her rose beside the others.</p> + +<p>When she lifted her head she met the surprised <a name="Page_71" id="Page_71"></a>gaze of a young lady, who +came across the grass with a watering-pot in her hand. She was decidedly +pretty to look at, and she smiled pleasantly as she began watering the +flowers in an iron vase.</p> + +<p>Rosalind felt she must explain, so she said, smiling in her turn, "I found +a rose on the grass, and I thought it must belong here."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. I suppose I dropped it. Won't you tell me who you are? I am +sure you do not live in Friendship."</p> + +<p>"No, I am visiting my grandmother. I am Rosalind Whittredge."</p> + +<p>A strange expression crossed the face of the young lady at this +announcement. Could it be that something displeased her? After a moment +she spoke gravely, "I think some one is looking for you," she said.</p> + +<p>Turning, Rosalind saw Martin in the distance, and as there seemed nothing +else to do or say, she walked away. After she had gone some little +distance she could not resist looking back, and just as she did so she saw +the young lady fling something from her across the grass, and—it looked +like a rose! Could it be her rose? Rosalind <a name="Page_72" id="Page_72"></a>felt her cheeks growing hot. +How very strange! Here was a puzzle, indeed.</p> + +<p>Aunt Genevieve had come for them in the carriage, and as they drove home +Rosalind tried to describe the young lady she had seen, saying nothing +about the rose, however.</p> + +<p>"It must have been Celia Fair, mamma, don't you think so?" asked +Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"Fair was the name on the stone," said Rosalind, adding, "She was pretty."</p> + +<p>Miss Whittredge looked at her mother, then as that lady was silent, she +remarked, in her usual languid tone, "I think you may as well know, +Rosalind, that we have nothing to do with the Fairs."</p> + +<p>Why did it make any difference to Rosalind? Why did everything seem wrong? +Why did she feel so unhappy in spite of the blue sky and the sweet summer +air?</p> + +<p>When they reached home she sat on the garden bench and looked up at the +griffins, and the fancy floated through her mind that it might be +comfortable to be as unfeeling as they.</p> + +<p>"O, dear! I am afraid I am getting out of the Forest. What shall I do? +Perhaps the magician could help me;" she clasped her hands <a name="Page_73" id="Page_73"></a>at the +thought. Why not go to see him? She knew the way.</p> + +<p>"I will take my book to show him," she said; and running to the house for +it, forgetful of everything but her longing for sympathy, a few minutes +later she flitted down the driveway and out of the gate.<a name="Page_74" id="Page_74"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SEVENTH" id="CHAPTER_SEVENTH" ></a>CHAPTER SEVENTH.</h2> + +<h3>THE MAGICIAN MAKES TEA.</h3> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="If that love or gold"> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 6em;">"—If that love or gold</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Can in this place buy entertainment,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed;</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>And faints for succour."</td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<p>The magician was at work in his small garden adjusting some wire netting +for the sweet peas, while Curly Q. looked on with interest, and Crisscross +finished his saucer of milk.</p> + +<p>Rosalind came through the shop so softly that only the cat was aware of +it. He gazed at her in evident doubt whether to continue work on the rim +of his saucer or take refuge on the fence.</p> + +<p>"I should like to have a little house, and a dog and cat to live with me," +she thought, sitting down on the step to wait till she should <a name="Page_75" id="Page_75"></a>be +observed. Yes, this was more like the Forest of Arden than any place she +knew; her unhappiness seemed melting away in the peaceful atmosphere.</p> + +<p>Crisscross decided she was not dangerous, and keeping an eye on her by way +of precaution went on with his supper. It was not long, however, before +Curly Q. discovered her presence and came bounding to her side, with a +sharp bark of welcome, then back to call his master's attention.</p> + +<p>"Why! Why!" exclaimed the magician, holding up a pair of rather grimy +hands.</p> + +<p>There could be no doubt about his being glad to see Rosalind. He asked how +she was, over and over, and apologized for his hands, and smiled and +nodded and indulged in all sorts of absurd gestures, which made her laugh +so she couldn't try her new accomplishment of talking on her fingers. +Directly he hurried into the house, where she could hear him washing his +hands, and then he came out again with a teakettle, which he filled at the +cistern, and carrying it back set it on a small oil stove, which he +lighted.<a name="Page_76" id="Page_76"></a></p> + +<p>"We'll have some tea," he said, sitting down beside her and asking again +how she was.</p> + +<p>Rosalind summoned all her learning and spelled out carefully, with the aid +of some very dainty fingers, "I-am-lon—"</p> + +<p>"Lonesome?" repeated the magician. "That is too bad. Mr. Pat wouldn't like +that."</p> + +<p>Rosalind shook her head. The tears were near the surface, but she kept +them back, and remembering her book she laid it on the magician's knee, +open at the words Cousin Louis had written: "If we choose we may travel +always in the Forest where the birds sing and the sunlight sifts through +the trees; where although we sometimes grow footsore and hungry we know +that the goal is sure. Just outside is the dreary desert in which, alas! +many choose to walk, shutting their eyes to the beauty and peace of the +Forest, and losing by the way the sacred gift of happiness."</p> + +<p>The magician read it slowly through, then he smiled at Rosalind over his +glasses. "That's so," he said. "It is hard to keep out of the desert +sometimes, but it all comes right in the end. Why, the other day I was—" +here he shook <a name="Page_77" id="Page_77"></a>his head and put on a woe-begone expression of countenance +that made his meaning plain, and caused Rosalind to laugh—"and I looked +up and there you stood in the door and pointed to the motto, 'Good in +everything,' and I felt better."</p> + +<p>"Did I really cheer you up?" cried Rosalind, delighted; and nodding quite +as if he heard, the magician answered, "Now I'll cheer you up." Rising, he +beckoned her to follow him inside, and she obeyed, feeling as if she were +somebody in a story.</p> + +<p>The kettle was already singing merrily, and from a shelf the magician took +down a fat little teapot and, rinsing it with boiling water, proceeded to +make tea. Next he spread a white cloth on a small table, and from the +cupboard took out some blue and white cups and plates.</p> + +<p>"Let me set it," begged Rosalind, in pantomime, entering gayly into the +spirit of the thing.</p> + +<p>Laughing, the magician left it to her and went off to his store-room, from +which he emerged with a pitcher of milk and a loaf of brown bread.</p> + +<p>There was nothing in the appointments of this simple meal to offend the +most fastidious taste, and <a name="Page_78" id="Page_78"></a>it was a sight to bring a smile to the +dolefulest countenance, to see Rosalind and the magician sitting opposite +to each other drinking tea. In the midst of it Morgan jumped up and went +to the store-room, returning with a tumbler of jelly. "Miss Betty Bishop's +jelly," he said. "Do you know Miss Betty?"</p> + +<p class="figcenter"><a href="./images/2.jpg"><img src="./images/2-tb.jpg" alt=""DO YOU KNOW MISS BETTY?"" title=""DO YOU KNOW MISS BETTY?"" /></a><a name="DO_YOU" id="DO_YOU" ></a></p> +<p class='center'>"DO YOU KNOW MISS BETTY?"</p> +<p>Rosalind shook her head.</p> + +<p>"She makes good things," he added, as he unscrewed the top.</p> + +<p>Rosalind's afternoon in the open air had given her an appetite, and she +did full justice to the brown bread and jelly, the novelty of the occasion +adding a flavor. Through the open door and window came the glow of the +sunset, and the air was sweet with some far-off fragrance. All trouble had +faded from her face; it was as if in the heart of the Forest she had come +upon some friendly inn. Such a small matter as dinner in the house behind +the griffins quite escaped her memory.</p> + +<p>"Well, upon my word!"</p> + +<p>Startled in the act of feeding Curly Q., Rosalind looked toward the door, +and saw there a lady in a crisp, light muslin. More than this <a name="Page_79" id="Page_79"></a>she did not +at once take in, for behind her in the semi-darkness of the shop was +Martin's face. The conviction that he was looking for her, and that +grandmamma would be vexed, overshadowed everything else. She rose, while +the magician greeted the lady as Miss Betty, and offered her a cup of tea.</p> + +<p>"I'se been searchin' high and low for you, Miss Rosalind," Martin +exclaimed, coming forward.</p> + +<p>"I'm dreadfully sorry, Martin; I forgot," said Rosalind.</p> + +<p>Miss Betty, who had declined the tea, now held out her hand. "This is +Rosalind Whittredge, of course; I am your Cousin Betty."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know I had any cousins," said Rosalind.</p> + +<p>"You will find a few if you stay long enough," replied Miss Betty. "How do +you come to be eating supper with Morgan, I'd like to know? I was sitting +on my porch when you went in, so when Martin came along I was able to help +him."</p> + +<p>"I like Morgan. I wanted to see him. Father told me about him." Rosalind +felt she couldn't explain exactly.<a name="Page_80" id="Page_80"></a></p> + +<p>"I used to know your father very well indeed," said Miss Betty, as they +walked together to the street, after Rosalind had told the magician +good-by. "As you seem to like going out to tea, I hope you will come and +take supper with me sometime," she added, with a twinkle in her eye.</p> + +<p>When she reached home Miss Herbert stood at the gate, and in the door was +Mrs. Whittredge. Rosalind's face was full of brightness as she ran up the +path.</p> + +<p>"Grandmamma, I meant only to stay a minute, and then I forgot."</p> + +<p>"I have been worried about you, Rosalind," Mrs. Whittredge said gravely. +"Why did you not come to me and tell me where you wished to go? Where have +you been?"</p> + +<p>"To see the magician—Morgan, I mean. I wanted so much to see him I did +not think of anything else."</p> + +<p>"Why did you wish to see him?" continued her grandmother.</p> + +<p>The glow was fading from Rosalind's face. "Because—" she hesitated, +"because—"</p> + +<p>"Well?"<a name="Page_81" id="Page_81"></a></p> + +<p>"Because I was lonely, grandmamma, and I was afraid I was going to cry. I +promised father I would be brave, and—well—Morgan knows about the +Forest, and is very good to cheer you up. He made tea in the dearest +little teapot, and it was so amusing, I forgot. I am sorry."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean you took supper with Morgan? Well, Rosalind, you are +amazing!" Aunt Genevieve spoke from the hall.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, Genevieve," said her mother. "I am sorry you were lonely, +Rosalind, but I do not understand why you should go to Morgan. And what do +you mean by the 'forest'?"</p> + +<p>Rosalind's face was grave again. "I don't know, grandmamma," she faltered, +and indeed she could not have told if her life had depended on it.</p> + +<p>"I think you were very easy on her, mamma. It was certainly naughty of her +to run away," Genevieve remarked, after Rosalind, worn out by the +conflicting experiences of the day, had gone to bed.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Whittredge did not reply at once. On her lap lay her granddaughter's +little volume <a name="Page_82" id="Page_82"></a>of "As You Like It," and she had been reading the words +about the Forest. It had a way of opening to that page.</p> + +<p>"She is a peculiar, fanciful child, and quite old enough to know better. +Professor Sargent may be a brilliant man, but it seems to me he has filled +the child's head full of nonsense. I can't see what Patterson has been +thinking of," Genevieve continued.</p> + +<p>"I am not inclined to find much fault with her. I did not expect her to be +perfect. She seems naturally sweet and happy," her mother replied.</p> + +<p>"Losing by the way the sacred gift of happiness," Mrs. Whittredge's eyes +went back to the book. Surely happiness had slipped from her grasp, +leaving nothing but regret. It was sad to realize that her children found +all their pleasure apart from her. Somewhere she had failed, but pride +told her it was fate; that sorrow and disappointment were the common lot, +that gratitude was not to be looked for.</p> + +<p>After her bitter disappointment in her oldest son she had been the more +determined to have her way with Allan. With what result? The <a name="Page_83" id="Page_83"></a>extended +tour abroad, planned with a purpose just as his college course was ended, +had weaned him completely from his home. His interests were elsewhere, and +although as joint executor with her of his father's estate he was often in +Friendship, his visits were usually brief. Between herself and her +daughter there was little sympathy. Genevieve, calm and inflexible, had +early declared her independence. But more than all else put together was +her haunting sorrow for her husband. Words of Dr. Fair, spoken long ago in +cruel bluntness, still rang in her ears: "Madam, you are killing your +husband by your obstinacy." Her mind dwelt with morbid persistency upon +them. Had the reconciliation with her son come too late?</p> + +<p>At a time of utter weariness with herself she acceded to Patterson's +proposal to send his daughter to her. Genevieve had expostulated, +insisting she would be impossible, a child with no bringing up. Rosalind +had come, and even Genevieve had to admit, so far as manners and +appearance were concerned, she was not impossible.<a name="Page_84" id="Page_84"></a></p> + +<p>In the fair young face, with its serious eyes, in whose glance there was +often a singular radiance, Mrs. Whittredge found something that touched +her heart. Her granddaughter had not the Whittredge beauty, she was +nothing of a Whittredge, and yet—One day she had taken up the miniature +on Rosalind's table, with a glance over her shoulder; and when she put it +down and turned away, it was with the reluctant feeling that perhaps there +had been some excuse for her son when he left father and mother and +kindred and home for this young girl.<a name="Page_85" id="Page_85"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_EIGHTH" id="CHAPTER_EIGHTH" ></a>CHAPTER EIGHTH.</h2> + +<h3>TO MEET ROSALIND.</h3> + +<p class='center'>"Put you in your best array."</p> + + +<p>Miss Betty Bishop lived in a small white house with brown trimmings, which +she herself likened to a white cake with chocolate filling. Everything +about it was snug and neat and seemed to the observer a pleasant +expression of that kindly, busy, cheery lady; but Miss Betty was in the +habit of declaring it had taken her twenty years to get settled in those +small, low-ceiled rooms, and that she didn't feel quite in yet.</p> + +<p>There had been a great sacrifice of fine old furniture when the big house +on Main Street had to be exchanged for the little one in Church Lane, and +it was no wonder Miss Betty sighed at the thought. None the less she had +accepted courageously the reverses which at twenty brought her gay +girlhood to an end, and <a name="Page_86" id="Page_86"></a>for fifteen years was a cheerful, devoted nurse +to her invalid father. Since his death she lived alone with only Sophy, +her old mammy, to cook and care for her.</p> + +<p>When it became known that Miss Betty had invited certain of her young +friends to tea to meet Rosalind Whittredge, a wave of excitement swept +over Friendship.</p> + +<p>All the children of the town had heard stories of Miss Betty's beauty and +belleship, but those Washington winters belonged to twenty years ago and +had no connection with her present popularity. Sophy's skill as a cook no +doubt had something to do with the fame of her mistress's tea parties, but +besides this Miss Betty knew how to make her guests, whether young or old, +have a good time.</p> + +<p>When asked if she was fend of children, she was sure to reply, "Some +children. I don't like disagreeable children any better than I do +disagreeable grown persons." And for this reason, perhaps, it had come to +be esteemed something of an honor to be asked to her house.</p> + +<p>Miss Betty had at first felt a prejudice against Patterson Whittredge's +daughter, deciding in her <a name="Page_87" id="Page_87"></a>own mind that she was probably a spoiled little +thing; but the sight of Rosalind taking tea with Morgan, and more than +this, the frank gaze of those disarming gray eyes, had touched her kindly +heart. She knew as well as anybody that it must be lonely in the +Whittredge house; and so she had thought of the tea party.</p> + +<p>The interest felt in Patterson Whittredge's daughter was very general. +Patterson belonged to those old times when peace had reigned in +Friendship. He had been a favorite in the village, and to many it seemed +only the other day that he had gone away. It was incredible that this tall +girl seen walking by Mrs. Whittredge's side could be his daughter. There +were those like Mrs. Graham's pupils, who were inclined to invest her with +a halo of romance; others criticised her as not at all the Whittredge +style, not what one had a right to expect in Mrs. Whittredge's +granddaughter. Some pitied Mrs. Whittredge for the responsibility thrust +upon her, others pitied Rosalind, and still more, envied her.</p> + +<p>In view of all the discussion, it was not possible to regard an invitation +to meet her as quite an everyday matter.<a name="Page_88" id="Page_88"></a></p> + +<p>"I do wish you had not soiled your embroidered muslin, Belle. You will +have to wear your summer silk," said Mrs. Parton, addressing her daughter, +who sat on the dining-room floor entertaining a Maltese kitten with a +string and spool.</p> + +<p>"I forgot to tell you, mother, Jack dropped some wax candle on it last +Sunday night, when we were looking for a penny in the grass," Belle +replied, lifting her merry black eyes for a moment. "Anyway, it isn't a +dress-up party—only to supper."</p> + +<p>"Bring that dress to me at once. I am astonished at you. The only decent +thing you have!" Mrs. Parton sat down and clasped her hands in an attitude +of desperation.</p> + +<p>Followed by the kitten, Belle departed, returning directly with the blue +and white checked silk over her arm.</p> + +<p>"Whatever it is," her mother continued, I want you to look nice; Betty +says Rosalind Whittredge has beautiful clothes."</p> + +<p>"I just know she is a prig," remarked Belle, caressing the kitten.</p> + +<p>"No, she isn't!" A tumbled head and a pair of eyes very like Belle's own +peered out suddenly <a name="Page_89" id="Page_89"></a>from beneath the table cover. "If she was, she +wouldn't have run away to take supper with Morgan."</p> + +<p>"Mercy upon us, Jack! you are enough to startle the sphinx. Come out from +under that table at once," commanded his mother.</p> + +<p>"Did she do that?" asked Belle, with some interest, adding, "Is it very +bad, mother? Can you clean it? How do you know she did, Jack?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Parton shook her head; "I'll try French chalk," she said.</p> + +<p>"Miss Betty said so. She saw her," put in Jack.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Parton rose. "Another time when you lose a penny, I will make it good +rather than have your best dress spoiled," she remarked.</p> + +<p>"But you see, mother, it was a church penny," Belle explained, as if she +were mentioning some rare and peculiar coin. "Arthur brought the +collection home because Uncle Ranney wasn't there, and when he untied his +handkerchief on the porch a penny dropped out and rolled into the grass."</p> + +<p>"Who is going to Miss Betty's?" Jack asked, as his mother left the room.<a name="Page_90" id="Page_90"></a></p> + +<p>"Maurice and Katherine and you and me, and the Ellises, and—I don't know +who."</p> + +<p>"I know it will be stupid; I don't think I'll go."</p> + +<p>"If it is stupid, you will make it so," retorted his sister, adding, "and +you will go, too, for mother will make you; besides, you know you wouldn't +miss Sophy's waffles." Belle departed with the kitten, leaving Jack to +return to the latest Henty book and his retreat under the table.</p> + +<p>The Partons' was a square house, with a wide hall dividing it through the +middle and opening on a porch at either end. When the weather at all +permitted, these doors stood wide open, and dogs and cats and children ran +in and out as they pleased. In the afternoons Colonel Parton sat on the +front porch smoking and reading, threatening the dogs and the children +indiscriminately, receiving not the slightest attention from either.</p> + +<p>As she passed him now, Belle mischievously deposited the kitten on his +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"You baggage, you! Take this thing off me," thundered the colonel, as the +kitten made <a name="Page_91" id="Page_91"></a>its claws felt in a frantic endeavor to hold on in its +perilous position.</p> + +<p>"O father! don't hurt her," Belle cried, running to the rescue, and in the +scuffle that followed, the unfortunate kitten escaped.</p> + +<p>"Don't you let me catch you doing a thing like that again," scolded the +colonel, as he picked up his paper and settled himself in his chair again.</p> + +<p>Belle laughed, and held up her face for a kiss, which her father gave with +a hearty good will.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Parton was not the only one who felt dress to be a matter of +importance on this occasion. Charlotte Ellis stopped at the bank gate to +ask Katherine what she was going to wear.</p> + +<p>"My blue lawn, I think," Katherine answered. "Mother says it is nice +enough, and that I must keep my new white dress for Commencement."</p> + +<p>"Your blue dress is very pretty, I am sure," Charlotte said. She was two +years older than Katherine, and her manner was mildly patronizing. "I +think I shall wear white. Of course <a name="Page_92" id="Page_92"></a>it is not a party, but we want to +make a good impression on a stranger."</p> + +<p>Katherine felt the force of this, but Maurice, who overheard Charlotte, +was inclined to jeer. "Much difference it will make to her what you have +on," he said, as Charlotte left them. "Her," meant Rosalind.</p> + +<p>"How do you know it won't make any difference?" asked Katherine.</p> + +<p>"Because she is not that kind."</p> + +<p>"What kind? How do you know?"</p> + +<p>Now Maurice had kept his interview with Rosalind to himself, saying +nothing to any one when he returned her book. His sudden interest in +Shakespeare had not passed unnoticed; but as this or something else had +caused longer intervals of cheerfulness, the family had not ventured to +disturb the agreeable change by asking questions.</p> + +<p>"I know, because I talked to her the other day," he replied.</p> + +<p>"Maurice, really?" cried Katherine. "I don't believe it"</p> + +<p>"You needn't if you don't want to," was her brother's lofty answer.<a name="Page_93" id="Page_93"></a></p> + +<p>On the appointed evening the guest of honor was the last to arrive, and +the others were in such a state of expectancy they could not settle down +to an examination of Miss Betty's puzzle drawer with which she usually +entertained her young guests until supper was announced. Miss Betty, who +adored puzzles and problems of all kinds, was continually adding to her +collection, and this evening there was a brand new one, brought from the +city only the day before; but even Belle, who was especially good at +puzzles, and besides affected not to care about Rosalind Whittredge, could +not keep her eyes from the window.</p> + +<p>The application of French chalk had been successful, and she wore her blue +and white silk; Katherine, in her blue muslin, with ribbons to match on +her smooth braids, wished her mother had been more impressed with the +importance of the occasion. Charlotte was complacent in her white dress +with a large ribbon bow on top of her head, in a new fashion just received +from her cousin in Baltimore.</p> + +<p>"That's the way Rosalind wears hers," whispered Katherine.<a name="Page_94" id="Page_94"></a></p> + +<p>The boys fingered the puzzles and talked about the ball game to be played +to-morrow, but they shared the feeling of anticipation. Their hostess +bustled back and forth.</p> + +<p>"Children," she said, pausing in the door, "I want you to be as nice as +possible to Rosalind. Remember she is a stranger, and we wish her to have +a pleasant impression of Friendship."</p> + +<p>"Here she is!" announced Belle, and the rest crowded around the window.</p> + +<p>"There's Miss Genevieve," whispered Charlotte; "girls, she is coming in!"</p> + +<p>The Whittredge carriage had stopped before the gate and Miss Genevieve, a +marvel of grace in soft chiffons that rippled and curled about her slender +height and emphasized the fairness of her skin, was actually escorting her +niece to the door.</p> + +<p>"Isn't she lovely?" sighed Charlotte, in an ecstasy.</p> + +<p>"Not so sweet as Miss Celia," said loyal Belle.</p> + +<p>Miss Betty met them on the porch, while her guests in the parlor craned +their necks to catch a glimpse, through the open door, of the new +<a name="Page_95" id="Page_95"></a>arrivals. The languid sweetness of Miss Genevieve's tone floated in above +Miss Betty's crisper utterance.</p> + +<p>"Mamma is just as usual, thank you. Yes, it was very kind of you to ask +her; I have no doubt she finds it dull. Yes, we expect Allan in a week or +two, but there is no counting on him."</p> + +<p>So absorbed were the listeners, they did not begin their retreat soon +enough, and their hostess, ushering Rosalind in, encountered a scene of +confusion. Katherine in the excitement fell backward over a footstool and +was rescued, flushed and shamefaced, by Jack Parton. Charlotte smoothed +her dress and tried to look dignified. Belle and Maurice were in fits of +laughter.</p> + +<p>Miss Betty surveyed them in surprise. Rosalind stood beside her, and the +girls at once noted that she wore pink.</p> + +<p>"Is anything the matter?" asked Miss Betty, observing Katherine's flushed +face. "I want to introduce Rosalind Whittredge to you. Rosalind, this is +Charlotte Ellis, and Katherine Roberts, and Belle Parton—"</p> + +<p>Still laughing, Belle held out her hand. "We were peeping at you," she +said.<a name="Page_96" id="Page_96"></a></p> + +<p>"Didn't you know I was coming in?" Rosalind asked, a gleam of fun in her +own eyes.</p> + +<p>"We wanted to see Miss Genevieve," added Belle.</p> + +<p>As Miss Betty proceeded to name the boys, Rosalind said, "Oh, I know +Maurice," quite as if he were an old friend; and she added, standing +beside him, "I am so much obliged to you for bringing my book home."</p> + +<p>"Does Maurice know her?" whispered Belle.</p> + +<p>Katherine nodded, although she had had her doubts until this minute.</p> + +<p>Maurice was agreeably conscious of Belle's eyes as he talked to Rosalind. +He was not at all unwilling to have the distinction of being the only one +to know the new-comer.</p> + +<p>"I read the story," he said. "I did not know till after you had gone that +it was one of Shakespeare's plays. We read Julius Caesar at school last +winter."</p> + +<p>"I know that too," Rosalind answered. I have Lamb's stories. Cousin Louis +used to read them to me, and then from the real plays, but I like the +story of the Forest best."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! they are talking about Shakespeare," Belle exclaimed.<a name="Page_97" id="Page_97"></a></p> + +<p>Rosalind looked across the room at her, and smiled in a way that seemed an +invitation.</p> + +<p>"It is a little funny for her to sit down beside a boy the first thing, +don't you think?" Charlotte said in a low tone to Katherine, who assented +because she was in the habit of agreeing with Charlotte.</p> + +<p>Belle overheard. "Silly!" she said, and to show her scorn she went over +and sat on an arm of the sofa beside Rosalind.</p> + +<p>"Do you like to read?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Rosalind opened her eyes. "Of course I do, don't you?"</p> + +<p>Belle, who had browsed in her father's library since she had learned her +letters, was known as a great reader, and felt rather proud of her +reputation; but she found the stranger had read as much as she, and seemed +to think nothing of it.</p> + +<p>In the warmth of a discussion of favorite stories any stiffness is sure to +melt rapidly away. Jack, hearing mention of "The Talisman," joined in and +the others drew up their chairs, so that when Miss Betty rustled back from +an excursion to the dining room she found the ice broken and <a name="Page_98" id="Page_98"></a>sociability +prevailing. But she startled them all by an exclamation.</p> + +<p>"Jack Parton, for pity's sake, sit up! and you too, Katherine; I cannot +allow my guests to sit on their spines."</p> + +<p>"But it is so much more comfortable," protested lazy Jack, slowly screwing +himself into a more erect position, while Katherine straightened up with a +blush.</p> + +<p>"There seems to be something wrong with the spines of this generation, and +the first thing you know it will react on their mental and moral natures. +People without backbone are odious," Miss Betty continued.</p> + +<p>"I wish you children could have seen Miss Patricia Gilpin as I saw her +once when I was a little child, more than thirty years ago. She was +straight as an arrow and pretty as a picture. Such old ladies have gone +out of fashion. I remember hearing her describe the backboard and spiked +collar she wore for several hours each day when she was a child."</p> + +<p>"What was the spiked collar for?" Rosalind asked.</p> + +<p>"To keep her head in the correct position."<a name="Page_99" id="Page_99"></a></p> + +<p>"I am glad I didn't live then," said Belle.</p> + +<p>At this point Miss Betty's sermon was interrupted by the appearance of a +small, brown boy in a white apron, who announced supper.<a name="Page_100" id="Page_100"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_NINTH" id="CHAPTER_NINTH" ></a>CHAPTER NINTH.</h2> + +<h3>THE LOST RING.</h3> + +<p class='center'>"Wear this for me."</p> + + +<p>The old mahogany table had never reflected a circle of brighter faces than +gathered about it that evening to do justice to Sophy's good things served +on Miss Hetty's pretty china.</p> + +<p>Rosalind at the left hand of her hostess looked around the company with +frank enjoyment of the novelty of the occasion. These young people were +very entertaining, particularly Belle; and more amusing than anything was +the small waiter, at whom Miss Betty glanced so sternly when he showed a +disposition to laugh at the jokes.</p> + +<p>It was when Miss Betty began to serve the strawberries that some one +remarked on the old cream-pitcher of colonial glass, and thus started her +on her favorite topic of the cream-jug <a name="Page_101" id="Page_101"></a>and sugar-dish that exactly +matched her teapot and should have been hers.</p> + +<p>This was the first time Rosalind had heard mention of old Mr. Gilpin and +the will.</p> + +<p>"My grandmother and Cousin Thomas's mother were sisters," Miss Betty +explained, "and when their father and mother died the family silver was +divided between them. In this way the teapot came down to me, and some of +the other pieces to Cousin Anne, who was, you know, Cousin Thomas's +sister."</p> + +<p>"Was old Mr. Gilpin related to me, Cousin Betty?" asked Rosalind.</p> + +<p>"Why, certainly, my dear; it is time you were learning about your +relations. He was your grandfathers own cousin. Your great-grandmother was +Mary Gilpin before she married Mr. Whittredge."</p> + +<p>"Rosalind looks puzzled," said Belle, laughing.</p> + +<p>Rosalind laughed too. "I never knew about relations before. Does father +know all this?"</p> + +<p>"I should hope so; this is not much to know."</p> + +<p>"Miss Betty, you promised to tell us about the ring, sometime; Rosalind +would like to hear <a name="Page_102" id="Page_102"></a>it, I am sure. Wouldn't you, Rosalind?" asked Belle.</p> + +<p>Rosalind wished very much to hear it, and Miss Betty, with a glance around +the table, remarked, "I shall be glad to tell what I know if you care to +have me, and Jack will sit up."</p> + +<p>"Send for a pillow, Miss Betty; that is what mother does," Belle +suggested, to the delight of the small waiter, who was compelled to retire +suddenly to the hall, where he was heard giggling.</p> + +<p>"As some of you know," Miss Betty began, "the ring belonged to Miss +Patricia Gilpin, who was an aunt of Cousin Thomas's, and your +great-great-aunt, Rosalind. If it is still in existence, it is not far +from eighty years old. You might suppose from the way in which they are +spoken of now, that in the early part of the century all young women were +beauties and belles; but if there is any truth in her miniature, Patricia +Gilpin was a really beautiful woman."</p> + +<p>"Wasn't she married? I thought it was an engagement ring," said Charlotte.</p> + +<p>"It was, but she never married. The young naval officer to whom she was +engaged was <a name="Page_103" id="Page_103"></a>killed in the War of 1812. They had known each other only a +short time; it was love at first sight, I suppose. He had the ring made +for her, and I always heard that she received it and the news of his death +at nearly the same time. The last message she had from him was, 'Wear this +for me,' which he had written on a card and enclosed with the ring; and +she always wore it. She was a girl of eighteen at the time, and greatly +admired; but she never forgot her lover."</p> + +<p>"Did she live in Friendship?" Rosalind asked.</p> + +<p>"During her father's lifetime this was her home. She was born in the old +Gilpin house, which was new then; and perhaps you know that the rustic +summer-house at the top of the hill on the left is called Patricia's +arbor. For some years after her lover's death she lived in seclusion, +seeing no one; and always when the weather permitted she would sit in the +arbor, looking out upon the river.</p> + +<p>"It was said that this was the scene of their courtship, but it may be +only a story.</p> + +<p>"After her father's death she lived in Washington, but she often visited +Cousin Anne in the <a name="Page_104" id="Page_104"></a>old place. As I have said, I remember seeing her and +hearing her talk, when I was a child of six or seven. She was a stately +and beautiful old lady, and as I recall it now, her face showed she had +borne her share of trouble and disappointment bravely; and you can't say +more than that for anybody."</p> + +<p>"That is what Cousin Louis says," remarked Rosalind, smiling at Maurice.</p> + +<p>"But you haven't told us what the ring was like," put in Charlotte.</p> + +<p>"I never could tell a straight story," replied Miss Betty, laughing. +"Well, it was a broad band of open lace-work of a most delicate and +beautiful pattern, and made of pure gold. The stone was an oval sapphire +of great depth and purity of color, in a setting of tiny stars, made of +little points of gold. When Miss Patricia died she left the ring to Cousin +Anne, her niece, along with many other valuable things. Cousin Anne never +wore it, but she used to show it to me sometimes as a great treat, and I +have tried it on more than once. Cousin Anne ought to have made a will; +but at best she was an undecided person, and she had a long illness. It +<a name="Page_105" id="Page_105"></a>was generally supposed she would leave it to your aunt Genevieve, +Rosalind, or else to Patricia Marshall. Indeed, there were half a dozen of +them who would have given their heads for it. Cousin Anne knew it, and she +hated to disappoint anybody, so she ended by disappointing everybody."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't she leave it to you. Miss Betty?" asked Jack.</p> + +<p>"Miss Patricia was not related to me. She was aunt to Cousin Thomas and +Cousin Anne on their father's side, and I am connected through the +Barnwells, his mother's family, just as Rosalind's grandmother is," she +explained; adding, "As Cousin Anne left no will, everything she owned went +to her brother; and you have all heard about his will. Most of his money +was to go to the endowment of a hospital, all the other property to be +sold and the proceeds divided among his first cousins or their children, +except the ring and an old spinet that came to him through his wife. The +first he left to Allan Whittredge, the other to Celia Fair."</p> + +<p>"To Uncle Allan?" asked Rosalind, greatly interested.<a name="Page_106" id="Page_106"></a></p> + +<p>"Yes, and everybody wonders why. However, when they came to take an +inventory, the ring was not to be found."</p> + +<p>"And they haven't the least idea what became of it," remarked Maurice.</p> + +<p>"I think it was stolen," said Miss Betty, "although I acknowledge there is +something mysterious about it. Cousin Thomas was subject to attacks of +heart failure, and was found one evening unconscious in his arm-chair +before the open door of the safe, where he kept his valuables. Morgan had +left him an hour before, apparently as well as usual. He was discovered in +this condition by old Milly, who is honest as the day, and she sent at +once for Dr. Fair, next door, but it was some time before he could be +found, and in the excitement it seems quite possible the ring might have +been stolen. After Dr. Fair had partially revived the old man, he noticed +the open safe and closed it. Cousin Thomas never regained consciousness +entirely, and died the next day. It must have been a week before the ring +was missed. The strange thing is that there were jewels of greater value +in the safe, which were not disturbed."<a name="Page_107" id="Page_107"></a></p> + +<p>"Don't you wish your uncle would give it to you if it is found?" Charlotte +asked Rosalind.</p> + +<p>"In his will Mr. Gilpin said he left the ring to Allan, who was aware of +his wishes in regard to it. I have no idea what those wishes were, but I +hardly think he had Rosalind in mind," Miss Betty said, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Uncle Allan must know what he meant. How strange!"</p> + +<p>"Like a story, isn't it?" said Belle.</p> + +<p>"Have they looked everywhere for it?" continued Rosalind.</p> + +<p>"Yes; the most, thorough search has been made, to no effect."</p> + +<p>The rest of the evening was spent in games, and from the laughing that +went on, Miss Betty's guests must have enjoyed themselves. When Martin +came for her and Rosalind said good night to her new friends, she did not +feel like the same girl who had had to go to the magician to be cheered a +few days ago. The face she lifted to the stars as she walked home was very +bright indeed.</p> + +<p>Grandmamma and Aunt Genevieve sat in the hall.<a name="Page_108" id="Page_108"></a></p> + +<p>"Have you had a pleasant time?" Mrs. Whittredge asked.</p> + +<p>"A beautiful time, grandmamma. I do like to know people. And Miss Betty—I +mean Cousin Betty—told us about the lost ring and—was she my +aunt?—Patricia? Did you ever see her, grandmamma?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, a number of times. She visited at our house when I was a child. She +died a few years after my marriage. Your Aunt Genevieve is thought to +resemble the miniature done of her in her girlhood."</p> + +<p>Rosalind looked in the direction of the arm-chair where her aunt half +reclined, her eyes on a book, her clear profile in relief against the dark +leather, the mellow lamp-light bringing out the copper tints in her hair. +"Then I know she must have been lovely," she said.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Whittredge laughed, and Genevieve lifted her eyes to ask, "What is +that?"</p> + +<p>"Rosalind is sure Patricia Gilpin must have been handsome if you resemble +her," her mother replied.</p> + +<p>Genevieve shrugged her shoulders, and her lips curled a little, although +she smiled; "Thank you, Rosalind," she said.<a name="Page_109" id="Page_109"></a></p> + +<p>"I don't believe," thought Rosalind, as she slowly prepared for bed, "that +Miss Patricia—Aunt Patricia—looked as if she didn't care about anything. +She bore hard things bravely, Miss Betty said, and I believe people who do +that have a kind look." Here her glance fell upon the miniature on her +dressing-table. The sweet eyes smiled on her. Taking it up she pressed it +to her lips; "Like you, my dear beautiful," she whispered.<a name="Page_110" id="Page_110"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TENTH" id="CHAPTER_TENTH" ></a>CHAPTER TENTH.</h2> + +<h3>CELIA.</h3> + +<p class='center'>"One out of suits with fortune."</p> + + +<p>"O Celia!" called Miss Betty Bishop, from her front door, "come in a +minute. I had a tea party last night, and I want to send your mother some +of Sophy's marshmallow cake. I am so glad you happened by," she added, as +Celia came up the walk, "I was wondering how I should get it to her."</p> + +<p>"It is very kind of you, Miss Betty," said Celia, following her into the +dining room.</p> + +<p>"There is no kindness about it," asserted Miss Betty, opening the cake +box. "I am just proud of Sophy's good things and like to make other people +envy me."</p> + +<p>"That is not hard," Celia answered, thinking that life seemed easy and +pleasant in this snug little house. Miss Betty had had her hard times, she +knew, but the troubles of others are <a name="Page_111" id="Page_111"></a>apt to seem easier to bear than +one's own, just as in bad weather the best walking is always on the other +side of the street.</p> + +<p>Celia was warm and tired, and the dim, cool room was grateful to her as +she sat resting in silence while Miss Betty fluttered back and forth.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you'll think I'd better mind my own business," she said, +returning after a moment's absence, "but here is something I saw in the +<i>Gazette</i>. It might be worth trying."</p> + +<p>Celia knew by heart the advertisement held out to her. "Work at home. +Fifteen dollars a week made with ease, etc." She accepted it meekly, +however, not wishing to hurt her friend's feelings.</p> + +<p>"Talking about minding your own business," continued Miss Betty, "in my +experience it does not pay. I once saw Cousin Anne Gilpin looking at +taffeta at Moseley's, and I knew as well as I knew my name that the piece +she selected wouldn't wear. At first I thought I'd tell her; then I +decided it was none of my business,—Cousin Anne was old enough to know +about the quality of silk. And what do you think? She <a name="Page_112" id="Page_112"></a>sent me a waist +pattern off it for a Christmas gift!"</p> + +<p>Celia laughed as she rose to go. "Thank you for the cake, even if it isn't +a kindness. Mother will enjoy it," she said.</p> + +<p>"You haven't noticed my hall paper," Miss Betty remarked, escorting her +visitor to the door. "I don't expect you to say it is pretty, for it +isn't. I have to confess wall paper is too much for me. This entry is so +small I could not put anything big and bright on it, so I thought I was +getting the very thing when I selected this,—and what does it look like? +Nothing in the world but a clean calico dress. Now it is done I see it +would have been better with plain paper."</p> + +<p>"It is clean and unobtrusive," Celia agreed, smiling. Her smiles were a +little forced this morning, it was easy to see; and Miss Betty, laying a +kind hand on her arm, said, "Don't worry too much, Celia. I know something +about hard times, and you will work through after a while."</p> + +<p>Celia felt the tears rising, and she left Miss Betty with an abruptness +that made her ashamed <a name="Page_113" id="Page_113"></a>of herself as she recalled it. After the exertion +of climbing the hill she stopped to rest on the rustic seat just inside +her own gate. "I wonder," she asked herself, "if there is anything much +harder to bear than seeing a house you love going to ruin and not to be +able to save it."</p> + +<p>A branch of the honeysuckle that twined about the gate-post touched her +shoulder, as if to remind her there was still some sweetness in life after +all; but she did not heed it, nor the rose vines and clematis which made +the old gray house beautiful in spite of needed repairs. Celia saw only +rotting woodwork and sagging steps. She thought how the flower garden had +been her father's pride, and how in his spare moments, few as they were, +he was sure to be found digging and trimming and training, with the +happiness of the born gardener. Ah, those days! She remembered the +half-incredulous wonder with which she had been used to hear people speak +of the certainty of trouble. She had felt so certain that joy overbalanced +sorrow, that smiles were more frequent than tears. Now she understood, +since she had tried to hide her own grief under a smiling face.<a name="Page_114" id="Page_114"></a></p> + +<p>From her babyhood she had been her father's companion and confidante, +driving about the country with him, interested in all that concerned his +large practice. A warm-hearted, impulsive man, open handed to the point of +extravagance, Dr. Fair had had few enemies and many friends; and loving +his work, life had been full of joy to him. In contrast with those happy +years the bitterness of his last days seemed doubly cruel to Celia. +Whenever she was tired and discouraged, the memory of that dark time rose +before her.</p> + +<p>She had been only a child when Patterson Whittredge left home, but she +could remember how warmly her father had taken his side, and how this had +caused the first coolness between him and his boyhood friend, Judge +Whittredge. The judge was influenced by his wife, and between the stubborn +doctor and imperious Mrs. Whittredge there had been no love lost.</p> + +<p>The storm had passed after a while, and when the judge's health began to +fail Dr. Fair had been called in. But Mrs. Whittredge had not forgotten, +and the doctor's position was not an easy one. Only his devotion to his +old friend <a name="Page_115" id="Page_115"></a>had kept him from giving up the case at the beginning. The +Gilpin will and her father's testimony to the old man's sanity had added +to the trouble, and upon this had come the accusation which, whispered +about, had broken the doctor's heart. Harassed by the hard times and the +failure of investments, denied a place at the bedside of his friend, he +had fallen an easy victim to pneumonia, outliving Judge Whittredge only a +few days. The memory of it lay like lead upon Celia's heart.</p> + +<p>"I have left you nothing but a heritage of misfortune, Celia," had been +his last words to her.</p> + +<p>"Don't think of that, father; I'll manage," she answered; and she had +tried, but the solving of the problem was costing her the bloom of her +youth. There were the two brothers to be educated, and a delicate, almost +invalid mother to be cared for, and an income that would little more than +pay the taxes on their home. To sell or rent it was not at present +practicable, and she could not take boarders, for no one boarded in +Friendship. Neither could she leave to try her fortune in the city, so she +had been doing <a name="Page_116" id="Page_116"></a>whatever her hand found to do. Sewing, embroidering, a +little teaching, and, in season, pickling and preserving. Friends had been +kind, but Celia was proud and determined to fight her own battle, and +sometimes, as this morning, kindness made her burden seem harder to bear.</p> + +<p>The worst of it was the root of bitterness in her heart. She could never +forgive Mrs. Whittredge. Few guessed the intensity hidden beneath Celia's +gentle manner. Only now and then a spark from her dark blue eyes revealed +it. The general construction put upon her proud reserve was that she was +unsociable.</p> + +<p>There is no loneliness like that of the unforgiving heart. Celia had never +felt it so strongly as after her meeting with Rosalind Whittredge in the +cemetery. There had been something in the soft gaze of the gray eyes that +she could not forget. It had made her take up the rose again after she +flung it away and carry it home with her.</p> + +<p>But she must not linger here any longer. There was an order from the +Exchange in the city which should be promptly filled if she hoped <a name="Page_117" id="Page_117"></a>for +others. As she rose she confronted Morgan entering the gate.</p> + +<p>"Good morning," he said, and there was an odd sort of embarrassment in his +manner as he added, "Some of your window frames need fixing, Miss Celia."</p> + +<p>She smiled and shook her head. "Can't afford it."</p> + +<p>"Miss Celia, let me do it, I've lots of time, and the doctor was very good +to me," he said.</p> + +<p>Again Celia shook her head, but the hurt look on Morgan's face made her +relent. "Well, perhaps the worst ones," she spelled. She would trust to +being able to make it up to him sometime.</p> + +<p>"That's right," he exclaimed, joyfully, adding, as he turned to go, "Don't +you worry, Miss Celia. There's good in it somewhere."<a name="Page_118" id="Page_118"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_ELEVENTH" id="CHAPTER_ELEVENTH" ></a>CHAPTER ELEVENTH.</h2> + +<h3>MAKING FRIENDS.</h3> + +<p class='center'>"Is not that neighborly?"</p> + + + +<p>Miss Betty's tea party was the beginning of a new and happier state of +affairs for Rosalind; one pleasant thing followed another. There were +letters from the travellers, long and delightful and full of the genial +spirit of the Forest, making her more than ever certain that they and she +were alike journeying beneath its shelter, and at some turn of the road +would surely meet again.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Whittredge also had a letter, "I trust you will not keep Rosalind +secluded," her son wrote. "I want her to have companions of her own age, +and to learn to know and love the old town as I loved it. She has lived +too much with Louis and me and story books; it is time she was waking up."</p> + +<p>This explains why the Roberts children and <a name="Page_119" id="Page_119"></a>the Partons received special +invitations to call on Rosalind. Friendship began to seem to her a very +different place as her acquaintance with it grew and neighborly relations +were established with Maurice and Katherine. The gap in the hedge became a +daily meeting-place, and grew slowly, but steadily, wider.</p> + +<p>A few days after the tea party, Katherine asked Rosalind to go out to the +creek with her, and on the way they stopped for Belle. While she went to +find her hat, Rosalind made the acquaintance of the colonel and several +dogs. Then the three strolled along the wide street, under the shade of +tall maples, past pleasant gardens and inviting houses, until the street +turned into a country road, and before them was Red Hill and the little +bridge over Friendly Creek at its foot.</p> + +<p>Under the bridge the water rippled and splashed over the stones, and out +of sight, back somewhere among the trees, it could be heard rushing over a +dam. The children seated themselves on a bit of pebbly beach.</p> + +<p>"How nice to be near the real country!" Rosalind exclaimed. "At home we +are near the <a name="Page_120" id="Page_120"></a>park, but that is not the real country. We have to go miles +to get there."</p> + +<p>"But there are such lovely stores and things in the city," said Katherine.</p> + +<p>"Still, you can't go about by yourself, as you can here," Rosalind +answered; and Belle added, "I like to go to the city for a little while, +but I'd rather live in Friendship, where the houses aren't so close +together."</p> + +<p>As they sat there, throwing stones in the water and writing in the sand, +Rosalind heard a great deal about school, which would close next +week,—how the girls had rushed to the window to see her and had lost +their recess, and how Belle had been sent to the office, besides, for +making chalk dishes. It was all very amusing, but she could not understand +why the girls wanted to see her.</p> + +<p>"Well, you know they are all interested in your house, and in Miss +Genevieve; and then everybody was surprised at your coming to visit your +grandmother."</p> + +<p>"I can't see why," Rosalind said, opening her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well—because you never had before, you <a name="Page_121" id="Page_121"></a>know." Belle's manner was +hesitating, as if she felt conscious of being on dangerous ground.</p> + +<p>What she said was certainly true. Rosalind herself did not exactly +understand it. She knew only that there had been some reason why her +father had not visited his old home for many years. She wondered if these +girls knew more about it than she.</p> + +<p>"You see, you are something new," Belle added, laughing. "Didn't Miss +Celia scold us that morning, Katherine?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no, Belle, she didn't exactly scold," said Katherine.</p> + +<p>"She didn't throw back her head and frown and say 'Young ladies, I am +amazed!'"—here Bell gave an excellent imitation of Mrs. Graham's +manner—"so you don't call it scolding. She just said, 'Girls, I don't +know what to think!' and we felt as mean! I love Miss Celia."</p> + +<p>"So do I," echoed Katherine.</p> + +<p>"Is she one of your teachers?" Rosalind asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes; she is Miss Celia Fair. She teaches drawing and sometimes keeps +study hour, and <a name="Page_122" id="Page_122"></a>she is as sweet as she can be," Belle concluded, with +enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>The name brought to mind one of Rosalind's greatest puzzles,—the +hillside, the young lady who looked as if she might be as Belle described +her—sweet; the strange incident of the rose, and Aunt Genevieve's words, +"We have nothing to do with the Fairs."</p> + +<p>"I saw her once," she remarked gravely.</p> + +<p>"I forgot the Fairs and the Whittredges don't speak. Perhaps you know +about it," said Belle.</p> + +<p>Rosalind shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I think it was about the will; wasn't it, Katherine? Mrs. Whittredge +wanted to break it because she thought Mr. Gilpin was crazy, but Dr. Fair +said he wasn't, and testified in court."</p> + +<p>Rosalind listened with interest. "Isn't Dr. Fair dead?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes. He used to be our doctor, and I liked him so much."</p> + +<p>"The Fairs have lost all their money now, so Miss Celia has to teach and +do all sorts of things," Katherine remarked.</p> + +<p>"Her name belongs to the Forest," thought<a name="Page_123" id="Page_123"></a> Rosalind, looking at the +ripples, Belle had thrown herself back and was gazing at the sky from +under her hat brim; Katherine was busy with a collection of pebbles; the +stillness was broken only by the hum of insects and the murmur of Friendly +Creek. Suddenly Rosalind seemed to hear with perfect distinctness what it +said,</p> + +<p>"Be fr-ie-nds, be fr-ie-nds," with a little trill on the words.</p> + +<p>From experience she knew very little of unfriendliness. All this about +quarrels and having nothing to do with people was new to her. As she +considered it she remembered that Oliver hated Orlando, and Rosalind's +uncle had treated her and her father unkindly, in the story. "But it all +came right in the end," she told herself, "when they met in the Forest." +It was a cheering thought, and she smiled over it.</p> + +<p>"What are you smiling at?" Belle asked, sitting up.</p> + +<p>Rosalind's eyes had a far-away look as she replied, "I was thinking about +the Forest."</p> + +<p>"What forest?" Belle began to ask, when a curly dog rushed down upon them, +and on the <a name="Page_124" id="Page_124"></a>bridge above their heads they saw the magician waving his +hand.</p> + +<p>"Well, Curly Q. How are you?" cried Rosalind.</p> + +<p>"There's Morgan," said Belle; "you know him, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I do. I took tea with him last week," Rosalind answered, +laughing.</p> + +<p>"And, Belle, she calls him the 'magician,'" Katherine said.</p> + +<p>"Do you? Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because he is one. Didn't you know it?" Rosalind danced up the slope, +with Curly Q. after her.</p> + +<p>"Rosalind says you are a magician. Are you?" Belle spelled rapidly when +they had joined Morgan on the bridge.</p> + +<p>The old man's eyes twinkled as he replied, "That's a secret; you mustn't +tell anybody."</p> + +<p>"Ask him if he knows about the Forest," said Rosalind.</p> + +<p>Belle asked the question.</p> + +<p>Morgan laughed. "'Where the birds sing—'" he quoted.</p> + +<p>"Tell me about it, please," begged Belle. "Does Katherine know?"<a name="Page_125" id="Page_125"></a></p> + +<p>Rosalind promised she would sometime; and as Katherine did not know +either, and as it was growing late, Belle agreed to wait.</p> + +<p>It was rather an odd and pleasant sight, if any one had stopped to think +of it—the old man with his bright, wistful eyes, his tool box on his +shoulder, and his three companions, walking home together. Demure +Katherine, dainty Rosalind, saucy Belle,—all as merry as merry could +be,—and Curly Q. running in and out among them in an ecstasy of delight, +and at imminent danger of upsetting somebody.</p> + +<p>"Well, Pigeon, how do you like your new friend?" asked the colonel, as his +daughter took her seat beside him on the door-step.</p> + +<p>Belle gazed thoughtfully across the lawn. "I like her," she answered, "but +she is funny. I suppose it is because she hasn't gone much to school. She +isn't like Charlotte, or Katherine, or me. She isn't prim, and yet—it is +queer, father, but she makes me feel as I do when I am with Miss +Celia—like behaving."</p> + +<p>The colonel laughed his hearty ha, ha! "I hope you'll cultivate her +society," he said, adding, "she is like Pat, as high-toned a fellow <a name="Page_126" id="Page_126"></a>as +ever lived. He was something of a dreamer, too, and this child has the +eyes of a poet."</p> + +<p>"They are gray," remarked Belle. "But I know what you mean, father; she +looks as if she saw things far away. She was looking so this afternoon, +and when I asked her what she was thinking about she said 'the forest.' I +don't know what she meant, but Morgan knew."</p> + +<p>"You have plenty of sense," said her father, looking fondly upon her.</p> + +<p>"Of course I have, I am your child," laughed Belle, jumping up to give him +a hug.<a name="Page_127" id="Page_127"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWELFTH" id="CHAPTER_TWELFTH" ></a>CHAPTER TWELFTH.</h2> + +<h3>THE GILPIN PLACE.</h3> + +<p class='center'>"This is the Forest of Arden."</p> + + + +<p>Rosalind, walking in the garden next morning, heard her name called from +the other side of the hedge.</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Maurice?" she asked, bending to peep through the narrow +opening where they had first become acquainted.</p> + +<p>"Yes; don't you want to go up to the Gilpin place?"</p> + +<p>"I'd rather go there than anywhere," Rosalind assented eagerly, "I am so +interested in Aunt Patricia and the ring."</p> + +<p>"The house is closed, you know, but the grounds are pretty. I'll meet you +at the gate whenever you are ready," Maurice answered.</p> + +<p>He considered Rosalind his special friend by right of first acquaintance, +and had no thought of allowing Katherine or Belle to get the advantage <a name="Page_128" id="Page_128"></a>of +him, and for this reason he had planned the expedition. He also wished to +talk over "As You Like It" without interruption, and was decidedly +provoked when she called to Katherine, who was shelling peas on the side +porch, "We are going to the Gilpin place; can't you come when you have +finished?"</p> + +<p>Katherine, who had tried in vain to find out from Maurice where he was +going, was more than delighted at the invitation.</p> + +<p>"It would have been nicer if we had stayed to help her," Rosalind +remarked, as they walked up the street.</p> + +<p>"Girls' work," Maurice growled.</p> + +<p>"Well, I am a girl. And why shouldn't boys shell peas? They eat them."</p> + +<p>Maurice scorned such logic, but her eyes were so merry it was with an +effort he kept himself from smiling.</p> + +<p>"Katherine is such a bother," he said.</p> + +<p>"I like Katherine; she is so pleasant," Rosalind observed, with a side +glance at her companion.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you'd rather go with her and have me stay at home?" he suggested, +with much dignity.<a name="Page_129" id="Page_129"></a></p> + +<p>"And shell peas?" Rosalind laughed.</p> + +<p>What a provoking girl this was! And yet he liked her, and somehow at the +vision of himself shelling peas he couldn't help laughing, too, and thus +harmony was restored.</p> + +<p>After climbing the hill, a good deal of exertion for Maurice with his +crutch, they paused to rest on the steps leading up from the gate of the +Gilpin place.</p> + +<p>Rosalind, looking at the dignified mansion among the trees, felt the +atmosphere of mysterious interest that always surrounds a closed and +deserted house, particularly an old one upon which several generations +have left their impress. She thought of the young and lovely Patricia, and +the sailor lover who never came back.</p> + +<p>"Do you know, I feel very sorry for Aunt Patricia, Maurice. To have some +one you love never come back—it must be very hard. I can understand a +little now since father and cousin Louis went away. Miss Betty said she +bore it bravely, too."</p> + +<p>"It was a long time ago," said Maurice, feeling that it was a waste of +emotion to grieve over things that had happened so far back in the past.<a name="Page_130" id="Page_130"></a></p> + +<p>"But there is the ring. It is not so very long ago since that was here. +Don't you wish we could go into the house and look for it? I believe it is +there somewhere;" Rosalind spoke with assurance.</p> + +<p>"But they searched every nook and cranny," said Maurice.</p> + +<p>"If it were in a story, there would be a secret drawer somewhere. I wonder +if Aunt Patricia isn't sorry it is lost." Rosalind sat in silence for a +few moments, looking down at the town. "I like Friendship," she said. +"There are a great many interesting things happening here, more than ever +happen at home."</p> + +<p>The Gilpin house stood on an elevation of its own, from which the ground +sloped gently in all directions. Its late owner had cared little for +flowers and shrubs, but had taken pride in his trees, which still +preserved the dignity of their forest days. At the back of the house there +was a view of the little winding river, and halfway down the slope a once +flourishing vegetable garden had turned itself into a picturesque +wilderness of weeds. The charm of it all grew upon Rosalind as they walked +about.<a name="Page_131" id="Page_131"></a></p> + +<p>"I should like to live here, Maurice. I like it better than our +garden—grandmamma's, I mean. Let's sit on the grass, where we can see the +river."</p> + +<p>Not far from them was the rustic summer-house which Miss Betty had called +Patricia's arbor.</p> + +<p>"Maurice," Rosalind exclaimed, with conviction in her tone, "this is the +Forest of Arden."</p> + +<p>"You talk about it as if it were all true, instead of only a story," said +Maurice.</p> + +<p>"But it is true—one kind of true. Cousin Louis explained it to me +once—ever so long ago, when I had a sore throat and couldn't go to the +Christmas tree, at the president's. I cried and was dreadfully cross, and +wouldn't look at my Christmas things; and after a while he asked me if I +should like to live in the Forest of Arden. I was so surprised I stopped +crying, and he told me that when we were brave and happy, we made a +pleasant place for ourselves, where lovely things could happen, and when +we were cross and miserable we made a desert for ourselves, where pleasant +things couldn't possibly come about, just as if you want flowers to grow, +you have to have good soil.<a name="Page_132" id="Page_132"></a></p> + +<p>"Cousin Louis can tell things in a very interesting way, and by and by I +began to feel ashamed, and I made up my mind to try it; and when I told +father, he said he would try too, and we found it was really true, +Maurice. He and Cousin Louis and I—oh, we had such good times! We even +told the president about it, and Cousin Louis said he was going to start a +secret society of the Forest of Arden. Then he was ill, and everything +stopped.</p> + +<p>"I know it isn't easy to stay in the Forest always, particularly when you +are dreadfully lonesome, but the magician says if you keep on trying you +will find the good in it after a while."</p> + +<p>"How can there be good in bad things?" Maurice demanded.</p> + +<p>"Did you read what was in my book? I know it by heart. 'If we choose, we +may walk always in the Forest, where the birds sing and the sunlight sifts +through the trees, where, although we sometimes grow footsore and hungry, +we know that the goal is sure.' That means it will all come right in the +end. Don't you know how, in the story, the people who hated each other all +came to be friends in the Forest?"<a name="Page_133" id="Page_133"></a></p> + +<p>The sun travelling around the beech tree encroached upon their +resting-place, and Maurice proposed moving farther down the slope. "Tell +me about the secret society," he said, as they again settled themselves.</p> + +<p>"It was a very nice plan," Rosalind answered, clasping her knees and +looking up into the tree top. "He told me about it one evening when he +wasn't well and had to lie on the sofa, while father did the proofs. Only +those could belong who made the best of things and knew the secret of the +Forest. We were sure the president would join because he had had a great +trouble and was very brave; and there was Mrs. Brown, who had lost all her +money, and kept house for us. Then, I didn't have anything much to be +brave about, but I have since, for I did so want to go with father and +Cousin Louis. Perhaps that doesn't seem much," she added apologetically, +"'but small things count,' Cousin Louis said."</p> + +<p>"I should think it might," Maurice agreed.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Patricia could have belonged," said Rosalind, her eyes still in the +tree top. "I wonder if she knew about the Forest?"<a name="Page_134" id="Page_134"></a></p> + +<p>Maurice felt stirred by the picture her words called up of a great company +of people all bearing hard things bravely. "There is Morgan," he +suggested. "It must be hard to be deaf, yet he is always cheerful."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed, he could belong. He knows the secret of the Forest. And +Maurice, you have a beautiful chance to be brave."</p> + +<p>Maurice's face grew red, he pushed his crutch impatiently from him. "I +haven't been brave," he said.</p> + +<p>"No, you haven't," Rosalind acknowledged frankly; "but then you did not +know about the Forest. Maurice, let's start a society, you and I, and +perhaps some of the others will join. The magician will, I know."</p> + +<p>A shrill whistle was heard at this moment.</p> + +<p>"It is Jack," said Maurice; and sure enough that individual presently +appeared and dropped down beside them, breathless from his run up the +hill.</p> + +<p>"What are you two doing?" he puffed.</p> + +<p>"Talking. How warm you are!" and Rosalind offered her broad-brimmed hat +for a fan. "Have you seen anything of Katharine?"<a name="Page_135" id="Page_135"></a></p> + +<p>"She and Belle are on the way. Say, what were you talking about? It seemed +to be interesting." Jack rolled over on his back and blinked at the sky.</p> + +<p>Rosalind looked at Maurice. "Would you tell him?"</p> + +<p>"No," was the prompt reply, "he wouldn't care for it." He felt certain +harum-scarum Jack would only be bored by the Forest, perhaps would make +fun.</p> + +<p>Jack turned his face to Rosalind, "Tell me," he urged; "Maurice doesn't +know what I like."</p> + +<p>"I will, then, as soon as the girls come."</p> + +<p>It was not long before Belle was heard calling, and she and Katherine came +running across the grass and joined the group under the tree.</p> + +<p>"We are waiting for you; Jack wants to hear about the Forest," said +Rosalind.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you promised to tell us what you meant, and how Morgan came to know +about it." Belle cast her hat on the grass and shook back her hair.</p> + +<p>Maurice looked discontented. Jack and Belle would think it silly, and +Katherine wouldn't understand.<a name="Page_136" id="Page_136"></a></p> + +<p>"Maurice knows about it, and perhaps some of the rest of you have read the +story of the Forest of Arden," began Rosalind.</p> + +<p>Belle had, but Katherine and Jack had not so much as heard of it, so +Rosalind told the story of the banished Duke and his followers who lived +in the Forest, and were happy because they had learned to make the best of +things and to find good even in trouble and disappointment; how Rosalind, +the daughter of the Duke, was also banished, and with her cousin and the +clown went to seek her father in the Forest; how Orlando, turned out of +his home by his cruel elder brother, also went to the Forest in company +with his old servant Adam; of their adventures there; and how finally the +wicked Duke and the heartless brother, who were pursuing the runaways, +came under the spell of the same Forest and repented of their evil deeds; +and the story ended in forgiveness and love under the greenwood tree.</p> + +<p>It was just the day and place for the story. The joyous, lavish beauty of +summer was everywhere around them, and as Rosalind told it her eyes took +on the look Belle had described to her father. There was silence after she +finished. Jack <a name="Page_137" id="Page_137"></a>lay with his head on his arms, looking out on the river; +Maurice was drawing beech leaves in his note-book, the discontent all gone +from his face; Belle absently plaited the hem of her dress; while +Katherine twisted a wreath of honeysuckle around her hat.</p> + +<p>"Is that all?" Belle asked, after a little.</p> + +<p>"That is the story; then I was telling Maurice about the meaning Cousin +Louis found in it."</p> + +<p>"Tell us that," said Jack.</p> + +<p>Rosalind explained the Forest idea, and the plan for a secret society. +This at once appealed to Belle.</p> + +<p>"That would be fun," she exclaimed. "We could have 'The Forest' for a +watchword, and hold meetings out of doors somewhere."</p> + +<p>"Yes; 'under the greenwood tree,'" said Maurice.</p> + +<p>"I don't understand," said Katherine. "What are we to do?"</p> + +<p>"We promise to bear hard things bravely, and—"</p> + +<p>"Let's be like Robin Hood," Belle interrupted, "and help down-trodden +people."<a name="Page_138" id="Page_138"></a></p> + +<p>"Do you know any?" asked her brother, turning over.</p> + +<p>"Jack makes me think of the dormouse in 'Alice,'" laughed Rosalind. "He is +always going to sleep and waking up."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you!" cried Belle, "let's search for the ring."</p> + +<p>"But we don't know where to look," said Katherine.</p> + +<p>"A thing isn't much lost if you know where to look, goosie," answered +Maurice.</p> + +<p>"You see, it is partly pretend," Rosalind explained. "I think it is a +beautiful idea, don't you, boys?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Maurice, are you going to promise to bear hard things bravely?" Jack +asked, with a quizzical look. It seemed to tickle him greatly, for he went +off into a fit of laughing. "'See, the conquering hero comes,'" he hummed.</p> + +<p>Maurice pave him a thump with his crutch. "You aren't much of a hero, +either," he said. "Who took the roof off when his tooth was pulled?"</p> + +<p>"But that hurt," said Jack, still laughing.</p> + +<p>"I am willing to own I have been making an <a name="Page_139" id="Page_139"></a>awful fuss, but someway I +hadn't thought about it, and I am willing to try if the rest are."</p> + +<p>"But I haven't any trouble," said Katherine.</p> + +<p>"Everybody has hard things to bear sometimes," replied Rosalind.</p> + +<p>"Doesn't Maurice ever snub you?" asked irrepressible Jack.</p> + +<p>"What shall we call our society?" Rosalind inquired, looking around the +group for suggestions.</p> + +<p>Maurice tore a leaf from his note-book and divided it carefully into five +parts, handing a slip to each of his companions.</p> + +<p>"Now be still for a while and think, and then write down a name."</p> + +<p>All was quiet for a time. "Now," said Maurice, "what is yours, Rosalind?"</p> + +<p>"The Secret Society of the Forest," said Rosalind.</p> + +<p>"Sons and Daughters of the Forest," announced Belle.</p> + +<p>"The Forest Society," said Jack.</p> + +<p>Katherine had not been able to think of a name. Maurice's was "The Arden +Foresters," suggested, he said, by Belle's "Robin Hood."<a name="Page_140" id="Page_140"></a></p> + +<p>"I believe it is the best," said Rosalind, and so they all agreed finally, +and the new society was named.</p> + +<p>"Now we must have a book and write in it what we promise," said Belle.</p> + +<p>"Let's appoint Rosalind and Maurice to draw up a—what do you call it?" +suggested Jack.</p> + +<p>"I know," said Belle; "a constitution."</p> + +<p>"I meant to go into Patricia's Arbor, and I forgot," remarked Rosalind, as +they walked home together.</p> + +<p>"I thought I saw some one sitting there when Belle and I passed," said +Katherine.<a name="Page_141" id="Page_141"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_THIRTEENTH" id="CHAPTER_THIRTEENTH" ></a>CHAPTER THIRTEENTH.</h2> + +<h3>IN PATRICIA'S ARBOR.</h3> + +<p class='center'>"O, how full of briers is this working-day world."</p> + + +<p>On this same bright morning when Rosalind for the first time saw the +Gilpin place, Celia Fair carried her sewing, a piece of dainty lace work, +to the old rustic summer-house. It made some variety in the monotony of +things to sit here where she could lift her eyes now and then, and looking +far away across the river to the hills, let them rest on a bit of sunny +road that for a little space emerged from the shadow to disappear again on +its winding way.</p> + +<p>On this stretch, of road the sunshine seemed always to lie warm and +bright, and to Celia it brought a sense of restfulness. Perhaps in some +far-off time the sunlight would again lie on her path.</p> + +<p>She loved the old place, and the thought that in all probability it would +soon pass into the <a name="Page_142" id="Page_142"></a>hands of strangers, troubled her. She had often sat +here in Patricia's Arbor, beside old Thomas Gilpin, and listened to his +reminiscences. She had been a favorite with the old man, all of the +tenderness of whose nature had spent itself upon the wife who lived only a +brief time; and in Celia's relationship to her, distant though it was, lay +the secret of his regard.</p> + +<p>One of her earliest recollections was of taking tea at the Gilpin house in +company with Genevieve and Allan Whittredge. Mild, fair-faced Miss Anne +and her grim-visaged, cross-grained brother were a strangely assorted +pair. Celia's childish soul had been filled with awe on these occasions. +She had difficulty in keeping her seat in the stiff old haircloth chairs, +or in crossing the polished floor of the drawing-room without slipping.</p> + +<p>At one end of this room stood the ancient spinet, long ago the property of +her own great-grandmother, which she was told would some day be hers. +Celia had been proud of this until Miss Anne, displaying her chief +treasures, Patricia's miniature and ring, remarked upon Genevieve's +likeness to her great-aunt. Genevieve, <a name="Page_143" id="Page_143"></a>with the ring on her finger, +looked complacently over her shoulder at the long mirror, and Celia was +smitten with sudden envy. A great-grandmother called Saint Cecilia was not +half so interesting as a beautiful great-aunt with a romantic love story; +and an old and useless spinet not to be compared to a ring like +Patricia's. That the ring was to be Genevieve's she never doubted.</p> + +<p>Allan had made fun of his sister and treated heirlooms in general with +scorn, calling Celia to look at a print of Jonah in knee breeches and shoe +buckles, emerging front the mouth of the whale. Allan always saw the fun +in things.</p> + +<p>Between those days and the present there was a great gulf fixed. She had +resolutely put away from her all these memories, and to-day she was +annoyed that they should return in such force. They brought only pain to +her tired heart.</p> + +<p>Her hands fell in her lap, and she gazed with unseeing eyes at the hills. +After all, Patricia, mourning her lover, had not known the bitterest +sorrow.</p> + +<p>The thought of her work, which must be done, aroused her. "What a weak +creature I am, thinking <a name="Page_144" id="Page_144"></a>my lot harder than that of any one else," she +exclaimed, and taking up her needle she determinedly fixed her mind on the +present. There was the suit Tom needed, and the grocery bill that should +be paid the first of the month. She must work hard and not waste time in +regrets. The summer that meant leisure and pleasure for many, meant only +added cares for her.</p> + +<p>A surprising announcement broke in upon these dreary thoughts: "This is +the Forest of Arden!"</p> + +<p>The voice was a sweet, girlish one, and came from somewhere behind the +arbor, but the vines grew so thick she could not get a glimpse of the +speaker. Celia went on with her work, feeling at first a little annoyed +that her quiet should be disturbed, yet the suggestion of sylvan joy in +the words grew upon her. The Forest of Arden—where they fleeted the time +carelessly—what a rest for tired spirits it seemed to offer!</p> + +<p>"If we will, we may travel always in the Forest, where the birds sing and +the sunlight sifts through the trees—" the same voice repeated. A stir of +wind set the leaves rustling, and Celia lost the rest.<a name="Page_145" id="Page_145"></a></p> + +<p>"That means it will all come right in the end."</p> + +<p>"The people who hated each other all came to be friends in the Forest."</p> + +<p>Fragments like these floated in to Celia. Then she heard Maurice Roberta's +voice saying, "Let's go farther down the slope." She went to the door of +the arbor and looked out. As she had suspected, Maurice's companion was +the girl she had encountered in the cemetery, Rosalind carried her hat in +her hand, and as they crossed an open space the sunshine turned her hair +to gold.</p> + +<p>Celia went back to her work. "It will all come right in the end,"—this +was what Morgan had told her yesterday; it was strange that this child +should cross her path again, and with the same message.</p> + +<p>"Even people who hated each other came to be friends in the Forest." To +travel always in the Forest! How restful the idea! How would it seem not +to hate anybody? To be really at peace? But it was not possible for her.</p> + +<p>Her thoughts would persist in dwelling upon Rosalind Whittredge. Again she +recalled with shame the impulse that made her scorn the rose. She <a name="Page_146" id="Page_146"></a>was +glad she had picked it up and carried it home. Why should she have any +feeling against Patterson Whittredge's daughter? Had not her father taken +Patterson's side in the family trouble over his marriage? Ah, but that was +long ago, and it was hard to forget that Rosalind, with her sweet, serious +eyes, was after all Mrs. Whittredge's granddaughter, Genevieve's niece.</p> + +<p>"I wish she wasn't, and that I could see her and speak to her, and ask her +what she means by the Forest," she thought. "She is gentle and sweet; she +is not like the Whittredges. Why should I dislike her because she belongs +to them? Oh, it is dreadful to hate people!" Celia hid her face in her +hands, "but I do—I do," she added.<a name="Page_147" id="Page_147"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FOURTEENTH" id="CHAPTER_FOURTEENTH" ></a>CHAPTER FOURTEENTH</h2> + +<h3>THE ARDEN FORESTERS</h3> + +<p class='center'>"Like the old Robin Hood of England."</p> + + +<p>"Article I. This Society shall be called 'The Arden Foresters,'" read +Maurice. "That will do, won't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and then let's put the object. It doesn't come next in this, but we +shan't need so many articles," Rosalind answered, running her finger down +the page of a blue bound book.</p> + +<p>The committee appointed to draw up a constitution for The Arden Foresters +had set about it with great seriousness. Their surroundings may have had +something to do with this, for their papers were spread out on the +leather-covered table in the directors' room at the bank, immediately +under the eye of a former president, whose portrait hung over the +mantel-piece, while the large-faced clock on the wall gave forth its +majestic "tick, lock."<a name="Page_148" id="Page_148"></a></p> + +<p>The blue book which was serving as a model, Rosalind had found on her +aunt's table, and asked permission to use.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, 'Article II. The object of this Society shall be, To remember +the Secret of the Forest; to bear hard things bravely; to search for the +ring—' Anything else?"</p> + +<p>"Maurice, that is beautiful. Is there anything else?" Rosalind pressed her +lips with a forefinger.</p> + +<p>"Belle wanted to have 'to help the needy,' or something of the kind."</p> + +<p>"The down-trodden," said Rosalind, laughing. "I don't like that, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Let's wait; we may think of something after a while. Where shall we meet? +That might come next."</p> + +<p>"Under the trees at the Gilpin place, and when it rains we can go to +Patricia's Arbor. What fun it would be to have a meeting in the rain!" A +great pattering on the window-pane emphasized Rosalind's remark.</p> + +<p>Maurice wrote busily for a minute, looking up to ask, "What day shall we +meet?"</p> + +<p>"Let's not say any day, and then we can do as we choose," Rosalind +suggested, feeling that <a name="Page_149" id="Page_149"></a>the restrictions of a constitution might be +burdensome.</p> + +<p>Article III then read: "This Society shall hold its meetings at the Gilpin +place."</p> + +<p>"Maurice, here are qualifications for membership. Ought we to have that?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know; what are they?"</p> + +<p>Rosalind bent over the book, "Let me see—'Intelligence, character, and—' +such a funny word. 'R e c i p r o c i t y'; what is that?"</p> + +<p>Maurice looked over her shoulder, "'Rec—' Oh, I know, 'reciprocity.'"</p> + +<p>"What does it mean?" Rosalind asked.</p> + +<p>"I think it is something political."</p> + +<p>"Then we don't want it."</p> + +<p>However, as there was a dictionary in the room, it was thought best to +consult it.</p> + +<p>"Here it is, 'mutual giving and returning,'" Maurice announced, when he +found the place.</p> + +<p>"'Giving and returning,'" Rosalind repeated; "Maurice, look for 'mutual.'"</p> + +<p>"It means almost the same thing,' something reciprocal, in common,'" he +said presently.</p> + +<p>"Then it means to do things for each other. I <a name="Page_150" id="Page_150"></a>like that. Why couldn't we +put that in Article II? It means 'helping.'"</p> + +<p>"How about qualifications, then?" asked Maurice.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I'd have any. We'll only ask the people we want."</p> + +<p>So reciprocity was added to Article II. As he wrote, Maurice laughed. +"I'll bet they won't any of them know what it means," he said.</p> + +<p>"Then Article IV will be the watchword, 'The Forest,'" added Rosalind. +"And, Maurice, don't you think it would be nice to choose a leaf for a +badge? But perhaps we'd better decide that at the next meeting. Don't you +think it is going to be fun?"</p> + +<p>Maurice agreed that it was, feeling sure Jack and Belle and Katherine must +be impressed with the result of their afternoon's work. He had a new +blank-book ready for the constitution, and on the first page he had +already written: "The Arden Foresters—Secret Society," and at Rosalind's +suggestion he now added the motto, "Good in everything."<a name="Page_151" id="Page_151"></a></p> + +<p>They surveyed it with pride, and Rosalind said, "I am just crazy to show +it to somebody. Where is Katherine?"</p> + +<p>But Maurice thought it wouldn't be fair to the others to show it to her +first.</p> + +<p>The rain continued to patter against the window. Rosalind sat with her +elbows on the table, and her chin in her hands, watching Maurice as he +folded the sheet of legal-cap paper on which the constitution was written, +and placed it in the book.</p> + +<p>"Maurice," she said suddenly, lifting her eyes to the benevolent face of +the bank president, "do you know Miss Celia Fair?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Celia? Why, of course I do."</p> + +<p>"Everybody seems to know everybody in Friendship. It's funny," Rosalind +commented thoughtfully. "Then you can tell me just what sort of a person +she is."</p> + +<p>"She is tip-top; I like Miss Celia," Maurice replied, with emphasis.</p> + +<p>"Do you think she is kind?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed. The day I felt so badly about not going fishing,—the day +you spoke to me through the hedge,—she came in and sat on<a name="Page_152" id="Page_152"></a> the step and +tried to cheer me up. Oh, yes, Miss Celia is kind."</p> + +<p>"But do you think she would be kind to some one she didn't know?" Rosalind +persisted.</p> + +<p>Maurice looked at her in surprise, she seemed so much in earnest in these +inquiries. "How can you be kind to people you don't know?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you about it if you won't tell. You see I am not quite sure." +Then Rosalind told the incident of her meeting with Miss Fair in the +cemetery. "She looked pleasant and as if she wanted to be friends at +first, but she didn't say anything after I told her my name, and when I +looked back, I am sure—almost sure—saw her throw the rose away."</p> + +<p>"Miss Celia wouldn't do a thing like that," Maurice asserted stoutly. "She +couldn't have any reason for it; she doesn't know you."</p> + +<p>"Do you really think she wouldn't?" Rosalind asked, in a tone of relief. +"You know there is a kind of a quarrel between her family and ours,—Belle +said so,—and I thought perhaps that had something to do with it; but I am +going to try to think I was mistaken about the rose."<a name="Page_153" id="Page_153"></a></p> + + +<p class="figcenter"><a href="./images/3.jpg"><img src="./images/3-tb.jpg" alt=""LOOKING UP HE DISCOVERED HIS VISITORS."" title=""LOOKING UP HE DISCOVERED HIS VISITORS."" /></a><a name="LOOKING_UP" id="LOOKING_UP" ></a></p> +<p class='center'>"LOOKING UP HE DISCOVERED HIS VISITORS."</p> + +<p>While they talked the rain had ceased, and some rays of watery sunshine +found their way in at the window.</p> + +<p>"Let's go to the magician's and show him the constitution and ask him to +join," Rosalind proposed.</p> + +<p>Maurice was willing, and without a thought of the clouds they started +gayly up the street. They were almost there when Rosalind said, "I believe +it is going to rain, and we haven't an umbrella."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps we shall have to stay to supper with Morgan," Maurice suggested, +laughing.</p> + +<p>"I had a very good supper there," said Rosalind. "I don't see why +everybody should think it was so very funny in me to go."</p> + +<p>"No one else would have done it, that's all."</p> + +<p>When they looked in at the door of the magician's shop, he was busy with +some scraps of leather. Around him were bottomless chairs, topless tables, +and melancholy sofas with sagging springs exposed to view, and in one +corner a tall, empty clock-case. With his spectacles on the tip of his +nose and a pair of large shears in his hand, Morgan might have sat for the +picture of some wonder-working genius. Looking up, he <a name="Page_154" id="Page_154"></a>discovered his +visitors, and a smile illumined his rugged face, as he waved them a +welcome with the big shears. He was never too busy for company.</p> + +<p>"Come in, come in," he said; and jumping up he got out a feather duster +and whisked off a chair for Rosalind, remarking that dust didn't hurt +boys.</p> + +<p>Rosalind laid the book on the table among the scraps of leather, open at +the page where Maurice had written the name of the society and the motto. +Pointing to it, they explained that they wished him to join.</p> + +<p>Adjusting his spectacles, the magician carefully read the constitution.</p> + +<p>"The Secret of the Forest? What's that?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Rosalind pointed to the motto, whereupon he nodded approvingly, and went +on. "Search for the ring—" he looked up questioningly; but when it was +explained, he shook his head. "Stolen," he said.</p> + +<p>Reciprocity seemed to amuse him greatly. He repeated it several times, +glancing from one to the other of his visitors.<a name="Page_155" id="Page_155"></a></p> + +<p>"Do you suppose he knows what it means?" Maurice asked Rosalind.</p> + +<p>The magician's quick eyes understood the question. "Golden Rule?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"Why, I did not think of that!" cried Rosalind.</p> + +<p>"Morgan has a lot of sense," Maurice replied, with an air of +proprietorship.</p> + +<p>When he had read it all, the magician nodded approvingly. "I'll have to +join because you have my motto," he said.</p> + +<p>"Then we have six members to begin with," Rosalind remarked joyfully.</p> + +<p>By this time it had grown dark again and the rain was beginning to fall, +and while the magician, having a good deal on hand, continued his work, +Maurice and Rosalind sat on the claw-footed sofa, regardless of dust. +Curly Q. and Crisscross both sought refuge in the shop, and the latter +proved himself capable of sociability by jumping up beside Rosalind.</p> + +<p>"Morgan really does make me think of a magician," she said, stroking +Crisscross and looking at the cabinet-maker. "I saw a picture once called +'The Magician's Doorway.' It was all of <a name="Page_156" id="Page_156"></a>rich, polished marble, and you +could look down a long dim passage where a blue light burned. Just at the +entrance a splendid tiger was chained, and above his head hung a silver +horn."</p> + +<p>"Was the horn to call the magician?" asked Maurice.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I suppose so; and you couldn't get it without going very near the +tiger. Cousin Louis promised to write a story about it, but he never had +time."</p> + +<p>A flash of lightning, followed immediately by a clap of thunder, startled +them. Maurice went to the door and looked out. "It is going to be a big +storm," he said.</p> + +<p>As he spoke the rain began to fall in torrents, hiding Miss Betty's house +across the street from view. Suddenly a solitary figure with a dripping +umbrella was almost swept into the shop.</p> + +<p>"Why, Miss Celia!" cried Maurice.</p> + +<p>"I began to think I would be drowned," she said, laughing breathlessly.</p> + +<p>The magician dropped his shears and took her umbrella.</p> + +<p>"You are wet; we must have a fire," he said.<a name="Page_157" id="Page_157"></a></p> + +<p>Celia protested. A summer shower wouldn't hurt. It was too warm for a +fire. Rosalind meanwhile sat in the shadow, Crisscross beside her, the +thought of the rose and of Aunt Genevieve's words making her hope Miss +Fair would not see her. Her face was gentle; was it possible she could be +unkind and disdainful?</p> + +<p>The magician came to the rescue. He didn't believe in quarrels anyway, and +if he had considered the matter he probably would have argued that +Rosalind could have no concern with those she knew nothing about; and +observing her in the corner he said, with a wave of the dripping umbrella, +"This is Mr. Pat's little girl, Miss Celia. You remember Mr. Pat?"</p> + +<p>Celia, shaking out her wet skirts, turned in surprise. As her eyes met +Rosalind's she smiled. "Yes," was all she said.</p> + +<p>But after a while she came over and patted Crisscross, and said Rosalind +must be a witch to have gained his affection so soon, and asked what she +and Maurice were doing there, not as if she wanted an answer so much as +just to be friendly.</p> + +<p>Rosalind felt a great relief, and her eyes were soft as she responded +shyly.<a name="Page_158" id="Page_158"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FIFTEENTH" id="CHAPTER_FIFTEENTH" ></a>CHAPTER FIFTEENTH.</h2> + +<h3>A NEW MEMBER.</h3> + +<p class='center'>"In the circle of this Forest."</p> + + +<p>In Friendship the summer was never fairly ushered in until Commencements +were over. When the boys of the Military Institute, a mile beyond the +village, had yelled their last yell from the back platform of the train as +it swept around the curve, and Mrs. Graham's boarders had departed, +accompanied by their trunks and the enthusiastic farewells of the town +pupils, then, and not before, Friendship settled down to the enjoyment of +picnics, crabbing parties, and moonlight excursions.</p> + +<p>Going away for the summer was almost unknown in Friendship; a week or two +at the shore or in the mountains was as much as any of its loyal +inhabitants dreamed of. To the few who like Genevieve Whittredge found the +<a name="Page_159" id="Page_159"></a>place dull at any season, the warm days afforded a welcome excuse for +flitting.</p> + +<p>After the final decision in the Gilpin will case Friendship drew a long +breath and acquiesced in the inevitable. Arguments and discussion lost +their interest, and something like the old peace settled down on the town.</p> + +<p>The Gilpin house and its contents must now be sold, but summer was not an +advantageous season, and the sale had been postponed till early fall in +the hope of attracting from a distance lovers of old furniture.</p> + +<p>Thus the place was left untenanted. Weeds ran riot in the garden, the +grass crept stealthily over the walks, and the clematis and honeysuckle on +the low stone wall mingled their sweetness in undisturbed luxuriance. The +Arden Foresters were free to come and go as they chose, the only other +trespasser being Celia Fair, who when her household tasks were done often +brought her sewing to Patricia's Arbor, with the feeling that her days +there were numbered.</p> + +<p>At the Whittredges' Genevieve was making her preparations to leave soon +after the return of her brother Allan, who was looked for any <a name="Page_160" id="Page_160"></a>day. Her +mother's restless mind had taken a sudden fitful interest in some +genealogical question, and welcoming anything that diverted her thoughts +from herself had thrown all her energies into the subject, spending most +of her time at her desk or in reading old letters.</p> + +<p>Rosalind was left to go her ways; if she appeared at meal-time, no +questions were asked, Miss Herbert, indeed, shook her head at such +liberty. A girl of Rosalind's age should be learning something useful, +instead of running about the village or poring over story books. She could +not know that with a certain old play for a textbook the children she +thought so harum-scarum were learning brave lessons this summer.</p> + +<p>Rosalind was happy. The hours when she was not with one or all of these +new friends of hers were few, and these she usually spent in the garden, +which she was beginning to love, with a book. She had discovered some old +books of her father's, given to him in his boyhood, with his name and the +date in them, in itself enough to cast a halo over the most stupid tale.</p> + +<p>When the sun shone on the garden seat beside the white birch, there was +another favorite <a name="Page_161" id="Page_161"></a>spot in the shade of a tall cedar, where an occasional +stir of wind brought the spray from the fountain against her face.</p> + +<p>Yes, in spite of the puzzles, Rosalind was beginning to love Friendship. +It was weeks since Great-uncle Allan had seemed to frown on her, and even +the griffins wore a friendlier look; as for the rose, she had come to +doubt the evidence of her own eyes since that afternoon at the magician's +when Miss Fair had shown such friendliness.</p> + +<p>The summer so dreary in prospect to Maurice bade fair to be endurable +after all. Rosalind's gray eyes, now merry, now serious, but always +seeking the good in things, her contagious belief in the Forest, had +stirred his manliness, making him conscious of his fretfulness, and then +ashamed. His mother, who had dreaded the long holiday, wondered at his +content. Katherine wondered a little too. The Forest of Arden made a very +nice game, and it was pleasant to have Maurice in a good humor, but she +did not quite understand the connection.</p> + +<p>Soon after the close of school Colonel Parton took his two older boys away +on a western trip, leaving Jack with no resource but Maurice and <a name="Page_162" id="Page_162"></a>the +girls. The two boys were great chums, and as Maurice's knee made active +sports impossible, Jack, too, gave them up for the most part.</p> + +<p>As for Belle, her indifference to Rosalind had turned into ardent +admiration. She and Charlotte Ellis had a sharp dispute over the +new-comer. Charlotte confessed she was disappointed in her, and pronounced +her odd, all of which Belle deeply resented, the result being a decided +coolness between them.</p> + +<p>"I am as glad as I can be Charlotte is going away this summer," she was +heard to remark.</p> + +<p>"She can't be as glad as I am that we aren't going to be in the same +town," was Charlotte's retort when the speech was repeated to her.</p> + +<p>The cleverness of Maurice and Rosalind was duly impressed upon the other +three when the constitution of The Arden Foresters was read, and after +careful consideration it had been copied in the blank-book, and beneath it +the members signed their names. The excitement of Commencement week being +over, a meeting was called to decide on a badge.</p> + +<p>It had been decided that any member might call a meeting, and the method +was suggested <a name="Page_163" id="Page_163"></a>by Belle. In each garden a spot was selected,—an althea +bush at the Partons', a corner of the hedge at the Roberts's, a cedar near +the gate at the Whittredges',—in which the summons, a tiny roll of paper +tied with grass, was to be deposited.</p> + +<p>On the morning appointed for this meeting of The Arden Foresters, Celia +Fair, knowing nothing about it, of course, had just settled herself in the +arbor with a cushion at her back and her work-basket beside her, when +Rosalind looked in. She carried a book and a bunch of leaves, and she +seemed surprised to find the summer-house occupied. Her manner was +hesitating as, after saying good morning, she asked if Miss Fair had seen +Maurice or Belle.</p> + +<p>"No; are you expecting them? Won't you come in and sit down while you +wait?" Celia asked, noticing the hesitation.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what they have told her about me?" was her thought. It brought a +flush to her face, and yet why did she care?</p> + +<p>Rosalind accepted the invitation shyly. "I must be early," she said. "I +was to meet the others here at ten, but I went to drive first with +grandmamma."<a name="Page_164" id="Page_164"></a></p> + +<p>"It is still ten minutes of ten," Celia said, looking at her watch. "Are +you going to have a picnic?"</p> + +<p>"No; only a meeting of our society."</p> + +<p>"What sort of a society?" Celia asked.</p> + +<p>"A secret society," Rosalind replied, with a demure smile.</p> + +<p>"Oh, is it? That sounds interesting, but I suppose I can't know any more. +What is your book? That isn't part of the secret, is it?"</p> + +<p>Rosalind slipped off the paper cover and laid the little volume in Celia's +lap.</p> + +<p>The young lady took it up, exclaiming with delight over the binding of +soft leather, the handmade paper, and beautiful type. It fell open at the +fly-leaf with the inscription.</p> + +<p>"And Professor Sargent gave you this Lovely book?" she said.</p> + +<p>Rosalind's eyes shone at this tribute. "Cousin Louis gave it to me just +before he and father started for Japan, and he wrote that about the hard +things because I wanted so much to go with them and I couldn't," she +explained.</p> + +<p>"Rosalind, what was it you were talking to Maurice about, here behind the +arbor one day? I <a name="Page_165" id="Page_165"></a>couldn't help hearing a little. It had something to do +with a forest." Celia had dropped the book in her lap and looked at +Rosalind with something that was almost eagerness in her lace.</p> + +<p>Rosalind thought a moment, "Why, did you hear us? I know now what it was," +and she turned the leaves and pointed to the paragraph beginning, "If we +will, we may travel always in the Forest," then she added shyly, "You +ought to belong to the Forest because of your name."</p> + +<p>"'So losing by the way the sacred gift of happiness,'" Celia repeated, her +eyes on the book. "What do you mean by belonging to the Forest?" she +asked, looking up.</p> + +<p>Rosalind seldom needed to be urged to talk on this subject, and she had a +sympathetic listener as she explained the Forest secret, and told how it +had helped her in the loneliness of those first days in Friendship.</p> + +<p>Celia was lonely and sad. She had held aloof so long in her proud reserve +that now there seemed nowhere to turn for the sympathy she longed for, and +Rosalind's little allegory, with its simple message of patience and hope, +fell upon ground well prepared.<a name="Page_166" id="Page_166"></a></p> + +<p>"Oh, Rosalind," she cried, "show me how to live in the Forest!" and with a +manner altogether out of keeping with the Celia known to most persons, she +drew the child to her. "I wish you would love me, dear," she said.</p> + +<p>Rosalind's shyness faded away. She forgot about the rose, and Aunt +Genevieve's words. Here was a new friend, one who cared about the Forest. +She responded warmly to Celia's caress, and when a few minutes later the +other Arden Foresters rushed upon the scene, the two were talking together +as if they had known each other always.</p> + +<p>"Miss Celia, are you going to join our society?" asked Belle, the ardent, +flying to her side and giving her a hug.</p> + +<p>"Don't stick yourself on my needle! I haven't been invited yet. Rosalind +tells me it is a secret society, and of course I am dying to know about +it."</p> + +<p>"Let's tell her," said Katherine.</p> + +<p>"Girls always want to tell everything," remarked Jack, causing Belle to +frown upon him sternly.</p> + +<p>"The magician has joined," added Rosalind.<a name="Page_167" id="Page_167"></a></p> + +<p>"Then I don't see why Miss Celia can't. Do you, Maurice?" asked Belle.</p> + +<p>"Listen, Belle," said Celia, laughing, and without waiting for Maurice's +reply, "there may be some difference of opinion as to whether I should be +a desirable member or not; suppose you go over there under the oak and +talk it over. Then if you want me I'll consider the question."</p> + +<p>This seemed a sensible suggestion, and the Foresters retired to the shade +of the scarlet oak to discuss the matter. Jack had meant nothing but a +fling at the feminine fondness for telling things, and was astonished that +his remark could be supposed to reflect upon Miss Celia; and as no one +else found any objection to the new member, they returned presently to +inform her that she was by unanimous consent invited to become an honorary +member of their society.</p> + +<p>"As honorary members aren't expected to do much, I'll consider it. Now +please tell me about it. What is its name and object?"</p> + +<p>Maurice produced the book and read, "'The name of this Society shall be +The Arden Foresters.'"<a name="Page_168" id="Page_168"></a></p> + +<p>"That sounds like Robin Hood, don't you think?" Belle put in.</p> + +<p>"'The object,'" Maurice continued, "'shall be to remember the Secret of +the Forest, to bear hard things bravely, to search for the ring, and +reciprocity.'"</p> + +<p>"What ring?" Celia asked, smiling at the queer ending to this article.</p> + +<p>"Don't you know? Patricia's ring. The one that is lost," Rosalind +explained, sorting her leaves.</p> + +<p>"I fear it is a hopeless quest."</p> + +<p>"Maurice," Rosalind exclaimed, "that is the word we wanted,—the 'quest' +of the ring. Let's put it in."</p> + +<p>"What does it mean?" asked Katherine.</p> + +<p>"A search," Celia answered.</p> + +<p>"Then why won't 'search' do?"</p> + +<p>"But 'quest' sounds more like the Forest," Rosalind urged.</p> + +<p>"More romantic," added Belle, adjusting her comb and tying her ribbon.</p> + +<p>"One word is as good as another if it means what you want to say," +insisted Jack. "They think they are so smart with their 'reciprocity,' and +they got it out of a book."<a name="Page_169" id="Page_169"></a></p> + +<p>Rosalind glanced at him reproachfully. "We looked in the dictionary for +the meaning," she said.</p> + +<p>"I see no objection to getting it out of a book. Most constitutions are +patterned after others, and reciprocity is a good word. Is there any +more?" Miss Celia spread her work on her knee and turned to Maurice.</p> + +<p>"Just the watchword 'The Forest.'"</p> + +<p>"I like your society very much and want to join if, as you suggested, I +can be an honorary member. I can try to bear hard things bravely, and +remember the Forest secret, although I haven't any time to give to the +quest of the ring."</p> + +<p>"Then let her write her name under the magician's," said Rosalind, +clapping her hands. "Now we have seven members."</p> + +<p>Maurice had his fountain-pen in his pocket, just as if he had expected a +new member this morning, and Celia signed her name in the book beneath +"C.J. Morgan, Magician."</p> + +<p>"He wrote that for fun, because Rosalind calls him 'the magician,'" Belle +explained.</p> + +<p>"I haven't heard that old title for many a <a name="Page_170" id="Page_170"></a>year," Celia remarked, as she +waited for her signature to dry.</p> + +<p>"Now we have to choose a badge," said Belle.</p> + +<p>Rosalind spread out her collection of leaves. "We thought a leaf would be +appropriate," she added. There were beech, and maple, and poplar, and oak +in several varieties.</p> + +<p>"I think I should choose this," and Celia pointed to a leaf from the +scarlet oak. "Not only because it is beautiful in shape, but because the +oak tree stands for courage. A 'heart of oak' has become a proverb, you +know."</p> + +<p>Rosalind's eyes grew bright. "I didn't think of its having a meaning. I +like that."</p> + +<p>"And in the fall we'll have scarlet badges instead of green ones," said +Jack.</p> + +<p>There could be no better choice than this, they all agreed; and Jack +gathered a handful, that they might put on their badges at once.</p> + +<p>"On our way home we must stop and tell the magician about it," Rosalind +said, as she pinned a leaf on Celia's dress.<a name="Page_171" id="Page_171"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SIXTEENTH" id="CHAPTER_SIXTEENTH" ></a>CHAPTER SIXTEENTH.</h2> + +<h3>RECIPROCITY.</h3> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Take upon comand what we have"> +<tr><td align='left'>"Take upon command what we have,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: .5em;">That to your wanting may be ministered."</span></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<p>"Celia Fair, do you realize what you have done?"</p> + +<p>It was Celia who asked herself the question. She was suffering, as +reserved people must, from the reaction that follows an unusual outburst +of feeling. That had been a happy morning in the arbor; she had let +herself go, had listened to her heart and forgotten her pride, and in the +company of the merry Arden Foresters, the old joy of youth had asserted +itself. The brightness had stayed with her for days; she had dreamed she +could make a fairy tale of life, spending her hours in an enchanted +forest, and now had come the awakening.</p> + +<p>It seemed destined from the beginning to be a day of misfortunes. She woke +with a dull, listless <a name="Page_172" id="Page_172"></a>feeling, and the first thing to greet her eyes when +she went downstairs was the woolly head of Bob, the grandson of her sole +dependence, Aunt Sally, waiting on the doorstep to impart the cheering +information that granny had the "misery" in her side mighty bad, and +couldn't come to-day.</p> + +<p>At another time it might not have mattered so much, for the boys were away +from home, and breakfast for two did not offer any insuperable +difficulties to Celia, but there were currants and raspberries waiting to +be made into jelly and preserves. To complicate matters, Mrs. Fair had one +of her severe headaches.</p> + +<p>The fruit would not keep another day, and Celia couldn't leave the house +to go down the hill in search of help, even if she had known just where to +seek it. After making her mother as comfortable as possible, she began on +the currants with sombre energy.</p> + +<p>"May I come in, Miss Celia? Will you lend me a cup?" It was Jack who stood +in the door.</p> + +<p>"Help yourself," she replied, "I am too busy to stop."</p> + +<p>"We want to get some water from the <a name="Page_173" id="Page_173"></a>spring," he explained. "Aren't you +coming over to-day?"</p> + +<p>Celia shook her head.</p> + +<p>Jack surveyed the piles of fruit. "Jiminy! have you all this to do?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; Aunt Sally is sick this morning, and it can't wait."</p> + +<p>Jack disappeared, leaving Celia to her gloomy thoughts, but ten minutes +had not passed before he was back again, accompanied by the other Arden +Foresters.</p> + +<p>"We have come to help," they announced.</p> + +<p>For a moment Celia was annoyed. She had made up her mind to be a martyr +and did not care to be disturbed.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, you can't," she said. "I am very much obliged, but you would +stain yourselves, and—"</p> + +<p>"Give us some aprons," interrupted Belle. "Mother lets us help her."</p> + +<p>Maurice added, "It is reciprocity, Miss Celia."</p> + +<p>Celia's ill temper wavered and went down before the row of bright faces. +"Well, perhaps you may help if you really want to, but it is tiresome +work."<a name="Page_174" id="Page_174"></a></p> + +<p>They did not seem to find it so, as they sat around the table on the +porch, carefully done up in checked aprons, three of them at work on the +raspberries, and two helping Celia with the currants.</p> + +<p>Each wore a fresh oak leaf, and nothing would do but Rosalind must run +back to get one for Miss Celia; and there must have been magic in it, so +suddenly did Celia's courage revive.</p> + +<p>"I feel better," she said, stopping to turn the leaves of the cook-book. +"Let me see,—'boil several hours till the juice is well out of the +fruit,'—Sally always lets it drip over night into the big stone jar. I +shall have these currants out of the way by dinner-time. You are really a +great help. I wish there was something I could do for you."</p> + +<p>"Tell us a story, Miss Celia," Belle suggested promptly.</p> + +<p>"I don't know any."</p> + +<p>"Something about when you were a little girl," said Katherine.</p> + +<p>Celia hesitated. "The only story I know is about a magician and a tiger, +Rosalind's calling Morgan 'the magician' reminded me of it."<a name="Page_175" id="Page_175"></a></p> + +<p>"I love magicians and tigers," Rosalind remarked. "Do you remember the +picture I told you about, Maurice? Do tell it to us, Miss Celia."</p> + +<p>Celia wondered afterward how she could have done it, but now she thought +of nothing but her desire to please the children, so she began:—</p> + +<p>"Once there was a little girl who loved fairy tales and believed with all +her heart in fairies, magicians, and ogres. In the town where she had +recently come to live she had a playmate, a boy, who laughed at her for +thinking there were such creatures in the world, and the two often argued +the matter.</p> + +<p>"One day this little girl was sitting on the fence looking up at the sky +and wishing something would happen, when she heard the boy calling her. +She answered, and he came running across the grass and climbed up beside +her, and with an air of great mystery told her he knew a secret. Of course +the little girl was anxious to hear it, and of course the boy tried to +tease her by refusing to tell. But by and by he could keep it no longer, +and in tones of awe he whispered that he knew a magician who lived in +their very town.<a name="Page_176" id="Page_176"></a></p> + +<p>"The little girl clapped her hands; for if her playmate believed in +magicians, he must surely come to believe in fairies too.</p> + +<p>"The boy went on to explain that this magician appeared exactly like other +men, so that few guessed his mysterious power. He lived in a house quite +like other houses except that its door was painted black; but behind this +door lay a tiger, always ready to spring upon any one who tried to enter. +On this great tiger in some way depended the magician's power.</p> + +<p>"There had been a fire in the village recently, which, the boy said, had +been caused by the magician, as well as certain other calamities, such as +scarlet-fever and measles, and the time had come when this must be +stopped. The boy claimed to have discovered—he did not say how—that the +magician's tiger had three white whiskers, all the rest being black, and +in these white whiskers resided all his power. If in any way they could be +removed, he and his master would be harmless forevermore.</p> + +<p>"But how was this to be done? the little girl wanted to know, feeling +deeply impressed meanwhile by the tragedy of the situation.<a name="Page_177" id="Page_177"></a></p> + +<p>"The only way, the boy replied, was to catch the tiger while he slept, and +then—a snip of the scissors, and he could do no more harm. The little +girl had some round-pointed scissors hanging from a ribbon around her +neck, for she was fond of cutting things; she took them in her hand now +and looked at them with a shiver as the boy added in a tragic whisper, +'<i>We</i> must do it!'</p> + +<p>"Although she was very much afraid, she never thought of objecting. It was +her duty, and she had great confidence in her companion. He could do many +things she couldn't do, and he was ten and she only six; so when he +examined the scissors and said they would answer, without a word of +objection she slipped down from the fence and trotted beside him.</p> + +<p>"It seemed quite natural that the way should be over fences and through +back yards instead of along the street. They climbed rails and squeezed +through hedges until the little girl was breathless and had not the least +idea where she was, when she found herself in a narrow garden-path, on +either side of which grew hollyhocks and sunflowers.<a name="Page_178" id="Page_178"></a></p> + +<p>"'There is the door,' the boy whispered; and—yes—at the end of the path +she saw the black door.</p> + +<p>"'This is the hour when he sleeps,' the boy said, in thrilling tones, +looking at an imaginary watch. 'We have timed it well. I will open the +door softly, and you have your scissors ready; I will hold him while you +cut off the whiskers.' The little girl's heart almost stopped beating, but +she had no thought of running away.</p> + +<p>"They reached the door; the boy had his hand on the knob. He was opening +it very gently—when something happened! He stumbled, or his hand slipped. +It flew open and there before them stood the magician, brandishing a +glittering sword, and beside him were the gleaming eyes of a tiger.</p> + +<p>"With a cry of terror the little girl fell all in a heap, grasping her +scissors, shutting her eyes tight till all should be over. Then some one +picked her up and asked if she was hurt, and slowly gaining courage she +opened her eyes and looked into the kind face of Morgan, the +cabinet-maker. At his side was Tiger, the great striped cat, and on the +work-bench lay his shining saw. The boy stood by, laughing."<a name="Page_179" id="Page_179"></a></p> + +<p>"I thought he must be fooling her," remarked Katherine, in a tone of +relief.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean it!" said Maurice, with fine sarcasm.</p> + +<p>"But finish, Miss Celia," begged Rosalind. "What did the little girl +think?"</p> + +<p>"I believe for a long time she was greatly puzzled. There seemed to have +been magic somewhere. She examined Tiger's whiskers and found them all +black, and this made her think it possible that some one else had cut out +the white ones, and thus turned him into a harmless cat. She felt a little +uneasy at times, for fear the cabinet-maker would turn again into the +wicked magician, but it never happened."</p> + +<p>"And did she go on believing in fairies?" Rosalind asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, for a while. I am not sure she doesn't yet."</p> + +<p>"Cousin Louis says that is one of the advantages of the 'Forest of Arden,' +you can believe in all those delightful things."</p> + +<p>"Were there fairies there?" asked Belle. "I don't remember any."<a name="Page_180" id="Page_180"></a></p> + +<p>"There would have been if occasion had called for them," Celia answered.</p> + +<p>"But you don't want to believe things if they aren't true, do you?" +Katherine looked puzzled. "I wish there were fairies now, but I know there +aren't."</p> + +<p>"You can't prove there aren't," asserted Jack, mischievously.</p> + +<p>"Why, Jack, you know there aren't any fairies really."</p> + +<p>"I said you couldn't prove it."</p> + +<p>"How can you say they do not exist unless you have seen one not existing? +Isn't that the argument in 'Water Babies'?" laughed Celia, as she carried +the currants into the kitchen. "It is the difference between fact and +fancy, Katherine," she said, coming back.</p> + +<p>"I love to pretend things," said Rosalind.</p> + +<p>"So do I," echoed Belle.</p> + +<p>"Fancy does more than that, it really makes things beautiful. For +instance, it makes the difference between a plain, straight letter such as +you see in the newspaper and such a letter as I was embroidering +yesterday. Some one's fancy saw the plain S ornamented with curving <a name="Page_181" id="Page_181"></a>lines +and sprays of flowers, and so it came to be made so."</p> + +<p>"That makes me think of those beautiful books the monks used to make," +said Maurice.</p> + +<p>"The illuminated manuscripts, you mean? That word expresses what fancy +does for us,—it illuminates the plain facts, and fills them with beauty."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Miss Celia, that is a lovely idea," cried Rosalind. "I must remember +it to tell Cousin Louis."</p> + +<p>"I fear be wouldn't find it very new," Celia answered, smiling.</p> + +<p>By noon the fruit was all picked over, and as Celia stood at the gate +watching her helpers out of sight, old Sally came laboring up the walk.</p> + +<p>"Law, honey, look like I couldn't rest from studyin' how you was gwine to +git them berries done, an' I 'lowed, misery or no misery, I was comin' to +help you," she announced.<a name="Page_182" id="Page_182"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SEVENTEENTH" id="CHAPTER_SEVENTEENTH" ></a>CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH.</h2> + +<h3>A NEW COMRADE.</h3> + +<p class='center'>"I know you are a gentleman of good conceit."</p> + + +<p>Rosalind and Maurice sat on the garden bench discussing "The Young +Marooners," one of the story books found in the garret.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't like to be carried off by a big fish as they were, but I do +think some sort of an adventure would be interesting. Don't you?" asked +Rosalind.</p> + +<p>"We'll have to do something," Maurice agreed, "Don't you wish we could get +inside the Gilpin house? Mr. Wells, the teller in our bank, sleeps there. +I wish he would drop the key."</p> + +<p>"Grandmamma says it will be open for people to go through before the sale, +but then it will be too late to look for the ring. Belle is so good at +thinking of things, I wish she would find a way for us to get in," +Rosalind added.</p> + +<p>A bell was heard ringing on the other side <a name="Page_183" id="Page_183"></a>of the hedge, and Maurice +rose. "Dinner is ready," he said.</p> + +<p>Rosalind walked to the gate with him. "Uncle Allan is coming to-morrow," +she remarked, "and I just wonder what he is like."</p> + +<p>Turning toward the house again, she became aware of a stranger standing +beside the griffins. He was not waiting to get in, for the door was open +behind him, and furthermore he had the air of being at home. Something in +his height and the breadth of his shoulders suggested her father, and as +she drew nearer a certain resemblance to Aunt Genevieve developed.</p> + +<p>He watched her approach with a look of puzzled interest. "Surely, this +isn't Rosalind," he said.</p> + +<p>Rosalind paused on the bottom step. "Why, yes, it is. Are you Uncle +Allan?"</p> + +<p>"A great tall girl like you my niece? Pat's daughter? Impossible!" There +was a twinkle in his eye. Clearly, Uncle Allan was a tease.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I shall have to be identified," said Rosalind, merrily.</p> + +<p>"I begin to see a look of Pat about you." He came down the steps now and +took her hand. "Let's sit here and get acquainted," he said, leading <a name="Page_184" id="Page_184"></a>the +way to the bench under the birch tree.</p> + +<p>Two pairs of eyes, the brown and the gray, looked into each other steadily +and soberly for a few seconds, then a dimple began to make itself visible +in Rosalind's check, whereat the brown eyes twinkled again. "Well, what do +you think of me?" they asked.</p> + +<p>"You aren't much like Great-uncle Allan," said Rosalind, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Heavens! was that your idea of me? And I expected you to be a child of +tender age, although I should have known better. It is nearly fourteen +years since Pat went away."</p> + +<p>"Uncle Allan, did you know my mother?" It was the first time Rosalind had +mentioned her mother since she had been in Friendship. She could not have +explained her silence any more than she could this sudden question.</p> + +<p>"I did not know her, Rosalind. I wish I might have. I saw her once, and I +have never forgotten her face."</p> + +<p>"I can remember her just a little, but father and Cousin Louis have told +me about her, and I have her picture."<a name="Page_185" id="Page_185"></a></p> + +<p>"I think," said Uncle Allan, confidently, "that we are going to be +friends. Tell me how you like Friendship."</p> + +<p>"I like it now. I was dreadfully lonely at first, till things began to +happen. Then there was Cousin Betty's tea party, where I met Belle and +Jack and the rest, and now—oh, I like it very much! It is a funny place. +Aunt Genevieve says you don't like it any better than she does." +Rosalind's tone was questioning.</p> + +<p>"I believe it does seem rather a stupid old town," he acknowledged. "What +do you find interesting about it?"</p> + +<p>"There is the magician and his shop; and the out of doors is so +beautiful—almost like the country; and the houses are different from +those in the city; and there is the will, and the lost ring." Rosalind +suddenly remembered her uncle's connection with the ring.</p> + +<p>He did not seem to understand, for he asked, "What ring?" then added, "Oh, +you mean the Gilpin will. Who has told you about that?"</p> + +<p>"Cousin Betty; and she told us the story of Patricia's ring, Uncle Allan, +don't you wish we could find it?"<a name="Page_186" id="Page_186"></a></p> + +<p>Allan Whittredge smiled at the eager face. "I can't say I care much about +it," he replied; then seeing her disappointment, he added, "It was a +handsome old ring. Should you like to have it?"</p> + +<p>"I'd like to see it; but of course it wasn't meant for me. Cousin Betty +said—" Rosalind paused, for the expression on her uncle's face was more +than ever like Aunt Genevieve, and he exclaimed impatiently, "Stuff!"</p> + +<p>She felt rather hurt. She had expected him to be as interested in the ring +as she was. What did he mean by "stuff"? And why didn't he like +Friendship? Rosalind fell to pondering all this, sitting in the corner of +the bench, looking down at her hands, crossed in her lap.</p> + +<p>After some minutes' silence she felt her chin lifted until her eyes met +the gaze of the merriest brown ones, from which all trace of disdain or +impatience was gone.</p> + +<p>"What are you thinking about so soberly? Are you disappointed in me, after +all?"</p> + +<p>Rosalind laughed. "I am just sorry you don't like Friendship."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it is because I have been away so long. I used to like it when I +was a boy."<a name="Page_187" id="Page_187"></a></p> + +<p>"Can't you turn into a boy again?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I might, if you will show me how."</p> + +<p>Rosalind clapped her hands. "I don't think I am a bit disappointed in you, +and I am almost sure you will like the Forest."</p> + +<p>"What forest?"</p> + +<p>"I'll show you the book and tell you about it sometime; and then maybe you +will join our society."</p> + +<p>"This sounds interesting; I believe I shall like Friendship."</p> + +<p>Rosalind surveyed him thoughtfully. "I think I'll begin by taking you to +see the magician," she said.</p> + +<p>By what witchery did she divine that the shortest path to his boyhood was +by way of the magician's?</p> + +<p>"The magician? Oh, that is Morgan, I suppose." Allan's eyes rested +absently on the drooping hydrangea a few feet away.</p> + +<p>Presently a soft hand stole beneath his chin, and Rosalind demanded +merrily, as she tried to turn his face to hers, "What are you thinking +about? Are you disappointed in me?"</p> + +<p>"Not terribly," her uncle replied, and seizing <a name="Page_188" id="Page_188"></a>the hand he drew her to +him and gave her the kiss of friendship and good-fellowship.</p> + +<p>Rosalind was fastidious about kisses. She reserved them for those she +loved, and received them shrinkingly from those she did not care for; but +in this short interview she had found a friend, and she returned the +caress with an ardor of affection pretty to see.</p> + +<p>Martin, announcing lunch, interrupted their talk, and, hand in hand, +Rosalind and her new comrade walked to the house. In the exuberance of her +content, she patted one of the griffins as she passed. Her uncle observed +it.</p> + +<p>"Have you ever noticed the resemblance between Uncle Allan Barnwell and +the griffins?" he asked.</p> + +<p>The idea amused Rosalind greatly, and as she took her seat at the table, +the sight of the haughtily poised head and eagle eyes of the portrait made +her laugh. Things were indeed taking a turn when that stern face caused +amusement.</p> + +<p>With Uncle Allan at the foot of the table, luncheon was transformed into a +festive occasion. Masculine tones were almost startling <a name="Page_189" id="Page_189"></a>from their +novelty; Rosalind found herself forgetting to eat. Grandmamma was +wonderfully bright, and Aunt Genevieve showed a languid animation most +unusual.</p> + +<p>"It was like you, Allan, after putting us off so long, to end by +surprising us," his sister said.</p> + +<p>"I trust you intend to stay for a while," his mother added, almost +wistfully.</p> + +<p>Genevieve laughed half scornfully, as if she considered this a forlorn +hope.</p> + +<p>Allan looked at her a moment before he replied, "I don't know; I shall +probably be here some time." He had more than half promised his friend +Blanchard to join him in a trip over the Canadian Pacific in August. At +present he felt inclined to give it up and remain in Friendship. He would +not commit himself.</p> + +<p>He thought it over lazily after lunch, resting in the sleepy-hollow chair +by the east window in the room that had been his ever since he graduated +from the nursery. All about him were devices for comfort and adornment +that spoke of his mother's hand. She knew the sort of thing he liked,—his +handsome, unhappy mother. It was a shame to leave her so much alone; yet +<a name="Page_190" id="Page_190"></a>she never complained, but seemed always self-sufficient and independent.</p> + +<p>And then Allan began to reflect on the singular fact that he was seldom +quite at ease with his mother, although he admired her, and at one time +had been very much under her influence. If he had ceased to care for his +home, it was her fault for sending him away for so long. "Poor mother!" he +thought. "We have all disappointed her; but she was never quite fair to +any of us. She wanted us to go her way, and, being her children, we +preferred our own."</p> + +<p>The sound of Rosalind's voice floated in at the window. He looked out. She +was crossing the lawn, after an interview with Katherine through the +hedge.</p> + +<p>"When are we to begin?" he called.</p> + +<p>"Whenever you like," she answered.</p> + +<p>He went down and joined her in the garden, thinking what a difference she +made in the place. He had not supposed a girl of twelve could be so +charming; but then, she was his brother's daughter, with something of her +father about her, and he had felt a little boy's admiration for this older +brother.<a name="Page_191" id="Page_191"></a></p> + +<p>Rosalind told him it was almost like having father or Cousin Louis to talk +to; and as they wandered about the garden Allan found himself feeling +flattered at her evident pleasure in his society.</p> + +<p>She brought out her treasured book to show him, and explained about the +Forest; and Allan listened absently, noting the soft curve of her cheek +and the length of the dark lashes, his memory going back to that one +occasion when he had seen the gentle and lovely girl who was afterward his +brother's wife.</p> + +<p>"And now we must go to the magician's," said Rosalind.</p> + +<p>Not many of the inhabitants of Friendship were abroad in the middle of a +summer afternoon, and they had the street almost to themselves when they +set out. The quiet, the bowed shutters, the deserted porches, suggested a +universal nap. Allan looked up at the tall maples, whose branches met +across the road just as they had done in his childhood. Truly, there was a +charm about the old town, with its homelike dwellings and generous +gardens, he acknowledged to himself. "I believe we are the only people +awake," he remarked.<a name="Page_192" id="Page_192"></a></p> + +<p>"The magician will be awake," Rosalind replied; and so he was, rubbing +down the clock case to-day, but by no means too much occupied for company, +and he welcomed his visitors cordially, saying Allan was one of his boys.</p> + +<p>Rosalind was amazed at the ease and rapidity with which her uncle talked +with the cabinet-maker.</p> + +<p>"Have you come home to stay this time, Mr. Allan?" Morgan asked.</p> + +<p>Allan laughed, and said he did not know about that.</p> + +<p>"Two—four—eight years—" the magician told them off on his fingers, +shaking his head. "Too long. Take root somewhere, Mr. Allan; too much +travel spoils you. Your father loved Friendship."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Allan, gravely.</p> + +<p>"You make him join the society," Morgan said, turning to Rosalind.</p> + +<p>"He means our secret society," she explained. "He belongs, and he has our +motto on the wall," and she drew her uncle to the door of the back room +and pointed it out.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I remember Morgan's motto, 'Good in everything.' Does one have to +subscribe to that in order to join this society?"<a name="Page_193" id="Page_193"></a></p> + +<p>"That is one thing."</p> + +<p>"If there are many such requirements, I fear I shall prove not eligible."</p> + +<p>"Does that mean you can't join?" Rosalind asked, looking disappointed.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll consider it. I'll try to be broad-minded and practise +believing impossible things, like Alice."</p> + +<p>"'Six impossible things before breakfast,'" quoted Rosalind. "I am so glad +you know Alice; but it was the White Queen, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't wonder if it was," Allan answered, laughing.</p> + +<p>They went out to the little garden to see the sweet peas and nasturtiums, +and the magician insisted upon gathering some. While they waited Rosalind +told her uncle about the time she took tea with him.</p> + +<p>When at last they left the shop, Miss Betty was standing in her door, and +they crossed over to speak to her.</p> + +<p class="figcenter"><a href="./images/4.jpg"><img src="./images/4-tb.jpg" alt=""THEY CROSSED OVER TO SPEAK TO HER."" title=""THEY CROSSED OVER TO SPEAK TO HER."" /></a><a name="THEY_CROSSED_OVER_TO_SPEAK" id="THEY_CROSSED_OVER_TO_SPEAK" ></a></p> + +<p class='center'>"THEY CROSSED OVER TO SPEAK TO HER."</p> + +<p>"Well, Allan, I am glad to see you at last," she said, coming down the +walk to meet them.</p> + +<p>"You do not appear to have pined away in my absence," he replied, shaking +hands.<a name="Page_194" id="Page_194"></a></p> + +<p>Miss Betty shrugged her shoulders. "I was never much on pining, but my +curiosity has been sadly strained."</p> + +<p>"What about?"</p> + +<p>"You know very well. That ring."</p> + +<p>"Now, if that isn't like Friendship," said Allan, laughing, as he followed +her to the porch and made himself comfortable in one of the big rocking +chairs. Rosalind sat on the step arranging her flowers and listening.</p> + +<p>"I would have you know I have something else to think about besides +foolish and unreasonable wills and lost jewels," Allan continued. "I +regret I cannot relieve the strain, but so far as I know, the ring has not +been heard of and is not likely to be."</p> + +<p>"But if it should be found?" said Miss Betty. "Stranger things have +happened."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Allan.</p> + +<p>"Then the question is, do you know what you are going to do with it?"</p> + +<p>"That is a question with which I shall not trouble myself until it is +found. I am a lazy person, as you know, Cousin Betty."</p> + +<p>"I know nothing of the sort, Allan. Now, there <a name="Page_195" id="Page_195"></a>is one thing you might +tell me. Do you know what Cousin Thomas meant, or was it one of his jokes? +Yes or no."</p> + +<p>"No," answered Allan, promptly.</p> + +<p>Miss Betty looked puzzled; then she laughed. "It is like playing tit, tat, +toe, to talk to you," she exclaimed. "I might have known you'd get ahead +of me."</p> + +<p>"I have answered your question as you desired; now let's change the +subject," he suggested gravely.</p> + +<p>Rosalind gave a gentle little chuckle. Miss Betty looked at her. "What do +you think of your uncle, Rosalind?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"You certainly have the gift for asking pointed questions," Allan +remarked, before Rosalind could speak. "I can tell you what she expected. +She had an idea that I resembled Uncle Allan Barnwell."</p> + +<p>"Gracious! You must be relieved. I could have told you better than that."</p> + +<p>"I didn't really think it; I only wondered," said Rosalind.</p> + +<p>Miss Betty laughed in a reminiscent sort of way. "Do you remember him, +Allan? But no, I <a name="Page_196" id="Page_196"></a>fancy you were too little. He used to visit at our house +when I was a child, and I was never so afraid of any one. I suppose you +have heard the story of his wedding?"</p> + +<p>"I have a dim recollection of the story. Tell it to Rosalind."</p> + +<p>"Well," she began, "Uncle Allan was a minister, you know. A Presbyterian +of the sternest stuff, rich in eloquence and power of argument, but poor +in this world's goods. However, he judiciously fell in love with Matilda +Greene, the only daughter of a wealthy Baltimore merchant. As was natural, +Matilda chose for her wedding-gown a gorgeous robe of white satin, and all +the preparations for the event were on a lavish scale. When the day came +and the guests had assembled, and the bride in her beautiful gown and lace +veil appeared before the eyes of the bridegroom, Uncle Allan created a +sensation by sternly declaring that such a dress was inappropriate for the +bride of a humble minister of the Gospel.</p> + +<p>"And the meek Matilda, instead of telling him he could marry her as she +was or not at all, took off her satin, put on a simple muslin, and <a name="Page_197" id="Page_197"></a>the +ceremony was performed. Uncle Allan always referred to his wife as 'My +Matilda'; and if the truth were known, I fancy she couldn't call her soul +her own."</p> + +<p>"I remember the story," said Allan, laughing. "We come of a stubborn +family. What would have happened if Matilda had asserted herself?"</p> + +<p>"He had her at a disadvantage,—the guests waiting,—but she missed the +chance of a lifetime," said Miss Betty.</p> + +<p>"Was Matilda fond of him?" asked Rosalind.</p> + +<p>"Let us hope so; at any rate she always spoke of him as 'My Allan.'"<a name="Page_198" id="Page_198"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_EIGHTEENTH" id="CHAPTER_EIGHTEENTH" ></a>CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH.</h2> + +<h3>AN IMPRISONED MAIDEN.</h3> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="The house doth keep"> +<tr><td align='left'>"The house doth keep itself,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: .5em;">There's none within."</span></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<p>It was plain to Rosalind that for some reason her uncle did not wish to +discuss the ring; nor did he seem to care whether or not it was found. It +was also plain that he did not agree with his mother and sister on the +question of the will.</p> + +<p>On one occasion when Genevieve made some scornful reference to the +probable motives of those who upheld the later one, Allan exclaimed in a +tone of irritation, "It is beyond my comprehension how you can have so +much feeling in the matter. I have seen no reason to suppose the old man +incapable of making a will. The testimony seemed to point the other way; +and as nobody except the hospital had anything to gain by this last win, +it strikes me as worse than absurd <a name="Page_199" id="Page_199"></a>to impute motives of jealousy to +people who were only giving their honest opinion."</p> + +<p>"It must be because we are not blest with your truly amiable disposition," +Genevieve observed languidly.</p> + +<p>A smile flitted across Rosalind's face; her uncle had spoken with a good +deal of heat. Allan himself laughed. His fits of irritation usually ended +in this way.</p> + +<p>"Well, it is all over now, and we may as well make the best of it. You +shall have Patricia's miniature if I can get it for you."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Genevieve, really gratified. "I fear you do not know +what you are promising."</p> + +<p>Rosalind wondered how her uncle felt in regard to the Fairs, and she once +or twice mentioned Celia, watching him furtively meanwhile. There was, +however, no shadow of a change in his expression, and he made no comment.</p> + +<p>A vast difference was made in the house by Allan's return. He stood in no +awe of Miss Herbert, had no qualms about disturbing the drawing-room +blinds or leaving the front door open from morning till night,—a +Friendship custom <a name="Page_200" id="Page_200"></a>which did not recommend itself to the housekeeper. A +high cart and a swift-footed mare made their appearance, and Rosalind was +often her uncle's companion on his visits to the farms belonging to the +estate.</p> + +<p>Allan was continually expecting his interest in Friendship to languish, +but it did not, and after a few weeks he gave up all thought of the +western trip.</p> + +<p>The middle of July saw Genevieve on her way to the North, and a little +later Miss Herbert went home on a holiday. After their departure peace +settled down upon the house behind the griffins.</p> + +<p>The Arden Foresters found the summer days none too long. They still met +Celia in the arbor now and then; and it was her stories of the Gilpin +house, of the ring and the spinet, together with the constant sight of the +closed shutters and doors, that led to an adventure one warm August day.</p> + +<p>"Important meeting at the oak tree this afternoon,—a discovery!" was the +startling announcement Rosalind found within the grass-tied missive on the +cedar when she returned from a drive with her uncle one morning. She could +hardly <a name="Page_201" id="Page_201"></a>eat her luncheon for eagerness to know what the discovery might +be, and the sound of Maurice's low whistle further upset her.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Whittredge was rigid where table manners were concerned. Rosalind +might not be excused until every one had finished; and to-day Uncle Allan +dallied over his dessert, discussing business and the new mills with his +mother, while Rosalind's impatience grew.</p> + +<p>She looked up despairingly at the stern countenance of Great-uncle Allan, +and then at the placid smile of his Matilda, which seemed a rebuke to her +restlessness. "I wonder what you did with your satin dress?" she suddenly +remarked aloud.</p> + +<p>Grandmamma turned toward her in surprise, and Allan, deep in a description +of the manufacture of a new kind of paper, looked at her blankly.</p> + +<p>"Do you think it is polite to interrupt?" asked Mrs. Whittredge.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Uncle Allan, I was just thinking. I did not mean to +say it out loud," Rosalind explained, in great contrition.</p> + +<p>"Evidently you were not interested in my <a name="Page_202" id="Page_202"></a>learned discourse," he said, +with a terrible frown, which was not at all alarming.</p> + +<p>The diversion, however, caused him to remember his pudding, and in a few +minutes Rosalind was free to join Maurice and Katherine at the gate.</p> + +<p>Belle, who had called the meeting, was waiting for them at the top of the +hill.</p> + +<p>"I thought you were never coming," she cried; "we have made such a +discovery!" And as they walked toward the house she explained that her +mother had sent her that morning with a message to Miss Celia, and not +finding her at home, she and Jack, who was with her, went over to the +Gilpin place to wait. As they wandered about the grounds, something put it +into Jack's head to try one of the cobwebby cellar windows, and lo! it +opened. Poking their heads in, they saw it was over a stairway, which +could be easily reached by walking a few feet on a ledge of stone. +Delighted with the discovery, they scrambled in, and making their way up +the steps found the door at the top unbolted.</p> + +<p>"Jack opened it and peeped into the hall, and then we were as scared as +anything, and <a name="Page_203" id="Page_203"></a>ran, and oh! we had such a time getting out. Now, what do +you think of it? We can look for the ring really!" Belle paused, out of +breath.</p> + +<p>"What fun!" cried Rosalind.</p> + +<p>"Just what we have been wishing for," added Maurice. "I have been trying +to think how we could get in."</p> + +<p>Katherine was the only one who was not enthusiastic over the adventure. +She hung back a little and wanted to know what Belle had been afraid of.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know. It was so dark, and mysterious, and creepy; but it was +such fun!"</p> + +<p>"We shan't mind if we are all together," said Rosalind, reassuringly. +"We'll pretend we are storming a castle to rescue somebody."</p> + +<p>If it occurred to any of them that it might not be exactly right to break +into a closed house in this fashion, the idea was quickly dismissed.</p> + +<p>Jack was watching for them, sprawled at his ease on the grass by the +window. He was rather proud of having been the discoverer of it.</p> + +<p>In the heart of the country it could hardly <a name="Page_204" id="Page_204"></a>have been quieter than it was +in the Gilpin grounds that afternoon. Now and then some vehicle could be +heard going up or down the hill, or the whistle of a canal-boat broke in +upon the drowsy droning hum that was part of the summer stillness. There +was no one to interfere. Even if Celia brought her work to the arbor, it +was on the other side of the house, out of sight and hearing.</p> + +<p>The first obstacle the expedition encountered was the impossibility of +Maurice's getting through to the stairway with his crutch. It was plain +that it was out of the question, yet it was terribly hard to give up. +There was a spice of daring in the adventure that appealed to him. For a +moment he had a most uncomfortable sensation in his throat; and the old +pettishness returned as he thundered at Katherine, in response to her +reiterated, "You mustn't do it, Maurice," "I wish you'd hush. I know what +I can do!"</p> + +<p>"We are dreadfully sorry, Maurice, but you can keep watch and give the +alarm if any one comes," said Belle.</p> + +<p>Rosalind's oak leaf, as she stood before him, recalled <a name="Page_205" id="Page_205"></a>him, and suggested +that here was a hard thing to be bravely borne.</p> + +<p>"Go on," he said; "I'll wait for you here. I don't mind." His tone was +almost cheerful. His ill temper came near getting the better of him +however, when Katherine insisted upon staying too. Katherine couldn't +understand that people sometimes did not want to be pitied; and she was +not very anxious, if the truth were known, to join the exploring party.</p> + +<p>There was no way of escape for her. The others were too urgent, and +Maurice did not want her.</p> + +<p>"There is an imprisoned maiden in the tower, and we are going to rescue +her." As she spoke Rosalind pointed to the garret window.</p> + +<p>"What fun! Come on," cried Belle.</p> + +<p>Jack had already wriggled in.</p> + +<p>"It is rather dusty, isn't it?" Rosalind peeped in at the cobwebs +doubtfully, but the thought of the imprisoned maiden overcame her dislike +to dust. "Her name is Patricia," she paused on the sill to say.</p> + +<p>"And we are going to release her and restore her ring, which a wicked +magician has <a name="Page_206" id="Page_206"></a>turned into lead," added Belle, with sudden inspiration.</p> + +<p>"Why, Belle, I never thought of that. Perhaps it is the reason nobody can +find it," laughed Rosalind, taking one step on the ledge and giving a +little shriek of dismay.</p> + +<p>"You won't fall. Give me your hand," commanded Jack, with masculine +confidence.</p> + +<p>The damp gloom of the cellar was rather frightful after the bright +sunshine outside. No wonder Katherine crowded close to Belle and their +voices sank to awed whispers. It was a relief to step out into the hall +above, where the fanlight over the door made it seem less grewsome. The +dust lay thick on the Chippendale table and chairs, and from its corner +the tall clock looked down on them solemn and voiceless. There was no +denying that it was scary, as Belle expressed it. What light there was +seemed unreal, and the closed rooms when they peeped in were cheerless and +ghostly.</p> + +<p>They stole about on tiptoe, keeping close together and talking in low +tones. The library, where old Mr. Gilpin had been found unconscious and +where the ring had last been seen, was the <a name="Page_207" id="Page_207"></a>most ghostly of all. Belle +paused on the threshold.</p> + +<p>"Let's go upstairs," she suggested. As she spoke she saw on the floor at +her feet a ring of some dull metal, such as is used on light curtain-rods, +but under the circumstances there was something a little startling in its +being there.</p> + +<p>Jack seized it, "Here is Patricia's ring!" he cried.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jack, hush!" whispered Belle, as his voice woke a hundred lonely +echoes.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you; let's take it to the magician—our magician—and ask him +to break the spell," said Rosalind.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wish you wouldn't talk so," entreated Katherine. "It makes me feel +as if it were true."</p> + +<p>It was plain that nobody wished to be last on the way upstairs, nor was +the post of leader very ardently desired, so they settled it by crowding +up four abreast. In the rooms above they breathed more freely, and grew +bolder as they wandered about, recognizing things Celia had described.</p> + +<p>"Do come here," called Belle, from a small <a name="Page_208" id="Page_208"></a>room, hardly more than a +closet, which opened from one of the bed chambers, "and see this funny +picture."</p> + +<p>There was one window in this room, and the outside shutters had round +openings near the top through which the light came. The others looked at +the print, and then Rosalind returned to a work-table that pleased her +fancy, Katherine following her. As Belle lingered, Jack, in a spirit of +mischief, suddenly pulled the door to.</p> + +<p>"Jack! Jack! please let me out," she cried.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you come out, goosie?"</p> + +<p>"You have locked the door. Please, Jack!"</p> + +<p>"It isn't locked," Jack insisted, but when he tried to open it he found +the knob immovable.</p> + +<p>"Maybe it is a dead latch," suggested Rosalind. "He is trying, Belle, +really."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure you can't open it from the inside?" Jack asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I can turn the key both ways, but something holds the knob." Belle's +voice was tremulous.</p> + +<p>"I am dreadfully sorry. What shall we do?" asked Jack, meekly, turning to +Rosalind, after their efforts had proved fruitless.<a name="Page_209" id="Page_209"></a></p> + +<p>"Couldn't we open a window and call to Maurice? He would go for some one."</p> + +<p>Jack acted upon this and opened a shutter of the hall window, but when he +looked out no Maurice was to be seen, nor was there any response to his +whistle.</p> + +<p>"I'll have to go myself," he said, "unless you'd rather go."</p> + +<p>"No, Katherine and I will stay with Belle while you go," Rosalind +answered, adding, "Jack, I think Morgan is working at the Fairs'. He could +get the door open, I am sure."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Jack, but as he turned to go Katherine began to cry. "I +am afraid to stay here," she sobbed, quite beside herself with terror.</p> + +<p>"Oh! what are you going to do?" came in a wail from the other side of the +door.</p> + +<p>Rosalind and Jack looked at each other. "Take her with you; I don't +mind—much," she said.</p> + +<p>Jack was disposed to argue with Katherine. "There is nothing to be afraid +of. You ought to stay with Rosalind," he urged, but Katherine was beyond +reasoning with her fears.<a name="Page_210" id="Page_210"></a></p> + +<p>"Never mind, if you hurry it won't be long, Belle and I can talk through +the keyhole."</p> + +<p>Very reluctantly Jack left her, accompanied by the tearful Katherine.</p> + +<p>"Belle, you aren't afraid?" asked Rosalind, softly, as the sound of +retreating steps grew faint.</p> + +<p>"Not v-ery," whispered Belle. "But you don't know how queer those holes in +the shutters look—like big round eyes staring at me. I have tried to open +them but I can't."</p> + +<p>"Belle, it is funny, isn't it, that there is an imprisoned maiden after +all?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Rosalind, I know how it feels now. It is awful!"</p> + +<p>"I think I know a little about it too," said Rosalind, sure that it was +almost as bad to have that lonely, echoing house behind her as to be +locked in. "Did you remember your oak leaf?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and I am not going to cry. Rosalind, we might have let Maurice in at +the door. Wasn't it stupid of us?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Belle! of course we might."</p> + +<p>Katherine and Jack meanwhile had made their <a name="Page_211" id="Page_211"></a>way out, the latter requiring +a good deal of help, for getting in was easier than getting out. Jack was +very indignant with her for not staying with Rosalind, and treated her +with a cold disdain most trying.</p> + +<p>As soon as she was in the open air, Katherine bitterly repented of her +cowardice. She followed Jack meekly as he strode across the grass toward +the Fairs', utterly ignoring her.</p> + +<p>A sound of voices came from the summer-house, and Jack looked in to +discover Maurice talking to Miss Celia. He briefly explained the trouble, +adding, "If Morgan is at your house, Miss Celia, I'll go for him."</p> + +<p>"I think you will find him. But what a thing for you children to do!" +Celia exclaimed, "Who stayed with Belle?"</p> + +<p>"Rosalind. Katherine was afraid."</p> + +<p>Katherine, who lingered outside, shrunk back as he said this. Her tears +began afresh. They all thought her a coward. She didn't want Miss Celia or +Maurice to see her. She turned and ran away.<a name="Page_212" id="Page_212"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_NINETEENTH" id="CHAPTER_NINETEENTH" ></a>CHAPTER NINETEENTH.</h2> + +<h3>OLD ACQUAINTANCE.</h3> + +<p class='center'>"And there begins my sadness."</p> + + +<p>Allan Whittredge, strolling up the hill toward the Gilpin place late in +the afternoon, became aware of a dejected figure approaching, which +presently resolved itself into Katherine Roberts, who paused every few +minutes to press her handkerchief to her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Why, Katherine, what is the trouble?" he asked, when he reached her side.</p> + +<p>She stood still, not answering, and with her eyes covered. No one was in +sight up or down the street. Allan drew her toward a convenient carriage +block and, sitting beside her, asked his question again. His manner was +winning, and Katherine, in great need of sympathy, sobbed, "They won't +like me any more."</p> + +<p>"Who won't?"<a name="Page_213" id="Page_213"></a></p> + +<p>"Jack or Rosalind, or any of them," came in quivering tones.</p> + +<p>"Why, what have you done that is so terrible? I thought quarrels were +unknown in the Forest."</p> + +<p>Katherine shook her head. "It wasn't a quarrel. I was afraid because it +was dark,—and Jack said I was a coward. He told Maurice and Miss Celia +so." The confession ended in more tears.</p> + +<p>Patiently Allan questioned and listened until he had a fairly clear idea +of the situation. Then he spoke with cheerfulness.</p> + +<p>"You all ought to be dealt with for getting into such mischief," he said. +"And now don't cry any more. Many a soldier has run away from his first +battle-field. If I were you, I'd own up I had been a coward and say I was +sorry. Do you want to come back with me, and see the end of this +adventure?"</p> + +<p>Greatly comforted, Katherine dried her eyes and decided to go with Mr. +Whittredge. Jack might not be so hard on her when he saw her under such +protection.</p> + +<p>By this time Jack had found Morgan and brought him to the Gilpin house, +where Celia <a name="Page_214" id="Page_214"></a>and Maurice were waiting; and at Celia's suggestion he went +in and opened the side door, thus making entrance easy for the others.</p> + +<p>"How silly not to have thought of letting Maurice in this way before," he +exclaimed.</p> + +<p>The old house, a moment before so ghostly, now rang with the sound of +voices as Rosalind, leaning over the stair rail, joyfully welcomed the +rescuers.</p> + +<p>The magician had some tools with him, but be seemed puzzled at first as to +what the trouble could be, when Celia said, "I know what the matter is. +Belle, isn't there a little catch at the side of the lock that moves up +and down? Try."</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Belle, after a moment's investigation.</p> + +<p>"Then push it up," said Celia, but before the words were out of her mouth +Belle had the door open and was being as warmly welcomed by Rosalind as if +they had been separated for years instead of minutes.</p> + +<p>Belle was really pale from the trying experience, and had to wink rapidly +to keep the tears of relief out of her eyes, while Celia explained the +accident.<a name="Page_215" id="Page_215"></a></p> + +<p>"You see, when Jack banged the door the catch fell and kept the knob from +turning. We have one that has given us a good deal of trouble." Then she +put her arm around Belle and reminded her that the way of transgressors is +hard.</p> + +<p>"But I wasn't doing anything wrong," replied Belle.</p> + +<p>"Everything came true, Maurice," Rosalind said merrily. "First Belle found +a ring, and then the imprisoned maiden was rescued; but her name wasn't +Patricia, after all."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe she wants to play the part again," said Celia.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I don't," answered Belle. "Here is the enchanted ring, Rosalind. +Ask the magician to break the spell."</p> + +<p>"What children you are!" Celia laughed, and her face was full of +brightness as she descended the stairs with Belle beside her, the others +following. Three steps from the bottom she came face to face with Allan +Whittredge and Katherine.</p> + +<p>Celia hated herself for her burning cheeks as she bowed gravely. One hand +held her work <a name="Page_216" id="Page_216"></a>big, the other was on Belle's shoulder; and if, us for a +fleeting instant she thought, Allan was about to hold out his hand, he +changed his mind. His manner was calmly, unconcernedly polite as he spoke +her name.</p> + +<p>"Uncle Allan, what are you doing here?" called Rosalind.</p> + +<p>Under the chorus of greetings and explanations Celia slipped away. Her +thoughts were in a tumult as she hurried across the grounds to her own +home.</p> + +<p>Her mother was on the porch with a caller, and Celia took her seat there +and went on with her sewing. The visitor remarked on her improved color, +and Mrs. Fair looked at her daughter in some perplexity, Celia had been so +pale of late.</p> + +<p>All the evening she worked with feverish energy, writing labels for fruit +jars and pasting them on, until no shadow of an excuse remained for not +going to bed.</p> + +<p>When at length she went to her room, it was to sit at the open window +gazing blankly out into the darkness. She had been telling herself +fiercely how silly and weak she was, but <a name="Page_217" id="Page_217"></a>she had not succeeded in +conquering her unhappiness. Now she resisted no longer.</p> + +<p>She had not met Allan Whittredge face to face before for six years, +although since his father's death he had been frequently in Friendship. +She had known it must happen sometime, and had schooled herself to think +it would mean nothing to her, but instead it had brought back a host of +vain regrets.</p> + +<p>She had been happier of late. Association with those light-hearted +children had brought back something of her old hopefulness. That a chance +meeting with Allan Whittredge could change all this, humiliated her.</p> + +<p>"You haven't any pride, Celia Fair. It was your own doing."</p> + +<p>"I had to do it; it was forced on me."</p> + +<p>"And a fortunate thing it was. Do you suppose he would care now? These +years which he has spent out in the world—what have they done for you? +They have turned a happy-hearted girl into a bitter, disappointed woman." +So she argued with herself.</p> + +<p>Resting her head on the sill, she let her thoughts go where they would.<a name="Page_218" id="Page_218"></a></p> + +<p>"You are sure you won't forget, Celia? It is going to be a long time," +Allan had said. She was still a schoolgirl, and he just through college, +and no one but her father knew about it. Dr. Fair had shaken his head, but +he loved Allan almost as much as he loved Celia. Allan must do as his +mother wished and go abroad. Time would show of what stuff their love was +made, he said.</p> + +<p>She had been so happy. She had been glad no one knew. Her happiness was +all her own.</p> + +<p>Then had come Judge Whittredge's illness, the trouble about the Gilpin +will, and the cruel slander that had crushed her father. The brief letter +with which she returned Allan's letters and ring, was the result of her +bitter resentment and grief. In her sorrow over her father's death she +told herself her love was dead, and for a time she believed it. Now she +knew it was not so.</p> + +<p>"At least, I will be honest with myself. I do care. Perhaps I shall always +care. Oh, it is cruel to come so near happiness and miss it. But it is +something to have come near it.</p> + +<p>"O God, help me—" she prayed, "not to <a name="Page_219" id="Page_219"></a>choose the desert way. I do not +want to be bitter and hard."</p> + +<p>As she lay back in her chair, too weary to think; through her mind floated +Rosalind's words, "Things always come right in the Forest."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was after dinner. The sun had set, leaving the sky full of opal tints. +The delicate leaves of the white birch barely moved, so still was the air. +The whir of the last locust had died away, and the soft splash of the +fountain was the only sound, as Rosalind in her white dress flitted past +the griffins and joined her uncle on the garden bench. He welcomed her +with a smile, and smoked on in silence. They were too good comrades to +need to talk.</p> + +<p>After a while Rosalind spoke: "Uncle Allan, do you know Miss Celia Fair?"</p> + +<p>"I used to."</p> + +<p>Silence again.</p> + +<p>"I like her very much. I think she is sweet, and she bears hard things +bravely. Belle says, since her father died they haven't any money, so Miss +Celia works, and the boys are troublesome, and her mother is ill a great +deal."<a name="Page_220" id="Page_220"></a></p> + +<p>Another silence.</p> + +<p>"Uncle Allan, was it any harm for me to know her? Belle said there was a +quarrel, and Aunt Genevieve said, 'We have nothing to do with the Fairs.'"</p> + +<p>As he flicked the ash from his cigar, Allan smiled at Rosalind's +unconscious imitation of Genevieve's tone.</p> + +<p>"I see no reason why you should take up other people's quarrels," he said +gravely.</p> + +<p>Then Rosalind told him of her first meeting with Celia, and the incident +of the rose. "But I think now I must have been mistaken," she added.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," said Allan, and again he smiled to himself in the twilight, so +vividly did the story recall the occasional passionate outbursts of the +child Celia, usually so gentle, so timidly reserved.</p> + +<p>That strange letter of hers had puzzled while it hurt. Far away from the +scene of the trouble, he could not understand the bitterness of the +strife. That for a village quarrel—some unkind words, perhaps—she could +break the bond between them—was this the Celia he thought he knew so +well?<a name="Page_221" id="Page_221"></a></p> + +<p>The wound had rankled, but after a time he told himself it was for the +best. Travel and study had broadened and matured him, and he could smile +now as he recognized, what was unsuspected at the time, that his mother +had planned these years of absence in the determination to cure him of a +boyish fancy which her eyes had been keen enough to detect.</p> + +<p>And yet—his thought would dwell upon her as she stood on the step, her +arm around Belle, the laughter fading from her face. Not the little +schoolgirl, but a woman, gracious and tender.</p> + +<p>Rosalind danced away to join Maurice and Katherine, whose humble penitence +had restored her to favor; and over the hedge came the sound of their +voices singing an old tune. On the still night air, in their clear treble, +the words carried distinctly:—</p> + +<p class='center'> +"Should auld acquaintance be forgot?"—<br /> +<a name="Page_222" id="Page_222"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTIETH" id="CHAPTER_TWENTIETH" ></a>CHAPTER TWENTIETH.</h2> + +<h3>THE SPINET.</h3> + +<p class='center'>"Thou art not for the fashion of these times."</p> + + +<p>"Where are you going to put it, Celia?" asked Mrs. Fair.</p> + +<p>"In Saint Cecilia's room, I suppose," her daughter replied. Her father had +given this name to the sitting room which was her own special property, +and in which she would have nothing that was not associated in some way +with her great-grandmother.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe you ever enter it now," Mrs. Fair continued +discontentedly.</p> + +<p>"The spinet won't mind that; it is used to being alone," Celia answered +cheerfully, standing before the mirror, fastening an oak leaf on her +dress. It reminded her that even if her heart was heavy and her life full +of difficulties, she could still be courageous.<a name="Page_223" id="Page_223"></a></p> + +<p>"Things are sure to come right in the Forest," she had said to herself +again and again. Not because she believed it, but because she longed to, +and sometimes she did believe it,—just for a little while,—as she looked +from Patricia's Arbor across to that bit of sunny road.</p> + +<p>Since the adventure of the Arden Foresters the cellar windows of the +Gilpin house had been securely fastened, and its bolts and bars made proof +against more experienced house breakers than they. And now preparations +for the sale became evident. Circulars containing an inventory of the +things to be disposed of were spread abroad, and it was known that the +proprietor of the new mills, a stranger in Friendship, had been through +the house with the idea of purchasing.</p> + +<p>As she unlocked the door of Saint Cecilia's room, Celia could not help +remembering the days when she had looked forward so happily to owning the +spinet, and seeing it stand beneath her great-grandmother's portrait.</p> + +<p>From the cushioned window-seat, where there was a glimpse of the river +through the trees, she had loved to survey the calm orderliness of the +little room. At heart something of a Puritan, <a name="Page_224" id="Page_224"></a>the straight-backed chairs +and unreposeful sofa, the secretary with its diamond-paned doors and glass +knobs, the quaint old jardinières brought from China a century ago, +pleased her fancy.</p> + +<p>How Genevieve Whittredge had smiled and shrugged her shoulders! In those +days their half antagonistic friendship had not suffered a complete break. +She must have color and warmth and lavishness, and Celia acknowledged her +unerring taste and admired the beauty and richness Genevieve found +necessary to her happiness, even while she returned contentedly to her own +prim little room.</p> + +<p>It had been her dreaming place, and when dreams were crowded out by an +exacting present, she had closed the door and turned the key. It was so +much the less to take care of.</p> + +<p>"I don't see why Mr. Gilpin couldn't have left you some money," her mother +said, following her. "It would be such a help just now. How are we to keep +Tom at the university another year?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Fair had a way of bringing up problems just when her daughter had +succeeded in putting them aside.<a name="Page_225" id="Page_225"></a></p> + +<p>"I think we can manage in some way, mother. Don't worry," she said.</p> + +<p>"But some one has to worry."</p> + +<p>"Then let me do it," Celia answered, smiling.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later she was standing by the spinet, absently touching the +tuneless keys, when a voice from the window startled her. It was Morgan, +who with his elbows on the sill, was looking in.</p> + +<p>"Better sell it, Miss Celia."</p> + +<p>Sell it! The idea had never occurred to her. "What could I get for it?" +she asked, going to the window.</p> + +<p>"Two hundred—maybe more."</p> + +<p>Two hundred dollars would be a great help toward Tom's expenses, but to +give up her grandmother's spinet? It took on a new value.</p> + +<p>"Let me have it to do over and I guarantee you two hundred dollars," said +Morgan.</p> + +<p>"I'll think of it and let you know," was Celia's answer.</p> + +<p>"It seems like the irony of fate," she told herself, "to have to sell it +almost before it is really mine; and yet when two hundred dollars <a name="Page_226" id="Page_226"></a>lie +within my reach, I can't refuse to take them. Poor old spinet, it is too +bad to send you away. I shouldn't do it if I could help it; but you don't +fit in with these times. Or rather, you are helping me out; that is the +way to look at it."</p> + +<p>So it was that the spinet did not long keep company with the portrait of +Saint Cecilia, its original owner, but was harked away to the shop of the +magician and the society of the clock case and the claw-footed sofa.</p> + +<p>Here Allan Whittredge saw and recognized it one day, and questioned +Morgan. Allan remembered the prim little sitting room, and how Celia had +looked forward to owning the spinet, and it troubled him to think she was +compelled to part with it. When he left the shop he went over to Miss +Betty's.</p> + +<p>After talking for a while about other things, he asked, "Betty, is it true +that Dr. Fair left his family with very little?"</p> + +<p>"True? Of course it is. Have you just found that out? Celia is working her +fingers to the bone, and I wish I were sure those boys are worth it," was +her reply.<a name="Page_227" id="Page_227"></a></p> + +<p>"How did it happen?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't think Dr. Fair had the best judgment in the world when it +came to investments; at the same time, a lot of other people lost in the +West View coal mines. His death was a great shock; I loved Dr. Fair."</p> + +<p>"I too," said Allan. "He was a good man."</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether you know it, Allan. Perhaps I ought not to tell you; +but there was some talk of Dr. Fair's treatment having done your father +harm. I really believe your mother was out of her mind with anxiety, and +you know she disliked the doctor. He was dismissed, you remember; and this +was whispered about and exaggerated until I think it almost broke his +heart. Of course there was no truth in it—that was made clear in the +end—and his death put a stop to the talk, for everybody loved and +respected Dr. Fair; but it has been terribly hard on Celia."</p> + +<p>Allan sat looking at Miss Betty absently. "Terribly hard on Celia,"—the +words repeated themselves over and over in his mind.<a name="Page_228" id="Page_228"></a></p> + +<p>"This is the first I ever heard of it," he said at length.</p> + +<p>Miss Betty watched him as he walked away. "As usual I have been minding +some one else's business," she said to herself; "but he ought to know it. +Allan is a fine fellow."<a name="Page_229" id="Page_229"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY_FIRST" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY_FIRST" ></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-FIRST.</h2> + +<h3>UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE.</h3> + +<p class='center'>"Must you then be proud and pitiless?"</p> + + +<p>The book containing the constitution of the Arden Foresters lay on the +garden bench. The Foresters themselves were spending the afternoon at the +creek at the foot of Red Hill. All was quiet in the neighborhood. The bank +doors had closed two hours ago, and Friendship seemed to have retired for +its afternoon nap.</p> + +<p>Allan Whittredge unfolded the <i>County News</i> and glanced over it, then laid +it on his knee and gazed across the lawn with a thoughtful frown. The +<i>County News</i> presented no problems, but life in this quiet village of +Friendship did. His talk with Miss Betty had brought him face to face with +them. He was conscious now that his attitude had been one of complacent +superiority. He had held himself above the pettiness of village <a name="Page_230" id="Page_230"></a>life only +to discover, as he admitted frankly, that he had been a conceited fool.</p> + +<p>His own indignation helped him to realize something of what Celia must +have felt at the cruel affront to her father. And his silence all this +while made him seem a party to it. It was an intolerable thought, but +Allan was not one to brood over difficulties; a gleam of what Miss Betty +called the Barnwell stubbornness shone in his eyes as he made an inward +vow to find some way to convince Celia of his ignorance of much which had +happened at the time of his father's death, and to gain from his mother an +admission of her mistake. The question how to accomplish this, filled him +with a helpless impatience.</p> + +<p>He took up the book that lay beside him and opened it. "The secret of the +Forest: Good in everything," he read. "To remember the secret of the +Forest, to bear hard things bravely—" He turned the leaves and saw under +Morgan's straggling characters the once familiar writing of Celia +Fair,—the firm, delicate backhand, so suggestive, to one who knew her, of +the determination that lay beneath her gentleness. Did Celia believe there +was good in everything? Surely <a name="Page_231" id="Page_231"></a>not in all this trouble. Yet she was +bearing hard things bravely, if all he heard were true. It hurt him to +think of her carrying a load of responsibility and care. His own life +seemed tame from its very lack of care.</p> + +<p>He closed the book with decision. His task was to unravel these twisted +threads of hatred and misunderstanding, and he would do it.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, he found time for other things. He began to cultivate the +society of the Arden Foresters, and to be a boy again in earnest.</p> + +<p>Boating on the picturesque little river was one of the pleasures of +Friendship. Jack Parton and his brothers owned a boat, the <i>Mermaid</i>; and +Allan now provided himself with one, which he delighted Rosalind by naming +for her. After this the <i>Mermaid</i> and the <i>Rosalind</i> might frequently be +seen following the narrow stream in its winding course, making their way +among water lilies and yellow and purple spatter-dock, between banks +fringed with willows and wild oats and here and there a dump of cat-tails. +What pleasanter way than this of spending the early summer mornings? And +then to find some shady anchorage, where lunch could be eaten and the +hours <a name="Page_232" id="Page_232"></a>fleeted away merrily until the cool of the afternoon.</p> + +<p>With only three in each boat, it was light work for the oarsman; and as +rowing was something Maurice could do, and as the girls liked to take +their turn, it often happened that Mr. Whittredge had nothing to do but +enjoy himself.</p> + +<p>Allan smiled sometimes to think how much pleasure he found in the society +of these young people. He usually carried a book or magazine, but as often +as not it was unopened.</p> + +<p>"I suppose the real Arden Foresters did not read books," he remarked one +day as, after glancing through the pages of a late novel, he tossed it +disrespectfully into the empty lunch basket.</p> + +<p>They had eaten their picnic dinner and were resting in easy attitudes on +the grass,—Miss Betty not being present to mention spines,—in sight of +their boats, swinging gently at anchor.</p> + +<p>"Not any?" exclaimed Rosalind, to whom the idea of no books was a dreadful +one.</p> + +<p>"But they were in a story and were having lots of fun," said Belle.</p> + +<p>"And they found their books in brooks, didn't they?" added Maurice.<a name="Page_233" id="Page_233"></a></p> + +<p>"When you are having fun, you don't read so much, that is true," Rosalind +said, burying her hands in the mass of clover blooms Katherine tossed into +her lap. "We'll make a long, long chain, Katherine, and let it trail +behind us as we go home."</p> + +<p>"Give me your experience," said Allan, stretched at lazy length, with his +arms under his head. "Have you found that there is good in things +invariably?"</p> + +<p>"I like Mr. Allan because he talks to us as if we were grown up," Belle +whispered to Rosalind.</p> + +<p>"There is more than you would think, till you try." Maurice answered.</p> + +<p>"I think so. Uncle Allan," said Rosalind. "I shouldn't have had this good +time and learned to know all of you, if father had not gone with Cousin +Louis. He said if I stayed in the Forest of Arden, I was sure to meet +pleasant people, and I have." Rosalind looked at her companions with a +soft light in her gray eyes.</p> + +<p>"If it were not for you, we shouldn't be having half so much fun," said +Belle, promptly.</p> + +<p>"I think you would always have a good time, Belle," answered Rosalind; +"but I'm afraid if I <a name="Page_234" id="Page_234"></a>hadn't come to know all of you, I couldn't have +stayed in the Forest much longer, though the magician did cheer me up."</p> + +<p>"Then the idea is, that it is only when you stay in the Forest that you +find the good in things?" said Allan.</p> + +<p>"That was the way in the story. Everything came right in the Forest," +Rosalind answered.</p> + +<p>"I believe," said Allan, "I should like to be an Arden Forester."</p> + +<p>This announcement was received with enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"That is, if I understand it. 'To remember the Forest secret, to bear hard +things bravely—'"</p> + +<p>"And if you are an honorary member, like Miss Celia and Morgan, you won't +have to search for the ring," put in Belle.</p> + +<p>"The ring is found, and is waiting till the magician breaks the spell. You +know, Uncle Allan, he has hung it on a nail in his shop, by the door, just +as if he were trying really," Rosalind explained.</p> + +<p>"I think I shall ask to be taken on probation," Mr. Whittredge continued.</p> + +<p>"What's that?" asked Jack.<a name="Page_235" id="Page_235"></a></p> + +<p>"On trial. I might not do you credit, you know."</p> + +<p>The Arden Foresters refused to admit the possibility of this, and Belle +and Rosalind began delightedly to enumerate their members.</p> + +<p>They rowed homeward slowly, for it was up stream, and as they went they +unwound the clover chain, and let it trail far behind them until it caught +among the reeds and was broken.</p> + +<p>When they passed the Gilpin place, on their way from the landing, a stop +was made for a fresh supply of oak leaves from their favorite tree, and +Rosalind pinned one on her uncle's coat.</p> + +<p>"I invite the Arden Foresters to meet with me to-morrow under the +greenwood tree," said Mr. Whittredge, surveying his badge.</p> + +<p>"That's poetry, go on," said Jack.</p> + +<p>"I'll have to fall back into prose to finish. At the foot of Red Hill, at +half-past seven P.M."</p> + +<p>"What tree does he mean?" asked Katherine.</p> + +<p>"Under the greenwood tree is a poetical figure," Mr. Whittredge explained.</p> + +<p>"It will be dark at half-past seven," said Jack.<a name="Page_236" id="Page_236"></a></p> + +<p>"Of course it will be, and that's going to be the fun," cried Belle.</p> + +<p>"There will be a moon," added Maurice, who was wise in such matters.</p> + +<p>"And what are we to do there?" asked Rosalind.</p> + +<p>"That remains to be seen," was all the satisfaction her uncle would give +her.</p> + +<p>Anticipation was the order of the next day, and the hours of the afternoon +rather dragged. At dinner Rosalind could not keep her eyes from the clock, +while her uncle ate in his usual leisurely manner, smiling at her +quizzically now and then.</p> + +<p>"It will not take more than twenty minutes to walk out," he remarked, at +length, when the hands pointed to seven o'clock.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Whittredge looked inquiring.</p> + +<p>"We are to have a little moonlight party at the creek to-night. We shall +not be late, Rosalind and I," Allan added.</p> + +<p>"You are making a new departure, are you not? A picnic yesterday, another +to-night. You are really falling into the ways of Friendship."<a name="Page_237" id="Page_237"></a></p> + +<p>"I am only beginning again where I left off years ago, Rosalind is showing +me how," Allan smiled across the table, this time a smile of +good-fellowship.</p> + +<p>The August nights were cool, and Rosalind carried her cape with its +pointed hood, when, the long ten minutes having passed, they set out. +Maurice and Katherine were watching for them, and farther down the street +the Partons joined them.</p> + +<p>Under the trees that grew so thick, it was already dim twilight, but when +they reached the more open country react there was still a glow in the +sky, and over Red Hill floated the golden moon, attended by a single star. +On the little sandy beach beneath the bridge, where the water rippled so +pleasantly over the stones, a fire was burning, and before it on a log, +with Curly Q. by his side, sat the magician, whittling.</p> + +<p>"Is this the party? How lovely! What fun!" they cried, running down to +join Morgan and be received by Curly Q. with ecstatic barks.</p> + +<p>The magician was evidently expecting them, for he at once began +distributing pointed sticks.</p> + +<p>"What are they for?" asked Belle.<a name="Page_238" id="Page_238"></a></p> + +<p>This was soon explained. Mr. Whittredge produced a tin box from somewhere +and proceeded to open it, and Katherine, who was next him, said, +"Marshmallows."</p> + +<p>"Yes, this is a marshmallow roast," he replied; and fixing one of the +white drops on the pointed stick, he held it toward the glowing embers.</p> + +<p>The others followed his lead without loss of time,—the magician and all; +and Curly Q. sat erect and eager, giving an occasional muffled "woof" to +remind them that he liked marshmallows too.</p> + +<p>The rose tints faded from the sky; the moon sailed higher; and the glow of +the fire grew deeper. The Arden Foresters toasted and talked, and ate +their marshmallows, not forgetting Curly Q., and were as merry as the +crickets that chirped around them,—as merry, at least, as those insects +are said to be.</p> + +<p>When it was really impossible to eat another one, they built up the fire +for the pleasure of watching it, and sang songs and told stories, the +magician, with his elbows on his knees, looking from one to another and +laughing as if he understood all the fun.<a name="Page_239" id="Page_239"></a></p> + +<p>The glow of their fire and the sound of their voices could be seen and +heard far up on Red Hill; so Celia Fair told them, emerging suddenly out +of the darkness into the firelight. In her white dress, with something +fleecy about her head and shoulders, she suggested a piece of thistledown.</p> + +<p>The children gave her a rapturous welcome and proffered marshmallows; the +magician looked on smiling. Allan had gone in search of firewood. Celia +had been up the hill to visit an old servant who was ill, and returning, +with Bob for guard, had seen the fire and heard the voices.</p> + +<p>"At first I thought of gypsies, and then Rosalind's pointed hood suggested +witches, and it was only when I reached the bridge that I recognized you," +she said; adding, "No, I can't stay. Bob is taking me home."</p> + +<p>"Do stay; I'll take you home, Miss Celia," said Jack, as Rosalind bestowed +marshmallows on the grinning Bob.</p> + +<p>Celia hesitated, then turned, as if about to dismiss her escort, when +Allan Whittredge stepped into the circle and cast an armful of wood on the +fire. Celia retreated into the shadow. "I <a name="Page_240" id="Page_240"></a>must go, dear," she whispered +to Belle's urging.</p> + +<p>A chorus of protest followed her as she hurried up the bank. She had +hardly reached the road when she heard her name spoken quietly, and +turning, she faced Allan Whittredge in the moonlight.</p> + +<p>There was some hesitation in his manner as he said, "I can understand your +wish to avoid me, and yet I am anxious to have a few moments' talk with +you, now or at any time that may suit you." As he spoke, a sense of the +absurdity of this formality between old playmates swept over him, almost +bringing a smile to his lips.</p> + +<p>Celia spoke gently. "I think not. I mean I can imagine no reason for +it—no good it could do."</p> + +<p>"But you can't judge of that until you know what I have to say. Something +I did not understand has recently been made clear to me and—it is of that +I wish to speak."</p> + +<p>"If it has anything to do with the—the difference between your family and +mine, it is needless—useless. I cannot listen, I can only try to forget." +On the last word Celia's voice broke a little.<a name="Page_241" id="Page_241"></a></p> + +<p>Allan took a step forward; "I do not think you have a right to refuse. You +should grant me the privilege of defending myself against—"</p> + +<p>Celia interposed, "I have not accused you, Mr. Whittredge; there is no +occasion for defence, I must say good night."</p> + +<p>Nothing could have been more final than her manner as she moved away +toward Bob, who waited at a discreet distance. There was no uncertainty in +her voice now, nor in the poise of her head.</p> + +<p>Allan stood in the road, looking after her retreating figure. He had +bungled. If he had begun in the right way, she would have been compelled +to listen. What could he do to obtain a hearing? After two years of +silence he could not wonder at her refusal to listen to him now.<a name="Page_242" id="Page_242"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY_SECOND" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY_SECOND" ></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-SECOND.</h2> + +<h3>CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE.</h3> + +<p class='center'>"I sometimes do believe and sometimes do not."</p> + + +<p>"Belle!" called Mrs. Parton from the porch, addressing her daughter, who +swung lazily to and fro in the hammock, her eyes on a book, "I can't find +Jack, and I want you to take this money to Morgan. Your father reminded me +of the bill just before he left, and I haven't thought of it from that day +to this."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, can't—?"</p> + +<p>"Can't who? You know there isn't a soul to send but you, and I must have +this off my mind. Manda is helping me with the sweet pickles, and Tilly +has gone to camp-meeting."</p> + +<p>Belle rose reluctantly, tossed back her hair, and went in search of her +hat.</p> + +<p>"Be sure now to get a receipt," Mrs. Parton said, as she gave the money +into Belle's hands. "I am not afraid of Morgan, but the colonel is +<a name="Page_243" id="Page_243"></a>certain to accuse me of not paying it if I haven't a receipt to show +him."</p> + +<p>Belle tucked her book under her arm and walked off.</p> + +<p>"Now, Belle," protested her mother, "why can't you leave that book at +home? Don't let me hear of your reading as you go along the street."</p> + +<p>"I won't, but I like to carry it," answered Belle, patting it lovingly. +She was deeply interested in the story, and begrudged the time it took to +walk to the magician's. Once there, she decided she would stay awhile to +rest and finish the chapter.</p> + +<p>The day was warm, and she strolled along in lazy fashion. The Whittredge +house as she passed looked deserted. The front shutters were closed, and +no one was to be seen. Rosalind had gone away with her uncle for a few +days. Belle amused herself by imagining that Rosalind's having been there +at all was a dream, and she succeeded in producing a bewildering sense of +unreality in her own mind.</p> + +<p>Morgan was not in his shop, but that he had been there recently was +evident, for his tools lay scattered about.<a name="Page_244" id="Page_244"></a></p> + +<p>After the heat of the street the shop was cool and inviting, and a corner +of an old sofa offered itself as a desirable spot in which to continue the +story. It stood against the wall, and with several other pieces of +furniture before it, was a secluded as well as a comfortable +resting-place. Belle settled herself to her liking and was at once lost in +her book. She finished the chapter and read another, and was beginning a +third when something aroused her. For a moment she couldn't remember where +she was, then with a finger in her book she peeped around the clock case, +which with a high-backed chair screened her corner.</p> + +<p>The magician stood in the middle of the room, with his back toward her, +gazing intently at something in his hand. Belle was about to come out of +her hiding-place when he stepped to the window, and holding the object up +between his thumb and finger, let the sunlight fall upon it, laughing +gleefully like a child over a toy.</p> + +<p>Belle drew back quickly. Was she dreaming still? She pinched herself. No, +she was awake, and in the magician's shop, and the thing she had seen in +his hand was nothing less than Patricia's <a name="Page_245" id="Page_245"></a>ring! She had heard it +described too often not to recognize it. But how came it in Morgan's +possession? She sat still and thought.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, after turning it over and over, and nodding and laughing to +himself in a way that would have seemed rather crazy to one who did not +know him, the magician disappeared into the back room, closing the door +behind him. Belle seized the opportunity to steal from the shop. It would +be easier to think out of doors.</p> + +<p>The little brown and white house across the lane was keeping itself +to-day. Miss Betty had gone to the city, and Sophy was at camp-meeting, as +Belle happened to know, so she went over and sat on the porch step beside +a large hydrangea. She must decide what to do. She remembered very +distinctly the circumstances connected with the disappearance of the ring. +Morgan had been one of the last persons to speak to old Mr. Gilpin before +the attack of heart failure that ended his life, but no one had dreamed of +suspecting him. Could he have had it all this time?</p> + +<p>Belle felt ashamed of herself for the thought. If there was an honest +person in the world, it <a name="Page_246" id="Page_246"></a>was Morgan. She had heard her father talk of +circumstantial evidence, and how easy it was to draw wrong conclusions. +She was puzzled. One thing was certain, she had seen the ring in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Now, if he were really a magician, I might think he had broken the spell +on the ring we found in the Gilpin house," she said to herself.</p> + +<p>She must go back and pay the bill; for if she did not, her mother would +have to know the reason, and Belle was not sure it would be wise to tell +her about the discovery. Mrs. Parton acknowledged frankly she couldn't +keep a secret, and Belle was wise enough to see it wouldn't do to spread +the news abroad.</p> + +<p>"I wish Rosalind was here," she thought.</p> + +<p>When at length she made up her mind to go back, the magician was at work +and greeted her just as usual. Belle wondered if she had not dreamed it +after all. While he went into the next room to make change and receipt the +bill, she looked for the ring she and Rosalind had hung on a nail beside +the door. It was gone. Had any one ever known such a perplexing state of +affairs?<a name="Page_247" id="Page_247"></a></p> + +<p>The magician must have wondered what made the usually merry Belle so +grave, for he asked if she was well as he gave her the bill.</p> + +<p>As she walked slowly homeward, she noticed a large, dignified gentleman +coming toward her. He did not belong to Friendship, she knew, and she +wondered a little who he might be. He looked down on her benevolently +through his spectacles as he passed, and for a moment seemed about to +speak. Belle quickly forgot him, however, for the ring occupied her +thoughts to the exclusion of everything else. Even the story so +fascinating an hour ago, had lost its charm.</p> + +<p>"Does your head ache?" her mother asked, seeing her sitting on the +doorstep, her chin in her hand, her book unopened beside her.</p> + +<p>"No, mother; I am just thinking," was Belle's reply.</p> + +<p>She was trying to decide whom to tell. "I wish father was at home," she +said to herself.</p> + +<p>She went to bed with the matter still undecided, and the first thing she +thought of when she opened her eyes the next day was the ring. A +conversation overheard between her mother and Manda, the cook, added to +her uneasiness.<a name="Page_248" id="Page_248"></a></p> + +<p>"Miss Mary, did you know there was a 'tective loafin' round town?"</p> + +<p>"A detective? No, I did not. If there is, it won't make any difference to +you and me," answered Mrs. Parton.</p> + +<p>"Maybe it don't make no difference to white folks, but looks like they's +always 'spicioning niggers," continued Manda, with a shake of her head. +"Tilly 'lows it's that thar ring of old Marse Gilpin's."</p> + +<p>"Hardly," said Mrs. Parton, with a laugh. Belle, remembering the stranger, +wondered if it might not be true.</p> + +<p>Such talk among the servants of Friendship was nothing new. Since the +first excitement over the disappearance of the ring, it had broken out +periodically; but to Belle this morning it seemed a strange coincidence. +Suppose some one else had seen the ring in Morgan's possession? And now it +occurred to her to tell Miss Celia.</p> + +<p>On her way to the Fairs' she met the stranger again, this time in front of +Mrs. Graham's school. He was looking about him with an air of interest, +and as Belle approached he asked if this was not the Bishop residence.<a name="Page_249" id="Page_249"></a></p> + +<p>"It was," she answered, "but it is a school now."</p> + +<p>The gentleman thanked her and walked on.</p> + +<p>"I believe he is a detective," she said to herself.</p> + +<p>Celia was in her usual place in the arbor bending over a piece of +embroidery, when Belle found her.</p> + +<p>"Miss Celia, I have the strangest thing to tell you," she began, and then +unfolded her story.</p> + +<p>Celia listened in astonishment. "Why, Belle, it isn't possible—you don't +think—"</p> + +<p>"Miss Celia, I don't know. I saw the ring, and I know Morgan isn't a +thief, but I don't understand it."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed. Morgan, whom we have always known—who is honest as the day!" +Celia was silent for a moment, then she said, "Belle, it seems to me the +only thing for you to do is to tell Mr. Whittredge. The ring belongs to +him; he will know what to do far better than we, and he will think of +Morgan, too."</p> + +<p>"I would have told him, but he has gone away."</p> + +<p>"Gone?"<a name="Page_250" id="Page_250"></a></p> + +<p>Belle wondered a little at Miss Celia's tone; it was as if she cared a +great deal.</p> + +<p>"I don't think he will be gone long. He took Rosalind with him," she +added.</p> + +<p>"Then I should wait till his return. A few days more can't make much +difference. You have been very wise not to mention it to any one."</p> + +<p>But when Belle told about the supposed detective, Celia laughed and said +she had a vivid imagination, and that it was only a coincidence that the +old rumors should be revived just now.</p> + +<p>As Belle went down the hill, feeling somewhat crestfallen and rather tired +of the whole matter of the ring, she met Maurice and Jack. Jack had spent +the night with Maurice, and now they were on their way to the landing to +take some pictures with Maurice's new camera. They made no objection to +her proposal to join them, so she turned back, feeling strongly tempted to +tell her story to them; but she had agreed with Miss Celia that it was +best not to talk about it until Mr. Whittredge's return, and Belle prided +herself on her ability to keep a secret.<a name="Page_251" id="Page_251"></a></p> + +<p>The interest of deciding what view would make the best picture made her +forget the ring for a while; but as they sat on the edge of the dock +waiting to catch a sailboat about to start out, she suddenly said, "Boys, +I believe I saw a detective this morning," and she described the stranger.</p> + +<p>"Why do you think he is a detective?" asked Maurice.</p> + +<p>"Well, you know they always wear spectacles and try to look like +ministers," she answered confidently.</p> + +<p>"Pshaw! they have all sorts of disguises," said Jack.</p> + +<p>"I don't care, I'm sure he is one, and I think he is looking for the +ring." Belle pursed up her lips as much as to say she might tell more.</p> + +<p>"You are trying to make us believe you know something," remarked Jack, +with brotherly scorn.</p> + +<p>"I do. Something I can't tell for—well, for several days."</p> + +<p>"Who knows it beside you?" asked Maurice.</p> + +<p>"Just Miss Celia."</p> + +<p>If Miss Celia knew, it seemed worthy of more respect. "How did you find it +out?" asked Jack.<a name="Page_252" id="Page_252"></a></p> + +<p>"I can't tell you. It is a mystery; but, boys, I want to keep an eye on +that man and see what he does," Belle said impressively.</p> + +<p>"How about taking his picture?" suggested Maurice.</p> + +<p>"Just the thing!" Belle clapped her hands. "Let's go look for him now."</p> + +<p>Anything that promised some fun was hailed with delight. It had been a +little dull in Rosalind's absence. When she was with them nobody was +conscious of her leadership, but now she was away they were at a loss.</p> + +<p>They waylaid old Mr. Biddle, driving in from the country with a load of +apples, and demanded a ride which he good-naturedly allowed them, and they +drove down the hill in state. When they came within sight of the +post-office, Belle clutched Maurice's arm. "There he is," she whispered. +"Let's get out and wait for him. You have your camera ready."</p> + +<p>The obliging Mr. Biddle stopped his horse and let his passenger out. As +for the stranger, if he had known what was wanted of him, he couldn't have +been more accommodating. He came slowly down the steps of the post-office, +and stood within <a name="Page_253" id="Page_253"></a>a few yards of the doorway, where three giggling young +persons had taken shelter. Maurice had time for half a dozen pictures if +he wanted them.</p> + +<p>"He isn't a detective," whispered Jack, "I'll bet a dime he is a +minister."</p> + +<p>"I said he looked like a minister," Belle retorted.</p> + +<p>"I am going to Burke's to get him to show me about developing," said +Maurice, as the stranger moved away, "Wouldn't it be fun if we could have +his picture to show Rosalind when she comes to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"Is she coming to-morrow? Oh, I am glad!" said Belle.</p> + +<p>"Let's follow and see where he goes," Jack proposed, as Maurice left them; +and Belle nothing loath, they dogged the steps of the supposed detective. +She was both alarmed and triumphant when he was seen to turn into Church +Lane, but all other emotions were swallowed up in surprise when, instead +of crossing to the magician's shop, he entered Miss Betty Bishop's front +gate.<a name="Page_254" id="Page_254"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY_THIRD" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY_THIRD" ></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-THIRD.</h2> + +<h3>THE DETECTIVE.</h3> + +<p class='center'>"'Twas I, but 'tis not I."</p> + + +<p>The next morning Belle and Jack awaited the 10.30 train, seated together +on a trunk on the station platform. Celia saw them from the door of the +express office across the road. Presently they recognized her and began to +wave, and then Belle came flying over to tell her how they had taken the +detective's picture and had afterward seen him enter Miss Betty's gate.</p> + +<p>"Why should a detective go to Miss Betty's?" Celia asked, much amused.</p> + +<p>"Why should he go if he wasn't a detective?" Belle demanded.</p> + +<p>"Why not? He may be an agent, or a friend," Celia suggested, laughing.</p> + +<p>A whistle in the distance left no time for argument. Belle flew back to +the platform, <a name="Page_255" id="Page_255"></a>where Maurice had joined Jack. Celia turned toward home.</p> + +<p>She was more perplexed over Belle's story about the ring than she cared to +own. Not for a moment did she think Morgan had taken it; and yet he was +getting to be an old man and she recalled something she had heard her +father say about a certain brain disease that first showed itself in acts +wholly out of keeping with the character of its victim. Could this be the +explanation?</p> + +<p>It was a relief to know that it would soon be in Allan Whittredge's hands. +That he would do the kindest, wisest thing, she never thought of doubting.</p> + +<p>She had heard with a sinking of heart that he had gone away, and she +scorned herself for the sensation of relief when Belle added, it was only +for a few days. Celia deeply regretted the way in which she had met his +request to speak with her that night at Friendly Creek. Why could she not +have listened quietly? In these days she was torn by conflicting feelings. +The spirit of the Forest was slowly tempering the bitterness in her heart, +but it sometimes <a name="Page_256" id="Page_256"></a>seemed to her that her loyalty to her father was +weakening.</p> + +<p>It was fortunate matters at home demanded her thoughts. Plans for the +winter, getting the boys off to school, and the many small cares of the +housekeeper left little time for brooding.</p> + +<p>At the station Belle, in her eagerness to be the first to greet Rosalind, +had to be dragged back out of harm's way by the baggage master, as the +long train swept around the curve.</p> + +<p>"You'll find yourself killed one of these days if you don't look out," +remarked Jack, descending from the trunk.</p> + +<p>But Belle gave small heed. "I am so glad you have come," she cried, +seizing upon Rosalind almost before she had her foot on the ground. "Such +lots of things have happened."</p> + +<p>"Aren't you glad to see me too?" asked Mr. Whittredge.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am especially glad to see you, because I have something to tell +you. Something I can't tell any one else."</p> + +<p>"Bless me! this is interesting. Just wait till I find my checks, and we'll +walk up town together."<a name="Page_257" id="Page_257"></a></p> + +<p>Belle, however, was not destined to relate her story just then, for no +sooner had they started out, she in front with Mr. Whittredge, and +Rosalind and the boys following, than Mr. Molesworth joined them and began +talking about the paper mills. There was nothing for her but to fall back +with the others, and this was not without its compensation, for now she +could have a share in telling Rosalind about the detective.</p> + +<p>"It's all nonsense. I don't believe he was a detective at all, but it was +fun taking his picture," said Jack.</p> + +<p>"I'll have it to show you to-morrow," added Maurice.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you ask Cousin Betty who he is?" suggested Rosalind.</p> + +<p>Belle's deep sense of the mystery of things had kept her from thinking of +this simple method of solving the problem.</p> + +<p>"Of course we might," she acknowledged.</p> + +<p>"I want to stop at Morgan's a moment," Allan looked back to say.</p> + +<p>At the magician's corner Mr. Molesworth left them; but as it was only a +step to the shop, the secret still remained untold.<a name="Page_258" id="Page_258"></a></p> + +<p>Morgan seemed delighted beyond all reason at sight of them. He greeted +Allan as if he had been away years instead of days; and tapping his own +breast, he exclaimed, looking from one to another, "I am Morgan, the +magician!" Then pointing to the nail where the children had hung the brass +ring, he added, "I have broken the spell!" With this he disappeared for a +moment into the back room, but he was with them again before they had +recovered from their surprise at his strange manner; and now he held +something in his hand which he waved aloft gleefully.</p> + +<p>Belle began to understand that all her anxiety had been needless.</p> + +<p>"What does this mean?" asked Allan, as Morgan put into his hand a little +worn case.</p> + +<p>The children crowded around him as he opened it and disclosed the +long-lost, much talked of sapphire ring. In his delight the cabinet-maker +almost danced a jig, and continued to repeat, "I'm a magician."</p> + +<p>"It's found; it's found!" cried Rosalind.</p> + +<p>"And I knew it," said Belle.</p> + +<p>"Hello!" exclaimed Jack. "Was this your secret? Did Morgan tell you?"<a name="Page_259" id="Page_259"></a></p> + +<p>Belle tried to explain her discovery, but so great was the excitement +nobody would listen. It was really beyond belief that Patricia's ring was +actually in their hands. It was some time before they quieted down +sufficiently to hear Morgan's story.</p> + +<p>He had begun work on the spinet several days ago, he said, and upon +removing the top had noticed something wedged in under the strings, which +upon investigation he found to be the case containing the ring.</p> + +<p>"But where is the other ring?" Rosalind asked.</p> + +<p>The magician laughed and said that was another story, and he told how the +evening before the real ring was found, Crisscross had been seized with a +fit of unusual playfulness, and jumping up on the chest, above which the +ring hung, had begun to move it to and fro with his paw, presently +knocking it off and sending it rolling across the floor. He darted after +it under tables and chairs but apparently never found it; nor could the +magician, although he searched carefully.</p> + +<p>"So the mystery is not ended yet. We do <a name="Page_260" id="Page_260"></a>not know what became of the magic +ring, nor how the real ring came to be in the spinet," Allan remarked.</p> + +<p>"It is exactly like a sure enough fairy tale," added Belle; and then she +whispered her part of the story, turning her back to the magician, for +fear he might see what she was talking about.</p> + +<p>"And how about the detective? Did you think he was coming to arrest +Morgan?" asked Maurice.</p> + +<p>Belle looked a little shamefaced. "I didn't know," she said.</p> + +<p>Mr. Whittredge wanted to hear about the detective, and was much amused at +her description of the taking of his picture.</p> + +<p>Rosalind as she listened held the ring in her hand—Patricia's ring. She +had thought a great deal about Patricia, and this seemed to bring her near +and make her more real—the young girl who had looked like Aunt Genevieve, +only more kind.</p> + +<p>"Let's show the ring to Miss Betty! May we, Mr. Whittredge?" asked Belle.</p> + +<p>Allan did not appear enthusiastic over the suggestion, but he did not +refuse, and followed <a name="Page_261" id="Page_261"></a>the children at a distance as they raced across the +street.</p> + +<p>"There's the detective now," cried Jack, at the gate.</p> + +<p>"Where?" the others asked breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"On the porch with Miss Betty."</p> + +<p>Sure enough, partially shielded from view by the vines, in one of Miss +Betty's comfortable chairs, sat the stranger.</p> + +<p>"Why—" began Rosalind, stopping short, "it looks like—Why, Dr. +Hollingsworth! I didn't know you were here!"</p> + +<p>At the same moment the gentleman started up, exclaiming, "Well, Rosalind, +they said you were out of town. I am very glad to see you," and they met +and clasped hands like warm friends.</p> + +<p>"Children!" cried Rosalind, turning to her companions, "this is our +president, Dr. Hollingsworth."</p> + +<p>"And these are the young people who took my photograph yesterday," Dr. +Hollingsworth observed gravely. There was a twinkle in his eye, however.</p> + +<p>By this time Mr. Whittredge had arrived on the scene and was introduced.<a name="Page_262" id="Page_262"></a></p> + +<p>"So this is the detective," he said.</p> + +<p>The culprits looked at each other and meditated flight, but changed their +minds when Dr. Hollingsworth shook hands with them, and said he knew how +it was to have a new camera and want to take everything in sight, and that +he really felt complimented.</p> + +<p>Belle thought she wouldn't have minded, except for the detective part of +it, over which Mr. Whittredge made so much fun.</p> + +<p>The ring was exhibited, and the whole matter made clear after a while, and +Dr. Hollingsworth said he was glad to have figured in any capacity in such +an interesting occurrence.</p> + +<p>"And how in the world did it get in the spinet?" asked Miss Betty. "I +believe Cousin Thomas put it there himself, as a practical joke."</p> + +<p>Miss Betty might have been holding a reception that morning, so full of +people did her small porch appear, and so continuous was the hum of +voices.</p> + +<p>Dr. Hollingsworth, it seemed, had been in the habit of visiting in +Friendship twenty years ago, and finding himself in the vicinity, he had +made it convenient to call upon his old friends; but, <a name="Page_263" id="Page_263"></a>as he said, things +had been rather against him. His college friend, the Presbyterian +minister, was away on his vacation, Miss Bishop out of town for the day, +and Rosalind, he did not know where.</p> + +<p>"And so there was nothing for me to do but loaf about that first +afternoon," he explained, "but little did I think to what dark suspicions +I was laying myself open," and he smiled at Belle.</p> + +<p>"Cousin Betty, you never told me you knew our president," Rosalind said +reproachfully.</p> + +<p>Miss Hetty laughed. "You see it had been such a long, long time, +Rosalind—"</p> + +<p>"That she had forgotten me," added the president.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, I hadn't," she insisted.</p> + +<p>They all felt that they should like to see more of him, and that it was +too bad he had to leave on the five o'clock train. The last hour was spent +with the Whittredges, and Rosalind and Allan accompanied him to the +station. Here, while they waited, Rosalind had an opportunity to tell him +about the society of Arden Foresters, in which he seemed greatly +interested, and was saying he should like to belong, when the gong +<a name="Page_264" id="Page_264"></a>sounded the approach of the train, and there was only time for good-by.</p> + +<p>"I shall be in this part of the country late in October, and may look in +upon you again," the president put his head out of the window to say, as +the conductor called, "All aboard."<a name="Page_265" id="Page_265"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY_FOURTH" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY_FOURTH" ></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-FOURTH.</h2> + +<h3>AT THE AUCTION.</h3> + +<p class='center'>"Assuredly the thing is to be sold."</p> + + +<p>Although the September days were warm, it was plain that summer was +departing. The flutter of yellow butterflies along the road told it, so +did the bursting pods of the milkweed, and the golden-rod and asters, +wreathing the meadows in royal colors.</p> + +<p>The potting of plants began in the gardens, housewifely minds turned to +fall cleaning, the spicy odor of tomato catsup pervaded the atmosphere, +and the sound of the school bell was heard in the land.</p> + +<p>It was always so, Belle groaned. Just when out of doors grew most +alluring, lessons put in their superior claim. To be sure, there were some +free afternoons and always Saturdays, but one did not want to lose a +moment of the fleeting beauty.<a name="Page_266" id="Page_266"></a></p> + +<p>Rosalind missed somewhat the constant companionship of her friends. Mrs. +Whittredge thought it hardly worth while to enter her in school for two +months, but at the instigation of Miss Herbert some home instruction was +begun. This Uncle Allan had no conscience about interrupting whenever +he wanted Rosalind for a drive or walk. As yet he said nothing about +leaving Friendship. A few brief sentences had been exchanged with his +mother upon the subject that weighed most heavily on his mind.</p> + +<p>"Has anything ever been done, any step taken, to correct the unfounded +report which got out at the time of my father's death, in regard to Dr. +Fair's treatment of the case?" he asked abruptly one evening.</p> + +<p>The color rose in Mrs. Whittredge's face, and she looked up from her work. +"I do not understand you. How do you know it was unfounded?"</p> + +<p>"For one thing, because I have taken pains to investigate. I saw Dr. Bell +in Baltimore."</p> + +<p>"May I ask why this sudden zeal?" His mother went on taking careful +stitches in a piece of linen.<a name="Page_267" id="Page_267"></a></p> + +<p>"For the reason that until a few weeks ago I knew nothing about it. Now I +cannot rest till the cruel wrong has been in some measure righted."</p> + +<p>"And you conclude without question, at once, that all the wrong is on one +side. But I should not be surprised. I have ever been the last to be +considered by my children."</p> + +<p>"You are not quite fair, mother," Allan answered gently, touched by the +unhappy bit of truth in this remark; "but I'll not defend myself more than +to say that I am not judging any one. I only wish the wrong on our side +made right." And he added, what he realized afterward had the sound of a +threat, "Unless it is done, I can never call Friendship my home."</p> + +<p>Here it ended for the time.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>And now, after a week of rain, October began with perfect weather, and +from the strangers who flocked to the auction, attracted by reports of +Lowestoft plates and Sheraton furniture, were heard many expressions of +delight at the beauty of the old town.</p> + +<p>For two hours before the sale began, a stream <a name="Page_268" id="Page_268"></a>of people passed through +the house, examining its contents, or wandered about the grounds, admiring +the view and the fine beech trees. Friendship itself was well represented +in the throng, but rather in the character of interested onlookers than +probable purchasers.</p> + +<p>Miss Betty was there to watch the fate of her silver, and Allan Whittredge +had brought Rosalind, who was eager to see for herself what an auction was +like. She hung entranced over Patricia's miniature, which with some other +small things of value had been placed in a glass case in the library, +until her uncle told her if she would select some article of furniture +that particularly pleased her, he would try to get it for her. This +delighted her beyond measure, and after much consideration she chose a +chest of drawers, with a small mirror above it, swung between two sportive +and graceful dolphins. "The little dolphin bureau," she called it.</p> + +<p class="figcenter"><a href="./images/5.jpg"><img src="./images/5-tb.jpg" alt=""SHE CHOSE A CHEST OF DRAWERS."" title=""SHE CHOSE A CHEST OF DRAWERS."" /></a><a name="SHE_CHOSE" id="SHE_CHOSE" ></a></p> + +<p class='center'>"SHE CHOSE A CHEST OF DRAWERS."</p> + +<p>The sale was to begin at eleven o'clock, and silverware and china were +first to be disposed of. The long drawing-room was full of camp chairs, +and the audience had begun to assemble when Rosalind entered and sat down +in a corner <a name="Page_269" id="Page_269"></a>to wait for her uncle, who was interviewing the auctioneer. +Two rows in front of her she saw Miss Betty, with Mrs. Parton and Mrs. +Molesworth.</p> + +<p>"Do you expect to bid on your cream-jug and sugar-bowl when they are put +up, Betty?" asked Mrs. Parton; adding, "How this chair squeaks! I wonder +if it will hold me."</p> + +<p>"I haven't made up my mind," was the answer. "It goes against the grain to +give money for what is really mine already. I can't get over the +impression that this is a funeral instead of a sale."</p> + +<p>"I wonder if the Whittredges will buy anything. I saw Allan in the hall," +said Mrs. Molesworth. She was a tall, angular person, with a severe +manner, a marked contrast to Mrs. Parton, with her ample proportions and +laughing face. "By the way, Betty," she continued, "what has become of the +ring?"</p> + +<p>"I know no more than you."</p> + +<p>The entrance of several strangers and some confusion about seats, kept +Rosalind from hearing any more of the conversation for a time. A portly +man completely blocked the way, and she <a name="Page_270" id="Page_270"></a>began to wonder if her uncle +would be able to get to the chair she was keeping for him.</p> + +<p>When things were quiet again, she heard Mrs. Molesworth say, leaning over +Miss Betty and speaking to Mrs. Parton, "Why, she was an actress, wasn't +she?"</p> + +<p>"I don't see that that was such an insuperable objection," Mrs. Parton +replied, "In point of family she was just as good as he, perhaps a little +better. The colonel and I met a lady at Cape May who knew them well. This +girl was left an orphan early, and through the rascality of her guardian +found herself penniless at seventeen. She had inherited the artistic gift +of her family, only in her it took the dramatic turn, and necessity and +her surroundings all combined to lead her in that direction. Then just as +she was making a success she gave it up to marry—" Another interruption, +and Rosalind did not hear whom she married.</p> + +<p>Her uncle now managed to join her by stepping over the backs of chairs, +and it was not long before the sale began.</p> + +<p>From the start it was evident the city people had not come to look on. +Bidding was spirited, <a name="Page_271" id="Page_271"></a>and Miss Betty's silver soon went "out of sight," +as Mrs. Parton expressed it.</p> + +<p>Rosalind was highly entertained, and whenever her uncle put in a quiet +bid, as he did now and then, she held her breath, fairly, for fear he +would not get what he wanted.</p> + +<p>To Allan there was an unreality about it all. It seemed so short a time +since he and Genevieve and Celia had been children together, taking tea +with Cousin Thomas and Cousin Anne. What a strange household the two had +constituted in this old mansion, where their whole lives had been spent. +As he thought of it, he felt he had an inkling of why Thomas Gilpin had +done as he did. Perhaps he had felt it would be better to have a clean +sweep, and thus make possible for some one a fresh beginning in the old +place. A fine substantial house it was, needing only a few improvements to +make of it, with its spacious, high-ceiled rooms and wide hall, a most +desirable residence.</p> + +<p>Rosalind's voice recalled him. "May I come again this afternoon, Uncle +Allan? They may begin on the furniture."</p> + +<p>The auction continued for three or four days. Rosalind <a name="Page_272" id="Page_272"></a>became the proud +possessor of the dolphin bureau; and her uncle obtained also the miniature +of Patricia, for what seemed indeed an extravagant sum, but he had given +his promise to his sister.</p> + +<p>At the close of the sale on the second day, Allan went into the library to +examine some books. The throng of onlookers and buyers had dispersed; only +the auctioneer's assistants remained at work in the hall. Purchases had +been promptly removed, and the house already seemed dismantled and bare.</p> + +<p>Absorbed in his search for a volume not on the catalogue, but which he +felt sure was somewhere on the shelves, he became aware of Celia Fair's +voice just outside the door. The next moment she entered the library and, +going to the fireplace, stooped to examine the andirons. She had not +observed him. Should he go quietly out, or make one more appeal to be +heard? Allan hesitated.</p> + +<p>With her hand on the high mantel-shelf and her head against her hand, +Celia stood looking down on the vacant hearth. There was something of +weariness in the attitude. What a delicate <a name="Page_273" id="Page_273"></a>bit of porcelain she seemed! +Allan had a sudden, illogical vision of a fire of blazing logs, and +himself and Celia sitting before it.</p> + +<p>He moved out of the shadow and she saw him; but though she stood erect and +tense in a moment, she did not, as he expected, hasten from the room. +Instead, she hesitated, and there was an appeal in her eyes very different +from the defiance of a few weeks ago.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know there was any one here," she said; adding, "Mr. Whittredge, +I have wanted to have an opportunity to say that I regret my rudeness. I +was unreasonable—I am sorry."</p> + +<p>The childishness of the speech went to Allan's heart. He was conscious of +keeping a very tight rein on himself as he answered, "Do not say that. I +can understand a little of what you must feel. But does it mean that I may +speak now and tell you that only a few weeks ago I first learned the +cruel, the unwarranted, charge against your father? I had not understood +before."</p> + +<p>Celia lifted her hand as if to ward off a blow, but she did not speak.</p> + +<p>Allan continued, "My silence must have seemed <a name="Page_274" id="Page_274"></a>like a consent to it. And +now, can we not meet, if only for a few minutes, on common ground? Must we +be enemies because—"</p> + +<p>"Not enemies—oh, no," Celia said, looking toward the door as if she +wished to end the interview.</p> + +<p>"Then—you will think me very insistent—but there is something I must +explain to you. First, won't you let me give you a chair?"</p> + +<p>"Thank you, I'll stand," Celia answered; she moved, however, to a table +and leaned against it.</p> + +<p>"It is about the ring. You perhaps remember the wording of the will? +Before I left home to go abroad, so long ago, when I bade good-by to old +Mr. Gilpin, he said to me, with that odd chuckle of his, 'Allan, I want +Celia to have the ring when I die,' I replied that I hoped he would leave +it to you in his will. Again, as I was leaving him, he called after me, +'Remember, Celia is to have the ring,' It escaped my mind until I heard of +the will, then of course I remembered. I think he had a feeling that if he +left it to anybody it should be to a member of our family, and yet he +wished you to have it. Now we both know what the old man had in <a name="Page_275" id="Page_275"></a>mind; +but, although things have changed between us since then, the fact remains +that the ring is yours." Allan took the little worn case from his breast +pocket and held it out.</p> + +<p>Celia looked at his extended hand, and shook her head. "I cannot take it," +she said.</p> + +<p>"But it does not belong to me; you must take it. You put me in an awkward +position by refusing."</p> + +<p>Celia's eyes flashed. "And how about my position if I should take it? Has +not all Friendship been speculating about the meaning of the Gilpin will? +Is not everybody wondering what you are going to do with it? What—" She +paused, clearly unable to keep her voice steady.</p> + +<p>She seemed about to hurry away when Allan intercepted her. "Forgive +me—wait—just a moment. I see now. I was unpardonably stupid. I am not in +the habit of considering what people say or may think, but I can see it +would not do. I seem to be always annoying you," he concluded helplessly.</p> + +<p>A faint smile dawned on Celia's face. "No one can help it; it is just an +awkward situation," she said, and left him.<a name="Page_276" id="Page_276"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY_FIFTH" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY_FIFTH" ></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-FIFTH.</h2> + +<h3>QUESTIONS.</h3> + +<p class='center'>"They asked one another the reason."</p> + + +<p>Although the auction was over, the air of Friendship still vibrated from +the stir. Bereft of its treasures, the Gilpin house stood an empty shell, +facing an unknown future; for beyond the statement that he was from +Baltimore, nothing was known of its purchaser.</p> + +<p>"Why in the world should a man from Baltimore want it?" Mrs. Parton asked; +and the question was echoed on all sides. Not to live in, at all events, +it appeared, as weeks passed and it remained undisturbed.</p> + +<p>Nor was this the only unanswered question. There was the ring. Miss Betty +said it might as well have been left in the spinet, for all the good it +did any one.</p> + +<p>Allan had his own unanswered question; without doubt his mother had hers, +as had Celia Fair, but <a name="Page_277" id="Page_277"></a>they gave no sign to the outside world, nor asked +any help in finding an answer.</p> + +<p>And now came a new excitement. Dr. Pierce, the Presbyterian minister, +announced impressively one Sunday that on a week from that day his pulpit +would be occupied by his distinguished friend, Dr. Hollingsworth.</p> + +<p>It was explained that he had been South on business relating to a bequest +to the university, and found it convenient to stop over on his way home. +Still, with several large cities within easy reach, his presence was an +undoubted compliment to the village, and Friendship began at once to +refresh its memory in regard to its expected guest.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Molesworth came across the street to ask Mrs. Parton if she had ever +heard Dr. Hollingsworth was not orthodox.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Parton had not, and seemed to consider it a minor matter, for she +went on to tell how pleasant he was, and how fully he appreciated the joke +of being taken for a detective by Belle.</p> + +<p>"I trust, indeed, it is not true," said Mrs. Molesworth, going back to the +original question.</p> + +<p>"Well, I shouldn't worry, Cornelia. He is <a name="Page_278" id="Page_278"></a>not likely to do much harm in +one sermon," Mrs. Parton answered easily.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Molesworth shook her head. "You can never be sure. It is not for +myself I fear, but for the boys. I have tried to protect them."</p> + +<p>"If your boys are like mine, they won't get any harm from a sermon. I do +manage to drag them to church, but it is like taking a horse to water—it +is another matter to make them listen."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Molesworth returned home feeling that Mary Parton treated serious +subjects with undue levity. Mrs. Parton, seeing Miss Betty Bishop +approaching, lingered at the gate.</p> + +<p>"Well, Betty, I suppose you know we are to have Dr. Hollingsworth at our +church Sunday."</p> + +<p>She had heard it, but did not seem disposed to enlarge upon it, as was her +custom with a piece of news.</p> + +<p>"Cornelia Molesworth is worrying because she has heard he is not +orthodox."</p> + +<p>"She is not obliged to hear him, is she? Nobody can amount to anything +nowadays without being accused of heresy; however, I fancy Dr. +Hollingsworth can bear up under Mrs. Molesworth's disapproval."<a name="Page_279" id="Page_279"></a></p> + +<p>Mrs. Parton surveyed Miss Betty with a twinkle in her eye. "I declare, +Betty," she remarked, irrelevantly, "you are growing younger. You look +nearer twenty than forty this minute."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it is my new hat," Miss Betty suggested; but surely she had +passed the age when one flushes over the possession of a becoming hat.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Parton laughed to herself as she went back to the house, "Do you +suppose that is why he is coming? Goodness! I wish the colonel was here."</p> + +<p>The news was discussed all over town that Monday morning.</p> + +<p>"What brings Dr. Hollingsworth here?" Dr. Barnes asked, meeting Colonel +Parton in the bank. "He is a friend of the Whittredges, I understand. +Anyway, it is a compliment to Friendship."</p> + +<p>"Friendship is a great place. He liked our looks when he was here a month +or so ago," and the colonel laughed his easy laugh.</p> + +<p>"More than likely he thinks we need a little stirring up," Mr. Roberts +remarked from his desk.<a name="Page_280" id="Page_280"></a></p> + +<p>"Did you hear the joke on my Belle?" the colonel asked, and proceeded to +relate the story of the supposed detective and the photograph.</p> + +<p>The Arden Foresters in their turn talked it over that afternoon, sitting +in a row near the red oak, which lavished badges of crimson and gold upon +them now. The October air was delicious. They had raced up the hill and +down to the landing and back again, for pure joy of moving in the +sparkling atmosphere.</p> + +<p>"I have something to tell you," Rosalind announced. "You must all come to +church next Sunday, for our president is going to preach."</p> + +<p>"Is that what you have to tell? because I knew it already," said Belle, +whose cheeks matched the oak leaf she was pinning on her jacket.</p> + +<p>"No, it is something even better than that. I have a letter to read to +you." As she spoke, Rosalind tossed a handful of leaves at Maurice.</p> + +<p>"That's right, wake the professor up," cried Jack, following her example.</p> + +<p>"Or bury him," said Belle, joining the onslaught.</p> + +<p>Maurice, who had been gazing rather absently into the distance, was +aroused to defend himself, and <a name="Page_281" id="Page_281"></a>the battle resolved itself into a +hand-to-hand combat between the two boys.</p> + +<p>Maurice's crutch had been discarded, and his knee was almost as strong as +ever, although rough sports, such as foot-ball, were still denied him. He +had recently arrived at the dignity of long trousers, being tall for his +age, and Jack had immediately nicknamed him "the professor."</p> + +<p>"Now, boys, that is enough," Rosalind said, with decision; "Maurice is +waked up, I think."</p> + +<p>"Am I awake, or not?" Maurice demanded of the struggling Jack, as he held +him down and sat upon him.</p> + +<p>"Mercy, yes!" Jack cried, freeing himself with a mighty effort. "But you +must smile; I can't have you looking so melancholy. <i>Smile!</i>"</p> + +<p>In spite of himself Maurice obeyed the command.</p> + +<p>"That's right; now sit down and behave," Jack added, laughing.</p> + +<p>Rosalind took out her letter. "Listen," she said:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class='smcap'>My Dear Rosalind:</span> I am coming back to Friendship in a + few days, and I want to ask if <a name="Page_282" id="Page_282"></a>the Arden Foresters will admit a + new member to their circle? I am greatly interested in what I + have heard of it. I have been travelling in the Forest for a + good many years, with just an occasional lapse into the desert, + but I should like the right to wear an oak leaf and have my name + in the Arden Foresters' book, on the page with the magician's.</p> + +<p> "Hoping that this is not asking too much, I am </p></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;">"Yours affectionately,</span><br /><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 22em;">"</span><span class='smcap'>Charles W. Hollingsworth."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"Isn't that dear of him?"</p> + +<p>"Does he mean it really?" asked Maurice.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with you, Maurice? Of course he does," cried Belle. +"He is grand! The detective," and she laughed at the recollection.</p> + +<p>"Rosalind is going home before long, and I didn't know whether we would +keep it up," Maurice said.</p> + +<p>"But I shall come back again next summer, and,—oh, I hope we aren't going +to give it up!" Rosalind looked anxiously at her companions.<a name="Page_283" id="Page_283"></a></p> + +<p>"Never!" cried Belle.</p> + +<p>"No indeed," said Jack. "I am an Arden Forester forever."</p> + +<p>"A monkey forever," growled Maurice.</p> + +<p>"That is better than a bear, anyway," retorted Jack.</p> + +<p>"Maurice reminds me of the day I first talked to him through the hedge," +Rosalind remarked, smiling at him.</p> + +<p>Maurice laughed. "I was pretty cross that day. I don't mean that I want to +give the society up, only we can't meet here much longer, and it seems as +if our fun was nearly over."</p> + +<p>"It will soon be too cold to have our meetings out of doors; let's ask the +magician if we can't meet there," Belle proposed.</p> + +<p>"What fun! I almost wish I wasn't going home. You must all write to me +about what you do," said Rosalind.</p> + +<p>"We shall miss you dreadfully," Belle said, looking pensive for a moment.</p> + +<p>"But she hasn't gone yet, so what is the use of thinking about something +that is going to happen, when you are having a pretty good time now?" +asked Jack, philosophically.<a name="Page_284" id="Page_284"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY_SIXTH" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY_SIXTH" ></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-SIXTH.</h2> + +<h3>THE PRESIDENT.</h3> + +<p class='center'>"—And good in everything."</p> + + +<p>Friendship was without doubt a churchgoing community,—the different +denominations could all boast of creditable congregations on Sunday +mornings,—but on the occasion of Dr. Hollingsworth's visit, the other +churches had a mere handful to divide between them, while at the +Presbyterian church chairs had to be placed in the aisles. Such an unusual +event afforded a pleasing variety in the customary Sabbath monotony. +Something of a festive air pervaded the assembly.</p> + +<p>Celia Fair and Miss Betty Bishop, both deserters from the Episcopal +church, chanced to be seated together. Rosalind's urgent invitation to +come and hear our president preach, had brought Celia, and it was, of +course, for old friendship's sake that Miss Betty was there.</p> + +<p>"Isn't that Mrs. Whittredge?" she whispered <a name="Page_285" id="Page_285"></a>to Celia, as Allan with his +mother and Rosalind passed up the aisle. "I don't know when she has been +at church before." Then at sight of Mrs. Molesworth Miss Betty gave a +slight shrug.</p> + +<p>A flutter of interested anticipation was noticeable when Dr. Pierce +entered the pulpit accompanied by the stranger, and it must be confessed +that the service preceding the sermon was gone through with perfunctorily +by the greater part of the congregation. After the notices for the week +had been given, there was a general settling back and recalling of +wandering attention as Dr. Hollingsworth came forward and stood in the +pastor's place at the desk.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Molesworth twisted her neck in an endeavor to see if he had notes; +Colonel Parton decided promptly that here was no orator; Belle smiled at +Rosalind across the aisle, thinking of the detective.</p> + +<p>In the president's gaze, as it rested upon the assembly, was the same +genial kindliness that had attracted Belle when she first met him on Main +Street. It seemed to draw his audience closer to him, to make of it a +circle of friends. His manner was simple, his tone almost conversational. +At <a name="Page_286" id="Page_286"></a>the announcement of his text Celia leaned forward with a sudden +conviction that here was a message for her:—</p> + +<p>"It is the Father's good pleasure to give you the Kingdom."</p> + +<p>Varied were the opinions afterward expressed of the sermon that followed. +What Celia carried away with her was something like this:—</p> + +<p>"I shall speak to you this morning," he said, "upon a subject that touches +each one of us very nearly, from the oldest to the youngest; for whatever +our circumstances, whether we are rich or poor, learned or simple, whether +our lot is cast in protected homes or in the midst of the world's great +battle-field, our task is one and the same: to become citizens of the +Kingdom of God. This being so, we cannot think too often or too much about +this Kingdom, or inquire too minutely into its laws, or ask ourselves too +earnestly why it is that so few of us accept the gift in anything like its +fulness.</p> + +<p>"Although it is offered as a gift, there are conditions to be fulfilled, +difficulties to be overcome. Our Lord recognized this when He said that +the gate was strait and the way narrow, but He also <a name="Page_287" id="Page_287"></a>said that this +Kingdom was worth any price, or was beyond all price, to be obtained at +any sacrifice. He emphasized this by a strong figure. It was better to +enter into life maimed, He said,—with hand or foot cut off—rather than +to miss life altogether.... The conditions of entrance into the Kingdom +are apparently so simple it is strange we find them so difficult. I think +they may be sifted down to two: love and faith,—the love from which +service springs, the faith that means joy and peace. If we are to be the +children of our Heavenly Father we must love, and we must have in our +hearts that joy which grows out of trust.</p> + +<p>"Jesus said, 'Seek first the Kingdom of God.' If we do this we need +concern ourselves with nothing else, and by concern I mean burden +ourselves. The daily round—the vast machinery of life—must go on, but +after all only he who belongs to the Kingdom is fitted to meet its +problems. He brings to them a calm confidence, a clear vision. His heart +does not beat quick with hate or envy. His energy is not weakened by +worry. His sight is not dimmed by doubt.... Perhaps some of you are +saying—what is so <a name="Page_288" id="Page_288"></a>often said—that it is easy to preach; and you ask how +one can cease to worry when the path is dark before him; how one can look +upon the terrible problems of sin and suffering, and not feel their +crushing weight. If what I am saying this morning were simply what I think +about it, you are right to doubt. But these are not my words. Can you +believe that our Lord when He told His disciples to seek the Kingdom and +all other needful things would be added, was simply giving utterance to a +beautiful but impracticable theory? For my part, I cannot.</p> + +<p>"I would ask you to notice that Jesus founded all he has to say on one +great fact: the love of your Heavenly Father for you individually. Are you +struggling with poverty, perhaps? Your Heavenly Father knoweth. Try, if +but for a day, to put aside your anxiety and fix your thought on this. The +things you need shall be given, and you shall find strength for another +day of trust.</p> + +<p>"Have you been wronged? do you find it hard to forgive? are you bitter? +Your Heavenly Father knoweth. He will take care of your cause. Leave it to +Him; do not be afraid to <a name="Page_289" id="Page_289"></a>forget it. Seek, ask, knock, that you may obtain +entrance into the Kingdom of love.</p> + +<p>"Are you crushed by sorrow or physical pain? Your Father knoweth. Cease to +fight against it. Come into His Kingdom. Suffering endures but a little +while; and if you will have it so, out of it will come a diviner joy.</p> + +<p>"Is the world full of dark problems? Your Heavenly Father knoweth. It is +His world. Your part is to do, not to despair.</p> + +<p>"Are you full of youth and hope and glad anticipation? Your Father +knoweth. He made you so, and in a special sense the Kingdom belongs to +you. The simple-hearted, the teachable, the joyous,—of such is the +Kingdom. Enter in, and immortal youth shall be yours.... Oh, if I might +help you to know the beauty, the joy, the peace of the Kingdom into which +we may enter now and here, if we will. Yet we go on our way, oppressed by +care, warped by envy and hate, our eyes blinded by what we call worldly +wisdom."</p> + +<p>Something like this was what came to Celia; and as she listened, forgetful +of her surroundings, it linked itself in her thought to the Forest +secret.<a name="Page_290" id="Page_290"></a></p> + +<p>It was not so much the words as the aspirations they stirred,—the new +belief in the possibility of high and joyous living, the new courage that +thrilled in her veins. She was still under the spell when after the +benediction Miss Betty asked, with a certain timidity, if she had liked +the sermon.</p> + +<p>Celia looked at her blankly for a second before she replied, "Oh, so much! +It was beautiful. I should like to know him." She turned away with a +smile; she was not ready to discuss it yet. She wanted to think.</p> + +<p>"He held my attention, I grant, but I don't call it a sermon; it was too +elementary,—it was nothing but a talk," she heard Mrs. Molesworth saying.</p> + +<p>"If it wasn't a sermon, it was something better," answered cheery Mrs. +Parton.</p> + +<p>"Most magnetic speaker," the colonel was remarking to some one.</p> + +<p>And now Rosalind and Belle claimed Celia's attention, demanding to know +what she thought of the detective; and she must come back to earth and +listen and reply and enter into their gayety—an easier matter, to be +sure, than responding to the comments of grown people.<a name="Page_291" id="Page_291"></a></p> + +<p>The next morning, on her way to class, Celia met Miss Betty and Dr. +Hollingsworth walking up the hill toward the Gilpin house, and Miss Betty +stopped and presented her companion.</p> + +<p>After some moments' chat about other things, as they were separating, +Celia said, "I want to thank you, Dr. Hollingsworth, for my share of your +sermon yesterday." Her face made it evident that this was no merely +conventional speech, and the president looked down upon her benignly +through his glasses.</p> + +<p>"I thank you for being willing to take any of my thoughts to yourself," he +said.</p> + +<p>Celia now noticed for the first time that he wore an oak leaf, and she +remembered with what delight Rosalind and Belle had told her of his wish +to be an Arden Forester. "I believe," she added, laughing a little, "that +I have the Kingdom of Heaven and the Forest somewhat mixed."</p> + +<p>"You will find when you have lived as long as I have that there are often +many names for the same thing," the president answered, smiling.</p> + +<p>"And do you believe that things always come right in the Forest?" The +wistful note in Celia's voice told something of her struggle.<a name="Page_292" id="Page_292"></a></p> + +<p>"It has been my experience so far on the journey. But, my dear young lady, +the one way to test it is to live there."</p> + +<p>"I mean to," she said earnestly.</p> + +<p>Whatever the opinion in Friendship of Dr. Hollingsworth's ability as a +preacher, he left behind him a most agreeable impression as a mere man, to +quote Mrs. Parton.</p> + +<p>The Arden Foresters would not soon forget a tramp with him over Red Hill. +They found him interested in everything, in a light-hearted, boyish way +that made them overlook the fact that he was the president of a great +university. When they stopped on the hilltop to rest and enjoy the view, +he sat on the fence with them and talked foot-ball and cricket, and told +stories of college pranks without deducing a single useful lesson +therefrom. This was a surprise to Jack, for Dr. Pierce, who lived next +door to the Partons, was fond of morals, and went about with his pockets +full, so to speak.</p> + +<p>Before they knew it, they found themselves confiding to him their plans +for the future.</p> + +<p>"You must all come to our university," Rosalind said, with decision, +"mustn't they, Dr. Hollingsworth? Jack <a name="Page_293" id="Page_293"></a>can study forestry, and Maurice +can study law; and Belle and Katherine—"</p> + +<p>"I mean to study medicine if father will let me," Belle put in.</p> + +<p>Dr. Hollingsworth smiled upon the bright-eyed little girl, in whose every +movement self-reliance and energy were written. "Don't be in haste to +decide," he said. "There is sure to be something for you to do, and +Rosalind and I shall be glad if, whatever it is, it brings you to our +university."</p> + +<p>As they watched the president sign his name in the Arden Foresters' book +that afternoon, there was stirred in each young heart an impulse to be and +to do something worth while in the world.</p> + +<p>Meantime, the report spread that in returning to Friendship, Dr. +Hollingsworth had had another object than merely to preach for Dr. +Pierce.<a name="Page_294" id="Page_294"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY_SEVENTH" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY_SEVENTH" ></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVENTH.</h2> + +<h3>OLD ENEMIES.</h3> + +<p class='center'>"Kindness nobler ever than revenge."</p> + + +<p>If things came right in the Forest, it was not through effort. One had +simply to surrender to its spell, to breathe in the beauty and the calm, +to live there, as the president had said.</p> + +<p>Celia's thoughts were interrupted by Sally's hurried entrance.</p> + +<p>"Laws a mercy! Miss Celia, honey, Mrs. Whittredge's in the parlor. I come +mighty nigh askin' her what she wanted in dis yere house."</p> + +<p>Celia looked up in astonishment. Mrs. Whittredge! What could it mean? "And +she asked for me?" she repeated.</p> + +<p>"I done tol' her your mamma was sick, but she 'lowed 'twas you she +wanted."</p> + +<p>Celia recovered herself. "Very well, Sally," she said, but it was with a +beating heart she walked the length of the hall. Her enemy! What did it +mean?<a name="Page_295" id="Page_295"></a></p> + +<p>Mrs. Whittredge, her heavy veil thrown back a little, stood beside the +table in the centre of the room.</p> + +<p>"You are surprised, Celia," she said, as they faced each other, "but there +is something I wish to say to you. No, I will stand, thank you."</p> + +<p>Celia waited, feeling, even in the midst of a tumult of emotion, the +tragic beauty of the dark eyes.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Whittredge seemed to find words difficult. She looked down at the +table on which her right hand rested. "I have made many mistakes," she +began, "but—I have never meant to wrong any one. At the time of my +husband's illness I—there were things said—I did not agree with Dr. +Fair, and I may have gone too far. It is my misfortune to be intense. I +was very unhappy. I thought the case was not understood. It was my +mistake." She paused.</p> + +<p>"And my father died, crushed by the knowledge that he was unjustly blamed +for the death of his friend! The discovery of your mistake comes too +late." Celia's voice was tense with the stored up pain of those two years.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Whittredge drew back. "You are hard," she <a name="Page_296" id="Page_296"></a>said. "We look at things +from different standpoints. I have told you I wish to wrong no one, +but—ah, your father was cruel—cruel to me!"</p> + +<p>"My father was never cruel," Celia cried.</p> + +<p>"Listen! He told me I was killing my husband. I, who worshipped him. I, +who—God knows—would have given my life to—" she broke off in a passion +of grief, sinking into a chair and burying her lace in her hands.</p> + +<p>Celia stood abashed and trembling before this revelation of a sorrow +deeper than her own,—the sorrow of self accusation and unavailing regret.</p> + +<p>"Have you been wronged, are you hard and bitter? Seek the Kingdom of love. +Your Heavenly Father knoweth. He will take care of your cause." For a +moment Celia struggled against the wave of pity that was sweeping over +her, then forgetting everything but the suffering of this woman bowed +before her, she knelt by her side.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me," she whispered. "I do not want to be hard. I, too, have +suffered, though not like you. Perhaps we wronged the dead by <a name="Page_297" id="Page_297"></a>keeping +bitterness in our hearts. Perhaps to them it is all made right now. I will +forgive; I will try to forget."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Whittredge lifted her head. Her face was drawn and white.</p> + +<p>"I cannot forget," she said; "it is my misery. But I have no wish to make +other lives as unhappy as my own. Will you believe me when I say I regret +the wrong I did, and that I want to interfere with no one's happiness +hereafter?"</p> + +<p>"I will believe it," Celia said, holding out her hand.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Whittredge did not refuse it; but her own was very cold in Celia's +clasp. Drawing her veil over her face, without another word she left the +house.</p> + +<p>Celia sat still, dazed by the sudden onward sweep of things. A meaning, a +possible motive, beneath Mrs. Whittredge's words occurred to her as her +heart began to beat more quietly. "To interfere with no one's happiness +hereafter." Could Allan—but no, she would not let herself think it. She +would stay in the Forest, and work and wait, and trust in its beneficent +spell.<a name="Page_298" id="Page_298"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY_EIGHTH" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY_EIGHTH" ></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHTH.</h2> + +<h3>BETTER THAN DREAMS.</h3> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="I like this place"> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 6.5em;">"I like this place,</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>And willingly could waste my time in it."</td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<p>The engagement of Miss Betty Bishop and Dr. Hollingsworth was announced. +As Miss Betty said, there was no use in trying to keep it a secret with +Mrs. Parton spreading her suspicions abroad.</p> + +<p>"If you had confided in me and asked me not to tell, I shouldn't have +breathed it," that lady protested.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, you would," Miss Betty said, laughing. "You know you tell +everything; but, after all, there's no harm done, and no reason why it +should not be known. I don't blame people for being surprised, either. I +am surprised myself, and I see the absurdity, but—"</p> + +<p>"There is no absurdity about it. I am delighted. Dr. Hollingsworth is +charming. I'd be <a name="Page_299" id="Page_299"></a>willing to marry him myself if it wasn't for the +colonel, and you are going to be as happy as happy can be." Mrs. Parton +laughed her pleasant laugh, clearly overjoyed at what seemed to her the +good fortune of her friend.</p> + +<p>Rosalind first heard the news from Belle. "Why," she said, "if he marries +Cousin Betty, the president will be related to me."</p> + +<p>"Let's frame Dr. Hollingsworth's picture and give it to her," Maurice +suggested.</p> + +<p>This was hailed as a brilliant idea, and that afternoon the five might +have been seen in the picture store in search of a frame for the stolen +photograph. It was an excellent likeness of the president, and an equally +good one of black Bob, who, happening to pass at the critical moment, had +been included unintentionally.</p> + +<p>The proprietor of the store, getting an inkling of the joke, hunted up a +small frame which, with the help of a mat, answered very well. Then the +Arden Foresters proceeded to Miss Betty's, where they delivered the +package into Sophy's hands and scampered away, their courage not being +equal to an encounter with her mistress.<a name="Page_300" id="Page_300"></a></p> + +<p>At the bank gate they separated, Belle going in with Katherine to practise +a duet they were learning, and Jack hurrying home with the fear of his +Latin lesson before his eyes. Maurice walked on with Rosalind.</p> + +<p>"Come in for a while," she said.</p> + +<p>The air was crisp, but the sunshine was bright, and the bench under the +bare branches of the white birch seemed more inviting than indoors. As +they took their seat there, Rosalind said gayly, "Father will be here this +week. We are not sure what day."</p> + +<p>"And then you will have to go," Maurice added discontentedly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and I am partly sorry and partly glad. I am so glad I came to +Friendship, Maurice. Just think how many friends I have made!"</p> + +<p>"How long ago it seems—that day when you spoke to me through the hedge. +You must have thought I was a dreadful muff," said Maurice.</p> + +<p>Rosalind laughed. "I thought you were cross."</p> + +<p>"I was in a horrid temper, but I didn't know how horrid until you told me +the story and I <a name="Page_301" id="Page_301"></a>read in the book what your cousin wrote about bearing +hard things bravely. I suppose if it had not been for you, I should have +gone on being a beast."</p> + +<p>"I was feeling pretty cross myself that day. I didn't know then what a +pleasant place Friendship is. I think I have found a great deal of joy by +the way, as Cousin Louis said," Rosalind continued meditatively.</p> + +<p>"And I thought my summer was spoiled," Maurice added.</p> + +<p>"It just shows you can never tell," Rosalind concluded wisely.</p> + +<p>"Are you sure you won't forget us when you go away?" Maurice wanted to say +"me," instead of "us," but a sudden shyness prevented.</p> + +<p>"Why, Maurice, I couldn't! Especially you; for you were my first friend." +The gray eyes looked into his frankly and happily.</p> + +<p>After Maurice had gone, Rosalind still sat there in the wintry sunshine. +Things seemed very quiet just now, with Uncle Allan away for a week and +Aunt Genevieve not yet returned. She and her grandmother were keeping each +other company, and becoming better acquainted <a name="Page_302" id="Page_302"></a>than ever before. Mrs. +Whittredge's glance often rested upon her granddaughter with a sort of +wistful affection, and once, when their eyes met, Rosalind, with a quick +impulse, had gone to her side and put her arms around her. Mrs. Whittredge +returned the caress, saying, "I shall be sorry to give you up, dearie."</p> + +<p>On another occasion Rosalind had told how surprised she had been to find +that her grandmother did not wear caps and do knitting work. "But I like +you a great deal better as you are," she added.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Whittredge smiled. "I fear I am in every way far from being an ideal +grandmother," she said.</p> + +<p>Rosalind thought of all this, her eyes on the dismantled garden. The +flower beds were bare, the shrubs done up in straw, the fountain dry, and +yet something recalled the summer day when she had sat just here learning +her hymn. She remembered her old dreams of Friendship, and now she decided +that the reality was best. She shut her eyes and tried to think just how +she had felt that Sunday afternoon.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, little girl?" The magician's <a name="Page_303" id="Page_303"></a>words, but not his +voice; nor was it his face she looked into.</p> + +<p>"Father!" she cried,—"you dear! Where did you come from?"</p> + +<p>It was some time before any connected conversation was possible.</p> + +<p>"Why, father, how brown you are!"</p> + +<p>"And Rosalind, how tall you are, and how rosy! To think I have lost six +months of your life!"</p> + +<p>"And I want to tell you everything just in one minute. What shall I do?" +Rosalind said, laughing, as she held him fast.</p> + +<p>It did indeed seem a task of alarming proportions to tell all there was to +tell; Rosalind felt a little impatient at having to share her father with +her grandmother that evening. And there was almost as much to hear,—of +Cousin Louis, whose health was now restored, but who was to spend some +months in England, of their adventures, and the sights they had seen.</p> + +<p>"We shall want something to talk about when we get home," she was +reminded.</p> + +<p>It would have been plain to the least observant that Patterson +Whittredge's life was bound up <a name="Page_304" id="Page_304"></a>with that of this little daughter. As he +talked to his mother, his eyes rested fondly on Rosalind, and every +subject led back to her at last.</p> + +<p>Rosalind, looking from her father to her grandmother, noted how much alike +were their dark eyes, but here the resemblance ended. Mrs. Whittredge's +oldest son, although he might possess something of her strong will, had +nothing of her haughty reserve. His manner, in spite of the preoccupation +of the student, was one of winning cordiality. Older and graver than +Allan, there was yet a strong likeness between the brothers.</p> + +<p>Rosalind could not rest until she had taken her father to all the historic +spots, as she merrily called them,—Red Hill, the Gilpin place, the +cemetery, and the magician's shop, of course.</p> + +<p>"Friendship has been good for you, little girl," he said, as they set out +far a walk next day.</p> + +<p>"I used to think that stories were better than real things, father, but it +isn't so in Friendship. At first I was—oh, so lonely; I thought I never +<a name="Page_305" id="Page_305"></a>could be the least bit happy without you and Cousin Louis; but the +magician and the Forest helped me, and since then I have had a beautiful +time. I love Friendship. I almost wish we could live here."</p> + +<p>"And desert Cousin Louis and the university?"</p> + +<p>"No, I suppose not; but we can come back in the summer, can't we? And, oh, +father dear, you'll join the Arden Foresters, won't you?"</p> + +<p>As they walked up the winding road at the cemetery, Mr. Whittredge heard +something of those puzzles which had so disturbed Rosalind's first weeks +in Friendship, beginning with the story of the rose.</p> + +<p>"It's funny, father, but I hadn't thought till then that grown people had +quarrels. I might have known it from the story of the Forest; I remembered +that afterward, and how things all came right."</p> + +<p>"Poor little girl! You should have been warned; and yet in spite of it you +have learned that realities are better than dreams."</p> + +<p>"Father," Rosalind asked abruptly, "why was it you did not come to +Friendship for so <a name="Page_306" id="Page_306"></a>many years? Did not grandmamma like my mother? I think +I ought to know."</p> + +<p>Mr. Whittredge smiled at the womanly seriousness of the lifted face. "I +think you ought, dear," he answered.</p> + +<p>With her hand clasped in his he told her the story briefly, for even now +he could not dwell upon it without pain, and as Rosalind listened she +discovered that she had already heard a bit of it from Mrs. Parton and +Mrs. Molesworth at the auction.</p> + +<p>"We must try, you and I, not to think too hardly of grandmamma now. She +has suffered a great deal, and it was your mother's earnest wish that the +trouble might be healed if the opportunity ever came." Patterson said +nothing of his own struggle to forgive his mother's attitude toward his +young wife.</p> + +<p>"I think, father," Rosalind said, "that perhaps grandmamma is sorry. One +day, not long ago, I saw her looking at mother's picture. She did not know +I was there. She took it from the table and held it in her hand, and I am +sure she was crying a little."</p> + +<p>That was a happy day, for now they put aside <a name="Page_307" id="Page_307"></a>sad memories, and turned to +the merry side of life, Rosalind kept forgetting that her father had been +in Friendship before, and continued to point out objects of interest with +which he had been familiar long before she was born. So full were the +hours that it was growing dusk when they turned into Church Lane to call +on the magician.<a name="Page_308" id="Page_308"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY_NINTH" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY_NINTH" ></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-NINTH.</h2> + +<h3>AT THE MAGICIAN'S.</h3> + +<p class='center'>"I would have you."</p> + + +<p>Over his work these days the magician often smiled. It seemed to him that +the good in things was beginning to show very plainly. The atmosphere of +Friendship was clearing; the trouble which had first shown itself when +Patterson Whittredge left his home had begun to lift with the coming of +his daughter. Not that Rosalind had anything to do with it; it was only +one of those bits of poetical. justice that go to make life interesting.</p> + +<p>An onlooker might have observed that he smiled oftener when engaged on the +spinet than at other times; but if the magician had made any more +discoveries in connection with it, he kept them to himself.</p> + +<p>Now that the days were growing chill, a cheerful fire blazed on his +hearth, before which Crisscross <a name="Page_309" id="Page_309"></a>and Curly Q. dozed; he had found time to +renew the motto over the chimney-piece, and the window-shelf was full of +plants. The Arden Foresters appeared to regard the place as a club-room +for their special benefit, and dropped in at all hours. The magician liked +to have them there. As he sandpapered and oiled and polished, it was +pleasant to glance in, now and then, at the open door, at a row of bright +faces in the chimney-corner.</p> + +<p>Once in a while Celia joined them for a few minutes. She wanted to know +about the purchaser of the spinet, but Morgan seemed inclined to evade her +questions. He did not deny that there was a purchaser, but the name had +apparently escaped him.</p> + +<p>Belle suggested that it might be the same mysterious individual who had +bought the house, and Morgan accepted this as a happy solution when it was +mentioned to him.</p> + +<p>The cabinet-maker was a very queer person at times.</p> + +<p>Celia sat in one corner of the high-backed settle alone this afternoon. +Belle, who had come in with the news of the arrival of Rosalind's <a name="Page_310" id="Page_310"></a>father +the evening before, had just gone, and Celia, who had spent a busy +morning, was reflecting that it was too late to begin a new task, and that +she might as well allow herself to rest. Of late she hid taken life more +quietly.</p> + +<p>"Morgan seems to have gone out. May I come in?" It was Allan Whittredge +who spoke, standing in the door.</p> + +<p>"He was there a moment ago," Celia answered, rising.</p> + +<p>"May I wait for him here? You agreed we were not to be enemies; can't we +go a step farther, and be friends?"</p> + +<p>Celia found no reply to this, but she sat dawn again.</p> + +<p>Allan took the arm-chair and faced her. "I seem to be always forcing +myself on you, but I'll promise you this is the last time," he said.</p> + +<p>Still Celia had nothing to say, but she allowed him a glance of her dark +eyes which was not discouraging.</p> + +<p>Allan went on: "I am so tired of mistakes and misunderstandings that, +before the subject is closed forever between us, I want you to know the +exact truth in regard to my feelings.<a name="Page_311" id="Page_311"></a></p> + +<p>"When I received your letter putting an end to things, at first I was hurt +and angry, and I tried to persuade myself that it was for the best after +all. You see, I did not know your side, and you will forgive me if I +confess I thought you childish and lacking in deep feeling. Then, two +years later, I saw you with the children, coming down the stairs at the +Gilpin house, and something made me feel dimly that I had wronged you; but +still I could not understand, until some words of Cousin Betty's suddenly +made it clear. It was maddening to think what my long silence must have +seemed to mean to you. Then, for the first time, I saw the real barrier +between us, and the more I thought of it, the more impenetrable it became.</p> + +<p>"But it is hard for me to give up. I have looked at it on all sides; I +went away that I might think more clearly about it, and of late I have +begun to hope. I believe that love worthy of the name lives on in spite of +everything, and I have dared to wonder if your love could have weathered +this storm; if you still cared, though it might be only enough to give me +the chance to win you again." Allan bent <a name="Page_312" id="Page_312"></a>forward in his earnestness, his +eyes fixed appealingly upon the small, still figure in the corner of the +settle.</p> + +<p>"Do you not care at all, Celia?" he asked, after a moment's silence.</p> + +<p>Celia lifted her eyes. "Care?" she cried, "I have always cared,—through +everything! When I thought you knew and believed the cruel charge against +my father; when I knew his heart was broken; when he was dead,—when I +wanted to hate you, still I cared. Have you cared like that?"</p> + +<p>This vehement confession, with its note of defiance, was bewildering. +Allan hesitated before this unapproachable, tempestuous Celia. Then he +drew his chair nearer. "Celia, dear heart, do not speak so; I have not +been tried like you, but give me the chance and see how I will atone for +the past."</p> + +<p>Suddenly Celia held out her hand; "Oh, Allan, I am so very bad-tempered. I +seem always determined to quarrel," she said, with a laugh that was half a +sob.</p> + +<p>This was enough, the strain was broken; Allan forsook the arm-chair for +the settle.<a name="Page_313" id="Page_313"></a></p> + +<p>It was perhaps some fifteen minutes later when he asked Celia if she +remembered the magician, and the tiger with three white whiskers. "What a +brave little girl you were," he added.</p> + +<p>"Little goose," said Celia.</p> + +<p>"Does that mean you will no longer follow me blindly?"</p> + +<p>She laughed. "What made you think of it?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Rosalind inquired the other day if I was the boy."</p> + +<p>"Allan, I don't know why I told the children that story."</p> + +<p>"At least it gave me the courage to try my fate."</p> + +<p>"I don't think it required much courage."</p> + +<p>"You don't know," Allan replied, smiling over her head. "But now, dearest, +we are going to begin again and live in a fairy tale and forget all the +hard and cruel things. Do you know, I had a vision that day, in the +library of the old house? I saw a fire of blazing logs, and you and I sat +before it, and we weren't quarrelling."</p> + +<p>"Dear old house! I can't bear to look at it now," Celia sighed.<a name="Page_314" id="Page_314"></a></p> + +<p>"I am sorry to hear that, for I was planning to live there."</p> + +<p>"Allan—you? Wasn't it sold?"</p> + +<p>"I bought it through an agent. I thought perhaps I might want to sell +again if—if things did not come out as I hoped."</p> + +<p>"Even then you were thinking about it?"</p> + +<p>"I have thought of nothing else since the day I saw you on the stairs with +your arm around Belle."</p> + +<p>"How unhappy I was! I did not dream that you still cared. It seems so long +ago. Did you know your mother came to see me, Allan?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. She has keen eyes; she knew what it meant to me. Poor mother!"</p> + +<p>"I thought I could never forgive, but I believe I do now,—not +always,—but I shall after a while."</p> + +<p>Allan pressed his lips to the hand he held; then, still holding it, he +took the little case from his pocket and put the sapphire ring on her +finger. "I hope Cousin Betty will be satisfied now," he remarked.</p> + +<p>Celia looked down at the quaint old ring. "How much it seems to stand +for!" she said. "Rosalind <a name="Page_315" id="Page_315"></a>will be glad," she added. "Do you know, I did +not realize how bitter and unhappy I was until I met her one day in the +cemetery. Her eyes were so sweet, they made me ashamed."</p> + +<p>"She told me about it," Allan answered.</p> + +<p>"Not about the rose? Did she see that? Oh, Allan—but I picked it up again +and carried it home."</p> + +<p>"She long since came to the conclusion that she was mistaken in thinking +it was her rose you threw away."</p> + +<p>It was growing dark. The magician, who had come in long ago, wisely +refrained from interrupting his guests, but went about putting away his +tools and smiling to himself. He was just lighting his lamp, when the shop +door opened and Rosalind danced in, followed by her father.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Pat!" exclaimed the magician. "I heard you were here. I wondered if +you wouldn't come to see me;" and he shook hinds as if he would never +stop, while Rosalind circled around them merrily.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Pat was one of my boys," Morgan announced, as if it were a piece of +news; adding, "We ought to make some tea."<a name="Page_316" id="Page_316"></a></p> + +<p>Rosalind clapped her hands, and nodded emphatically, "Let's!" she cried. +"Why, there's Uncle Allan! Where did you come from?"</p> + +<p>"I arrived at home a few hours ago and found nobody, so I started out in +search of some one. How are you, Patterson?" and the brothers clasped +hands warmly.</p> + +<p>"We are going to have tea, just as I did that day when I was so lonely, +and—here's Miss Celia!" Rosalind paused in surprise.</p> + +<p>Celia stood rather shyly in the door. She would gladly have escaped if she +could.</p> + +<p>At Rosalind's exclamation, Allan drew his brother forward. "You remember +Celia Fair, Patterson?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Certainly I do. She was about Rosalind's age when I last saw her."</p> + +<p>"I remember you very well, Mr. Whittredge," Celia said, as Patterson took +both her hands, and looked into her glowing face.</p> + +<p>"I haven't been told anything, but—" he glanced inquiringly at Allan, who +nodded, smiling.</p> + +<p>Rosalind caught sight of the ring on Celia's finger. "Oh," she said, "was +that what the will meant? Are you going to wear it always? I <a name="Page_317" id="Page_317"></a>know Aunt +Patricia would be glad!" and she hugged Celia joyfully.</p> + +<p>That what followed was a childish performance cannot be denied, but alas +for those who do not sometimes enjoy putting away grown-up dignity! +Rosalind had set her heart on having tea, and the magician was no less +pleased at the idea. He lighted up and filled the kettle, and she set the +table, while the others looked on and laughed.</p> + +<p>"I began being a boy again four months ago, and I like it. How old are +you?" Allan asked, passing Celia her cup.</p> + +<p>"About six," she answered.</p> + +<p>"Then I am ten."</p> + +<p>"Then you are too little for me to play with," said Rosalind. "How old are +you, father?"</p> + +<p>"If Allan is ten I ought to be about sixteen, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Here's to the magician!" cried Allan, and they drank the cabinet-maker's +health right merrily.</p> + +<p>"I drink to the ring which has come to its own again," said Rosalind's +father; and so the fun went on.<a name="Page_318" id="Page_318"></a></p> + +<p>Celia forgot her shyness and was a happy little girl once more.</p> + +<p>"Let us drink to the Forest and all who have learned its secret," she +proposed.</p> + +<p>In the midst of it all, Miss Betty walked in.</p> + +<p>"Well!" she exclaimed, "I think you might have asked me."</p> + +<p>"It isn't too late. This is an impromptu affair in honor of Patterson," +said Allan, offering her a chair.</p> + +<p>"You have no idea what a noise you are making," she said, greeting the +stranger. "I had just come in from a guild meeting, and the unusual +illumination and the sounds of hilarity were too much for my curiosity." +Here her glance rested in evident surprise upon Celia.</p> + +<p>"Celia has something to show you, Cousin Betty," Allan said mercilessly, +"and you are not to bother me about it any more."</p> + +<p>Miss Betty went around to Celia and kissed her. "It is what I have been +hoping all along," she whispered.<a name="Page_319" id="Page_319"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_THIRTIETH" id="CHAPTER_THIRTIETH" ></a>CHAPTER THIRTIETH.</h2> + +<h3>OAK LEAVES.</h3> + +<p class='center'>"Bid me farewell."</p> + + +<p>"I have something to tell you," said Belle, as the Arden Foresters walked +up the hill toward the Gilpin place.</p> + +<p>"So have I," added Rosalind, "something lovely," and she waved a small +package aloft.</p> + +<p>"Is it something for us?" Katherine asked.</p> + +<p>"Let Belle tell hers first. Mine must wait till we get to the oak tree."</p> + +<p>"It is about the ring. I have found out how it came to be in the spinet," +Belle announced.</p> + +<p>"Really? How?"</p> + +<p>"Lucy Brown, Aunt Milly's granddaughter, put it there," she began, all +eagerness to tell her news. "Aunt Milly, you know, was Mr. Gilpin's <a name="Page_320" id="Page_320"></a>cook, +and Lucy had come in from the country to stay with her a few days, when he +was taken ill. The morning he died she found the case with the ring in it +under the library table, and she carried it into the drawing-room, where +she was dusting, meaning to show it to her grandmother. Just as she had +opened the spinet some one called to her to run for Dr. Fair, that Mr. +Gilpin was dying, and in a great hurry she pushed the ring case under the +strings and closed the lid and forgot all about it. She went home before +anybody knew the ring was lost, and never thought of it again till she +came to Friendship the other day and our Manda was telling her about the +magician's finding it."</p> + +<p>"I am almost sorry we know how it happened," said Rosalind. "I liked to +think the magician had really broken the spell."</p> + +<p>It was the last meeting of the Arden Foresters before Rosalind's +departure, and in spite of the wintry day they decided it must be held +under the oak tree; and little cared they for the weather as they rustled +through the fallen leaves beneath the bare brown trees.<a name="Page_321" id="Page_321"></a></p> + +<p>"I believe it is going to snow," said Jack, turning up his collar.</p> + +<p>"If you'll stay we'll take you coasting down the Gilpin hill," Maurice +added.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid if I waited it wouldn't snow," Rosalind answered, laughing, +"And now I have something to show you." They had reached the arbor, and +sitting down she opened the box she carried.</p> + +<p>"You know we have been wondering what we should do for badges when the +leaves were gone. Just see what the president has sent!" and she displayed +to their delighted gaze five small, enamelled oak leaves.</p> + +<p>If Dr. Hollingsworth was sensitive to compliments, his ears must have +burned badly about this time. Belle summed them up by remarking, "I just +believe he is almost the nicest man I ever knew."</p> + +<p>They stood together under the oak tree, and Rosalind pinned on the new +badges. "Let's promise to be friends, whatever happens," she said, +"because we know the Forest secret and have had such good times this +summer."</p> + +<p>The sun shone out brightly for a moment as <a name="Page_322" id="Page_322"></a>the wind swept over the +hilltop, rattling the vines on Patricia's Arbor; under the autumn sky the +winding river sparkled as gayly as when its banks were green; on the +far-away stretch of yellow road the wintry sunshine lay; and under the red +oak they clasped hands and promised to be friends always.</p> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. 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Leonard, +Illustrated by Chase Emerson + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Mr. Pat's Little Girl + A Story of the Arden Foresters + + +Author: Mary F. Leonard + +Release Date: March 31, 2005 [eBook #15511] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. PAT'S LITTLE GIRL*** + + +E-text prepared by David Garcia, Emmy, and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (www.pgdp.net) from page images generously +made available by the Kentuckiana Digital Library (http://kdl.kyvl.org) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 15511-h.htm or 15511-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/5/1/15511/15511-h/15511-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/5/1/15511/15511-h.zip) + + Images of the original pages are available through the Electronic + Text Collection of the Kentuckiana Digital Library. See + http://kdl.kyvl.org/cgi/t/text/text-idx?;page=simpleext + + + + + +MR. PAT'S LITTLE GIRL + +A Story of the Arden Foresters + +by + +MARY F. LEONARD + +Author of _The Spectacle Man_, etc. + +With Illustrations by Chase Emerson + +W.A. Wilde Company +Boston and Chicago + +1902 + + + + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + + +TO + +A.E.F. + +IN LOVING MEMORY + +this story is lovingly dedicated + +BY HER NIECE + + + + +[Illustration: "HOW SWEET THE BREATH BENEATH THE HILL OF SHARON'S LOVELY +ROSE."] + + + + +CONTENTS. + + CHAPTER + + I. THINGS BEGIN TO HAPPEN + "A magician most profound in his art." + + II. ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HEDGE + "Give me leave to speak my mind." + + III. FRIENDSHIP + "True it is that we have seen better days." + + IV. AN UNQUIET MORNING + "You amaze me, ladies!" + + V. MAURICE + "The stubbornness of fortune." + + VI. PUZZLES + "How weary are my spirits." + + VII. THE MAGICIAN MAKES TEA + "If that love or gold + Can in this place buy entertainment, + Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed." + + VIII. "TO MEET ROSALIND" + "Put you in your best array." + + IX. THE LOST RING + "Wear this for me." + + X. CELIA + "One out of suits with fortune." + + XI. MAKING FRIENDS + "Is not that neighborly?" + + XII. THE GILPIN PLACE + "This is the Forest of Arden." + + XIII. IN PATRICIA'S ARBOR + "O, how full of briers is this working-day world." + + XIV. THE ARDEN FORESTERS + "Like the old Robin Hood of England." + + XV. A NEW MEMBER + "In the circle of this forest." + + XVI. RECIPROCITY + "Take upon command what we have." + + XVII. A NEW COMRADE + "I know you are a gentleman of good conceit." + + XVIII. AN IMPRISONED MAIDEN + "The house doth keep itself, + There's none within." + + XIX. OLD ACQUAINTANCE + "And there begins my sadness." + + XX. THE SPINET + "Though art not for the fashion of these times." + + XXI. "UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE" + "Must you then be proud and pitiless?" + + XXII. CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE + "I sometimes do believe and sometimes do not." + + XXIII. THE DETECTIVE + "'Twas I, but 'tis not I." + + XXIV. AT THE AUCTION + "Assuredly the thing is to be sold." + + XXV. QUESTIONS + "They asked one another the reason." + + XXVI. THE PRESIDENT + "--And good in everything." + + XXVII. OLD ENEMIES + "Kindness nobler ever than revenge." + + XXVIII. BETTER THAN DREAMS + "I like this place." + + XXIX. AT THE MAGICIAN'S + "I would have you." + + XXX. OAK LEAVES + "Bid me farewell." + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + + "'How sweet the breath beneath the hill + Of Sharon's lovely rose'" (Frontispiece) + + "Do you know Miss Betty?" + + "Looking up, he discovered his visitors" + + "They crossed over to speak to her" + + "She chose a chest of drawers" + + + + + +CHAPTER FIRST. + +THINGS BEGIN TO HAPPEN. + +"A magician most profound in his art." + + +It was Sunday afternoon. The griffins on the doorstep stared straight +before them with an expression of utter indifference; the feathery foliage +of the white birch swayed gently back and forth; the peonies lifted their +crimson heads airily; the snowball bush bent under the weight of its white +blooms till it swept the grass; the fountain splashed softly. + + "'By cool Siloam's shady rill + How fair the lily grows,'" + +Rosalind chanted dreamily. + +Grandmamma had given her the hymn book, telling her to choose a hymn and +commit it to memory, and as she turned the pages this had caught her eye +and pleased her fancy. + +"It sounds like the Forest of Arden," she said, leaning back on the garden +bench and shutting her eyes. + + "'How sweet the breath beneath the hill + Of Sharon's lovely rose.'" + +She swung her foot in time to the rhythm. She was not sure whether a rill +was a fountain or a stream, so she decided, as there was no dictionary +convenient, to think of it as like the creek where it crossed the road at +the foot of Red Hill. + +Again she looked at the book; skipping a stanza, she read:-- + + "'By cool Siloam's shady rill + The lily must decay; + The rose that blooms beneath the hill + Must shortly pass away.'" + +The melancholy of this was interesting; at the same time it reminded her +that she was lonely. After repeating, "Must shortly pass away," her eyes +unexpectedly filled with tears. + +"Now I am not going to cry," she said sternly, and by way of carrying out +this resolve she again closed her eyes tight. It was desperately hard +work, and she could not have told whether two minutes or ten had passed +when she was startled by an odd, guttural voice close to her asking, +"What is the matter, little girl?" + +If the voice was strange, the figure she saw when she looked up was +stranger still. A gaunt old man in a suit of rusty black, with straggling +gray hair and beard, stood holding his hat in his hand, gazing at her with +eyes so bright they made her uneasy. + +"Nothing," she answered, rising hastily. + +But the visitor continued to stand there and smile at her, shaking his +head and repeating, "Mustn't cry." + +"I am not crying," Rosalind insisted, glancing over her shoulder to make +sure of a way of escape. + +With a long, thin finger this strange person now pointed toward the house, +saying something she understood to be an inquiry for Miss Herbert. + +Miss Herbert was the housekeeper, and Rosalind knew she was at church; but +when she tried to explain, the old man shook his head, and taking from his +pocket a tablet with a pencil attached, he held it out to her, touching +his ear as he uttered the one word "Deaf." + +Rosalind understood she was to write her answer, and somewhat flurried she +sat down on the edge of the bench and with much deliberation and in large +clear letters conveyed the information, "She is out." + +The old man looked at the tablet and then at Rosalind, bowing and smiling +as if well pleased. "You'll tell her I'm going to the city to-morrow?" he +asked. + +There was something very queer in the way he opened his mouth and used his +tongue, Rosalind thought, as she nodded emphatically, feeling that this +singular individual had her at an unfair advantage. At least she would +find out who he was, and so, as she still held the tablet, she wrote, +"What is your name?" + +He laughed as if this were a joke, and searching in his pocket, produced a +card which he presented with a bow. On it was printed "C.J. Morgan, +Cabinet Work." + +"What is your name?" he asked. + +Rosalind hesitated. She was not sure it at all concerned this stranger to +know her name, but as he stood smiling and waiting, she did not know how +to refuse; so she bent over the tablet, her yellow braid falling over her +shoulder, as she wrote, "Rosalind Patterson Whittredge." + +"Mr. Pat's daughter?" There was a twinkle in the old man's eye, and +surprise and delight in his voice. + +Rosalind sprang up, her own eyes shining. "How stupid of me!" she cried. +"Why, you must be the magician, and you have a funny old shop, where +father used to play when he was little. Oh, I hope you will let me come to +see you!" Suddenly remembering the tablet, she looked at it despairingly. +She couldn't write half she wished to say. + +Morgan, however, seemed to understand pretty clearly, to judge from the +way he laughed and asked if Mr. Pat was well. + +Rosalind nodded and wrote, "He has gone to Japan." + +"So far? Coming home soon?" + +With a mournful countenance she shook her head. + +Morgan stood looking down on her with a smile that no longer seemed +uncanny. Indeed, there was something almost sweet in the rugged face as he +repeated, "Mr. Pat's little girl, well, well," as if it were quite +incredible. + +Rosalind longed to ask at least a dozen questions, but it is dampening to +one's ardor to have to spell every word, and she only nodded and smiled in +her turn as she handed back the tablet. + +"I wish father had taught me to talk on my fingers," she thought, feeling +that one branch of her education had been neglected. "Perhaps Uncle Allan +will, when he comes." + +She watched the odd figure till it disappeared around a turn in the trim +garden path, then she picked up the big red pillow which had fallen on the +grass, and replacing it in one corner of the bench, curled herself up +against it. The hymn book lay forgotten. + +"I believe things are really beginning to happen," she said to herself. +"You need not pretend they are not, for they are," she added, shaking her +finger at the griffins with their provoking lack of expression. "You +wouldn't make friends with anybody, not to save their lives, and it seemed +as if I were never to get acquainted with a soul, when here I have met the +magician in the most surprising way. And to think I didn't know him!" + +The dream spirit was abroad in the garden. Across the lawn the shadows +made mysterious progress; the sunlight seemed sifted through an enchanted +veil, and like the touch of fairy fingers was the summer breeze against +Rosalind's cheek, as with her head against the red pillow, she travelled +for the first time in her life back into the past. + +Back to the dear old library where two students worked, and where from the +windows one could see the tiled roofs of the university. Back to the world +of dreams where dwelt that friendly host of story-book people, where only +a few short weeks ago Friendship, too, with its winding shady streets and +this same stately garden and the griffins, had belonged as truly as did +the Forest where that other Rosalind, loveliest of all story people, +wandered. + +Friendship was no longer a dream, and Rosalind, her head against the red +pillow, was beginning to think that dreams were best. + +"If we choose, we may travel always in the Forest, where the birds sing +and the sunlight sifts through the trees." + +These words of Cousin Louis's in his introduction to the old story pleased +Rosalind's fancy. She liked to shut her eyes and think of the Forest and +the brave-hearted company gathered there, and always this brought before +her the fair face of the miniature on her father's desk and a faint, sweet +memory of clasping arms. + +When the doctor with a grave face had said that only rest and change of +scene could restore Cousin Louis's health, and when Rosalind understood +that this must mean for her separation from both her dear companions, it +was to the Forest she had turned. + +"I'll pretend I am banished like Rosalind in the story," she had said, +leaning against her father's shoulder, as he looked over the proofs of +"The Life of Shakespeare" on which Cousin Louis had worked too hard. "Then +I'll know I am certain to find you sometime." + +Her father's arm had drawn her close,--she liked to recall it now, and +how, when she added, "But I wish I had Celia and Touchstone to go with +me," he had answered, "You are certain to find pleasant people in the +Forest of Arden, little girl." And putting aside the proofs, he had talked +to her of her grandmother and the old town of Friendship. + +She had been almost a week in Friendship now, and--well, things were not +altogether as she had pictured them. Silver locks and lace caps, +arm-chairs and some sort of fluffy knitting work, had been a part of her +idea of a grandmother, and lo! her own grandmother was erect and slender, +with not a thread of gray in her dark hair, nor a line in her handsome +face. + +She was kind--oh, yes, but so sad in her heavy crepe. Aunt Genevieve in +her trailing gowns was charming to behold, but no more company for +Rosalind--at least not much more--than the griffins. Miss Herbert was not +a merry, comfortable person like their own Mrs. Browne at home. The house +was very quiet. The garden was beautiful, but she longed to be outside its +tall iron gates; and she longed--how she longed--for her old companions! + +Cousin Louis had given her her favorite story in a binding of soft +leather, delicious to hold against one's cheek, and her father had added a +copy of the beautiful miniature. With these treasures she had set out upon +her journey. But she had begun to feel as if in the great Forest she had +lost her way, when the friendly face of the magician reassured her. + +The sound of sweeping draperies broke in upon her thoughts. It was Aunt +Genevieve, and she had not learned her hymn. Picking up her book, she +stole swiftly across the grass till she was hidden by some tall shrubbery. +Before her was a high hedge of privet; beyond it, among the trees, the +chimneys of a red brick house. + +Walking back and forth, Rosalind began to study in earnest. Looking first +at her book and then up at the blue sky, she repeated:-- + + "'Lo! such the child whose early feet + The paths of peace have trod. + Whose secret heart with influence sweet + Is upward drawn to God.'" + + + + +CHAPTER SECOND. + +ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HEDGE. + +"Give me leave to speak my mind." + + +There was another garden on the other side of the hedge; not so large, nor +so beautifully kept perhaps, but a pleasant garden, for all that. The red +brick house to which it belonged was by no means so stately as the one +whose doorstep the griffins guarded, yet it had an importance all its own. +On week days, when the heavy shutters on the lower front windows were +open, _The National Bank of Friendship_ was to be seen in gilt letters on +the glass; on Sundays, however, when they were closed, there was little to +suggest that it was anything more than a private dwelling. It was a +square, roomy house, and the part not in use for bank purposes was +occupied by the cashier, Mr. Milton Roberts, and his family. + +While Rosalind, curled up on the garden seat, was thinking of home, +Maurice Roberts lay in the hammock under the big maple near the side +porch, where his mother and Miss Betty Bishop sat talking. He held a book, +but instead of reading was allowing himself the lazy entertainment of +listening to their conversation. + +From his position, a little behind the visitor, he had an excellent view +of her as she sat erect in the wicker chair, her parasol across her lap. +Miss Betty was plump and short, and had a dimple in her chin. Her hair, +which was turning gray, waved prettily back from her forehead into the +thickest of braids, and altogether there was a pleasant air of crispness +about her; though something in the keenness of her glance, or the firmness +with which her lips met, suggested that on occasion she might be +unyielding. "The Barnwell stubbornness," she herself would have explained, +with the same complacency she manifested when displaying her grandmother's +tea-set. + +Mrs. Roberts, Maurice's mother, was a gentle person, with large, soft eyes +and a quiet manner. + +The preliminary conversation had not been interesting, pertaining chiefly +to flowers and the weather, and Maurice gave a sigh of satisfaction when, +after a moment's pause, Miss Betty straightened herself and remarked, +"Well, I hear the will is certain to be sustained." + +"Then the property will have to be sold?" questioned Mrs. Roberts. + +"Yes, and I may as well say good-by to the cream-jug and sugar-dish that +Cousin Anne always said should be mine. Still, I never shall believe +Cousin Thomas was out of his mind when he made that last will, it was too +much like him. Dear knows it ought to be broken, but not on that ground. +It was a case of pure spite." + +"Oh, Betty!" + +Maurice smiled to himself at his mother's tone. + +"I assure you it was. I knew Cousin Thomas. Didn't Cousin Anne tell me +dozens of times in his presence, 'Betty, this is your cream-jug and +sugar-dish, because they match your teapot'?" + +"I should think you had enough silver, Betty; still it was a shame Miss +Anne left that list unsigned," said Mrs. Roberts. + +"If you knew Cousin Anne at all, Mrs. Roberts, you knew how hesitating +she was. She couldn't decide whether to leave the Canton china to Ellen +Marshall or to Tom's wife. She changed her mind any number of times, but +she was always clear about my cream-jug and sugar-dish. If Cousin Thomas +had had any decency, he would have considered her wishes. Think of my own +grandmother's things put up at public auction!" + +"Most of Mr. Gilpin's money goes to the hospital, I suppose," remarked +Mrs. Roberts. + +"Pretty much everything but the real estate in and around Friendship, and +the contents of the house, all of which will have to be sold and divided +among his first cousins or their heirs. The only bequests made besides the +money to the hospital are to Celia Fair and Allan Whittredge. Celia is to +have the spinet, and Allan that beautiful old ring, if ever it comes to +light again. I wish Cousin Thomas had left Celia some money. She was one +person for whom he had a little affection." + +Maurice wished so too. He admired Miss Celia Fair, and felt it was too bad +she should get only an antiquated piano. + +"Are the Fairs related to the Gilpins?" his mother asked. Not being a +native of Friendship, she had difficulty in mastering the intricacies of +its relationships. + +It was ground upon which Miss Betty was entirely at home, however. "They +were kin to Cousin Thomas's wife," she explained. "Mrs. Fair's grandmother +was half-sister to Cousin Emma's mother, and raised Cousin Emma as her own +child. Of course it is not very near when it comes to Celia. The spinet +belonged to old Mrs. Johnson,--Celia's great-grandmother, you know,--whose +name was also Celia. Saint Cecilia, they used to call her, because she was +so good and played and sang so sweetly. It is right the spinet should go +to Celia, but that would not have influenced Cousin Thomas a minute if he +had not wished her to have it." + +"And the ring has never been heard of?" Mrs. Roberts asked, as her visitor +paused for breath. + +"I doubt if it ever comes to light. It is nearly three years now since it +disappeared," was the reply. Miss Betty looked up at the vines above her +head, and her lips curled into a sort of half smile. "I should like to +hear Cousin Ellen Whittredge on the will," she added. "I don't think she +cares much about the money, however; it is more that old feeling against +Dr. Fair. You remember he testified to Mr. Gilpin's sanity." + +"And her son?" asked Mrs. Roberts. + +"Allan? It is hard to find out what Allan thinks, but there is no +bitterness in him. He is like his father, poor man! What I am curious to +know is, what Cousin Thomas meant by saying in his will that Allan knew +his wishes in regard to the ring. That strikes me as a little sensational. +I asked Allan about it the last time I saw him, but he only laughed and +said he'd have to get it before he could dispose of it." + +Miss Betty now made some motions preliminary to rising, but as if on +second thought, she laid her parasol across her knees again and asked, +"Have you heard that Patterson's daughter is here?" + +"Yes, I think I saw her in the carriage with her grandmother yesterday," +was Mrs. Roberts's reply. + +This was news to Maurice, and he listened with interest. + +Miss Betty shook her head. "I am surprised," she said. "That marriage of +Patterson's was a dreadful blow to Cousin Ellen." + +"It seems to me she was unreasonable about it. I am glad she sent for him +before his father died." Mrs. Roberts spoke with some hesitation. She did +not often array her own opinions against those of her friends. + +"I don't blame her as some do. A person of that sort, and Patterson the +very light of her eyes! How would you feel if Maurice some day should do a +thing like that?" + +Maurice laughed softly. His thoughts were not much occupied with marriage. +His mother ignored the question, and in her turn asked, "Did Mrs. +Whittredge ever see her daughter-in-law?" + +"No, indeed. This child was not more than three when she died." + +"Poor little thing!" Mrs. Roberts sighed. + +"Such a name! I detest fancy names. Rosalind!" Miss Betty rose. + +"A good old English name and very pretty, I think. Was it her mother's?" + +"I suppose so, but I don't know. Yes, I must go; Sophy will think I am +lost. Good-by," and Miss Betty stepped briskly down the path. + +The gate had hardly closed when Maurice heard some one calling him. +Looking over his shoulder, he saw his sister Katherine beckoning. + +"Maurice, Maurice, do come here; I want you to see something." + +Her tone impressed him as unduly mysterious. "What is it?" he asked +indifferently. + +"Come, and I'll show you." + +"I sha'n't come till you tell me," he persisted. + +"Oh, I think you might, because if I stop to tell you she may be gone." + +"Who'll be gone? You might have told it twice over in this time." + +"The girl I want you to see," explained Katherine, drawing nearer in +desperation. "Did you know there was a girl next door?" + +"Yes, of course." There was nothing in Maurice's tone to indicate how +brief a time had passed since this information had been acquired. + +"Truly? I don't believe it," Katherine faltered. + +"She is Mrs. Whittredge's granddaughter, and her name is Rosalind, so +now!" + +Privately, Katherine thought her brother's power of finding things out, +little short of supernatural. "Don't you want to see her?" she asked +meekly. "There is a thin place in the hedge behind the calycanthus bush, +and she is walking to and fro studying something." Would Maurice declare +he had already seen this girl? + +Maurice sat up and reached for a crutch that rested against the tree. He +had his share of curiosity. He was a tall, well-grown boy of thirteen, and +it was apparent as he swung himself after Katherine, that accident and not +disease had caused his lameness. + +Rosalind, studying her hymn all unconscious of observation, was a pleasant +sight. + +"Isn't she pretty?" whispered Katherine, but Maurice silenced her so +sternly she concluded he did not agree with her. + +In reality he thought very much as she did, although he would not have +used the same adjective. There was something unusual about this girl. Why +it was, he did not understand, but she seemed somehow to belong in a +special way to the sweet old garden with its June roses. Maurice had +fancies that would have astonished Katherine beyond measure if she could +have known anything about them. But how was she to know when he pinched +her arm and looked sternly indifferent? + +The tea bell called them back to the house; on the way Katherine's +enthusiasm burst forth afresh. + +"Isn't she sweet? and such a beautiful name--Rosalind. How old do you +think she is? and do you suppose she is going to live there? Oh, Maurice, +shouldn't you be afraid of Mrs. Whittredge?" + +"I don't know anything about her," Maurice replied, forgetting for the +moment that he bad been pretending to know a great deal. + +"I should like to have my hair tied on top of my head with a big ribbon +bow as hers is," continued Katherine, who would innocently persist in +laying herself open to brotherly scorn. + +"I suppose you think you will look like her then," was his retort. + +"Now, Maurice, I don't. I know I am not pretty." Katharine's round face +grew suddenly long, and tears filled her blue eyes. + +"Don't be a goose, then. I'll tell you what she made me think of, that +statue of Joan of Arc--don't you remember? Where she is listening to the +voices? We saw it at the Academy of Fine Arts." + +"Why, Maurice, how funny! She is much prettier than that," said +Katherine. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRD. + +FRIENDSHIP. + +"True it is that we have seen better days." + + +A rambling, sleepy town was Friendship, with few aspirations beyond the +traditions of its grandfathers and a fine indifference toward modern +improvements. + +During the era of monstrous creations in black walnut it had clung to its +old mahogany and rosewood, and chromos had never displaced in its +affections the time-worn colored prints of little Samuel or flower-decked +shepherdesses. In consequence of this conservatism Friendship one day +awoke in the fashion. + +There were fine old homes in Friendship which in their soft-toned browns +and grays seemed as much a part of the landscape as the forest trees that +surrounded them and shaded the broad street. Associated with these +mansions were names dignified and substantial, such as Molesworth, +Parton, Gilpin, Whittredge. + +In times past the atmosphere of the village had seemed to be pervaded by +something of the spirit of its name, for here life flowed on serenely in +old grooves and its ways were the peaceful ways of friendship. But of late +years, alas! something alien and discordant had crept in. + + '"And what is Friendship but a name--'" + +quoted the cabinet-maker sadly one morning when after climbing the hill +from the wharf he paused to rest on the low stone wall surrounding the +Gilpin place. + +Landing Lane ended at the top of the hill, and here at right angles to it +the Main Street of Friendship might be said to begin, slowly descending to +a level and following the leisurely curves of the old stage road till it +came to a straggling end at the foot of another prominence known as Red +Hill. + +In forty years a life takes deep root, and this time had passed since +Morgan, a raw Scotch boy of eighteen, had come to Friendship as assistant +to the village cabinet-maker. A year or two later an illness deprived him +of his hearing, but fortunately not of his skill, and upon the death of +his employer he succeeded to the business, his kindly, simple nature, +together with his misfortune, having won the heart of Friendship. + +His fame for making and doing over furniture had spread beyond the borders +of the town; his opinion was valued highly by collectors, and it was said +he might have made a fortune in the city. But what use had he for a +fortune? It was the friendly greetings, the neighborly kindnesses, the +comradeship with the children of the village, that made his life. + +In spite of its rugged lines his face as he grew older had taken on a +singularly sweet expression, but it was sad to-day as he sat on the wall +in his knit jacket and work apron, looking down on the town, its roofs and +spires showing amongst the trees. It seemed to him that the times were out +of joint, and his cheerful philosophy was beginning to fail him. Something +had been wrong ever since Patterson Whittredge went away, more than a +dozen years ago. + +Morgan never failed to follow with interest the careers of the boys of +Friendship as they went out into the world, and of all the boys of the +village Patterson had been his favorite. He had understood the trouble as +well as if it had been carefully explained to him. His deafness had +quickened his insight. A girl's lovely face on Pat's dressing-table, seen +when he replaced a broken caster, partly told the story, and Mrs. +Whittredge's pride and determination were no secret to any one. + +Judge Whittredge's whitening head and heavy step, his fruitless search for +health abroad, his return to die at last in his old home, Patterson's +coming,--sent for by his heart-broken mother,--this was the rest of the +story. But before this family difference had been settled by the stern +hand of death, the removal of Thomas Gilpin had precipitated another +quarrel upon the town. + +It was a puzzle to Morgan that a man like his old friend Mr. Gilpin, who +had it in his power to do so much good, should have chosen to do harm +instead. As he rose to go, he looked over his shoulder at the old house, +closed and deserted since the death of its owner. + +The site was a beautiful one, commanding a view of valley and hill and the +narrow winding river. The house, an unpretentious square of red brick, +with sloping roof and dormer windows, wore its hundred years with dignity, +and amid its fine trees was an object of interest to strangers, of pride +to the villagers. + +Below it on the slope stood a more modern house, in what had been until +recently a handsome garden. Morgan, as he passed recalled how proud Dr. +Fair had been of his flowers. Celia, who was entering the gate, nodded and +smiled brightly. He noted, however, that her face was losing its soft +curves and rose tints. Celia was another of his favorites, and he knew she +was having her battle with misfortune, meeting it as bravely as a young +woman could. Thomas Gilpin might so easily have smoothed the way for her. +The spinet was an interesting heirloom, no doubt, but would not help Celia +solve the problem of bread and butter. + +The shop of the cabinet-maker was just off Main Street, at the foot of the +hill. To its original two rooms he had added two more, and here he lived +with no companions but a striped cat and a curly dog, who endured each +other and shared the affection of their master. + +Morgan's housekeeping was not burdensome. Certain of his neighbors always +remembered him on baking day, and his tastes were simple. His shop opened +immediately on the street; back of it was his living room and the small +garden where he cultivated the gayest blooms. The living room had an open +fireplace, for it was one of the cabinet-maker's pleasures to sit in the +firelight when the work of the day was over, and a small oil stove +sufficed for his cooking. On one side of the chimney was a high-backed +settle, and above it a book shelf. Like most Scotch boys, he had had a +fair education, and possessed a genuine reverence for books and a love of +reading. In the opposite corner was an ancient mahogany desk where he kept +his accounts, and near by in the window a shelf always full of plants in +the winter. A cupboard of his own manufacture, a table, a lamp, and an +arm-chair completed the furniture of the room. The walls he had painted a +dull red, and over the fireplace in fanciful letters had traced this +motto: "Good in everything." + +To this cheerful belief Morgan held firmly, although there were times like +this morning, when coming out of the sunlight and feeling a little weary, +he noticed that the walls were growing dingy and the motto dim, and sighed +to think how hard it was to see the good in some things. + +He placed a paper in the old secretary and was turning toward the shop +when he stopped short in amazement, for in the doorway stood Rosalind, her +face full of eagerness. Behind her was Miss Herbert, whom Morgan entirely +overlooked in his pleasure at seeing Mr. Pat's little girl again. + +He shook hands warmly and offered the arm-chair, but Rosalind had no +thought of sitting down. As she gazed with bright-eyed interest around the +room, her glance fell on the motto, and she pointed to it and then to +herself. + +The cabinet-maker was puzzled. "Is it your motto?" he asked. + +She nodded brightly. + +Morgan turned to the shelf, took down a large volume of Shakespeare's +plays, and laying it on the table began to turn the pages rapidly. +Rosalind looked over his arm. He ran his finger down a leaf presently and +pointed to the line. "There," he said. + +Rosalind turned back a page and pointed to her own name, and then they +both laughed as if it were a great coincidence. + +A sharp tap on his arm made Miss Herbert's presence known to Morgan. Miss +Herbert was not of Friendship. She knew the value of time if the +cabinet-maker did not, and had no idea of waiting while he discussed +Shakespeare in pantomime with Rosalind. + +Miss Herbert with the aid of the tablet, and Morgan with many queer +gestures to help out his faltering tongue, so long without the guide of +hearing, contrived to despatch the business relating to a claw-footed +sofa. When it was finished, Rosalind was missing, and was discovered in +the little garden, making friends with the black poodle, while the striped +cat looked on from the fence. + +It was with evident reluctance she accompanied Miss Herbert to the +carriage. Before she left she took the tablet and wrote, "I am going to +learn to talk on my fingers." + +"Good," the cabinet-maker answered, and he followed them to the street, +smiling and nodding. "Come again," he called as they drove away. + +When he returned to the shop, the world seemed brighter, the mist of doubt +had lifted. + +"The rough places can't last always," he told himself as he sandpapered +the claw toes of the sofa. "We are certain to come to a turn in the lane +after a while. There's good in everything, somewhere." + +Perhaps the coming of Mr. Pat's little girl was a good omen. To him at +least it was a most interesting event, nor was he the only person in +Friendship who found it so. + + + + +CHAPTER FOURTH. + +AN UNQUIET MORNING. + +"You amaze me, ladies." + + +Farther up the street on the other side, but within sight of the +Whittredges', was Mrs. Graham's Boarding and Day School for Young Ladies. + +The broad, one story and a half mansion, with rooms enough for a small +hotel, was still known as the Bishop place, although nearly twenty years +had passed since the little brown and white house on Church Street had +opened its doors to Miss Betty and her invalid father, and to such of the +massive furniture as could be accommodated within its walls. In her +circular Mrs. Graham was careful to state that her school was commodiously +housed in the mansion of the late distinguished Senator Charlton H. +Bishop, and many a daughter groaned over her algebra or French verbs in +the very room where her mother or grandmother before her had fleeted the +time carelessly in evenings long past, for brilliant was the tradition of +the Bishop hospitality. + +Celia Fair, who taught drawing in the school, and on occasion kept study +hour in what had once been the long drawing-room, had a fancy that the +spirit of those days was responsible for many an outburst of mischief. At +present Mrs. Graham's pupils were in a fever of curiosity over the new +arrival at the Whittredges'. + +The Whittredge place had been invested by them with something of a halo of +romance, founded chiefly on the seclusion In which it pleased Mrs. +Whittredge to live. Bits of gossip let fall by their elders were eagerly +treasured; it became the fashion, to rave over the beauty of the haughty +Miss Genevieve, and even her brother who was not haughty, but quite like +other people, was allowed a share of the halo on account of his connection +with the lost ring, made famous by the contested will. + +Katherine Roberts, returning to school after several days' absence, found +herself unusually popular. Katherine lived next door to the unknown; she +had seen her; it was even said she had heard her speak. Excitement grew +as the news spread. + +The girls were standing in groups on the porch and steps, laughing and +talking together, and at sight of Katherine gave her an uproarious +greeting. + +Round, rosy-faced, blue-eyed Katherine, with her brown hair in two tight +plaits turned under and tied with a ribbon behind her ears, was a little +abashed at the attention she excited. + +"What is she like, Katherine? tell us--the new girl at the Whittredges'." + +"She is standing at the gate now," answered Katherine, looking over her +shoulder. + +"Is she? Oh, where?" + +"Let's walk by and see her." + +"We'll be tardy if we do, and at any rate there is the carriage; perhaps +they will drive past." + +"Look! there's Miss Genevieve. No, they are going the other way." + +"What are you staring at?" demanded Belle Parton, joining the group. Belle +was a gypsy-looking girl with merry black eyes, and hair that refused to +be smooth like Katherine's, but continually fell in her eyes. As she spoke +she put her hat on the step and proceeded to adjust the round comb she +wore. + +"The Whittredge girl. Have you seen her, Belle?" asked Charlotte Ellis. + +"No; what is she like?" + +"Katherine is the only one who has seen her; she says she is lovely." + +"Oh, she is! You ought to see her, Belle. Maurice and I peeped through the +hedge and saw her walking to and fro studying something. And her name is +Rosalind. Isn't that a beautiful name?" + +"I don't believe she is much," Belle announced, with a turn of her head. +The only reason she had for saying this was the naughty one of wishing to +snub Katherine, who took everything in earnest and now looked crestfallen. + +"Never mind, Kit; tell us some more about her," urged one of the others. + +"Grandmamma says she is surprised at Mrs. Whittredge's having her here. +You know she would have nothing to do with her son after he married, until +lately, and she never saw her granddaughter before, I think family +quarrels are awfully interesting; don't you?" As Charlotte spoke, the +bell rang, and the girls turned toward the house. + +"Do you, Charlotte?" exclaimed Katherine, who was accustomed to pin her +faith to her friend's opinions, but thought that quarrels being wrong +could not be interesting. + +"I think so, too. They are so delightfully mysterious," echoed another of +the girls. + +"Nonsense! What is there that is mysterious?" put in pugnacious Belle. + +It may have been the alluring summer day, or the fact that it was near the +end of the term, and discipline had relaxed, but certain it was that a +general restlessness and inclination to whisper pervaded the study hour. +It was the fashion among the girls to adore Celia. Fair, and usually she +had no difficulty in keeping order, but this morning even her presence was +without effect. + +Belle Parton had her history propped up before her in a way that suggested +some mischief going on behind its shelter, rather than any serious study. +Katherine, who was honestly trying to study, was distracted by the signals +flying around her. Charlotte Ellis, whose seat was near the window, +seemed principally occupied in peeping between the sash curtains. + +Celia had looked up for the second time to say, "Girls, I must have better +order," and things had for several minutes quieted down, when Charlotte +suddenly announced in a loud whisper, "Here they come!" and with that +there was a rush for the windows. + +The cause of the excitement was of course the Whittredge carriage, but all +anybody caught was a fleeting glimpse of a white dress beside Miss +Genevieve's black one, and, as luck would have it, Mrs. Graham opened the +door just in time to witness the scramble for a view. + +"Young ladies, you amaze me! What is the meaning of this?" she demanded, +as the girls, half of whom had rushed because the others had, returned +abashed to their seats. + +"I never knew them to behave so before," said Celia, in apology. +"Something seems to be wrong to-day." + +"Wrong, indeed," repeated Mrs. Graham, who was a person of somewhat +majestic appearance. Then her glance fell on Belle's desk. "And this +explains the rapid disappearance of my chalk!" she added, holding up to +view a pen tray on which were arranged a number of tiny goblets and dishes +neatly cut out of chalk. + +Katherine, who had not left her seat, laughed nervously. She stood in +great awe of the principal, and she did not in the least wish to laugh. + +Mrs. Graham looked at her sternly, "One mark in deportment, Katherine, and +three to those who left their desks, and you will all spend your recess +indoors. Belle, I will see you in the office." + +Belle followed Mrs. Graham, with her head held high, her lips pursed up +saucily, her black eyes snapping. Katherine, through her own tear-filled +ones, watched her in astonishment. + +When Belle returned study hour was over, and the culprits who were +condemned to stay indoors had grouped themselves beside the window. + +"What did she do to you, Belle?" they cried. + +"Nothing,--just talked. She said it was wasting time and chalk, and that +it wasn't honest. Such a fuss about a little chalk!" + +Celia Fair, who had her hat on, ready to go home, came behind Belle, and +with a hand on either side of her face she lifted it till the saucy eyes +looked into her own. "Does that make any difference, really--because it is +just chalk?" she asked. + +Belle wriggled out of her hands, only to clasp her around the waist. "I +wouldn't take your chalk," she said, laughing. + +"I don't know what to think of you to-day," Miss Fair continued, looking +around the group. "I am afraid Mrs. Graham will not trust me to keep study +hour after this." + +There was a general cry of, "Oh, Miss Celia, why not?" + +"Do you think she can have a high opinion of my ability to keep order?" + +"But no one else could do any better." + +"If Mrs. Graham had been here, you would not have rushed to the window, I +know very well." + +"But we are so much fonder of you, Miss Celia," urged Charlotte. + +"If that is the case I'd like you to show it by behaving," said Celia, as +she left the room. + +When Belle told at home about the day's occurrences, her father laughed. + +"I shall tell Mrs. Graham she must introduce manual training. 'Satan finds +some mischief still,' you see. Maybe Belle will turn out a famous +sculptor." + +"At any rate, colonel, you ought not to encourage her in such pranks," +Mrs. Parton remarked, shaking her head at her husband, who never saw +anything to criticise in the one little daughter among his five boys. + + + + +CHAPTER FIFTH. + +MAURICE. + +"The stubbornness of fortune." + + +It was the first of the month, and a steady stream of people passed in and +out of the bank. Maurice sat on the steps leading up to the private +entrance, and with few exceptions each new-comer had a pleasant greeting +or kindly inquiry for him. + +Miss Betty Bishop rustling out, bank book in hand, called, "How are you, +Maurice? When are you and Katherine coming to take tea with me? Let me +know and I'll have waffles." + +The cabinet-maker came to the foot of the steps to ask about the lame +knee, and shook his head in sympathy with Maurice's doleful face. + +Colonel Parton, a tall, gray-mustached man, accompanied by two hunting +dogs, hailed him: "Not going with the boys? Ah, I forgot your knee. Too +bad! Jack's got the dandiest new fishing-rod you ever saw." + +"As if I didn't know it," growled Maurice, us the colonel entered the +bank. + +The next person to accost him was Miss Celia Fair. She hadn't any bank +business, but seeing Maurice as she passed, stopped to speak to him. She +sat down beside him and tried in her pretty, soft way to cheer him. + +"Don't look so gloomy, dear; you know if you are careful you will soon be +all right again," she said. + +At this Maurice poured forth all his disappointment at not being able to +go with the Parton boys on their excursion down the bay. + +"I am just as sorry for you as I can be," said Celia, clasping her hands +in her lap--such slender hands--and looking far away as if she were tired +of everything near by. It was only for a moment, then she said with a +little laugh, "You can't possibly understand, Maurice, but I shouldn't +mind a sprained knee in the least; I think I could even enjoy it, if I +hadn't any more responsibility than you have." + +"But you don't care to go fishing," he suggested. + +"Oh, yes, I do; I like to fish." With a smile she said good-by, and went +away. + +After this Maurice settled down into deeper despondency than before. He +had refused an invitation to drive, hid treated with bitter scorn +Katherine's suggestion that he might like to go out to the creek with her +and Blossom. "You could ride in the stage, you know, and have to walk only +the least little bit," she said. + +"Thank you; it is _such_ fun to throw stones in the water," he replied, +with elaborate politeness. + +That Maurice was badly spoiled was no secret. The only boy in the family, +with bright, engaging ways when things went to please him, he had been +petted and humored by his parents, given up to by Katherine, and treated +as a leader by his boy friends, until he had come to look upon his own +pleasure as the most important thing in the universe. Not that he realized +this. He would have been greatly surprised to hear he was selfish. + +The accident by which his knee had been sprained severely was an +experience as trying as it was new to him. At first the petting he +received at home, and the attentions of his friends, added to his sense of +importance and made it endurable, but this could not continue +indefinitely. Ball playing and other sports must go on, and Maurice, to +his aggrieved surprise, found they could go on very well without him. + +This morning his mother had expostulated mildly. "My son, you ought not to +make yourself so miserable. You could not be more unhappy if you were to +be lame always." + +"It is _now_ I care about," he replied petulantly. + +"I don't know what to do with Maurice," he overheard her say to his father +in the hall. + +"Let him alone. I am ashamed of him," was Mr. Roberts's reply. + +And now, deserted and abused, Maurice was very miserable, and when he +could stand it no longer he sought a distant spot in the garden and threw +himself face down in the grass. + +He had been lying here some time when a voice apparently quite near asked, +"Have you hurt yourself?" + +Lifting his flushed, unhappy face, he saw peeping at him through the hedge +the girl Katherine had been so interested in on Sunday. She, too, was +lying on the grass, and her fair hair was spread out around her like a +veil. Maurice raised himself on his elbow and surveyed her in surprise, +forgetting to reply. + +"What is the matter?" she asked again, looking at him with a pair of +serious gray eyes. + +"Nothing," he answered. + +The gray eyes grew merry. Rosalind laughed, as she said, "Then you ought +not to groan. I thought when I heard you, perhaps you had fallen from a +tree." + +"I wasn't groaning," he protested, feeling ashamed. + +"Maybe you call it sighing, but it was dreadfully deep." + +"Well, I think a fellow has a right to sigh when he can't do anything or +go anywhere; and everybody else is having a good time," Maurice felt +anxious to vindicate himself. + +"I am not having a good time," said Rosalind, "at least not very; but then +you know if you stay in the Forest of Arden, something pleasant is bound +to happen before long." + +Maurice stared at her blankly. + +"Perhaps you don't know the story," Rosalind suggested. + +"What story?" + +"Its real name is 'As You Like It,' but I call it 'The Story of the +Forest.'" + +"What is it about?" + +"Oh,--about a banished duke, who lived in the Forest, like Robin Hood, you +know, with a lot of people who were fond of him. He had a daughter, named +Rosalind, and after a while she was banished too and went to look for her +father in the Forest. Her cousin Celia and a funny clown, Touchstone, went +with her, and they were all disguised. And--well, there is a great deal +more to it--but they were all cheerful and brave--everybody is in the +Forest of Arden, because they are sure there is good in everything if you +only try to find it." + +"But that is all a story. It isn't true." + +"Oh, yes, it is." + +"There wasn't a bit of good in hurting my knee and having the whole summer +spoiled." Maurice's tone was undeniably fretful. + +"If you had been banished as Rosalind was, I suppose you would not have +thought there was any good in that; but she didn't cry about it. She made +the best of it, and had a good time in spite of it." + +"Who says I was crying?" Maurice demanded angrily. + +Rosalind opened her gray eyes wide, then she sat up and tossed back her +hair. Maurice felt convicted of rudeness. Was she going? He hoped not, for +he wished to talk to her. + +"I suppose I am rather cross," he acknowledged; "but don't you think it is +pretty hard to hurt your knee and have to walk with a crutch, and stay at +home when the other boys go fishing?" + +"Yes, indeed. Does it hurt much?" Rosalind asked, with ready sympathy. + +"No, not now; it did at first, but the doctor says it will be five or six +months before it is well again." + +"Then it isn't for always? That is something good." + +Maurice somehow felt uncomfortable. He did not wish the emphasis laid on +the good. It seemed wise to change the subject. "What a lot of hair you +have," he remarked. + +"It has been washed, and grandmamma said I might dry it in the sun," +Rosalind explained, shaking her head so vigorously she was enveloped in a +shining cloud. + +"Isn't it a great bother? Kit hates to have hers braided." + +"Who is Kit?" + +"She is my sister Katherine." + +"It must be nice to have a sister. I haven't anybody but father and Cousin +Louis, and of course they are better than any one else. There are +grandmamma and Aunt Genevieve, but I am not very well acquainted with them +yet. I should love to have some children related to me." + +I have a little sister, too; her name is Blossom. That is, her real name +is Mary, and we call her Blossom." + +"Kit and Blossom; and what is your name?" Rosalind asked. + +"Maurice Roberts." + +Rosalind tossed back her hair and began to twist it into a shining rope. +"I am Rosalind Whittredge," she said. "I should not think you would ever +be unhappy," she added. + +"Do you know, I saw you last Sunday when you were studying something. Kit +and I peeped at you through the hedge." + +"I was learning a hymn for grandmamma. Why didn't you speak to me?" + +"I didn't know whether you'd like it." + +"Why, of course I should have liked it. I was beginning to think that day +I should never get acquainted with any one, and I was feeling dreadfully +lonesome when the magician came in." + +"The magician?" Maurice exclaimed. Certainly this was a singular girl who +talked about magicians in an everyday tone. + +Rosalind laughed. "I mean Morgan, who does cabinet work. Do you know him?" + +"Everybody in Friendship knows Morgan. He is a good fellow, too. Why do +you call him the magician?" + +"Because that is what father called him when he was a little boy. Once +when Morgan had made an old desk look like new, grandfather said he was a +magician, and father, who heard him, thought he meant it really. Father +and Uncle Allan used to play in his shop and talk on their fingers to him. +Can you do that?" + +"Why, yes; I'll teach you if you like." + +"I should like it very much. It is so tiresome to write things." + +"Morgan is very clever, too, about understanding. You only begin to spell +a word when he guesses what you want to say," Maurice added. + +"I went to his shop the other day with Miss Herbert, but she wouldn't let +me stay long. I made friends with his funny dog." + +"Do you know what we call him? Curly Q. And the cat--did you see him? He +is Crisscross." + +"How funny," said Rosalind. "I think they are very good names. Crisscross +wouldn't have anything to do with me." + +"Are you going to live here?" Maurice asked. + +"No; but I shall be here a long time. I think Friendship is a nice place, +and funny too, because it has a bank with a garden around it. At home our +banks are all on the street and have offices over them." + +"Yes; Friendship isn't a city," Maurice acknowledged apologetically. "I +should like to live in a big city." + +"I like Friendship. It only seems a little odd, you know," Rosalind +hastened to add. "Do they ever let you go into the bank part of your +house?" + +"Why, of course, I can go in whenever I choose. My father is the cashier, +and it is to take care of the bank that we live here." + +The conversation was brought to an end by a maid sent to find Rosalind. +After she had gone Maurice saw a book on the grass where she had been +lying, and reaching through the hedge with his crutch, he drew it toward +him. When he removed the outside cover, even his uncritical eye saw it was +a handsome hook. "Shakespeare's 'As You Like It.' Edited by Louis A. +Sargent," he read. "Why, it is one of Shakespeare's plays," he said, in +surprise. So this was the story Rosalind was talking about. + +On the fly-leaf was some writing in small clear letters. "For Rosalind, +with the wish that she may meet the hard things of life as bravely, and +find as much happiness by the way, as did her namesake in the Forest of +Arden. From her friend, Louis A. Sargent." + +"Meet the hard things of life as bravely--" Maurice's face grew hot. "You +wouldn't have thought there was any good in that." The touch of scorn in +Rosalind's tone stung as he recalled it. He turned the leaves and began to +read. + +It was a pleasure to look at the large clear type; he soon became +interested. + +Half an hour later Katherine's voice broke in upon the Forest of Arden. +"Maurice, Maurice, what are you doing? Mother sent me to find you." + +"I am reading. Don't bother, please," was the reply, in a tone so far +removed from melancholy that Katherine, reassured, obediently retired. + + + + +CHAPTER SIXTH. + +PUZZLES. + +"How weary are my spirits!" + + +Up to this time life had been a simple and joyous matter to Rosalind. She +had known her own small trials and perplexities, but her father or Cousin +Louis were always at hand to smooth out tangles and show her how to be +merry over difficulties. Now all was different. There were puzzles on +every side and no one to turn to. + +The house behind the griffins was not exactly a cheerful place. Rosalind +found herself stealing about on tiptoe lest she disturb the silence of the +spacious rooms. She hardly ventured to more than peep into the +drawing-room, where Miss Herbert's liking for twilight effects had full +sway. There was a pier table here, supported by griffins, the counterpart +in feature of those on the doorstep, which she longed to examine, but the +shades were always drawn and the handsome draperies of damask and lace +hung in such perfect folds she dared not disturb them. + +Where was the charm of her father's stories of Friendship? Was it because +her grandfather was dead that everything had changed? This was why her +grandmother wore black dresses and added that heavy veil when she went +out. Rosalind once drew a corner of it over her own face and the gloom +appalled her. + +She ventured to say one day as they drove along a pleasant country road, +"Grandmamma, you don't know how bright the sunshine is," and Mrs. +Whittredge replied, "I do not wish to know, Rosalind; nothing can ever +again be bright to me." Yet if she would only look, she must see that it +was bright. This was one puzzle. + +Aunt Genevieve's manner was another. It was as if she scorned everything, +and sometimes it made Rosalind almost angry. + +On the day of her meeting with Maurice, she ate her lunch with a glance +every few minutes at her great-uncle Allan on the opposite wall. A very +black portrait, it seemed only a meaningless blur till in a certain light +the strong face and stern eyes shone out of the surrounding gloom with +startling effect. She sometimes wondered rather anxiously if the uncle to +whose home-coming she looked forward, could by any possibility be like the +person for whom he was named. It was not an agreeable face, yet it drew +her gaze with an irresistible attraction. She was convinced that on +occasion the heavy brows contracted and the eyes grew even sterner. + +In the next panel hung Matilda, his wife, as the massive marble in the +cemetery said,--a youthful person with side curls and a comfortable smile. + +Even with its southern windows the dining room was sombre in its massive +furnishings of Flemish oak. Very different from the one at home, with its +sunshine and flowers, its overflow of books from the study, and the odds +and ends of pottery picked up by father and Cousin Louis in their travels. + +Rosalind was thinking that the plain little room of the magician was the +pleasantest place she knew in Friendship, when Martin entered with +something in his hand, announcing in his courtly way, "A book for Miss +Rosalind." It seemed to her that Martin, with his grizzled head and dusky +face, had the most beautiful manners ever seen. + +"For me, Martin?" she exclaimed. + +"The young gentleman from next door left it," said Martin. + +"I did not know you knew any one next door, Rosalind," Mrs. Whittredge +remarked questioningly. + +"I am not very well acquainted, grandmamma," Rosalind answered, seeing +suddenly in the handsome face a likeness to the dark portrait; "but I +talked to Maurice through the hedge this morning. I remember now, I had my +book. I must have left it on the grass." + +"I believe Rosalind seldom loses an opportunity to speak to people. Miss +Herbert says she is on quite intimate terms with Morgan," remarked Miss +Genevieve. + +"Father told me about Morgan," Rosalind began apologetically, adding more +confidently, "I like to know people." + +"Your father over again," Mrs. Whittredge said, smiling. "What is your +book, dear?" + +"'As You Like It.' Cousin Louis gave it to me." As she spoke Rosalind +caught the glance exchanged by her grandmother and aunt. + +"When I was a little girl Cousin Louis told me the story because it is +about Rosalind, you know, and ever since I have called it my story, +because I like it best of all." + +No comment was made on this explanation, and it seemed to her the next +time she looked in his direction, that Uncle Allan frowned. + +When luncheon was over she went out to the garden seat under the birch, +carrying with her an old green speller found in a bookcase upstairs. In +the back of it she had discovered the deaf and dumb alphabet, so now she +would not have to wait for Maurice to teach her; she could learn it by +herself. It did not seem difficult. With the spelling book propped open in +one corner of the bench she went carefully over it, and then tried to +think of words she was most likely to want to use in talking with Morgan; +but this was slower work, and the thought that for some unknown reason her +grandmother was displeased with her kept claiming her attention. + +When father was displeased with her--and this was not often--he always +told her, and they talked it over frankly, but grandmamma and Aunt +Genevieve only looked at each other and said nothing. It both puzzled her +and hurt her dignity to be treated in this way. + +Presently it occurred to her that her grandmother might have been vexed at +her carelessness in leaving her book on the grass. It was careless; father +would have said so. Well, she could let grandmamma know she was sorry, and +feeling relieved at having found a possible solution of the problem, she +closed the spelling book. + +Mrs. Whittredge looked up in evident surprise when Rosalind entered the +room and announced, "I am sorry I left my book on the grass, grandmamma." + +"What do you mean, my dear?" she asked. + +"I thought you didn't like it because I was careless." + +"I suppose it was careless, my pet, but I had not thought of it. But tell +me what makes you care so much for that book. It seems to me there are +many stories that would be more interesting to a little girl. Suppose you +put it away and let me find you something else." + +The color deepened in Rosalind's face. "It is my own, own book," she +cried, clasping it to her heart. + +"Very well, you need not be tragic about it," Mrs. Whittredge said coldly, +turning to her writing. + +Again Rosalind knew she had offended, and this time her resentment was +aroused. "I don't like to be spoken to in that way," she told herself, as +she walked from the room. + +Before she had reached the head of the stairs her grandmother's voice +called her hack. Reluctantly she returned. + +Mrs. Whittredge had risen and now came to meet her and put her arm around +her, and her voice was soft and full of affection as she asked, "Do you +want to go to the cemetery with me this afternoon, pet? Aunt Genevieve has +the carriage, and I think a walk will do me good." + +The walk along the shady street and through the grassy lane to the gate at +the foot of the hill was as pleasant as a walk could be that summer day. +Rosalind kept sedately by her grandmother's side, and the face under the +drooping hat was grave. Behind them walked Martin with some garden tools +and a watering-pot. + +The serious eyes brightened, and the lips curved into a smile at sight of +Maurice and Katherine playing dominos under the maple. How lovely it must +be to have a brother or sister to play with and talk to! + +The cemetery was not new to Rosalind, for Mrs. Whittredge on her daily +drive usually stopped there, and its winding paths and green slopes, its +drooping willows and graceful oaks, and the flowers that bloomed +everywhere, around the stately shafts of marble and the low headstones, +seemed to her very pleasant. Here, however, her grandmother's sadness took +on a deeper tinge as she moved among the mounds that lay in the shadow of +the massive granite monument with "Whittredge" in letters of bronze at its +base. + +As Martin went to work trimming the ivy under his mistress's direction, +Rosalind wandered away by herself across the hill-top, pausing now and +then to read an inscription and do a sum in subtraction, on the result of +which her interest largely depended. "Lily, born 1878, died 1888," stirred +her imagination, and she sat down to consider it at length. How old would +Lily be now if she had lived? She tried to think how her own name would +look on a stone. It was still and peaceful on that sunny hillside; it +reminded her of "Sharon's lovely rose." The idea of a grave here was not +unattractive. She was considering it pensively when her eyes fell on a +long-stemmed, creamy rose, lying not far from her on the ground. With +instant pleasure in its beauty she took it up and held it against her +cheek. + +Where had it come from? Some one must have dropped it. She stood up and +looked around, but there was no one in sight. On the other side of a holly +bush, however, a number of just such roses lay on a grave. Rosalind walked +over and stooped to read the name on the low headstone. "Robert Ellis +Fair," she repeated half aloud as she laid her rose beside the others. + +When she lifted her head she met the surprised gaze of a young lady, who +came across the grass with a watering-pot in her hand. She was decidedly +pretty to look at, and she smiled pleasantly as she began watering the +flowers in an iron vase. + +Rosalind felt she must explain, so she said, smiling in her turn, "I found +a rose on the grass, and I thought it must belong here." + +"Thank you. I suppose I dropped it. Won't you tell me who you are? I am +sure you do not live in Friendship." + +"No, I am visiting my grandmother. I am Rosalind Whittredge." + +A strange expression crossed the face of the young lady at this +announcement. Could it be that something displeased her? After a moment +she spoke gravely, "I think some one is looking for you," she said. + +Turning, Rosalind saw Martin in the distance, and as there seemed nothing +else to do or say, she walked away. After she had gone some little +distance she could not resist looking back, and just as she did so she saw +the young lady fling something from her across the grass, and--it looked +like a rose! Could it be her rose? Rosalind felt her cheeks growing hot. +How very strange! Here was a puzzle, indeed. + +Aunt Genevieve had come for them in the carriage, and as they drove home +Rosalind tried to describe the young lady she had seen, saying nothing +about the rose, however. + +"It must have been Celia Fair, mamma, don't you think so?" asked +Genevieve. + +"Fair was the name on the stone," said Rosalind, adding, "She was pretty." + +Miss Whittredge looked at her mother, then as that lady was silent, she +remarked, in her usual languid tone, "I think you may as well know, +Rosalind, that we have nothing to do with the Fairs." + +Why did it make any difference to Rosalind? Why did everything seem wrong? +Why did she feel so unhappy in spite of the blue sky and the sweet summer +air? + +When they reached home she sat on the garden bench and looked up at the +griffins, and the fancy floated through her mind that it might be +comfortable to be as unfeeling as they. + +"O, dear! I am afraid I am getting out of the Forest. What shall I do? +Perhaps the magician could help me;" she clasped her hands at the +thought. Why not go to see him? She knew the way. + +"I will take my book to show him," she said; and running to the house for +it, forgetful of everything but her longing for sympathy, a few minutes +later she flitted down the driveway and out of the gate. + + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTH. + +THE MAGICIAN MAKES TEA. + + "--If that love or gold + Can in this place buy entertainment, + Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed; + Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd + And faints for succour." + + +The magician was at work in his small garden adjusting some wire netting +for the sweet peas, while Curly Q. looked on with interest, and Crisscross +finished his saucer of milk. + +Rosalind came through the shop so softly that only the cat was aware of +it. He gazed at her in evident doubt whether to continue work on the rim +of his saucer or take refuge on the fence. + +"I should like to have a little house, and a dog and cat to live with me," +she thought, sitting down on the step to wait till she should be +observed. Yes, this was more like the Forest of Arden than any place she +knew; her unhappiness seemed melting away in the peaceful atmosphere. + +Crisscross decided she was not dangerous, and keeping an eye on her by way +of precaution went on with his supper. It was not long, however, before +Curly Q. discovered her presence and came bounding to her side, with a +sharp bark of welcome, then back to call his master's attention. + +"Why! Why!" exclaimed the magician, holding up a pair of rather grimy +hands. + +There could be no doubt about his being glad to see Rosalind. He asked how +she was, over and over, and apologized for his hands, and smiled and +nodded and indulged in all sorts of absurd gestures, which made her laugh +so she couldn't try her new accomplishment of talking on her fingers. +Directly he hurried into the house, where she could hear him washing his +hands, and then he came out again with a teakettle, which he filled at the +cistern, and carrying it back set it on a small oil stove, which he +lighted. + +"We'll have some tea," he said, sitting down beside her and asking again +how she was. + +Rosalind summoned all her learning and spelled out carefully, with the aid +of some very dainty fingers, "I-am-lon--" + +"Lonesome?" repeated the magician. "That is too bad. Mr. Pat wouldn't like +that." + +Rosalind shook her head. The tears were near the surface, but she kept +them back, and remembering her book she laid it on the magician's knee, +open at the words Cousin Louis had written: "If we choose we may travel +always in the Forest where the birds sing and the sunlight sifts through +the trees; where although we sometimes grow footsore and hungry we know +that the goal is sure. Just outside is the dreary desert in which, alas! +many choose to walk, shutting their eyes to the beauty and peace of the +Forest, and losing by the way the sacred gift of happiness." + +The magician read it slowly through, then he smiled at Rosalind over his +glasses. "That's so," he said. "It is hard to keep out of the desert +sometimes, but it all comes right in the end. Why, the other day I was--" +here he shook his head and put on a woe-begone expression of countenance +that made his meaning plain, and caused Rosalind to laugh--"and I looked +up and there you stood in the door and pointed to the motto, 'Good in +everything,' and I felt better." + +"Did I really cheer you up?" cried Rosalind, delighted; and nodding quite +as if he heard, the magician answered, "Now I'll cheer you up." Rising, he +beckoned her to follow him inside, and she obeyed, feeling as if she were +somebody in a story. + +The kettle was already singing merrily, and from a shelf the magician took +down a fat little teapot and, rinsing it with boiling water, proceeded to +make tea. Next he spread a white cloth on a small table, and from the +cupboard took out some blue and white cups and plates. + +"Let me set it," begged Rosalind, in pantomime, entering gayly into the +spirit of the thing. + +Laughing, the magician left it to her and went off to his store-room, from +which he emerged with a pitcher of milk and a loaf of brown bread. + +There was nothing in the appointments of this simple meal to offend the +most fastidious taste, and it was a sight to bring a smile to the +dolefulest countenance, to see Rosalind and the magician sitting opposite +to each other drinking tea. In the midst of it Morgan jumped up and went +to the store-room, returning with a tumbler of jelly. "Miss Betty Bishop's +jelly," he said. "Do you know Miss Betty?" + +Rosalind shook her head. + +"She makes good things," he added, as he unscrewed the top. + +Rosalind's afternoon in the open air had given her an appetite, and she +did full justice to the brown bread and jelly, the novelty of the occasion +adding a flavor. Through the open door and window came the glow of the +sunset, and the air was sweet with some far-off fragrance. All trouble had +faded from her face; it was as if in the heart of the Forest she had come +upon some friendly inn. Such a small matter as dinner in the house behind +the griffins quite escaped her memory. + +"Well, upon my word!" + +[Illustration: "DO YOU KNOW MISS BETTY?"] + +Startled in the act of feeding Curly Q., Rosalind looked toward the door, +and saw there a lady in a crisp, light muslin. More than this she did +not at once take in, for behind her in the semi-darkness of the shop was +Martin's face. The conviction that he was looking for her, and that +grandmamma would be vexed, overshadowed everything else. She rose, while +the magician greeted the lady as Miss Betty, and offered her a cup of tea. + +"I'se been searchin' high and low for you, Miss Rosalind," Martin +exclaimed, coming forward. + +"I'm dreadfully sorry, Martin; I forgot," said Rosalind. + +Miss Betty, who had declined the tea, now held out her hand. "This is +Rosalind Whittredge, of course; I am your Cousin Betty." + +"I didn't know I had any cousins," said Rosalind. + +"You will find a few if you stay long enough," replied Miss Betty. "How do +you come to be eating supper with Morgan, I'd like to know? I was sitting +on my porch when you went in, so when Martin came along I was able to help +him." + +"I like Morgan. I wanted to see him. Father told me about him." Rosalind +felt she couldn't explain exactly. + +"I used to know your father very well indeed," said Miss Betty, as they +walked together to the street, after Rosalind had told the magician +good-by. "As you seem to like going out to tea, I hope you will come and +take supper with me sometime," she added, with a twinkle in her eye. + +When she reached home Miss Herbert stood at the gate, and in the door was +Mrs. Whittredge. Rosalind's face was full of brightness as she ran up the +path. + +"Grandmamma, I meant only to stay a minute, and then I forgot." + +"I have been worried about you, Rosalind," Mrs. Whittredge said gravely. +"Why did you not come to me and tell me where you wished to go? Where have +you been?" + +"To see the magician--Morgan, I mean. I wanted so much to see him I did +not think of anything else." + +"Why did you wish to see him?" continued her grandmother. + +The glow was fading from Rosalind's face. "Because--" she hesitated, +"because--" + +"Well?" + +"Because I was lonely, grandmamma, and I was afraid I was going to cry. I +promised father I would be brave, and--well--Morgan knows about the +Forest, and is very good to cheer you up. He made tea in the dearest +little teapot, and it was so amusing, I forgot. I am sorry." + +"Do you mean you took supper with Morgan? Well, Rosalind, you are +amazing!" Aunt Genevieve spoke from the hall. + +"Never mind, Genevieve," said her mother. "I am sorry you were lonely, +Rosalind, but I do not understand why you should go to Morgan. And what do +you mean by the 'forest'?" + +Rosalind's face was grave again. "I don't know, grandmamma," she faltered, +and indeed she could not have told if her life had depended on it. + +"I think you were very easy on her, mamma. It was certainly naughty of her +to run away," Genevieve remarked, after Rosalind, worn out by the +conflicting experiences of the day, had gone to bed. + +Mrs. Whittredge did not reply at once. On her lap lay her granddaughter's +little volume of "As You Like It," and she had been reading the words +about the Forest. It had a way of opening to that page. + +"She is a peculiar, fanciful child, and quite old enough to know better. +Professor Sargent may be a brilliant man, but it seems to me he has filled +the child's head full of nonsense. I can't see what Patterson has been +thinking of," Genevieve continued. + +"I am not inclined to find much fault with her. I did not expect her to be +perfect. She seems naturally sweet and happy," her mother replied. + +"Losing by the way the sacred gift of happiness," Mrs. Whittredge's eyes +went back to the book. Surely happiness had slipped from her grasp, +leaving nothing but regret. It was sad to realize that her children found +all their pleasure apart from her. Somewhere she had failed, but pride +told her it was fate; that sorrow and disappointment were the common lot, +that gratitude was not to be looked for. + +After her bitter disappointment in her oldest son she had been the more +determined to have her way with Allan. With what result? The extended +tour abroad, planned with a purpose just as his college course was ended, +had weaned him completely from his home. His interests were elsewhere, and +although as joint executor with her of his father's estate he was often in +Friendship, his visits were usually brief. Between herself and her +daughter there was little sympathy. Genevieve, calm and inflexible, had +early declared her independence. But more than all else put together was +her haunting sorrow for her husband. Words of Dr. Fair, spoken long ago in +cruel bluntness, still rang in her ears: "Madam, you are killing your +husband by your obstinacy." Her mind dwelt with morbid persistency upon +them. Had the reconciliation with her son come too late? + +At a time of utter weariness with herself she acceded to Patterson's +proposal to send his daughter to her. Genevieve had expostulated, +insisting she would be impossible, a child with no bringing up. Rosalind +had come, and even Genevieve had to admit, so far as manners and +appearance were concerned, she was not impossible. + +In the fair young face, with its serious eyes, in whose glance there was +often a singular radiance, Mrs. Whittredge found something that touched +her heart. Her granddaughter had not the Whittredge beauty, she was +nothing of a Whittredge, and yet--One day she had taken up the miniature +on Rosalind's table, with a glance over her shoulder; and when she put it +down and turned away, it was with the reluctant feeling that perhaps there +had been some excuse for her son when he left father and mother and +kindred and home for this young girl. + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTH. + +TO MEET ROSALIND. + +"Put you in your best array." + + +Miss Betty Bishop lived in a small white house with brown trimmings, which +she herself likened to a white cake with chocolate filling. Everything +about it was snug and neat and seemed to the observer a pleasant +expression of that kindly, busy, cheery lady; but Miss Betty was in the +habit of declaring it had taken her twenty years to get settled in those +small, low-ceiled rooms, and that she didn't feel quite in yet. + +There had been a great sacrifice of fine old furniture when the big house +on Main Street had to be exchanged for the little one in Church Lane, and +it was no wonder Miss Betty sighed at the thought. None the less she had +accepted courageously the reverses which at twenty brought her gay +girlhood to an end, and for fifteen years was a cheerful, devoted nurse +to her invalid father. Since his death she lived alone with only Sophy, +her old mammy, to cook and care for her. + +When it became known that Miss Betty had invited certain of her young +friends to tea to meet Rosalind Whittredge, a wave of excitement swept +over Friendship. + +All the children of the town had heard stories of Miss Betty's beauty and +belleship, but those Washington winters belonged to twenty years ago and +had no connection with her present popularity. Sophy's skill as a cook no +doubt had something to do with the fame of her mistress's tea parties, but +besides this Miss Betty knew how to make her guests, whether young or old, +have a good time. + +When asked if she was fend of children, she was sure to reply, "Some +children. I don't like disagreeable children any better than I do +disagreeable grown persons." And for this reason, perhaps, it had come to +be esteemed something of an honor to be asked to her house. + +Miss Betty had at first felt a prejudice against Patterson Whittredge's +daughter, deciding in her own mind that she was probably a spoiled little +thing; but the sight of Rosalind taking tea with Morgan, and more than +this, the frank gaze of those disarming gray eyes, had touched her kindly +heart. She knew as well as anybody that it must be lonely in the +Whittredge house; and so she had thought of the tea party. + +The interest felt in Patterson Whittredge's daughter was very general. +Patterson belonged to those old times when peace had reigned in +Friendship. He had been a favorite in the village, and to many it seemed +only the other day that he had gone away. It was incredible that this tall +girl seen walking by Mrs. Whittredge's side could be his daughter. There +were those like Mrs. Graham's pupils, who were inclined to invest her with +a halo of romance; others criticised her as not at all the Whittredge +style, not what one had a right to expect in Mrs. Whittredge's +granddaughter. Some pitied Mrs. Whittredge for the responsibility thrust +upon her, others pitied Rosalind, and still more, envied her. + +In view of all the discussion, it was not possible to regard an invitation +to meet her as quite an everyday matter. + +"I do wish you had not soiled your embroidered muslin, Belle. You will +have to wear your summer silk," said Mrs. Parton, addressing her daughter, +who sat on the dining-room floor entertaining a Maltese kitten with a +string and spool. + +"I forgot to tell you, mother, Jack dropped some wax candle on it last +Sunday night, when we were looking for a penny in the grass," Belle +replied, lifting her merry black eyes for a moment. "Anyway, it isn't a +dress-up party--only to supper." + +"Bring that dress to me at once. I am astonished at you. The only decent +thing you have!" Mrs. Parton sat down and clasped her hands in an attitude +of desperation. + +Followed by the kitten, Belle departed, returning directly with the blue +and white checked silk over her arm. + +"Whatever it is," her mother continued, I want you to look nice; Betty +says Rosalind Whittredge has beautiful clothes." + +"I just know she is a prig," remarked Belle, caressing the kitten. + +"No, she isn't!" A tumbled head and a pair of eyes very like Belle's own +peered out suddenly from beneath the table cover. "If she was, she +wouldn't have run away to take supper with Morgan." + +"Mercy upon us, Jack! you are enough to startle the sphinx. Come out from +under that table at once," commanded his mother. + +"Did she do that?" asked Belle, with some interest, adding, "Is it very +bad, mother? Can you clean it? How do you know she did, Jack?" + +Mrs. Parton shook her head; "I'll try French chalk," she said. + +"Miss Betty said so. She saw her," put in Jack. + +Mrs. Parton rose. "Another time when you lose a penny, I will make it good +rather than have your best dress spoiled," she remarked. + +"But you see, mother, it was a church penny," Belle explained, as if she +were mentioning some rare and peculiar coin. "Arthur brought the +collection home because Uncle Ranney wasn't there, and when he untied his +handkerchief on the porch a penny dropped out and rolled into the grass." + +"Who is going to Miss Betty's?" Jack asked, as his mother left the room. + +"Maurice and Katherine and you and me, and the Ellises, and--I don't know +who." + +"I know it will be stupid; I don't think I'll go." + +"If it is stupid, you will make it so," retorted his sister, adding, "and +you will go, too, for mother will make you; besides, you know you wouldn't +miss Sophy's waffles." Belle departed with the kitten, leaving Jack to +return to the latest Henty book and his retreat under the table. + +The Partons' was a square house, with a wide hall dividing it through the +middle and opening on a porch at either end. When the weather at all +permitted, these doors stood wide open, and dogs and cats and children ran +in and out as they pleased. In the afternoons Colonel Parton sat on the +front porch smoking and reading, threatening the dogs and the children +indiscriminately, receiving not the slightest attention from either. + +As she passed him now, Belle mischievously deposited the kitten on his +shoulder. + +"You baggage, you! Take this thing off me," thundered the colonel, as the +kitten made its claws felt in a frantic endeavor to hold on in its +perilous position. + +"O father! don't hurt her," Belle cried, running to the rescue, and in the +scuffle that followed, the unfortunate kitten escaped. + +"Don't you let me catch you doing a thing like that again," scolded the +colonel, as he picked up his paper and settled himself in his chair again. + +Belle laughed, and held up her face for a kiss, which her father gave with +a hearty good will. + +Mrs. Parton was not the only one who felt dress to be a matter of +importance on this occasion. Charlotte Ellis stopped at the bank gate to +ask Katherine what she was going to wear. + +"My blue lawn, I think," Katherine answered. "Mother says it is nice +enough, and that I must keep my new white dress for Commencement." + +"Your blue dress is very pretty, I am sure," Charlotte said. She was two +years older than Katherine, and her manner was mildly patronizing. "I +think I shall wear white. Of course it is not a party, but we want to +make a good impression on a stranger." + +Katherine felt the force of this, but Maurice, who overheard Charlotte, +was inclined to jeer. "Much difference it will make to her what you have +on," he said, as Charlotte left them. "Her," meant Rosalind. + +"How do you know it won't make any difference?" asked Katherine. + +"Because she is not that kind." + +"What kind? How do you know?" + +Now Maurice had kept his interview with Rosalind to himself, saying +nothing to any one when he returned her book. His sudden interest in +Shakespeare had not passed unnoticed; but as this or something else had +caused longer intervals of cheerfulness, the family had not ventured to +disturb the agreeable change by asking questions. + +"I know, because I talked to her the other day," he replied. + +"Maurice, really?" cried Katherine. "I don't believe it" + +"You needn't if you don't want to," was her brother's lofty answer. + +On the appointed evening the guest of honor was the last to arrive, and +the others were in such a state of expectancy they could not settle down +to an examination of Miss Betty's puzzle drawer with which she usually +entertained her young guests until supper was announced. Miss Betty, who +adored puzzles and problems of all kinds, was continually adding to her +collection, and this evening there was a brand new one, brought from the +city only the day before; but even Belle, who was especially good at +puzzles, and besides affected not to care about Rosalind Whittredge, could +not keep her eyes from the window. + +The application of French chalk had been successful, and she wore her blue +and white silk; Katherine, in her blue muslin, with ribbons to match on +her smooth braids, wished her mother had been more impressed with the +importance of the occasion. Charlotte was complacent in her white dress +with a large ribbon bow on top of her head, in a new fashion just received +from her cousin in Baltimore. + +"That's the way Rosalind wears hers," whispered Katherine. + +The boys fingered the puzzles and talked about the ball game to be played +to-morrow, but they shared the feeling of anticipation. Their hostess +bustled back and forth. + +"Children," she said, pausing in the door, "I want you to be as nice as +possible to Rosalind. Remember she is a stranger, and we wish her to have +a pleasant impression of Friendship." + +"Here she is!" announced Belle, and the rest crowded around the window. + +"There's Miss Genevieve," whispered Charlotte; "girls, she is coming in!" + +The Whittredge carriage had stopped before the gate and Miss Genevieve, a +marvel of grace in soft chiffons that rippled and curled about her slender +height and emphasized the fairness of her skin, was actually escorting her +niece to the door. + +"Isn't she lovely?" sighed Charlotte, in an ecstasy. + +"Not so sweet as Miss Celia," said loyal Belle. + +Miss Betty met them on the porch, while her guests in the parlor craned +their necks to catch a glimpse, through the open door, of the new +arrivals. The languid sweetness of Miss Genevieve's tone floated in above +Miss Betty's crisper utterance. + +"Mamma is just as usual, thank you. Yes, it was very kind of you to ask +her; I have no doubt she finds it dull. Yes, we expect Allan in a week or +two, but there is no counting on him." + +So absorbed were the listeners, they did not begin their retreat soon +enough, and their hostess, ushering Rosalind in, encountered a scene of +confusion. Katherine in the excitement fell backward over a footstool and +was rescued, flushed and shamefaced, by Jack Parton. Charlotte smoothed +her dress and tried to look dignified. Belle and Maurice were in fits of +laughter. + +Miss Betty surveyed them in surprise. Rosalind stood beside her, and the +girls at once noted that she wore pink. + +"Is anything the matter?" asked Miss Betty, observing Katherine's flushed +face. "I want to introduce Rosalind Whittredge to you. Rosalind, this is +Charlotte Ellis, and Katherine Roberts, and Belle Parton--" + +Still laughing, Belle held out her hand. "We were peeping at you," she +said. + +"Didn't you know I was coming in?" Rosalind asked, a gleam of fun in her +own eyes. + +"We wanted to see Miss Genevieve," added Belle. + +As Miss Betty proceeded to name the boys, Rosalind said, "Oh, I know +Maurice," quite as if he were an old friend; and she added, standing +beside him, "I am so much obliged to you for bringing my book home." + +"Does Maurice know her?" whispered Belle. + +Katherine nodded, although she had had her doubts until this minute. + +Maurice was agreeably conscious of Belle's eyes as he talked to Rosalind. +He was not at all unwilling to have the distinction of being the only one +to know the new-comer. + +"I read the story," he said. "I did not know till after you had gone that +it was one of Shakespeare's plays. We read Julius Caesar at school last +winter." + +"I know that too," Rosalind answered. I have Lamb's stories. Cousin Louis +used to read them to me, and then from the real plays, but I like the +story of the Forest best." + +"Dear me! they are talking about Shakespeare," Belle exclaimed. + +Rosalind looked across the room at her, and smiled in a way that seemed an +invitation. + +"It is a little funny for her to sit down beside a boy the first thing, +don't you think?" Charlotte said in a low tone to Katherine, who assented +because she was in the habit of agreeing with Charlotte. + +Belle overheard. "Silly!" she said, and to show her scorn she went over +and sat on an arm of the sofa beside Rosalind. + +"Do you like to read?" she asked. + +Rosalind opened her eyes. "Of course I do, don't you?" + +Belle, who had browsed in her father's library since she had learned her +letters, was known as a great reader, and felt rather proud of her +reputation; but she found the stranger had read as much as she, and seemed +to think nothing of it. + +In the warmth of a discussion of favorite stories any stiffness is sure to +melt rapidly away. Jack, hearing mention of "The Talisman," joined in and +the others drew up their chairs, so that when Miss Betty rustled back from +an excursion to the dining room she found the ice broken and sociability +prevailing. But she startled them all by an exclamation. + +"Jack Parton, for pity's sake, sit up! and you too, Katherine; I cannot +allow my guests to sit on their spines." + +"But it is so much more comfortable," protested lazy Jack, slowly screwing +himself into a more erect position, while Katherine straightened up with a +blush. + +"There seems to be something wrong with the spines of this generation, and +the first thing you know it will react on their mental and moral natures. +People without backbone are odious," Miss Betty continued. + +"I wish you children could have seen Miss Patricia Gilpin as I saw her +once when I was a little child, more than thirty years ago. She was +straight as an arrow and pretty as a picture. Such old ladies have gone +out of fashion. I remember hearing her describe the backboard and spiked +collar she wore for several hours each day when she was a child." + +"What was the spiked collar for?" Rosalind asked. + +"To keep her head in the correct position." + +"I am glad I didn't live then," said Belle. + +At this point Miss Betty's sermon was interrupted by the appearance of a +small, brown boy in a white apron, who announced supper. + + + + +CHAPTER NINTH. + +THE LOST RING. + +"Wear this for me." + + +The old mahogany table had never reflected a circle of brighter faces than +gathered about it that evening to do justice to Sophy's good things served +on Miss Hetty's pretty china. + +Rosalind at the left hand of her hostess looked around the company with +frank enjoyment of the novelty of the occasion. These young people were +very entertaining, particularly Belle; and more amusing than anything was +the small waiter, at whom Miss Betty glanced so sternly when he showed a +disposition to laugh at the jokes. + +It was when Miss Betty began to serve the strawberries that some one +remarked on the old cream-pitcher of colonial glass, and thus started her +on her favorite topic of the cream-jug and sugar-dish that exactly +matched her teapot and should have been hers. + +This was the first time Rosalind had heard mention of old Mr. Gilpin and +the will. + +"My grandmother and Cousin Thomas's mother were sisters," Miss Betty +explained, "and when their father and mother died the family silver was +divided between them. In this way the teapot came down to me, and some of +the other pieces to Cousin Anne, who was, you know, Cousin Thomas's +sister." + +"Was old Mr. Gilpin related to me, Cousin Betty?" asked Rosalind. + +"Why, certainly, my dear; it is time you were learning about your +relations. He was your grandfathers own cousin. Your great-grandmother was +Mary Gilpin before she married Mr. Whittredge." + +"Rosalind looks puzzled," said Belle, laughing. + +Rosalind laughed too. "I never knew about relations before. Does father +know all this?" + +"I should hope so; this is not much to know." + +"Miss Betty, you promised to tell us about the ring, sometime; Rosalind +would like to hear it, I am sure. Wouldn't you, Rosalind?" asked Belle. + +Rosalind wished very much to hear it, and Miss Betty, with a glance around +the table, remarked, "I shall be glad to tell what I know if you care to +have me, and Jack will sit up." + +"Send for a pillow, Miss Betty; that is what mother does," Belle +suggested, to the delight of the small waiter, who was compelled to retire +suddenly to the hall, where he was heard giggling. + +"As some of you know," Miss Betty began, "the ring belonged to Miss +Patricia Gilpin, who was an aunt of Cousin Thomas's, and your +great-great-aunt, Rosalind. If it is still in existence, it is not far +from eighty years old. You might suppose from the way in which they are +spoken of now, that in the early part of the century all young women were +beauties and belles; but if there is any truth in her miniature, Patricia +Gilpin was a really beautiful woman." + +"Wasn't she married? I thought it was an engagement ring," said Charlotte. + +"It was, but she never married. The young naval officer to whom she was +engaged was killed in the War of 1812. They had known each other only a +short time; it was love at first sight, I suppose. He had the ring made +for her, and I always heard that she received it and the news of his death +at nearly the same time. The last message she had from him was, 'Wear this +for me,' which he had written on a card and enclosed with the ring; and +she always wore it. She was a girl of eighteen at the time, and greatly +admired; but she never forgot her lover." + +"Did she live in Friendship?" Rosalind asked. + +"During her father's lifetime this was her home. She was born in the old +Gilpin house, which was new then; and perhaps you know that the rustic +summer-house at the top of the hill on the left is called Patricia's +arbor. For some years after her lover's death she lived in seclusion, +seeing no one; and always when the weather permitted she would sit in the +arbor, looking out upon the river. + +"It was said that this was the scene of their courtship, but it may be +only a story. + +"After her father's death she lived in Washington, but she often visited +Cousin Anne in the old place. As I have said, I remember seeing her and +hearing her talk, when I was a child of six or seven. She was a stately +and beautiful old lady, and as I recall it now, her face showed she had +borne her share of trouble and disappointment bravely; and you can't say +more than that for anybody." + +"That is what Cousin Louis says," remarked Rosalind, smiling at Maurice. + +"But you haven't told us what the ring was like," put in Charlotte. + +"I never could tell a straight story," replied Miss Betty, laughing. +"Well, it was a broad band of open lace-work of a most delicate and +beautiful pattern, and made of pure gold. The stone was an oval sapphire +of great depth and purity of color, in a setting of tiny stars, made of +little points of gold. When Miss Patricia died she left the ring to Cousin +Anne, her niece, along with many other valuable things. Cousin Anne never +wore it, but she used to show it to me sometimes as a great treat, and I +have tried it on more than once. Cousin Anne ought to have made a will; +but at best she was an undecided person, and she had a long illness. It +was generally supposed she would leave it to your aunt Genevieve, +Rosalind, or else to Patricia Marshall. Indeed, there were half a dozen of +them who would have given their heads for it. Cousin Anne knew it, and she +hated to disappoint anybody, so she ended by disappointing everybody." + +"Why didn't she leave it to you. Miss Betty?" asked Jack. + +"Miss Patricia was not related to me. She was aunt to Cousin Thomas and +Cousin Anne on their father's side, and I am connected through the +Barnwells, his mother's family, just as Rosalind's grandmother is," she +explained; adding, "As Cousin Anne left no will, everything she owned went +to her brother; and you have all heard about his will. Most of his money +was to go to the endowment of a hospital, all the other property to be +sold and the proceeds divided among his first cousins or their children, +except the ring and an old spinet that came to him through his wife. The +first he left to Allan Whittredge, the other to Celia Fair." + +"To Uncle Allan?" asked Rosalind, greatly interested. + +"Yes, and everybody wonders why. However, when they came to take an +inventory, the ring was not to be found." + +"And they haven't the least idea what became of it," remarked Maurice. + +"I think it was stolen," said Miss Betty, "although I acknowledge there is +something mysterious about it. Cousin Thomas was subject to attacks of +heart failure, and was found one evening unconscious in his arm-chair +before the open door of the safe, where he kept his valuables. Morgan had +left him an hour before, apparently as well as usual. He was discovered in +this condition by old Milly, who is honest as the day, and she sent at +once for Dr. Fair, next door, but it was some time before he could be +found, and in the excitement it seems quite possible the ring might have +been stolen. After Dr. Fair had partially revived the old man, he noticed +the open safe and closed it. Cousin Thomas never regained consciousness +entirely, and died the next day. It must have been a week before the ring +was missed. The strange thing is that there were jewels of greater value +in the safe, which were not disturbed." + +"Don't you wish your uncle would give it to you if it is found?" Charlotte +asked Rosalind. + +"In his will Mr. Gilpin said he left the ring to Allan, who was aware of +his wishes in regard to it. I have no idea what those wishes were, but I +hardly think he had Rosalind in mind," Miss Betty said, smiling. + +"Uncle Allan must know what he meant. How strange!" + +"Like a story, isn't it?" said Belle. + +"Have they looked everywhere for it?" continued Rosalind. + +"Yes; the most, thorough search has been made, to no effect." + +The rest of the evening was spent in games, and from the laughing that +went on, Miss Betty's guests must have enjoyed themselves. When Martin +came for her and Rosalind said good night to her new friends, she did not +feel like the same girl who had had to go to the magician to be cheered a +few days ago. The face she lifted to the stars as she walked home was very +bright indeed. + +Grandmamma and Aunt Genevieve sat in the hall. + +"Have you had a pleasant time?" Mrs. Whittredge asked. + +"A beautiful time, grandmamma. I do like to know people. And Miss Betty--I +mean Cousin Betty--told us about the lost ring and--was she my +aunt?--Patricia? Did you ever see her, grandmamma?" + +"Yes, a number of times. She visited at our house when I was a child. She +died a few years after my marriage. Your Aunt Genevieve is thought to +resemble the miniature done of her in her girlhood." + +Rosalind looked in the direction of the arm-chair where her aunt half +reclined, her eyes on a book, her clear profile in relief against the dark +leather, the mellow lamp-light bringing out the copper tints in her hair. +"Then I know she must have been lovely," she said. + +Mrs. Whittredge laughed, and Genevieve lifted her eyes to ask, "What is +that?" + +"Rosalind is sure Patricia Gilpin must have been handsome if you resemble +her," her mother replied. + +Genevieve shrugged her shoulders, and her lips curled a little, although +she smiled; "Thank you, Rosalind," she said. + +"I don't believe," thought Rosalind, as she slowly prepared for bed, "that +Miss Patricia--Aunt Patricia--looked as if she didn't care about anything. +She bore hard things bravely, Miss Betty said, and I believe people who do +that have a kind look." Here her glance fell upon the miniature on her +dressing-table. The sweet eyes smiled on her. Taking it up she pressed it +to her lips; "Like you, my dear beautiful," she whispered. + + + + +CHAPTER TENTH. + +CELIA. + +"One out of suits with fortune." + + +"O Celia!" called Miss Betty Bishop, from her front door, "come in a +minute. I had a tea party last night, and I want to send your mother some +of Sophy's marshmallow cake. I am so glad you happened by," she added, as +Celia came up the walk, "I was wondering how I should get it to her." + +"It is very kind of you, Miss Betty," said Celia, following her into the +dining room. + +"There is no kindness about it," asserted Miss Betty, opening the cake +box. "I am just proud of Sophy's good things and like to make other people +envy me." + +"That is not hard," Celia answered, thinking that life seemed easy and +pleasant in this snug little house. Miss Betty had had her hard times, she +knew, but the troubles of others are apt to seem easier to bear than +one's own, just as in bad weather the best walking is always on the other +side of the street. + +Celia was warm and tired, and the dim, cool room was grateful to her as +she sat resting in silence while Miss Betty fluttered back and forth. + +"Perhaps you'll think I'd better mind my own business," she said, +returning after a moment's absence, "but here is something I saw in the +_Gazette_. It might be worth trying." + +Celia knew by heart the advertisement held out to her. "Work at home. +Fifteen dollars a week made with ease, etc." She accepted it meekly, +however, not wishing to hurt her friend's feelings. + +"Talking about minding your own business," continued Miss Betty, "in my +experience it does not pay. I once saw Cousin Anne Gilpin looking at +taffeta at Moseley's, and I knew as well as I knew my name that the piece +she selected wouldn't wear. At first I thought I'd tell her; then I +decided it was none of my business,--Cousin Anne was old enough to know +about the quality of silk. And what do you think? She sent me a waist +pattern off it for a Christmas gift!" + +Celia laughed as she rose to go. "Thank you for the cake, even if it isn't +a kindness. Mother will enjoy it," she said. + +"You haven't noticed my hall paper," Miss Betty remarked, escorting her +visitor to the door. "I don't expect you to say it is pretty, for it +isn't. I have to confess wall paper is too much for me. This entry is so +small I could not put anything big and bright on it, so I thought I was +getting the very thing when I selected this,--and what does it look like? +Nothing in the world but a clean calico dress. Now it is done I see it +would have been better with plain paper." + +"It is clean and unobtrusive," Celia agreed, smiling. Her smiles were a +little forced this morning, it was easy to see; and Miss Betty, laying a +kind hand on her arm, said, "Don't worry too much, Celia. I know something +about hard times, and you will work through after a while." + +Celia felt the tears rising, and she left Miss Betty with an abruptness +that made her ashamed of herself as she recalled it. After the exertion +of climbing the hill she stopped to rest on the rustic seat just inside +her own gate. "I wonder," she asked herself, "if there is anything much +harder to bear than seeing a house you love going to ruin and not to be +able to save it." + +A branch of the honeysuckle that twined about the gate-post touched her +shoulder, as if to remind her there was still some sweetness in life after +all; but she did not heed it, nor the rose vines and clematis which made +the old gray house beautiful in spite of needed repairs. Celia saw only +rotting woodwork and sagging steps. She thought how the flower garden had +been her father's pride, and how in his spare moments, few as they were, +he was sure to be found digging and trimming and training, with the +happiness of the born gardener. Ah, those days! She remembered the +half-incredulous wonder with which she had been used to hear people speak +of the certainty of trouble. She had felt so certain that joy overbalanced +sorrow, that smiles were more frequent than tears. Now she understood, +since she had tried to hide her own grief under a smiling face. + +From her babyhood she had been her father's companion and confidante, +driving about the country with him, interested in all that concerned his +large practice. A warm-hearted, impulsive man, open handed to the point of +extravagance, Dr. Fair had had few enemies and many friends; and loving +his work, life had been full of joy to him. In contrast with those happy +years the bitterness of his last days seemed doubly cruel to Celia. +Whenever she was tired and discouraged, the memory of that dark time rose +before her. + +She had been only a child when Patterson Whittredge left home, but she +could remember how warmly her father had taken his side, and how this had +caused the first coolness between him and his boyhood friend, Judge +Whittredge. The judge was influenced by his wife, and between the stubborn +doctor and imperious Mrs. Whittredge there had been no love lost. + +The storm had passed after a while, and when the judge's health began to +fail Dr. Fair had been called in. But Mrs. Whittredge had not forgotten, +and the doctor's position was not an easy one. Only his devotion to his +old friend had kept him from giving up the case at the beginning. The +Gilpin will and her father's testimony to the old man's sanity had added +to the trouble, and upon this had come the accusation which, whispered +about, had broken the doctor's heart. Harassed by the hard times and the +failure of investments, denied a place at the bedside of his friend, he +had fallen an easy victim to pneumonia, outliving Judge Whittredge only a +few days. The memory of it lay like lead upon Celia's heart. + +"I have left you nothing but a heritage of misfortune, Celia," had been +his last words to her. + +"Don't think of that, father; I'll manage," she answered; and she had +tried, but the solving of the problem was costing her the bloom of her +youth. There were the two brothers to be educated, and a delicate, almost +invalid mother to be cared for, and an income that would little more than +pay the taxes on their home. To sell or rent it was not at present +practicable, and she could not take boarders, for no one boarded in +Friendship. Neither could she leave to try her fortune in the city, so she +had been doing whatever her hand found to do. Sewing, embroidering, a +little teaching, and, in season, pickling and preserving. Friends had been +kind, but Celia was proud and determined to fight her own battle, and +sometimes, as this morning, kindness made her burden seem harder to bear. + +The worst of it was the root of bitterness in her heart. She could never +forgive Mrs. Whittredge. Few guessed the intensity hidden beneath Celia's +gentle manner. Only now and then a spark from her dark blue eyes revealed +it. The general construction put upon her proud reserve was that she was +unsociable. + +There is no loneliness like that of the unforgiving heart. Celia had never +felt it so strongly as after her meeting with Rosalind Whittredge in the +cemetery. There had been something in the soft gaze of the gray eyes that +she could not forget. It had made her take up the rose again after she +flung it away and carry it home with her. + +But she must not linger here any longer. There was an order from the +Exchange in the city which should be promptly filled if she hoped for +others. As she rose she confronted Morgan entering the gate. + +"Good morning," he said, and there was an odd sort of embarrassment in his +manner as he added, "Some of your window frames need fixing, Miss Celia." + +She smiled and shook her head. "Can't afford it." + +"Miss Celia, let me do it, I've lots of time, and the doctor was very good +to me," he said. + +Again Celia shook her head, but the hurt look on Morgan's face made her +relent. "Well, perhaps the worst ones," she spelled. She would trust to +being able to make it up to him sometime. + +"That's right," he exclaimed, joyfully, adding, as he turned to go, "Don't +you worry, Miss Celia. There's good in it somewhere." + + + + +CHAPTER ELEVENTH. + +MAKING FRIENDS. + +"Is not that neighborly?" + + + +Miss Betty's tea party was the beginning of a new and happier state of +affairs for Rosalind; one pleasant thing followed another. There were +letters from the travellers, long and delightful and full of the genial +spirit of the Forest, making her more than ever certain that they and she +were alike journeying beneath its shelter, and at some turn of the road +would surely meet again. + +Mrs. Whittredge also had a letter, "I trust you will not keep Rosalind +secluded," her son wrote. "I want her to have companions of her own age, +and to learn to know and love the old town as I loved it. She has lived +too much with Louis and me and story books; it is time she was waking up." + +This explains why the Roberts children and the Partons received special +invitations to call on Rosalind. Friendship began to seem to her a very +different place as her acquaintance with it grew and neighborly relations +were established with Maurice and Katherine. The gap in the hedge became a +daily meeting-place, and grew slowly, but steadily, wider. + +A few days after the tea party, Katherine asked Rosalind to go out to the +creek with her, and on the way they stopped for Belle. While she went to +find her hat, Rosalind made the acquaintance of the colonel and several +dogs. Then the three strolled along the wide street, under the shade of +tall maples, past pleasant gardens and inviting houses, until the street +turned into a country road, and before them was Red Hill and the little +bridge over Friendly Creek at its foot. + +Under the bridge the water rippled and splashed over the stones, and out +of sight, back somewhere among the trees, it could be heard rushing over a +dam. The children seated themselves on a bit of pebbly beach. + +"How nice to be near the real country!" Rosalind exclaimed. "At home we +are near the park, but that is not the real country. We have to go miles +to get there." + +"But there are such lovely stores and things in the city," said Katherine. + +"Still, you can't go about by yourself, as you can here," Rosalind +answered; and Belle added, "I like to go to the city for a little while, +but I'd rather live in Friendship, where the houses aren't so close +together." + +As they sat there, throwing stones in the water and writing in the sand, +Rosalind heard a great deal about school, which would close next +week,--how the girls had rushed to the window to see her and had lost +their recess, and how Belle had been sent to the office, besides, for +making chalk dishes. It was all very amusing, but she could not understand +why the girls wanted to see her. + +"Well, you know they are all interested in your house, and in Miss +Genevieve; and then everybody was surprised at your coming to visit your +grandmother." + +"I can't see why," Rosalind said, opening her eyes. + +"Oh, well--because you never had before, you know." Belle's manner was +hesitating, as if she felt conscious of being on dangerous ground. + +What she said was certainly true. Rosalind herself did not exactly +understand it. She knew only that there had been some reason why her +father had not visited his old home for many years. She wondered if these +girls knew more about it than she. + +"You see, you are something new," Belle added, laughing. "Didn't Miss +Celia scold us that morning, Katherine?" + +"Why, no, Belle, she didn't exactly scold," said Katherine. + +"She didn't throw back her head and frown and say 'Young ladies, I am +amazed!'"--here Bell gave an excellent imitation of Mrs. Graham's +manner--"so you don't call it scolding. She just said, 'Girls, I don't +know what to think!' and we felt as mean! I love Miss Celia." + +"So do I," echoed Katherine. + +"Is she one of your teachers?" Rosalind asked. + +"Yes; she is Miss Celia Fair. She teaches drawing and sometimes keeps +study hour, and she is as sweet as she can be," Belle concluded, with +enthusiasm. + +The name brought to mind one of Rosalind's greatest puzzles,--the +hillside, the young lady who looked as if she might be as Belle described +her--sweet; the strange incident of the rose, and Aunt Genevieve's words, +"We have nothing to do with the Fairs." + +"I saw her once," she remarked gravely. + +"I forgot the Fairs and the Whittredges don't speak. Perhaps you know +about it," said Belle. + +Rosalind shook her head. + +"I think it was about the will; wasn't it, Katherine? Mrs. Whittredge +wanted to break it because she thought Mr. Gilpin was crazy, but Dr. Fair +said he wasn't, and testified in court." + +Rosalind listened with interest. "Isn't Dr. Fair dead?" she asked. + +"Yes. He used to be our doctor, and I liked him so much." + +"The Fairs have lost all their money now, so Miss Celia has to teach and +do all sorts of things," Katherine remarked. + +"Her name belongs to the Forest," thought Rosalind, looking at the +ripples, Belle had thrown herself back and was gazing at the sky from +under her hat brim; Katherine was busy with a collection of pebbles; the +stillness was broken only by the hum of insects and the murmur of Friendly +Creek. Suddenly Rosalind seemed to hear with perfect distinctness what it +said, + +"Be fr-ie-nds, be fr-ie-nds," with a little trill on the words. + +From experience she knew very little of unfriendliness. All this about +quarrels and having nothing to do with people was new to her. As she +considered it she remembered that Oliver hated Orlando, and Rosalind's +uncle had treated her and her father unkindly, in the story. "But it all +came right in the end," she told herself, "when they met in the Forest." +It was a cheering thought, and she smiled over it. + +"What are you smiling at?" Belle asked, sitting up. + +Rosalind's eyes had a far-away look as she replied, "I was thinking about +the Forest." + +"What forest?" Belle began to ask, when a curly dog rushed down upon them, +and on the bridge above their heads they saw the magician waving his +hand. + +"Well, Curly Q. How are you?" cried Rosalind. + +"There's Morgan," said Belle; "you know him, don't you?" + +"Of course I do. I took tea with him last week," Rosalind answered, +laughing. + +"And, Belle, she calls him the 'magician,'" Katherine said. + +"Do you? Why?" + +"Because he is one. Didn't you know it?" Rosalind danced up the slope, +with Curly Q. after her. + +"Rosalind says you are a magician. Are you?" Belle spelled rapidly when +they had joined Morgan on the bridge. + +The old man's eyes twinkled as he replied, "That's a secret; you mustn't +tell anybody." + +"Ask him if he knows about the Forest," said Rosalind. + +Belle asked the question. + +Morgan laughed. "'Where the birds sing--'" he quoted. + +"Tell me about it, please," begged Belle. "Does Katherine know?" + +Rosalind promised she would sometime; and as Katherine did not know +either, and as it was growing late, Belle agreed to wait. + +It was rather an odd and pleasant sight, if any one had stopped to think +of it--the old man with his bright, wistful eyes, his tool box on his +shoulder, and his three companions, walking home together. Demure +Katherine, dainty Rosalind, saucy Belle,--all as merry as merry could +be,--and Curly Q. running in and out among them in an ecstasy of delight, +and at imminent danger of upsetting somebody. + +"Well, Pigeon, how do you like your new friend?" asked the colonel, as his +daughter took her seat beside him on the door-step. + +Belle gazed thoughtfully across the lawn. "I like her," she answered, "but +she is funny. I suppose it is because she hasn't gone much to school. She +isn't like Charlotte, or Katherine, or me. She isn't prim, and yet--it is +queer, father, but she makes me feel as I do when I am with Miss +Celia--like behaving." + +The colonel laughed his hearty ha, ha! "I hope you'll cultivate her +society," he said, adding, "she is like Pat, as high-toned a fellow as +ever lived. He was something of a dreamer, too, and this child has the +eyes of a poet." + +"They are gray," remarked Belle. "But I know what you mean, father; she +looks as if she saw things far away. She was looking so this afternoon, +and when I asked her what she was thinking about she said 'the forest.' I +don't know what she meant, but Morgan knew." + +"You have plenty of sense," said her father, looking fondly upon her. + +"Of course I have, I am your child," laughed Belle, jumping up to give him +a hug. + + + + +CHAPTER TWELFTH. + +THE GILPIN PLACE. + +"This is the Forest of Arden." + + + +Rosalind, walking in the garden next morning, heard her name called from +the other side of the hedge. + +"Is that you, Maurice?" she asked, bending to peep through the narrow +opening where they had first become acquainted. + +"Yes; don't you want to go up to the Gilpin place?" + +"I'd rather go there than anywhere," Rosalind assented eagerly, "I am so +interested in Aunt Patricia and the ring." + +"The house is closed, you know, but the grounds are pretty. I'll meet you +at the gate whenever you are ready," Maurice answered. + +He considered Rosalind his special friend by right of first acquaintance, +and had no thought of allowing Katherine or Belle to get the advantage of +him, and for this reason he had planned the expedition. He also wished to +talk over "As You Like It" without interruption, and was decidedly +provoked when she called to Katherine, who was shelling peas on the side +porch, "We are going to the Gilpin place; can't you come when you have +finished?" + +Katherine, who had tried in vain to find out from Maurice where he was +going, was more than delighted at the invitation. + +"It would have been nicer if we had stayed to help her," Rosalind +remarked, as they walked up the street. + +"Girls' work," Maurice growled. + +"Well, I am a girl. And why shouldn't boys shell peas? They eat them." + +Maurice scorned such logic, but her eyes were so merry it was with an +effort he kept himself from smiling. + +"Katherine is such a bother," he said. + +"I like Katherine; she is so pleasant," Rosalind observed, with a side +glance at her companion. + +"Perhaps you'd rather go with her and have me stay at home?" he suggested, +with much dignity. + +"And shell peas?" Rosalind laughed. + +What a provoking girl this was! And yet he liked her, and somehow at the +vision of himself shelling peas he couldn't help laughing, too, and thus +harmony was restored. + +After climbing the hill, a good deal of exertion for Maurice with his +crutch, they paused to rest on the steps leading up from the gate of the +Gilpin place. + +Rosalind, looking at the dignified mansion among the trees, felt the +atmosphere of mysterious interest that always surrounds a closed and +deserted house, particularly an old one upon which several generations +have left their impress. She thought of the young and lovely Patricia, and +the sailor lover who never came back. + +"Do you know, I feel very sorry for Aunt Patricia, Maurice. To have some +one you love never come back--it must be very hard. I can understand a +little now since father and cousin Louis went away. Miss Betty said she +bore it bravely, too." + +"It was a long time ago," said Maurice, feeling that it was a waste of +emotion to grieve over things that had happened so far back in the past. + +"But there is the ring. It is not so very long ago since that was here. +Don't you wish we could go into the house and look for it? I believe it is +there somewhere;" Rosalind spoke with assurance. + +"But they searched every nook and cranny," said Maurice. + +"If it were in a story, there would be a secret drawer somewhere. I wonder +if Aunt Patricia isn't sorry it is lost." Rosalind sat in silence for a +few moments, looking down at the town. "I like Friendship," she said. +"There are a great many interesting things happening here, more than ever +happen at home." + +The Gilpin house stood on an elevation of its own, from which the ground +sloped gently in all directions. Its late owner had cared little for +flowers and shrubs, but had taken pride in his trees, which still +preserved the dignity of their forest days. At the back of the house there +was a view of the little winding river, and halfway down the slope a once +flourishing vegetable garden had turned itself into a picturesque +wilderness of weeds. The charm of it all grew upon Rosalind as they walked +about. + +"I should like to live here, Maurice. I like it better than our +garden--grandmamma's, I mean. Let's sit on the grass, where we can see the +river." + +Not far from them was the rustic summer-house which Miss Betty had called +Patricia's arbor. + +"Maurice," Rosalind exclaimed, with conviction in her tone, "this is the +Forest of Arden." + +"You talk about it as if it were all true, instead of only a story," said +Maurice. + +"But it is true--one kind of true. Cousin Louis explained it to me +once--ever so long ago, when I had a sore throat and couldn't go to the +Christmas tree, at the president's. I cried and was dreadfully cross, and +wouldn't look at my Christmas things; and after a while he asked me if I +should like to live in the Forest of Arden. I was so surprised I stopped +crying, and he told me that when we were brave and happy, we made a +pleasant place for ourselves, where lovely things could happen, and when +we were cross and miserable we made a desert for ourselves, where pleasant +things couldn't possibly come about, just as if you want flowers to grow, +you have to have good soil. + +"Cousin Louis can tell things in a very interesting way, and by and by I +began to feel ashamed, and I made up my mind to try it; and when I told +father, he said he would try too, and we found it was really true, +Maurice. He and Cousin Louis and I--oh, we had such good times! We even +told the president about it, and Cousin Louis said he was going to start a +secret society of the Forest of Arden. Then he was ill, and everything +stopped. + +"I know it isn't easy to stay in the Forest always, particularly when you +are dreadfully lonesome, but the magician says if you keep on trying you +will find the good in it after a while." + +"How can there be good in bad things?" Maurice demanded. + +"Did you read what was in my book? I know it by heart. 'If we choose, we +may walk always in the Forest, where the birds sing and the sunlight sifts +through the trees, where, although we sometimes grow footsore and hungry, +we know that the goal is sure.' That means it will all come right in the +end. Don't you know how, in the story, the people who hated each other all +came to be friends in the Forest?" + +The sun travelling around the beech tree encroached upon their +resting-place, and Maurice proposed moving farther down the slope. "Tell +me about the secret society," he said, as they again settled themselves. + +"It was a very nice plan," Rosalind answered, clasping her knees and +looking up into the tree top. "He told me about it one evening when he +wasn't well and had to lie on the sofa, while father did the proofs. Only +those could belong who made the best of things and knew the secret of the +Forest. We were sure the president would join because he had had a great +trouble and was very brave; and there was Mrs. Brown, who had lost all her +money, and kept house for us. Then, I didn't have anything much to be +brave about, but I have since, for I did so want to go with father and +Cousin Louis. Perhaps that doesn't seem much," she added apologetically, +"'but small things count,' Cousin Louis said." + +"I should think it might," Maurice agreed. + +"Aunt Patricia could have belonged," said Rosalind, her eyes still in the +tree top. "I wonder if she knew about the Forest?" + +Maurice felt stirred by the picture her words called up of a great company +of people all bearing hard things bravely. "There is Morgan," he +suggested. "It must be hard to be deaf, yet he is always cheerful." + +"Yes, indeed, he could belong. He knows the secret of the Forest. And +Maurice, you have a beautiful chance to be brave." + +Maurice's face grew red, he pushed his crutch impatiently from him. "I +haven't been brave," he said. + +"No, you haven't," Rosalind acknowledged frankly; "but then you did not +know about the Forest. Maurice, let's start a society, you and I, and +perhaps some of the others will join. The magician will, I know." + +A shrill whistle was heard at this moment. + +"It is Jack," said Maurice; and sure enough that individual presently +appeared and dropped down beside them, breathless from his run up the +hill. + +"What are you two doing?" he puffed. + +"Talking. How warm you are!" and Rosalind offered her broad-brimmed hat +for a fan. "Have you seen anything of Katharine?" + +"She and Belle are on the way. Say, what were you talking about? It seemed +to be interesting." Jack rolled over on his back and blinked at the sky. + +Rosalind looked at Maurice. "Would you tell him?" + +"No," was the prompt reply, "he wouldn't care for it." He felt certain +harum-scarum Jack would only be bored by the Forest, perhaps would make +fun. + +Jack turned his face to Rosalind, "Tell me," he urged; "Maurice doesn't +know what I like." + +"I will, then, as soon as the girls come." + +It was not long before Belle was heard calling, and she and Katherine came +running across the grass and joined the group under the tree. + +"We are waiting for you; Jack wants to hear about the Forest," said +Rosalind. + +"Yes, you promised to tell us what you meant, and how Morgan came to know +about it." Belle cast her hat on the grass and shook back her hair. + +Maurice looked discontented. Jack and Belle would think it silly, and +Katherine wouldn't understand. + +"Maurice knows about it, and perhaps some of the rest of you have read the +story of the Forest of Arden," began Rosalind. + +Belle had, but Katherine and Jack had not so much as heard of it, so +Rosalind told the story of the banished Duke and his followers who lived +in the Forest, and were happy because they had learned to make the best of +things and to find good even in trouble and disappointment; how Rosalind, +the daughter of the Duke, was also banished, and with her cousin and the +clown went to seek her father in the Forest; how Orlando, turned out of +his home by his cruel elder brother, also went to the Forest in company +with his old servant Adam; of their adventures there; and how finally the +wicked Duke and the heartless brother, who were pursuing the runaways, +came under the spell of the same Forest and repented of their evil deeds; +and the story ended in forgiveness and love under the greenwood tree. + +It was just the day and place for the story. The joyous, lavish beauty of +summer was everywhere around them, and as Rosalind told it her eyes took +on the look Belle had described to her father. There was silence after she +finished. Jack lay with his head on his arms, looking out on the river; +Maurice was drawing beech leaves in his note-book, the discontent all gone +from his face; Belle absently plaited the hem of her dress; while +Katherine twisted a wreath of honeysuckle around her hat. + +"Is that all?" Belle asked, after a little. + +"That is the story; then I was telling Maurice about the meaning Cousin +Louis found in it." + +"Tell us that," said Jack. + +Rosalind explained the Forest idea, and the plan for a secret society. +This at once appealed to Belle. + +"That would be fun," she exclaimed. "We could have 'The Forest' for a +watchword, and hold meetings out of doors somewhere." + +"Yes; 'under the greenwood tree,'" said Maurice. + +"I don't understand," said Katherine. "What are we to do?" + +"We promise to bear hard things bravely, and--" + +"Let's be like Robin Hood," Belle interrupted, "and help down-trodden +people." + +"Do you know any?" asked her brother, turning over. + +"Jack makes me think of the dormouse in 'Alice,'" laughed Rosalind. "He is +always going to sleep and waking up." + +"I'll tell you!" cried Belle, "let's search for the ring." + +"But we don't know where to look," said Katherine. + +"A thing isn't much lost if you know where to look, goosie," answered +Maurice. + +"You see, it is partly pretend," Rosalind explained. "I think it is a +beautiful idea, don't you, boys?" she asked. + +"Maurice, are you going to promise to bear hard things bravely?" Jack +asked, with a quizzical look. It seemed to tickle him greatly, for he went +off into a fit of laughing. "'See, the conquering hero comes,'" he hummed. + +Maurice pave him a thump with his crutch. "You aren't much of a hero, +either," he said. "Who took the roof off when his tooth was pulled?" + +"But that hurt," said Jack, still laughing. + +"I am willing to own I have been making an awful fuss, but someway I +hadn't thought about it, and I am willing to try if the rest are." + +"But I haven't any trouble," said Katherine. + +"Everybody has hard things to bear sometimes," replied Rosalind. + +"Doesn't Maurice ever snub you?" asked irrepressible Jack. + +"What shall we call our society?" Rosalind inquired, looking around the +group for suggestions. + +Maurice tore a leaf from his note-book and divided it carefully into five +parts, handing a slip to each of his companions. + +"Now be still for a while and think, and then write down a name." + +All was quiet for a time. "Now," said Maurice, "what is yours, Rosalind?" + +"The Secret Society of the Forest," said Rosalind. + +"Sons and Daughters of the Forest," announced Belle. + +"The Forest Society," said Jack. + +Katherine had not been able to think of a name. Maurice's was "The Arden +Foresters," suggested, he said, by Belle's "Robin Hood." + +"I believe it is the best," said Rosalind, and so they all agreed finally, +and the new society was named. + +"Now we must have a book and write in it what we promise," said Belle. + +"Let's appoint Rosalind and Maurice to draw up a--what do you call it?" +suggested Jack. + +"I know," said Belle; "a constitution." + +"I meant to go into Patricia's Arbor, and I forgot," remarked Rosalind, as +they walked home together. + +"I thought I saw some one sitting there when Belle and I passed," said +Katherine. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. + +IN PATRICIA'S ARBOR. + +"O, how full of briers is this working-day world." + + +On this same bright morning when Rosalind for the first time saw the +Gilpin place, Celia Fair carried her sewing, a piece of dainty lace work, +to the old rustic summer-house. It made some variety in the monotony of +things to sit here where she could lift her eyes now and then, and looking +far away across the river to the hills, let them rest on a bit of sunny +road that for a little space emerged from the shadow to disappear again on +its winding way. + +On this stretch, of road the sunshine seemed always to lie warm and +bright, and to Celia it brought a sense of restfulness. Perhaps in some +far-off time the sunlight would again lie on her path. + +She loved the old place, and the thought that in all probability it would +soon pass into the hands of strangers, troubled her. She had often sat +here in Patricia's Arbor, beside old Thomas Gilpin, and listened to his +reminiscences. She had been a favorite with the old man, all of the +tenderness of whose nature had spent itself upon the wife who lived only a +brief time; and in Celia's relationship to her, distant though it was, lay +the secret of his regard. + +One of her earliest recollections was of taking tea at the Gilpin house in +company with Genevieve and Allan Whittredge. Mild, fair-faced Miss Anne +and her grim-visaged, cross-grained brother were a strangely assorted +pair. Celia's childish soul had been filled with awe on these occasions. +She had difficulty in keeping her seat in the stiff old haircloth chairs, +or in crossing the polished floor of the drawing-room without slipping. + +At one end of this room stood the ancient spinet, long ago the property of +her own great-grandmother, which she was told would some day be hers. +Celia had been proud of this until Miss Anne, displaying her chief +treasures, Patricia's miniature and ring, remarked upon Genevieve's +likeness to her great-aunt. Genevieve, with the ring on her finger, +looked complacently over her shoulder at the long mirror, and Celia was +smitten with sudden envy. A great-grandmother called Saint Cecilia was not +half so interesting as a beautiful great-aunt with a romantic love story; +and an old and useless spinet not to be compared to a ring like +Patricia's. That the ring was to be Genevieve's she never doubted. + +Allan had made fun of his sister and treated heirlooms in general with +scorn, calling Celia to look at a print of Jonah in knee breeches and shoe +buckles, emerging front the mouth of the whale. Allan always saw the fun +in things. + +Between those days and the present there was a great gulf fixed. She had +resolutely put away from her all these memories, and to-day she was +annoyed that they should return in such force. They brought only pain to +her tired heart. + +Her hands fell in her lap, and she gazed with unseeing eyes at the hills. +After all, Patricia, mourning her lover, had not known the bitterest +sorrow. + +The thought of her work, which must be done, aroused her. "What a weak +creature I am, thinking my lot harder than that of any one else," she +exclaimed, and taking up her needle she determinedly fixed her mind on the +present. There was the suit Tom needed, and the grocery bill that should +be paid the first of the month. She must work hard and not waste time in +regrets. The summer that meant leisure and pleasure for many, meant only +added cares for her. + +A surprising announcement broke in upon these dreary thoughts: "This is +the Forest of Arden!" + +The voice was a sweet, girlish one, and came from somewhere behind the +arbor, but the vines grew so thick she could not get a glimpse of the +speaker. Celia went on with her work, feeling at first a little annoyed +that her quiet should be disturbed, yet the suggestion of sylvan joy in +the words grew upon her. The Forest of Arden--where they fleeted the time +carelessly--what a rest for tired spirits it seemed to offer! + +"If we will, we may travel always in the Forest, where the birds sing and +the sunlight sifts through the trees--" the same voice repeated. A stir of +wind set the leaves rustling, and Celia lost the rest. + +"That means it will all come right in the end." + +"The people who hated each other all came to be friends in the Forest." + +Fragments like these floated in to Celia. Then she heard Maurice Roberta's +voice saying, "Let's go farther down the slope." She went to the door of +the arbor and looked out. As she had suspected, Maurice's companion was +the girl she had encountered in the cemetery, Rosalind carried her hat in +her hand, and as they crossed an open space the sunshine turned her hair +to gold. + +Celia went back to her work. "It will all come right in the end,"--this +was what Morgan had told her yesterday; it was strange that this child +should cross her path again, and with the same message. + +"Even people who hated each other came to be friends in the Forest." To +travel always in the Forest! How restful the idea! How would it seem not +to hate anybody? To be really at peace? But it was not possible for her. + +Her thoughts would persist in dwelling upon Rosalind Whittredge. Again she +recalled with shame the impulse that made her scorn the rose. She was +glad she had picked it up and carried it home. Why should she have any +feeling against Patterson Whittredge's daughter? Had not her father taken +Patterson's side in the family trouble over his marriage? Ah, but that was +long ago, and it was hard to forget that Rosalind, with her sweet, serious +eyes, was after all Mrs. Whittredge's granddaughter, Genevieve's niece. + +"I wish she wasn't, and that I could see her and speak to her, and ask her +what she means by the Forest," she thought. "She is gentle and sweet; she +is not like the Whittredges. Why should I dislike her because she belongs +to them? Oh, it is dreadful to hate people!" Celia hid her face in her +hands, "but I do--I do," she added. + + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEENTH + +THE ARDEN FORESTERS + +"Like the old Robin Hood of England." + + +"Article I. This Society shall be called 'The Arden Foresters,'" read +Maurice. "That will do, won't it?" + +"Yes; and then let's put the object. It doesn't come next in this, but we +shan't need so many articles," Rosalind answered, running her finger down +the page of a blue bound book. + +The committee appointed to draw up a constitution for The Arden Foresters +had set about it with great seriousness. Their surroundings may have had +something to do with this, for their papers were spread out on the +leather-covered table in the directors' room at the bank, immediately +under the eye of a former president, whose portrait hung over the +mantel-piece, while the large-faced clock on the wall gave forth its +majestic "tick, lock." + +The blue book which was serving as a model, Rosalind had found on her +aunt's table, and asked permission to use. + +"Well, then, 'Article II. The object of this Society shall be, To remember +the Secret of the Forest; to bear hard things bravely; to search for the +ring--' Anything else?" + +"Maurice, that is beautiful. Is there anything else?" Rosalind pressed her +lips with a forefinger. + +"Belle wanted to have 'to help the needy,' or something of the kind." + +"The down-trodden," said Rosalind, laughing. "I don't like that, do you?" + +"Let's wait; we may think of something after a while. Where shall we meet? +That might come next." + +"Under the trees at the Gilpin place, and when it rains we can go to +Patricia's Arbor. What fun it would be to have a meeting in the rain!" A +great pattering on the window-pane emphasized Rosalind's remark. + +Maurice wrote busily for a minute, looking up to ask, "What day shall we +meet?" + +"Let's not say any day, and then we can do as we choose," Rosalind +suggested, feeling that the restrictions of a constitution might be +burdensome. + +Article III then read: "This Society shall hold its meetings at the Gilpin +place." + +"Maurice, here are qualifications for membership. Ought we to have that?" + +"I don't know; what are they?" + +Rosalind bent over the book, "Let me see--'Intelligence, character, and--' +such a funny word. 'R e c i p r o c i t y'; what is that?" + +Maurice looked over her shoulder, "'Rec--' Oh, I know, 'reciprocity.'" + +"What does it mean?" Rosalind asked. + +"I think it is something political." + +"Then we don't want it." + +However, as there was a dictionary in the room, it was thought best to +consult it. + +"Here it is, 'mutual giving and returning,'" Maurice announced, when he +found the place. + +"'Giving and returning,'" Rosalind repeated; "Maurice, look for 'mutual.'" + +"It means almost the same thing,' something reciprocal, in common,'" he +said presently. + +"Then it means to do things for each other. I like that. Why couldn't we +put that in Article II? It means 'helping.'" + +"How about qualifications, then?" asked Maurice. + +"I don't think I'd have any. We'll only ask the people we want." + +So reciprocity was added to Article II. As he wrote, Maurice laughed. +"I'll bet they won't any of them know what it means," he said. + +"Then Article IV will be the watchword, 'The Forest,'" added Rosalind. +"And, Maurice, don't you think it would be nice to choose a leaf for a +badge? But perhaps we'd better decide that at the next meeting. Don't you +think it is going to be fun?" + +Maurice agreed that it was, feeling sure Jack and Belle and Katherine must +be impressed with the result of their afternoon's work. He had a new +blank-book ready for the constitution, and on the first page he had +already written: "The Arden Foresters--Secret Society," and at Rosalind's +suggestion he now added the motto, "Good in everything." + +They surveyed it with pride, and Rosalind said, "I am just crazy to show +it to somebody. Where is Katherine?" + +But Maurice thought it wouldn't be fair to the others to show it to her +first. + +The rain continued to patter against the window. Rosalind sat with her +elbows on the table, and her chin in her hands, watching Maurice as he +folded the sheet of legal-cap paper on which the constitution was written, +and placed it in the book. + +"Maurice," she said suddenly, lifting her eyes to the benevolent face of +the bank president, "do you know Miss Celia Fair?" + +"Miss Celia? Why, of course I do." + +"Everybody seems to know everybody in Friendship. It's funny," Rosalind +commented thoughtfully. "Then you can tell me just what sort of a person +she is." + +"She is tip-top; I like Miss Celia," Maurice replied, with emphasis. + +"Do you think she is kind?" + +"Yes, indeed. The day I felt so badly about not going fishing,--the day +you spoke to me through the hedge,--she came in and sat on the step and +tried to cheer me up. Oh, yes, Miss Celia is kind." + +"But do you think she would be kind to some one she didn't know?" Rosalind +persisted. + +Maurice looked at her in surprise, she seemed so much in earnest in these +inquiries. "How can you be kind to people you don't know?" he asked. + +"I'll tell you about it if you won't tell. You see I am not quite sure." +Then Rosalind told the incident of her meeting with Miss Fair in the +cemetery. "She looked pleasant and as if she wanted to be friends at +first, but she didn't say anything after I told her my name, and when I +looked back, I am sure--almost sure--saw her throw the rose away." + +"Miss Celia wouldn't do a thing like that," Maurice asserted stoutly. "She +couldn't have any reason for it; she doesn't know you." + +"Do you really think she wouldn't?" Rosalind asked, in a tone of relief. +"You know there is a kind of a quarrel between her family and ours,--Belle +said so,--and I thought perhaps that had something to do with it; but I am +going to try to think I was mistaken about the rose." + +[Illustration: "LOOKING UP HE DISCOVERED HIS VISITORS."] + +While they talked the rain had ceased, and some rays of watery sunshine +found their way in at the window. + +"Let's go to the magician's and show him the constitution and ask him to +join," Rosalind proposed. + +Maurice was willing, and without a thought of the clouds they started +gayly up the street. They were almost there when Rosalind said, "I believe +it is going to rain, and we haven't an umbrella." + +"Perhaps we shall have to stay to supper with Morgan," Maurice suggested, +laughing. + +"I had a very good supper there," said Rosalind. "I don't see why +everybody should think it was so very funny in me to go." + +"No one else would have done it, that's all." + +When they looked in at the door of the magician's shop, he was busy with +some scraps of leather. Around him were bottomless chairs, topless tables, +and melancholy sofas with sagging springs exposed to view, and in one +corner a tall, empty clock-case. With his spectacles on the tip of his +nose and a pair of large shears in his hand, Morgan might have sat for the +picture of some wonder-working genius. Looking up, he discovered his +visitors, and a smile illumined his rugged face, as he waved them a +welcome with the big shears. He was never too busy for company. + +"Come in, come in," he said; and jumping up he got out a feather duster +and whisked off a chair for Rosalind, remarking that dust didn't hurt +boys. + +Rosalind laid the book on the table among the scraps of leather, open at +the page where Maurice had written the name of the society and the motto. +Pointing to it, they explained that they wished him to join. + +Adjusting his spectacles, the magician carefully read the constitution. + +"The Secret of the Forest? What's that?" he asked. + +Rosalind pointed to the motto, whereupon he nodded approvingly, and went +on. "Search for the ring--" he looked up questioningly; but when it was +explained, he shook his head. "Stolen," he said. + +Reciprocity seemed to amuse him greatly. He repeated it several times, +glancing from one to the other of his visitors. + +"Do you suppose he knows what it means?" Maurice asked Rosalind. + +The magician's quick eyes understood the question. "Golden Rule?" he +asked. + +"Why, I did not think of that!" cried Rosalind. + +"Morgan has a lot of sense," Maurice replied, with an air of +proprietorship. + +When he had read it all, the magician nodded approvingly. "I'll have to +join because you have my motto," he said. + +"Then we have six members to begin with," Rosalind remarked joyfully. + +By this time it had grown dark again and the rain was beginning to fall, +and while the magician, having a good deal on hand, continued his work, +Maurice and Rosalind sat on the claw-footed sofa, regardless of dust. +Curly Q. and Crisscross both sought refuge in the shop, and the latter +proved himself capable of sociability by jumping up beside Rosalind. + +"Morgan really does make me think of a magician," she said, stroking +Crisscross and looking at the cabinet-maker. "I saw a picture once called +'The Magician's Doorway.' It was all of rich, polished marble, and you +could look down a long dim passage where a blue light burned. Just at the +entrance a splendid tiger was chained, and above his head hung a silver +horn." + +"Was the horn to call the magician?" asked Maurice. + +"Yes, I suppose so; and you couldn't get it without going very near the +tiger. Cousin Louis promised to write a story about it, but he never had +time." + +A flash of lightning, followed immediately by a clap of thunder, startled +them. Maurice went to the door and looked out. "It is going to be a big +storm," he said. + +As he spoke the rain began to fall in torrents, hiding Miss Betty's house +across the street from view. Suddenly a solitary figure with a dripping +umbrella was almost swept into the shop. + +"Why, Miss Celia!" cried Maurice. + +"I began to think I would be drowned," she said, laughing breathlessly. + +The magician dropped his shears and took her umbrella. + +"You are wet; we must have a fire," he said. + +Celia protested. A summer shower wouldn't hurt. It was too warm for a +fire. Rosalind meanwhile sat in the shadow, Crisscross beside her, the +thought of the rose and of Aunt Genevieve's words making her hope Miss +Fair would not see her. Her face was gentle; was it possible she could be +unkind and disdainful? + +The magician came to the rescue. He didn't believe in quarrels anyway, and +if he had considered the matter he probably would have argued that +Rosalind could have no concern with those she knew nothing about; and +observing her in the corner he said, with a wave of the dripping umbrella, +"This is Mr. Pat's little girl, Miss Celia. You remember Mr. Pat?" + +Celia, shaking out her wet skirts, turned in surprise. As her eyes met +Rosalind's she smiled. "Yes," was all she said. + +But after a while she came over and patted Crisscross, and said Rosalind +must be a witch to have gained his affection so soon, and asked what she +and Maurice were doing there, not as if she wanted an answer so much as +just to be friendly. + +Rosalind felt a great relief, and her eyes were soft as she responded +shyly. + + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. + +A NEW MEMBER. + +"In the circle of this Forest." + + +In Friendship the summer was never fairly ushered in until Commencements +were over. When the boys of the Military Institute, a mile beyond the +village, had yelled their last yell from the back platform of the train as +it swept around the curve, and Mrs. Graham's boarders had departed, +accompanied by their trunks and the enthusiastic farewells of the town +pupils, then, and not before, Friendship settled down to the enjoyment of +picnics, crabbing parties, and moonlight excursions. + +Going away for the summer was almost unknown in Friendship; a week or two +at the shore or in the mountains was as much as any of its loyal +inhabitants dreamed of. To the few who like Genevieve Whittredge found the +place dull at any season, the warm days afforded a welcome excuse for +flitting. + +After the final decision in the Gilpin will case Friendship drew a long +breath and acquiesced in the inevitable. Arguments and discussion lost +their interest, and something like the old peace settled down on the town. + +The Gilpin house and its contents must now be sold, but summer was not an +advantageous season, and the sale had been postponed till early fall in +the hope of attracting from a distance lovers of old furniture. + +Thus the place was left untenanted. Weeds ran riot in the garden, the +grass crept stealthily over the walks, and the clematis and honeysuckle on +the low stone wall mingled their sweetness in undisturbed luxuriance. The +Arden Foresters were free to come and go as they chose, the only other +trespasser being Celia Fair, who when her household tasks were done often +brought her sewing to Patricia's Arbor, with the feeling that her days +there were numbered. + +At the Whittredges' Genevieve was making her preparations to leave soon +after the return of her brother Allan, who was looked for any day. Her +mother's restless mind had taken a sudden fitful interest in some +genealogical question, and welcoming anything that diverted her thoughts +from herself had thrown all her energies into the subject, spending most +of her time at her desk or in reading old letters. + +Rosalind was left to go her ways; if she appeared at meal-time, no +questions were asked, Miss Herbert, indeed, shook her head at such +liberty. A girl of Rosalind's age should be learning something useful, +instead of running about the village or poring over story books. She could +not know that with a certain old play for a textbook the children she +thought so harum-scarum were learning brave lessons this summer. + +Rosalind was happy. The hours when she was not with one or all of these +new friends of hers were few, and these she usually spent in the garden, +which she was beginning to love, with a book. She had discovered some old +books of her father's, given to him in his boyhood, with his name and the +date in them, in itself enough to cast a halo over the most stupid tale. + +When the sun shone on the garden seat beside the white birch, there was +another favorite spot in the shade of a tall cedar, where an occasional +stir of wind brought the spray from the fountain against her face. + +Yes, in spite of the puzzles, Rosalind was beginning to love Friendship. +It was weeks since Great-uncle Allan had seemed to frown on her, and even +the griffins wore a friendlier look; as for the rose, she had come to +doubt the evidence of her own eyes since that afternoon at the magician's +when Miss Fair had shown such friendliness. + +The summer so dreary in prospect to Maurice bade fair to be endurable +after all. Rosalind's gray eyes, now merry, now serious, but always +seeking the good in things, her contagious belief in the Forest, had +stirred his manliness, making him conscious of his fretfulness, and then +ashamed. His mother, who had dreaded the long holiday, wondered at his +content. Katherine wondered a little too. The Forest of Arden made a very +nice game, and it was pleasant to have Maurice in a good humor, but she +did not quite understand the connection. + +Soon after the close of school Colonel Parton took his two older boys away +on a western trip, leaving Jack with no resource but Maurice and the +girls. The two boys were great chums, and as Maurice's knee made active +sports impossible, Jack, too, gave them up for the most part. + +As for Belle, her indifference to Rosalind had turned into ardent +admiration. She and Charlotte Ellis had a sharp dispute over the +new-comer. Charlotte confessed she was disappointed in her, and pronounced +her odd, all of which Belle deeply resented, the result being a decided +coolness between them. + +"I am as glad as I can be Charlotte is going away this summer," she was +heard to remark. + +"She can't be as glad as I am that we aren't going to be in the same +town," was Charlotte's retort when the speech was repeated to her. + +The cleverness of Maurice and Rosalind was duly impressed upon the other +three when the constitution of The Arden Foresters was read, and after +careful consideration it had been copied in the blank-book, and beneath it +the members signed their names. The excitement of Commencement week being +over, a meeting was called to decide on a badge. + +It had been decided that any member might call a meeting, and the method +was suggested by Belle. In each garden a spot was selected,--an althea +bush at the Partons', a corner of the hedge at the Roberts's, a cedar near +the gate at the Whittredges',--in which the summons, a tiny roll of paper +tied with grass, was to be deposited. + +On the morning appointed for this meeting of The Arden Foresters, Celia +Fair, knowing nothing about it, of course, had just settled herself in the +arbor with a cushion at her back and her work-basket beside her, when +Rosalind looked in. She carried a book and a bunch of leaves, and she +seemed surprised to find the summer-house occupied. Her manner was +hesitating as, after saying good morning, she asked if Miss Fair had seen +Maurice or Belle. + +"No; are you expecting them? Won't you come in and sit down while you +wait?" Celia asked, noticing the hesitation. + +"I wonder what they have told her about me?" was her thought. It brought a +flush to her face, and yet why did she care? + +Rosalind accepted the invitation shyly. "I must be early," she said. "I +was to meet the others here at ten, but I went to drive first with +grandmamma." + +"It is still ten minutes of ten," Celia said, looking at her watch. "Are +you going to have a picnic?" + +"No; only a meeting of our society." + +"What sort of a society?" Celia asked. + +"A secret society," Rosalind replied, with a demure smile. + +"Oh, is it? That sounds interesting, but I suppose I can't know any more. +What is your book? That isn't part of the secret, is it?" + +Rosalind slipped off the paper cover and laid the little volume in Celia's +lap. + +The young lady took it up, exclaiming with delight over the binding of +soft leather, the handmade paper, and beautiful type. It fell open at the +fly-leaf with the inscription. + +"And Professor Sargent gave you this Lovely book?" she said. + +Rosalind's eyes shone at this tribute. "Cousin Louis gave it to me just +before he and father started for Japan, and he wrote that about the hard +things because I wanted so much to go with them and I couldn't," she +explained. + +"Rosalind, what was it you were talking to Maurice about, here behind the +arbor one day? I couldn't help hearing a little. It had something to do +with a forest." Celia had dropped the book in her lap and looked at +Rosalind with something that was almost eagerness in her lace. + +Rosalind thought a moment, "Why, did you hear us? I know now what it was," +and she turned the leaves and pointed to the paragraph beginning, "If we +will, we may travel always in the Forest," then she added shyly, "You +ought to belong to the Forest because of your name." + +"'So losing by the way the sacred gift of happiness,'" Celia repeated, her +eyes on the book. "What do you mean by belonging to the Forest?" she +asked, looking up. + +Rosalind seldom needed to be urged to talk on this subject, and she had a +sympathetic listener as she explained the Forest secret, and told how it +had helped her in the loneliness of those first days in Friendship. + +Celia was lonely and sad. She had held aloof so long in her proud reserve +that now there seemed nowhere to turn for the sympathy she longed for, and +Rosalind's little allegory, with its simple message of patience and hope, +fell upon ground well prepared. + +"Oh, Rosalind," she cried, "show me how to live in the Forest!" and with a +manner altogether out of keeping with the Celia known to most persons, she +drew the child to her. "I wish you would love me, dear," she said. + +Rosalind's shyness faded away. She forgot about the rose, and Aunt +Genevieve's words. Here was a new friend, one who cared about the Forest. +She responded warmly to Celia's caress, and when a few minutes later the +other Arden Foresters rushed upon the scene, the two were talking together +as if they had known each other always. + +"Miss Celia, are you going to join our society?" asked Belle, the ardent, +flying to her side and giving her a hug. + +"Don't stick yourself on my needle! I haven't been invited yet. Rosalind +tells me it is a secret society, and of course I am dying to know about +it." + +"Let's tell her," said Katherine. + +"Girls always want to tell everything," remarked Jack, causing Belle to +frown upon him sternly. + +"The magician has joined," added Rosalind. + +"Then I don't see why Miss Celia can't. Do you, Maurice?" asked Belle. + +"Listen, Belle," said Celia, laughing, and without waiting for Maurice's +reply, "there may be some difference of opinion as to whether I should be +a desirable member or not; suppose you go over there under the oak and +talk it over. Then if you want me I'll consider the question." + +This seemed a sensible suggestion, and the Foresters retired to the shade +of the scarlet oak to discuss the matter. Jack had meant nothing but a +fling at the feminine fondness for telling things, and was astonished that +his remark could be supposed to reflect upon Miss Celia; and as no one +else found any objection to the new member, they returned presently to +inform her that she was by unanimous consent invited to become an honorary +member of their society. + +"As honorary members aren't expected to do much, I'll consider it. Now +please tell me about it. What is its name and object?" + +Maurice produced the book and read, "'The name of this Society shall be +The Arden Foresters.'" + +"That sounds like Robin Hood, don't you think?" Belle put in. + +"'The object,'" Maurice continued, "'shall be to remember the Secret of +the Forest, to bear hard things bravely, to search for the ring, and +reciprocity.'" + +"What ring?" Celia asked, smiling at the queer ending to this article. + +"Don't you know? Patricia's ring. The one that is lost," Rosalind +explained, sorting her leaves. + +"I fear it is a hopeless quest." + +"Maurice," Rosalind exclaimed, "that is the word we wanted,--the 'quest' +of the ring. Let's put it in." + +"What does it mean?" asked Katherine. + +"A search," Celia answered. + +"Then why won't 'search' do?" + +"But 'quest' sounds more like the Forest," Rosalind urged. + +"More romantic," added Belle, adjusting her comb and tying her ribbon. + +"One word is as good as another if it means what you want to say," +insisted Jack. "They think they are so smart with their 'reciprocity,' and +they got it out of a book." + +Rosalind glanced at him reproachfully. "We looked in the dictionary for +the meaning," she said. + +"I see no objection to getting it out of a book. Most constitutions are +patterned after others, and reciprocity is a good word. Is there any +more?" Miss Celia spread her work on her knee and turned to Maurice. + +"Just the watchword 'The Forest.'" + +"I like your society very much and want to join if, as you suggested, I +can be an honorary member. I can try to bear hard things bravely, and +remember the Forest secret, although I haven't any time to give to the +quest of the ring." + +"Then let her write her name under the magician's," said Rosalind, +clapping her hands. "Now we have seven members." + +Maurice had his fountain-pen in his pocket, just as if he had expected a +new member this morning, and Celia signed her name in the book beneath +"C.J. Morgan, Magician." + +"He wrote that for fun, because Rosalind calls him 'the magician,'" Belle +explained. + +"I haven't heard that old title for many a year," Celia remarked, as she +waited for her signature to dry. + +"Now we have to choose a badge," said Belle. + +Rosalind spread out her collection of leaves. "We thought a leaf would be +appropriate," she added. There were beech, and maple, and poplar, and oak +in several varieties. + +"I think I should choose this," and Celia pointed to a leaf from the +scarlet oak. "Not only because it is beautiful in shape, but because the +oak tree stands for courage. A 'heart of oak' has become a proverb, you +know." + +Rosalind's eyes grew bright. "I didn't think of its having a meaning. I +like that." + +"And in the fall we'll have scarlet badges instead of green ones," said +Jack. + +There could be no better choice than this, they all agreed; and Jack +gathered a handful, that they might put on their badges at once. + +"On our way home we must stop and tell the magician about it," Rosalind +said, as she pinned a leaf on Celia's dress. + + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEENTH. + +RECIPROCITY. + + "Take upon command what we have, + That to your wanting may be ministered." + + +"Celia Fair, do you realize what you have done?" + +It was Celia who asked herself the question. She was suffering, as +reserved people must, from the reaction that follows an unusual outburst +of feeling. That had been a happy morning in the arbor; she had let +herself go, had listened to her heart and forgotten her pride, and in the +company of the merry Arden Foresters, the old joy of youth had asserted +itself. The brightness had stayed with her for days; she had dreamed she +could make a fairy tale of life, spending her hours in an enchanted +forest, and now had come the awakening. + +It seemed destined from the beginning to be a day of misfortunes. She woke +with a dull, listless feeling, and the first thing to greet her eyes when +she went downstairs was the woolly head of Bob, the grandson of her sole +dependence, Aunt Sally, waiting on the doorstep to impart the cheering +information that granny had the "misery" in her side mighty bad, and +couldn't come to-day. + +At another time it might not have mattered so much, for the boys were away +from home, and breakfast for two did not offer any insuperable +difficulties to Celia, but there were currants and raspberries waiting to +be made into jelly and preserves. To complicate matters, Mrs. Fair had one +of her severe headaches. + +The fruit would not keep another day, and Celia couldn't leave the house +to go down the hill in search of help, even if she had known just where to +seek it. After making her mother as comfortable as possible, she began on +the currants with sombre energy. + +"May I come in, Miss Celia? Will you lend me a cup?" It was Jack who stood +in the door. + +"Help yourself," she replied, "I am too busy to stop." + +"We want to get some water from the spring," he explained. "Aren't you +coming over to-day?" + +Celia shook her head. + +Jack surveyed the piles of fruit. "Jiminy! have you all this to do?" + +"Yes; Aunt Sally is sick this morning, and it can't wait." + +Jack disappeared, leaving Celia to her gloomy thoughts, but ten minutes +had not passed before he was back again, accompanied by the other Arden +Foresters. + +"We have come to help," they announced. + +For a moment Celia was annoyed. She had made up her mind to be a martyr +and did not care to be disturbed. + +"Indeed, you can't," she said. "I am very much obliged, but you would +stain yourselves, and--" + +"Give us some aprons," interrupted Belle. "Mother lets us help her." + +Maurice added, "It is reciprocity, Miss Celia." + +Celia's ill temper wavered and went down before the row of bright faces. +"Well, perhaps you may help if you really want to, but it is tiresome +work." + +They did not seem to find it so, as they sat around the table on the +porch, carefully done up in checked aprons, three of them at work on the +raspberries, and two helping Celia with the currants. + +Each wore a fresh oak leaf, and nothing would do but Rosalind must run +back to get one for Miss Celia; and there must have been magic in it, so +suddenly did Celia's courage revive. + +"I feel better," she said, stopping to turn the leaves of the cook-book. +"Let me see,--'boil several hours till the juice is well out of the +fruit,'--Sally always lets it drip over night into the big stone jar. I +shall have these currants out of the way by dinner-time. You are really a +great help. I wish there was something I could do for you." + +"Tell us a story, Miss Celia," Belle suggested promptly. + +"I don't know any." + +"Something about when you were a little girl," said Katherine. + +Celia hesitated. "The only story I know is about a magician and a tiger, +Rosalind's calling Morgan 'the magician' reminded me of it." + +"I love magicians and tigers," Rosalind remarked. "Do you remember the +picture I told you about, Maurice? Do tell it to us, Miss Celia." + +Celia wondered afterward how she could have done it, but now she thought +of nothing but her desire to please the children, so she began:-- + +"Once there was a little girl who loved fairy tales and believed with all +her heart in fairies, magicians, and ogres. In the town where she had +recently come to live she had a playmate, a boy, who laughed at her for +thinking there were such creatures in the world, and the two often argued +the matter. + +"One day this little girl was sitting on the fence looking up at the sky +and wishing something would happen, when she heard the boy calling her. +She answered, and he came running across the grass and climbed up beside +her, and with an air of great mystery told her he knew a secret. Of course +the little girl was anxious to hear it, and of course the boy tried to +tease her by refusing to tell. But by and by he could keep it no longer, +and in tones of awe he whispered that he knew a magician who lived in +their very town. + +"The little girl clapped her hands; for if her playmate believed in +magicians, he must surely come to believe in fairies too. + +"The boy went on to explain that this magician appeared exactly like other +men, so that few guessed his mysterious power. He lived in a house quite +like other houses except that its door was painted black; but behind this +door lay a tiger, always ready to spring upon any one who tried to enter. +On this great tiger in some way depended the magician's power. + +"There had been a fire in the village recently, which, the boy said, had +been caused by the magician, as well as certain other calamities, such as +scarlet-fever and measles, and the time had come when this must be +stopped. The boy claimed to have discovered--he did not say how--that the +magician's tiger had three white whiskers, all the rest being black, and +in these white whiskers resided all his power. If in any way they could be +removed, he and his master would be harmless forevermore. + +"But how was this to be done? the little girl wanted to know, feeling +deeply impressed meanwhile by the tragedy of the situation. + +"The only way, the boy replied, was to catch the tiger while he slept, and +then--a snip of the scissors, and he could do no more harm. The little +girl had some round-pointed scissors hanging from a ribbon around her +neck, for she was fond of cutting things; she took them in her hand now +and looked at them with a shiver as the boy added in a tragic whisper, +'_We_ must do it!' + +"Although she was very much afraid, she never thought of objecting. It was +her duty, and she had great confidence in her companion. He could do many +things she couldn't do, and he was ten and she only six; so when he +examined the scissors and said they would answer, without a word of +objection she slipped down from the fence and trotted beside him. + +"It seemed quite natural that the way should be over fences and through +back yards instead of along the street. They climbed rails and squeezed +through hedges until the little girl was breathless and had not the least +idea where she was, when she found herself in a narrow garden-path, on +either side of which grew hollyhocks and sunflowers. + +"'There is the door,' the boy whispered; and--yes--at the end of the path +she saw the black door. + +"'This is the hour when he sleeps,' the boy said, in thrilling tones, +looking at an imaginary watch. 'We have timed it well. I will open the +door softly, and you have your scissors ready; I will hold him while you +cut off the whiskers.' The little girl's heart almost stopped beating, but +she had no thought of running away. + +"They reached the door; the boy had his hand on the knob. He was opening +it very gently--when something happened! He stumbled, or his hand slipped. +It flew open and there before them stood the magician, brandishing a +glittering sword, and beside him were the gleaming eyes of a tiger. + +"With a cry of terror the little girl fell all in a heap, grasping her +scissors, shutting her eyes tight till all should be over. Then some one +picked her up and asked if she was hurt, and slowly gaining courage she +opened her eyes and looked into the kind face of Morgan, the +cabinet-maker. At his side was Tiger, the great striped cat, and on the +work-bench lay his shining saw. The boy stood by, laughing." + +"I thought he must be fooling her," remarked Katherine, in a tone of +relief. + +"You don't mean it!" said Maurice, with fine sarcasm. + +"But finish, Miss Celia," begged Rosalind. "What did the little girl +think?" + +"I believe for a long time she was greatly puzzled. There seemed to have +been magic somewhere. She examined Tiger's whiskers and found them all +black, and this made her think it possible that some one else had cut out +the white ones, and thus turned him into a harmless cat. She felt a little +uneasy at times, for fear the cabinet-maker would turn again into the +wicked magician, but it never happened." + +"And did she go on believing in fairies?" Rosalind asked. + +"Oh, yes, for a while. I am not sure she doesn't yet." + +"Cousin Louis says that is one of the advantages of the 'Forest of Arden,' +you can believe in all those delightful things." + +"Were there fairies there?" asked Belle. "I don't remember any." + +"There would have been if occasion had called for them," Celia answered. + +"But you don't want to believe things if they aren't true, do you?" +Katherine looked puzzled. "I wish there were fairies now, but I know there +aren't." + +"You can't prove there aren't," asserted Jack, mischievously. + +"Why, Jack, you know there aren't any fairies really." + +"I said you couldn't prove it." + +"How can you say they do not exist unless you have seen one not existing? +Isn't that the argument in 'Water Babies'?" laughed Celia, as she carried +the currants into the kitchen. "It is the difference between fact and +fancy, Katherine," she said, coming back. + +"I love to pretend things," said Rosalind. + +"So do I," echoed Belle. + +"Fancy does more than that, it really makes things beautiful. For +instance, it makes the difference between a plain, straight letter such as +you see in the newspaper and such a letter as I was embroidering +yesterday. Some one's fancy saw the plain S ornamented with curving lines +and sprays of flowers, and so it came to be made so." + +"That makes me think of those beautiful books the monks used to make," +said Maurice. + +"The illuminated manuscripts, you mean? That word expresses what fancy +does for us,--it illuminates the plain facts, and fills them with beauty." + +"Oh, Miss Celia, that is a lovely idea," cried Rosalind. "I must remember +it to tell Cousin Louis." + +"I fear be wouldn't find it very new," Celia answered, smiling. + +By noon the fruit was all picked over, and as Celia stood at the gate +watching her helpers out of sight, old Sally came laboring up the walk. + +"Law, honey, look like I couldn't rest from studyin' how you was gwine to +git them berries done, an' I 'lowed, misery or no misery, I was comin' to +help you," she announced. + + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH. + +A NEW COMRADE. + +"I know you are a gentleman of good conceit." + + +Rosalind and Maurice sat on the garden bench discussing "The Young +Marooners," one of the story books found in the garret. + +"I shouldn't like to be carried off by a big fish as they were, but I do +think some sort of an adventure would be interesting. Don't you?" asked +Rosalind. + +"We'll have to do something," Maurice agreed, "Don't you wish we could get +inside the Gilpin house? Mr. Wells, the teller in our bank, sleeps there. +I wish he would drop the key." + +"Grandmamma says it will be open for people to go through before the sale, +but then it will be too late to look for the ring. Belle is so good at +thinking of things, I wish she would find a way for us to get in," +Rosalind added. + +A bell was heard ringing on the other side of the hedge, and Maurice +rose. "Dinner is ready," he said. + +Rosalind walked to the gate with him. "Uncle Allan is coming to-morrow," +she remarked, "and I just wonder what he is like." + +Turning toward the house again, she became aware of a stranger standing +beside the griffins. He was not waiting to get in, for the door was open +behind him, and furthermore he had the air of being at home. Something in +his height and the breadth of his shoulders suggested her father, and as +she drew nearer a certain resemblance to Aunt Genevieve developed. + +He watched her approach with a look of puzzled interest. "Surely, this +isn't Rosalind," he said. + +Rosalind paused on the bottom step. "Why, yes, it is. Are you Uncle +Allan?" + +"A great tall girl like you my niece? Pat's daughter? Impossible!" There +was a twinkle in his eye. Clearly, Uncle Allan was a tease. + +"I suppose I shall have to be identified," said Rosalind, merrily. + +"I begin to see a look of Pat about you." He came down the steps now and +took her hand. "Let's sit here and get acquainted," he said, leading the +way to the bench under the birch tree. + +Two pairs of eyes, the brown and the gray, looked into each other steadily +and soberly for a few seconds, then a dimple began to make itself visible +in Rosalind's check, whereat the brown eyes twinkled again. "Well, what do +you think of me?" they asked. + +"You aren't much like Great-uncle Allan," said Rosalind, laughing. + +"Heavens! was that your idea of me? And I expected you to be a child of +tender age, although I should have known better. It is nearly fourteen +years since Pat went away." + +"Uncle Allan, did you know my mother?" It was the first time Rosalind had +mentioned her mother since she had been in Friendship. She could not have +explained her silence any more than she could this sudden question. + +"I did not know her, Rosalind. I wish I might have. I saw her once, and I +have never forgotten her face." + +"I can remember her just a little, but father and Cousin Louis have told +me about her, and I have her picture." + +"I think," said Uncle Allan, confidently, "that we are going to be +friends. Tell me how you like Friendship." + +"I like it now. I was dreadfully lonely at first, till things began to +happen. Then there was Cousin Betty's tea party, where I met Belle and +Jack and the rest, and now--oh, I like it very much! It is a funny place. +Aunt Genevieve says you don't like it any better than she does." +Rosalind's tone was questioning. + +"I believe it does seem rather a stupid old town," he acknowledged. "What +do you find interesting about it?" + +"There is the magician and his shop; and the out of doors is so +beautiful--almost like the country; and the houses are different from +those in the city; and there is the will, and the lost ring." Rosalind +suddenly remembered her uncle's connection with the ring. + +He did not seem to understand, for he asked, "What ring?" then added, "Oh, +you mean the Gilpin will. Who has told you about that?" + +"Cousin Betty; and she told us the story of Patricia's ring, Uncle Allan, +don't you wish we could find it?" + +Allan Whittredge smiled at the eager face. "I can't say I care much about +it," he replied; then seeing her disappointment, he added, "It was a +handsome old ring. Should you like to have it?" + +"I'd like to see it; but of course it wasn't meant for me. Cousin Betty +said--" Rosalind paused, for the expression on her uncle's face was more +than ever like Aunt Genevieve, and he exclaimed impatiently, "Stuff!" + +She felt rather hurt. She had expected him to be as interested in the ring +as she was. What did he mean by "stuff"? And why didn't he like +Friendship? Rosalind fell to pondering all this, sitting in the corner of +the bench, looking down at her hands, crossed in her lap. + +After some minutes' silence she felt her chin lifted until her eyes met +the gaze of the merriest brown ones, from which all trace of disdain or +impatience was gone. + +"What are you thinking about so soberly? Are you disappointed in me, after +all?" + +Rosalind laughed. "I am just sorry you don't like Friendship." + +"Perhaps it is because I have been away so long. I used to like it when I +was a boy." + +"Can't you turn into a boy again?" + +"Perhaps I might, if you will show me how." + +Rosalind clapped her hands. "I don't think I am a bit disappointed in you, +and I am almost sure you will like the Forest." + +"What forest?" + +"I'll show you the book and tell you about it sometime; and then maybe you +will join our society." + +"This sounds interesting; I believe I shall like Friendship." + +Rosalind surveyed him thoughtfully. "I think I'll begin by taking you to +see the magician," she said. + +By what witchery did she divine that the shortest path to his boyhood was +by way of the magician's? + +"The magician? Oh, that is Morgan, I suppose." Allan's eyes rested +absently on the drooping hydrangea a few feet away. + +Presently a soft hand stole beneath his chin, and Rosalind demanded +merrily, as she tried to turn his face to hers, "What are you thinking +about? Are you disappointed in me?" + +"Not terribly," her uncle replied, and seizing the hand he drew her to +him and gave her the kiss of friendship and good-fellowship. + +Rosalind was fastidious about kisses. She reserved them for those she +loved, and received them shrinkingly from those she did not care for; but +in this short interview she had found a friend, and she returned the +caress with an ardor of affection pretty to see. + +Martin, announcing lunch, interrupted their talk, and, hand in hand, +Rosalind and her new comrade walked to the house. In the exuberance of her +content, she patted one of the griffins as she passed. Her uncle observed +it. + +"Have you ever noticed the resemblance between Uncle Allan Barnwell and +the griffins?" he asked. + +The idea amused Rosalind greatly, and as she took her seat at the table, +the sight of the haughtily poised head and eagle eyes of the portrait made +her laugh. Things were indeed taking a turn when that stern face caused +amusement. + +With Uncle Allan at the foot of the table, luncheon was transformed into a +festive occasion. Masculine tones were almost startling from their +novelty; Rosalind found herself forgetting to eat. Grandmamma was +wonderfully bright, and Aunt Genevieve showed a languid animation most +unusual. + +"It was like you, Allan, after putting us off so long, to end by +surprising us," his sister said. + +"I trust you intend to stay for a while," his mother added, almost +wistfully. + +Genevieve laughed half scornfully, as if she considered this a forlorn +hope. + +Allan looked at her a moment before he replied, "I don't know; I shall +probably be here some time." He had more than half promised his friend +Blanchard to join him in a trip over the Canadian Pacific in August. At +present he felt inclined to give it up and remain in Friendship. He would +not commit himself. + +He thought it over lazily after lunch, resting in the sleepy-hollow chair +by the east window in the room that had been his ever since he graduated +from the nursery. All about him were devices for comfort and adornment +that spoke of his mother's hand. She knew the sort of thing he liked,--his +handsome, unhappy mother. It was a shame to leave her so much alone; yet +she never complained, but seemed always self-sufficient and independent. + +And then Allan began to reflect on the singular fact that he was seldom +quite at ease with his mother, although he admired her, and at one time +had been very much under her influence. If he had ceased to care for his +home, it was her fault for sending him away for so long. "Poor mother!" he +thought. "We have all disappointed her; but she was never quite fair to +any of us. She wanted us to go her way, and, being her children, we +preferred our own." + +The sound of Rosalind's voice floated in at the window. He looked out. She +was crossing the lawn, after an interview with Katherine through the +hedge. + +"When are we to begin?" he called. + +"Whenever you like," she answered. + +He went down and joined her in the garden, thinking what a difference she +made in the place. He had not supposed a girl of twelve could be so +charming; but then, she was his brother's daughter, with something of her +father about her, and he had felt a little boy's admiration for this older +brother. + +Rosalind told him it was almost like having father or Cousin Louis to talk +to; and as they wandered about the garden Allan found himself feeling +flattered at her evident pleasure in his society. + +She brought out her treasured book to show him, and explained about the +Forest; and Allan listened absently, noting the soft curve of her cheek +and the length of the dark lashes, his memory going back to that one +occasion when he had seen the gentle and lovely girl who was afterward his +brother's wife. + +"And now we must go to the magician's," said Rosalind. + +Not many of the inhabitants of Friendship were abroad in the middle of a +summer afternoon, and they had the street almost to themselves when they +set out. The quiet, the bowed shutters, the deserted porches, suggested a +universal nap. Allan looked up at the tall maples, whose branches met +across the road just as they had done in his childhood. Truly, there was a +charm about the old town, with its homelike dwellings and generous +gardens, he acknowledged to himself. "I believe we are the only people +awake," he remarked. + +"The magician will be awake," Rosalind replied; and so he was, rubbing +down the clock case to-day, but by no means too much occupied for company, +and he welcomed his visitors cordially, saying Allan was one of his boys. + +Rosalind was amazed at the ease and rapidity with which her uncle talked +with the cabinet-maker. + +"Have you come home to stay this time, Mr. Allan?" Morgan asked. + +Allan laughed, and said he did not know about that. + +"Two--four--eight years--" the magician told them off on his fingers, +shaking his head. "Too long. Take root somewhere, Mr. Allan; too much +travel spoils you. Your father loved Friendship." + +"Yes," said Allan, gravely. + +"You make him join the society," Morgan said, turning to Rosalind. + +"He means our secret society," she explained. "He belongs, and he has our +motto on the wall," and she drew her uncle to the door of the back room +and pointed it out. + +"Oh, I remember Morgan's motto, 'Good in everything.' Does one have to +subscribe to that in order to join this society?" + +[Illustration: "THEY CROSSED OVER TO SPEAK TO HER."] + +"That is one thing." + +"If there are many such requirements, I fear I shall prove not eligible." + +"Does that mean you can't join?" Rosalind asked, looking disappointed. + +"Well, I'll consider it. I'll try to be broad-minded and practise +believing impossible things, like Alice." + +"'Six impossible things before breakfast,'" quoted Rosalind. "I am so glad +you know Alice; but it was the White Queen, wasn't it?" + +"I shouldn't wonder if it was," Allan answered, laughing. + +They went out to the little garden to see the sweet peas and nasturtiums, +and the magician insisted upon gathering some. While they waited Rosalind +told her uncle about the time she took tea with him. + +When at last they left the shop, Miss Betty was standing in her door, and +they crossed over to speak to her. + +"Well, Allan, I am glad to see you at last," she said, coming down the +walk to meet them. + +"You do not appear to have pined away in my absence," he replied, shaking +hands. + +Miss Betty shrugged her shoulders. "I was never much on pining, but my +curiosity has been sadly strained." + +"What about?" + +"You know very well. That ring." + +"Now, if that isn't like Friendship," said Allan, laughing, as he followed +her to the porch and made himself comfortable in one of the big rocking +chairs. Rosalind sat on the step arranging her flowers and listening. + +"I would have you know I have something else to think about besides +foolish and unreasonable wills and lost jewels," Allan continued. "I +regret I cannot relieve the strain, but so far as I know, the ring has not +been heard of and is not likely to be." + +"But if it should be found?" said Miss Betty. "Stranger things have +happened." + +"Yes," said Allan. + +"Then the question is, do you know what you are going to do with it?" + +"That is a question with which I shall not trouble myself until it is +found. I am a lazy person, as you know, Cousin Betty." + +"I know nothing of the sort, Allan. Now, there is one thing you might +tell me. Do you know what Cousin Thomas meant, or was it one of his jokes? +Yes or no." + +"No," answered Allan, promptly. + +Miss Betty looked puzzled; then she laughed. "It is like playing tit, tat, +toe, to talk to you," she exclaimed. "I might have known you'd get ahead +of me." + +"I have answered your question as you desired; now let's change the +subject," he suggested gravely. + +Rosalind gave a gentle little chuckle. Miss Betty looked at her. "What do +you think of your uncle, Rosalind?" she asked. + +"You certainly have the gift for asking pointed questions," Allan +remarked, before Rosalind could speak. "I can tell you what she expected. +She had an idea that I resembled Uncle Allan Barnwell." + +"Gracious! You must be relieved. I could have told you better than that." + +"I didn't really think it; I only wondered," said Rosalind. + +Miss Betty laughed in a reminiscent sort of way. "Do you remember him, +Allan? But no, I fancy you were too little. He used to visit at our house +when I was a child, and I was never so afraid of any one. I suppose you +have heard the story of his wedding?" + +"I have a dim recollection of the story. Tell it to Rosalind." + +"Well," she began, "Uncle Allan was a minister, you know. A Presbyterian +of the sternest stuff, rich in eloquence and power of argument, but poor +in this world's goods. However, he judiciously fell in love with Matilda +Greene, the only daughter of a wealthy Baltimore merchant. As was natural, +Matilda chose for her wedding-gown a gorgeous robe of white satin, and all +the preparations for the event were on a lavish scale. When the day came +and the guests had assembled, and the bride in her beautiful gown and lace +veil appeared before the eyes of the bridegroom, Uncle Allan created a +sensation by sternly declaring that such a dress was inappropriate for the +bride of a humble minister of the Gospel. + +"And the meek Matilda, instead of telling him he could marry her as she +was or not at all, took off her satin, put on a simple muslin, and the +ceremony was performed. Uncle Allan always referred to his wife as 'My +Matilda'; and if the truth were known, I fancy she couldn't call her soul +her own." + +"I remember the story," said Allan, laughing. "We come of a stubborn +family. What would have happened if Matilda had asserted herself?" + +"He had her at a disadvantage,--the guests waiting,--but she missed the +chance of a lifetime," said Miss Betty. + +"Was Matilda fond of him?" asked Rosalind. + +"Let us hope so; at any rate she always spoke of him as 'My Allan.'" + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH. + +AN IMPRISONED MAIDEN. + + "The house doth keep itself, + There's none within." + + +It was plain to Rosalind that for some reason her uncle did not wish to +discuss the ring; nor did he seem to care whether or not it was found. It +was also plain that he did not agree with his mother and sister on the +question of the will. + +On one occasion when Genevieve made some scornful reference to the +probable motives of those who upheld the later one, Allan exclaimed in a +tone of irritation, "It is beyond my comprehension how you can have so +much feeling in the matter. I have seen no reason to suppose the old man +incapable of making a will. The testimony seemed to point the other way; +and as nobody except the hospital had anything to gain by this last win, +it strikes me as worse than absurd to impute motives of jealousy to +people who were only giving their honest opinion." + +"It must be because we are not blest with your truly amiable disposition," +Genevieve observed languidly. + +A smile flitted across Rosalind's face; her uncle had spoken with a good +deal of heat. Allan himself laughed. His fits of irritation usually ended +in this way. + +"Well, it is all over now, and we may as well make the best of it. You +shall have Patricia's miniature if I can get it for you." + +"Thank you," said Genevieve, really gratified. "I fear you do not know +what you are promising." + +Rosalind wondered how her uncle felt in regard to the Fairs, and she once +or twice mentioned Celia, watching him furtively meanwhile. There was, +however, no shadow of a change in his expression, and he made no comment. + +A vast difference was made in the house by Allan's return. He stood in no +awe of Miss Herbert, had no qualms about disturbing the drawing-room +blinds or leaving the front door open from morning till night,--a +Friendship custom which did not recommend itself to the housekeeper. A +high cart and a swift-footed mare made their appearance, and Rosalind was +often her uncle's companion on his visits to the farms belonging to the +estate. + +Allan was continually expecting his interest in Friendship to languish, +but it did not, and after a few weeks he gave up all thought of the +western trip. + +The middle of July saw Genevieve on her way to the North, and a little +later Miss Herbert went home on a holiday. After their departure peace +settled down upon the house behind the griffins. + +The Arden Foresters found the summer days none too long. They still met +Celia in the arbor now and then; and it was her stories of the Gilpin +house, of the ring and the spinet, together with the constant sight of the +closed shutters and doors, that led to an adventure one warm August day. + +"Important meeting at the oak tree this afternoon,--a discovery!" was the +startling announcement Rosalind found within the grass-tied missive on the +cedar when she returned from a drive with her uncle one morning. She could +hardly eat her luncheon for eagerness to know what the discovery might +be, and the sound of Maurice's low whistle further upset her. + +Mrs. Whittredge was rigid where table manners were concerned. Rosalind +might not be excused until every one had finished; and to-day Uncle Allan +dallied over his dessert, discussing business and the new mills with his +mother, while Rosalind's impatience grew. + +She looked up despairingly at the stern countenance of Great-uncle Allan, +and then at the placid smile of his Matilda, which seemed a rebuke to her +restlessness. "I wonder what you did with your satin dress?" she suddenly +remarked aloud. + +Grandmamma turned toward her in surprise, and Allan, deep in a description +of the manufacture of a new kind of paper, looked at her blankly. + +"Do you think it is polite to interrupt?" asked Mrs. Whittredge. + +"I beg your pardon, Uncle Allan, I was just thinking. I did not mean to +say it out loud," Rosalind explained, in great contrition. + +"Evidently you were not interested in my learned discourse," he said, +with a terrible frown, which was not at all alarming. + +The diversion, however, caused him to remember his pudding, and in a few +minutes Rosalind was free to join Maurice and Katherine at the gate. + +Belle, who had called the meeting, was waiting for them at the top of the +hill. + +"I thought you were never coming," she cried; "we have made such a +discovery!" And as they walked toward the house she explained that her +mother had sent her that morning with a message to Miss Celia, and not +finding her at home, she and Jack, who was with her, went over to the +Gilpin place to wait. As they wandered about the grounds, something put it +into Jack's head to try one of the cobwebby cellar windows, and lo! it +opened. Poking their heads in, they saw it was over a stairway, which +could be easily reached by walking a few feet on a ledge of stone. +Delighted with the discovery, they scrambled in, and making their way up +the steps found the door at the top unbolted. + +"Jack opened it and peeped into the hall, and then we were as scared as +anything, and ran, and oh! we had such a time getting out. Now, what do +you think of it? We can look for the ring really!" Belle paused, out of +breath. + +"What fun!" cried Rosalind. + +"Just what we have been wishing for," added Maurice. "I have been trying +to think how we could get in." + +Katherine was the only one who was not enthusiastic over the adventure. +She hung back a little and wanted to know what Belle had been afraid of. + +"Oh, I don't know. It was so dark, and mysterious, and creepy; but it was +such fun!" + +"We shan't mind if we are all together," said Rosalind, reassuringly. +"We'll pretend we are storming a castle to rescue somebody." + +If it occurred to any of them that it might not be exactly right to break +into a closed house in this fashion, the idea was quickly dismissed. + +Jack was watching for them, sprawled at his ease on the grass by the +window. He was rather proud of having been the discoverer of it. + +In the heart of the country it could hardly have been quieter than it was +in the Gilpin grounds that afternoon. Now and then some vehicle could be +heard going up or down the hill, or the whistle of a canal-boat broke in +upon the drowsy droning hum that was part of the summer stillness. There +was no one to interfere. Even if Celia brought her work to the arbor, it +was on the other side of the house, out of sight and hearing. + +The first obstacle the expedition encountered was the impossibility of +Maurice's getting through to the stairway with his crutch. It was plain +that it was out of the question, yet it was terribly hard to give up. +There was a spice of daring in the adventure that appealed to him. For a +moment he had a most uncomfortable sensation in his throat; and the old +pettishness returned as he thundered at Katherine, in response to her +reiterated, "You mustn't do it, Maurice," "I wish you'd hush. I know what +I can do!" + +"We are dreadfully sorry, Maurice, but you can keep watch and give the +alarm if any one comes," said Belle. + +Rosalind's oak leaf, as she stood before him, recalled him, and suggested +that here was a hard thing to be bravely borne. + +"Go on," he said; "I'll wait for you here. I don't mind." His tone was +almost cheerful. His ill temper came near getting the better of him +however, when Katherine insisted upon staying too. Katherine couldn't +understand that people sometimes did not want to be pitied; and she was +not very anxious, if the truth were known, to join the exploring party. + +There was no way of escape for her. The others were too urgent, and +Maurice did not want her. + +"There is an imprisoned maiden in the tower, and we are going to rescue +her." As she spoke Rosalind pointed to the garret window. + +"What fun! Come on," cried Belle. + +Jack had already wriggled in. + +"It is rather dusty, isn't it?" Rosalind peeped in at the cobwebs +doubtfully, but the thought of the imprisoned maiden overcame her dislike +to dust. "Her name is Patricia," she paused on the sill to say. + +"And we are going to release her and restore her ring, which a wicked +magician has turned into lead," added Belle, with sudden inspiration. + +"Why, Belle, I never thought of that. Perhaps it is the reason nobody can +find it," laughed Rosalind, taking one step on the ledge and giving a +little shriek of dismay. + +"You won't fall. Give me your hand," commanded Jack, with masculine +confidence. + +The damp gloom of the cellar was rather frightful after the bright +sunshine outside. No wonder Katherine crowded close to Belle and their +voices sank to awed whispers. It was a relief to step out into the hall +above, where the fanlight over the door made it seem less grewsome. The +dust lay thick on the Chippendale table and chairs, and from its corner +the tall clock looked down on them solemn and voiceless. There was no +denying that it was scary, as Belle expressed it. What light there was +seemed unreal, and the closed rooms when they peeped in were cheerless and +ghostly. + +They stole about on tiptoe, keeping close together and talking in low +tones. The library, where old Mr. Gilpin had been found unconscious and +where the ring had last been seen, was the most ghostly of all. Belle +paused on the threshold. + +"Let's go upstairs," she suggested. As she spoke she saw on the floor at +her feet a ring of some dull metal, such as is used on light curtain-rods, +but under the circumstances there was something a little startling in its +being there. + +Jack seized it, "Here is Patricia's ring!" he cried. + +"Oh, Jack, hush!" whispered Belle, as his voice woke a hundred lonely +echoes. + +"I'll tell you; let's take it to the magician--our magician--and ask him +to break the spell," said Rosalind. + +"Oh, I wish you wouldn't talk so," entreated Katherine. "It makes me feel +as if it were true." + +It was plain that nobody wished to be last on the way upstairs, nor was +the post of leader very ardently desired, so they settled it by crowding +up four abreast. In the rooms above they breathed more freely, and grew +bolder as they wandered about, recognizing things Celia had described. + +"Do come here," called Belle, from a small room, hardly more than a +closet, which opened from one of the bed chambers, "and see this funny +picture." + +There was one window in this room, and the outside shutters had round +openings near the top through which the light came. The others looked at +the print, and then Rosalind returned to a work-table that pleased her +fancy, Katherine following her. As Belle lingered, Jack, in a spirit of +mischief, suddenly pulled the door to. + +"Jack! Jack! please let me out," she cried. + +"Why don't you come out, goosie?" + +"You have locked the door. Please, Jack!" + +"It isn't locked," Jack insisted, but when he tried to open it he found +the knob immovable. + +"Maybe it is a dead latch," suggested Rosalind. "He is trying, Belle, +really." + +"Are you sure you can't open it from the inside?" Jack asked anxiously. + +"Yes. I can turn the key both ways, but something holds the knob." Belle's +voice was tremulous. + +"I am dreadfully sorry. What shall we do?" asked Jack, meekly, turning to +Rosalind, after their efforts had proved fruitless. + +"Couldn't we open a window and call to Maurice? He would go for some one." + +Jack acted upon this and opened a shutter of the hall window, but when he +looked out no Maurice was to be seen, nor was there any response to his +whistle. + +"I'll have to go myself," he said, "unless you'd rather go." + +"No, Katherine and I will stay with Belle while you go," Rosalind +answered, adding, "Jack, I think Morgan is working at the Fairs'. He could +get the door open, I am sure." + +"All right," said Jack, but as he turned to go Katherine began to cry. "I +am afraid to stay here," she sobbed, quite beside herself with terror. + +"Oh! what are you going to do?" came in a wail from the other side of the +door. + +Rosalind and Jack looked at each other. "Take her with you; I don't +mind--much," she said. + +Jack was disposed to argue with Katherine. "There is nothing to be afraid +of. You ought to stay with Rosalind," he urged, but Katherine was beyond +reasoning with her fears. + +"Never mind, if you hurry it won't be long, Belle and I can talk through +the keyhole." + +Very reluctantly Jack left her, accompanied by the tearful Katherine. + +"Belle, you aren't afraid?" asked Rosalind, softly, as the sound of +retreating steps grew faint. + +"Not v-ery," whispered Belle. "But you don't know how queer those holes in +the shutters look--like big round eyes staring at me. I have tried to open +them but I can't." + +"Belle, it is funny, isn't it, that there is an imprisoned maiden after +all?" + +"Oh, Rosalind, I know how it feels now. It is awful!" + +"I think I know a little about it too," said Rosalind, sure that it was +almost as bad to have that lonely, echoing house behind her as to be +locked in. "Did you remember your oak leaf?" she asked. + +"Yes, and I am not going to cry. Rosalind, we might have let Maurice in at +the door. Wasn't it stupid of us?" + +"Why, Belle! of course we might." + +Katherine and Jack meanwhile had made their way out, the latter requiring +a good deal of help, for getting in was easier than getting out. Jack was +very indignant with her for not staying with Rosalind, and treated her +with a cold disdain most trying. + +As soon as she was in the open air, Katherine bitterly repented of her +cowardice. She followed Jack meekly as he strode across the grass toward +the Fairs', utterly ignoring her. + +A sound of voices came from the summer-house, and Jack looked in to +discover Maurice talking to Miss Celia. He briefly explained the trouble, +adding, "If Morgan is at your house, Miss Celia, I'll go for him." + +"I think you will find him. But what a thing for you children to do!" +Celia exclaimed, "Who stayed with Belle?" + +"Rosalind. Katherine was afraid." + +Katherine, who lingered outside, shrunk back as he said this. Her tears +began afresh. They all thought her a coward. She didn't want Miss Celia or +Maurice to see her. She turned and ran away. + + + + +CHAPTER NINETEENTH. + +OLD ACQUAINTANCE. + +"And there begins my sadness." + + +Allan Whittredge, strolling up the hill toward the Gilpin place late in +the afternoon, became aware of a dejected figure approaching, which +presently resolved itself into Katherine Roberts, who paused every few +minutes to press her handkerchief to her eyes. + +"Why, Katherine, what is the trouble?" he asked, when he reached her side. + +She stood still, not answering, and with her eyes covered. No one was in +sight up or down the street. Allan drew her toward a convenient carriage +block and, sitting beside her, asked his question again. His manner was +winning, and Katherine, in great need of sympathy, sobbed, "They won't +like me any more." + +"Who won't?" + +"Jack or Rosalind, or any of them," came in quivering tones. + +"Why, what have you done that is so terrible? I thought quarrels were +unknown in the Forest." + +Katherine shook her head. "It wasn't a quarrel. I was afraid because it +was dark,--and Jack said I was a coward. He told Maurice and Miss Celia +so." The confession ended in more tears. + +Patiently Allan questioned and listened until he had a fairly clear idea +of the situation. Then he spoke with cheerfulness. + +"You all ought to be dealt with for getting into such mischief," he said. +"And now don't cry any more. Many a soldier has run away from his first +battle-field. If I were you, I'd own up I had been a coward and say I was +sorry. Do you want to come back with me, and see the end of this +adventure?" + +Greatly comforted, Katherine dried her eyes and decided to go with Mr. +Whittredge. Jack might not be so hard on her when he saw her under such +protection. + +By this time Jack had found Morgan and brought him to the Gilpin house, +where Celia and Maurice were waiting; and at Celia's suggestion he went +in and opened the side door, thus making entrance easy for the others. + +"How silly not to have thought of letting Maurice in this way before," he +exclaimed. + +The old house, a moment before so ghostly, now rang with the sound of +voices as Rosalind, leaning over the stair rail, joyfully welcomed the +rescuers. + +The magician had some tools with him, but be seemed puzzled at first as to +what the trouble could be, when Celia said, "I know what the matter is. +Belle, isn't there a little catch at the side of the lock that moves up +and down? Try." + +"Yes," answered Belle, after a moment's investigation. + +"Then push it up," said Celia, but before the words were out of her mouth +Belle had the door open and was being as warmly welcomed by Rosalind as if +they had been separated for years instead of minutes. + +Belle was really pale from the trying experience, and had to wink rapidly +to keep the tears of relief out of her eyes, while Celia explained the +accident. + +"You see, when Jack banged the door the catch fell and kept the knob from +turning. We have one that has given us a good deal of trouble." Then she +put her arm around Belle and reminded her that the way of transgressors is +hard. + +"But I wasn't doing anything wrong," replied Belle. + +"Everything came true, Maurice," Rosalind said merrily. "First Belle found +a ring, and then the imprisoned maiden was rescued; but her name wasn't +Patricia, after all." + +"I don't believe she wants to play the part again," said Celia. + +"Indeed, I don't," answered Belle. "Here is the enchanted ring, Rosalind. +Ask the magician to break the spell." + +"What children you are!" Celia laughed, and her face was full of +brightness as she descended the stairs with Belle beside her, the others +following. Three steps from the bottom she came face to face with Allan +Whittredge and Katherine. + +Celia hated herself for her burning cheeks as she bowed gravely. One hand +held her work big, the other was on Belle's shoulder; and if, us for a +fleeting instant she thought, Allan was about to hold out his hand, he +changed his mind. His manner was calmly, unconcernedly polite as he spoke +her name. + +"Uncle Allan, what are you doing here?" called Rosalind. + +Under the chorus of greetings and explanations Celia slipped away. Her +thoughts were in a tumult as she hurried across the grounds to her own +home. + +Her mother was on the porch with a caller, and Celia took her seat there +and went on with her sewing. The visitor remarked on her improved color, +and Mrs. Fair looked at her daughter in some perplexity, Celia had been so +pale of late. + +All the evening she worked with feverish energy, writing labels for fruit +jars and pasting them on, until no shadow of an excuse remained for not +going to bed. + +When at length she went to her room, it was to sit at the open window +gazing blankly out into the darkness. She had been telling herself +fiercely how silly and weak she was, but she had not succeeded in +conquering her unhappiness. Now she resisted no longer. + +She had not met Allan Whittredge face to face before for six years, +although since his father's death he had been frequently in Friendship. +She had known it must happen sometime, and had schooled herself to think +it would mean nothing to her, but instead it had brought back a host of +vain regrets. + +She had been happier of late. Association with those light-hearted +children had brought back something of her old hopefulness. That a chance +meeting with Allan Whittredge could change all this, humiliated her. + +"You haven't any pride, Celia Fair. It was your own doing." + +"I had to do it; it was forced on me." + +"And a fortunate thing it was. Do you suppose he would care now? These +years which he has spent out in the world--what have they done for you? +They have turned a happy-hearted girl into a bitter, disappointed woman." +So she argued with herself. + +Resting her head on the sill, she let her thoughts go where they would. + +"You are sure you won't forget, Celia? It is going to be a long time," +Allan had said. She was still a schoolgirl, and he just through college, +and no one but her father knew about it. Dr. Fair had shaken his head, but +he loved Allan almost as much as he loved Celia. Allan must do as his +mother wished and go abroad. Time would show of what stuff their love was +made, he said. + +She had been so happy. She had been glad no one knew. Her happiness was +all her own. + +Then had come Judge Whittredge's illness, the trouble about the Gilpin +will, and the cruel slander that had crushed her father. The brief letter +with which she returned Allan's letters and ring, was the result of her +bitter resentment and grief. In her sorrow over her father's death she +told herself her love was dead, and for a time she believed it. Now she +knew it was not so. + +"At least, I will be honest with myself. I do care. Perhaps I shall always +care. Oh, it is cruel to come so near happiness and miss it. But it is +something to have come near it. + +"O God, help me--" she prayed, "not to choose the desert way. I do not +want to be bitter and hard." + +As she lay back in her chair, too weary to think; through her mind floated +Rosalind's words, "Things always come right in the Forest." + + * * * * * + +It was after dinner. The sun had set, leaving the sky full of opal tints. +The delicate leaves of the white birch barely moved, so still was the air. +The whir of the last locust had died away, and the soft splash of the +fountain was the only sound, as Rosalind in her white dress flitted past +the griffins and joined her uncle on the garden bench. He welcomed her +with a smile, and smoked on in silence. They were too good comrades to +need to talk. + +After a while Rosalind spoke: "Uncle Allan, do you know Miss Celia Fair?" + +"I used to." + +Silence again. + +"I like her very much. I think she is sweet, and she bears hard things +bravely. Belle says, since her father died they haven't any money, so Miss +Celia works, and the boys are troublesome, and her mother is ill a great +deal." + +Another silence. + +"Uncle Allan, was it any harm for me to know her? Belle said there was a +quarrel, and Aunt Genevieve said, 'We have nothing to do with the Fairs.'" + +As he flicked the ash from his cigar, Allan smiled at Rosalind's +unconscious imitation of Genevieve's tone. + +"I see no reason why you should take up other people's quarrels," he said +gravely. + +Then Rosalind told him of her first meeting with Celia, and the incident +of the rose. "But I think now I must have been mistaken," she added. + +"Perhaps," said Allan, and again he smiled to himself in the twilight, so +vividly did the story recall the occasional passionate outbursts of the +child Celia, usually so gentle, so timidly reserved. + +That strange letter of hers had puzzled while it hurt. Far away from the +scene of the trouble, he could not understand the bitterness of the +strife. That for a village quarrel--some unkind words, perhaps--she could +break the bond between them--was this the Celia he thought he knew so +well? + +The wound had rankled, but after a time he told himself it was for the +best. Travel and study had broadened and matured him, and he could smile +now as he recognized, what was unsuspected at the time, that his mother +had planned these years of absence in the determination to cure him of a +boyish fancy which her eyes had been keen enough to detect. + +And yet--his thought would dwell upon her as she stood on the step, her +arm around Belle, the laughter fading from her face. Not the little +schoolgirl, but a woman, gracious and tender. + +Rosalind danced away to join Maurice and Katherine, whose humble penitence +had restored her to favor; and over the hedge came the sound of their +voices singing an old tune. On the still night air, in their clear treble, +the words carried distinctly:-- + + "Should auld acquaintance be forgot?"-- + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTIETH. + +THE SPINET. + +"Thou art not for the fashion of these times." + + +"Where are you going to put it, Celia?" asked Mrs. Fair. + +"In Saint Cecilia's room, I suppose," her daughter replied. Her father had +given this name to the sitting room which was her own special property, +and in which she would have nothing that was not associated in some way +with her great-grandmother. + +"I don't believe you ever enter it now," Mrs. Fair continued +discontentedly. + +"The spinet won't mind that; it is used to being alone," Celia answered +cheerfully, standing before the mirror, fastening an oak leaf on her +dress. It reminded her that even if her heart was heavy and her life full +of difficulties, she could still be courageous. + +"Things are sure to come right in the Forest," she had said to herself +again and again. Not because she believed it, but because she longed to, +and sometimes she did believe it,--just for a little while,--as she looked +from Patricia's Arbor across to that bit of sunny road. + +Since the adventure of the Arden Foresters the cellar windows of the +Gilpin house had been securely fastened, and its bolts and bars made proof +against more experienced house breakers than they. And now preparations +for the sale became evident. Circulars containing an inventory of the +things to be disposed of were spread abroad, and it was known that the +proprietor of the new mills, a stranger in Friendship, had been through +the house with the idea of purchasing. + +As she unlocked the door of Saint Cecilia's room, Celia could not help +remembering the days when she had looked forward so happily to owning the +spinet, and seeing it stand beneath her great-grandmother's portrait. + +From the cushioned window-seat, where there was a glimpse of the river +through the trees, she had loved to survey the calm orderliness of the +little room. At heart something of a Puritan, the straight-backed chairs +and unreposeful sofa, the secretary with its diamond-paned doors and glass +knobs, the quaint old jardinieres brought from China a century ago, +pleased her fancy. + +How Genevieve Whittredge had smiled and shrugged her shoulders! In those +days their half antagonistic friendship had not suffered a complete break. +She must have color and warmth and lavishness, and Celia acknowledged her +unerring taste and admired the beauty and richness Genevieve found +necessary to her happiness, even while she returned contentedly to her own +prim little room. + +It had been her dreaming place, and when dreams were crowded out by an +exacting present, she had closed the door and turned the key. It was so +much the less to take care of. + +"I don't see why Mr. Gilpin couldn't have left you some money," her mother +said, following her. "It would be such a help just now. How are we to keep +Tom at the university another year?" + +Mrs. Fair had a way of bringing up problems just when her daughter had +succeeded in putting them aside. + +"I think we can manage in some way, mother. Don't worry," she said. + +"But some one has to worry." + +"Then let me do it," Celia answered, smiling. + +Half an hour later she was standing by the spinet, absently touching the +tuneless keys, when a voice from the window startled her. It was Morgan, +who with his elbows on the sill, was looking in. + +"Better sell it, Miss Celia." + +Sell it! The idea had never occurred to her. "What could I get for it?" +she asked, going to the window. + +"Two hundred--maybe more." + +Two hundred dollars would be a great help toward Tom's expenses, but to +give up her grandmother's spinet? It took on a new value. + +"Let me have it to do over and I guarantee you two hundred dollars," said +Morgan. + +"I'll think of it and let you know," was Celia's answer. + +"It seems like the irony of fate," she told herself, "to have to sell it +almost before it is really mine; and yet when two hundred dollars lie +within my reach, I can't refuse to take them. Poor old spinet, it is too +bad to send you away. I shouldn't do it if I could help it; but you don't +fit in with these times. Or rather, you are helping me out; that is the +way to look at it." + +So it was that the spinet did not long keep company with the portrait of +Saint Cecilia, its original owner, but was harked away to the shop of the +magician and the society of the clock case and the claw-footed sofa. + +Here Allan Whittredge saw and recognized it one day, and questioned +Morgan. Allan remembered the prim little sitting room, and how Celia had +looked forward to owning the spinet, and it troubled him to think she was +compelled to part with it. When he left the shop he went over to Miss +Betty's. + +After talking for a while about other things, he asked, "Betty, is it true +that Dr. Fair left his family with very little?" + +"True? Of course it is. Have you just found that out? Celia is working her +fingers to the bone, and I wish I were sure those boys are worth it," was +her reply. + +"How did it happen?" + +"Well, I don't think Dr. Fair had the best judgment in the world when it +came to investments; at the same time, a lot of other people lost in the +West View coal mines. His death was a great shock; I loved Dr. Fair." + +"I too," said Allan. "He was a good man." + +"I don't know whether you know it, Allan. Perhaps I ought not to tell you; +but there was some talk of Dr. Fair's treatment having done your father +harm. I really believe your mother was out of her mind with anxiety, and +you know she disliked the doctor. He was dismissed, you remember; and this +was whispered about and exaggerated until I think it almost broke his +heart. Of course there was no truth in it--that was made clear in the +end--and his death put a stop to the talk, for everybody loved and +respected Dr. Fair; but it has been terribly hard on Celia." + +Allan sat looking at Miss Betty absently. "Terribly hard on Celia,"--the +words repeated themselves over and over in his mind. + +"This is the first I ever heard of it," he said at length. + +Miss Betty watched him as he walked away. "As usual I have been minding +some one else's business," she said to herself; "but he ought to know it. +Allan is a fine fellow." + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-FIRST. + +UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE. + +"Must you then be proud and pitiless?" + + +The book containing the constitution of the Arden Foresters lay on the +garden bench. The Foresters themselves were spending the afternoon at the +creek at the foot of Red Hill. All was quiet in the neighborhood. The bank +doors had closed two hours ago, and Friendship seemed to have retired for +its afternoon nap. + +Allan Whittredge unfolded the _County News_ and glanced over it, then laid +it on his knee and gazed across the lawn with a thoughtful frown. The +_County News_ presented no problems, but life in this quiet village of +Friendship did. His talk with Miss Betty had brought him face to face with +them. He was conscious now that his attitude had been one of complacent +superiority. He had held himself above the pettiness of village life only +to discover, as he admitted frankly, that he had been a conceited fool. + +His own indignation helped him to realize something of what Celia must +have felt at the cruel affront to her father. And his silence all this +while made him seem a party to it. It was an intolerable thought, but +Allan was not one to brood over difficulties; a gleam of what Miss Betty +called the Barnwell stubbornness shone in his eyes as he made an inward +vow to find some way to convince Celia of his ignorance of much which had +happened at the time of his father's death, and to gain from his mother an +admission of her mistake. The question how to accomplish this, filled him +with a helpless impatience. + +He took up the book that lay beside him and opened it. "The secret of the +Forest: Good in everything," he read. "To remember the secret of the +Forest, to bear hard things bravely--" He turned the leaves and saw under +Morgan's straggling characters the once familiar writing of Celia +Fair,--the firm, delicate backhand, so suggestive, to one who knew her, of +the determination that lay beneath her gentleness. Did Celia believe there +was good in everything? Surely not in all this trouble. Yet she was +bearing hard things bravely, if all he heard were true. It hurt him to +think of her carrying a load of responsibility and care. His own life +seemed tame from its very lack of care. + +He closed the book with decision. His task was to unravel these twisted +threads of hatred and misunderstanding, and he would do it. + +Meanwhile, he found time for other things. He began to cultivate the +society of the Arden Foresters, and to be a boy again in earnest. + +Boating on the picturesque little river was one of the pleasures of +Friendship. Jack Parton and his brothers owned a boat, the _Mermaid_; and +Allan now provided himself with one, which he delighted Rosalind by naming +for her. After this the _Mermaid_ and the _Rosalind_ might frequently be +seen following the narrow stream in its winding course, making their way +among water lilies and yellow and purple spatter-dock, between banks +fringed with willows and wild oats and here and there a dump of cat-tails. +What pleasanter way than this of spending the early summer mornings? And +then to find some shady anchorage, where lunch could be eaten and the +hours fleeted away merrily until the cool of the afternoon. + +With only three in each boat, it was light work for the oarsman; and as +rowing was something Maurice could do, and as the girls liked to take +their turn, it often happened that Mr. Whittredge had nothing to do but +enjoy himself. + +Allan smiled sometimes to think how much pleasure he found in the society +of these young people. He usually carried a book or magazine, but as often +as not it was unopened. + +"I suppose the real Arden Foresters did not read books," he remarked one +day as, after glancing through the pages of a late novel, he tossed it +disrespectfully into the empty lunch basket. + +They had eaten their picnic dinner and were resting in easy attitudes on +the grass,--Miss Betty not being present to mention spines,--in sight of +their boats, swinging gently at anchor. + +"Not any?" exclaimed Rosalind, to whom the idea of no books was a dreadful +one. + +"But they were in a story and were having lots of fun," said Belle. + +"And they found their books in brooks, didn't they?" added Maurice. + +"When you are having fun, you don't read so much, that is true," Rosalind +said, burying her hands in the mass of clover blooms Katherine tossed into +her lap. "We'll make a long, long chain, Katherine, and let it trail +behind us as we go home." + +"Give me your experience," said Allan, stretched at lazy length, with his +arms under his head. "Have you found that there is good in things +invariably?" + +"I like Mr. Allan because he talks to us as if we were grown up," Belle +whispered to Rosalind. + +"There is more than you would think, till you try." Maurice answered. + +"I think so. Uncle Allan," said Rosalind. "I shouldn't have had this good +time and learned to know all of you, if father had not gone with Cousin +Louis. He said if I stayed in the Forest of Arden, I was sure to meet +pleasant people, and I have." Rosalind looked at her companions with a +soft light in her gray eyes. + +"If it were not for you, we shouldn't be having half so much fun," said +Belle, promptly. + +"I think you would always have a good time, Belle," answered Rosalind; +"but I'm afraid if I hadn't come to know all of you, I couldn't have +stayed in the Forest much longer, though the magician did cheer me up." + +"Then the idea is, that it is only when you stay in the Forest that you +find the good in things?" said Allan. + +"That was the way in the story. Everything came right in the Forest," +Rosalind answered. + +"I believe," said Allan, "I should like to be an Arden Forester." + +This announcement was received with enthusiasm. + +"That is, if I understand it. 'To remember the Forest secret, to bear hard +things bravely--'" + +"And if you are an honorary member, like Miss Celia and Morgan, you won't +have to search for the ring," put in Belle. + +"The ring is found, and is waiting till the magician breaks the spell. You +know, Uncle Allan, he has hung it on a nail in his shop, by the door, just +as if he were trying really," Rosalind explained. + +"I think I shall ask to be taken on probation," Mr. Whittredge continued. + +"What's that?" asked Jack. + +"On trial. I might not do you credit, you know." + +The Arden Foresters refused to admit the possibility of this, and Belle +and Rosalind began delightedly to enumerate their members. + +They rowed homeward slowly, for it was up stream, and as they went they +unwound the clover chain, and let it trail far behind them until it caught +among the reeds and was broken. + +When they passed the Gilpin place, on their way from the landing, a stop +was made for a fresh supply of oak leaves from their favorite tree, and +Rosalind pinned one on her uncle's coat. + +"I invite the Arden Foresters to meet with me to-morrow under the +greenwood tree," said Mr. Whittredge, surveying his badge. + +"That's poetry, go on," said Jack. + +"I'll have to fall back into prose to finish. At the foot of Red Hill, at +half-past seven P.M." + +"What tree does he mean?" asked Katherine. + +"Under the greenwood tree is a poetical figure," Mr. Whittredge explained. + +"It will be dark at half-past seven," said Jack. + +"Of course it will be, and that's going to be the fun," cried Belle. + +"There will be a moon," added Maurice, who was wise in such matters. + +"And what are we to do there?" asked Rosalind. + +"That remains to be seen," was all the satisfaction her uncle would give +her. + +Anticipation was the order of the next day, and the hours of the afternoon +rather dragged. At dinner Rosalind could not keep her eyes from the clock, +while her uncle ate in his usual leisurely manner, smiling at her +quizzically now and then. + +"It will not take more than twenty minutes to walk out," he remarked, at +length, when the hands pointed to seven o'clock. + +Mrs. Whittredge looked inquiring. + +"We are to have a little moonlight party at the creek to-night. We shall +not be late, Rosalind and I," Allan added. + +"You are making a new departure, are you not? A picnic yesterday, another +to-night. You are really falling into the ways of Friendship." + +"I am only beginning again where I left off years ago, Rosalind is showing +me how," Allan smiled across the table, this time a smile of +good-fellowship. + +The August nights were cool, and Rosalind carried her cape with its +pointed hood, when, the long ten minutes having passed, they set out. +Maurice and Katherine were watching for them, and farther down the street +the Partons joined them. + +Under the trees that grew so thick, it was already dim twilight, but when +they reached the more open country react there was still a glow in the +sky, and over Red Hill floated the golden moon, attended by a single star. +On the little sandy beach beneath the bridge, where the water rippled so +pleasantly over the stones, a fire was burning, and before it on a log, +with Curly Q. by his side, sat the magician, whittling. + +"Is this the party? How lovely! What fun!" they cried, running down to +join Morgan and be received by Curly Q. with ecstatic barks. + +The magician was evidently expecting them, for he at once began +distributing pointed sticks. + +"What are they for?" asked Belle. + +This was soon explained. Mr. Whittredge produced a tin box from somewhere +and proceeded to open it, and Katherine, who was next him, said, +"Marshmallows." + +"Yes, this is a marshmallow roast," he replied; and fixing one of the +white drops on the pointed stick, he held it toward the glowing embers. + +The others followed his lead without loss of time,--the magician and all; +and Curly Q. sat erect and eager, giving an occasional muffled "woof" to +remind them that he liked marshmallows too. + +The rose tints faded from the sky; the moon sailed higher; and the glow of +the fire grew deeper. The Arden Foresters toasted and talked, and ate +their marshmallows, not forgetting Curly Q., and were as merry as the +crickets that chirped around them,--as merry, at least, as those insects +are said to be. + +When it was really impossible to eat another one, they built up the fire +for the pleasure of watching it, and sang songs and told stories, the +magician, with his elbows on his knees, looking from one to another and +laughing as if he understood all the fun. + +The glow of their fire and the sound of their voices could be seen and +heard far up on Red Hill; so Celia Fair told them, emerging suddenly out +of the darkness into the firelight. In her white dress, with something +fleecy about her head and shoulders, she suggested a piece of thistledown. + +The children gave her a rapturous welcome and proffered marshmallows; the +magician looked on smiling. Allan had gone in search of firewood. Celia +had been up the hill to visit an old servant who was ill, and returning, +with Bob for guard, had seen the fire and heard the voices. + +"At first I thought of gypsies, and then Rosalind's pointed hood suggested +witches, and it was only when I reached the bridge that I recognized you," +she said; adding, "No, I can't stay. Bob is taking me home." + +"Do stay; I'll take you home, Miss Celia," said Jack, as Rosalind bestowed +marshmallows on the grinning Bob. + +Celia hesitated, then turned, as if about to dismiss her escort, when +Allan Whittredge stepped into the circle and cast an armful of wood on the +fire. Celia retreated into the shadow. "I must go, dear," she whispered +to Belle's urging. + +A chorus of protest followed her as she hurried up the bank. She had +hardly reached the road when she heard her name spoken quietly, and +turning, she faced Allan Whittredge in the moonlight. + +There was some hesitation in his manner as he said, "I can understand your +wish to avoid me, and yet I am anxious to have a few moments' talk with +you, now or at any time that may suit you." As he spoke, a sense of the +absurdity of this formality between old playmates swept over him, almost +bringing a smile to his lips. + +Celia spoke gently. "I think not. I mean I can imagine no reason for +it--no good it could do." + +"But you can't judge of that until you know what I have to say. Something +I did not understand has recently been made clear to me and--it is of that +I wish to speak." + +"If it has anything to do with the--the difference between your family and +mine, it is needless--useless. I cannot listen, I can only try to forget." +On the last word Celia's voice broke a little. + +Allan took a step forward; "I do not think you have a right to refuse. You +should grant me the privilege of defending myself against--" + +Celia interposed, "I have not accused you, Mr. Whittredge; there is no +occasion for defence, I must say good night." + +Nothing could have been more final than her manner as she moved away +toward Bob, who waited at a discreet distance. There was no uncertainty in +her voice now, nor in the poise of her head. + +Allan stood in the road, looking after her retreating figure. He had +bungled. If he had begun in the right way, she would have been compelled +to listen. What could he do to obtain a hearing? After two years of +silence he could not wonder at her refusal to listen to him now. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-SECOND. + +CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE. + +"I sometimes do believe and sometimes do not." + + +"Belle!" called Mrs. Parton from the porch, addressing her daughter, who +swung lazily to and fro in the hammock, her eyes on a book, "I can't find +Jack, and I want you to take this money to Morgan. Your father reminded me +of the bill just before he left, and I haven't thought of it from that day +to this." + +"Oh, mother, can't--?" + +"Can't who? You know there isn't a soul to send but you, and I must have +this off my mind. Manda is helping me with the sweet pickles, and Tilly +has gone to camp-meeting." + +Belle rose reluctantly, tossed back her hair, and went in search of her +hat. + +"Be sure now to get a receipt," Mrs. Parton said, as she gave the money +into Belle's hands. "I am not afraid of Morgan, but the colonel is +certain to accuse me of not paying it if I haven't a receipt to show +him." + +Belle tucked her book under her arm and walked off. + +"Now, Belle," protested her mother, "why can't you leave that book at +home? Don't let me hear of your reading as you go along the street." + +"I won't, but I like to carry it," answered Belle, patting it lovingly. +She was deeply interested in the story, and begrudged the time it took to +walk to the magician's. Once there, she decided she would stay awhile to +rest and finish the chapter. + +The day was warm, and she strolled along in lazy fashion. The Whittredge +house as she passed looked deserted. The front shutters were closed, and +no one was to be seen. Rosalind had gone away with her uncle for a few +days. Belle amused herself by imagining that Rosalind's having been there +at all was a dream, and she succeeded in producing a bewildering sense of +unreality in her own mind. + +Morgan was not in his shop, but that he had been there recently was +evident, for his tools lay scattered about. + +After the heat of the street the shop was cool and inviting, and a corner +of an old sofa offered itself as a desirable spot in which to continue the +story. It stood against the wall, and with several other pieces of +furniture before it, was a secluded as well as a comfortable +resting-place. Belle settled herself to her liking and was at once lost in +her book. She finished the chapter and read another, and was beginning a +third when something aroused her. For a moment she couldn't remember where +she was, then with a finger in her book she peeped around the clock case, +which with a high-backed chair screened her corner. + +The magician stood in the middle of the room, with his back toward her, +gazing intently at something in his hand. Belle was about to come out of +her hiding-place when he stepped to the window, and holding the object up +between his thumb and finger, let the sunlight fall upon it, laughing +gleefully like a child over a toy. + +Belle drew back quickly. Was she dreaming still? She pinched herself. No, +she was awake, and in the magician's shop, and the thing she had seen in +his hand was nothing less than Patricia's ring! She had heard it +described too often not to recognize it. But how came it in Morgan's +possession? She sat still and thought. + +Meanwhile, after turning it over and over, and nodding and laughing to +himself in a way that would have seemed rather crazy to one who did not +know him, the magician disappeared into the back room, closing the door +behind him. Belle seized the opportunity to steal from the shop. It would +be easier to think out of doors. + +The little brown and white house across the lane was keeping itself +to-day. Miss Betty had gone to the city, and Sophy was at camp-meeting, as +Belle happened to know, so she went over and sat on the porch step beside +a large hydrangea. She must decide what to do. She remembered very +distinctly the circumstances connected with the disappearance of the ring. +Morgan had been one of the last persons to speak to old Mr. Gilpin before +the attack of heart failure that ended his life, but no one had dreamed of +suspecting him. Could he have had it all this time? + +Belle felt ashamed of herself for the thought. If there was an honest +person in the world, it was Morgan. She had heard her father talk of +circumstantial evidence, and how easy it was to draw wrong conclusions. +She was puzzled. One thing was certain, she had seen the ring in his hand. + +"Now, if he were really a magician, I might think he had broken the spell +on the ring we found in the Gilpin house," she said to herself. + +She must go back and pay the bill; for if she did not, her mother would +have to know the reason, and Belle was not sure it would be wise to tell +her about the discovery. Mrs. Parton acknowledged frankly she couldn't +keep a secret, and Belle was wise enough to see it wouldn't do to spread +the news abroad. + +"I wish Rosalind was here," she thought. + +When at length she made up her mind to go back, the magician was at work +and greeted her just as usual. Belle wondered if she had not dreamed it +after all. While he went into the next room to make change and receipt the +bill, she looked for the ring she and Rosalind had hung on a nail beside +the door. It was gone. Had any one ever known such a perplexing state of +affairs? + +The magician must have wondered what made the usually merry Belle so +grave, for he asked if she was well as he gave her the bill. + +As she walked slowly homeward, she noticed a large, dignified gentleman +coming toward her. He did not belong to Friendship, she knew, and she +wondered a little who he might be. He looked down on her benevolently +through his spectacles as he passed, and for a moment seemed about to +speak. Belle quickly forgot him, however, for the ring occupied her +thoughts to the exclusion of everything else. Even the story so +fascinating an hour ago, had lost its charm. + +"Does your head ache?" her mother asked, seeing her sitting on the +doorstep, her chin in her hand, her book unopened beside her. + +"No, mother; I am just thinking," was Belle's reply. + +She was trying to decide whom to tell. "I wish father was at home," she +said to herself. + +She went to bed with the matter still undecided, and the first thing she +thought of when she opened her eyes the next day was the ring. A +conversation overheard between her mother and Manda, the cook, added to +her uneasiness. + +"Miss Mary, did you know there was a 'tective loafin' round town?" + +"A detective? No, I did not. If there is, it won't make any difference to +you and me," answered Mrs. Parton. + +"Maybe it don't make no difference to white folks, but looks like they's +always 'spicioning niggers," continued Manda, with a shake of her head. +"Tilly 'lows it's that thar ring of old Marse Gilpin's." + +"Hardly," said Mrs. Parton, with a laugh. Belle, remembering the stranger, +wondered if it might not be true. + +Such talk among the servants of Friendship was nothing new. Since the +first excitement over the disappearance of the ring, it had broken out +periodically; but to Belle this morning it seemed a strange coincidence. +Suppose some one else had seen the ring in Morgan's possession? And now it +occurred to her to tell Miss Celia. + +On her way to the Fairs' she met the stranger again, this time in front of +Mrs. Graham's school. He was looking about him with an air of interest, +and as Belle approached he asked if this was not the Bishop residence. + +"It was," she answered, "but it is a school now." + +The gentleman thanked her and walked on. + +"I believe he is a detective," she said to herself. + +Celia was in her usual place in the arbor bending over a piece of +embroidery, when Belle found her. + +"Miss Celia, I have the strangest thing to tell you," she began, and then +unfolded her story. + +Celia listened in astonishment. "Why, Belle, it isn't possible--you don't +think--" + +"Miss Celia, I don't know. I saw the ring, and I know Morgan isn't a +thief, but I don't understand it." + +"No, indeed. Morgan, whom we have always known--who is honest as the day!" +Celia was silent for a moment, then she said, "Belle, it seems to me the +only thing for you to do is to tell Mr. Whittredge. The ring belongs to +him; he will know what to do far better than we, and he will think of +Morgan, too." + +"I would have told him, but he has gone away." + +"Gone?" + +Belle wondered a little at Miss Celia's tone; it was as if she cared a +great deal. + +"I don't think he will be gone long. He took Rosalind with him," she +added. + +"Then I should wait till his return. A few days more can't make much +difference. You have been very wise not to mention it to any one." + +But when Belle told about the supposed detective, Celia laughed and said +she had a vivid imagination, and that it was only a coincidence that the +old rumors should be revived just now. + +As Belle went down the hill, feeling somewhat crestfallen and rather tired +of the whole matter of the ring, she met Maurice and Jack. Jack had spent +the night with Maurice, and now they were on their way to the landing to +take some pictures with Maurice's new camera. They made no objection to +her proposal to join them, so she turned back, feeling strongly tempted to +tell her story to them; but she had agreed with Miss Celia that it was +best not to talk about it until Mr. Whittredge's return, and Belle prided +herself on her ability to keep a secret. + +The interest of deciding what view would make the best picture made her +forget the ring for a while; but as they sat on the edge of the dock +waiting to catch a sailboat about to start out, she suddenly said, "Boys, +I believe I saw a detective this morning," and she described the stranger. + +"Why do you think he is a detective?" asked Maurice. + +"Well, you know they always wear spectacles and try to look like +ministers," she answered confidently. + +"Pshaw! they have all sorts of disguises," said Jack. + +"I don't care, I'm sure he is one, and I think he is looking for the +ring." Belle pursed up her lips as much as to say she might tell more. + +"You are trying to make us believe you know something," remarked Jack, +with brotherly scorn. + +"I do. Something I can't tell for--well, for several days." + +"Who knows it beside you?" asked Maurice. + +"Just Miss Celia." + +If Miss Celia knew, it seemed worthy of more respect. "How did you find it +out?" asked Jack. + +"I can't tell you. It is a mystery; but, boys, I want to keep an eye on +that man and see what he does," Belle said impressively. + +"How about taking his picture?" suggested Maurice. + +"Just the thing!" Belle clapped her hands. "Let's go look for him now." + +Anything that promised some fun was hailed with delight. It had been a +little dull in Rosalind's absence. When she was with them nobody was +conscious of her leadership, but now she was away they were at a loss. + +They waylaid old Mr. Biddle, driving in from the country with a load of +apples, and demanded a ride which he good-naturedly allowed them, and they +drove down the hill in state. When they came within sight of the +post-office, Belle clutched Maurice's arm. "There he is," she whispered. +"Let's get out and wait for him. You have your camera ready." + +The obliging Mr. Biddle stopped his horse and let his passenger out. As +for the stranger, if he had known what was wanted of him, he couldn't have +been more accommodating. He came slowly down the steps of the post-office, +and stood within a few yards of the doorway, where three giggling young +persons had taken shelter. Maurice had time for half a dozen pictures if +he wanted them. + +"He isn't a detective," whispered Jack, "I'll bet a dime he is a +minister." + +"I said he looked like a minister," Belle retorted. + +"I am going to Burke's to get him to show me about developing," said +Maurice, as the stranger moved away, "Wouldn't it be fun if we could have +his picture to show Rosalind when she comes to-morrow?" + +"Is she coming to-morrow? Oh, I am glad!" said Belle. + +"Let's follow and see where he goes," Jack proposed, as Maurice left them; +and Belle nothing loath, they dogged the steps of the supposed detective. +She was both alarmed and triumphant when he was seen to turn into Church +Lane, but all other emotions were swallowed up in surprise when, instead +of crossing to the magician's shop, he entered Miss Betty Bishop's front +gate. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-THIRD. + +THE DETECTIVE. + +"'Twas I, but 'tis not I." + + +The next morning Belle and Jack awaited the 10.30 train, seated together +on a trunk on the station platform. Celia saw them from the door of the +express office across the road. Presently they recognized her and began to +wave, and then Belle came flying over to tell her how they had taken the +detective's picture and had afterward seen him enter Miss Betty's gate. + +"Why should a detective go to Miss Betty's?" Celia asked, much amused. + +"Why should he go if he wasn't a detective?" Belle demanded. + +"Why not? He may be an agent, or a friend," Celia suggested, laughing. + +A whistle in the distance left no time for argument. Belle flew back to +the platform, where Maurice had joined Jack. Celia turned toward home. + +She was more perplexed over Belle's story about the ring than she cared to +own. Not for a moment did she think Morgan had taken it; and yet he was +getting to be an old man and she recalled something she had heard her +father say about a certain brain disease that first showed itself in acts +wholly out of keeping with the character of its victim. Could this be the +explanation? + +It was a relief to know that it would soon be in Allan Whittredge's hands. +That he would do the kindest, wisest thing, she never thought of doubting. + +She had heard with a sinking of heart that he had gone away, and she +scorned herself for the sensation of relief when Belle added, it was only +for a few days. Celia deeply regretted the way in which she had met his +request to speak with her that night at Friendly Creek. Why could she not +have listened quietly? In these days she was torn by conflicting feelings. +The spirit of the Forest was slowly tempering the bitterness in her heart, +but it sometimes seemed to her that her loyalty to her father was +weakening. + +It was fortunate matters at home demanded her thoughts. Plans for the +winter, getting the boys off to school, and the many small cares of the +housekeeper left little time for brooding. + +At the station Belle, in her eagerness to be the first to greet Rosalind, +had to be dragged back out of harm's way by the baggage master, as the +long train swept around the curve. + +"You'll find yourself killed one of these days if you don't look out," +remarked Jack, descending from the trunk. + +But Belle gave small heed. "I am so glad you have come," she cried, +seizing upon Rosalind almost before she had her foot on the ground. "Such +lots of things have happened." + +"Aren't you glad to see me too?" asked Mr. Whittredge. + +"Yes, I am especially glad to see you, because I have something to tell +you. Something I can't tell any one else." + +"Bless me! this is interesting. Just wait till I find my checks, and we'll +walk up town together." + +Belle, however, was not destined to relate her story just then, for no +sooner had they started out, she in front with Mr. Whittredge, and +Rosalind and the boys following, than Mr. Molesworth joined them and began +talking about the paper mills. There was nothing for her but to fall back +with the others, and this was not without its compensation, for now she +could have a share in telling Rosalind about the detective. + +"It's all nonsense. I don't believe he was a detective at all, but it was +fun taking his picture," said Jack. + +"I'll have it to show you to-morrow," added Maurice. + +"Why don't you ask Cousin Betty who he is?" suggested Rosalind. + +Belle's deep sense of the mystery of things had kept her from thinking of +this simple method of solving the problem. + +"Of course we might," she acknowledged. + +"I want to stop at Morgan's a moment," Allan looked back to say. + +At the magician's corner Mr. Molesworth left them; but as it was only a +step to the shop, the secret still remained untold. + +Morgan seemed delighted beyond all reason at sight of them. He greeted +Allan as if he had been away years instead of days; and tapping his own +breast, he exclaimed, looking from one to another, "I am Morgan, the +magician!" Then pointing to the nail where the children had hung the brass +ring, he added, "I have broken the spell!" With this he disappeared for a +moment into the back room, but he was with them again before they had +recovered from their surprise at his strange manner; and now he held +something in his hand which he waved aloft gleefully. + +Belle began to understand that all her anxiety had been needless. + +"What does this mean?" asked Allan, as Morgan put into his hand a little +worn case. + +The children crowded around him as he opened it and disclosed the +long-lost, much talked of sapphire ring. In his delight the cabinet-maker +almost danced a jig, and continued to repeat, "I'm a magician." + +"It's found; it's found!" cried Rosalind. + +"And I knew it," said Belle. + +"Hello!" exclaimed Jack. "Was this your secret? Did Morgan tell you?" + +Belle tried to explain her discovery, but so great was the excitement +nobody would listen. It was really beyond belief that Patricia's ring was +actually in their hands. It was some time before they quieted down +sufficiently to hear Morgan's story. + +He had begun work on the spinet several days ago, he said, and upon +removing the top had noticed something wedged in under the strings, which +upon investigation he found to be the case containing the ring. + +"But where is the other ring?" Rosalind asked. + +The magician laughed and said that was another story, and he told how the +evening before the real ring was found, Crisscross had been seized with a +fit of unusual playfulness, and jumping up on the chest, above which the +ring hung, had begun to move it to and fro with his paw, presently +knocking it off and sending it rolling across the floor. He darted after +it under tables and chairs but apparently never found it; nor could the +magician, although he searched carefully. + +"So the mystery is not ended yet. We do not know what became of the magic +ring, nor how the real ring came to be in the spinet," Allan remarked. + +"It is exactly like a sure enough fairy tale," added Belle; and then she +whispered her part of the story, turning her back to the magician, for +fear he might see what she was talking about. + +"And how about the detective? Did you think he was coming to arrest +Morgan?" asked Maurice. + +Belle looked a little shamefaced. "I didn't know," she said. + +Mr. Whittredge wanted to hear about the detective, and was much amused at +her description of the taking of his picture. + +Rosalind as she listened held the ring in her hand--Patricia's ring. She +had thought a great deal about Patricia, and this seemed to bring her near +and make her more real--the young girl who had looked like Aunt Genevieve, +only more kind. + +"Let's show the ring to Miss Betty! May we, Mr. Whittredge?" asked Belle. + +Allan did not appear enthusiastic over the suggestion, but he did not +refuse, and followed the children at a distance as they raced across the +street. + +"There's the detective now," cried Jack, at the gate. + +"Where?" the others asked breathlessly. + +"On the porch with Miss Betty." + +Sure enough, partially shielded from view by the vines, in one of Miss +Betty's comfortable chairs, sat the stranger. + +"Why--" began Rosalind, stopping short, "it looks like--Why, Dr. +Hollingsworth! I didn't know you were here!" + +At the same moment the gentleman started up, exclaiming, "Well, Rosalind, +they said you were out of town. I am very glad to see you," and they met +and clasped hands like warm friends. + +"Children!" cried Rosalind, turning to her companions, "this is our +president, Dr. Hollingsworth." + +"And these are the young people who took my photograph yesterday," Dr. +Hollingsworth observed gravely. There was a twinkle in his eye, however. + +By this time Mr. Whittredge had arrived on the scene and was introduced. + +"So this is the detective," he said. + +The culprits looked at each other and meditated flight, but changed their +minds when Dr. Hollingsworth shook hands with them, and said he knew how +it was to have a new camera and want to take everything in sight, and that +he really felt complimented. + +Belle thought she wouldn't have minded, except for the detective part of +it, over which Mr. Whittredge made so much fun. + +The ring was exhibited, and the whole matter made clear after a while, and +Dr. Hollingsworth said he was glad to have figured in any capacity in such +an interesting occurrence. + +"And how in the world did it get in the spinet?" asked Miss Betty. "I +believe Cousin Thomas put it there himself, as a practical joke." + +Miss Betty might have been holding a reception that morning, so full of +people did her small porch appear, and so continuous was the hum of +voices. + +Dr. Hollingsworth, it seemed, had been in the habit of visiting in +Friendship twenty years ago, and finding himself in the vicinity, he had +made it convenient to call upon his old friends; but, as he said, things +had been rather against him. His college friend, the Presbyterian +minister, was away on his vacation, Miss Bishop out of town for the day, +and Rosalind, he did not know where. + +"And so there was nothing for me to do but loaf about that first +afternoon," he explained, "but little did I think to what dark suspicions +I was laying myself open," and he smiled at Belle. + +"Cousin Betty, you never told me you knew our president," Rosalind said +reproachfully. + +Miss Hetty laughed. "You see it had been such a long, long time, +Rosalind--" + +"That she had forgotten me," added the president. + +"Oh, no, I hadn't," she insisted. + +They all felt that they should like to see more of him, and that it was +too bad he had to leave on the five o'clock train. The last hour was spent +with the Whittredges, and Rosalind and Allan accompanied him to the +station. Here, while they waited, Rosalind had an opportunity to tell him +about the society of Arden Foresters, in which he seemed greatly +interested, and was saying he should like to belong, when the gong +sounded the approach of the train, and there was only time for good-by. + +"I shall be in this part of the country late in October, and may look in +upon you again," the president put his head out of the window to say, as +the conductor called, "All aboard." + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-FOURTH. + +AT THE AUCTION. + +"Assuredly the thing is to be sold." + + +Although the September days were warm, it was plain that summer was +departing. The flutter of yellow butterflies along the road told it, so +did the bursting pods of the milkweed, and the golden-rod and asters, +wreathing the meadows in royal colors. + +The potting of plants began in the gardens, housewifely minds turned to +fall cleaning, the spicy odor of tomato catsup pervaded the atmosphere, +and the sound of the school bell was heard in the land. + +It was always so, Belle groaned. Just when out of doors grew most +alluring, lessons put in their superior claim. To be sure, there were some +free afternoons and always Saturdays, but one did not want to lose a +moment of the fleeting beauty. + +Rosalind missed somewhat the constant companionship of her friends. Mrs. +Whittredge thought it hardly worth while to enter her in school for two +months, but at the instigation of Miss Herbert some home instruction was +begun. This Uncle Allan had no conscience about interrupting whenever he +wanted Rosalind for a drive or walk. As yet he said nothing about leaving +Friendship. A few brief sentences had been exchanged with his mother upon +the subject that weighed most heavily on his mind. + +"Has anything ever been done, any step taken, to correct the unfounded +report which got out at the time of my father's death, in regard to Dr. +Fair's treatment of the case?" he asked abruptly one evening. + +The color rose in Mrs. Whittredge's face, and she looked up from her work. +"I do not understand you. How do you know it was unfounded?" + +"For one thing, because I have taken pains to investigate. I saw Dr. Bell +in Baltimore." + +"May I ask why this sudden zeal?" His mother went on taking careful +stitches in a piece of linen. + +"For the reason that until a few weeks ago I knew nothing about it. Now I +cannot rest till the cruel wrong has been in some measure righted." + +"And you conclude without question, at once, that all the wrong is on one +side. But I should not be surprised. I have ever been the last to be +considered by my children." + +"You are not quite fair, mother," Allan answered gently, touched by the +unhappy bit of truth in this remark; "but I'll not defend myself more than +to say that I am not judging any one. I only wish the wrong on our side +made right." And he added, what he realized afterward had the sound of a +threat, "Unless it is done, I can never call Friendship my home." + +Here it ended for the time. + + * * * * * + +And now, after a week of rain, October began with perfect weather, and +from the strangers who flocked to the auction, attracted by reports of +Lowestoft plates and Sheraton furniture, were heard many expressions of +delight at the beauty of the old town. + +For two hours before the sale began, a stream of people passed through +the house, examining its contents, or wandered about the grounds, admiring +the view and the fine beech trees. Friendship itself was well represented +in the throng, but rather in the character of interested onlookers than +probable purchasers. + +Miss Betty was there to watch the fate of her silver, and Allan Whittredge +had brought Rosalind, who was eager to see for herself what an auction was +like. She hung entranced over Patricia's miniature, which with some other +small things of value had been placed in a glass case in the library, +until her uncle told her if she would select some article of furniture +that particularly pleased her, he would try to get it for her. This +delighted her beyond measure, and after much consideration she chose a +chest of drawers, with a small mirror above it, swung between two sportive +and graceful dolphins. "The little dolphin bureau," she called it. + +[Illustration: "SHE CHOSE A CHEST OF DRAWERS."] + +The sale was to begin at eleven o'clock, and silverware and china were +first to be disposed of. The long drawing-room was full of camp chairs, +and the audience had begun to assemble when Rosalind entered and sat down +in a corner to wait for her uncle, who was interviewing the auctioneer. +Two rows in front of her she saw Miss Betty, with Mrs. Parton and Mrs. +Molesworth. + +"Do you expect to bid on your cream-jug and sugar-bowl when they are put +up, Betty?" asked Mrs. Parton; adding, "How this chair squeaks! I wonder +if it will hold me." + +"I haven't made up my mind," was the answer. "It goes against the grain to +give money for what is really mine already. I can't get over the +impression that this is a funeral instead of a sale." + +"I wonder if the Whittredges will buy anything. I saw Allan in the hall," +said Mrs. Molesworth. She was a tall, angular person, with a severe +manner, a marked contrast to Mrs. Parton, with her ample proportions and +laughing face. "By the way, Betty," she continued, "what has become of the +ring?" + +"I know no more than you." + +The entrance of several strangers and some confusion about seats, kept +Rosalind from hearing any more of the conversation for a time. A portly +man completely blocked the way, and she began to wonder if her uncle +would be able to get to the chair she was keeping for him. + +When things were quiet again, she heard Mrs. Molesworth say, leaning over +Miss Betty and speaking to Mrs. Parton, "Why, she was an actress, wasn't +she?" + +"I don't see that that was such an insuperable objection," Mrs. Parton +replied, "In point of family she was just as good as he, perhaps a little +better. The colonel and I met a lady at Cape May who knew them well. This +girl was left an orphan early, and through the rascality of her guardian +found herself penniless at seventeen. She had inherited the artistic gift +of her family, only in her it took the dramatic turn, and necessity and +her surroundings all combined to lead her in that direction. Then just as +she was making a success she gave it up to marry--" Another interruption, +and Rosalind did not hear whom she married. + +Her uncle now managed to join her by stepping over the backs of chairs, +and it was not long before the sale began. + +From the start it was evident the city people had not come to look on. +Bidding was spirited, and Miss Betty's silver soon went "out of sight," +as Mrs. Parton expressed it. + +Rosalind was highly entertained, and whenever her uncle put in a quiet +bid, as he did now and then, she held her breath, fairly, for fear he +would not get what he wanted. + +To Allan there was an unreality about it all. It seemed so short a time +since he and Genevieve and Celia had been children together, taking tea +with Cousin Thomas and Cousin Anne. What a strange household the two had +constituted in this old mansion, where their whole lives had been spent. +As he thought of it, he felt he had an inkling of why Thomas Gilpin had +done as he did. Perhaps he had felt it would be better to have a clean +sweep, and thus make possible for some one a fresh beginning in the old +place. A fine substantial house it was, needing only a few improvements to +make of it, with its spacious, high-ceiled rooms and wide hall, a most +desirable residence. + +Rosalind's voice recalled him. "May I come again this afternoon, Uncle +Allan? They may begin on the furniture." + +The auction continued for three or four days. Rosalind became the proud +possessor of the dolphin bureau; and her uncle obtained also the miniature +of Patricia, for what seemed indeed an extravagant sum, but he had given +his promise to his sister. + +At the close of the sale on the second day, Allan went into the library to +examine some books. The throng of onlookers and buyers had dispersed; only +the auctioneer's assistants remained at work in the hall. Purchases had +been promptly removed, and the house already seemed dismantled and bare. + +Absorbed in his search for a volume not on the catalogue, but which he +felt sure was somewhere on the shelves, he became aware of Celia Fair's +voice just outside the door. The next moment she entered the library and, +going to the fireplace, stooped to examine the andirons. She had not +observed him. Should he go quietly out, or make one more appeal to be +heard? Allan hesitated. + +With her hand on the high mantel-shelf and her head against her hand, +Celia stood looking down on the vacant hearth. There was something of +weariness in the attitude. What a delicate bit of porcelain she seemed! +Allan had a sudden, illogical vision of a fire of blazing logs, and +himself and Celia sitting before it. + +He moved out of the shadow and she saw him; but though she stood erect and +tense in a moment, she did not, as he expected, hasten from the room. +Instead, she hesitated, and there was an appeal in her eyes very different +from the defiance of a few weeks ago. + +"I didn't know there was any one here," she said; adding, "Mr. Whittredge, +I have wanted to have an opportunity to say that I regret my rudeness. I +was unreasonable--I am sorry." + +The childishness of the speech went to Allan's heart. He was conscious of +keeping a very tight rein on himself as he answered, "Do not say that. I +can understand a little of what you must feel. But does it mean that I may +speak now and tell you that only a few weeks ago I first learned the +cruel, the unwarranted, charge against your father? I had not understood +before." + +Celia lifted her hand as if to ward off a blow, but she did not speak. + +Allan continued, "My silence must have seemed like a consent to it. And +now, can we not meet, if only for a few minutes, on common ground? Must we +be enemies because--" + +"Not enemies--oh, no," Celia said, looking toward the door as if she +wished to end the interview. + +"Then--you will think me very insistent--but there is something I must +explain to you. First, won't you let me give you a chair?" + +"Thank you, I'll stand," Celia answered; she moved, however, to a table +and leaned against it. + +"It is about the ring. You perhaps remember the wording of the will? +Before I left home to go abroad, so long ago, when I bade good-by to old +Mr. Gilpin, he said to me, with that odd chuckle of his, 'Allan, I want +Celia to have the ring when I die,' I replied that I hoped he would leave +it to you in his will. Again, as I was leaving him, he called after me, +'Remember, Celia is to have the ring,' It escaped my mind until I heard of +the will, then of course I remembered. I think he had a feeling that if he +left it to anybody it should be to a member of our family, and yet he +wished you to have it. Now we both know what the old man had in mind; +but, although things have changed between us since then, the fact remains +that the ring is yours." Allan took the little worn case from his breast +pocket and held it out. + +Celia looked at his extended hand, and shook her head. "I cannot take it," +she said. + +"But it does not belong to me; you must take it. You put me in an awkward +position by refusing." + +Celia's eyes flashed. "And how about my position if I should take it? Has +not all Friendship been speculating about the meaning of the Gilpin will? +Is not everybody wondering what you are going to do with it? What--" She +paused, clearly unable to keep her voice steady. + +She seemed about to hurry away when Allan intercepted her. "Forgive +me--wait--just a moment. I see now. I was unpardonably stupid. I am not in +the habit of considering what people say or may think, but I can see it +would not do. I seem to be always annoying you," he concluded helplessly. + +A faint smile dawned on Celia's face. "No one can help it; it is just an +awkward situation," she said, and left him. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-FIFTH. + +QUESTIONS. + +"They asked one another the reason." + + +Although the auction was over, the air of Friendship still vibrated from +the stir. Bereft of its treasures, the Gilpin house stood an empty shell, +facing an unknown future; for beyond the statement that he was from +Baltimore, nothing was known of its purchaser. + +"Why in the world should a man from Baltimore want it?" Mrs. Parton asked; +and the question was echoed on all sides. Not to live in, at all events, +it appeared, as weeks passed and it remained undisturbed. + +Nor was this the only unanswered question. There was the ring. Miss Betty +said it might as well have been left in the spinet, for all the good it +did any one. + +Allan had his own unanswered question; without doubt his mother had hers, +as had Celia Fair, but they gave no sign to the outside world, nor asked +any help in finding an answer. + +And now came a new excitement. Dr. Pierce, the Presbyterian minister, +announced impressively one Sunday that on a week from that day his pulpit +would be occupied by his distinguished friend, Dr. Hollingsworth. + +It was explained that he had been South on business relating to a bequest +to the university, and found it convenient to stop over on his way home. +Still, with several large cities within easy reach, his presence was an +undoubted compliment to the village, and Friendship began at once to +refresh its memory in regard to its expected guest. + +Mrs. Molesworth came across the street to ask Mrs. Parton if she had ever +heard Dr. Hollingsworth was not orthodox. + +Mrs. Parton had not, and seemed to consider it a minor matter, for she +went on to tell how pleasant he was, and how fully he appreciated the joke +of being taken for a detective by Belle. + +"I trust, indeed, it is not true," said Mrs. Molesworth, going back to the +original question. + +"Well, I shouldn't worry, Cornelia. He is not likely to do much harm in +one sermon," Mrs. Parton answered easily. + +Mrs. Molesworth shook her head. "You can never be sure. It is not for +myself I fear, but for the boys. I have tried to protect them." + +"If your boys are like mine, they won't get any harm from a sermon. I do +manage to drag them to church, but it is like taking a horse to water--it +is another matter to make them listen." + +Mrs. Molesworth returned home feeling that Mary Parton treated serious +subjects with undue levity. Mrs. Parton, seeing Miss Betty Bishop +approaching, lingered at the gate. + +"Well, Betty, I suppose you know we are to have Dr. Hollingsworth at our +church Sunday." + +She had heard it, but did not seem disposed to enlarge upon it, as was her +custom with a piece of news. + +"Cornelia Molesworth is worrying because she has heard he is not +orthodox." + +"She is not obliged to hear him, is she? Nobody can amount to anything +nowadays without being accused of heresy; however, I fancy Dr. +Hollingsworth can bear up under Mrs. Molesworth's disapproval." + +Mrs. Parton surveyed Miss Betty with a twinkle in her eye. "I declare, +Betty," she remarked, irrelevantly, "you are growing younger. You look +nearer twenty than forty this minute." + +"Perhaps it is my new hat," Miss Betty suggested; but surely she had +passed the age when one flushes over the possession of a becoming hat. + +Mrs. Parton laughed to herself as she went back to the house, "Do you +suppose that is why he is coming? Goodness! I wish the colonel was here." + +The news was discussed all over town that Monday morning. + +"What brings Dr. Hollingsworth here?" Dr. Barnes asked, meeting Colonel +Parton in the bank. "He is a friend of the Whittredges, I understand. +Anyway, it is a compliment to Friendship." + +"Friendship is a great place. He liked our looks when he was here a month +or so ago," and the colonel laughed his easy laugh. + +"More than likely he thinks we need a little stirring up," Mr. Roberts +remarked from his desk. + +"Did you hear the joke on my Belle?" the colonel asked, and proceeded to +relate the story of the supposed detective and the photograph. + +The Arden Foresters in their turn talked it over that afternoon, sitting +in a row near the red oak, which lavished badges of crimson and gold upon +them now. The October air was delicious. They had raced up the hill and +down to the landing and back again, for pure joy of moving in the +sparkling atmosphere. + +"I have something to tell you," Rosalind announced. "You must all come to +church next Sunday, for our president is going to preach." + +"Is that what you have to tell? because I knew it already," said Belle, +whose cheeks matched the oak leaf she was pinning on her jacket. + +"No, it is something even better than that. I have a letter to read to +you." As she spoke, Rosalind tossed a handful of leaves at Maurice. + +"That's right, wake the professor up," cried Jack, following her example. + +"Or bury him," said Belle, joining the onslaught. + +Maurice, who had been gazing rather absently into the distance, was +aroused to defend himself, and the battle resolved itself into a +hand-to-hand combat between the two boys. + +Maurice's crutch had been discarded, and his knee was almost as strong as +ever, although rough sports, such as foot-ball, were still denied him. He +had recently arrived at the dignity of long trousers, being tall for his +age, and Jack had immediately nicknamed him "the professor." + +"Now, boys, that is enough," Rosalind said, with decision; "Maurice is +waked up, I think." + +"Am I awake, or not?" Maurice demanded of the struggling Jack, as he held +him down and sat upon him. + +"Mercy, yes!" Jack cried, freeing himself with a mighty effort. "But you +must smile; I can't have you looking so melancholy. _Smile!_" + +In spite of himself Maurice obeyed the command. + +"That's right; now sit down and behave," Jack added, laughing. + +Rosalind took out her letter. "Listen," she said:-- + + "MY DEAR ROSALIND: I am coming back to Friendship in a + few days, and I want to ask if the Arden Foresters will admit a + new member to their circle? I am greatly interested in what I + have heard of it. I have been travelling in the Forest for a + good many years, with just an occasional lapse into the desert, + but I should like the right to wear an oak leaf and have my name + in the Arden Foresters' book, on the page with the magician's. + + "Hoping that this is not asking too much, I am + + "Yours affectionately, + + "CHARLES W. HOLLINGSWORTH." + +"Isn't that dear of him?" + +"Does he mean it really?" asked Maurice. + +"What is the matter with you, Maurice? Of course he does," cried Belle. +"He is grand! The detective," and she laughed at the recollection. + +"Rosalind is going home before long, and I didn't know whether we would +keep it up," Maurice said. + +"But I shall come back again next summer, and,--oh, I hope we aren't going +to give it up!" Rosalind looked anxiously at her companions. + +"Never!" cried Belle. + +"No indeed," said Jack. "I am an Arden Forester forever." + +"A monkey forever," growled Maurice. + +"That is better than a bear, anyway," retorted Jack. + +"Maurice reminds me of the day I first talked to him through the hedge," +Rosalind remarked, smiling at him. + +Maurice laughed. "I was pretty cross that day. I don't mean that I want to +give the society up, only we can't meet here much longer, and it seems as +if our fun was nearly over." + +"It will soon be too cold to have our meetings out of doors; let's ask the +magician if we can't meet there," Belle proposed. + +"What fun! I almost wish I wasn't going home. You must all write to me +about what you do," said Rosalind. + +"We shall miss you dreadfully," Belle said, looking pensive for a moment. + +"But she hasn't gone yet, so what is the use of thinking about something +that is going to happen, when you are having a pretty good time now?" +asked Jack, philosophically. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-SIXTH. + +THE PRESIDENT. + +"--And good in everything." + + +Friendship was without doubt a churchgoing community,--the different +denominations could all boast of creditable congregations on Sunday +mornings,--but on the occasion of Dr. Hollingsworth's visit, the other +churches had a mere handful to divide between them, while at the +Presbyterian church chairs had to be placed in the aisles. Such an unusual +event afforded a pleasing variety in the customary Sabbath monotony. +Something of a festive air pervaded the assembly. + +Celia Fair and Miss Betty Bishop, both deserters from the Episcopal +church, chanced to be seated together. Rosalind's urgent invitation to +come and hear our president preach, had brought Celia, and it was, of +course, for old friendship's sake that Miss Betty was there. + +"Isn't that Mrs. Whittredge?" she whispered to Celia, as Allan with his +mother and Rosalind passed up the aisle. "I don't know when she has been +at church before." Then at sight of Mrs. Molesworth Miss Betty gave a +slight shrug. + +A flutter of interested anticipation was noticeable when Dr. Pierce +entered the pulpit accompanied by the stranger, and it must be confessed +that the service preceding the sermon was gone through with perfunctorily +by the greater part of the congregation. After the notices for the week +had been given, there was a general settling back and recalling of +wandering attention as Dr. Hollingsworth came forward and stood in the +pastor's place at the desk. + +Mrs. Molesworth twisted her neck in an endeavor to see if he had notes; +Colonel Parton decided promptly that here was no orator; Belle smiled at +Rosalind across the aisle, thinking of the detective. + +In the president's gaze, as it rested upon the assembly, was the same +genial kindliness that had attracted Belle when she first met him on Main +Street. It seemed to draw his audience closer to him, to make of it a +circle of friends. His manner was simple, his tone almost conversational. +At the announcement of his text Celia leaned forward with a sudden +conviction that here was a message for her:-- + +"It is the Father's good pleasure to give you the Kingdom." + +Varied were the opinions afterward expressed of the sermon that followed. +What Celia carried away with her was something like this:-- + +"I shall speak to you this morning," he said, "upon a subject that touches +each one of us very nearly, from the oldest to the youngest; for whatever +our circumstances, whether we are rich or poor, learned or simple, whether +our lot is cast in protected homes or in the midst of the world's great +battle-field, our task is one and the same: to become citizens of the +Kingdom of God. This being so, we cannot think too often or too much about +this Kingdom, or inquire too minutely into its laws, or ask ourselves too +earnestly why it is that so few of us accept the gift in anything like its +fulness. + +"Although it is offered as a gift, there are conditions to be fulfilled, +difficulties to be overcome. Our Lord recognized this when He said that +the gate was strait and the way narrow, but He also said that this +Kingdom was worth any price, or was beyond all price, to be obtained at +any sacrifice. He emphasized this by a strong figure. It was better to +enter into life maimed, He said,--with hand or foot cut off--rather than +to miss life altogether.... The conditions of entrance into the Kingdom +are apparently so simple it is strange we find them so difficult. I think +they may be sifted down to two: love and faith,--the love from which +service springs, the faith that means joy and peace. If we are to be the +children of our Heavenly Father we must love, and we must have in our +hearts that joy which grows out of trust. + +"Jesus said, 'Seek first the Kingdom of God.' If we do this we need +concern ourselves with nothing else, and by concern I mean burden +ourselves. The daily round--the vast machinery of life--must go on, but +after all only he who belongs to the Kingdom is fitted to meet its +problems. He brings to them a calm confidence, a clear vision. His heart +does not beat quick with hate or envy. His energy is not weakened by +worry. His sight is not dimmed by doubt.... Perhaps some of you are +saying--what is so often said--that it is easy to preach; and you ask how +one can cease to worry when the path is dark before him; how one can look +upon the terrible problems of sin and suffering, and not feel their +crushing weight. If what I am saying this morning were simply what I think +about it, you are right to doubt. But these are not my words. Can you +believe that our Lord when He told His disciples to seek the Kingdom and +all other needful things would be added, was simply giving utterance to a +beautiful but impracticable theory? For my part, I cannot. + +"I would ask you to notice that Jesus founded all he has to say on one +great fact: the love of your Heavenly Father for you individually. Are you +struggling with poverty, perhaps? Your Heavenly Father knoweth. Try, if +but for a day, to put aside your anxiety and fix your thought on this. The +things you need shall be given, and you shall find strength for another +day of trust. + +"Have you been wronged? do you find it hard to forgive? are you bitter? +Your Heavenly Father knoweth. He will take care of your cause. Leave it to +Him; do not be afraid to forget it. Seek, ask, knock, that you may obtain +entrance into the Kingdom of love. + +"Are you crushed by sorrow or physical pain? Your Father knoweth. Cease to +fight against it. Come into His Kingdom. Suffering endures but a little +while; and if you will have it so, out of it will come a diviner joy. + +"Is the world full of dark problems? Your Heavenly Father knoweth. It is +His world. Your part is to do, not to despair. + +"Are you full of youth and hope and glad anticipation? Your Father +knoweth. He made you so, and in a special sense the Kingdom belongs to +you. The simple-hearted, the teachable, the joyous,--of such is the +Kingdom. Enter in, and immortal youth shall be yours.... Oh, if I might +help you to know the beauty, the joy, the peace of the Kingdom into which +we may enter now and here, if we will. Yet we go on our way, oppressed by +care, warped by envy and hate, our eyes blinded by what we call worldly +wisdom." + +Something like this was what came to Celia; and as she listened, forgetful +of her surroundings, it linked itself in her thought to the Forest +secret. + +It was not so much the words as the aspirations they stirred,--the new +belief in the possibility of high and joyous living, the new courage that +thrilled in her veins. She was still under the spell when after the +benediction Miss Betty asked, with a certain timidity, if she had liked +the sermon. + +Celia looked at her blankly for a second before she replied, "Oh, so much! +It was beautiful. I should like to know him." She turned away with a +smile; she was not ready to discuss it yet. She wanted to think. + +"He held my attention, I grant, but I don't call it a sermon; it was too +elementary,--it was nothing but a talk," she heard Mrs. Molesworth saying. + +"If it wasn't a sermon, it was something better," answered cheery Mrs. +Parton. + +"Most magnetic speaker," the colonel was remarking to some one. + +And now Rosalind and Belle claimed Celia's attention, demanding to know +what she thought of the detective; and she must come back to earth and +listen and reply and enter into their gayety--an easier matter, to be +sure, than responding to the comments of grown people. + +The next morning, on her way to class, Celia met Miss Betty and Dr. +Hollingsworth walking up the hill toward the Gilpin house, and Miss Betty +stopped and presented her companion. + +After some moments' chat about other things, as they were separating, +Celia said, "I want to thank you, Dr. Hollingsworth, for my share of your +sermon yesterday." Her face made it evident that this was no merely +conventional speech, and the president looked down upon her benignly +through his glasses. + +"I thank you for being willing to take any of my thoughts to yourself," he +said. + +Celia now noticed for the first time that he wore an oak leaf, and she +remembered with what delight Rosalind and Belle had told her of his wish +to be an Arden Forester. "I believe," she added, laughing a little, "that +I have the Kingdom of Heaven and the Forest somewhat mixed." + +"You will find when you have lived as long as I have that there are often +many names for the same thing," the president answered, smiling. + +"And do you believe that things always come right in the Forest?" The +wistful note in Celia's voice told something of her struggle. + +"It has been my experience so far on the journey. But, my dear young lady, +the one way to test it is to live there." + +"I mean to," she said earnestly. + +Whatever the opinion in Friendship of Dr. Hollingsworth's ability as a +preacher, he left behind him a most agreeable impression as a mere man, to +quote Mrs. Parton. + +The Arden Foresters would not soon forget a tramp with him over Red Hill. +They found him interested in everything, in a light-hearted, boyish way +that made them overlook the fact that he was the president of a great +university. When they stopped on the hilltop to rest and enjoy the view, +he sat on the fence with them and talked foot-ball and cricket, and told +stories of college pranks without deducing a single useful lesson +therefrom. This was a surprise to Jack, for Dr. Pierce, who lived next +door to the Partons, was fond of morals, and went about with his pockets +full, so to speak. + +Before they knew it, they found themselves confiding to him their plans +for the future. + +"You must all come to our university," Rosalind said, with decision, +"mustn't they, Dr. Hollingsworth? Jack can study forestry, and Maurice +can study law; and Belle and Katherine--" + +"I mean to study medicine if father will let me," Belle put in. + +Dr. Hollingsworth smiled upon the bright-eyed little girl, in whose every +movement self-reliance and energy were written. "Don't be in haste to +decide," he said. "There is sure to be something for you to do, and +Rosalind and I shall be glad if, whatever it is, it brings you to our +university." + +As they watched the president sign his name in the Arden Foresters' book +that afternoon, there was stirred in each young heart an impulse to be and +to do something worth while in the world. + +Meantime, the report spread that in returning to Friendship, Dr. +Hollingsworth had had another object than merely to preach for Dr. +Pierce. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVENTH. + +OLD ENEMIES. + +"Kindness nobler ever than revenge." + + +If things came right in the Forest, it was not through effort. One had +simply to surrender to its spell, to breathe in the beauty and the calm, +to live there, as the president had said. + +Celia's thoughts were interrupted by Sally's hurried entrance. + +"Laws a mercy! Miss Celia, honey, Mrs. Whittredge's in the parlor. I come +mighty nigh askin' her what she wanted in dis yere house." + +Celia looked up in astonishment. Mrs. Whittredge! What could it mean? "And +she asked for me?" she repeated. + +"I done tol' her your mamma was sick, but she 'lowed 'twas you she +wanted." + +Celia recovered herself. "Very well, Sally," she said, but it was with a +beating heart she walked the length of the hall. Her enemy! What did it +mean? + +Mrs. Whittredge, her heavy veil thrown back a little, stood beside the +table in the centre of the room. + +"You are surprised, Celia," she said, as they faced each other, "but there +is something I wish to say to you. No, I will stand, thank you." + +Celia waited, feeling, even in the midst of a tumult of emotion, the +tragic beauty of the dark eyes. + +Mrs. Whittredge seemed to find words difficult. She looked down at the +table on which her right hand rested. "I have made many mistakes," she +began, "but--I have never meant to wrong any one. At the time of my +husband's illness I--there were things said--I did not agree with Dr. +Fair, and I may have gone too far. It is my misfortune to be intense. I +was very unhappy. I thought the case was not understood. It was my +mistake." She paused. + +"And my father died, crushed by the knowledge that he was unjustly blamed +for the death of his friend! The discovery of your mistake comes too +late." Celia's voice was tense with the stored up pain of those two years. + +Mrs. Whittredge drew back. "You are hard," she said. "We look at things +from different standpoints. I have told you I wish to wrong no one, +but--ah, your father was cruel--cruel to me!" + +"My father was never cruel," Celia cried. + +"Listen! He told me I was killing my husband. I, who worshipped him. I, +who--God knows--would have given my life to--" she broke off in a passion +of grief, sinking into a chair and burying her lace in her hands. + +Celia stood abashed and trembling before this revelation of a sorrow +deeper than her own,--the sorrow of self accusation and unavailing regret. + +"Have you been wronged, are you hard and bitter? Seek the Kingdom of love. +Your Heavenly Father knoweth. He will take care of your cause." For a +moment Celia struggled against the wave of pity that was sweeping over +her, then forgetting everything but the suffering of this woman bowed +before her, she knelt by her side. + +"Forgive me," she whispered. "I do not want to be hard. I, too, have +suffered, though not like you. Perhaps we wronged the dead by keeping +bitterness in our hearts. Perhaps to them it is all made right now. I will +forgive; I will try to forget." + +Mrs. Whittredge lifted her head. Her face was drawn and white. + +"I cannot forget," she said; "it is my misery. But I have no wish to make +other lives as unhappy as my own. Will you believe me when I say I regret +the wrong I did, and that I want to interfere with no one's happiness +hereafter?" + +"I will believe it," Celia said, holding out her hand. + +Mrs. Whittredge did not refuse it; but her own was very cold in Celia's +clasp. Drawing her veil over her face, without another word she left the +house. + +Celia sat still, dazed by the sudden onward sweep of things. A meaning, a +possible motive, beneath Mrs. Whittredge's words occurred to her as her +heart began to beat more quietly. "To interfere with no one's happiness +hereafter." Could Allan--but no, she would not let herself think it. She +would stay in the Forest, and work and wait, and trust in its beneficent +spell. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHTH. + +BETTER THAN DREAMS. + + "I like this place, + And willingly could waste my time in it." + + +The engagement of Miss Betty Bishop and Dr. Hollingsworth was announced. +As Miss Betty said, there was no use in trying to keep it a secret with +Mrs. Parton spreading her suspicions abroad. + +"If you had confided in me and asked me not to tell, I shouldn't have +breathed it," that lady protested. + +"Oh, yes, you would," Miss Betty said, laughing. "You know you tell +everything; but, after all, there's no harm done, and no reason why it +should not be known. I don't blame people for being surprised, either. I +am surprised myself, and I see the absurdity, but--" + +"There is no absurdity about it. I am delighted. Dr. Hollingsworth is +charming. I'd be willing to marry him myself if it wasn't for the +colonel, and you are going to be as happy as happy can be." Mrs. Parton +laughed her pleasant laugh, clearly overjoyed at what seemed to her the +good fortune of her friend. + +Rosalind first heard the news from Belle. "Why," she said, "if he marries +Cousin Betty, the president will be related to me." + +"Let's frame Dr. Hollingsworth's picture and give it to her," Maurice +suggested. + +This was hailed as a brilliant idea, and that afternoon the five might +have been seen in the picture store in search of a frame for the stolen +photograph. It was an excellent likeness of the president, and an equally +good one of black Bob, who, happening to pass at the critical moment, had +been included unintentionally. + +The proprietor of the store, getting an inkling of the joke, hunted up a +small frame which, with the help of a mat, answered very well. Then the +Arden Foresters proceeded to Miss Betty's, where they delivered the +package into Sophy's hands and scampered away, their courage not being +equal to an encounter with her mistress. + +At the bank gate they separated, Belle going in with Katherine to practise +a duet they were learning, and Jack hurrying home with the fear of his +Latin lesson before his eyes. Maurice walked on with Rosalind. + +"Come in for a while," she said. + +The air was crisp, but the sunshine was bright, and the bench under the +bare branches of the white birch seemed more inviting than indoors. As +they took their seat there, Rosalind said gayly, "Father will be here this +week. We are not sure what day." + +"And then you will have to go," Maurice added discontentedly. + +"Yes, and I am partly sorry and partly glad. I am so glad I came to +Friendship, Maurice. Just think how many friends I have made!" + +"How long ago it seems--that day when you spoke to me through the hedge. +You must have thought I was a dreadful muff," said Maurice. + +Rosalind laughed. "I thought you were cross." + +"I was in a horrid temper, but I didn't know how horrid until you told me +the story and I read in the book what your cousin wrote about bearing +hard things bravely. I suppose if it had not been for you, I should have +gone on being a beast." + +"I was feeling pretty cross myself that day. I didn't know then what a +pleasant place Friendship is. I think I have found a great deal of joy by +the way, as Cousin Louis said," Rosalind continued meditatively. + +"And I thought my summer was spoiled," Maurice added. + +"It just shows you can never tell," Rosalind concluded wisely. + +"Are you sure you won't forget us when you go away?" Maurice wanted to say +"me," instead of "us," but a sudden shyness prevented. + +"Why, Maurice, I couldn't! Especially you; for you were my first friend." +The gray eyes looked into his frankly and happily. + +After Maurice had gone, Rosalind still sat there in the wintry sunshine. +Things seemed very quiet just now, with Uncle Allan away for a week and +Aunt Genevieve not yet returned. She and her grandmother were keeping each +other company, and becoming better acquainted than ever before. Mrs. +Whittredge's glance often rested upon her granddaughter with a sort of +wistful affection, and once, when their eyes met, Rosalind, with a quick +impulse, had gone to her side and put her arms around her. Mrs. Whittredge +returned the caress, saying, "I shall be sorry to give you up, dearie." + +On another occasion Rosalind had told how surprised she had been to find +that her grandmother did not wear caps and do knitting work. "But I like +you a great deal better as you are," she added. + +Mrs. Whittredge smiled. "I fear I am in every way far from being an ideal +grandmother," she said. + +Rosalind thought of all this, her eyes on the dismantled garden. The +flower beds were bare, the shrubs done up in straw, the fountain dry, and +yet something recalled the summer day when she had sat just here learning +her hymn. She remembered her old dreams of Friendship, and now she decided +that the reality was best. She shut her eyes and tried to think just how +she had felt that Sunday afternoon. + +"What is the matter, little girl?" The magician's words, but not his +voice; nor was it his face she looked into. + +"Father!" she cried,--"you dear! Where did you come from?" + +It was some time before any connected conversation was possible. + +"Why, father, how brown you are!" + +"And Rosalind, how tall you are, and how rosy! To think I have lost six +months of your life!" + +"And I want to tell you everything just in one minute. What shall I do?" +Rosalind said, laughing, as she held him fast. + +It did indeed seem a task of alarming proportions to tell all there was to +tell; Rosalind felt a little impatient at having to share her father with +her grandmother that evening. And there was almost as much to hear,--of +Cousin Louis, whose health was now restored, but who was to spend some +months in England, of their adventures, and the sights they had seen. + +"We shall want something to talk about when we get home," she was +reminded. + +It would have been plain to the least observant that Patterson +Whittredge's life was bound up with that of this little daughter. As he +talked to his mother, his eyes rested fondly on Rosalind, and every +subject led back to her at last. + +Rosalind, looking from her father to her grandmother, noted how much alike +were their dark eyes, but here the resemblance ended. Mrs. Whittredge's +oldest son, although he might possess something of her strong will, had +nothing of her haughty reserve. His manner, in spite of the preoccupation +of the student, was one of winning cordiality. Older and graver than +Allan, there was yet a strong likeness between the brothers. + +Rosalind could not rest until she had taken her father to all the historic +spots, as she merrily called them,--Red Hill, the Gilpin place, the +cemetery, and the magician's shop, of course. + +"Friendship has been good for you, little girl," he said, as they set out +far a walk next day. + +"I used to think that stories were better than real things, father, but it +isn't so in Friendship. At first I was--oh, so lonely; I thought I never +could be the least bit happy without you and Cousin Louis; but the +magician and the Forest helped me, and since then I have had a beautiful +time. I love Friendship. I almost wish we could live here." + +"And desert Cousin Louis and the university?" + +"No, I suppose not; but we can come back in the summer, can't we? And, oh, +father dear, you'll join the Arden Foresters, won't you?" + +As they walked up the winding road at the cemetery, Mr. Whittredge heard +something of those puzzles which had so disturbed Rosalind's first weeks +in Friendship, beginning with the story of the rose. + +"It's funny, father, but I hadn't thought till then that grown people had +quarrels. I might have known it from the story of the Forest; I remembered +that afterward, and how things all came right." + +"Poor little girl! You should have been warned; and yet in spite of it you +have learned that realities are better than dreams." + +"Father," Rosalind asked abruptly, "why was it you did not come to +Friendship for so many years? Did not grandmamma like my mother? I think +I ought to know." + +Mr. Whittredge smiled at the womanly seriousness of the lifted face. "I +think you ought, dear," he answered. + +With her hand clasped in his he told her the story briefly, for even now +he could not dwell upon it without pain, and as Rosalind listened she +discovered that she had already heard a bit of it from Mrs. Parton and +Mrs. Molesworth at the auction. + +"We must try, you and I, not to think too hardly of grandmamma now. She +has suffered a great deal, and it was your mother's earnest wish that the +trouble might be healed if the opportunity ever came." Patterson said +nothing of his own struggle to forgive his mother's attitude toward his +young wife. + +"I think, father," Rosalind said, "that perhaps grandmamma is sorry. One +day, not long ago, I saw her looking at mother's picture. She did not know +I was there. She took it from the table and held it in her hand, and I am +sure she was crying a little." + +That was a happy day, for now they put aside sad memories, and turned to +the merry side of life, Rosalind kept forgetting that her father had been +in Friendship before, and continued to point out objects of interest with +which he had been familiar long before she was born. So full were the +hours that it was growing dusk when they turned into Church Lane to call +on the magician. + + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY-NINTH. + +AT THE MAGICIAN'S. + +"I would have you." + + +Over his work these days the magician often smiled. It seemed to him that +the good in things was beginning to show very plainly. The atmosphere of +Friendship was clearing; the trouble which had first shown itself when +Patterson Whittredge left his home had begun to lift with the coming of +his daughter. Not that Rosalind had anything to do with it; it was only +one of those bits of poetical justice that go to make life interesting. + +An onlooker might have observed that he smiled oftener when engaged on the +spinet than at other times; but if the magician had made any more +discoveries in connection with it, he kept them to himself. + +Now that the days were growing chill, a cheerful fire blazed on his +hearth, before which Crisscross and Curly Q. dozed; he had found time to +renew the motto over the chimney-piece, and the window-shelf was full of +plants. The Arden Foresters appeared to regard the place as a club-room +for their special benefit, and dropped in at all hours. The magician liked +to have them there. As he sandpapered and oiled and polished, it was +pleasant to glance in, now and then, at the open door, at a row of bright +faces in the chimney-corner. + +Once in a while Celia joined them for a few minutes. She wanted to know +about the purchaser of the spinet, but Morgan seemed inclined to evade her +questions. He did not deny that there was a purchaser, but the name had +apparently escaped him. + +Belle suggested that it might be the same mysterious individual who had +bought the house, and Morgan accepted this as a happy solution when it was +mentioned to him. + +The cabinet-maker was a very queer person at times. + +Celia sat in one corner of the high-backed settle alone this afternoon. +Belle, who had come in with the news of the arrival of Rosalind's father +the evening before, had just gone, and Celia, who had spent a busy +morning, was reflecting that it was too late to begin a new task, and that +she might as well allow herself to rest. Of late she hid taken life more +quietly. + +"Morgan seems to have gone out. May I come in?" It was Allan Whittredge +who spoke, standing in the door. + +"He was there a moment ago," Celia answered, rising. + +"May I wait for him here? You agreed we were not to be enemies; can't we +go a step farther, and be friends?" + +Celia found no reply to this, but she sat dawn again. + +Allan took the arm-chair and faced her. "I seem to be always forcing +myself on you, but I'll promise you this is the last time," he said. + +Still Celia had nothing to say, but she allowed him a glance of her dark +eyes which was not discouraging. + +Allan went on: "I am so tired of mistakes and misunderstandings that, +before the subject is closed forever between us, I want you to know the +exact truth in regard to my feelings. + +"When I received your letter putting an end to things, at first I was hurt +and angry, and I tried to persuade myself that it was for the best after +all. You see, I did not know your side, and you will forgive me if I +confess I thought you childish and lacking in deep feeling. Then, two +years later, I saw you with the children, coming down the stairs at the +Gilpin house, and something made me feel dimly that I had wronged you; but +still I could not understand, until some words of Cousin Betty's suddenly +made it clear. It was maddening to think what my long silence must have +seemed to mean to you. Then, for the first time, I saw the real barrier +between us, and the more I thought of it, the more impenetrable it became. + +"But it is hard for me to give up. I have looked at it on all sides; I +went away that I might think more clearly about it, and of late I have +begun to hope. I believe that love worthy of the name lives on in spite of +everything, and I have dared to wonder if your love could have weathered +this storm; if you still cared, though it might be only enough to give me +the chance to win you again." Allan bent forward in his earnestness, his +eyes fixed appealingly upon the small, still figure in the corner of the +settle. + +"Do you not care at all, Celia?" he asked, after a moment's silence. + +Celia lifted her eyes. "Care?" she cried, "I have always cared,--through +everything! When I thought you knew and believed the cruel charge against +my father; when I knew his heart was broken; when he was dead,--when I +wanted to hate you, still I cared. Have you cared like that?" + +This vehement confession, with its note of defiance, was bewildering. +Allan hesitated before this unapproachable, tempestuous Celia. Then he +drew his chair nearer. "Celia, dear heart, do not speak so; I have not +been tried like you, but give me the chance and see how I will atone for +the past." + +Suddenly Celia held out her hand; "Oh, Allan, I am so very bad-tempered. I +seem always determined to quarrel," she said, with a laugh that was half a +sob. + +This was enough, the strain was broken; Allan forsook the arm-chair for +the settle. + +It was perhaps some fifteen minutes later when he asked Celia if she +remembered the magician, and the tiger with three white whiskers. "What a +brave little girl you were," he added. + +"Little goose," said Celia. + +"Does that mean you will no longer follow me blindly?" + +She laughed. "What made you think of it?" she asked. + +"Rosalind inquired the other day if I was the boy." + +"Allan, I don't know why I told the children that story." + +"At least it gave me the courage to try my fate." + +"I don't think it required much courage." + +"You don't know," Allan replied, smiling over her head. "But now, dearest, +we are going to begin again and live in a fairy tale and forget all the +hard and cruel things. Do you know, I had a vision that day, in the +library of the old house? I saw a fire of blazing logs, and you and I sat +before it, and we weren't quarrelling." + +"Dear old house! I can't bear to look at it now," Celia sighed. + +"I am sorry to hear that, for I was planning to live there." + +"Allan--you? Wasn't it sold?" + +"I bought it through an agent. I thought perhaps I might want to sell +again if--if things did not come out as I hoped." + +"Even then you were thinking about it?" + +"I have thought of nothing else since the day I saw you on the stairs with +your arm around Belle." + +"How unhappy I was! I did not dream that you still cared. It seems so long +ago. Did you know your mother came to see me, Allan?" + +"Yes. She has keen eyes; she knew what it meant to me. Poor mother!" + +"I thought I could never forgive, but I believe I do now,--not +always,--but I shall after a while." + +Allan pressed his lips to the hand he held; then, still holding it, he +took the little case from his pocket and put the sapphire ring on her +finger. "I hope Cousin Betty will be satisfied now," he remarked. + +Celia looked down at the quaint old ring. "How much it seems to stand +for!" she said. "Rosalind will be glad," she added. "Do you know, I did +not realize how bitter and unhappy I was until I met her one day in the +cemetery. Her eyes were so sweet, they made me ashamed." + +"She told me about it," Allan answered. + +"Not about the rose? Did she see that? Oh, Allan--but I picked it up again +and carried it home." + +"She long since came to the conclusion that she was mistaken in thinking +it was her rose you threw away." + +It was growing dark. The magician, who had come in long ago, wisely +refrained from interrupting his guests, but went about putting away his +tools and smiling to himself. He was just lighting his lamp, when the shop +door opened and Rosalind danced in, followed by her father. + +"Mr. Pat!" exclaimed the magician. "I heard you were here. I wondered if +you wouldn't come to see me;" and he shook hinds as if he would never +stop, while Rosalind circled around them merrily. + +"Mr. Pat was one of my boys," Morgan announced, as if it were a piece of +news; adding, "We ought to make some tea." + +Rosalind clapped her hands, and nodded emphatically, "Let's!" she cried. +"Why, there's Uncle Allan! Where did you come from?" + +"I arrived at home a few hours ago and found nobody, so I started out in +search of some one. How are you, Patterson?" and the brothers clasped +hands warmly. + +"We are going to have tea, just as I did that day when I was so lonely, +and--here's Miss Celia!" Rosalind paused in surprise. + +Celia stood rather shyly in the door. She would gladly have escaped if she +could. + +At Rosalind's exclamation, Allan drew his brother forward. "You remember +Celia Fair, Patterson?" he said. + +"Certainly I do. She was about Rosalind's age when I last saw her." + +"I remember you very well, Mr. Whittredge," Celia said, as Patterson took +both her hands, and looked into her glowing face. + +"I haven't been told anything, but--" he glanced inquiringly at Allan, who +nodded, smiling. + +Rosalind caught sight of the ring on Celia's finger. "Oh," she said, "was +that what the will meant? Are you going to wear it always? I know Aunt +Patricia would be glad!" and she hugged Celia joyfully. + +That what followed was a childish performance cannot be denied, but alas +for those who do not sometimes enjoy putting away grown-up dignity! +Rosalind had set her heart on having tea, and the magician was no less +pleased at the idea. He lighted up and filled the kettle, and she set the +table, while the others looked on and laughed. + +"I began being a boy again four months ago, and I like it. How old are +you?" Allan asked, passing Celia her cup. + +"About six," she answered. + +"Then I am ten." + +"Then you are too little for me to play with," said Rosalind. "How old are +you, father?" + +"If Allan is ten I ought to be about sixteen, I suppose." + +"Here's to the magician!" cried Allan, and they drank the cabinet-maker's +health right merrily. + +"I drink to the ring which has come to its own again," said Rosalind's +father; and so the fun went on. + +Celia forgot her shyness and was a happy little girl once more. + +"Let us drink to the Forest and all who have learned its secret," she +proposed. + +In the midst of it all, Miss Betty walked in. + +"Well!" she exclaimed, "I think you might have asked me." + +"It isn't too late. This is an impromptu affair in honor of Patterson," +said Allan, offering her a chair. + +"You have no idea what a noise you are making," she said, greeting the +stranger. "I had just come in from a guild meeting, and the unusual +illumination and the sounds of hilarity were too much for my curiosity." +Here her glance rested in evident surprise upon Celia. + +"Celia has something to show you, Cousin Betty," Allan said mercilessly, +"and you are not to bother me about it any more." + +Miss Betty went around to Celia and kissed her. "It is what I have been +hoping all along," she whispered. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTIETH. + +OAK LEAVES. + +"Bid me farewell." + + +"I have something to tell you," said Belle, as the Arden Foresters walked +up the hill toward the Gilpin place. + +"So have I," added Rosalind, "something lovely," and she waved a small +package aloft. + +"Is it something for us?" Katherine asked. + +"Let Belle tell hers first. Mine must wait till we get to the oak tree." + +"It is about the ring. I have found out how it came to be in the spinet," +Belle announced. + +"Really? How?" + +"Lucy Brown, Aunt Milly's granddaughter, put it there," she began, all +eagerness to tell her news. "Aunt Milly, you know, was Mr. Gilpin's cook, +and Lucy had come in from the country to stay with her a few days, when he +was taken ill. The morning he died she found the case with the ring in it +under the library table, and she carried it into the drawing-room, where +she was dusting, meaning to show it to her grandmother. Just as she had +opened the spinet some one called to her to run for Dr. Fair, that Mr. +Gilpin was dying, and in a great hurry she pushed the ring case under the +strings and closed the lid and forgot all about it. She went home before +anybody knew the ring was lost, and never thought of it again till she +came to Friendship the other day and our Manda was telling her about the +magician's finding it." + +"I am almost sorry we know how it happened," said Rosalind. "I liked to +think the magician had really broken the spell." + +It was the last meeting of the Arden Foresters before Rosalind's +departure, and in spite of the wintry day they decided it must be held +under the oak tree; and little cared they for the weather as they rustled +through the fallen leaves beneath the bare brown trees. + +"I believe it is going to snow," said Jack, turning up his collar. + +"If you'll stay we'll take you coasting down the Gilpin hill," Maurice +added. + +"I am afraid if I waited it wouldn't snow," Rosalind answered, laughing, +"And now I have something to show you." They had reached the arbor, and +sitting down she opened the box she carried. + +"You know we have been wondering what we should do for badges when the +leaves were gone. Just see what the president has sent!" and she displayed +to their delighted gaze five small, enamelled oak leaves. + +If Dr. Hollingsworth was sensitive to compliments, his ears must have +burned badly about this time. Belle summed them up by remarking, "I just +believe he is almost the nicest man I ever knew." + +They stood together under the oak tree, and Rosalind pinned on the new +badges. "Let's promise to be friends, whatever happens," she said, +"because we know the Forest secret and have had such good times this +summer." + +The sun shone out brightly for a moment as the wind swept over the +hilltop, rattling the vines on Patricia's Arbor; under the autumn sky the +winding river sparkled as gayly as when its banks were green; on the +far-away stretch of yellow road the wintry sunshine lay; and under the red +oak they clasped hands and promised to be friends always. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. 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