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Title: The Rejuvenation of Aunt Mary

Author: Anne Warner

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<front>

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<divGen type="pgheader" />
</div>

<titlePage rend="page-break-before: right">
<docTitle><titlePart type="main" rend="font-size: x-large">The Rejuvenation of Aunt Mary</titlePart></docTitle>

<lb /><byline>By <docAuthor>Anne Warner</docAuthor><lb /><lb />
Author of "A Woman's Will," "Susan Clegg
and Her Friend Mrs. Lathrop," "Susan
Clegg and a Man in the House," etc.
</byline>

<docEdition><hi rend="font-style: italic">NEW EDITION</hi><lb />
<hi rend="font-style: italic">With Additional Pictures from the Play</hi><lb /><lb /></docEdition>

<docImprint>Boston<lb />
Little, Brown, and Company<lb />
1910</docImprint>
</titlePage>

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<p rend="text-align: center"><hi rend="font-style: italic">Copyright, 1904,</hi><lb />
By Ainslee Magazine Company.</p>

<p rend="text-align: center"><hi rend="font-style: italic">Copyright, 1905,</hi><lb />
By Little, Brown, and Company.</p>

<p rend="text-align: center"><hi rend="font-style: italic">Copyright, 1907,</hi><lb />
By Little, Brown, and Company,</p>

<p rend="text-align: center"><hi rend="font-style: italic">All rights reserved</hi></p>

<p rend="text-align: center">Fourteenth Printing</p>

<p rend="text-align: center">Printers<lb />
S.J. Parkhill &amp; Co., Boston, U.S.A.</p>

</div>

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<anchor id="frontispiece" />
<p rend="text-align: center"><anchor id="image01" />
<figure rend="w95" url="images/image01.png">
<head>Aunt Mary en Fête.
May Robson as "Aunt Mary."</head>
<figDesc><hi rend="font-style: italic">Frontispiece</hi></figDesc>
</figure></p><p></p>
</div>

<div rend="page-break-before: always">

<p><table cols="2">
<head><hi rend="font-style: italic">Books by Anne Warner</hi></head>
<row>
<cell>A Woman's Will</cell><cell>1904</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Susan Clegg and Her Friend Mrs. Lathrop</cell><cell>1904</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>The Rejuvenation of Aunt Mary</cell><cell>1905</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Susan Clegg and Her Neighbor's Affairs</cell><cell>1906</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Susan Clegg and a Man in the House</cell><cell>1907</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>An Original Gentleman</cell><cell>1908</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>In a Mysterious Way</cell><cell>1909</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Your Child and Mine</cell><cell>1909</cell>
</row>
</table></p>
</div>

<div rend="page-break-before: right">
<head>Contents</head>
<divGen type="toc" />
</div>

<div rend="page-break-before: right">
<index index="toc" />
<index index="pdf" />
<head>Illustrations</head>

<list type="simple">
<item><ref target="frontispiece">"Aunt Mary en fête" (May Robson as "Aunt
Mary") <hi rend="font-style: italic">Frontispiece</hi></ref></item>

<item><ref target="image02">"'Do not let us play any longer,' she said.
'Let us be in earnest'"</ref></item>

<item><ref target="image03">"'She's goin' to the city all alone!' Lucinda's
voice suddenly proclaimed behind him"</ref></item>

<item><ref target="image04">Aunt Mary and Her Escorts</ref></item>

<item><ref target="image05">"The carriage stopped three hundred feet below
the level of a roof-garden"</ref></item>

<item><ref target="image06">"And now the fun's all over and the work
begins"</ref></item>

<item><ref target="image07">"'Yesterday I played poker until I didn't know
a blue chip from a white one'"</ref></item>

<item><ref target="image08">"Aunt Mary had also had her eyes
open"</ref></item>
</list>

</div>
</front>

<body>
<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<pb n="001" /><anchor id="Pg001" />
<head>The Rejuvenation of Aunt Mary</head>
<p></p>
</div>

<div>
<index index="toc" />
<index index="pdf" />
<head>Chapter One - Introducing Aunt Mary</head>

<p>The first time that Jack was threatened
with expulsion from college his Aunt
Mary was much surprised and decidedly
vexed&mdash;mainly at the college. His family were
less surprised, viewing the young man through a
clearer atmosphere than his Aunt Mary ever had,
and knowing that he had barely escaped similar
experiences earlier in his career by invariably leaving
school the day before the board of inquiry
convened.</p>

<p>Jack's preparatory days having been more or
less tempestous, his family (Aunt Mary excepted)
had expected some sort of after-clap when
he entered college. Nevertheless, they had fervently
hoped that it would not be quite as bad as
this.</p>

<p>Jack's sister Arethusa was visiting her aunt
when the news came. Not because she wanted to,
for the old lady was dreadfully deaf and fearfully
<pb n="002" /><anchor id="Pg002" />arbitrary, but because Lucinda had said that she
must go to her cousin's wedding, and the family
always had to bow to Lucinda's mandates. Lucinda
was Aunt Mary's maid, but she had become
so indispensable as a sitter at the off-end of the
latter's ear-trumpet that none of the grand-nephews
or grand-nieces ever thought for an instant of crossing
one of her wishes. So it was to Arethusa that
the explanations due Aunt Mary's interest in her
scapegrace fell, and she bowed her back to the
burden with the resignation which the circumstances
demanded.</p>

<p>"Whatever is the difference between bein' expelled
and bein' suspended?" Aunt Mary demanded,
in her tone of imperious impatience.
"Well, why don't you answer? I was brought
up to speak when you're spoken to, an' I'm a
great believer in livin' up to your bringin' up&mdash;if
you had a good one. What's the difference,
an' which costs most? That's what I want to
know. I do wish you'd answer me, Arethusa;
there's two things I've asked you now, an' you
suckin' your finger an' puttin' on your thimble as
if you were sittin' alone in China."</p>

<p>"I don't know which costs most," Arethusa
shrieked.</p>

<p>"You needn't scream so," said Aunt Mary.
"I ain't so hard to hear as you think. I ain't
<pb n="003" /><anchor id="Pg003" />but seventy, and I'll beg you to remember <hi rend="font-style: italic">that</hi>,
Arethusa. Besides, I don't want to hear you talk.
I just want to hear about Jack. I'm askin' about
his bein' expelled and suspended, an' what's the
difference, an' in particular if there's anything
to pay for broken glass. It's always broken glass!
That boy's bills for broken glass have been somethin'
just awful these last two years. Well, why
don't you answer?"</p>

<p>"I don't know what to answer," Arethusa
screamed.</p>

<p>"What do you suppose he's done, anyhow?"</p>

<p>"Something bad."</p>

<p>Aunt Mary frowned.</p>

<p>"I ain't mad," she said sharply. "What made
you think I was mad? I ain't mad at all! I'm
just askin' what's the difference between bein' expelled
an' bein' suspended, an' it seems to me this
is the third time I've asked it. Seems to me it is."</p>

<p>Arethusa laid down her work, drew a mighty
breath, very nearly got into the ear-trumpet, and
explained that being suspended was infinitely less
heinous than being expelled, and decidedly less
final.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary looked relieved.</p>

<p>"Oh, then he's gettin' better, is he?" she said.
"Well, I'm sure that's some comfort."</p>

<p>And then there was a long pause, during which
<pb n="004" /><anchor id="Pg004" />she appeared to be engaged in deep reflection,
and her niece continued her embroidery in peace.
The pause endured until a sudden sneeze on the
part of the old lady set the wheels of conversation
turning again.</p>

<p>"Arethusa," she said, "I wish you'd go an'
get the ink an' write to Mr. Stebbins. I want
him to begin to look up another college with good
references right away. I don't want to waste any
of the boy's life, an' if bein' suspended means
waitin' while the college takes its time to consider
whether it wants him back again or not I ain't goin'
to wait. I'm a great believer in a college education,
but I don't know that it cuts much figure whether
it's the same college right through or not. Anyway,
you write Mr. Stebbins."</p>

<p>Arethusa obeyed, and the authorities having
seen fit to be uncommonly discreet as to the cause
of the young man's withdrawal, no great difficulty
was experienced in finding another campus
whereon Aunt Mary's pride and joy might freely
disport himself. Mr. Stebbins threw himself into
the affair with all the tact and ardor of an experienced
legal mind and soon after Lucinda's return
to her home allowed Arethusa to follow suit,
the hopeful younger brother of the latter became
a candidate for his second outfit of new sweaters
and hat bands that year.
<pb n="005" /><anchor id="Pg005" /></p>

<p>Aunt Mary wrote him a letter upon the occasion
of his new start in life, Mr. Stebbins delivered
him a lecture, and things went smoothly in consequence
for three whole weeks. I say three
whole weeks because three whole weeks was a
long time for the course of Jack's life to flow
smoothly. At the end of a fortnight affairs were
always due to run more rapidly and three weeks
produced, as a general thing, some species of
climax.</p>

<p>The climax in this case came to time as usual
his evil genius inciting the young man to attempt,
one very dark night, the shooting of a cat which
he thought he saw upon the back fence. Whether
he really had seen a cat or not mattered very little
in the later development of the matter. He was
certainly successful as far as the going off of the
gun was concerned, but the damage that resulted,
resulted not to any cat, but to the arm of a next-door's
cook, who was peacefully engaged in taking
in her week's wash on the other side of the
fence. The cook ceased abruptly to take in the
wash, the affair was at once what is technically
termed looked into, and three days later Jack
became the defendant in a suit for damages.</p>

<p>Naturally Mr. Stebbins was at once notified
and he had no choice except to write Aunt Mary.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary was somewhat less patient over the
<pb n="006" /><anchor id="Pg006" />third escapade than she had been with the first
two.</p>

<p>The letter found her alone with Lucinda and
she read it to herself three times and then read it
aloud to her companion. Lucinda, whose thorough
knowledge of the imperious will and impervious
eardrums of her mistress rendered her, as a
rule, extremely monosyllabic, not to say silent,
vouchsafed no comment upon the contents of the
epistle, and after a few minutes Aunt Mary herself
took the field:</p>

<p>"Now, what do you suppose possessed that boy
to shoot at a cook?" she asked, regarding the
letter with a portentous frown. "Cooks are so
awful hard to get nowadays. I don't see why
he didn't shoot a tramp if he had to shoot somethin'."</p>

<p>"He wa'n't tryin' to shoot a cook, 'pears like,"
then cried Lucinda&mdash;Lucinda's voice, be it said,
<hi rend="font-style: italic">en passant</hi>, was of that sibilant and penetrating
timbre which is best illustrated in the accents of a
steamfitter's file&mdash;"'pears like he was tryin' for
a cat."</p>

<p>"Not a bat," said her mistress correctively;
"it was a cat. You look at this letter an' you'll
see. And, anyway, how could a man shootin' at
a cat hit a cook?&mdash;not 'nless she was up a tree
birds'-nestin' after owls' eggs. You don't seem
<pb n="007" /><anchor id="Pg007" />to pay much attention to what I read to you,
Lucinda; only I should think your commonsense
would help you out some when it comes to a boy
you've known from the time he could walk, an'
a strange cook. But, anyhow, that's neither here
nor there. The question that bothers me is, what's
to pay with this damage suit? I think myself
five hundred dollars is too much for any cook's
arm. A cook ain't in no such vital need of two
arms. If she has to shut the door of the oven
while she's stirrin' somethin' on the top of the
stove, she can easy kick it to with her foot. It won't
be for long, anyway, and I'm a great believer in
making the best of things when you've got to."</p>

<p>Lucinda screwed up her face and made no comment.
Lucinda's face in repose was a cross
between a monkey's and a peanut; screwed up, it
was particularly awful, and always exasperated
her mistress.</p>

<p>"Well, why don't you say somethin', Lucinda?
I ain't askin' your advice, but, all the same, you
can say anything if you've got a mind to."</p>

<p>"I ain't got a mind to say anythin'," the faithful
maid rejoined.</p>

<p>"I guess you hit the nail on the head that
time," said Aunt Mary, without any unnecessary
malevolence concealed behind her sarcasm; then
she re-read the note and frowned afresh.
<pb n="008" /><anchor id="Pg008" /></p>

<p>"Five hundred dollars is too much," she said
again. "I'm going to write to Mr. Stebbins an'
tell him so to-night. He can compromise on two
hundred and fifty, just as well as not. Get me
some paper and my desk, Lucinda. Now get a
spryness about you."</p>

<p>Lucinda laid aside her work and forthwith got
a spryness about her, bringing her mistress' writing-desk
with commendable alacrity. Aunt Mary
took the writing-desk and wrote fiercely for some
time, to the end that she finally wrote most of the
fierceness out of herself.</p>

<p>"After all, boys will be boys," she said, as she
sealed her letter, "and if this is the end I shan't
feel it's money wasted. I'm a great believer in
bein' patient. Most always, that is. Here, Lucinda
you take this to Joshua and tell him to
take it right to mail. Be prompt, now. I'm a
great believer in doin' things prompt."</p>

<p>Lucinda took the letter and was prompt. "She
wants this letter took right to the mail," she said
to Joshua, Aunt Mary's longest-tried servitor.</p>

<p>"Then it'll be took right to mail," said Joshua.</p>

<p>"She's pretty mad," said Lucinda.</p>

<p>"Then she'll soon get over it," replied the
other, taking up his hat and preparing to depart
for the barn forthwith.</p>

<p>Lucinda returned to Aunt Mary with a species
<pb n="009" /><anchor id="Pg009" />of dried-up sigh. One is not the less a slave
because one has been enslaved for twenty years,
and Lucinda at moments did sort of peek out
through her bars&mdash;possibly envying Joshua the
daily drives to mail when he had full control of
something that was alive.</p>

<p>Lucinda had been, comparatively speaking,
young when she had come to wait upon the pleasure
of the Watkins millions, and her waiting had
been so pertinent and so patient that it had endured
over a quarter of a century. Aunt Mary
had been under fifty in the hour of Lucinda's
dawn; she was over seventy now. Jack hadn't
been born then; he was in college now; and Jack's
older brothers and sisters and his dead-and-gone
father and mother had been living somewhere out
West then, quite hopeful as to their own lives and
quite hopeless as to the stern old great-aunt who
never had paid any attention to her niece since
she had chosen to elope with the doctor's reprobate
son. Now the father and mother were dead
and buried, the brothers and sisters reinstated in
their rights and had all grown up and become
great credits to the old lady, whose heart had
suddenly melted at the arrival of five orphans all
at once. And there was only Jack to continue to
worry about.</p>

<p>Jack was not anything particularly remarkable;
<pb n="010" /><anchor id="Pg010" />he was just one of those lovable good-for-nothings
that seem born to get better people into trouble
all their lives long. He had been spoiled originally
by being ten years younger than the next
youngest in the family; and then, when the
children had been shipped on to Aunt Mary's
tender mercies, Jack had won her heart immediately
because she accidentally discovered that he
had never been baptized, and so felt fully justified
in re-naming him after her own father and
having the name branded into him for keeps by
her own religious apparatus. It followed naturally
that John Watkins, Jr., Denham, for so
her father's daughter had insisted that her youngest
nephew should be called, was the favorite
nephew of his aunt.</p>

<p>And it was lucky for him that he was the favorite,
for Aunt Mary, who was highly spiced at
fifty, became peppery at sixty, and almost biting
at seventy. And yet for Jack she would sign
checks almost without a murmur. Mr. Stebbins
was much more censorious and impatient with the
young man than she ever was; and to all the rest of
the world Mr. Stebbins was an urbane and agreeable
gentleman, whereas to all the rest of the world
Aunt Mary was a problem or a terror. But Mr.
Stebbins needed to be a man of tact and management,
for he was the real manager of that fortune
<pb n="011" /><anchor id="Pg011" />of which "Mary, only surviving child of
John Watkins, merchant and ship owner," was the
legal possessor; and so tactful was Mr. Stebbins
that he and his powerful client had never yet
clashed, and they had been in close business relations
for almost as many years as Lucinda had
been established on the hearthstone of the Watkins
home. Perhaps one reason why Mr. Stebbins
endured so well was that he had a real talent
for compromising, and that he had skillfully
transformed Aunt Mary's inherited taste for driving
a bargain into an acquired pleasure in what is
really a polite form of the same action.</p>

<p>So, when it came to the matter of Jack's difficulties,
Mr. Stebbins could always find a half-way
measure that saved the situation; and when he
received the letter as to the cook and her claim
he hied himself to the city at once, and wrote back
that the claim could be settled for three hundred
dollars.</p>

<p>"And enough, I must say," Aunt Mary remarked
to Lucinda upon receipt of the statement;
"three hundred dollars for one cat&mdash;for, after
all, Jack blames the whole on the cat, an' he didn't
hit it, even then."</p>

<p>Lucinda did not answer.</p>

<p>"But if the boy settles down now I shan't mind
payin' the three&mdash;Where are you goin'?"
<pb n="012" /><anchor id="Pg012" /></p>

<p>For Lucinda was walking out of the room.</p>

<p>"I'm goin' to the door," said she raspingly.
"The bell's ringin'."</p>

<p>After a minute or two she came back.</p>

<p>"Telegram!" she announced, handing the yellow
envelope over.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary put on her glasses, opened it, and
read:</p>

<quote rend="display">
<p>Cook has blood poison. Sues for a thousand.
Probable amputation.</p>

<p rend="text-align: right">STEBBINS.</p>
</quote>

<p>Aunt Mary dropped the paper with a gasp.</p>

<p>Lucinda looked at her with interest.</p>

<p>"It's that same arm again," said Aunt Mary,
"just as I thought it was settled for!" Her
eyes seemed to fairly crackle with indignation.
"Why don't she put it in a sling an' have a little
patience?"</p>

<p>Lucinda took the telegram and read it.</p>

<p>"'Pears like she can't," she commented, in a
tone like a buzz saw; "'pears like it's goin' to
be took off."</p>

<p>Aunt Mary reached forth her hand for the
telegram and after a second reading shook her
head in a way that, if her companion had been a
globe-trotter, would have brought matadores and
Seville to the front in her mind in that instant.</p>

<p>"I declare," she said, "seems like I had enough
<pb n="013" /><anchor id="Pg013" />on my mind without a cook, too. What's to be
done now? I only know one thing! I ain't goin'
to pay no thousand dollars this week for no arm
that wasn't worth but three hundred last week.
Stands to reason that there ain't no reason in that.
I guess you'd better bring me my desk, Lucinda;
I'm goin' to write to Mr. Stebbins, an' I'm goin'
to write to Jack, and I'm goin' to tell 'em both
just what I think. I'm goin' to write Jack that
he'd better be lookin' out, and I'm goin' to write
to Mr. Stebbins that next time he settles things
I want him to take a receipt for that arm in full."</p>

<p>The letters were duly written and Mr. Stebbins,
upon the receipt of his, redoubled his efforts,
and did succeed in permanently settling with the
cook, the arm being eventually saved. Aunt
Mary regarded the sum as much higher than
necessary, but still pleasantly less than that demanded
of her, and so life in general moved quietly
on until Easter.</p>

<p>But Easter is always a period of more or less
commotion in the time of youth and leads to
various hilarious outbreaks. Jack's Easter took
him to town for a "little time," and the "little
time" ended in the station-house at three o'clock
on Sunday morning.</p>

<p>Accusation: Producing concussion of the brain
on a cab driver.</p>
</div>
<pb n="014" /><anchor id="Pg014" />

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<index index="toc" />
<index index="pdf" />
<head>Chapter Two - Jack</head>


<p>The news was conveyed to Aunt Mary
through private advices from Mr. Stebbins
(who had been hastily summoned
to the city for purposes of bail); she was very
angry indeed, this time&mdash;primarily at the indignity
done her flesh and blood by arresting it.
Then, as she re-read the lawyer's letter, other
reflections crowded to the fore in her mind.</p>

<p>"Funny! Whatever could have made the boy
get up and go downtown at three in the morning,
anyway?" she said. "Seems kind of queer, don't
you think, Arethusa? Do you suppose he was
ill and huntin' for a drug store?"</p>

<p>Arethusa had been sent for the second day
previous because Lucinda's youngest sister's youngest
child had come down with scarlet fever, and the
family wanted Lucinda to enliven the quarantine.
Arethusa had sent invitations out for a dinner
party, but she had recalled them and hastened to
obey the summons. It was an evil hour for her, for
<pb n="015" /><anchor id="Pg015" />she loved her brother and was mightily distressed
at the bad news.</p>

<p>"I don't believe he can have been ill," she said,
at the top of her voice; "if he'd been ill he
wouldn't have had the strength to hit the cab
driver so hard."</p>

<p>"I don't blame him for hittin' the cab driver,"
said Aunt Mary warmly. "As near as I can
recollect, I've often wanted to do that myself.
But I can't make out where he got the man to hit,
or why he was there to hit him. I can't make
rhyme or reason out of it. I wish we knew more.
Well, I presume we will, later."</p>

<p>Her surmise was correct. They knew much
more later. They knew more from Mr. Stebbins,
and they knew profusely more from the
evening papers.</p>

<p>"I think our boy'd better have come home for
his Easter," Aunt Mary remarked, with a species of
angry undertow threading the current of her
speech. "There's no sayin' what this will cost
before we're done with it."</p>

<p>Arethusa choked; it was all so very terrible
to her.</p>

<p>"What is it that the cabman wants, anyhow?"
her aunt demanded presently.</p>

<p>"He doesn't want anything," yelled the unhappy
sister. "He's going to die."
<pb n="016" /><anchor id="Pg016" /></p>

<p>"Well, who is going to sue me, then?"</p>

<p>"It's his wife; she wants five thousand dollars
damages."</p>

<p>Aunt Mary's lips tightened.</p>

<p>"Five thousand dollars!" she said, with a bitter
patience. "I can see that this is goin' to be an
awful business. Five thousand dollars! Dear,
dear! I must say that that wife sets a pretty
high price on her husband&mdash;at least, a'cordin' to
my order of thinkin', she does. From what I've
seen of cabmen, I'd undertake to get her another
just as good for a tenth of the money, any day."</p>

<p>Arethusa was silent, staring thoughtfully at the
newspaper cuts of a great Tammany leader and
a noted pugilist, which had been labeled as the
principals in the family tragedy.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary turned over another of the many
papers received, and scanned its sensational columns
afresh.</p>

<p>"Arethusa," she exclaimed suddenly, "do you
know, I bet anythin' I know what this editor
means to insinuate? It just strikes me that he's
tryin' to give the impression that our boy's been
drinkin'."</p>

<p>"Perhaps so," Arethusa screamed.</p>

<p>"Well, I don't believe it," said Aunt Mary
firmly, "and I ain't goin' to believe it. And I
ain't goin' to pay no five thousand dollars for no
<pb n="017" /><anchor id="Pg017" />cabman's brains, neither. You write to Mr. Stebbins
to compromise on two or maybe three."</p>

<p>She stopped and bit her lips and shook her
head. "I don't see why Jack grows up so hard,"
she murmured, half in anger and half in sorrow.
"Edward and Henry never had such times. Oh,
well," she sighed, "boys will be boys, I suppose;
an' if this all results in the boy's settlin' down
it'll be money well spent in the end, after all.
Maybe&mdash;probably&mdash;most likely."</p>

<p>The days that followed were anxious days, but
at last the cabman rallied and concluded not to
die, and Jack went off yachting with a light heart
and a choice collection of good advice from Mr.
Stebbins and Aunt Mary.</p>

<p>Nothing happened to mar his holiday. He ran
a borrowed steam launch on to some rocks with
rather heavy consequences to his aunt's exchequer,
and returned from the West Indies so late that
she never had a visit from him at all that summer;
but, barring these slightly unwelcome incidents,
he did remarkably well, and when he returned to
college in the fall he was regarded as having
become, at last, a stable proposition.</p>

<p>"I wonder whether our boy's comin' home for
Christmas?" Aunt Mary asked her niece, Mary,
as that happy period of family reunions drew near.
Mary had come up to stay with her aunt while
<pb n="018" /><anchor id="Pg018" />Lucinda went away to bury a second cousin. Mary
was very different from Arethusa, having a voice
that, when raised, was something between an icicle
and a steam whistle, and a temperament so much
on the order of her aunt's that neither could abide
the other an hour longer than was absolutely necessary.
But Arethusa had a sprained ankle, so there
was no help for existing circumstances.</p>

<p>"No, he isn't," said Mary, who had no patience
at all with her brother, and showed it. "He's
going West with the glee club."</p>

<p>"With the she club!" cried poor Aunt Mary,
in affright.</p>

<p>Mary explained.</p>

<p>"I don't like the idea," said the old lady, shaking
her head. "Somethin' will be sure to happen.
I can feel it runnin' up and down my bones this
minute."</p>

<p>"Oh, if he can get into trouble, of course, Jack
will," said Mary cheerfully.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary didn't hear her, because she didn't
raise her voice particularly. Besides, the old lady
was absorbed for the nonce in the most dismal sort
of prognostications.</p>

<p>And they all came true, too. Something unfortunate
beyond all expectations came to pass during
the glee club's visit to Chicago, and the result was
that, before the new year was well out of its incubator
<pb n="019" /><anchor id="Pg019" />Jack had papers in a breach-of-promise suit
served on him. He wrote Mr. Stebbins that it was
all a joke, and had merely been a portion of that
foam which a train of youthful spirits are apt to
leave in their wake; but the girl stood solid for her
rights, and, as she had never heard from her
fiancé since the night of the dance, her family&mdash;who
were rural, but sharp&mdash;thought it would take
at least fifteen thousand dollars to patch the crack
in her heart. If the news could have been kept
from Aunt Mary until after Mr. Stebbins had
looked into the matter, everything might have resulted
differently. But the Chicago lawyer who
had the case took good care that the wealthy aunt
knew all as quickly as possible, and it seemed as if
this was the final straw under which the camel
must succumb.</p>

<p>And Aunt Mary did appear to waver.</p>

<p>"Fifteen thousand dollars!" she cried, aghast.
"Heaven help us! What next?"</p>

<p>It was Lucinda who was seated calmly opposite
at this crisis.</p>

<p>"Do you suppose he really did it?" the aunt
continued, after a minute of appalled consideration.</p>

<p>"It's about the only thing he ain't never done,"
the tried and true servant answered, her tone more
gratingly penetrative than ever.
<pb n="020" /><anchor id="Pg020" /></p>

<p>Aunt Mary eyed her sharply, not to say
furiously.</p>

<p>"I wish you'd give a plain answer when I ask
you a plain question, Lucinda," she said coldly.
"If you'd ever got a breach-of-promise suit in the
early mail you'd know how I feel. Perhaps&mdash;probably."</p>

<p>"I ain't a doubt but what he done it," Lucinda
screamed out; "an' if I was her an' he wouldn't
marry me after sayin' he would I'd sue him for a
hundred thousand, an' think I let him off cheap
then."</p>

<p>Aunt Mary deigned to smile faintly over the
subtlety of this speech; but the next minute she was
frowning blacker than ever.</p>

<p>"A girl from Kalamazoo, too, just up in
Chicago for a week&mdash;just up in Chicago long
enough to come down on me for fifteen thousand
dollars."</p>

<p>"Maybe she'll take five thousand instead," Lucinda
remarked.</p>

<p>"Maybe!" ejaculated her mistress, in fine
scorn. "Maybe! Well, if you don't talk as if
money was sweet peas an' would dry up if it wasn't
picked!"</p>

<p>Lucinda screwed up her face.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary gave her one awful look.</p>

<p>"You get me some paper an' my desk,
<pb n="021" /><anchor id="Pg021" />Lucinda," she said. "I think it's about time I was
takin' a hand in it myself. I've been pretty
patient, an' I don't see as it's helped matters any.
Now I'm goin' to write that boy a letter that'll
settle him an' his cats, an' his cooks, an' his cabmen,
an' his Kalamazoo, just once for all. I guess I can
do what I set out to do. Pretty generally&mdash;most
always."</p>

<p>Lucinda brought the desk, and Aunt Mary
frowned fearfully and began to write the
letter.</p>

<p>It developed very strongly. As her pen sized
up the situation in black and white, the old lady
seemed to realize the iniquities of the case more
and more plainly; and as the letter grew her wrath
grew also. The whole came, in the end, to a threat&mdash;made
in good earnest&mdash;to take a very serious
step indeed if any more "foolishness" developed.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary prided herself on her granite-like
will. She had full faith in her ability to slay her
nearest and dearest if it seemed right and best to
do so.</p>

<p>She sealed her letter tight, stuck the stamp
on square and hard, and bid Lucinda convey it to
Joshua and tell him never to quit it until he saw it
safe on to the evening train.</p>

<p>"She's awful mad at him for sure, this time,"
said Lucinda after she had delivered her message,
<pb n="022" /><anchor id="Pg022" />and while Joshua was considering the front and
back of the letter with a deliberateness born of long
servitude.</p>

<p>"I sh'd think she would be," he said.</p>

<p>As nearly all of Jack's private difficulties were
printed in every newspaper in America, Joshua
naturally was on the inside of all their history.</p>

<p>"She scrinched up her face just awful over that
letter," Lucinda continued. "I'm sure I wish
he'd 'a' been by to 'a' taken warnin'."</p>

<p>"He ain't got nothin' to really fret over,"
said Joshua serenely; "he knows it, 'n' I know it,
'n' you know it, too."</p>

<p>"You don't know nothin' of the sort," said Lucinda.
"She's madder'n usual this time. She's
good an' mad. You mark my words, if he goes
off on a 'nother spree this spring he'll get cut out o'
her will."</p>

<p>Joshua laughed.</p>

<p>"You mark my words!" rasped Lucinda, shaking
her finger in witchlike warning.</p>

<p>Joshua laughed again.</p>

<p>"Them laughs best what laughs last," said Aunt
Mary's handmaiden. She turned away, and then
returned to give Joshua a look that proved that the
peppery mistress had inculcated some cayenne into
the souls of those about her. "You mark my
words&mdash;them laughs best what laughs last, an'
<pb n="023" /><anchor id="Pg023" />there'll be little grinnin' for him if he ain't a chalk-walker
for one while now."</p>

<p>Joshua laughed.</p>

<p>But, as a matter of fact, Jack's situation was suddenly
become extremely precarious.</p>

<p>"There ain't no sense in it," said Aunt Mary to
herself, with an emphasis that screwed her face up
until she looked quite like Lucinda; "that life
those young men lead on their little vacations is
to blame for everything. Cities are wells of
iniquity; they're full of all kinds of doin's that
respectable people wouldn't be seen at, and I'm
proud to say that I haven't been in one myself for
twenty-five years. I'm a great believer in keepin'
out of trouble, an' if Jack'd just stuck to college
an' let towns go, he'd never have met the cabman
and the Kalamazoo girl, an' I'd have overlooked
the cook an' the cat. As it is, my patience is done.
If he goes into one more scrape he'll be done too.
I mean what I say. So my young man had better
take warnin'. Probably&mdash;most likely&mdash;pretty
certainly."</p>
</div>

<pb n="024" /><anchor id="Pg024" />

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<index index="toc" />
<index index="pdf" />
<head>Chapter Three - Introducing Jack</head>


<p>It has been previously stated that Aunt Mary's
nephew, Jack, was a scapegrace, and as delightful
as scapegraces generally are. It goes without
saying that he was good-looking; and of course
he must have been jolly and pleasant or he wouldn't
have been so popular. As a matter of fact, Jack
was very good-looking, unusually jolly, and uncommonly
popular. He was one of the best liked
men in each of the colleges which he had attended.
There was something so winning about his smile
and his eternal good humor that no one ever tried
to dislike him; and if anyone ever had tried he or
she would not have succeeded for very long. It
is probably very unfortunate that the world is so
full of this type of young man, but that which
should cause us all to have infinite patience with
them is the reflection of how much more unfortunate
it would be if they were suddenly eliminated
from the general scheme of things.</p>

<p>Like all college boys, Jack had a chum. The
chum was Robert Burnett, another charming young
<pb n="025" /><anchor id="Pg025" />fellow of one-and-twenty, whose education had
been so cosmopolitan in design and so patriotic in
practice that he always said "Sacre bleu" and
"Donnerwetter" when he thought of it, and
"Great Scott" when he didn't. He and Jack were
as congenial a pair as ever existed, and they had
just about as much in common as the aunt of the
one and the father of the other had had to pay for.</p>

<p>In the February of the year of which I write,
Washington, celebrating his birthday as usual, gave
all American students their usual chance to celebrate
with him. Celebrations were temptations
incarnate to Jack, and he was feeling frowningly
what a clog Aunt Mary's latest epistle was upon
his joys, when his friend came to the rescue with an
invitation to spend the double holiday (it doubled
that year&mdash;Sunday, you know) at the brand-new
ancestral castle which Burnett <hi rend="font-style: italic">père</hi> had just finished
building for his descendants. It may be imagined
that Jack accepted the invitation with alacrity, and
that his never-very-downcast heart bounded gleefully
higher than usual over the prospect of two
days of pleasure in the country.</p>

<p>It is not necessary to state where the castle of
the Burnetts was erected, but it was in a beautiful
region, and the monthly magazines had written it
up and called it an architectural triumph. The
owner fully agreed with the monthly magazines,
<pb n="026" /><anchor id="Pg026" />and his pride found vent in a house-warming which
filled every guest chamber in the place.</p>

<p>The festivities were in full swing before the
youngest son and his friend arrived; and when
the dog-cart, which brought them from the station,
drew up under the mighty porte-cochère with its
four stone lions, rampant in four different directions,
Jack felt one of those delicious thrills which
run through one under particularly hopeful and
buoyant circumstances.</p>

<p>"It's like walking in a novel," his friend said;
as they entered under some heavy draperies which
the footman pushed aside and found a tiny spiral
staircase, which wound its way aloft in a style that
Jack liked immensely and the latter agreed with all
his heart.</p>

<p>The staircase led them to the third floor and
when they emerged therefrom they found themselves
in a big semi-circular billiard room, with a
fireplace at each end large enough to put one of the
tables in, and cues and counters and stools and
divans and smoking utensils sufficient for a regiment.</p>

<p>"I tell you, this is the way to do things,"
exclaimed Burnett; "isn't it jolly? Time of your
life, old man, time of your life!&mdash;And, oh, by the
way," he said, suddenly interrupting himself, "I
wonder if my sister's got here yet!"
<pb n="027" /><anchor id="Pg027" /></p>

<p>"Which sister?" Jack inquired; for his friend
was one of a very large family, and he had met
several of them on their various visits to town.</p>

<p>"Betty&mdash;the one who beats all the others hollow,"&mdash;but
just there the conversation was broken
off by the servants coming up with the luggage
and setting two doors open that showed them two
big rooms, both exquisitely furnished, and both
with windows that looked out, first on to a stone
balustrade, and secondly on to a superb view over
the river and the mountains beyond.</p>

<p>The men unstrapped the things and went away,
leaving such a plenitude of comfort behind them
as led Jack to fling himself into the most luxurious
chair in the room and stretch his arms and
legs far and wide in utter contentment.</p>

<p>Burnett was fishing for his key ring.</p>

<p>"It's a great old place, isn't it?" he remarked
parenthetically. "Great Scott! but I'll bet we have
fun these two days! And if my sister Betty is
here&mdash;" He paused expressively.</p>

<p>"Doesn't she live at home?" Jack asked.</p>

<p>"She's just come home; she's been in England
for three years. Oh, but I tell you she's a
corker!"</p>

<p>"I should think&mdash;"</p>

<p>The sentence was never completed because a
voice without the not-altogether-closed door cried:
<pb n="028" /><anchor id="Pg028" /></p>

<p>"No, don't think, please; let me come in instead."
And in the same instant Burnett made
one leap and flung the door open, crying as he did
so:</p>

<p>"Betty!"</p>

<p>Then Jack, bunching somewhat his starfish attitude,
looked across the room and realized instantly
that it was all up with him forever after.</p>

<p>Because&mdash;</p>

<p>Because she who stood there in the door was
quite the sweetest, the loveliest, the most interesting
looking girl whom he had ever laid eyes on;
and when she was seized in her brother's arms, and
kissed by her brother's lips, and dragged by her
brother's hands well into the room, she proved to
be a thousand times more irresistible than at
first.</p>

<p>"I say, Betty, you're absolutely prettier than
ever," her brother exclaimed, holding her a little
off from him and surveying her critically; and then
he seemed to remember his friend's existence, and,
turning toward him, announced proudly:</p>

<p>"My sister Bertha."</p>

<p>Jack was standing up now and thinking how
lovely her eyes were just at that instant when they
were meeting his for the first time, thinking much
else too. Thinking that Monday was only two
days away (hang it!); thinking that such a
<pb n="029" /><anchor id="Pg029" />smile was never known before; thinking that he
had <hi rend="font-style: italic">years</hi> ahead at college; thinking that the curl
on her forehead was simply distracting (whereas
all other like curls were horrid); thinking that he
might cut college and&mdash;</p>

<p>"My chum, Jack Denham," Burnett continued,
proving in the same instant how rapidly the mind
may work since his friend had compassed his
encyclopedia of sentiment and probability between
the two halves of a formal introduction.</p>

<p>"Oh, I'm very glad to meet you, Mr. Denham,"
she said, putting out her hand&mdash;and he took and
held it just long enough to realize that he really was
holding it, before she took it away to keep for her
own again. "I've often heard of you, and often
wished I might know you."</p>

<p>"I'm awfully glad to hear you say that," he
said, "and if I should have the royal luck to be
next to you at dinner, it doesn't seem to me that I
shall have the strength to keep from telling
you why."</p>

<p>She clapped her hands at this, just as a very little
girl might have done.</p>

<p>"If that is so, I hope that they will put you
next to me at dinner," she said gayly; "but if they
don't, you'll tell me some other time, won't you?
I'm always <hi rend="font-style: italic">so</hi> interested in what people have to
tell me about myself."
<pb n="030" /><anchor id="Pg030" /></p>

<p>Burnett began to laugh.</p>

<p>"Jack," he said, "I see that we'd better have a
clear and above-board understanding right in the
beginning and so I'll just tell you that this sister
of mine, who appears so guileless, is the very worst
flirt ever. She looks honest, but she can't tell the
truth to save her neck. She means well, but she
drives folks to suicide just for fun. She'd do anything
for anybody in general, but when it's a case
of you individually she won't do a thing to you,
and you must heed my words and be forewarned
and forearmed from now on. Mustn't he,
Betty?"</p>

<p>At this the sister laughed, nodding quite as
gayly as if it were a laughing matter, instead
of the opening move in a possibly serious&mdash;tremendously
serious&mdash;game of life.</p>

<p>"It's awful to have to subscribe to," she said,
with dancing eyes; "but I'm afraid it's true. I'm
really quite a reprobate, and I admit it frankly.
And everyone is so good to me that I never get a
chance to reform. And so&mdash;and so&mdash;"</p>

<p>"But then, I suppose I ought to warn her about
you, too," said Burnett, turning suddenly toward
his friend. "It isn't fair to show her up and not
show you up, you know. And really, Betty, he's
almost as bad as you are yourself. I may tell you
in confidence&mdash;in strict confidence (for it's only
<pb n="031" /><anchor id="Pg031" />been in a few newspapers)&mdash;that he hasn't got his
breach-of-promise suit all compromised yet. Ask
him to deny it, if he can!"</p>

<p>The sister looked suddenly startled and curious
and Jack felt himself to be blushing desperately.</p>

<p>"I don't look as if he was lying, do I?" he
asked smiling; "be honest now, for you can see
that Burnett and I both are."</p>

<p>"No, you don't," she said. "You look as if it
was a very true bill."</p>

<p>"It is," he said; "and it's going to be an awfully
big one, too, I'm afraid."</p>

<p>"I wouldn't have thought you were such a bad
man," said the sister ever so sweetly; "but I like
bad men. They interest me. They&mdash;"</p>

<p>"There!&mdash;I see your finish," said Burnett.
"That's one of her favorite opening plays. It's
all up with you, Jack, and your aunt will have to
to go down for another damage suit when you
begin to perceive that you have had enough of our
family. But you'll have to get out now, Betty,
and let him get dressed for dinner. You needn't
cry about it either for he's even more attractive in
his glad rags than he is in his railway dust&mdash;my
word of honor on it."</p>

<p>"I look nice myself when I'm dinner-dressed,"
said the sister, "so I sympathize with him and I'll
go with pleasure. Good-bye."
<pb n="032" /><anchor id="Pg032" /></p>

<p>She sort of backed toward the door and Jack
sprang to open it for her.</p>

<p>"You can kiss her hand, if you like," Burnett
said kindly. "They do in Germany, you know.
I don't mind and mamma needn't know."</p>

<p>"May I?" Jack asked her; and then he caught
her eye over her brother's bent head and added,
so quickly that there was hardly any break at all
between the words: "Some other time?"</p>

<p>"Some other time," she said, with a world of
meaning in the promise; and then she flashed one
wonderful look straight into his eyes and was gone.</p>

<p>"Isn't she great?" Burnett asked, unlocking his
suit-case in the most provokingly every-day style, as
if this day was an every-day sort of day and not the
beginning and end of all things. "Oh, I tell you,
I'm almost dotty over that sister myself."</p>

<p>"Do you suppose that I could manage to have
her for dinner?" Jack asked, feeling desperately
how dull any other place at the table would be
now.</p>

<p>"I don't know. When I go down to my
mother I'll try to manage it; shall I?"</p>

<p>"I wish you would."</p>

<p>"I reckon I can; but, great loads of fire, fellow!
don't think you can play tag with her, and feel
funny at the finish. She'll do you up completely,
and never turn a hair herself. She's always at it.
<pb n="033" /><anchor id="Pg033" />She don't mean to be cruel, but she's naturally a
carnivorous animal. It's her little way."</p>

<p>Jack did not look as dismal as he should have
done; he smiled, and looked out of the window
instead.</p>

<p>"She'll have to marry someone some day, you
know," he said thoughtfully.</p>

<p>"Have to marry someone some day!" Burnett
cried. "Why, she is married. Didn't you know
that?" and he unbuckled the shirt portfolio as he
spoke just as if calamities and tragedies and shooting
stars might not follow on the heels of
such a simple statement as that last.</p>

<p>It was an awful moment, but poor Jack did manage
to continue looking out of the window. If any greater
demand had been made upon him he might have
sunk beneath the double weight.</p>

<p>"No," he said at last, his voice painfully steady;
"I didn't know it."</p>

<p>Burnett laughed heartlessly, hauling forth his
apparel with a refined cruelty which took careful
heed of possible interfolded shoes or cravats.</p>

<p>"She married an Englishman when she was
nineteen years old," he said. "That was when
they sent me to Eton that little while,&mdash;until I
drove the horse through the drug shop. The time
I told you about, don't you know?"</p>

<p>"Yes, I remember," said Jack. He observed
<pb n="034" /><anchor id="Pg034" />with sickening distinctness that the night had begun
to fall, the river's silver ribbon had become a
black snake, and that the mountain range beyond
loomed chill and dark and cheerless. "I guess I
ought to be getting into my things," he said, moving
toward his own door.</p>

<p>"There's a bath in here," his friend called after
him. "We're to divide it."</p>

<p>"Sure," was the reply. It sounded a trifle
thick.</p>

<p>"I don't think that she ought to," said the
brother to himself, as he began to draw out his
stick-pin before the mirror, "I don't care if she is
my favorite sister&mdash;I don't think that she ought
to."</p>

<p>Then he went on to make ready for the securing
of his half of the bath, and forthwith forgot his
sister and his friend.</p>
</div>

<pb n="035" /><anchor id="Pg035" />

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<index index="toc" />
<index index="pdf" />
<head>Chapter Four - Married</head>


<p>It was almost like a scene at a ball, the great
white-and-gold music room before dinner that
night. The Burnett family proper numbered
fifteen among themselves, and there were nearly
thirty guests added. It was entirely too large a
house party to have handled successfully for very
long, but it would be most awfully jolly for three
or four days; and now, when the whole crowd
were gathered waiting for dinner, the picture was
one of such bubbling joy that Jack's very heavy
heart seemed to himself to be terribly out of place
there and he wondered whether he should be able
to put up even a fairly presentable front during the
endless hours that must ensue before the time for
breaking up arrived.</p>

<p>Burnett took him all around and introduced him
to people in general, and people in general seemed
to him to merely bring the fact of her pre-eminence
more vividly than ever before his mind. He
found himself looking everywhere but at them too,
<pb n="036" /><anchor id="Pg036" />and listening with an acutely sensitive ear for
sounds quite other than those of their various lips.
But eternal disappointment rewarded his eyes and
ears. She was nowhere.</p>

<p>So he talked blindly about nothing to all the
nobodies and laughed stupidly over all their stupidities
until&mdash;suddenly and without any warning&mdash;a
fearful jump in his throat sent the mercury in
his constitution shooting up to 160, and he saw,
heard, felt, gasped, and knew, that that radiant
angel in silver tissue who had just entered the
farther end of the room was indubitably Herself.</p>

<p>(Married!)</p>

<p>He quite forgot who, what and where he was.
There was a somebody talking to him&mdash;a very
awful and bony young lady, but she faded so completely
out of the general scheme of his immediate
present that all the use he made of her was to stare
over her head at the distant apparition that was
become, now and forever, his All in All. The distant
apparition had not lied when she had told him
up in her brother's room that she too, looked
"nice" when dressed for dinner. Only the word
"nice" was as watered milk to the champagne of
her appearance. She was gowned superbly and
her throat and arms were half bared by the folds
of silvered lace; her hair fitted into the back of
her neck in the smoothest mass of puffs and coils,
<pb n="037" /><anchor id="Pg037" />and the curl on her forehead was more distracting
than ever.</p>

<p>(Married!)</p>

<p>She seemed to be speaking to everyone, and
everyone seemed to be crowding around her. He
couldn't go up like everyone else, because the
awful and bony young lady was talking hard at
him and heightened her charms with a smile that
took up two-fifths of her face, and wrinkled all the
rest.</p>

<p>Her name was Lome&mdash;Maude Lome. He
knew that she must be a relative without being told,
because otherwise she wouldn't have been invited
at all. Anyone could divine that.</p>

<p>"Oh, isn't dear Betty just lovely?" this fearful
freak said. "I think she's just too lovely for
anything! She's my cousin, you know; we're often
mistaken for one another."</p>

<p>"I can well believe it," said Jack, heavily, not
ceasing to stare beyond as he said it.</p>

<p>(Married!)</p>

<p>"Oh, you're flattering me! Because she's ever
so much prettier than I am, and I know it."</p>

<p>He didn't reply. It had suddenly come over
him to wonder whether there ever had been an
authentic case of heartbreak. Because he had the
most terrible ache right in his left side!</p>

<p>(Married! Married!)
<pb n="038" /><anchor id="Pg038" /></p>

<p>"But, then," Miss Lome continued, "I'm
younger than she is. Her being married makes
her seem young, but she's really twenty-four. I'm
only twenty."</p>

<p>He shut his eyes, and then opened them. He
wished he hadn't come here, and then grew shivery
to think that he might have happened not to; and
all the while that awful twisting and wrenching
at his heart was getting worse and worse.</p>

<p>(Married! Married! Married!)</p>

<p>Burnett came up just then with a man wearing
a monocle and presented him to Denham, and
forthwith handed the bony cousin to his safe-keeping.</p>

<p>"She's a great pill, isn't she?" he began, as
the couple moved away; and then he stopped short.
"What's the matter?" he asked. "Sick?"</p>

<p>"I hope not," said Jack, trying to smile.</p>

<p>"You look hipped," his friend said anxiously.
"Better go get a bracer; you'll have time if you
hurry. You can't be sick before dinner, because
I've been moving all the cards around so as to get
Betty next to you, and I could never get them back
as they were before if you gave out at the last minute."</p>

<p>"I don't believe I'm ill," said Jack, trying to
realize whether the news that she was to be his (for
dinner) made him feel any better or only just about
<pb n="039" /><anchor id="Pg039" />the same. "I don't know what ails me. Do I
look seedy?"</p>

<p>"You look sort of knocked out, that's all," said
Burnett. "Perhaps, though, it was just the having
to talk to my cousin Maude so long. Isn't
she the limit, though? But I'll tell you the one
big thing about that girl: She's just the biggest
kind of a catch. She was my uncle's eldest child;
she's worth twelve times what any of us ever will
be."</p>

<p>"I'm sure she'll need it," said Jack heartily.</p>

<p>"You're right there," laughed his friend;
"but you've got to hurry and get your brandy now
if you want it, because they'll be going out in a
minute."</p>

<p>"Oh, I'm all right," said the poor chap, straightening
his shoulders back a little. "I can make
out well enough, I'm sure. I think I'd better go
over by your sister and let her know that I'm ready
when the hour of need shall strike."</p>

<p>Burnet nodded and then he went on and his
friend walked down the room, no one but himself
knowing that he was making his way into the lion's
(or, rather, lioness's) den.</p>

<p>And then he paused there beside her. Oh! she
Was seven million times lovelier close to than far
away. All the rot about Venus and statues and
paintings and Helen of Troy was nowhere beside
<pb n="040" /><anchor id="Pg040" />Her and he felt his strength come surging mightily
upward and then&mdash;oh Heavens!</p>

<p>She looked up&mdash;looked so sweetly up&mdash;right
into his eyes and smiled.</p>

<p>"I expect you are to take me into dinner," she
said; and at her words the man who had been
talking to her murmured something meaningless
and got out of their way.</p>

<p>"I believe so," he said.</p>

<p>She rose and he noticed that the top of her head
was just level with his coat lapel. He wondered,
with a miserable pang, where she came to on her
husband's coat and with the wonder his surging
strength surged suddenly out to sea again and left
him feeling like Samson when he awoke to the
realization of his haircut.</p>

<p>"Dinner's very late," she said, quite as if life
presented no problem whatever; "you see, it's the
first big company in the house. We were only
seventeen last night, and to-night we're forty-five.
It makes a difference."</p>

<p>"I can imagine so," he said. He was suddenly
acutely aware of feeling very awkward, and of
finding her different&mdash;quite different from what
she had seemed up in her brother's room.</p>

<p>"What is it?" she asked after a minute, looking
up at him; and then she showed that she was
conscious of the change, for she added: "Something
<pb n="041" /><anchor id="Pg041" />has happened; Bob has been saying mean
things about me to you?"</p>

<p>"Yes, he did tell me something," he admitted;
and just then the butler announced dinner.</p>

<p>"What did he tell you?" she asked, as they
moved away. "How could he say anything worse
than what he said before me?"</p>

<p>"He told me something that was worse&mdash;much
worse."</p>

<p>She looked troubled and as if she did not understand.</p>

<p>"But he said that I was a flirt, and that I
couldn't speak the truth, and that I drove people&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Yes, I remember all that; but this was infinitely worse."</p>

<p>"Infinitely worse!"</p>

<p>"Yes."</p>

<p>She stopped in an angle where the big room
dwindled into a narrow gallery, and stared astonished.</p>

<p>"I can't at all understand," she said.</p>

<p>"No, you can't," he said, "and I can't tell you&mdash;I
mustn't tell you&mdash;how terrible it is to me to
look at you and think of what he told me."</p>

<p>After a second she went on again and presently
they entered the dining-room. The confusion of
rustling skirts and sliding chairs quite covered
<pb n="042" /><anchor id="Pg042" />their speech for a moment and made them seem
almost alone. Her hand had been resting on his
arm and now she drew it out, looking up at him
again as she did so. Her eyes had a premonitory
mist over them.</p>

<p>"For Heaven's sake," she said very earnestly,
"tell me what he said?"</p>

<p>He was silent.</p>

<p>"Tell me," she pleaded.</p>

<p>He was still silent.</p>

<p>"Tell me," she said imperiously.</p>

<p>He continued silent. They sat down.</p>

<p>"Mr. Denham," she said, as she took up her
napkin, and her voice grew very low, and yet he
heard, "I don't think that we can pretend to be
joking any longer. You are my brother's friend,
and I am a married woman. Please treat me as
you should."</p>

<p>"That's just it," said Jack; "that's all there is
to it. It wouldn't have amounted to anything
except for that&mdash;or perhaps, if it hadn't been
for that, it might have amounted to a great
deal."</p>

<p>"If it hadn't been for what?"</p>

<p>"For your being married."</p>

<p>She quite started in her seat.</p>

<p>"What do you mean?"</p>

<p>"You see I never knew it before."
<pb n="043" /><anchor id="Pg043" /></p>

<p>"You never knew what before?"</p>

<p>"That you were married."</p>

<p>"Until when?"</p>

<p>"Until after you went out of the room to-night."</p>

<p>The men were putting the clams around. She
seemed to reflect. And then she peppered and
salted them before she spoke.</p>

<p>"Bob is very wrong to talk so," she said at last,
picking up her fork, "when you're his friend, too."</p>

<p>He poked his clams&mdash;he hated clams.</p>

<p>"I suppose men think it's amusing to do such
things," she continued, "but I think it's as ill-bred
as practical joking."</p>

<p>"But you are married," he said, trying fiercely
to pepper some taste into the tasteless things before
him.</p>

<p>"Yes, I'm married," she admitted tranquilly,
"but, then, my husband went to Africa so soon
afterwards that he hardly seemed to count at all.
And then he was killed there; so, after that, he
seemed to count less than ever."</p>

<p>The air danced exclamation points and the man
on the other side spoke to her then so that her turning
to answer him gave Jack time to rally his wits.</p>

<p>(A widow!)</p>

<p>Then she turned back and said:</p>

<p>"I think Bob mystified you unnecessarily. Of
course I don't flatter myself that you've suffered."
<pb n="044" /><anchor id="Pg044" /></p>

<p>"Oh, but I have," he hastened to assure her.</p>

<p>(A widow! A widow!)</p>

<p>"But it always makes a difference whether a
woman is married or not."</p>

<p>"I should say it did," he interrupted again.
"It makes all the difference in the world."</p>

<p>At that she laughed outright, and someone suddenly
abstracted the distasteful clams and substituted
for them a golden and glorious soup, and
music sounded forth from some invisible quartet,
and&mdash;and&mdash;</p>

<p>(A widow! A widow! A widow!)</p>
</div>
<pb n="045" /><anchor id="Pg045" />

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<index index="toc" />
<index index="pdf" />

<head>Chapter Five - The Day After Falling in Love</head>


<p>The next day was a very memorable day
for Jack. The day after a falling in love
is always a red-letter day; but the day after
the falling in love&mdash;ah!</p>

<p>One looks back&mdash;far back&mdash;to the day before,
and those hours of the day before, when her sun
had not yet dawned, and struggles to recollect
what ends life could have represented then.
And one looks forward to the next day, the next
week, the next year&mdash;but, particularly to the next
morning with sensations as indescribable as they
are delightful.</p>

<p>Whichever way you tip it, the kaleidoscope of
the future arranges itself in equally attractive
shapes of rainbow hue, and the prospect over land
or sea&mdash;even if it is raining&mdash;looks brilliant green,
and brighter red, and brightest yellow.</p>

<p>Upon that glorious "next day" of Jack's the
weather was quite a thing apart for February&mdash;partaking
of the warmth of May, and owing that
fact to a sun which early June need not have
<pb n="046" /><anchor id="Pg046" />scorned to own. Under the circumstances the
house party overflowed the house and ravaged the
surrounding country, and Jack and Mrs. Rosscott
began it all by having the highest cart and the
fastest cob in the stables and making for the forest
just as the clock was tolling ten.</p>

<p>"Do you want a groom?" asked Burnett, who
was occasionally very cruel.</p>

<p>"Well, I'm not going to wait for him to get
ready now," replied his sister, who had sharp wits
and did not disdain to give even her own family the
benefit of them.</p>

<p>Then she gathered up the reins and whip in a
most scientific manner, and they were off. Jack
folded his arms. He was simply flooded, drenched,
and saturated with joy. The evening before
had been Elysium when she had only been his
now and again for a minute's conversation, but
now she was to be his and his alone until&mdash;until they
came back&mdash;and his mind seemed able to grasp no
dearer outlines of the form which Bliss Incarnate
may be supposed to take. He didn't care where
they went or what they saw or what they talked of,
just if only he and she might be going, seeing, and
talking for the benefit of one another and of one
another alone.</p>

<p>They bowled away upon a firm, hard road that
skirted the park, and then plunged deeply into the
<pb n="047" /><anchor id="Pg047" />forest. Mrs. Rosscott handled the reins and the
whip with the hands of an expert.</p>

<p>"I like to drive," said she.</p>

<p>"You appear to," he answered.</p>

<p>"I like to do everything," she said. "I'm very
athletic and energetic."</p>

<p>"I'm glad of that," he told her warmly. "I
like athletic girls."</p>

<p>He really thought that he was speaking the
truth, although upon that first day if she had declared
herself lazy and languid he would have
found her equally to his taste&mdash;because it was the
first day.</p>

<p>"That's kind of you, after my speech," she said
smiling, "but let's wait a bit before we begin to
talk about me. Let us talk about you first&mdash;you're
the company, you know."</p>

<p>"But there's nothing to tell about me," said
Jack, "except that I'm always in difficulties&mdash;financial&mdash;or
otherwise,&mdash;oftenest 'otherwise,' I
must confess."</p>

<p>"But you have a rich aunt, haven't you?" said
Mrs. Rosscott. "I thought that I had heard about
your aunt."</p>

<p>"Oh, yes, I have a rich aunt," Jack said, laughing,
"and I can assure you that if I am not much
credit to my aunt, my aunt is the greatest possible
credit to me."
<pb n="048" /><anchor id="Pg048" /></p>

<p>"Yes, I've heard that, too," said Mrs. Rosscott,
joining in the laugh, "you see I'm well posted."</p>

<p>"If you're so well posted as to me," Jack said,
"do be kind and post me a little as to yourself.
You don't need information and I do."</p>

<p>She turned and looked at him.</p>

<p>"What shall I tell you first?" she inquired.</p>

<p>"Tell me what you like and what you don't like&mdash;and
that will give me courage to do the same
later," he added boldly.</p>

<p>She laughed outright at that and then sobered
quickly.</p>

<p>"I told you that I liked to drive and to do everything,"
she said lightly; "what else do you want to
know about?"</p>

<p>"What you dislike."</p>

<p>"But I don't know of anything that I dislike;"
she said thoughtfully&mdash;"perhaps I don't like
England; I am not sure, though. I had a pretty
good time there after all&mdash;only you know, being
in mourning was so stupid. And then, too, I didn't
fit into their ideas. I really didn't seem to get the
true inwardness of what was expected of me. Oh,
I never dared let them know at home what a
failure I was as an Englishwoman. I mortified
my husband's sisters all the time. Just think&mdash;after
a whole year I often forgot to say 'Fancy
now!' and used to say 'Good gracious!' instead."
<pb n="049" /><anchor id="Pg049" /></p>

<p>Jack laughed.</p>

<p>"My husband's sisters were very unhappy about
it. They did want to love me, because I had so
much money; but it was tough work for them.
Did you ever know any middle-aged English young
ladies?" she asked him suddenly.</p>

<p>"No, I never did," he said.</p>

<p>"Really, they seem to be a thing apart that can't
grow anywhere but in England. Every married
man has not less than two, nor more than three, and
they always are a little gray and embroider very
nicely. Someone told me that as long as there's
any hope they wear stout boots and walk about and
hunt, but as soon as it's hopeless they take to embroidering."</p>

<p>"It must be rather a blue day for them when
they decide definitely to make the change," said
Jack.</p>

<p>"I never thought of that," said Mrs. Rosscott
soberly. "Of course it must! I was always very
good to them. I gave them ever so many things
that I could have used longer myself, and they used
to set pieces of muslin in behind the open-work
places and wear them."</p>

<p>She sighed.</p>

<p>"It's quite as bad as being a Girton girl," she
said. "Do you know what a Girton girl is?"</p>

<p>"No, I don't."
<pb n="050" /><anchor id="Pg050" /></p>

<p>"It's a girl from Girton College. It's the most
awful freak you ever saw. They're really quite
beyond everything. They're so homely, and their
hands and feet are so enormous, and their pins
never pin, and their belts never belt. And no one
has ever married one of them yet!"</p>

<p>She paused dramatically.</p>

<p>"I won't either, then," he declared.</p>

<p>She laughed at that, and touched up the cob a
trifle.</p>

<p>"Did you live long in England?" he asked.</p>

<p>"Forever!" she answered with emphasis; "at
least it seemed like forever. Mamma left me
there when I was nineteen (she married me off
before she left me, of course) and I stayed there
until last winter&mdash;until I was out of my mourning,
you know&mdash;and then I was on the Continent for a
while, and then I returned to papa."</p>

<p>"How do we strike you after your long
absence?"</p>

<p>"Oh, you suit me admirably," she said, turning
and smiling squarely into his face; "only the terrible 'and'
of the majority does get on my nerves
somewhat."</p>

<p>"What 'and'?"</p>

<p>"Haven't you noticed? Why when an American
runs out of talking material he just rests on one
poor little 'and' until a fresh run of thought overwhelms
<pb n="051" /><anchor id="Pg051" />him; you listen to the next person you're
talking with, and you'll hear what I mean."</p>

<p>Jack reflected.</p>

<p>"I will," he said at last.</p>

<p>The road went sweeping in and out among a
thicket of bare tree trunks and brown copses, and
the sunlight fell out of the blue sky above straight
down upon their heads.</p>

<p>"If it don't annoy you, my referring to England
so often," said she presently, "I will state that
this reminds me of Kaysmere, the country place of
my father-in-law."</p>

<p>"Is your father-in-law living yet?"</p>

<p>"Dear me, yes&mdash;and still has hold of the title
that I supposed I was getting when I was married
to his eldest son. My father-in-law is a particularly
healthy old gentleman of eighty. He was
forty years old when he married. He didn't
expect to marry, you know&mdash;he couldn't see his
way to ever affording it. But he jumped into the
title suddenly and then, of course, he married right
away. He had to. You'd know what a hurry
he must have been in to look at my mamma-in-law's
portrait."</p>

<p>"Was she so very beautiful?"</p>

<p>"No; she was so very homely. Maude's very
like her."</p>

<p>Jack laughed.
<pb n="052" /><anchor id="Pg052" /></p>

<p>She laughed, too.</p>

<p>"Aren't we happy together?" she asked.</p>

<p>"My sky knows but one cloud," he rejoined,
"and that is that Monday comes after Sunday."</p>

<p>"But we shall meet again," said Mrs. Rosscott.
"Because," she added mischievously, "I don't suppose
that it's on account of my cousin Maude that
you rebel at the approach of Monday."</p>

<p>"No," said Jack. "It may not be polite to say
so to you, but I wasn't in the least thinking of your
cousin."</p>

<p>"Poor girl!" said Mrs. Rosscott thoughtfully;
"and she was so sweet to you, too. Mustn't it be
terrible to have a face like that?"</p>

<p>"It must indeed," said Jack; "I can think of
but one thing worse."</p>

<p>"What?"</p>

<p>"To marry a face like that."</p>

<p>She laughed again.</p>

<p>"You're cruel," she declared; "after all her
face isn't her fortune, so what does it matter?"</p>

<p>"It doesn't matter at all to me," said Jack. "I
know of very few things that can matter less to me
than Miss Lorne's face."</p>

<p>"Now, you're cruel again; and she was so nice to
you too. Absolutely, I don't believe that the edges
of her smile came together once while she was
talking to you last night."
<pb n="053" /><anchor id="Pg053" /></p>

<p>"Did you spy on us to that extent?" said Jack.
"I wouldn't have believed it of you."</p>

<p>"Oh, I'm very awful," she said airily. "You'll
be more surprised the farther you penetrate into
the wilderness of my ways."</p>

<p>"And when will I have a chance to plunge into
the jungle, do you think?"</p>

<p>"Any Saturday or Sunday that you happen to
be in town."</p>

<p>"Are you going to live in town?"</p>

<p>"For a while. I've taken a house until the
beginning of July. I expect some friends over,
and I want to entertain them."</p>

<p>Jack felt the sky above become refulgent. He
was in the habit of spending every Saturday night
in the city&mdash;he and Burnett together.</p>

<p>"May I come as often as I like?" he asked.</p>

<p>"Certainly," said she; "because you know if
you should come too often I can tell the man at the
door to say I'm 'not at home' to you."</p>

<p>"But if he ever says: 'She's not at home to you,'
I shall walk right in and fall upon the man that you
are being at home to just then."</p>

<p>"But he is a very large man," said Mrs. Rosscott
seriously; "he's larger than you are, I think."</p>

<p>Jack felt the blue heavens breaking up into thunderbolts
for his head at <hi rend="font-style: italic">this</hi> speech.</p>

<p>"But I'm 'way over six feet," he said, his heart
<pb n="054" /><anchor id="Pg054" />going heavily faster, even while he told himself
that he might have known it, anyhow.</p>

<p>"He's all of six feet two," she said meditatively.
"I do believe he's even taller. I remember
liking him at the first glance, just because he
struck me as so royal looking."</p>

<p>He was miserably conscious of acute distress.</p>

<p>"Do&mdash;do you mind my smoking?" he
stammered.</p>

<p>(Might have known that, of course, there was
bound to be someone like that.)</p>

<p>"Not at all," she rejoined amiably. "I like
the odor of cigarettes. Shall I stop a little, while
you set yourself afire?"</p>

<p>"It isn't necessary," he said. "I can set myself
afire under any circumstances."</p>

<p>He lit a cigarette.</p>

<p>"Is he English?" he couldn't help asking then.</p>

<p>"Yes," she said; "I like the English."</p>

<p>"You appear to like everything to-day." He
did not intend to seem bitter, but he did it unintentionally.</p>

<p>(Confounded luck some fellows have.)</p>

<p>"I do. I'm very well content to-day."</p>

<p>He was silent, thinking.</p>

<p>"Well," she queried, after a while.</p>

<p>He pulled himself together with an effort.</p>

<p>"I think perhaps it's just as well," he said.
<pb n="055" /><anchor id="Pg055" /></p>

<p>"What is just as well?"</p>

<p>"That I know."</p>

<p>"Know what?"</p>

<p>"About him. I shan't ever take the chances of
calling on you now."</p>

<p>She laughed.</p>

<p>"He wouldn't put you out unless I told him
to," she said. "You needn't be too afraid of him,
you know."</p>

<p>His face grew a trifle flushed.</p>

<p>"I'm not afraid," he said, as coldly as it was in
him to speak; "but I'll leave him the field."</p>

<p>She turned and looked at him.</p>

<p>"The field?" she asked, with puzzled eyebrows.</p>

<p>"Yes."</p>

<p>Then she frowned for an instant, and then a
species of thought-ray suddenly flew across her
face and she burst out laughing.</p>

<p>"Why, I do believe," she cried merrily, "I do
believe you're jealous of the man at the door."</p>

<p>"Weren't you speaking of a man in the drawing-room?"
he asked, all her phrases recurring to his
mind together.</p>

<p>"No," she said laughing; "I was speaking of
my footman. Oh, you are so funny."</p>

<p>The way the sun shone suddenly again! His
horizon glowed so madly that he quite lost his head
<pb n="056" /><anchor id="Pg056" />and leaning quickly downward seized her hand in
its little tan driving glove of stitched dogskin, and
kissed it&mdash;reins and all.</p>

<p>"I'm not funny," he said, "it was the most
natural thing in the world."</p>

<p>She was laughing, but she curbed it.</p>

<p>"You'd better not be foolish," she said warningly.
"It don't mix well with college."</p>

<p>"I'm thinking of cutting college," he declared
boldly.</p>

<p>"Don't let us decide on anything definite until
we've known one another twenty-four hours," she
said, looking at him with a gravity that was almost
maternal; and then she turned the horse's head
toward home.</p>
</div>
<pb n="057" /><anchor id="Pg057" />

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<index index="toc" />
<index index="pdf" />
<head>Chapter Six - The Other Man</head>

<p>That evening Burnett felt it necessary to
give his friend a word of warning.</p>

<p>"Holloway's going to take Betty in to-night,"
he said, as they descended the tower stairs
together.</p>

<p>"Who's Holloway?" Jack asked.</p>

<p>"You can't expect to have her all the time, you
know," Burnett continued: "She's really one of
the biggest guns here, even if she is one of the
family."</p>

<p>"Who's Holloway?"</p>

<p>"Last night the <hi rend="font-style: italic">mater</hi> had her all mapped out
for General Jiggs, and I had an awful time getting
her off his hook and on to yours, and then you
drove her all this morning and walked her all the
afternoon, and the old lady says she's got to play
in Holloway's yard to-night&mdash;jus' lil' bit, you know."</p>

<p>"Who's Holloway?" Jack demanded.</p>

<p>"You know Horace Holloway; we were up
at his place once for the night. Don't you remember?"
<pb n="058" /><anchor id="Pg058" /></p>

<p>"I remember his place well enough; but he
hadn't got in when we came, and hadn't got up
when we left, so his features aren't as distinctly
imprinted on my memory as they might be."</p>

<p>"That's so," said Burnett, pushing aside the
curtains that concealed the foot of the wee stair;
"I'd forgotten. Well, you'll meet him to-night,
anyhow; he came on the five-five. Holly's a nice
fellow, only he's so darned over-full of good advice
that he keeps you feeling withersome."</p>

<p>Jack laughed.</p>

<p>"Did he ever give you any advice?" he asked.</p>

<p>"Why?"</p>

<p>"I don't recollect your taking it."</p>

<p>"I never take anything," said Burnett; "I consider
it more blessed to give than to receive&mdash;as
regards good advice anyhow."</p>

<p>"Who will I have for dinner?" Jack asked
presently, glancing around to see if there were any
silver tissues or distracting curls in sight.</p>

<p>"Well," his friend replied, rather hesitatingly,
"you must expect to balance up for last night, I
reckon."</p>

<p>"Your cousin, I suppose!"</p>

<p>Burnett nodded.</p>

<p>"She wanted you," he said. "She's taken a
fancy to you; and she can afford to marry for
love," he added.
<pb n="059" /><anchor id="Pg059" /></p>

<p>"I'm thankful that I can, too," the other answered
fervently.</p>

<p>His friend laughed at the fervor.</p>

<p>"You make me think of her teacher," he said.
"She sings, and when she was sixteen she meant
to outrank Patti; she was lots homelier then."</p>

<p>"Oh, I say!" Jack cried. "I can believe 'most
anything, but&mdash;"</p>

<p>Burnett laughed and then sobered.</p>

<p>"She was," he said solemnly; "she really and
truly <hi rend="font-style: italic">was</hi>. And her mother said to her teacher,&mdash;there
in Dresden: 'She will be the greatest soprano,
won't she?' And he said: 'Madame,
she has only that one chance&mdash;to be <hi rend="font-style: italic">the</hi>
greatest.'"</p>

<p>Jack laughed.</p>

<p>"But why 'Lorne'?" he asked suddenly.
"Why not 'Burnett,' since she's your uncle's
child?"</p>

<p>"Oh, that's straight enough; there's a hyphen
there. My uncle died and my aunt married a title.
My aunt's Lady Chiheleywicks, but the family
name is Lorne. And you pronounce my aunt's
name Chix."</p>

<p>"I'm glad I know," said Jack.</p>

<p>"Oh, we're great on titles," said Burnett, modestly.
"If the Boers hadn't killed Col. Rosscott,
Betty would have been a Lady, too, some day. But
<pb n="060" /><anchor id="Pg060" />as it is&mdash;" he added thoughtfully, "she's nothing
but a widow."</p>

<p>"'Nothing but'!" Jack cried indignantly.</p>

<p>"Oh, well," said Burnett, "of course it's great,
her being a widow&mdash;but then she'd have been great
the other way too."</p>

<p>"But if he was English and a colonel," Jack
said suddenly, "he must have been all of&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Fifty!" interposed Burnett; "oh, he was!
Maybe more, but he dyed his hair. It was a
splendid match for her. It isn't every girl who
can get a&mdash;"</p>

<p>Their conversation was suddenly cut short by
voices, accompanied by a sort of sweet and silky
storm of little rustles and the sound of feet&mdash;little
feet&mdash;coming down the great hall. Aunt Mary's
nephew felt himself suddenly wondering if any
other fellow present had such a tempest within his
bosom as he himself was conscious of attempting
to regulate unperceived.</p>

<p>And then, after all, she wasn't among the influx!
Miss Maude, was, though, and he had to
go up to her and talk to her; and terribly dull hard
labor it was.</p>

<p>While he was rolling the Sisyphus stone of conversation
uphill for the sixth or seventh time, Jack
noticed a gentleman pass by and throw a more than
ordinarily interesting glance their way. He was
<pb n="061" /><anchor id="Pg061" />a very well-built, fairly good-sized man of thirty-five
or forty years, with a handsome, uninteresting
face and heavy, sleepy dark eyes.</p>

<p>"Who is that?" he asked of his companion, his
curiosity supplementing his wish that she would begin
to bear her share of the burden of her entertainment.</p>

<p>"Don't you know?" she said in surprise.
"That's Mr. Holloway. He's just come. Oh,
he's so horrid! I think he's just too awfully
horrid for any use."</p>

<p>"Why?"</p>

<p>"Because he does such mean things. I just
know Bob must have told you how he treated me.
Bob's always telling it. Surely he's told you. It's
his favorite story."</p>

<p>"No, never," said Jack (his eyes riveted on
the staircase); "he never told me. But do tell me.
I'll enjoy hearing your side of it."</p>

<p>"But I haven't any side. It's just Horace Holloway's
meanness. There's nothing funny."</p>

<p>"But tell me anyway."</p>

<p>"Do you really want to hear?"</p>

<p>"Indeed, I do."</p>

<p>"Well, it's just that we were up in the mountains,
and I was rowing myself, and the boat didn't
go well, and Mr. Holloway came down off the
hotel piazza and called to me that she needed ballast,
<pb n="062" /><anchor id="Pg062" />and&mdash;and I said: 'Is that the trouble?' And
he said: 'Yes, row ashore, and I'll ballast you.'
And so, of course I rowed ashore to get him, and
(of course, I supposed he meant himself), and
when I was up by the dock he picked up a great
stone and dropped it in, and shoved me off, and
called after me: 'She'll go better now,' and&mdash;everyone laughed!"</p>

<p>Miss Lome stopped, breathless.</p>

<p>"I never would have believed it of him," Jack
exclaimed, turning to see where Holloway kept his
sense of humor; but just as his eye fell upon the
latter, the latter's eyes altered and suddenly became
so bright and intent that his observer involuntarily
turned his own gaze quickly in the same
direction.</p>

<p>It was Mrs. Rosscott who was approaching, all
in cerise with lines of Chantilly lace sweeping
about her. It seemed a cruelty to every woman
present that she should be so beautiful. Jack
wanted to fly and fall at her feet, but he couldn't,
of course&mdash;he was tied to her hyphenated cousin.</p>

<p>But Holloway went forward and greeted her
with all possible <hi rend="font-style: italic">empressement,</hi> and the man who
was so much his junior felt an awful weight of
youth upon him as he saw her led out of his sight.</p>

<p>"I think dear Betty will marry Mr. Holloway,"
her cousin chirped blandly, thus settling her fate
<pb n="063" /><anchor id="Pg063" />forever. "He came over in her party, you know,
and&mdash;she's always been fond of him."</p>

<p>Jack suddenly recollected how Mrs. Rosscott
had commented on the terrible tendency to land
upon "and," and wondered why he had never
noticed before how disagreeable said tendency was.</p>

<p>(Going to marry Holloway!)</p>

<p>"But, then, dear Cousin Betty's such a coquette
that no one can ever tell whom she does like.
She's very insincere."</p>

<p>Jack twisted uneasily. If there was any comfort
to be derived from Miss Lorne's last speech,
it was certainly of a most chilly sort.</p>

<p>(Probably going to marry Holloway!)</p>

<p>"Now, I think it's too bad, when there are so
many simple, sweet girls in the world, that men
seem to adore those that flirt like dear Cousin
Betty. I don't approve of flirting anyway. I
wouldn't flirt for anything. I don't want to break
men's hearts."</p>

<p>"That's awfully good of you," Jack said, looking
eagerly to where Holloway and Mrs. Rosscott
stood together.</p>

<p>"Oh, no it isn't," said Miss Lorne, "I don't
take any credit for it&mdash;I was born so. Dear
Betty was a regular flirt when she was ever so
small, but I never was. I'm sincere and I can't
take any credit for it. I was born so."
<pb n="064" /><anchor id="Pg064" /></p>

<p>Holloway was talking and Mrs. Rosscott's eyes
were uplifted to his. Jack was sure there was
adoration in them. He knew Holloway was in
love with her. How could he be a man and help
it. Oh, it was damnable&mdash;unbearable.</p>

<p>He stood up suddenly. He couldn't help it.
He was crazed, maddened, choked, stifled. The
fates must intervene and rescue his reason or
else&mdash;</p>

<p>There was a blessed sound&mdash;the announcing of
dinner.</p>

<milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 5" />

<p>Later there was music in the great white salon
where the organ was. Maude Lome sang, and
the man with the monocle accompanied her on the
organ. Mrs. Rosscott sat on a divan between
Holloway and General Jiggs. Jack was left out
in the cold.</p>

<p>(Surely in love with Holloway!)</p>

<p>It was only twenty-six hours since he had first
met her, and he hated to consider his life as unalterably
blasted, or to even give up the fight.
Nevertheless, whenever he looked across the room
he saw fresh signs of the most awful kind. Even
the way that she didn't trouble to trouble over the
one man, but devoted herself to General Jiggs, was
in itself a very bad portent. Well, such was life
and one must bear it somehow and be a man.
<pb n="065" /><anchor id="Pg065" />Probably he would suffer less after the first five or
ten years&mdash;he hoped so at any rate. But, great
heavens, what a fearful prospect until those first
five or ten years were gone by!</p>

<p>Finally he went up to his own room and put on
another collar and sat down at the open window
and thought about it for a good while all quiet and
alone by himself. After that he went back downstairs.</p>

<p>She was gone, and Holloway, too. He felt
freshly unhappy. When you come to consider,
it was so damned unjust for one man to be
thirty-five while another&mdash;just as decent a fellow
in every way&mdash;was in college. He&mdash;</p>

<p>A hand touched his arm.</p>

<p>He turned from where he was standing in the
window recess, and looked into her eyes.</p>

<p>"I'm very wicked, am I not?" she asked, looking
up at him so straight and honest.</p>

<p>"I can't admit that," he replied.</p>

<p>"But I am. I know it myself. What Bob
told you was all true. I'm a heartless wretch."</p>

<p>She spoke so earnestly that his heart sank lower
and lower.</p>

<p>"I wanted to speak to you about to-morrow
morning," she said, after a little pause. "You
know we were going to drive at ten together, and&mdash;and
I wondered if&mdash;you see, Mr. Holloway's
<pb n="066" /><anchor id="Pg066" />an old friend, and he's had so much to tell me to-night,
and he isn't half through&mdash;"</p>

<p>She was drawing him with a chain, a hair chain,
which she had woven out of her eyelashes in the
twinkling of an eye (either eye).</p>

<p>He felt himself helpless&mdash;and choked.</p>

<p>"Of course I don't mind. You go with him.
It's quite one to me."</p>

<p>She gave a tiny little start.</p>

<p>"Oh, I didn't mean that at all," she cried. "I
meant&mdash;I meant&mdash;you see it's all been a little tiring&mdash;and
to-morrow's Sunday anyway and I&mdash;I
Wanted to&mdash;to ask you if we couldn't go out at
eleven instead of ten?"</p>

<p>She looked so sweetly questioning, and his relief
was so great, and his joy&mdash;</p>

<p>(Probably don't care a rap for Holloway!)</p>

<p>&mdash;so intense, that he could hardly refrain from
seizing her in his arms.</p>

<p>But he only seized her little hand instead and
pressed it fervently to his lips. When he raised
his eyes she was smiling, and her smile filled him
with happiness.</p>

<p>"You're such a boy!" she said softly, and
turned and left him there in the window recess
alone again,&mdash;but this time he didn't care.</p>
</div>
<pb n="067" /><anchor id="Pg067" />

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<index index="toc" />
<index index="pdf" />

<head>Chapter Seven - Developments</head>


<p>It was during that drive the next morning that
Jack buoyed up by memories of Saturday and
hopes of coming Saturdays, poured out the
history of his life at Mrs. Rosscott's knees. He
told her the whole story of Aunt Mary, and <hi rend="font-style: italic">his</hi> side
of the cat, the cabman, and Kalamazoo. It interested
her, for she had arrived too recently to have
had the full details in the newspapers beforehand,
but when he spoke of Aunt Mary's last letter she
grew large-eyed and shook her head gravely.</p>

<p>"You will have to be very good now," she said
seriously.</p>

<p>"Why?" he asked. "Just to keep from being
disinherited? That wouldn't be so awful."</p>

<p>"Wouldn't it be awful to you?" she asked,
turning her bright eyes upon him. "What could
be worse?"</p>

<p>"Things," he said very vaguely.</p>

<p>Then she touched up the cob a little; and, after
a minute or two, as she said nothing, he continued:</p>

<p>"I almost fancy quitting college and going to
work. I was thinking about it last night."
<pb n="068" /><anchor id="Pg068" /></p>

<p>She touched up the cob a little more, and
remained silent.</p>

<p>Finally he said:</p>

<p>"What would you think of my doing that?"</p>

<p>"I don't know," she said slowly. "You see,
I'm a great philosopher. I never fret or worry,
because I regard it as useless; similarly, I never
rebel at the way fate shapes my life&mdash;I regard that
as something past helping. I believe in predestination;
do you?"</p>

<p>She turned and looked at him so seriously&mdash;so
unlike her <hi rend="font-style: italic">riante</hi> self&mdash;that he felt startled, and did
not know what to say for a minute.</p>

<p>Then:</p>

<p>"I don't know," he said slowly; "I don't know
that I dare to. It rather startles me to think that
maybe all of our future is laid out now."</p>

<p>"It doesn't startle me," she said. "It seems
to me the natural plan of the universe. I believe
that everything that crosses our path&mdash;down to
the tiniest gnat&mdash;comes there in the fulfillment of
a purpose."</p>

<p>"I'm sure that all the mosquitoes that ever
crossed my path came there in the fulfillment of a
purpose," Jack interrupted. "I never doubted
<hi rend="font-style: italic">that</hi>."</p>

<p>She smiled a little.</p>

<p>"It's the same with people," she went on.</p>

<p rend="text-align: center"><anchor id="image02" />
<figure rend="w95" url="images/image02.png">
<head rend="text-align: center">"Do not let us play any longer,' she said. 'Let us be in earnest.'"</head>
<figDesc>Illustration 2</figDesc></figure></p><p></p>

<pb n="069" /><anchor id="Pg069" />

<p>"Only less painful," he interrupted again.</p>

<p>"Sometimes not," she said, with a look that
silenced him. "Sometimes much more so&mdash;my
Cousin Maude, for example."</p>

<p>"Hip, hip, hurrah for the mosquito!" he murmured.
They laughed softly together. Then
she grew earnest, and looked so grave that he became
serious too.</p>

<p>"There is always a purpose," she said, with a
touch of some feeling which he had never guessed
at. "If you and I have met, it is because we are
to have some influence over one another. I can't
just see how; I can't form any idea&mdash;"</p>

<p>"I can," he said eagerly.</p>

<p>She looked up so suddenly and steadily that he
was silent.</p>

<p>"Do not let us play any longer," she said.
"Let us be in earnest."</p>

<p>"But I am in earnest," he asseverated.</p>

<p>"You don't know what I mean," she went on
very gently. "You're in college. Let's fight it
out on those lines if it takes all summer."</p>

<p>He looked up into her face and loved her better
than ever for the frank kindliness that shone in
her eyes.</p>

<p>"All right, if you say so," he vowed.</p>

<p>"I do say so," she said. "I like to see men
stick it through in college if they begin. I like to
<pb n="070" /><anchor id="Pg070" />see people finish up every one of life's jobs that they
set out on."</p>

<p>"But I'm coming to see you in town, you know,"
he went on with great apparent irrelevance.</p>

<p>She laughed merrily.</p>

<p>"Yes, surely. You must promise me that.&mdash;No,"
she stopped and looked thoughtful, "I'll tell
you what I want you to promise me. Promise me
that you'll come once a week or else write me why
you can't come. Will you?"</p>

<p>"You can't suppose that you'll ever see my handwriting
under such circumstances&mdash;can you?" Jack
asked.</p>

<p>She laughed again.</p>

<p>"Is it a promise?"</p>

<p>"Yes, it's a promise."</p>

<p>Oh, joy unmeasured in the time of spring! No
other February like that had ever been for them&mdash;nor
ever would be. The drive came to an end, the
day came to an end, but the good-nights, which
were good-bys, too, were not so fraught with hopelessness
as he had dreaded, for the promise asked
and given paved a broad road illuminated by the
most hopeful kind of stars,&mdash;a broad road leading
straight from college to town,&mdash;and his fancy
showed him a figure treading it often. A figure
that was his own.</p>
</div>
<pb n="071" /><anchor id="Pg071" />

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<index index="toc" />
<index index="pdf" />
<head>Chapter Eight - The Resolution He Took</head>


<p>That first meeting was in February, you
know, and by the last of April it had been
followed by so many others that Burnett
remarked one day to his chum:</p>

<p>"Say, aren't you going a little faster than
auntie'll stand for?"</p>

<p>Jack turned in surprise.</p>

<p>"I never went so straight in my life before," he
exclaimed, not in indignation but in astonishment.</p>

<p>"I didn't mean that," said Burnett. "Perhaps
instead of 'auntie' I should have said 'Betty.'"</p>

<p>Jack hoisted the colors of Harvard, and was
silent.</p>

<p>"I warned you at first that that was Tangle
town," his friend went on. "Don't suppose I'm
saying anything against her&mdash;or against you; but
she's just as much to ten other men as she is to you,
and they all are old enough to carry lots of
weight."</p>

<p>"And I suppose I'm not," Jack answered, going
over by the fireplace. "I know that as well as
anyone, of course."
<pb n="072" /><anchor id="Pg072" /></p>

<p>"<hi rend="font-style: italic">Natürlich</hi>," said Burnett, with conclusiveness
that was not meant to be cruel, yet cut like a two
edged knife.</p>

<p>There was silence in the room. Jack stood by
the chimney-piece, his hands upraised to rest upon
its lofty shelf, his head dropped forward, and his
eyes fixed on the empty blackness below.</p>

<p>"I wonder," he said at last, "I wonder what
will become of me if&mdash;if&mdash;"</p>

<p>He stopped.</p>

<p>Burnett didn't speak.</p>

<p>"I wonder if she thinks of me as a boy," the
young man continued. "I wonder if she's so
good to me because I'm her youngest brother's
friend."</p>

<p>Burnett did not comment on this speech.</p>

<p>"I don't know what to do," the other said.
"When I first met her I wanted to cut college and
get out in the world and go to work like a man. I
told her so. But she wanted me to stay in college,
and as it was the first thing she'd ever wanted of
me, I did it. I'd do anything she asked me. I've
quit drinking. I'm going at everything as hard as
it's in me to go; but&mdash;I don't know&mdash;I feel&mdash;I feel
as if it isn't me&mdash;it's just because she wants me to,
and, do you know, old man, it frightens me to
think how&mdash;if she&mdash;if she went out of my&mdash;my
life&mdash;"
<pb n="073" /><anchor id="Pg073" /></p>

<p>He stopped and his broken phrases were not
continued to any ending.</p>

<p>Another long silence ensued.</p>

<p>It was finally terminated by the brother's saying:</p>

<p>"You must confess, old man, that you aren't
fixed so as to be able to say one really serious word
to any woman&mdash;unless it is, 'Wait.'"</p>

<p>"I know that," Jack answered; "but I suppose&mdash;"</p>

<p>"She'd be taking so many chances," the friend
interrupted. "A man in college is never the real
thing. You'd better give it up."</p>

<p>Then the other whirled about and faced
him.</p>

<p>"Give it up, did you say?" he asked almost
angrily.</p>

<p>"Yes, that's what."</p>

<p>For a minute they looked at one another. Then:</p>

<p>"I shall never give it up," the lover said very
slowly and steadily&mdash;"never, until she gives me
up."</p>

<p>Burnett sucked in his breath with a sudden compression
of his lips.</p>

<p>"All right," he said, not unkindly; "but I don't
believe you'll ever get her, and that's flat. There
are too many being entered for that race, and long
before you and I get out of here she'll be Mrs.
Somebody Else."
<pb n="074" /><anchor id="Pg074" /></p>

<p>Jack stared at him as if he hardly heard, and
then suddenly he stepped nearer and spoke.</p>

<p>"Did she ask you to have this talk with me?"</p>

<p>"No," said the brother in surprise, "she never
says anything about you to me."</p>

<p>A look of relief fled across his friend's face, and
then a look of resolution succeeded it.</p>

<p>"I'm not going to be discouraged," he said;
"not for a while, at any rate."</p>

<p>"You'd better be."</p>

<p>Jack laughed. The laugh sounded a trifle hollow,
but still it was a laugh, and that in itself was
a triumph of which none but himself might ever
measure the extent.</p>

<p>Because in that moment he decided to lay the
whole case before her the next time that he went to
town, and the coming to a resolution was a relief
from the uncertainty that clouded his days and
nights&mdash;even if a further black curtain of darkest
doubt hung before the possibilities of what her
answer might be.</p>
</div>
<pb n="075" /><anchor id="Pg075" />

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<index index="toc" />
<index index="pdf" />

<head>Chapter Nine - The Downfall of Hope</head>


<p>It was on a Saturday about the middle of May
that Jack came to town, his mind well braced
with love and arguments, and his main
thoughts being that when he returned something
would be settled.</p>

<p>It was a beautiful day, warm and sunny, and at
five in the afternoon both of the drawing-room
windows of Mrs. Rosscott's house were wide open,
and the lace curtains were taking the breeze like
little sails.</p>

<p>Just as Jack mounted the steps, the door opened,
and a plainly dressed, unattractive-looking man
was let out. The servant who did the letting out
saw Jack and let him in without closing the door
between the egress of the one and the ingress of
the other. So he entered without ringing, and, as
he was very well known and intensely popular with
all of Mrs. Rosscott's servants, the man invited
him to walk up unannounced, since he himself was
just "bringing in the tea."</p>

<p>Jack went upstairs, and because the carpet was
of thickly piled velvet and his boots were the boots
<pb n="076" /><anchor id="Pg076" />of a well-shod gentleman, he made no noise whatever
in the so doing.</p>

<p>There were double parlors above stairs in the
domicile which Burnett's sister had taken until
July, and they were furnished in the most correct
and trying mode of Louis XIV. The chairs were
gilt and very uncomfortable. The ornaments
were all straight up and down and made in such
shapes that there was no place to flick off cigarette
ashes anywhere. Nothing could be pulled up
to anything else and there was not a single good
place to rest one's elbows anywhere. The only
saving grace in the situation was that after five
minutes or so Mrs. Rosscott invariably suggested
removal to the library which lay beyond&mdash;a very
different species of apartment where no mode at all
prevailed except the terrible <hi rend="font-style: italic">démodé</hi> thing known
as comfort. To prevent her visitors, when seated
(for the five minutes aforementioned) amid the
correct carving of French art, from looking longingly
through at the easy-chairs of American manufacture,
Mrs. Rosscott had ordered that the blue
velvet portières which hung between should never
be pushed aside, and it was owing to this order that
Jack, entering the drawing-room, heard voices, but
could not see into the library beyond. Also it
was owing to this order that those in the library
could not see or hear Jack.
<pb n="077" /><anchor id="Pg077" /></p>

<p>The result was that the young man, finding the
drawing-room unoccupied, was just crossing
toward the blue velvet curtains, intending to wait
in the library until the returning servant should
advise him of the whereabouts of his mistress, when
he was stopped by suddenly hearing a voice&mdash;her
voice&mdash;crying (and laughing at the same time)&mdash;</p>

<p>"Kisses barred! Kisses barred!"</p>

<p>It may be understood that had Mrs. Rosscott
known that anyone was within hearing she certainly
would never have made any such speech, and it
may be further understood that, had whoever was
with her, also mistrusted the close propinquity of
another man, he would never have replied (as he
did reply):</p>

<p>"Certainly," the same being spoken in a most
calm and careless tone.</p>

<p>Jack, the eavesdropper, stood transfixed at the
voices and speeches, and forgot every other consideration
in the overwhelming sickness of soul
which overcame him that instant. All his other
soul-sicknesses were trifles compared to this one,
and the world&mdash;his world&mdash;their world&mdash;seemed
to revolve and whirl and turn upside down, as he
steadied himself against a spindle-legged cabinet
and felt its spindle-legs trembling in sympathy with
his own.</p>

<p>"Darling," said Holloway, a second or two
<pb n="078" /><anchor id="Pg078" />later (and this time his voice was not calm and
careless, but deep and impassioned), "the letter
was very sweet, and if you knew how I longed to
take the tired little girl to my bosom and comfort
her troubles, and replace them by joys!"</p>

<p>"Will that day ever come, do you think?"
Mrs. Rosscott answered, in low tones, which nevertheless
were most painfully clear and distinct in
the next room.</p>

<p>"It must," Holloway replied, "just as surely
as that I hold this dear little hand&mdash;"</p>

<p>But Jack never knew more. He had heard
enough&mdash;more than enough. Four thousand times
too much. He turned and went out of the rooms,
back down the stairs and out of the door, closed it
noiselessly behind him, and found himself in a
world which, although bright and sunny to all the
rest of mankind, had turned dark, lonely, and
cheerless to him.</p>

<p>At first he hardly knew what to do with himself,
he was so altogether used up by the discovery just
made. He drifted up and down some unknown
streets for an hour or two&mdash;or stood still on corners&mdash;he
never was very sure which. And then
at last he went downtown and took a drink in a
half-dazed way; and because it was quite two
months since his last indulgence, its suggestion was
potent.
<pb n="079" /><anchor id="Pg079" /></p>

<p>The pity&mdash;or rather, the apparent pity&mdash;of
what followed!</p>

<p>Burnett was Sundaying at the ancestral castle;
and Burnett wasn't the warning sort, anyhow. He
was always tow and pitch for any species of flame.
So his absence counted for nothing in the crisis.</p>

<p>And what ensued was a crisis&mdash;a crisis with a
vengeance.</p>

<p>That tear upon which Aunt Mary's nephew went
was something lurid and awful. It lasted until
Monday, and then its owner returned to college,
as ill of body and as embittered of spirit as it was
in him to be. The lightsome devil who had ruled
him up to his meeting with Mrs. Rosscott resumed
its sway with terrible force. The authorities
showed a tendency to patience because young Denham
had appeared to reform lately and had been
working hard; but young Denham felt no thankful
sentiments for their leniency, and proved his position
shortly.</p>

<p>There was a man named Tweedwell whom circumstances
threw directly in the path of destruction.
Tweedwell was an inoffensive mortal who
was studying for the ministry. He was progressive
in his ideas, and believed that a clergyman, to
hold a great influence, should know his world.
He thought that knowledge of the world was to be
gained by skirting the outside edge of every
<pb n="080" /><anchor id="Pg080" />species of worldliness. The result of this course
of action was not what it should have been, for
Tweedwell was an easy mark for all who wanted
fun, and the consciousness of his innocence so little
accelerated the pace at which he got out of the way
that he was always being called to account for what
he hadn't done.</p>

<p>The Saturday night after his Saturday in town,
Jack concocted a piece of deviltry which was as
dangerous as it was foolish. The result was that
an explosion took place, and the author of the gun-powder
plot had all the skin on both hands blistered.
Burnett, in escaping, fell and broke his
collarbone and two ribs. The house in which the
affair took place caught fire, and was badly damaged.
And Tweedwell was arrested on the
strongest kind of circumstantial evidence, and had
to answer for the whole. Naturally, in the investigation
that followed, the two who were guilty
had to confess or see the candidate for the ministry
disgraced forever.</p>

<p>The result of their confession was that Burnett's
father, a jovial, peppery old gentleman&mdash;we all
know the kind&mdash;lost his patience and wrote his son
that he'd better not come home again that year.
But Aunt Mary lost her temper much more completely
and the result, as affecting Jack, was awful.</p>

<p>She might not have acted as she did had the disastrous
<pb n="081" /><anchor id="Pg081" />news arrived either a week later or a week
earlier; but it came just in the middle of a discouraging
ten days' downpour, which had caused a dam
to break and a chain of valuable cranberry bogs to
be drowned out for that year. The cranberry bogs
were especially dear to their owner's heart.</p>

<p>"Why can't they drain 'em?" she had asked
Lucinda, who was particularly nutcracker-like in
appearance since her quarantine episode.</p>

<p>"'Pears like they're lower'n everywhere else,"
Lucinda answered, her words sounding as if she
had sharpened them on a grindstone.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary bit her lip and frowned at the rain.
She felt mad all the way through, and longed to
take it out on someone.</p>

<p>Ten minutes after Joshua arrived with the mail
and the mail bore one ominous letter. Joshua felt
something was wrong before the fact was assured.</p>

<p>"She wants the mail," Lucinda said, coming to
the door with her hand out as usual.</p>

<p>"She'll get the mail," said Joshua, and as he
spoke he gave the seeker after tidings a blood-curdling
wink.</p>

<p>"There isn't a telegram in one o' the letters, is
there?" Lucinda asked, much appalled by the
wink.</p>

<p>"No, there isn't no telegram in none o' the letters,"
said Joshua.
<pb n="082" /><anchor id="Pg082" /></p>

<p>"Joshua Whittlesey, I do believe you was born
to drive saints mad. What <hi rend="font-style: italic">is</hi> the matter?"</p>

<p>"Nothin' ain't the matter as I know of."</p>

<p>"Then what in Kingdom Come did you wink
for?"</p>

<p>"I winked," said Joshua meaningly, "cause I
expect it'll be a good while before we'll feel like
winkin' again."</p>

<p>Lucinda gave him a look in which curiosity and
aggravation fought catch-as-catch-can. Then she
turned and went in with the letters.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary was sitting stonily staring at the
rain.</p>

<p>"I thought you'd gone to take a drive with
Joshua," she said coldly. "Well, 's long 's you're
back I'll be glad to have my mail. Most folks like
to get their mail as soon as it comes an' I&mdash;Mercy
on us!"</p>

<p>It was the letter from the authorities enclosed
in one from Mr. Stebbins.</p>

<p>Lucinda stood bolt upright before her mistress.</p>

<p>"What's happened?" she yelled breathlessly,
after a few seconds of the direst kind of silence
had loaded the atmosphere while the letter was
being carefully read.</p>

<p>Then:</p>

<p>"Happened!&mdash;" said Aunt Mary, transfixing
the terrible typewritten communication with a yet
<pb n="083" /><anchor id="Pg083" />more terrible look of determination. "Happened!&mdash;Well,
jus' what I expected 's happened
an' jus' what nobody expects 'll happen now. Lucinda,
you run like you was paid for it and tell
Joshua not to unharness. Don't stop to open your
mouth. You'll need your breath before you get to
the barn. Scurry!"</p>

<p>Lucinda scurried. She splashed and spattered
down through the lane that led to Joshua's kingdom
with a vigor that was commendable in one of
her age.</p>

<p>"She says 'don't unharness,'" she panted,
bouncing in through the doorway just as Joshua
was slowly and carefully folding the lap-robe in the
crease to which it had become habituated.</p>

<p>Joshua continued to fold.</p>

<p>"Then I won't unharness," he said calmly. He
hung the robe over the line that was stretched to
hang robes over and Lucinda gasped for wind with
which to inflate further conversation.</p>

<p>"She says what nobody expects is goin' to happen,"
she panted as soon as she could.</p>

<p>"What nobody expects is always happenin'
where he's concerned," said Joshua.</p>

<p>"I s'pose he's in some new row," said Lucinda.</p>

<p>"I'm sure he is," said Joshua, "an' if you don't
go back to her pretty quick you won't be no better
off."
<pb n="084" /><anchor id="Pg084" /></p>

<p>Lucinda turned away and returned to the house.
She found Aunt Mary still staring at the letters
with the same concentrated fury as before.</p>

<p>"Well, is Joshua a'comin' to the door?" she
asked when she saw her maid before her.</p>

<p>"You didn't say for him to come to the door,"
Lucinda howled, "you said for him to stay harnessed."</p>

<p>Aunt Mary appeared on the verge of ignition.</p>

<p>"Lucinda," she said, "every week I live under
the same roof with you your brains strike me 's
some shrunk from the week before. What in
Heaven's name should I want Joshua to stay harnessed
in the barn for? I want him to go for Mr.
Stebbins an' I want him to understand 't if Mr.
Stebbins can't come he's got to come just the same's
if he could anyhow. I may seem quiet to you,
Lucinda, but if I do, it only shows all over again
how little you know. This is a awful day an' if
you knew how awful you'd be half way back to
the barn right now. I ain't triflin'&mdash;I'm meanin'
every word. Every syllable. Every letter."</p>

<p>Lucinda fled out into the open again. Her footprints
of the time before were little oblong ponds
now and she laid out a new course parallel to their
splashes. She found Joshua sponging the dasher.</p>

<p>"She wants you to go straight out again."</p>

<p>Joshua flung the sponge into the pail.
<pb n="085" /><anchor id="Pg085" /></p>

<p>"Then I'll go straight out again," he said, moving
toward the horse's head.</p>

<p>"You're to bring Mr. Stebbins whether he can
come or not."</p>

<p>"He'll come," said Joshua; and then he backed
the horse so suddenly that the buggy wheel nearly
went over Lucinda.</p>

<p>"She says this is an awful day&mdash;" began
Lucinda.</p>

<p>Joshua got into the buggy and tucked the rubber
blanket around himself.</p>

<p>"She says&mdash;"</p>

<p>Joshua drove out of the barn and away.</p>

<p>Lucinda went slowly back to the house. Aunt
Mary had ceased to glare at the letter and was now
glaring at the rain instead.</p>

<p>"Lucinda," she said "I'll thank you not to ever
mention my nephew to me again. I've took a
vow to never speak his name again myself. By no
means&mdash;not at all&mdash;never."</p>

<p>"Which nephew?" shrieked Lucinda.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary's eyes snapped.</p>

<p>"Jack!" she said, with an accent that seemed
to split the short word in two.</p>

<p>After a little she spoke again.</p>

<p>"Lucinda, it's all been owin' to the city an' this
last is all city. 'F I cared a rap what happened to
him after this I'd never let him go near a place
<pb n="086" /><anchor id="Pg086" />over two thousand again as long as he lived. It's
no use tryin' to explain things to you, Lucinda,
because it never has been any use an' never will be&mdash;an'
anyway, I'm done with it all. I sh'll want
you for a witness when I'm through with Mr.
Stebbins, and then you can get some marmalade out
for tea an' we'll all live in peace hereafter."</p>

<p>Joshua returned with Mr. Stebbins and the latter
gentleman went to work with a will and willed
Jack out of Aunt Mary's. Later Joshua took him
home again. Lucinda got the marmalade out of
the cellar and Aunt Mary had it with her tea. It
was a bitter tea&mdash;unsugared indeed&mdash;and the days
that followed matched.</p>
</div>
<pb n="087" /><anchor id="Pg087" />

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<index index="toc" />
<index index="pdf" />

<head>Chapter Ten - The Woes of the Disinherited.</head>


<p>It was some days later on in the world's history
that Holloway was calling on Bertha
Rosscott.</p>

<p>They were sitting in that comfortable library
previously referred to and were sweetly unaware
that any untoward series of incidents had ever led
to an invasion of their privacy.</p>

<p>Holloway lay well back in a sleepy-hollow chair
and looked indolently, lazily handsome; his hostess
was up on&mdash;well up on the divan, and he had the
full benefit of her admirable bottines and their
dainty heels and buckles.</p>

<p>"Honestly," he said, looking her over with a
gaze that was at once roving and well content,
"honestly, I think that every time I see
you, you appear more attractive than the time
before."</p>

<p>"It's very nice of you to say so," she replied.
"And, of course, I believe you, for every time that
I get a new gown I think that very same thing myself.
Still, I do regard it as strange if I look
<pb n="088" /><anchor id="Pg088" />nicely to-day, for I've been crying like a baby all
the morning."</p>

<p>"You crying! And why?"</p>

<p>She raised her eyes to his.</p>

<p>"Such bad news!" she said simply.</p>

<p>"From where? Of whom?"</p>

<p>"From mamma, about Bob."</p>

<p>"Have his wounds proved serious?" Holloway
looked slightly distressed as was proper.</p>

<p>"It isn't that. It's papa. Papa has forbidden
him the house. He's very, very angry."</p>

<p>Holloway looked relieved.</p>

<p>"Your father won't stay angry long, and you
know it," he said. "Just think how often he has
lost his temper over the boys and how often he's
found it again."</p>

<p>"It isn't just Bob," said Mrs. Rosscott. "I've
someone else on my mind, too."</p>

<p>"Who, pray?"</p>

<p>"His friend."</p>

<p>"Young Denham?"</p>

<p>"Yes."</p>

<p>With that she threw her head up and looked
very straightly at her caller whose visage shaded
ever so slightly in spite of himself.</p>

<p>"Have <hi rend="font-style: italic">his</hi> wounds proved serious?" he asked,
smiling, but unable to altogether do away with a
species of parenthetical inflection in his voice.
<pb n="089" /><anchor id="Pg089" /></p>

<p>"It wasn't over his wounds that I cried."</p>

<p>"Did you really cry at all for him?"</p>

<p>"I cried more for him than I did for Bob,"
she admitted boldly.</p>

<p>"He is a fortunate boy! But why the tears in
his case?"</p>

<p>"I felt so badly to be disappointed in him."</p>

<p>"Did you expect to work a miracle there, my
dear? Did you think to reform such an inveterate
young reprobate with a glance?"</p>

<p>"I'm not sure that I ever asked myself either of
those questions," she replied, slowly; "but he
promised me something, and I expected him to
keep his word."</p>

<p>"Men don't keep such promises, Bertha," the
visitor said. "You shouldn't have expected it."</p>

<p>"I don't know why not."</p>

<p>"Because a man who drinks will drink again."</p>

<p>"I didn't refer to drinking," she said quietly.
"It was quite another thing."</p>

<p>"Ah!"</p>

<p>She looked down at her rings and seemed to consider
how much of her confidence she should give
him, and the consideration led her to look up presently
and say:</p>

<p>"He promised me that if he could not call any
week he would write me a line instead. He came
to town last week, and he neither called nor wrote.
<pb n="090" /><anchor id="Pg090" />That wasn't like the man I saw in him. That was
a direct breaking of his word. I can't understand,
and I'm disappointed."</p>

<p>Holloway took out his cigarette case and turned
it over and over thoughtfully in his hands.</p>

<p>"He's nothing but a boy," he said at last, with
an effort.</p>

<p>"He's no boy," she said. "He's almost twenty-two
years old. He's a man."</p>

<p>"Some are men at twenty-two, and some are
boys," Holloway remarked. "I was a man before
I was eighteen&mdash;a man out in the world of men.
But Denham's a boy."</p>

<p>He rose as he spoke, and she held out her hand
for him to raise her, too.</p>

<p>"It's early to go," she remarked parenthetically.</p>

<p>"I know," he replied; "but I hear someone
being shown into the drawing-room. I don't feel
formal to-day, and if I can't lounge in here alone
with you I'd rather go."</p>

<p>"How egotistical!" she commented.</p>

<p>"I am egotistical," he admitted.</p>

<p>And went.</p>

<p>The footman passed him in the hall; he had a
card upon his silver salver, and was seeking his
mistress in the library. But when he entered there
the room was empty. Mrs. Rosscott had slipped
<pb n="091" /><anchor id="Pg091" />through the blue velvet portières, expecting to see
a friend, and had stopped short on the other side,
amazed at finding herself face to face with an utter
stranger.</p>

<p>"I gave the man my card," said the stranger, in
a tone as faded as his mustache. He was a long,
thin man, but what the Germans style "<hi rend="font-style: italic">sehr korrect</hi>."</p>

<p>"I didn't wait to get it," the hostess said. "I
supposed that, of course, it was somebody that I
knew."</p>

<p>"That was natural," he admitted.</p>

<p>There was a slight pause of awkwardness.</p>

<p>"Won't you sit down?" she asked.</p>

<p>"Certainly," said the caller, and sat down.</p>

<p>Then she sat down, too, and another awkward
pause ensued.</p>

<p>"You didn't expect to see me, did you?" said
the stranger, smiling.</p>

<p>"No, I didn't," said Mrs. Rosscott frankly.
"I expected to see someone else&mdash;someone that I
knew. Nearly all my visitors are people whom I
know."</p>

<p>Her eyes rather demanded an observance of the
conventionalities while her words were putting the
best face possible on the queer five minutes. The
stranger smiled.</p>

<p>"My name is Clover," he said then. "Of
<pb n="092" /><anchor id="Pg092" />course, as you never saw me before, you want to
know that first of all."</p>

<p>"I'd choose to know," she said. And then the
uncompromising neutrality of her expression deepened
so plainly that he hastened to add:</p>

<p>"I'm H. Wyncoop Clover."</p>

<p>"Oh!" she said. And then smiled, too; having
heard the name before.</p>

<p>"Why don't you ask me my business?" went on
H. Wyncoop Clover. "I must have come for
some reason, you know."</p>

<p>"I didn't know it," said Mrs. Rosscott&mdash;"I
don't know anything about you yet."</p>

<p>They both smiled&mdash;and then H. Wyncoop
resumed his colorless sobriety at once.</p>

<p>"It's about Jack," he said&mdash;"these terrible new
developments&mdash;" he stopped short, seeing his <hi rend="font-style: italic">vis-à-vis</hi>
turn deathly white, "it's nothing to be frightened
over," he said reassuringly.</p>

<p>Mrs. Rosscott was furious with herself for
having paled. She became instantly haughty.</p>

<p>"I was alarmed for my brother," she said. "I
always think of them both as together."</p>

<p>"Oh, in that case, I can reassure you instantly,"
said the caller. "Burnett is doing finely."</p>

<p>Mrs. Rosscott was conscious of being suddenly
and skillfully countercharged. She blushed with
vexation, bit her lip in perturbation, and cast upon
<pb n="093" /><anchor id="Pg093" />the trying individual opposite a look of most
appealing interrogation.</p>

<p>"You see," said Clover pleasantly, "I was
coming to town, so I came in handy for the purpose
of telling you."</p>

<p>She gave him a glance that prayed him to be
decent and go on with his errand.</p>

<p>"Burnett is about recovered," he said.</p>

<p>She clasped her hands hard.</p>

<p>"I wouldn't be a man for anything!" she
exclaimed with sudden fervor, "they are so
awfully mean. Why <hi rend="font-style: italic">don't</hi> you go on and tell me
<hi rend="font-style: italic">what</hi> you've come about?"</p>

<p>He raised his eyebrows.</p>

<p>"May I?" he asked.</p>

<p>She choked down some of her exasperation.</p>

<p>"Yes, you may."</p>

<p>"Oh, thank you so much. I'll begin at once
then. Only premising that as I go to school with
your little brother, and as he is rather under a cloud
just at present, we clubbed together to bring you a
letter about him and Jack. He was going to dictate
it, but in the end Mitchell wrote it all. Here
it is."</p>

<p>With that he put his hand into his pocket, drew
out an envelope and handed it to her.</p>

<p>"How awfully good of you," she said gratefully.
"Do excuse my reading it at once, won't
<pb n="094" /><anchor id="Pg094" />you? You see, I've been so anxious about&mdash;about
my brother."</p>

<p>He nodded understandingly, and she hastily tore
open the envelope and ran her eyes over the written
sheets.</p>

<quote rend="display">
<p><hi rend="font-variant: small-caps">My Dear Mrs. Rosscott:</hi>&mdash;</p>

<p>Being the prize writer of the class, I am chosen
to take down the ante mortem confessions of our
shattered friends. It is in a sad hour for them that
I do so, because I am naturally so truthful that I
shall not force you to look for my meaning
between the lines. On the contrary, I shall set
the cold facts out as neatly as the pickets on the
fence. And in evidence thereof, I open the ball by
telling you frankly that they both look fierce. If
they had looked less awful, and Burnett had had
more lime in his bones, we might have escaped the
Powers That Be by simply admitting a sprained
ankle and carefully concealing everything else.
But if one man cracks where you can't finish
the deal, even by the most unlimited outlay
of mucilage and persistence, and another blazes
his whole surface-area in a manner that seems
to make the underbrush dubious to count on
forever henceforth; why, you then have a logarithm
the square of which is probably as far beyond your
depth as I am beyond my own just at this point of
this sentence.</p>

<p>The long and short of my fresh start is, that
your brother wants to write you, but he is so
handicapped (forgive me, but you're the only one
who hasn't had that joke sprung on them!) with
bandages, that it's cruel to expect much of him. It
<pb n="095" /><anchor id="Pg095" />is true that he has his bosom friend to fall back
upon, but if you could see that friend as we see him
these days you wouldn't be sure whether it was true
or not. The old woman, who had the peddler-and-petticoat
episode, was not in it the same day
with your brother's friend! I do assure you. And
anyhow&mdash;even if he still has brains&mdash;his writing
apparatus is all done up in arnica, so there you
are!</p>

<p>But do not allow me to alarm you unduly!
When all's said and done, they're not so badly off
physically. Hair and ribs are mere vanities, anyhow,
and we're here to-day and gone to-morrow!</p>

<p>Something much worse than disfigurements and
broken bones has sprung forth from chaos, and has
almost stared them out of countenance since. It is
the wolf that is at the door, and the howling and
prowling of their particular wolf is not to be
sneezed at, let me tell you. To put a modern political
face upon an ancient Greek fable, the wolf in
their case symbolizes the bitter question of whose
roof is going to roof them when they get out of the
plaster casts that are bed and board to them just at
present. Where are they to go? All those which
used to be open to them are suddenly shut tight.
They've both been expelled, and both been disinherited.
If I was inclined to look on the blue side
of the blanket, I should certainly feel that they
were playing in very tough luck. Burnett, of
course, can come to you, and his soul is full of the
wish to bring his fellow-fright along with him.
Which wish of his is the gist of my epistle. <hi rend="font-style: italic">Can</hi>
he bring him? He wants to know before he
broaches the proposition. I'm to be skinned alive
if Jack ever learns that such a plea was made, so I
<pb n="096" /><anchor id="Pg096" />beg you whatever other rash acts you see fit
to commit during your meteoric flight across my
plane of existence, don't ever give me away.
Firstly, because if I ever get a chance to do so, I'm
positive that I should want to cling to you as the
mistletoe does to the oak, and could not bear to be
given away; and secondly, because I'm so attached
to my own skin that I should really suffer pain if
it was taken from me by force. Bob wants you to
think it over, and let him know as to the whats and
whens by return mail.</p>

<p>You are so inspiring that I could write you all
day, but those relics of what once was, but alas!
will never be again, need to be rolled up afresh in
absorbent cotton, and so I must nail my Red Cross
on to my left arm, and get down to business. If
you saw how useful I am to your brother, you'd
thank his lucky stars that I came through myself
with nothing worse than getting my ear stepped
on. I was hugging the ladder (being canny and
careful), and the man above me toed in. Isn't it
curious to think that if he'd worn braces in early
youth <hi rend="font-style: italic">my</hi> ear would be all right now.</p>

<p>Behold me at your feet.</p>

<p rend="text-align: right">Respectfully yours,</p>

<p rend="text-align: right">Herbert Kendrick Mitchell.</p>
</quote>


<p>When Mrs. Rosscott had finished the letter she
looked across at her caller, and said:</p>

<p>"You've read this, haven't you?"</p>

<p>"No," said he. "I tried to unstick it two or
three times coming on the train, but it was too
much for me."
<pb n="097" /><anchor id="Pg097" /></p>

<p>"Don't you really know what it says?" she
asked more earnestly.</p>

<p>"Yes, I do," Clover answered, "but Denham
must never know that I do."</p>

<p>"I won't tell him," she said smiling faintly.
"But surely he can't be as badly off as this says.
Has he really lost all his hair?"</p>

<p>"Not all&mdash;only in spots," Clover reassured
her; but then his recollections overcame him, and
he added, with a grin: "But he's a fearful looking
specimen, all right, though."</p>

<p>"About my brother," she went on, turning the
letter thoughtfully in her fingers; "when can he
get out, do they think?"</p>

<p>"Any time next week."</p>

<p>"I'll write him," she said. "I'll write him and
tell him that everything will be arranged for&mdash;for&mdash;for
them both."</p>

<p>Clover sprang to his feet.</p>

<p>"Oh, thank you," he exclaimed. "That's
most awfully good in you!"</p>

<p>"Not at all," she answered. "I'm very glad
to be able to welcome them. You must impress
that upon them&mdash;particularly&mdash;particularly on my
brother."</p>

<p>Clover smiled.</p>

<p>"I will," he said, rising to go.</p>

<p>"I'd ask you to stay longer," she said, holding
<pb n="098" /><anchor id="Pg098" />out her hand, "but I'm due at a charity entertainment
to-night, and I have to go very early."</p>

<p>"I know," he said; "I've come up on purpose
to go to it."</p>

<p>"Then I shall see you there?" she asked him.</p>

<p>"It will be what I shall be looking forward to
most of all," he said.</p>

<p>"It's been a great pleasure to meet you," she
said, holding out her hand, "you're&mdash;well, you're
'unlike,' as they say in literary criticisms."</p>

<p>"Thank you," he replied; "but may I ask if
you intend that as a compliment?"</p>

<p>"Dear me," she laughed, "let me think how
I did intend it.&mdash;Yes, it was meant for a compliment."</p>

<p>"Thank you," he said, shaking her hand
warmly, "it's so nice to know, you know. Good-by."</p>

<p>"Good-by."</p>

<p>Then he went away.</p>
</div>
<pb n="099" /><anchor id="Pg099" />

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<index index="toc" />
<index index="pdf" />
<head>Chapter Eleven - The Dove of Peace</head>


<p>The first result of Mrs. Rosscott's invitation
was that Jack refused. He said
that he had a sister of his own&mdash;two, if
it came to that&mdash;and so he could easily manage for
himself. He was very decided about it, and somewhat
lofty and bitter&mdash;a stand which no one understood
his taking.</p>

<p>His flat refusal was communicated to his would be
hostess and it goes without saying that she was
as unable to understand as all the rest. It keyed
well enough with his lately shown indifference, but
the indifference keyed not at all with all that had
gone before and still less with her very correct
comprehension of Jack himself. She was quite
positive as to the sincerity of those protestations
which he had made so haltingly&mdash;so boyishly&mdash;and
in such absolutely truthful accents. Why he
had turned over a new&mdash;and bad&mdash;leaf so suddenly
she did not at all know, but her woman's wit&mdash;backed
up by the many good instincts which good
<pb n="100" /><anchor id="Pg100" />women always get from Heaven knows just where&mdash;made
her feel firmer than ever as to her hospitable
intentions. Jack had told her many times
that she was his good angel, and it did not seem to
her that now, when he was so deeply involved in
so much trouble, was the hour for a man's good
angel to quietly turn away. Suppose he was
haughty!&mdash;she knew men well enough to know that
in his case haughtiness and shame would be two
Dromios that even he himself would be unable to
tell apart. Suppose he did rebel against her kindness!&mdash;she
knew women well enough to know that
under some circumstances they can put down rebellion
single-handed&mdash;if they can only be left in
the room alone with it for a few minutes. As regarded
Jack, she knew that there was something
to explain; and as to herself she was delightfully
positive as to her own irresistibleness. Given two
such statements and the conclusion is easy. Mrs.
Rosscott wrote to Mitchell and here is what she
wrote:</p>

<quote rend="display">
<p><hi rend="font-variant: small-caps">My Dear Mr. Mitchell</hi>:</p>

<p>I should have answered your letter before only
that in the excitement of corresponding with my
brother I forgot all else. But my manners have
returned by slow degrees and in hunting through
my desk for a bill I found you and so take up my
pen.
<pb n="101" /><anchor id="Pg101" /></p>

<p>I am quite sure that&mdash;in spite of that beautiful
opening play of mine&mdash;you are wondering why I
am really writing and so I will tell you at once.
When Bob comes here to stay with me I want Mr.
Denham to come too. I have various reasons for
wanting him to come. One is that he has nowhere
else to go where he will have half as good a time
as he will here and another is that if he goes anywhere
else I won't have half as good a time as if
he comes here. Pray excuse my brutal candor, but
I am only a woman; brutal candor and womanly
weakness always have gone about encouraging one
another, you know. I cannot see any good reason
for Mr. Denham's not coming except that he declines
my invitation. It is very silly in him, and
I regard it as no reason at all. I am quite unused
to being declined and do not intend to acquire the
habit until I am a good deal older than I was my
last birthday. Still, I can understand that he is too
big to force against his will, so I think the kindest
way to break the back of the opposition will be for
me to do it personally. As an over-ruler I nearly
always succeed. All I require is an opportunity.</p>

<p>Please lay the two halves of your brain evenly
together and devise a train and an interview for
me. Of course you will meet me at the train and
leave me at the interview. These are the fundamental
rules of my game. I know that you are
clever and before we have left the station you will
know that I am. As arch-conspirators we shall
surely win out together, won't we?</p>

<p rend="text-align: right">Yours very truly,</p>

<p rend="text-align: right">Bertha Rosscott.</p>
</quote>
<pb n="102" /><anchor id="Pg102" />

<p>This missive posted, Jack's good angel made herself
patient until the afternoon of the next day
when she might and did expect an answer.</p>

<p>She was not disappointed. The letter came and
it was pleasantly bulky and appeared ample enough
to have contained an indexed gun powder plot.
She was so sure that Mitchell had been fully equal
to the occasion that she tore the envelope open with
a smile&mdash;and read:</p>

<quote rend="display">
<p><hi rend="font-variant: small-caps">My Dear Mrs. Rosscott</hi>:</p>

<p>To think of my having some of your handwriting
for my own!&mdash;I was nearly petrified with joy.</p>

<p>You see I know your writing from having read
Burnett all those "Burn this at once" epistles.
And I know it still better from having to catalogue
them for his ready reference. You know how
impatient he is. (But I have run into an open
switch and must digress backwards.)</p>

<p>I shall preserve your letter till I die. In war
I shall wear it carefully spread all over wherever
I may be killed, and in peace I intend to keep my
place in my Bible with it. Could words say more!
(Being backed up again, I will now begin.)</p>

<p>I was not at all surprised at your writing me.
If you had known me it would have been different.
But where ignorance is bliss any woman but yourself
is always liable to pitch in with a pen, and you
see you are not yourself but only "any woman"
to me as yet. Besides, women have written to me
before you. My mother does so regularly. She
encloses a postal card and all I have to do is to mail
<pb n="103" /><anchor id="Pg103" />it and there she is answered. It's a great scheme
which I proudly invented when I first went away
to school and I recommend it to you if you&mdash;if you
ever have a mother.</p>

<p>How my ink does run away with me! Let me
refer to your esteemed favor again! Ah! we
have worked down to the bed-rock, or&mdash;in Hugh
Miller's colloquial phrasing&mdash;to the "old red sandstone,"
of the fact that you want Jack. You state
the fact with what you designate as brutal candor&mdash;and
I reply with candied brutality, that I
have thought that all along. If you are averse
to my view of the matter, you must look out of the
window the whole time that I continue, for once
entered I always fight to a finish and I cannot retire
to my corner on this auspicious occasion without
announcing through a trumpet that even if Jack is
a most idiotic fellow I never have caught the
microbe from him, and, as a sequence, have always
seen clear through and out of the other side of the
whole situation. Of course I should not say this
to any woman but you because it would not have
any meaning to her, but, between you and me all
things are printed in plain black and white and,
therefore, I respectfully submit a program consisting
of the two o'clock train Tuesday and myself,
to be recognized by a beaming look of burning
joy, upon the platform. Beyond that you may
confide yourself to waxing waxy in my hands.
They are not bad hands to be in as your brother
and whatever-you-call-Jack can testify. I will lay
my lines in the dark to the end that you may bloom
in the sun.</p>

<p>Trust me. You need do no more&mdash;except buy
your ticket.
<pb n="104" /><anchor id="Pg104" /></p>

<p>The two o'clock on Tuesday. You can easily
remember it by the T's&mdash;if you don't get mixed
with three o'clock on Thursday. Try remembering
it by the 2's. A safe way would be to put it
down.</p>

<p rend="text-align: right">Yours to obey,</p>

<p rend="text-align: right">Herbert Kendrick Mitchell.</p>

<p>P.S. Please recollect that I am only handsome
according to the good old proverb, and do not mistake
me for an enterprising hackman.</p>
</quote>

<p>Mrs. Rosscott clapped her hands with delight
when she finished the letter. She was overjoyed at
the success of her "opening play," and she wrote
her new correspondent two lines accepting his
invitation, and went down on the appointed train
on the appointed day. He met her at the depot
and they divined one another at the first glance.
It was impossible not to know so pretty a woman&mdash;or
so homely a man. For the ancestors of Mitchell
had worn kilts and red hair in centuries gone by,
and although he proved the truth of the red-hair
proposition, no one would ever believe that anything
of his build could ever have been induced to
have put itself into kilts&mdash;knowingly. Furthermore,
his voice had a crick in it, and went by jerks,
and his eyebrows sympathized with his voice, and
the eyes below them were little and gray and twinkling,
and altogether he was the sort of man who
<pb n="105" /><anchor id="Pg105" />is termed&mdash;according to a certain style of phrasing&mdash;"above
suspicion." But she liked him, oh!
immensely, and he liked her. And when they were
riding up in the carriage together she felt how
thoroughly trustworthy his gray eyes and good
smile declared him to be, and had no hesitation in
telling him what she wanted to do, and in asking
him what she wanted to know.</p>

<p>Mitchell certainly had a talent for plotting, for
when they reached the house where the culprits
were temporarily domiciled, Burnett had gone out
to give his mended ribs some exercise, and Jack
was reading alone in the room where they shared
one another's liniments with friendly generosity.</p>

<p>The arch-conspirator went upstairs, came down,
and then, seeking the lady whom he had left in the
parlor, said to her:</p>

<p>"Denham's up there and you can go up and say
whatever you have to say. You know 'In union
there is strength.' Well you've got him alone now,
and he'll prove weakly as a consequence or I miss
my guess."</p>

<p>Then he walked straight over by the window
and picked up a magazine as if it was all settled,
and she only hesitated for half a second before she
turned and went upstairs.</p>

<p>There was a door half open in the hall above,
and she knew that that must be the door. She
<pb n="106" /><anchor id="Pg106" />tapped at it lightly, and a man's voice (a voice that
she knew well), called out gruffly:</p>

<p>"Come in!"</p>

<p>She pushed the door open at that and entered,
and saw Jack, and he saw her. He turned very
pale at the sight, and then the color flooded his
face, and he rose from his chair abruptly, and put
his hand up to the strips that held the bandage on
his head.</p>

<p>"Burnett isn't here," he said quickly. "He
went out just a few minutes ago."</p>

<p>His tone was hard, and yet at the same time it
shook slightly.</p>

<p>She approached him, holding out her hand.</p>

<p>"I'm glad of that," she said, "because it was
to see you that I came."</p>

<p>To her great surprise something mutinous and
scornful flashed in his eyes as he rolled a chair forward
for her.</p>

<p>"You honor me," he said, and his tone and
manner both hardened yet more. His general
appearance was that of a man ten years older;
he had changed terribly in the weeks since she had
last seen him. She took the chair and sat down,
still looking at him. He sat down too, and his
eyes went restlessly around the room as if they
sought a hold that should withhold them from her
searching gaze. There was a short pause.
<pb n="107" /><anchor id="Pg107" /></p>

<p>"Don't speak like that," she said at last. "It
isn't your way, and I know you too well&mdash;we know
one another too well&mdash;to be anything but sincere.
You owe me something, too, and if I forbear you
should understand why."</p>

<p>"I owe you something, do I?" he asked.
"What do I owe you?"</p>

<p>Mrs. Rosscott caught her under lip in her teeth.</p>

<p>"You gave me a promise, Mr. Denham," she
said, quite low, but most distinctly&mdash;"a promise
which you broke."</p>

<p>Jack flushed; his eyelids drooped for a minute.</p>

<p>"I didn't break it," he said. "I gave it up."</p>

<p>"Is there any difference?"</p>

<p>"A great difference."</p>

<p>He shrugged his shoulders.</p>

<p>"Do you want to have the truth?" he said.
"If you really do, I'll tell you. But I don't ask
to tell you, recollect, and if I were you I'd drop the
whole&mdash;I certainly would.&mdash;If I were you."</p>

<p>She looked at him in astonishment.</p>

<p>"I don't understand," she said. "Tell me what
you mean."</p>

<p>He raised his hand to his bandaged head again.</p>

<p>"I think," he said, fighting hard to speak with
utter indifference, "I think that it would have been
better if you had told me about Holloway."</p>

<p>At that her big eyes opened widely.
<pb n="108" /><anchor id="Pg108" /></p>

<p>"What should I tell you about Mr. Holloway?"
she asked. "What could I tell you about
him?"</p>

<p>"It isn't any use speaking like that," he said;
and with the words he suddenly leaped from his
chair and began to plunge back and forth across the
small room. "You see I'm not a boy any more.
I've come to my senses. I know now! I understand
now! It's all plain to me now. Now and
always. I've been fooled once but only once and
by All that Is, I never will be fooled again.
Your're pretty and awfully fascinating, and it's
always fun for the woman&mdash;especially if she knows
all her bets are safely hedged. And I was so completely
done up that I was even more sport than the
common run, I suppose; but&mdash;" she was staring
at him in unfeigned amazement, and he was lashing
himself to fury with the feelings that underlaid his
words&mdash;"but even if you made it all right with
yourself by calling your share by the name of 'having
a good influence' over me (I know that's how
married women always pat themselves on the back
while they're sending us to the devil), even then,
I think that it would have been better to have been
fair and square with me. It would have been better
all round. I'd have been left with some belief in&mdash;in
people. As it is, when I saw that you'd only
been laughing at me, I&mdash;well, I went pretty far."
<pb n="109" /><anchor id="Pg109" /></p>

<p>He stopped short, and transfixed her paleness
with his big, dark eyes.</p>

<p>"Why weren't you honest?" he asked angrily.
And then he said again, more bitterly, more scornfully,
than before: "Why wasn't I told about
Holloway?"</p>

<p>She clasped her hands tightly together.</p>

<p>"What has been told you about Mr. Holloway
and myself?" she asked.</p>

<p>"Nothing."</p>

<p>"Then why do you speak as you do?"</p>

<p>At that he thrust his hands into his pockets and
again began to fling himself back and forth across
the room.</p>

<p>"Perhaps you'll think I'm a sneak," he said,
"but I wasn't a sneak. I went in to see you that
Saturday as usual, and when I went upstairs&mdash;you
were with him in the library. I heard three words.
God! they were enough! I didn't know that anything
could knock the bottom out of life so quickly.
My sun and stars all fell at once&mdash;I reckon my
Heaven went too. At all events I went out of your
house and down town and I drank and drank&mdash;and
all to the truth and honor of women."</p>

<p>He halted with his back to her, and there was
silence in the room for many minutes.</p>

<p>When he faced around after a little, she was
weeping bitterly, having turned in her seat so that
<pb n="110" /><anchor id="Pg110" />her face might be buried in the chair back. Her
whole body was shaking with suppressed sobs.
He stood still and stared down upon her and finally
she lifted up her face and said with trembling lips:</p>

<p>"And all the trouble came from that. Oh,
what shall I do? What shall I say?"</p>

<p>"I don't know what you can do, or what you
can say," he said, remaining still and watching her
sincere distress. "I'd feel pretty blamed mean if
I were you, though. Understand, I don't question
your good taste in choosing Holloway, nor your
right to love him, nor his right to be there; but
I fail to understand why you were to me just as you
were, and I think it was unfair&mdash;out-and-out
mean!"</p>

<p>"Mr. Denham," she said almost painfully,
"you've made a dreadful mistake." Then she
stopped and moistened her lips. "I don't know
just what words you overheard, but the dramatic
instructor was there that afternoon drilling Mr.
Holloway and myself for the parts which we took
in the charity play that week; after he went out we
went over one of the scenes alone. Perhaps you
heard part of that." She stopped and almost
choked. "Mr. Holloway has never really made
any love to me&mdash;perhaps he never wanted to&mdash;perhaps
I've never wanted him to."</p>

<p>Jack stared. His misconception was so strongly
<pb n="111" /><anchor id="Pg111" />intrenched in the forefront of his brain that he
could not possibly dislodge it at once.</p>

<p>Mrs. Rosscott continued to dry the tears that
continued to rise; she seemed terribly affected at
finding herself to have been the cause (no matter
how innocently) of this latest tale of wrack and
ruin.</p>

<p>"Do you mean to say," the young man said, at
last, "that there was no truth in what I heard?
Don't you expect to marry Holloway?"</p>

<p>"I never expect to marry anyone, but certainly
not him," she replied, trying to regain her composure.</p>

<p>"Honest?"</p>

<p>"Assuredly."</p>

<p>It was as if an unseen orchestra had suddenly
burst forth just near enough and just far enough
away. He came to the side of her chair and laid
his hand upon its back.</p>

<p>"Then what have you been thinking of me
lately?" he asked.</p>

<p>"Very sad thoughts," she confessed&mdash;hiding
her face again.</p>

<p>"Did you care?"</p>

<p>"Yes, I cared."</p>

<p>He stood beside her for a long time without
speaking or moving. Then he suddenly pulled a
chair forward, and sat down close in front of her.
<pb n="112" /><anchor id="Pg112" /></p>

<p>"Don't cry," he said, almost daring to be
tender. "There's nothing to cry about <hi rend="font-style: italic">now</hi>, you
know."</p>

<p>"I think there's plenty for me to cry about," she
said, looking up through her long wet lashes. "It
is so terrible for me to be the one that is to blame.
Papa swears he'll never forgive Bob, and your
aunt&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Lord love you!" he exclaimed; "don't worry
over me or my aunt. I don't. I don't mind anything,
with Holloway staked in the ditch. I can
get along well enough now."</p>

<p>He smiled&mdash;actually smiled&mdash;as he spoke.</p>

<p>"Oh, you mustn't speak so," she said, blushing;
"indeed, you must not." And smiled, too, in spite
of herself.</p>

<p>"Who's going to stop me?" he said. "You
know that you can't; I'm miles the biggest."</p>

<p>She looked at him and tried to frown, but only
blushed again instead. He put out his hand and
took hers into its clasp.</p>

<p>"I'm everlasting glad to shake college," he
declared gayly; "it never was my favorite alley.
I've made up my mind to go to work just as soon
as I get these pastry strips off my head."</p>

<p>"Where?"</p>

<p>"I don't know. Anywhere. I don't care."</p>

<p>"But you'll come to my house when Bob comes
<pb n="113" /><anchor id="Pg113" />next week, won't you?" she asked suddenly.
"I can see now why you wouldn't before, but&mdash;but
it's different now. Isn't it?"</p>

<p>"Is it?" he said, asking the question chiefly of
her pretty eyes. "Is it honestly different now?"</p>

<p>"I think it is," she answered.</p>

<p>A door banged below.</p>

<p>"That's Burr!" he exclaimed, remembering
suddenly the proximity of their chairs, and making
haste to place himself farther away.</p>

<p>Burnett's step was heard on the stair.</p>

<p>"You never said anything to him, did you?"
she questioned quickly.</p>

<p>"Certainly not."</p>

<p>The next instant Burnett was in the room, and
his sister was in his arms. (Astonishing how coolly
he accepted the fact, too.)</p>

<p>"Mr. Denham is coming to me with you,
Bob," she said when he released her. "I've persuaded
him."</p>

<p>"How did you do it?" she was asked.</p>

<p>"By undertaking to reconcile him with his aunt,
dear," she replied, blandly. "It's a contract that
we've drawn up between us. You know that I was
always rather good in the part of the peacemaker."</p>

<p>As she spoke, her eyes fell warningly on the
manifest astonishment of Aunt Mary's nephew.</p>

<p>"You don't know what you're undertaking,
<pb n="114" /><anchor id="Pg114" />Betty," said her brother. "You never had a
chance to take Aunt Mary for better, for worse&mdash;I
have."</p>

<p>"I'm not alarmed," said she, "I'm very
courageous. I'm sure I'll succeed."</p>

<p>"Can the mender of ways&mdash;other people's
ways&mdash;come in?" asked a voice at the door.</p>

<p>It was Mitchell's voice, and he came in without
waiting for an invitation.</p>

<p>"Is it time that I went?" Mrs. Rosscott asked
him, anxiously.</p>

<p>"Half an hour yet."</p>

<p>"Oh, I say Jack," cried Burnett, "let's boil
some water in the witch-hazel pan, and make a
rarebit in the poultice pan, and have some tea
here."</p>

<p>"Sure," said Jack, suddenly become his blithe
and buoyant self again. "You just take off your
hat and look the other way, Mrs. Rosscott, and
we'll have you a lunch in a jiffy."</p>
</div>
<pb n="115" /><anchor id="Pg115" />

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<index index="toc" />
<index index="pdf" />
<head>Chapter Twelve - A Trap For Aunt Mary</head>


<p>In Aunt Mary's part of the country the skies
had been crying themselves sick for the last six
weeks. The cranberry bog was a goner forever,
it was feared, and a little house, very handy
for sorting berries in, had had its foundations
undermined, and disappeared beneath the face of
the waters also.</p>

<p>Under such propitious circumstances, Aunt
Mary sat by her own particular window and looked
sternly and severely out across the garden and
down the road. Lucinda sat by the other window
sewing. Lucinda hadn't changed materially, but
her general appearance struck her mistress as more
irritating than ever. Everything and everybody
seemed to have become more and more irritating
ever since Jack had been disinherited. Of course,
it was right that he should have been disinherited,
but Aunt Mary hadn't thought much beforehand
as to what would happen afterward, and it was too
aggravating to have him turn out so well just when
she had lost all patience with him and so cast him
<pb n="116" /><anchor id="Pg116" />off forever, and for him to develop such a beautiful
character, all of a sudden too&mdash;just as if education
and good advice had been his undoing and
seclusion and illness were the guardian angels
arrived just in time to save him from the evil
effects thereof.</p>

<p>It hadn't occurred to Aunt Mary that people
keep on living just the same even after they have
been cut out of a will. And she never had counted
on Jack's taking his bitter medicine in the spirit he
was manifesting. She had not calculated any
of the possible effects of her hasty action very
maturely, but she certainly had not anticipated a
lamblike submission to even the harshest of her
edicts, nor had she expected Jack to be one who
would strictly observe the Bible regulations and
so return good for evil&mdash;in other words, write her
now when he had never written her in the bygone
years (unless under sharpest financial stress of
circumstances).</p>

<p>Yet such was the case. Jack had become a
"ready letter-writer" ever since his removal to the
city, whither some kind friends had invited him
directly he could leave his sick-room. Aunt Mary
did not know who the friends were and had hesitated
somewhat as to opening the first letter. But
it had borne no sting&mdash;being instead most sweetly
pathetic, and since then, others had followed with
<pb n="117" /><anchor id="Pg117" />touching frequency. Their polished periods fell
upon the old lady's stony hardness of heart with
the persistent frequency of the proverbial drop of
water. After the second she had ceased to regard
the instructions given Lucinda as to mentioning her
nephew's name, and after the third he became
again her favorite topic of conversation.</p>

<p>It seemed that the poor boy had had the misfortune
to contract measles, and in his weakened
state the disease had nearly proved fatal. You can
perhaps divine the effect of this statement on the
grand-aunt, and the further effect of the words:
"But never mind, Aunt Mary," with which he concluded
the brief narration.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary had tried to snort and had sniffed
instead; she had turned back to the first page, read,
"All my head has been shaved, but I don't care
about having any more fun, anyhow," and had
let the letter fall in her lap. Every time that she
had thought since of "our boy," her anger had
fallen hotter upon whoever was handiest. Lucinda
(who was used to it) lived under a figurative rain
of cinders, and thrived salamander-like in their
midst; but Arethusa&mdash;who had come up for a
week&mdash;found herself totally unable to stand the
endless lava and boiling ashes, and fled back to the
bosom of Mr. Arethusa the third morning after
her arrival.
<pb n="118" /><anchor id="Pg118" /></p>

<p>"I've got to go, I find," she had yelled the night
before her departure.</p>

<p>"I certainly wish you would," replied her aunt.
"I'm a great believer in married women paying
attention at home before they begin to pry into
their neighbors' affairs. It's a good idea. Most
generally&mdash;most always."</p>

<p>This was bitterly unkind, since Arethusa was in
the habit of taking the long journey purely out of a
sense of duty and to keep Lucinda up to the mark;
but grateful appreciation is rarely ever a salient
point in the character of an autocrat.</p>

<p>"I'm glad she's gone," Aunt Mary told
Lucinda, when they were left together once more.
"She puts me beyond all patience. She chatters
gibberish that I can't make out a word of for
an hour at a time, and then, all of a sudden,
she screams, 'Dinner's ready,' or something
equally silly, in a voice like a carvin' knife.
It's enough to drive a sane person stark, raving
mad. It is."</p>

<p>Lucinda acquiesced with a nod. Lucinda herself
was glad that Arethusa had gone. She resented
the manner in which the latter always looked over
the preserve closet and counted the silver. Nothing
was ever missing, because Lucinda was as honest
as a day twenty-five hours long, but the more
honest those of Lucinda's caliber are, the more
<pb n="119" /><anchor id="Pg119" />mad they get if they feel that they are being
watched. So Lucinda acquiesced with a nod.</p>

<p>The mistress and maid were sitting alone together,
with the June rain falling without, and it
was that pleasantly exciting hour which comes only
in the country and is known as "about mail-time."</p>

<p>"There's Joshua now," Aunt Mary exclaimed,
presently, "I see him turnin' in the gate. He'll be
at the door before you get there, Lucinda,&mdash;he
will. There, he's twistin' his wheel off. He's
tryin' to hold Billy an' hold the letters an' whistle,
all at once. Why don't you go to him, Lucinda?
Can't you hear a whistle that I can see? Or, if
you can't hear the whistle, can't you hear me? Do
you think whoever wrote those letters would be
much pleased if they could see you so slow about
gettin' them? Do&mdash;"</p>

<p>Just here the old lady, turning toward Lucinda,
perceived that she had been gone&mdash;Heaven knew
how long. She felt decidedly vexed at finding herself
to be in the wrong, rubbed her nose impatiently,
and waited in a temper to match the
rubbing.</p>

<p>"My Lord! how slow she is!" she thought.
"Well, if I don't die of old age first, I presume
I'll get my letters some time. Maybe."</p>

<p>As a matter of fact, the door had blown shut
behind Lucinda, and the latter personage was making
<pb n="120" /><anchor id="Pg120" />her way, with well-hoisted skirts, around the
house to the back door. She didn't pass the window
where the Argus-eyed was looking forth;
because that lady had strong opinions of those who
let doors bang behind them without their own
volition.</p>

<p>Five minutes later the maid did finally appear
with one letter.</p>

<p>"I thought you was waitin' to bring to-morrow's
mail at the same time," said Aunt Mary,
icily.</p>

<p>Then she found that the letter was from Jack,
and Lucinda was completely forgotten in the
pleasure of opening and reading it.</p>

<quote rend="display">
<p><hi rend="font-variant: small-caps">Dear Aunt Mary</hi>:</p>

<p>It seems so strange how I'm just learning the
pleasure of writing letters. I enjoy it more every
day. When I see a pen I can hardly keep from
feeling that I ought to write you directly. I think
of you, then, because I'm thinking of you most
always. It seems as if I never appreciated you
before, Aunt Mary.</p>

<p>I want to tell you something that I know will
make you happy. I've never made you very happy
Aunt Mary, but I'm going to begin now. I've got
a place where I can earn my own living, and I'm
going to work just as soon as I am strong enough.
I'm as tickled as a baby over it. I'll lay you any
odds I get to be a richer man than the other John
Watkins. I reckon money was bad for me, Aunt
<pb n="121" /><anchor id="Pg121" />Mary, and I can see that you've done just the right
thing to make a man of me. That isn't surprising,
because you always did do just the right thing,
Aunt Mary; it was I that always did just the wrong
thing, but I'm straightened out now and this time
it's forever&mdash;you just wait and see.</p>

<p>There's one thing bothers me some, and that is
I don't get strong very fast. They want me to
take a tonic, but I don't think a tonic would help
me much. I feel so sort of blue and depressed, and
perhaps that's natural, for Bob's away most of the
time and I'm here all alone. It's a big house and
sort of lonely and sometimes I find myself imagining
how it would seem to have someone from
home in it with me, and I find myself almost crying&mdash;I
do, for a fact, Aunt Mary.</p>

<p>Next week, Bob is going to be away more than
usual, and I'm dreading it awfully; but never mind,
Aunt Mary, I don't want to make you blue, because
honestly I don't think I'm going into a decline,
even if the doctor does. And, after all, if I did
sort of dwindle away it wouldn't matter much, for
I'm not worth anything, and no one knows that as
well as myself&mdash;except you, Aunt Mary.
I must stop because it's nine o'clock and time I
was in bed. I've got some socks to wash out first,
too; you see, I'm learning how to economize just
as fast as I can. It's only two miles to my work,
and I'm going to walk back and forth always&mdash;that'll
be between fifty cents and a dollar saved
each week. I'm figuring on how to live on my
salary and never have a debt, and you'll be proud
of me yet, Aunt Mary&mdash;if I don't die first.</p>

<p>Think of me all alone here next week. If I
wasn't steadfast as a rock I believe I'd do something
<pb n="122" /><anchor id="Pg122" />foolish just to get out of myself.   But never
mind, Aunt Mary, it's all right.</p>

<p rend="text-align: right">Your afft. nephew,</p>

<p rend="text-align: right">John Watkins, Jr., Denham.</p>
</quote>

<p>When Lucinda returned from drying her feet,
Aunt Mary had her handkerchief in one hand and
spectacles in the other.</p>

<p>"Saints and sinners!" cried the maid, in a
voice that grated with sympathy. "He ain't writ
to say he's dead, is he?"</p>

<p>"No," said Aunt Mary; "but he isn't as well
as he makes out. There's no deceivin' me,
Lucinda!"</p>

<p>"Dear! dear!" cried the Trusty and True; "is
that so? What's to be done? Do you want
Joshua to run anywhere?"</p>

<p>Aunt Mary suddenly regained her composure.</p>

<p>"Run anywhere?" she asked, with her usual
bitter intonation. "If you ain't the greatest fool
I ever was called upon to bed and board, Lucinda!
Will you kindly explain to me how settin' Joshua
trottin' is goin' to do any mortal good to my poor
boy away off there in that dreadful city?"</p>

<p>"He could telegraph to Miss Arethusa,"
Lucinda suggested. The suggestion bespoke the
superior moral quality of Lucinda's make-up&mdash;her
own feeling toward Arethusa being considered.
<pb n="123" /><anchor id="Pg123" /></p>

<p>"I don't want her," said Aunt Mary with a
positiveness that was final. "I don't want her.
My heavens, Lucinda, ain't we just had enough
of her? Anyhow, if you ain't, I have. I don't
want her, nor no livin' soul except my trunk; an'
I want that just as quick as Joshua can haul it down
out of the attic."</p>

<p>"You ain't thinkin' of goin' travelin'!" the
maid cried in consternation; "you can't never be
thinkin' of <hi rend="font-style: italic">that?</hi>"</p>

<p>"No," said her mistress with fine irony; "I
want the trunk to make a pie out of, probably."</p>

<p>Lucinda was speechless.</p>

<p>"Lucinda," her mistress said, after a few
seconds had faded away unimproved, "seems to
me I mentioned wantin' Joshua to get down a
trunk&mdash;seems to me I did."</p>

<p>The maid turned and left the room. She felt
more or less dazed. Nothing so startling as Aunt
Mary's wanting a trunk had happened in years.
Disinheriting Jack was not in it by comparison.
She went slowly away to find Joshua and found
him in the farther end of the rear woodhouse&mdash;John
Watkins, like several of his ilk, having
marked each forward step in the world by a back
extension of his house.</p>

<p>Joshua was chopping wood; his ax was high in
the air. He also was calm and unsuspecting.
<pb n="124" /><anchor id="Pg124" /></p>

<p>"She's goin' to the city all alone!" Lucinda's
voice suddenly proclaimed behind him.</p>

<p>The ax fell.</p>

<p>"Who says so?" its handler demanded, facing
about in surprise.</p>

<p>"She says so."</p>

<p>Joshua picked up the ax and poised it afresh.
He was himself again.</p>

<p>"She'll go then," he said calmly.</p>

<p>Lucinda marched around in front of him, and
planted herself firmly among the chips.</p>

<p>"Joshua Whittlesey!"</p>

<p>"We can't help it," said Joshua stolidly.
"We're here to mind her. If she wants to go to
New York, or to change her will, all we've got
to do is to be simple witnesses."</p>

<p>"She don't want Miss Arethusa telegraphed,"
said Lucinda.</p>

<p>"I don't blame her," said Joshua; "if I was
her and if I was goin' to New York I wouldn't
want no one telegraphed."</p>

<p>"She wants her trunk out of the attic."</p>

<p>"Then she'll get her trunk out of the attic.
When does she want it?"</p>

<p>"She wants it now."</p>

<p rend="text-align: center"><anchor id="image03" />
<figure rend="w95" url="images/image03.png">
<head rend="text-align: center">"She's goin' to the city all alone!' Lucinda's voice
suddenly proclaimed behind him."</head>
<figDesc>Illustration 3</figDesc></figure></p><p></p>

<p>"Then she'll get it now," said Joshua. From
the general trend of this and other remarks of
Joshua the reader will readily divine why he had
<pb n="125" /><anchor id="Pg125" />been in Aunt Mary's employ for thirty years, and
had always been characterized by her as "a most
sensible man," and anyone who had seen the
alacrity with which the trunk was brought and the
respectful attention with which Aunt Mary's further
commands were received would have been
forced to coincide in her opinion.</p>

<p>The packing of the trunk was a task which fell
to Lucinda's lot and was performed under the
eagle eye of her mistress. Aunt Mary's ideas of
what she would require were delightfully unsophisticated
and brought up short on the farther-side
of her tooth brush and her rubbers. Nevertheless
she agreed in Lucinda's suggestions as to
more extensive supplies.</p>

<p>Late that afternoon Joshua drove into town
(amidst a wealth of mud spatters) and dispatched
the answer to Jack's letter. Aunt Mary was urged
to haste by several considerations, some well
defined, and others not so much so. To Lucinda
she imparted her terrible anxiety over the dear
boy's health, but not even to herself did she admit
her much more terrible anxiety lest Arethusa or
Mary should suddenly appear and insist on accompanying
her. She wanted to go, but she wanted
to go alone.</p>

<p>Jack telegraphed a response that night, and his
aunt left by the Monday morning train. She had
<pb n="126" /><anchor id="Pg126" />a six o'clock breakfast, and drove into town at a
quarter of nine so as to be absolutely certain not
to miss the train. Joshua drove, with the trunk
perched beside him. It was a small and unassuming
trunk, but Aunt Mary was not one who
believed in putting on airs just because she was
rich. Lucinda sat on the back seat with her
mistress.</p>

<p>"I'm sure I hope you'll enjoy yourself," she
said.</p>

<p>"Of course he's nothing but a boy," Aunt Mary
replied,&mdash;"an' I've told you a hundred times that
boys will be boys and we mustn't expect otherwise."</p>

<p>They arrived on time, and only had an hour
and three-quarters to wait in the station. Toward
the last Aunt Mary grew very nervous for fear
something had happened to the train; but it came
to time according to the waiting-room clock.
Joshua put her aboard, and she soon had nothing
left to worry over except the wonder as to whether
Jack would be on hand to meet her or not.</p>

<p>Joshua drove back home, let Lucinda out at the
door, and put the horse up before going in to where
she sat in solitary glory.</p>

<p>"I wonder what <hi rend="font-style: italic">he's</hi> up to?" she said with a
pleasant sense of unlimited freedom as to the subject
and duration of the conversation.
<pb n="127" /><anchor id="Pg127" /></p>

<p>"Suthin', of course," was the answer.</p>

<p>"Do you s'pose he's really sick?"</p>

<p>"No, I don't."</p>

<p>"Do you s'pose she thinks he's really sick?"</p>

<p>"Mebbe."</p>

<p>"Ain't you goin' to sit down, Joshua?"</p>

<p>"I don't see nothin' to make me sit down here
for."</p>

<p>"What do you think of her going?" she said,
as he walked toward the door.</p>

<p>"I think she'll have a good time."</p>

<p>"At her age?"</p>

<p>"Havin' a good time ain't a matter o' age," said
Joshua. "It's a matter o' bein' willin' to have a
good time."</p>

<p>Lucinda screwed her face up mightily.</p>

<p>"If I was sure she'd be gone for a week," she
said, "I'd go a-visitin' myself."</p>

<p>"She'll be gone a week," said Joshua; and the
manner and matter of his speech were both those
of a prophet.</p>

<p>Then he went out and the door slammed to
behind him.</p>
</div>
<pb n="128" /><anchor id="Pg128" />

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<index index="toc" />
<index index="pdf" />
<head>Chapter Thirteen - Aunt Mary Entrapped</head>


<p>Aunt Mary's arrival in the city just coincided
with the arrival of that day's five
o'clock. Five o'clock in early June is very
bright daylight, therefore she was rather bewildered
when the train pulled up in the darkness and
electricity of the station's confusion. The change
from sunlight to smoke blinded her somewhat and
the view from the car window did not restore her
equanimity. When the porter, to whom she had
been discreetly recommended by Joshua, came for
her bags, she felt woefully distressed and not at
all like her usual self.</p>

<p>"Oh, do I have to get out?" she said. "I ain't
been in this place for twenty-five years, and I was
to be met."</p>

<p>The porter's grin hovered comfortingly over
her head.</p>

<p>"You can stay here jus' 's long as you like,
ma'am," he yelled, in the voice of a train dispatcher.
"I'll send your friends in when they
inquiahs."</p>

<p>Aunt Mary eyed him gratefully, and gave him
<pb n="129" /><anchor id="Pg129" />the nickel which she had been carefully holding in
her hand for the last hour.</p>

<p>Then she looked up, and saw Jack!</p>

<p>A perfectly splendid Jack, in resplendent attire,
handsome, beaming, with a big bouquet of violets
in his hand!</p>

<p>"For you, Aunt Mary," he said, and dropped
them into her lap, and hugged her fervently. She
clung to him with a cling that forgot the immediate
past, disinheriting and all. Oh! she was so
glad to see him!</p>

<p>The porter approached with a beneficent look.</p>

<p>"Has he taken good care of you, Aunt Mary?"
Jack asked, as the man gathered up the things and
they started to leave the car.</p>

<p>"Yes, indeed," Aunt Mary declared.</p>

<p>So Jack gave the porter a dollar.</p>

<p>Then they left the train.</p>

<p>"I was so worried," Aunt Mary said, as she
went along the platform hanging on her nephew's
arm. "I thought you'd met with an accident."</p>

<p>"I couldn't get on until the rest got off," he
said, gazing down on her with a smile; "but I was
on hand, all right. My, but it's good to think that
you're here, Aunt Mary! Maybe you think that
I don't appreciate your taking all this trouble for
me, but I do, just the same."</p>

<p>Aunt Mary smiled all over. Everyone who
<pb n="130" /><anchor id="Pg130" />passed them was smiling, too, and that added to
the general joy of the atmosphere. Aunt Mary
felt proud of Jack, and rejoiced as to herself. Her
content with life in general was, for the moment,
limitless. She did not stop to dissect the sources
of her delight. She was not in a critical mood just
then.</p>

<p>"Why don't you stick those flowers in your
belt, Aunt Mary?" her nephew asked, as they
penetrated the worst of the human jungle, and the
preservation of the violets appeared to be the main
question of the day. "That's what the girls do."</p>

<p>His aunt looked vaguely down at herself. She
had no belt to stick her violets in. She wore no
belt. She wore a basque. A basque is a beltless
something that you can't remember, but that
females did, once upon a time, cover the upper half
of their forms with. Basques buttoned down the
front with ten to thirty buttons, and may be studied
at leisure in any good collection of daguerreotypes.
Ladies like Aunt Mary are apt to scorn
such futilities as waning styles after they pass
beyond a certain age, and for that reason there
was no place for Jack's violets.</p>

<p>"Never mind," he said cheerfully, having
followed her dubiousness with his understanding.
"Just hang on to them a minute longer, and we'll
be out of all this."
<pb n="131" /><anchor id="Pg131" /></p>

<p>His words came true, and they finally did
emerge from the seething mass and found a carriage,
the door of which happened to be standing
mysteriously open. Within, upon the small seat,
some omniscient hands had already deposited Aunt
Mary's bags. It did not take long to stow Aunt
Mary, face to her luggage, and she was barely
established there before her trunk came, too; and,
although the coachman looked so gorgeous, he
was nevertheless obliging enough to allow it to
couch humbly at his feet.</p>

<p>Then they rolled away.</p>

<p>Jack sat sideways and looked at his aunt, holding
her hand. His eyes were unfeignedly happy,
and his companion matched his eyes. Neither
seemed to recollect that one was bitterly angry,
and that the other was on the verge of melancholia.
Instead, Jack declared fervently:</p>

<p>"Aunt Mary, I've made up my mind to give
you the time of your life!"</p>

<p>And Aunt Mary drew a sigh of relief in his
words and anticipation of their fulfillment.</p>

<p>"I'll be happy takin' care of you," she said,
benevolently. "My!&mdash;but your letter scared me.
An' yet you look well."</p>

<p>He laughed.</p>

<p>"It's the knowing you were coming that's done
that, Aunt Mary. You ought to have seen me
<pb n="132" /><anchor id="Pg132" />when I got your telegram. I almost turned a
somersault."</p>

<p>Aunt Mary smiled rapturously and patted his
hand.</p>

<p>And just then they drew up in front of the
house. She looked out, and her face fell a
trifle.</p>

<p>"It's awful high and narrow," she said.</p>

<p>"They all are," Jack replied, opening the carriage
door and jumping out to receive her.</p>

<p>The door at the top of the steps opened, and a
man came down for the bags. In the hall above,
a pretty maid waited with a welcoming smile.</p>

<p>Jack piloted his aunt, first up the entrance steps,
and then up the staircase within, and led her to the
lovely room which had been vacated for her. The
maid followed with tea and biscuits, and the man
brought the luggage and ranged it unobtrusively
in a corner. There was a lavish richness about
everything which made Aunt Mary and her trunk
appear as gray and insignificant as a pair of mice,
by contrast; but she didn't feel it, and so she didn't
mind it.</p>

<p>Jack kissed her tenderly.</p>

<p>"Welcome to town, Aunt Mary," he said heartily,
"and may you never live to look upon this day
as other than the luckiest of your life!" Then,
turning to the servant, he said:
<pb n="133" /><anchor id="Pg133" /></p>

<p>"Janice, you see that you do all that money can
buy for my aunt."</p>

<p>The maid courtesied. She had arranged the tray
upon a little table and the spout of the tea pot and
the round hole in the middle of the toast-cover were
each pouring forth a pleasant suggestion.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary began at once to haul forth her
keys.</p>

<p>"Why, Aunt Mary," Jack cried, wondering if
her nose was deaf, too, or whether she didn't feel
hungry, "don't you see your tea? Or don't you
want any?"</p>

<p>Aunt Mary thumbed her trunk key.</p>

<p>"I want a nightgown," she said; "maybe I'll
want something else later. Maybe."</p>

<p>"You're not going to <hi rend="font-style: italic">bed</hi>!"</p>

<p>She drew herself up.</p>

<p>"I guess I can if I want to; I guess I can.
There's the bed and here's me."</p>

<p>"Whatever are you saying? It isn't half-past
six o'clock."</p>

<p>"I'm not <hi rend="font-style: italic">prayin</hi>' about anything," said the
old lady. "I don't pray about things. I do
'em when needful. And when I'm tired I go
to bed."</p>

<p>"All right, Aunt Mary," with sugary sweetness
and lamb-like submissiveness. "I thought we'd
dine out together, but if you don't want to, we
<pb n="134" /><anchor id="Pg134" />needn't. And if you feel like it when you waken,
we can."</p>

<p>"Dine out," said Aunt Mary, blankly; "has the
cook left? I never was a great approver of goin'
and eatin' at boarding houses."</p>

<p>"Well, never mind," Jack said in a key pitched
to rhyme with high C. "I'll leave you now&mdash;and
we can see about everything later."</p>

<p>He kissed her, and retired from the room.</p>

<p>"Did he say we're goin' out to dinner?" Aunt
Mary asked, when she was left alone with the maid,
who hurried to take her bonnet and shawl, and get
her into juxtaposition with the tea-tray as rapidly
as possible.</p>

<p>"Yes, ma'am," the girl screamed, nodding.</p>

<p>"I don't want to," said the old lady firmly.
"Lots of trouble comes through gettin' out of
house habits. I've come here to take care of a
sick boy and not to go gallivantin' round myself.
I've seen the evils of gallivantin' a good deal
lately and I don't want to see no more. Not here
and not nowhere."</p>

<p>Then she began to eat and drink and reflect, all
at the same time.</p>

<p>"By the way, what's your name?" she asked,
suddenly. "Jack didn't tell me."</p>

<p>"Janice, ma'am."</p>

<p>"Granite?" said Aunt Mary. "What a funny
<pb n="135" /><anchor id="Pg135" />idea to name you that! Did they call you for the
tinware or for the rocks?"</p>

<p>"I don't know," shrieked Janice, who was busily
occupied in unpacking the traveler's trunk.</p>

<p>Her new mistress watched her with a critical eye
at first, but it became a more or less sleepy eye as
the warmth of the tea meandered slowly through
its owner. There was a battle within Aunt Mary's
brain; she wanted to please Jack, and she was
almost dead with sleep.</p>

<p>"Do you think that I ought to try and go out
with my nephew to-night?" she asked Janice.</p>

<p>"If it was me, I should go," cried the maid.</p>

<p>"I never was called slow before," Aunt Mary
said, bridling. "I'll thank you to remember your
place, young woman."</p>

<p>Janice explained.</p>

<p>"Oh! I didn't hear plainly," said Aunt Mary.
"I don't always. Well go or not go, I've got to
sleep first. I'm dreadfully sleepy, and I've always
been a great believer in sleepin' when you're
sleepy."</p>

<p>The fact of the sleepiness was so evident that no
attempt was made to gainsay it. Janice brought
down a quilt from the closet and tucked her charge
up luxuriously on the great bed. Five minutes
later she was in dreamland.</p>

<p>Jack came in about seven and looked at her.
<pb n="136" /><anchor id="Pg136" /></p>

<p>"She mustn't be disturbed," he said thoughtfully.
"If she wakes up before ten we'll go out
then."</p>

<p>She awoke about nine, and when she opened her
eyes the first thing that she saw was Janice, sitting
near by.</p>

<p>"I feel real good," said Aunt Mary.</p>

<p>"I'm so glad," yelled Janice, and smiled, too.</p>

<p>The old lady sat up.</p>

<p>"I believe I could have gone out, after all,"
she said. "Only I don't want to take dinner
anywhere."</p>

<p>Then she paused and reflected. It was surprising
how good she felt and how she did want to
make Jack happy. "After all boys will be boys,"
she thought, tenderly, "an' I ain't but seventy, so I
don't see why I shouldn't go out with him if he
wants to. I'm a great believer in doin' what you
want to&mdash;I mean, in doin' what other folks want
you to. At any rate I'm a great believer in it
sometimes. To-day&mdash;this time."</p>

<p>"Your nephew is waiting," the maid howled.
"Shall I tell him you want to go after all?"</p>

<p>"Is it late?" the old lady inquired.</p>

<p>"Oh, dear, no!"</p>

<p>"Wouldn't you go if you was me?" asked the
old lady.</p>

<p>Janice smiled.
<pb n="137" /><anchor id="Pg137" /></p>

<p>"Indeed I would."</p>

<p>Aunt Mary rose. A flood of metropolitan fever
suddenly surged up and around and over and
through her.</p>

<p>"Tell him I'll be down in five minutes," she said.</p>

<p>"Can you change in that time?" Janice stopped
to shriek.</p>

<p>"What should I change for?" Aunt Mary demanded
in astonishment. "Ain't I all dressed
now?"</p>

<p>Janice did not attempt to shriek any counter-advice,
and while she was gone to find Jack, her
mistress brushed herself in some places, soaped herself
in others, and considered her toilet made.
When Janice returned she caught up a loose lock
of hair, and put the placket-hole of her skirt square
in the middle of Aunt Mary's back, and dared go
no further. There was an air even about the back
of Jack's influential aunt which forbade too much
liberty to those dealing with her.</p>
</div>
<pb n="138" /><anchor id="Pg138" />

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<index index="toc" />
<index index="pdf" />

<head>Chapter Fourteen - Aunt Mary En Fête</head>


<p>Aunt Mary descended the stairs about
half-past nine; she thought it was about a
quarter to eight, but the difference between
the hour that it was and the hour that she thought
that it was will be all the same a hundred years
from now.</p>

<p>Jack came out of the Louis XIV. drawing room
when he heard her step in the hall. There was
another young man with him.</p>

<p>"This is my friend Burnett, Aunt Mary," her
nephew roared. "You must excuse his not bowing lower,
but you know he broke his collarbone
recently."</p>

<p>Aunt Mary shook hands warmly; she knew all
about the ribs and the collarbone, because they had
formed big items in the testimony which had momentarily
and as momentously relegated Jack to
the comradeship of the devil himself, in her eyes.
However, she recalled them merely as facts now&mdash;not
at all in a disagreeable way&mdash;and gave Burnett
an extra squeeze of good-fellowship, as she said:</p>

<p>"You had a narrow escape, young man."
<pb n="139" /><anchor id="Pg139" /></p>

<p>"I didn't have any escape at all," said Burnett.
"The escape went down at the back, and I had to
jump from a cornice."</p>

<p>"Burnett is going out to dine with us, Aunt
Mary," said Jack. "There's so little he can eat
on account of his ribs that he's a good dinner guest
for me."</p>

<p>Jack's aunt felt vaguely uncomfortable over this
allusion to her grand-nephew's circumstances, and
coughed in slight embarrassment.</p>

<p>Burnett opened the door, and the carriage lamp
shone below. (Is there ever anything more
delightfully suggestive than a carriage lamp shining
down below?) They took her down and
put her in, and the carriage rolled away.</p>

<p>It was that June when "Bedelia" covered nearly
the whole of the political horizon; it was the date of
June when West Point, Vassar, the Blue, the Red,
the Black and Yellow and every known device for
getting rid of young and growing-up America are
all cast loose at once on our fair land. The streets
were a scene of glorious confusion, and but for
Aunt Mary no considerations could have kept Burnett's
collarbone and Jack's melancholia cooped
up in a closed carriage. As it was, they were both
fidgeting like two youthful Uncle Sams in a European
railway coupe, when the latter suddenly exclaimed:
"Here we are!" and threw open the
<pb n="140" /><anchor id="Pg140" />door as he spoke. Then he got out and Burnett
got out and between them they got Aunt Mary out.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary regarded the awning and carpet and
general glitter with a more or less appalled gaze.</p>

<p>"Looks like&mdash;" she began; and was interrupted
by a voice at her side:</p>

<p>"Hello, Jack!"</p>

<p>"Hello, Clover!"</p>

<p>She turned and saw him of the pale mustache
whom we once met in Mrs. Rosscott's drawing
room. He was in no wise altered since that occasion
except that his attire was slightly more resplendent
and he had on a silk hat.</p>

<p>Jack shook hands warmly and then he turned
to his relative.</p>

<p>"Aunt Mary, this is my friend Clover; he's
often heard me speak of you."</p>

<p>"Glad to meet you, Mr. Rover," said Aunt
Mary, cordially, and she, too, shook hands with
that cordiality that flourishes beyond city limits.</p>

<p>Her nephew bent over her ear-trumpet.</p>

<p>"Clover!" he howled, with all the strength he
owned.</p>

<p>"I heard before," said Aunt Mary, somewhat
coldly.</p>

<p>"Come on and dine with us, Clover," said Jack;
"that'll make four." (By the way, isn't it odd
how many people ask their friends to dinner for
<pb n="141" /><anchor id="Pg141" />the simple reason that, arithmetically considered,
each counts as one!)</p>

<p>"All right, I will," said Clover, in his languid
drawl.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary saw his lips.</p>

<p>"It's no use my deceivin' you as to my bein' a
little hard of hearin'," she said to him, "because
you can see my ear-trumpet; so I'll trouble you to
say that over again."</p>

<p>"All right, I will," Clover wailed, good-humoredly.</p>

<p>"What?" asked Aunt Mary. "I didn't&mdash;"</p>

<p>Jack cut her short by leading the party inside.</p>

<p>The scene within was as gorgeous with golden
stucco as the dining-room of a German liner. Aunt
Mary was so overcome that she traversed half the
room before she became aware of the mighty attention
which she and her three escorts were attracting.
In truth, it is not every day that three
good-looking young men take a tiny old lady, a
bunch of violets and an ear-trumpet out to dine
at ten o'clock.</p>

<p>"Everyone's lookin'," she said to Jack.</p>

<p>"It's your back, Aunt Mary," he replied, in a
voice that shook some loose golden flakes from the
ceiling. "I tell you, not many women of your age
have a back like yours, and don't you forget it."</p>

<p>The compliment pleased Aunt Mary, because
<pb n="142" /><anchor id="Pg142" />she had all her life been considered round-shouldered.
It also pleased her because she never had
received many compliments. The Aunt Marys of
this world love flattery just as dearly as the Mrs.
Rosscotts; the sad part of life is that they rarely
get any. The women like Mrs. Rosscott know
why the Aunt Marys go unflattered, but the Aunt
Marys never understand. It's all sad&mdash;and
true&mdash;and undeniable.</p>

<p>They went to a table, and were barely seated
when another man came up.</p>

<p>"Hello, Jack!"</p>

<p>"Hello, Mitchell!"</p>

<p>It was he of Scotch ancestry. Jack sprang up
and greeted him with warmth, then he turned to
Aunt Mary.</p>

<p>"Aunt Mary," he screamed, "this is my
friend"&mdash;he paused, put on all steam and
ploughed right through&mdash;"Herbert Kendrick
Mitchell."</p>

<p>"I didn't catch that at all," said Aunt Mary,
calmly, "but I'm just as glad to meet the gentleman."</p>

<p>Mitchell clasped her hand with an expression
as burning as if it was real.</p>

<p>"I declare," he yelled straight at her, "if this
isn't what I've been dreaming towards ever since
I first knew Jack."
<pb n="143" /><anchor id="Pg143" /></p>

<p>Aunt Mary fairly shone.</p>

<p>"Dear me," she began, "if I'd known&mdash;"</p>

<p>"You'd better dine with us, Mitchell," said
Jack; "that'll make five."</p>

<p>"It won't make but three for me," said Mitchell.
"I haven't had but two dinners before
to-night."</p>

<p>Clover smiled because he heard, and Aunt Mary
smiled because she didn't, but was happy anyway.
She had altogether forgotten that she had
demurred at dining out. They all sat down and
shook out their napkins. Mitchell and Clover
shook Aunt Mary's for her and gave it a beautiful
cornerways spread across her lap.</p>

<p>Then the waiter laid another plate for Mitchell,
and brought oyster cocktails for everyone. Aunt
Mary eyed hers with early curiosity and later suspicion;
and she smelled of it very carefully.</p>

<p>"I don't believe they're good oysters," she
said.</p>

<p>"Yes, they are," cried Mitchell reassuringly.
His voice, when he turned it upon her, was pitched
like a clarionet. The blind would surely have seen
as well as the deaf have heard had there been any
candidates for miracles in his immediate vicinity.
"They're first-class," he added, "you just go at
them and see."</p>

<p>The reassured took another whiff.
<pb n="144" /><anchor id="Pg144" /></p>

<p>"You can have mine," she said directly afterwards;
and there was an air of decision about her
speech which brooked no opposition. Yet Mitchell
persisted.</p>

<p>"Oh, no," he yelled; "you must learn how.
Just throw your head back and take 'em quick&mdash;after
the fashion that they eat raw eggs, don't
you know?"</p>

<p>"But she can't," said Clover. "There's too
much, particularly as she isn't used to them. I'll
tell you, Miss Watkins," he cried, hoisting his own
voice to the masthead, "you eat the oysters, and
leave the cocktail. That's the way to get gradually
trained into the wheel."</p>

<p>Aunt Mary thought some of obeying; she fished
out one oyster, wiped it carefully with a bit of
bread, regarded it with more than dubious countenance,
and then suddenly decided not to.</p>

<p>"I'd rather be at home when I try experiments,"
she said, decidedly; and the waiter carried off her
cocktail and gave her food that was good beyond
question thereafter.</p>

<p>The dinner went with zest. It was an enlivening
party that consumed it, and what they consumed
with it enlivened them still more. The
gentlemen soon reached the point where they could
laugh over jokes they could not understand, and
the one lady member became equally merry over
<pb n="145" /><anchor id="Pg145" />wit that she did not hear. She forgot for the
nonce that there were any phases of life in which
she was not a believer, and whether this was owing
to the surrounding gayety or to the champagne
which they persuaded her to taste it is not my
province to explain.</p>

<p>"Now we must lay our lines for events to come,"
Jack said, when they advanced upon the dessert
and prepared to occupy an extensive territory of
ices, fruit, and jellied something or other. "It
would be a sin for Aunt Mary to leave this famous
battlefield without a few honorable scars! We
must take her out in a bubble for one thing
and&mdash;"</p>

<p>"In mine!" cried Clover. "To-morrow!
Why can't she?&mdash;I held up my hand first?"</p>

<p>"All right," said Jack; "to-morrow she's
your's. At four o'clock."</p>

<p>"She must have goggles," cried Mitchell.
"She must have goggles and be all fixed up, and
when you have got her the goggles and she has
been all fixed up, I ask, as a last boon, that I may
go along, just so as to see everyone who sees her."</p>

<p>"We'll all go," Clover explained. "I'll 'chuff'
her myself and then there'll be room for everyone."</p>

<p>"To the auto and to to-morrow!" cried Burnett,
hastily pouring out a fresh toast, which even
<pb n="146" /><anchor id="Pg146" />Aunt Mary applauded, not at all knowing what
she was applauding.</p>

<p>"And now for the next day," said Jack. "I
think I'll give her a box-party. Don't you want
to go to the theater in a box, Aunt Mary?"</p>

<p>"Go where in a box?" said Aunt Mary, starting
a little. "I didn't quite catch that."</p>

<p>"To the theater," Jack yelled.</p>

<p>"To the theater," repeated his aunt a trifle
blankly, "I&mdash;"</p>

<p>"And the next day," said Mitchell suddenly (he
had been reflecting maturely), "I'll take you all
up the sound in my yacht."</p>

<p>"Oh, hurrah," cried Burnett, "that'll be bully!
And the day after I'll give her a picnic."</p>

<p>"Time of your life, Aunt Mary," Jack shrieked
in her ear-trumpet; "time of your life!"</p>

<p>"Dear me!" said Aunt Mary, "I don't
just&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Aunt Mary! glasses down!" cried Clover;
"may she live forever and forever."</p>

<p>"To Aunt Mary, glasses up," said Mitchell.
"Glasses up come before glasses down always.
It's one of the laws of Nature&mdash;human nature&mdash;also
of good nature. Here's to Aunt Mary, and if
she isn't the Aunt Mary of all of us here's a hoping
she may get there some day; I don't just see how,
but I ask the indulgence of those present on the
<pb n="147" /><anchor id="Pg147" />plea that I have indulged quite a little myself to-night.
Honi soit qui mal y pense; ora pro nobis,
Erin-go-Bragh. Present company being present,
and impossible to except on that account, we will
omit the three cheers and choke down the tiger."</p>

<p>They all drank, and the dinner having by this
time dwindled down to coffee grounds and cheese
crumbs a vote was taken as to where they should
go next.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary suggested home, but she was over-ruled,
and they all went elsewhere. She never
could recollect where she went or what she saw;
but, as everyone else has been and seen over and
over again, I won't fuss with detailing it.</p>

<p>The visitor from the country reached home in
a carriage in the small hours in the morning,
and Janice received her, looking somewhat
nervous.</p>

<p>"This is pretty late," she ventured to remind the
bearers; but as they didn't seem to think so, and she
was a maiden, wise beyond her years, she spoke no
further word, but went to work and undressed the
aged reveller, got her comfortably established in
bed, and then left her to get a good sleep, an occupation
which occupied the weary one fully until
two that afternoon.</p>

<p>When she did at last open her eyes it was several
minutes before she knew where she was. Her
<pb n="148" /><anchor id="Pg148" />brain seemed dazed, her intellect more than
clouded. It is a state of mind to which those who
habitually go about in hansoms at the hour of dawn
are well accustomed, but to Aunt Mary it was painfully
new. She struggled to remember, and felt
helplessly inadequate to the task. Janice finally
came in with a glass of something that foamed and
fizzed, and the victim of late hours drank that and
came to her senses again. Then she recollected.</p>

<p>"My! but I had a good time last night!" she
said, putting her hand to her head. "What time
is it now, anyhow?"</p>

<p>"Breakfast time," cried the handmaiden.
"You'll have just long enough to eat and dress
leisurely before you go out."</p>

<p>"Oh!" said Aunt Mary blankly; "where 'm
I goin'? Do you know?"</p>

<p>"Mr. Denham told me that you had promised
to attend an automobile party at four."</p>

<p>"Oh, yes," said Aunt Mary hastily. "I
guess I remember. I guess I do. I saw Jack
wanted to go, so I said I'd go, too. I'm a great
believer in lettin' the young enjoy themselves."</p>

<p>She looked sharply at Janice as she spoke, but
Janice was serene.</p>

<p>"I didn't come to town to do anything but make
Jack happy," continued Aunt Mary, "and I see
that he won't take any fresh air without I go along&mdash;so
<pb n="149" /><anchor id="Pg149" />I shall go too while I'm here. Mostly. As
a general thing."</p>

<p>"Mr. Mitchell called and left these flowers with
his card," Janice said, opening a huge box of roses;
"and a man brought a package. Shall I open it?"</p>

<p>Aunt Mary's wrinkles fairly radiated.</p>

<p>"Well, did I ever!" she exclaimed. "Yes;
open it."</p>

<p>Janice proceeded to obey, and the package was
found to contain an automobile wrap, a pair of
goggles and a note from Clover.</p>

<p>"My gracious me!" cried Aunt Mary.</p>

<p>"Mr. Denham sent the violets," Janice said,
pointing to a great bowl of lilac and white
blossoms.</p>

<p>Just then the doorbell rang, and it was a ten-pound
box of candy from Burnett.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary collapsed among her pillows.</p>

<p>"I <hi rend="font-style: italic">never</hi> did!" she murmured feebly, and then
she suddenly exclaimed: "An' to think of me livin'
up there all my life with plenty of money&mdash;"
she stopped short. I tell you when you come to
New York on a mission and stay for the Bacchanalia
it is hard to hold consistently to either
standard.</p>

<p>But Janice had gone for her lady's breakfast, and
after the lady had eaten it and had herself dressed
for the day's joys, Jack knocked at the door.
<pb n="150" /><anchor id="Pg150" /></p>

<p>"Well, Aunt Mary," he roared, when he was
let in, "if you don't look fine! You're the freshest
of the bunch to-day, sure. You'll be ready for
another night to-night, and you've only to say
where, you know."</p>

<p>"Granite did my hair," said his aunt; "you
must praise her, not me."</p>

<p>"And you've got your goggles all ready, too,"
he continued. "Who sent 'em?"</p>

<p>"Oh, I shan't wiggle," said Aunt Mary
"although I can't see how it could hurt if I did."</p>

<p>"Come on and let's dress her up," said Jack to
the maid, "Glory! what fun!"</p>

<p>Thereupon they went to work and rigged the old
lady out. She was certainly a sight, for she stood
by her own bonnet, and that failed to jibe with the
goggles.</p>

<p>Burnett was summoned in to view the proceedings,
but just as he caught the first glimpse he was
taken with a fearful cramp in his broken ribs and
was forced to beat the hastiest sort of a retreat.</p>

<p>"I hope he'll get over it and be able to go out
with us," said Aunt Mary anxiously.</p>

<p>"I guess he'll recover," Jack yelled cheerfully.
"Oh, there's Clover!"</p>

<p>A sort of dull, ponderous panting sounded in the
street without, and let all the neighbors know that
"The Threshing Machine" (as Clover had christened
<pb n="151" /><anchor id="Pg151" />his elephantine toy) was waiting for someone.</p>

<p>Its owner came in for a stirrup cup; Mitchell
was with him. Both were togged out as if entered
for the annual Paris-Bordeaux.</p>

<p>Burnett brought out the cut-glass jugs.</p>

<p>"Ye gods and little fishes! Sapristi! Sacre
bleu!" he said to his friends. "Just you wait
till you see our Aunt Mary!"</p>

<p>"Has she got 'em all on?" Clover asked.</p>

<p>"Has she got 'em all on!" said Burnett. "She
has got 'em all on; and how Jack held his own in
the room with her I cannot understand. I took
one look, and if mine had been a surgical case of
stitches the last thread would have bust that instant.
I don't believe I dare go out with you. This is a
life and death game to Jack, and I won't risk
smashing his future by not being able to keep sober
in the face of Aunt Mary."</p>

<p>"Oh, come on," Clover urged in his wiry voice.
"You needn't look at her; or, if you do look at her,
you can look the other way right afterwards, you
know."</p>

<p>"I'll sit next to her," Mitchell explained. "As
a sitter by Aunt Mary's side I shone last night; and
where a man has sat once, the same man can surely
sit again."</p>

<p>Burnett hesitated, and just then voices were heard
<pb n="152" /><anchor id="Pg152" />in the hall. Jack and Janice were convoying Aunt
Mary below.</p>

<p>Mitchell went out into the hall.</p>

<p>"Well, Miss Watkins," he said, in a tone such
as one would use to call down Santos-Dumont,
"I'm mighty glad to see you looking so well."</p>

<p>Aunt Mary turned the goggles full upon him.</p>

<p>"A present from Mr. Clover," she said smiling.</p>

<p>"I never knew him to take so much trouble for
any lady before," said Mitchell; and as she arrived
just then at the foot of the staircase he pressed her
proffered hand warmly and forthwith led her in
upon the two men in the library.</p>

<p>She looked exactly like a living edition of one of
the bug pictures, and Clover had to think and swallow
fast and hard to keep from being overcome.
But he was true blue, and came out right side up.
Aunt Mary was acclaimed on all sides, and escorted
to the "bubble."</p>

<p>Burnett couldn't resist going, too, at the last
moment; but, as his ribs were really tender yet, he
sat in front with Clover. Jack and Mitchell sat
behind, and deftly inserted the honored guest between
them.</p>

<p>"It's an even thing as to which is the ear-trumpet
side," Mitchell said, as they all stood
about preparatory to climbing in. "Of course,
that side don't need to holler quite so loud; but
<pb n="153" /><anchor id="Pg153" />then, to balance, he may get his one and only pair
of front teeth knocked out any minute."</p>

<p>"I'll take that side," said Jack. "I'm used to
fighting under the inspiration of the trumpet."</p>

<p>"And God be with you," said his friend piously.
"May he watch over you and bring you out safe
and whole&mdash;teeth, eyes, etc."</p>

<p>"Come on," said Clover impatiently; "don't
you know this thing's getting up power and you're
wasting it talking."</p>

<p>"Curious," laughed Burnett. "I never knew
that it was gasolene that men were consuming when
they kept an automobile waiting."</p>

<p>And then they got in and were off&mdash;a merry
load, indeed.</p>

<p>"Dear me, but it's a-goin'!" Aunt Mary exclaimed,
as the thing began to whiz and she felt
suddenly impelled to clutch wildly at her flanking
escorts. "Suppose we met a dog."</p>

<p>"We'd leave a floor mat," shrieked Mitchell.
"Oh, but isn't this great&mdash;greater&mdash;greatest?"</p>

<p>"Time of your life, Aunt Mary!" Jack howled,
as they went over a boarded spot in the pavement,
and the old lady nearly went over the back in
consequence. "You're in for the time of your
life!"</p>

<p>"How do you like it?" yelled Clover, throwing
a glance over his shoulder.
<pb n="154" /><anchor id="Pg154" /></p>

<p>Aunt Mary started to answer, but they came to
four car tracks one after another, and the successive
shocks rendered her speechless.</p>

<p>"Where are we going?" Burnett asked.</p>

<p>"Nowhere," said Clover. "Just waking up
the machine." And he turned on another million
volts as he spoke.</p>

<p>"Oh, my bonnet!" cried poor Aunt Mary, and
that bit of her adornment was in the street and had
been run over four times before they could slow
up, turn around, and get back to the scene of its
output.</p>

<p>It speaks volumes for the permeating atmosphere
of "having the time of your life" that its
owner laughed when the wreck was shown to her.</p>

<p>"I don't care a bit," she said. "I can go down
to Delmonico's an' get me another to-morrow
mornin', easy."</p>

<p>"What a trump you are, Aunt Mary!" said
Jack admiringly. "Here, Burnett, fish her out
that extra cap from the cane rack; there's always
one in the bottom. There&mdash;now you won't take
cold, Aunt Mary."</p>

<p>The cap, with its fore-piece, was the crowning
glory of Aunt Mary's get-up. The brain measurements
of him who had bought the cap being to its
present wearer's as five is to three, the effect of its
proportions, in addition to the goggles and the
<pb n="155" /><anchor id="Pg155" />ear-trumpet, was such as to have overawed a survivor
of Medusa's stare.</p>

<p>"Oh, I say," said Mitchell, "it's a sin to keep as
good a joke as this in the family! We must drive
her around town until the night falls down or the
battery burns out."</p>

<p>"I say so too," said Burnett. "This is more
sport than oiling railroad tracks and seeing old
Tweedwell brought up for it. Say, set her a-buzzing
again. It's a big game, isn't it?"</p>

<p>Clover thought so, with the result that they
speeded through tranquil neighborhoods and
churned leisurely where the masses seethed until
countless thousands were wondering what under
the sun those four young fellows had in the back
of their car.</p>

<p>The sad part about all good fun is that it has to
end sooner or later; and about six o'clock the whole
party began to be aware that, if refreshments were
not taken, their end was surely close at hand.
They therefore called a brief halt somewhere to
get what is technically known as a "sandwich,"
and the results were thoroughly satisfactory to
everyone but Aunt Mary. She took one bite of
her sandwich, and then opened it with an abruptness
which merged into disgust when it proved to
be full of fish eggs.</p>

<p>"Why didn't you tell me what it was made of?"
<pb n="156" /><anchor id="Pg156" />she asked in annoyance. "I feel just as if I'd
swallowed a marsh&mdash;a green one!"</p>

<p>"That's a shame!" said Clover indignantly.
"I'll get you something that will take that taste
out of your mouth double quick. Here!" he
called to a waiter, and then he gave the man certain
careful directions.</p>

<p>The latter nodded wisely, and a few minutes
later brought in a tiny glass containing a pousse-café
in three different colors.</p>

<p>"It's a cocktail. Drink it quick," Clover
directed.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary demurred.</p>

<p>"I never drank a cocktail," she began.</p>

<p>"No time like the present to begin," said Clover,
"you'll have to learn some day."</p>

<p>"Cocktails," said Mitchell, "are the advance
guard of a newer and brighter civilization.
They&mdash;"</p>

<p>"If she's going to take it at all she must take it
now," said Clover authoritatively. "The green
and the yellow are beginning to run together.
Quick now!"</p>

<p>His confiding guest drank quick and became the
three different colors quicker yet.</p>

<p>"What's the matter?" Jack asked anxiously.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary was speechless.</p>

<p>"He mixed it wrong," said Clover in a sad,
<pb n="157" /><anchor id="Pg157" />discouraged tone. "What she ought to have got
first she got last, that's all. The cocktail is upside
down inside of her, and the effect of it is upside
down on the outside of her."</p>

<p>"Feel any better now, Aunt Mary?" Jack
yelled.</p>

<p>"I can't seem to keep the purple swallowed,"
said the poor old lady. "I want to go home.
I've always been a great believer in going home
when you feel like I do now. In general&mdash;as a
rule."</p>

<p>"I would strongly recommend your obeying her
wishes," said Mitchell, with great earnestness.
"There's a time for all things, and, in my opinion,
she's had about all the queer tastes that she can
absorb for to-day. Things being as they are and
mainly as they shouldn't be, I cast my vote in with
what looks as if it would soon become the losing
side, and vote to bubble back for all we're
worth."</p>

<p>There was a general acquiescence in his view of
the case, which led them all to pile into "The
Threshing Machine" with unaffected haste and
rush Aunt Mary bedward as rapidly as was possible
considering the hour and the policemen.</p>

<p>Janice received her mistress with the tender welcome
that every prodigal may count on and was
especially expeditious with tea and toast and a
<pb n="158" /><anchor id="Pg158" />robe de nuit. Aunt Mary sighed luxuriously when
she felt herself finally tucked up.</p>

<p>"After all, Granite," she said dreamily, "there's
nothin' like gettin' stretched out to think it over&mdash;is
there?"</p>

<p>But Janice was turning out the lights.</p>
</div>
<pb n="159" /><anchor id="Pg159" />

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<index index="toc" />
<index index="pdf" />

<head>Chapter Fifteen - Aunt Mary Enthralled</head>


<p>Jack's aunt slept long and dreamlessly again.
That thrice-blessed sleep which follows
nights abroad in the metropolis.</p>

<p>When, toward four o'clock, Aunt Mary opened
her eyes, she was at first almost as hazy in her
conceptions as she had found herself upon the previous
day.</p>

<p>"I feel as if the automobile was runnin' up my
back and over my head," she said, thoughtfully
passing her hand along the machine's imaginary
course. Then she rang her bell and Janice appeared
from the room beyond.</p>

<p>"I guess you'd better give me some of that
that you gave me yesterday," the elderly lady suggested;
"what do you think?"</p>

<p>"Yes, indeed," said Janice&mdash;and went at once
and brought it in separate glasses on a tray, and
mixed it by pouring, while Aunt Mary looked on
with an intuitive understanding that passed instinct
and bordered on a complete comprehension of
things to her hitherto unknown.
<pb n="160" /><anchor id="Pg160" /></p>

<p>"They'd ought to advertise that," she said, as
she set down the empty glass a few seconds later.
"There'd be a lot of folks who'd be glad to know
there was such a thing when they first wake up
mornin's after&mdash;after&mdash;well, mornin's after anythin'.
It's jus' what you want right off; it sort of
runs through your hair and makes you begin to
remember."</p>

<p>"Yes, ma'am," said Janice, turning to put down
the tray, and then crossing the room to seek something
on the chimney-piece.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary gave a sudden twist,&mdash;as if the drink
had infused an effervescing energy into her frame.
"Well what am I goin' to do to-day?" she asked.</p>

<p>"Mr. Denham has written out your engagements
here," said Janice, handing her a jeweler's
box as she spoke.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary tore off the tissue paper with trembling
haste&mdash;lifted the cover&mdash;and beheld a tiny
ivory and gold memoranda card.</p>

<p>"Well, that boy!" she ejaculated.</p>

<p>"Shall I read the list aloud to you?" the maid
inquired.</p>

<p>"Yes, read it."</p>

<p>So Janice read the dates proposed the night before
and Aunt Mary sat up in bed, held her ear-trumpet,
and beamed beatifically.</p>

<p>"I don't believe I ever can do all that," she said
<pb n="161" /><anchor id="Pg161" />when Janice paused; "I never was one to rush
around pell-mell, but I've always been a great
believer in lettin' other folks enjoy themselves an'
I shall try not to interfere."</p>

<p>Janice hung the tiny memoranda up beside its
owner's watch and stood at attention for further
orders.</p>

<p>"But I d'n know I'm sure what I can wear to-night,"
continued the one in bed; "you know my
bonnet was run over yesterday."</p>

<p>"Was it?"</p>

<p>"Yes,&mdash;it was the most sudden thing I ever saw.
I thought it was the top of my head at first."</p>

<p>"Was it spoiled?"</p>

<p>"Well, it wouldn't do for me again and I don't
really believe it would even do for Lucinda. We
didn't bring it home with us anyhow an' so its no
use talkin' of it any more. I'm sure I wish I'd
brought my other with me. It wasn't quite as
stylish, but it set so good on my head. As it is I
ain't got any bonnet to wear an' we're goin' in a
box, Jack says,&mdash;I should hate to look wrong in a
box."</p>

<p>"But ladies in boxes do not wear anything,"
cried Janice reasuringly.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary jumped.</p>

<p>"Not <hi rend="font-style: italic">anything?</hi>"</p>

<p>"On their heads."
<pb n="162" /><anchor id="Pg162" /></p>

<p>"Oh!&mdash;Well, then the bonnet half of me'll
be all right, but what <hi rend="font-style: italic">shall</hi> I wear on the rest of
me? I don't want to look out of fashion, you
know. My, but I wish I'd brought my Paisley
shawl. I've got a Paisley shawl that's a very rare
pattern. There's cocoanuts in the border and a
twisted design of monkeys and their tails done in
the center. An' there ain't a moth hole in it&mdash;not
one."</p>

<p>Janice looked out of the window.</p>

<p>"I've got a cameo pin, too," continued Aunt
Mary reflectively. "My, but that's a handsome
pin, as I remember it. It's got Jupiter on it holdin'
a bunch of thunder and lightnin' an' receivin' the
news of somebody's bein' born&mdash;I used to know the
whole story. But, you see, I expected to just be
sittin' by Jack's bed and I never thought to bring
any of those dress-up kind of things," she sighed.</p>

<p>Janice returned to the bed side.</p>

<p>"Hadn't you better begin to dress?" she howled
suggestively. "They are going to dine here before
going to the theater and dinner is ordered in an
hour."</p>

<p>"Maybe I had," said Aunt Mary, "but&mdash;oh
dear&mdash;I don't know what I <hi rend="font-style: italic">will</hi> wear!" She
began to emerge from the bedclothes as she spoke.</p>

<p>"How would my green plaid waist do?" she
asked earnestly.
<pb n="163" /><anchor id="Pg163" /></p>

<p>"I think it would be lovely," shrieked the maid.</p>

<p>"Well, shake it out then," said Aunt Mary, "it
ought to be in the fashion&mdash;all the silk they put in
the sleeves. An' if you'll do my hair just as you
did it yesterday&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Yes, I will."</p>

<p>Then the labor of the toilette began in good
earnest, and three-quarters of an hour later Aunt
Mary was done, and sitting by the window while
Janice laced her boots.</p>

<p>A rap sounded at the door.</p>

<p>"Come in," cried the maid.</p>

<p>It was Jack with a regular fagot of American
Beauties.</p>

<p>"Well, Aunt Mary," he cried with his customary
hearty greeting. "How!"</p>

<p>"How what?" asked Aunt Mary, whose knowledge
 of Sioux social customs had been limited by
the border line of New England.</p>

<p>Jack laughed. "How are you?" he asked in
correction of his imperfect phrasing. And then he
handed over the rose wood.</p>

<p>"I'm pretty well," said his aunt; "but, my goodness
 you mustn't bring me so many presents&mdash;you&mdash;"</p>

<p>Jack stopped her words with a kiss. "Now,
Aunt Mary, don't you scold, because you're my
company and I won't have it. This is my treat,
<pb n="164" /><anchor id="Pg164" />and just don't you fret. What do you say to your
roses?"</p>

<p>Aunt Mary looked a bit uneasy.</p>

<p>"They're pretty big," she hesitated.</p>

<p>"That's the fashion," said Jack; "the longer
you can buy 'em the better the girls like it. I tried
to get you some eight feet long but they only had
two of that number and I wanted the whole bunch
to match&mdash;"</p>

<p>He was interrupted by another rap on the door.</p>

<p>"Hallo!" he cried. "Come in."</p>

<p>It was Mitchell with several dozen carnations,
the most brilliant yet prized&mdash;or priced.</p>

<p>"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Aunt Mary.</p>

<p>"For you, Miss Watkins," cried the newcomer,
gracefully offering his homage, "with the assurance
of my sincere regret that I came on the scene
too late to have been making a scene with you fifty
years ago."</p>

<p>"I didn't quite catch that," said Aunt Mary,
rapturously. But never mind,&mdash;Granite, get a tin
basin or suthin' for these flowers."</p>

<p>"Where's Burnett?" Jack asked the newcomer,&mdash;"isn't
he dressed? It's getting late."</p>

<p>"He's all right," said Mitchell; "he and Clover
are&mdash;here they are!"</p>

<p>The two came in together at that second.
Clover's mustache just showed over the top of the
<pb n="165" /><anchor id="Pg165" />largest bunch of violets ever constructed, and Burnett
bore with assiduous care a bouquet of orchids
tied with a Roman sash.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary leaned back and shut her eyes. If
it hadn't been for her smile, they might possibly
have feared for her life.</p>

<p>But she was only momentarily stunned by surpassing
ecstasy.</p>

<p>"You'd better put some water in the bath-tub,
Granite," she said, recovering, "nothing else will
be big enough."</p>

<p>The four young men drew up chairs and rivalled
her smiles with theirs.</p>

<p>"I d'n know how I ever can thank you," said
the old lady warmly. "I've always had such a
poor opinion o' life in cities, too!"</p>

<p>"Life in cities, my dear Miss Watkins,"
screamed Mitchell, "is always pictured as very
black, but it's only owing to the soft coal&mdash;not to
the people who burn it."</p>

<p>Aunt Mary smiled again.</p>

<p>"I guess the bath-tub will be big enough to keep
'em fresh," she said simply, and Mitchell gave
up and dried his forehead with his handkerchief.</p>

<p>They dined at home upon this occasion and afterwards
took two carriages for the theater. Aunt
Mary, Jack, Clover, the American Beauties and
<pb n="166" /><anchor id="Pg166" />the violets went in the first, and what remained of
the party and the floral decorations followed in
the second.</p>

<p>"I mean to smoke," said that part of the second
load which habitually answered to the name of
Mitchell. "There is nothing so soothing when you
have thorns in your legs as a cigarette in your
mouth."</p>

<p>"Too&mdash;too;" laughed his companion. "Jimmy!
but our aunt is game, isn't she?"</p>

<p>"To my order of thinking," said Mitchell
thoughtfully scratching a match, "Aunt Mary
has been hung up in cold storage just long enough
to have acquired the exactly proper gamey flavor.
It cannot be denied that to worn, worldly, jaded
mortals like you and me, the sight of fresh, ever
bubbling, youthful enthusiasm like hers is as thrilling
and trilling and rilling as&mdash;as&mdash;as&mdash;" he
paused to light his cigarette.</p>

<p rend="text-align: center"><anchor id="image04" />
<figure rend="w95" url="images/image04.png">
<head rend="text-align: center">Aunt Mary and Her Escorts.</head>
<figDesc>Illustration 4</figDesc></figure></p><p></p>

<p>"Yes, you'd better stutter," said Burnett. "I
thought you were running ahead of your proper
signals."</p>

<p>"It isn't that," said Mitchell, puffing gently.
"It is that I suddenly recollected that I was alone
with you, and my brains tell me that it is a waste
of brains to use them in the sense of a plural noun
with you. The word in your company,&mdash;my dear
boy&mdash;only comes to me as a verb&mdash;as an active
<pb n="167" /><anchor id="Pg167" />verb&mdash;and dear knows how often I have itched to
apply it forcibly."</p>

<p>Then they drew up in front of the theater and
saw Aunt Mary being unloaded just beyond.</p>

<p>"Great Scott, I feel as if I was a part of a
poster!" said Burnett, diving into the carriage
depths for the last lot of flowers.</p>

<p>"I feel as if I were a part of the Revelation,"
said Mitchell, "I mean&mdash;the Revel-eration."</p>

<p>They rapidly formed on somewhat after the
plan of the famous "Marriage under the Directoire."
Aunt Mary commanded the center-rush,
leaning on Jack's arm, and the rest acted as
half-backs, left wings, or flower-bearers, just as the
reader prefers.</p>

<p>They made quite a sensation as they proceeded
to their box and more yet when they entered it.
They were late&mdash;very late&mdash;as is the privilege of
all box parties and their seating problem absorbed
the audience to a degree never seen before or since.</p>

<p>Jack put Aunt Mary and her green plaid waist
in the middle and flanked her with purple violets
and red carnations. The ear-trumpet was laid upon
the orchids just where she could reach it easily.
Then her escorts took positions as a sort of half-moon
guard behind and each held two or three
American Beauties straight up and down as if they
were the insignia of his rank and office.
<pb n="168" /><anchor id="Pg168" /></p>

<p>The effect was gorgeous. The very actors saw
and were interested at once. They directed all
their attention to that one box, and at the end of
the act the stage manager got the writer of the
topical song on the wire and had a brand new and
very apropos verse added which brought down the
house.</p>

<p>Jack and his party caught on and clapped like
mad, Aunt Mary beat the front of the box with her
ear-trumpet, and when Clover suggested that she
throw some flowers to the heroine she threw the
orchids and came near maiming the bass viol for
life. Burnett rushed out between acts and bought
her a cane to pound with, Jack rushed out between
more acts and bought her a pair of opera glasses,
Mitchell rushed out between still further acts and
procured her one of those Japanese fans which they
use for fire-screens, and agitated it around her during
the rest of the evening.</p>

<p>"Time of your life, Aunt Mary," Jack vociferated
under the cover of a general chorus; "Time
of your life!"</p>

<p>"Oh, my," said Aunt Mary, heaving a great
sigh, "seems if I'd <hi rend="font-style: italic">die</hi> when I think of Lucinda."</p>

<p>They got out of the theater somewhat after
eleven and Clover took them all to a French café
for supper, so that again it was pretty well along
into the day after when Janice regained her charge.
<pb n="169" /><anchor id="Pg169" /></p>

<p>"Granite," said Aunt Mary very solemnly,
as she collapsed upon her bed twenty minutes later
yet, "put it down on that memoranda for me never
to find no fault with nothing ever again. Never&mdash;not
ever&mdash;not never again."</p>

<milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 5" />

<p>The second day after was that which had been
set for Mitchell's yachting party. They allowed
a day to lapse between because a yachting party has
to begin early enough so that you can see to get on
board. Mitchell wanted his to begin early enough
so that they could see the yacht too.</p>

<p>"A yacht, Miss Watkins," he said into the ear trumpet,
"is a delight that it takes daylight to
delight in. If my words sound somewhat mixed,
believe me, it is the effect of what is to come
casting its shadow before. I speak with understanding
and sympathy&mdash;you will know all later."</p>

<p>Aunt Mary smiled sweetly. Sometimes she
thought that Mitchell was the nicest of the three&mdash;times
when she wasn't talking to Clover or Burnett.</p>

<p>Jack took his aunt out to drive on the afternoon
of the intervening day and bought her a blue suit
with a red tape around one arm, and some rubbersoled
shoes, and a yachting cap and a mackintosh.
There was something touching in Aunt Mary's
joyful confidence and anticipation&mdash;she having
never been cast loose from shore in all her life.
<pb n="170" /><anchor id="Pg170" /></p>

<p>"When do you s'pose we'll get home?" she
asked Jack.</p>

<p>"Oh, some time toward night," he replied.</p>

<p>She smiled with a trust as colossal as Trusts
usually are.</p>

<p>"I'm sure I shall have a good time," she said.
"I always liked to see pictures of waves."</p>

<p>"You'll see the real things now, Aunt Mary,"
cried her nephew heartily. He was not a bit malicious,
possessing a stomach whose equilibrium could
not conceive any other anatomical condition.</p>

<p>Janice, however, had doubts, and on the morning
of the next day her doubts deepened. She
looked from the window and shook her head.</p>

<p>"Feel a fly?" inquired Aunt Mary.</p>

<p>"No, I see some clouds," yelled her maid.</p>

<p>"I didn't ask you to speak loud," said the old
lady. "I always hear what you say. Always."</p>

<p>Janice went out of the room and voiced her views
of the weather to the proprietors of the expedition.
The proprietors were having an uproarious breakfast
on ham and eggs&mdash;all but Mitchell, who sat
somewhat aloof and contented himself with an old
and reliable breakfast food long known to his
race.</p>

<p>"Are you really going to take her up the Sound
to-day?" the maid demanded of the merry mob.</p>

<p>"I'm not," said Burnett; "it's the yacht that's
<pb n="171" /><anchor id="Pg171" />going to take her. Pass the syrup, Jack, like the
jack you are."</p>

<p>"Doesn't she feel well?" Jack asked, passing
the syrup as requested. "If she doesn't feel well,
of course, we won't go."</p>

<p>"I like that," said Mitchell, "when it's my
day for my party and my cook all provisioned with
provisions for provisioning us all. How long do
you suppose ice cream stays together in this month
of roses, anyhow?"</p>

<p>"She is very well," said the maid quietly, "but
it's blowing pretty fresh here in the city and I
thought that out on the Sound&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Blowing fresh, is it?" laughed Burnett; "well,
it'll salt her fast enough when we get out. Don't
you fuss over what's none of your business, my
dear girl; just trot along upstairs and dress dolly,
and when she's dressed we'll take her off your
hands."</p>

<p>Jack appeared unduly quiet.</p>

<p>"Do you think it is going to storm?" he asked
Mitchell. Mitchell was scraping his saucer with
the thrift that thrives north of the Firth of Forth
and hatches yachts on the west shores of the
Atlantic.</p>

<p>"I don't think at all during vacation," he said
mildly. "I repose and reap 'Oh's'&mdash;from other
people."
<pb n="172" /><anchor id="Pg172" /></p>

<p>"If there was any chance of a storm&mdash;&mdash;?"
said the nephew, thoughtfully.</p>

<p>"Fiddle-dee-dee," said Burnett impatiently,
"what do you think yachts are for, anyhow? To
let alone?" He looked at the maid as he spoke
and pointed significantly to the door. She went out
at once and returned upstairs to her mistress whom
she found quite restless to "get-a-goin'" as she
expressed it.</p>

<p>The boxes filled with yesterday's purchases were
brought out at once and Janice proceeded to rubber-sole
and blue-serge Aunt Mary. The latter regarded
every step of the performance in the huge
three-fold cheval glass which had been wont to tell
Mrs. Rosscott things that every woman longs to
know.</p>

<p>When her toilette was complete it must be admitted
that as a yachtswoman Aunt Mary fairly
outshone her automobile portrait. She surveyed
herself long and carefully.</p>

<p>"I expect it'll be quite an experience," she said
with many new wrinkles of anticipation.</p>

<p>"Yes," said Janice, with a glance at the fluttering
window curtains, "I expect it will be."</p>

<p>Aunt Mary went downstairs and was greeted
with loud acclamations. The breakfast party
broke up at once and, while Janice phoned for cabs,
Aunt Mary's quartette of escorts sought hats, coats,
<pb n="173" /><anchor id="Pg173" />etcetera. After that they all sallied forth and
took their places as joyfully as ever.</p>

<p>It was quite a long drive to where "Lady
Belle" had been brought up, and they had to stop
once to lay in two or three pounds of current
literature.</p>

<p>"Do you read mostly?" asked Aunt Mary.</p>

<p>"It's best to be on the safe side," said Clover
vaguely.</p>

<p>Then they entered the tangle of docks and
express wagons and obstacles in general and Mitchell
had great difficulty in finding where his launch
had been taken to meet them.</p>

<p>But at last they got Aunt Mary down a flight of
very slippery steps and into a boat whose everything
was labeled "Lady Belle," and Mitchell
said something and they cast loose and
were off.</p>

<p>"Seems rather a small yacht," said Aunt Mary,
glancing cheerfully about. "I ain't surprised that
you'd rather come in nights."</p>

<p>"Bless your heart, Aunt Mary," shrieked Jack,
"this isn't the yacht, this is the way we get to
her."</p>

<p>"Oh," said Aunt Mary blankly.</p>

<p>"That's the yacht," yelled Burnett, "that white
one with the black smoke coming out and the
sail up."
<pb n="174" /><anchor id="Pg174" /></p>

<p>"What are they getting up steam for?" asked
Clover. "The time to get up steam is when you
get down sails generally."</p>

<p>"They aren't getting up steam," said Mitchell,
"they're getting up dinner. It looks like a lot of
smoke because of the shadow on the sail. And,
speaking of getting up dinner, reminds me that the
topic before us now is, how in thunder are we to get
up Aunt Mary?"</p>

<p>"Put a rope around her and board her as if she
was a cavalry horse," suggested Burnett.</p>

<p>"I scorn the suggestion," said their host; "if
the worst comes to the worst I can give her a back
up, but I trust that Aunt Mary will rise to the
heights of the sail and the situation all at once and
not make me do any vertebratical stunts so early in
the day."</p>

<p>They were running alongside of "Lady Belle"
as he spoke, and the first thing Aunt Mary knew
she and her party were attached to the former by
some mysterious and not altogether solid connection.</p>

<p>"What do we do now?" she asked uneasily.</p>

<p>"I'll show you," laughed Burnett, and seizing
two flapping ropes he went skipping up a sort of
stepladder and sprang upon the deck above.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary started to emulate his prowess and
stood up at once. But the next second she sat
<pb n="175" /><anchor id="Pg175" />down extremely hard without knowing why she
had done so.</p>

<p>"Hold on, Miss Watkins," Mitchell cried hastily;
"just you hold on until I give you something
to hold on to, and when you've got something to
hold on to, please keep holding on to it, until I tell
you that the hour has come in which to let go
again."</p>

<p>"I didn't quite catch that," said Aunt Mary,
"but I'm ready to do anythin' you say if you
only&mdash;" and again she sprang up and again was
thrown down as hard as before.</p>

<p>"Look out," cried Jack, springing to her side;
and he got hold of his valuable relative and held
her fast while Mitchell grasped the ladder and a
sailor strove to keep the launch still.</p>

<p>"Now, Aunt Mary," cried the nephew, "hang
on to me and hang on to those ropes and remember
I'm right back of you&mdash;"</p>

<p>"My Lord alive," cried Aunt Mary, turning her
gaze upwards, "am I expected to go alone all that
way to the top?"</p>

<p>"It'll pay you to keep on to the top," screamed
Clover; "you'll have, comparatively speaking, very
little fun if you hang on to the ladder all day&mdash;and
you'll get so wet too."</p>

<p>"There's more room at the top," cried Mitchell,
"there's always room at the top, Miss Watkins.
<pb n="176" /><anchor id="Pg176" />Put yourself in the place of any young man entering
a profession and struggle bravely upwards,
bearing ever in&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Oh, I never can," said Aunt Mary, recoiling
abruptly; "I never could climb trees when I was
little&mdash;I never had no grip in my legs&mdash;and I just
know I can't. It's too high. An' it looks slippery.
An' I don't want to, anyhow."</p>

<p>"What rot!" yelled Jack, "the very idea!
Why, Aunt Mary, you know you can skin up there
just like a cat if you only make up your mind to it.
Here, Mitchell, give her a boost and I'll plant
her feet firmly. Now&mdash;have you got hold of
the ropes, Aunt Mary?"</p>

<p>"Oh, mercy&mdash;on&mdash;me!" wailed Aunt Mary,
"the yacht is turnin' a-round an' the harder I pull
the faster it turns."</p>

<p>"Catch her from above, Burr," Clover called
excitedly; "hook her with anything if you can't
reach her with your hand."</p>

<p>"Oh, my cap!" shrieked poor Aunt Mary, and
the cap went off and she went on up and was landed
safe above.</p>

<p>"How on the chart do you suppose we'll ever
unload her?" Jack asked, wide-eyed, as he swung
himself quickly after her.</p>

<p>"What man hath done man can do," quoted
Mitchell sententiously, following his lead.
<pb n="177" /><anchor id="Pg177" /></p>

<p>"But no man ever unloaded Aunt Mary,"
Clover reminded him, as they brought up the rear.</p>

<p>Then they were all on deck, a chair was brought
for the honored guest, and Mitchell introduced his
sailing-master who had been drawn to gaze upon
the rather novel manner in which she had been
brought aboard.</p>

<p>"I want Miss Watkins to have the sail of her
life, Renfew," said Mitchell. "We aren't coming
back until night."</p>

<p>"We'll have sail enough sure, sir," said Renfew,
touching his cap, and then he walked away and the
work of starting off began. A tug had been
engaged to tow them out into the breeze and Jack
thought it would be nice to show Aunt Mary
around while they were being meandered through
coal barges, etc. They went below and Aunt Mary
saw everything with a most flattering interest.</p>

<p>"I d'n know but what I'd enjoy a little yacht
of my own," she said to Mitchell. "I think it's
so amusin' the way everythin' turns over into
suthin' else. I suppose Joshua could learn to sail
me&mdash;I wouldn't want to trust no new man, I
know."</p>

<p>"Why, of course," said Jack, "and we could
all come and visit you, Aunt Mary."</p>

<p>Aunt Mary smiled hospitably.</p>

<p>"I'd be glad to see you all any day," she said
<pb n="178" /><anchor id="Pg178" />cordially; "and I shall have a hole in the bottom
of the boat for people to go in and out of, and a
nice staircase down to it, so you needn't mind the
notion of how you'll get on and off."</p>

<p>They all laughed and continued the tour below
and Aunt Mary grew more and more enthusiastic
for quite a while. She liked the kitchen and she
liked the dining-room. She thought the arrangement
for keeping the table level most ingenious.
Mitchell took her into the main cabin and told her
that that was hers for the day. On the dresser
was a photograph of the "Lady Belle" framed in
silver, which the young host presented to his guest
as a souvenir of the "voyage."</p>

<p>Aunt Mary's pleasure was at its height. Oh,
the pity of Fate which makes the apex of everything
so very limited as to standing room!
Three minutes after the presentation and acceptation
of the photograph Aunt Mary's glance
became suddenly vague, and then especially
piercing.</p>

<p>"What makes this up and down feeling?" she
asked Mitchell.</p>

<p>"What up and down feeling?" he asked, secure
in the good conscience and pure living of an oatmeal
breakfast. "I don't feel up and down."</p>

<p>"I do," said Aunt Mary abruptly; "I want to
be somewhere else."
<pb n="179" /><anchor id="Pg179" /></p>

<p>"You want to be on deck," said Burnett, suddenly
emerging from somewhere; "I know the
symptoms. I always have 'em. Come on. And
when we get up there, I'll collar Jack for urging
those six last griddle cakes on me this morning."</p>

<p>"I ain't sure I want to be on deck," said Aunt
Mary; "dear me&mdash;I feel as if I wasn't sure of
anythin'."</p>

<p>"What did I tell you?" said Burnett to
Mitchell; "it's blowing fresh and neither she nor
I ought to have come. You know me when it
blows."</p>

<p>"Shut up," said Mitchell, hurrying Aunt Mary
up the companion-way and shoving her into one
chair and her feet into another; "there, Miss
Watkins, you're all right now, aren't you?"</p>

<p>"What's the matter?" said Jack, coming from
somewhere aloft or astern. "Heaven bless me,
what ails you, Aunt Mary?"</p>

<p>"I don't wonder I'm pale," said Aunt Mary
faintly, "oh&mdash;oh&mdash;"</p>

<p>"We must put our heads together," said Burnett,
taking a drink from a flask that he took out
of his pocket; "I must soon put my head on something,
and your aunt looks to me to feel the same
way. Mitchell, why did you let me forget that
vow I made last time to never come again?"</p>

<p>"Your vows to never do things again are about
<pb n="180" /><anchor id="Pg180" />as stable as your present hold on an upright position,"
said Clover, laying a steadying hand upon
his friend's waveringness. "Sit down, little boy,
sit down."</p>

<p>Burnett sat down, Mitchell smiled, Jack
laughed, and Aunt Mary groaned.</p>

<p>The boat was rising and falling rapidly now,
and as she ran further and further out into the
ever freshening wind she kept on rising and falling
yet more rapidly. The more motion there was
the more Aunt Mary seemed to sift down in her
two chairs.</p>

<p>"We'd better put back," said Jack; "this won't
do, you know. How do you feel now, Aunt
Mary?" he added, leaning over her.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary opened her eyes and looked at him
but made no reply.</p>

<p>"Ask me how I feel, if you dare," said Burnett,
from where his chair was drawn up not far away.
"I couldn't kill you just now, but I will some day
I promise you."</p>

<p>He was very white and had a look about his
mouth that showed that he meant what he said.</p>

<p>Some bells rang somewhere.</p>

<p>"That's dinner," exclaimed Clover.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary gave a piercing cry.</p>

<p>"Oh, take me somewhere else," she said, throwing
her hands up to her face; "somewhere where
<pb n="181" /><anchor id="Pg181" />there'll never be nothin' to eat again. I&mdash;I can't
bear to hear about eatin'."</p>

<p>"I'm going to take her down into one of the
cabins," said Jack hastily, "she belongs in bed."</p>

<p>"No, turn back the carpet and lay me in the
bath-tub," almost sobbed the poor victim. "I
don't feel like I could get flat enough anywhere
else."</p>

<p>"She has the proper spirit," said Burnett
faintly, "only I don't feel as if I could get flat
enough anywhere at all. What in the name of
the Great Pyramid ever possessed me to come?"</p>

<p>Mitchell rose quickly to his feet.</p>

<p>"You put your aunt to bed, Jack," he said,
"and I'll put my yacht to backing. This expedition
is expeditiously heading on to what might be
termed a failure. I can see that, even if we're only
in a Sound."</p>

<p>"When do you suppose we'll get back?" the
nephew asked anxiously.</p>

<p>"About four o'clock, if we don't lose time by
having to tack."</p>

<p>"I didn't quite catch all that," said Aunt Mary,
"but I knew suthin' was loose all along. I felt it
inside of me right off at first. And ever since,
too."</p>

<p>Jack gathered her up in his arms and bore her
tenderly away to the beautiful main cabin.
<pb n="182" /><anchor id="Pg182" /></p>

<p>"I wanted to live to change my will," she said
sadly, as he laid her down, "but somehow I don't
seem to care for nothin' no more."</p>

<p>He kissed her hand.</p>

<p>"They say being seasick is awfully <hi rend="font-style: italic">good</hi> for
people, Aunt Mary," he yelled contritely.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary opened her eyes.</p>

<p>"John Watkins, Jr., Denham," she said, "if
you say 'food' to me again <hi rend="font-style: italic">ever</hi>, I'll never leave
you a penny&mdash;so there!"</p>

<p>Jack went away and left her.</p>

<p>"Come on to dinner, Burnett," Clover called
hilariously, "there's liver with little bits of bacon&mdash;your
favorite dish."</p>

<p>Burnett snarled the weakest kind of a snarl.</p>

<p>"I thought I'd suffered enough for one year
last month," he murmured in a voice too low to be
heard, and then he knew himself to be alone on
deck.</p>

<p>Down in the little dining-saloon the dishes were
hopping merrily back and forth and an agreeable
odor of agreeable viands filled the air. Clover
and Jack sat down opposite their host and they all
three ate and drank with a zest that knew no breaking
waves nor sad effects.</p>

<p>"Here's to our aunt," said Clover gayly, as the
first course went around; "of course, we all love
her for Jack's sake, but at the same time I offer
<pb n="183" /><anchor id="Pg183" />two to odds that it is a pleasure to converse in
under tones occasionally. Who takes?"</p>

<p>"Aunt Mary being laid upon her bed," said
Mitchell, "we will next proceed to lay the motion
of our honorable friend upon the table. We
regret Aunt Mary's ill-health while we drink to
her good&mdash;quotation marks under the latter word.
Aunt Mary!&mdash;and may she arise and prosper all
the way down into the launch again."</p>

<p>"I'm troubled about her, really," said Jack
soberly; "we ought to have brought someone to
look out for her."</p>

<p>"The maid," cried Mitchell, "the dainty, adorable
maid! Here's to Janice and&mdash;" his speech
was brought to a sudden end by his two guests
nearly disappearing under the table.</p>

<p>Jack started up.</p>

<p>"Ginger! Did you feel that?" he asked.</p>

<p>"That's nothing," said Mitchell, calmly
replacing the water-carafe which in the excitement
of the moment he had clasped to his bosom; "it's
the waves which are rising to the occasion&mdash;that's
all." But Jack had hurried out.</p>

<p>He found poor Aunt Mary writhing in an
agony of misery. "Oh&mdash;oh&mdash;" she cried, "I want
to be still&mdash;I'm too much tipped&mdash;and all the
wrong way! I want to lay smooth&mdash;and I stand
on my head&mdash;all the&mdash;"
<pb n="184" /><anchor id="Pg184" /></p>

<p>"We're going back," said Jack, striving to
soothe her; "lie still, Aunt Mary, and we'll soon
get there. Do you want some camphor to smell?"</p>

<p>"I don't feel up to smellin'," wailed Aunt
Mary, "I don't feel up to anythin'. Go 'way.
Right off."</p>

<p>Jack went on deck. He found Burnett
stretched pale and green upon the chairs their
lady guest had vacated.</p>

<p>"If you speak to me again," he said, in halting
accents, "I'll never speak to you again. Get
out."</p>

<p>Jack went back to his place at dinner.</p>

<p>"How are they?" asked Clover.</p>

<p>"I don't know," he said quietly, "but there's
a big storm coming up. The sky's all dark blue
and it looks bad."</p>

<p>"I don't care," said Mitchell, sawing into the
game with vigor; "if we go down we go down
with Aunt Mary and if I were Uncle Mary I
wouldn't feel happier and safer as to all concerned.
The ship that bore Cæsar and his fortune had
nothing at all to bear compared to this which bears
Jack and his. Here's to Jack and his fortune,
and may we all survive the dark blue sky."</p>

<p>"I tell you it's serious," said Jack. As he spoke
another ominous heaving set the bottles tipping
and nearly sent Clover backwards.
<pb n="185" /><anchor id="Pg185" /></p>

<p>"And I'm serious," exclaimed Mitchell. "I'm
always serious only I never can get any girl to
believe it. Here's to me, and may I grow more
and more serious each&mdash;"</p>

<p>A tremendous wave bore the yacht upright and
then let her fall on her forelegs again. Clover
went over backwards and the dish of peas to which
he had just been helping himself followed after.</p>

<p>"You didn't say 'excuse me' when you left the
table," said Mitchell, whom the law of gravitation
had suddenly raised to a pinnacle from which he
viewed his friends with mirthful scorn; "and if
you've hurt yourself it must be a judgment on you
for leaving the table without saying 'excuse me.'
Here's to Clover, who has a judgment and a dish
of peas served on him at the same time for leaving
the table without saying 'excuse me.'"</p>

<p>The sailing-master appeared at the door, his
cap in his hand.</p>

<p>"I beg your pardon, sir," he said respectfully,
"but I fear it's impossible to put back. We can't
turn without getting into the trough of the sea."</p>

<p>"All right, go ahead then," said Mitchell; "go
where we must go, and do what you've got to do.
My motto is veni, vidi, vici, which freely translated
means I can sleep asea when I can't sleep
ashore."</p>

<p>"But Aunt Mary?" cried Jack blankly.
<pb n="186" /><anchor id="Pg186" /></p>

<p>"She's all right," said Mitchell; "she'll soon
reach the cold burnt toast stage and when she
reaches the stage we'll all welcome her into any
chorus. Here's to choruses in general and one
chorus girl in particular. I haven't met her yet,
but I shall know her when I do, for she will look
at me. Up to now they've all looked elsewhere
and at other men. If my fortune was only in my
face it might draw some interest, but&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Lady Belle" careened violently and Clover
went over backwards for the second time with
much in his wake.</p>

<p>"Oh, I say," said Mitchell, rising in disgust,
"if you want everything on the table at once why
take it. Only I'm going on deck. After you've
bathed in the gravy you can have it. Ditto the
other liquids. Jack and I are going up to dance
a hornpipe and sing for Burnett. He looked
rather ennuyéd to me when we came down."</p>

<p>Along toward eight o'clock that night "Lady
Belle" anchored somewhere in the Sound and
tugged vigorously at her cables all night.</p>

<p>With the dawn she headed back towards New
York.</p>

<p>"As a success my entertainment has been a failure,"
said Mitchell to Jack as they walked up and
down the deck after breakfast; "but into each life
some rain must fall, and I offer myself as a sacrificial
<pb n="187" /><anchor id="Pg187" />background to Aunt Mary's glowing, living
pictures of New York."</p>

<p>"I wish you hadn't, though," said Jack; "she'll
never want a yacht of her own now. And how
under Scorpion are we ever going to land her?"</p>

<p>"In a sheet, my able-bodied young friend, in a
sheet," said Mitchell clapping him on the back.
"Don't you know the 'Weigh the Baby' game?
It may double her up a bit, but the redoubtable
Janice will straighten her out again. Here's to
the sheet, be it a wet sheet, a main sheet, or a sheet
with your Aunt Mary tied up in it."</p>

<p>Mitchell was as good as his word and they
landed Aunt Mary in a sheet. The very harbor-tugs
stopped puffing and stood open-mouthed to
stare at the performance, but it was an unalloyed
success, and Aunt Mary was gotten onto dry land
at last.</p>

<p>"I don't want to do nothin' for a day or two,"
she said, as they drove to the house.</p>

<p>Janice had the bed open, and a hot-water bottle
down where Aunt Mary's feet might be expected,
and all sorts of comfort ready to hand.</p>

<p>"I'm so glad to see you safe back," she said,
almost weeping.</p>

<p>"I don't believe it's broke," said Aunt Mary,
"but you might look and see. Oh, Granite&mdash;I&mdash;"
she stopped and looked an unutterable meaning.
<pb n="188" /><anchor id="Pg188" /></p>

<p>"It stormed, didn't it?" said the maid.</p>

<p>"Stormed!" said Aunt Mary. "I guess it did
storm. I guess it hurricaned. I know it did.
I'm sure of it."</p>

<p>"But you're safe now," said the girl, tucking
her up as snugly as if she had been an infant in
arms.</p>

<p>"Yes, I'm safe now," said Aunt Mary,
"but&mdash;" she looked very earnest&mdash;"but, oh, my
Granite, how I did need that white fuzzy stuff to
drink this morning. I never wanted nothin' so
bad in all my life afore."</p>

<p>Janice stood by the bed, her face full of regret
that Aunt Mary had known any aching void.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary grew yet more earnest.</p>

<p>"Granite," she said, "you mind what I tell
you. That ought to be advertised. I sh'd think
you could patent it. Folks ought to know about
it."</p>

<p>Then she laid herself out in bed. "My
heavens alive!" she sighed sweetly, "there's
nothin' like home. Not anywhere&mdash;not nowhere!"</p>
</div>
<pb n="189" /><anchor id="Pg189" />

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<index index="toc" />
<index index="pdf" />

<head>Chapter Sixteen - A Reposeful Interval</head>


<p>The next date upon the little gold and ivory
memorandum card which hung beside Aunt Mary's
watch was that set for Burnett's picnic, but its
dawning found both host and guest too much
attached to their beds to desire any fêtes champêtre
just then.</p>

<p>Burnett was in that very weak state which follows in
the immediate wake of only too many yachts,&mdash;and
Aunt Mary was sleeping one of her
long drawn out and utterly restorative sleeps.</p>

<p>Jack went in and looked at her.</p>

<p>"It did storm awfully," he said to Janice, who
was sitting by the window. The maid just smiled,
nodded, and laid her finger on her lip. She never
encouraged conversation when her charge was
reposing.</p>

<p>Jack went softly out and turned his steps toward
the room of the other wreck.</p>

<p>"Well, how are stocks to-day?" he asked
cheerfully on entering.</p>

<p>Burnett was stretched out pillowless and looked
black under his hollow eyes. But he appeared to
be on the road to recovery.
<pb n="190" /><anchor id="Pg190" /></p>

<p>"Jack," he said seriously, "what in thunder
makes me always so ready to go on the water?
I should think after a while I'd learn a thing or
two."</p>

<p>Jack leaned his elbows on the high carved footboard
and returned his friend's look with one of
equal seriousness.</p>

<p>"What makes all of us do lots of things?" he
asked. "Why don't we all learn?"</p>

<p>Burnett sighed.</p>

<p>"That's a fact; why don't we?" he said weakly.
And then he shut his eyes again and turned his
back to his caller.</p>

<p>Jack went down to lunch. Clover and Mitchell
were playing cards in the library.</p>

<p>"Well, how is the hospital?" Clover asked,
looking up while he shuffled the pack.</p>

<p>"Never mind about Burnett," said Mitchell,
"but do relieve my mind about Aunt Mary. Is
the one sheet still taking effect, or has she begun to
rally on a diet of two?"</p>

<p>"She's asleep," said the nephew.</p>

<p>"God bless her slumber," declared Clover
piously. "I very much approve of Aunt Mary
asleep. When our dearly beloved aunt sleeps we
know we've got her and we don't have to yell.
Shall I deal for three?"</p>

<p>"They are bringing up lunch," said the latest
<pb n="191" /><anchor id="Pg191" />arrival,&mdash;"no time to begin a hand. Better
stack guns for the present."</p>

<p>"So say I," said Mitchell, "with me everything
goes down when lunch comes up. It's quite the
reverse with Burnett, isn't it?" He laughed
brutally at his own wit.</p>

<p>"To think how enthusiastic Burr was," said
Clover, evening the cards preparatory to slipping
them into their holder on the side of the table.
"He's always so enthusiastic and he's always so
sick. In his place I should feel that, if a buoyant
nature is a virtue, I didn't get much reward."</p>

<p>The gong sounded just then, and they all went
down to lunch, not at all saddened by the sight
of their comrade's empty chair.</p>

<p>"Now, what are we going to do next?" Clover
demanded as they finished the bouillon.</p>

<p>"Have a meat course, I suppose," said Mitchell.</p>

<p>"I don't mean that; I mean, what are we going
to do next with Aunt Mary?"</p>

<p>"She hasn't but two days more," said Jack meditatively.
"Of course&mdash;even if she was all chipper&mdash;this
storm has knocked any picnic endways."</p>

<p>"I am not an ardent upholder of picnics,
anyhow," said Mitchell. "They require a constant
sitting down on the ground and getting up from
the ground to which I find our respected aunt very
far from being equal. Burnett mentioned that we
<pb n="192" /><anchor id="Pg192" />should go to the scene on a coach. That also did
not meet my approval. Going anywhere on a coach
requires a constant getting up on the coach and
getting down from the coach to which I also consider
the lady unequal. The events of yesterday
have left a deep impression on my mind. I&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Go on and carve," interrupted Clover, "or
else shove me the platter. I'm hungry."</p>

<p>"So'm I," said a voice at the door. A weak
voice&mdash;but one that showed decision in its tone.</p>

<p>They looked up and saw Burnett, dressed in a
pink silk negligée with flowing sleeves.</p>

<p>"I'm ravenous," he exclaimed explanatorily.
"I haven't had anything since day before yesterday
at breakfast. I didn't know I wanted anything
till I smelt it,&mdash;then I dressed and came
down."</p>

<p>"How sweet you look," said Clover. "The
effect of your pajama cuffs and collar where one
greedily expects curves and contour is lovely.
Where did you find that bath-robe?"</p>

<p>"In the bureau drawer," said Burnett. "It
appeared to have been hastily shoved in there
some time. I would have thought that it was a
woman's something-or-other, only I found one of
Jack's cards in the pocket."</p>

<p>They all began to laugh&mdash;Clover and Mitchell
more heartily than the owner of the card.
<pb n="193" /><anchor id="Pg193" /></p>

<p>"Sit down," said Mitchell finally with great
cordiality. "You may as well sit down while they
mess you up some weak tea and wet toast."</p>

<p>"Tea and toast?" cried the one in pink. "I'm
good for dinner. <hi rend="font-style: italic">Um Gotteswillen</hi>, what do you
suppose I came down for?"</p>

<p>"I wasn't sure," said his friend mildly; "you
must admit yourself that your attire is misleading.
My book on social etiquette says nothing as to
when it is correct to wear a pink silk robe over blue
and white striped pajamas. However, there's no
denying your presence, and what can't be denied
must be supplied, so what will you have?"</p>

<p>"Everything."</p>

<p>Mitchell dived into the edibles generally and
Burnett's void was provided with fulfillment.</p>

<p>"We were talking about Aunt Mary," Clover
said presently. "We were saying that neither you
nor she would be up to a coach or down to a picnic
for one while."</p>

<p>"Oh, I don't know," said Burnett. "I feel up
to pretty nearly anything now that I can eat again.
Pass over the horseradish, will you?"</p>

<p>"You're one thing, my sweet pink friend," said
Clover gently, "but Aunt Mary's another. I'm
not saying that New York has not had a wonderfully
Brown-Sequardesque effect on her, but I am
saying that if she is to be raised and lowered
<pb n="194" /><anchor id="Pg194" />frequently, I want to travel with a portable
crane."</p>

<p>"Hum, hum, hum!" cried Jack. "May I just
ask who did most of the heavy labor of Aunt Mary
yesterday?&mdash;As the man in the opera sings twenty
times with the whole chorus to back him&mdash;''Twas
I, 'twas I, 'twas I, 'twas I&mdash;'"</p>

<p>"Hand over the toast, Clover," said Burnett.
"I don't care who it was&mdash;it was a success anyhow,
for she's upstairs and still alive, and I say
she'd enjoy coaching out Riverside way, and&mdash;"
he choked.</p>

<p>"Slap him anywhere," said Mitchell. "On his
mouth would be the proper place. Such poor
manners,&mdash;coming down to a company lunch in
another man's bath-robe and then trying to preach
and eat dry toast at once."</p>

<p>Burnett gasped and recovered.</p>

<p>"There," said Clover, who had risen to administer
the proposed slap, "he's off our minds and
we may again pick up Aunt Mary and put her
back on."</p>

<p>"We want to send her home in a blaze of
glory," said Jack thoughtfully. "I want her to
feel that the fun ran straight through."</p>

<p>"That's just what I mean," interposed his particular
friend; "we want her to go home on the
wings of a giant cracker, so to speak."
<pb n="195" /><anchor id="Pg195" /></p>

<p>"How would it do," said Clover suddenly, "to
just make a night of it and take her along? Stock
up, stack up, and ho! for it. You all know the
kind of a time I mean."</p>

<p>"Clover," said Jack gravely, "does it occur to
you that Aunt Mary belongs to me and that I
have a personal interest in keeping her alive?"</p>

<p>"Nothing ever occurs to him," said Mitchell.
"Occasionally an idea bangs up against him inadvertently,
and as it splinters a sliver or two penetrate
his head&mdash;that's all."</p>

<p>"I don't see why the last sliver he felt wasn't
to the point," said Burnett, turning the cream jug
upside down as he spoke. "I think she'd enjoy it
of all things. She enjoys everything so. I'll guarantee
that when she gets back home she'll even
enjoy the yachting trip. Lots of people are made
like that. In the winter I always enjoy yachting,
myself. Pass me the hot bread."</p>

<p>"Burnett," said Mitchell warmly, "I wish that
you would remember that a collapse invariably
follows an inflated market."</p>

<p>"Is it Aunt Mary who is on the market, or
myself?"</p>

<p>"You."</p>

<p>"Oh, the rule is reversed in my case&mdash;the collapse
went first. I'm only inflating up to the usual
limit again. Is there any gravy left?"
<pb n="196" /><anchor id="Pg196" /></p>

<p>"No, there isn't," said Clover, looking in the
dish, "there isn't much of anything left."</p>

<p>"Let's go to the library," said Mitchell, rising
abruptly. "It always makes me ill to see goose-stuffing
before Thanksgiving. Come on."</p>

<p>"I'm done," said Burnett, springing up and
winding his lacey draperies about his manly form.
"Come on yourself; and once settled and smoking,
let us canvass the question and agree with
Clover."</p>

<p>"You know there are nights about town and
nights about town," said Clover, as they climbed
the staircase. "I do not anticipate that Aunt
Mary will bring up with a round turn in the police
station, as her young relative once did."</p>

<p>"Well, that's some comfort," said Mitchell.
"I did not feel sure as to just where you did mean
her to bring up. You will perhaps allow me to
remark that making a night of it with Aunt Mary
in tow is a subject that really is provocative of
mature reflection. Making a night of it is a frothy
sort of a proposition in which our beloved aunty
may not beat up to quite the buoyancy of you
and me."</p>

<p>As he finished this sage remark they all re-entered
the library and grouped themselves around
the table of smoking things.</p>

<p>"That's what I say," said Jack. "I think she's
<pb n="197" /><anchor id="Pg197" />much more likely to beat out than to beat up&mdash;I
must say."</p>

<p>"I'll bet you she doesn't," cried Burnett
eagerly. "I'll bet five dollars that she doesn't."</p>

<p>"I declare," said Clover, "what a thing a
backer is to be sure. I feel positive that Aunt
Mary will go through with it now. I had my
doubts before, but never now. Six to five on Aunt
Mary for the Three-year-old Stakes."</p>

<p>"The best way is to hit a happy medium," said
Mitchell thoughtfully, scratching a match for the
lighting of his new-rolled cigarette. "I think the
wisest thing would be for us just to take Aunt
Mary and sally forth and then keep it up until she
must be put to bed. What say?"</p>

<p>"Well," said Jack, reflectively, "I don't suppose
that taking it that way, it would really be any
worse than the other nights&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Worse!" cried Clover. "Hear him!&mdash;slandering
those brilliant occasions, everyone of which
is a jewel in the crown of Aunt Mary's bonnet."</p>

<p>"We'll begin by dining out," said Burnett.
"I'll give the dinner. One of the souvenir kind of
affairs. A white mouse for every man and a canary
bird for the lady. We'll have a private room and
speeches and I'll get megaphones so we can make
her hear without bustin'."</p>

<p>"My dear boy," said Mitchell, "where is this
<pb n="198" /><anchor id="Pg198" />private room to be in which the party can converse
through megaphones? I had two deaf uncles once
who played cribbage with megaphones, but they
were influential and the rest of the family were
poor. Circumstances alter cases. I ask again
where you can get a private dining-room for the
use of five people and four megaphones?"</p>

<p>"I'll see," said Burnett; "I wish," he added
irritably, "that you'd wait until I finished before
beginning to smash in like that, you knock everything
out of my head."</p>

<p>"It'll do you good to have a little something
knocked out of you," said Mitchell gently. "It
may enlarge your premises, give you a spare room
somewhere, so to speak. I should think that you'd
need some spare room somewhere after such a
breakfast."</p>

<p>"I'll tell you what I think;" said Clover. "I
think it's a great scheme. It's a sort of pull-in-and-out,
field-glass species of idea. We can develop
it or we can shut it off; in other words, we
can parade Aunt Mary or bring her home just
when we darn please."</p>

<p>"That's what I said," said Burnett. "Begin
with my dinner, white mice and all, and when all
is going just let it slide until it seems about time
to slide off."</p>

<p>"Yes," said Mitchell dryly, "it's always a good
<pb n="199" /><anchor id="Pg199" />plan to slide on until you slide off. It would be so
easy to reverse the game."</p>

<p>"And then, too,&mdash;" began Burnett.</p>

<p>"Excuse me," said a voice at the door,&mdash;a
woman's voice this time.</p>

<p>It was Janice, very pretty in her black dress and
white decorations, hands in pockets, smile on lips.</p>

<p>"What's up now?" the last speaker interrupted
himself to ask, "Aunt Mary?"</p>

<p>"No, she's not up," said the maid; "but she's
awake and wants to know about the picnic."</p>

<p>"There, what did I say!" cried Burnett;
"isn't she a hero? I tell you Aunt Mary'd fight
in the last ditch&mdash;she'd never surrender! She's
one of those dead-at-the-gun chaps. I'm proud to
think we have known the companionship of joint
yachting results."</p>

<p>"She says she feels as well as ever," said Janice,
opening her eyes a trifle as she noted Burnett's pink
silk negligée, "and wishes to know when you want
to start."</p>

<p>"Bravo," said Mitchell; "I, too, am fired by
this exposition of pluck. I like spirit. She reminds
me of the horse who was turned out to grass and
then suddenly broke the world's record."</p>

<p>"What horse was that?" asked Burnett.</p>

<p>"Pegasus," said Mitchell cruelly; "I didn't
say what kind of a record he broke, did I?"
<pb n="200" /><anchor id="Pg200" /></p>

<p>"What shall I tell Miss Watkins?" asked the
maid.</p>

<p>Jack, who had risen at her entrance and gone to
the window, faced around here and said:</p>

<p>"Tell her that if she'll dress we'll go out
bonnet-shooting and afterwards drive in the
park."</p>

<p>Janice hesitated.</p>

<p>"She will surely ask where you are to dine,"
said she, half-smiling.</p>

<p>Jack looked at the crowd.</p>

<p>"Fellows," he said, "we must save up for to-morrow's
blow-out; suppose you let Mitchell and
me dine Aunt Mary somewhere very tranquilly to-night
and we'll get her home by eleven."</p>

<p>"Yes, do," said Janice, with sudden earnest
entreaty. "Honestly, there is a limit."</p>

<p>"Of course, there is a limit," said Mitchell.
"Even cities have their limits. This one tried to
be an exception, but San Francisco yelled 'Keep
off' and she drew in her claws again. Aunt Mary,
possessing many points in common with New York,
also possesses that. She has limits. Her limits
took in more than we bargained for,&mdash;for they
have taken us into the bargain. Still they are there,
and we bow to necessity. A cheerful drive, a
quiet tea, early to bed. And <hi rend="font-style: italic">pax vobiscum</hi>."</p>

<p>"No wonder," said Burnett, "it's easy for you
<pb n="201" /><anchor id="Pg201" />to agree when you're to be one of the dinner party."
"I don't mind being left out," said Clover contentedly.
"I shall sit on the sofa and whisper to
'the one behind.' Whispering is an art that I have
almost forgotten, but inspired by that pink&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Then I'll tell Miss Watkins to dress for the
going out," said Janice, pointedly addressing herself
to Jack.</p>

<p>"Yes, please do."</p>

<p>The maid left the room and went upstairs.
Aunt Mary was tossing about on her pillow.</p>

<p>"Well, what's it to be?" she asked instantly.</p>

<p>"The storm has made it too wet to picnic," replied
Janice. "Mr. Denham wants to take you to
drive and afterwards you and Mr. Mitchell and he
are to dine&mdash;"</p>

<p>"And Burnett and Clover?" cried Aunt Mary
in appalled interruption; "where are they goin'?"</p>

<p>"Really, I don't know."</p>

<p>"I don't like the idea," said Aunt Mary;
"we'd ought to all be together. I never did approve
of splittin' up in small parties. Did Jack
say anythin' about my gettin' another bonnet?"</p>

<p>"Yes, he thought that you would go to a milliner
first."</p>

<p>"I don't know about lookin' sillier," said Aunt
Mary. "Strikes me a woman can't look more
foolish than she does without a bonnet. However,
<pb n="202" /><anchor id="Pg202" />I don't feel like makin' a fuss over anythin'
to-day. I've had a good rest and I feel fine. I'll
dress and go out with Jack, an' I know one thing,
I'll enjoy every minute I can, for this week is goin'
like lightnin' and when it's over&mdash;well, you never
saw Lucinda, so it's no use tryin' to make you
understand, but&mdash;" she drew a long breath and
shook her head meaningly.</p>

<p>Janice did not reply. She busied herself with
the cares of the toilet of her mistress, and when that
was complete the carriage was summoned for the
shopping tour.</p>

<p>Jack saw that the bonnet was attended to first
of all and then they went to another store and
purchased a scarf pin for Joshua and a workbox
for Lucinda. After that Aunt Mary decided that
she wanted her four friends each to have a souvenir
of her visit, so she insisted upon being conducted to
that gorgeous establishment which is lighted with
diamonds instead of electricity and ordered four
dressing-cases to be constructed, everything with
gold tops, to be engraved with the proper initials
and also the inscription, "from M.W. in memory
of N.Y." Jack rather protested at this, asking
her if she realized what the engraving would
come to.</p>

<p>"I don't know," said Aunt Mary recklessly
and lavishly. "I don't care what it comes to either.
<pb n="203" /><anchor id="Pg203" />It's comin' to me, anyhow, ain't it? I rather think
so. Seems likely."</p>

<p>The clerk took down the order, and then as he
was ushering them door-wards he fell by the wayside
and craved permission to show some tiaras of
emeralds and some pearl dog-collars. Jack
rebelled.</p>

<p>"You don't want any of those," he exclaimed,
trying to propel her by.</p>

<p>"I ain't so sure," said Aunt Mary. "I might
have a dog some day."</p>

<p>But her nephew got her back into their conveyance,
and they drove away. It was so late that
they could not consider the park and so had to
make a tour of Fifth Avenue to use up the time
left before dinner. Then when they headed
toward the café they were delighted to observe
Mitchell awaiting them just where he was to have
been.</p>

<p>"I see him," said Aunt Mary. "My! I'd know
him as far off as I'd know anybody." But then she
sighed. "I wish the others were there, too," she
said sadly; "seems awful&mdash;just three of us."</p>

<p>The dinner which followed echoed her sentiment.
It was a very nice dinner, but painfully
quiet, and Aunt Mary grew very restless.</p>

<p>"Seems like wastin' time, anyhow," she said
uneasily. "I don't see why the others didn't come.
<pb n="204" /><anchor id="Pg204" />Well, can't we go to Coney Island or the Statue
of Liberty or somewhere when we're through?"</p>

<p>Mitchell looked at Jack.</p>

<p>"Why, you see, Aunt Mary," the latter promptly
shrieked, "we thought we'd be good and go home
early and sort of rest up to-night so as to have
a high old time to-morrow."</p>

<p>Aunt Mary's face, which had fallen during the
first part of their speech, brightened up at the last
words.</p>

<p>"What are we goin' to do?" she inquired with
unfeigned interest.</p>

<p>"Burnett's going to give us a dinner," Jack
answered, "and then afterwards we're going to
help you see the town."</p>

<p>"Oh!" said Aunt Mary. A pleasant gleam
fled over her face.</p>

<p>"I never was a great believer in bein' out
nights," she said, "but I guess I'll make an exception
to-morrow. I might as well be doin' that as
anythin', I presume. Maybe better&mdash;very likely
better."</p>

<p>"Oh, very much better," said Mitchell. "It is
the exceptions that furnish all the oil in life's
machinery. The exceptions not only generally
prove too much for the rule, but they also generally
prevent the rule from proving too much for us.
They&mdash;"
<pb n="205" /><anchor id="Pg205" /></p>

<p>"But I don't see why we couldn't go to two or
three vaudevilles to-night, too," said the old lady,
suddenly. "I feel so sort of ready-for-anythin'."</p>

<p>"You always feel that way, Miss Watkins,"
screamed Mitchell. "It is we that are the blind
and the halt. You are ever fresh, but we falter and
faint. You see it's you that go out, but it's we
that you get back. You&mdash;"</p>

<p>"We could go to one vaudeville, anyway," said
Aunt Mary abstractedly; "an' if we saw any places
that looked lively we could stop a few minutes there
on our way back. I've never been into lots of
things here."</p>

<p>Jack looked at Mitchell this time.</p>

<p>"I'm sorry, Miss Watkins," he roared, "but
<hi rend="font-style: italic">I'll</hi> have to go home, anyhow. You see, I'm not
used to the lively life which has been enlivening
us all this week and, being weakly in my knees,
needs must look out."</p>

<p>Aunt Mary looked very disappointed.</p>

<p>"Then Jack and I'll go, too," she said, "but
oh! dear, I do hate to waste my stay in the city
sleepin' so much. I can sleep all I want after I
get home, but&mdash;" she paused, and then said
with deep feeling, "Well, you don't understand
about Lucinda an' so you don't understand about
anythin'."</p>

<p>Both the young men felt truly regretful as they
<pb n="206" /><anchor id="Pg206" />put her into the carriage for the return trip. Her
deep enjoyment was so genuine and naive that they
sympathized with her feelings when cut off from it.</p>

<p>But it was best that this one night should pass
unimproved, and so all five threw themselves into
their respective beds with equal zest and slept&mdash;and
slept&mdash;and slept.</p>
</div>
<pb n="207" /><anchor id="Pg207" />

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<index index="toc" />
<index index="pdf" />

<head>Chapter Seventeen - Aunt Mary's Night About Town</head>

<p>The next day came up out of the ocean
fair and warm, and when it drew toward
later afternoon no more propitious night
for setting forth ever happened.</p>

<p>It was undeniably a night to be remembered.
And Aunt Mary's entertainers drew in deep
breaths as they girded themselves for the conflict.
They certainly intended to do themselves proud
and on top of all the lesser "times of her life"
to pile the one pre-eminent which should rest pre-eminent
forever. Aunt Mary had been gay in the
first part of the week,&mdash;gayer and gayer as the
week progressed, but that final crowning night was
indubitably the gayest of all. If you doubt this
read on&mdash;read on&mdash;and be convinced.</p>

<p>They began with Burnett's dinner in the private
room. No matter where the private room was,
for it really wasn't a private room at all&mdash;it was a
suite of rooms borrowed and arranged especially
for that one occasion. They gathered there at
eight o'clock and began with oysters served on a
large brass tray in a half-dim Turkish room where
<pb n="208" /><anchor id="Pg208" />incense sticks burned about and queer daggers held
up the curtains. The oysters were served on their
arrival and the megaphones stood like extinguishers
over each with the name cards tied to the small
end. The effect was really unique. Aunt Mary
had one, too, and they were all rejoiced at her delight
in the scheme, and a few seconds after they
were doubly rejoiced over its success for no one
had to speak loud&mdash;the megaphones did it all,
producing a lovely clamor which deafened all those
who could hear and caused Aunt Mary to feel that
she heard with the rest.</p>

<p>Amidst the cheerful din they exchanged such
very wild remarks as oysters always inspire and
each and all were mutually content at the effect
thereof. Then they finished, and Burnett rose at
once, flung back the portières, and led them in
upon their soup which stood smoking on a large
card table in the next room. There were boutonnières
with the soup, and violets for Aunt Mary,
and again they used the megaphones and again the
conversation partook of the customary conversation
which soup produces.</p>

<p>The soup finished, Burnett jumped up again and
threw back other portières and they all moved out
into a dining-room, with its table spread with a
substantial dinner. This time it was the real thing.
Candelabra, ice-pails, etc.
<pb n="209" /><anchor id="Pg209" /></p>

<p>Aunt Mary had a parrot in a gilt tower, and all
the men had white mice in houses shaped like hat-boxes.
Mitchell's seat was flanked with wine coolers,
and Burnett's, too. There was all that they
could desire to eat and drink and more. The
feast began, and it was grand and glorious.</p>

<p>"I'll tell you what," said Aunt Mary, in the
midst of the revel, "if this is what it means in
papers when it speaks of high livin', I don't blame
'em for bein' willin' to die of it young. One week
like this is worth ten years with Lucinda. Twenty.
A whole life."</p>

<p>"Say, Jack," said Burnett in an undertone,
"let's have Lucinda come to town next and see the
effect on her."</p>

<p>"Miss Watkins," said Clover through his
megaphone, "as a mark of my affection I beg to
offer you my white mouse. Do you accept?"</p>

<p>"Oh, I don't want to go back to the house yet,"
said Aunt Mary, much disturbed. "It's too soon."</p>

<p>"We won't go home till morning," said Burnett.
"Not by a long shot. Here, Mitchell, give us a
speech. Home! we don't want to drink <hi rend="font-style: italic">to</hi> it, but
we do want to drink to it <hi rend="font-style: italic">here</hi>."</p>

<p>"Home!" said Mitchell, rising with his glass in
his hand. "Home! here's to home, and I'll drink
to it in anything but a cab. Home, Aunt Mary
and gentlemen, is the place where one may go
<pb n="210" /><anchor id="Pg210" />when every other place is closed. As long as any
other place is open, however, I do not recommend
going home. The contrast is always sharp and
bitter and to be avoided until unavoidable circumstances,
over which we possess but little control,
force us to give our address to the man who drives
and let him drive us to the last place on the map.
And so I drink to that last place&mdash;home; and here's
to it, not now, but a good deal later, and not then
unless what must be has got to result."</p>

<p>Mitchell paused and they all drank.</p>

<p>"Me next now," exclaimed Burnett, jumping to
his feet. "I'm going to make a speech at my own
dinner, and as a good speech is best made off-hand,
I've picked out an off-hand subject and arise to give
you 'Lucinda.' Having never met her I feel able
to say nothing good about her and I call the company
present to witness that I shall say nothing
bad either. I gather from what I have had a stray
chance of picking up that Lucinda is all that she
should be, and nothing frisqué. The latter quality
is too bad, but it's not my fault. Therefore,
I say again 'Lucinda', and here's to her very good
health. May she never regret that Fate has given
her no chance to have anything to regret."</p>

<p>Aunt Mary applauded this speech heartily even
if she hadn't quite caught the whole of it and had
no idea of whom it was about.
<pb n="211" /><anchor id="Pg211" /></p>

<p>"Who's goin' to speak now?" she asked
anxiously.</p>

<p>"I am," said Clover modestly. "I rise to
propose the health of our honored guest, Miss
Watkins. We all know what kin she is to one of
us, and we all weep that she didn't do as well by the
rest of us. Aunt Mary! Glasses down!"</p>

<p>"You can't drink this, you know, Aunt Mary,"
said Jack,&mdash;"it's bad taste to drink to yourself."</p>

<p>"I don't want to drink," said Aunt Mary,
beaming,&mdash;"I like to watch you."</p>

<p>"Here's to Aunt Mary's liking to watch us!"
cried Clover.</p>

<p>"No," said Burnett rising, "don't. It's time
to go and get the salad now."</p>

<p>"We'd ought to have the automobile for this
party," said Aunt Mary, and everyone applauded
her idea, as they rose and gathered up their belongings.</p>

<p>It was a droll procession of men with mice and
a lady with a parrot that got under way and moved
in among the Japanese fans and swinging lanterns
of the next room in the suite of Burnett's friend.
Five little individual tables were laid there and on
each table lay a Japanese creature of some sort
which&mdash;being opened somewhere&mdash;revealed salad
within.
<pb n="212" /><anchor id="Pg212" /></p>

<p>"Well, I never did!" exclaimed the guest;
"this dinner ought to be put in a book!"</p>

<p>"We'll put it in ourselves first," said Mitchell.
"I never believe in booking any attraction until it
has been tried on a select few. Burnett having
selected me for one of this few, I vote we begin on
the salad."</p>

<p>They began forthwith.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary suddenly stopped eating.</p>

<p>"Some one called," she said.</p>

<p>"It's the parrot," said Jack; "I heard him
before."</p>

<p>"What does he say?" said Mitchell.</p>

<p>"Listen and you'll find out," said Jack.</p>

<p>They all listened and presently the parrot said
solemnly:</p>

<p>"Now see what you've done!" and relapsed
into silence.</p>

<p>"What does he mean?" Aunt Mary asked.</p>

<p>"He's referring to his own affairs," said Burnett;
"come on&mdash;let's get coffee now!"</p>

<p>They all adjourned to a tiny room lined with
posters and decorated with pipe racks, and there
had ice cream in the form of bulls and bears,
and coffee of the strongest variety. And then cordials
and cigarettes.</p>

<p>"Now, where shall we go to first?" asked Burnett
when all were well lit up. No one would
<pb n="213" /><anchor id="Pg213" />have guessed that he had ever felt used up in
all his life before.</p>

<p>"To a roof garden," said Mitchell. "We'll
go to a roof garden first, and then we'll go to more
roof gardens, and after that if the spirit moves
we'll go to yet a few roof gardens in addition.
We'll show our dear aunt what wonders can be
done with roofs, and to-morrow she'll wonder what
was done with her."</p>

<p>"That's the bill," said Clover, "and let's go
now. I can see from the general manner of my
mouse that he's dying to get out and make his way
in the wide world."</p>

<p>"Mine the same," said Mitchell; "by George,
it worries me to see such restless, feverish manners
in what I had supposed would be a quiet
domestic companion. It presages a distracted existence.
But come on."</p>

<p>They all rose.</p>

<p>"Where are we goin' now?" asked Aunt Mary.</p>

<p>"To a roof garden," said Jack, "and we're
going to take the whole menagerie, Aunt Mary.
We're going to get put in the papers. That's the
great stunt,&mdash;to get put in the papers."</p>

<p>"But we'll leave the megaphones," said Mitchell.
"I won't go about with a mouse and a
megaphone. People might think I looked silly.
People are so queer."
<pb n="214" /><anchor id="Pg214" /></p>

<p>"Put the mouse in the megaphone," suggested
Burnett. "That's the way my mother taught me
to pack when I was a kid. You put your tooth
brush in a shoe, and the shoe in a sleeve and then
turn the sleeve inside out. Oh, I tell you&mdash;what is
home without a mother?&mdash;Put the mouse in the
megaphone and stop up both ends. What are your
hands and your mouth for?"</p>

<p>"Yes," said Mitchell, "I think I see myself so
handling a megaphone that the mouse doesn't run
out either end or into my mouth. My mouth is a
good mouth and it's served me well and I won't
turn it over to a mouse at this late day."</p>

<p>"Let's keep the mice in their cages," said
Clover, and as he spoke he dropped his.</p>

<p>"Now see what you've done!" said the parrot.</p>

<p>"I didn't hurt it," said Clover. "Come on
now."</p>

<p>"Yes, come on," said Burnett. "It's long after
ten o'clock. You want to remember that even roof
gardens are not eternally on tap."</p>

<p>"Well, I'm trying to hurry all I can," said
Mitchell. "I'm the picture of patience scurrying
for dear life only unable to lay hands on her
gloves."</p>

<p>"I don't catch what's the trouble," said Aunt
Mary to Jack.</p>

<p rend="text-align: center"><anchor id="image05" />
<figure rend="w95" url="images/image05.png">
<head rend="text-align: center">"The carriage stopped three hundred feet below the level of a roof-garden."</head>
<figDesc>Illustration 5</figDesc></figure></p><p></p>

<p>"Nothing's the trouble," said Jack, "everything's
<pb n="215" /><anchor id="Pg215" />fine and dandy. We're going out now.
Time of your life, Aunt Mary, time of your
life!"</p>

<p>They telephoned for a carriage and all got in.
Then Clover slammed the door.</p>

<p>"Now see what you've done!" said the parrot.</p>

<p>"Is he going to keep saying that?" Burnett
asked.</p>

<p>"I don't know," said Jack. "It comes in pretty
pat, don't it?"</p>

<p>"Makes me think of my mother," said Clover.
"I wish it wouldn't."</p>

<p>"I don't catch who's sayin' what," said Aunt
Mary.</p>

<p>"Nobody's saying anything, Miss Watkins,"
roared Mitchell; "we are all talking airy nothings
just to pass the time o' day."</p>

<p>The carriage stopped three hundred feet below
the level of a roof garden.</p>

<p>"We get out here," said Burnett.</p>

<p>They all got out and went up in an elevator.</p>

<p>"Seems to be a good many goin' to the same
place," said Aunt Mary.</p>

<p>"Yes," said Mitchell, "a good many people
generally go to places that are great places for a
good many people to go to."</p>

<p>"You ought not to end with a preposition,"
said Clover.
<pb n="216" /><anchor id="Pg216" /></p>

<p>"There, I left my ear-trumpet in the carriage!"
said Aunt Mary.</p>

<p>There was a pause of consternation. No one
spoke except the parrot.</p>

<p>"We know what she's done without your telling
us," said Clover, addressing the bird. "The
question is what to do next?"</p>

<p>Jack went back downstairs and found the carriage
waiting in hopes of picking up another
load. He lost no time in personally picking up the
ear-trumpet and returning to his friends.</p>

<p>Then they all proceeded above and bought a
table and turned their chairs to the stage, where
the attraction just at that moment was a quartette
of pretty girls.</p>

<p>"I'll tell you what we'll do," said Burnett the
instant the girls began to sing. "Let's each tie
a card to a mouse and present them to the girls!"</p>

<p>The suggestion found favor and was followed
out to the letter. But when the girls were through
and the Chinaman who followed them on the programme
was also over, the pleasures of life in that
spot palled upon the party.</p>

<p>"Oh, come," said Burnett, "let's go somewhere
else. Let's go out in the air."</p>

<p>His suggestion found favor. And they sallied
forth and visited another roof garden, a theater
where they saw the last quarter of the fourth act,
<pb n="217" /><anchor id="Pg217" />a place where Aunt Mary was given a gondola
ride, and a place where she was given something
in the shape of light refreshments.</p>

<p>Then, becoming thirsty, they ordered a few
White Horses and Red Horses and the Necks of
yet other horses, but Aunt Mary declined the horses
of all colors and Mitchell upheld her.</p>

<p>"That's right," he said, "I'm a great believer
in knowing when you've had enough, and I'm sure
you've all had so much too much that I know that
I must have had enough and that she's better
off with none at all."</p>

<p>"I reckon you're right," said Clover. "I've
had enough, surely. I can't see over my pile of
little saucers, and when I can't see over my pile of
little saucers I'm always positive that I've had
enough."</p>

<p>Jack laughed and then ceased laughing and drew
down the corners of his mouth.</p>

<p>"Why do people sit on chairs?" Clover asked
just then. "Why don't everyone sit on the
floor? You never feel as if you might slip off
the floor."</p>

<p>"Ah," said Mitchell, "if we were not always
trying to rise above Nature we should all be sitting
where Nature intended,&mdash;when we weren't swinging
by our tails and picking cocoanuts."</p>

<p>"Come on and let's go somewhere else," said
<pb n="218" /><anchor id="Pg218" />Burnett. "Every time I look at somebody it's
someone else and that makes me nervous."</p>

<p>"Now see what you've done!" said the parrot.</p>

<p>"Did you know his long suit when you bought
him?" Clover asked Burnett.</p>

<p>"No," said Burnett; "they told me that he
didn't use slang and that was all."</p>

<p>It was well along in the evening&mdash;or night&mdash;and
a brisk discussion arose as to where to go next.</p>

<p>"I'll tell you," said Clover, "we'll take a ride.
Let me see what time is it?&mdash;12.30. Just the
time for a drive. We'll take three cabs and sally
forth and drive up and down and back and forth
in the cool night air."</p>

<p>"And jews-harps!" cried Burnett. "Oh, I
say, there's a bully idea! We'll go to a drug
store and buy some jews-harps and play on them
as we drive along. We'll each sing our own tune,
and the effect will be so novel. Let's do it."</p>

<p>"Jews-harps&mdash;" said Clover thoughtfully,
"jews-harps for three cabs&mdash;that'll make&mdash;let me
see&mdash;that'll make&mdash;" he hesitated.</p>

<p>"Oh, the driver will make the change," said
Burnett impatiently. "Come on. If we're going
to have the cabs and jews-harps it's time to
get out and take the stump in the good cause."</p>

<p>"Where's my ear-trumpet?" said Aunt Mary,
blankly,&mdash;"it's been left somewhere."
<pb n="219" /><anchor id="Pg219" /></p>

<p>"No, it hasn't," said Mitchell. "It's here!
I'm holding it for you. It's much easier holding it
than picking it up. It seems so slippery to-night."</p>

<p>"I'm not going out to get the cabs," said Clover.
"I thought of the idea and someone else must
work it out. I'm opposed to working after time
and I call time at midnight."</p>

<p>Mitchell rose with a depressed air.</p>

<p>"I'll go," he said. "I feel the need of a walk.
When I feel the need of anything I always take it
and I've needed and taken so freely to-night that
I need to take a walk to&mdash;"</p>

<p>"I don't think it funny to talk that way," said
Burnett a little heatedly. "If you want to get the
cabs why get the cabs. I'm going to get them, too,
and I reckon we can get them combined just as easy
as alone."</p>

<p>"I will go with you," said his friend solemnly.
"I will accompany you because I feel the need&mdash;"
He stopped and turned his hat over and
over. "I know there's a hole to put my head
into," he declared, "but I can't just put my hand&mdash;I
mean my head&mdash;on to&mdash;I mean, into&mdash;it."</p>

<p>"Do you expect to find a brass hand pointing to
it?" said Burnett testily. "Come on!"</p>

<p>"Three cabs and five&mdash;or was it six?&mdash;jews-harps?"
continued Mitchell dreamily. "It must
have been six, five for we five, and one for Lord
<pb n="220" /><anchor id="Pg220" />Chesterfield&mdash;but where is Lord Chesterfield?"
he asked suddenly with a disturbed glance around.
"I hope he hasn't deserted and gone home."</p>

<p>"Come on, come on!" said Burnett. "There
won't be a sober cab left if we don't hurry while
everything is still able to stand up."</p>

<p>This reasoning seemed to alarm Mitchell and
he went out with him at once.</p>

<p>"My head feels awfully," said Clover to Jack.
"It sort of grinds and grates&mdash;does yours?"</p>

<p>Jack stared straight ahead and made no reply.</p>

<p>"I'm goin' home no more to roam," said Aunt
Mary slowly and sadly,&mdash;"I'm goin' home no
more to roam, no more to sin an' sorrow. I'm
goin' home no more to roam&mdash;I'm goin' home
to-morrow. O hum!" She heaved a heavy sigh.</p>

<p>"Now see what you've done!" said the parrot
with emphasis.</p>

<p>"Never mind," said Clover bitterly. "Better
people than you have gone home before now; I
used to do it myself before I was old enough to
know worse. Will you excuse me if I say, 'Damn
this buzzing in my head?'"</p>

<p>"I know how you feel," said Aunt Mary sympathetically.
"Don't you want me to ring for the
porter and have him make up your berth right
away?"</p>

<p>Clover didn't seem to hear. His eyes were
<pb n="221" /><anchor id="Pg221" />roving moodily about the room; they looked
almost as faded as his mustache.</p>

<p>"Seems to me they're gone a long time," said
Jack presently, twisting a little in his seat. "It
never takes me so long to get a cab. I hold up my
hand&mdash;the man stops&mdash;and I get in&mdash;what's the
matter, Aunt Mary?" He asked the question in
sudden alarm at seeing Aunt Mary bury her face
hastily in her handkerchief.</p>

<p>"What's the matter?" he repeated loudly.</p>

<p>"Don't mind me," said Aunt Mary sobbing.
"It's just that I happened to just think of Lu&mdash;Lu&mdash;Lucinda&mdash;and
somehow I don't seem to have
no strength to bear it."</p>

<p>"Split the handkerchief between us," said
Clover. "I want to cry, too, and there's no time
like the present for doing what you want to do."</p>

<p>"Rot!" said Jack, "look here&mdash;"</p>

<p>He was interrupted by the return of the embassy,
Mitchell bearing the jews-harps.</p>

<p>"What's the matter?" Burnett asked.</p>

<p>"Nothing," said Clover; "we were so worried
over you, that's all." Burnett called for the bill
and found that he had run out of cash; "Or maybe
I've had my pocket picked," he suggested. "I'm
beginning to be in just the mood in which I always
get my pocket picked."</p>

<p>Jack produced a roll of bills and settled for the
<pb n="222" /><anchor id="Pg222" />refreshments. Then they all started down stairs
as Aunt Mary wouldn't risk an elevator going
down.</p>

<p>"It's all right comin' up," she said, "but if it
broke when you were going down where'd
you be?"</p>

<p>"In the elevator," said Clover. "I'd never
jump, I know that."</p>

<p>"Oh, I've left my ear-trumpet," said Aunt
Mary.</p>

<p>"Let's draw lots to see who goes back?" Burnett
suggested.</p>

<p>They drew and the lot fell to Clover.</p>

<p>"I'm not going back," he said coldly. "I
haven't got the energy. Let her apply the megaphone."</p>

<p>Jack went back.</p>

<p>Then they all got into the street and into the
cabs. Aunt Mary and Jack went first, Mitchell
and Burnett second, and Clover brought up the
rear alone.</p>

<p>They set off and it must be admitted that the
effect of the three cabs going single file one after
another with their five occupants giving forth a
most imperfect version of his or her favorite tune,
was at once novel and awe-inspiring. But like all
sweet things upon this earth the concert was not of
long endurance. It was only a few minutes before
<pb n="223" /><anchor id="Pg223" />the duos ceased utterly to duo and the soloist in the
rear fell sound asleep. For several blocks there
was a mournful and tell-tale lack of harmony upon
the air and then the three young men seemed to
have exhausted their mouths and all lapsed into a
more or less conscious state of quietude.</p>

<p>Only Aunt Mary was indefatigable. Like Cleopatra,
age seemed to have no power to stale her
infinite variety, and leaning back in her own corner
she continued to placidly and peacefully intone with
disregard for time and tune which never ruffled
a wrinkle. She hadn't played on a jews-harp in
sixty years, and being deaf she was pleasantly astonished
at how well she still did it. Jack leaned in
his corner with folded arms; he was deeply conscious
of wishing that it was the next day&mdash;any
day&mdash;any other day&mdash;for the week had been a
wearing one and he could not but be mortally glad
that it was so nearly over. The task of fitting
the plan of Aunt Mary's revelries to the measure
of her personal capacity had been a very hard one
and his soul panted for relief therefrom. It is
one thing to undertake a task and another thing
to persevere to its successful completion. Aunt
Mary's nephew was tired&mdash;very tired.</p>

<p>A little later he felt a weight against him; he
looked; it was Aunt Mary's head,&mdash;she was oblivious
there on his bosom.
<pb n="224" /><anchor id="Pg224" /></p>

<p>He heard a voice; it was the parrot.</p>

<p>"Now see what you've done," it said in sepulchral
tones.</p>

<p>They reached the house, bore the honored guest
within, and delivered her to Janice.</p>

<p>"You can have that parrot," Jack called back
to the cabman. "He's guaranteed against slang."</p>

<p>The cabman drove away.</p>

<p>Janice received them with a look which might
have been construed in many ways, but they were
all far past construing and the look fell to the
ground unheeded.</p>

<p>And again Aunt Mary was tucked carefully up
to dream herself rested once more.</p>
</div>
<pb n="225" /><anchor id="Pg225" />

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<index index="toc" />
<index index="pdf" />

<head>Chapter Eighteen - A Departure And A Return</head>


<p>The next day poor Aunt Mary had to
undergo the ordeal of being obliged to
turn her face away from all those joys
which had so suddenly and brilliantly altered the
hues of life for her. It pretty nearly used her up.
She took her reviving decoction with tears standing
in her eyes,&mdash;and sat down the glass with a bursting
sigh. "My, but I wish I knew when I'd be
taking any more of this?" she said to Janice.</p>

<p>"Oh, you'll come back to the city some day,"
said the maid hopefully.</p>

<p>"Come back!" said Aunt Mary. "Well, I
should say that I would come back! Why&mdash;I&mdash;?"
she stopped suddenly, "never mind," she said
after a minute, "only you'll see that I'll come
back. Pretty surely&mdash;pretty positively."</p>

<p>Janice was folding her dresses into the small
trunk. Aunt Mary contemplated the green plaid
waist with an air of mournful reflection.</p>

<p>"I believe I'll always keep that waist rolled
away," she murmured. "I shall like to shake it
out once in a while to remind me of things."
<pb n="226" /><anchor id="Pg226" /></p>

<p>"Hand me my purse," she said to the maid five
minutes afterwards. "Here's twenty-five dollars
an' I want you to take it and get anythin' you
like with it."</p>

<p>"But that's too much," Janice cried, putting her
hands behind her and shaking her head.</p>

<p>"Take it," said Aunt Mary imperiously;
"you're well worth it."</p>

<p>"I don't like to&mdash;truly," said the girl.</p>

<p>"Take it," said Aunt Mary sternly.</p>

<p>So Janice took it and thanked her.</p>

<p>The train went about 4 p.m., and it seemed
wise to give the traveller a quiet luncheon in her
own room and rally her escort afterwards.</p>

<p>When she had eaten and drank she sighed again
and thoughtfully folded her napkin.</p>

<p>"I've had a nice time," she said, gazing fixedly
out of the window. "I've had a nice time, and I
guess those young men have enjoyed it, too. I
rather think my bein' here has given them a chance
to go to a good many places where they'd never
have thought of goin' alone. I'm pretty sure
of it."</p>

<p>Janice made no reply.</p>

<p>"But it's all over now," said Aunt Mary with
something that sounded suspiciously like a sob in
her voice, "an' I haven't got only just one consolation
left an' that's&mdash;" again she paused.
<pb n="227" /><anchor id="Pg227" /></p>

<p>Janice carried the tray away and the next minute
they all burst in bearing their parting gifts in
their arms.</p>

<p>The gifts were an indiscriminate collection of
flowers, candy, magazines, books, etc.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary opened her closet door and showed
the four dressing-cases. Everyone but Jack was
mightily surprised and everyone was mightily
pleased. The room looked like Christmas, and the
faces, too.</p>

<p>"I shall die with my head on the hair brush,"
Clover declared, and Mitchell went down on his
knees and kissed Aunt Mary's hand.</p>

<p>"You must all come an' see me if you ever go
anywhere near," said the old lady. "Now
promise."</p>

<p>"We promise," they yelled in unison, and then
they asked in beautiful rhythm "What's the matter
with Aunt Mary?" and yelled the answer
"She's all right!" with a fervor that nearly blew
out the window.</p>

<p>"I declare," Aunt Mary exclaimed, as the
echoes settled back among the furniture, "when
I think of Lucinda seems as if&mdash;" she paused;
further speech was for the nonce impossible.</p>

<p>"The carriages are ready," Janice announced
at the door, and from then until they reached the
train all was confusion and bustle.
<pb n="228" /><anchor id="Pg228" /></p>

<p>Only the train whistle could drown the farewells
which they poured into her ear-trumpet, and
when they could hover in her drawing-room no
longer they stood outside the window as long as
the window was there to stand outside of. And
then they watched it until it was out of sight, and
after that turned solemnly away.</p>

<p>"By grab!" said Burnett, "I think she ought
to leave us all fortunes. I never was so completely
done up in my life."</p>

<p>"My throat's blistered," said Clover feebly;
"I'm going to stand on my head and gargle with
salve until my throat's healed."</p>

<p>"I shall never shine on the team again," said
Mitchell. "I shall hire out for bleacher work.
He who has successfully conversed with Aunt
Mary need not fear to attack a Wagner Opera
single-handed."</p>

<p>Jack did not say anything. His heart was
athirst for Mrs. Rosscott.</p>

<p>She was back in her own library the next night,
and he rushed thither as soon as his first day's
labor was over. She was prettier and her eyes
were sweeter and brighter than ever as she rose
to meet him and held out&mdash;first one hand, and
then both. He took the one hand and then the
two and the longing that possessed him was so
overwhelming that only his acute consideration
<pb n="229" /><anchor id="Pg229" />for all she was to him kept him from taking more
yet.</p>

<p>"And the week's over," she said, when she had
dragged her fingers out of his and gone and nestled
down upon the divan, among the pillows that
rivaled each other in their attempts to get closer
to her, "the week's all over and our aunt is
gone."</p>

<p>"Yes," he said, rolling his favorite chair up
near to her seat, "all is over and well over."</p>

<p>She smiled and he smiled too.</p>

<p>"She must have enjoyed it," she said thoughtfully.</p>

<p>"Enjoyed it!" said Jack. "She won't like Paradise
in comparison."</p>

<p>"And you've been a good boy," said Mrs. Rosscott,
regarding him merrily. "You've played
your part well."</p>

<p>He rose to his feet and put his hand to his
temple.</p>

<p>"I salute my general," he said. "I was well
trained in the maneuver."</p>

<p>"It's odd," said Mrs. Rosscott thoughtfully.
"It was really so simple. We are only women
after all, whether it is I&mdash;or Aunt Mary&mdash;or all
the rest of the world. We do so crave the knowledge
that someone cares for us&mdash;for our hours&mdash;for
our pleasures. It isn't the bonbons&mdash;it's that
<pb n="230" /><anchor id="Pg230" />someone troubled to buy the bonbons because he
thought that they would please <hi rend="font-style: italic">us</hi>."</p>

<p>"Doesn't a man have the same feeling?" Jack
asked. "It isn't the tea we come for&mdash;it's the
knowledge that someone bothers to make it and
sugar it and cream it."</p>

<p>"I wasn't laughing," said she.</p>

<p>"I wasn't laughing either," said he.</p>

<p>"But it's true," she went on, "and I think the
solution of many unhappy puzzles lies there. Don't
forget if you ever have a wife to pay lots of attention
to her."</p>

<p>"I always have paid lots of attention to her,
haven't I?" he demanded.</p>

<p>Mrs. Rosscott shook her head.</p>

<p>"We won't discuss that," she said. "We'll
stick to Aunt Mary. Aunt Mary is a rock whose
foundation is firm; when it comes to your relations
toward other women&mdash;" she stopped,
shrugging her shoulders, and he understood.</p>

<p>"But it's going to come out all right now, I'm
sure," she went on after a minute, "and I'm so
glad&mdash;so very glad&mdash;that the chance was given
to me to right the wrong that I was the
cause of."</p>

<p rend="text-align: center"><anchor id="image06" />
<figure rend="w95" url="images/image06.png">
<head rend="text-align: center">"'And now the fun's all over and the work begins,' she said, looking down."</head>
<figDesc>Illustration 6</figDesc></figure></p><p></p>

<p>He looked at her and his eyes almost burned,
they were so strong in their leaping desire to fling
himself at her feet and adore her goodness and
<pb n="231" /><anchor id="Pg231" />sweetness and worldliness and wisdom from that
vantage-ground of worship.</p>

<p>She choked a little at the glance and put her
hands together in her lap with a quick catching at
self-control.</p>

<p>"And now the fun's all over and the work
begins," she said, looking down.</p>

<p>"I know that," he asseverated.</p>

<p>She lifted up her eyes and looked at him so very
kindly. And then&mdash;after a little pause to gain
command of word and thought she spoke again,
slowly.</p>

<p>"Listen," she said, this time very softly, but
very seriously. "I want to tell you one thing and I
want to tell it to you now. I had a good and sufficient
reason for helping you out with Aunt Mary;
but&mdash;" She hesitated.</p>

<p>"But?" he asked.</p>

<p>"But I've no reason at all for helping your Aunt
Mary out with you, unless you prove worthy of
her, and&mdash;"</p>

<p>"And?"</p>

<p>She looked at him, and shook her head slightly.</p>

<p>"I won't say 'and of me,'" she said finally.</p>

<p>"Why not?" he asked, a storm of tempestuous
impatience raging behind his lips. "Do say it,"
he pleaded.</p>

<p>"No, I can't say it. It wouldn't be right.
<pb n="232" /><anchor id="Pg232" />I don't mean it, and so I won't say it. I'll only
tell you that I can promise nothing as things
are, and that unless you go at life from now on
with a tremendous energy I never shall even dream
of a possible promising."</p>

<p>He rose to his feet and towered above her, tall
and straight and handsome, and very grave.</p>

<p>"All right," he said simply. "I'll remember."</p>

<p>Ever so much later that evening he rose to bid
her good-night.</p>

<p>"Whatever comes, you've been an angel to me,"
he said in that hasty five seconds that her hand was
his.</p>

<p>"Shall I ever regret it?" she asked, looking up
to his eyes.</p>

<p>"Never," he declared earnestly, "never,
never. I can swear that, and I shall be able to
swear the same thing when I'm as old as my Aunt
Mary."</p>

<p>Mrs. Rosscott lowered her eyes.</p>

<p>"Who could ask more?" she said softly.</p>

<p>"I could," said Jack&mdash;"but I'll wait first."</p>
</div>
<pb n="233" /><anchor id="Pg233" />

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<index index="toc" />
<index index="pdf" />

<head>Chapter Nineteen - Aunt Mary's Return</head>


<p>Joshua was at the station to meet his
mistress, and Lucinda, full to the brim with
curiosity, sat on the back seat of the carryall.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary quitted the train with a dignity
which was sufficiently overpowering to counteract
the effect of her bonnet's being somewhat awry.
She greeted Joshua with a chill perfunctoriness
that was indescribable, and her glance glided completely
over Lucinda and faded away in the open
country on the further side of her.</p>

<p>Lucinda did not care. Lucinda was of a hardy
stock and stormy glances neither bent nor broke
her spirit.</p>

<p>"I'm glad to see you come back looking so
well," she screamed, when Aunt Mary was in and
they were off.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary raised her eyebrows in a manner
that appeared a trifle indignant, and riveted her
gaze on the hindquarters of the horse.</p>

<p>"I thought it was more like heaven myself,"
she said coldly. "Not that your opinion matters
any to me, Lucinda."
<pb n="234" /><anchor id="Pg234" /></p>

<p>Then she leaned forward and poked the
driver.</p>

<p>"Joshua!" she said.</p>

<p>Joshua jumped in his seat at the asperity of her
poke and her tone.</p>

<p>"What is it?" he said hastily.</p>

<p>"Jus' 's soon as we get home I want you to take
the saw&mdash;that little, sharp one, you know&mdash;and
dock Billy's tail. Cut it off as close as you can;
do you hear?"</p>

<p>"I hear," was the startled answer.</p>

<p>"Did you have a good time?" Lucinda had the
temerity to ask, after a minute.</p>

<p>"I guess I could if I tried," the lady replied;
"but I'm too tired to try now."</p>

<p>"How did you leave Mr. Jack?"</p>

<p>"I couldn't stay forever, could I?" asked the
traveler impatiently. "I thought that a week was
long enough for the first time, anyhow."</p>

<p>Lucinda subsided and the rest of the drive was
taken in silence. When they reached the house
Aunt Mary enveloped everything in one glance of
blended weariness, scorn and contempt, and then
made short work of getting to bed, where she slept
the luxurious and dreamless sleep of the unjust until
late that afternoon.</p>

<p>"My, but she's come back a terror!" Lucinda
cried to Joshua in a high whisper when he brought
<pb n="235" /><anchor id="Pg235" />in the trunk. "She looks like nothin' was goin'
to be good enough for her from now on."</p>

<p>"Nothin' ain't goin' to be good enough for
her," said Joshua calmly.</p>

<p>"What are we goin' to do, then?" asked
Lucinda.</p>

<p>"We'll have enough to do," said Joshua, in a
tone that was portentous in the extreme, and then
he placed the trunk in its proper position for
unpacking and went away, leaving Lucinda to
unpack it.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary awoke just as the faithful servant
was unrolling the green plaid waist, and the instant
that she spoke it was plain that her attitude
toward life in general was become strangely and
vigorously changed, and that for Lucinda the rack
was to be newly oiled and freshly racking.</p>

<p>This attitude was not in any degree altered by
the unexpected arrival of Arethusa that evening.
Strange tales had reached Arethusa's ears, and she
had flown on the wings of steam and coal dust to
see what under the sun it all meant. Aunt Mary
was not one bit rejoiced to see her and the glare
which she directed over the edge of the counterpane
bore testimony to the truth of this statement.</p>

<p>"Whatever did you come for?" she demanded
inhospitably. "Lucinda didn't send for you, did
she?"
<pb n="236" /><anchor id="Pg236" /></p>

<p>Arethusa screamed the best face that she could
onto her visit, but Aunt Mary listened with an
inattention that was anything but flattering.</p>

<p>"I don't feel like talkin' over my trip," she said,
when she saw her niece's lips cease to move. "Of
course I enjoyed myself because I was with Jack,
but as to what we did an' said you couldn't understand
it all if I did tell you, so what's the use of
botherin'."</p>

<p>Arethusa looked neutral, calm and curious. But
Aunt Mary frowned and shook her head.</p>

<p>"S'long as you're here, though, I suppose you
may as well make yourself useful," she said a few
minutes later. "Come to think of it, there's an
errand I want you to do for me. I want you to go
to Boston the very first thing to-morrow morning
an' buy me some cotton."</p>

<p>Arethusa stared blankly.</p>

<p>"Well," said the aunt, "if you can't hear, you'd
better take my ear-trumpet and I'll say it over
again."</p>

<p>"What kind of cotton?" Arethusa yelled.</p>

<p>"Not <hi rend="font-style: italic">stockin's!</hi>" said Aunt Mary; "Cotton!
Cotton! C-O-T-T-O-N! It beats the Dutch
how deaf everyone is gettin', an' if I had your ears
in particular, Arethusa, I'd certainly hire a carpenter
to get at 'em with a bit-stalk. Jus's if you didn't
know as well as I do how many stockin's I've got
<pb n="237" /><anchor id="Pg237" />already! I should think you'd quit bein' so heedless,
an' use your commonsense, anyhow. I've
found commonsense a very handy thing in talkin'
always. Always."</p>

<p>Arethusa launched herself full tilt into the ear-trumpet.</p>

<p>"What&mdash;kind&mdash;of&mdash;cotton?" she asked in that
key of voice which makes the crowd pause in a
panic.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary looked disgusted.</p>

<p>"The Boston kind," she said, nipping her lips.</p>

<p>Arethusa took a double hitch on her larynx, and
tried again.</p>

<p>"Do you mean thread?"</p>

<p>Aunt Mary's disgust deepened visibly.</p>

<p>"If I meant silk I guess I wouldn't say cotton.
I might just happen to say silk. I've been in the
habit of saying silk when I meant silk and cotton
when I meant cotton, for quite a number of
years, and I might not have changed to-day&mdash;I
might just happen to not have. I might not have&mdash;maybe."</p>

<p>Arethusa withered under this bitter irony.</p>

<p>"How many spools do you want?" she asked
in a meek but piercing howl.</p>

<p>"I don't care," said Aunt Mary loftily. "I
don't care how many&mdash;or what color&mdash;or what
number. I just want some Boston cotton, and I
<pb n="238" /><anchor id="Pg238" />want to see you settin' out to get it pretty promptly
to-morrow morning."</p>

<p>"But if you only want some cotton," Arethusa
yelled, with a force which sent crimson waves all
over her, "why can't I get it in the village?"</p>

<p>Aunt Mary shot one look at her niece and the
latter felt the concussion.</p>

<p>"Because&mdash;I&mdash;want&mdash;you&mdash;to&mdash;get&mdash;it&mdash;in&mdash;Boston,"
she said, filling the breaks between her
words with a concentrated essence of acerbity such
as even she had never displayed before. "When
I say a thing, I mean it pretty generally. Quite
often&mdash;most always. I want that cotton and it's
to be bought in Boston. There's a train that goes
in at seven-forty-five, and if you don't favor the
idea of ridin' on it you can take the express that
goes by at six-five."</p>

<p>Arethusa pressed her hands very tightly together
and carried the discussion no further. She went to
bed early and rose early the next morning and
Joshua drove her in town to the seven-forty-five.</p>

<p>"It doesn't seem to me that my aunt is very
well," the niece said during the drive. "What do
you think?"</p>

<p>"I don't think anything about her," said Joshua
with great candor. "If I was to give to thinkin'
I'd o' moved out to Chicago an' been scalpin'
Indians to-day."
<pb n="239" /><anchor id="Pg239" /></p>

<p>"I wonder if that trip to New York was good
for her?" Arethusa wondered mildly.</p>

<p>Joshua flicked Billy with the whip and refused to
voice any opinion as to New York's effect on his
mistress.</p>

<p>Arethusa was well on her way to Boston when
Aunt Mary's bell, rung with a sharp jangle, summoned
Lucinda to open her bedroom blinds. While
Lucinda was leaning far out and attempting to
cause said blinds to catch on the hooks, which
habitually held them back against the side of the
house, her mistress addressed her with a suddeness
which showed that she had awakened with her wits
surprisingly well in hand.</p>

<p>"Where's Joshua? Is he got back from Arethusa?
Answer me, Lucinda."</p>

<p>Lucinda drew herself in through the open window
with an alacrity remarkable for one of her
years.</p>

<p>"Yes, he's back," she yelled.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary looked at her with a sort of incensed
patience.</p>

<p>"Well, what's he doin'? If he's back, where is
he? Lucinda, if you knew how hard it is for me to
keep quiet you'd answer when I asked things. Why
in Heaven's name don't you say suthin'? Anythin'?
Anythin' but nothin', that is."</p>

<p>"He's mowin'," Lucinda shrieked.
<pb n="240" /><anchor id="Pg240" /></p>

<p>"Sewin'!" exclaimed Aunt Mary. "What's he
sewin'? Where's he sewin'? Have you stopped
doin' his darnin'?"</p>

<p>Lucinda gathered breath by compressing her
sides with her hands, and then replied, directing her
voice right into the ear-trumpet:</p>

<p>"He's mowin' the back lawn."</p>

<p>Aunt Mary winced and shivered.</p>

<p>"My heavens, Lucinda!" she exclaimed,
sharply. "I wish't there was a school to teach outsiders
the use of an ear-trumpet. They can't seem
to hit the medium between either mumblin' or
splittin' one's ear drums."</p>

<p>Lucinda was too much out of breath from her
effort to attempt any audible penitence. Her mistress
continued:</p>

<p>"Well, you find him wherever he is, and tell
him to harness up the buggy and go and get Mr.
Stebbins as quick as ever he can. Hurry!"</p>

<p>Lucinda exited with a promptitude that fulfilled
all that her lady's heart could wish. She found
Joshua whetting his scythe.</p>

<p>"She wants Mr. Stebbins right off," said
Lucinda.</p>

<p>"Then she'll get Mr. Stebbins right off," said
Joshua. And he headed immediately for the barn.</p>

<p>Lucinda ran along beside him. It did seem to
Lucinda as if in compensation for her slavery to
<pb n="241" /><anchor id="Pg241" />Aunt Mary she might have had a sympathizer in
Joshua.</p>

<p>"I guess she wants to change her will," she
panted, very much out of breath.</p>

<p>"Then she'll change her will," said Joshua.
And as his steady gait was much quicker than poor
Lucinda's halting amble, and as he saw no occasion
to alter it, the conversation between them dwindled
into space then and there.</p>

<p>Half an hour later Billy went out of the drive
at a swinging pace and an hour after that Mr.
Stebbins was brought captive to Aunt Mary's
throne.</p>

<p>She welcomed him cordially; Lucinda was
promptly locked out, and then the old lady and her
lawyer spent a momentous hour together. Mr.
Stebbins was taken into his client's fullest confidence;
he was regaled with enough of the week's
history to guess the rest; and he foresaw the outcome
as he had foreseen it from the moment of the
rupture.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary was very sincere in owning up to her
own past errors.</p>

<p>"I made a big mistake about the life that boy
was leadin'," she said in the course of the conversation.
"He took me everywhere where he was in
the habit of goin', an' so far from its bein' wicked,
I never enjoyed myself so much in my life. There
<pb n="242" /><anchor id="Pg242" />ain't no harm in havin' fun, an' it does cost a lot of
money. I can understand it all now, an' as I'm a
great believer in settin' wrong right whenever you
can, I want Jack put right in my will right off. I
want&mdash;" and then were unfolded the glorious
possibilities of the future for her youngest, petted
nephew. He was not only to be reinstated in the
will, but he was to reign supreme. The other four
children were to be rich&mdash;very rich,&mdash;but Jack was
to be <hi rend="font-style: italic">the</hi> heir.</p>

<p>Mr. Stebbins was well pleased. He was very
fond of Jack and had always been particularly
patient with him on that account. He felt that this
was a personal reward of merit, for it cannot be
denied that Jack had certainly cashed very large
checks on the bank of his forbearance.</p>

<p>When all was finished, and Joshua and Lucinda
had been called in and had duly affixed their signatures
to the important document, the buggy was
brought to the door again and Mr. Stebbins stepped
in and allowed himself to be replaced where they
had taken him from.</p>

<p>Joshua returned alone.</p>

<p>"There, what did I tell you!" said Lucinda,
who was waiting for him behind the wood-house,&mdash;"she
did want to change her will."</p>

<p>"Well, she changed it, didn't she?" said
Joshua.
<pb n="243" /><anchor id="Pg243" /></p>

<p>"I guess she wants to give him all she's got,
since that week in New York," said Lucinda.</p>

<p>"Then she'll give him all she's got," said
Joshua.</p>

<p>Lucinda's eyes grew big.</p>

<p>"An' she'll give it to you, too, if you don't look
out and stay where you can hear her bell if she
rings it," Joshua added, with his usual frankness,
and then he whipped up Billy and drove on to the
barn.</p>

<p>Arethusa returned late in the afternoon, very
warm, very wilted. Aunt Mary looked over the
cotton purchase, and deigned to approve.</p>

<p>"But, my heavens, Arethusa," she exclaimed
immediately afterwards, "if you had any idea how
dirty and dusty and altogether awful you do look,
you wouldn't be able to get to soap and water fast
enough."</p>

<p>At that poor Arethusa sighed, and, gathering up
her hat, and hat-pins, and veil, and gloves, and
purse, and handkerchief, went away to wash.</p>
</div>
<pb n="244" /><anchor id="Pg244" />

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<index index="toc" />
<index index="pdf" />

<head>Chapter Twenty - Jack's Joy</head>


<p>About the first of July many agreeable things
happened.</p>

<p>One was that Mr. Stebbins found it advisable
to address a discreet letter to John Watkins,
Jr., Denham, conveying the information that although
he must not count unduly upon the future,
still, if he behaved himself, he might with safety
allow his expenditures to mount upward monthly to
a certain limit. This was the way in which Aunt
Mary salved her conscience and saved her pride all
at once.</p>

<p>"I don't want him to think that I don't mean
things when I say 'em," she had carefully explained
to Mr. Stebbins, "but I can't bear to think that
there's anybody in New York without money
enough to have a good time there."</p>

<p>Mr. Stebbins had made a note of the sum which
the allowance was to compass and had promised to
write the letter at once.</p>

<p>"What did you do the last time you were in the
city?" Aunt Mary asked.</p>

<p>"I was much occupied with business," said the
<pb n="245" /><anchor id="Pg245" />lawyer, "but I found time to visit the Metropolitan
Museum of Art and&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Good gracious!" exclaimed Aunt Mary,
"who was takin' you 'round! I never had a second
for any museums or arts;&mdash;you ought to have seen
a vaudeville, or that gondola place! I was ferried
around four times and the music lasted all
through." She stopped and reflected. "I guess
you can make that money a hundred a month
more," she said slowly. "I don't want the boy
to ever feel stinted or have to run in debt."</p>

<p>Mr. Stebbins smiled, and the result was that Jack
began to pay up the bills for his aunt's entertainment
very much more rapidly than he had anticipated
doing.</p>

<p>Another pleasant thing was that a week or so
later&mdash;very soon after Mrs. Rosscott had given
up her town house and returned to the protection
of the parental slate-tiles&mdash;Burnett's father, a
peppery but jovial old gentleman (we all know
the kind), suddenly asked why Bob never came
home any more. This action on the part of the
head of the house being tantamount to the completest
possible forgiveness and obliviousness of the
past, Burnett's mother, of whom the inquiry had
been made, wept tears of sincerest joy and wrote
to the youngest of her flock to return to the ancestral
fold just as soon as he possibly could. He
<pb n="246" /><anchor id="Pg246" />came, and as a result, a fortnight later Jack came,
and Mitchell came, and Clover came. Mrs. Rosscott,
as we have previously stated, was already
there, and so were Maude Lorne and a great many
others. Some of the others were pretty girls and
Burnett and two of his friends found plenty to
amuse them, but Burnett's dearest friend, his
bosom friend, his Fidus Achates, found no one to
amuse him, because he was in earnest, and had eyes
for no feminine prettiness, his sight being dazzled
by the radiance of one surpassing loveliness. He
had worked tremendously hard the first month of
daily laboring, and felt he deserved a reward. Be
it said for Jack that the reward of which Aunt
Mary had the bestowing counted for very little
with him except in its relation to the far future.
The real goal which he was striving toward, the
real laurels that he craved&mdash;Ah! they lay in
another direction.</p>

<p>Middle July is a lovely time to get off among the
trees and grass, and lie around in white flannels or
white muslins, just as the case may be. It was too
warm to do much else than that, and Heaven knows
that Jack desired nothing better, as long as his goddess
smiled upon him.</p>

<p>It was curious about his goddess. She seemed to
grow more beautiful every time that he saw her.
Perhaps it was her native air that gave her that
<pb n="247" /><anchor id="Pg247" />charming flush; perhaps it was the joy of being at
home again; perhaps it was&mdash;no, he didn't dare
to hope that. Not yet. Not even with all that she
had done for him fresh in his memory. The
humility of true love was so heavy on his heart that
his very dreams were dulled with hopelessness, the
majority of them seeming too vividly dyed in Paradise
hues for their fulfillment in daily life to ever
appear possible. But still he was very, very happy
to be there with her&mdash;beside her&mdash;and to hear her
voice and look into her eyes whenever the trouble
some "other people" would leave them alone together.
And she did seem happy, too. And so
rejoiced that the tide of Aunt Mary's wrath had
been successfully turned. And so rejoiced that he
was at work, even in the face of her hopes as to his
college career. And also so rejoiced to take up
the gay, careless thread of their mutual pleasure
again.</p>

<p>The morning after the gathering of the party
was Saturday and an ideal day&mdash;that sort of ideal
day when house parties naturally sift into pairs and
then fade away altogether. The country surrounding
our particular party was densely wooded and
not at all settled, the woods were laid out in a
fascinating system of walks and benches which in
no case commanded views of one another, and the
shade overhead was the shade of July and as propitious
<pb n="248" /><anchor id="Pg248" />to rest as it was to motion. Mitchell took a
girl in gray and two sets of golf clubs and started
out in the opposite direction from the links, Clover
took a girl in green and a camera and went another
way, Burnett took a girl in a riding habit and two
saddle horses and followed the horses' noses
whither they led, and Jack&mdash;Jack smoked cigarettes
on the piazza and waited&mdash;waited.</p>

<p>Mrs. Rosscott came out after a while and asked
him why he didn't go to walk also.</p>

<p>"Just what I was thinking as to yourself," he
said, very boldly as to voice, and very beseechingly
as to eyes.</p>

<p>"Oh, I'm so busy," she said, laughing up into
his eyes and then laughing down at the ground&mdash;"you
see I'm the only married daughter to help
mamma."</p>

<p>"But you've been helping all the morning," he
complained, "and besides how can you help? One
would think that your mother was beating eggs or
turning mattresses."</p>

<p>"I have to work harder than that," said Mrs.
Rosscott; "I have to make people know one another
and like one another and not all want to
make love to the same girl."</p>

<p>"You can't help their all wanting to make love
to the same girl," said Jack; "the more you try
to convince them of their folly the deeper in love
<pb n="249" /><anchor id="Pg249" />they are bound to fall. I'm an illustration of
that myself."</p>

<p>Mrs. Rosscott looked at him then and curved her
mouth sweetly.</p>

<p>"You do say such pretty things," she said. "I
don't see how you've learned so much in so little
time. Why, General Jiggs in there is three times
your age and he tangles himself awfully when he
tries to be sweet."</p>

<p>"Perhaps his physician has recommended gymnastics,"
said Jack.</p>

<p>"Perhaps," said Mrs. Rosscott laughing, and
then she turned as if to go in.</p>

<p>"Oh, don't," said her lover, barring the way
with great suddenness; "you really mustn't, you
know. I've been patient for so long and been good
for so long and I must be rewarded&mdash;I really
must. Do come out with me somewhere&mdash;anywhere&mdash;for
only a half-hour,&mdash;please."</p>

<p>She looked at him.</p>

<p>"Won't Maude do?" she asked.</p>

<p>"No, she won't," he said beneath his breath;
"whatever do you suggest such a thing for? You
make me ready to tell you to your face that you
want to go as bad as I want you to go, but I shan't
say so because I know too much."</p>

<p>"You do know a lot, don't you?" said she, with
an expression of great respect; "why, if you were
<pb n="250" /><anchor id="Pg250" />to dare to hint to me that I wanted to go out with
you instead of staying in and talking Rembrandt
with Mr. Morley, I'd never forgive you the longest
day I live."</p>

<p>"I know you wouldn't," said he, "and you may
be quite sure that I shall not say it. On the contrary
I shall merely implore you to forget your own
pleasure in consideration of mine."</p>

<p>"I really ought to devote the morning to Mr.
Morley," she said meditatively; "it's such an
honor his coming here, you know."</p>

<p>"A little bit of a whiskered monkey," said Jack
in great disgust; "an honor, indeed!"</p>

<p>"He's a very great man," said Mrs. Rosscott;
"every sort of institution has given him a few
letters to put after his name, and some have given
him whole syllables."</p>

<p>"You must get a straw hat, you know, or a sun-shade;
it will be hot in half an hour."</p>

<p>"Oh, I couldn't stay out half an hour; fifteen
minutes would be the longest."</p>

<p>"All right, fifteen minutes, then, but do hurry."</p>

<p>"I didn't say that I would go," she said, opening
her eyes; "and yet I feel myself gone." She
laughed lightly.</p>

<p>"Do hurry," he pleaded freshly; "oh, I am so
hungry to&mdash;"</p>

<p>She disappeared within doors and five minutes
<pb n="251" /><anchor id="Pg251" />later came back with one of those charming floppy
English garden hats, tied with a muslin bow beneath
her dimpled chin.</p>

<p>"This is so good of me," she said, as they went
down the steps.</p>

<p>"Very good, heavenly good," said Jack; and
then neither spoke again until they had crossed the
Italian garden and entered the American wood.
She looked into his eyes then and smiled half-shyly
and half-provokingly.</p>

<p>"You are such a baby," she said; "such a baby!
Do ask me why and I'll tell you half a dozen whys.
I'd love to."</p>

<p>The path was the smoothest and shadiest of
forest paths, the hour was the sweetest and sunniest
of summer hours, the moment was the brightest and
happiest of all the moments which they had known
together&mdash;up to now.</p>

<p>"Do tell me," he said; "I'm wild to know."</p>

<p>He took her hand and laid it on his arm. For
that little while she was certainly his and his alone,
and no man had a better claim to her. "Go on
and tell me," he repeated.</p>

<p>"There is one big reason and there are lots of
little ones. Which will you have first?"</p>

<p>"The little ones, please."</p>

<p>"Then, listen; you are like a baby because you
are impatient, because you are spoilt, because when
<pb n="252" /><anchor id="Pg252" />you want anything you think that you must have
it, and because you like to be walked with."</p>

<p>"Are those the little reasons," he said when she
paused; "and what's the big one?"</p>

<p>"The big one," she said slowly; "Oh, I'm
afraid that you won't like the big one!"</p>

<p>"Perhaps it will be all the better for me if I
don't," he laughed; "at any rate I beg and pray
and plead to know it."</p>

<p>"What a dear boy!" she laughed. "If you
want to know as badly as that, I'd have to tell
you anyhow, whether I wanted to or not. It's
because I'm so much the oldest."</p>

<p>"Oh!" said Jack, much disappointed. "Is
that why?"</p>

<p>"And then too," she continued, "you seem even
younger because of your being so unsophisticated."</p>

<p>"So I am unsophisticated, am I?" he asked
grimly.</p>

<p>"Yes," she said nodding; "at least you impress
me so."</p>

<p>"I'm glad of that," he said after a little pause.</p>

<p>She looked up quickly.</p>

<p>"Truly?"</p>

<p>"Yes, indeed."</p>

<p>"Oh," she laughed, "if you say that, then I
shall know that you are less unsophisticated than
I thought you were."
<pb n="253" /><anchor id="Pg253" /></p>

<p>"Why so?" he asked surprised.</p>

<p>"Don't you know that meek, mild men always
try to insinuate that they are regular fire-eaters,
and vice versa? Well, it's so&mdash;and it's so every
time. There was once a man who was kissing me,
and he drew my hands up around his neck in such
a clever, gentle way that I was absolutely positive
that he had had no end of practice drawing arms
up in that way and I just couldn't help saying:
'Oh, how many women you must have kissed!'
What do you think he answered?&mdash;merely smiled
and said: 'Not so many as you might imagine.'
He showed how much he knew by the way he
answered, for oh! he had. I found that out
afterwards."</p>

<p>"What did you do then?" he asked, frowning.
"Cut him?"</p>

<p>"No; I married him. Why, of course I was
going to marry him when he kissed me, or I
wouldn't have let him kiss me. Do you suppose
I let men kiss me as a general thing? What are
you thinking of?"</p>

<p>"I was thinking of you," he said. "It's a
horrible habit I've fallen into lately. But, never
mind; keep on talking."</p>

<p>"I don't remember what I was saying," she said.
"Oh, yes, I do too. About men, about good and
bad men. Now, even if I didn't know how much
<pb n="254" /><anchor id="Pg254" />trouble you'd made in the world, I'd divine it all
the instant that you were willing to admit being
unsophisticated. People always crave to be the
opposite of what they are; the drug shops couldn't
sell any peroxide of hydrogen if that wasn't so."</p>

<p>He laughed and forgot his previous vexation.</p>

<p>"Now, look at me," she continued. "Oh, I
didn't mean really&mdash;I mean figuratively; but
never mind. Now, I'm nothing but a bubble and a
toy, and I ache to be considered a philosopher.
Don't you remember my telling you what a philosopher
I was, the very first conversation that we
ever had together? I do try so hard to delude
myself into thinking I am one, that some days I'm
almost sure that I really am one. Last night, for
instance, I was thinking how nice it would be for
my Cousin Maude to marry you."</p>

<p>"Ye gods!" cried Jack.</p>

<p>"She's so very rich," Mrs. Rosscott pursued
calmly; "and you know the law of heredity is an
established scientific fact now, so you could feel
quite safe as to her nose skipping the next
generation."</p>

<p>Jack was audibly amused.</p>

<p>"It's not anything to laugh over," his companion
continued gravely. "It's something to ponder
and pray over. If I were Maude I should
be on my knees about it most of the time."
<pb n="255" /><anchor id="Pg255" /></p>

<p>"Nothing can help her now," said Jack. "Her
parents have been and gone and done it, as far as
she's concerned, forever. Prayer won't change her
nose, although age may broaden it still more."</p>

<p>"Don't you believe that nothing can help her
now. A good-looking husband could help her lots.
I've seen homelier girls than she go just everywhere&mdash;on
account of their husbands, you know.
That was where my philosophy came in."</p>

<p>"I'd quite forgotten your philosophy." He
laughed again as he spoke. "I must apologize.
Please tell me more about it."</p>

<p>She laughed, too.</p>

<p>"I'm going to. You see, I was lying there,
looking out at the moon, and thinking how nice it
would be for Maude to marry you."</p>

<p>"Did you consider me at all?" he interposed.</p>

<p>"How you interrupt!" she declared, in exasperation.
"You never let me finish."</p>

<p>"I am dumb."</p>

<p>"Well, I thought how nice it would be for
Maude to marry you. You'd have a baron for a
papa-in-law, and an heiress to balance Aunt Mary
with. If you went into consumption and had to
retreat to Arizona for a term of years, the climate
could not ruin her complexion as it would m&mdash;most
people's. And she's so ready to have you that it's
almost pathetic. I can't imagine anything more
<pb n="256" /><anchor id="Pg256" />awful than to be as ready to marry a man who is'nt
at all desirous of so doing, as Maude is of marrying
you. But if you would only think about it. I
thought and thought about it last night and the
longer I thought the more it seemed like such a nice
arrangement all around; and then&mdash;all of a sudden&mdash;do
you know I began to wonder if I was
philosopher enough to enjoy being matron-of-honor
to Maude and really&mdash;"</p>

<p>"At the wedding I could have kissed you!" he
exclaimed, and suddenly subsided at the look with
which she withered his boldness.</p>

<p>"And really I wasn't altogether sure; and then,
it occurred to me that nothing on the face of the
earth would ever persuade you to marry Maude.
And I saw my card castle go smashing down, and
then I saw that I really am a philosopher, after all,
for&mdash;for I didn't mind a bit!"</p>

<p>Jack threw his head back and roared.</p>

<p>"Oh," he said after a minute, "you are so
refreshing. You ruffle me up just to give me the
joy of smoothing me down, don't you?"</p>

<p>"I do what I can to amuse you," she said,
demurely. "You are my father's guest and my
brother's friend, and so I ought to&mdash;oughtn't I?"</p>

<p>"Yes," he said, "I have a two-fold claim on
you if you look at it that way and some day I mean
to go to work and unfold still another."
<pb n="257" /><anchor id="Pg257" /></p>

<p>They had come to a delightful little nook where
the trees sighed gently, "Sit down," and there
seemed to be no adequate reason for refusing the
invitation.</p>

<p>"Let's rest, I know you're tired," the young
man said gently, and the next minute found his
companion down upon the soft grass, her back
against a twisted tree-root and her hands about her
knees.</p>

<p>He threw himself down beside her and the hush
and the song of mid-summer were all about them,
filling the air, and their ears, and their hearts all at
once.</p>

<p>Presently he took her hand up out of the grass
where its fingers had wandered to hide themselves,
and kissed it. She looked at him reprovingly when
it was too late, and shook her head.</p>

<p>"Such a little one!" he said.</p>

<p>"I call it a pretty big one," she answered.</p>

<p>"I mean the hand&mdash;not the kiss," he said
smiling.</p>

<p>"You really are sophisticated," she told him.
"Only fancy if you had reversed those nouns!"</p>

<p>"I know," he said; "but I've kissed hands before.
You see, I'm more talented than you think."</p>

<p>"Don't be silly," she said smiling. "I really
am beginning to think very well of you. You don't
want me to cease to, do you?"
<pb n="258" /><anchor id="Pg258" /></p>

<p>"Why do women always say 'Don't be
silly'?" he queried. "I wish I could find one
who wanted to be very original, and so said, 'Do
be silly', just for a change."</p>

<p>"Dear me, if women were to beg men to be silly
what would happen?" Mrs. Rosscott exclaimed.
"The majority are so very foolish without any
special egging on."</p>

<p>"But it is so dreadfully time-worn&mdash;that one
phrase."</p>

<p>"Oh, if it comes to originality," she answered,
"men are not original, either. Whenever they lie
down in the shade, they always begin to talk
nonsense. You reflect a bit and see if that isn't
invariably so."</p>

<p>"But nonsense is such fun to talk in the shade,"
he said, spreading her fingers out upon his own
broad palm. "So many things are so next to
heavenly in the shade."</p>

<p>"You ought not to hold my hand."</p>

<p>"I know it."</p>

<p>"I am astonished that you do not remember
your Aunt Mary's teaching you better."</p>

<p>"She never forbade my holding your hand."</p>

<p>"Suppose anyone should come suddenly down
the path?"</p>

<p>"They would see us and turn and go back."</p>

<p>"To tell everyone&mdash;"
<pb n="259" /><anchor id="Pg259" /></p>

<p>"What?"</p>

<p>"A lie."</p>

<p>Jack laughed, folded her hand hard in his, and
drew himself into a sitting posture beside her
knee.</p>

<p>"Now, don't be silly," she said with earnest
anxiety. "I won't have it. It's putting false ideas
in your head, because I'm really only playing, you
know."</p>

<p>"The shadow of love," he suggested.</p>

<p>"Quite so."</p>

<p>"And if&mdash;" He leaned quite near.</p>

<p>"Not by any means," she exclaimed, springing
quickly to her feet. "Come&mdash;come! It's quite
time that we were going back to the house."</p>

<p>"Why must we?" he remonstrated.</p>

<p>"You know why," she said. "It's time we were
being sensible. When a man gets as near as you
are, I prefer to be <hi rend="font-style: italic">en promenade</hi>. And don't let us
be foolish any longer, either. Let us be cool and
worldly. How much money has your aunt, anyhow?"</p>

<p>Jack had risen, too.</p>

<p>"What impertinence!" he ejaculated.</p>

<p>"Not at all," she said. "Maude has so much
money of her own that I ask in a wholly disinterested
spirit."</p>

<p>"She's very rich," said Jack. "But if your
<pb n="260" /><anchor id="Pg260" />spirit is so disinterested, what do you want to know
for?"</p>

<p>"This is a world of chance, and the main chance
in a woman's case is alimony; so it's always nice to
know how to figure it."</p>

<p>"It's a slim chance for your cousin," said Jack.
"Do tell her that I said so."</p>

<p>"No, I shan't," said she perversely. "I won't
be a go-between for you and her. Besides, as to
that alimony, there are more heiresses than Maude
in our family."</p>

<p>"Yes," said he; "I know that. But I know,
too, that there is one among them who need never
figure on getting any alimony out of me. If I ever
get the iron grasp of the law on that heiress, I can
assure you that only her death or mine will ever
loosen its fangs."</p>

<p>"How fierce you are!" said Mrs. Rosscott.
"Why do you get so worked up?"</p>

<p>"Oh," he exclaimed, with something approaching
a groan, "I don't mean to be&mdash;but I do care
so much! And sometimes&mdash;" he caught her
quickly in his arms, drew her within their strong
embrace, and kissed her passionately upon the lips
that had been tantalizing him for five interminable
months.</p>

<p>He was almost frightened the next second by her
stillness.
<pb n="261" /><anchor id="Pg261" /></p>

<p>"Don't be angry," he pleaded.</p>

<p>"I'm not," she murmured, resting very quietly
with her cheek against his heart. "But you'll have
to marry me now. My other husband did, you
know."</p>

<p>"Marry you!" he exclaimed. "Next week?
To-morrow? This afternoon? You need only
say when&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Oh, not for years and years," she said, interrupting
him. "You mustn't dream of such a thing
for years and years!"</p>

<p>"For years and years!" he cried in astonishment.</p>

<p>"That's what I said," she told him.</p>

<p>He released her in his surprise and stared hard at
her. And then he seized her again and kissed her
soundly.</p>

<p>"You don't mean it!" he declared.</p>

<p>"I do mean it!" she declared.</p>

<p>And then she shook her head in a very sweet but
painfully resolute manner.</p>

<p>"I won't be called a cradle-robber," she said,
firmly; and at that her companion swore mildly but
fervently.</p>

<p>"You're so young," she said further; "and not
a bit settled," she added.</p>

<p>"But you're young, too," he reminded her.</p>

<p>"I'm older than you are," she said.
<pb n="262" /><anchor id="Pg262" /></p>

<p>"I suppose that you aren't any more settled than
I am, and that's why you hesitate," he said grimly.</p>

<p>"Now that's unworthy of you," she cried; "and
I have a good mind&mdash;"</p>

<p>But the direful words were never spoken, for she
was in his arms again&mdash;close in his arms; and, as
he kissed her with a delicious sensation that it was
all too good to be true, he whispered, laughing:</p>

<p>"I always meant to lord it over my wife, so I'll
begin by saying: 'Have it your own way, as long
as I have you.'"</p>

<p>Mrs. Rosscott laid her cheek back against his
coat lapel, and looked up into his eyes with the
sweetest smile that even he had ever seen upon even
her face.</p>

<p>"It's a bargain," she murmured.</p>
</div>
<pb n="263" /><anchor id="Pg263" />

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<index index="toc" />
<index index="pdf" />

<head>Chapter Twenty-One - The Peace and Quiet of the Country</head>


<p>Along in the beginning of the fall Aunt
Mary began suddenly to grow very feeble
indeed. After the first week or two it became
apparent that she would have to be quiet and
very prudent for some time, and it was when this
information was imparted to her that the family
discovered that she had been intending to go to
New York for the Horse-Show.</p>

<p>"She's awful mad," Lucinda said to Joshua.
"The doctor says she'll have to stay in bed."</p>

<p>"She won't stay in bed long," said Joshua.</p>

<p>"The doctor says if she don't stay in bed she'll
die," said Lucinda.</p>

<p>"She won't die," said Joshua.</p>

<p>Lucinda looked at Joshua and felt a keen desire
to throw her flatiron at him. The world always
thinks that the Lucindas have no feelings; the
world never knows how near the flatirons come to
the Joshuas often and often.</p>

<p>Arethusa came for two days and looked the
situation well over.</p>

<p>"I think I won't stay," she said to Lucinda,
<pb n="264" /><anchor id="Pg264" />"but you must write me twice a week and I'll write
the others."</p>

<p>Then Arethusa departed and Lucinda remained
alone to superintend things and be superintended
by Aunt Mary.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary's superintendence waxed extremely
vigorous almost at once. She had out her writing
desk, and wrote Jack a letter, as a consequence of
which everything published in New York was
mailed to his aunt as soon as it was off the presses.
Lucinda was set reading aloud and, except when
the mail came, was hardly allowed to halt for food
and sleep.</p>

<p>"My heavens above," said the slave to
Joshua, "it don't seem like I can live with her!"</p>

<p>"You'll live with her," said Joshua.</p>

<p>"It's more as flesh and blood can bear."</p>

<p>"Flesh and blood can bear a good deal more'n
you think for," said Joshua, and then he delivered
up two letters and drove off toward the barn.</p>

<p>"If those are letters," said Aunt Mary from her
pillow the instant she heard the front door close,
"I'd like 'em. I'm a great believer in readin' my
own mail, an' another time, Lucinda, I'll thank you
to bring it as soon as you get it an' not stand out on
the porch hollyhockin' with Joshua for half an
hour while I wait."</p>

<p>Lucinda delivered up the letters without demanding
<pb n="265" /><anchor id="Pg265" />what species of conversational significance
her mistress attached to the phrase, "holly-hocking."</p>

<p>Aunt Mary turned the letters through eagerly.</p>

<p>"My lands alive!" she said suddenly, "if
here isn't one from Mitchell,&mdash;the dear boy.
Well, I never did!&mdash;Lucinda, open the blinds to
the other window, too&mdash;so I&mdash;can&mdash;see to&mdash;" her
voice died away,&mdash;she was too deep in the letter to
recollect what she was saying.</p>

<p>Mitchell wrote:</p>

<quote rend="display">
<p><hi rend="font-variant: small-caps">My Dear Miss Watkins</hi>:&mdash;</p>

<p>We are sitting in a row with ashes on the heads
of our cigarettes mourning, mourning, mourning,
because we have had the news that you are ill. As
usual it is up to me to express our feelings, so I have
decided to mail them and the others agree to pay
for the ink.</p>

<p>I wish to remark at once that we did not sleep any
last night. Jack told us at dinner, and we spent the
evening making a melancholy tour of places where
we had been with you. If you had only been with
us! The roof gardens are particularly desolate
without you. The whole of the city seems to realize
it. The watering carts weep from dawn to
dark. All the lamp-posts are wearing black. It
is sad at one extreme and sadder at the other.</p>

<p>You must brace up. If you can't do that try a
belt. Life is too short to spend in bed. My
motto has always been "Spend freely everywhere
else." At present I recommend anything calculated
to mend you. I may in all modesty mention
<pb n="266" /><anchor id="Pg266" />that just before Christmas I shall be traveling
north and shall then adore to stop and cheer you
up a bit if you invite me. I have made it an
invariable rule, however, not to stay over night
anywhere when I am not invited, so I hope you will
consider my feelings and send me an invitation.</p>

<p>My eyes fill as I think what it will be to sit
beside you and recall dear old New York. It will
be the next best thing to being run over by an automobile,
won't it?</p>

<p rend="text-align: right">Yours, with fondest recollections,</p>

<p rend="text-align: right">HERBERT KENDRICK MITCHELL.</p>
</quote>

<p>Aunt Mary laid the letter down.</p>

<p>"Lucinda," she said in a curiously veiled tone,
"give me a handkerchief&mdash;a big one. As big a
one as I've got."</p>

<p>Lucinda did as requested.</p>

<p>"Now, go away," said Aunt Mary.</p>

<p>Lucinda went away. She went straight to
Joshua.</p>

<p>"She's had a letter an' read it an' it's made her
cry," she said.</p>

<p>"That's better'n if it made her mad," said
Joshua, who was warming his hands at the stove.</p>

<p>"I ain't sure that it won't make her mad later,"
said Lucinda. "Say, but she is a Tartar since she
came back. Seems some days's if I couldn't
live."</p>

<p>"You'll live," said Joshua, and, as his hands
were now well-warmed, he went out again.
<pb n="267" /><anchor id="Pg267" /></p>

<p>After a while Aunt Mary's bell jangled violently
and Lucinda had to hurry back.</p>

<p>"Lucinda, did the doctor say anythin' to you
about how long he thought I might be sick?"</p>

<p>"Yes, he did."</p>

<p>"What did he say? I want to know jus' what
he said. Speak up!"</p>

<p>"He said he didn't have no idea how long you'd
be sick."</p>

<p>Aunt Mary threw a look at Lucinda that ought
to have annihilated her.</p>

<p>"I want to see Jack," she said. "Bring my
writin' desk. Right off. Quick."</p>

<p>She wrote to Jack, and he came up and spent the
next Sunday with her, cheering her mightily.</p>

<p>"I wish the others could have come, too," she
said once an hour all through his visit. Mitchell's
letter seemed to have bred a tremendous longing
within her.</p>

<p>"They'll come later," said Jack, with hearty
good-will. "They all want to come."</p>

<p>"I don't know how we could ever have any fun
up here though," said his aunt sadly. "My
heavens alive, Jack,&mdash;but this is an awful place to
live in. And to think that I lived to be seventy
before I found it out."</p>

<p>Jack took her hand and kissed it. He did sympathize,
even if he was only twenty-two and longing
<pb n="268" /><anchor id="Pg268" />unutterably to be somewhere else and kissing someone
else at that very minute.</p>

<p>"Mitchell wrote me a letter," continued Aunt
Mary. "He said he was comin'. Well, dear me,
he can eat mince pie and drive with Joshua when
he goes for the mail, but I don't know what else I
can do with him. Oh, if I'd only been born in the
city!"</p>

<p>Jack kissed her hand again. He didn't know
what to say. Aunt Mary's lot seemed to border
upon the tragic just then and there.</p>

<p>The next day he returned to town and Lucinda
came on duty again. She soon found that the
nephew's visit had rendered the aunt harder than
ever to get along with.</p>

<p>"I'm goin' to town jus''s soon as ever I feel well
enough," she declared aggressively on more than
one occasion. "An' nex' time I go I'm goin' to
stay jus''s long as ever I'm havin' a good time.
Now, don't contradict me, Lucinda, because it's
your place to hold your tongue. I'm a great believer
in your holding your tongue, Lucinda."</p>

<p>Lucinda, who certainly never felt the slightest
inclination toward contradiction, held her tongue,
and the poor, unhappy one twisted about in bed,
and bemoaned the quietude of her environment by
the hour at a time.</p>

<p>"Did you say we had a calf?" she asked suddenly
<pb n="269" /><anchor id="Pg269" />one day. "Well, why don't you answer?
When I ask a question I expect an answer. Didn't
you say we had a calf?"</p>

<p>Lucinda nodded.</p>

<p>"Well, I want Joshua to take that calf to the
blacksmith and have him shod behind an' before
right off. To-day&mdash;this minute."</p>

<p>"You want the calf shod!" cried Lucinda, suddenly
alarmed by the fear lest her mistress had gone
light-headed.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary glared in a way that showed that
she was far from being out of her usual mind.</p>

<p>"If I said shod, I guess I meant shod," she said,
icily. "I do sometimes mean what I say. Pretty
often&mdash;as a usual thing."</p>

<p>Lucinda stood at the foot of the bed, petrified
and paralyzed.</p>

<p>Then the invalid sat up a little and showed some
mercy on her servant's very evident fright.</p>

<p>"I want the calf shod," she explained, "so's
Joshua can run up an' down the porch with him."</p>

<p>So far from ameliorating Lucinda's condition,
this explanation rendered it visibly worse. Aunt
Mary contemplated her in silence for a few seconds,
and she suddenly cried out, in a tone that was full
of pathos:</p>

<p>"I feel like maybe&mdash;maybe&mdash;the calf'll make
me think it's horses' feet on the pavement."
<pb n="270" /><anchor id="Pg270" /></p>

<p>Lucinda rushed from the room.</p>

<p>"She wants the calf shod!" she cried, bursting
in upon Joshua, who was piling wood.</p>

<p>For once in his life Joshua was shaken out of
his usual placidity.</p>

<p>"She wants the calf shod!" he repeated blankly.</p>

<p>"Yes."</p>

<p>"You can't shoe a calf."</p>

<p>"But she wants it done."</p>

<p>Joshua regained his self-control.</p>

<p>"Oh, well," he said, turning to go on with his
work, "the calf's gone to the butcher, anyhow.
Tell her so."</p>

<p>Lucinda went back to Aunt Mary.</p>

<p>"The calf's gone to the butcher," she yelled.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary frowned heavily.</p>

<p>"Then you go an' get a lamp and turn it up too
high an' leave it," she said,&mdash;"the smell'll make
me think of automobiles."</p>

<p>Lucinda was appalled. As a practical housekeeper
she felt that here was a proposition which
she could not face.</p>

<p>"Well, ain't you goin'?" Aunt Mary asked
tartly. "Of course if you ain't intendin' to go I'd
be glad to know it; 'n while you're gone,
Lucinda, I wish you'd get me the handle to the ice-cream
freezer an' lay it where I can see it; it'll help
me believe in the smell."
<pb n="271" /><anchor id="Pg271" /></p>

<p>Lucinda went away and brought the handle, but
she did not light the lamp. The Fates were good
to her, though, for Aunt Mary forgot the lamp in
her disgust over the appearance of the handle.</p>

<p>"Take it away," she said sharply. "Anybody'd
know it wasn't an automobile crank. I don't want
to look like a fool! Well, why ain't you takin' it
away, Lucinda?"</p>

<p>Lucinda took the crank back to the freezer;
but as the days passed on, the situation grew
worse. Aunt Mary slept more and more, and
awoke to an ever-increasing ratio of belligerency.</p>

<p>Before long Lucinda's third cousin demanded
her assistance in "moving," and there was nothing
for poor Arethusa to do but to take up the burden,
now become a fearfully heavy one.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary was getting to that period in life
when the nearer the relative the greater the dislike,
so that when her niece arrived the welcome
which awaited her was even less cordial than ever.</p>

<p>"Did you bring a trunk?" she asked.</p>

<p>"A small one," replied the visitor.</p>

<p>"That's something to be grateful for," said
the aunt. "If I'd invited you to visit me, of
course I'd feel differently about things."</p>

<p>Arethusa accepted this as she accepted all
things, unpacked, saw Lucinda off, assumed charge
of the house, and then dragged a rocking chair to
<pb n="272" /><anchor id="Pg272" />her aunt's bedside and unfolded her sewing. Ere
she had threaded her needle Aunt Mary was
sound asleep, and so her niece sewed placidly for an
hour or more, until, like lightning out of a clear
sky:</p>

<p>"Arethusa!"</p>

<p>The owner of the name started&mdash;but answered
immediately:</p>

<p>"Yes, Aunt Mary."</p>

<p>"When I die I want to be buried from a roof
garden! Don't you forget! You'd better go
an' write it down. Go now&mdash;go this minute!"</p>

<p>Arethusa shook as if with the discharge of a
contiguous field battery. She had not had Lucinda's
gradual breaking-in to her aunt's new trains
of thought.</p>

<p>"Aunt Mary," she said feebly at last.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary saw her lips moving; she sat up in
bed and her eyes flashed cinders.</p>

<p>"Well, ain't you goin'?" she asked wrathfully.
"When I say do a thing, can't it be done? I
declare it's bad enough to live with a pack of
idiots without havin' 'em, one an' all, act as if I
was the idiot!"</p>

<p>Arethusa laid aside her work and rose to quit
the room. She returned five minutes later with
pen and ink, but Aunt Mary was now off on
another tack.
<pb n="273" /><anchor id="Pg273" /></p>

<p>"I want a bulldog!" she cried imperatively.</p>

<p>"A bulldog!" shrieked her niece, nearly dropping
what she held in her hands. "What do you
want a bulldog for?"</p>

<p>"Not a bullfrog!" the old lady corrected; "a
bulldog. Oh, I do get so sick of your stupidity,
Arethusa," she said. "What should I or any
one else want of a bullfrog?"</p>

<p>Arethusa sighed, and the sigh was apparent.</p>

<p>"I'd sigh if I was you," said her aunt. "I certainly
would. If I was you, Arethusa, I'd certainly
feel that I had cause to sigh;" and with that
she sat up and gave her pillow a punch that was
full of the direst sort of suggestion.</p>

<p>Arethusa did not gainsay the truth of the sighing
proposition. It was too apparent.</p>

<p>The next day Aunt Mary slept until noon, and
then opened her eyes and simultaneously declared:</p>

<p>"Next summer I'm goin' to have an automobile!"</p>

<p>Then she looked about and saw that she had
addressed the air, which made her more mad than
ever. She rang her bell violently, and Arethusa
left the lunch table so hastily that she reached the
bedroom half-choked.</p>

<p>"Next summer I'm goin' to have an automobile,"
said the old lady angrily. "Now, get me
some breakfast."
<pb n="274" /><anchor id="Pg274" /></p>

<p>Her niece went out quickly, and a maid was
sent in with tea and toast and eggs at once. Their
effect was to brace the invalid up and make the lot
of those about her yet more wearing.</p>

<p>"I shall run it myself," she vowed, when Arethusa
returned; "an' I bet they clear out when
they see me comin'."</p>

<p>It did seem highly probable.</p>

<p>"I don't know how I can live if I don't get
away from here soon," she declared a few minutes
later. "You don't appreciate what life is, Arethusa.
Seems like I'll go mad with wantin' to be
somewhere else. I can see Jack gets his disposition
straight from me."</p>

<p>There was a sigh and a pause.</p>

<p>"I shall die," Aunt Mary then declared with
violence, "if I don't have a change. Arethusa,
you've got to write to Jack, and tell him to get
me Granite."</p>

<p>"Granite!" screamed the niece in surprise.</p>

<p>"Yes, Granite. She was a maid I had in
New York. I want her to come here. She must
come. Tell him to offer her anything, and send
her C.O.D. If I can have Granite, maybe I'll
feel some better. You write Jack."</p>

<p>"I'll write to-night," shrieked Arethusa.</p>

<p>"No, you won't," said Aunt Mary; "you'll
get the ink and write right now. Because I've
<pb n="275" /><anchor id="Pg275" />been meeker'n Moses all my life is no reason why
I sh'd be willin' to be downtrodden clear to the
end. Folks around me'd better begin to look
sharp an' step lively from now on."</p>

<p>Arethusa went to the desk at once and wrote:</p>

<quote rend="display">
<p><hi rend="font-variant: small-caps">Dear Jack</hi>:</p>

<p>Aunt Mary wants the maid that she had when
she was in New York. For the love of Heaven,
if the girl is procurable, do get her. Hire her if
you can and kidnap her if you can't. Lucinda has
played her usual trick on me and walked off just
when she felt like it. I never saw Aunt Mary in
anything like the state of mind that she is, but I
know one thing&mdash;if you cannot send the maid,
there'll be an end of me.</p>

<p rend="text-align: right">Your loving sister,</p>

<p rend="text-align: right">ARETHUSA.</p>
</quote>

<p>Jack was much perturbed upon receipt of this
letter. He whistled a little and frowned a great
deal. But at last he decided to be frank and tell
the truth to Mrs. Rosscott. To that end he wrote
her a lengthy note. After two preliminary pages
so personal that it would not be right to print them
for public reading, he continued thus:</p>

<quote rend="display">
<p>I've had a letter from my sister, who is with
Aunt Mary at present. She says that Aunt Mary
is not at all well and declares that she must have
Janice. What under the sun am I to answer?
Shall I say that the girl has gone to France? I'm
willing to swear anything rather that put you to
<pb n="276" /><anchor id="Pg276" />one second's inconvenience. You know that, don't
you? etc., etc., etc. [just here the letter abruptly
became personal again].</p>
</quote>

<p>Jack thought that he knew his fiancée well, but
he was totally unprepared for such an exhibition
of sweet
ness as was testified to by the letter which
he received in return.</p>

<p>It's first six pages were even more personal than
his own (being more feminine) and then came this
paragraph:</p>

<quote rend="display">
<p>Janice is going to your aunt by to-night's train.
Now, don't say a word! It is nothing&mdash;nothing&mdash;absolutely
nothing. Don't you know that I am
too utterly happy to be able to do anything for anyone
that you&mdash;etc., etc., etc.</p>
</quote>

<p>Jack seized his hat and hurried to where his
lady-love was just then residing. But Janice had
gone!</p>
</div>
<pb n="277" /><anchor id="Pg277" />

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<index index="toc" />
<index index="pdf" />

<head>Chapter Twenty-Two - "Granite"</head>


<p>Joshua was despatched to drive through
mud and rain to bring Aunt Mary's solace
from the station.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary had herself propped up in bed to be
ready for the return before Billy's feet had ceased
to cry splash on the road outside of the gate. Her
eagerness tinged her pallor pink. It was as if the
prospect of seeing Janice gave her some of that
flood of vitality which always seems to ebb and
flow so richly in the life of a metropolis.</p>

<p>"My gracious heavens, Lucinda" (for Lucinda
was back now), she said joyfully, "to think that I
needn't look at you for a week if I don't want to!
You haven't any idea how tired I am of looking at
you, Lucinda. If you looked like anything it would
be different. But you don't."</p>

<p>Lucinda rocked placidly; hers was what is called
an "even disposition." If it hadn't been, she
might have led an entirely different life&mdash;in fact,
she would most certainly have lived somewhere
else, for she couldn't possibly have lived with Aunt
Mary.
<pb n="278" /><anchor id="Pg278" /></p>

<p>The hour that ensued after Joshua's departure
was so long that it resulted in a nap for the invalid,
and Lucinda had to wake her by slamming the
closet door when the arrival turned in at the
gate.</p>

<p>"Has he got her?" Aunt Mary cried breathlessly.
"Has he got someone with him? Run,
Lucinda, an' bring her in. She needn't wipe her
feet, tell her; you can brush the hall afterwards.
Well, why ain't you hurryin'?"</p>

<p>Lucinda was hurrying, her curiosity being as
potent as the commands of her mistress, and five
seconds later Janice appeared in the door with her
predecessor just behind her&mdash;a striking contrast.</p>

<p>"You dear blessed Granite!" cried the old lady,
stretching out her hands in a sort of ecstasy. "Oh,
my! but I'm glad to see you! Come right straight
here. No, shut the door first. Lucinda, you go
and do 'most anything. An' how is the city?"</p>

<p>Janice came to the bedside and dropped on her
knees there, taking Aunt Mary's withered hand
close in both of her own.</p>

<p>"You didn't shut the door," the old lady whispered
hoarsely. "I wish you would&mdash;an' bolt it,
too. An' then come straight back to me."</p>

<p>Janice closed and bolted the door, and returned
to the bedside. Aunt Mary drew her down close
to her, and her voice and eyes were hungry, indeed.
<pb n="279" /><anchor id="Pg279" />For a little she looked eagerly upon what she had
so craved to possess again, and then she suddenly
asked:</p>

<p>"Granite, have you got any cigarettes with
you?"</p>

<p>The maid started a little.</p>

<p>"Do you smoke now?" she asked, with interest.</p>

<p>"No," said Aunt Mary sadly, "an' that's one
more of my awful troubles. You see I'm jus' achin'
to smell smoke, an' Joshua promised his mother
the night before he was twenty-one. You don't
know nothin' about how terrible I feel. I'm empty
somewhere jus' all the time. Don't you believe't
you could get some cigarettes an' smoke 'em right
close to me, an' let me lay here, an' be so happy
while I smell. I'll have a good doctor for you,
if you're sick from it."</p>

<p>The maid reflected; then she nodded.</p>

<p>"I'll write to town," she cried, in her high, clear
tones. "What brand do you like best?"</p>

<p>"Mitchell's," said Aunt Mary. "But you can't
get those because he made 'em himself an' sealed
'em with a lick. Oh!" she sighed, with the accent
of a starving Sybarite, "I do wish I could see him
do it again! Do you know," she added suddenly,
"he wrote me a letter and he's goin' to come here."</p>

<p>"When?" asked Janice.</p>

<p>"After a while. But you must take off your
<pb n="280" /><anchor id="Pg280" />things. That's your room in there," pointing
toward a half-open door at the side. "I wanted
you as close as I could get you. My, but I've
wanted you! I can't tell you how much. But a
good deal&mdash;a lot&mdash;awfully."</p>

<p>Janice went into the room that was to be hers,
and hung up her hat and cloak.</p>

<p>When she returned Aunt Mary was looking a
hundred per cent, improved already.</p>

<p>"Can you hum 'Hiawatha'?" she asked immediately.
"Granite, I must have suthin' to amuse
me an' make me feel good. Can you hum 'Hiawatha'
an' can you do that kind of 'sh&mdash;sh&mdash;sh&mdash;'that
everybody does all together at the end, you
know?"</p>

<p>Janice smiled pleasantly, and placing herself in
the closest possible proximity with the ear trumpet,
at once rendered the desired <hi rend="font-style: italic">morceau</hi> in a style
which would have done credit to a soloist in a <hi rend="font-style: italic">café
chantant</hi>.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary's lips wreathed in seraphic bliss.</p>

<p>"My!" she said. "I feel just as if I was back
eatin' crabs' legs and tails again. No one'll ever
know how I've missed city life this winter but&mdash;well,
you saw Lucinda!"</p>

<p>The glance that accompanied the speech was
mysterious but significant. Janice nodded sympathetically.
<pb n="281" /><anchor id="Pg281" /></p>

<p>"I hope you brought a trunk. I ain't a bit sure
when I'll be able to let you go," pursued the old
lady. "I don't believe I can let you go until I go,
too. I've most died here alone."</p>

<p>"I brought a trunk," Janice cried into the ear
trumpet.</p>

<p>"I'm glad," said Aunt Mary. She paused, and
her eyes grew wistful.</p>

<p>"Granite," she asked, "do you think you could
manage to do a skirt dance on the footboard? I'm
'most wild to see some lace shake."</p>

<p>Janice looked doubtfully at the footboard. It
was wide for a footboard, but narrow&mdash;too narrow&mdash;for
a skirt dance.</p>

<p>"But I can do one on the floor," she cried.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary's features became suffused with
heavenly joy.</p>

<p>"Oh, Granite!" she murmured, in accents of
greatest anticipation.</p>

<p>The maid stood up, and, going off as far as the
limits of the spacious bedroom would allow, executed
a most fetching and dainty <hi rend="font-style: italic">pas seul</hi> to a tune
of her own humming.</p>

<p>"Give me suthin' to pound with!" cried her
enthusiastic audience. "Oh, Granite, I ain't
been so happy since I was home! Whatever you
want you can have, only don't ever leave me alone
with Lucinda again."
<pb n="282" /><anchor id="Pg282" /></p>

<p>Janice was catching her tired breath, but she
answered with a smile.</p>

<p>"Can't you get my Sunday umbrella out of the
closet now an' do a parasol dance?" the insatiate
demanded; "one of those where you shoot it open
an' shut when people ain't expectin'."</p>

<p>The maid went to the closet and brought out the
Sunday umbrella; but its shiny black silk did not
appear to inspire any fluffy maneuvres, so she utilized
it in the guise of a broadsword and did something
that savored of the Highlands, and seemed
to rebel bitterly at the length of her skirt. Aunt
Mary writhed around in bliss&mdash;utter and intense.</p>

<p>"I feel like I was livin' again," she said, heaving
a great sigh of content. "I tell you I've suffered
enough, since I came back, to know what it
is to have some fun again. Now, Granite, I'll tell
you what we'll do," when the girl sat down to rest;
"you write for those cigarettes while I take a little
nap and afterwards we'll get the Universal Knowledge
book and learn how to play poker. You don't
know how to play poker, do you?"</p>

<p>"A little," cried the maid.</p>

<p>"Well, I want to learn how," said the old lady,
"an' we'll learn when&mdash;when I wake up."</p>

<p>Janice nodded assent.</p>

<p>"Excuse me shuttin' my eyes," said Aunt
Mary&mdash;and she was asleep in two minutes.</p>
</div>
<pb n="283" /><anchor id="Pg283" />

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<index index="toc" />
<index index="pdf" />

<head>Chapter Twenty-Three - "Granite" - Continued.</head>


<p>Mary and Arethusa&mdash;Aunt Mary's two
nieces&mdash;were not uncommonly mercenary;
but about three weeks after the new
arrival they became seriously troubled over the
ascendancy that she appeared to be gaining over
the mind of their aunt. Lucinda's duties had included
for many years the writing of a weekly letter
which contained formal advices of the general
state of affairs, and after Janice's establishment,
these letters became so provocative of gradually increasing
alarm that first Mary, and then Arethusa
thought it advisable to make the journey for the
purpose of investigating the affair personally.
They found the new maid apparently devoid
of evil intent, but certainly fast becoming absolutely
indispensable to the daily happiness of
their influential relative. Mary feared that a
codicil for five thousand dollars would be the
result; but Arethusa felt, with a sinking heart,
that there was another naught going on to the sum,
and that, unless the tide turned, the end might not
be even then.
<pb n="284" /><anchor id="Pg284" /></p>

<p>Aunt Mary was so cool that neither niece stayed
long, and Lucinda's letters had to be looked to
for the progress of events. Lucinda's letters were
frequent and not at all reassuring. After the sisters
had talked them over, they sent them on to
Jack.</p>

<quote rend="display">
<p>She [thus Lucinda invariably began] is the same
as ever. It's cross the heart and bend the knee,
an' then you ain't down far enough to suit her.
But she's gettin' so afraid she'll go that she's wax
in her hands. It would scare you. She won't
let her out of her sight a minute. I must say that
whatever she's giving her, she certainly is earning
the money, for she works her harder every day.
The poor thing is hopping about, or singing, or
playing cards, from dawn to dark, and unless it's
a provision in her will I can't see what would pay
her enough for working so. Lord knows I considered
I earned my wages without skipping around
with my legs crossed like she does, and she has no
end of patience too, even if she won't ever let her
take a walk. She's getting as pale as she is herself.
Seems like something should be done.</p>

<p rend="text-align: right">Respectfully,</p>

<p rend="text-align: right">L. COOKE.</p>
</quote>

<p>Three days later Lucinda wrote again:</p>

<quote rend="display">
<p>She does seem to be getting worse and worse.
She makes her sleep on a sofa beside her, and
she begins to look dreadfully worn out. I do
believe she'll kill her, before she dies herself. I
told her so to-day, but she only smiled. It's funny,
<pb n="285" /><anchor id="Pg285" />but I like her even if I am bolted out all the time.
I ain't jealous, and I'm glad of the rest. I should
think her throat would split with talking so much,
but she certainly does hear her better than anyone
else. I think something must be done, though.
She's getting as crazy as she is herself. They
play cards and call each other "aunty" for two
hours at a stretch some days.</p>

<p rend="text-align: right">Respectfully,</p>

<p rend="text-align: right">L. COOKE.</p>
</quote>

<p>At the end of the week Lucinda wrote again:</p>

<quote rend="display">
<p>I think if you don't come, she will surely die.
She is very feeble herself, but that don't keep her
from wearing her to skin and bone. She keeps
her doing tricks from morning to night. Every
minute that she is awake she keeps her jumping.
It's a mercy she sleeps so much, or she
wouldn't get any sleep at all. I can't do nothing,
but I can see something has got to be done.
She's killing her, and she's getting where she don't
care for nobody but her, and if she's to be kept in
trim to keep on amusing her she'll have to have
some rest pretty quick.</p>

<p rend="text-align: right">Respectfully,</p>

<p rend="text-align: right">L. COOKE.</p>
</quote>

<p>If the sisters were perturbed by the general
trend of these epistles, Jack was half wild over the
situation. He swore vigorously and he tramped
up and down his room nights until the people underneath
put it in their prayers that his woes might
suggest suicide as speedily as possible. In vain he
wrote to Mrs. Rosscott to restore Janice to her
proper place in town; Mrs. Rosscott answered that
<pb n="286" /><anchor id="Pg286" />as long as Aunt Mary desired Janice at her side,
at her side Janice should stay. Jack knew his lady
well enough to know that she would keep her word,
and although he longed to assert his authority he
was man enough to feel that he had better wait
now and settle the debt after marriage.</p>

<p>Nevertheless the whole affair was unbearably
vexatious and at last he felt that he could endure
it no longer.</p>

<p>"I'm a fool," he said, in a spirit of annoyance
that came so close to anger that it led to an utter
loss of patience. "I'll take the train for Aunt
Mary's to-day, and straighten out that mess in
short order."</p>

<p>It was Saturday, and he arranged to leave by
the noon train. He laid in a heavy supply of bribes
for his aged relative and of reading matter for
himself, and went to the station with a heart
divided 'twixt many different emotions. It was
an unconscionably long ride, but he did get there
safely about ten o'clock.</p>

<p>It was a pleasant night&mdash;not too cold&mdash;even suggestive
of some lingering Indian summer intentions
on the part of Jack's namesake. The young man
thought that he would walk out to his childhood's
home, and his decision was aided by the
discovery that there was no other way to get
there.
<pb n="287" /><anchor id="Pg287" /></p>

<p>So he took his suit-case in his hand and set off
with a stride that covered the intervening miles in
short order and brought him, almost before he
knew it, to where he could see Lucinda's light in the
dining-room and her pug-nosed profile outlined
upon the drawn shade. Everyone else was evidently
abed, and as he looked, she, too, arose and
took up the lamp. He hurried his steps so that she
might let him in before she went upstairs, but in
the same instant the light went out and with its
withdrawal he perceived a little figure sitting alone
upon the doorstep.</p>

<p>His heart gave a tremendous leap&mdash;but not with
fright&mdash;and he made three rapid steps and spoke
a name.</p>

<p>She lifted up her head. Of course it was Janice,
and although she had been weeping, her eyes were
as beautiful as ever.</p>

<p>"Oh, Jack!" she exclaimed, and happy the man
who hears his name called in such a tone&mdash;even if
it be only for once in the whole course of his
existence.</p>

<p>He pitched his suit-case down upon the grass
and took the maid in his arms.</p>

<p>What did anything matter; they both were
lonely and both needed comforting.</p>

<p>He kissed her not once but twenty times,&mdash;not
twenty times but a hundred.
<pb n="288" /><anchor id="Pg288" /></p>

<p>"It's abominable you're being here," he said
at last.</p>

<p>"I am very, very tired," she confessed.</p>

<p>"And you'll go back to the city when I go?"
he asked.</p>

<p>"I don't know," she said, doubtfully. "I don't
know whether she'll let me."</p>

<p>Jack laughed.</p>

<p>"To-morrow I will beard Aunt Mary in her
den," he declared; "now let's go in and&mdash;and&mdash;"</p>

<p>The hundred and first!</p>
</div>
<pb n="289" /><anchor id="Pg289" />

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<index index="toc" />
<index index="pdf" />

<head>Chapter Twenty-Four - Two Are Company</head>


<p>To the large square room where he had
slept (on and off) during a goodly portion
of his boyhood life, Jack went to repose
from his journey, there to meditate the situation
which he had come to comfort, and to try and devise
a way to better its existing circumstances.</p>

<p>It was a pleasant room, one window looking
down the driveway, and the other leading forth
to a square balcony that topped the little porch of
the side entrance. There were lambrequins of dark
blue with fringe that always caught in the shutters,
and a bedroom suite of mahogany that had come
down from the original John Watkins's aunt, and
had been polished by her descendants so faithfully
that its various surfaces shone like mirrors. Over
the bed hung a tent drapery of chintz; over the
washstand hung a crayon done by Arethusa in her
infancy&mdash;the same representing a lady engaged in
the pleasant and useful occupation of spinning
wheat with a hand composed of five fingers, and no
thumb. In the corner stood a cheval-glass which
<pb n="290" /><anchor id="Pg290" />Jack had seen shrink steadily for years until now it
could no longer reflect his shoulders unless he
retired back for some two yards or more. There
was a delectable closet to the room, all painted
white inside, with shelves and cupboards and little
bins for shoes and waste paper and soiled clothes.</p>

<p>Oh! it was really an altogether delightful place
in which to abide, and the pity was that its owner
had spent so little time therein of late years.</p>

<p>To-night&mdash;returning to the scene of many childish
and boyish meditations&mdash;Jack placed his lamp
upon the nightstand at the head of the bed and
sat himself down on a chair near by.</p>

<p>It was late&mdash;quite midnight&mdash;for he and Aunt
Mary's new maid had talked long and freely ere
they separated at last. From his room he could
hear the little faint sounds below stairs, that told
of her final preparations for Lucinda's morning
eye, and he rested quiet until all else was quiet and
then leaned back upon the chair's hind legs and,
tipping slowly to and fro in that position, tried
to see just what he had better do the first thing on
the following day.</p>

<p rend="text-align: center"><anchor id="image07" />
<figure rend="w95" url="images/image07.png">
<head rend="text-align: center">"'Yesterday I played poker until I didn't know a blue chip from a white one.'"</head>
<figDesc>Illustration 7</figDesc></figure></p><p></p>

<p>It was a riddle with a vengeance. It is so easy
to say "I'll cut that Gordian knot!" and then
pack one's tooth-brush and start off unknotting,
but it is quite another matter when one comes face
to face with the problem and is met by the "buts"
<pb n="291" /><anchor id="Pg291" />of those who have previously been essaying to disentangle
it.</p>

<p>"She won't let me go," Mrs. Rosscott had declared,
"she won't consider it for a minute."</p>

<p>"But she must," Jack had declared on his side.
"My dearest, you can't stay and play maid to Aunt
Mary indefinitely, and you know that as well as
I do."</p>

<p>"Yes, I know that," the whilom Janice then
murmured. "It's getting to be an awful question.
They want me to come home for Thanksgiving.
They think that I've been at the rest-cure long
enough."</p>

<p>Jack had laughed a bit just there, and then he
suddenly ceased laughing and frowned a good deal
instead.</p>

<p>"You were crying when I came," he said.
"The truth is you are working yourself to death
and getting completely used up."</p>

<p>"It is wearing, I must confess," she answered.
"Yesterday I played poker until I didn't know
a blue chip from a white one, and she won the
whole pot with two little bits of pairs while I was
drawing to a king. I begin to fear that my mind
will give way. And yet, I really don't see how to
stop. She is so sick and tired of life here and she
isn't strong enough to go to town."</p>

<p>"I know a very short way to put an end to
<pb n="292" /><anchor id="Pg292" />everything," said Jack. "I see two ways in fact,&mdash;one
is to tell her the truth."</p>

<p>"Oh, don't do that," cried his fiancée affrightedly.
"The shock would kill her outright."</p>

<p>"The other way,&mdash;" said Jack slowly, "would
be for me to marry you and let her think that you
<hi rend="font-style: italic">are</hi> Janice in good earnest."</p>

<p>"Oh, that wouldn't do at all," said the pretty
widow. "In the first place she would go crazy at
the idea of her darling nephew's marrying her
maid,&mdash;and in the second place&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Well,&mdash;in the second place?"</p>

<p>"I wouldn't marry you,&mdash;I said I wouldn't and
I won't. You're too young."</p>

<p>"But you've promised to marry me some day."</p>

<p>"Yes, I know&mdash;but not till&mdash;not till&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Not till when?"</p>

<p>"I haven't just decided," said Mrs. Rosscott,
airily. "Not for a good while, not until you
seem to require marrying at my hands."</p>

<p>"I never shall require marrying at anyone else's
hands," the lover vowed, "but if you are so set
about it as all that comes to, I shall not cut up
rough for a while. Aunt Mary is the main question
just now&mdash;not you."</p>

<p>"I know," said his lady in anything but a jealous
tone, "and as she is the question, what are
we to do?"
<pb n="293" /><anchor id="Pg293" /></p>

<p>"You will go to bed," he said, kissing her, "and
I will go to think."</p>

<p>"Can you see any way?" she asked anxiously.</p>

<p>Then he put his hands on either side of her face
and turned it up to his own.</p>

<p>"You plotted once and overthrew my aunt," he
said. "It's my turn now."</p>

<p>"Are you going to plot?"</p>

<p>"I'm going to try."</p>

<p>"I'll pray for your success," she whispered.</p>

<p>"Pray for me," he answered, and shortly after
they had achieved the feat of saying good-night
and parting once more, and the result of it all had
been that Jack found himself tipping back and
forth on the small chair, in the big room, at half-past
midnight, puzzled, perturbed, and very much
perplexed as to what to do first when the next
morning should have become a settled fact. He
was not used to conspiring, and being only a man,
he had not those curious instinctive gifts of inspiration
and luminous conception which fairly radiate
around the brain of clever womankind.</p>

<p>It was some time&mdash;a very long time indeed&mdash;before
any light stole in upon his Stygian darkness,
and then, when the light did come, it came in skyrocket
guise, and had its share of cons attached to
its very evident pros.</p>

<p>"But I don't care," he declared viciously, as
<pb n="294" /><anchor id="Pg294" />he rose and began to undress; "something's got to
be done,&mdash;some chances have got to be taken,&mdash;as
well that as anything else. Perhaps better&mdash;very
likely better."</p>

<p>Then he laughed over his unconscious imitation
of his aunt's phraseology, and made short work of
finishing his disrobing and getting to bed.</p>

<p>It was when Lucinda crept forth to begin to unlock
the house at 6.30 upon the morning after,
that the fact of the nephew's arrival was first
known to anyone except Janice.</p>

<p>Lucinda saw the coat and hat,&mdash;recognized the
initial on the handkerchief in the inside pocket,
threw out her arms and gave a faint squeak in utter
bewilderment, and then tore off at once to the barn
to tell Joshua.</p>

<p>She found Joshua milking the cow.</p>

<p>"What do you think!" she panted briefly, with
wide-open eyes and uplifted hands; "Joshua Whittlesey,
what do you think?"</p>

<p>"I don't think nothin'," said Joshua. "I'm
milkin'."</p>

<p>"What would you say if I told you as he was
come."</p>

<p>"I'd say he was here."</p>

<p>"Well, he is. He must 'a' come last night, an'
Lord only knows how he ever got in, for nothing
was left open an' yet he's there."
<pb n="295" /><anchor id="Pg295" /></p>

<p>Joshua made no comment.</p>

<p>"I wonder what he came for?"</p>

<p>Joshua made no comment.</p>

<p>"I wonder how long he'll stay?"</p>

<p>Still Joshua made no comment.</p>

<p>"Joshua Whittlesey, before you get your breakfast,
you're the meanest man I ever saw, and I'll
swear to that anywhere."</p>

<p>"Why don't you get me my breakfast then?"
said Joshua calmly; and the effect of his speech
and his demeanor was to cause Lucinda to turn
and leave him at once&mdash;too outraged to address
another word to him.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary herself did not awake until ten
o'clock. She rang her bell vigorously then and
Janice flew to its answering.</p>

<p>"I dreamed of Jack," said the old lady, looking
up with a smile. "I dreamed we was each ridin'
on camels in a merry-go-round."</p>

<p>Janice smiled too, and then set briskly to work
to put the room in order and arrange its occupant
for the day.</p>

<p>"Did there come any mail?" Aunt Mary inquired,
when her coiffure was made and her dressing-gown
adjusted. "I feel jus' like I might hear
from Jack. Seems as if I sort of can't think of
anythin' but him."</p>

<p>"I'll go and see," said Janice pleasantly, and
<pb n="296" /><anchor id="Pg296" />she went to the dining room where the Reformed
Prodigal sat reading the newspaper with his feet
on the table&mdash;an action which convinced Lucinda
that he had not reformed so very much after
all.</p>

<p>"Suppose you go to her&mdash;instead of me,"
suggested the maid, pausing before the reader and
usurping all the attention to which the paper should
have laid claim.</p>

<p>"Suppose I do," said Jack, jumping up, "and
suppose you stay away and let me try what I can
accomplish single-handed."</p>

<p>"Only&mdash;" began Janice&mdash;and then she
stopped and lifted a warning finger.</p>

<p>Jack listened and a stealthy creak betrayed
Lucinda's proximity somewhere in the vicinity.</p>

<p>It was plain to be seen that there were many
issues to be kept in mind, and the young man grit
his teeth because he didn't dare embrace his
betrothed, and then walked away in the direction
of Aunt Mary's room.</p>

<p>If she was glad to see him! One would have
supposed that ten years and two oceans had elapsed
since their last meeting the month before.</p>

<p>She fairly screamed with joy.</p>

<p>"Jack!&mdash;You dear, dear, dear boy! Well, if I
ever did!&mdash;When did you come?"</p>

<p>He was by the bed hugging her.
<pb n="297" /><anchor id="Pg297" />"And how are they all? How is the city? Oh,
Jack, if I could only go back with you this time!"</p>

<p>"Never mind, Aunt Mary; you'll be coming
soon&mdash;in the spring, you know."</p>

<p>Aunt Mary sank back on the pillows.</p>

<p>"Jack," she said, "if I have to wait for spring,
I shall die. I ain't strong enough to be able to
bear livin' in the country much longer. I've pretty
much made up my mind to buy a house in town and
just keep this place so's to have somewhere to put
Lucinda."</p>

<p>"Do you think you'd be happy in town, Aunt
Mary?" Jack yelled; "I mean if you lived there
right along?"</p>

<p>"I don't see how I could be anythin' else. I
don't see how anyone could be anythin' else.
I want a nice house with a criss-cross iron gate in
front of it an' an automobile. An'&mdash;I don't want
you to say nothin' about this to her jus' yet&mdash;but
I'm goin' to keep Granite to look after everythin'
for me. I don't ever mean to let Granite go again.
Never. Not for one hour."</p>

<p>Jack smiled. He felt as if Fate was playing into
his hands.</p>

<p>"I want you to live with me," Aunt Mary continued,
"an' I want the house big enough so's Clover
an' Mitchell an' Burnett can come whenever
they feel like it and stay as long as they like. I
<pb n="298" /><anchor id="Pg298" />don't want any house except for us all together.
Oh, my! Seems like I can't hardly wait!"</p>

<p>She leaned back and shut her eyes in a sort of
impatient ecstasy of joys been and to be.</p>

<p>Jack reached forward to get a cigarette from
the box on the table at the bedside.</p>

<p>"Do you smoke now, Aunt Mary?" he
inquired, as he took a match.</p>

<p>"No, Granite does."</p>

<p>"Janice does!" he repeated, quickly knitting
his brows.</p>

<p>"Yes, she does it for me&mdash;I'm so happy smellin'
the smell. They made her a little sick at first but
she took camphor and now she don't mind. Not
much&mdash;not any."</p>

<p>Jack arose and walked about the room. The
idea of his darling sickening herself to provide
smoke for Aunt Mary braced him afresh to the
conflict.</p>

<p>"What do you do all day?" he asked,
presently.</p>

<p>"Well, we do most everythin'. When Lucinda's
out she does Lucinda for me an' when Lucinda's in
she does Joshua. It's about as amusin' as anythin'
you ever saw to see her do Lucinda. I never found
Lucinda amusin', Lord knows, but I like to see
Granite do her. An' we play cards, an' she dances,
an'&mdash;"
<pb n="299" /><anchor id="Pg299" /></p>

<p>"Aunt Mary," said Jack abruptly, "do you
know the people who had Janice want her back
again?"</p>

<p>"I didn't quite catch that," said his aunt, "but
you needn't bother to repeat it because I ain't never
goin' to let her go. Not never."</p>

<p>Jack came back and sat down beside the bed, and
took her hand.</p>

<p>"Aunt Mary," he said in a pleading shriek,
"don't you see how pale and thin she's
getting?"</p>

<p>"No, I don't," said his aunt, turning her head
away, "an' it's no use tellin' me such things because
it's about my nap-time and I've always been
a great believer in takin' my nap when it's my
nap-time. As a general thing."</p>

<p>Jack sighed and watched her close her eyes and
go instantly to sleep. Janice came in a few minutes
later.</p>

<p>"No&mdash;no," she whispered hastily, as he came
toward her,&mdash;"you mustn't&mdash;you mustn't. I don't
believe that she really is asleep and even if she is,
Lucinda is <hi rend="font-style: italic">everywhere</hi>."</p>

<p>"Where can we go?" Jack asked in despair.
"It's out of all reason to expect me to behave <hi rend="font-style: italic">all</hi>
the time."</p>

<p>"We can't go anywhere," said Mrs. Rosscott;
"we must resign ourselves. I've learned that it's
<pb n="300" /><anchor id="Pg300" />the only way. Dear me, when I think how long
I've been resigned it certainly seems to me that
you might do a little in the same line."</p>

<p>"Well, but I haven't learned to resign myself,"
said her lover, "and what is more, I positively decline
to learn to resign myself. You should do the
same, too. Where is the sense in humoring her so?
I wouldn't if I were you."</p>

<p>Janice lifted up her lovely eyes.</p>

<p>"Oh, yes, you would," she said simply. "If
somebody's future happiness depended upon her
you would humor her just as much as I do."</p>

<p>Jack was touched.</p>

<p>"You are an angel of unselfishness," he exclaimed,
warmly, "and I don't deserve such
devotion."</p>

<p>"Oh, don't be too grateful," she replied, dimpling.
"The person to whose future happiness I
referred was myself."</p>

<p>They both laughed softly at that&mdash;softly and
mutually.</p>

<p>"Nevertheless," Jack went on after a minute,
"if to all the other puzzles is to be added the
torture of being unable to see you or speak
freely to you, I think the hour for action has
arrived."</p>

<p>"For action!" she cried; "what are you thinking
of doing?"
<pb n="301" /><anchor id="Pg301" /></p>

<p>"This," he said, and straightway took her
into his arms and kissed her as he had kissed her
on the night before.</p>

<p>"Oh, if Lucinda has heard or your aunt has
seen!" poor Janice cried, extricating herself and
setting her cap to rights with a species of fluttered
haste that led Jack to wonder suddenly why men
didn't fall in love with maids even oftener than
they do. "I do believe that you have gone and
done it this time."</p>

<p>"Nobody heard and nobody saw," he assured
her, but he didn't at all mean what he said, for his
prayers were fervent that his kiss had been public
property.</p>

<p>And such was the fact.</p>

<p>Lucinda bounced in on Joshua with a bounce that
turned the can of harness polish upside down, for
Joshua was oiling the harnesses.</p>

<p>"He kissed her!" she cried in a state of tremendous
excitement.</p>

<p>"Well, she's his aunt, ain't she?" Joshua demanded,
picking up the can and privately wishing
Lucinda in Halifax.</p>

<p>"I don't mean her;&mdash;I mean Janice."</p>

<p>"I don't see anythin' surprisin' in that," said
Joshua,&mdash;"not if he got a good chance."</p>

<p>"What do you think of such goin's on?"</p>

<p>"I think they'll lead to goin's offs."
<pb n="302" /><anchor id="Pg302" /></p>

<p>"I never would 'a' believed it," said Lucinda;
"Well, all I can say is I wish he'd 'a' tried it
on me."</p>

<p>"You'll wish a long time," said Joshua,
placidly; and his tone, as usual, made Lucinda
even more angry than his words; so she forthwith left him and tore back to
the house.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary had also had her eyes open, and in
this particular case it was impossible to have one's
eyes open without having one's eyes opened. So
Aunt Mary had both.</p>

<p>She shut them at once and reflected deeply, and
when Janice went out of the room at last she immediately
sat up in bed and addressed her nephew.</p>

<p>"Jack, what did you kiss her for?"</p>

<p>Jack was fairly wild with joy at the brilliant way
in which he had begun. Mrs. Rosscott had laid
one scheme for the overthrow of Aunt Mary and
her plan of attack had been absolutely successful.
Now it was his turn and he, too, was in it to win
undying glory or else&mdash;well, no matter. There
wouldn't be any "also ran" in this contest.</p>

<p>"You don't deny that you kissed her, do you?"
said his aunt severely. "Answer this minute.
I'm a great believer in answerin' when you're
spoken to."</p>

<p>"Yes, I kissed her," he said easily.</p>

<p rend="text-align: center"><anchor id="image08" />
<figure rend="w95" url="images/image08.png">
<head rend="text-align: center">"Aunt Mary had also had her eyes open."</head>
<figDesc>Illustration 8</figDesc></figure></p><p></p>

<p>"Well, what did you do it for?"
<pb n="303" /><anchor id="Pg303" /></p>

<p>"I'm very fond of her;" the words came forth
with great apparent reluctance.</p>

<p>"Fond of her!" said Aunt Mary with great
contempt.</p>

<p>Jack lifted his eyes quickly at the tone of her
comment.</p>

<p>"<hi rend="font-style: italic">Fond</hi> of her! Do you think a girl like that
is the kind to be fond of! Why ain't you in <hi rend="font-style: italic">love</hi>
with her?"</p>

<p>The young man felt his brains suddenly swimming.
This surpassed his maddest hopes.</p>

<p>"Shall I say that I am in love with her?" he
cried into the ear-trumpet.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary raised up in bed,&mdash;her eyes
sparkling.</p>

<p>"Jack," she said, almost quivering with excitement,
"<hi rend="font-style: italic">are</hi> you in love with her?"</p>

<p>"Yes, I am," he owned, wondering what would
come next, but feeling that the tide was all his way.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary collapsed with a joyful sigh.</p>

<p>"My heavens alive," she said rapturously,
"seems like it's too good to be true! Jack," she
continued solemnly, "if you're in love with her you
shall marry her. If there's any way to keep a girl
like that in the family I guess I ain't goin' to let
her slip through my fingers not while I've got a
live nephew. You shall marry her an' I'll buy you
a house in New York and come an' live with you."
<pb n="304" /><anchor id="Pg304" /></p>

<p>Jack sat silent, but smiling.</p>

<p>"Do you think she will want to marry me?"
he asked presently.</p>

<p>"You go and bring her to me," said the old
lady vigorously. "I'll soon find out. Just tell
her I want to speak to her&mdash;don't tell her what
about. That ain't none of your business an' I'm
a great believer in people's not interfering in what's
none of their business. You just get her and then
leave her to me."</p>

<p>Jack went and found Janice. He was sufficiently
mean not to tell her what had happened,
and Janice&mdash;being built on a different plan from
Lucinda&mdash;had not kept near enough to the keyhole
to be posted anyway.</p>

<p>"Mr. Denham says you want me," she said,
coming to the bedside with her customary pleasant
smile.</p>

<p>"I do," said her mistress. "I want to speak
to you on a very serious subject and I want you to
pay a lot of attention. It's this: I want you to
marry Jack."</p>

<p>Poor Janice jumped violently,&mdash;there was no
doubt as to the genuineness of her surprise.</p>

<p>"Well, don't you want to?" asked Aunt Mary.</p>

<p>"I don't believe I do."</p>

<p>At this it was the old lady's turn to be astonished.
<pb n="305" /><anchor id="Pg305" /></p>

<p>"Why don't you?" she said; "my heavens
alive, what are you a-expectin' to marry if you don't
think my nephew's good enough for you?"</p>

<p>"But I don't want to marry!" cried poor Janice,
in most evident distress.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary looked at her severely.</p>

<p>"Then what did you kiss him for?" she asked,
in the tone in which one plays the trump ace.</p>

<p>Janice started again.</p>

<p>"Kiss&mdash;him&mdash;" she faltered.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary regarded her sternly.</p>

<p>"Granite," she said, "I ain't a-intendin' to be
unreasonable, but I must ask you jus' one simple
question. You kissed him, for I saw you; an' will
you kindly tell me why, in heaven's name, you ain't
willin' to marry any man that you're willin' to
kiss?"</p>

<p>"There's such a difference," wailed the maid.</p>

<p>"I don't see it," said her mistress, shaking her
head. "I don't see it at all. Of course I never
for a minute thought of doin' either myself, but if
I had thought of doin' either, I'd had sense enough
to have seen that I'd have to make up my mind to
do both. I'm a great believer in never doin' things
by halves. It don't pay. Never&mdash;nohow."</p>

<p>Janice was biting her lips.</p>

<p>"But I don't want to marry!" she repeated
obstinately.
<pb n="306" /><anchor id="Pg306" /></p>

<p>"Then you shouldn't have let him kiss you.
You've got him all started to lovin' you and if he's
stopped too quick no one can tell what may happen.
I want him to settle down, but I want him to settle
down because he's happy an' not because he's
shattered. He says he's willin' to marry you an'
I don't see any good reason why not."</p>

<p>Janice's mouth continued to look rebellious.</p>

<p>"Go and get him," said Aunt Mary. "I can see
that this thing has got to be settled pleasantly right
off, or we shan't none of us have any appetite for
dinner. You find Jack, or if you can't find him tell
Lucinda that she's got to."</p>

<p>Janice went out and found Jack in the hall.</p>

<p>"Is this a trap?" she asked reproachfully.</p>

<p>Jack laughed.</p>

<p>"No," he said "it's a counter-mine."</p>

<p>"Your aunt wants you at once," said Janice, putting
her hands into her pockets and looking out
of the window.</p>

<p>"I fly to obey," he said obediently, and went
at once to his elderly relative.</p>

<p>"Jack," she said, the instant he opened the door,
"I've had a little talk with Granite. She don'
want to marry you, but she looks to me like she
really didn't know her own mind. I've said all I
can say an' I'm too tired holdin' the ear-trumpet to
say any more. I think the best thing you can do is
<pb n="307" /><anchor id="Pg307" />to take her out for a walk an' explain things
thoroughly. It's no good our talkin' to her together;
and, anyway, I've always been a great
believer in 'Two's company&mdash;three's none.' That
was really the big reason why I'd never let Lucinda
keep a cat. You take her and go to walk and I
guess everything'll come out all right. It ought
to. My heavens alive!"</p>

<p>Jack took the maid and they went out to walk.
When they were beyond earshot the first thing
that they did was to laugh long and loud.</p>

<p>"Of all my many and varied adventures!"
cried Mrs. Rosscott, and Jack took the opportunity
to kiss her again&mdash;under no protest this time.</p>

<p>"We shall have to be married very soon, now,
you know," he said gayly. "Aunt Mary won't be
able to wait."</p>

<p>"Oh, as to that&mdash;we'll see," said Mrs. Rosscott,
and laughed afresh. "But there is one thing
that must be done at once."</p>

<p>"What's that?" Jack asked.</p>

<p>"We must tell Aunt Mary who I am."</p>

<p>"Oh, to be sure," said the young man.</p>

<p>"I hope she won't take it in any way but the
right way!" the widow said thoughtfully.</p>

<p>"My dearest, in what other way could she take
it? I think she has proved her opinion of you
pretty sincerely."
<pb n="308" /><anchor id="Pg308" /></p>

<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Rosscott, with a little smile,
"I certainly have cause to feel that she loves me
for myself alone."</p>

<p>When they returned to the house they went
straightway to Aunt Mary's room, and the first
glance through the old lady's eye-glasses told her
that her wishes had all been fulfilled. She sat up
in bed, took a hand of each into her own, and surveyed
them in an access of such utter joy as nearly
caused all three to weep together.</p>

<p>"Well, I <hi rend="font-style: italic">am</hi> so glad," was all she said for the
first few seconds, and nobody doubted her words
forever after.</p>

<p>Then Mrs. Rosscott removed her hat and jacket,
and when she returned to the bedside her future
aunt made her sit down close to her and hold one
of her hands while Jack held the other.</p>

<p>"I'm <hi rend="font-style: italic">so</hi> glad you're to have the runnin' of Jack,"
the old lady declared sincerely. "All I ask of you
is to be patient with him. I always was. That is,
<hi rend="font-style: italic">most</hi> always."</p>

<p>"Dear Aunt Mary," said Mrs. Rosscott, slipping
down on her knees beside the bed, "you are
so good to me that you encourage me to tell you
my secret. It isn't long, and it isn't bad, but I have
a confession to make."</p>

<p>"Oh, I say," cried Jack, "if you put it that way
let me do the owning up!"
<pb n="309" /><anchor id="Pg309" /></p>

<p>"Hush," said his love authoritatively, "it's my
confession. Leave it to me."</p>

<p>"What is it?" said Aunt Mary, looking
anxiously from one to the other; "you haven't
broke your engagement already, I hope."</p>

<p>"No," said Mrs. Rosscott, "it's nothing
like that. It's only rather a surprise. But it's
a nice surprise,&mdash;at least, I hope you'll think that
it is."</p>

<p>"Well, hurry and tell me then," said the old
lady. "I'm a great believer in bein' told good
news as soon as possible. What is it?"</p>

<p>"It's that I'm not a maid," said the pretty
widow.</p>

<p>"Not&mdash;a&mdash;" cried Aunt Mary blankly.</p>

<p>"I'm a widow!" said Janice. "I'm Burnett's
sister."</p>

<p>"Wh&mdash;a&mdash;at!" cried Aunt Mary. "I didn't
jus' catch that."</p>

<p>"You see," screamed Jack, "she was afraid
to have me entertain you in New York,&mdash;afraid
you wouldn't be properly looked after, Aunt Mary,
so she dressed up for your maid and looked after
you herself."</p>

<p>"My heavens alive!"</p>

<p>"Wasn't she an angel?" he asked.</p>

<p>"But whatever made you take such an interest?"
Aunt Mary demanded of Janice.
<pb n="310" /><anchor id="Pg310" /></p>

<p>Janice rose from her knees and, leaning over
the bed, drew the old lady close in her arms.</p>

<p>"I'll tell you," she screamed gently. "I loved
Jack, and so I loved his aunt even before I had ever
seen her."</p>

<p>Aunt Mary's joy fairly overflowed at that view
of things, and, putting her hands to either side of
the lovely face so close to her own, she kissed it
warmly again and again.</p>

<p>"I always knew you were suthin' out of the ordinary,"
she declared vigorously. "You know I
wouldn't have let him marry you if I hadn't been
pretty sure as you were different from Lucinda an'
the common run."</p>

<p>And then she beamed on them both and Jack
beamed on them both and Mrs. Rosscott kissed
each of them and dried her own happy eyes.</p>

<p>"Now I want to know jus' how an' where you
learned to love him?" the aunt asked next.</p>

<p>"I loved him almost directly I knew him," she
answered, and at that Aunt Mary seemed on the
point of applauding with the ear-trumpet against
the headboard.</p>

<p>"It was jus' the same with me," she said delightedly.
"He was only a baby then, but the first
look I took I jus' had a feelin'&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Rosscott sympathetically,
"so did I."
<pb n="311" /><anchor id="Pg311" /></p>

<p>They all laughed together.</p>

<p>"An' now," said Aunt Mary, laying back and
folding her arms upon her bosom, "an' now comes
the main question,&mdash;when do you two want to be
married?"</p>

<p>"Oh!" said the widow starting, "we&mdash;I&mdash;Jack&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Well, go on," said Aunt Mary. "Say whenever
you like. An' then Jack can do the same."</p>

<p>The two young people exchanged glances.</p>

<p>"Speak right up," said Aunt Mary. "I'm a
great believer in not hangin' back when anythin'
has got to be decided. Jack, what do you think?"</p>

<p>"I want to get married right off," said Jack
decidedly.</p>

<p>"I think he's too young," put in Mrs. Rosscott
hastily.</p>

<p>"I don't know," said Aunt Mary, looking at
her nephew reflectively. "Seems to me he's big
enough, an' I'm a great believer in never dilly-dallyin'
over what's got to be done some time.
Why not Thanksgiving?"</p>

<p>"Thanksgiving!" shrieked Mrs. Rosscott.</p>

<p>"Yes," said Aunt Mary. "I think it would be
a good time, an' then I can come and spend Christmas
with you in the city."</p>

<p>"Great idea!" declared her nephew; "me for
Thanksgiving."
<pb n="312" /><anchor id="Pg312" /></p>

<p>"What do you say?" said Aunt Mary to the
bride-to-be.</p>

<p>"Oh, I don't see&mdash;" began the latter, wrinkling
her pretty forehead in a prettier perplexity and
looking helplessly back and forth between their
double eagerness.</p>

<p>"Well, why not?" said the aunt. "It ain't as
if there was any reason for waitin'. If there was
I'd be the first to be willin' to do all I could to be
patient, but as it is&mdash;even if you an' Jack ain't in
any particular hurry, I am, an' I was brought up
to go right to work at gettin' what you want as
soon as you know what it is."</p>

<p>"But this is so sudden," wailed Mrs. Rosscott.</p>

<p>Aunt Mary glanced at her sharply.</p>

<p>"That's what they all say, a'cordin' to the
papers," she said calmly, "an' it never is counted
as anythin' but a joke."</p>

<p>"But I'm not joking," Janice cried.</p>

<p>"Then you jus' take a little time an' think it
over," proposed the old lady,&mdash;"I'll tell you what
you can do. You can get me Lucinda because I
want to tell her suthin' and then you and Jack can
sit down together an' think it over anywhere an'
anyhow you like."</p>

<p>"Do you really want Lucinda," said Janice,
rising to her feet, "or is it something that I can
do? You know I'm yours just the same as ever,
<pb n="313" /><anchor id="Pg313" />Aunt Mary. Next to being good to Jack, I want
to always be good to you."</p>

<p>Aunt Mary looked up with a light in her eyes
that was fine to see.</p>

<p>"Bless you, my child," she said heartily. "I
know that, but I really want Lucinda, an' you an'
Jack can take care of yourselves for a while. Leastways,
I hope you can. I guess you can. I presume
so, anyway."</p>

<p>It was late that afternoon that Lucinda, looking
as if she had been accidentally overtaken by a road-roller,
joined Joshua in the potato cellar.</p>

<p>"Well, the sky c'n fall whenever it likes now!"
she said, sitting down on an empty barrel with a
resigned sigh.</p>

<p>"That's a comfort to know," said Joshua.</p>

<p>"She's got it all made up for 'em to marry each
other."</p>

<p>"That ain't no great news to me," said Joshua.</p>

<p>"Joshua Whittlesey, you make my blood boil.
Things is goin' rackin' and ruinin' at a great pace
here an' you as cold as a cauliflower over it all."</p>

<p>Joshua sorted potatoes phlegmatically and said
nothing.</p>

<p>"S'posin' I'd 'a' wanted to marry him?"</p>

<p>Joshua continued to sort potatoes.</p>

<p>"Or, s'posin' you wanted to marry her?"</p>

<p>Joshua looked up quickly.
<pb n="314" /><anchor id="Pg314" /></p>

<p>"Which one?" he said.</p>

<p>"Janice!"</p>

<p>"Oh," he said in a relieved tone.</p>

<p>"Why did you say 'oh,'&mdash;did you think I meant
her?"</p>

<p>"I didn't know who you meant."</p>

<p>"Why, you wouldn't think o' marryin' her,
would you?"</p>

<p>"No," said Joshua emphatically. "I'd as
soon think o' marryin' you yourself."</p>

<p>Lucinda deliberated for a minute or so as to
whether to accept this insult in silence or not, and
finally decided to make just one more remark.</p>

<p>"I wonder if she'll send any word to Arethusa
'n' Mary."</p>

<p>"They'll know soon enough," said Joshua
oracularly.</p>

<p>"How'll they know, I'd like to know?"</p>

<p>"You'll write 'em."</p>

<p>Lucinda was dumb. The fact that the letter
was already written only made the serpent-tooth of
Joshua's intimate knowledge cut the deeper.</p>
</div>
<pb n="315" /><anchor id="Pg315" />

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<index index="toc" />
<index index="pdf" />

<head>Chapter Twenty-Five - Grand Finale</head>


<quote rend="display">
<p>She has it all made up for him to marry her, and
she is certainly as happy as she is and he is themselves.
She is making plans at a great rate and
she has consented to have her wedding here because
she wants to be there herself. The day is set for
Thanksgiving and the Lord be with us for everything
has got to be just so and she is no more good
at helping now that he's come. They are all
going back to New York as soon as possible after
it's over and I hope to be forgiven for stating
plainly that it will be the happiest day' of my life.</p>

<p rend="text-align: right">Respectfully,</p>

<p rend="text-align: right">L. COOKE.</p>
</quote>

<p>Upon receipt of this astounding news Arethusa
took the train and flew to the scene where such
momentous happenings were piling up on one
another. Her arrival was unexpected and the
changes which she found ensued and ensuing were
of a nature bewildering in the extreme. Aunt
Mary had quit her regime of soup and sleep and
was not only more energetically vigorous as to
mind than ever, but strengthening daily as to bodily
force. It might have been the excitement, for Burnett
was there, Clover was <hi rend="font-style: italic">en route</hi>, and Mitchell
<pb n="316" /><anchor id="Pg316" />was expected within twenty-four hours. Other great
changes were visible everywhere. A corps of
servants from town had fairly swamped Lucinda
and twenty carpenters were putting up an extra
addition to the house in which to give the wedding
room to spread. Nor was this all, for Aunt Mary
had turned a furniture man and an upholsterer
loose with no other limit than that comprised by
the two words "<hi rend="font-style: italic">carte blanche</hi>."</p>

<p>Mrs. Rosscott still continued to wait upon Aunt
Mary, but another maid had arrived to await upon
Mrs. Rosscott. The latter had shed her black uniform
and bloomed forth in rose-hued robes. Mr.
Stebbins was kept on tap from dawn to dark and
the checks flowed like water. Emissaries had been
despatched to New York to buy the young couple
a suitable house and furnish that also from top to
bottom.</p>

<p>"Well, Arethusa," the aunt said to the niece
when they met the morning after her arrival, "I'm
feelin' better 'n I was last time you were here."</p>

<p>"I'm so glad," yelled Arethusa.</p>

<p>"They'll live in New York and I'll live with
them. As far as I've seen there ain't no other
place on earth to live. I'm goin' to get me a coat
lined with black-spotted white cat's fur and have
my glasses put on a parasol handle, and I'm going
to have the collars and sleeves left out of most of
<pb n="317" /><anchor id="Pg317" />my dresses an' look like other people. I'm a great
believer in doin' as others do, an' Jack won't ever
have no cause to complain that I didn't take easy
to city life."</p>

<p>Arethusa felt herself dumb before these revelations.</p>

<p>Later she was conducted to see the wedding
presents, which were gorgeous. Among them was
the biggest and brightest of crimson automobiles;
and Mitchell, who had presented it, had christened
it beforehand "The Midnight Sun." Aunt
Mary's gift was the New York house and money
enough for them to live on the income.</p>

<p>"I know you're able to look out for yourself,"
she told the bride, "but I don't want Jack to have
to worry over things at all, and, although I know
it's a good habit, still I shouldn't like to have him
ever work so hard that he wouldn't feel like goin'
around with us nights. Not ever. Not even
sometimes."</p>

<p>Mitchell was overjoyed at the way things had
turned out.</p>

<p>"My dear Miss Watkins," he screamed, when
he was ushered into Aunt Mary's presence, "who
could have guessed in the hour of that sad parting
in New York that such a glad future was held in
store for us all!"</p>

<p>"I didn't quite catch that," Aunt Mary exclaimed,
<pb n="318" /><anchor id="Pg318" />rapturously, "but it doesn't matter&mdash;as
long as you got here safe at last."</p>

<p>"Safe!" exclaimed the young man; "it would
have been the very refinement of cruelty if my train
had smashed me on this journey."</p>

<p>Burnett was equally happy.</p>

<p>"I suppose it will be up to me to give you away,"
he said to his sister; "before all these people, too.
What a mean trick!"</p>

<p>Jack had thought that he would like to have
Tweedwell marry him, as that young man had put
in the summer vacation getting ordained. Tweedwell
accepted&mdash;although he had just taken charge
of a living in Seattle and came through on a flyer
which arrived two hours before <hi rend="font-style: italic">the</hi> hour. Some
fifty or sixty of the guests came in on the same
train, and Burnett and Clover met them all at the
cars and made the majority comfortable in the different
hotels and honored the minority with Aunt
Mary's hospitality.</p>

<p>The day was gorgeous. The addition to the
house was done and lined with white and decorated
in gold. An orchestra was ensconced behind palms
just as orchestras always covet to be and a magnificent
breakfast had been sent up from the city
in its own car with its own service and attendants
to serve it.</p>

<p>There was only one hitch in the entire programme.
<pb n="319" /><anchor id="Pg319" />That was that when they got to the
church Tweedwell did not show up. Jack was distressed
even though Mrs. Rosscott laughed.
Mitchell wanted to read the ceremony, but Aunt
Mary was afraid it wouldn't be legal, and Mr.
Stebbins agreed with her. In the end the regular
clergyman married them; and just as they were all
filing out they met Tweedwell and Lucinda tearing
along, he in his surplice and she in the black silk
dress which Aunt Mary had given her in celebration
of the occasion. They were both too exhausted
to be able to explain for several minutes;
but it finally came out (of Lucinda) that Burnett,
whose place it was to have overseen officiating
Tweedwell, had forgotten all about him, and the
poor fellow, exhausted by his long journey, had
never awakened until Lucinda, going in to clear up
his room, had let forth a piercing howl of surprise.</p>

<p>So far from dampening anyone's spirits this little
<hi rend="font-style: italic">contretemps</hi> only seemed to set things off at a
livelier pace. They had a brisk ride home, and
the wedding feast and the wedding cake were all
that could be desired. What went with it was the
finest that any of the guests ever tasted before or
since, and the champagne was all but served in
beer steins.</p>

<p>When it came to the healths they drank to Aunt
Mary along with the bride and groom, and Mitchell
<pb n="320" /><anchor id="Pg320" />made a speech, invoking Heaven's blessings on the
triple compact and covering himself with glory.</p>

<p>"Here's to Aunt Mary and her bride and her
groom," he cried, when they told him to rise and
proclaim. "Here's to Aunt Mary and her bride
and groom, and here's to their health and their
wealth and their happiness. Here's to their brilliant
past, their roseate present and their gorgeous
future. And here's to hoping that Fate, who is
ready and willing to deal any man a bride, may
some time see fit to deal some one of us another
such as Jack's Aunt Mary. So I propose her
health before all else. Aunt Mary, long may she
wave!"</p>

<p>Aunt Mary looked as if words and actions were
poor things in which to attempt to express her
feelings, but no one who glanced at her could be in
two minds as to her state of approval as to everything
that was going on.</p>

<p>The bridal pair drove away somewhere after
five o'clock, and about seven the main body of the
guests returned to the city.</p>

<p>Mrs. Rosscott's mother and Mitchell and Burnett
remained a day or two to keep Aunt Mary
from feeling blue, but Aunt Mary was not at all
inclined that way.</p>

<p>"If those two young people are lookin' forward
to anythin' like as much fun as I am," she said over
<pb n="321" /><anchor id="Pg321" />and over again, "well, all is they're lookin' forward
to a good deal."</p>

<p>"Won't we whoop her up next summer!" said
Burnett; "well, I don't know!"</p>

<p>"My dear Robert," said his mother gently.</p>

<p>"Don't stop him," said Aunt Mary. "He
knows just how I feel an' I know jus' how he feels.
It isn't wrong, Mrs. Burnett, it's natural. We were
born to be happy, only sometimes we don't know
just how to set about it."</p>

<p>"Miss Watkins has hit the nail on the head,"
said Mitchell, rolling a cigarette. "She has not
only hit the nail on its own head, but she has succeeded
in driving its point well into all our heads.
She taught us many things during her short visit.
I, for one, am her debtor forever. Me for joy,
from now on!"</p>

<p>Aunt Mary smiled. "My heavens!" she murmured;
"to think how nice it all come out, and
how really put out I was when Jack first began,
too."</p>

<p>Burnett put his hand in his pocket and pulled out
some gum.</p>

<p>"Robert!" cried his mother, "you don't chew
gum, do you?"</p>

<p>"Of course he doesn't," said his friend quickly;
"that's why he had it in his pocket."</p>

<p>Aunt Mary looked thoughtfully at him.
<pb n="322" /><anchor id="Pg322" /></p>

<p>"Give me a little," she said, "maybe it's suthin'
I've been missin'."</p>

<p>Mrs. Burnett left the next day, and Mitchell
went the day after.</p>

<p>The carpenters took down the addition, and the
wedding presents were shipped to town.</p>

<p>"She says she'll be goin' soon," said Lucinda to
Joshua.</p>

<p>"Then she'll be goin' soon," said Joshua.</p>

<p>"I'm sure I'll be glad," said Lucinda; "such
hifalutin sky-larkin'!"</p>

<p>Joshua said nothing. Mr. Stebbins had apprised
him of Aunt Mary's arrangements in his behalf and
he felt no inclination to criticize any of her doings
and sayings.</p>

<p>Toward the end of the next week this telegram
was received.</p>

<quote rend="display">
<p>Dear Aunt Mary: We're home and ready when
you are. Telegraph what train.</p>

<p rend="text-align: right">J. and J.</p>
</quote>

<p>The telegram was handed to Aunt Mary at ten
in the morning. Her fingers trembled as she
opened it.</p>

<p>"My heavens alive, Lucinda," she cried, the
next minute, "I do believe, if you'll be quick, that
I can make the twelve-twenty! Run! Tell Joshua
to get my trunk down and harness Billy as quick
<pb n="323" /><anchor id="Pg323" />as he can. He can telegraph that I'm comin' after
I'm gone."</p>

<p>Lucinda flew Joshua-wards.</p>

<p>"She wants to make the twelve-twenty train!"
she cried. Joshua looked up.</p>

<p>"Then she'll make it," he said.</p>

<p>She made it!</p>
</div>
<pb n="325" /><anchor id="Pg325" />

<div rend="page-break-before: right">

<p><hi rend="font-style: italic; font-size: large">Anne Warner's "Susan Clegg" Books</hi></p>

<p>SUSAN CLEGG AND HER FRIEND MRS. LATHROP</p>

<p><hi rend="font-style: italic">By</hi> ANNE WARNER<lb />
With Frontispiece, $1.00</p>

<p>Nothing better in the new homely philosophy style
of fiction has been written.&mdash;<hi rend="font-style: italic">San Francisco Bulletin</hi>.</p>

<p>One of the most genuinely humorous books ever written.&mdash;<hi rend="font-style: italic">St.
Louis Globe-Democrat</hi>.</p>

<p>Anything more humorous than the Susan Clegg stories
would be hard to find.&mdash;<hi rend="font-style: italic">The Critic</hi>, New York.</p>

<milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 5" />

<p><hi rend="font-style: italic">By the Same Author</hi>:</p>

<p>SUSAN CLEGG AND HER NEIGHBORS' AFFAIRS</p>

<p>With Frontispiece, $1.00</p>

<p>All the stories brim over with quaint humor, caustic
sarcasm, and concealed contempt for male and matrimonial
chains.&mdash;<hi rend="font-style: italic">Philadelphia Ledger</hi>.</p>

<milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 5" />

<p>SUSAN CLEGG AND A MAN IN THE HOUSE</p>

<p>Illustrated by Alice Barber Stephens. $1.50</p>

<p>Susan is a positive joy, and the reading world owes
Anne Warner a vote of thanks for her contribution to
the list of American humor.&mdash;<hi rend="font-style: italic">New York Times</hi>.</p>

<p>LITTLE, BROWN, &amp; CO., Publishers<lb />
34 Beacon Street, Boston</p>
</div>

<pb n="326" /><anchor id="Pg326" />

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<p><hi rend="font-style: italic; font-size: large">An exceedingly clever volume of stories</hi></p>

<p>AN ORIGINAL GENTLEMAN</p>

<p><hi rend="font-style: italic">By</hi> ANNE WARNER</p>

<p>With frontispiece by Alice Barber Stephens</p>

<p>Cloth. $1.50</p>

<p>Exhibits her cleverness and sense of humor.&mdash;<hi rend="font-style: italic">New York
Times</hi>.</p>

<p>Crisply told, quaintly humorous.&mdash;<hi rend="font-style: italic">Boston Transcript</hi>.</p>

<p>An "Original Gentleman" is truly also one of the most
entertaining and witty gentlemen that it has been our
fortune to run across in many a day, not to mention the
more original lady that he has to do with.&mdash;<hi rend="font-style: italic">Louisville
Evening Post</hi>.</p>

<milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 5" />

<p><hi rend="font-style: italic">By the same author</hi></p>

<p>A WOMAN'S WILL</p>

<p>Illustrated. 360 pages. Cloth. $1.50</p>

<p>A deliciously funny book.&mdash;<hi rend="font-style: italic">Chicago Tribune</hi>.</p>

<p>It is bright, charming, and intense as it describes the
wooing of a young American widow on the European
Continent by a German musical genius.&mdash;<hi rend="font-style: italic">San Francisco
Chronicle</hi>.</p>

<p>As refreshing a bit of fiction as one often finds.&mdash;<hi rend="font-style: italic">Providence
Journal</hi>.</p>

<p>LITTLE, BROWN, &amp; CO., PUBLISHERS<lb />
34 BEACON STREET, BOSTON</p>
</div>

<pb n="327" /><anchor id="Pg327" />

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<p><hi rend="font-style: italic; font-size: large">Anne Warner's Latest Character Creation</hi></p>

<p>IN A MYSTERIOUS WAY</p>

<p><hi rend="font-style: italic">By</hi> ANNE WARNER</p>

<p>Illustrated by J.V. McFall. Cloth. $1.50</p>

<p>A story of love and sacrifice that teems with the
author's original humor.&mdash;<hi rend="font-style: italic">Baltimore American</hi>.</p>

<p>The humor peculiar to her pen is here in wonted
strength, but in a new guise; and set against it, or interwoven
with it, is a story of love and the strange sacrifice
of which a few loving hearts are capable.&mdash;<hi rend="font-style: italic">New York
American</hi>.</p>

<milestone unit="tb" rend="stars: 5" />

<p><hi rend="font-style: italic">By the same author</hi></p>

<p>YOUR CHILD AND MINE</p>

<p>Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth. $1.50</p>

<p>The child heart, strange and sweet and tender, lies open
to this sympathetic writer, and other human hearts&mdash;and
eyes&mdash;should be opened by her narratives.&mdash;<hi rend="font-style: italic">Chicago
Record-Herald</hi>.</p>

<p>The literary charm of the stories is not the least of their
attractions. The interest is all the greater for the style
in which the story is told, and the author's sympathy with
her young friends lends a vital warmth to her narrative.&mdash;<hi rend="font-style: italic">Philadelphia
Public Ledger</hi>.</p>

<p>LITTLE, BROWN, &amp; CO., PUBLISHERS<lb />
34 BEACON STREET, BOSTON</p>
</div>

<pb n="328" /><anchor id="Pg328" />

<div rend="page-break-before: always">
<p><hi rend="font-style: italic; font-size: large">By the Author of "Aunt Jane of Kentucky"</hi></p>

<p>THE LAND OF LONG AGO</p>

<p><hi rend="font-style: italic">By</hi> ELIZA CALVERT HALL</p>

<p>Illustrated by G. Patrick Nelson and Beulah Strong
12mo. Cloth. $1.50</p>

<p>The book is an inspiration.&mdash;<hi rend="font-style: italic">Boston Globe</hi>.</p>

<p>Without qualification one of the worthiest publications
of the year.&mdash;<hi rend="font-style: italic">Pittsburg Post</hi>.</p>

<p>Aunt Jane has become a real personage in American
literature.&mdash;<hi rend="font-style: italic">Hartford Courant</hi>.</p>

<p>A philosophy sweet and wholesome flows from the lips
of "Aunt Jane."&mdash;<hi rend="font-style: italic">Chicago Evening Post</hi>.</p>

<p>The sweetness and sincerity of Aunt Jane's recollections
have the same unfailing charm found in "Cranford."&mdash;<hi rend="font-style: italic">Philadelphia
Press</hi>.</p>

<p>To a greater degree than her previous work it touches
the heart by its wholesome, quaint human appeal.&mdash;<hi rend="font-style: italic">Boston
Transcript</hi>.</p>

<p>The stories are prose idyls; the illuminations of a lovely
spirit shine upon them, and their literary quality is as
rare as beautiful.&mdash;<hi rend="font-style: italic">Baltimore Sun</hi>.</p>

<p>MARGARET E. SANGSTER says: "It is not often that an
author competes with herself, but Eliza Calvert Hall has
done so successfully, for her second volume centred about
Aunt Jane is more fascinating than her first."</p>

<p>LITTLE, BROWN, &amp; CO., PUBLISHERS<lb />
34 BEACON STREET, BOSTON</p>
</div>

</body>
  <back>
<div rend="page-break-before: right">
  <divGen type="pgfooter" />
</div>
  </back>
</text>
</TEI.2>

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