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diff --git a/22827-h/22827-h.htm b/22827-h/22827-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fdf631f --- /dev/null +++ b/22827-h/22827-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12451 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Patchwork, by Anna Balmer Myers. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + img {border: 0;} + .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + ins {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify;} + + .bbox {border: solid 2px; margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .unindent {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + .right {text-align: right;} + .poem {margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Patchwork, by Anna Balmer Myers + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Patchwork + A Story of 'The Plain People' + +Author: Anna Balmer Myers + +Illustrator: Helen Mason Groce + +Release Date: October 2, 2007 [EBook #22827] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PATCHWORK *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Emille and the Booksmiths +at http://www.eBookForge.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i"></a><a href="images/i.png">[i]</a></span></p> + +<div class='bbox'> +<h1>PATCHWORK</h1> + +<h3>A STORY OF</h3> + +<h2>"THE PLAIN PEOPLE"</h2> +</div><div class='bbox'> +<h2>By ANNA BALMER MYERS</h2> +</div><div class='bbox'> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100px;"> +<img src="images/emblem.png" width="100" height="100" alt="Emblem" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class='center'><br /><br /><br /> +<small>WITH FRONTISPIECE IN COLOR BY</small><br /> +HELEN MASON GROSE<br /><br /></div> +</div><div class='bbox'><div class='center'> +<big>A. L. BURT COMPANY</big><br /> +<big>Publishers</big> <big>New York</big><br /> +<br /> +<small>Published by arrangement with George W. Jacobs & Company</small><br /> +<br /></div></div> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii"></a><a href="images/ii.png">[ii]</a></span></p> + +<div class='center'><br /> +<small>Copyright, 1920, by</small><br /> +<span class="smcap"><small>George W. Jacobs & Company</small></span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<small>All rights reserved</small><br /> +<i><small>Printed in U.S.A.</small></i><br /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii"></a><a href="images/iii.png">[iii]</a></span></p> + +<div class='center'> +<i>To my Mother and Father<br /> +this book is lovingly inscribed</i><br /></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="frontis" id="frontis"></a><a href="images/illus.jpg">[frontis]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 267px;"> +<img src="images/001-illus.jpg" width="267" height="400" alt=""OH, LOOK AT THIS—AND THIS!"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"OH, LOOK AT THIS—AND THIS!"</span> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9"></a><a href="images/9.png">[9]</a></span></p> +<h2>Contents</h2> + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'><span class="smcap">chapter</span></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">page</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>I.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Calico Patchwork</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>II.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Old Aaron's Flag</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>III.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Little Dutchie</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>IV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The New Teacher</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>V.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Heart of a Child</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Prima Donna of the Attic</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VII.</td><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">Where the Brook and River Meet</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Beyond the Alps Lies Italy</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_119">119</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>IX.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Visit to Mother Bab</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>X.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">An Old-Fashioned Country Sale</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_146">146</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XI.</td><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">The Bright Lexicon of Youth</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_166">166</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Preacher's Wooing</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_176">176</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Scarlet Tanager</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_189">189</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Aladdin's Lamp</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Fledgling's Flight</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Phœbe's Diary</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_212">212</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Diary—The New Home</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_221">221</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Diary—The Music Master</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_226">226</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIX.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Diary—The First Lesson</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_229">229</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XX.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Diary—Seeing the City</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_235">235</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Diary—Chrysalis</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_240">240</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Diary—Transformation</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_245">245</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Diary—Plain for a Night</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_251">251</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXIV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Diary—Declarations</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_256">256</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10"></a><a href="images/10.png">[10]</a></span>XXV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Diary—"The Link Must Break and the Lamp Must Die</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_261">261</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXVI.</td><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">Hame's Best</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_268">268</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXVII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Trailing Arbutus</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_271">271</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXVIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mother Bab and Her Son</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_284">284</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXIX.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Preparations</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_291">291</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXX.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Feast of Roses</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_295">295</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXXI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Blindness</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_303">303</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXXII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Off to the Navy</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_310">310</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXXIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The One Chance</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_315">315</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXXIV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Busy Days</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_319">319</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXXV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">David's Share</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_327">327</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXXVI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">David's Return</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_331">331</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXXVII.</td><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">A Love That Life Could Never Tire</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_335">335</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13"></a><a href="images/13.png">[13]</a></span></p> + +<h2>Patchwork</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>CALICO PATCHWORK</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> gorgeous sunshine of a perfect June morning +invited to the great outdoors. Exquisite perfume +from myriad blossoms tempted lovers of nature to get +away from cramped, man-made buildings, out under +the blue roof of heaven, and revel in the lavish +splendor of the day.</p> + +<p>This call of the Junetide came loudly and insistently +to a little girl as she sat in the sitting-room of a prosperous +farmhouse in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, +and sewed gaily-colored pieces of red and green calico +into patchwork.</p> + +<p>"Ach, my!" she sighed, with all the dreariness +which a ten-year-old is capable of feeling, "why must +I patch when it's so nice out? I just ain't goin' to sew +no more to-day!"</p> + +<p>She rose, folded her work and laid it in her +plaited rush sewing-basket. Then she stood for a +moment, irresolute, and listened to the sounds issuing +from the next room. She could hear her Aunt +Maria bustle about the big kitchen.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14"></a><a href="images/14.png">[14]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ach, I ain't afraid!"</p> + +<p>The child opened the door and entered the +kitchen, where the odor of boiling strawberry preserves +proclaimed the cause of the aunt's activity.</p> + +<p>Maria Metz was, at fifty, robust and comely, with +black hair very slightly streaked with gray, cheeks +that retained traces of the rosy coloring of her +girlhood, and flashing black eyes meeting squarely +the looks of all with whom she came in contact. +She was a member of the Church of the Brethren +and wore the quaint garb adopted by the women of +that sect. Her dress of black calico was perfectly +plain. The tight waist was half concealed by a +long, pointed cape which fell over her shoulders +and touched the waistline back and front, where a +full apron of blue and white checked gingham was +tied securely. Her dark hair was parted and smoothly +drawn under a cap of white lawn. She was a picturesque +figure but totally unconscious of it, for the +section of Pennsylvania in which she lived has been +for generations the home of a multitude of women +similarly garbed—members of the plain sects, as the +Mennonites, Amish, Brethren in Christ, and Church +of the Brethren, are commonly called in the communities +in which they flourish.</p> + +<p>As the child appeared in the doorway her aunt +turned.</p> + +<p>"So," the woman said pleasantly, "you worked +vonderful quick to-day once, Phœbe. Why, you got +your patches done soon—did you make little stitches +like I told you?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15"></a><a href="images/15.png">[15]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I ain't got 'em done!" The child stood erect, a +defiant little figure, her blue eyes grown dark with the +moment's tenseness. "I ain't goin' to sew no more +when it's so nice out! I want to be out in the yard, +that's what I want. I just hate this here patchin' +to-day, that's what I do!"</p> + +<p>Maria Metz carefully wiped the strawberry juice +from her fingers, then she stood before the little girl +like a veritable tower of amazement and strength.</p> + +<p>"Phœbe," she said after a moment's struggle to +control her wrath, "you ain't big enough nor old +enough yet to tell me what you ain't goin' to do! +How many patches did you make?"</p> + +<p>"Three."</p> + +<p>"And you know I said you shall make four every +day still so you get the quilt done this summer yet and +ready to quilt. You go and finish them."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to." Phœbe shook her head stubbornly. +"I want to play out in the yard."</p> + +<p>"When you're done with the patches, not before! +You know you must learn to sew. Why, Phœbe," the +woman changed her tactics, "you used to like to sew +still. When you was just five years old you cried for +goods and needle and I pinned the patches on the little +sewing-bird that belonged to Granny Metz still and +screwed the bird on the table and you sewed that nice! +And now you don't want to do no more patches—how +will you ever get your big chest full of nice quilts if +you don't patch?"</p> + +<p>But the child was too thoroughly possessed with the +desire to be outdoors to be won by any pleading or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16"></a><a href="images/16.png">[16]</a></span> +praise. She pulled savagely at the two long braids +which hung over her shoulders and cried, "I don't +want no quilts! I don't want no chests! I don't like +red and green quilts, anyhow—never, never! I wish +my pop would come in; he wouldn't make me sew +patches, he"—she began to sob—"I wish, I just wish +I had a mom! She wouldn't make me sew calico +when—when I want to play."</p> + +<p>Something in the utter unhappiness of the little girl, +together with the words of yearning for the dead +mother, filled the woman with a strange tenderness. +Though she never allowed sentiment to sway her from +doing what she considered her duty she did yield to +its influence and spoke gently to the agitated child.</p> + +<p>"I wish, too, your mom was here yet, Phœbe. But +I guess if she was she'd want you to learn to sew. +Ach, it's just that you like to be out, out all the time +that makes you so contrary, I guess. You're like your +pop, if you can just be out! Mebbe when you're old +as I once and had your back near broke often as I had +with hoein' and weedin' and plantin' in the garden +you'll be glad when you can set in the house and sew. +Ach, now, stop your cryin' and go finish your patchin' +and when you're done I'll leave you go in to Greenwald +for me to the store and to Granny Hogendobler."</p> + +<p>"Oh"—the child lifted her tear-stained face—"and +dare I really go to Greenwald when I'm done?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I need some sugar yet and you dare order +it. And you can get me some thread and then stop at +Granny Hogendobler's and ask her to come out to-morrow +and help with the strawberry jelly. I got so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17"></a><a href="images/17.png">[17]</a></span> +much to make and it comes good to Granny if she +gets away for a little change."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll patch quick!" Phœbe said. The world +was a good place again for the child as she went back +to the sitting-room and resumed her sewing.</p> + +<p>She was so eager to finish the unpleasant task that +she forgot one of Aunt Maria's rules, as inexorable as +the law of the Medes and Persians—the door between +the kitchen and the sitting-room <i>must</i> be closed.</p> + +<p>"Here, Phœbe," the woman called sharply, "make +that door shut! Abody'd think you was born in a +sawmill! The strawberry smell gets all over the +house."</p> + +<p>Phœbe turned alertly and closed the door. Then +she soliloquized, "I don't see why there has to be +doors on the inside of houses. I like to smell the good +things all over the house, but then it's Aunt Maria's +boss, not me."</p> + +<p>Maria Metz shook her head as she returned to her +berries. "If it don't beat all and if I won't have my +hands full yet with that girl 'fore she's growed up! +That stubborn she is, like her pop—ach, like all of us +Metz's, I guess. Anyhow, it ain't easy raising somebody +else's child. If only her mom would <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original text omits this word">have</ins> lived, and +so young she was to die, too."</p> + +<p>Her thoughts went back to the time when her +brother Jacob brought to the old Metz farmhouse his +gentle, sweet-faced bride. Then the joint persuasions +of Jacob and his wife induced Maria Metz to continue +her residence in the old homestead. She relieved the +bride of all the brunt of manual labor of the farm and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18"></a><a href="images/18.png">[18]</a></span> +in her capable way proved a worthy sister to the new +mistress of the old Metz place. When, several years +later, the gentle wife died and left Jacob the legacy +of a helpless babe, it was Maria Metz who took up the +task of mothering the motherless child. If she +bungled at times in the performance of the mother's +unfinished task it was not from lack of love, for she +loved the fair little Phœbe with a passion that was +almost abnormal, a passion which burned the more +fiercely because there was seldom any outlet in demonstrative +affection.</p> + +<p>As soon as the child was old enough Aunt Maria +began to teach her the doctrines of the plain church +and to warn her against the evils of vanity, frivolity +and all forms of worldliness.</p> + +<p>Maria Metz was richly endowed with that admirable +love of industry which is characteristic of the Pennsylvania +Dutch. In accordance with her acceptance +of the command, "Six days shalt thou labor," she +swept, scrubbed, and toiled from early morning to +evening with Herculean persistence. The farmhouse +was spotless from cellar to attic, the wooden walks +and porches scrubbed clean and smooth. Flower beds, +vegetable gardens and lawns were kept neat and without +weeds. Aunt Maria was, as she expressed it, "not +afraid of work." Naturally she considered it her duty +to teach little Phœbe to be industrious, to sew neatly, +to help with light tasks about the house and gardens.</p> + +<p>Like many other good foster-mothers Maria Metz +tried conscientiously to care for the child's spiritual +and physical well-being, but in spite of her best en<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19"></a><a href="images/19.png">[19]</a></span>deavors +there were times when she despaired of the +tremendous task she had undertaken. Phœbe's spirit +tingled with the divine, poetic appreciation of all +things beautiful. A vivid imagination carried the +child into realms where the stolid aunt could not follow, +realms of whose existence the older woman never +dreamed.</p> + +<p>But what troubled Maria Metz most was the child's +frank avowal of vanity. Every new dress was a +source of intense joy to Phœbe. Every new ribbon +for her hair, no matter how narrow and dull of color, +sent her face smiling. The golden hair, which sprang +into long curls as Aunt Maria combed it, was invariably +braided into two thick, tight braids, but there +were always little wisps that curled about the ears and +forehead. These wisps were at once the woman's +despair and the child's freely expressed delight. However, +through all the rigid discipline the little girl +retained her natural buoyancy of childhood, the spontaneous +interestedness, the cheerfulness and animation, +which were a part of her goodly heritage.</p> + +<p>That June morning the world was changed suddenly +from a dismal vale of patchwork to a glorious garden +of delight. She was still a child and the promised +walk to Greenwald changed the entire world for her.</p> + +<p>She paused once in her sewing to look about the +sitting-room. "Ach, I vonder now why this room +is so ugly to me to-day. I guess it's because it's so +pretty out. Why, mostly always I think this is a +vonderful nice room."</p> + +<p>The sitting-room of the Metz farm was attractive<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20"></a><a href="images/20.png">[20]</a></span> +in its old-fashioned furnishing. It was large and well +lighted. The gray rag carpet—woven from rags +sewed by Aunt Maria and Phœbe—was decorated with +wide stripes of green. Upon the carpet were spread +numerous rugs, some made of braided rags coiled into +large circles, others were hooked rugs gaily ornamented +with birds and flowers and graceful scroll +designs. The low-backed chairs were painted dull +green and each bore upon the four inch panel of its +back a hand-painted floral design. On the haircloth +sofa were several crazy-work cushions. Two deep +rocking-chairs matched the antique low-backed chairs. +A spindle-legged cherry table bore an old vase filled +with pink and red straw flowers. The large square +table, covered with a red and green cloth, held a glass +lamp, the old Metz Bible, several hymn-books and the +papers read in that home,—a weekly religious paper, +the weekly town paper, and a well-known farm journal. +A low walnut organ which Phœbe's mother brought +to the farm and a tall walnut grandfather clock, the +most cherished heirloom of the Metz family, occupied +places of honor in the room. Not a single article of +modern design could be found in the entire room, yet +it was an interesting and habitable place. Most of the +Metz furniture had stood in the old homestead for +several generations and so long as any piece served its +purpose and continued to look respectable Aunt Maria +would have considered it gross extravagance, even a +sacrilege, to discard it for one of newer design. She +was satisfied with her house, her brother Jacob was +well pleased with the way she kept it—it never oc<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21"></a><a href="images/21.png">[21]</a></span>curred +to her that Phœbe might ever desire new things, +and least of all did she dream that the girl sometimes +spent an interesting hour refurnishing, in imagination, +the same old sitting-room.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Phœbe was saying to herself, "sometimes +this room is vonderful to me. Only I wished the +organ was a piano, like the one Mary Warner got to +play on. But, ach, I must hurry once and make this +patch done. Funny thing patchin' is, cuttin' up big +pieces of good calico in little ones and then sewin' +them up in big ones again! I don't like it"—she spoke +very softly for she knew her aunt disapproved of the +habit of talking to one's self—"I don't like patchin' +and I for certain don't like red and green quilts! I +got one on my bed now and it hurts my eyes still in the +morning when I get awake. I'd like a pretty blue and +white one for my bed. Mebbe Aunt Maria will leave +me make one when I get this one sewed. But now my +patch is done and I dare to go to Greenwald. That's +a vonderful nice walk."</p> + +<p>A moment later she stood again in the big kitchen.</p> + +<p>"See," she said, "now I got them all done. And +little stitches, too, so nobody won't catch their toes in +'em when they sleep, like you used to tell me still when +I first begun to sew."</p> + +<p>The woman smiled. "Now you're a good girl, +Phœbe. Put your patches away nice and you dare go +to Greenwald."</p> + +<p>"Where all shall I go?"</p> + +<p>"Go first to Granny Hogendobler; that's right on +the way to the store. You ask her to come out to-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22"></a><a href="images/22.png">[22]</a></span>morrow +morning early if she wants to help with the +berries."</p> + +<p>"Dare I stay a little?"</p> + +<p>"If you want. But don't you go bringin' any more +slips of flowers to plant or any seeds. The flower +beds are that full now abody can hardly get in to +weed 'em still."</p> + +<p>"All right, I won't. But I think it's nice to have +lots and lots of flowers. When I have a garden once +I'll have it full——"</p> + +<p>"Talk of that some other day," said her aunt. +"Get ready now for town once. You go to the store +and ask 'em to send out twenty pounds of granulated +sugar. Jonas, one of the clerks, comes out this way +still when he goes home and he can just as good fetch +it along on his home road. Your pop is too busy to +hitch up and go in for it and I have no time neither +to-day and I want it early in the morning, and what I +have is almost all. And then you can buy three spools +of white thread number fifty. And when you're done +you dare look around a little in the store if you don't +touch nothing. On the home road you better stop in +the post-office and ask if there's anything. Nobody +was in yesterday."</p> + +<p>"All right—and—Aunt Maria, dare I wear my +hat?"</p> + +<p>"Ach, no. Abody don't wear Sunday clothes on a +Wednesday just to go to Greenwald to the store. Only +when you go to Lancaster and on a Sunday you wear +your hat. You're dressed good enough; just get your +sunbonnet, for it's sunny on the road."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23"></a><a href="images/23.png">[23]</a></span></p> + +<p>Phœbe took a small ruffled sunbonnet of blue +checked gingham from a hook behind the kitchen door +and pressed it lightly on her head.</p> + +<p>"Ach, bonnets are vonderful hot things!" she exclaimed. +"A nice parasol like Mary Warner's got +would be lots nicer. Where's the money?" she asked +as she saw a shadow of displeasure on her aunt's +face.</p> + +<p>"Here it is, enough for the sugar and the thread. +Don't lose the pocketbook, and be sure to count the +change so they don't make no mistake."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And don't touch things in the store."</p> + +<p>"No." The child walked to the door, impatient to +be off.</p> + +<p>"And be careful crossin' over the streets. If a +horse comes, or a bicycle, wait till it's past, or an automobile——"</p> + +<p>"Ach, yes, I'll be careful," Phœbe answered.</p> + +<p>A moment later she went down the boardwalk that +led through the yard to the little green gate at the +country road. There she paused and looked back at +the farm with its old-fashioned house, her birthplace +and home.</p> + +<p>The Metz homestead, erected in the days of home-grown +flax and spinning-wheels, was plain and unpretentious. +Built of gray, rough-hewn quarry stone it +hid like a demure Quakeress behind tall evergreen trees +whose branches touched and interlaced in so many +places that the traveler on the country road caught but +mere glimpses of the big gray house.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24"></a><a href="images/24.png">[24]</a></span></p> + +<p>The old home stood facing the road that led northward +to the little town of Greenwald. Southward +the road curved and wound itself about a steep hill, +sent its branches right and left to numerous farms +while it, still twisting and turning, went on to the +nearest city, Lancaster, ten miles distant.</p> + +<p>The Metz farm was just outside the southern limits +of the town of Greenwald. The spacious red barn +stood on the very bank of Chicques Creek, the boundary +line.</p> + +<p>"It's awful pretty here to-day," Phœbe said aloud +as she looked from the house with its sheltering trees +to the flower garden with its roses, larkspur and other +old-fashioned flowers, then to the background of undulating +fields and hills. "It's just vonderful pretty +here to-day. But, ach, I guess it's pretty most anywheres +on a day like this—but not in the house. Ugh, +that patchin'! I want to forget it."</p> + +<p>As she closed the gate and entered the country +road she caught sight of a familiar figure just +ahead.</p> + +<p>"Hello," she called. "Wait once, David! Is that +you?"</p> + +<p>"No, it ain't me, it's my shadow!" came the answer +as a boy, several years older than Phœbe, turned +and waited for her.</p> + +<p>"Ach, David Eby," she giggled, "you're just like +Aunt Maria says still you are—always cuttin' up and +talkin' so abody don't know if you mean it or what. +Goin' in to town, too, once?"</p> + +<p>"Um-uh. Say, Phœbe, you want a rose to pin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25"></a><a href="images/25.png">[25]</a></span> +on?" he asked, turning to her with a pink damask +rose.</p> + +<p>"Why, be sure I do! I just like them roses vonderful +much. We got 'em too, big bushes of 'em, but +Aunt Maria won't let me pull none off. Where'd you +get yourn?"</p> + +<p>"We got lots. Mom lets me pull off all I want. +You pin it on and be decorated for Greenwald. Where +all you going, Phœbe?"</p> + +<p>"And I say thanks, too, David, for the rose," she +said as she pinned the rose to her dress. "Um, it +smells good! Where am I goin'?" she remembered +his question. "Why, to the store and to Granny +Hogendobler and the post-office——"</p> + +<p>"Jimminy Crickets!" The boy stood still. "That's +where I'm to go! Me and mom both forgot about +it. Mom wants a money order and said I'm to +get it the first time I go to town and here I am +without the money. It's home up the hill again +for me."</p> + +<p>"Ach, David, don't you know that it's vonderful +bad luck to go back for something when you got started +once?"</p> + +<p>The boy laughed. "It <i>is</i> bad luck to have to climb +that hill again. But mom'll say what I ain't got in my +head I got to have in my feet. They're big enough +to hold a lot, too, Phœbe, ain't they?"</p> + +<p>She giggled, then laughed merrily. "Ach," she +said, "you say funny things. You just make me +laugh all the time. But it's mean, now, that you are +so dumb to forget and have to go back. I thought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26"></a><a href="images/26.png">[26]</a></span> +I'd have nice company all the ways in, but mebbe I'll +see you in Greenwald."</p> + +<p>"Mebbe. Goo'bye," said the boy and turned to the +hill again.</p> + +<p>Phœbe stood a moment and looked after him. "My," +she said to herself, "but David Eby is a vonderful +nice boy!" Then she started down the road, a quaint, +interesting little figure in her brown chambray dress +with its full, gathered skirt and its short, plain waist. +But the face that looked out from the blue sunbonnet +was even more interesting. The blue eyes, golden +hair and fair coloring of the cheeks held promise of an +abiding beauty, but more than mere beauty was +bounded by the ruffled sunbonnet. There was an +eagerness of expression, an alert understanding in the +deep eyes, a tender fluttering of the long lashes, an ever +varying animation in the child face, as though she +were standing on tiptoe to catch all the sunshine and +glory of the great, beautiful world about her.</p> + +<p>Phœbe went decorously down the road, across the +wooden bridge over the Chicques, then she began to +skip. Her full skirt fluttered in the light wind, her +sunbonnet slipped back from her head and flapped as +she hopped along the half mile stretch of country road +bordered by green fields and meadows.</p> + +<p>"There's no houses here so I dare skip," she panted +gleefully. "Aunt Maria don't think it looks nice for +girls to skip, but I like to do it. I could just skip and +skip and skip——"</p> + +<p>She stopped suddenly. In a meadow to her right a +tangle of bulrushes edged a small pond and, perched<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27"></a><a href="images/27.png">[27]</a></span> +on a swaying reed, a red-winged blackbird was calling +his clear, "Conqueree, conqueree."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you pretty thing!" Phœbe cried as she leaned +on the fence and watched the bird. "You're just the +prettiest thing with them red and yellow spots on +your wings. And you ain't afraid of me, not a bit. I +guess mebbe you know you got wings and I ain't. +Such pretty wings you got, too, and the rest of you is +all black as coal. Mebbe God made you black all over +like a crow and then got sorry for you and put some +pretty spots on your wings. I wonder now"—her +face sobered—"I just wonder now why Aunt Maria +says still that it's bad to fix up pretty with curls and +things like that and to wear fancy dresses. Why, +many of the birds are vonderful fine in gay feathers +and the flowers are fancy and the butterflies—ach, +mebbe when I'm big I'll understand it better, or mebbe +I'll dress up pretty then too."</p> + +<p>With that cheering thought she turned again to the +road and resumed her walk, but the skipping mood had +fled. She pulled her sunbonnet to its proper place +and walked briskly along, still enjoying thoroughly, +though less exuberantly, the beauty of the June morning.</p> + +<p>The scent of pink clover mingled with the odor of +grasses and the delicate perfume of sweetbrier. Wood +sorrel nestled in the grassy corners near the crude rail +fences, daisies and spiked toad-flax grew lavishly +among the weeds of the roadside. In the meadows +tall milkweed swayed its clusters of pink and lavender, +marsh-marigolds dotted the grass with discs of pure<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28"></a><a href="images/28.png">[28]</a></span> +gold, and Queen Anne's lace lifted its parasols of exquisite +loveliness. Phœbe reveled in it all; her cheeks +were glowing as she left the beauty of the country +behind her and came at last to the little town of +Greenwald.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29"></a><a href="images/29.png">[29]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>OLD AARON'S FLAG</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Greenwald</span> is an old town but it is a delightfully +interesting one. It does not wear its antiquity as an +excuse for sinking into mouldering uselessness. It +presents, rather, a strange mingling of the quaint, romantic +and historic with the beautiful, progressive and +modern. Though it clings reverently to honored traditions +it is ever mindful of the fact that the welfare +of its inhabitants is dependent upon reasonable progress +in its religious, educational and industrial life.</p> + +<p>The charming stamp of its antiquity is revealed in +its great old trees; its wide Market Square from which +narrower streets branch to the east, west, north and +south; its numerous houses of the plain, substantial +type of several generations ago; its occasional little, +low houses which have withstood the march of modern +building and stand squarely beside houses of more +elaborate and later design; but chiefly in its old-fashioned +gardens. All the old-time flowers are +favorites there and refuse to be displaced by any newcomer. +Sweet alyssum and candytuft spread carpets +of bloom along the neat garden walks, hollyhocks and +dahlias look boldly out to the streets, while the old-fashioned +sweet-scented roses grow on great bushes +which have been undisturbed for three or more generations.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30"></a><a href="images/30.png">[30]</a></span></p> + +<p>To Phœbe Metz, Greenwald, with its two thousand +inhabitants, its several churches, post-office and numerous +stores, seemed a veritable city. She delighted in +walking on its brick sidewalks, looking at its different +houses and entering its stores. How many attractions +these stores held for the little country girl! There +was the big one on the Square which had in one of its +windows a great lemon tree on which grew real lemons. +Another store had a large Santa Claus in its window +every Christmas—not that Phœbe Metz had ever been +taught to believe in that patron saint of the children—oh, +no! Maria Metz would have considered it foolish, +even sinful, to lie to a child about any mythical Santa +Claus coming down the chimney Christmas Eve! +Nevertheless, the smiling, rotund face of the red-habited +Santa in the store window seemed so real and +so emanative of cheer that Phœbe delighted in him +each year and felt sure there must be a Santa Claus +somewhere in the world, even though Aunt Maria +knew nothing about him.</p> + +<p>Most little towns can boast of one or more persons +like Granny Hogendobler, well-nigh community owned, +certainly community appropriated. Did any one need +a helper in garden or kitchen or sewing room, Granny +Hogendobler was glad to serve. Did a housewife +remember that a rose geranium leaf imparts to apple +jelly a delicious flavor, Granny Hogendobler was able +and willing to furnish the leaf. Did a lover of flowers +covet a new phlox or dahlia or other old-fashioned +flower, Granny Hogendobler was ready to give of her +stock. Should a young wife desire a recipe for crul<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31"></a><a href="images/31.png">[31]</a></span>lers, +shoo-fly pie, or other delectable dish, Granny had +a wealth of reliable recipes at her tongue's end. This +admirable desire to serve found ample opportunities +for exercise in the constant demands from her friends +and neighbors. But Granny's greatest joy lay in the +fond ministrations for her husband, Old Aaron, as +the town people called him, half pityingly, half accusingly. +For some said Old Aaron was plain shiftless, +had always been so, would remain so forever, so +long as he had Granny to do for him. Others averred +that the Confederate bullets that had shattered his leg +into splinters and necessitated its amputation must +have gone astray and struck his liver—leastways, that +was the kindest explanation they could give for his +laziness.</p> + +<p>Granny stoutly refuted all these charges—gossip +travels in circles in small towns and sooner or later +reaches those most concerned—"Aaron lazy! I-to-goodness +no! Why, he's old and what for should he +go out and work every day, I wonder. He helps me +with the garden and so, and when I go out to help +somebody for a day or two he gets his own meals and +tends the chickens still. Some people thought a few +years ago that he might get work in the foundry, but I +said I want him at home with me. He gets a pension +and we can live good on what we have without him +slaving his last years away, and him with one leg lost +at Gettysburg!" she ended proudly.</p> + +<p>So Old Aaron continued to live his life as pleased +his mate and himself. He pottered about the house +and garden and spent long hours musing under the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32"></a><a href="images/32.png">[32]</a></span> +grape arbor. But there was one day in every year +when Old Aaron came into his own. Every Memorial +Day he dressed in his venerated blue uniform and +carried the flag down the dusty streets of Greenwald, +out to the dustier road to a spot a mile from the heart +of the town, where, on a sunny hilltop, some of his +comrades rested in the Silent City.</p> + +<p>Only the infirm and the ill of the town failed to run +to look as the little procession passed down the street. +There were boys in khaki, the town band playing its +best, volunteer firemen clad in vivid red shirts, a low, +hand-drawn wagon filled with flowers, an old cannon, +also hand-drawn, whose shots over the graves of the +dead veterans would thrill as they thrilled every May +thirtieth—all received attention and admiration from +the watchers of the procession. But the real honors +of the day were accorded the "thin blue line of +heroes," and Old Aaron was one of these. To Granny +Hogendobler, who walked with the crowd of cheering +children and adults and kept step on the sidewalk with +the step of the marchers on the street, it was evident +that the standard bearer was growing old. The steep +climb near the cemetery entrance left him breathless +and flushed and each year Granny thought, "It's getting +too much for him to carry that flag." But each +returning year she would have spurned as earnestly as +he any suggestion that another one be chosen to carry +that flag. And so every three hundred and sixty-fifth +day the lean straight figure of Old Aaron marched +directly under the fluttering folds of Old Glory and +the soldier became a subject worthy of veneration,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33"></a><a href="images/33.png">[33]</a></span> +then with customary nonchalance the little town forgot +him again or spoke of him as Old Aaron, a little +lazy, a little shiftless, a little childish, and Granny +Hogendobler became the more important figure of that +household.</p> + +<p>Granny was fifteen years younger than her husband +and was undeniably rotund of hips and face, the +former rotundity increased by her full skirts, the latter +accentuated by her style of wearing her hair combed +back into a tight knot near the top of her head and +held in place by a huge black back-comb.</p> + +<p>From this style of hair dressing it is evident that +Granny was not a member of any plain sect. She was, +as she said, "An Evangelical, one of the old kind yet. +I can say Amen to the preacher's sermon and stand up +in prayer-meeting and tell how the Lord has blessed +me."</p> + +<p>There were some who doubted the rich blessing of +which Granny spoke. "I wouldn't think the Lord +blessed me so much," whispered one, "if I had a man +like Old Aaron, though I guess he's good enough to +her. And that boy of theirs never comes home; he +must have a funny streak in him too." "But think of +this," one would answer, "how the Lord keeps her +cheerful, kind and faithful through all her troubles."</p> + +<p>Granny's was a wonderful garden. She and Old +Aaron lived in a little gray cube of a house that had +its front face set straight to the edge of Charlotte +Street. However, the north side of the cube looked +into a great green yard where tall spruce trees, overrun +with trumpet vines and woodbine, shaded long<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34"></a><a href="images/34.png">[34]</a></span> +beds of flowers that love semi-shady places. The rear +of the house overlooked an old-fashioned garden enclosed +with a white-washed picket fence. Always +were there flowers at Granny's house. In the cold +days of winter blooming masses of geraniums, primroses +and gloxinias crowded against the little square +panes of the windows and looked defiantly out at the +snow; while all the old favorites grew in the garden, +from the first March snowdrop to the late November +chrysanthemum. In June, therefore, the garden was +a "Lovesome spot" indeed.</p> + +<p>"It vonders me now if Granny's home," thought +Phœbe as she opened the wooden gate and entered the +yard.</p> + +<p>"Here I am," called Granny. "Back in the garden. +I-to-goodness, Phœbe, did you come once! I just +said yesterday to Aaron that I didn't see none of you +folks for long, and here you come! You haven't seen +the flowers for a while."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" Phœbe breathed an ecstatic little word of +delight. "Oh, your garden is just vonderful pretty!"</p> + +<p>"Ain't," agreed Granny. "Aaron and me's been +working pretty hard in it these weeks. There he is, +out in the potato patch; see him?"</p> + +<p>Phœbe stood on tiptoe and looked where Granny's +finger pointed to the extreme end of the long vegetable +garden, where the white head of Old Aaron was +bending over his hoeing.</p> + +<p>"He's hoeing the potatoes," Granny explained. +"He don't see you. But he'll soon be done and +come in."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35"></a><a href="images/35.png">[35]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What were you doin'?" asked the child.</p> + +<p>"Weeding the flag."</p> + +<p>"Weedin' the flag—what do you mean?" Phœbe's +eyes lighted with eagerness. "I guess you mean +mendin' the flag, Granny." She looked toward the +porch as if in search of Old Glory.</p> + +<p>"I said weeding the flag," the woman insisted. "It's +an idea of Aaron's and I guess I'll tell you about it, +seeing your eyes are open so wide. See the poppies, +that long stretch of them in the middle of the garden?"</p> + +<p>"Um-uh," nodded Phœbe.</p> + +<p>"Well, that patch at the back is all red poppies, the +buds just coming on them nice and big. Then right +in front of them is another patch of white poppies; +the buds are thick on them, too. And right in front +of them—you see what's there!"</p> + +<p>"Larkspur, blue larkspur!" cried Phœbe. "Oh, I +see—it's red, white and blue! You'll have it all summer +in your garden!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. When it blooms it'll be a grand sight. I +said to Aaron that we'll have all the children of Greenwald +in looking at his flag and he said he hopes so, for +they couldn't look at anything better than the colors +of Old Glory. Aaron's crazy about the flag."</p> + +<p>"'Cause he fought for it, mebbe."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I guess. His father died for it at Gettysburg, +the same place where Aaron lost his leg. . . . The +only thing is, the larkspur's getting ahead of the poppies—seems +like the larkspur couldn't wait"—her +voice continued low—"I always love to see the larkspur +come."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36"></a><a href="images/36.png">[36]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I too," said the child. "I like to pull out the little +slippers from the middle of the flowers and fit 'em +into each other and make circles with 'em. I made a +lot last summer and pressed 'em in a book, but Aunt +Maria made me stop."</p> + +<p>"That's just what Nason used to do. I have some +pressed in the big Bible yet that he made when he was +a little boy." She spoke half-absently, as though +momentarily forgetful of the child's presence.</p> + +<p>"Who's Nason?" asked Phœbe.</p> + +<p>Granny started. "I-to-goodness, Phœbe, I forgot! +You don't know him, never heard of him, I guess. +He's our boy. We had a little girl, too, but she died."</p> + +<p>"Did the boy die too, Granny?"</p> + +<p>"No, ach no! You wouldn't understand. He's +living in the city. He writes to me often but he don't +come home. He and his pop fell out about the flag +once when Nason was young and foolish and they're +both too stubborn to forget it."</p> + +<p>"But he'll come back some day and live with you, +of course, won't he?" Phœbe comforted her.</p> + +<p>"Yes—some day they'll see things different. But +now don't you bother that head of yourn with such +things. You forget all about Nason. Come now, sit +on the bench a little under the arbor."</p> + +<p>"Just a little. I must go to the store yet."</p> + +<p>"You have lots to do."</p> + +<p>"Yes. And I almost forgot what I come for. +Aunt Maria wants you should come out to our place +to-morrow early and help with the strawberries if you +can."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37"></a><a href="images/37.png">[37]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'll come. I like to come to your place. Your +Aunt Maria is so straight out, nothing false about +her. I like her. But now I bet you're thinking +of how many berries you can eat," she added as she +noted the child's abstracted look.</p> + +<p>"No—I was thinkin'—I was just thinkin' what a +funny name Nason is, like you tried to say Nathan and +got your tongue twisted."</p> + +<p>"It's a real name, but you must forget all about it."</p> + +<p>"If I can. Sometimes Aunt Maria tells me to forget +things, like wantin' curls and fancy things and +pretty dresses but I don't see how I can forget when I +remember, do you?"</p> + +<p>"It's hard," Granny said, a deeper meaning in her +words than the child could comprehend. "It's the +hardest thing in the world to forget what you want +to forget. But here comes Aaron——"</p> + +<p>"Well, well, if here ain't Phœbe Metz with her +eyes shining and a pink rose pinned to her waist and +matching the roses in her cheeks!" the old soldier said +as he joined the two under the arbor. "Whew! +Mebbe it ain't hot hoeing potatoes!"</p> + +<p>"You're all heated up, Aaron," said Granny. His +fifteen years seniority warranted a solicitous watchfulness +over him, she thought. "Now you get cooled +off a little and I'll make some lemonade. It'll taste +good to me and Phœbe, too."</p> + +<p>"All right, Ma," Aaron sighed in relaxation. "You +know how to touch the spot. Did you tell Phœbe +about the flag?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38"></a><a href="images/38.png">[38]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, I think it's fine!" cried the child. "I can't +wait till all the flowers bloom. I want to see it."</p> + +<p>"You'll see it," promised the man. "And you bring +all the boys and girls in too."</p> + +<p>"And then will you tell us about the war and the +Battle of Gettysburg? David Eby says he heard you +once tell about it. I think it was at some school celebration. +And he says it was grand, just like being +there yourself."</p> + +<p>"A little safer," laughed the old soldier. "But, +yes, when the poppies bloom you bring the children in +and I'll tell you about the war and the flag."</p> + +<p>"I'll remember. I love to hear about the war. Old +Johnny Schlegelmilch from way up the country comes +to our place still to sell brooms, and once last summer +he came and it began to thunder and storm and pop +said he shall stay till it's over and then he told me all +about the war. He said our flag's the prettiest in the +whole world."</p> + +<p>"So it is," solemnly affirmed Old Aaron.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if anybody it belongs to could help liking +it," said the child, remembering Granny's words.</p> + +<p>"Well," the veteran answered slowly, "I knew a +young fellow once, a nice fellow he seemed, too, and +his father a soldier who fought for the flag. Well, +the father was always talking about the flag and what +it means and how every man should be ready to fight +for it. And one day the boy said that he would never +fight for it and be shot to pieces, that the old flag +made him sick, and one soldier in the family was +enough."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39"></a><a href="images/39.png">[39]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh!" Phœbe opened her eyes wide in surprise and +horror.</p> + +<p>"And the father told the boy," the old man went +on in a fixed voice as though the veriest details of the +story were vividly before him, "that if he would not +take back those words he never wanted to see him +again. It was better to have no son, than such a son, a +coward who hated the flag."</p> + +<p>Here Granny appeared with the lemonade and the +story was abruptly ended. Phœbe refrained from +questioning the man about the story but as she sat +under the arbor and afterwards, as she started up the +street of the little town, she wondered over and over +how a boy could be the son of a soldier and hate the +flag, and whether the story Old Aaron told her was the +story of himself and Nason.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40"></a><a href="images/40.png">[40]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>LITTLE DUTCHIE</h3> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Aunt Maria</span> said I dare look around a little," +thought Phœbe as she neared the big store on the +Square. Her heart beat more quickly as she turned +the knob of the heavy door—little things still thrilled +her, going to the store in Greenwald was an event!</p> + +<p>The clerk's courteous, "What can I do for you?" +bewildered her for an instant but she swallowed hard +and said, "Why, we want twenty pounds of granulated +sugar; ourn is almost all and Aunt Maria wants +to make some strawberry jelly to-morrow. She said +for Jonas to fetch it along on his home road."</p> + +<p>"All right. Out to Jacob Metz?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he's my pop."</p> + +<p>"I see. Anything else?"</p> + +<p>"Three spools white thread, number fifty."</p> + +<p>"Anything else?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head as she handed him the money. +"No, that's all for to-day. But Aunt Maria said I +dare look around a little if I don't touch things."</p> + +<p>"Look all you want," said the clerk and turned +away, smiling.</p> + +<p>Phœbe began a slow tramp about the big store. +There was the same glass case filled with jewelry. +The rings and pins rested on satin that had faded long<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41"></a><a href="images/41.png">[41]</a></span> +since, the jewelry itself was tarnished but it held +Phœbe's interest with its meagre glistening. One little +ring with a tiny turquoise aroused her desire but +she realized that she was longing for the impossible, so +she moved away from the coveted treasures and +paused before the ribbons. Some of those same ribbons +had been in the tall revolving case ever since she +could remember going to that store. The pale sea-green +and the crushed-strawberry were faded horribly, +yet she looked at them with longing. "Suppose," she +thought, "I dared pick out any ribbon I want for a +sash—guess I'd take that funny pink one, or mebbe +that nice blue one. But I kinda think I'd rather have +a set of dishes or a doll. But then I got that rag doll +at home and that pretty one that pop got for me in +Lancaster and that Aunt Maria won't leave me play +with. That's funny now, that she says still I daren't +play with it for I might break it, that I shall keep it +till I'm big. But when I'm big I won't want a doll, +and then I vonder what! What will I do with it +then?"</p> + +<p>She stood a long time before a table crowded with +a motley gathering of toys, dolls and books. With +so much coveted treasure before her it was hard to +remember Aunt Maria's injunction to refrain from +touching.</p> + +<p>"Well, anyhow," she decided finally, "I won't need +any of these things to play with now, for I'm going to +be out in the garden and the yard with the flowers +and birds. So I guess my old rag doll will be plenty +for playin' with. But I mustn't look too long else<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42"></a><a href="images/42.png">[42]</a></span> +Aunt Maria won't leave me come in soon again. I'll +walk down the other side of the store now yet and +then I must go."</p> + +<p>She passed slowly along, her keen eyes noticing the +varied assortment of articles displayed for sale. A +long line of red handkerchiefs was fastened to a cord +high above one counter. Long shelves were stacked +high with ginghams, calicoes and finer dress materials. +There were gaudy rugs and blankets tacked to the +walls near the ceiling. Counters were filled with glassware, +china and crockery; other counters were laden +with umbrellas, hats, shoes——</p> + +<p>"Ach," she sighed as she went out to the street, "I +think this goin' to Greenwald to the store is vonderful +nice! It's most as much fun as goin' in to Lancaster, +only there I go in a trolley and I see black niggers"—she +spoke the word with a little shiver, for Greenwald +had no negro residents—"and once in there me and +Aunt Maria saw a Chinaman with a long plait like a +girl's hangin' down his back!"</p> + +<p>After asking for the mail at the post-office she +turned homeward, feeling like singing from sheer happiness. +Then she looked down at her pink damask +rose—it was withered.</p> + +<p>"I'm goin' home now so I guess I won't be decorated +no more." She unpinned the flower, clasped its +short stem in her hand and raised the blossom to her +face.</p> + +<p>"Um-m-m!" She drew deep breaths of the rose's +perfume. "Um-m!"</p> + +<p>"Does it smell good?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43"></a><a href="images/43.png">[43]</a></span></p> + +<p>Phœbe turned her head at the voice and looked into +the face of a young woman who sat on the porch of a +near-by house.</p> + +<p>"Does it smell good?" The question came again, +accompanied by a broad smile.</p> + +<p>Quickly the hand holding the flower dropped to the +child's side, her eyes were cast down to the brick pavement +and she went hurriedly down the street. But +not so hurriedly that she failed to hear the words, +"<span class="smcap">Little Dutchie</span>" and a merry laugh from the +young woman.</p> + +<p>"She—she laughed at me!" Phœbe murmured to +herself under the blue sunbonnet. "I don't know +who she is, but that was at Mollie Stern's house that +she sat—that lady that laughed at me. She called me +a Dutchie!"</p> + +<p>The child stabbed a fist into one eye and then into +the other to fight back the tears. She felt sure that +the appellation of Dutchie was not complimentary. +Hadn't she heard the boys at school tease each other +by calling, "Dutchie, Dutchie, sauer kraut!" But no +one had ever called her that before! Her heart ached +as she went down the street of the little town. She +had planned to look at all the gardens of the main +street as she walked home but the glory of the June +day was spoiled for her. She did not care to look at +any gardens. The laughing words, "Does it smell +good?" rang in her ears. The name, "Little +Dutchie," sent her heart throbbing.</p> + +<p>After the first hurt a feeling of wrath rose in her. +"Anyhow," she thought, "it's no disgrace to be a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44"></a><a href="images/44.png">[44]</a></span> +Dutchie! Nobody needn't laugh at me for that. But +I just hate that lady that laughed at me! I hate +everybody that pokes fun at me. And I ain't goin' to +always be a Dutchie. You see once if I don't be +something else when I grow up!"</p> + +<p>"Hello, Phœbe," a cheery voice rang out, followed +by a deeper exclamation, "Phœbe!" as she came to +the last intersection of streets in the town and turned +to enter the country road.</p> + +<p>She turned a sober little face to the speakers, David +Eby and his cousin, Phares Eby.</p> + +<p>"Hello," she answered listlessly.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong?" asked the older boy as they +joined her.</p> + +<p>Both were plainly country boys accustomed to hard +farm work, but their tanned faces were frank and +honest under broad straw hats. Each bore marked +family resemblances in their big frames, dark eyes and +well-shaped heads, but there was a distinct line drawn +between their personalities. Phares Eby at sixteen +was grave, studious and dignified; his cousin, David, +two years younger, was a cheery, laughing, sociable +boy, fond of boyish sports, delighting in teasing his +schoolmates and enjoying their retaliation, preferring a +tramp through the woods to the best book ever written.</p> + +<p>The boys lived on adjacent farms and had long +been the nearest neighbors of the Metz family; thus +they had become Phœbe's playmates. Then, too, the +Eby families were members of the Church of the +Brethren, the mothers of the boys were old friends of +Maria Metz, and a deep friendship existed among them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45"></a><a href="images/45.png">[45]</a></span> +all. Phœbe and the two boys attended the same little +country school and had become frankly fond of each +other.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong?" asked Phares again as Phœbe +hung her head and remained silent.</p> + +<p>"Ach," laughed David, "somebody's broke her +dolly."</p> + +<p>"Nobody ain't not broke my dolly, David Eby!" +she said crossly. "I wouldn't cry for <i>that!</i>"</p> + +<p>"What's wrong then?—come on, Phœbe." He +pushed the sunbonnet back and patted her roguishly +on the head. But she drew away from him.</p> + +<p>"Don't you touch me," she cried. "I'm a +Dutchie!"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>She tossed her head and became silent again.</p> + +<p>"Come on, tell me," coaxed David. "I want to +know what's wrong. Why, if you don't tell me I'll be +so worried I won't be able to eat any dinner, and I'm +so hungry now I could eat nails."</p> + +<p>The girl laughed suddenly in spite of herself—"Ach, +David, you're awful simple! Abody has to laugh at +you. I was mad, for when I was in Greenwald I was +smellin' a rose, that pink rose you gave me, and some +lady on Mollie Stern's porch laughed at me and called +me a <span class="smcap">Little Dutchie</span>! Now wouldn't you got mad +for that?"</p> + +<p>But David threw back his head and laughed. "And +you were ready to cry at that?" he said. "Why, I'm +a Dutchie, so is Phares, so's most of the people round +here. Ain't so, Phares?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46"></a><a href="images/46.png">[46]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, guess so," the older boy assented, his eyes +still upon Phœbe. "D'ye know," he said, addressing +her, "when you were cross a few minutes ago your +eyes were almost black. You shouldn't get so angry +still, Phœbe."</p> + +<p>"I don't care," she retorted quickly, "I don't care +if my eyes was purple!"</p> + +<p>"But you should care," persisted the boy gravely. +"I don't like you so angry."</p> + +<p>"Ach," she flashed an indignant look at him—"Phares +Eby, you're by far too bossy! I like David +best; he don't boss me all the time like you do!"</p> + +<p>David laughed but Phares appeared hurt.</p> + +<p>Phœbe was quick to note it. "Now I hurt you like +that lady hurt me, ain't, Phares?" she said contritely. +"But I didn't mean to hurt you, Phares, honest."</p> + +<p>"But you like me best," said David gaily. "You +can't take that back, remember."</p> + +<p>She gave him a scornful look. Then she remembered +the flag in the Hogendobler garden and became +happy and eager again as she said, "Oh, Phares, +David, I know the best secret!"</p> + +<p>"Can't keep it, I bet!" challenged David.</p> + +<p>"Can't I?" she retorted saucily. "Now for that I +won't tell you till you get good and anxious. But then +it's not really a secret." The flag of growing flowers +was too glorious a thing to keep; she compromised—"I'll +tell you, because it's not a real secret." And she +proceeded to unfold with earnest gesticulations the +story about the flowers of red and white and blue and +the invitation for all who cared to come and see the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47"></a><a href="images/47.png">[47]</a></span> +colors of Old Glory growing in the garden of Old +Aaron and Granny, and of the added pleasure of hearing +Old Aaron tell his thrilling story of the battle of +Gettysburg.</p> + +<p>"I won't want to hear about any battle," said +Phares. "I think war is horrible, awful, wicked."</p> + +<p>"Mebbe so," said the girl, "but the poor men who +fight in wars ain't always awful, horrible, wicked. +You needn't turn your nose up at the old soldiers. +Folks call Old Aaron lazy, I heard 'em a'ready, lots of +times, but I bet some of them wouldn't have fought +like he did and left a leg at Gettysburg and—ach, I +think Old Aaron is just vonderful grand!" she ended +in an impulsive burst of eloquence.</p> + +<p>"Hooray!" shouted David. "So do I! When he +carries the flag out the pike every Decoration Day he's +somebody, all right."</p> + +<p>"Ain't now!" agreed Phœbe.</p> + +<p>"Been in the stores?" David asked her, feeling that +a change of subject might be wise.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"See anything pretty?"</p> + +<p>"Ach, yes. A lots of things. I saw the prettiest +finger ring with a blue stone in. I wish I had +it."</p> + +<p>"What would Aunt Maria say to that?" wondered +David.</p> + +<p>"Ach, she'd say that so long as my finger ain't broke +I don't need a band on it. But I looked at the ring +at any rate and wished I had it."</p> + +<p>"You dare never wear gold rings," Phares told her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48"></a><a href="images/48.png">[48]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not now," she returned, "but some day when I'm +older mebbe I'll wear a lot of 'em if I want."</p> + +<p>The words set the boys thinking. Each wondered +what manner of woman their little playmate would +become.</p> + +<p>"I bet she'll be a good-looking one," thought David. +"She'd look swell dressed up fine like some of the +people I see in town."</p> + +<p>"Of course she'll turn plain some day like her +aunt," thought the other boy. "She'll look nice in the +plain dress and the white cap."</p> + +<p>Phœbe, ignorant of the visions her innocent words +had called to the hearts of her comrades, chattered on +until they reached the little green gate of the Metz +farm.</p> + +<p>"Now you two must climb the hill yet. I'm glad +I'm home. I'm hungry."</p> + +<p>"And me," the boys answered, and with good-byes +were off on the winding road up the hill.</p> + +<p>As Phœbe turned the corner of the big gray house +she came face to face with her father.</p> + +<p>"So here you are, Phœbe," he said, smiling at sight +of her. "Your Aunt Maria sent me out to look if +you were coming. It's time to eat. Been to the store, +ain't?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, pop. I went alone."</p> + +<p>"So? Why, you're getting a big girl, now you can +go to Greenwald alone."</p> + +<p>"Ach," she laughed. "Why, it's just straight +road."</p> + +<p>They crossed the porch and entered the kitchen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49"></a><a href="images/49.png">[49]</a></span> +hand-in-hand, the sunbonneted little girl and the big +farmer. Jacob Metz was also a member of the Church +of the Brethren and bore the distinctive mark: hair +parted in the middle and combed straight back over +his ears and cut so that the edge of it almost touched +his collar. A heavy black beard concealed his chin, +mild brown eyes gleamed beneath a pair of heavy +black brows. Only in the wide, high forehead and +the resolute mouth could be seen any resemblance between +him and the fair child by his side.</p> + +<p>When they entered the kitchen Maria Metz turned +from the stove, where she had been stirring the contents +of a big iron pan.</p> + +<p>"So you got back safe, after all, Phœbe," she said +with a sigh of relief. "I was afraid mebbe something +happened to you, with so many streets to go across +and so many teams all the time and the automobiles."</p> + +<p>"Ach, I look both ways still before I start over. +Granny Hogendobler said she'll get out early."</p> + +<p>"So. What did she have to say?"</p> + +<p>"Ach, lots. She showed me her flowers. Ain't +it too bad, now, that her little girl died and her boy +went away?"</p> + +<p>"Well, she spoiled that boy. He grew up to be not +much account if he stays away just because he and his +pop had words once."</p> + +<p>"But he'll come back some day. Granny knows he +will." The child echoed the old mother's confidence.</p> + +<p>"Not much chance of that," said Aunt Maria with +her usual decisiveness. "When a man goes off like +that he mostly always stays off. He writes to her she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50"></a><a href="images/50.png">[50]</a></span> +says and I guess she's just as good off with that as if +he come home to live. She's lived this long without +him."</p> + +<p>"But," argued Phœbe, the maternal in her over-sweeping +all else, "he's her boy and she wants him +back!"</p> + +<p>"Ach," the aunt said impatiently, "you talk too +much. Were you at the store?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I got the thread and ordered the sugar and +counted the change and there was nothing in the post-office +for us."</p> + +<p>"Did you enjoy your trip to town?" asked the +father.</p> + +<p>"Yes—but——"</p> + +<p>"But what?" demanded Aunt Maria. "Did you +break anything in the store now?"</p> + +<p>"No. I just got mad. It was this way"—and she +told the story of her pink rose.</p> + +<p>Maria Metz frowned. "David Eby should leave his +mom's roses on the stalks where they belong. Anyhow, +I guess you did look funny if you poked your +nose in it like you do still here."</p> + +<p>"But she had no business to laugh at me, had she, +pop?"</p> + +<p>"You're too touchy," he said kindly. "But did you +say the lady was on Mollie Stern's porch?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Then I guess it was her cousin from Philadelphia, +the one that was elected to teach the school on the hill +for next winter."</p> + +<p>"Oh, pop, not our school?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51"></a><a href="images/51.png">[51]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes. Anyhow, her cousin was elected yesterday +to teach your school. It seems she wanted to teach +in the country and Mollie's pop is friends with a lot of +our directors and they voted her in."</p> + +<p>"I ain't goin' to school then!" Phœbe almost +sobbed. "I don't like her, I don't want to go to her +school; she laughed at me."</p> + +<p>"Come, come," the father laid his hands on her head +and spoke gently yet in a tone that she respected. +"You mustn't get worked up over it. She's a nice +young lady, and it will be something new to have a +teacher from Philadelphia. Anyhow, it's a long ways +yet till school begins."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad it is."</p> + +<p>"Come," interrupted the aunt, "help now to dish +up. It's time to eat once. We're Pennsylvania Dutch, +so what's the use gettin' cross when we're called that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Phœbe's father said, smiling, "I'm a Dutchie +too, but I'm a big Dutchie."</p> + +<p>Phœbe smiled, but all through the meal and during +the days that followed she thought often of the rose. +Her heart was bitter toward the new teacher and she +resolved never, never to like her!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52"></a><a href="images/52.png">[52]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>THE NEW TEACHER</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> first Monday in September was the opening +day of the rural school on the hill. Phœbe woke that +morning before daylight. At four she heard her Aunt +Maria tramp about in heavy shoes. It was Monday +and wash-day and to Maria Metz the two words were +so closely linked that nothing less than serious illness +or death could part them.</p> + +<p>"Ach, my," Phœbe sighed as she turned again under +her red and green quilt, "this is the first day of school! +Wish Aunt Maria'd forget to call me till it's too late to +go."</p> + +<p>At five-thirty she heard her father go down-stairs +and soon after that came her aunt's loud call, "Phœbe, +it's time to get up. Get up now and get down for I +have breakfast made."</p> + +<p>"Yes," came the dreary answer.</p> + +<p>"Now don't you go asleep again."</p> + +<p>"No, I'm awake. Shall I dress right aways for +school?"</p> + +<p>"No. Put on your old brown gingham once."</p> + +<p>Phœbe made a wry face. "Ugh, that ugly brown +gingham! What for did anybody ever buy brown +when there are such pretty colors in the stores?"</p> + +<p>A moment later she pushed back the gay quilt and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53"></a><a href="images/53.png">[53]</a></span> +sat on the edge of the bed. The first gleams of day-break +sent bright streaks of light into her room as she +sat on the high walnut bed and swung her bare feet +back and forth.</p> + +<p>"It's the first time I wasn't glad for school," she +soliloquized softly. "I used to could hardly wait +still, and I'd be glad this time if we didn't have that +teacher from Phildelphy. Miss Virginia Lee her +name is, and she's pretty like the name, but I don't +like her! Guess she's that stuck up, comin' from the +city, that she'll laugh all the time at us country people. +I don't like people that poke fun at me, you bet I don't! +I vonder now, mebbe I am funny to look at, that she +laughed at me. But if I was I think somebody would +'a' told me long ago. I don't see what for she laughed +so at me."</p> + +<p>She sprang from the bed and ran to the window, +pulled the cord of the green shade and sent it rattling +to the top. Then she stood on tiptoe before the mirror +in the walnut bureau, but the glass was hung too high +for a satisfactory scrutiny of her features. She pushed +a cane-seated chair before the bureau, knelt upon it +and brought her face close to the glass.</p> + +<p>"Um," she surveyed herself soberly. "Well, now, +mebbe if my hair was combed I'd look better."</p> + +<p>She pulled the tousled braids, opened them and shook +her head until the golden hair hung about her face in +all its glory.</p> + +<p>"Why"—she gasped at the sudden change she had +wrought, then laughed aloud from sheer childish happiness +in her own miracle—"Why," she said gladly,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54"></a><a href="images/54.png">[54]</a></span> +"I ain't near so funny lookin' with my hair opened +and down instead of pulled back in two tight plaits! +But I wish Aunt Maria'd leave me have curls. I'd +have a lot, and long ones, longer'n Mary Warner's."</p> + +<p>"Phœbe!" Aunt Maria's voice startled the little +girl. "What in the world are you doing lookin' in +that glass so? And your knees on a cane-bottom +chair! You know better than that. What for are +you lookin' at yourself like that? You ought to be +ashamed to be so vain."</p> + +<p>Phœbe left the chair and looked at her aunt.</p> + +<p>"Why," she said in an amazed voice, "I wasn't being +vain! I was just lookin' to see if I am funny lookin' +that it made Miss Lee laugh at me. And I found out +that I'm much nicer to look at with my hair open than +in plaits. You say still I mustn't have curls, but can't +you see how much nicer I look this way——"</p> + +<p>"Ach," interrupted her aunt, "don't talk so dumb! +I guess you ain't any funnier lookin' than other people, +and if you was it wouldn't matter long as you're +a good girl."</p> + +<p>"But I wouldn't be a good girl if I looked like some +people I saw a'ready. If I had such big ears and +crooked nose and big mouth——"</p> + +<p>"Phœbe, you talk vonderful! Where do you get +such nonsense put in your head?"</p> + +<p>"I just think it and then I say it. But was that +bad? I didn't mean it for bad."</p> + +<p>She looked so like a cherub of absolute innocency +with her deep blue eyes opened wide in wonder, her +golden hair tumbled about her face and streaming over<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55"></a><a href="images/55.png">[55]</a></span> +the shoulders of her white muslin nightgown, that +Aunt Maria, though she had never heard of Reynolds' +cherubs, was moved by the adorable picture.</p> + +<p>"I know, Phœbe," she said kindly, "that you want +to be a good girl. But you say such funny things still +that I vonder sometimes if I'm raisin' you the right +way. Come, hurry, now get dressed. Your pop's +goin' way over to the field near Snavely's and you want +to give him good-bye before he goes to work."</p> + +<p>"I'll hurry, Aunt Maria, honest I will," the child +promised and began to dress.</p> + +<p>A little while later when she appeared in the big +kitchen her father and Aunt Maria were already eating +breakfast. With her hair drawn back into one uneven +braid and a rusty brown dress upon her she seemed +little like the adorable figure of the looking-glass, but +her father's face lighted as he looked at her.</p> + +<p>"So, Phœbe," he said, a teasing twinkle in his eyes, +"I see you get up early to go to school."</p> + +<p>"But I ain't glad to go." She refused to smile at +his words.</p> + +<p>"Ach, yes," he coaxed, "you be a good girl and like +your new teacher. She's nice. I guess you'll like her +when you know her once."</p> + +<p>"Mebbe so," was the unpromising answer as she +slipped the straps of a blue checked apron over her +shoulders, buttoned it in the back and took her place +at the table.</p> + +<p>Breakfast at the Metz farm was no light meal. Between +the early morning meal and the twelve o'clock +dinner much hard work was generally accomplished<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56"></a><a href="images/56.png">[56]</a></span> +and Maria Metz felt that a substantial foundation was +necessary. Accordingly, she carried to the big, square +cherry table in the kitchen an array of well-filled +dishes. There was always a glass dish of stewed +prunes or seasonable fresh fruit; a plate piled high with +thick slices of home-made bread; several dishes of +spreadings, as the jellies, preserves or apple-butter of +that community are called. There was a generous +square of home-made butter, a platter of home-cured +ham or sausage, a dish of fried or creamed potatoes, +a smaller dish of pickles or beets, and occasionally a +dome of glistening cup cheese. The meal would have +been considered incomplete without a liberal supply of +cake or cookies, coffee in huge cups and yellow cream +in an old-fashioned blue pitcher.</p> + +<p>That morning Aunt Maria had prepared an extra +treat, a platter of golden slices of fried mush.</p> + +<p>The two older people partook heartily of the food +before them but the child ate listlessly. Her aunt soon +exclaimed, "Now, Phœbe, you must eat or you'll get +hungry till recess. You know this is the first day of +school and you can't run for a cookie if you get +hungry. You ain't eatin'; you feel bad?"</p> + +<p>"No, but I ain't hungry."</p> + +<p>"Come now," urged her father, as he poured a +liberal helping of molasses on his sixth piece of mush, +"you must eat. You surely don't feel that bad about +going to school!"</p> + +<p>"Ach, pop," she burst out, "I don't hate the school +part, the learnin' in books; that part is easy. But I +don't like the teacher, and I guess she laughed at my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57"></a><a href="images/57.png">[57]</a></span> +tight braids. Mebbe if I dared wear curls—— Oh, +pop, daren't I have curls? I'd like to show her that I +look nice that way. Say I dare, then I won't be so +funny lookin' no more!"</p> + +<p>Jacob Metz looked at his offspring—what did the +child mean? Why, he thought she was right sweet +and surely her aunt kept her clean and tidy. But +before he could answer his sister spoke authoritatively.</p> + +<p>"Jacob, I wish you'd tell her once that she daren't +have curls! She just plagues me all the time for 'em. +Her hair was made to be kept back and not hangin' +all over."</p> + +<p>"Why then," Phœbe asked soberly, "did God make +my hair curly if I daren't have curls?" She spoke +with a sense of knowing that she had propounded an +unanswerable question.</p> + +<p>"That part don't matter," evaded Aunt Maria. +"You ask your pop once how he wants you to have +your hair fixed."</p> + +<p>The child looked up expectantly but she read the +answer in her father's face.</p> + +<p>"I like your hair back in plaits, Phœbe. You look +nice that way."</p> + +<p>"Ach," her nose wrinkled in disgust, "not so very, +I guess. Mary Warner has curls, always she has +curls!"</p> + +<p>"Come," said the father as he rose from his chair, +"you be a good girl now to-day. I'm going now."</p> + +<p>"All right, pop. I'll tell you to-night how I like the +teacher."</p> + +<p>After the breakfast dishes were washed and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58"></a><a href="images/58.png">[58]</a></span> +other morning tasks accomplished Phœbe brought her +comb and ribbons to her aunt and sat patiently on a +spindle-legged kitchen chair while the woman carefully +parted the long light hair and formed it into two +braids, each tied at the end with a narrow brown ribbon.</p> + +<p>"Now," Aunt Maria said as she unbuttoned the +despised brown dress, "you dare put on your blue +chambray dress if you take care and not get it dirty +right aways."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm glad for that. I like that dress best of +all I have. It's not so long in the body or tight or +long in the skirt like my other dresses. And blue is +a prettier color than brown. I'll hurry now and get +dressed."</p> + +<p>She ran up the wide stairs, her hands skimming +lightly the white hand-rail, and entered the little room +known as the clothes-room, where the best clothes of +the family were hung on heavy hooks fastened along +the entire length of the four walls. She soon found +the blue chambray dress. It was extremely simple. +The plain gathered skirt was fastened to the full waist +by a wide belt of the chambray. But the dress bore +one distinctive feature. Instead of the usual narrow +band around the neck it was adorned with a wide round +collar which lay over the shoulders. Phœbe knew +that the collar was vastly becoming and the knowledge +always had a soothing effect upon her.</p> + +<p>When the call of the school bell floated down the +hill to the gray farmhouse Phœbe picked up her school +bag and her tin lunch kettle and started off, outwardly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59"></a><a href="images/59.png">[59]</a></span> +in happier mood yet loath to go to the old schoolhouse +for the first session of school.</p> + +<p>From the Metz farm the road to the school began +to ascend. Gradually it curved up-hill, then suddenly +stretched out in a long, steep climb until, upon +the summit of the hill, it curved sharply to the west to +a wide clearing. It was to this clearing the little country +schoolhouse with its wide porch and snug bell-tower +called the children back to their studies.</p> + +<p>Goldenrod and asters grew along the road, dogwood +branches hung their scarlet berries over the edge +of the woods, but Phœbe would have scorned to +gather any of the flowers she loved and carry them to +the new teacher. "I ain't bringing <i>her</i> any flowers," +she soliloquized.</p> + +<p>She trudged soberly ahead. As she reached the +summit of the hill several children called to her. From +three roads came other children, most of them carrying +baskets or kettles filled with the noon lunch. All +were eager for the opening of school, anxious to "see +the new teacher once."</p> + +<p>From the farm nearest the schoolhouse Phares Eby +had come for his last year in the rural school. From +the little cottage on the adjoining farm David Eby +came whistling down the road.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Phœbe," he called as he drew near to her. +"Glad for school?"</p> + +<p>"I ain't!" She flung the words at him. "You +know good enough I ain't."</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha," he laughed, "don't be cranky, Phœbe. +Here comes Phares and he'll tell you that your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60"></a><a href="images/60.png">[60]</a></span> +eyes are black when you're cross. Won't you, +Phares?"</p> + +<p>"I——" began the sober youth, but Phœbe rudely +interrupted.</p> + +<p>"I don't care. I don't like the new teacher."</p> + +<p>"You must like everybody," said Phares.</p> + +<p>"Well, I just guess I won't! There's Mary Warner +with her white dress and her black curls with a pink +bow on them—you don't think I'm likin' her when +she's got what I want and daren't have? Come on, +it's time to go in," she added as Phares would have +remonstrated with her for her frank avowal of +jealousy. "Let's go in and see what the teacher's +got on."</p> + +<p>"Gee," whistled David, "girls are always thinking +of clothes."</p> + +<p>Phœbe gave him a disdainful look, but he laughed +and walked by her side, up the three steps, across the +porch and into the schoolhouse.</p> + +<p>The red brick schoolhouse on the hill was a typical +country school of Lancaster County. It had one large +room with four rows of double desks and seats facing +the teacher's desk and a long blackboard with its +border of A B C. A stove stood in one of the corners +in the front of the room. In the rear numerous hooks +in the wall waited for the children's wraps and a low +bench stood ready to receive their lunch baskets and +kettles. Each detail of the little schoolhouse was +reproduced in scores of other rural schools of that +community. And yet, somehow, many of the older +children felt on that first Monday a hope that their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61"></a><a href="images/61.png">[61]</a></span> +school would be different that year, that the teacher +from Philadelphia would change many of the old ways +and teach them, what Youth most desires, new ways, +new manners, new things. It is only as the years +bring wisdom that men and women appreciate the old +things of life, as well as the new.</p> + +<p>The new teacher became at once the predominating +spirit of that little group. The interest of all the +children, from the shy little beginners in the Primer +class to the tall ones in the A class, was centered about +her.</p> + +<p>Miss Lee stood by her desk as Phœbe and the two +boys entered. It was still that delightful period, before-school, +when laughter could be released and +voices raised without a fear of "keep quiet." The +children moved to the teacher's desk as though drawn +by magnetic force. Mary Warner, her dark curls +hanging over her shoulders, appeared already acquainted +with her. Several tiny beginners stood near +the desk, a few older scholars were bravely offering +their services to fetch water from Eby's "whenever +it's all or you want some fresh," or else stay and clap +the erasers clean.</p> + +<p>When the second tug at the bell-rope gave the final +call for the opening of school there was an air of gladness +in the room. The new teacher possessed enough +of the elusive "something" the country children felt +belonged to a teacher from a big city like Philadelphia. +The way she conducted the opening exercises, led the +singing, and then proceeded with the business of arranging +classes and assigning lessons served to intensify<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62"></a><a href="images/62.png">[62]</a></span> +the first feelings of satisfaction. When recess came +the children ran outdoors, ostensibly to play, but rather +to gather into little groups and discuss the merits of +the new teacher. The general verdict was, "She's +all right."</p> + +<p>"Ain't she all right?" David Eby asked Phœbe as +they stood in the brown grasses near the school porch.</p> + +<p>"Ach, don't ask me that so often!"</p> + +<p>"But honest now, Phœbe, don't you like her?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"When will you know?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," came the tantalizing answer.</p> + +<p>"Ach, sometimes, Phœbe, you make me mad! You +act dumb just like the other girls sometimes."</p> + +<p>"Then keep away from me if you don't like me," +she retorted.</p> + +<p>"Sassbox!" said the boy and walked away from +her.</p> + +<p>The little tilt with David did not improve the girl's +humor. She entered the schoolroom with a sulky +look on her face, her blue eyes dark and stormy. Accordingly, +when Mary Warner shook her enviable +curls and leaned forward to whisper ecstatically, +"Phœbe, don't you just love the new teacher?" +Phœbe replied very decidedly, "I do not! I don't like +her at all!"</p> + +<p>For a moment Mary held her breath, then a surprised +"Oh!" came from her lips and she raised her +hand and waved it frantically to attract the teacher's +attention.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Mary?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63"></a><a href="images/63.png">[63]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, Miss Lee, Phœbe Metz says she don't like +you at all!"</p> + +<p>"Did she ask you to tell me?" A faint flush crept +into the face of the teacher.</p> + +<p>"No—but——"</p> + +<p>"Then that will do, Mary."</p> + +<p>But Phœbe Metz did not dismiss the matter so +easily. She turned in her seat and gave one of Mary's +obnoxious curls a vigorous yank.</p> + +<p>"Tattle-tale!" she hurled out madly. "Big tattle-tale!"</p> + +<p>"Yank 'em again," whispered David, seated a few +seats behind the girls, but Phares called out a soft, +"Phœbe, stop that."</p> + +<p>It all occurred in a moment—the yank, the outcry +of Mary, the whispers of the two boys and the subsequent +pause in the matter of teaching and the centering +of every child's attention upon the exciting incident +and wondering what Miss Lee would do with the disturbers +of the peace.</p> + +<p>"Phœbe," the teacher's voice was controlled and +forceful, "you may fold your hands. You do not +seem to know what to do with them."</p> + +<p>Phœbe folded her hands and bowed her head in +shame. She hadn't meant to create a disturbance. +What would her father say when he knew she was +scolded the first day of school!</p> + +<p>The teacher's voice went on, "Mary Warner, you +may come to me at noon. I want to tell you a few +things about tale-bearing. Phœbe may remain after +the others leave this afternoon."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64"></a><a href="images/64.png">[64]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Kept in!" thought Phœbe disconsolately. She +was going to be kept in the first day! Never before +had such punishment been meted out to her! The +disgrace almost overwhelmed her.</p> + +<p>"Now I won't ever, ever, ever like her!" she +thought as she bent her head to hide the tears.</p> + +<p>The remainder of the day was like a blurred page to +her. She was glad when the other children picked up +their books and empty baskets and kettles and started +homeward.</p> + +<p>"Cheer up," whispered David as he passed out, but +she was too miserable to smile or answer.</p> + +<p>"Come on, David," urged Phares when the two +cousins reached outdoors and the younger one seemed +reluctant to go home. "Don't stay here to pet +Phœbe when she comes out."</p> + +<p>"Ach, the poor kid"—David was all sympathy and +tenderness.</p> + +<p>"Let her get punished. Pulling Mary's hair like +that!"</p> + +<p>"Well, Mary tattled. I was wishing Phœbe'd yank +that darned kid's hair half off."</p> + +<p>"Mary just told the truth. You think everything +Phœbe does is right and you help her along in her +temper. She needs to be punished sometimes."</p> + +<p>"Ach, you make me tired, standing up for a tattle-tale! +Anyhow, you go on home. I'm goin' to hang +round a while and see if Miss Lee does anything +mean."</p> + +<p>Phares went on alone and the other boy stole to a +window and crouched to the ground.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65"></a><a href="images/65.png">[65]</a></span></p> + +<p>Inside the room Phœbe waited tremblingly for the +teacher to speak. It seemed ages before Miss Lee +walked down the aisle and stood by the low desk.</p> + +<p>Phœbe raised her head—the look in the dark eyes +of the teacher filled her with a sudden reversion of +feeling. How could she go on hating any one so +beautiful!</p> + +<p>"Phœbe, I'm sorry—I'm so sorry there has been +any trouble the first day and that you have been the +cause of it."</p> + +<p>"I—ach, Miss Lee," the child blurted out half-sobbingly, +"Mary, she tattled on me."</p> + +<p>"That was wrong, of course. I made her understand +that at noon. But don't you think that pulling +her hair and creating a disturbance was equally +wrong?"</p> + +<p>"I guess so, mebbe. But I didn't mean to make no +fuss. I—I—why, I just get so mad still! I hadn't +ought to pull her hair, for that hurts vonderful much."</p> + +<p>"Then you might tell her to-morrow how sorry you +are about it."</p> + +<p>"Yes." Phœbe looked up at the lovely face of the +teacher. She felt that some explanation of Mary's +tale was necessary. "Why, now," she stammered, +"you know—you know that Mary said I said I don't +like you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Why, this summer once, early in June it was"—the +child hung her head and spoke almost inaudibly—"you +laughed at me and called me a <span class="smcap">Little +Dutchie</span>!" She looked up bravely then and spoke<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66"></a><a href="images/66.png">[66]</a></span> +faster, "And for that, it's just for that I don't like +you like all the others do a'ready."</p> + +<p>"Laughed at you!" Miss Lee was perplexed. +"You must be mistaken."</p> + +<p>But Phœbe shook her head resolutely and told the +story of the pink rose. Miss Lee listened at first with +an incredulous smile upon her face, then with dawning +remembrance.</p> + +<p>"You dear child!" she cried as Phœbe ended her +quaint recital. "So you are the little girl of the sunbonnet +and the rose! I thought this morning I had +seen you before. But you don't understand! I didn't +laugh at you in the way you think. Why, I laughed +at you just as we laugh at a dear little baby, because +we love it and because it is so dear and sweet. And +<span class="smcap">Dutchie</span> was just a pet name. Can't you understand? +You were so quaint and interesting in your +sunbonnet and with the pink rose pressed to your face. +Can't you understand?"</p> + +<p>Phœbe smiled radiantly, her face beaming with happiness.</p> + +<p>"Ach, ain't that simple now of me, Miss Lee?" she +said in her old-fashioned manner. "I was so dumb +and thought you was makin' fun of me, and just for +that all summer I was wishin' school would not start +ever. And I was sayin' all the time I ain't goin' to +like you. But now I do like you," she added softly.</p> + +<p>"I am glad we understand each other, Phœbe."</p> + +<p>Miss Lee was genuinely interested in the child, attracted +by the charming personality of the country +girl. Of the thirty children of that school she felt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67"></a><a href="images/67.png">[67]</a></span> +that Phœbe Metz, in spite of her old-fashioned dress +and older-fashioned ways, was the preëminent figure. +It would be a delight to teach a child whose face could +light with so much animation.</p> + +<p>"Now, Phœbe," she said, "since we understand +each other and have become friends, gather your books +and hurry home. Your mother may be anxious about +you."</p> + +<p>"Not my mother," Phœbe replied soberly. "I ain't +got no mom. It's my Aunt Maria and my pop takes +care of me. My mom's dead long a'ready. But I'm +goin' now," she ended brightly before Miss Lee could +answer. "And the road's all down-hill so it won't +take me long."</p> + +<p>So she gathered her books and kettle, said good-bye +to Miss Lee and hurried from the schoolhouse. When +she was fairly on the road she broke into her habit of +soliloquy: "Ach, if she ain't the nicest lady! So +pretty she is and so kind! She was vonderful kind +after what I done. The teacher we had last year, now, +he would 'a' slapped my hands with a ruler, he was awful +for rulers! But she just looked at me and I was so +sorry for bein' bad that I could 'a' cried. And when +she touched my hands—her hands is soft like the milkweed +silk we find still in the fall—I just had to like +her. I like her now and I'm goin' to be a good girl +for her and when I grow up I wish I'd be just like her, +just esactly like her."</p> + +<p>David Eby waited until he was certain no harm was +coming to Phœbe. He heard her say, "Now I do like +you" and knew that the matter was being settled sat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68"></a><a href="images/68.png">[68]</a></span>isfactorily. +Relieved, yet ashamed of his eavesdropping, +he ran down the road toward his home.</p> + +<p>"That teacher's all right," he thought. "But +Jimminy, girls is funny things!"</p> + +<p>He went on, whistling, but stopped suddenly as he +turned a curve in the road and saw Phares sitting on +the grass in the shelter of a clump of bushes.</p> + +<p>The older boy rose. "David," he said sternly, +"you're spoiling Phœbe Metz with your petting and +fooling around her. What for need you pity her when +she gets kept in for being bad? She was bad!"</p> + +<p>"She was not bad!" David defended staunchly. +"That Mary Warner makes me sick. Phœbe's got +some sense, anyhow, and she's not bad. There's +nothing bad in her."</p> + +<p>"Um," said Phares tauntingly, "mebbe you like her +already and next you'll want her for your girl. You +give her pink roses and you stay to lick the teacher +for her if——"</p> + +<p>But the sentence was never finished. At the first +words David's eyes flashed, his hands doubled into +hard fists and, as his cousin paid no heed to the warning, +he struck out suddenly, then partially restraining +his rage, he unclenched his right hand and gave Phares +a smarting slap upon the mouth.</p> + +<p>"I'll learn you," he growled, "to meddle in my +business! You mind your own, d'ye hear?"</p> + +<p>"Why"—Phares knew no words to answer the +insult—"why, David," he stammered, wiping his +smarting lips.</p> + +<p>But his silence added fuel to the other's wrath.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69"></a><a href="images/69.png">[69]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You butt in too much, that's what!" said David. +"It's just like Phœbe says, you boss too much. I ain't +going to take it no more from you."</p> + +<p>"I—now—mebbe I do," admitted Phares.</p> + +<p>At the words David's anger cooled. He laid a hand +on the older boy's arm, as older men might have +gripped hands in reconciliation. "Come on, Phares," +he said in natural, friendly tones. "I hadn't ought +to hit you. Let's forget all about it. You and me +mustn't fight over Phœbe."</p> + +<p>"That's so," agreed Phares, but both were thoughtful +and silent as they went down the lane.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70"></a><a href="images/70.png">[70]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>THE HEART OF A CHILD</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Phœbe's</span> aspiration to become like her teacher did +not lessen as the days went on. Her profound admiration +for Miss Lee developed into intense devotion, a +devotion whose depth she carefully guarded from discovery.</p> + +<p>To her father's interested questioning she answered +a mere, "Why, I like her, for all, pop. She didn't +laugh to make fun at me. I think she's nice." But +secretly the little girl thought of her new teacher in +the most extravagant superlatives. Her heart was +experiencing its first "hero" worship; the poetic, imaginative +soul of the child was attracted by the magnetic +personality of Miss Lee. The teacher's smiles, +mannerisms, dress, and above all, her English, were +objects worthy of emulation, thought the child. At +times Phœbe despaired of ever becoming like Miss +Lee, then again she felt certain she had within her possibilities +to become like the enviable, wonderful Virginia +Lee. But she breathed to none her ambitions +and hopes except at night as she knelt by her high old-fashioned +bed and bent her head to say the prayer +Aunt Maria had taught her in babyhood. Then to the +prayer, "Now I lay me down to sleep," she added an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71"></a><a href="images/71.png">[71]</a></span> +original petition, "And please let me get like my +teacher, Miss Lee. Amen."</p> + +<p>"Aunt Maria, church is on the hill Sunday, ain't +it?" she asked one day after several weeks of school.</p> + +<p>"Yes. And I hope it's nice, for we make ready for +a lot of company always when we have church here."</p> + +<p>"Why," the child asked eagerly, "dare I ask Miss +Lee to come here for dinner too that Sunday? Mary +Warner's mom had her for dinner last Sunday."</p> + +<p>"Ach, yes, I don't care. You ask her. Mebbe she +ain't been in a plain church yet and would like to go +with us and then come home for dinner here. You +ask her once."</p> + +<p>Phœbe trembled a bit as she invited the teacher to +the gray farmhouse. "Miss Lee—why—we have +church here on the hill this Sunday and Aunt Maria +thought perhaps you'd like to come out and go with +us and then come to our house for dinner. We always +have a lot of people for dinner."</p> + +<p>"I'd love to, Phœbe, thank you," answered Miss +Lee.</p> + +<p>The plain sects of that community were all novel to +her. She was eager to attend a service in the meeting-house +on the hill and especially eager to meet Phœbe's +people and study the unusual child in the intimate +circle of home.</p> + +<p>"Tell your aunt I shall be very glad to go to the +service with you," she said as Phœbe stood speechless +with joy. "Will you go?"</p> + +<p>"Ach, yes, I go always," with a surprised widening +of the blue eyes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72"></a><a href="images/72.png">[72]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And your aunt, too?"</p> + +<p>"Why be sure, yes! Abody don't stay home from +church when it's so near. That would look like we +don't want company. There's church on the hill only +every six weeks and the other Sundays it's at other +churches. Then we drive to those other churches and +people what live near ask us to come to their house +for dinner, and we go. Then when it's here on the +hill we must ask people that live far off to come to us +for dinner. That way everybody has a place to go. +It makes it nice to go away and to have company still. +We always have a lot when church is here. Aunt +Maria cooks so good."</p> + +<p>She spoke the last words innocently and looked up +with an expression of wonder as she heard Miss Lee +laugh gaily—now what was funny? Surely Miss Lee +laughed when there was nothing at all to laugh about!</p> + +<p>"What time does your service begin?" asked the +teacher. "What time do you leave the house?"</p> + +<p>"It takes in at nine o'clock——"</p> + +<p>Miss Lee smothered an ejaculation of surprise.</p> + +<p>"But we leave the house a little after half-past +eight. Then we can go easy up the hill and have time +to walk around on the graveyard a little and get in +church early and watch the people come in."</p> + +<p>"I'll stop for you and go with you, Phœbe."</p> + +<p>Sunday morning at the Metz farm was no time for +prolonged slumber. With the first crowing of roosters +Aunt Maria rose. After the early breakfast there +were numerous tasks to be performed before the departure +for the meeting-house. There was the milking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73"></a><a href="images/73.png">[73]</a></span> +to be done and the cans of milk placed in the cool +spring-house; the chickens and cattle to be fed; each +room of the big house to be dusted; vegetables to be +prepared for a hasty boiling after the return from the +service; preserves and canned fruits to be brought +from the cellar, placed into glass dishes and set in +readiness.</p> + +<p>At eight-fifteen Phœbe was ready. She wore her +favorite blue chambray dress and delighted in the fact +that Sunday always brought her the privilege of wearing +her hat. The little sailor hat with its narrow ribbon +and little bow was certainly not the hat she would +have chosen if she might have had that pleasure, but +it was the only hat she owned, so was not to be +despised. She felt grateful that Aunt Maria allowed +her to wear a hat. Many little girls, some smaller than +she, came to church every Sunday wearing silk bonnets +like their elders!—she felt grateful for her hat—any +hat!</p> + +<p>Tugging at the elastic under her chin, then smoothing +her handkerchief and placing it in her sleeve—she +had seen Miss Lee dispose of a handkerchief in that +way—she walked to the little green gate and watched +the road leading from Greenwald.</p> + +<p>Her heart leaped when she saw the teacher come +down the long road. She opened the gate to go to +meet her, then suddenly stood still. Miss Lee as she +appeared in the schoolroom, in white linen dress or +trim serge skirt and tailored waist, was attractive +enough to cause Phœbe's heart to flutter with admiration +a dozen times a day; but Miss Lee in Sunday<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74"></a><a href="images/74.png">[74]</a></span> +morning church attire was so irresistibly sweet that +the vision sent the little girl's heart pounding and +caused a strange shyness to possess her. The semi-tailored +dress of dark blue taffeta, the sheer white collar, +the small black hat with its white wings, the silver +coin purse in the gloved hand—no detail escaped the +keen eyes of the child. She looked down at her cotton +dress—it had seemed so pretty just a moment ago. +But, of course, such dresses and gloves and hats were +for grown-ups! "But just you wait," she thought, +"when I grow up I'll look like that, too, see if I +don't!"</p> + +<p>Miss Lee, smiling, never knew the depths she stirred +in the heart of the little girl.</p> + +<p>"Am I late, Phœbe?"</p> + +<p>"Ach, no. Just on time. Pop, he went a'ready, +though. He goes early still to open the meeting-house. +We'll go right away, as soon as Aunt Maria locks up. +But what for did you bring a pocketbook?"</p> + +<p>"For the offering."</p> + +<p>"Offering?"</p> + +<p>"The church offering, Phœbe. Surely you know +what that is if you go to church every Sunday. Don't +you have collection plates or baskets passed about in +your church for everybody to put their offerings on +them?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no, we don't have that in our church! What +for do they do that in any church?"</p> + +<p>"To pay the preachers' salaries and——"</p> + +<p>"Goodness," Phœbe laughed, "it would take a +vonderful lot to pay all the preachers that preach at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75"></a><a href="images/75.png">[75]</a></span> +our church. Sometimes three or four preach at one +meeting. They have to work week-days and get their +money just like other men do. Men come around to +the house sometimes for money for the poor, and when +the meeting-house needs a new roof or something +like that, everybody helps to pay for it, but we don't +take no collections in church, like you say. That's a +funny way——"</p> + +<p>The appearance of Maria Metz prevented further +discussion of church collections. With a large, fringed +shawl pinned over her plain gray dress and a stiff black +silk bonnet tied under her chin, she was ready for +church. She was putting the big iron key of the +kitchen door into a deep pocket of her full skirt as she +came down the walk.</p> + +<p>"That way, now we're ready," she said affably. +"I guess you're Phœbe's teacher, ain't? I see you go +past still."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I am very glad to meet you, Miss Metz. +It is very kind of you to invite me to go with you."</p> + +<p>"Ach, that's nothing. You're welcome enough. +We always have much company when church is on the +hill. This is a nice day, so I guess church will be full. +I hope so, anyway, for I got ready for company for +dinner. But how do you like Greenwald?"</p> + +<p>"Very well, indeed. It is beautiful here."</p> + +<p>"Ain't! But I guess it's different from Phildelphy. +I was there once, in the Centennial, and it was so full +everywheres. I like the country best. Can't anything +beat this now, can it?"</p> + +<p>They reached the summit of the hill and paused.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76"></a><a href="images/76.png">[76]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," said Miss Lee, "this is hard to beat. I love +the view from this hill."</p> + +<p>"Ain't now"—Aunt Maria smiled in approval—"this +here is about the nicest spot around Greenwald. +There's the town so plain you could almost count the +houses, only the trees get in the road. And there's +the reservoir with the white fence around, and the +farms and the pretty country around them—it's a +pretty place."</p> + +<p>"I like this hill," said Phœbe. "When I grow up +I'm goin' to have a farm on this hill, when I'm married, +I mean."</p> + +<p>"That's too far off yet, Phœbe," said her aunt. +"You must eat bread and butter yet a while before +you think of such things."</p> + +<p>"Anyhow, I changed my mind. I'm not goin' to +live in the country when I grow up; I'm going to be a +fine lady and live in the city."</p> + +<p>"Phœbe, stop that dumb talk, now!" reproved her +aunt sternly. "You turn round and walk up the hill. +We'll go on now, Miss Lee. Mebbe you'd like to go +on the graveyard a little?"</p> + +<p>"I don't mind."</p> + +<p>"Then come." Aunt Maria led the way, past the +low brick meeting-house, through the gateway into the +old burial ground. They wandered among the marble +slabs and read the inscriptions, some half obliterated +by years of mountain storms, others freshly carved.</p> + +<p>"The epitaphs are interesting," said Miss Lee.</p> + +<p>"What's them?" asked Phœbe.</p> + +<p>"The verses on the tombstones. Here is one"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77"></a><a href="images/77.png">[77]</a></span>—she +read the inscription on the base of a narrow gray +stone—"'After life's fitful fever she sleeps well.'"</p> + +<p>"Ach," Aunt Maria said tartly, "I guess her man +knowed why he put that on. That poor woman had +three husbands and eleven children, so I guess she had +fitful fever enough."</p> + +<p>Phœbe laughed loud as she saw the smile on the face +of her teacher, but next moment she sobered under the +chiding of Aunt Maria. "Phœbe, now you keep quiet! +Abody don't laugh and act so on a graveyard!"</p> + +<p>"Ugh," the child said a moment later, "Miss Lee, +just read this one. It always gives me shivers when +I read it still.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'Remember, man, as you pass by,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;">What you are now that once was I.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;">What I am now that you will be;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;">Prepare for death and follow me.'"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"That is rather startling," said Miss Lee.</p> + +<p>Phœbe smiled and asked, "Don't you think this is a +pretty graveyard?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. How well cared for the graves are. Not +a weed on most of them."</p> + +<p>"Well," Aunt Maria explained, "the people who +have dead here mostly take care of the graves. We +come up every two weeks or so and sometimes we +bring a hoe and fix our graves up nice and even. But +some people are too lazy to keep the graves clean. I +hoed some pig-ears out a few graves last week; I was +ashamed of 'em, even if the graves didn't belong to us."</p> + +<p>In the corner near the road the aunt stopped before +a plain gray boulder.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78"></a><a href="images/78.png">[78]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Phœbe's mom," she said, pointing to the inscription.</p> + +<div class='center'> +"<i>PHŒBE<br /> +beloved wife of<br /> +Jacob Metz<br /> +aged twenty-two years<br /> +and one month.<br /> +Souls of the righteous<br /> +are in the hand of God.</i>"<br /> +</div> + +<p>"I'm glad," said the child as they stood by her +mother's grave, "that they put that last on, for when +I come here still I like to know that my mom ain't +under all this dirt but that she's up in the Good Place +like it says there."</p> + +<p>Miss Lee clasped the little hand in hers—what +words were adequate to express her feeling for the +motherless child!</p> + +<p>"Come on," Maria Metz said crisply, "or we'll be +late." But Miss Lee read in the brusqueness a strong +feeling of sorrow for the child.</p> + +<p>Silently the three walked through the green aisles of +the old graveyard, Aunt Maria leading the way, alone; +Phœbe's hand still in the hand of her teacher.</p> + +<p>To Miss Lee, whose hours of public worship had +hitherto been spent in an Episcopal church in Philadelphia, +the extreme plainness of the meeting-house on the +hill brought a sense of acute wonderment. The contrast +was so marked. There, in the city, was the +large, high-vaulted church whose in-streaming light +was softened by exquisite stained windows and revealed +each detail of construction and color harmoniously +consistent. Here, in the country, was the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79"></a><a href="images/79.png">[79]</a></span> +square, low-ceilinged meeting-house through whose +open windows the glaring light relentlessly intensified +the whiteness of the walls and revealed more plainly +each flaw and knot in the unpainted pine benches. +Yet the meeting-house on the hill was strangely, +strongly representative of the frank, honest, unpretentious +people who worshipped there, and after the +first wave of surprise a feeling of interest and reverence +held her.</p> + +<p>It was a unique sight for the city girl. The rows +of white-capped women were separated from the rows +of bearded men by a low partition built midway down +the body of the church. Each sex entered the meeting-house +through a different door and sat in its +apportioned half of the building. On each side of the +room rows of black hooks were set into the walls. On +these hooks the sisters hung their bonnets and the +shawls and the brethren placed their hats and overcoats +during the service.</p> + +<p>The preachers, varying in number from two to six, +sat before a long table in the front part of the meeting-house. +When the duty of preaching devolved upon +one of them he simply rose from his seat and delivered +his message.</p> + +<p>As Aunt Maria and her two followers took their +seats on a bench near the front of the church a +preacher rose.</p> + +<p>"Let us join in singing—has any one a choice?"</p> + +<p>Miss Lee started as a woman's voice answered, +"Number one hundred forty-seven." However, her +surprise merged into other emotions as the old hymn<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80"></a><a href="images/80.png">[80]</a></span> +rose in the low-ceilinged room. There was no accompaniment +of any musical instrument, just a harmonious +blending of the deep-toned voices of the brethren +with the sweet voices of the sisters. The music +swelled in full, deliberate rhythm, its calm earnestness +bearing witness to the fact that every word of the +hymn was uttered in a spirit of worship.</p> + +<p>Maria Metz sang very softly, but Phœbe's young +voice rose clearly in the familiar words, "Jesus, Lover +of my soul."</p> + +<p>Miss Lee listened a moment to the sweet voice of +the child by her side, then she, too, joined in the singing—feeling +the words, as she had never before felt +them, to be the true expression of millions of mortals +who have sung, are singing, and shall continue to sing +them.</p> + +<p>When the hymn was ended another preacher arose +and opened the service with a few remarks, then asked +all to kneel in prayer.</p> + +<p>Every one—men, women, children—turned and +knelt upon the bare floor while the preacher's voice +rose in a simple prayer. As the Amen fell from his +lips Miss Lee started to rise, but Phœbe laid a restraining +hand upon her and whispered, "There's yet +one."</p> + +<p>For a moment there was silence in the meeting-house. +Then the voice of another preacher rose in the +universal prayer, "Our Father, which art in heaven." +Every extemporaneous prayer in the Church of the +Brethren is complemented by the model prayer the +Master taught His disciples.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81"></a><a href="images/81.png">[81]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was another hymn, reading of the Scriptures, +and then the sermon proper was preached.</p> + +<p>Aunt Maria nodded approvingly as the preacher +read, "Whose adorning let it not be that outward +adorning of plaiting the hair, and of wearing of gold, +or of putting on of apparel; but let it be the hidden +man of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, even +the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the +sight of God of great price."</p> + +<p>"You listen good now to what the preacher says," +the woman whispered to Phœbe.</p> + +<p>The child looked Up solemnly at her aunt, about her +at the many white-capped women, then up at Miss +Lee's pretty hat with its white Mercury wings—she +was endeavoring to justify the pleasure and beauty her +aunt pronounced vanity. Was Miss Lee really wicked +when she wore clothes like that? Surely, no! After +a few moments the child sighed, folded her hands and +looked steadfastly at the tall bearded man who was +preaching.</p> + +<p>The clergy among these plain sects receive no remuneration +for their preaching. With them the mercenary +and the pecuniary are ever distinct from the +religious. Six days in the week the preacher follows +the plow or works at some other worthy occupation; +upon the seventh day he preaches the Gospel. There +is, therefore, no elaborate preparation for the sermon; +the preacher has abundant faith in the old admonition, +"Take no thought how or what ye shall speak, for it +shall be given you in that same hour what ye shall +speak, for it is not ye that speak but the spirit of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82"></a><a href="images/82.png">[82]</a></span> +Father that speaketh in you." Thus it is that, while +the sermons usually lack the blandishments of fine +rhetoric and the rhythmic ease arising from oratorical +ability, they seldom fail in deep sincerity and directness +of appeal.</p> + +<p>The one who delivered the message that September +morning told of the joy of those who have overcome +the desire for the vanities of the world, extolled the +virtue of a simple life, till Miss Lee felt convinced +that there must be something real in a religion that +could hold its followers to so simple, wholesome a +life.</p> + +<p>She looked about, at the serried rows of white-capped +women—how gentle and calm they appeared in +their white caps and plain dresses; she looked across +the partition at the lines of men—how strong and honest +their faces were; and the children—she had never +before seen so many children at a church service—would +they all, in time, wear the garb of their people +and enter the church of their parents? The child at +her side—vivacious, untiring, responsive Phœbe—would +she, too, wear the plain dress some day and live +the quiet life of her people?</p> + +<p>The eagerness of the child's face as Miss Lee looked +at her denoted intense interest in the sermon, but none +could know the real cause of that eagerness.</p> + +<p>"I won't, I just won't dress plain!" she was thinking. +"Anyway, not till I'm old like Aunt Maria. I +want to look like Miss Lee when I grow up. And that +preacher just said that it ain't good to plait the hair, +I mean he read it out the Bible. Mebbe now Aunt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83"></a><a href="images/83.png">[83]</a></span> +Maria will leave me have curls. I hope she heard +him say that."</p> + +<p>She sighed in relief as the sermon was concluded +and the next preacher rose and added a few remarks. +When the third man rose to add his few remarks +Phœbe looked up at Miss Lee and whispered, "Guess +he's the last one once!"</p> + +<p>Miss Lee smiled. The service was rather long, but +it was drawing to a close. There was another prayer, +another hymn and the service ended.</p> + +<p>Immediately the white-capped women rose and began +to bestow upon each other the holy kiss; upon the +opposite side of the church the brethren greeted each +other in like fashion. Everywhere there were greetings +and profferings of dinner invitations.</p> + +<p>Maria Metz and her brother did not fail in their +duty. In a few minutes they had invited a goodly +number to make the gray farmhouse their stopping-place. +Then Aunt Maria hurried home, eager to +prepare for her guests. Soon the Metz barnyard was +filled with carriages and automobiles and the gray +house resounded with happy voices. Some of the +women helped Maria in the kitchen, others wandered +about in the old-fashioned garden, where dahlias, +sweet alyssum, marigolds, ladies' breastpin and snapdragons +still bloomed in the bright September sunshine.</p> + +<p>Miss Lee, guided by Phœbe, examined every nook of +the big garden, peered into the deserted wren-house +and listened to the child's story of the six baby wrens +reared in the box that summer. Finally Phœbe sug<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84"></a><a href="images/84.png">[84]</a></span>gested +sitting on a bench half screened by rose-bushes +and honeysuckle. There, in that green spot, Miss Lee +tactfully coaxed the child to unfold her charming +personality, all serenely unconscious of the fact that +inside the gray house the white-capped women were +discussing the new teacher as they prepared the +dinner.</p> + +<p>"She seems vonderful nice and common," volunteered +Aunt Maria. "Not stuck up, for a Phildelphy +lady."</p> + +<p>"Well, why should she be stuck up?" argued one. +"Ain't she just Mollie Stern's cousin? Course, Mollie's +nice, but nothing tony."</p> + +<p>"Anyhow, the children all like her," spoke up another +woman. "My Enos learns good this year."</p> + +<p>"I guess she's all right," said another, "but +Amande, my sister, says that she's after her Lizzie all +the time for the way she talks. The teacher tells her all +the time not to talk so funny, not to get her t's and d's +and her v's and w's mixed. Goodness knows, them +letters is near enough alike to get them mixed sometimes. +I mix them myself. Manda don't want her +Lizzie made high-toned, for then nothing will be good +enough for her any more."</p> + +<p>"Ach, I guess Miss Lee won't do that," said Aunt +Maria. "I know I'm glad the teacher ain't the kind +to put on airs. When I heard they put in a teacher +from Phildelphy I was afraid she'd be the kind to teach +the children a lot of dumb notions and that Phœbe +would be spoiled—— Here, Sister Minnich, is the +holder for that pan. I guess the ham is fried enough.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85"></a><a href="images/85.png">[85]</a></span> +Yes, ain't the chicken smells good! I roasted it yesterday, +so it needs just a good heating to-day."</p> + +<p>"Shall I take the sweet potatoes off, Maria?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, they're brown enough, and the coffee's about +done, and plenty of it, too."</p> + +<p>"And it smells good, too," chorused several women.</p> + +<p>"It's just twenty-eight cent coffee; I get it in Greenwald. +I guess the things can be put out now. Call +the men, Susan."</p> + +<p>In quick order the long table in the dining-room—used +only upon occasions like this—was filled with +smoking, savory dishes, the men called from the +porches and yard and everybody, except the two +women who helped Aunt Maria to serve, seated about +the board. All heads were bowed while one of +the brethren said a long grace and then the feast +began.</p> + +<p>True to the standards set by the majority of the +Pennsylvania Dutch, the meal was fit for the finest. +There was no attempt to serve it according to the rules +of the latest book of etiquette. All the food was +placed upon the table and each one helped herself and +himself and passed the dish to the nearest neighbor. +Occasionally the services of the three women were required +to bring in water, bread or coffee, or to replenish +the dishes and platters. Everybody was in good +humor, especially when one of the brethren suddenly +found himself with a platter of chicken in one hand +and a pitcher of gravy in the other.</p> + +<p>"Hold on, here!" he said laughingly, "it's coming +both ways. I can't manage it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86"></a><a href="images/86.png">[86]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Now, Isaac," chided one of the women, "you +went and started the gravy the wrong way around. +And here, Elam, start that apple-butter round once. +Maria always has such good apple-butter."</p> + +<p>Miss Lee's ready adaptability proved a valuable +asset that day. Everybody was so cordial and friendly +that, although she was the only woman without the +white cap, there was no shadow of any holier-than-thou +spirit. She was accepted as a friend; as a lady +from Philadelphia she became invested with a charm +and interest which the frank country people did not try +to conceal. They spoke freely to her of her work in +the school, inquired about the children and listened +with interest as she answered their questions about her +home city.</p> + +<p>When the dinner was ended heads were bowed again +and thanks rendered to God for the blessings received. +Then the men went outdoors, where the beehives, +poultry houses, barns and orchards of the farm afforded +several hours of inspection and discussion.</p> + +<p>Indoors some of the women began to wash dishes +while Aunt Maria and her helpers ate their belated +dinner; others went to the sitting-room and entertained +themselves by rocking and talking or looking at the +pictures in the big red plush album which lay upon a +small table.</p> + +<p>Later, when everything was once more in order in +the big kitchen, Maria stood in the doorway of the +sitting-room.</p> + +<p>"Now," she said, "I guess we better go up-stairs +and see the rugs before the men come in. Susan said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87"></a><a href="images/87.png">[87]</a></span> +she wants to see my new rugs once when she comes. +So come on, everybody that wants to."</p> + +<p>"You come," Phœbe invited Miss Lee. "I'll show +you some of the things in my chest."</p> + +<p>Maria led the way to the spare-room on the second +floor, a large square room furnished in old-fashioned +country style: a rag carpet, rag rugs, heavy black walnut +bureau and wash-stand, the latter with an antique +bowl and pitcher of pink and white, and a splasher of +white linen outlined in turkey red cotton. A framed +cross-stitch sampler hung on the wall; four cane-seated +chairs and a great wooden chest completed the furnishing +of the room.</p> + +<p>The chest became the centre of attraction as Aunt +Maria opened it and began to show the hooked rugs +she had made.</p> + +<p>Phœbe waited until her teacher had seen and admired +several, then she tugged at the silk sleeve ever +so gently and whispered, "D'ye want to see some of +the things I made?"</p> + +<p>Miss Lee smiled and nodded and the two stole away +to the child's room.</p> + +<p>Phœbe closed the door.</p> + +<p>"This is my room and this is my Hope Chest," she +said proudly.</p> + +<p>Among many of the Pennsylvania Dutch the Hope +Chest has long been considered an important part of a +girl's belongings. During her early childhood a large +chest is secured and the stocking of it becomes a pleasant +duty. Into it are laid the girl's discarded infant +clothes; patchwork quilts and comfortables pieced by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88"></a><a href="images/88.png">[88]</a></span> +herself or by some fond grandmother or mother or +aunt; homespun sheets and towels that have been +handed down from other generations; ginghams, +linens and minor household articles that might be useful +in her own home. When the girl leaves the old +nest for one of her own building the Hope Chest goes +with her as a valuable portion of her dowry.</p> + +<p>"Hope Chest," echoed Miss Lee. "Do you have a +Hope Chest?"</p> + +<p>"Ach, yes, long already! Aunt Maria says it's for +when I grow up and get married and live in my own +home, but I—why, I don't know at all yet if I want +to get married. When I say that to her she says +still that I can be glad I have the chest anyhow, +for old maids need covers and aprons and things +too."</p> + +<p>"You dear child," Miss Lee said, laughing, "you do +say the funniest things!"</p> + +<p>"But"—Phœbe raised her flushed face—"you ain't +laughing at me to make fun?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Phœbe, I love you too much for that. It's +just that you are different."</p> + +<p>"Ach, but I'm glad! And that's why I want to +show you my things."</p> + +<p>She opened the lid of her chest and brought out a +quilt, then another, and another.</p> + +<p>"This is all mine. And I finished another one this +summer that Aunt Maria is going to quilt this fall yet. +Then I'll have nine already. Ain't—isn't that a lot?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed," laughed the teacher. "Just nine +more than I have."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89"></a><a href="images/89.png">[89]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why"—Phœbe stared in surprise—"don't you +have quilts in your Hope Chest?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't even the Hope Chest."</p> + +<p>"No Hope Chest! Now, that's funny! I thought +every girl that could have a chest for the money had +a Hope Chest!"</p> + +<p>"I never heard of a Hope Chest before I came to +Greenwald."</p> + +<p>"Now don't it beat all!" The child was very serious. +"We ain't at all like other people, I believe. I +wonder why we are so different from you people. Oh, +I know we talk different from you, and mostly look +different from you and I guess we do things a lot different +from you—do you think, Miss Lee, oh, do you +think that I could <i>ever</i> get like you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes——" Miss Lee showed hesitancy.</p> + +<p>"For sure?" Phœbe asked, quick to note the slight +delay in the answer.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am sure you could, dear. You can learn to +dress, speak and act as people do in the great cities—but +are you sure that you want to do so?"</p> + +<p>"Want to! Why, I want to so bad that it hurts! +I don't want to just go to country school and Greenwald +High School and then live on a farm all the rest +of my life and never get anywhere but to the store in +Greenwald, to Lancaster several times a year, and to +church every Sunday. I want to do some things other +people in the other parts of the country do, that's what +I want. I'd like best of all to be a great singer and to +look and dress and talk like you. I can sing good, pop +says I can."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90"></a><a href="images/90.png">[90]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I have noticed you have a sweet voice."</p> + +<p>"Ain't!" The child's voice rang with gladness. +"I'm so glad I have. And David, he's glad too, for +he says that he thinks it's a gift from God to have a +voice that can sing as nice as the birds. David and +Phares are just like my brothers. David's mom is +awful nice. I like her"—she whispered—"I like her +almost better than my Aunt Maria because she's so—ach, +you know what I mean! She's so much like my +own mom would be. I like David better than Phares, +too, because Phares bosses me too much and he is wonderful +strict and thinks everything is bad or foolish. +He preaches a lot. He says it's bad to be a big singer +and sing for the people and get money for it, in oprays, +he means—is it?"</p> + +<p>Miss Lee was startled by the ambition of the child +before her and amazed at the determination revealed in +her young pupil. Before she could answer wisely +Phœbe went on:</p> + +<p>"Now David says still I could be a big opray singer +some day mebbe, and <i>he</i> don't think it's bad. I think +still that singin' is about like havin' curls—if God don't +want you to use your singin' and your curls what did +He give 'em to you for?"</p> + +<p>Much to the teacher's relief she was spared the difficulty +of answering the child. The aunt was bringing +the visitors to Phœbe's room.</p> + +<p>"Come in and see my things," Phœbe invited cordially, +as though curls and operatic careers had never +troubled her. In the excitement of displaying her +quilts she apparently forgot the vital problems she had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91"></a><a href="images/91.png">[91]</a></span> +so lately discussed. But Miss Lee made a mental comment +as she stood apart and watched the child among +the white-capped women, "That little girl will do +things before she settles into the simple, monotonous +life these women lead."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92"></a><a href="images/92.png">[92]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>THE PRIMA DONNA OF THE ATTIC</h3> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Aunt Maria</span>, dare I go without sewing just this +one Saturday?"</p> + +<p>It was Saturday afternoon in early October. All +the week-end work of the farmhouse was done: the +walks and porches scrubbed, the entire house cleaned, +the shelves in the cellar filled with pies and cakes. +Maria Metz stood by the wooden frame in which she +had sewed Phœbe's latest quilt and chalked lines and +half-moons upon the calico, preliminary to the actual +work of quilting.</p> + +<p>Phœbe's face was eloquent as her aunt turned and +looked down.</p> + +<p>"Why?" asked the woman calmly.</p> + +<p>"Ach, because it's my birthday, eleven I am to-day. +And pop's going to bring me new hair-ribbons from +Greenwald, pretty blue ones, I asked him to bring, and +nice and wide"—she opened her hands in imaginary +picturing of the width of the new ribbons—"but most +of all," she hastened to add as she saw an expression +of displeasure on her aunt's face, "I'd like to have a +party all to myself. I thought that so long as you're +going to have women in to help you quilt, and that is +like a party, only you don't call it so, why I could have +a party for me alone. I'd like to play all afternoon in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93"></a><a href="images/93.png">[93]</a></span>stead +of sewing first like I do still. Dare I, I mean +may I?"—in conscientious endeavor to speak as Miss +Lee was trying to teach her.</p> + +<p>Maria Metz smiled at the little girl's idea of a party, +and after a moment's hesitation replied, "Ach, yes +well, Phœbe, I don't care."</p> + +<p>"In the garret, oh, dare I go in the garret and +play?" she asked excitedly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I guess. If you put everything away nice +when you are done playin'."</p> + +<p>"I will."</p> + +<p>She started off gleefully.</p> + +<p>"And be careful of the steps. I'm always afraid +you'll fall down when you go up there, the steps are +so narrow."</p> + +<p>"Ach, I won't fall. I'll be careful. I'll play a +while and then shall I help to quilt?" she offered magnanimously +in return for the privilege of playing in the +garret.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't need you. But you can quilt nice, too. +The last time you took littler stitches than Lizzie from +the Home, but she don't see so good. But you needn't +help to-day, for so many can't get round the frame +good. Phares's mom and David's mom and Lyddy +and Granny Hogendobler and Susan are comin', and +that's enough for one quilt. You go play."</p> + +<p>In a moment Phœbe was off, up the broad stairs to +the second floor. There she paused for breath—"Oh, +it's like going to a castle somewhere in a strange country, +goin' to the garret! I'm always a little scared at +first, goin' to the garret."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94"></a><a href="images/94.png">[94]</a></span></p> + +<p>With a laugh she turned into a small room, opened +a latched door, closed it securely behind her, and stood +upon the lower step of the attic stairs. She looked +about a moment. Above her were the stained rafters +of the attic, where a dim light invested it with a +strange, half fearful interest.</p> + +<p>"Ach, now, don't be a baby," she admonished herself. +"Go right up the stairs. You're a queen—no, +I know!—You're a primer donner going up the platform +steps to sing!"</p> + +<p>With that helpful delusion she started bravely up the +stairs and never paused until she reached the top step. +She ran to a small window and threw it wide open so +that the October sunshine could stream in and make +the place less ghostly.</p> + +<p>"Now it's fine up here," she cried. "And I dare—I +may—talk to myself all I want. Aunt Maria says +it's simple to talk to yourself, but goodness, when +abody has no other boys or girls to talk to half the time +like I don't, what else can abody do but talk to your +own self? Anyhow, I'm up here now and dare talk +out loud all I want. I'll hunt first for robbers."</p> + +<p>She ran about the big attic, peered behind every old +trunk and box, even inside an old yellow cupboard, +though she knew it was filled with old school-books and +older hymn-books.</p> + +<p>"Not a robber here, less he's back under the eaves."</p> + +<p>She crept into the low nook under the slanting roof +but found nothing more exciting than a spider. +"Huh, it's no fun hunting for robbers. Guess I'll +spin a while."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95"></a><a href="images/95.png">[95]</a></span></p> + +<p>With quick variability she drew a low stool near an +old spinning-wheel, placed her foot on the slender +treadle and twisted the golden flax in imitation of the +way Aunt Maria had once taught her.</p> + +<p>"I'll weave a new dress for myself—oh, goody!" +she cried, springing from the stool. "Now I know +what I'll do! I'll dress up in the old clothes in that +old trunk! That'll be the very best party I can have."</p> + +<p>She skipped to a far corner of the attic, where a +long, leather-covered trunk stood among some boxes. +In a moment the clasps were unfastened, the lid raised, +a protecting cloth lifted from the top and the contents +of the trunk exposed.</p> + +<p>The child, kneeling before the trunk, clasped her +hands and uttered an ecstatic, "Oh, I'll be a primer +donner now! I remember there used to be a wonderful +fine dress in here somewhere."</p> + +<p>With childish feverishness, yet with tenderness and +reverence for the relics of a long dead past, she lifted +the old garments from the trunk.</p> + +<p>"The baby clothes my mom wore—my mother, +Miss Lee always says, and I like that name better, too. +My, but they're little! Such tweeny, weeny sleeves! +I wonder how a baby ever got into anything so tiny. +I bet she was cunning—Miss Lee says babies are cunning. +And here's the dress and cap and a pair of +white woolen stockings I wore. Aunt Maria told me +so the last time we cleaned house and I helped to carry +all these things down-stairs and hang them out in the +air so they don't spoil here in the trunk all locked up +tight. I wish I could see how I looked when I wore<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96"></a><a href="images/96.png">[96]</a></span> +these things. I wonder if I was a nice baby—but, +ach, all babies are nice. I could squeeze every one I +see, only when they're not clean I'd want to wash 'em +first. And here's my mom—mother's wedding dress, +a gray silk one. Ain't it too bad, now, it's going in +holes! And this satin jacket Aunt Maria said my +grandpap wore at his wedding; it has a silver buckle +at the neck in front. And next comes the dress I like. +It was my mother's mother's, and it's awful old. But +I think it's fine, with the little pink rosebuds and the +lace shawl round the neck and the long skirt. That's +the dress I must wear now to play I'm a primer +donner."</p> + +<p>She held out the old-fashioned pink-sprigged muslin, +yellowed with age, yet possessing the charm of old, +well-preserved garments. The short, puffed sleeves, +lace fichu and full, puffed skirt proclaimed it of a bygone +generation.</p> + +<p>"It's pretty," the child exulted as she shook out the +soft folds. "Guess I can slip it on over my other +dress, it's plenty big. It must button in the front, for +that's the way the lace shawl goes. Um—it's long"—she +looked down as she fastened the last little button. +"Oh, I know! I'll tuck it up in the front and leave +the long back for a trail! How's that, I wonder."</p> + +<p>She unearthed an old mirror, hung it on a nail in +the wall and surveyed herself in the glass.</p> + +<p>"Um, I don't look so bad—but my hair ain't right. +I don't know how primer donners wear their hair, but +I know they don't wear it in two plaits like mine."</p> + +<p>She pulled the narrow brown ribbons from her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97"></a><a href="images/97.png">[97]</a></span> +braids, opened the braids and shook her head vigorously +until her curls tumbled about her head and over +her shoulders. Then she knotted the two ribbons together +and bound them across her hair in a fillet, tying +them in a bow under her flowing curls.</p> + +<p>"Now, I guess it's as good as I can fix it. I wish +Miss Lee could see me now. I wish most of all my +mom—mother could see me. Mebbe she'd say, 'Precious +child,' like they say in stories, and then I'd say +back, 'Mother dear, mother dear'"—she lingered +over the words—"'Mother dear.' But mebbe she is +saying that to me right now, seeing it's my birthday. +I'll make believe so, anyhow."</p> + +<p>She was silent for a moment, a puzzled expression +on her face.</p> + +<p>"I just don't see," she spoke aloud suddenly, "I +don't see why I shouldn't make believe I have a +mother, just adopt one like people do children sometimes. +Aunt Maria says it's a risk to adopt some +one's child, but I don't see that it would be a risk to +adopt a mother. Let me see now—of all the women +I know, who do I want to adopt? Not Mary Warner's +mom—she's stylish and wears nice dresses, but +I don't think I'd like her to keep. Not Granny Hogendobler, +though she's nice and I like her a lot, a +whole lot, and I wish her Nason would come back, but +I don't see how I could take her for my mother; she's +too old and she don't wear a white cap and my mother +did, so I must take one that does. I don't want +Phares's mom, either. Now, David's mom I like—yes, +I like her. Most everybody calls her Aunty Bab<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98"></a><a href="images/98.png">[98]</a></span> +and I'm just goin' to ask her if I dare call her Mother +Bab! Mother Bab—I like that vonderful much! +And I like her. When we go over to her house she's +so nice and talks to me kind and the last time I was +there she kissed me and said what pretty hair I got. +Yes, I want David's mom for mine. I guess he won't +care. He always gives me apples and chestnuts and +things and he shows me birds' nests and I think he'll +leave me have his mom, so long as he can have her too. +I'll ask him once when I see him. I wonder who's +goin' on the road to Greenwald."</p> + +<p>She gathered up her long skirt and stepped grandly +across the bare floor of the attic. As she stood by the +window a boyish whistle floated up to her. She +leaned over the narrow sill and peered through the +evergreen trees at the road.</p> + +<p>"That's David now, I bet! Sounds like his whistle. +Oo-oo, David," she called as the boy came swinging +down the road.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Phœbe. Where you at?"</p> + +<p>He turned in at the gate and looked around.</p> + +<p>"Whew," he whistled as he glanced up and saw her +at the little window of the attic. "What you doing +up there?"</p> + +<p>"Playin' primer donner. I just look something +grand. Wait, I'll come down."</p> + +<p>"Sure, come on down and let me see you. I'm +going to hang around a while. Mom's here quilting, +ain't she?"</p> + +<p>"Sh!" Phœbe raised a warning finger, then placed +her hands to her mouth to shut the sound of her voice<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99"></a><a href="images/99.png">[99]</a></span> +from the people in the gray house. "You sneak +round to the kitchen door, to the back one, so they +can't hear you, and I'll come down. Aunt Maria +mightn't like my hair and dress, and I don't want to +make her cross on my birthday. Be careful, don't +make no noise."</p> + +<p>"Ha," laughed the boy. "Bet you're sneaking +things, you little rascal."</p> + +<p>Phœbe lifted her finger, shook her head, then smiled +and turned from the window. She tiptoed down the +dark attic stairs, then down the narrow back stairs to +the kitchen and slipped quietly to the little porch at the +very rear of the house.</p> + +<p>"Gee whiz!" exclaimed David. "You're a swell +in that dress!"</p> + +<p>"Ain't I—I mean am I—ach, David, it's hard sometimes +to talk like Miss Lee says we should."</p> + +<p>"Where'd you get the dress, Phœbe?"</p> + +<p>"Up in the garret. Aunt Maria said I dare go up +and play 'cause it's my birthday."</p> + +<p>"Hold on, that's just what I came for, to pull your +ears."</p> + +<p>"No you don't," she said crossly. "No you don't, +David Eby, pull my ears." She clapped a hand upon +each ear.</p> + +<p>"Then I'll pull a curl," he said and suited the action +to the word. He took one of the long light curls and +pulled it gently, yet with a brusque show of savagery +and strength—"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, +eight, nine, ten, eleven, and one to make you grow. +Now who says I can't celebrate your birthday!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100"></a><a href="images/100.png">[100]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You're mean, awful mean, David Eby!" She +tossed her head in anger. But a moment later she relented +as she saw him smile. "Ach," she said in +friendly tone, "I don't care if you pull my curls. It +didn't hurt anyhow. You can't do it again for a +whole year. But don't you think I look like a primer +donner, David?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, say it right! How can you expect to ever +be what you can't pronounce? It's pri-ma-don-na."</p> + +<p>"Pri-ma-don-na," she repeated, shaking her curls +at every syllable. "Do I look like a prima donna?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, all but your face."</p> + +<p>"My face—why"—she faltered—"what's wrong +with my face? Ain't it pretty enough to be a prima +donna?"</p> + +<p>"Funny kid," he laughed. "Your face is good +enough for a prima donna, but to be a real prima +donna you must fix it up with cold cream, paint and +powder."</p> + +<p>"Powder!" she echoed in amazement. "Not the +kind you put in guns?"</p> + +<p>"Gee, no! It's white stuff—looks like flour; mebbe +it is flour fixed up with perfume. Mary Warner had +some at school last week and showed some of the girls +at recess how to put it on. I was behind a tree and +saw them but they didn't see me."</p> + +<p>"I thought some of the girls looked pale—so that +was what made them look so white! But how do you +know all about fixing up to be a prima donna? Where +did you learn?" She looked at him admiringly, justly +appreciating his superior knowledge.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101"></a><a href="images/101.png">[101]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, when I had the mumps last winter I used to +read the papers every day, clean through. There was +a column called the 'Hints to Beauty' column, and +sometimes I read it just for fun, it was so funny. It +told about fixing up the face and mentioned a famous +singer and some other people who always looked beautiful +because they knew how to fix their faces to keep +looking young. But I wouldn't like to see any one +I like fix their faces like it said, for all that +stuff——"</p> + +<p>"But do you think all prima donnas put such things +on their faces?" she interrupted him.</p> + +<p>"Guess so."</p> + +<p>"What was it, Davie?"</p> + +<p>"Cold cream, paint, powder—here, where are you +going?" he asked as she started for the door.</p> + +<p>"I'll be out in a minute; you wait here for me."</p> + +<p>"Cold cream, paint, powder," she repeated as she +closed the door and left David outside. "Cream's all +in the cellar." She took a pewter tablespoon from a +drawer, opened a latched door in the kitchen and went +noiselessly down the steps to the cellar. There she +lifted the lid from a large earthen jar, dipped a spoonful +of thick cream from the jar, and began to rub it on +her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"That's <i>cold</i> cream, anyhow," she said to herself. +"It certainly is cold. Ach, I don't like the feel of it +on my face; it's too sticky and wet." But she rubbed +valiantly until the spoonful was used and her face +glowed.</p> + +<p>"Now paint, red paint—I don't dare use the kind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102"></a><a href="images/102.png">[102]</a></span> +you put on houses, for that's too hard to get off; let's +see—I guess red-beet juice will do."</p> + +<p>She stooped to the cool, earthen floor, lifted the +cover from a crock of pickled beets, dipped the spoon +into the juice and began to rub the colored liquid upon +her glowing cheeks.</p> + +<p>"If I only had a looking-glass, then I could see just +where to put it on. But I don't dare to carry the juice +up the steps, for if I spilled some just after Aunt +Maria has them scrubbed for Sunday she'd be cross."</p> + +<p>She applied the red juice by guesswork, with the +inevitable result that her ears, chin, and nose were +stained as deeply as her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Now the powder, then I'm through."</p> + +<p>She tiptoed up to the kitchen again, took a handful +of flour from the bin and rubbed it upon her face.</p> + +<p>"Ugh, um," she sputtered, as some of the flour flew +into her eyes and nostrils. "I guess that was too +thick!" Then she knelt on a chair and looked into the +small mirror that hung in the kitchen. She exclaimed +in horror and disappointment at the vision that met +her gaze.</p> + +<p>"Why, I don't like that! I look awful! I'll rub +off some of the flour. I have blotches all over my +face. Do all prima donnas look this way, I wonder. +But David knows, I guess. I'll ask him if I did it +right."</p> + +<p>She grabbed one end of the kitchen towel and disposed +of some of the superfluous flour, then, still +doubtful of her appearance, opened the door to the +porch where the boy waited for her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103"></a><a href="images/103.png">[103]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do I look——" she began, but David burst into +hilarious laughter.</p> + +<p>"Oh, oh," he held his sides and laughed. "Oh, +your face——"</p> + +<p>"Don't you laugh at me, David Eby! Don't you +dare laugh!"</p> + +<p>She was deeply hurt at his unseemly behavior, but +the deluge was only beginning! The sound of David's +laughter and Phœbe's raised voice reached the front +room where the quilting party was in progress.</p> + +<p>"Sounds like somebody on the back porch," said +Aunt Maria. "Guess I better go and see. With so +many tramps around always abody can't be too careful."</p> + +<p>The sight that met Maria Metz's eyes as she opened +the back door left her speechless. Phœbe turned and +the two looked at each other in silence for a few long +moments.</p> + +<p>"Don't scold her," David said, sobered by the sudden +appearance of the woman and frightened for +Phœbe—Aunt Maria could be stern, he knew. "Don't +scold her. I told her to do it."</p> + +<p>"You did not, David; don't you tell lies for me! +You just told me how to do it and I went and done it +myself. I'm playing prima donna, Aunt Maria," she +explained, though she knew it was a futile attempt at +justification. "I'm playing I'm a big singer, so I had +to fix up in this dress and put my hair down this way +and fix my face."</p> + +<p>"Great singer—march in here!" The woman had +fully regained her voice. "It's a bad girl you are!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104"></a><a href="images/104.png">[104]</a></span> +To think of your making such a monkey of yourself +when I leave you go up in the garret to play! This +ends playing in the garret. Next Saturday you sew! +Ach, yes, you just come in," she commanded, for +Phœbe hung back as they entered the house. "You +come right in here and let all the women see how nice +you play when I leave you go up in the garret instead +of make you sew. This here's the tramp I found," +she announced as she led her into the room where the +women sat around the quilting frame and quilted.</p> + +<p>"What!" several of them exclaimed as they turned +from their sewing and looked at the child. Granny +Hogendobler and David Eby's mother, however, +smiled.</p> + +<p>"What's on your face?" asked one woman sternly.</p> + +<p>Phœbe hung her head, abashed.</p> + +<p>"That's how nice she plays when I leave her go up +on the garret and have a nice time instead of making +her sew like she always has to Saturdays," Aunt Maria +said in sharp tones which told the child all too plainly +of the displeasure she had caused.</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean," Phœbe looked up contritely, "I +didn't mean to be bad and make you cross. I was just +playing I was a big singer and I put cold cream and +paint and powder on my face——"</p> + +<p>"Cream!"</p> + +<p>"Paint!"</p> + +<p>"Powder!"</p> + +<p>The shrill staccato words of the women set the child +trembling.</p> + +<p>"But—but," she faltered, "it'll all wash off." She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105"></a><a href="images/105.png">[105]</a></span> +gave a convincing nod of her head and rubbed a hand +ruefully across the grotesquely decorated cheek. "It's +just cream and red-beet juice and flour."</p> + +<p>"Did I ever!" exclaimed the mother of Phares +Eby.</p> + +<p>"I-to-goodness!" laughed Granny Hogendobler.</p> + +<p>"Vanity, vanity, all is vanity," quoted one of the +other women.</p> + +<p>"Come here, Phœbe," said the mother of David +Eby, and that woman, a thin, alert little person with +tender, kindly eyes, drew the unhappy little girl to her. +"You poor, precious child," she said, "it's a shame +for us all to sit here and look at you as if we wanted +to eat you. You've just been playing, haven't you?" +She turned to the other women. "Why, Maria, +Susan, I remember just as well as if it were only yesterday +how we used to rub our cheeks with rough +mullein leaves to make them red for Love Feast, don't +you remember?"</p> + +<p>Aunt Maria's cheeks grew pink. "Ach, Barbara, +mebbe we did that when we were young and foolish, +but we didn't act like this."</p> + +<p>"Not much different, I guess," said Phœbe's champion +with a smile. "Only we forget it now. Phœbe +is just like we were once and she'll get over it like we +did. Let her play; she'll soon be too old to want to +play or to know how. She ain't a bad child, just full +of life and likes to do things other people don't think +of doing."</p> + +<p>"She, surely does," said Aunt Maria curtly, ill +pleased by the woman's words. "Where that child<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106"></a><a href="images/106.png">[106]</a></span> +gets all her notions from I'd like to know. It's something +new every day."</p> + +<p>"She'll be all right when she gets older," said +David's mother.</p> + +<p>"Be sure, yes," agreed Granny Hogendobler; "it +don't do to be too strict."</p> + +<p>"Mebbe so," said the other women, with various +shades of understanding in their words.</p> + +<p>Phœbe looked gratefully into the face of Granny +Hogendobler, then she turned to David's mother and +spoke to her as though there were no others present in +the room.</p> + +<p>"You know, don't you, how little girls like to play? +You called me precious child just like she would——"</p> + +<p>"She would," repeated Aunt Maria. "What do +you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I mean my mother," she explained and turned +again to her champion. "I was just thinking this +after on the garret that I'd like you for my mother, +to adopt you for it like people do with children when +they have none and want some. I hear lots of +people call you Aunty Bab—dare I call you Mother +Bab?"</p> + +<p>The woman laid a hand on the child's tumbled hair. +Her voice trembled as she answered, "Yes, Phœbe, +you can call me Mother Bab. I have no little girl so +you may fill that place. Now ask Aunt Maria if you +should wash your face and get fixed right again."</p> + +<p>"Shall I, Aunt Maria?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Go get cleaned up. Fold all them clothes +right and put 'em in the trunk and put your hair in two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107"></a><a href="images/107.png">[107]</a></span> +plaits again. If you're big enough to do such dumb +things you're big enough to comb your hair." And +Aunt Maria, peeved and hurt at the child's behavior, +went back to her quilting while Phœbe hurried from +the room alone.</p> + +<p>The child scrubbed the three layers of decoration +from her face, trudged up the stairs to the attic, took +off the rose-sprigged gown and folded it away—a disconsolate, +disillusioned prima donna.</p> + +<p>When the attic was once more restored to its orderliness +she closed the window and went down-stairs to +wrestle with her curls. They were tangled, but ordinarily +she would have been able to braid them into +some semblance of neatness, but the trying experience +of the past moments, the joy of gaining an adopted +mother, set her fingers bungling.</p> + +<p>"Ach, I can't, I just can't make two braids!" she +said at length, ready to burst into tears.</p> + +<p>Then she remembered David. "Mebbe he's on the +porch yet. I'll go see once."</p> + +<p>With the narrow brown ribbons streaming from her +hand and a hair-brush tucked under one arm she ran +down the stairs. She found David, for once a gloomy +figure, on the back porch, just where she had left him.</p> + +<p>"David," she said softly, "will you help me?"</p> + +<p>"Why"—his face brightened as he looked at her—"you +ain't"—he started to say "crying"—"you ain't +mad at me for getting you into trouble with Aunt +Maria?"</p> + +<p>"Ach, no. And I ain't never going to be mad at +you now for I just adopted your mom for my mom<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108"></a><a href="images/108.png">[108]</a></span>—mother. +She's going to be my Mother Bab; she +said so."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>He knitted his forehead in a puzzled frown. Phœbe +explained how kind his mother had been, how she understood +what little girls like to do, how she had promised +to be Mother Bab.</p> + +<p>"You don't care, Davie, you ain't jealous?" she +ended anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Sure not," he assured her; "I think it's kinda nice, +for she thinks you're a dandy. But did they haul you +over the coals in there?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, a little, all but Granny Hogendobler and your +mom—Mother Bab, I mean. Isn't it funny to get a +mother when you didn't have one for so long?"</p> + +<p>"Guess so."</p> + +<p>"But, David, will you help me? I can't fix my +hair and Aunt Maria is so mad at me she said I can +just fix it myself. The plaits won't come right at all. +Will you help me, please?" She asserted her femininity +by adding new sweetness to her voice as she +asked the uncommon favor.</p> + +<p>"Why"—he hesitated, then looked about to see if +any one were near to witness what he was about to +do—"I don't know if I can. I never braided hair, +but I guess I can."</p> + +<p>"Be sure you can, David. You braid it just like we +braid the daisy stems and the dandelion stems in the +fields. You're so handy with them, you can do most +anything, I guess."</p> + +<p>Spurred by her appreciation of his ability he took<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109"></a><a href="images/109.png">[109]</a></span> +the brush and began to brush the tangled hair as she +sat on the porch at his feet.</p> + +<p>"Gee," he exclaimed as the hair sprang into curls +when the brush left it, "your hair's just like gold!"</p> + +<p>"And it's curly," she added proudly.</p> + +<p>"Sure is. Wouldn't Phares look if he saw it! I +told him your hair is prettier than Mary Warner's and +he said I was silly to talk about girls' hair."</p> + +<p>"I don't want him to see it this way," she said, +"for he'd say it's a sin to have curly, pretty hair, even +if God made it grow that way! He's awful queer! I +wouldn't want him for my adopted brother."</p> + +<p>"Guess he'd keep you hopping," laughed David.</p> + +<p>"Guess I'd keep him hopping, too," retorted Phœbe, +at which the boy laughed.</p> + +<p>"Now what do I do?" he asked when all the hair +was untangled.</p> + +<p>"Part it in the middle and make two plaits."</p> + +<p>"Um-uh."</p> + +<p>The boy's clumsy fingers fumbled long with the +parting; several times the braids twisted and had to be +undone, but after a struggle he was able to announce, +"There now, you're fixed! Now you're Phœbe Metz, +no more prima donna!"</p> + +<p>"Thanks, David, for helping me. I feel much better +around the head—guess curls would be a nuisance +after all."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110"></a><a href="images/110.png">[110]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>"WHERE THE BROOK AND RIVER MEET"</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">When</span> Phœbe adopted Mother Bab she did so with +the whole-heartedness and finality characteristic of her +blood.</p> + +<p>Mother Bab—the name never ceased to thrill the +erstwhile motherless girl whose yearning for affection +and understanding had been unsatisfied by the matter-of-fact +Aunt Maria.</p> + +<p>At first Maria Metz did not seem too well pleased +with the child's persistent naming of Barbara Eby as +Mother Bab; but gradually, as she saw Phœbe's joy in +the adoption, the woman acknowledged to herself that +another woman was capable of mothering where she +had failed.</p> + +<p>Phœbe spent many hours in the little house on the +hill, learning from Mother Bab many things that made +indelible impressions upon her sensitive child-heart, +unraveling some of the tangled knots of her soul, stirring +anew hopes and aspirations of her being. But +there remained one knot to be untangled—she could +not understand why the plain dress and white cap existed, +she could not reconcile the utter simplicity of +dress with the lavish beauty of the birds, flowers—all +nature.</p> + +<p>"It will come," Mother Bab assured her one day.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111"></a><a href="images/111.png">[111]</a></span> +"You are a little girl now and cannot see into everything. +But when you are older you will see how +beautiful it is to live simply and plainly."</p> + +<p>"But is it necessary, Mother Bab?" the child cried +out. "Must I dress like you and Aunt Maria if I +want to be good?"</p> + +<p>"No, you don't <i>have</i> to. Many people are good +without wearing the plain garb. A great many people +in the world never heard of the plain sects we have in +this section of the country, and there are good people +everywhere, I'm sure of that. But it is just as true +that each person must find the best way to lead a good +life. If you can wear fine clothes and still be good +and lead a Christian life, then there is no harm in the +pretty clothes. But for me the easiest way to be living +right is to live as simply as I can. This is the way +for me."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid it's the way for me, too," confessed +Phœbe. "I'm vain, awfully vain! I love pretty +clothes and I'll never be satisfied till I get 'em—silk +dresses, soft, shiny satin ones—ach, I guess I'm vain +but I'll have to wait to satisfy my vanity till I'm older, +for Aunt Maria is so set against fancy clothes."</p> + +<p>It was true, Maria Metz compromised on some matters +as Phœbe grew older, but on the question of +clothes the older woman was adamant. The child +should have comfortable dresses but there would positively +be no useless ornaments or adornments, such as +wide sashes, abundance of laces, elaborately trimmed +ruffles. Fancy hats, jewelry and unconfined curls +were also strictly forbidden.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112"></a><a href="images/112.png">[112]</a></span></p> + +<p>Though Phœbe, even as she grew older, had much +time to spend outdoors, there were many tasks about +the house and farm she had to perform. The chest +was soon filled with quilts and that bugbear was gone +from her life. But there was continual scrubbing, +baking, mending, and other household tasks to be done, +so that much practice caused the girl to develop into a +capable little housekeeper. Aunt Maria frankly admitted +that Phœbe worked cheerfully and well, a matter +she found consoling in the trying hours when +Phœbe "wasted time" by playing the low walnut +organ in the sitting-room.</p> + +<p>During Miss Lee's first term of teaching on the hill +she taught her how to play simple exercises and songs +and the child, musically inclined, made the most of the +meagre knowledge and adeptly improved until she was +able to play the hymns in the Gospel Hymn Book and +the songs and carols in the old Music Book that had +belonged to her mother and always rested on the top +of the old low organ.</p> + +<p>So the organ became a great solace and joy, an outlet +for the intense feelings of desire and hope in her +heart. When her voice joined with the sweet tones of +the old instrument it seemed to Phœbe as if she were +echoing the harmony of the eternal music of all creation. +Child though she was, she sang with the joy and +sincerity of the true musician. She merely smiled +when Aunt Maria characterized her best efforts as +"doodling" and rejoiced when her father, Mother +Bab or David praised her singing.</p> + +<p>In school she progressed rapidly but her interest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113"></a><a href="images/113.png">[113]</a></span> +lagged when, after two years of teaching, Miss Lee +resigned her position as teacher of the school on the +hill and a new teacher took command. The entire +school missed the teacher from Philadelphia, but +Phœbe was almost inconsolable. She, especially, appreciated +the gain of contact with the teacher she loved +and she continued to profit by the remembrance of +many things Miss Lee had taught her. The Memory +Gems, alone, bore evidence of the change the teacher +from the city had wrought in the rural school. Phœbe +smiled as she thought how the poems had been sing-songed +until Miss Lee taught the children to bring out +the meaning of the words.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my," she laughed one day as she and David +were speaking of school happenings, "do you remember +how John Schneider used to say Memory Gems? +The day he got up and said, 'Have-you-heard-the-waters-singing-little-May—where-the-willows-green-are-bending-over-the-way—do-you-know-how-low-and-sweet-are-the-words-the-waves-repeat—to-the-pebbles-at-their-feet—night-and-day?'"</p> + +<p>David laughed at the girl's droll imitation, the way +she sing-songed the verse in the exact manner prevalent +in many rural schools.</p> + +<p>"And do you remember," he asked, "the day Isaac +Hunchberger defined bipeds?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes! I'll never forget that! It was the day +the County Superintendent of Schools came to visit +our school and Miss Lee was anxious to have us show +off. Isaac showed off, all right, with his 'Bipets are +sings vis two lex!' I guess Miss Lee decided that day<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114"></a><a href="images/114.png">[114]</a></span> +that the Pennsylvania Dutch is ingrained in our English +and hard to get out."</p> + +<p>To Phœbe each Memory Gem of her school days became, +in truth, a gem stored away for future years. +Long after she had outgrown the little rural school +scraps of poetry returned to her to rewaken the enthusiasm +of childhood and to teach her again to "hear +the lark within the songless egg and find the fountain +where they wailed, 'Mirage!'"</p> + +<p>Phœbe wanted so many things in those school-day +years but she wanted most of all to become like Miss +Lee. So earnestly did she try to speak as her teacher +taught her that after a time the peculiar idioms and +expressions became more infrequent and there was +only a delightfully quaint inflection, an occasional +phrase, to betray her Pennsylvania Dutch parentage. +But in times of stress or excitement she invariably +slipped back into the old way and prefaced her exclamations +with an expressive "Ach!"</p> + +<p>Life on the Metz farm went on in even tenor year +in and year out. Maria Metz never changed to any +appreciable extent her mode of living or her methods +of working, and she tried to teach Phœbe to conform +to the same monotonous existence and live as several +generations of Metzes had done. But Phœbe was a +veritable Evelyn Hope, made of "spirit, fire and dew." +The distinctiveness of her personality grew more pronounced +as she slipped from childhood into girlhood +and Maria Metz needed often to encourage her own +heart for the task of rearing into ideal womanhood the +daughter of her brother Jacob.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115"></a><a href="images/115.png">[115]</a></span></p> + +<p>Phœbe had a deep love for nature and this love was +fostered by her sturdy farmer-father. As she followed +him about the fields he taught her the names of +wild flowers, told her the nesting haunts of birds, initiated +her into the circle of tree-lore, taught her to +keep ears, eyes and heart open for the treasures of the +great outdoors.</p> + +<p>Phœbe required no urging in that direction. Her +heart was filled with an insatiable desire to know more +and more of the beautiful world about her. She +gathered knowledge from every country walk; she +showed so much "uncommon sense," David Eby said, +that it was a keen pleasure to show her the nests of +the thrush or the rare nests of the humming-bird. +David and his mother, enthusiastic seekers after nature +knowledge, augmented the father's nature education +of Phœbe by frequent walks to field and woods. And +so, when Phœbe was twelve years old she knew the +haunts of all the wild flowers within walking distance +of her home. With her father or with David and +Mother Bab she found the first marsh-marigolds in +the meadows, the first violets of the wooded slope of +the hill, the earliest hepatica with its woolly buds, the +first windflowers and spring beauties. She knew when +the time was come for the bloodroot to lift its pure +white petals about the golden hearts in the spot where +the rich mould at the base of some giant tree nurtured +the blooded plants. She could find the canopied Jack-in-the-pulpit +and the pink azalea on the hill near her +home. She knew the exact spot, a mile from the gray +farmhouse, where, in a lovely little wood by a quiet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116"></a><a href="images/116.png">[116]</a></span> +road, a profusion of bird-foot violets and bluets made +a carpet of blue loveliness each spring—so on, through +the fleet days of summer, till the last asters and goldenrod +faded, the child reveled in the beauties and wonders +of the world at her feet and loved every part of it, +from the tiny blue speedwell in the grass to the gorgeous +orioles in the trees. What if Aunt Maria sometimes +scolded her for bringing so many "weeds" into +the house! With apparent unconcern she placed her +flowers in a glass or earthen jar and secretly thought, +"Well, I'm glad I like these pretty things; they are +not weeds to me."</p> + +<p>The buoyancy of childhood tarried with her into +girlhood. Like the old inscription of the sun-dial, she +seemed to "count none but sunny hours." But those +who knew her best saw that the shadows of life also +left their marks upon her. At times the gaiety was +displaced by seriousness. Mother Bab knew of the +struggles in the girl's heart. Granny Hogendobler +could have told of the hours Phœbe spent with her +consoling her for the absence of Nason, mitigating +the cruel stabs of the thoughtless people who condemned +him, comforting with the assurance that he +would return to his home some day. Old Aaron loved +the girl and found her always ready to listen to his +hackneyed story of the battle of Gettysburg.</p> + +<p>Phœbe was a student in the Greenwald High School +when the war clouds broke over Europe and the world +seemed to go mad in a whirl. She hurried to Old +Aaron for his opinion on the terrible war.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it awful," she said to him, "that so many<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117"></a><a href="images/117.png">[117]</a></span> +nations are flying at each other's throats? And in +these days of our boasted civilization!"</p> + +<p>"Awful," he agreed. "But, mark my words, this +is just the beginning. Before the thing's settled we'll +be in it too."</p> + +<p>She shrank from the words. "Oh, no, not America! +That would be too terrible. David might go then, and +a lot of Greenwald boys—oh, that would be awful!"</p> + +<p>"Yes! But it would be far more dreadful to have +them sit back safe while others died for the freedom +of the world. I'd rather have my boy a soldier at a +time like this than have him be ruler of a country."</p> + +<p>The old man's words ended quaveringly. The pent-up +agony of his disappointment in his son surged over +him, and he bowed his head in his hands and wept.</p> + +<p>Phœbe sent Granny to comfort him, and then stole +away. The veteran's grief left an impression upon +her. Were his words prophetic? Would America be +drawn into the struggle? It was preposterous to +dream of that. She would forget the words of Old +Aaron, for she had important matters of her own to +think about. In a few years she would be graduated +from High School and then she would have her own +life-work to decide upon. Her desire for larger experience, +her determination to do something of importance +after graduation was her chief interest. The +war across the sea was too remote to bring constant +fear to her. Dutifully she went about her work on +the farm and pursued her studies. She was not without +pity for the brave people of Servia and Belgium, +not without praise for the heroic French and English.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118"></a><a href="images/118.png">[118]</a></span> +She added her vehement words of horror as she read +of the atrocities visited upon the helpless peoples. She +shared in the dread of many Americans that the octopus-arm +of war might reach this country, and yet she +was more concerned about her own future than about +the future of battle-racked France or devastated Belgium.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119"></a><a href="images/119.png">[119]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>BEYOND THE ALPS LIES ITALY</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Phœbe's</span> graduation from the Greenwald High +School was her red-letter day. Several times during +the morning she stole to the spare-room where her +graduation dress lay spread upon the high bed. Accompanied +by Aunt Maria she had made a special trip +to Lancaster for the frock, though Aunt Maria had +conscientiously bought a few yards of muslin and +apron gingham.</p> + +<p>The material was soft silky batiste of the quality +Phœbe liked. The style, also, was of her choosing. +She felt a glow of satisfaction as she looked at the +dress so simply, yet fashionably, made.</p> + +<p>"For once in my life I have a dress I like," she +thought.</p> + +<p>After supper, just as she was ready to dress for the +great event, Phares Eby came to the gray farmhouse.</p> + +<p>The years had changed the solemn, serious boy into +a more solemn, serious man. Tall and broad-shouldered, +he was every inch a man in appearance. He +was, moreover, a man highly respected in the community, +a successful farmer and also a preacher in the +Church of the Brethren. The latter honor had been +conferred upon him a year before Phœbe's graduation<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120"></a><a href="images/120.png">[120]</a></span> +and had seemed to increase his gravity and endow him +with true bishopric dignity. He dressed after the +manner of the majority of men who are affiliated with +the Church of the Brethren in that district. His chin +was covered with a thick, black beard, his dark hair +was parted in the middle and combed behind his ears. +He looked ten years older than he was and gave an +impression of reserved strength, indomitable will and +rigidity of purpose in furthering what he deemed a +good cause.</p> + +<p>Phœbe felt a slight intimidation in his presence as +she noted how serious he had grown, how mature he +seemed. He appeared to desire the same friendship +with her and tried to be comradely as of old, but there +remained a feeling of restraint between them.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Phares," she greeted him as cordially as +possible on her Commencement night.</p> + +<p>"Good-evening," he returned. "Are you ready for +the great event?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, if I don't have heart failure before I get in +to town. If only I had been fourth or fifth in the +class marks instead of second, then I might have +escaped to-night with just a solo. As it is, I must +deliver the Salutatory oration."</p> + +<p>"Phœbe, you want to get off too easily! But I +cannot stay more than a minute, for I know you'll +want to get ready. I just stopped to give you a little +gift for your graduation, a copy of Longfellow's +poems."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thanks, Phares. I like his poems."</p> + +<p>"I thought you did. But I must go now," he said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121"></a><a href="images/121.png">[121]</a></span> +stiffly. "I'll see you to-night at Commencement. I +hope you'll get through the oration all right."</p> + +<p>"Thanks. I hope so."</p> + +<p>When he was gone she made a wry face. "Whew," +she whistled. "I'm sure Phares is a fine young man +but he's too solemncoly. He gives me the woolies! +If he's like that all the time I'm glad I don't have to +live in the same house. Wonder if he really knows +how to be jolly. But, shame on you, Phœbe Metz, +talking so about your old friend! Perhaps for that +I'll forget my oration to-night." With a gay laugh +she ran away to dress for the most important occasion +of her life.</p> + +<p>The white dress was vastly becoming. Its soft +folds fell gracefully about her slender young figure. +Her hair was brushed back, gathered into a bow at the +top of her head, and braided into one thick braid +which ended in a curl. There were no loving fingers +of mother or sister to arrange the folds of her gown, +no fond eyes to appraise her with looks of approval, +but if she felt the omission she gave no evidence of it. +She seemed especially gay as she dressed alone in her +room. When she had finished she surveyed herself +in the glass.</p> + +<p>"Um, Phœbe Metz, you don't look half bad! Now +go and do as well as you look. If Aunt Maria heard +me she'd be shocked, but what's the use pretending to +be so stupid or innocent as not to appreciate your own +good points. Any person with good sight and ordinary +sense can tell whether their appearance is pleasing +or otherwise. I like this dress——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122"></a><a href="images/122.png">[122]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Phœbe," Aunt Maria's voice came up the stairs.</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"Why, David's down. Are you done dressing?"</p> + +<p>"I'll be down in a minute."</p> + +<p>David Eby, too, was a man grown, but a man so different! +Like his cousin, Phares, he was tall. He had +the same dark hair and eyes but his eyes were glowing, +and his hair was cut close and his chin kept smooth-shaven.</p> + +<p>Between him and Phœbe there existed the old comradeship, +free of restraint or embarrassment. He ran +to meet her as her steps sounded on the stairs.</p> + +<p>But she came down sedately, her hand sliding along +the colonial hand-rail, a calm dignity about her, her +lovely head erect.</p> + +<p>"Good-evening," she said in quiet tones.</p> + +<p>"Whew!" he whistled. "Sweet girl graduate is +too mild a phrase! Come, unbend, Phœbe. You don't +expect me to call you Miss Metz or to kiss your hand—ah, +shall I?"</p> + +<p>"Davie"—in a twinkling the assumed dignity deserted +her, she was all girl again, animated and adorable—"Davie, +you're hopeless! Here I pose before +the mirror to find the most impressive way to hold my +head and be sufficiently dignified for the occasion, and +you come bursting into the hall like a tomboy, whistling +and saying funny things."</p> + +<p>"I'm awfully sorry. But you took my breath away. +I haven't gotten it back yet"—he breathed deeply.</p> + +<p>"David, will you ever grow up?"</p> + +<p>"I'll have to now. I see you've gone and done it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123"></a><a href="images/123.png">[123]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ach no," she lapsed into the childhood expression. +"I'm not grown up. But how do I look? You won't +tell me so I have to ask you."</p> + +<p>"You look like a Madonna," he said seriously.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said impatiently, "that sounded like +Phares."</p> + +<p>"Gracious, then I'll change it! You look like an +angel and good enough to eat. But honestly, Phœbe, +that dress is dandy! You look mighty nice."</p> + +<p>"Glad you think so. Shall I tell you a secret, +David? I'm scared pink about to-night."</p> + +<p>"You scared?" He whistled again.</p> + +<p>"Don't be so smart," she said with a frown. "Were +you scared on your Commencement night?"</p> + +<p>"Um-uh. At first I was. But you'll get over it +in a few minutes. The lights and the glory of the +occasion dim the scary feeling when you sit up there +in the seats of honor. You should be glad your +oration is first."</p> + +<p>"I am. Mary Warner is welcome to her Valedictory +and the long wait to deliver it."</p> + +<p>Phœbe stiffened a bit at the thought of the other +girl. Since the days when the two girls attended the +rural school on the hill and Mary Warner was the +possessor of curls while Phœbe wore the despised +braids the other girl seemed to have everything for +which Phœbe longed.</p> + +<p>"Ah, don't you care about the honor," said David. +"Honors don't always tell who knows the most. +Why, look at me; I was fifth in my class and I know +as much any day as the little runt who was first."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124"></a><a href="images/124.png">[124]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Conceit!" laughed Phœbe. "But I guess you do +know more than he does. Bet he never saw an orioles' +nest or found a wild pink moccasin. You're a wonder +at such things, David."</p> + +<p>"Um," came the sober answer, but there was a +merry twinkle in his eyes, "I'm a wonder all right! +Too bad only you and Mother Bab know it. But if I +don't soon go you won't get to town in time to get +the pink roses arranged just so for the grand march. +The girls in our class primped about twenty minutes, +patting their hair and fixing their ribbons and fussing +with their flowers."</p> + +<p>"David, you're horrid!"</p> + +<p>"I know. But I brought you something more to +primp with." He handed her a small flat box.</p> + +<p>"For me?"</p> + +<p>"From Mother Bab," he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, David, that's a beauty!" she cried as she held +up a scarf of pale blue crepe de chine. "I'll wear it +to-night. Tell Mother Bab I thank her over and over. +But I'll see her to-night and tell her myself; she'll be +in at Commencement."</p> + +<p>"She can't come, Phœbe. She's sorry, but she has +one of her dreadful headaches and you know what that +means, how sick she really is."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Davie, Mother Bab not coming to my Commencement—why, +I'm so disappointed, I want her +there"—the tears were near the surface.</p> + +<p>"She's sorry, too, Phœbe, but she's too sick when +those headaches get her. Her eyes are the cause of +them, we think now."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125"></a><a href="images/125.png">[125]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And I'm horribly selfish to think of myself and +my disappointment when she is suffering. You tell +her I'll be up to see her in the morning and tell her +all about to-night. You are coming?"</p> + +<p>"Sure thing! Aunt Mary is coming over to stay +with mother, but there is really nothing to do for her; +the pain seems to have to run its course. She'll go to +bed early and be perfectly all right when she wakes in +the morning. Come on, now, cheer up, and get ready +for that 'Over the Alps lies Italy.'"</p> + +<p>"It's 'Beyond the Alps lies Italy,'" she corrected +him. Her disappointment was softened by his cheerfulness.</p> + +<p>"Ach, it's all the same," he insisted, and went off +smiling.</p> + +<p>To Phœbe that night seemed like a dream—the slow +march down the aisle of the crowded auditorium to +the elevated platform where the nine graduates sat in +a semicircle; the sea of faces swathed in the bright +glow of many lights; the perfume of the pink roses in +her arm; the music of the High School chorus, and +then the time when she rose and stood before the people +to deliver her oration, "Beyond the Alps lies Italy."</p> + +<p>She began rather shakily; the sea of faces seemed +so very formidable, so many eyes looked at her—how +could she ever finish! She spoke mechanically at first, +but gradually the magic of the Italy of her dreams stole +upon her, a singular softness crept into her voice, a +mellowness like music, as she depicted the blue skies +of the sunny land-of-dreams-come-true.</p> + +<p>When she returned to her place in the semicircle a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126"></a><a href="images/126.png">[126]</a></span> +glow of satisfaction possessed her. She felt she had +not failed, that she had, in truth, done very well. But +later, when Mary Warner rose to deliver the Valedictory, +Phœbe felt her own efforts shrink into littleness. +The dark-eyed beautiful Mary was a sad thorn +in the flesh for the fair girl who knew she was always +overshadowed by the brilliant, queenly brunette. Involuntarily +the country girl looked at David Eby—he +was listening intently to Mary; his eyes never seemed +to leave her face. Little, sharp pangs of jealousy +thrust themselves into the depths of Phœbe's heart. +Was it true, then, that David cared for Mary Warner? +Town gossips said he frequented her house. Phœbe +had met them together on the Square recently—not +that she cared, of course! She sat erect and held her +pink roses more tightly against her heart. It mattered +little to her if David liked other girls; it was only that +she felt a sense of proprietorship over the boy whose +mother was her Mother Bab—thus she tried to console +herself and quiet the demons of jealousy until the +program was completed, congratulations received, and +she stood with her aunt and father, ready for the trip +back to the gray farmhouse.</p> + +<p>Teachers and friends had congratulated her, but it +was David Eby's hearty, "You did all right, Phœbe," +that gave her the keenest joy.</p> + +<p>"Did you walk in?" she asked him as she gathered +her roses, diploma and scarf, preparatory to departure.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Then you can drive out with us," her father +offered.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127"></a><a href="images/127.png">[127]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, of course," she seconded the suggestion. "We +have room in the carriage."</p> + +<p>So it happened that Phœbe, the blue scarf about her +shoulders, sat beside David as they drove over the +country road, home from her graduation. The vehicle +rattled somewhat, but the young folks on the rear +seat could speak and hear above the clatter.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad it's over," Phœbe sighed in relief. "But +what next?"</p> + +<p>"Mary Warner is going to enter some prep school +this fall and prepare for Vassar," David informed the +girl beside him.</p> + +<p>"Lucky Mary"—Mary Warner—she was sick of +the name! "I wish I knew what I want to do."</p> + +<p>"Want to go away to school?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Aunt Maria wants me to stay at +home on the farm and just help her. Daddy +doesn't say much, but he did ask me if I would like to +go to Millersville. That's a fine Normal School and +if I wanted to be a teacher I'd go to that school, but I +don't want to be a teacher. What I really want to do +is go away and study music."</p> + +<p>"Well, can't you do it? That is not really impossible."</p> + +<p>"No, but——"</p> + +<p>"No, but," he mimicked. "<i>But</i> won't take you +anywhere."</p> + +<p>"You set me thinking, David. Perhaps it isn't so +improbable, after all. I'm coming over to see Mother +Bab to-morrow; she'll be full of suggestions. She'll +see a way for me to get what I want; she always does."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128"></a><a href="images/128.png">[128]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I bet she will," agreed David. "You'll be that +primer donner yet," he mimicked, "I know you will."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Davie, wouldn't it be great! But I wouldn't +beautify my face with cream and beet juice and flour!"</p> + +<p>They laughed so heartily that Aunt Maria turned +and asked the cause of the merriment.</p> + +<p>"We were just speaking of the time when I dressed +in the garret and fixed my face—the time you had the +quilting party."</p> + +<p>"Ach," Aunt Maria said, smiling in the darkness. +"You looked dreadful that day. I was good and mad +at you! But I'm glad you're big enough now not to +do such dumb things. My, now that you're done with +school and will stay home with me we can have some +nice times sewin' and quiltin' and makin' rugs, ain't, +Phœbe?"</p> + +<p>In the semi-darkness of the carriage Phœbe looked +at David. The appealing wistfulness of her face +touched him. He patted her arm reassuringly and +whispered to her, "Don't you worry. It'll come out +all right. Mother Bab will help you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129"></a><a href="images/129.png">[129]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>A VISIT TO MOTHER BAB</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> next day as Phœbe walked up the hill to visit +Mother Bab she went eagerly and with an unusual +light in her eyes—she had transformed her schoolgirl +braid into the coiffure of a woman! The golden hair +was parted in the middle, twisted into a shapely knot +in the nape of her neck, and the effect was highly satisfactory, +she thought.</p> + +<p>"Mother Bab will be surprised," she said gladly as +she swung up the hill in rapid, easy strides. "And +David—I wonder what David will say if he's home."</p> + +<p>At the summit of the hill she paused and turned, +looked back at the gray farmhouse and beyond it to +the little town of Greenwald.</p> + +<p>"I just must stand here a minute and look! I love +this view from the hill."</p> + +<p>She breathed deeply and continued to revel in the +beauty of the scene. At the foot of the hill was the +Metz farm nestling in its green surroundings. Like +a tan ribbon the dusty road went winding past green +fields, then hid itself as it dipped into a valley and +made a sharp curve, though Phœbe knew that it went +on past more fields and meadows to the town. Where +she stood she had a view of the tall spires of Greenwald +churches straggling through the trees, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130"></a><a href="images/130.png">[130]</a></span> +red and slate roofs of comfortable houses gleaming in +the sunlight. Beyond and about the town lay fields +resplendent in the pristine freshness of May greenery.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said aloud after a long gaze, "this is +glorious! But I must hurry to Mother Bab. I'm +wild to have her see me. Aunt Maria just said when +I showed her my hair, 'Yes well, Phœbe, I guess +you're old enough to wear your hair up.' Mother +Bab is different. Sometimes I pity Aunt Maria and +wonder what kind of childhood she had to make her +so grim about some things."</p> + +<p>The little house in which David and his mother +lived stood near the country road leading to the schoolhouse +on the hill. Like many other farmhouses of +that county it was square, substantial and unadorned, +its attractiveness being derived solely from its fine +proportions, its colonial doorways, and the harmonious +surroundings of trees and flowers. The garden was +eloquent of the lavish love bestowed upon it. Mother +Bab delighted in flowers and planted all the old +favorites. The walks between the garden beds were +trim and weedless, the yard and buildings well kept, +and the entire little farm gave evidence that the reputed +Pennsylvania Dutch thrift and neatness were present +there.</p> + +<p>Adjoining the farm of Mother Bab was the farm of +her brother-in-law, the father of Phares Eby. This +was one of the best known in the community. Its +great barns and vast acres quite eclipsed the modest +little dwelling beside it. David Eby sometimes sighed +as he compared the two farms and wondered why Fate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131"></a><a href="images/131.png">[131]</a></span> +had bestowed upon his uncle's efforts an almost unparalleled +success while his own father had had a +continual struggle to hold on to the few acres of the +little farm. Since the death of his father David had +often felt the straining of the yoke. It was toil, toil, +on acres which were rich but apparently unwilling to +yield their fullness. One year the crops were damaged +by hail, another year prolonged drought prevented full +development of the fruit, again continued rainy +weather ruined the hay, and so on, year in and year +out, there was seldom a season when the farm measured +up to the expectations of the hard-working David.</p> + +<p>But Mother Bab never complained about the ill-luck, +neither did she envy the woman in the great house next +to her. Mother Bab's philosophy of life was mainly +cheerful:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"I find earth not gray, but rosy,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Heaven not grim, but fair of hue.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Do I stoop? I pluck a posy.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Do I stand and stare? All's blue."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>A little house to shelter her, a big garden in which +to work, to dream, to live; enough worldly goods to +supply daily sustenance; the love of her David—truly +her <span class="smcap">Beloved</span>, as the old Hebrew name signifies—the +love of the dear Phœbe who had adopted her—given +these blessings and no envy or discontent ever ventured +near the white-capped woman. Life had brought her +many hours of perplexity and several great sorrows, +but it had also bestowed upon her compensating joys. +She felt that the years would bring her new joys, now +that her boy was grown into a man and was able to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132"></a><a href="images/132.png">[132]</a></span> +manage the farm. Some day he would bring home a +wife—how she would love David's wife! But meanwhile, +she was not lonely. Her friends and she were +much together, quilting, rugging, comparing notes on +the garden.</p> + +<p>"Guess Mother Bab'll be in the garden," thought +Phœbe, "for it's such a fine day."</p> + +<p>But as she neared the whitewashed fence of the +garden she saw that the place was deserted. She ran +lightly up the walk, rapped at the kitchen door, and +entered without waiting for an answer to her knock.</p> + +<p>"Mother Bab," she called.</p> + +<p>"I'm here, Phœbe," came a voice from the sitting-room.</p> + +<p>"How are you? Is your headache all gone?" +Phœbe asked as she ran to the beloved person who +came to meet her.</p> + +<p>"All gone. I was so disappointed last night—but +what have you done to your hair?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I forgot!" Phœbe lifted her head proudly. +"I meant to knock at the front door and be company +to-day. I've got my hair up!"</p> + +<p>"Phœbe, Phœbe," the woman drew her nearer. +"Let me look at you." Her eyes scanned the face of +the girl, her voice quivered as she spoke. "You've +grown up! Of course it didn't come in a night but it +seems that way."</p> + +<p>"The May fairies did it, Mother Bab. Yesterday +I wore a braid. This morning when I woke I heard +the robin who sings every morning in the apple tree +outside my window and he was caroling, 'Put it up!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133"></a><a href="images/133.png">[133]</a></span> +Put it up!' I knew he meant my hair, so here I am, +waiting for your blessing."</p> + +<p>"You have it, you always have it! But"—she +changed her mood—"are you sure the robin wasn't +saying, 'Get up, get up!' Phœbe?"</p> + +<p>"Positive; it was only five o'clock."</p> + +<p>"Now I must hear all about last night," said Mother +Bab as they sat together on the broad wooden settee +in the sitting-room. "David told me how nice you +looked and how well you did."</p> + +<p>"Did he tell you how pleased I am with the scarf? +It's just lovely! And the color is beautiful. I wonder +why—I wonder why I love pretty things so much, +really pretty things, like crepe de chine and taffeta and +panne velvet and satin. Oh, sometimes I think I must +have them. When I go to Lancaster I want lots of +lovely clothes and I hate ginghams and percales and +serviceable things."</p> + +<p>"I know, Phœbe, I know how you feel about it."</p> + +<p>"Do you really? Then it can't be so awfully +wicked. You are so understanding, Mother Bab. I +can't tell Aunt Maria how I feel about such things for +she'd be dreadfully hurt or worried or provoked, but +you seem always to know what I mean and how I +feel."</p> + +<p>"I was eighteen myself once, a good many years +ago, but I still remember it."</p> + +<p>"You have a good memory."</p> + +<p>"Yes. Why, I can remember some of the dresses +I wore when I was eighteen. But then, I have a dress +bundle to help me remember them."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134"></a><a href="images/134.png">[134]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What's a dress bundle?"</p> + +<p>"Didn't Aunt Maria keep one for you?"</p> + +<p>"I never heard of one."</p> + +<p>"It's a long string of samples of dresses you wore +when you were little. Wait, I'll get mine and show +you."</p> + +<p>She left the room and went up-stairs. After a +short time she returned and held out a stout thread +upon which were strung small, irregular scraps of +dress material. "This is my dress bundle. My +mother started it for me when I was a baby and kept +it up till I was big enough to do it myself. Every +time I got a new dress a little patch of the goods was +threaded on my dress bundle."</p> + +<p>"Oh, may I see? Why, that's just like a part of +your babyhood and childhood come back!"</p> + +<p>The two heads bent over the bundle—the girl's with +its light hair in its first putting up, the woman's with +its graying hair folded under the white cap.</p> + +<p>"Here"—Mother Bab turned the bundle upside +down and fingered the scraps with that loving way of +those who are dreaming of long departed days and +touching a relic of those cherished hours—"this white +calico with the little pink dots was the first dress any +one gave me. Grandmother Hoerner made it for me, +all by hand. Funny, wasn't it, the way they used to +put colored dresses on wee babies! See, here are pink +calico ones and white with red figures and a few blue +ones. I wore all these when I was a baby. Then +when I grew older these; they are much prettier. +This red delaine I wore to a spelling bee when I was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135"></a><a href="images/135.png">[135]</a></span> +about sixteen and I got a book for a prize for standing +up next to last. This red and black checked debaige +I can see yet. It had an overskirt on it trimmed with +little ruffles. This purple cashmere with the yellow +sprigs in it I had all trimmed with narrow black velvet +ribbon. I'll never forget that dress—I wore it the +day I met David's father."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you must have looked lovely!"</p> + +<p>"He said so." She smiled; her eyes looked beyond +Phœbe, back to the golden days of her youth when +Love had come to her to bless and to abide with her +long beyond the tarrying of the spirit in the flesh. +"He said I looked nice. I met him the first time I +wore the purple dress. It was at a corn-husking party +at Jerry Grumb's barn. Some man played the fiddle +and we danced."</p> + +<p>"Danced!" echoed Phœbe.</p> + +<p>"Yes, danced. But just the old-fashioned Virginia +reel. We had cider and apples and cake and pie for +our treat and we went home at ten o'clock! David +walked home with me in the moonlight and I guess we +liked each other from the first. We were married the +next year, then we both turned plain."</p> + +<p>"Were you ever sorry, Mother Bab?"</p> + +<p>"That I married him, or that I turned plain?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Both, I mean."</p> + +<p>"No, never sorry once, Phœbe, about either. We +were happy together. And about turning plain, why, +I wasn't sorry either."</p> + +<p>"But you had to give up Virginia reels and pretty +dresses."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136"></a><a href="images/136.png">[136]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, but I learned there are deeper, more important +things than dancing and wearing pretty dresses."</p> + +<p>She looked at Phœbe, but the girl had bowed her +head over the dress bundle and appeared to be thinking.</p> + +<p>"And so," continued Mother Bab softly, "my bundle +ended with that dress. Since I dress plain I don't +wear colors, just gray and black. But I always +thought if I had a girl I'd start a dress bundle for her, +for it's so much satisfaction to get it out sometimes +and look over the pieces and remember the dresses and +some of the happy times you had when you wore them. +But the girl never came."</p> + +<p>"But you have David!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, to be sure, he's been so much to me, but I +couldn't make him a dress bundle. He wouldn't have +liked it when he grew older—boys are different. And +I wouldn't want him to be a sissy, either."</p> + +<p>"He isn't, Mother Bab. He's fine!"</p> + +<p>"I think so, Phœbe. He has worked so hard since +he's through school and he's so good to me and takes +such care of the farm, though the crops don't always +turn out as we want. But you haven't told me what +you are going to do, now that you're through school."</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I want to do something."</p> + +<p>"Teach?"</p> + +<p>"No. What I would like best of all is study +music."</p> + +<p>"In Greenwald? You mean to learn to play?"</p> + +<p>"No, to learn to sing. I have often dreamed of +studying music in a great city, like Philadelphia."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137"></a><a href="images/137.png">[137]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What would you do then?"</p> + +<p>"Sing, sing! I feel that my voice is my one talent +and I don't want to bury it."</p> + +<p>"Well, don't Miss Lee live in Philadelphia? Perhaps +she could help you to get a good teacher and find +a place to board."</p> + +<p>"Mother Bab!" Phœbe sprang to her feet and +wrapped her arms about the slender little woman. +"That's just it!" she cried. "I never thought of +that! David said you'd help me. I'll write to Miss +Lee to-day!"</p> + +<p>"Phœbe," the woman said, smiling at the girl's wild +enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"I'm not crazy, just inspired," said Phœbe. "You +helped me, I knew you would! I want to go to Philadelphia +to study music but I know daddy and Aunt Maria +would never listen to any proposals about going to a big +city and living among strangers. But if I write to Miss +Lee and she says she'll help me the folks at home may +consider the plan. I'll have a hard time, though"—a +reactionary doubt touched her—"I'll have a dreadful +time persuading Aunt Maria that I'm safe and sane if +I mention music and Philadelphia and Phœbe in the +same breath." Then she smiled determinedly. "At +least I'm going to make a brave effort to get what I +want. I'm not going to settle down on the farm and +get brown and fat and wear gingham dresses all my +life, and sunbonnets in the bargain! I never could +see why I had to wear sunbonnets, I always hated +them. Aunt Maria always tried to make me wear +them, but as soon as I was out of her sight I sneaked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138"></a><a href="images/138.png">[138]</a></span> +them off. I remember one time I threw my bonnet +in the Chicques and I had the loveliest time watching +it disappear down the stream. But Aunt Maria +made me make another one that was uglier still, so +I gained nothing but the temporary pleasure of seeing +it float away. And how I hated to do patchwork! +It seemed to me I was always doing it, and I never +could see the sense of cutting up pieces and then sewing +them together again."</p> + +<p>"But the sewing was good practice for you, Phœbe. +Patchwork—seems to me all our life is patchwork: a +little here and a little there; one color now, then +another; one shape first, then another shape fitted in; +and when it is all joined it will be beautiful if we keep +the parts straight and the colors and shapes right. +It can be a very beautiful rising sun or an equally +pretty flower basket, or it can be just a crazy quilt with +little of the beautiful about it."</p> + +<p>"Mother Bab, if I had known that while I was +patching I would have loved to patch! I had nothing +to make it interesting; it was just stitching, stitching, +stitching on seams! But those vivid quilts are all finished +and I guess Aunt Maria is as glad about it as I +am, for I gave her some worried hours before the end +was sighted. Poor Aunt Maria, she should be glad to +have me go to the city. I've led her some merry +chases, but I must admit she was always equal to them, +forged ahead of me many times."</p> + +<p>"Phœbe, you're a wilful child and I'm afraid I spoil +you more."</p> + +<p>"No you don't! You're my safety valve. If I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139"></a><a href="images/139.png">[139]</a></span> +couldn't come up here and say the things I really feel +I'd have to tell it to the Jenny Wrens—Aunt Maria +hates to have me talk to myself."</p> + +<p>"But she's good to you, Phœbe?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, oh, yes! I appreciate all she has done for +me. She has taken care of me since I was a tiny baby. +I'll never forget that. It's just that we are so different. +I can't make Phœbe Metz be just like Maria +Metz, can I?"</p> + +<p>"No, you must be yourself, even if you are different."</p> + +<p>"That's it, Mother Bab. I feel I have the right +to live my life as I choose, that no person shall say to +me I must live it so or so. If I want to study music +why shouldn't I do so? My mother left a few hundred +dollars for me; it's been on interest and amounts +to more than a few hundred, about a thousand dollars, +I think. So the money end of my studying music need +not worry Aunt Maria. I am determined to do it, +wouldn't you?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose I'd feel the same way."</p> + +<p>"How did you learn to understand so well, +Mother Bab? You have lived all your life on a farm, +yet you are not narrow."</p> + +<p>"I hope I have not grown narrow," the woman +said softly. "I have read a great deal. I have read—don't +you breathe it to a soul—I have often read when +I should have been baking pies or washing windows!"</p> + +<p>"No wonder David worships you so."</p> + +<p>"I still enjoy reading," said Mother Bab. "David +subscribes for three good magazines and when they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140"></a><a href="images/140.png">[140]</a></span> +come I'm so anxious to look into them that sometimes +my cooking burns."</p> + +<p>"That must be one of the reasons your English is +correct. I am ashamed of myself when I mix my v's +and w's and use a <i>t</i> for a <i>d</i>. I have often wished the +Pennsylvania Dutch dialect would have been put aside +long ago."</p> + +<p>"Yes," the woman agreed, "I can't see the need of +it. It has been ridiculed so long that it should have +died a natural death. It's a mystery to me how it has +survived. But cheer up, Phœbe, the gibberish is dying +out. The older people will continue to speak it but +the younger generations are becoming more and more +English speaking. Why, do you know, Phœbe, since +this war started in Europe and I read the dreadful +crimes the Germans are committing I feel that I never +want to hear or say, 'Yah.'"</p> + +<p>"Bully!" Phœbe clapped her hands. "I said to +old Aaron Hogendobler yesterday that I'm ashamed I +have a German name and some German ancestors, +even if they did come to this country before the Revolution, +and he said no one need feel shame at that, +but every American who is not one hundred per cent +American should die from shame. I know we Pennsylvania +Dutch can carry our end of the burdens of +the world and be real Americans, but I want to sound +like one too."</p> + +<p>Mother Bab laughed. "Just yesterday I said to +David that the butter was <i>all</i>."</p> + +<p>"I say that very often. I must read more."</p> + +<p>"And I less. I haven't told you, Phœbe, nor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141"></a><a href="images/141.png">[141]</a></span> +David, but my eyes are going back on me. I went to +Lancaster a few weeks ago and the doctor there said +I must be very careful not to strain them at all. I +think I'd rather lose any other sense than sight. I +always thought it was the greatest affliction in the +world to be blind."</p> + +<p>"It is! It mustn't come to you, Mother Bab!"</p> + +<p>The woman looked worried, but in a moment her +face brightened.</p> + +<p>"Anyhow," she said, "what's the use of worrying or +thinking about it? If it ever comes I'll have to bear +it just as many other people are bearing it. I'm glad +I have sight to-day to see you."</p> + +<p>Phœbe gave her an ecstatic hug. "I believe you're +Irish instead of Pennsylvania Dutch! You do know +how to blarney and you have that coaxing, lovely way +about you that the Irish are supposed to have."</p> + +<p>"Why, Phœbe, I am part Irish! My mother's +maiden name was McKnight. David and I still have +a few drops of the Irish blood in us, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"I just knew it! I'm glad. I adore the whimsical +way the Irish have, and I like their sense of humor. +I guess that's one of the reasons I like you better than +other people I know and perhaps that's why David is +jolly and different from Phares. Ah," she added +roguishly, "I think it's a pity Phares hasn't some Irish +blood in him. He's so solemn he seldom sees a joke."</p> + +<p>"But he's a good boy and he thinks a lot of you. +He's just a little too quiet. But he's a good preacher +and very bright."</p> + +<p>"Yes, he's so good that I'm ashamed of myself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142"></a><a href="images/142.png">[142]</a></span> +when I say mean things about him. I like him, but +people with more life are more interesting."</p> + +<p>"Hello, who's this you like?" David's hearty +voice burst upon them.</p> + +<p>Phœbe turned and saw him standing in the sunlight +of the open door. The thought flashed upon her, +"How big and strong he is!"</p> + +<p>He wore brown corduroys, a blue chambray shirt +slightly open at the throat, heavy shoes. His face was +already tanned by the wind and sun, his hands rough +from contact with soil and farming implements, his +dark hair rumpled where he had pulled the big straw +hat from his head, but there was an odor of fresh +spring earth about him, a boyish wholesomeness in +his face, that attracted the girl as she looked at his +frame in the doorway.</p> + +<p>There was a flash of white teeth, a twinkle in his +dark eyes, as he asked, "What did I hear you say, +Phœbe—that you like <i>me?</i>"</p> + +<p>"Indeed not! I wouldn't think of liking anybody +who deceived me as you have done. All these years +you have left me under the impression that you are +Pennsylvania Dutch and now Mother Bab says you +are part Irish."</p> + +<p>"Little saucebox! What about yourself? You +can't make me believe that you are pure, unadulterated +Pennsylvania Dutch. There's some alien blood in +you, by the ways of you. Have you seen Phares this +afternoon?" he asked irrelevantly.</p> + +<p>"Phares? No. Why?"</p> + +<p>"He went down past the field some time ago. Said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143"></a><a href="images/143.png">[143]</a></span> +he's going to Greenwald and means to stop and ask +you to go to a sale with him next week. He said you +mentioned some time ago that you'd like to go to a +real old-fashioned one and he heard of one coming +off next week and thought you might like to go."</p> + +<p>"I surely want to go. Don't you want to come, too, +David? And Mother Bab?"</p> + +<p>But David shook his head. "And spoil Phares's +party," he said. "Phares wouldn't thank us."</p> + +<p>Phœbe shrugged her shoulders. "Ach, David Eby, +you're silly! Just as though I want to go to a sale all +alone with Phares! He can take the big carriage and +take us all."</p> + +<p>"He can but he won't want to." David showed an +irritating wisdom. "When I invite you to come on +a party with me I won't want Phares tagging after, +either. Two's company."</p> + +<p>"Two's boredom sometimes," she said so ambiguously +that the man laughed heartily and Mother +Bab smiled in amusement.</p> + +<p>"Come now, Phœbe," David said, "just because +you put your hair up you mustn't think you can rule +us all and don grown-up airs."</p> + +<p>"Then you do notice things! I thought you were +blind. You are downright mean, David Eby! When +you wore your first pair of long pants I noticed it right +away and made a fuss about them and it takes you ten +minutes to see that my hair is up instead of hanging +in a silly braid down my back."</p> + +<p>"I saw it first thing, Phœbe. That was mean—I'm +sorry——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144"></a><a href="images/144.png">[144]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You look it," she said sceptically.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," he repeated, "to see the braid go, +though you look fine this way. I liked that long +braid ever since the day I braided it, the day you +played prima donna. Remember?"</p> + +<p>The girl flushed, then was vexed at her embarrassment +and changed suddenly to the old, appealing +Phœbe.</p> + +<p>"I remember, Davie. You were my salvation that +day, you and Mother Bab."</p> + +<p>Before they could answer she added with seeming +innocency, yet with a swift glance into the face of +the farmer boy, "I must go now so I'll be home when +Phares comes to invite me to that sale. I'm going +with him; I'm wild to go."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" David said slowly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she repeated, a teasing look in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Mommie, isn't she fine?" David said after Phœbe +was gone and he lingered in the house.</p> + +<p>"Mighty fine. But she is so different from the +general run of girls; she's so lively and bright and +sweet, so sensitive to all impressions. She's anxious +to get to the city to study music. It would be a wonderful +experience for her—and yet——"</p> + +<p>"And yet——" echoed David, then fell into silence.</p> + +<p>Mother Bab was thinking of her boy and Phœbe, +of their gay comradeship. How friendly they were, +how well-mated they appeared to be, how appreciative +of each other. Could they ever care for each other +in a deeper way? Did the preacher care for the play<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145"></a><a href="images/145.png">[145]</a></span>mate +of his childhood as she thought David was beginning +to care?</p> + +<p>"Well, I must go again, mommie. I came in for +a drink at the pump and heard you and Phœbe. Now +I must hustle for I have a lot to do before sundown—ach, +why aren't we rich!"</p> + +<p>"Do you wish for that?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I do. Not wealthy; just to have enough +so we needn't lie awake wondering if the dry spell +or the wet spell or the hail will ruin the crops. I +wish I could find an Aladdin's lamp."</p> + +<p>"Davie"—the smile faded from her face—"don't +get the money craze. Money isn't everything. This +farm is paid for and we can always make a comfortable +living. Money isn't all."</p> + +<p>"No, but—but it means everything sometimes to a +young, single fellow. But don't you worry; the crops +are fine this year, so far."</p> + +<p>The mother did not forget his words at once. "It +must be," she thought, "that David wants Phœbe and +feels he must have more money before he can ask her +to marry him. Will men never learn that girls who +are worth getting are not looking so much for money +but the man. The young can't see the depth and fullness +of love. I've tried to teach David, but I suppose +there's some things he must learn for himself."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146"></a><a href="images/146.png">[146]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>AN OLD-FASHIONED COUNTRY SALE</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">A week</span> later Phares and Phœbe drove into the +barnyard of a farm six miles from Greenwald, where +the old-fashioned sale was scheduled to be held.</p> + +<p>"We are not the first, after all," said the preacher +as he saw the number of conveyances in and about the +barnyard. He smiled good-humoredly as he led the +way—he could afford to smile when he was with +Phœbe.</p> + +<p>All about the big yard of the farm were placed +articles to be sold at public auction. It was a miscellaneous +collection. A cradle with miniature puffy +feather pillows, straw tick and an old patchwork quilt +of pink and white calico stood near an old wood-stove +which bore the inscription, <span class="smcap">Conowingo Furnace</span>. +Corn-husk shoe-mats, a quilting frame, rocking-chairs, +two spinning-wheels, copper kettles, rolls +of hand-woven rag carpet, old oval hat-boxes and an +old chest stood about a huge table which was laden +with jars of jellies. Chests, filled with linens and +antique woolen coverlets, afforded a resting place for +the fortunate ones who had arrived earliest. A few +antique chairs and tables, a mahogany highboy in excellent +condition and an antique corner-cupboard of +wild-cherry wood occupied prominent places among<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147"></a><a href="images/147.png">[147]</a></span> +the collection. Truly, the sale warranted the attention +it was receiving.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to bid on something—I'm going to do it!" +Phœbe said as they looked about. "When I was a +little girl and went to sales with Aunt Maria I coaxed +to bid, just for the excitement of bidding. But she +always made me tell what I wanted and then she bid +on it."</p> + +<p>"What do you want to buy?" asked the preacher.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know. I don't want any apple-butter +in crocks, or any chairs. Oh, I'll have some fun, +Phares! I'll bid on the third article they put up for +sale! I heard a man say the dishes are going to be +sold first, so I'll probably get a cracked plate or a saucer +without a cup, but whatever it is, the third article is +going to be mine."</p> + +<p>"That is rather rash," warned Phares. "It may +be a bed or a chest."</p> + +<p>"You can't scare me. I'm going to have some real +thrills at this sale."</p> + +<p>The preacher entered into the spirit of the girl and +smiled at her promise to bid on the third thing put up +for sale.</p> + +<p>"Oh, look at the highboy," she exclaimed to him.</p> + +<p>"Do you like it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes. See how it's inlaid with hollywood and +cherry and how fine the lines of it are! I wonder how +much it will bring. But Aunt Maria'd scold if I +brought any furniture home, so I can't buy it."</p> + +<p>"The price will depend upon the number of bidders +and the size of their pocketbooks. If any dealers in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148"></a><a href="images/148.png">[148]</a></span> +antiques are here it may run way up. We used to buy +homespun linen and fine old furniture very cheap at +sales, but the antique dealers changed that."</p> + +<p>By that time the number of people was steadily increasing. +They came singly and in groups, in carriages, +farm wagons, automobiles and afoot. Some +of the curious went about examining each article in +the motley collection in the yard.</p> + +<p>Phœbe watched it all with an amused smile; finally +she broke into merry laughter.</p> + +<p>Phares looked up inquiringly: "What is it?"</p> + +<p>"This is great sport! I haven't been to a good sale +for several years. That old man has knocked his fist +upon every chair and table, has tested every piece of +furniture, has opened all the bureau drawers, even the +case of the old clock, and just a moment ago he rocked +the cradle furiously to convince himself that it is in +good working condition. Here he comes with a +pewter plate in his hand—let's hear what he has to say +about it."</p> + +<p>The old man's cracked harsh voice rose above the +confusion of other sounds as he leaned against a table +near Phœbe and Phares and spoke to another man:</p> + +<p>"Here now, Eph, is one of them pewter plates that +folks fuss so about just now, and I hear they put them +in their dinin'-rooms along the wall! Why, when I +was a boy my granny had a lot of 'em and we'd knock +'em around any way. Ha, ha," he laughed loudly, "I +can tell you a good one, Eph, about one of them pewter +dishes."</p> + +<p>He slapped the plate against his knee, but the thud<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149"></a><a href="images/149.png">[149]</a></span> +was instantly drowned by his quick, "Ach, Jimminy, I +hit myself pretty hard that time! But I'll tell you +about it, Eph. You heard of the fellows from the +city who go around the country hunting up old relics, +all old truck, and sell it again in the city? Well, one +of them fellows come to my house the other week and +asked if I had anything old-fashioned I would sell. +Now if Lizzie'd been home we might got rid of some +of the old things we have on the garret, but I was alone +and I didn't know what I dared sell—you know how +the women is. So I said, 'What kind of old things +do you want?'</p> + +<p>"'Oh,' he said, 'I buy old furniture, dishes, linen, +pewter——'</p> + +<p>"'Pewter?' I said. 'Who wants that?'</p> + +<p>"'There is a great demand for it,' he said, 'and I +will give you a good price for any you have.'</p> + +<p>"'Well,' I laughed, 'I have just one piece of +pewter.'</p> + +<p>"'Where is it?'</p> + +<p>"'Why, the cats have been eating out of it for a +few years.'</p> + +<p>"'May I see it?' he asks.</p> + +<p>"So I took him out to the barn and showed him the +big pewter bowl the cats eat out of and he said, 'I'll +give you fifty cents for that dish.'</p> + +<p>"Gosh, I said to him, 'Mister, I was just fooling +with you. I know you don't want a cat-dish.'</p> + +<p>"But he said again, 'I'll give you fifty cents for +that dish.'</p> + +<p>"So when I saw that he really meant it and wanted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150"></a><a href="images/150.png">[150]</a></span> +the dish I wrapped the old pewter dish in a paper and +he gave me half a dollar for it. When I told Lizzie +about it she laughed good and said the city folks must +be dumb if they want pewter dishes when you can buy +such nice ones for ten cents. Yes, Eph, that's the fellow's +going to auctioneer. He's a good one, you bet; +he keeps things lively all the time. All his folks is +good talkers. Lizzie says his mom can talk the legs +off an iron pot. But then he needs a good tongue in +this business; it takes a lot of wind to be an auctioneer, +specially at a big sale like this. He says it's going +to be a wonderful sale, that he ain't had one like it for +years. There's things here belonged to the family for +three generations, been handed down and handed +down and now to-day it'll get scattered all over Lancaster +County, mebbe further. This saving up things +and not using 'em is all nonsense. I tell Lizzie we'll +use what we got and get new when it's worn out and +not let a lot back for the young ones to fight over or +other people to buy."</p> + +<p>Here the auctioneer climbed upon a big box, clapped +his hands and called loudly, "Attention, attention! +This sale is about to begin. We have here a collection +of fine things, all in good condition. The terms of the +sale are cash. Now, folks, bid up fast and talk loud +when you bid so I can hear you. We have here some +of the finest antique dishes in the country, also some +furniture that can't be duplicated in any store to-day. +We'll begin on this cherry table."</p> + +<p>He lifted a spindle-legged table in the air and went +on talking.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151"></a><a href="images/151.png">[151]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Now that's a fine table to begin with! All solid +cherry, no screws loose—and that's more than you can +say about some people—now what's bid for this table? +Fine and good as the day it came out of a good workman's +shop; no scratches on it—the Brubaker people +knew how to take care of furniture. Who bids? +How much for it do you bid? Fifty cents—fifty, all +right—make it sixty—sixty cents I'm bid. Sixty, +sixty, sixty—seventy—go ahead, eighty—go on—ninety, +one dollar, one dollar ten, twenty, thirty—keep +on—one dollar thirty, make it forty, forty, forty, +forty, I have a dollar forty for this table—all done? +Going—all done—all done?"</p> + +<p>All was said in one breathless succession of words. +He paused an instant to gather fresh impetus, then resumed, +"All done—any more? Gone at a dollar +forty to——"</p> + +<p>"Lizzie Brubaker."</p> + +<p>"Sold to Lizzie Brubaker."</p> + +<p>"There," whispered the preacher to Phœbe, "that's +one."</p> + +<p>She smiled and nodded her head.</p> + +<p>"Here now," called the auctioneer, "here's a fine +set of chairs. Bid on them; wink to me if you don't +want to call out. My wife said she don't care how +many ladies wink to me this afternoon at this sale, but +after that she won't have it—now then; go ahead! +Give me one of the chairs, Sam, so the people can see +it—ah, ain't that a beauty! Six in all, all solid wood, +too, none of your cane seats that you have to be afraid +to sit in. All solid wood, and every one alike, all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152"></a><a href="images/152.png">[152]</a></span> +painted green and every one with fine hand-painted +flowers on the back. Where can you beat such chairs? +Don't make them any more these days, real antiques +they are! Bid up now, friends; how much a piece? +The six go together, it would be a shame to part them. +Fifteen cents did I hear?—Say, I'm ashamed to take +a bid like that! Twenty, that's a little better—thirty, +thirty, forty over here? Forty cents I have, fifty, +sixty, seventy, seventy-five, eighty, eighty, eighty cents +I'm bid; I'm bid eighty cents—make it ninety—ninety +I'm bid, make it a dollar—ninety, ninety—all done at +ninety? Guess we'll let Jonas Erb have them at ninety +cents a piece, and real bargains they are!"</p> + +<p>"Here's where I bid," said Phœbe, her cheeks rosy +from excitement.</p> + +<p>"Shall I release you from your promise?" offered +the preacher.</p> + +<p>"No, I'll bid."</p> + +<p>"Attention," called the auctioneer. "Attention, +everybody! Here we have a real antique, something +worth bidding on!"</p> + +<p>Phœbe held her breath.</p> + +<p>"Here now, Sam, give it a lift so everybody can +see—ah, there you are!"</p> + +<p>He shouted the last words as two men held above +the crowd—the old wooden cradle!</p> + +<p>Phœbe groaned and looked at Phares—he was smiling. +The old aversion to ridicule swelled in her; he +should not have reason to laugh at her; she would +show him that she was equal to the occasion—she +would bid on the cradle!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153"></a><a href="images/153.png">[153]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Start it, hurry up, somebody. How much is bid +for the cradle? Sam here says it's been in the Brubaker +family for years and years. Think of all the +babies that were rocked to sleep in it—it's a real relic."</p> + +<p>Phœbe, unacquainted with the value of cradles, was +silently endeavoring to determine the proper amount +for a first bid. She was relieved to hear a woman's +voice call, "Twenty-five cents."</p> + +<p>"Twenty-five I have, twenty-five," called the auctioneer. +"Make it thirty."</p> + +<p>"Thirty," said Phœbe.</p> + +<p>"Forty," came from the other woman.</p> + +<p>"Make it fifty, Miss." He pointed a fat finger at +Phœbe.</p> + +<p>"Fifty," she responded.</p> + +<p>"Fifty, fifty, anybody make it sixty? Fifty cents—all +done at fifty? Then it goes at fifty cents to"—Phœbe +repeated her name—"to Phœbe Metz."</p> + +<p>He proceeded with the sale. Phœbe turned triumphantly +to the preacher—"I kept my promise."</p> + +<p>"You did," he said. "The cradle is yours—what +are you going to do with it?"</p> + +<p>"Gracious! Why, I never thought of that! I +don't want it. I just wanted the fun of bidding. +Can't I pay it and leave it and they can sell it over +again?"</p> + +<p>"You bid rashly," the preacher said, though his +eyes were smiling and his usual tone of admonition +was absent from his voice. "I think you may be able +to sell it to the woman who was bidding against you."</p> + +<p>"I'll find her and give it to her."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154"></a><a href="images/154.png">[154]</a></span></p> + +<p>She elbowed her way through the crowd until she +reached the place from which the opposing voice had +come. She looked about a moment, then addressed a +woman near her. "Do you know who was bidding on +the cradle?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was Hetty here, the one with the white +waist. Here, Hetty, this lady wants to talk to +you."</p> + +<p>"To me?" echoed the rival bidder for the cradle.</p> + +<p>"Did you bid on the cradle?" asked Phœbe.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I didn't get it. I only wanted it because +it was in the family so long. I'm a Brubaker. I said +I wouldn't give more than fifty cents for it, for it +would just stand up in the garret anyway, and be one +more thing to move around at housecleaning time. +Yet I'd liked to have it. I don't know who got it."</p> + +<p>"I did, but I don't want it. I'd like to give it to +you."</p> + +<p>"Why"—the woman was amazed—"what did you +bid on it for?"</p> + +<p>"Just for the fun of bidding," said Phœbe, laughing. +"Will you let me give it to you?"</p> + +<p>"I'll give you half a dollar for it," offered the +woman.</p> + +<p>"No, I mean it. I want to give it to you. I'll +consider it a favor if you'll take it from me."</p> + +<p>"Well, if you want it that way. But don't you +want the quilt and the feather pillows?"</p> + +<p>"No, take it just as it is."</p> + +<p>"Why, thanks," said the woman as she went to the +spot where the cradle stood. She soon walked away<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155"></a><a href="images/155.png">[155]</a></span> +with the clumsy gift in her arm. "Now don't it beat +all," she said as she set it down near her friends. "I +just knew that I'd get a present to-day. This morning +I put my stocking on wrong side out and I just left it +for they say still that it means you'll get a present before +the day is over, and here I get this cradle!"</p> + +<p>With a bright smile illumining her face, Phœbe rejoined +the preacher.</p> + +<p>"I see you disposed of the cradle," he greeted her.</p> + +<p>"Yes. But I felt like a hypocrite when she thanked +me, for I was giving her what I didn't want."</p> + +<p>Here the busy auctioneer called again, "Attention, +everybody! This piece of furniture we are going to +sell now dates back to ante-bellum days."</p> + +<p>"Ach, it don't," Phœbe heard a voice exclaim. +"That never belonged to any person called Bellem; +that was old Amanda Brubaker's for years and she +used to tell me that it belonged to her grandmother +once. That man don't know what he's saying, but +that's the way these auctioneers do; you can't believe +half they say at a sale half the time."</p> + +<p>Phœbe looked up at Phares; both smiled, but the +loquacious auctioneer, not knowing the comments he +was causing, went on serenely:</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, this is a real old piece of furniture, a real +antique. Look at this, everybody—a chest of drawers, +a highboy, some people call it, but it's pretty by any +name. All of it is genuine mahogany trimmed with +inlaid pieces of white wood. Start it up, somebody. +What will you give for the finest thing we have here +at this sale to-day? What's bid? Good! I'm bid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156"></a><a href="images/156.png">[156]</a></span> +five dollars to begin; shows you know a good thing +when you see it. Five dollars—make it ten?"</p> + +<p>"Ten," answered Phares Eby.</p> + +<p>Phœbe gave a start of surprise as the preacher's +voice came in answer to the entreaty of the auctioneer.</p> + +<p>"Phares," she whispered, "I didn't mean that I +want to buy it."</p> + +<p>"I am buying it," he said calmly, an inscrutable +smile in his eyes. "You like it, don't you?"</p> + +<p>She felt a vague uneasiness at his words, at the new +sound of tenderness in his voice.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I like it, but——"</p> + +<p>"Then we'll talk about that some other day soon," +he returned, and looked again at the busy auctioneer.</p> + +<p>"Ten dollars, ten, ten," came the eager call of the +man on the box. "Who makes it fifteen? That's +it—fifteen I have—sixteen, eighteen—twenty—twenty-five, +thirty—thirty, thirty, come on, who makes it +more? Not done yet? Not going for that little bit? +Who makes it thirty-five?"</p> + +<p>"Thirty-five," said Phares.</p> + +<p>"Thirty-five," the auctioneer caught at the words. +"That's the way to bid."</p> + +<p>"Thirty-eight," came a voice from the crowd.</p> + +<p>"Thirty-eight," the auctioneer smiled broadly at +the bid. "Some person is going to get a fine antique—keep +it up, the highest bidder gets it—thirty-eight——"</p> + +<p>"Forty," offered Phares.</p> + +<p>"Forty, forty dollars—I have forty dollars offered +for the highboy—all done at forty——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157"></a><a href="images/157.png">[157]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was a tense silence.</p> + +<p>"Forty dollars—all done at forty—last call—going—going—gone. +Gone at forty dollars to Phares +Eby."</p> + +<p>Phœbe turned to the preacher. "Did you bid just +for the fun of bidding?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Well," he replied slowly, "the cases are not exactly +alike. You like the highboy, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—but what has that to do with it?" She +looked up, but turned her head away quickly. What +did he mean? Surely Phares was not given to foolishness +or love-making to her!</p> + +<p>She was glad that he suggested moving to the edge +of the crowd after his successful bidding was completed. +There a welcome diversion came in the form +of the old man who had previously amused them by his +talk about the pewter plate.</p> + +<p>"There now, Eph," he was saying, "what do you +think of paying forty dollars for that old chest of +drawers? To be sure it's good and all the drawers +work yet—I tried 'em before the sale commenced. +But forty dollars—whew!"</p> + +<p>The stupidity and extravagance of some people +silenced him for a moment, then he continued: "My +Lizzie, now, she knows better how to spend money. +She bought ten dollars' worth of flavors and soap and +things like that and she got in the bargain a big chest +of drawers bigger than this old one, and it was polished +up finer and had a looking-glass on the top yet. That +man must have a lot of money to give forty dollars +for one piece of furniture! Ach"—in answer to a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158"></a><a href="images/158.png">[158]</a></span> +remonstrance from his companion—"they can't hear +me. I don't talk loud, and anyhow, they're listening +to the auctioneer. That girl with him has a funny +streak too. She bought the old cradle and then I +heard her tell Hetty that she just bought it for fun +and she gave it to Hetty. So, is that man Phares Eby +from near Greenwald? Well, I thought he'd have too +much sense to buy such a thing for forty dollars, but +some people gets crazy when they get to a sale. Who +ever heard of a person buying a cradle for fun and +giving it away? But I guess that cradles went out of +style some time ago. My girl Lizzie wasn't raised +with funny notions like some girls have nowadays, +but when she was married and had her first baby and +we told her she could borrow the old cradle she was +rocked in to put her baby in, she said she didn't want +it, for cradles ain't healthy for babies, it is bad to rock +babies! I guess that was her man's dumb notion, for +he's a professor in the High School where they live, +but he's just Jake Forney's John. They get along fine, +but they do some dumb things. They let that baby +yell till he found out that he wouldn't get rocked. +It made her mom quite sick when we were up to visit +them, and sometimes we'd sneak rocking it a little, just +so the little fellow'd know there is such a thing as +getting rocked. They don't want any person to kiss +that baby, neither. Course I ain't in favor of everybody +kissing a baby, but I can't see the hurt of its own +people kissing it. We used to take it behind the door +and kiss it good, and it's living yet. Ain't, Eph, it's +a wonder we ever growed up, the way we were bounced<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159"></a><a href="images/159.png">[159]</a></span> +and rocked and joggled and kissed! I say it ain't +right to go back on cradles; they belong to babies. +But look, Eph, there she's buying them old copper +sheep bells! Wonder if she keeps sheep."</p> + +<p>Phœbe, triumphant bidder for a pair of hand-beaten +copper sheep bells, turned and looked at the farmer. +The tenderness of a bright smile still played about her +lips and the old man, interpreting the smile as a personal +greeting to him, drew near and spoke to her.</p> + +<p>"I can tell you what to take to clean them bells."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she answered cordially, "but I do +not want to clean them."</p> + +<p>"But you can make them shiny if you take——"</p> + +<p>"You are very kind, but I really want to keep them +just as they are."</p> + +<p>The old man looked at her for a moment, then shook +his head as though in perplexity and turned away.</p> + +<p>Several more hours of vigorous work on the part of +the noisy auctioneer resulted in the sale of the miscellaneous +collection of articles.</p> + +<p>The loquacious old farmer was often moved to +whistle or to emit a low "Gosh" as the sale progressed +and seemingly valueless articles were sold for high +prices. A linen homespun table-cloth, woven in +geometrical design, occasioned spirited bidding, but the +man on the box was equal to the task and closed the +bids at twenty dollars. Homespun linen towels were +bought eagerly for seven, eight, nine dollars. A +genuine buffalo robe was knocked down to a bidder at +the price of eighty dollars. Cups and saucers and +plates sold for from two to four dollars each. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160"></a><a href="images/160.png">[160]</a></span> +it was an old blue glass bottle that provoked the greatest +sensation. "Gosh, who wants that?" said the old +man as the bottle was brought forth. "If he throws +a cup or plate in with it mebbe somebody will give a +penny for it."</p> + +<p>But a moment later, as an antique dealer started the +bid at a dollar the old man spluttered, "Jimminy pats! +Why, it's just an old glass bottle!"</p> + +<p>Some person enlightened him—it was Stiegel glass! +After the first bid on the bottle every one became attentive. +The two rival bidders were alert to every +move of the auctioneer, the bids leapt up and up—ten +dollars—eleven dollars—twelve dollars—thirteen dollars—gone +at thirteen dollars!</p> + +<p>It was late afternoon when Phœbe and the preacher +turned homeward. The preacher's purchase had to be +left at the farm until he could return for it in the big +farm wagon, but Phœbe thought of the highboy as +they rode along the pleasant country roads. She remembered +the expression she had caught on the face +of Phares and the remembrance troubled her. She +sought desperately for some topic of conversation that +would lead the man's thoughts from the highboy and +prevent the return of the mood she had discovered at +the sale.</p> + +<p>"You—Phares," she began confusedly, "you are +going to baptize this next time, Aunt Maria thought."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>The preacher looked at the girl. The exhilarating +influence of the early June outdoors was visible in her +countenance. Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks glowed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161"></a><a href="images/161.png">[161]</a></span>—she +seemed the epitome of innocent, happy girlhood. +The vision charmed the preacher and caused the blood +to course more swiftly through his veins, but he bit +his lip and steadied his voice to speak naturally. +"Yes, Phœbe, I want to speak to you about that."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear," she thought, "now I <i>have</i> done it! +Why did I start him on that subject!" Some of the +excessive color faded from her face and she looked +ahead as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"Phœbe, the second Sunday in June I am going to +baptize a number of converts in the Chicques near your +home. Are you ready to come with the rest, and give +up the vanities of the world?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Phares, why do you ask me? I can't wear +plain clothes while I love pretty ones. I can't be a +hypocrite."</p> + +<p>"But surely, Phœbe, you see that a simple life is +more conducive to happiness than a complex, artificial +life can possibly be. It is my duty to strive for the +saving of souls and we have been friends so long that +I take a special interest in you and desire to see you +safe in the shelter of the Church."</p> + +<p>"Phares, I'll tell you frankly, if I ever wear plain +garb it will be because I <i>feel</i> that it is the right thing +for me to do, not because some person persuades +me to."</p> + +<p>"Of course, that is the only way to come. But +can't you come now?"</p> + +<p>"I can't. I hurt you when I say that, but I want +you to be my good friend, as always, in spite of my +worldliness. Will you, Phares?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162"></a><a href="images/162.png">[162]</a></span></p> + +<p>He opened his lips to speak, but she went on quickly: +"Because I am learning every day how much I need +the help and friendship of all my friends."</p> + +<p>He longed to throw down the reins he was holding +and tell her what was in his heart, but something in +her manner, her peculiar stress on the word "friendship" +restrained him. She was, after all, only a +child. Only eighteen—too young to think of marriage. +He could wait a while longer before he told +her of his love and his desire to marry her.</p> + +<p>"I will, Phœbe," he promised. "I'll be your friend, +always."</p> + +<p>"I thought so," she breathed deeply in relief. "I +knew you wouldn't fail me. Look at that field, +Phares—oh, this is a perfect day! There should be a +superlative form of perfect for a day like this! Those +fields have as many colors as the shades reflected on a +copper plate: lilac, tan, purple, rose, green and brown."</p> + +<p>The preacher answered a mere "Yes." She turned +again and looked at the fields they were passing. +"Perhaps," she thought, "before that corn is ripe I'll +be in Philadelphia!" But she did not utter the +thought, for she knew the preacher would not approve +of her going to the city. He should know nothing +about it until it was definitely settled.</p> + +<p>The thought of studying music in Philadelphia left +her restless. If only the preacher would be more +talkative!</p> + +<p>"It's just perfect to-day, isn't it, Phares?" she asked +radiantly, resolved to make him talk. But his answers +were so perfunctory that she turned her head,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163"></a><a href="images/163.png">[163]</a></span> +made a little grimace through the open side of the +carriage and mentally dubbed him "Bump-on-log." +Very well, if he felt indisposed to talk to her, she +could enjoy the drive without his voice!</p> + +<p>Suddenly she laughed outright.</p> + +<p>"What——" he looked at her, puzzled.</p> + +<p>"What's funny?" she finished. "You."</p> + +<p>"I?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you. If sales affect you like this you must +be careful to avoid them. You've been half asleep for +the last half hour. I think the horse knows the way +home; you haven't been driving at all."</p> + +<p>"I have not been asleep," he contradicted gravely, +"just thinking."</p> + +<p>"Must be deep thoughts."</p> + +<p>"They were—shall I tell them to you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, not to-day!" she cried. "I've had enough +excitement for one day. Some other time. Besides, +we are almost home."</p> + +<p>After that he threw off his lethargic manner and +entered the girl's mood of appreciation of the lavish +loveliness of the June. Yet, as Phœbe alighted from +the carriage at the little gate of the Metz farm, and +after she had thanked him and started through the +yard to the house, she said softly to herself, "If +Phares Eby isn't the queerest person I know! Just +like a clam one minute and just lovely the next!"</p> + +<p>Maria Metz was dishing a panful of fried potatoes +as Phœbe entered the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"Hello, daddy, Aunt Maria," exclaimed the girl.</p> + +<p>"So you come once?" said her aunt.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164"></a><a href="images/164.png">[164]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Have a good time?" asked her father.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was a fine sale, a real old-fashioned one."</p> + +<p>But Aunt Maria was impatient for her supper. +"Hurry," she said, "and get washed to eat. I have +everything out and it'll get cold, then it ain't good. +Did Phares like the sale? What did he have to say?"</p> + +<p>"Um, guess he liked it," said the girl with a shrug +of her shoulders. "It's hard to tell what he likes—he's +such a queer person. He said he's going to baptize +the second Sunday of June and asked me if I want +to come with the others."</p> + +<p>"He did!" Aunt Maria could not keep the eagerness +out of her voice. "Well, let's sit down and eat."</p> + +<p>After a short grace she turned to the girl. "Now +then," she said as she helped herself generously to +sausage and potatoes and handed the dishes across the +table to Phœbe, "tell us about it."</p> + +<p>"There isn't much to tell. I just told him that I +can't renounce the pleasures of the world before I had +a chance to take hold of them. I'm not ready yet to +dress plain."</p> + +<p>"Why aren't you ready?" asked the woman.</p> + +<p>"Ach, don't ask me," Phœbe replied, speaking lightly +in an effort to conceal her real feeling. "I just didn't +come to that state yet. I want some more fun and +pleasure before I think only of serious things."</p> + +<p>"You're just like a big baby," her aunt said impatiently. +"You can hurt a good man like Phares +Eby and come home and laugh about it."</p> + +<p>"Now, Maria," interposed the father, "let her +laugh; she'll meet with crying soon enough, I guess."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165"></a><a href="images/165.png">[165]</a></span></p> + +<p>But the woman could not be easily silenced. "Some +day, Phœbe, you'll wish you'd been nicer to Phares."</p> + +<p>"Why, I am nice to him."</p> + +<p>"Well, anyhow, I think it's soon time you give up +the world and its vanities," said Aunt Maria.</p> + +<p>The girl's teasing mood fled. "I think," she said +slowly, "that the plain dress should not be worn by +any one who does not realize all that the dress stands +for. If I ever turn plain I'll do so because I feel it +is the right thing to do, but just now vanity and the +love of pretty clothes are still in my heart."</p> + +<p>After the meal was over the women washed the +dishes while Jacob went out to attend to the evening +milking. Later, when the poultry houses and stables +were locked he returned to the kitchen and read the +weekly paper. After a while he turned to Phœbe.</p> + +<p>"Will you sing for me this evening?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," came the ready response.</p> + +<p>"Then make the door shut," Aunt Maria directed +as they went to the sitting-room. "I want to mark +my rug yet this evening and your noise bothers me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166"></a><a href="images/166.png">[166]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>"THE BRIGHT LEXICON OF YOUTH"</h3> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">What</span> shall I sing?" Phœbe asked as her father +sank into the big rocker and she took her place at the +low organ.</p> + +<p>"Ach, anything," he replied.</p> + +<p>She smiled, turned the pages of an old music book, +and began to sing, "Annie Laurie." Her father +nodded approval and smiled when she followed that +with several other old-time favorites. Then she hesitated +a moment, a low melody came from the organ, +and the words of the beautiful lullaby fell from her +lips:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Sweet and low, sweet and low,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Wind of the western sea;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Low, low,—breathe and blow,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Wind of the western sea;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Over the rolling waters go,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Come from the dying moon and blow,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Blow him again to me,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">While my little one, while my pretty one sleeps."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Phœbe sang the lullaby as gently as if a tiny head +were nestled against her bosom. She had within her, +as has every normal, unspoiled woman, the loving impulses +and yearning tenderness of motherhood. Her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167"></a><a href="images/167.png">[167]</a></span> +womanhood's star of hope shone brightly, though from +a great distance; she devoutly hoped for the fulfillment +of her destiny, but always dreamed of it coming in +some time far removed from the present. Wifehood +and motherhood—that was her goal, but long years of +other joys and other achievements stretched between. +Yet she felt an incomparable joy as she sang the +lullaby. She sang it easily and sweetly and uttered +each word with the freedom of one to whom music is +second nature.</p> + +<p>To the man who listened memory drew aside the +curtains of twenty years. He beheld again the sweet-faced +wife glorified with the blessed halo of motherhood. +He thrilled at the remembrance of her intense +rapture as she clasped her babe in moments of vivid +ecstasy, or held it tenderly in her arms as she sang +the slumber song. The man was lost in revery—the +sweet voice of the mother had suddenly grown weak +and drifted into silence—a silence which would have +been intolerable save for the lisping of a child voice +that was filled with the same indefinable sweetness the +treasured, silenced voice had possessed. In those first +days of bereavement Jacob Metz had clung to his +motherless babe for comfort; her love and caresses +had renewed his strength and touched him with a +divine sense of his responsibility. His toil-hardened +hands could not do the mother's tasks for her but his +heart could love sufficiently to recompense, so far as +that be possible, for the loss of the mother's presence. +His own childhood had been stripped of all romance, +hence he could not measure the value of the innocent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168"></a><a href="images/168.png">[168]</a></span> +pleasures of which Aunt Maria, in her stern and narrow +discipline, deprived the little girl; but so far as +he saw the light and so far as he was able, he quietly +soothed where Aunt Maria irritated, and mitigated by +his interest and sympathy the sternness of the woman's +rule.</p> + +<p>A fleeting retrospect of the past years crowded upon +him as he heard Phœbe sing the mother's song. The +two voices seemed strangely merged and blended; when +she ended and turned her face to him she seemed the +vivid reincarnation of that other Phœbe.</p> + +<p>"That's a pretty song, isn't it, daddy? You +like it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Your mom used to sing you to sleep with it."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could remember. I can't remember her +at all," the girl said wistfully.</p> + +<p>"I wish you could, too. You look just like her. +I'm glad you do. We Metz people all have the black +hair and dark eyes but you have your mom's light hair +and blue eyes. I see her every time I look at you."</p> + +<p>She seated herself near him. In a moment he spoke +again, very deliberately, with his characteristic expressiveness:</p> + +<p>"Phœbe, I want you to know more about your mom. +You know she was plain, a member of our Church. I +would like you to dress like she did but I don't want +you to dress that way and then be dissatisfied and go +back to the dress of the world. Not many people do +that, but those that do are the laughing-stock of the +world. I don't want you coaxed to be plain and then +not stay plain. I tell you this because I can see that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169"></a><a href="images/169.png">[169]</a></span> +you are just like your mom was, you like pretty things +so much. She came in the Church with some girls +she knew; none of her people were plain. I knew her +right after she joined, and I took her to Love Feasts +and to Meetings and we were soon promised to marry +each other. I saw that something was troubling her +and she told me that she wanted pretty clothes again +and wanted to go to parties and picnics like some of the +other girls she knew. But because she cared for me +and was promised to me she kept on dressing plain. +So we were married. The second year you came and +then she was satisfied without pretty dresses. She +said to me once, 'Jacob, I was foolish to fret about +pretty clothes and jewelry, they could not bring happiness, +but this'—she looked down at you—'this is the +most precious, most beautiful jewel any woman could +have.' I knew then that the love of vanity was gone +from her, that she would never be tempted to go back +to the dress and ways of the world."</p> + +<p>For a moment there was silence in the big room. +The memory of the days when the home circle was +unbroken left the father quiet and thoughtful and +strangely touched Phœbe.</p> + +<p>"I am glad you told me, daddy," she said presently. +"To-day when Phares talked about the baptizing +he seemed so confident and at peace in his religion, +yet I could not promise to come into the +Church and wear the plain dress. I am going to +think about it——"</p> + +<p>Here Aunt Maria called loudly, "Phœbe, come out +here once."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170"></a><a href="images/170.png">[170]</a></span></p> + +<p>Phœbe sighed, then turned from her father and +entered the kitchen. The older woman was bending +over an oblong frame and by the aid of a small steel +hook was pulling tufts of cloth through the mesh of a +piece of burlap, the foundation of a hooked rug.</p> + +<p>"See once, Phœbe, won't this be pretty till it's +done?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, very pretty. I like the Wall of Troy design +you are using, and the blues and gray will be a +good combination. What are you going to do with +it?"</p> + +<p>"It's for your chest."</p> + +<p>The girl laughed. "Aunt Maria, you'll have to +enlarge that chest or buy a second one. This spring +when we cleaned house and had all the things of that +chest hung out to air, I counted eleven quilts, six rugs, +five table-cloths, ten gingham aprons, ever so many +towels, besides all the old homespun linen I have in +that other chest on the garret. I'll never need all +that."</p> + +<p>"Why, you don't know. If you marry——"</p> + +<p>"But if I don't marry?"</p> + +<p>"Ach, I guess old maids need covers and aprons +and things as well as them that marry. But now I +guess I'll stop for to-night. I want to sew the hooks +'n' eyes on my every-day dress yet before I go to +bed."</p> + +<p>"But before you go I want to ask you, to talk with +you and daddy," said Phœbe, determined to decide the +matter of studying music in Philadelphia. The uncertainty +of it was growing to be a strain upon her. If<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171"></a><a href="images/171.png">[171]</a></span> +there was no possibility of her dreams becoming +realities she would put the thoughts away from her, +but she wanted the question settled.</p> + +<p>"Now what——" Aunt Maria raised her spectacles +to her forehead and looked at the girl, at her +flushed cheeks, her eyes darkened by excitement.</p> + +<p>"So," the woman chuckled, "Phares picked up +spunk once and asked you——"</p> + +<p>"Phares has nothing to do with it," Phœbe said +curtly, her cheeks flushing deeper at the thought of the +words she knew her aunt was ready to say. "This is +my affair, and, of course, yours and daddy's." She +turned to her father—"I want to study music."</p> + +<p>"Music? How—you mean to learn to play the +organ?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No. Oh, no! I mean to sing. Listen, please," +she pleaded as she saw the bewildered look on his +face. "You know I have always liked to sing. I +have told you that many people have said my voice +is good. So I'd like to go to Philadelphia and take +lessons from a good teacher. May I? I can use the +money I have in <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original omits this word">the</ins> bank, that my mother left me. I +have about a thousand dollars. It won't take all of +that for a few years' lessons. Daddy, if you'll only +say I may go!" Her voice wavered suspiciously at +the end.</p> + +<p>Jacob Metz looked at his daughter, then at the little +low organ in the other room. Another Phœbe had +loved to sit at that instrument and sing—perhaps he +was too easy with the girl—but if she wanted to go +away and take lessons—<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172"></a><a href="images/172.png">[172]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>Before he could answer the plea Maria Metz found +her voice and spoke authoritatively:</p> + +<p>"Jacob Metz, goodness knows you're sometimes +dumb enough to do foolish things, but you surely ain't +goin' to leave Phœbe go off to learn singing! Throwing +away money like that! And what good is to come +of it, I'd like to know. Who put that dumb notion +in her head, it just now vonders me! If she must go +away somewheres to school, like all the young ones +think they must nowadays, why not leave her go to +Millersville or to Elizabethtown or to Lancaster to +learn dressmakin'? But to Philadelphy—why, that's +a big city! Anyhow, I can't see the use of all this +flyin' around to school. We didn't get it when we +was young, and we growed up, too. We was lucky +if we got to the country school regular, and we got +through the world so far!"</p> + +<p>"But Maria," her brother spoke gently, "you know +things have changed since we went to school. The +world don't stay the same."</p> + +<p>"But to learn music!" she placed a scornful accent +on the last word. "What good will that do? And +can't any one in Greenwald or Lancaster, even, learn +her to sing? Anyhow, she don't need no lessons, she +hollers too loud already. If she takes lessons yet +what'll she do?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Aunt Maria," Phœbe said impatiently, "you +don't understand! If my voice is worth training it is +worth having a good teacher. A city like Philadelphia +is the place to go to."</p> + +<p>"But where would you stay down there? Mebbe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173"></a><a href="images/173.png">[173]</a></span> +you couldn't get a place with nice people. Abody don't +know what kinda people live in a city."</p> + +<p>"I've thought of that. I wrote to Miss Lee last +week and asked her and she wrote back and said it +would be a splendid thing for me. She offered to +help me find a boarding place. I could see her often +and would not be alone among strangers. Best of all, +Miss Lee has a cousin who plays the violin and who +lives with her and her mother and he will help me find +a good teacher. Isn't that lovely?"</p> + +<p>"Omph," sniffed Aunt Maria. "It'll cost you a +lot of money for board, mebbe as much as four dollars +a week! And your lessons will be a lot, and your car +fare back and forth. Then I guess you'd want a lot +more dresses and things—ach, you just put that dumb +notion from your head."</p> + +<p>"Maria," Phœbe's father spoke in significantly even +tones, "you needn't talk like that. Phœbe has the +money her mom left her and I guess I could send her +to school if I wanted to. It won't hurt her to go study +music and see something of the world. It'll do her +good to get away once like other girls."</p> + +<p>"Do her good," echoed Aunt Maria. "Jacob +Metz! You know little of the dangers of the +big cities! But then, men ain't got no sense! I +never met one yet that had enough to fill a thimble!"</p> + +<p>"Aunt Maria," the girl said gently, "I'm not a +child. I'm eighteen and I'll be near Miss Lee and her +friends."</p> + +<p>"And the fiddler," added the woman tartly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174"></a><a href="images/174.png">[174]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ach," Phœbe laughed. "Miss Lee will take care +of me."</p> + +<p>"Mebbe so," grumbled Aunt Maria.</p> + +<p>"Now look here, Maria," Jacob spoke up, "Phœbe +can go this fall once and try it and she can come home +often and if she don't like it she can come home right +away. It takes only three hours to go to there. So, +Phœbe, you write to Miss Lee and tell her to expect +you."</p> + +<p>"Then I may go!" She threw her arms about her +father's neck and kissed his bearded face. Demonstrations +of affection were rare in the Metz household, +but the father smiled as he stroked the girl's +hair.</p> + +<p>"You be a good girl, Phœbe, that's all I want," he +said.</p> + +<p>"I will, daddy, I will!"</p> + +<p>"Then, Maria, you take Phœbe to Lancaster and +get things ready so she can go in September. I'll let +her take that thousand she has in the bank, but that +must reach; it's enough for music lessons."</p> + +<p>"I won't need all of it. What's left I'll save for +next year."</p> + +<p>"Next year! How many years must you go?" demanded +Aunt Maria, still unhappy and sore.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. But when the thousand is gone +I'll earn more if I want to spend more."</p> + +<p>"Ach, my," groaned the woman, "you talk like +money grew on trees! What's the world comin' to +nowadays?" She rose and pushed her rugging frame +into a corner of the kitchen.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175"></a><a href="images/175.png">[175]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Maria," her brother suggested, "we can get a +hired girl if the work's too much for you alone."</p> + +<p>"Hired girl! I don't want no hired girl! Half +of 'em don't do to suit, anyhow! I don't just want +Phœbe here to help to work. It'll be awful lonesome +with her gone."</p> + +<p>Phœbe saw the glint of anguish in the dark eyes and +felt that her aunt's protestations were partly due to a +disinclination to be parted from the child she had +reared.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Maria," she said kindly, "I hate to do what +you think I shouldn't do, for you're good to me. +You mustn't feel that I'm doing this just to be contrary. +You and I think differently, that's all. Perhaps +I'm too young to always think right, but I don't +want you to be hurt. I'll come home often."</p> + +<p>"Ach, yes well," the woman was touched by the +girl's tenderness, but was still unconvinced. "Not +much use my saying more, I guess. You and your +pop will do what you like. You're a Metz, too, and +hard to change when you make up your mind once."</p> + +<p>That night when Phœbe went to bed in her old-fashioned +walnut bed she lay awake for hours, dreaming +of the future. If Aunt Maria had known the +visions that flitted before the girl that night she would +have quaked in apprehension, for Phœbe finally drifted +into slumber on clouds of glory, forecasts of the +wonderful time when, as a prima donna in trailing, +shimmering gown, she would have the world at her +feet while she sang, sang, sang!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176"></a><a href="images/176.png">[176]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>THE PREACHER'S WOOING</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">There</span> belonged to the Metz farm an old stone +quarry which Phœbe learned to love in early childhood +and which, as she grew older, she adopted as her +refuge and dreaming-place.</p> + +<p>Almost directly opposite the green gate at the +country road was a narrow lane which led to the +quarry. It was bordered on the right by a thickly interlaced +hedge of blackberry bushes and wild honeysuckle, +beyond which stood the orchard of the Metz +farm. On the left of the lane a wide field sloped up +along the road leading to the summit of the hill where +the schoolhouse and the meeting-house stood. The +lane was always inviting. It was the fair road to a +fairer spot, the old stone quarry.</p> + +<p>The old stone quarry banked its rugged height +against the side of a great wooded hill. Some twenty +feet below the level of the lane was a huge semicircular +base, and from this the jagged sides reared perpendicularly +to the summit of the hill. The top and +slopes of this hill were covered with a dense growth +of underbrush and trees. Tall sycamores bordered +the road opposite the quarry, making the spot sheltered +and secluded.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177"></a><a href="images/177.png">[177]</a></span></p> + +<p>To this place Phœbe hurried the morning after she +had gained her father's consent to go to Philadelphia.</p> + +<p>"I just had to come here," she breathed rapturously; +"the house is too narrow, the garden too small, +this June morning. They won't hold my dreams."</p> + +<p>She stood under the giant sycamore opposite the +quarry and looked appreciatively about her. Earth's +warm, throbbing bosom thrilled with the universal joy +of parentage and fruition. Shafts of sunlight shot +through the green of the trees, odors of wild flowers +mingled with the fresh, woodsy fragrance of the +fields and woods, song sparrows flitted busily among +the hedges and sang their delicious, "Maids, maids, +maids, hang on your tea kettle-ettle-ettle!" From the +densest portions of the woods above the quarry a +thrush sang—all nature seemed atune with Phœbe's +mood, blithe, happy, joyous!</p> + +<p>Phares Eby, going to town that morning, walked +slowly as he neared the Metz farm and looked for a +glimpse of Phœbe. He saw, instead, the portly figure +of Aunt Maria as she walked about her garden to see +the progress of her early June peas.</p> + +<p>"Why, Phares," she called, "you goin' to Greenwald?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Anything I can do for you?"</p> + +<p>"Ach no. Phœbe was in the other day. But come +in once, Phares, I'll tell you something about +her."</p> + +<p>"Where is Phœbe?" he asked as he joined Aunt +Maria in the garden.</p> + +<p>"Over at the quarry again. But I must tell you,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178"></a><a href="images/178.png">[178]</a></span> +she's goin' to Phildelphy to study singin'. She asked +her pop and he said she dare."</p> + +<p>"Philadelphia—singing!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I don't like it at all, but she's goin' just the +same."</p> + +<p>"It is a mistake to let her go," said the preacher. +"It's a big mistake, Aunt Maria. She should stay at +home or go to some school and learn something of +value to her. In this quiet place she has never heard +of many temptations which, in the city, she must meet +face to face. It is the voice of the Tempter urging +her to do this thing and we who are her friends should +persuade her to remain in her good home and near the +friends who care for her. Have you thought, Aunt +Maria, that the people to whom she will go may dance +and play cards and do many worldly things? Philadelphia +is very different from Greenwald. Why, she +may learn to indulge in worldly amusements and to +love the vanities of the world which we have tried to +teach her to avoid! She will be like a bird in a strange +nest."</p> + +<p>"I know, Phares, but I can't make it different. +When Jacob says a thing once it's hard to change him, +and she is like that too. They fixed it up last night +and I had no say at all. All I said against her going +did as much good as if I said it to the chairs in the +kitchen. Phœbe is going to get Miss Lee, the one +that was teacher on the hill once, to help her. And +Miss Lee has a cousin that lives with her and he +plays the fiddle and he is goin' to get a teacher for +her."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179"></a><a href="images/179.png">[179]</a></span></p> + +<p>Phares Eby groaned and gritted his teeth.</p> + +<p>"I guess I'll go talk with her a while," he decided.</p> + +<p>"Mebbe she'll come in soon, if you want to wait. +I told her to bring me some pennyroyal along from the +field next the quarry. You know that's so good for +them little red ants, and they got into my jelly cupboard. +She went a while ago and I guess she'll soon +be back now."</p> + +<p>"I think I'll walk over."</p> + +<p>"All right, Phares. Tell her not to forget the +pennyroyal."</p> + +<p>With long strides the preacher crossed the road and +started up the lane to the quarry. There he slackened +his pace—he thought of the previous day when he had +asked Phœbe about entering the Church. She had +disappointed him, it was true, but she had seemed so +eager to do right, so innocent and childlike, that the +interview had not left him wholly unhappy or greatly +discouraged. He had hoped last night that she would +give the matter of her soul's salvation serious thought, +that she would soon stand in the stream and be baptized +by him. Over sanguine he had been—so soon +she had forgotten serious things and planned a winter +in Philadelphia studying music.</p> + +<p>"I must act," he thought. "I must tell her of my +love. All these years I have loved her and kept silent +about it because I thought she was just a child. But +I must tell her now. If she loves me she shall marry +me soon and this great temptation will leave her; she +will hearken to the voice of her conscience, and we will +begin our life of happiness together."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180"></a><a href="images/180.png">[180]</a></span></p> + +<p>With this resolution strong within him he went up +the lane to the quarry and Phœbe.</p> + +<p>She was seated on a rock under the giant sycamore +and leaned confidingly against the shaggy trunk. +The glaring sunshine that fell upon the fields and +hills could not wholly penetrate the protecting +canopy of well-proportioned sycamore leaves; only +a few quivering rays fell upon the girl's upturned +face.</p> + +<p>As the preacher approached she looked around +quickly but did not move from her caressing attitude +by the tree.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, Phares. I'm glad you came. I +was wishing for some one to share the old quarry with +me this morning."</p> + +<p>"Aunt Maria told me you were here—she is impatient +for her pennyroyal." Now, that the supreme +moment had arrived, he hesitated and grasped at the +first straw for conversation.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear," she said childishly, "Aunt Maria expects +me to remember ants and pennyroyal when I +come here. Phares, I can't explain it, but this old +quarry has a strange fascination for me. The beauty +in its variegated stone with the sunlight upon it attracts +me. Sometimes I am tempted to climb up the +hill and hang over the quarry and look down into the +heart of it."</p> + +<p>"Don't ever do that!" cried the preacher.</p> + +<p>"I won't," laughed Phœbe. "I don't want to die +just yet. But isn't it the loveliest place! I come here +often when the men are not blasting. It seems almost<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181"></a><a href="images/181.png">[181]</a></span> +a desecration to blast these rocks when we think how +long nature took in their making."</p> + +<p>She paused . . . only the sounds of nature invaded +the quiet of the place: the drowsy hum of diligent +bees, the cattle browsing in a field near by, the +<ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'esctatic'">ecstatic</ins> trill of a bird. The world of bustle and flurry +with its seething vats of evil and corruption, its sordid +discontent and petulance, its ways of pain and darkness, +seemed far removed from that place of peace and +calm solitude. Phœbe could not bear to think that +across the seas men were lying in the filth of water-soaked +trenches, agonizing and bleeding on the battlefields +and suffering nameless tortures in hospitals that +a peace like unto the peace of her quiet haven might +brood undisturbed over the world in future generations. +She dismissed the harrowing thought of war—she +would enjoy the calm of her quarry.</p> + +<p>The preacher had listened silently to the girl's +rhapsodies—she suddenly awakened to the realization +that he was paying scant attention to her enthusiastic +words. She looked at him, her heart-beats quickened, +some intuition warned her of the imminent declaration.</p> + +<p>She rose quickly from the embrace of the sycamore +tree, but the compelling eyes of the preacher restrained +her from flight. She stood before him, within reach +of his hands.</p> + +<p>His first words reassured her somewhat: "Phœbe, +your aunt has told me that you are going to Philadelphia +to study music."</p> + +<p>"Yes. Isn't it fine! I'm so happy——" she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182"></a><a href="images/182.png">[182]</a></span> +stopped. Displeasure was written plainly upon his +countenance. "Don't you think it's all right, Phares?"</p> + +<p>"I think it is a great mistake," he said gravely. +"Why not spend your time on something of value to +yourself and your friends and the world in general?"</p> + +<p>"But music is of great value. Why, the world +needs it as it needs sunshine!"</p> + +<p>"But, Phœbe, you must remember you do not come +of a people who stand before the worldly and lift their +voices for the joy of the multitude of curious people. +Your voice is right as it is and needs no training. It +is as God gave it to you and is made to be used in His +service, in His Church and your home."</p> + +<p>"But I have always wanted to learn to sing well, +really well. So I am going to Philadelphia this winter +and take lessons from a competent teacher."</p> + +<p>"Phœbe," exhorted the preacher, "put away the +temptation before it grips you so strongly that you +cannot shake it off. You must not go!"</p> + +<p>He spoke the last words in a tone of authority which +the girl answered, "Phares, let us speak of something +else. You know I have some of the Metz determination +in my make-up and I can't be easily forced to give +up a cherished plan. At any rate, we must not quarrel +about it."</p> + +<p>The preacher forbore to try further argument or +persuasion. He became grave. His habitual serenity +of mind was disturbed by shadowy forebodings—when +the pebbles of doubt drop into the placid pool of content +it invariably follows that the waters become agitated +for a time. Hitherto he had been hopeful of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183"></a><a href="images/183.png">[183]</a></span> +winning Phœbe. Had he not known her and loved +her all her life! What was more natural than that +their friendship should culminate in a deeper feeling!</p> + +<p>He stretched out his hand in a sudden rush of feeling—"Phœbe, +I love you."</p> + +<p>She stepped back a pace and his hand fell to his +side.</p> + +<p>"Don't, Phares," she began, but the next moment +she realized that she could not turn aside his love +without listening to him.</p> + +<p>"Phœbe, you must listen—I love you, I have loved +you all my life. Can't you say that you care for me?"</p> + +<p>"Don't ask me that!" she pleaded. "I don't want +to marry anybody now. All my life I have dreamed +of going to a city and studying music and I can't let +the opportunity slip away from me now when it is so +near. To work under the direction of a master +teacher has long been one of my dearest dreams."</p> + +<p>"You mean that you do not love me, then. Or if +you do, that you would rather gratify your desire to +study music than marry me—which is it?"</p> + +<p>"Ach, Phares, don't make it hard for me! I said +I don't want to get married now. All my life I have +lived on a farm and have thought that I should be +wonderfully happy if I could get away from it for a +while and know what it is to live in a big city. There +I shall have a chance to see life in its broader aspects. +I shall not be harmed by gathering new ideas and +ideals, gaining new friends, and, above all, learning to +sing well."</p> + +<p>The man groaned in spirit. It was evident that she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184"></a><a href="images/184.png">[184]</a></span> +was thoroughly determined to go away from the +farm.</p> + +<p>"Phœbe," he pleaded again, not entirely for his own +selfish desire, but worried about her love of worldliness, +"do you know that the things for which you are +going to the city are really not important, that all +outward acquisitions for which you long now are +transient? The things that count are goodness and +purity and to be without them is to be pauperized; the +things that bring happiness are love and home ties and +to be without them is to be desolate. You want a +larger, broader vision, but the city cannot always give +you that."</p> + +<p>There was no bitterness in his voice, only an undertone +of sadness as he spoke. "Phœbe, tell me plainly, +do you care for me?"</p> + +<p>Her face was lamentably pathetic as she looked into +his and read there the desire for what she could not +give. "Not as you wish," she said softly. "But I +don't really know what love is yet, I haven't thought +about it except as something that will come to me some +day, a long time from now. There are too many other +things I must think about now. When I am through +studying music I'll think about being married."</p> + +<p>The preacher shook his head; his heart was too +heavy for more words, more futile words.</p> + +<p>"Let us go, Phares," she said, the silence becoming +intolerable.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he agreed. "And Phœbe," he added as they +turned away from the quarry, "I hope you'll learn +your lesson quickly and come back to us."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185"></a><a href="images/185.png">[185]</a></span></p> + +<p>They stepped from the sheltered path into the sunshine +of the lane. Long trails of green lay in their +path as they went, but the eyes of both were temporarily +blinded to the loveliness of the June. When +they reached the dusty road the preacher said good-bye +and went on his way to the town.</p> + +<p>She stood where he left her; the suppressed feelings +of the past half hour soon struggled to avenge themselves +and she sped down the lane again, back to the +refuge of the kindly tree, and there, under her sycamore, +burst into passionate weeping.</p> + +<p>Some time after Phares left the girl at the end of +the lane David Eby came swinging down the hill and +entered the Metz kitchen.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Aunt Maria. Where's Phœbe?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I guess over at the quarry. She went for +pennyroyal long ago and then Phares came and he +went over after her, but I saw him go on the way to +town a bit ago, so I guess she's still over there. +Guess she's stumbling around after a bird's nest or +picking some weeds that ain't no good. I don't see +why she stays so long."</p> + +<p>"I'll go see," volunteered David.</p> + +<p>"Yes well. And tell her to hurry with that pennyroyal. +I want it for red ants, but they can carry away +the whole jelly cupboard till she gets here."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell her," said David, and went off, whistling.</p> + +<p>Phœbe's paroxysm of grief was short-lived. The +soothing quiet of the quarry calmed her, but her eyes +showed telltale marks of tears as David's steps sounded +down the lane.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186"></a><a href="images/186.png">[186]</a></span></p> + +<p>She rose hastily, then sank back to her seat under the +tree as she saw the identity of the intruder.</p> + +<p>"Whew, Phœbe Metz," he said and whistled in his +old, boyish way as he sat beside her, "you're crying!"</p> + +<p>"I am not," she declared.</p> + +<p>"Then you just have been! I haven't seen you in +tears for many years. Phœbe"—he changed his +tone—"what's gone wrong? Anything the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Don't," she sniffed, "don't ask me or you'll have +me at it again." She steadied her voice and went on, +"I came over here so gloriously happy I could have +shouted, because daddy said last night that I may go +to Philadelphia this fall——"</p> + +<p>"Gee whiz!" David grabbed her hand. "Why, +I'm tickled to death. But what—why are you crying? +Isn't that what you want?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." She smiled, pleased by his interest and +eagerness. "But just as I was happiest along came +Phares and told me it was wicked to go. It's all a +mistake to go, he said."</p> + +<p>"Ach, the dickens with the old fossil!" David cried. +"And I'm not going to take that back or be sorry for +saying it. Hadn't he better sense than to throw a +wet blanket on all your happiness!"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I needed it. I was just about burning up +with gladness."</p> + +<p>"Well, don't you care what he's thinking about it. +You go learn music if you want to and your father +lets you go. Did he see you cry?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not! I wouldn't cry before him. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187"></a><a href="images/187.png">[187]</a></span> +would say that was foolish or wicked or something it +shouldn't be. But you—you are so sensible I don't +mind if you do see me with my eyes red."</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha, that's a compliment. I have been told +that I am happy-go-lucky and sort of a cheerful idiot, +but no person ever told me that I'm sensible. Well, +don't you forget me when you get to be that prima +donna."</p> + +<p>"I won't. You and Mother Bab rub me the right +way."</p> + +<p>"But won't she be glad when I tell her," said David. +"I came down to see if you had decided about it, and +I find it all arranged."</p> + +<p>"And me in tears," added Phœbe, her natural poise +and good humor again restored. "Tell Mother Bab +I am coming up soon to tell her about it."</p> + +<p>So, in happier mood, she walked beside David, down +the green lane to the road, across the road to her own +gate.</p> + +<p>"So you come once!" Aunt Maria greeted her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I forgot your pennyroyal! I'll go get it."</p> + +<p>"Never mind. You stayed so long I went over to +the field near the barn and got some. But you look +like you've been cryin', Phœbe. Did you and Phares +have a fall-out?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"You and David, then?"</p> + +<p>"No—please don't ask me—it's nothing."</p> + +<p>"Well, there ain't no man in shoe leather worth +cryin' about, I can tell you that. They just laugh at +your cryin'."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188"></a><a href="images/188.png">[188]</a></span></p> + +<p>Phœbe smiled at her aunt's philosophy and resolved +to forget the discouraging words of the preacher. She +would be happy in spite of him—the future held bright +hours for her!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189"></a><a href="images/189.png">[189]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>THE SCARLET TANAGER</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> days that followed were busy days at the gray +farmhouse. Phœbe was soon deep in the preparations +for her stay in the city. Her meagre wardrobe required +replenishment; she wanted to go to Philadelphia +with an outfit of which Miss Lee would not be +ashamed. Much to her aunt's surprise the girl selected +one-piece dresses of blue serge with sheer white +collars for every-day wear in cold weather; a few +white linens for warm days; and these, with her blue +serge suit, her simple white graduation dress, and a +plain dark silk dress, were the main articles of her outfit. +Aunt Maria expressed her relief and wonder at +the girl's choice—"Well, it wonders me that you don't +want a lot of ugly fancy things to go to Phildelphy. +Those dresses all made in one are sensible once. I +guess the style makers tried all the outlandish styles +they could think of and had to make a nice style once."</p> + +<p>But when Phœbe purchased a piece of long-cloth and +began to make undergarments, beautifying them by +sprays of hand embroidery, Aunt Maria scoffed, +"Umph, I'd be ashamed to put snake-doctors on my +petticoats."</p> + +<p>The girl laughed. "They aren't snake-doctors, they +are butterflies," she said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190"></a><a href="images/190.png">[190]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not much difference—both got wings. I don't +see what for you want to waste time like that."</p> + +<p>"It makes them prettier, and I like pretty things."</p> + +<p>"Ach, you have dumb notions sometimes. I guess +we better make your other dresses soon, then you +won't have time for sewing snake-doctors or butterflies. +You better get your silk dress made in Greenwald, +it's so soft and slippery that I ain't going to +bother my old fingers makin' it. Granny Hogendobler +wants to come out and help to sew, and David's +mom said she'll come down and help us cut and fit the +serge dresses. She's real handy like that. If those +dresses look as nice on you as they do on the pictures +they will be all right. Granny and Barb dare just +come and both help with your things—they both think +it's so fine for you to go to the city! Granny Hogendobler +spoiled her Nason by givin' him just what he +wanted, and now what has she got for it? And I +guess Barb is easy with that big boy of hers. Mebbe +if she was a little stricter he'd be in the Church like +Phares is, though David is a nice boy and I guess he +don't give his mom any trouble."</p> + +<p>"I just love Mother Bab; don't you say such things +about her!" Phœbe exclaimed, her eyes flashing.</p> + +<p>"Why, I like her too," the woman said. She looked +at Phœbe in surprise. "You needn't be so touchy. +For goodness' sake, don't take to gettin' touchy like +some people are! Handling them's like tryin' to plane +over a knot in wood; any way you push the plane is the +wrong way. This here going to Philadelphy upsets +you, I guess. You're gettin' as touchy as the little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191"></a><a href="images/191.png">[191]</a></span> +touch-me-nots we get on the hill; they all snap shut +when you touch 'em—only you snap open."</p> + +<p>Phœbe laughed. "I guess I am excited," she admitted. +"I'm sewing too much for summer days and +it makes me irritable. I think I'll let the butterflies +wait and I'll go outdoors. Shall I weed the garden?"</p> + +<p>"Weed the garden? Now you're talkin' dumb! +Don't you know yet that abody don't weed a garden on +Fridays? Ours always gets done on Monday. But if +you want to get out you dare take some of the sand-tarts +I baked yesterday up to David's mom, she likes +them so much. And you ask her if she can come +down next week to help with the dresses. But don't +stay too long, for it's been so hot all day and I think +it's goin' to storm yet."</p> + +<p>"Don't worry about me if it rains. I won't start +for home if it looks threatening. I'll wait till the +storm is over."</p> + +<p>Aunt Maria filled a basket with her delectable +cookies and the girl started up the hill. It was, indeed, +a hot day, even for August. Phœbe paused +several times in the shelter of overhanging trees as she +plodded up the steep road. On the summit she climbed +the rail fence and perched in the cool shade for a little +while and looked out over the valley where the town +of Greenwald lay.</p> + +<p>"It's lovely here, and I'm wondering how I can be +happy when I know that I am going to leave it soon +and go to the city for a long winter away from my +home. But there's a voice calling to me from the +great outside world and I won't be satisfied until I go<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192"></a><a href="images/192.png">[192]</a></span> +and mingle with the multitude of a great city. It is +life, life, that I want to see and know. And yet, I'm +glad I'll have this to come back to! It gives me a +comfortable feeling to know that this is waiting for +me, no matter where I go—this is still my home. +Sometimes I wonder if Aunt Maria could possibly be +speaking wisely when she says it is all a waste of +money to run off to the city and study music. But +what is there on the farm to attract me? I don't want +to marry yet"—the remembrance of Phares Eby's +pleading came to her—"and if I do marry some time, +it won't be Phares. No, never Phares! Ach, Phœbe +Metz, you don't know what you want!" she said to +herself as she jumped from the fence and ran down the +road to the Eby farm.</p> + +<p>At the gate she paused. Mother Bab stood among +her flowers, her white-capped head bare of any other +covering, the hot sunshine streaming upon her.</p> + +<p>"Mother Bab," she cried, "you are simply baking +in the sun!"</p> + +<p>"No," the woman turned to Phœbe and smiled. +"I'm forgetting it's hot while I look at the flowers. +You see, Phœbe, I was in the house sewing and trying +to keep cool and all of a sudden my eyes grew dim so +I couldn't sew. The fear came to me, the fear that +my sight is going, though I try not to strain them at +all and never sew at night. Well, I just ran out here +and began to look and look at my flowers—if I ever do +go blind I'm going to have lots of memories of lovely +things I've seen."</p> + +<p>Phœbe drew Mother Bab's face to her and kissed it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193"></a><a href="images/193.png">[193]</a></span> +"You just mustn't get blind! It would be too dreadful. +There are many clever specialists in the city these +days. Surely, there is some doctor who can help you."</p> + +<p>"They all say there is little to be done in a case like +mine. But, let's forget it; I can see and we'll keep on +hoping it will last. I went to a doctor at Lancaster +some time ago and I'm going to give him a fair trial. +I guess it'll come out right."</p> + +<p>Phœbe brightened again at the woman's words of +contagious cheer and hope.</p> + +<p>"Isn't the garden pretty?" asked Mother Bab as +they looked about it.</p> + +<p>"Perfect! Those zinnias are lovely."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I like them. But I like their other name +better—Youth and Old Age, my mother used to call +them. She used to say that they are not like other +flowers, more like people, for the buds open into tiny +flowers and those tiny flowers grow and develop until +they are large and perfect. I would think something +fine were missing in my garden if I didn't have my +Youth and Old Age every year. But you will be too +hot in this sun; shall we go in?"</p> + +<p>"No, please, not until I have seen the flowers. I +need to gather precious memories, too, to take with me +to Philadelphia. Oh, I like this"—she knelt in the +narrow path and buried her face in fragrant lemon +verbena plants.</p> + +<p>"I like that, too. Mother used to call it Joy Everlasting. +We always put it in our bureau drawers between +the linens. David likes lavender better, so I +use that now."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194"></a><a href="images/194.png">[194]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How you spoil him," said Phœbe.</p> + +<p>"You think so?" asked the mother gently.</p> + +<p>Phœbe smiled in retraction of her statement. +"We'll both be parboiled if we stay out here any +longer," she said as she linked her arm into Mother +Bab's. "Aunt Maria sent you some sand-tarts."</p> + +<p>"Isn't she good!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but"—the blue eyes twinkled mischievously—"they +are just a bribe. We want you to come down +and help us with the dresses some day next week. +You are not to sew, but if you are there to tell about +the fit of them I'll feel better satisfied. Whew! If +it's as hot as this I'll have a lovely time fitting woolen +dresses!"</p> + +<p>"You won't mind."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe I shall, so long as the dresses are to +be worn in Philadelphia. Granny Hogendobler is +coming out, too. Will you come?"</p> + +<p>"I'll be glad to. David can eat his dinner at his +aunt's."</p> + +<p>They entered the house and sat in the sitting-room, +a room dear to both because of its association with +many happy hours.</p> + +<p>"I love this room," Phœbe said. "This must be +one of my pleasant memories when I go."</p> + +<p>"I like it better than any other room in the house," +said Mother Bab. "I suppose it's because the old +clock and the haircloth sofa are in it. Why, Davie +used to slide down the ends of that sofa and call it his +boat when he was just a little fellow. And that old +clock"—her voice sank to the tenderness of musing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195"></a><a href="images/195.png">[195]</a></span> +retrospect—"why, Davie's father set it up the day we +were married and came here and set up housekeeping +and it's been ticking ever since. Davie used to say +'tick-tock' when he heard it, when he first learned to +talk. I like that old clock most as much as if it were +something alive. A man who comes around here to +buy antique furniture came in one day and offered to +buy it. I'll never forget how David told him it wasn't +for sale. The very thought of selling the old clock +made Davie cross."</p> + +<p>"Davie cross! How could he keep the twinkle out +of his eyes long enough to be cross?"</p> + +<p>"Ach, it don't last long when he gets cross."</p> + +<p>"Where is he now, Mother Bab?"</p> + +<p>"Working in the tobacco field."</p> + +<p>"In the hot sun!"</p> + +<p>"He says he don't mind it. He's so pleased with +the tobacco this summer. It looks fine. If the hail +don't get in it now it'll bring about four hundred dollars, +he thinks. That will be the most he has ever +gotten out of it. But tobacco is an awful risk. If the +weather is just so it pays about the best of anything +around this part of the country, I guess, but so often +the poor farmers work hard in the tobacco fields and +then the hail comes along and all is spoiled. But ours +is fine so far."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad. David has been working hard all summer +with it."</p> + +<p>"Sometimes he gets discouraged; Phares's crops always +seem to do better than David's, yet David works +just as hard. But Phares plants no tobacco."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196"></a><a href="images/196.png">[196]</a></span></p> + +<p>At that moment Phares Eby himself came into the +room where the two sat. He appeared a trifle embarrassed +when he saw Phœbe. Since the June meeting +under the sycamore tree by the old stone quarry he had +made no special effort to see her, and the several times +they had met in that time he had greeted her with +marked restraint.</p> + +<p>"Good-afternoon," he murmured, looking from +Phœbe to Mother Bab and back again to Phœbe. "I +didn't know you were here, Phœbe. I—Aunt Barbara, +I came in to tell you there's a bright red bird in the +woods down by the cornfield."</p> + +<p>"There is!" cried Phœbe with much interest. "Is +it all red, or has it black wings and tail?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I couldn't say. I know David and Aunt +Barbara are always interested in birds and I heard +David say the other day that he hadn't seen a red bird +this summer, that they must be getting scarce around +this section. So I thought I'd come up and tell you +about it. I know it is bright red. Do you want to +come out and try to find it again, Aunt Barbara?"</p> + +<p>"Not now, Phares. I have been in the sun so much +to-day that my head aches."</p> + +<p>"Would you care to see it?" he asked Phœbe in +visible hesitation.</p> + +<p>She answered eagerly, her passionate love of birds +mastering her embarrassment. "I'd love to, Phares! +I am anxious to see whether it's a tanager or a cardinal. +I have never seen a cardinal."</p> + +<p>South of David Eby's cornfield stretched a strip of +woodland. There blackberry brambles tangled about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197"></a><a href="images/197.png">[197]</a></span> +the bases of great oaks and the entire woods—trees +and brambles—made an ideal nesting-place for birds.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it's gone," said the preacher as they went +along to the woods.</p> + +<p>"But it's worth trying for," she said.</p> + +<p>They kept silent then; only the rustling of the corn +was heard as the two went through the green aisle. +When they reached the woodland a sudden burst of +glorious melody came to them. Phœbe laid a hand +impulsively upon the arm of the preacher, but she removed +it quite as suddenly when he looked down at +her and said, "Our bird!"</p> + +<p>The bird, a scarlet tanager, aware of the presence of +the intruders and eager to attract attention to himself +and safeguard his hidden mate, flew to an exposed +branch of an oak tree. There he displayed his gorgeous, +flaming scarlet body with its touch of black in +wings and tail.</p> + +<p>"It's a tanager," said Phœbe. "Isn't he lovely!"</p> + +<p>"Very fine," said the preacher. "What color is his +mate? Is she red?"</p> + +<p>"She's green, a lovely olive green. When she sits +on the nest she's just the color of her surroundings. +If she were red like her mate she'd be too easily destroyed."</p> + +<p>"God's providence," said the preacher.</p> + +<p>"It is wonderful—look, Phares, there he goes!"</p> + +<p>The scarlet tanager made a streak of vivid color +across the sky as he flew off over the corn.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if he trusts us or if his mate is not +about," Phœbe said. "He's a beauty, so is his mate in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198"></a><a href="images/198.png">[198]</a></span> +her green frock. A few minutes with the birds can +teach us a great deal, can't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Phœbe, here, right near your home, are +countless lessons to be learned and accomplishments to +be acquired. Tell me, do you still wish to go away to +the city?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. I am going in September."</p> + +<p>"You remember the verse in the Third Reader we +used to have at school:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'Stay, stay at home, my heart and rest;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;">Home-keeping hearts are happiest.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;">For those who wander, they know not where,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;">Are full of trouble and full of care;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;">To stay at home is best.'"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"But I have ambitions, Phares. All my eighteen +years of life have been spent on a farm, in the narrow +existence of those whose days are passed within one +little circle. I want to see things, I want to meet +people, I want to live, I want to learn to sing—I can't +do any of these things here. Oh, you can't understand +my real sincerity in this desire to get away. It is not +that I love my home and my people less than you love +yours. I feel that I must get away!"</p> + +<p>"But your voice, Phœbe, like the scarlet tanager's, +is right as God made it. Because we are such old +friends it grieves me to see you go. I was hoping you +would change your mind—there is so much vanity and +evil in the city."</p> + +<p>"I'll try to keep from it, Phares. I shall merely +learn to sing better, meet a few new people, and be +wiser because of the experience."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199"></a><a href="images/199.png">[199]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is useless to try to persuade you, I suppose. I +hoped you would reconsider it, that you would learn to +care for me as I care."</p> + +<p>"Phares, don't. You make me unhappy."</p> + +<p>"Misery loves company," he quoted, trying to smile.</p> + +<p>"But can't you see that marriage is the thing I am +thinking least about these days? I am too young."</p> + +<p>She looked, indeed, like a fair representation of +Youth as she stood by the crude rail fence at the edge +of the woods, one arm flung along the rough top rail, +her hair tumbled from the walk through the cornfield, +her eyes still gleaming with the joy of seeing the tanager, +yet shadowy with the startled emotions occasioned +by the preacher's wooing.</p> + +<p>He looked at her—</p> + +<p>"Oh, look! Our tanager is back!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"I guess she is too young," he thought as he saw +how quickly she turned from the question of marriage +to watch the red bird.</p> + +<p>Phœbe's lips parted in pleasure as she saw the tanager +again take up his place on the oak and burst into +song. So absorbed were man and maid that neither +heard the rustle of parted corn nor were aware of the +presence of a third person until a voice exclaimed, +"Oh, I beg your pardon. I didn't know you were +here."</p> + +<p>As they turned David Eby stood before them, his +expression a mingling of surprise and wonder. The +flush on Phœbe's face, the awakened look in her eyes, +troubled the man who had come through the corn and +found the girl he loved standing with the preacher.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200"></a><a href="images/200.png">[200]</a></span> +The self-conscious look on the preacher's face assured +David that he had stumbled through the field in an +awkward moment, that his presence was unwelcome. +He turned to go back, but Phœbe stepped quickly to +him and took his hand.</p> + +<p>"Ah," thought Phares with a twinge of jealousy, +"she wouldn't do that to me. How quickly she +dropped her hand a while ago. They are such good +friends, she and David. It's wrong to be envious; I +must fight against it—and yet—I want her just as +much as David does!"</p> + +<p>"David," Phœbe begged, "come back! Why, I +was just wishing you were here! There's a scarlet +tanager—see!" She pointed to the brilliant songster.</p> + +<p>"I thought he was coming to this woods so I came +to hunt him," said David, his irritation gone. "I saw +that fellow over by the tobacco field and followed him +here. I bet they have their nest in this very woods. +We'll look better next spring and try to find it and see +the little ones. Tut, tut," he whistled to the bird, +"don't sing your pretty head off." His eyes turned to +the sky and the smile left his face. "It looks threatening," +he said. "I thought I heard thunder as I came +through the corn."</p> + +<p>"That so?" said Phares. "Then we better move +in."</p> + +<p>Even as they turned and started through the field +the thunder came again—distant—nearer, rolling in +ominous rumbles.</p> + +<p>"Look at the sky," said David. "Clear yellow—that +means hail!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201"></a><a href="images/201.png">[201]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, David"—Phœbe stood still and looked at him—"not +hail on your tobacco!"</p> + +<p>He took her arm. "Come on, Phœbe, it's coming +fast. We must get in. Come to our house, Phares, +that's the nearest."</p> + +<p>Just as they reached the kitchen door, where Mother +Bab was looking for them, the hail came.</p> + +<p>"It's hail, Mommie," David said. The three words +held all the worry and pain of his heart.</p> + +<p>"Never mind"—the little mother patted his shoulder. +"It's hail for more people than we know, perhaps +for some who are much poorer than we are."</p> + +<p>"But the tobacco——" He stood by the window, +impotent and weak, while the devastating hail pounded +and rattled and smote the broad leaves of his tobacco +and rendered it almost worthless.</p> + +<p>"Won't new leaves grow again?" Phœbe tried to +cheer him.</p> + +<p>"Not this late in the summer. My tobacco was almost +ready to be cut; it was unusually early this year."</p> + +<p>"Well," spoke up the preacher, "I can't see why +you always plant tobacco. Smoking and chewing tobacco +are filthy habits. I can't see why so many people +of this section plant the weed when the soil could +be used to produce some useful grain or vegetable."</p> + +<p>"Yes"—David turned and addressed his cousin +fiercely—"it's easy enough for you to talk! You with +your big farm and orchards and every crop a success! +Your bank account is so fat that you don't need to care +whether your acres bring in a big return or a lean one. +But when you have just a few acres you plant the thing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202"></a><a href="images/202.png">[202]</a></span> +that will be likely to bring in the most money. You +know many poor people plant tobacco for that reason, +and that is why I plant it."</p> + +<p>"Davie," the mother said, "Davie!"</p> + +<p>"I know," he said bitterly. "I'm a beast when my +temper gets beyond control, but Phares can be so confounded +irritating, he rubs salt in your cuts every +time."</p> + +<p>"Just for healing," the mother said gently.</p> + +<p>"David," said Phœbe, "I guess the temper is a little +bit of that Irish showing up."</p> + +<p>At that David smiled, then laughed.</p> + +<p>"Phœbe," he said, "you know how to rub people +the right way. If ever I have the blues you are just +the right medicine."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to be called medicine," she said with +a shake of her head.</p> + +<p>"Not even a sugar pill?" asked Mother Bab.</p> + +<p>"No. I don't like the sound of <i>pill</i>."</p> + +<p>David looked across at the preacher, who stood +silent and helpless in the swift tide of conversation. +"You may be right, Phares. It may be the wrath of +Providence upon the tobacco. I'll try alfalfa in that +field next and then I'll rub Aladdin's lamp. I'll make +some money then!"</p> + +<p>"Where do you find Aladdin's lamp?" asked +Phœbe.</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you now. But I know I'm tired of +slaving and having nothing for my work, so I am +going after the magic lamp."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203"></a><a href="images/203.png">[203]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>ALADDIN'S LAMP</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> morning after the hail storm dawned fair and +sunshiny. David went out and stood at the edge of +his tobacco field. All about him the hail had wrought +its destruction. Where yesterday broad, thick leaves +of green tobacco had stood out strong and vigorous +there hung only limp shreds, punctured and torn into +worthlessness.</p> + +<p>"All wasted, my summer's work. I'll rub that +magic lamp now. Fool that I was, not to do it +sooner!"</p> + +<p>A little later, as he walked down the road to town, +his lips were closed in a resolute line, his shoulders +squared in soldierly fashion. "I hope Caleb Warner +is in his office," he thought.</p> + +<p>Caleb Warner was in; he greeted David cordially.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, Dave. How are things out your +way? Hail do much damage?"</p> + +<p>"Some damage," echoed the farmer. "It hailed +just about four hundred dollars' worth too much for +me."</p> + +<p>"What, you don't say so! That's the trouble with +your farming."</p> + +<p>Caleb Warner was an affable little man with a frank,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204"></a><a href="images/204.png">[204]</a></span> +almost innocent, look on his smooth-shaven face. +Spontaneous interest in his friends' affairs made him +an agreeable companion and helped materially to increase +his clientele—Caleb Warner dealt in real estate +and, incidentally, in oil stocks and gold stocks.</p> + +<p>"That's just the trouble with your farming," he repeated. +"You slave and break your back and crops +are fine and you hope to have a good return for your +labor, when along comes a hail storm and ruins your +fruit or tobacco or corn, or along comes a dry spell or +a wet spell with the same result. It sounds mighty +fine to say the farmer is the most independent person +on the face of the earth—it's a different proposition +when you try it out. Not so?"</p> + +<p>"I'm about convinced you speak the truth about it," +said the farmer.</p> + +<p>"I know I do. I used to be a farmer, but I have +grown wiser. I think there are too many other ways +to make money with less risk."</p> + +<p>"That is why I came——" David hesitated, but +the other man waited silently for the explanation. +"Have you any more of the gold-mine stock you +offered me some time ago?"</p> + +<p>"That Nevada mine?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Just one thousand dollars' worth; the rest is all +cleaned out. I sold a thousand yesterday. Listen, +Dave, there's the chance of your life. You know how +I worked on that farm of mine, how my wife had to +slave, how even Mary had to work hard. Then one day +a friend of mine who had gone west came to me and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205"></a><a href="images/205.png">[205]</a></span> +offered me some stock in a western gold mine. My +wife was afraid of it, said I'd lose every cent I put in it +and we'd have to go to the poorhouse—women don't +generally understand about investments. But I went +ahead and got the stock, and in a few years I sold out +part of it for a neat sum and drew big dividends on +what I kept. Then we moved to town; my wife keeps +a maid, Mary goes to college, and we're living instead +of slaving our lives away on a farm. And it's honestly +made money, for the gold was put into the earth +for us to use. It is just a case of running a little risk, +but no person loses money because of your risk. Of +course, there's lots of stock sold that's not worth the +paper it's written on, but I don't sell that kind."</p> + +<p>"People trust you here," said David.</p> + +<p>If the man winced or had reason to do so, he betrayed +no sign of it. "I hope so," he said. "You +have known me all my life. If I ever want to work +any skin game I'll go out of the place where all my +friends are. This mine of which I speak is near the +mine at Goldfield and some of the veins struck recently +are richer than those of the renowned Goldfield. They +are still striking deeper veins. I have sold stock in +that mine to fifteen people in this town."</p> + +<p>He mentioned some of the residents of Greenwald; +people who, in David's opinion, were too shrewd to be +entangled in any nefarious investment. The names +impressed David—if those fifteen put their money into +it he might as well be the sixteenth.</p> + +<p>In a little while David Eby walked home with a +paper representing the ownership of a number of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206"></a><a href="images/206.png">[206]</a></span> +shares of a certain gold mine in Nevada, while Caleb +Warner patted musingly a check for five hundred +dollars.</p> + +<p>Mother Bab wondered at her boy's philosophical acceptance +of his crop failure. "I'm glad you take it +this way," she said as he came in, whistling, from his +trip to Greenwald.</p> + +<p>"What's the use of crying?" he answered gaily, +though he felt far from gay. Had he been too hasty? +Doubts began to assail him. It was going to be hard +to deceive his mother, she was always so eager for his +confidence. But, then, he was doing it for her sake +as much as for his own. The war clouds were drawing +nearer and nearer to this country; if the time came +when America would enter the war he would have to +answer the call for help. If the stock turned out to +be what the other wise men of the town felt confident +it would be then the added money would be a boon to +his mother while he was away in the service of his +country—and yet—it was a great risk he was running. +Why had he done it? The old lines of the poem came +back to him and burned into his soul,</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"O what a tangled web we weave<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">When first we practice to deceive."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Then, again, swift upon that thought came the old +proverb, "Nothing venture, nothing gain." Thus he +was torn between doubt and satisfaction, but it was too +late to undo the deed. He was the owner of the stock +and Caleb Warner had the five hundred dollars!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207"></a><a href="images/207.png">[207]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>THE FLEDGLING'S FLIGHT</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Phœbe</span> found the packing of her trunk a task not +altogether without pain. As she gathered her few +treasures from her room a feeling of desolation seemed +to pervade the place. Going away from home for the +first long stay, however bright the new place of sojourn, +brings to most hearts an undercurrent of sadness.</p> + +<p>She smiled a bit wistfully at her few treasures—her +books, an old picture of her mother, the little Testament +Aunt Maria gave her to read, the few trinkets +her school friends had given her from time to time, a +little kodak picture of Mother Bab and David in the +flower garden.</p> + +<p>At last the dreary task was done, the trunk strapped, +and she was ready for the journey. It was a perfect +September day when she left the gray farmhouse, +drove in the country road and stood with her father, +Aunt Maria, Mother Bab, David and Phares at the +railroad station in Greenwald and waited for the noon +train to Philadelphia.</p> + +<p>Jacob Metz and the preacher made brave, though +visible, efforts to be cheerful; Maria Metz made no +effort to be anything except very greatly worried and +anxious; but Mother Bab and David were determined<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208"></a><a href="images/208.png">[208]</a></span> +that the girl's departure was to be nothing less than +pleasant.</p> + +<p>"Now be sure, Phœbe," said Aunt Maria for the +tenth time, "to ask the conductor at Reading if that +train is for Phildelphy before you get on, and at Phildelphy +you wait till Miss Lee fetches you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Aunt Maria, I'll be careful."</p> + +<p>"And don't lose your trunk check—David, did you +give it to her for sure?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. She'll hold on to it, don't you worry."</p> + +<p>"Phœbe will be all right," said Mother Bab.</p> + +<p>"And," said David teasingly, "be sure to let me +know when you need that beet juice and cream and +flour."</p> + +<p>"Davie! Now for that I won't write to you!"</p> + +<p>"Yes you will!" His eyes looked so long into hers +that she said confusedly, "Ach, I'll write. Mind that +you take good care of Mother Bab and stop in sometimes +to see how Aunt Maria and daddy are getting +on without me."</p> + +<p>"Ach, we'll be all right," said Aunt Maria. "Just +you take care of yourself so far away from home. +And if you get homesick you come right home. Anyway, +you come home soon to see us; and be sure to +write every week still."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes!"</p> + +<p>A shrill whistle announced the approach of the train. +There were hurried kisses and good-byes, a handshake +for the preacher and, last of all, a handshake for +David. He held her hand so long that she cried out, +"David, you'll make me miss the train!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209"></a><a href="images/209.png">[209]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No—good-bye."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, David." Then she tugged at her hand +and in a moment was hurrying to the train.</p> + +<p>There were few passengers that day, so the train +made a short stop. Phœbe smiled as the train started, +leaned forward and waved till the familiar group was +lost to her view, then she settled herself with a brave +little smile and looked at the well-known fields and +meadows she was passing. The trees on Cemetery +Hill were silhouetted against the blue sky just as she +had seen them many times in her walks about the +country.</p> + +<p>But soon the old landmarks disappeared and unknown +fields lay about her. Crude rail fences divided +acres of rustling corn from orchards whose trees were +laden with red apples or downy peaches. Occasionally +flocks of startled birds rose from fields freshly plowed +for the fall sowing of wheat. Huge red barns and +spacious open tobacco sheds, hung with drying tobacco, +gave evidence of the prosperity of the farmers of that +section. Little schoolhouses were dotted here and +there along the road. Flowers bloomed by the wayside +and in them Phœbe was especially interested. +Goldenrod in such great profusion that it seemed the +very sunshine of the skies was imprisoned in flower +form, stag-horn sumac with its grape-like clusters of +red adding brilliancy to the landscape—everywhere +was manifest the dawn of autumnal glory, the splendor +that foreruns decay, the beauty that is but the first +step in nature's transition from blossom and harvest +to mystery and sleep.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210"></a><a href="images/210.png">[210]</a></span></p> + +<p>Every two or three miles the train stopped at little +stations and then Phœbe leaned from her window to +see the beautiful stretches of country.</p> + +<p>At one flag station the train was signalled and came +to a stop. Just outside Phœbe's window stood a tall +farmer. He rubbed his fingers through his hair and +stared curiously at the train.</p> + +<p>"Step lively," shouted the trainman.</p> + +<p>But the farmer shook his head. "Ach, I don't want +on your train! I expected some folks from Lititz and +thought they'd be on this here train. Didn't none get +on——"</p> + +<p>But the angry trainman had heard enough. He +pulled the cord and the train started, leaving the old +man alone, his eyes scanning the moving cars.</p> + +<p>Phœbe laughed. "We Pennsylvania Dutch do +funny things! I wonder if I'll seem strange and foolish +to the people I shall meet in the great city."</p> + +<p>At Reading she obeyed Aunt Maria's injunction and +boarded the proper train. The ride along the winding +Schuylkill was thoroughly enjoyed by the country girl, +but the picture changed when the country was left behind, +suburban Philadelphia passed, and the train entered +the crowded heart of the city. They passed close +to dark houses grimy with the accumulated smoke of +many passing locomotives. Great factories loomed +before the train, factories where girls looked up for a +moment at the whirring cars and turned again to the +grinding life of loom or machine. The sight disheartened +Phœbe. Was life in the city like that for some +girls? How dreadful to be shut up in a factory while<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211"></a><a href="images/211.png">[211]</a></span> +outdoors the whole panorama of the seasons moved +on! She would miss the fields and woods but she +would make the sacrifice gladly if she might only see +life, meet people and learn to sing. The thoughts +awakened by the sight of the shut-in girls were not +happy ones. She welcomed the call, "Reading Terminal, +Philadelphia."</p> + +<p>As she followed the stream of fellow passengers and +walked through the dim train shed to the exit her heart +beat more quickly—she was really in Philadelphia! +But the noise, the stream of people rushing from trains +past other people rushing to trains, bewildered her. +She saw the sea of faces beyond the iron gates and +experienced for the first time the loneliness that comes +to a traveler who enters a thronged depot and sees a +host of people but enters unwelcomed and ungreeted.</p> + +<p>However, the loneliness was momentary. The next +minute she caught sight of Miss Lee. A wave of relief +and happiness swept over her—she was in Philadelphia, +the land of her heart's desire!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212"></a><a href="images/212.png">[212]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>PHŒBE'S DIARY</h3> + + +<div class='right'> +<i>September 15.</i><br /> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">I'm</span> in Philadelphia—really, truly! Phœbe Metz, +late of a gray farmhouse in Lancaster County, is sitting +in a beautiful room of the Lee residence, Philadelphia.</p> + +<p>What a lot of things I have to write in you, diary! +I can scarcely find the beginning. Before I left home +I thought about keeping a diary, how entertaining it +would be to sit down when I'm old and gray and read +the accounts of my first winter in the city. So I went +to Greenwald and bought the fattest note-book I could +find and I'm going to write in you all of my joys—let's +hope there won't be any sorrows—and all of my +pleasures and all about my impressions of places and +people in this great, wonderful City of Brotherly Love. +Of course, I'll write letters home and to David and +Mother Bab and some of the girls, but there are so +many things one can't tell others yet likes to remember. +So you'll have to be my safety valve, confidant and +confessor.</p> + +<p>When I left the train at Philadelphia I was bewildered +and confused. Such crowds I never saw, not +even in Lancaster. Seemed like everybody in the city<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213"></a><a href="images/213.png">[213]</a></span> +was coming from a train or running to one. I was +glad to see Miss Lee. She's the dearest person! I +love her as much as I did when I went to her school on +the hill. I'm as tall as she is now. She dresses beautifully. +I thought my blue serge suit was lovely but +her clothes are—well, I suppose you'd call them creations. +I'm so glad I'm going to be near her all winter +and can copy from her.</p> + +<p>As I came through the gates at the depot she caught +me and kissed me. I thought she was alone, but a +moment later she turned to a tall man and introduced +him, her cousin, Royal Lee, the musician. If Aunt +Maria could see him she'd warn me again, as she did +repeatedly, not to "leave that fiddlin' man get too +friendly." He's handsome. I never before met a +man like him. His magnetic smile, his low voice attracted +me right away.</p> + +<p>After he piloted us through the crowded depot and +into a taxicab Miss Lee began to ask me questions +about Greenwald and the people she knows there. I +felt rather timid, for I was conscious of the appraising +eyes of her cousin. He didn't stare at me, yet every +time I glanced at him his eyes were searching my face. +Does he think me very countrified, I wonder? I do +have the red cheeks country girls are always credited +with, but I'm glad I'm not "buxom." I'd hate to be +fat!</p> + +<p>I wish I could describe Royal Lee. He's just as I +pictured him, only more so. He has the lean, æsthetic +face of the musician, the sensitive nostrils and thin lips +denoting acute temperament. His eyes are gray.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214"></a><a href="images/214.png">[214]</a></span></p> + +<p>As we rode through the streets of the city Miss Lee +told me her mother would have me stay with them +until we can find a suitable boarding place. To-morrow +we're going in search of one.</p> + +<p>Taxicabs travel pretty fast. We skirted past curbs +so that I almost held my breath and shot past trucks +and other cars till I thought we'd surely land in the +street. But we escaped safely and soon stopped at the +Lee residence, a big, imposing brownstone house. It +looks bare outside, no yard, no flowers. But inside it's +a lovely place, so inviting and attractive that I'd like to +settle down for life in it.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lee is as charming as her daughter. She has +been a semi-invalid for years, but even in her wheelchair +she has the poise and manner of one well born. +Her greeting was so cordial and gracious, but all I +could answer was an inane, "Thank you, you are very +kind." Will I ever learn to express my thoughts as +charmingly as these people do, I wonder!</p> + +<p>When Miss Lee took me up-stairs it was up a bare, +polished stairway upon which I was half afraid to +tread. And the room she took me to! I've heard +about such rooms and read about them. Delft blue +paper and rugs, white woodwork and furniture, blue +hangings, white curtains—it's a magazine-room turned +to real!</p> + +<p>When I tried to express my gratitude for her goodness +Miss Lee hushed me with a kiss and said she anticipated +as much joy from my presence in the city as I +did, that I was so genuine and refreshing that it would +be a pleasure to have me around. I don't know just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215"></a><a href="images/215.png">[215]</a></span> +what she means. I'm just Phœbe Metz, nothing wonderful +about me, unless it's my voice, and I hope that +is. She said, too, that I would make her very happy +if I'd let her be a real friend to me, and if I'd call her +Virginia. Why, that's just what I've been wishing +for! I told her so. She is just twelve years older +than I am, so she's near the thirty mark yet, and I like +a friend who is older. She seems just the same Miss +Lee, no older than she was when I walked down the +street of Greenwald in my gingham dress and checked +sunbonnet and buried my nose in the pink rose David +gave me. How lucky that little country girl is! I'm +here in Philadelphia, in a beautiful house, with Virginia +Lee for my friend, and glorious visions of music +and good times flashing before my eyes. I put my +hands to my head to keep it from going dizzy!</p> + +<p>There's a little speck of cloud in the blue of my joy +right now, though. I'm afraid I've blundered already. +Miss Lee—Virginia, I mean—said as she turned to +leave my room that they have dinner at six and I'd +have plenty of time to get ready for it. I had to tell +her that I couldn't change my dress, that I hadn't +thought to bring any light dress in my bag but had +packed them all in the trunk. She hurried to assure +me that my dark skirt and white blouse would do very +well, that she would not dress for dinner to-night. +But I feel sure that she seldom appears at the dinner +table in a blouse and tailored skirt. Guess Aunt +Maria'd say I'm in a place too tony for me, but I know +I can learn how to do here. I might have remembered +that some people make of their evening meal a formal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216"></a><a href="images/216.png">[216]</a></span> +one. I've read about "dressing for dinner" and +when my first opportunity comes to do so it finds me +with all my dress-up dresses packed in a trunk in the +express office! Perhaps it serves me right for wanting +to "put on style," but I remember an old saying +about "doing as the Romans do." At any rate, I'm +going to make the best of it and quit worrying about it, +or I'll be so fussed I'll eat with my knife or pour my +coffee into my saucer!</p> + + +<div class='right'> +<i>Later in the evening.</i><br /> +</div> + +<p>What a whirl my brain is in! Things happen so +fast that I scarcely know where to begin again to write +about them. But it began with the dinner. That was +the grandest dinner I ever tasted but I don't remember +a single thing I ate, though I do know there was no +bread or jelly. What would Aunt Maria think of +that! The delicate china, fine linen and silver were +the loveliest I have ever seen. There were electric +lights with soft-colored shades and there was a colored +waiter who seemed to move without effort. The forks +and spoons for the different courses bothered me. I +had to glance at Virginia to see which one to use. +Once during the dinner I thought of the time Mollie +Brubaker told Aunt Maria about a dinner she had in +the home of a city relative. I remember how Aunt +Maria sniffed, "Humph, if abody's right hungry you +can eat without such dumb style put on. I say when +you cook and carry things to the table for people you +don't need to feed them yet, they can help themselves. +Just so it's clean and cooked good and enough to go<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217"></a><a href="images/217.png">[217]</a></span> +round, that's all I try for when I get company to eat." +I felt like a fish out of water at the Lee dinner table, +but Mrs. Lee and the others were so kind and tactful +that I could not be embarrassed, not enough to show it. +However, I thought to myself as we rose from the +table, "Thank Heaven!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lee asked me whether I like music. We were +in the sitting-room and Mr. Lee stood by the piano, his +hand on his violin case.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed!" I told her, for I was anxious to hear +him play. I have never heard any great violinist but +the sound of a violin sets me thrilling. I could listen +to it for hours.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lee smiled at my enthusiasm, lifted the instrument +to his shoulder and began to play. If I live to be +a hundred I'll never forget that music! Like the +soothing winds of summer, the subtle fragrance of a +wild rose, the elusive phantoms of our dreams, it +stirred my soul. I sat as one dazed when he ended.</p> + +<p>"You say nothing. Don't you like my music?" he +asked me.</p> + +<p>"Like your music? Like is too poor a word!" +And I tried to tell him how I loved it. He smiled +again, that calling, hypnotizing smile, that made me +want to rush to him and ask him to be my friend. +But I restrained myself and turned to listen to Virginia. +The music haunted me. It sounded like the +voice of a soul searching for something it could never +find. I was still dreaming about it when I heard Mr. +Lee say, "Now, Aunt, shall we have some cribbage?" +I watched him uncomprehendingly as he arranged a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218"></a><a href="images/218.png">[218]</a></span> +small table and brought out cards and boards for a +game. The full significance of his actions dawned +upon me—they were going to play cards! I had never +seen a game of cards, but Aunt Maria taught me long +ago that cards are the instrument of the Evil One. +My first impulse was to run from the room, away from +the cards, but I hated to be so rude.</p> + +<p>"Do you play cards?" Royal Lee asked me.</p> + +<p>"No, oh, no!" I gasped.</p> + +<p>"You should learn. I'm sure you would enjoy +playing."</p> + +<p>I know my face flushed. He did not notice my bewilderment +and went on, "We'll teach you to play, +Miss Metz." Then he turned to the game.</p> + +<p>Virginia came to my rescue and drew me to a seat +near her. She asked me questions about Greenwald. +Goodness only knows what I answered her. My attention +was a variant. Troubled thoughts distressed +me. In Aunt Maria's category of sins dancing, card +playing and theatre-going rank side by side with lying, +stealing and idolatry. As I sat there I tried to reconcile +my opinion of these worldly pleasures with the +conduct of my new friends. The tangle is too complicated +to unravel at once. I could feel blushes of +shame staining my cheeks as the game progressed. +What would Aunt Maria say, what would daddy say, +what would even tolerant Mother Bab say, if they +knew I sat passively by and watched a game of cards? +After a little while I asked Virginia whether I could +write a letter to Aunt Maria and tell her of my safe +arrival. I just had to get out of that room! I don't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219"></a><a href="images/219.png">[219]</a></span> +know if she saw through my ruse but she smiled as she +put her arm around me and led me to the stairs. +"There's a desk in your room, Phœbe. You can be +undisturbed there. Tell your aunt we are going to +help you find a comfortable home and that we are +going to take care of you. I'll be up presently to +visit with you."</p> + +<p>When I got up-stairs I felt like crying. Those +cards actually scared me. I shrank from being so +near the evil things. But after a while as I came to +think more calmly I decided that cards couldn't hurt +me if I didn't play them. I promised myself to keep +from being contaminated with the wickedness of the +city the while I enjoyed its harmless pleasures. The +first horror of the cards soon passed but it left me +sobered. I wrote a long letter to Aunt Maria and then +turned off the lights and looked down into the city +street. It seemed wonderful to me to see so many +lights stretched off until some of them were mere +specks. There was a wedding across the street. I +saw the guests and caught a glimpse of the bride, +dressed all in white. But later, when Virginia came +up to my room and I asked her about it she didn't +know a thing about the wedding. Why, at home, if +there's a big wedding and the neighbors don't know +about it or are not invited to it, they feel slighted. But +Virginia says a city is different, that you don't really +have neighbors like in Greenwald.</p> + +<p>Virginia told me, too, how she came to teach in our +school on the hill. When she finished college she +wanted to earn money, just to prove that she could.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220"></a><a href="images/220.png">[220]</a></span> +Her father wanted her to stay home and live the life +of a butterfly, she says. One day he said, more in +jest than earnest, that if she insisted upon earning +money he'd give his consent to her being a teacher in +a rural school. She accepted the challenge and +through her cousin she secured the place on the hill +and became my teacher. When her father died and +her mother became a semi-invalid she gave up her +work and took up the old life again. She said that as +if it were not really a desirable life, this going to teas, +dances, plays, musicals, lectures, and having no cares +or worries. Of course I know many of her pleasures +are forbidden fruit for me, but if I ever can wear +pretty clothes like hers and go off to an evening +musical or concert I know I'll be as excited as a Jenny +Wren.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221"></a><a href="images/221.png">[221]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>DIARY—THE NEW HOME</h3> + + +<div class='right'><i>September 16.</i></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">I've</span> dreamed my first dreams in Philadelphia. Such +dreams as they were! Whatever it was I ate for supper +it must have been richer than our Lancaster County +sausage and fried mush, for I dreamed all night. My +old-fashioned walnut bed with its red and green calico +quilt seemed to swing before me while Mother Bab +and Aunt Maria talked to me. A clanging trolley car +woke me and I remembered that I had been dreaming +of Phares and the tanager's nest. I slept again and +heard the strains of Royal Lee's violin till another car +clanged past and woke me. I woke once to find myself +saying, "Braid it straight, Davie. Aunt Maria's +awful mad." When I slept again I thought I heard +Royal Lee say, "We'll teach you to play cards," and +speared tails and horned heads seemed mixed promiscuously +with little pieces of cardboard bearing red and +black symbols and the words "I'll get you if you don't +watch out" rang in my ears. "Ugh, what awful +dreams," I thought as I lay awake and listened for +sounds of activity in the house. I missed Aunt +Maria's five o'clock call. The luxury of an eight +o'clock breakfast couldn't be appreciated the first +morning, as I was wide awake at five. I'll soon learn<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222"></a><a href="images/222.png">[222]</a></span> +to sleep later. There are many things I shall learn +before I go back to the farm.</p> + +<p>This morning Virginia and I started out on a glorious +adventure, looking for a boarding place. She +laughed when I called it that.</p> + +<p>"I like the uncertainty of it," I told her. "The +charm of the unknown appeals to me. I do not know +under whose roof I shall sleep to-night yet I'm happy +because I know I am going to meet new people and +see new things. Of course, if I did not have you to +help me I would remember Aunt Maria's dire tales of +the evils and dangers of a big city and should feel +afraid. As it is, I feel only curious and gay. No +matter where I find a place to live it's bound to be +quite different from the farm, not better, necessarily, +but different."</p> + +<p>But my "high hopes of youth" received a jolt at +the very first interview with a boarding-house mistress. +She wouldn't take young ladies who were studying +music, their practice would annoy the other boarders. +I had never thought of that!</p> + +<p>The second quest was equally unsatisfactory. One +room was vacant, a pleasant room—at twelve dollars +a week! The sum left me speechless. Virginia had +to explain that the amount was a <i>trifle</i> more than I +expected to pay.</p> + +<p>The third proved to be a smaller house on a narrower +street. A charming old lady led us into a sitting-room. +All my life I've been accustomed to the +proverbial cleanliness of the Pennsylvania Dutch but +I'm certain I never saw a place as clean as that house.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223"></a><a href="images/223.png">[223]</a></span> +I said something like that to its mistress and she informed +me with a gentle firmness I never heard before +that she expected every guest in her house to help to +keep it in that condition. She had several rules she +wanted all to obey, so that the sunshine would not have +a chance to fade the rugs and the dust from the street +could not ruin things. I knew I would not be happy +there. I like clean rooms, but if it's a matter of +choosing between foul air <i>without</i> dust and fresh air +<i>with</i> dust I'll take the dust every time. I'd feel like a +funeral to live in a house where the curtains and +shades were down every day, summer and winter, to +keep the sunshine out of the rooms and prevent the +jade-green and china-blue and old-rose of the rugs +from fading.</p> + +<p>The fourth place was in suburban Philadelphia, fifty +minutes' ride from the heart of the city. It was a big +colonial house set in a great yard, a relic of the days +when gardens still flourished in the city and the breathing +spaces allotted to householders were larger than at +the present time. As we went up the shrubbery-bordered +walk to the pillared porch I said, "I want to live +here."</p> + +<p>Mrs. McCrea, the boarding-house mistress, did not +object to the music, provided I took the large room on +the third floor and did all my practicing between the +hours of eight and five, when the other boarders were +gone to business. The price of the room is seven dollars +a week.</p> + +<p>I took the room at once, before Mrs. McCrea had +any chance of changing her mind. I thought it was a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224"></a><a href="images/224.png">[224]</a></span> +very pleasant room, with its two windows looking out +on the green yard.</p> + +<p>But later, after Virginia had gone and I was left +alone in the room, the queerest feeling came over me. +I never knew what it meant to be homesick, but I +think I had a touch of it this afternoon in this room. +I hated this place for about half an hour. I saw that +the paint is soiled, the rug worn, the pictures cheap, +the bed and bureau trimmed with gingerbready scrolls +and knobs. It's so different from the blue and white +room I slept in last night, so different from my plain, +old-fashioned room at home. "It's all right," I said +to myself, half crying, "but it's so different."</p> + +<p>Fortunately the word <i>different</i> struck a responsive +chord in my memory. I remembered that I wanted +different things, and smiled again and dashed the tears +away. I arranged my own pictures and few belongings +about the room and felt more at home. After I +had dressed and stood ready to go down for my first +dinner in my new home I felt happier. To be living, +to be young and enthusiastic, to possess the colossal +courage of youth, was enough to bring happiness into +my heart again. I'm going to like this place. I'm +going to work and play and live in this wonderful city.</p> + +<p>Mrs. McCrea introduced the "New boarder" and I +took my assigned place at a long table in the dining-room. +I remembered that I once read that the average +boarding-house is a veritable school for students of +human nature. I wondered what I would learn from +the people I met there. The fat man across the table +from me gave me no opportunity for any mental ram<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225"></a><a href="images/225.png">[225]</a></span>blings. +He launched me right into conversation by +asking my opinion of the war in Europe and whether +or not we would be dragged into the trouble.</p> + +<p>"Really," I answered him, "I don't know much +about it. I don't think of it any more than I can +help."</p> + +<p>Of course that was the wrong thing to say. It +started a deluge. A studious-looking woman wearing +heavy tortoise-shell rimmed spectacles took my answer +as a personal affront. "Why not, Miss Metz?" she +demanded. "Why should we not think about it? We +women of America need to wake up! In this country +we are lolling in ease and safety while other nations +bleed and die that we might remain safe. We have no +thoughts higher than our hats or deeper than our +boots if the catastrophe across the sea does not waken +in us an earnest desire to help the stricken nations."</p> + +<p>Others took up the argument and I sat quiet and +helpless, for I know too little about the cause and progress +of the war to talk intelligently about it. A sense +of responsibility grazed my soul. I wished I were able +to help France and Belgium, but what can I do? The +constant harping on the subject of war irritated me. I +felt relieved when a young girl near me asked, "Miss +Metz, do you like the movies? There's a place near +here where they show fine pictures, funny ones to make +you forget the war for several hours, at least."</p> + +<p>On the whole, I think I'm going to like life at Mrs. +McCrea's boarding-house. I hear the views of so +many different sorts of people. And it certainly is +different from my life on the farm.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226"></a><a href="images/226.png">[226]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>DIARY—THE MUSIC MASTER</h3> + + +<div class='right'><i>September 19.</i></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">My</span> four days in Philadelphia have just been one exclamation +point after another! The most wonderful +thing happened to me last night! Mrs. Lee invited me +over for dinner. I glided through the courses a little +more gracefully—one can learn if the will is there. I +always loved dainty things. I suppose that is why I +delight in the Lee home and am eager to adopt the +ways of my new friends.</p> + +<p>After dinner Mr. Lee played again. Of course I +enjoyed that. When I praised his playing he said he +heard I'm a real genius and asked me to sing for them. +Mr. Krause, one of the best teachers of music in the +city, is a friend of Royal and Virginia thinks he would +be the very one to teach me. Mr. Lee wrote to Mr. +Krause this summer and the music teacher promised +to take me for a pupil if I have a voice worth the +trouble. Virginia had prepared me for my meeting +with him. Seems he's queer, odd, cranky and painfully +frank. But he knows how to teach music so +well that many would-be singers pray to be taken into +his studio. Mr. Lee said yesterday that Mr. Krause +was expected home from his vacation in a few days<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227"></a><a href="images/227.png">[227]</a></span> +and then he'd arrange an interview. I trembled when +he said that. What if the great teacher did not like +my voice!</p> + +<p>To-night when Mr. Lee asked me to sing I selected +a simple song. As I sat down before the baby grand +piano the words of the old song "Sweet and Low" +came to me. I would sing that until I gained courage +and confidence to sing a harder selection. I played +from memory. As I sang I was back again at home, +singing to my father at the close of the day.</p> + +<p>As the last words died on my lips and I turned on +the chair a man, a stranger to me, appeared in the +room. He hurried unceremoniously to the piano and +greeted me, "You can sing!"</p> + +<p>I stared at him. He was an odd-looking, active +little man of about fifty with keen blue eyes that bored +into one like a gimlet.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lee came toward us. "Mr. Krause," he exclaimed, +and presented to me the music master, the +teacher for whom I had dreaded so to sing! I was +filled with inarticulate gladness.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Krause," I cried, grasping his outstretched +hand in my old impetuous way, "do you mean it? +Can I learn to sing?"</p> + +<p>"I said so—yes. You can sing. You need to learn +how to use your voice but the voice is there."</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad. I'll work——" I couldn't say any +more. My joy was too great to be expressed in words. +I looked mutely into the wrinkled face of the man.</p> + +<p>"Royal said he had found a songbird," he went on +smiling, "but I was afraid he didn't know the differ<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228"></a><a href="images/228.png">[228]</a></span>ence +between that and an owl—I see he did. I'll be +glad to have you for a pupil. Royal can bring you to +my studio to-morrow at eleven."</p> + +<p>Mr. Krause stayed a while longer and the sitting-room +was gay with laughter and bright conversation. +I think I heard little of it, though, for the words, +"You can sing!" kept ringing in my ears and crowding +out all other sounds.</p> + +<p>I can sing! Mr. Krause has told me I can sing! +And I will sing! Some day all the world may stop to +hear!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229"></a><a href="images/229.png">[229]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>DIARY—THE FIRST LESSON</h3> + + +<div class='right'><i>September 20.</i></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">I had</span> my first music lesson to-day. Mr. Lee called +for me at the boarding-house and took me down-town +to the studio. After he left I expected Mr. Krause to +begin at once on the do, ra, me, fa, sol, la, si, do. But +he thought differently!</p> + +<p>He sat facing me, looking at me till I felt like +running. "And so," he said quietly, "you want to +learn to sing."</p> + +<p>"Yes," was all I could say.</p> + +<p>"Well, you have a voice. If you want to work +like all great singers have had to work you can be a +singer. You may not set the world afire with your +fame but you'll be worth hearing. You are Pennsylvania +Dutch?"</p> + +<p>I nodded. What under the sun did Pennsylvania +Dutch have to do with my becoming a singer? I was +provoked. I didn't come to the city and pay a music +teacher to ask me foolish questions.</p> + +<p>"That is good," he went on calmly. "The Pennsylvania +Dutch are not afraid of work and that is +what you need. The road to success in music is like +the road to success in any other thing, long and hard<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230"></a><a href="images/230.png">[230]</a></span> +and up-hill most of the way. Now that Pennsylvania +Dutch is a funny language. It is neither Dutch nor +English nor German but is like hash, a little of this and +a little of that. Do you speak it?"</p> + +<p>I said I have spoken it all my life but wished I had +never been taught it.</p> + +<p>"Why?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh"—I couldn't quite veil my irritation—"it perverts +our English."</p> + +<p>"Nothing uncommon," he answered, smiling. +"Every part of this great country has some peculiarities +of speech common to that particular section and +laughed at in the other sections. Now we will go on +with the lesson."</p> + +<p>When he really did begin to teach I found him a +wonder. I'm going to enjoy, thoroughly enjoy, my +music lessons.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lee called for me after the lesson. I told him +I could find the way back to the boarding-house alone, +but he said he'd consider it a pleasure and privilege to +call for me. He has the nicest manners! He never +needs to flounder around for the right thing to say, it +just slips from his tongue like butter. Aunt Maria +always says, "look out for them smooth apple-sass +talkers," but I'm sure Mr. Lee is a gentleman and just +the right kind for a country girl to know.</p> + +<p>When he called at the studio this morning I felt +proud to walk away with him. He suggested riding +home but I told him I'd rather walk, at least part of the +way. We started up Chestnut Street. What a wonderful +place that is! Such lovely stores I've never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231"></a><a href="images/231.png">[231]</a></span> +seen. I'm going to sneak away some day and visit +every one that has women's belongings for sale. And +the clothes I saw on Chestnut Street—on the women, +I mean! My own wardrobe certainly is plain and +ordinary compared with the things I saw women wear +to-day. I couldn't help saying to Mr. Lee, "What +lovely clothes Philadelphia women wear!" He smiled +that wonderful smile and said, "Miss Metz, a diamond +has no need of a glittering case, it has sufficient brilliancy +itself." I caught his meaning, I couldn't help +it—he meant me! Now I know I'm no beauty, but +perhaps if I had clothes like those I saw to-day I'd +be more attractive. I wonder if I'll get them; they +must cost lots of money.</p> + +<p>As we walked along Mr. Lee told me he knows I'll +have a wonderful year in the city, and that he is going +to help it be the gladdest, merriest one I've ever had.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're good," I said.</p> + +<p>"It must be that goodness inspires goodness," he +replied.</p> + +<p>I didn't know what to answer. Men up home never +say such things, at least I never heard them. Phares +couldn't think of such things to say and David never +made a "pretty speech" in his life. I know he thinks +nice things about me sometimes but he wouldn't word +them like Royal Lee does. I didn't want Mr. Lee to +think I'm uncommonly good, I told him I'm not.</p> + +<p>"Not good?" He laughed at the idea. "Why, +you are just a sweet, lovely young thing knowing nothing +of evil."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" I said, feeling stupid before him, "you're<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232"></a><a href="images/232.png">[232]</a></span> +too polite! I never met any one like you. But I want +to ask you about cards, playing cards. I can't see that +they are wrong but Aunt Maria and my father and all +my friends up home think they are wicked. Aunt +Maria would rather part with her right hand than +play a game of cards."</p> + +<p>Mr. Lee laughed and said he's surprised that I am +willing to accept the beliefs of others; can't I decide +for myself what is wrong or right? Did I want to be +narrow and goody-goody?</p> + +<p>Of course I don't want to be like that, and I told +him so.</p> + +<p>He laughed again, a low, soft laugh. I never heard +a man laugh like that before. When daddy laughs he +laughs out loud, the kind of laugh you join in when +you hear it. And David laughs like that too, a merry +laugh that sounds, as he says, like it's coming clean +from his boots. But Mr. Lee's laugh is different. I +don't like it as well as the other kind, though it fascinates +me. He said he knows I can't change my +ideas in a night but he depends upon my good sense +to decide what is right for me to do. He asked if I +thought Virginia and her mother are wicked. They +have played cards, danced, gone to theatres, all their +lives. If I hope to have a really enjoyable time in +the city I must do the same. He said, too, that I'll +soon see that many of the teachings of the country +churches are antiquated and entirely too narrow for +this day.</p> + +<p>Dancing—I shuddered at the word, but I didn't tell +him how I feel about it. Aunt Maria says dancing is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233"></a><a href="images/233.png">[233]</a></span> +even worse than playing cards. Why did he tempt +me? I don't want to do wicked things, but when he +mentioned forbidden pleasures I felt, somehow, that +I wanted to do what Virginia does and have a good +time with her and her friends. That would be dreadful! +What am I thinking of! Is my head turned +already? Can the evil of the world have exerted its +influence upon me so soon? Of course, if I become a +great singer I'll naturally have to live a life different +from the narrow, restricted life of the farm. I must +live a broader, freer life. But for a while, at least, +I'll have to be the same old Phœbe Metz. I tried to +tell Mr. Lee something like that, and he quoted,</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"If you become a nun, dear,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A friar I will be;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">In any cell you run, dear,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Pray look behind for me."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Are city men always free like that? Is it the way +of the new world I have entered? Before I could +think of a suitable answer he said lightly, "But before +you turn nun let me buy you some flowers."</p> + +<p>We stopped at a floral shop. Such flowers! I've +never seen their equal! I exclaimed in many O's as I +paused by the window, but I felt my cheeks flush at +the idea of having him buy any of the lovely flowers +for me.</p> + +<p>"Come inside," he said. "What do you like?"</p> + +<p>"I love them all," I told him as we stood before the +array of blossoms. "I think I like the yellow rosebuds +best, though. We have some at home on the +farm but they bloom only in June."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234"></a><a href="images/234.png">[234]</a></span></p> + +<p>I detected an odd smile on his lips. What was +wrong? Had I committed a breach of etiquette? +Was it wrong to mention farms in a city floral shop? +But his courteous, attentive manner returned in an +instant. He watched me pin the yellow roses on my +coat, smiled, and led me outside again. I felt proud +as any queen, for those were the first flowers any man +ever bought for me.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235"></a><a href="images/235.png">[235]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3>DIARY—SEEING THE CITY</h3> + + +<div class='right'><i>October 2.</i></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">I have</span> been seeing Philadelphia. Mr. Lee teasingly +told me that most newcomers want to "do" the city so +he and Virginia would take me round. They took me +to see all the places I studied about in history class. +I've done the Betsy Ross House, Franklin's Grave, +Old Christ Church and Old Swede's Church. I like +them all. Best of all I like Independence Hall, with +its wonderful stairways and wide window sills and, +most important, its grand old Liberty Bell and its +history.</p> + +<p>Yesterday Mr. Lee took me to Memorial Hall in +Fairmount Park. I like the pictures and oh, I looked +long at a white marble statue of Isaac, his hands bound +for the sacrifice. The face is beautiful. Royal Lee +was amused at my interest in it and took me off to see +the rare Chinese vases. We wandered around among +the cases of glassware and then I found a case with +valuable Stiegel glass, made in my own Lancaster +County. I was proud of that! We went through +Horticultural Hall and stopped to see the lovely +sunken gardens, with their fall flowers.</p> + +<p>I like to go about with Royal Lee. He is so efficient. +Crowds seem to fall back for him. He has +the attractive, masterful personality that everybody<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236"></a><a href="images/236.png">[236]</a></span> +recognizes. I feel a reflected glory from his presence. +We have grown to be great friends in an amazingly +short time. Our music, our appreciation of each +other's ability, has strengthened the bond between us. +Mrs. Lee sends me many invitations for dinner and +week-ends in her beautiful home, so that Mr. Lee and +I are already well acquainted. He has asked me to +call him Royal and if he might call me Phœbe. I've +told him all about my life on the farm, my friends up +there, and the plans and dreams of my heart. He likes +to tease me and call me a little Quakeress, but I don't +enjoy that for he does it in a way I don't like. It +sounds as if he's scoffing at the plain people. When +I told him about the meeting house and described the +service he laughed and said that a religion like that +might do for a little country place but it would never +do in a city. I bridled at that and tried to tell him +about the wholesome, useful lives those people up +home lead, how much good a woman like Mother Bab +can do in the world. But he could not be easily convinced. +He thinks they are crude and narrow. When +I told him they are lovely and fine he challenged me +and asked if I am willing to wear plain clothes and +renounce all pleasures, jewelry and becoming raiment. +I had to tell him I'm not ready for that yet, and he +smiled triumphantly. He predicted I'll play cards and +dance before the winter ends. I don't like him when +he's so flippant. I want to be loyal to my home teaching +but I see more clearly every day how great is the +difference between the pleasures sanctioned by my +people and those Virginia and her friends enjoy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237"></a><a href="images/237.png">[237]</a></span> +There's a mystery somewhere I can't solve. Like +Omar, I "evermore come out at the same door where +in I went."</p> + + +<div class='right'> +<i>October 29.</i><br /> +</div> + +<p>To-day we went for a long drive along the Wissahickon. +The woods are bronze and scarlet now. The +wild asters made me homesick for Lancaster County. +I wanted to get out of the car and walk but Virginia +and her friends wouldn't join me. I wanted to bury +my nose in the goldenrod and asters—and get hay +fever, one of the girls told me—and I just ached to +push my way through the tangled bushes along the +road and let the golden leaves of the hickory and +beeches brush my face. It seems that most city people +I have met don't know how to enjoy nature. They +have a nodding-from-a-motor-acquaintance with it but +I like a real handshake-friendship with it. I just +wished David were here to-day! He'd have taken my +hand and run me to the top of the hill and picked a +branch of scarlet maple to carry with my goldenrod +and asters. Well, I can't have the penny and the +cake. I want to be in the city, of course that's the +thing I most desire at present—I really am having a +good time.</p> + +<p>In the evening we went to Holy Trinity Church. +The organ recital gripped my soul. I wanted it to +last for hours. And yet when it was over and the +rector stood before us and preached one of his impressive +sermons I was just as much interested as I +had been in the music. There's a feeling of restful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238"></a><a href="images/238.png">[238]</a></span> +calm comes to me in a big dim church with stained +glass windows. We stopped in the Cathedral one day +last week. That is a wonderful place, too. I like +the idea of having churches open all the time for +prayer and meditation. I'm learning so many new +ideas these days. If I ever do wear the plain dress +I'm sure of one thing, I'll be broad-minded enough to +respect the beliefs of other persons.</p> + + +<div class='right'> +<i>November 11.</i><br /> +</div> + +<p>I can put another red mark on my calendar. I +heard the great Irish Tenor! Glory, what a voice! +It's the kind can echo in your ears to your dying day +and follow you with its sweetness everywhere you go! +I have been humming those lovely Irish songs all day.</p> + +<p>But before the recital my heart was heavy. I have +no evening gown, no evening wrap, so I couldn't join +the box party to which one of Virginia's friends invited +us. I meant to stay at home and not break up +the party, but Royal insisted upon buying two tickets +in a section of the opera house where a plainer dress +would do. In the end I allowed myself to be persuaded +by him and we two went to the recital alone. +When that tenor voice sounded through the place I +forgot all about my limited wardrobe. I could hear +him sing if I were dressed in calico and think of nothing +but his singing.</p> + + +<div class='right'> +<i>November 12.</i><br /> +</div> + +<p>I wrote letters to-day. Mother Bab and David +write such lovely ones to me that I have to try hard<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239"></a><a href="images/239.png">[239]</a></span> +to keep up my end of it. Sometimes David tells me +he is anxious to supply me with the beet juice, cream +and flour whenever I'm ready to begin the prima donna +act. I can hear his laugh when I read the letter. +Sometimes he's serious and talks about the crops of +their farm and tells me the community news like an +old grandmother. Phares Eby writes me an occasional +letter, a stilted little note that sounds just like Phares. +It always has some good advice in it. Aunt Maria's +letters and daddy's come every week. I'd feel lost +without them. I like to feel that everybody I care for +at home is interested in and cares for me even if I am +in Philadelphia.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240"></a><a href="images/240.png">[240]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3>DIARY—CHRYSALIS</h3> + + +<div class='right'> +<i>December 3.</i><br /> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">I'm</span> as miserable as any mortal can be! Oh, I'm +still having a good time going around seeing the city, +visiting the stores and museums, practicing hard in +music, pleasing my teacher. But just the same, I'm +not happy. The reason is this: I want pretty gowns +like Virginia wears, I want to dance and play cards +and see real plays. I dare say I'm a contemptible +sinner to want all that after the way I've been brought +up. I ought to be satisfied with all the wonderful +things I enjoy in this big city but I'm not.</p> + +<p>Last week Virginia entertained the Bridge Club and +tried to persuade me to learn to play and come to the +party. Royal was provoked about it. He thinks I +should learn to play. I told him I should have no +peace if I learned to do such things.</p> + +<p>"Peace," he scorned, "no one has peace these days. +The whole world is in a turmoil. Do you think your +little Quaker-like girls of Lancaster County have peace +these days?"</p> + +<p>"They have peace of mind and conscience."</p> + +<p>"But that," he said, "is the peace that touches those<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241"></a><a href="images/241.png">[241]</a></span> +who live in selfish solitude. The virtue that dwells in +the hearts of those who retire into hermitages is a +negative virtue."</p> + +<p>"You speak like a seer, a philosopher," I told him.</p> + +<p>"Like a rational human being, I hope," he said +petulantly. "But the thoughts are not original. I am +merely echoing the opinion of sane thinkers. I have +no appreciation of the foolish and useless sacrifice you +are persistently making. We were not put on this +planet to be dull nuns and monks. We have red blood +racing through our veins and were not intended for +sluggishness."</p> + +<p>"Yes—but——"</p> + +<p>He went off peeved at my refusal to do as he wished.</p> + +<p>What can I do? Shall I capitulate? I have +wrestled with my desire for pleasure until I'm tired of +the struggle. My old contentment has deserted me. +I'm restless and dissatisfied, scarcely knowing what is +right or wrong.</p> + + +<div class='right'><i>Next day.</i></div> + +<p>I'm happy again. Being on the fence grows mighty +uncomfortable after a while, so I jumped across. I +have decided to become a butterfly!</p> + +<p>I had luncheon to-day with Virginia. She had to +run off to one of her Bridge Clubs so I offered to mend +the lace on one of her gowns while she was gone. I +was alone in the sitting-room that adjoins Virginia's +bedroom. I love that little sitting-room. Virginia +and I spend many happy hours in it when we want to +get away from everybody and have a long chat. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242"></a><a href="images/242.png">[242]</a></span> +like its big comfortable winged chairs by the cheery +open fire.</p> + +<p>I dreamed a while before the fire, the gown across +my knees. It's a pink gown, that scarcely defined pink +of a sea shell. Virginia had often tempted me to try +it on and see how well I'd look in a dress of that kind. +The temptation came to do it. I jumped up in sudden +determination. I <i>would</i> put it on! I'd see for once +how I looked in a real gown. I ran to Virginia's room +to the low dressing table. My hands trembled as I +opened the tight coils of my hair and shook it until +it seemed to nod exultingly. I fluffed the curls loosely +over my forehead and twisted the hair into a fashionable +knot. Then I took off my plain blue serge dress +and slipped the pink one over my head. The soft +draperies clung to me, the gossamer lace lay upon my +breast like a silken mist. I was beautiful in that gown +and I knew it. It was my hour of appreciation of my +own charm.</p> + +<p>Later I lifted the dress and saw my plain calfskin +shoes. I smiled but soon grew sober as I thought +that the incongruity between gown and shoes was no +greater than that between the gown and the girl—the +girl who was reared to wear plain clothes and be honest +and unpretentious. But honesty—that is the rock to +which I cling now. I am going to be honest with +myself and have my share of happiness while I'm +young.</p> + +<p>I went back again to the fire, still wearing the borrowed +gown. Virginia found me there several hours +later. When she came in and saw me, a gorgeous<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243"></a><a href="images/243.png">[243]</a></span> +butterfly, she said, she was very happy. She would +have me go down to her mother and Royal. I shrank +from it but she said I might as well become accustomed +to being stared at when I was so dazzling and beautiful. +I went down, feeling almost as much of a culprit as +I did the day Aunt Maria surprised me at playing +prima donna and marched me in to the quilting party.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lee was lovely. She is sure I deserve to be +happy in my youth. Royal went mad. "Ye Gods!" +he cried as he ran to me and grasped my hands. "You +take my breath away! You are like this!" He +seized his violin and began to play the Spring Song. +The quivering ecstasy of spring, the mating calls of +robins and orioles, the rushing joy of bursting blossoms, +the delicate perfume of violets and trailing +arbutus, the dazzling shafts of sunlight pierced by +silver showers of capricious April—all echoed in the +melody of the violin.</p> + +<p>"You are like that, that is you!" he said as he laid +his instrument aside. His words were very sweet to +me. The future beckons into sunlit paths of joy.</p> + +<p>So I have departed from the teachings of my childhood +and turned to the so-called vanities of the world. +I am going to grasp my share of happiness while I can +enjoy them.</p> + +<p>When I went up-stairs again to take off the borrowed +gown I was already planning the new clothes I want +to buy. I must have a pink crepe georgette, a pale, +pale blue—just as I'm writing this there flashes to my +mind one of those old Memory Gems I learned in +school on the hill.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244"></a><a href="images/244.png">[244]</a></span></p> + +<div class='poem'> +"But pleasures are like poppies spread,—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">You seize the flower, its bloom is shed;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Or like the snow fall on the river,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">A moment white, then melts forever."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>I wonder, is there always a fly in the ointment!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245"></a><a href="images/245.png">[245]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h3>DIARY—TRANSFORMATION</h3> + + +<div class='right'><i>December 15.</i></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">A few</span> days can make a difference in one's life. +I'm well on the way of being a real butterfly. I have +bought new dresses, a real evening gown and a lovely +silk dress to wear to the Bridge Club. It's lucky I +saved my money these three months and had a nice +surplus to buy these new things.</p> + +<p>Royal is teaching me to play cards. He says I take +to them like a duck to water. Virginia and he are +giving me dancing lessons. I love to dance! The +same spirit that prompted me to skip when I wore sunbonnets +is now urging me on to the dance. In a few +weeks I'll be ready to join in the pleasures of my new +friends. After the Christmas holidays the city will +be gay until the Lenten season.</p> + + +<div class='right'><i>January 5.</i></div> + +<p>I went home for Christmas and I suppose I managed +to make everybody there unhappy and worried. +I couldn't let them think I am the same quiet girl and +not tell them about the cards and dancing. Daddy +was hurt, but he didn't scold me. He said plainly that +he does not approve of my course, that he thinks cards<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246"></a><a href="images/246.png">[246]</a></span> +and dancing wicked. He added that I had been taught +the difference between right and wrong and was old +enough to see it. Perhaps he thinks I'll "run my +horns off quicker" if I'm let go, as Aunt Maria often +says about people. But she didn't say that about me. +She made up for what daddy didn't say. She begged +him to make me stay at home away from the wicked +influences of the city. I had the hardest time to keep +calm and not say mean things to her. She's ashamed +of me and afraid people up there will find out how +worldly I am. I had to tell Mother Bab too. I know +I hurt her. She was so gentle and lovely about it that +I felt half inclined to tell her I'd give up everything she +didn't approve of, just to please her. But I didn't. I +couldn't do that when I know I'm not doing anything +wrong. She changed the subject and inquired about +my music. In that I was able to please her. She +shared my joy when I told her of my critical music +master's approval of my progress. I sang some of +my new songs for her and she kissed me with the same +love and tenderness she has always had for me. I +wonder sometimes whether I could possibly have loved +my own mother more. Somehow, as I sat with her in +her dear, cozy sitting-room I hated the cards and the +dancing and half wished I had never left the farm. +But that's a narrow, provincial view to take. Now +that I'm back again I'm caught once more in the whirl. +Everybody is entertaining, as if in a frantic endeavor +to be surfeited before Lent and thus be able to endure +the dullness of that period of suspended social activities. +The harrowing tales of suffering France and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247"></a><a href="images/247.png">[247]</a></span> +Belgium have occasioned Benefit Teas and Benefit +Bridges and Benefit Dances, all for the aid of the war +sufferers. Royal usually takes me to the social affairs. +I enjoy being with him. He's the most entertaining +man I ever met. He has traveled in Europe and all +over our own country and can tell what he has seen. +He attracts attention, whether he speaks or plays or +is just silent. One day he said it would be a pleasure +to travel with me, I enjoy things so and can appreciate +their beauty. I could scarcely resist telling him how +I'd enjoy traveling with a man like him. Oh, I dream +wild dreams sometimes, but I really must stop doing +that. The present is too wonderful to go borrowing +joy from the future.</p> + + +<div class='right'><i>February 2.</i></div> + +<p>I'm all in a fluster. I have to write here what happened +to-day. If I had a mother she could help and +advise me but an adopted mother, even one as dear and +near as Mother Bab, won't do for such confidences.</p> + +<p>Royal and I were sitting alone before the open fireplace. +It's a dangerous place to be! The glowing fire +sends such weird shadows flickering up and down. +Its living fire is sometimes an entreating Circe waking +undesirable impulses, then again it's a spirit that heals +and inspires. I love an open fire but to-day I should +have fled from it and yet—I think I'm glad I didn't.</p> + +<p>I looked up suddenly from the gleaming logs—right +into the eyes of Royal. His voice startled me as he +said, with the strangest catch in his voice, that my eyes +are bluer than the skies. I tried to keep my voice<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248"></a><a href="images/248.png">[248]</a></span> +ordinary as I lightly told him that some other person +once told me they are the color of fringed gentians—could +he improve on that?</p> + +<p>"You little fairy!" he cried. "I can beat that! +They are blue as bluebirds!" Then he went on impetuously, +telling me I was a real bluebird of happiness, +a bringer of joy; that the ancients called the +bluebird the emblem of happiness, but he knew the +blue of my eyes was the real joy sign—or something +like that he said. It startled me. I tried to tell him +he must not talk like that but my words were useless. +He went on to say that the world was bleak and unlovely +till I came to Philadelphia and wouldn't I tell +him I care for him.</p> + +<p>Of course I value his friendship and told him so. +But he laughed and said I was a wise little girl but I +couldn't evade his question like that. He said frankly +he doesn't want my friendship, he wants my love, he +must have it!</p> + +<p>I felt like a helpless bird. I couldn't answer him. +He looked at me, a long, searching look. Then he +pressed his thin lips together, and a moment later, +threw back his head and laughed his low laugh.</p> + +<p>"Little bluebird," he said softly, "I have frightened +you and I wouldn't do that for worlds! We'll talk +it over some other time, after you have had time to +think about it. Shall I play for you?"</p> + +<p>I nodded and he began to play. But the music +didn't soothe me as it usually does. There were too +many confused thoughts in my brain. Did Royal +really love me? I looked at his white hands with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249"></a><a href="images/249.png">[249]</a></span> +long tapering nails and the shapely fingers and couldn't +help thinking of the strong, tanned hands of David +Eby. I glanced at the handsome face of the musician +with its magnetic charm—swiftly the countenance of +my old playmate rose before me and then slowly faded: +David, boyish and comradely; David, manly and +strong, without ever a sneer or an unholy light upon +his face. Could I ever forget him? Could I ever +look into the face of any other man and call it the +dearest in the whole world to me? Ach—I shook my +head and gathered my recreant wits together! I'd +forget what he said and attribute it to the weird influence +of the firelight.</p> + +<p>I was glad Virginia came before Royal finished playing. +She looked at us keenly. I suppose my face +was flushed. But Royal seldom loses his outward +calm. He answered her remarks in his casual way +and listened with seeming interest to her plans for a +pre-Lenten masquerade dance she wants to give. She +has asked me to go dressed in a plain dress and white +cap like Aunt Maria wears. I hesitated about it but +she has done so much for me that I hate to refuse. +So I've promised to go to the dance dressed in a plain +dress and cap.</p> + +<p>A little later when Royal left us alone Virginia began +to speak about him. She said she's so glad we +have grown to be friends, in spite of the fact that he +is so much older than I am. He's thirty-seven, she +told me. I'm surprised at that. I never thought he's +so much older. She mentioned something, too, about +his being rather a gay Don Juan. I don't know just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250"></a><a href="images/250.png">[250]</a></span> +what she means. I'm sure he's a gentleman. Perhaps +she expected me to tell her what Royal said to +me, but how could I do that when I think it was just +an impulsive burst that he's likely to forget by morning. +If he really meant it—but I must stop dreaming +all sorts of improbable dreams! I've had such a glorious +time in Philadelphia just living and singing and +working and playing that I wish it hadn't happened. +I'm frightened when I think that any serious questions +might confront me here.</p> + + +<div class='right'><i>February 10.</i></div> + +<p>I guessed right when I thought that Royal would +forget that foolish outburst. He has been perfectly +lovely to me, taking me out and buying me flowers and +telling me about his trips, but he hasn't said one word +more of sentimental nature. I'm surely getting my +share of fun and pleasure these days. There are so +many things to enjoy, so much to learn from my +fellow-boarders and every one I meet, that the days +are all too short. Between times I'm making a dress +and cap for the masquerade dance. I hate sewing. I +lost all love for it during my years of calico patching. +But I don't mind making the dress for I'm eager for +the dance, my first masquerade party. I'm hoping for +a good time.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251"></a><a href="images/251.png">[251]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h3>DIARY—PLAIN FOR A NIGHT</h3> + + +<div class='right'><i>February 21.</i></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Last</span> night was the masquerade. I wore the plain +gray dress, apron and cape and a white cap on my +head. I felt rather like a hypocrite as I looked at +myself in the glass, but Virginia said it was just the +thing and certainly would not be duplicated by any +other guest.</p> + +<p>I was dressed early and started down the stairs, my +black mask swinging from my hand. As I rounded +a curve in the stairway I glanced casually down the +wide hall. The colored servant had admitted visitors. +I looked in that direction—the mask fell from my hand +and I ran down the steps and into the arms of Mother +Bab! I couldn't say more than "Oh, oh!" as I kissed +her over and over. When she got her breath she said +happily, "Phœbe, you're plain!"</p> + +<p>Oh, how it hurt me! I took her and David to a +little nook off the library where we could be alone and +then I had to tell her that I was wearing the plain +dress and white cap as a masquerade dress. Even +when I told her I learned to dance and do things she +thinks are worldly there was no look of pain on her +face like the look I brought there as I stood before her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252"></a><a href="images/252.png">[252]</a></span> +in a dress she reverenced and told her I wore it in a +spirit of fun. I'll never get over being sorry for hurting +her like that. But Mother Bab rallies quickly +from every hurt. She soon smiled and said she understood. +David came to my aid. He assured his mother +that they knew I could take care of myself and would +not do anything really wrong. I couldn't thank him +for his kindness. I felt suddenly all weepy and tearful. +But David began to talk on in his old friendly +way and tell about the home news and about the Big +Doctor he had taken Mother Bab to see in Philadelphia +and how he hoped she would soon be able to see perfectly +again. While he talked Mother Bab and I had +a chance to recover a bit. I noted a quick shadow +pass over her face as he spoke about her eyes—was +she less hopeful about them than he was? Had the +Big Doctor told her something David did not hear? +But no! I dismissed the thought—Mother Bab could +not go blind! She would never be asked to suffer +that! I soon forgot my troublesome thoughts as she +hastened to say that perhaps her eyes would improve +more quickly than the doctor promised. Then she +changed the subject—"Now, Phœbe, I hope I didn't +hurt you about the dress. I guess I looked at you as +if I wanted to eat you. I love you and wouldn't hurt +you for anything."</p> + +<p>"Mother Bab!" I gave her a real hug like I used +to do when I ran barefooted up the hill with some +childish perplexity and she helped me. "You're an +angel! Mother Bab, David, having a good time won't +hurt me. Our views up home are too narrow. It's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253"></a><a href="images/253.png">[253]</a></span> +all right to expect older people to do nothing more exciting +than go to Greenwald to the store, to church +every Sunday, to an occasional quilting or carpet-rag +party, and to Lancaster to shop several times a year, +but the younger generation needs other things."</p> + +<p>"I guess you mean it can't be Lent all the time for +you," she suggested with a smile.</p> + +<p>"I just knew you'd understand."</p> + +<p>Just then Royal began to play and the music floated +in to us. It was Traumerei. Mother Bab's tired face +relaxed as she leaned back to listen to the piercingly +sweet melody. David looked at me—I knew he was +asking whether the player was Royal Lee.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Davie," Mother Bab said innocently as the +music ended, "if only you could play like that!"</p> + +<p>"If I could," he said half bitterly, "but all I can do +is farm. Are you coming home this spring?" he +asked me, as if to forget the violin and its player.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I'll probably stay here until early +June. I may go away with Virginia for part of the +summer."</p> + +<p>"Not be home for spring and summer!" he said +dismally. "Why, it won't be spring without you! +We can't go for bird-foot violets or arbutus."</p> + +<p>Arbutus—the name called up a host of memories to +me. "How I'd like to go for arbutus this spring," I +told him.</p> + +<p>"Then come home in April and I'll take you to Mt. +Hope for some."</p> + +<p>"Oh, David, will you?"</p> + +<p>"I'd love to. We'll drive up."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254"></a><a href="images/254.png">[254]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'll come," I promised. "I'll come home for +arbutus. Let me know when they're out."</p> + +<p>"All right. But I think we must go now or we'll +miss the train."</p> + +<p>"Go?" I echoed. "You're not going home to-night? +Can't you stay? Mrs. McCrea has vacant rooms. +I've been so excited I forgot my manners. Let me +take you to the sitting-room and introduce you to Mrs. +Lee and Royal."</p> + +<p>"Ach, no," Mother Bab protested. "We can't stay +that long. We just stopped in to see you."</p> + +<p>David looked at his watch. "We must go now. +There's a train at eight-twenty-one gets to Lancaster +at ten-forty-five and we'll get the last car out to Greenwald +and Phares will meet us and drive us home."</p> + +<p>I asked about the home folks as I watched David +adjust Mother Bab's shawl. He looked older and +worried. I suppose he was disappointed because the +Big Doctor didn't promise a quick cure for Mother +Bab's eyes.</p> + +<p>As they said good-bye and left me I wanted to run +after them and ask them to take me home, back to the +simple life of my people. But I stayed where I was, +the earthiest worldling in a dress of unworldliness.</p> + +<p>"I—I believe I'll take it off," I thought as I stood +in the doorway.</p> + +<p>Just then Royal opened the door and saw me. "Ye +Gods!" he exclaimed, "you look like a saint, Phœbe."</p> + +<p>"But I'm not! I'm far from being a saint!"</p> + +<p>"Don't be one, please. If you turn saint I shall be +disconsolate. I don't like saints of women and I want<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255"></a><a href="images/255.png">[255]</a></span> +to keep on liking you, little Bluebird. Remember, you +promised me the first dance."</p> + +<p>"I don't know—I don't feel like dancing."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you must! You look like a Quakeress +but no one expects you to act like one to-night. I'm +going up to dress—I'm going as a monk to match you."</p> + +<p>He ran off, laughing, and I went in search of Virginia. +My heart was heavy. The sudden appearance +of Mother Bab and David brought me a vivid impression +of the contrast between their lives and mine and +the thoughts left me worried and restless. What was +I doing? Was I shaping my life in such a way that +it would never again fit into the simple grooves of +country life? The dance lost its charm for me. I +danced and made merry and tried to enter into the +gay spirit of the occasion but I longed all the time to +be with Mother Bab and David riding to Lancaster +County.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256"></a><a href="images/256.png">[256]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h3>DIARY—DECLARATIONS</h3> + + +<div class='right'><i>March 22.</i></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Spring</span> is here but I'd never know it if I didn't read +the calendar. I haven't seen a robin or heard a song-sparrow. +Just the same, I've had a wonderful time +these past weeks. Of course my music gets first attention. +I'm getting on well, though I'm beginning to +see what a long, long time it will take before I become +a great singer. Since I have heard really great singers +I wonder whether I was not too presumptuous when I +thought I might be one some day. I went to several +big churches lately and heard fine music.</p> + +<p>I thought Lent would be a dull season but it's been +gay enough for me. There has been unusual activity, +Virginia says, because of so many charitable affairs +held for the benefit of the war sufferers.</p> + +<p>I bought a new spring hat, a dream. Hope Aunt +Maria never asks me what I paid for it. After wearing +Greenwald hats all my life this one was coming +to me.</p> + +<p>But my thoughts are not all of frivolous matters. +I have taken advantage of some of the opportunities +Philadelphia offers to improve my mind and broaden +my vision. I've been to lectures and plays and enjoyed +them all.</p> + +<p>I asked Royal to-day why he never worked. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257"></a><a href="images/257.png">[257]</a></span> +laughed and said I was an inquisitive Bluebird. Then +he told me his parents left him enough money to live +without working. He never did a solid hour's real +work in his whole life. With his talent and his personal +attractions he might become a famous musician +if he had some odds to fight against or some person to +encourage him and make him do his best. He said he +knows he never developed his talent to the full extent +but that since he knows me he is playing better than +he did before. I wonder if I really am an inspiration +to him. I suppose a genius does need a wife or +sympathetic friend to bring out the best in him. He +has been so lovely, showing his fondness for me in +many ways, but he has never said anything sentimental +like he did the day we sat by the fire. Sometimes he +does say ambiguous things that I can't understand. +He is surely giving me a long time to think it over. I +like him but I'm afraid he's cynical, and it worries me.</p> + +<p>There are other things, too, to dim the blue these +days. War clouds are threatening. U-boats of Germany +are sinking our vessels. Where will it all end?</p> + + +<div class='right'><i>April 7.</i></div> + +<p>War has been declared. America is in it at last. I +came home to-day feeling disheartened and sad. War +was the topic everywhere I went. Papers, bulletin-boards +flaunted the words, "The world must be made +safe for democracy." People on the streets and in +cars spoke about it, newsboys yelled till they were +hoarse.</p> + +<p>I stopped to see Virginia but she was out. Royal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258"></a><a href="images/258.png">[258]</a></span> +said he'd entertain me till she returned. He laughed +at my tragic weariness about the war.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you, Bluebird," he whispered as he sat beside +me, "we'll talk of something better. I love you."</p> + +<p>The fire in his eyes frightened me. I couldn't look +at him. "Why do you say such things?" I asked, and +I couldn't keep my voice from trembling.</p> + +<p>That didn't hush him—he said some more. He told +me how he loves me, how he waited for me all his life +and wants me with him. He quoted the verse I like +so much, "Thou beside me singing in the wilderness—O +wilderness were Paradise enow!" Then he asked +me frankly if I loved him.</p> + +<p>I couldn't answer right away. Now that the thing +I had dreamed of was actually happening I was dazed +and stupid and sat like a bump-on-a-log.</p> + +<p>He asked me again and before I knew what he was +doing he had taken me into his arms and kissed me. +"Say you love me," he pleaded.</p> + +<p>I said what he wanted to hear and he kissed me +again. We were both very happy. It is almost too +wonderful to believe!</p> + +<p>A few minutes later we heard Virginia enter the hall +and we came back to earth. I know my cheeks still +burned but Royal's ready poise served him well. He +told his cousin he had been trying to make me forget +about the war.</p> + +<p>Virginia probably thought my excitement was due +to the war. She began at once to speak about it. +"America is in it and we can't forget it. Every true +American must help."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259"></a><a href="images/259.png">[259]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do your bit, knit," chanted the musician.</p> + +<p>She asked him if he is going to do his bit. He +flushed and looked vexed, then explained that he can +neither knit nor fight, that he is a musician.</p> + +<p>Virginia argued that if he could play a violin he +could learn to play a bugle, that many of the men who +will fight for the flag are men who have never been +taught to fight. She spoke as if she thought Royal +should enlist in some branch of government service +at once.</p> + +<p>I resented her words. "Do you want Royal to go +to war and be killed?" I asked her.</p> + +<p>"My dear," she said solemnly, "have you ever +heard that there is such a thing as losing one's life by +trying to save it?"</p> + +<p>That startled me. I realized then that the war is +going to be a very serious matter, that there will be +work for each one of us to do. But Royal laughed +and made me forget temporarily every solemn, sad +thing. He told Virginia that she was over-zealous, +that she need not worry about him. He'd be a true +American and give his money to help protect the flag. +We began to play Bridge then and I thought no more +about the war for an hour or two.</p> + + +<div class='right'><i>April 12.</i></div> + +<p>I have learned to knit. Virginia has taught me and +we are elbow-deep in gray and khaki wool. I have +wound it and purled it and worked on the thing till +I'm tasting fuzz. But I do want to do the little bit +I can to help my country. This war <i>is</i> a serious mat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260"></a><a href="images/260.png">[260]</a></span>ter. +Already people are talking about who is going +to enlist—what if David would go! I hope he won't—yet +I don't want him to be a coward. Oh, it's all too +confusing and terrible to think long about. I try to +forget it for a time by remembering that Royal Lee +cares for me. He has told me over and over that he +loves me. Love <i>must</i> be blind, for he thinks I am +beautiful and perfect. I'm glad I look like that to +him. We should be happy when we are married, for +we are so congenial, both loving music and things of +beauty. It's queer, though, I have thought of it several +times—he has never mentioned our marriage. I +suppose he's too happy in the present to make plans for +the future. But I know he is a gentleman, therefore +his words of love are synonymous with an offer of +marriage. All that will come later. It's enough now +just to know we care for each other.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261"></a><a href="images/261.png">[261]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h3>DIARY—"THE LINK MUST BREAK AND THE LAMP +MUST DIE"</h3> + + +<div class='right'><i>April 13.</i></div> + +<p><span class="smcap">I'm</span> in sackcloth and ashes. My dream castles have +tumbled down upon my head and left me bruised and +sorrowful. I'm awake at last! I'd like to bury my +face in my old red and green patchwork quilt and ask +forgiveness for being a fool. But I must compose +myself and write this last chapter of my romance.</p> + +<p>Last night the "Singer with the Voice of Gold" +gave a recital in the Academy of Music. Royal and +I helped to make up a merry box party. I felt festive +and gay in my lovely white crepe georgette gown. +Royal said I looked like a dream and that made me +radiant, I know.</p> + +<p>As we sat down I whispered to him that I was excited +because hearing that great singer has always been +one of my dearest dreams and now the dream was +coming true. He whispered back that more of my +dreams would soon come true. I made him hush, for +several people were looking at us. But his words sent +my heart thrilling.</p> + +<p>The Academy became quiet as the singer appeared,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262"></a><a href="images/262.png">[262]</a></span> +then the audience gave her a real Brotherly Love welcome +and settled once more into silence as her beautiful +voice rose in the place. The operatic selections were +beautifully rendered. I thought her voice was most +captivating in the simple songs everybody knows. +Annie Laurie had new charm as she sang it. When +she sang that Royal whispered, "That is what I feel +for you." I smiled into his eyes, then turned again to +look at the singer. Could I ever sing like that? +Would the dreams of my childhood come true? It +seemed improbable and yet—I had traveled a long way +from the little girl of the tight braids and brown gingham +dresses, I thought. Perhaps the future would +bring still more wonderful changes.</p> + +<p>The hours in the Academy of Music passed like +a beautiful dream. I shrank from the last song, +though. It was too much like some fatal, dire +prophecy:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"The cord is frayed, the cruse is dry,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">The link must break, and the lamp must die—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Good-bye to hope! Good-bye, good-bye!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>I told Royal I didn't like it, it was too much like +Cassandra.</p> + +<p>He laughed and said she generally sings it, but that +it couldn't hurt us—was I superstitious?</p> + +<p>"No, oh, no," I declared. But I wished I could +forget the words of that song.</p> + +<p>Some of the party decided that a proper ending to +the delightful evening would be a visit to a fashionable +café. I didn't care to go. Royal urged me till<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263"></a><a href="images/263.png">[263]</a></span> +I consented and I soon found myself in a beautiful +place where merry groups of people were seated about +small tables. Any desire for food I might have had +left me as I heard Royal and the other men order +wines and highballs.</p> + +<p>"What will you have, Phœbe?" Royal asked me.</p> + +<p>I gasped—"Why—nothing."</p> + +<p>"Be a sport," he urged, "look around and do as +the 'Romans do.'"</p> + +<p>I looked around. Some of the women were smoking, +others were drinking.</p> + +<p>"Oh," I said, "this is dreadful. Let's go."</p> + +<p>Royal laughed and the others teased me. One of +the girls said I'd be doing all those things before the +year ended. When I declared I would not Royal reminded +me that I had said the same about cards and +dancing. His words silenced me. I felt engulfed in +shame and deeply hurt. How could Royal be amused +at my discomfiture if he loved me! Did he love me? +Did I want him to? Could I promise to honor and +love him all my life? But perhaps he was teasing +me—ah, that was it! I breathed more easily again. +Royal was teasing me, sure of my refusal to indulge +in any intoxicant. The others ate and made merry +while I toyed idly with the glass of ginger ale the +waiter brought me against my wish. I mused and +dreamed—would Royal like my people? Somehow, +he seemed an incongruity among the dear ones at the +gray farmhouse in Lancaster County. What would +he say when we ate in the kitchen and daddy came to +the table in his shirt sleeves? Love can bridge greater<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264"></a><a href="images/264.png">[264]</a></span> +chasms than that, I thought. When we are married——</p> + +<p>"Royal Lee, are you ever going to marry?" The +question broke into my revery.</p> + +<p>I looked at Royal. There was no rise of color in +his handsome face. He returned my look dispassionately +then turned to his teasing, inquisitive +friend.</p> + +<p>"I'm a bachelor forever," he declared. "But that +does not keep me from loving. Women I care for +have too much good sense to think that marriage always +follows love. Ye Gods, I think love goes when +marriage comes, so you'll have no chance to see my +love interred."</p> + +<p>I clenched my hands under the table. I felt my lips +go white. How could he hurt me so? Of course our +love was not a thing to be paraded in a public place but +if he really cared for me as I thought he did he could +have answered differently. An evasive answer would +have served. An hour ago he had whispered tender +words to me and now he frankly informed all present +that he was a bachelor forever. I could not grasp the +full significance of his words at once. I was dazed +by the shock of them. I wanted to get away and be +alone, to cry, to think, to determine what he had meant +by his demonstrations of love if he did not hope to win +me for his wife.</p> + +<p>But later, when I went to bed in the pretty blue and +white room next Virginia's, I did not cry. I lay wide +awake thinking over and over, "How could he do +it? Why is he heartless? Was he only playing?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265"></a><a href="images/265.png">[265]</a></span></p> + +<p>When morning came I had partially decided that I +had been a ready, silly fool; that Royal Lee had merely +whiled the hours away more pleasantly because of my +love. I felt tempted to denounce him but I thought +that would afford him additional amusement and make +me not a whit less miserable. I was eager to get away +from him. I desired but one little moment alone with +him to satisfy myself that I did not judge him unjustly. +Fortunately he came to the sitting-room as I +sat there staring at the page of a magazine.</p> + +<p>"Alone?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Phœbe"—he drew nearer and I rose and stood +away from him. "My Bluebird! You look unhappy. +Are you still shocked at the smoking and drinking you +saw last night? It's all in the game, you know. Why +not be happy along with the rest of us, why be a +prude?"</p> + +<p>I shivered. Couldn't he know why I was unhappy! +How false and fickle he was! I wouldn't wear my +heart on my sleeve for him to read and laugh about. +All my Metz determination rose in me.</p> + +<p>"Why," I lied, "I'm not unhappy. I'm just tired. +Late hours don't agree with me."</p> + +<p>He stretched out his arm but I eluded him. +"Don't," I said lightly; "we've been foolish long +enough."</p> + +<p>"Why"—he looked at me keenly. But I was determined +he should not read my feelings. I smiled in +spite of my contempt for him. "Why, Phœbe," he +said tenderly, "what has changed you? Why shouldn't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266"></a><a href="images/266.png">[266]</a></span> +I kiss you when I love you? Love never hurt any +one."</p> + +<p>"No—but——"</p> + +<p>"But what?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing," I said, stepping farther away from +him. "I'm in a hurry this morning. Good-bye." +And for the first time I saw a look of chagrin mar +the handsome face of Royal Lee. Before he could +recover his customary equanimity I was gone from +the house.</p> + +<p>I walked, caring not where the way led. My brain +was in a whirl. I felt as though I were fleeing from +a crumbling precipice. In a flash I understood Virginia's +tactful attempts at warning. She had tried to +make me understand but my head was too easily +turned by the fine speeches and flattering attentions of +the musician. I have been vain and foolish but I've +had my lesson. It still hurts and yet I can see the +value of it. I'll be better qualified after this to discriminate +between the false and true.</p> + +<p>I am going home to-day! It came to me suddenly +as I went back to my boarding-house after my long +walk. I promised David I'd come home for arbutus +and the inspiration came to go home for the whole +spring and summer. I'll write a note to Mr. Krause +and one to Virginia. Dear Virginia, she has been so +good to me and helped me in so many ways! I can +never thank her enough. These eight months in +Philadelphia have been a liberal education for me. +I'll never regret them. I hope to come back in the +fall and go on with the music lessons. By that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267"></a><a href="images/267.png">[267]</a></span> +time Royal Lee will have found another to make +love to.</p> + +<p>So I'm going home to-day, back to Lancaster +County. The trees are green and the flowers are out—oh, +I'm wild to get back!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268"></a><a href="images/268.png">[268]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h3>"HAME'S BEST"</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Lancaster County</span> never before looked so fertile, +so lovely, as it did that April day when Phœbe returned +to it after a long winter in Philadelphia.</p> + +<p>As she came unexpectedly there was no one to meet +her at Greenwald. She started across the street and +was soon on the dusty road leading to the gray farmhouse.</p> + +<p>"Let me see," she thought, "this is Friday afternoon +and Aunt Maria will be scrubbing the kitchen +floor."</p> + +<p>But when the girl reached the kitchen of the gray +house and tiptoed gently over the sill she found the +big room in order and Aunt Maria absent.</p> + +<p>"Why," she thought, "is Aunt Maria sick?" She +opened the door to the sitting-room and there, seated +by a window, was Aunt Maria with a ball of gray wool +in her lap and five steel knitting needles plying in her +hands.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Maria!"</p> + +<p>"Why, Phœbe!"</p> + +<p>The exclamations came simultaneously.</p> + +<p>"What in the world are you doing? I mean why +aren't you cleaning the kitchen? Oh, Aunt Maria,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269"></a><a href="images/269.png">[269]</a></span> +you know what I mean! I never saw you sitting down +early on a Friday afternoon."</p> + +<p>Aunt Maria laughed. "I ain't sick! You can see +what I'm doin'; I'm knittin'. Ain't you learned to +do it yet? I can learn you."</p> + +<p>"Why, I know how. But what are you knitting? +For the Red Cross?"</p> + +<p>"Why not? You think the ladies in Phildelphy are +the only ones do that? There's a Red Cross in Greenwald +and they are askin' all who can to help. I used +to knit all my own stockings still so I thought I'd pitch +right in. I let the cleanin' slide a little this week so +I could get a good start on this once."</p> + +<p>The girl gasped and looked at her aunt in wonder. +All the days of her life she had never known her aunt +to "let the cleanin' slide," if the physical strength were +there to do the work. Aunt Maria was working for +the Red Cross! While she, who had scorned the +country folks and called them narrow, had knitted +half-heartedly and spent the major part of her time +in the pursuit of pleasure, the people of the little town +and surrounding country had been doing real work +for humanity.</p> + +<p>"I think you're splendid, Aunt Maria, to help the +Red Cross," she said with enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>The woman looked up from her knitting. "Why, +how dumb you talk! I guess abody wants to help. +Them soldiers are fightin' for us. Now you can get +yourself something to eat. It vonders me, anyhow, +why you come home this time of the year. You said +you'd stay till June."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270"></a><a href="images/270.png">[270]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I came because I want to be here."</p> + +<p>"So. Then I guess you got enough once of the +city."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Phœbe, laughing. "But how is everybody?"</p> + +<p>"All pretty good. But a lot of boys from round +here went a'ready to enlist. I ain't for war, but I +guess it has to come sometimes. But it's hard for +them that has boys."</p> + +<p>"David?" Phœbe asked. "Has he gone?"</p> + +<p>"Ach, no, not him. He's got his mom to take +care of."</p> + +<p>Phœbe remembered Virginia's words, "We can't +get away from it, we're in it." The thought of them +made her feel depressed. "I'm going to forget the +war," she thought after a moment, "I'm going to forget +it for to-morrow and have one perfect day in the +mountains hunting arbutus."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271"></a><a href="images/271.png">[271]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<h3>TRAILING ARBUTUS</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was a balmy day in April when Phœbe and David +drove over the country roads to the mountains where +the trailing arbutus grow.</p> + +<p>"Spring o' the year," called the meadow-larks in +clear, piercing tones.</p> + +<p>"It is spring o' the year," said Phœbe. "I know +it now. But last week I felt sure that the calendar +was wrong and I wondered whether God made only +English sparrows this year; that was all I could see. +Then I saw a few birds early this week when we went +along the Wissahickon for a long walk. Oh, no," +she said in answer to the unspoken question in his eyes, +"I did not go alone with a man. In Philadelphia one +does not do that. I went properly chaperoned by +Mrs. Hale. Virginia and Royal and several others +were in the party. You should have been there; you +would have enjoyed it for you know so much about +birds and flowers. Royal didn't know a spring beauty +from a bloodroot, and when we heard a song-sparrow +he said it was a thrush."</p> + +<p>David threw back his head and laughed. "Some +nature student he must be! But it must be fine along +the Wissahickon. I have read about it."</p> + +<p>"It is fine, but this is finer."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272"></a><a href="images/272.png">[272]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You better say so!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, look, David, the soil is pink!" She pointed +to a tilled field whose soil was colored a soft old rose +color. "I'm always glad to see the pink soil."</p> + +<p>"So am I. It means that we are getting near the +mountains. We'll drive over to Hull's tavern and +leave the carriage there, then we can go to the patch +of woods near the tavern where we used to find the +great beauties, the fine big ones. There's the old +tavern now." He pointed to a building with a fine +background of wooded hills.</p> + +<p>Hull's tavern, a rambling structure erected in 1812, +is still an interesting stopping-place for summer excursionists +and travelers through that mountainous +section of Pennsylvania. Situated on the south side +of the beautiful South Mountains and overlooking the +richest of hills, it has long been a popular roadhouse, +accommodating many pleasure parties and hikers.</p> + +<p>Phœbe wandered about on the long porches while +David took the horse to the stable.</p> + +<p>"Now then," he said as he joined her, "give me the +lunch box and we'll be off."</p> + +<p>They walked a short distance in the loamy soil of +the mountain road and then turned aside and scrambled +up a steep bank to a tract of woodland. Phœbe +sank on her knees in the dry, brown leaves and pushed +aside the leaves. "There," she cried in triumph a +moment later, "I found the first one!" She lifted a +small cluster of trailing arbutus and gave it to David.</p> + +<p>"Um-ah," he said, in imitation of a little girl of +long ago.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273"></a><a href="images/273.png">[273]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Little Dutchie," she answered. "But you can't +provoke me to-day. I'm too happy to be peevish. +Come, kneel down, you'll never find arbutus when you +stand up."</p> + +<p>"I'm down," he said as he knelt beside her. "I'd +go on my knees to find arbutus any day."</p> + +<p>"So would I—— Oh, look at this—and this! +They are perfect." She fairly trembled with joy as +she uncovered the waxlike flowers of dainty pink and +white. "I could bury my nose in them forever."</p> + +<p>"They are perfect," agreed the man. "Fancy living +where you never saw any arbutus or had the joy +of picking them."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to fancy that, it's too delicious being +where they do grow. Won't Mother Bab love them?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. She'll keep them for days in water. That +flower you gave her in Philadelphia lasted four +days."</p> + +<p>"These are better," Phœbe said quickly, anxious +to shut out all thoughts of the city. Now that she +was in the woods again she knew how hungry she had +been for them. "I am going to pick a bunch of big +ones for Mother Bab."</p> + +<p>"She would like the small ones every whit as much," +the man declared.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps better," she mused. "She would say +they are just as sweet and pretty. David, I don't know +what I should have done without Mother Bab! My +life was different, somehow, after she allowed me to +adopt her."</p> + +<p>"She's great, isn't she?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274"></a><a href="images/274.png">[274]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Wonderful! I have many friends, many new +ones, many dear ones, but there is only one Mother +Bab."</p> + +<p>The man's hands trembled among the arbutus—did +the admiration touch Mother Bab's son? Could the +dreams of his heart ever come true?</p> + +<p>"You know," Phœbe went on, "if I could always +have her near me, in the same house, I'd be less unworthy +of calling her Mother Bab."</p> + +<p>It was well that she bent over the dry leaves and +blossoms and missed the look that flooded the face of +the man for a moment. She wanted to be with +Mother Bab—should he tell her of his love? But the +very fact that she spoke thus was evidence that she +did not love him as he desired. And the war must +change his most cherished plans for the future, change +them greatly for a time. If he went and never returned +it would be harder for her if he went as her +lover. As it was he was merely her old comrade and +friend; he could read from her manner that no deeper +feeling had touched her—not for him, but he wondered +about the musician——</p> + +<p>The spell was broken when Phœbe spoke again: +"Do you know, Davie, I read somewhere that arbutus +can't be made to grow anywhere except in its own +woods, that the most skilful hand of man or woman +can't transplant it to a garden where the soil is different +from its native soil."</p> + +<p>"I never heard that before, but I remember that I +tried several times and failed. I dug up a big box of +the soil to make it grow, but it lasted several months<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275"></a><a href="images/275.png">[275]</a></span> +and died. Let us go along this path and find a new +bed; we have almost cleaned this one."</p> + +<p>"See"—she raised her bunch of flowers—"I didn't +take a single root, so next year when we come we +shall find as many as this year. They are too altogether +lovely to be exterminated."</p> + +<p>They moved about the woods, finding new patches +of the fragrant flowers, until they declared it would +be robbery to take another one.</p> + +<p>"Let's eat," she suggested; "I'm hungry as a bear."</p> + +<p>"Race you to that big rock," cried David and began +to run. Phœbe followed through the brush and dry +leaves, but the farmer covered the distance too quickly +for her.</p> + +<p>"Now I'm hungry," she said, panting; "I'll eat +more than my share of the lunch."</p> + +<p>She climbed to the top of the boulder and they sat +side by side, the lunch box resting on David's knees.</p> + +<p>"Now anything you want ask for," said he.</p> + +<p>"I will not!" She delved into the box and brought +out a sandwich. "It's mine as much as yours."</p> + +<p>"Going in for Woman's Suffrage and Rights and +the like?" he asked, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Ugh," she wrinkled her nose, "don't mention +things like that to-day. I don't want to hear about +war or work or problems or anything but just pure joy +this day! I earned this perfect day this year. This +is to be a day of all-joy for us. Have another sandwich? +I'm going to—this makes only four more left +for each. Aunt Maria knew what she was doing +when she made me take this big box of lunch for just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276"></a><a href="images/276.png">[276]</a></span> +us two. Now, aren't you glad that I brought lunch +in a box instead of eating our dinner at Hull's as you +suggested?" she said as she kicked her feet, little girl +fashion, against the side of the boulder.</p> + +<p>"Of course I am glad. I was afraid you might +like dinner at the tavern better, that is why I suggested +it."</p> + +<p>"Don't you know me better than that? Why, we +can eat in dining-rooms three hundred and sixty-four +days in every year. This is one day when we eat in +the birds' dining-room."</p> + +<p>"I am enjoying it, Phœbe. It is the first picnic I +have had for a long time. I can't tell how I'm drinking +in the joy of it."</p> + +<p>"Now," said Phœbe later, when the last crumb had +been taken out of the lunch box, "we can pack the +arbutus in this box. If you find some damp moss I'll +arrange them."</p> + +<p>She laid the flowers on the cushion of moss, covered +them with a few damp leaves and closed the box. +"That will keep them fresh," she said. "Now for +our drink of mountain water, then home again."</p> + +<p>Farther in the woods they found the spring. In a +little cove edged with laurel bushes and overhung with +chestnut trees and tall oaks it sent up a bubbling fountain +of cold water.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry the picnic is over," said Phœbe as she +leaned over the clear water and drank the cold +draught.</p> + +<p>"There is still the lovely drive home," he consoled +her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277"></a><a href="images/277.png">[277]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," she said as they turned and walked back +through the woods to the road again, "and I shall remember +this day for a long time. In the spring it's +dreadful to be shut in the city."</p> + +<p>"I believe you are growing tired of Philadelphia."</p> + +<p>"Yes and no. I love the many things to do and +see there, but on a day like this I think the country is +the place to really enjoy the spring. I wish you could +come down some time to the city; there are many +places of interest you would like to visit."</p> + +<p>"Yes." He opened his lips to tell her that he was +soon to be in the service of his country, then he remembered +that she had said she did not want to hear +the word war on that day, it must be a day of all joy, +so he closed his mouth resolutely and merely smiled in +answer as she entered the carriage for the ride home. +They spoke of many things; she was gay with the +childish happiness she always felt in the woods or open +country roads. He answered her gaiety, but his heart +ached. What did the future hold for him? Would +she, perchance, love another before he could return—would +he return?</p> + +<p>"Look," Phœbe said after they had driven several +miles, "it is going to storm—see how dark! We are +going to have an April storm."</p> + +<p>Even as they looked up black clouds moved swiftly +across the sky. They turned and looked toward the +mountains behind them—the summits were shrouded +in dense blackness; the whole countryside was being +enveloped in a gloom like the gloom of late twilight. +There was an ominous silence in the air, living things<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278"></a><a href="images/278.png">[278]</a></span> +of the fields and woods scurried to shelter; only a solitary +red-headed woodpecker tapped noisily upon a +dead tree trunk.</p> + +<p>Suddenly sharp flashes of lightning darted in zigzag +rays through the gloom.</p> + +<p>Phœbe gripped the side of the carriage. "The +storm is following us," she said. "Look at the hills—they +are black as night. Can we get home before the +storm breaks over us?"</p> + +<p>"Hardly. It travels faster than we can, and we +still have four more miles to go."</p> + +<p>The horse sniffed the air through inflated nostrils +and sped unbidden over the country road. The lightning +grew more vivid and blinding and darted among +the hills with greater frequency; loud peals of thunder +echoed and reëchoed among the mountains. Then the +rain came. In great splashes, which increased rapidly, +it poured its cool torrents upon the earth.</p> + +<p>Phœbe laughed but David shook his head. "We'll +have to stop some place till it's over. You're getting +wet. I'll drive in this barnyard."</p> + +<p>Amid the deafening crashes of thunder and the +steady downpour of rain they ran through the barnyard +and up the path that led to the house. As they +stepped upon the porch a door was opened and a +woman appeared.</p> + +<p>"Why, come right in!" she greeted them. "This +is a bad storm."</p> + +<p>"If you don't mind," Phœbe began, but the woman +was talkative and broke in, "Now, I just knowed +there'd be company come to-day yet! This after when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279"></a><a href="images/279.png">[279]</a></span> +I dried the dishes I dropped a knife and fork and +that's a sure sign. Mebbe you don't believe in +signs?"</p> + +<p>"They come true sometimes," said Phœbe.</p> + +<p>"Ach, yes, my granny used to plant her garden by +the signs in the almanac. Cabbage, now, must be +planted in the up-sign. But mebbe you're hungry +after your drive? I'll get some cake."</p> + +<p>"We had lunch——"</p> + +<p>"Ach, if your man's like mine he can eat cake any +time." She opened a door that led to the cellar and +soon returned with a plate piled high with cake. +"Now eat," she invited. "But, ach, I just thought +of it—you said you come from Greenwald—then I +guess you know about Caleb Warner dying, killing +himself, or something."</p> + +<p>"Caleb Warner dying!" David echoed. He half +started from his chair, then sank with a visible effort at +self-control.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I guess you know him. My mister was in +to dinner a while ago and he said it went over the +'phone at Risser's and Jacob Risser told him that Caleb +Warner of Greenwald was dead. It was from gas or +something funny like that. It's the Warner that sold +that oil stock and gold stock. You know him?"</p> + +<p>David nodded, his lips dry.</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess now a lot of people will lose money. +There's a lady lives near here that gave him almost all +her money for some of his stock. For a while she got +big interest from it, but then it stopped and now she +ain't got hardly enough money to live. And I guess a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280"></a><a href="images/280.png">[280]</a></span> +lot will lose money. My mister had no time for that +stock. But if the man's dead now we should let him +rest, I guess."</p> + +<p>"Yes——" David braced himself. "The rain is +over. Phœbe, we must go."</p> + +<p>He smiled to the little woman as he gripped her +hand. "You have been very kind to us and we appreciate +it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed," echoed Phœbe. "I hope we have +not kept you from your work."</p> + +<p>"Ach, I can work enough to-day yet. I like company +and I don't have much of it week-days. Um, +ain't it good smelly after the rain?" She sniffed, +smiling, as she followed Phœbe and David down the +path to the barnyard.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye," she called as they drove off. "Safe +home."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. Good-bye," Phœbe called over the +side of the carriage. Then, as they entered again +upon the country road, she turned to her place beside +David.</p> + +<p>She looked up at him. All the light and joy had +faded from his face; he stared straight head, though +he must have felt her eyes' intent gaze upon him.</p> + +<p>"David," she said softly, "what is wrong?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," he lied.</p> + +<p>"Seems you look different," she persisted. "Is it +anything about Caleb Warner's death?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not much of a stoic, Phœbe. I should have +hidden my worry. But you must forget it; we must +not let it spoil our perfect day. It really is no great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281"></a><a href="images/281.png">[281]</a></span> +matter. I am affected, in some way you can't know, +by his death, but I'll get over it," he tried to treat the +matter lightly.</p> + +<p>But Phœbe felt a sudden heaviness of heart. She +was almost certain that David had had no money to +buy any stock from Caleb Warner, therefore, she +jumped to the conclusion, it must be that David cared +for Mary Warner, as town gossip said he did, and that +the death of the girl's father would affect him. She +felt hurt and baffled and sorely rebuffed at the withholding +of David's confidence and was worried as she +saw the marks of worry in the face of the man. +Womanlike, she felt certain that the other girl was +not good enough for David. Mary Warner, beautiful, +aristocratic in bearing and manner—what had she +to do with a man like David Eby! Was an incipient +engagement with Mary Warner the Aladdin's lamp +David had mentioned several times as being on the +verge of rubbing and thus become rich? The thought +left her trembling; she shivered in the April sunshine. +When David spoke it was with an abstracted manner, +and the girl beside him finally said, "Oh, don't let us +talk. Let us just sit and look at the fields and enjoy +the scenery."</p> + +<p>She said it calmly enough, but the man beside her +could not know that it required the last shreds of her +courage to keep her voice from breaking. She would +not let David see that she cared if he did care for Mary +Warner! Of course, she didn't want to marry him, it +was merely that she knew Mary was too haughty for +him. Mother Bab would also say that he was too<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282"></a><a href="images/282.png">[282]</a></span> +different from Mary, that he was too fine for her. +Then she remembered that Mother Bab had said on the +previous evening that the Warners had taken David +to Hershey recently in their fine new car. She shook +herself in an effort at self-control. "Phœbe," she +thought, "you're selfish! You go to Philadelphia and +you go out with Royal Lee and dance with other young +men, and yet, when David pays attention to another +girl you have a spasm!"</p> + +<p>But the self-administered discipline failed to correct +her attitude. She knew their day of all-joy was +changed for her as it had been changed for David. +The jealousy in her heart could not be quite overcome. +She was glad when they reached familiar fields and +were on the road near Greenwald.</p> + +<p>"Will you come in?" she invited as she left the +carriage.</p> + +<p>"No. I better go right home."</p> + +<p>"I'll divide the flowers, David."</p> + +<p>"Oh, keep them all."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed. Mother Bab would be disappointed +if you brought her none."</p> + +<p>She opened the box, separated half of the arbutus +from their mates and laid them in the uplifted corner +of her coat. "There," she said, "the rest are yours +and Mother Bab's. It was perfect in the woods to-day. +Thank you——"</p> + +<p>But he interrupted her. "It is I who must say that, +Phœbe! This has been a great day. I'll never forget +the glorious hour when we were on our knees and +pushed away the leaves and found the arbutus. That<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283"></a><a href="images/283.png">[283]</a></span> +is something to take with one, to remember when the +days are not perfect as this one."</p> + +<p>He laid his fingers a moment on her hand as she +held the corner of her coat to keep the flowers from +falling, then he turned and jumped into the carriage.</p> + +<p>"Give my love to Mother Bab," she said.</p> + +<p>He turned, smiled and nodded, then started off. +Phœbe stood at the gate and watched the carriage as +it went slowly up the steep road by the hill. Her +thoughts were with the man who was going home to +his mother, going with trailing arbutus in his hands +and some great unhappiness in his heart.</p> + +<p>"Is it always so?" she thought. "We carry fragrance +in our hands, but what in our hearts?" For +the time she was once more the old sympathetic, natural +Phœbe, eager to help her friend in need, feeling +the divine longing to comfort one who was miserable. +"Oh, Davie, Davie," she thought as she went into the +house, "I wish I could help you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284"></a><a href="images/284.png">[284]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + +<h3>MOTHER BAB AND HER SON</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">When</span> David drove over the brow of the hill and +down the green lane to the little house he called home +he caught sight of his mother in her garden. He +whistled. At the sound Mother Bab rose from the +soft earth in which she was working and straightened, +smiling. She raised a hand to shade her eyes and +waited for the coming of her boy, dreaming of a possible +separation from him, dreaming long mother-dreams +while he took the horse and carriage to the +barn.</p> + +<p>When he returned he had mustered all his courage +and was smiling—he would be a stoic as long as he +could, but he knew that his mother would soon discover +that all was not well with him.</p> + +<p>"Here, mother." He gave her the box of arbutus.</p> + +<p>"Then you got some, Davie!" She buried her face +in the cool, sweet blossoms. "Oh, how sweet they +are! Did you and Phœbe have a good time? Did +she enjoy it as much as she always used to enjoy a day +in the woods?"</p> + +<p>She looked up suddenly from the flowers and caught +him unawares. "What is wrong?" she asked with +real concern. "Did you and Phœbe fall out?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285"></a><a href="images/285.png">[285]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," he shook his head. He knew that attempts +at subterfuge and evasion would be vain. "No, mommie, +no use trying to deceive you any longer—I fell +out with myself—I wish I could keep it from you," he +added slowly; "I know it's going to hurt you."</p> + +<p>"You tell me, Davie. I've lived sixty years and +never yet met a trouble I couldn't live through. Tell +me about it."</p> + +<p>She placed the box of arbutus in the garden path and +laid her hand on his arm.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mommie," he blurted out, almost sobbing, +"I'm ashamed of myself! You'll be ashamed of your +boy."</p> + +<p>"It's no girl——" the mother hesitated.</p> + +<p>He answered with a vehement, "No!"</p> + +<p>"Then tell me," she said softly. "I can look in +your eyes and hear you tell me most anything so long +as you need not tell me that you have broken the heart +or spoiled the soul of a girl."</p> + +<p>She spoke gently, but the man cried out, "Thank +God, I have nothing like that to confess! You know +there is only one girl for me. I could never look into +her eyes if I had betrayed the trust of any girl. I have +dreamed of growing into a man she could love and +marry, but I failed. I wanted to offer her more than +slavery on a farm, I wanted to have something more +than the few hundreds I scraped together. I took the +five hundred dollars we skimped for and bought stock +of Caleb Warner—you heard that he died?"</p> + +<p>"Phares told me."</p> + +<p>"I guess the five hundred dollars is gone with him!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286"></a><a href="images/286.png">[286]</a></span> +I heard of other men getting rich by buying gold and +oil stock so I took a chance and staked all the spare +money I had."</p> + +<p>"It was your money, Davie."</p> + +<p>"You called it mine, but you helped to earn and save +it. Caleb promised me he would sell half of the stock +for me at a great profit in a week or two, and I could +keep the other half for the big dividends it would pay +me soon—now he's dead, and the stock is probably +worthless."</p> + +<p>He looked miserably at her troubled face. She +flung her arm about him and led him to a seat under +the budded cherry tree. "We must sit down and talk +it over," she said. "Perhaps it isn't so bad as you +think. Are you sure the stock is worth nothing? +Perhaps you can get something out of it."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I can." He brightened at the suggestion.</p> + +<p>"Well," she went on, "I can't say that I think you +did right to buy the stock and try to get rich quick. +You know that money gotten that way is tainted +money, more or less. To earn what you have and +have a little is better and safer than to have much and +get it in such a way. But it's too late to preach about +that now—I guess I didn't tell you that often enough +and hard enough before this, or else you wouldn't have +wanted to buy the stock. It is partly my fault, for I +thought some time ago you talked as though you were +getting the money craze, but I thought it would soon +wear off. You did a foolish thing, but there's no use +crying about it. You see you did wrong and are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287"></a><a href="images/287.png">[287]</a></span> +sorry, so that is all there is to it. I'm not sorry you +lost on the stock, for if you made on it the craze would +go deeper. I can live without the few extra things +that money would buy."</p> + +<p>"Don't be so forgiving, mother! Scold me! I'd +feel less like a criminal. But here comes Phares; he'll +give me the scolding you're saving me."</p> + +<p>The preacher crossed the lawn and advanced to the +seat under the cherry tree.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Barbara," he began, then noted the troubled +look on the face of David and asked, "What is +wrong?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said David, "except that I have some +of Caleb Warner's stock."</p> + +<p>"You do? Whatever made you buy that?"</p> + +<p>David spoke as calmly as possible. "I wanted to +be rich, that's all. But I guess I was never intended +to be that."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you are going to be sorry," said the +preacher very soberly. "I just came from town and +they say things look bad for the investors. They said +first that Warner was asphyxiated accidentally, but he +was so deep in a hole with investing and re-investing +other people's money and his own and he had lost so +much that people think this was the easiest way out of +it all for him. I suppose it will be hushed up and no +one will ever know just how he died. There are at +least twenty people in town and farms near here who +are worried about their money since he died. Did you +have much stock?"</p> + +<p>"Five hundred dollars' worth."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288"></a><a href="images/288.png">[288]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If people were as eager to lay up treasures in +heaven——" the preacher said thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"If they were," said David, struggling to keep the +wrath from his words and voice. "I know, Phares, +you can't understand why everybody should not be as +good as you. I wish I were—mother should have had +a son like you. I'm the black sheep of the Eby family, +I suppose."</p> + +<p>"No, no!" cried Mother Bab. "We all make mistakes! +You are good and noble, David. I am proud +of you, even if you do err sometimes."</p> + +<p>"We must make the best of it," said the preacher. +"Perhaps the stock is not quite worthless. If I were +you I'd go to the lawyer in Lancaster. He'll see you +at his house if you 'phone in."</p> + +<p>"Mighty good to think of that for me," said David, +gripping the hand of his cousin. "I'll go in to-night."</p> + +<p>Several hours later David Eby sat before a lawyer +and waited for the verdict. "I'm sorry," the lawyer +shook his head. "The stock is worthless. Six months +ago you might have sold it; now it's dead as a door-nail."</p> + +<p>"Guess it was a wildcat scheme," said David.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later he went out to the street. His +Aladdin's lamp was smashed! What a fool he had +been!</p> + +<p>When he reached home Mother Bab read the news +in his face. "Never mind," she said bravely, "we'll +get along without that money."</p> + +<p>"Yes—but"—David spoke slowly, as if fearing to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289"></a><a href="images/289.png">[289]</a></span> +hurt her further—"I hoped to have a nice bank account +for you to draw on when—when I go."</p> + +<p>"You mean——" Mother Bab stopped suddenly. +Something choked her, but she faced him squarely and +looked up into his face.</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother, I mean that I must go. You want +me to go, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." The word came slowly, but David knew +how truly she felt it. "You must go. I knew it right +away when I saw that we were called of God to help +in the fight for world peace and righteousness. You +must go; there is nothing to keep you. Phares will +look after the little farm. I spoke to him about it last +week——"</p> + +<p>"Mother, you knew then!"</p> + +<p>"I saw it in your face as soon as war was declared. +Phares was lovely about it and said he could just as +well take your few acres in with his and pay a percentage +to me for the crops he'll get from them. Phares +is kind; he has a big heart, for all his queer ways and +his strict views."</p> + +<p>"Phares is too good to be related to me, mommie. +I'm ashamed of myself."</p> + +<p>"Ach, you two are just different, that's all. I can +go over and stay at their house. Did you tell Phœbe +you are going?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head. "I couldn't tell her yesterday. +We had such a great day in the woods finding the arbutus, +eating our lunch on a rock and acting just like we +used to when we were ten years younger. She never +mentioned war and I could not seem to break into that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290"></a><a href="images/290.png">[290]</a></span> +day of gladness to speak about the subject. I meant +to tell her all about it when we got home, but then that +storm came up and we stopped at a farmhouse and I +heard about Caleb Warner. It struck me so hard I +was just no good after that. I'll be a dandy soldier, +won't I?"</p> + +<p>He laughed and took the little woman in his arms. +When, some moments later, he held the white-capped +mother at arms' length and smiled into her face neither +knew if the wet lashes were caused by laughter or +tears.</p> + +<p>"Some soldier you'll make," she said as she looked +at him, tall, broad of shoulder, straight of spine. +"Some soldier or sailor you'll make!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291"></a><a href="images/291.png">[291]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + +<h3>PREPARATIONS</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> days following the death of Caleb Warner +were days of anxiety to other inhabitants of the little +town who, like David, had purchased stock with glorious +visions of sudden gain. In a short time the list +of Warner's unfortunate investors was known and +they were accorded various degrees of sympathy, rebuke +or ridicule. The thing that hurt David was not +so much the knowledge that some were speaking of +him in condemnation or pity as the fact that he merited +the condemnation.</p> + +<p>But he had neither time nor inclination for self-pity. +His country was calling for his services and he knew +his duty was to offer himself. He could not conscientiously +say his mother had urgent need of him for he +knew that the little farm would supply enough for her +maintenance.</p> + +<p>Phares Eby, although a preacher among a sect who, +as a sect, could not sanction the bearing of arms, accepted +the decision of his cousin with no show of disapproval. +"I don't believe in wars," he said gravely, +"but there seems to be no other way this time. One +of the Eby family should go. I'll be glad to keep up +your farm and help look after your mother while you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292"></a><a href="images/292.png">[292]</a></span> +are gone. The most I can do here will be less than you +are going to do, but I'll raise the best crops I can and +help in the food end of it."</p> + +<p>"You'll do your part here, Phares, and it will count. +You're a bona-fide farmer. You'll have our little +place a record farm when I get back. You're a brick, +Phares!" For the first time in months he felt a genuine +affection for his preacher cousin. Preaching, prosaic +Phares, how kind he was!</p> + +<p>Lancaster County measured up to its fair standard +in those first trying days of recruit gathering. The +sons of the nation answered when she called. Pennsylvania +Dutch, hundreds of them, rallied round the +flag and proved beyond a doubt that the real Pennsylvania +Dutch are not German-American, but loyal, +four-square Americans who are keeping the faith. +Two hundred years ago the ancestors of the present +Pennsylvania Dutch came to this country to escape +tyranny, and the love of freedom has been transmitted +from one generation to another. The plain sects, so +flourishing in some portions of the Keystone State, +consider war an evil, yet scores of men in navy blue +and army khaki have come from homes where the +mother wears the white cap, and have gone forth to +do their part in the struggle for world freedom.</p> + +<p>As David Eby measured the days before his departure +he felt grateful to Mother Bab for refraining +from long homilies of advice. Her whole life was a +living epistle of truth and nobility and she was wise +enough to discern that what her son wanted most in +their last days together was her customary cheerful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293"></a><a href="images/293.png">[293]</a></span>ness—although +he knew that at times the cheerfulness +was a bit bluffed!</p> + +<p>News travels fast, even in rural communities. The +people on the Metz farm soon learned of David's loss +of money and of his desire to enter the navy.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you tell me about the stock?" Phœbe +chided him.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't. It knocked me out—it changed some +of my plans. I knew you'd despise me and I couldn't +stand that too that day."</p> + +<p>"Despise you! How foolish to think that. Of +course it's better to earn your money, but I think you +learned your lesson."</p> + +<p>"I have. I'll never try to get rich quick."</p> + +<p>"And you're going to war!" The words were +almost a cry. "What does Mother Bab say? How +dreadful for her!"</p> + +<p>"Dreadful?" he asked gently. "Phœbe, think a +minute—would you rather be the mother of a soldier +or sailor than the mother of a slacker?"</p> + +<p>"I would," she cried. "A thousand times rather!" +She clutched his sleeve in her old impetuous manner. +"I see now what it means, what war must mean to us! +We must serve and be glad to do it. Your going is +making it real for me. I'm proud of you and I know +Mother Bab must be just about bursting with pride, for +she always did think you are the grandest son in the +wide world."</p> + +<p>"Phœbe, you always stroke me with the grain."</p> + +<p>"That sounds as if you were a wooden pussy-cat," +she said merrily. "But you are just being funny to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294"></a><a href="images/294.png">[294]</a></span> +hide your deeper feelings. I know you, David Eby! +Bet your heart's like lead this minute!"</p> + +<p>"'I have no heart,'" he quoted. "'The place +where my heart was you could roll a turnip in.'"</p> + +<p>She laughed, then suddenly grew sober. "I've been +horribly selfish," she said. "Having fine clothes and +a good time and dreaming of fame through my voice +have taken all my time during the past winter. I have +taken only the husks of life and discarded the kernels. +I'm ashamed of myself."</p> + +<p>"You mustn't condemn yourself too much. It's +natural to pass through a period when those things +seem the greatest things in the world, but if we do not +shake off their influence and see the need of having +real things to lay hold on we need to be jolted. I was +money-mad, but I had my jolt."</p> + +<p>"Then we can both make a fresh beginning. And +we'll try hard to be worthy of Mother Bab, won't we, +David?"</p> + +<p>David was mute; he could merely nod his head in +answer. Worthy of Mother Bab—what a goal! How +sweet the name sounded from Phœbe's lips! Should +he tell her of his love for her? He looked into her +face. Her eyes were like clear blue pools but they +mirrored only sisterly affection, he thought. Ah, well, +he would be unselfish enough to go away without telling +of the hope of his heart. If he came back there +would be ample time to tell her; it was needless to bind +her to a long-absent lover. If he came back crippled—if +he never came back at all—— Oh, why delve +into the future!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295"></a><a href="images/295.png">[295]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXX</h2> + +<h3>THE FEAST OF ROSES</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the little town of Greenwald there is performed +each year in June an interesting ceremony, the Feast +of Roses.</p> + +<p>The origin of it dates back to the early colonial days +when wigwam fires blazed in many clearings of this +great land and Indians, fashioned after the similitude +of bronze images, stole among the stalwart trees of the +primeval forests. In those days, about the year 1762, +a tract of land containing the present site of the little +town of Greenwald fell into the hands of a German, +who was so charmed by the fertility and beauty of the +fields encircled by the winding Chicques Creek that he +laid out a town and proceeded to build. The erection +of those early houses entailed much labor. Bricks +were imported from England and hauled from Philadelphia +to the new town, a distance of almost one hundred +miles.</p> + +<p>Some time later the founder built a glass factory in +the new town, reputed to have been the first of its kind +in America. Skilled workmen were imported to carry +on the work, and marvelously skilful they must have +been, as is proven by the articles of that glass still extant. +It is delicately colored, daintily shaped, when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296"></a><a href="images/296.png">[296]</a></span> +touched with metal it emits a bell-like ring, and altogether +merits the praise accorded it by every connoisseur +of rare and beautiful glass.</p> + +<p>Tradition claims that the founder of that town was +of noble birth, but his right to a title is not an indisputable +fact. It is known, however, that he lived in +baronial style in his new town. His red brick mansion +was a treasure house of tapestries, tiles and other +beautiful furnishings.</p> + +<p>However, whether he was a baron or an untitled +man, he merits a share of admiration. He was +founder of a glass factory, builder of a town, founder +of iron works, religious and secular instructor of his +employees and citizens, and earnest philanthropist.</p> + +<p>The last rôle resulted in his financial embarrassment. +There is an ominous silence in the story of his life, +then comes the information that the man who had done +so much for others was left at last to languish in a +debtors' jail, die unbefriended and be buried in an +unknown grave.</p> + +<p>In the days of his prosperity he gave to the congregation +of the Lutheran Church in his town a choice +plot of ground, the consideration being the sum of five +shillings and an annual rental of one red rose in June.</p> + +<p>Years passed, the man died, and either through forgetfulness +or negligence the annual rental of one red +rose was unpaid for many years. Then, one day a +layman of the church found the old deed and the +people prepared to pay the long-neglected debt once +more. Since that renewal there is set apart each June +a Sabbath day upon which the rose is paid to the near<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297"></a><a href="images/297.png">[297]</a></span>est +descendant of the founder of the town. They give +but one red rose, but all around are roses, roses, and it +seems most fitting to call the unique occurrence the +Feast of Roses.</p> + +<p>If ever the little town puts on royal garb it is on the +Feast of Roses Sabbath. For days before the ceremony +the homes of Greenwald are beehives of industry. +That day each train and trolley, every country +road, is crowded with strangers or old acquaintances +coming into the town. A heterogeneous crowd swarms +through the street. The curious visitor who comes to +see, the dreamer who is attracted by the romance of +the rose, the careless youth who rubs his sleeve against +some portly judge or senator; the tawdry, the refined, +the rich, the poor—all meet in the crowd that moves to +the red brick church in which the Feast of Roses is +held.</p> + +<p>The old church of that early day has been removed +and in its place a modern one has been erected, but by +some happy inspiration of the builders the new church +is devoid of the garish ornamentation that is too often +found in churches. Harmonious coloring, artistic +beauty, make it a fitting place for a Feast of Roses.</p> + +<p>When Phœbe Metz entered the church to keep her +promise to sing at the service she found an eager crowd +waiting for the opening. Every available space was +occupied; people stood in the rear aisles, others waited +in the churchyard by the open windows and hoped to +catch there some stray parts of the service.</p> + +<p>Phœbe pushed her way gently through the crowd at +the door and stood in the aisle until an usher saw her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298"></a><a href="images/298.png">[298]</a></span> +and directed her to a seat near the organ. The pink +in her cheeks grew deeper. "I'll sing my best for +Greenwald and the Feast of Roses," she thought. +"And for David! He's in the crowd. He said he's +coming to hear me sing."</p> + +<p>At the appointed hour the pipe-organ pealed out. +The June sunlight streamed through the open windows, +fell upon the banks of roses, and gleamed upon +the fountain that played in the midst of the crimson +flowers. Peace brooded over the place as the last +strains of music died. There was silence for a moment, +then a prayer, a hymn of adoration, and then the +chosen speaker stood before the crowd and delivered +his message.</p> + +<p>Phœbe listened to him until he uttered the words, +"True life must be service, true love must be giving. +No man has reached true greatness save he serves, and +he who serves most faithfully is greatest in the kingdom."</p> + +<p>After those words she fell to thinking. Many things +that had been dark to her suddenly became light. She +seemed to see Royal Lee fiddling while the world was +in travail, but beside him rose a vision of David in +sailor's blue, ready to do his whole duty for his +country.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she thought, "I've been blind, but now I see! +It's David I want. He's a man!"</p> + +<p>She heard as in a dream the words of the one who +presented the red rose to the heir. "Once more the +time has come to pay our debt of one red rose. It is +with cheerfulness and reverence we pay our rental.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299"></a><a href="images/299.png">[299]</a></span> +Amid these bright surroundings, in the presence of the +many who have come to witness this unique ceremony, +do we give to you in partial payment of the debt we +owe—<span class="smcap">one red rose</span>."</p> + +<p>The heir received the flower and expressed her appreciation. +Then silence settled upon the place and +Phœbe rose to sing.</p> + +<p>As the organ sent forth the opening strains of music +the people in the church looked at each other, surprised, +disappointed. Why, that was the old tune, "Jesus, +Lover of my soul." The tune they had heard sung +hundreds of times—was Phœbe going to sing that? +With so many impressive selections to choose from no +soloist need sing that old hymn! Some of the town +people thought disdainfully, "Was that all she could +sing after a whole winter's study in Philadelphia!"</p> + +<p>But Phœbe sang the old words to the old tune. She +sang them with a new power and sweetness. It +touched the listeners in that rose-scented church and +revealed to them the meaning of the old hymn. The +dependence upon a divine guide, the utter impotence of +mortal strength, breathed so persuasively in the second +verse that many who heard Phœbe sing it mentally repeated +the words with her.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Other refuge have I none,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Hangs my helpless soul on Thee:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Leave, ah! leave me not alone,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Still support and comfort me;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">All my trust on Thee is stayed;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">All my help from Thee I bring;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Cover my defenceless head</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">With the shadow of Thy wing."</span><br /> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300"></a><a href="images/300.png">[300]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then the hymn changed—hope displaced hopelessness, +faith surmounted fear.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Plenteous grace with Thee is found,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Grace to cleanse from every sin;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Let the healing streams abound,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Make and keep me pure within;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Thou of life the fountain art,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Freely let me take of Thee:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Spring Thou up within my heart,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Rise to all eternity."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>The people in that rose-scented church heard the old +hymn sung as they had never heard it sung before. A +subdued hum of approval swept over the church as the +girl sat down. She felt that she had sung well; her +heart was in a tumult of happiness. She was glad +when one man rose and lifted his hands in benediction.</p> + +<p>Again the organ throbbed with glad melodies. The +eager crowd fell into line and walked slowly to the +altar to lay their roses there. Children with half withered +blossoms, maidens with bunches of crimson +flowers, here and there a stranger with gorgeous hot-house +roses, older men and women with the products +of the gardens of the little town—all moved to the spot +where lay a bank of fragrant roses and placed their +tributes there.</p> + +<p>Phœbe added her roses to the others on the altar and +left the church. Friends and acquaintances stopped to +tell her how well she sang. But the words that one +short year ago would have filled her with overwhelming +pride in her own talent were soon crowded from +her thoughts and there reigned there the words of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301"></a><a href="images/301.png">[301]</a></span> +speaker, "No man has reached true greatness save he +serves." She had learned great things at that Feast +of Roses service. She had looked deep into her own +heart and on its throne she had found David.</p> + +<p>He was waiting for her outside the church.</p> + +<p>"You sang fine, Phœbe," he told her as they went +down the street together.</p> + +<p>"Yes? I'm glad you liked it."</p> + +<p>Then they spoke of other things, of many things, +but not one word of the thoughts lying deepest in the +heart of each.</p> + +<p>Aunt Maria and Jacob were eating supper in the big +kitchen when Phœbe reached home.</p> + +<p>"Well," greeted the aunt, "did you come once! +We thought that Feast of Roses would been out long +ago. But when you didn't come for so long and supper +was made we sat down a while. Did you sing?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," the girl said as she removed her hat and +gloves and drew a chair to the table.</p> + +<p>"Now," cautioned the aunt, "put your apron on! +That light goods in your dress is nothin' for wear; +everything shows on it so. And if you spill red-beet +juice or something on it it'll be spoiled."</p> + +<p>"I forgot." Phœbe took a blue gingham apron +from a hook behind the kitchen door. "There, if I +spoil it now you may have it for a rug."</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess that would be housekeepin'! And +everything so high since the war!"</p> + +<p>"Tell me about the Feast of Roses," said the father. +"Was the church full?"</p> + +<p>"Packed! It was a beautiful service."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302"></a><a href="images/302.png">[302]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well," spoke up Aunt Maria, "I'm glad it's over +and so are many people. Of course that Feast of +Roses don't do no harm, but I think it's so dumb to +have all this fuss just to give somebody a rose. If +that man wanted to give the church some land why +didn't he give it and done with it? It's no use to have +this pokin' around every year to find the best red rose +to give to some man or lady that's related to him. The +rose withers right away, anyhow. And this Feast of +Roses makes some people a lot of bother. I heard one +woman say in the store that she has to get ready for a +lot of company still for every person she knows, most, +comes to visit her that Sunday and she's got to cook +and wash dishes all day. I guess she's glad it's over +for another year."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303"></a><a href="images/303.png">[303]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> + +<h3>BLINDNESS</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">David Eby</span> had spent the day at Lancaster and returned +to Greenwald at seven-thirty. He started with +springing step out the country road in the soft June +twilight. It was a twilight pervaded by blended perfumes +and the sleepy chirp of birds. David drew in +deep breaths of the fresh country air.</p> + +<p>"Lancaster County," he said aloud to himself, "and +it's good enough for me!"</p> + +<p>Scarcely slackening his pace he started up the long +road by the hill. He paused a moment on the summit +and looked back at the town of Greenwald, then almost +ran down the road to his home.</p> + +<p>He whistled his old greeting whistle.</p> + +<p>"Here, David, I'm on the porch," came his mother's +voice.</p> + +<p>"Mommie," he cried gaily as he took her into his +arms, "I knew you'd be looking for me."</p> + +<p>Then for the first time since his father's death he +heard his mother sob. "Oh, mother," he asked, "is +my going away as hard as all that? Or are you only +glad to see me?"</p> + +<p>"Glad," she replied, restraining her emotion. "Sit +down on the bench, Davie."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304"></a><a href="images/304.png">[304]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why—I didn't notice it first—you're wearing dark +glasses again! Are your eyes worse?"</p> + +<p>"Sit down, Davie, sit down," she said nervously. +"That's right," she added as he sat beside her and put +one arm about her.</p> + +<p>"Now tell me," he said imperiously. "Are you +sure you're all right? You're not worrying about +me?"</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not worrying about you; I quit worrying +long ago. But I must tell you—I wish I didn't have +to—don't be scared—it's just about my eyes."</p> + +<p>"Tell me! Are they worse?"</p> + +<p>She laid her hand on his knees. "Don't get excited—but—I +can't see."</p> + +<p>"Can't see!" He repeated the words as though he +could not understand them. Then he put his hands on +her cheeks and peered into her face in the semi-darkness +of the porch. "Not blind? Oh, mommie, +not blind?"</p> + +<p>She nodded, her lips trembling. "Yes, it's come. +I'm blind."</p> + +<p>The words, fraught with so much sorrow, sounded +like claps of thunder in his ears. "Mother," he cried +again, "you can't be blind!"</p> + +<p>"But I am. I knew it was coming. The light was +getting dimmer every day. I could hardly see your +face this morning when you went."</p> + +<p>"And I went away and you stayed here and went +blind!" He broke into sobs and she allowed him to +cry it out as they sat together in the darkness.</p> + +<p>"Come," she said at length, "now you mustn't take<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305"></a><a href="images/305.png">[305]</a></span> +on so. It's not as awful as you think. I said to +Phares to-day that I'm almost glad it's here, for it was +awful to know it's coming."</p> + +<p>"But it's awful," he shuddered. "Come in to the +light and let me see you—but oh, you can't see +me!"</p> + +<p>"Yes I can." She reached a hand to his face. +"This is the way I see you now. The same mouth +and chin, the same mole on your left cheek—that's +good luck, Davie—the same nose with its little turn-up."</p> + +<p>"Mommie"—he grabbed her hands and kissed them—"there's +not another like you in the whole world! +If I were blind I'd be groaning and moaning and making +life miserable for everybody near me, and here you +are your same cheerful self. You're the bravest of +'em all!"</p> + +<p>"But you mustn't think that I haven't rebelled +against this, that I haven't cried out against it! I've +had my hours of weakness and tears and rebellion."</p> + +<p>"And I never knew it."</p> + +<p>"No. Each one goes to Gethsemane alone."</p> + +<p>"But isn't it almost more than you can bear—to be +blind?"</p> + +<p>"It's dreadful at first. I stumble so and every little +sill and rug seems a foot high. But I'll soon learn."</p> + +<p>"Is there nothing to do? What did Dr. Munster +say about your eyes when we were down to see him?"</p> + +<p>"He told me then I'd be blind soon. And he said +the only thing might save my sight or bring it back +was a delicate operation that would be a big risk, for it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306"></a><a href="images/306.png">[306]</a></span> +probably wouldn't help at any rate. So I'm not thinking +of ever trying that. Now I don't want you to +think I'm brave about it. I've cried all my tears a +month ago, so don't put me on any pedestal. It seems +hard not to see the people I love and all the beautiful +things around me, but I'm glad I have the memory of +them. I'm glad I know what a rainbow is, and a sunset."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I think it's awful to know what they look +like and never see them again. I can't, just can't, +realize that you're blind!"</p> + +<p>"You will when you come back from war and have +to fetch and carry for me. Your Aunt Mary and +Phares are just lovely about it and willing to help in +every way. I was going to live over with them at any +rate."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could stay with you, mommie. You need +me, but I guess Uncle Sam needs me too. I'm to go +soon, you know."</p> + +<p>"You go, even if I am blind. I'm not helpless. It +will be awkward for a while but there are many things +I can do. I can knit without seeing."</p> + +<p>"You're a wonder! But is there no hope?"</p> + +<p>"Hope," she repeated softly. "No hope of the +kind you mean, except that very severe operation that +would cost big money and then perhaps not help. But +this world isn't all. I've always liked that part of +Isaiah, 'The eyes of the blind shall be opened, and +the ears of the deaf shall be unstopped. Then shall +the lame man leap as an hart, and the tongue of the +dumb sing.' I know now what it'll mean to us. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307"></a><a href="images/307.png">[307]</a></span> +seems like the afflicted will have a special joy in that +time."</p> + +<p>David was silent for a moment; his mother's words +stirred in him emotions too great for ready words.</p> + +<p>Presently she continued, "But, Davie, this isn't +heaven yet! And I'm concerned just now about helping +myself to live the rest of this life the best way I +can. I can knit like a machine and I like to knit +socks——"</p> + +<p>The remainder was left unsaid for the strong arms +of her boy surrounded her and held her close while his +lips were pressed upon her forehead.</p> + +<p>"Such a mother," he breathed, as if the touch of +her forehead bestowed a benediction upon him. +"Such a mother!"</p> + +<p>In the morning he brought the news to the Metz +farmhouse.</p> + +<p>"Blind?" Phœbe cried.</p> + +<p>David nodded.</p> + +<p>"Blind! Mother Bab blind? Oh, it's too awful!"</p> + +<p>"My goodness," Aunt Maria said with genuine sorrow, +"now that's too bad! Her blind and you goin' +off to war soon!"</p> + +<p>"I'm going up to see her," said Phœbe, and went +off with David.</p> + +<p>Mother Bab heard the girl's step and called gaily, +"Phœbe, is that you? I declare, it sounds like you!"</p> + +<p>Phœbe ran to the room where Mother Bab sat alone. +The girl could not speak at first; she twined her arms +about the woman while her heart ached with its poignant +grief. Again it was the afflicted one who turned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308"></a><a href="images/308.png">[308]</a></span> +comforter. "Come, Phœbe, you mustn't cry for me. +Laugh like you always did when you came to see me."</p> + +<p>"Laugh! Oh, Mother Bab, I can't laugh!"</p> + +<p>"But, Phœbe, I'll want you to come up to see me +every day when you can and you surely can't cry every +time and be sad, so you might as well begin now to be +cheerful."</p> + +<p>"But, Mother Bab, can't something be done?"</p> + +<p>"Dr. Munster, the big doctor I saw in Philadelphia, +said that only a big operation might help me, but he's +not sure that even it would do any good. And, of +course, we have no money for it and at my age it +doesn't matter so much."</p> + +<p>Later, as Phœbe walked down the hill again, she +kept revolving in her mind what Mother Bab had said +about the operation. An inspiration suddenly flashed +to her. The wonder of it made her stand still in the +road.</p> + +<p>"I know! I'll buy sight for Mother Bab! I will! +I must! If it's only money that's necessary, if there's +any wonderful doctor can operate on her eyes and +make her see again she's going to see! Oh, glory! +What a happy thought! I'm the happiest girl since +that idea came to me! The money I meant to spend +on more music lessons next winter will be put to better +use; it will give Mother Bab a chance to see again! +Why, I'd rather have her <i>see</i> than be able to call myself +the greatest singer in the world! But she'll never let +me spend so much money for her. I know that. I'll +have to make her believe the operation will be free. I +can fool her in that, dear, innocent, trusting Mother<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309"></a><a href="images/309.png">[309]</a></span> +Bab! She'd believe me against half the world. But +I'm afraid I can't fool David so easily. I must wait +till he goes, then I'll write to Dr. Munster and start +things going!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310"></a><a href="images/310.png">[310]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXII</h2> + +<h3>OFF TO THE NAVY</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Phœbe</span> was glad when David came to her with the +news that he had been accepted for the navy and was +going to Norfolk.</p> + +<p>"That's so far away he won't come home soon," she +thought. "It'll give me a chance to arrange for the +operation. I hope he goes soon. That's a dreadful +thing to say! The days are all too short for Mother +Bab, I know."</p> + +<p>If the days seemed Mercury-shod to the blind +mother she did not complain.</p> + +<p>"It's hard to let you go," she said to her boy, "but +it would be harder to see you a slacker. Phœbe is going +to read to me now when you go. She'll be up here +often."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that makes it easier for me to go, mommie."</p> + +<p>"Don't you worry about me. Phœbe will be good +company for me and she'll write my letters for me. +We'll send you so many you'll be busy reading them."</p> + +<p>"I'm going to make her promise that," he declared +with a laugh.</p> + +<p>He exacted the promise as Mother Bab and Phœbe +stood with him and waited for the train to carry him +away. "Mother, you and Phœbe must take me to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311"></a><a href="images/311.png">[311]</a></span> +train," he had said. "I want you to be the last picture +I see as the train pulls out." Phœbe had assented, +though she thought ruefully of the deficiency of the +English language, which has but one form for singular +<i>you</i> and plural <i>you</i>. She wondered whether he included +her in the picture he wanted to cherish in his +memory. Now, when he was going away from her +she knew that she loved her old playmate, that he was +the one man in the world for her. She loved David, +she would always love him! She wanted to run to +him and tell him so, but centuries of restriction had bequeathed +to her the universal fear of womanhood to +reveal a love that has not been sought. She felt that +in all her life she had never wanted anything so keenly +as she wanted to hear David Eby tell her that he loved +her, that her face would be with him in whatever circumstances +the future should place him. But David +could not read the heart of his old playmate, and while +his own heart cried out for its mate his words were +commonplace.</p> + +<p>"Mother has promised that I'm to have so many +letters that I can't read them all. As you're to be private +secretary, you'll have to promise to carry out her +promise."</p> + +<p>"David," she met him with equal jest, "you have +as many promises in that sentence as a candidate for +political office."</p> + +<p>"But I want them better kept than that," he said, +laughing. "Will you promise, Phœbe?"</p> + +<p>"Promise what?" she asked, the levity fading suddenly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312"></a><a href="images/312.png">[312]</a></span></p> + +<p>"To write often for mother."</p> + +<p>"Yes—I promise to write often for Mother Bab," +she said, and the man could not know the effort the +simple words cost her. "Oh, Davie," she thought, +"it's not for Mother Bab alone I want to write to you! +I want to write you <i>my</i> letters, letters of a girl to the +man she loves. How blind you are!"</p> + +<p>The moment was becoming tense. It was Mother Bab +who turned the tide into a normal channel. "Now, +don't you worry, Davie. I can make Phœbe mind me."</p> + +<p>The train whistled. Phœbe drew a long breath and +prayed that the train would make a short stop and speed +along for she could not endure much more. She +looked at Mother Bab. The hysteria was turned from +her. She knew she would have to be brave for the +sake of the dear mother.</p> + +<p>"I'll take care of Mother Bab, David," she promised +as the train drew in, "and I'll write often."</p> + +<p>"Phœbe, you're an angel!" He grasped both hands +in his for a long moment. Then he turned to his +mother, folded her in his arms and kissed her.</p> + +<p>"There he is," Phœbe cried as the train moved. +She was eyes for Mother Bab. "Turn to the right a +bit and wave; that's it! He's waving back—— Oh, +Mother Bab, he's waving that box of sand-tarts Aunt +Maria gave him! They'll be in pieces!"</p> + +<p>"Sand-tarts," said the other, still waving to the boy +she could not see. "Well, he'll eat them if they are +broken. Davie is crazy for cookies."</p> + +<p>"I'm going to need you more than ever now, +Phœbe," Mother Bab said as they started home.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313"></a><a href="images/313.png">[313]</a></span> +"Aunt Mary and Phares are so busy and I feel it's so +lovely of them to have me there when I can do so little +to help, that I don't want to make them more trouble +than I must. So if you'll take care of the writing +to David for me I'll be glad." Ah, blind Mother Bab, +you had splendid vision just then!</p> + +<p>"I'll write for you. I'll love to do it. Mother +Bab——" She hesitated. Should she broach the +subject of the operation now? Perhaps it would be +kind to divert the thoughts of the mother from the +recent parting. "Mother Bab, I've thought about +what you said, and I think you should have that operation. +The doctor said there was a chance."</p> + +<p>"Ach, a very slim one. One chance in—I don't +know how many!"</p> + +<p>"But a chance!"</p> + +<p>"Yes"—the woman thought a moment—"but it +would cost lots of money, I guess. I didn't ask the +doctor, but I know operations are dear. I have fifty +dollars saved, but that wouldn't go far."</p> + +<p>"But don't you know," the girl said guilelessly, +"that all big hospitals have free rooms and do lots of +work for nothing? Many rich people endow rooms in +hospitals. If you could get into one like that and pay +just a little, would you go?"</p> + +<p>A light seemed to settle upon the face of the blind +woman. "Why," she answered slowly, "why, Phœbe, +I never thought of that! I didn't remember—why, I +guess I would—yes, of course! I'd go and make a +fight for that one chance!"</p> + +<p>"I knew you'd be brave! You'll have that opera<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314"></a><a href="images/314.png">[314]</a></span>tion, +Mother Bab! I'll write to Dr. Munster right +away. But don't you let Phares write and tell David. +We'll surprise him!"</p> + +<p>"Ach, but won't he be glad if I can see when he +comes home!"</p> + +<p>"Won't he though! I'll make all the arrangements; +don't you worry about it at all."</p> + +<p>"My, you're good to me, Phœbe!"</p> + +<p>"Good—after all you've done for me!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Good</i>," she thought after Mother Bab had been +left at the home of Phares and Phœbe turned homeward. +"She calls me good the first time I deceive her. +I've begun that tangled web and I know I'll have to tell +a whole pack of lies before I'm through with it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315"></a><a href="images/315.png">[315]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2> + +<h3>THE ONE CHANCE</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Phœbe</span> lost no time in carrying out her plans. +When she mentioned <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original omits this word">the</ins> operation to Phares Eby he +looked dubious.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid it's no use," he said gravely. "Those +operations very often fail."</p> + +<p>"But there's a chance, Phares! If it were your +eyes wouldn't you snatch at any meagre chance?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I guess I would," he admitted, wondering +at her insight into human nature and admiring her +devotion to the blind woman.</p> + +<p>Aunt Maria also was sceptical. "Ach, Phœbe, it +vonders me now that Barb'll spend all that money for +carfare and to stay in the city and then mebbe it's all +for nothin'. There was old Bevy Way and a lot of +old people I knowed went blind and they died blind. +When abody gets so old once it seems the doctors +can't do much. I guess it just is to be."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Aunt Maria," Phœbe said hotly, "I don't believe +in that is-to-be business! Not until you've done +all you can to make things better."</p> + +<p>"Well, mebbe, for all, it's worth tryin'. I guess if +it was my eyes I'd do most anything to get 'em fixed +again."</p> + +<p>Mother Bab said little about the hopes Phœbe had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316"></a><a href="images/316.png">[316]</a></span> +raised, but the girl knew how the woman built upon +having sight for a glad surprise for David.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid the fifty dollars won't reach," she said +the day before they were to take the trip to Philadelphia.</p> + +<p>"Don't worry about that. Those big doctors usually +have hearts to match. I told you there are generous +people who give lots of money to hospitals."</p> + +<p>"And I guess the hospitals pay the doctors then," +offered the woman.</p> + +<p>"I guess so," Phœbe agreed. Her conscience smote +her for the deception she was practicing on the dear +white-capped woman. "But what's the use of straining +at every little gnat of a falsehood," she thought, +"when I'm swallowing camels wholesale?"</p> + +<p>She managed to secure a short interview with Dr. +Munster before the examination of Mother Bab's eyes.</p> + +<p>"I want to ask you what the operation is going to +cost, hospital charges and all," she said frankly.</p> + +<p>"At least five hundred dollars."</p> + +<p>Phœbe's year in the city had taught her many things. +She showed no surprise at the amount named. "That +will be satisfactory, Dr. Munster. But I want to ask +you, please don't tell Moth—Mrs. Eby anything about +it. I—it's to be paid by a friend. I know Mrs. Eby +would almost faint if she knew so much money was +going to be spent for her. She knows that many hospitals +have free rooms and thinks some operations are +free. I left her under that impression. You understand?"</p> + +<p>The big doctor understood. "Yes, I see. Well,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317"></a><a href="images/317.png">[317]</a></span> +we'll run this one chance to cover and make a fight. +I wish I could promise more," he said.</p> + +<p>"Thank you. I know you'll succeed. I'm sure +she'll see again!"</p> + +<p>True to his promise Dr. Munster answered Mother +Bab so tactfully that she came out of his office feeling +that "the physician is the flower of our civilization, +that cheerfulness and generosity are a part of his +virtues."</p> + +<p>The optimism in Phœbe's heart tinged the blind +woman's with its cheery faith. "I figure it this way," +the girl said; "we'll do all we can and then if we fail +there's time enough to be resigned and say it's God's +will."</p> + +<p>"Phœbe, you're a wonderful girl! Your name +means <i>shining</i>, and that just suits you. You're doing +so much for me. Why, you didn't even want to let me +pay your carfare down here!"</p> + +<p>The girl winced again. "I must learn to wince +without showing it," she thought, "for after she sees +she'll keep saying such things and I can't spoil it all by +letting her know the truth."</p> + +<p>Perhaps the optimistic words of Phœbe rang in the +ears of the big doctor as he bent over Mother Bab's +sightless eyes and began the tedious operation. His +hands moved skilfully, with infinite precision, cutting +to the infinitesimal fraction of an inch.</p> + +<p>Afterward, when Mother Bab had been taken away, +he sought Phœbe. "I hope," he said, "that your +faith was not unwarranted, though I can't promise +anything yet."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318"></a><a href="images/318.png">[318]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm surer now than ever!" the girl said happily.</p> + +<p>But at times, in the days of waiting, her heart ached. +What if the operation had failed, what if Mother Bab +would have to bear cruel disappointment? All the +natural buoyancy of the girl's nature was required to +bear her through the trying days of waiting. With +the dawning of the day upon which the bandage should +be removed and the truth known Phœbe's excitement +could not be restrained.</p> + +<p>"I can't wait!" she exclaimed. "I want to be +right there when he takes it off. I want you to see +me first, since David isn't here."</p> + +<p>Long after that day it seemed to her that she could +hear Mother Bab's glad, sweet voice saying, "I can see!"</p> + +<p>"I can see!" The words were electric in their +effect. Phœbe gave an ecstatic "Oh!" then hushed +as her lips trembled.</p> + +<p>"You win," the big doctor said to her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, not I! You! But I knew she'd see +again!"</p> + +<p>"She sees again, but," he cautioned, "Mrs. Eby, +there must be no reading or sewing or any close work +to strain your eyes."</p> + +<p>"Oh, doctor, it's enough just to see again! I can +do without the reading and writing, for Phœbe, here, +does all that for me. And I'll not miss the sewing. +I'm glad I can potter around the garden again and +plant flowers and <i>see</i> them and"—her voice broke—"I +think it's wonderful there are men like you in the +world!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319"></a><a href="images/319.png">[319]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2> + +<h3>BUSY DAYS</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> news of the operation spread quickly and with +it spread the interesting information that Mother Bab +was keeping her sight as a surprise for David. So it +happened that no letters to him contained the news, +that even the town paper refrained from printing the +item of heart interest and David's surprise was unspoiled.</p> + +<p>His letters to Mother Bab were long and interesting +and always required frequent re-reading for the +mother.</p> + +<p>"I wanted to read that letter awful bad," she confessed +to Phœbe one day, "but I didn't. I'm not +taking any chances with my eyes. I'm too glad to be +able to see at all. The letter came this morning and +Phares read it for me, but I want to hear it again. +Will you read it, Phœbe? Did David write to you this +week yet?"</p> + +<p>"No." The girl felt the color surging to her cheeks. +"He doesn't write to me very often. He knows I +read your letters."</p> + +<p>"Ach, yes. I guess he's busy, too. It's a big +change for him to be learning to be a sailor when he +always had his feet on dry land. But read the letter; +it's a nice big one."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320"></a><a href="images/320.png">[320]</a></span></p> + +<p>Phœbe's clear laughter joined Mother Bab's at one +paragraph: "Do you remember the blue sailor suits +you used to make for me when I was a tiny chap? +And once you made me a real tam and I was proud as +a peacock in it. Well, since I'm here and wearing a +sailor suit I feel like a masculine edition of Alice in +Wonderland when she felt herself growing bigger and +bigger and I wonder sometimes if I'll shrink back +again and be just that little boy."</p> + +<p>Another portion of the letter set Phœbe's voice +trembling as she read, "I must tell you again, mother, +how thankful I am that you made it so much easier for +me to go than I dreamed it could be. You are so fine +about it. With a mother as plucky as you I can't very +well be a jelly-fish. It's great to have a mother one +has to reach high to live up to."</p> + +<p>"Just like David," said Phœbe as she laid the letter +aside. "Of course I think war is dreadful, but the +training is going to do wonders for many of the men."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the white-capped woman. "Out of it +some good will come. Selfishness is going to be erased +clean from the souls of many people by the time war +is over."</p> + +<p>"But we must pay a big price for all we gain +from it."</p> + +<p>"Yes—I wonder—I guess Davie will be going over +soon. He said, you know, that if we don't hear from +him for a while not to worry. I guess that means he +thinks he'll be going over."</p> + +<p>When, at length, news came from the other side it +was Phœbe who was the bringer of the tidings.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321"></a><a href="images/321.png">[321]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, Mother Bab," she cried breathlessly one day +in autumn as she ran back from the gate after a visit +from the postman, "it's a letter from France!"</p> + +<p>Phares Eby and his mother ran at the news and the +four stood, an eager group, as Phœbe opened the letter.</p> + +<p>"Read it, Phœbe! He's over safely!" Mother +Bab's voice was eager.</p> + +<p>"I—I can't read it. I'm too excited. I can't get +my breath. You read it, Phares."</p> + +<p>The preacher read in his slow, calm way.</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<div class='right'> +"<i>Somewhere in France.</i><br /></div> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">"Dear Mother</span>:<br /> +<br /> + +<p>"You see by the heading I'm safe over here. I +can't tell you much about the trip—no use wearing out +the censor's pencils. The sea's wonderful, but I like +dry land better. I'm on dry land now, in a quaint +French village where the streets run up hill and the +people wear strange costumes. The women wash +their clothes by beating them on stones in the brook—how +would the Lancaster County women like that?"</p></div> + +<p>It was a long, chatty letter and it warmed the heart +of the mother and interested Phœbe and the others +who heard it.</p> + +<p>"He's a great David," the preacher said as he +handed the letter to Phœbe. "I suppose you'll have +to read it over and over to Aunt Barbara."</p> + +<p>He looked at the girl as he spoke. Her high color +and shining eyes spoke eloquently of her interest in +the letter. "Ah," he thought, "I believe she still <i>likes +Davie best</i>. I'm sure she does."</p> + +<p>The preacher had been greatly changed by the events<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322"></a><a href="images/322.png">[322]</a></span> +of the past year. He would always be a bit too strict +in his views of life, a bit narrow in many things. +Nevertheless, he was changed. He was less harsh in +his opinions of others since he had seen and heard how +thousands who were not of his religious faith had gone +forth to lay down their lives that the world might be +made a decent place in which to live. He, Phares Eby, +preacher, had formerly denounced all that pertained to +actors and the theatre, yet tears had coursed down his +cheeks as he had read the account of a famous comedian +who had given his only son for the cause of freedom +and who was going about in the camps and in the +trenches bringing cheer to the men. As the preacher +read that he confessed to himself that the comedian, +familiar as he was with footlights, was doing more +good in the world than a dozen Phares Ebys. That +one incident swept away some of the prejudice of the +preacher. He knew he could never sanction the doings +so many people indulge in but he felt at the same +time that those same pleasures need not have a damning +influence upon all people.</p> + +<p>Phœbe noted the change in him. She felt like a +discoverer of hidden treasure when she heard of the +influence he was exerting in behalf of the Red Cross +and Liberty Loans. But she was finding hidden treasures +in many places those days. Strenuous, busy days +they were but they held many revelations of soul +beauty.</p> + +<p>Every link with Phœbe's former life in Philadelphia +was broken save the one binding her to Virginia. +That friendship was too precious to be shattered. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323"></a><a href="images/323.png">[323]</a></span> +country girl had written a long letter to the city girl, +telling of the decision to give up the music lessons. +"My dear, dear friend," she wrote frankly, "you tried +to keep me from being hurt, but I wouldn't see. How +I must have worried you and how foolish I was! I +know better now. I do not regret my winter in the +city and I do appreciate all you did for me, but I am +happy to be back on the farm again. I'm afraid I +tried to be an American Beauty rose when I was meant +to be just some ordinary wild flower like the daisy or +even the common yarrow. I owe so much to you. +We must always be friends."</p> + +<p>One day in late summer Phœbe fairly radiated joy +as she hurried up the hill and ran down the road to the +garden where Mother Bab was gathering larkspur +seeds.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mother Bab, I've such good news about +Granny Hogendobler and Old Aaron!"</p> + +<p>"Come in, tell me!"</p> + +<p>"I've been to town and stopped to see Granny. +You know Old Aaron and their boy Nason fell out +years ago about something the boy said about the flag +and was too stubborn to take back."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know."</p> + +<p>"It was foolishness on the part of the father, of +course, for he should have known boys say things they +don't mean. Well, the two kept on acting all these +years like strangers. The old man grew bitter. Last +year when the boys went to Mexico he said that if he +had a son instead of a blockhead he'd be sending a boy +to do his share down there. It almost killed him to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324"></a><a href="images/324.png">[324]</a></span> +think of his boy sitting back while others went and +defended the flag. Well, Granny said yesterday she +was in the yard and she heard the gate click. She +didn't pay any attention for she knew Old Aaron was +in the front yard under the arbor. But then she heard +a cry and ran to see, and there was Old Aaron with his +arms around a big fellow dressed in a soldier uniform, +and when the man turned his head it was Nason! +Granny said it was the greatest day in their lives and +paid up for all the unhappy days when Old Aaron was +cross and said mean things about Nason. Nason had +just a day to stay, but they made a day of it. Granny +said, 'I-to-goodness, but we had a time! Aaron wanted +to kill a chicken, for Nason likes chicken so much, but I +knew that Aaron was so excited he'd like as not only +cripple the poor thing, so I said I'd kill it while they +talked. I made stuffing with onions in, like Nason +likes, and I had just baked a snitz pie and I tell you +we had a good dinner. But I bet them two didn't +know what they ate, for they were all the time talking +about the war and bombs and Gettysburg and France +till I didn't know what they meant.'"</p> + +<p>"My, I'm glad for Granny and Old Aaron," Mother +Bab said.</p> + +<p>"And what do you think!" Phœbe went on. +"They are changing the name of Prussian Street, and +some are talking of changing the name of the town, +but I hope they won't do that."</p> + +<p>"No, it would be strange to have to call it something +else after all these years."</p> + +<p>"I think it's a grand joke," said Phœbe, "that this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325"></a><a href="images/325.png">[325]</a></span> +little town was founded by a German and yet the town +is strong American and doing its best to down the +Potsdam gang. The people of Lancaster County are +loyal to Old Glory and I'm glad I belong here."</p> + +<p>She appreciated her goodly heritage, not with any +Pharisaical exultation but with honest gratitude.</p> + +<p>"I have learned many things, Mother Bab, and this +is one of the big things I've learned lately: to be everlastingly +thankful to Providence for setting me down +on a farm where I could spend a childhood filled with +communications with nature. I never before realized +what blessings I've had all the years of my life. Why, +I've had chickens to play with and feed, cows and +wobbly calves to pet, birds to love and learn about, +clear streams to wade in and float daisies on, meadows +to play in, hills to run down while the dust went 'spif' +under my bare feet. And I've had flowers, thousands +of wild flowers, to find and carry home or, if too frail +to bear carrying home, like the delicate spring beauty +and the bluet, just to look at and admire and turn again +to look at as I went out of the woods. My whole +childhood has been a wonderful one but I was too blind +to see the wonder of it. I see now! But, Mother +Bab, I don't see, even yet, that I should wear plain +clothes. I've been thinking about it lately. I do believe, +though, that the plain way is a good way. +Many people enjoy the simple service of the meeting-house +more than they would enjoy a more complex +form of worship. I feel so restful and peaceful when +I'm in a meeting-house, so near to the real things, the +things that count."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326"></a><a href="images/326.png">[326]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mother Bab answered only a mild "Yes," but her +heart sang as she thought, "I believe she'll be plain +some day, she and David. Perhaps they'll come together. +But I'll not worry about them; I know their +hearts are right."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327"></a><a href="images/327.png">[327]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXV</h2> + +<h3>DAVID'S SHARE</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Another</span> June came with its roses and perfume, +but there was no Feast of Roses in Greenwald that +June of 1918. Phœbe regretted the fact, for she felt +that even in a war-racked world, with the multiple +duties and anxiety and suffering of many of its people, +there should still be time for a service as beautiful and +inspiring as the Feast of Roses.</p> + +<p>But all thoughts of it or similar omissions were +crowded into the background one day when the news +came to Mother Bab that David had been wounded in +France.</p> + +<p>The official telegram flashed over the wire and in +due time came a letter with more satisfying details. +The letter was characteristic of David: "I suppose +you heard that the Boche got me, but he didn't get all +of me, just one leg. What hurts me most is the fact +that I didn't get a few Huns first or do some real thing +for the cause before I got knocked out. I know you'll +feel better satisfied if I tell you all about it. Several +of the other boys and I left the town where we were +stationed and went to Paris for a few days. It was +our first pleasure trip since we came to this side. We +gazed upon the things we studied about in school<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328"></a><a href="images/328.png">[328]</a></span>—Eiffel +Tower, Notre Dame, and so forth. Later we +went to a railroad station where refugees were coming +in, fleeing from the invading Huns. I can't ever forget +that sight! Women and children they were, but +such women and children! Women who had gone +through hell and children who had seen more horror +in their few years that we can ever dream possible. +Terror and suffering have lodged shadows in their eyes +till one wonders if some of them will ever smile or +laugh again. Many of them were wounded and in +need of medical care. They carried with them their +sole possessions, all of their belongings they could +gather and take with them as they rushed away from +the hordes of the enemy soldiers. We helped to place +them into Red Cross vans to be taken to a safe place +in the southern part of the country. As we were putting +them into the vans the signal came that an air raid +was on. The subways are places for refuge during +the raids, so we hurried them out of the vans and into +subways. They all got in safely but I was a bit too +slow. I got knocked out and my right leg was so +badly splintered that I'm better off without it. The +thing worries me most is that I'll be sent home out of +the fight before I fairly got into it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mother Bab," Phœbe said sobbingly, "his +right leg's gone!"</p> + +<p>"It might be worse. But—I wish I could be with +him."</p> + +<p>"But isn't it just like him," said Phœbe proudly, +"to write as though it was carelessness caused the accident, +when we know he got others to safety and never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329"></a><a href="images/329.png">[329]</a></span> +thought of himself. He was just as brave as the boys +who fight."</p> + +<p>"Yes. There is still much to be thankful for. +Many mothers will get sadder news than mine. You +must write him a long letter."</p> + +<p>It was a long letter, indeed, that the mother dictated +to her boy. When it was written Phœbe added a little +postscript, "David, I'm mighty proud of you!" To +this he responded, "Thank you for your pride in me, +but don't you go making a hero of me; I can't live up +to that when I get home. Guess I'll be sent back as +soon as my leg is healed. Uncle Sam has no need of +me here since I bungled things and left a leg in Paris. +I'll have to do the rest of my bit on the farm. I wasn't +a howling success as a farmer when I had two legs, +but perhaps my luck has turned. I'm going to raise +chickens and do my best to make the little farm a +paying one."</p> + +<p>"He's the same cheerful David," thought the girl, +"and we'll have to keep cheerful about it, too."</p> + +<p>But it was no easy matter to continue steadfast in +cheerfulness during the long days of the summer. +Phœbe and Mother Bab shared the anxiety of many +others as the news came that the armies of the enemy +were pushing nearer to Paris, nearer, and nearer, with +the Americans and their allies fighting like demons +and contesting every inch of the ground. A fear rose +in Phœbe—what if the Germans should reach Paris, +what if they should win the war! "But it can't be!" +she thought.</p> + +<p>Her confidence was not unwarranted. Soon came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330"></a><a href="images/330.png">[330]</a></span> +the turn of the tide and the German drive was checked. +One July day shrieking whistles, frenzied ringing of +bells, impromptu parades and waving flags, spread the +news that "America's contemptible little army" was +helping to push the Germans back, back!</p> + +<p>"It's the beginning of the end for the Germans," +said Phœbe jubilantly as she ran to Mother Bab with +the news. "If they once start running they'll sprint +pretty lively. We'll have to tell David about the excitement +in town when the whistles blew—but, ach, I +forgot! He won't think that was much excitement +after he's been in <i>real</i> excitement."</p> + +<p>Mother Bab laughed with the girl. "But we'll have +lots to tell him when he comes back," she said. "And +won't he be glad I can see!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331"></a><a href="images/331.png">[331]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVI</h2> + +<h3>DAVID'S RETURN</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was October of 1918 when David Eby alighted +from the train at Greenwald and started out the country +road to his home. He could not resist the temptation +to run into the yard of the gray farmhouse and +into the kitchen where Aunt Maria and Phœbe were +working.</p> + +<p>"David!"</p> + +<p>"Why, David!"</p> + +<p>The cries came gladly from the two women as he +bounded over the sill and extended his hand, first to the +older woman, then to Phœbe.</p> + +<p>"I just had to stop in here for a minute! Then I +must run up the hill to mother. This place looks too +good to pass by. How are you? You're both looking +fine."</p> + +<p>"Ach, we're well," Aunt Maria had to answer, +Phœbe remaining speechless. "But why, David! +You got two legs and no crutches! I thought you lost +a leg."</p> + +<p>"I did," he said, smiling, "but Uncle Sam gave me +another one."</p> + +<p>"Why, abody'd hardly know it. Ain't, Phœbe, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332"></a><a href="images/332.png">[332]</a></span> +just limps a little? Now I bet your mom'll be glad to +see you—to have you back again, I mean."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I can't wait to get up the hill. I must go +now. I'll be down later, Phœbe," he added.</p> + +<p>"All right," she said quietly.</p> + +<p>"Ach, Phœbe," Aunt Maria exclaimed after he left, +"did you hear me? I almost give it away that his +mom can see. Abody can be awful dumb still! But +won't he be glad when he knows that she ain't blind! +She can see him again. Ach, Phœbe, it's lots of nice +people in the world, for all. It makes abody feel good +to know them two are havin' a happy time."</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad for both I could sing."</p> + +<p>"Go on," said the woman; "I'm glad too, and I +believe I could help you to holler."</p> + +<p>As David climbed the hill by the woodland he +thought musingly, "Strikes me Phœbe didn't seem +extra glad to see me. Perhaps she was just surprised, +perhaps my being crippled changed her. Oh, Phœbe, +I want you more than ever! I wonder—is it some +nerve to ask you to marry a cripple?"</p> + +<p>However, all disquieting thoughts were forgotten as +he reached the summit of the hill and saw his boyhood +home.</p> + +<p>He whistled his old greeting whistle. At the sound +of it Mother Bab ran to the door.</p> + +<p>"It's David come home!" she cried, her renewed +eyes turned to the road, her hands outstretched.</p> + +<p>"I'm back, mommie!" he called before his running +feet could take him to her. But as he held her again +to his heart there were no words adequate for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333"></a><a href="images/333.png">[333]</a></span> +greeting. Their joy was great enough to be inarticulate +for a while.</p> + +<p>"But, Davie," the mother said after a long silence, +"you come running! You have no crutches!"</p> + +<p>"Why, mommie!" There was questioning wonder +in his voice. "How do you know? You couldn't +see! You are blind!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Davie, not any more! I can see!"</p> + +<p>"You can see?" He put a hand at each side of the +white-capped head and looked into her eyes. They +were not the dull, half-staring eyes of blindness but +eyes lighted by loving recognition.</p> + +<p>Again words failed him as he swept her into his +arms. But he could not long be silent. "Tell me," +he cried. "I must know! What miracle—who—how—who +did it? When?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Davie, you're not changed a bit! Same old +question box! But I'll tell you all about it."</p> + +<p>Throughout the story Mother Bab told ran the +name of Phœbe. "Phœbe planned it all, Phœbe made +the arrangements with the doctor, Phœbe took me +down to Philadelphia, Phœbe was there when I found +I could see"—it was Phœbe, Phœbe, till the man felt +his heart singing the name.</p> + +<p>"Isn't she going on with her music lessons?" he +asked. "I was afraid she'd be in the city when I got +back."</p> + +<p>"She's given them up. It ain't like her to begin a +thing and get tired of it so soon. All at once after we +came back from Philadelphia she said she had enough +of music, she was tired of it, and was going to stay at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334"></a><a href="images/334.png">[334]</a></span> +home and be useful. I'm glad she's not going off +again, for it gets lonesome without her. You stopped +to see her on the way up?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, just a minute. I'm going down again later. +She hardly said two words to me."</p> + +<p>"You took her by surprise, I guess. Give her a +chance and she'll ask you a hundred questions."</p> + +<p>But when he paid the promised visit to Phœbe he +was again disappointed by her lack of the old comradely +friendliness. She shared his joy at Mother +Bab's restored sight but when he began to thank her +for her part in it she disclaimed all credit and asked +questions to lead him from the subject of the operation. +The girl seemed interested in all he said yet there was +a restraint in her manner. For the first time in his +life David was baffled by her attitude. As he climbed +the hill again he thought, "Now, what's the matter +with Phœbe? Was she or wasn't she glad to see me? +I couldn't tell her I love her when she acts like that! +And I'm a cripple, and she's beautiful—— Oh, my +mind's in a muddle! But one thing's clear—I want +Phœbe Metz for my wife."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335"></a><a href="images/335.png">[335]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVII</h2> + +<h3>"A LOVE THAT LIFE COULD NEVER TIRE"</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> next morning Phares Eby called David, "Wait, +I want to see you. I—David," the preacher began +gravely, "perhaps I shouldn't tell you, but I really +think I ought. Do you know all Phœbe did for your +mother while you were gone?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes. Mother told me. Phœbe was lovely +to her. She's been great! Writing her letters and +doing ever so many kind things for her."</p> + +<p>"I know—but—I guess you don't know all she did. +That story about a great doctor operating for charity +didn't quite please me. I thought as long as it was +in the family I'd pay him for what he did. So I wrote +to him and his secretary wrote back that the bill had +been paid by a check signed by Phœbe Metz—the bill +had been five hundred dollars. I guess that explains +her giving up the music lessons. What a girl she is +to make such a sacrifice! She don't know that I know, +but I felt I ought to tell you."</p> + +<p>"Five hundred dollars! Phœbe did that for us—she +paid it? Oh, Phares, I'm glad you told me! I'm +going to find her right away and thank her! You're +a brick for telling me!"</p> + +<p>The preacher smiled as David turned and ran down +the hill, but preachers are only human—he felt a pang<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336"></a><a href="images/336.png">[336]</a></span> +of pain as he went back to his work in the field while +David went to find Phœbe.</p> + +<p>David forgot for the time that he was crippled as +he ran limping over the road. Dressed in his working +clothes, his head bare to the October sunlight, he +hurried to the gray farmhouse.</p> + +<p>"Phœbe here?" he asked Aunt Maria.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong? Anything the matter at your +house?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"No. Nothing's wrong. Where's Phœbe?"</p> + +<p>"Ach, over at the quarry again for weeds or something +like she brings home all the time."</p> + +<p>"All right." He turned to the gate. "I'll find +her."</p> + +<p>He half ran up the sheltered road to the old stone +quarry.</p> + +<p>"Phœbe," he cried when he caught sight of her as +she stooped to gather goldenrod that fringed the +woods.</p> + +<p>"Why, David, what's the matter?" she asked as +she stood erect and faced him.</p> + +<p>"You angel!" he cried, taking her hands in his and +spilling the goldenrod over the ground. "You angel!" +he said again, and the full gratitude of his heart shone +from his eyes. "You bought Mother Bab's sight! +You gave up the music lessons that she might see!"</p> + +<p>"How d'you know?" she challenged.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know!" He told her briefly. "That's all +true, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she admitted. "I can't lie out of it now, I +guess. Though I've lied like a trooper about it al<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337"></a><a href="images/337.png">[337]</a></span>ready. +But you needn't get excited about it. Mother +Bab's earned more than that from me!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Phœbe!" The man could hardly refrain +from taking her in his arms. "You're an angel! To +sacrifice all that for us—it's the most unselfish thing +I've ever heard of! You gave her sight so she could +see me. I came right down to bless you and to thank +you."</p> + +<p>Other words sought utterance but he fought them +back. Phœbe must have read his heart, for she looked +up suddenly and asked, "And you came all the way +down here just to say thank you! There's nothing +else——"</p> + +<p>Then, half-ashamed and startled at her forwardness, +her gaze dropped.</p> + +<p>But the words had worked their magic. "There <i>is</i> +something else!" David cried, exulting. "I can't +wait any longer to tell you! I love you!"</p> + +<p>He held out his arms and as she smiled into his face +his arms enfolded her and he knew that she loved him. +But he wanted to hear the sweet words from her lips. +"Is it so?" he asked. "You do care for me, you'll +marry me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Davie, did you think I could live the rest of +my life without you? Did you think I could love you +any less because you're crippled?"</p> + +<p>He flushed. "It seemed like working on your sympathy +to ask you."</p> + +<p>"And if you hadn't asked me, Davie," she began.</p> + +<p>"Yes, go on. If I hadn't asked you——"</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> should have asked <i>you!</i>"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338"></a><a href="images/338.png">[338]</a></span></p> + +<p>They both laughed at that, but a moment later were +serious as he said, "Just the same, Phœbe, it seems +presumptuous for a maimed man to ask a girl like you +to marry him. You are beautiful and you have a +wonderful voice—and you've done such wonderful +things for Mother Bab and me. You have sacrificed +so much——"</p> + +<p>"Stop, David!" she cried, her voice ominously +tearful. "David, don't hurt me like that! Do you +love me?"</p> + +<p>"I do." His words had all the solemnity of a +marriage vow.</p> + +<p>"You know I love you?"</p> + +<p>"I do."</p> + +<p>"Then, David, can't you see that we love each other +not only in prosperity but in misfortunes as well?"</p> + +<p>"What a big heart you have, dear, what a woman's +heart! I have two wonderful women in my life, +Mother Bab and you."</p> + +<p>Phœbe felt the delicacy and magnitude of the +tribute. "I'm happy, Davie," she said softly. "I +feel so safe with you—no doubts, no fears."</p> + +<p>"Just love," he added.</p> + +<p>"Just love," she repeated.</p> + +<p>"Then, Phœbe"—how she loved the name from +his lips—"you'll marry me?" He said it as though +he could not quite believe his good fortune. "Then +you <i>will</i> marry me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you want."</p> + +<p>"If I want! Oh, Phœbe, Phœbe, I have always +wanted it!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ad1" id="Page_ad1"></a><a href="images/ad1.png">[iv]</a></span></p> +<h2>Popular Copyright Novels</h2> + +<h3><i>AT MODERATE PRICES</i></h3> + +<div class='center'> +Ask Your Dealer for a Complete List of<br /> +A. L. Burt Company's Popular Copyright Fiction<br /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div><b>Adventures of Jimmie Dale, The.</b> By Frank L. Packard.<br /> +<b>Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.</b> By A. Conan Doyle.<br /> +<b>After House, The.</b> By Mary Roberts Rinehart.<br /> +<b>Ailsa Paige.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> +<b>Alton of Somasco.</b> By Harold Bindloss.<br /> +<b>Amateur Gentleman, The.</b> By Jeffery Farnol.<br /> +<b>Anna, the Adventuress.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>Anne's House of Dreams.</b> By L. M. Montgomery.<br /> +<b>Around Old Chester.</b> By Margaret Deland.<br /> +<b>Athalie.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> +<b>At the Mercy of Tiberius.</b> By Augusta Evans Wilson.<br /> +<b>Auction Block, The.</b> By Rex Beach.<br /> +<b>Aunt Jane of Kentucky.</b> By Eliza C. Hall.<br /> +<b>Awakening of Helena Richie.</b> By Margaret Deland.<br /> +<br /> +<b>Bab: a Sub-Deb.</b> By Mary Roberts Rinehart.<br /> +<b>Barrier, The.</b> By Rex Beach.<br /> +<b>Barbarians.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> +<b>Bargain True, The.</b> By Nalbro Bartley.<br /> +<b>Bar 20.</b> By Clarence E. Mulford.<br /> +<b>Bar 20 Days.</b> By Clarence E. Mulford.<br /> +<b>Bars of Iron, The.</b> By Ethel M. Dell.<br /> +<b>Beasts of Tarzan, The.</b> By Edgar Rice Burroughs.<br /> +<b>Beloved Traitor, The.</b> By Frank L. Packard.<br /> +<b>Beltane the Smith.</b> By Jeffery Farnol.<br /> +<b>Betrayal, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>Beyond the Frontier.</b> By Randall Parrish.<br /> +<b>Big Timber.</b> By Bertrand W. Sinclair.<br /> +<b>Black Is White.</b> By George Barr McCutcheon.<br /> +<b>Blind Man's Eyes, The.</b> By Wm. MacHarg and Edwin +Balmer.<br /> +<b>Bob, Son of Battle.</b> By Alfred Ollivant.<br /> +<b>Boston Blackie.</b> By Jack Boyle.<br /> +<b>Boy with Wings, The.</b> By Berta Ruck.<br /> +<b>Brandon of the Engineers.</b> By Harold Bindloss.<br /> +<b>Broad Highway, The.</b> By Jeffery Farnol.<br /> +<b>Brown Study, The.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.<br /> +<b>Bruce of the Circle A.</b> By Harold Titus.<br /> +<b>Buck Peters, Ranchman.</b> By Clarence E. Mulford.<br /> +<b>Business of Life, The.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> +<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ad2" id="Page_ad2"></a><a href="images/ad2.png">[v]</a></span> +<b>Cabbages and Kings.</b> By O. Henry.<br /> +<b>Cabin Fever.</b> By B. M. Bower.<br /> +<b>Calling of Dan Matthews, The.</b> By Harold Bell Wright.<br /> +<b>Cape Cod Stories.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.<br /> +<b>Cap'n Abe, Storekeeper.</b> By James A. Cooper.<br /> +<b>Cap'n Dan's Daughter.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.<br /> +<b>Cap'n Eri.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.<br /> +<b>Cap'n Jonah's Fortune.</b> By James A. Cooper.<br /> +<b>Cap'n Warren's Wards.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.<br /> +<b>Chain of Evidence, A.</b> By Carolyn Wells.<br /> +<b>Chief Legatee, The.</b> By Anna Katharine Green.<br /> +<b>Cinderella Jane.</b> By Marjorie B. Cooke.<br /> +<b>Cinema Murder, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>City of Masks, The.</b> By George Barr McCutcheon.<br /> +<b>Cleek of Scotland Yard.</b> By T. W. Hanshew.<br /> +<b>Cleek, The Man of Forty Faces.</b> By Thomas W. Hanshew.<br /> +<b>Cleek's Government Cases.</b> By Thomas W. Hanshew.<br /> +<b>Clipped Wings.</b> By Rupert Hughes.<br /> +<b>Clue, The.</b> By Carolyn Wells.<br /> +<b>Clutch of Circumstance, The.</b> By Marjorie Benton Cooke.<br /> +<b>Coast of Adventure, The.</b> By Harold Bindloss.<br /> +<b>Coming of Cassidy, The.</b> By Clarence E. Mulford.<br /> +<b>Coming of the Law, The.</b> By Chas. A. Seltzer.<br /> +<b>Conquest of Canaan, The.</b> By Booth Tarkington.<br /> +<b>Conspirators, The.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> +<b>Court of Inquiry, A.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.<br /> +<b>Cow Puncher, The.</b> By Robert J. C. Stead.<br /> +<b>Crimson Gardenia, The, and Other Tales of Adventure.</b> By Rex Beach.<br /> + +<b>Cross Currents.</b> By Author of "Pollyanna."<br /> + +<b>Cry in the Wilderness, A.</b> By Mary E. Waller.<br /><br /> + +<b>Danger, And Other Stories.</b> By A. Conan Doyle.<br /> +<b>Dark Hollow, The.</b> By Anna Katharine Green.<br /> +<b>Dark Star, The.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> +<b>Daughter Pays, The.</b> By Mrs. Baillie Reynolds.<br /> +<b>Day of Days, The.</b> By Louis Joseph Vance.<br /> +<b>Depot Master, The.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.<br /> +<b>Desired Woman, The.</b> By Will N. Harben.<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ad3" id="Page_ad3"></a><a href="images/ad3.png">[vi]</a></span> +<b>Destroying Angel, The.</b> By Louis Jos. Vance.<br /> +<b>Devil's Own, The.</b> By Randall Parrish.<br /> +<b>Double Traitor, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<br /> +<b>Empty Pockets.</b> By Rupert Hughes.<br /> +<b>Eyes of the Blind, The.</b> By Arthur Somers Roche.<br /> +<b>Eye of Dread, The.</b> By Payne Erskine.<br /> +<b>Eyes of the World, The.</b> By Harold Bell Wright.<br /> +<b>Extricating Obadiah.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.<br /><br /> + +<b>Felix O'Day.</b> By F. Hopkinson Smith.<br /> +<b>54-40 or Fight.</b> By Emerson Hough.<br /> +<b>Fighting Chance, The.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> +<b>Fighting Shepherdess, The.</b> By Caroline Lockhart.<br /> +<b>Financier, The.</b> By Theodore Dreiser.<br /> +<b>Flame, The.</b> By Olive Wadsley.<br /> +<b>Flamsted Quarries.</b> By Mary E. Wallar.<br /> +<b>Forfeit, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.<br /> +<b>Four Million, The.</b> By O. Henry.<br /> +<b>Fruitful Vine, The.</b> By Robert Hichens.<br /> +<b>Further Adventures of Jimmie Dale, The.</b> By Frank L. Packard.<br /><br /> + +<b>Girl of the Blue Ridge, A.</b> By Payne Erskine.<br /> +<b>Girl from Keller's, The.</b> By Harold Bindloss.<br /> +<b>Girl Philippa, The.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> +<b>Girls at His Billet, The.</b> By Berta Ruck.<br /> +<b>God's Country and the Woman.</b> By James Oliver Curwood.<br /> +<b>Going Some.</b> By Rex Beach.<br /> +<b>Golden Slipper, The.</b> By Anna Katharine Green.<br /> +<b>Golden Woman, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.<br /> +<b>Greater Love Hath No Man.</b> By Frank L. Packard.<br /> +<b>Greyfriars Bobby.</b> By Eleanor Atkinson.<br /> +<b>Gun Brand, The.</b> By James B. Hendryx.<br /> +<br /> +<b>Halcyone.</b> By Elinor Glyn.<br /> +<b>Hand of Fu-Manchu, The.</b> By Sax Rohmer.<br /> +<b>Havoc.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>Heart of the Desert, The.</b> By Honoré Willsie.<br /> +<b>Heart of the Hills, The.</b> By John Fox, Jr.<br /> +<b>Heart of the Sunset.</b> By Rex Beach.<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ad4" id="Page_ad4"></a><a href="images/ad4.png">[vii]</a></span> +<b>Heart of Thunder Mountain, The.</b> By Edfrid A. Bingham.<br /> +<b>Her Weight in Gold.</b> By Geo. B. McCutcheon.<br /> +<b>Hidden Children, The.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> +<b>Hidden Spring, The.</b> By Clarence B. Kelland.<br /> +<b>Hillman, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>Hills of Refuge, The.</b> By Will N. Harben.<br /> +<b>His Official Fiancee.</b> By Berta Ruck.<br /> +<b>Honor of the Big Snows.</b> By James Oliver Curwood.<br /> +<b>Hopalong Cassidy.</b> By Clarence E. Mulford.<br /> +<b>Hound from the North, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.<br /> +<b>House of the Whispering Pines, The.</b> By Anna Katharine Green.<br /> +<b>Hugh Wynne, Free Quaker.</b> By S. Weir Mitchell, M.D.<br /><br /> + +<b>I Conquered.</b> By Harold Titus.<br /> +<b>Illustrious Prince, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>In Another Girl's Shoes.</b> By Berta Ruck.<br /> +<b>Indifference of Juliet, The.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.<br /> +<b>Infelice.</b> By Augusta Evans Wilson.<br /> +<b>Initials Only.</b> By Anna Katharine Green.<br /> +<b>Inner Law, The.</b> By Will N. Harben.<br /> +<b>Innocent.</b> By Marie Corelli.<br /> +<b>Insidious Dr. Fu-Manchu, The.</b> By Sax Rohmer.<br /> +<b>In the Brooding Wild.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.<br /> +<b>Intriguers, The.</b> By Harold Bindloss.<br /> +<b>Iron Trail, The.</b> By Rex Beach.<br /> +<b>Iron Woman, The.</b> By Margaret Deland.<br /> +<b>I Spy.</b> By Natalie Sumner Lincoln.<br /> +<br /> +<b>Japonette.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.<br /> +<b>Jean of the Lazy A.</b> By B. M. Bower.<br /> +<b>Jeanne of the Marshes.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.<br /> +<b>Jennie Gerhardt.</b> By Theodore Dreiser.<br /> +<b>Judgment House, The.</b> By Gilbert Parker.<br /> +<br /> +<b>Keeper of the Door, The.</b> By Ethel M. Dell.<br /> +<b>Keith of the Border.</b> By Randall Parrish.<br /> +<b>Kent Knowles: Quahaug.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.<br /> +<b>Kingdom of the Blind, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3> +<p>Obvious punctuation errors repaired.</p> + +<p>The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under +the corrections. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text +will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Patchwork, by Anna Balmer Myers + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PATCHWORK *** + +***** This file should be named 22827-h.htm or 22827-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/8/2/22827/ + +Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Emille and the Booksmiths +at http://www.eBookForge.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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