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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/23157-8.txt b/23157-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..46a036b --- /dev/null +++ b/23157-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8844 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Other People's Business, by Harriet L. Smith + + +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: Other People's Business + The Romantic Career of the Practical Miss Dale + + +Author: Harriet L. Smith + + + +Release Date: October 23, 2007 [eBook #23157] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OTHER PEOPLE'S BUSINESS*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +OTHER PEOPLE'S BUSINESS + +The Romantic Career of the Practical Miss Dale + +by + +HARRIET LUMMIS SMITH + + + + + + + +Indianapolis +The Bobbs-Merrill Company +Publishers + +Copyright 1916 +The Bobbs-Merrill Company + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + I INTRODUCING PERSIS + II THE LOVER + III A FITTING + IV THE WOMAN'S CLUB + V DIANTHA GROWS UP + VI THE NEW ARRIVAL + VII A CONFIDENTIAL CHAT + VIII EVE AND THE APPLE + IX A DAY TO HERSELF + X SHOULD AULD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT + XI TWIXT THE CUP AND THE LIP + XII A CONFESSION TOO MANY + XIII THE MAIL BAG + XIV AN ACQUISITION + XV A WOMAN AT LAST + XVI WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO TREAD + XVII ENID + XVIII A STALLED ENGINE + XIX A DEFERRED INTERMENT + XX CHECKMATE + XXI DE PROFUNDIS + XXII EAVESDROPPING + XXIII WEDDING BELLS + XXIV FAIR PLAY + + + + +OTHER PEOPLE'S BUSINESS + + +CHAPTER I + +INTRODUCING PERSIS + +The knocking at the side door and the thumping overhead blended in a +travesty on the anvil chorus, the staccato tapping of somebody's +knuckles rising flute-like above the hammering of Joel's cane. TO some +temperaments the double summons would have proved confusing, but Persis +Dale dropped her sewing and moved briskly to the door, addressing the +ceiling as she went. "'Twon't hurt you to wait." + +The stout woman on the steps entered heavily and fell into a chair that +creaked an inarticulate protest. Persis' quick ear caught the signal +of distress. + +"Mis' West, you'd be more comf'table in the armchair. I fight shy of +it because it's too comf'table. If I set back into the hollow, it's +because my work's done for the day. And here's a palm-leaf. You look +as hot as mustard-plaster." + +Having thus tactfully interfered for the preservation of her property, +Persis cast a swiftly appraising glance at the chair her caller had +vacated. "Front rung sprung just as I expected," was her unspoken +comment. "It's a wonder that Etta West don't use more discretion about +furniture." + +Mrs. West dabbed her moist forehead with her handkerchief, flopped the +palm-leaf indeterminately and cast an alarmed glance heavenward. +"Gracious, Persis, first thing you know, he'll be coming through." + +"'Twon't hurt him to wait," Persis said again, as if long testing had +proved the reliability of the formula. "He called me up-stairs fifteen +minutes ago," she added, "to have me get down the 'cyclopedia and find +out when Confucius was born." + +"I want to know," murmured Mrs. West, visibly impressed. "He's +certainly got an active mind." + +"He has," Persis agreed dryly. "And it's the sort of mind that makes +lots of activity for other folks' hands and feet. Does that noise +worry you, Mis' West? For if it does, I'll run up and quiet him before +we get down to business." + +Mrs. West approved the suggestion. "I brought my black serge," she +explained, "to have you see if it'll pay for a regular making-over--new +lining and all--or whether I'd better freshen it up and get all the +wear I can out of it, just as 'tis. But I declare! With all that +noise over my head, I wouldn't know a Dutch neck from a placket-hole. +I don't see how you stand it, Persis, day in and day out." + +"There's lots in getting used to things," Persis explained, and left +the room with the buoyant step of a girl. She looked every one of her +six and thirty years, but her movements still retained the ardent +lightness of youth. Beaten people drag through life. Only the +unconquered move as Persis moved, as though shod with wings. + +The anvil chorus ceased abruptly when Persis opened the door of her +brother's room. She entered with caution for the darkness seemed +impenetrable, after the sunny brightness of the spring afternoon. Joel +Dale's latest contribution to hygienic science was the discovery that +sunshine was poison to his constitution. Not only were the shutters +closed, and the shades drawn, but a patch-work bed-quilt had been +tacked over the window that no obtrusive ray of light should work havoc +with his health. Joel's voice was hoarsely tragic as he called to his +sister to shut the door. + +"I'm going to as soon as I can find my way to the knob. It's so +pitch-dark in here that I'm as blind as an owl till I get used to it." + +"Maybe 'twould help your eye-sight if you was the one getting +poisoned," Joel returned sarcastically in the querulous tones of the +confirmed invalid. "I've 'suffered the pangs of three several deaths,' +as Shakespeare says, because you left the door part way open the last +time you went to the 'cyclopedia." For twenty years Joel had been an +omnivorous reader, and his speech bristled with quotations gathered +from his favorite volumes, and generally tagged with the author's name. +The quotations were not always apt, but they helped to confirm the +village of Clematis in the conviction that Joel Dale was an +intellectual man. + +By the time Persis had groped her way to the bed, she was sufficiently +accustomed to the dim light to be able to distinguish her brother's +restless eyes gleaming feverishly in the pallid blur of his face. +"What do you want now, Joel?" she asked, with the mechanical gentleness +of overtaxed patience. + +"Persis, there's a text o' Scripture that's weighing on my mind. I +can't exactly place it, and I've got to know the context before I can +figure out its meaning. 'Be not righteous over-much, neither make +thyself over-wise. Why shouldst thou destroy thyself?' That's the way +it runs, as near as I can remember. Now if righteousness is a good +thing and wisdom too, why on earth--" + +"Goodness, Joel! I don't believe that's anywhere in the Bible. Sounds +more like one of those old heathens you're so fond of reading. And +anyway," continued Persis firmly, frustrating her brother's evident +intention to argue the point. "I can't look it up now. Mis' West's +down-stairs." + +"Come to discuss the weighty question o' clothes, I s'pose. 'Bonnets +and ornaments of the legs, wimples and mantles and stomachers,' as the +prophet says. And that's of more importance than to satisfy the +cravings of a troubled mind. If the world was given up to the tender +mercies o' women, there'd be no more inventions except some new kind of +crimping pin, and nothing would be written but fashion notes." + +"I'll have to go now, Joel." Persis Dale, having supported her +brother from the time she was a girl of seventeen, had enjoyed ample +opportunity to become familiar with his opinion of her sex. As the +manly qualities had declined in Joel, his masculine arrogance had waxed +strong. The sex instinct had become concentrated in a sense of +superiority so overwhelming that the woman was not born whom Joel would +not have regarded as a creature of inferior parts, to be patronized or +snubbed, as the merits of the case demanded. + +"Do you want a drink of water?" Persis asked, running through the +familiar formula. "Shall I get you a fan, or smooth out the sheets? +Then I guess I'll go down, Joel. I wouldn't pound any more for a +while, if I was you. 'Twon't do any good." + +The sound of voices greeted her, as she descended the stairs, Mrs. +West's asthmatic tones blending with the flutey treble of a young girl. +"It's Diantha," thought Persis, her lips tightening. "I might have +known that Annabel Sinclair would send for that waist two days before +it was promised." + +The young girl sitting opposite Mrs. West was perched lightly on the +edge of her chair like a bird on the point of flight, and the skirt of +her blue cotton frock was drawn down as far as possible over a +disconcerting length of black stocking. Her fair hair was worn in +curls which fell about her shoulders. Fresh coloring and regularity of +feature gave her a beauty partially discounted by an expression of +resentful defiance, singularly at variance with her general rosebud +effect. + +"Mother sent me to see if her waist was ready, Miss Persis." Diantha +spoke like a child repeating a lesson it has been kept after school to +learn. + +"It won't be done till Saturday, Diantha. I told your mother Saturday +when she sent the goods over." + +The girl rose nimbly, the movement revealing unexpected height and +extreme slenderness, both qualities accentuated by her very juvenile +attire. She made a bird-like dart in the direction of the door, then +turned. + +"Mother said I was to coax you into finishing it for to-morrow," she +announced, a light mockery rasping under the melody of her voice. "I +know it won't do any good, but I've got to be obedient. Please +consider yourself coaxed." + +"No, it won't do any good, Diantha. The waist'll be ready about two +o'clock on Saturday." Persis stood watching the girl's retreating +figure, and the serenity of her face was for the moment clouded. + +"Diantha Sinclair reminds me of a Lombardy poplar," remarked Mrs. West. +"Nothing but spindle till you're most to the top. It does seem fairly +immoral, such a show o' stockings." + +"Annabel Sinclair seems to think she can stop that girl's growing up by +keeping her skirts to her knees," returned Persis grimly. "A young +lady daughter would be a dreadful inconvenience to Annabel." Then the +momentary sternness of her expression was lost in sympathetic +comprehension as Mrs. West bowed her head and sprinkled the black serge +with her tears. + +"There, there, Mis' West. Cry if you feel like it. Crying's the best +medicine when there's no men folks around to keep asking what the +matter is. Just let yourself go, and don't mind me." + +"Of course you know," exclaimed Mrs. West, her fat shoulders heaving as +she took full advantage of the permission. "Everybody knows. +Everybody's talking about it. To think that a son of mine would stoop +to steal a wife's affection away from her lawful husband." + +"Don't make things out any worse than they are, Mis' West. Your Thad +can't steal what never was. And Annabel Sinclair never had any +affection to give her husband nor nobody else." + +Mrs. West's distress was too acute to permit her to find comfort in a +distinction purely technical. "Thad always was such a good boy, +Persis, but now I'm prepared for anything. I think she's capable of +working him up to the point of running away with her." + +Again Persis proffered consolation. "I don't think so. Annabel +Sinclair's what I call a feeble sinner. She reminds me of Joel when he +was a little boy. He'd go down to the river, along in April when the +water was ice-cold, and he'd get off his clothes and stand on the bank +shivering. After his teeth had chattered an hour or so, mother'd come +to look him up and Joel would get into his trousers and go home meek as +a lamb. Well, Annabel's the same way. She likes to shiver on the bank +and think what a splash she'll make when she goes in, but she hasn't +got the courage to risk a wetting, let alone drowning." + +Mrs. West, blinking through her tears, looked hard at her friend. +"Seems to me you're talking awful peculiar, Persis. 'Most as if you'd +respect Annabel more if she was wickeder." + +"Maybe I would," acknowledged Persis bluntly. "Seems to me it's almost +better to have folks in earnest, if it's only about their sins. +Annabel Sinclair turns everything into play-acting, good and bad alike." + +"I don't know why Thad can't see through her," cried the distracted +mother, voicing an age-old wonder. "I used to think he was as smart as +chain-lightning, but I've changed my mind. Any man that'll let Annabel +Sinclair lead him around by the nose hasn't got any more than just +sense enough to keep him out of an asylum for the feeble-minded, if he +_is_ my son." + +"That's where all of 'em belong when it comes to a woman like Annabel," +said Persis with unwonted pessimism. "And Thad's just young enough to +be proud of having that sort of acquaintance with a married woman. Men +are queer cattle, Mis' West. The worst woman living likes to pretend +to herself that she's as good as anybody, but a man who's been decent +from the cradle up, gets lots of comfort out of thinking he's a regular +devil. At the same time," she conceded, with a change of tone, "the +thing ought to be stopped." + +"Of course it had. But how are we going to do it? I've talked to Thad +and talked to him, and so has his father. If I thought the minister +would have any influence--" + +"You just let Thad alone for a spell," Persis commanded with her usual +decision. "And you leave this thing to me. I'll try to think a way +out." + +This astonishing offer was made in a matter-of-fact tone, significant +in itself. Persis Dale earned her living as a dressmaker and pieced +out her income by acting as a nurse in the dull seasons, but her real +occupation in life was attending to other people's business. She had a +divine meddlesomeness. She was inquisitive after the fashion of a +sympathetic arch-angel. It appalled her to see people wrecking their +lives by indecision, vacillation, incapacity, by poor judgment and +crass stupidity. Her homely wisdom, the fruit of observant years, her +native common sense, her strength and discernment were all at the +service of the first comer. Responsibility, the bugbear of mankind, +was as the breath in her nostrils. + +"I wouldn't do any more talking to Thad," Persis repeated, as Mrs. West +looked at her with the instant confidence of inefficiency in one who +indicates a readiness to take the helm. "Don't make him feel that he's +so awfully important just because he's making a fool of himself. Most +boys attract more attention the first time they kick over the traces +than they ever did in all their lives before. 'Tisn't any wonder to me +that the elder brother gets a little cranky when he sees the fuss made +over the prodigal, first because he's gone wrong and then because he's +going right, same as decent folks have been doing all the time." + +"What do you mean to do, Persis?" Mrs. West's tone indicated that by +some mysterious legerdemain the burden had been shifted. It was now +Persis' problem. + +"That'll bear thinking about," Persis returned with no sign of +resenting her friend's assumption. "And while I'm turning it over in +my mind, let Thad alone, and don't wear yourself out worrying." The +injunction probably had a figurative import though Mrs. West +interpreted it literally. + +"Wear myself _out_. I can't so much as wear _off_ a pound. I've been +too upset to eat or sleep for the last two months, and I've been +gaining right along. Most folks can reduce by going without breakfast, +but seems as if it don't make any difference with me whether I touch +victuals or not." + +She was rising ponderously when Persis checked her. "Your serge, Mis' +West. We were going to see if 'twas worth making over." + +"It's time to get supper, Persis, and there ain't a mite of hurry about +that serge. Truth is," explained Mrs. West, lowering her voice to a +confidential murmur, "'twasn't altogether the dress that brought me +over. I sort of hankered for a talk with you. There never was such a +hand as you be, Persis, to hearten a body up." + +Persis found no time that evening for grappling with the problem for +which she had voluntarily made herself responsible. The preparation of +Joel's supper was a task demanding time and prayerful consideration, +for as is the case with most chronic invalids, his fastidiousness +concerning his food approached the proportions of a mania. Her efforts +to gratify her brother's insatiable curiosity on points of history and +literature, had put her several hours behind with her sewing, and as +she owned to a most unprofessional pride in keeping her word to the +letter, midnight found her still at work. A few minutes later she +folded away the finished garment and picked from the rag carpet the +usual litter of scraps and basting threads, after which she was at +liberty to attend to that mysterious rite known to the housekeeper as +"shutting up for the night," a rite never to be omitted even in the +village of Clematis where a locked door is held to indicate that +somebody is putting on airs. + +Candle in hand, Persis paused before a photograph, framed in blue plush +and occupying a prominent position on the mantel. "Good night, +Justin," she said in as matter-of-fact a tone as if she were exchanging +farewells with some chance caller. As the candle flickered, a wave of +expression seemed to cross the face in the plush frame, almost as if it +had smiled. + +It was a pleasant young face with a good forehead and frank eyes. The +indeterminate sweetness of the mouth and chin hinted that this was a +man in the making, his strength to be wrought out, his weakness to be +mastered. Like the blue plush the photograph was faded, as were alas, +the roses in Persis' cheeks. It was twenty years since they had kissed +each other good-by in that very room, boy and girl, sure of themselves +and of the future. Justin was going away to make a home for her, and +Persis would wait for him, if need be, till her hair was gray. + +He had been unfortunate from the start. Up in the garret, spicy with +the fragrance of dried herbs and of camphor, were his letters, locked +away in a small horse-hair trunk. Twice a year Persis opened the trunk +to dust the letters, and sometimes she drew out the contents of a +yellowing envelope and read a line here and there. These were the +letters over which she had wept long, long before,--blurred in places +by youth's hot tears, the letters she had carried on her heart. They +were full of the excuses in which failure is invariably fertile, +breathing from every page the fatal certainty that luck would soon turn. + +The letters became infrequent after old Mr. Ware's "stroke." Persis +understood. For them there could be no thought of marrying nor giving +in marriage while the old man lay helpless. All that Justin could +spare from his scant earnings, little enough, she knew, must be sent +home. And meanwhile Joel having discovered in a three months' illness +his fitness to play the part of invalid, had apparently decided to make +the rôle permanent. Like many another, Persis had found in work and +responsibility, a mysterious solace for the incessant dull ache at her +heart. + +That was twenty years before. Persis Dale, climbing the stairs as +nimbly as if it were early morning and she herself just turned sixteen, +seemed a woman eminently practical. Yet in the changes of those twenty +years, though trouble had been a frequent guest under the sloping roof +of the old-fashioned house and death had entered more than once, there +had never been a time when Persis had gone to her bed without a good +night to the photograph in the blue plush frame, never a morning when +she had begun the day without looking into the eyes of her old lover. + +The most practical woman that ever made a button-hole or rolled a +pie-crust, despite a gray shimmer at her temples and a significant +tracery at the corners of her eyes, has a chamber in her heart marked +"private" where she keeps enshrined some tender memory. At the core, +every woman is a sentimentalist. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE LOVER + +Thomas Hardin, trudging through the dusk of the spring evening, his +shoulders stooping and his hands thrust deep into his pockets, wore an +expression better befitting an apprehensive criminal than an expectant +lover. As he approached the Dale cottage where the light of Persis' +lamp shone redly through the curtained window, his look of gloom +increased, and he gave vent to frequent and explosive sighs. + +The sense of unworthiness likely to overwhelm the best of men who seek +the love of a good woman, was in Thomas' case complicated by a morbidly +sensitive conscience and ruthless honesty. To Thomas, Persis Dale +represented all that was loveliest in womankind, but he would have +resigned unhesitatingly all hope of winning her rather than have gained +her promise under false pretenses. "I can stand getting the mitten if +it comes to that," Thomas assured himself with a fearful sinking of the +heart, which belied the boast. "But I can't stand the idea of taking +her in." When she knew him at his undisguised worst, it would be time +enough to consider taking him for a possible better. + +Unluckily for his peace of mind, confession was more intricate and +protracted than in his complacency he would have believed. It seemed +impossible to finish with it. Whenever he nerved himself to the point +of putting the question which had trembled on his lips for a dozen +years, dark episodes from his past flashed into his memory with the +disconcerting suddenness of a search-light, and further humiliating +disclosures were in order before he could direct his attention to the +business of love-making. Sometimes Thomas felt that his reputation for +uprightness was a proof of hypocrisy, and that his friends and +neighbors would shrink away aghast if they suspected a fraction of his +unsavory secrets. + +Persis was alone when Thomas entered. Not till the last lingering +tinge of gold had deserted the west, would Joel venture to leave the +room barricaded against the hostile element. But at any moment now he +might think it safe to risk himself down-stairs, and knowing this, +Thomas resolved to waste no time in preliminaries. + +"How's your sister and the children?" Persis asked, shaking hands and +returning to her sewing. She offered no excuse for continuing her +work, nor did Thomas wish it. There was a delicious suggestion of +domesticity in the sight of Persis sewing by the shaded lamp while he +sat near enough to have touched the busy fingers, had he but won the +right to such a privilege. + +"Nellie's well. Little Tom's eyes have been troubling him since he had +the measles, but the doctor thinks it's nothing serious. Look here, +Persis, I was wondering as I came along if you knew that I _chewed_." + +Persis' lids dropped just in time to hide a quizzical, humorous gleam +in her eyes. The rest of her face remained becomingly grave. "I may +have suspected it, Thomas." + +"It's a filthy habit," he said, inordinately relieved by her astuteness +and yet with wonder. + +She looked up from her work to explain. "It's this way, Thomas. +Sometimes when I go into the store I catch sight of you before you see +me, and maybe one of your cheeks will be all swollen up as if you had +the toothache. Then you slip into the back room, and come out in +quarter of a minute with both of 'em the same size. It's a woman's +way, Thomas, to put two and two together." + +Thomas' face was radiant. That weight was off his conscience. He had +a right to proceed to more agreeable disclosures, undeterred by the +fear of practising deception on the noblest of God's creatures. It +contributed to his joy that Persis had known of his weakness, and yet +had not crushed him with her contempt. She had not even expressed +agreement when he had called chewing tobacco a filthy habit. + +"Persis," he began in his deepest tones, "I was thinking as I came +along--" + +The stairs creaked and Persis interrupted him. "There's Joel. It +makes it hard for him when the days are getting longer all the time. +He'll be glad when we have to light the lamps at five." + +Thomas was in a mood to wish that the village of Clematis basked in the +rays of the midnight sun. He forced a smile to his reluctant lips as +Persis' brother entered and magnanimously put the question, "How do you +find yourself to-night, Joel?" though he knew only too well the +consequences to which this exposed him. There was no surer passport to +Joel's favor than to inquire about his health if one was also willing +to listen to his answer. The people who said, "How do you do?" and +immediately began to talk of something else were the objects of Joel's +detestation, while his grateful affection went out to the select few +willing to hear in detail his physical biography since their last +meeting. Joel experienced the same satisfaction in describing the +pains in his abdomen or an attack of palpitation that a bride feels in +exhibiting her trousseau. + +"I've nothing to complain of, especially when you take into account +that I'd have been six feet under the sod by now, if I hadn't +discovered that sunshine was poison to my constitution. It sort of +draws all the vitality out of me, same as it draws the oil out of goose +feathers. I'd have improved a good ideal faster," Joel continued with +sudden irritation, "if it hadn't been for Persis' carelessness in +leaving the door open. You'd think that I had a good big life +insurance in her favor, the way she acts. As the Frenchman said, +'Defend me from my friends, I can defend myself--'" + +"I've always understood that sunshine was about the healthiest of +anything," interrupted Thomas, reddening angrily at the criticism of +Persis. "And if you want my opinion, you look to me a good deal like a +plant that's sprouted in the cellar." + +The last thing Joel wanted was another's opinion. He continued as +though Thomas had not spoken. + +"And besides that, I've been eating too much meat. Science tells us +that the human body is pretty near all water. Don't that show that +most of the needs of the body can be supplied by drinking plenty of +water?" + +Thomas shook his head. "I'd hate to try it. When I'm hungry, I +wouldn't swap a good piece of beef-steak for a hogshead of water." + +"You eat too much meat." Joel, extending an almost transparent hand +toward his sister's caller, shook a bony forefinger in warning. +"You're undermining your constitution. You're shortening your days by +your inordinate use of animal food." + +"Me! Why, bless you, Joel, I never was sick a day in my life." + +"Well, that don't prove that you never will be, does it? And anybody +with half an eye can see that you're not in good shape. Flesh don't +show nothing. A man who weighs two hundred is the first to go under +when disease gets hold of him. Your color, as like as not, is due to +fever. How many times a day do you eat meat?" + +"Well, always twice, and sometimes--" + +Joel groaned. "Rank suicide! Suicide just as much as if you put a +revolver to your head. It sounds well to talk about prime cuts of beef +and all that, but when you come down to cold facts, what's meat? Dead +stuff, that's all. It ain't reasonable to talk of building up life out +of death." + +Persis' quick ear had caught the sound of stealthy movements in the +adjoining room. She wove her needle into the seam, a practise so +habitual that probably she would have done the same if the lamp had +exploded unexpectedly, and crossing to the kitchen door, opened it +without warning. A small untidy woman, the shortcoming of her +appearance partly concealed by the old plaid shawl that enveloped her +person, dodged away from the key-hole with a celerity perhaps due to +practise. + +"It just struck me that there was more voices than two," she explained +with self-accusing haste. "And I didn't want to intrude if you was +entertaining company. Sounded to me like Thomas Hardin's voice." + +"Yes, it's Mr. Hardin. Will you come in, Mis' Trotter?" Persis' +invitation lacked its usual ring of cordiality. + +"Oh, I wouldn't want to intrude. But I says to Bartholomew this very +day, 'I'm going to run over to Persis Dale's after supper,' says I, 'to +see if she can't let me have some pieces of white goods left over from +her dressmaking.' You're doing a good deal in white this time of the +year, as a rule," concluded Mrs. Trotter, a greedy look coming into her +eyes. + +"Mis' Trotter, I always send back the pieces, even if they're no bigger +than a handkerchief. If anybody's going to make carpet rags out of the +scraps, I don't know why it shouldn't be the people who bought and paid +for the goods." + +"And that's where you're right," Mrs. Trotter agreed, with the +adaptability that was one of her strong points. "There was Mattie +Kendall, now, who kept up her dressmaking after she married Henry +Beach. Well, she set out to dress her children on the left-overs, and +it went all right while they was little. But Mamie got grasping. +After her oldest girl was as long-legged as a colt, she'd send word to +her customers and say that they needed another yard and a half or two +yards to make their dresses in any kind of style. Of course it got out +in time, and everybody who wanted sewing done went to a woman in South +Rivers. I often say to Bartholomew that honesty's the best policy, +even where it looks the other way round." + +During the progress of this moral tale, Persis' thoughts had been +self-accusing. She reflected that curiosity is not among the seven +deadly sins, and that if Mrs. Trotter found in listening at key-holes +any compensation for the undeniable hardships of her lot, only a harsh +nature would grudge her such solace. Moreover ingrained in Persis' +disposition, was the inability to hold a grudge against one who asked +her a favor. + +"I don't know, Mis' Trotter, but maybe I've got some white pieces of my +own that aren't big enough for anything but baby clothes. I'll look +over my piece-bag to-morrow. If there's anything you can use, you'll +be welcome." + +Mrs. Trotter expressed her appreciation, "With all the sewing I done +when Benny was expected, I did think I was pretty well fixed, come what +might. I didn't reckon on the twins, you see. And then when little +Tom died, they laid him out in the embroidered dress I'd counted on for +the christening of the lot. Not that I grudged it to him," added the +mother quickly, and sighed. + +This had the effect of dissipating Persis' sense of annoyance. "I'm +pretty sure I can find you something, Mis' Trotter. And I'll speak to +one or two of my customers. Some of 'em may have things put away that +they're not likely to want again." + +Mrs. Trotter received the offer with a dignity untainted by servile +gratitude. + +"Me and Bartholomew feel that in raising up a family the size of ourn, +we're doing the community a service. So we ain't afraid to take a +little help when we happen to need it. And by the way, if you should +find some of the white pieces you was talking about, maybe you wouldn't +mind cutting out the little slips and just stitching 'em up on your +machine. The needle of mine's been broke this six months, and anyway, +something's the matter with the wheels. They won't hardly turn." + +"Need oil, probably," commented Persis. She knew she was wasting her +breath in making the suggestion. The shiftlessness which left the +sewing-machine useless junk in a family of eight was a Trotter +characteristic. If Bartholomew could have appreciated the value of +machine oil, he would have been an entirely different man, and probably +able to support his family. In view of this, Persis felt that she +could do no less than add: "To be sure I'll stitch 'em up. 'Twon't +take much of any time." + +"Now I'm not going to keep you a minute longer. I guess Thomas Hardin +don't come here to talk to your brother the whole evening." Mrs. +Trotter smiled pleasantly, but with a distinct tinge of patronage, the +inevitable superiority of the wedded wife to the woman who has carried +her maiden name well through the thirties. And indeed in Mrs. +Trotter's estimation, the hardships of her matrimonial experience were +trivial in comparison with the unspeakable calamity of being an old +maid. + +After Joel was once fairly launched on the subject of hygiene, it was +difficult, as a rule, to introduce another topic of conversation under +an hour and a quarter. Persis was almost startled, on her return, to +find the two men discussing an alien theme. More surprising still, +instead of sulking over the curtailment of the dear privilege of +self-dissection, Joel was plainly interested. + +"It's one of the games where you can't lose, if you take their word for +it," Thomas was explaining to his absorbed listener. "The company +begins to pay you int'rest on your investment just as soon as you hand +over the money, six per cent. every year up to the time the orchard +gets to bearing. Then it goes up little by little, and by the tenth +year they guarantee you twenty-five per cent. Even that doesn't cover +it. They say that orchard owners in the same locality are making as +much as a hundred per cent. most years. Anybody who could spare a few +thousand would be sure of a good income for the rest of his days." + +"But there's the off years," objected Joel, a crackle of greed in his +high-pitched voice. + +"There's not going to be any off years the way those fellows figure. +They say that by thinning out the apples when the yield is heavy, they +can be sure of a crop every season." Thomas' gaze wandered to Persis +who had resumed her seat and taken up her sewing. "We're talking of a +chance to put your money where it'll get more than savings bank +int'rest," he said, resolved that Joel should not monopolize every +topic of conversation. "The Apple of Eden Investment Company, they +call it." + +"I heard you say something about twenty-five per cent," returned +Persis, sewing placidly. "'Most _too_ good to please me." + +"Now if that ain't a woman all over," Joel interjected excitedly. "The +toe of a stocking is a good enough bank for any of 'em, and as for +using foresight and putting a little capital where it'll bring in an +income for your old age, you'd think to hear 'em talk, that such a +thing was never heard tell of. If I'd had the handling of the money +that's come into this house for the last twenty years, we'd have been +on Easy Street by now. But Persis has the kind of setness that doesn't +take no account of reason. And as the poet says: + + "'He is a fool who thinks by force or skill + To turn the current of a woman's will.'" + + +Thomas, purpling with resentment, addressed his next remark to Persis. +"I don't s'pose our folks would take so much stock in all these fine +promises if there wasn't a Clematis boy secretary of the company. I +guess you remember him, Persis. Ware, his name was. Justin Ware." + +"Yes, I remember him." An abrupt movement on Persis' part had +unthreaded her needle. She bent close to the lamp, vainly trying to +insert the unsteady end of the thread into the opening it had so lately +quitted. + +"I've been telling you right along you needed glasses," triumphed Joel. +"And to keep on saying that you don't, ain't going to help the matter. +'When age, old age comes creeping on,' as the poet says--" + +"I don't need glasses any more than you need a crutch." The denial +came out with a snap. Persis Dale, patient to the point of weakness, +enduring submissively for twenty years the thankless exactions of her +brother, proved herself wholesomely human by her prompt resentment. +"My eyes are as good as they ever were," she insisted, and closed the +discussion if she did not prove her point, by putting her work away. +Secretary of an investment company making such golden promises! That +looked as if at last fortune had smiled on Justin Ware. + +The two men had the talk to themselves. Persis' absorption was +penetrated now and then by references to the miracles wrought by +scientific spraying and pruning, or the possibility of heating orchards +so that late frosts would no longer have terrors for the fruit grower, +sober facts which the literature of the Apple of Eden Investment +Company had enveloped in the rosy atmosphere of romance. Like many +people who have never made money by hard work, Joel believed profoundly +in making it by magic. His pallid face flushed feverishly, and his +eyes glittered as he discussed the possibility of making a thousand +dollars double itself in a year. + +It was ten o'clock when Thomas again had the field to himself and in +Clematis only sentimental visits were prolonged beyond that hour. +Thomas' opportunity had arrived, but with it unluckily had come the +recollection of a misdeed for which he must receive absolution before +the flood-gates of his heart were opened. + +"Persis, do you remember that old Baptist minister who lived opposite +the schoolhouse when we were kids? Elder Buck, everybody called him." + +With an effort she set aside her own recollections in favor of his. +"Oh, yes, I remember. The one whose false teeth were always slipping +down." + +"His picket fence was all torn to pieces one night. He had a way of +calling names in the pulpit, the elder had,--children of the devil and +that sort of thing--and it got some of the boys riled. And to pay him +back, they tore down his fence. Persis, I--I was one of those boys." + +He looked at her appealingly and felt his heart sink. Persis' eyes +were lowered. Her face was grave and a little sad as befits one who +has been tendered irrefutable proof of a friend's unworthiness. Thomas +gulped. Well, it was only what he had expected all along. A woman +like Persis could not be asked to overlook everything. + +"Good night, Persis," he said huskily, and he thought it more than his +deserts when she answered him with her usual kindness, "Good night, +Thomas." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A FITTING + +During the spring and summer Persis rose at half past five, and though +she slept little the night following Thomas Hardin's disclosures, she +refused to concede to her feeling of weariness so much as an extra +half-hour. Her fitful slumbers had been haunted by dreams of apples, +apples in barrels, apples in baskets, apples dropping from full +boughs and pelting her like hail-stones, for all her dodging. There +were feverishly red apples, gnarly green apples and the golden sweets, +the favorites of her childhood, all of them turning into goblins as she +approached, and leering up at her out of impish eyes which nevertheless +bore a startling resemblance to those eyes in whose depths she had once +seen only the reflection of her own loyalty. It was small wonder that +Persis woke unrefreshed. "I declare," she mused, as she twisted her +hair into the unyielding knob, highly in favor among the feminine +residents of Clematis as a morning coiffure, "a few more nights like +that would set me against apple pie for good and all." + +But the developments of the day were soon to elbow out of Persis' +thoughts the visions of the night. As she stepped out on the porch for +a whiff of the invigorating morning air, her eyes fell upon a unique +figure coming toward her across the dewy grass. In certain details it +gave a realistic presentment of an Indian famine sufferer. In respect +to costume, it was reminiscent of a bathing beach in mid-July. + +"Of all things!" Persis gasped, one hand groping for support, while the +other shaded her incredulous and indignant eyes. "Have you taken leave +of your senses, Joel Dale?" + +Her brother ascended the steps, wearing the expression of triumph +ordinarily assumed in honor of his great hygienic discoveries. He +replied to her question by another: "Persis, what do you s'pose is at +the bottom of all human ills?" + +Persis rallied. + +"I don't know as I'd undertake to speak for 'em all, but I should say +that a good nine-tenths was due to a lack of common sense." + +Joel disdained to take up the gauntlet. "Persis, it's clothes." + +His sister looked him over. Joel was attired in a pair of bathing +trunks and a bath towel, the latter festooned gracefully about his +body, low enough to show his projecting ribs. "If the style you're +wearing at present was ever to get what you'd call popular," she agreed +dryly, "I think it would make considerable trouble." + +Joel again refused to be diverted. "Clothes, Persis, are an invention +of the devil. The electricity of the body, instead of passing off into +the earth as it would do if we went around the way the Lord intended, +is kept pent up in our insides by our clothes, and of course it gets to +playing the mischief with all our organs. As old Fuller says, 'He that +is proud of the rustling of his silks, like a madman laughs at the +rattling of his fetters.'" + +"The sun is shining right on your bare back," remarked Persis acridly. +"According to your ideas yesterday, you'd ought to be ready to drop +dead." + +Joel magnanimously ignored the taunt. Like some greater men, he had +discovered that to be true to to-day's vision, one must often violate +yesterday's conviction. The charge of inconsistency never troubled him. + +"Earth and air are stuffed with helpfulness, Persis, and the clothes we +wear won't give it a chance at us. If the Lord had wanted us to be +covered, we'd have come into the world with a shell like a turtle. +Now, this rig ain't ideal because we've got to make some concessions to +folks' narrowness and prejudice, but it's a long way ahead of ordinary +dress." + +"Joel Dale!" The grim resolution of Persis' voice warned the dreamer +of the family that the limit of her forbearance had been reached. "I'm +not going to stand up for clothes, though seeing that my living, and +yours too, depends on 'em, it's not for me to run 'em down. But this I +will say, as long as we live in a civilized land, we've got to act +civilized. And as for having you show yourself on this lawn in a +get-up that would set every dog in Clematis to barking, I won't. Go +up-stairs and dress like somebody beside a Fiji islander, but first +give your feet and legs a good rubbing. If you don't, the next thing +you know, you'll be down with pneumonia." + +Perhaps Joel's tyrannical rule in the household for the last twenty +years had been due in part to his knowing the time to yield, a +knowledge that would have prolonged the sway of many a despot. He went +up-stairs in a rebellious mood which found expression in invectives +against womankind, its blindness, its wilfulness, its weak subservience +to usage. But when he appeared at the breakfast table, the +conventional shirt and trousers testified to the extent of Persis' +authority. + +Little was said during the progress of the meal. Joel, saddened by the +lack of enthusiasm with which his great discovery had been received, +maintained a dignified silence. Persis, always moved to magnanimity by +triumph, forbore to emphasize her victory by obtruding on her brother's +reserve. Not till Joel had been fortified by a hearty breakfast and +had reached the advertising columns in his perusal of the weekly paper, +did she venture to touch upon another delicate theme. + +"Joel, I wish you'd open the shutters of your bedroom and run up the +shade to the top. If ever a room needed airing and sunning, that's the +one. I'm going to give it a good cleaning as soon as I can take the +time, but this morning I'm too busy. Annabel Sinclair's coming for a +fitting at ten o'clock and that young Mis' Thompson at eleven. And I'm +as sure as I can be of anything but death and taxes, that Annabel will +be late." + +Persis' apprehension would have taken on a keener edge, could she have +been favored at that moment with a glimpse of the patron of whose +punctuality she was in doubt. Ever since eight o'clock, Diantha +Sinclair had been opening the door of her mother's room at intervals of +five minutes and closing the same noiselessly, after a brief survey of +the figure on the bed. As the tenantry of field and forest apprehend +the approach of some natural cataclysm, by means of signs imperceptible +to man's grosser senses, so to Diantha the curve of her mother's +shoulder under the sheet, presaged a storm. Her uneasiness was due to +a horrid uncertainty as to which would anger her mother the more, to be +wakened too early or to be allowed to sleep too long. + +By nine o'clock, the second of the alternatives seemed to Diantha the +more serious. She stole into her mother's room, and stationing herself +by the bed, spoke in the softest of voices; "Mama, your new dress--" + +The opening showed a tact creditable to her years. After all, it is +one thing to be wakened by the crashing of a boarding-house breakfast +gong, and another to be roused by the music of a harp. Annabel opened +her eyes with a sense of something agreeable on the way, and Diantha +promptly acted on her advantage. + +"Mama, you are to try on your new dress at ten o'clock, and it's nine +already." + +"Nine!" moaned Annabel. "You should have called me before." Yet she +made no effort to rise and after a moment added sharply: "What are you +waiting for? Can't you see I'm awake?" + +Diantha scurried like a rabbit, and her mother turned on her pillow for +another half-hour, an indulgence she would not have ventured under her +daughter's observant eyes. Like many people who defy public opinion in +large matters, she was acutely sensitive to criticism over trifles. +Aspersions of her character she accepted philosophically, almost +complacently indeed, because of her inward conviction that they were +indirectly a tribute paid by jealousy to her superior fascinations. +But a suggestion that a dress was unbecoming would make her unhappy for +days. + +Her first act on rising was to run up the shade, in order to benefit by +the full light of the morning sun. Then for some minutes she studied +her reflection in a little hand-mirror which gave back to her view a +face rapt and absorbed. With Annabel this rite was a substitute for +morning prayer, and it brought her a peace not always secured by +equally sincere devotions. Diantha's willowy height woke in her a +sense of exasperated fear. It sometimes seemed to her that the girl's +growth was with deliberate purpose, a malicious demonstration of the +fact that her mother was not so young as she looked. + +The testimony of the hand-mirror was reassuring, clear pink and white, +the crisp freshness of apple blossoms. Annabel worshiped and rose from +her knees, duly fortified against the mischances of the day, though her +divinity had been only her own beauty. + +At nineteen, Annabel had married a man twenty years her senior, who +like many of his sex assumed that a pretty wife is from the Lord and +associated amiability, compliance and other feminine graces with a +rose-leaf complexion. The earlier years of their married life had been +a succession of ghastly struggles in which both sides had been worsted, +descending to incredible brutalities. Sinclair was essentially a +gentleman, and long after those contentious years he sometimes woke +from his sleep in a cold sweat, remembering what he had said to his +wife and she to him. Her unwelcome motherhood had only widened the +breach between them. Her hysterically fierce resentment of that which +he had innocently assumed to be a woman's crowning happiness, had +extinguished finally the last gleaming embers of a flame which might +have been altar fire and hearth fire both in one. + +The man's growing apathy at length gave the victory to the woman. If +he did not hate his wife, Stanley Sinclair was so far from loving her +that his thin lips curled mockingly over the recollection of what he +had hoped on his wedding-day. If there is pathos in the lost illusions +of youth, those of middle life are grim tragedy. Sinclair wanted peace +at any price. The masculine intolerance of rivalry was less insistent +than it would have been in a younger man. Out of the wreck of things +he asked to save only quiet and the chance to live a gentleman. His +wife might go her way, so that she showed him a serene face and treated +him with tolerable courtesy. And so tacitly the two made the Great +Compromise. + +At fifty-seven Stanley Sinclair was a cynically cheerful philosopher. +He had long before discovered that technically his rights as a husband +were safe. The woman whose vanity is stronger than her affections is +shielded by triple armor, and Annabel's virtue was safe, at least while +her complexion lasted. She was a glutton of admiration, and since the +highest homage a man could pay her charms was to fall in love with her, +she bent her energies unweariedly to bringing him to the point of +candid love-making. With success, her interest waned. A lover might +last six months or even a year, but as a rule he was displaced in +considerably less time by some understudy whom Annabel had thoughtfully +kept in training for the star rôle. + +In Annabel's creed, masculine admiration was the supreme good. It was +the ultimate test of a woman's success, as the ability to make money +tested the success of men. Beauty was precious, because it was the +most effective lure. Talent was not to be despised, since it too could +boast its captives. But the woman who claimed that she prized her gift +for its own sake was guilty of an affectation which could deceive no +one, not at least, so shrewd an observer as Annabel. + +At nineteen she had married a man more than twice her age. Since then +her preference for youthfulness had been growing, a phenomenon not +unusual in women of her type. At thirty-seven, she looked upon her +husband as senile, patriarchal, as far removed from her generation as +the Pilgrim fathers. Men of her own age bored her. They were +interested in business, politics, their families, a thousand things +besides herself. They had lost the obsession of personality, the +you-and-I attitude which is the life-blood of flirtation. + +Just now Annabel preferred boys still young enough to be secretly proud +of the necessity of shaving every other day, young enough to swagger a +little when they lighted a cigarette. At her present rate of progress, +by the time she was fifty, she would have come by successive gradations +to the level of short trousers and turn-over collars. + +The average worshiper may hurry over his prayers, but the devotee of +vanity must not make haste with her toilet. It was quarter of eleven +when Annabel was dressed, but since the results were satisfactory, she +was untroubled over her lack of punctuality. It was Diantha who +fidgeted, and looked at the clock. + +"You're 'most an hour behind time. You'd better hurry if you don't +want Miss Persis to scold." + +"I shan't hurry for any one," Annabel returned, selecting after due +deliberation the parasol with the pink lining. Her husband was +lounging on the porch as she went out, and he greeted her with his +usual, "Good morning, my dear," his gaze following her with the gently +satiric smile which always made her feverishly impatient to consult the +little mirror she carried in her hand-bag. That smile hinted at +extraordinary insight and unnerved her as his frenzied outbursts of +anger had never done. She had lost her power to hurt him except in the +way of humiliation, but he cynically argued that the constant amusement +she afforded him almost paid this last indebtedness. It was like +having a season ticket to a theater. + +Persis Dale was fitting young Mrs. Thompson, the traveling man's wife, +when Annabel made her appearance. She nodded, glad that the half dozen +pins held loosely between her lips, relieved her from the obligation of +a welcoming smile. + +"Maybe you'd like to set on the porch, Mis' Sinclair, till I'm at +liberty. Your hour was ten, you know. It's shady out there and you +can look over the new books. And now, Mis' Thompson, before I go any +further we've got to decide whether it's to open in the front or in the +back." + +"I think the buttons down the back are more stylish," said young Mrs. +Thompson. + +"There's no doubt of that," Persis agreed. "Everything in the book is +back. But there's always more'n one way to skin a cat. I could put a +row of hooks under the lace, around this side of the yoke, and nobody'd +ever know where it was fastened, or whether you were just run into it." + +Young Mrs. Thompson hesitated, studying herself in the mirror. Persis +employed several pins in tightening a seam and expressed her views at +some length. + +"It's just this way, Mis' Thompson. If you had a nice little girl, big +enough to stand on a chair and fasten you up the back, I wouldn't say a +word against it. But of all things that rack your nerves and spoil +your temper, twisting and squirming and trying to reach three or four +buttons, first from above and then from below, is certainly the limit. +And putting a shawl over your shoulders on a hot day and going to find +some neighbor to do it for you, ain't a great deal better." + +"But this is going to be my Sunday dress," said the six-months bride, +whose color had increased appreciably during the course of Persis' +remarks. "And Will is always home for Sunday." + +"Well, if you feel like taking the risk, Mis' Thompson, I haven't a +word to say. But when a man's home for a Sunday rest, he generally +wants a rest, and dresses that button up the back don't seem to fit in +with the idea. Human nature can't stand only just so much and man +nature considerable less." + +An undecided murmur escaped the lips of young Mrs. Thompson. + +"I had a customer," continued Persis, recklessly filling her mouth with +pins, "who gave up a good position as cashier in a city glove store, to +keep house for her brother when his wife died. She was always telling +me how grateful he was. Seemed like he couldn't do enough for her. +She used to say it 'most made her uncomfortable to see that man racking +his brains to find some way of showing her how he appreciated what +she'd done for him. Please walk to the end of the room, Mis' Thompson, +slow and graceful, till I see how that skirt hangs. Just a trifle long +on the seam. I thought so. + +"Well, I made her a princess dress; gray it was and very stylish. It +hooked down the back, and then there was a drapery effect that hooked +up the side and across the shoulder. I wouldn't dare say how many +cards of hooks and eyes I used on that dress. I did ask her once how +she'd get into it, and she said that her brother, what with having been +married and all, was as handy as a woman at such things. + +"I sent it home of a Saturday, and I didn't see her for two weeks. +Then she brought it in and she was crying. She wanted me to fix it +some way so that she could get into it by herself. Easier said than +done, you can believe. She'd worn it twice, and both times they'd had +words, and some of 'em were swear words, too. Well, I did the best I +could by the dress, but it was too late to save the day. You see she'd +taken such comfort in thinking how grateful he was, that she hadn't +minded what she'd given up herself, but after that, things was +different. She went back to the city in less than a year. I think +she's a cashier in some restaurant. She couldn't get her old place in +the glove store." + +Young Mrs. Thompson had a bright idea. "Couldn't you put a row of +buttons down the back, just for looks, and then hook it under the lace, +same as you said?" + +"Easiest thing in the world," Persis assured her. The domestic peace +of the Thompson family was preserved for the time being, though neither +woman guessed for how brief a period. + +Annabel Sinclair was thoroughly out of temper when the time for her +fitting came, though she paid Persis the compliment of making a +whole-hearted effort to conceal her feelings. Persis Dale was one of +the few of whom Annabel stood in awe. Behind her back she frequently +referred to the dressmaker as an "interfering old maid," but in Persis' +presence she paid reluctant tribute to the dominating personality. When +very angry, Annabel indulged in whatever brutalities of plain speech +were suggested by a somewhat limited imagination, but her habitual +weapon was innuendo. She shrank from Persis' bluntness as a dog +cringes away from a whip. + +When young Mrs. Thompson had hurried off to the brand-new cottage on +the hill, Annabel concealed her annoyance under a smile, inquired after +Joel's health and yielded to Persis' opinion with flattering deference. +But Persis' mood was not merciful. + +"How your Diantha is growing, Mis' Sinclair. She must have left you +way behind before this." + +Annabel winced. She had long been in the habit of referring to Diantha +as "my little girl." Of late she had fancied that her listeners looked +amused at her choice of a qualifying adjective. + +"It's such a pity," she answered in her softest voice, "for a child to +grow that way. People expect so much more of tall children." + +"Well, girls often get their growth by the time they're Diantha's age. +Let's see. She must be six--" + +"I believe that seam twists," Annabel exclaimed. She chose her +criticism at random with the sole purpose of distracting Persis' +attention before the obnoxious word should be spoken. Yet it was true +that she had been married eighteen years. In another seven she would +be able to celebrate her silver wedding, an anniversary she had always +associated with old age. The horror of the situation was not lessened +by its grotesqueness. + +"The worst of it is that everybody in this dreadful little town knows +all about it," she thought with a sense of panic. "People haven't +anything to do but remember dates." She wondered if she could prevail +upon her husband to go west, leaving Diantha in school somewhere. Then +she could say what she chose of her "little girl" without appealing to +the risibilities of her audience. + +Persis, distracted for a moment by the false alarm of a twisting seam, +soon returned to her guns. With a skill Annabel was forced to admire, +she veiled her cruelty in compliment. + +"Diantha is a pretty girl. Pretty and clever with her tongue. An +apple's got to have flavor as well as a rosy skin. There'll be lively +times at your place before long. It'll make you and Mr. Sinclair feel +young again to have courting going on in the house." + +If murderous thoughts were as potent as daggers, Persis would never +have fitted another gown. Annabel was reaching the point where +self-control was difficult. Young again! Again! Even her reflection +in the mirror and the knowledge that the new dress was becoming, failed +to restore her equanimity. + +Yet in the end it was Annabel who scored. For when at length she +crossed Persis' threshold, a young man happened to be passing. A +ravishing smile banished Annabel's look of sullen resentment. Her +white-gloved hand fluttered in greeting. + +The young fellow swung upon his heel, his boyish face flushing in +undisguised rapture. He waited till Annabel reached the sidewalk, took +the pink-lined parasol from her hand with an air of proud possession, +and the two walked away together. + +From the window Persis looked grimly after them. "Make the most of +this chance," she apostrophized the pair. "I'm getting ready to take +your case in hand." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE WOMAN'S CLUB + +Persis Dale was under no misapprehension, regarding her standing in the +community. She fully appreciated the fact that she was a pillar of +Clematis society and would have accepted as her due the complimentary +implication of Mrs. Warren's post-card, even if its duplicates had not +offered a similar tribute to at least thirty of her acquaintances. The +invitations were all written in Mrs. Warren's near-Spencerian hand, the +t's expanding blottily at the tips, the curves of the capitals +suggesting in their sudden murky expansion, the Mississippi River after +its union with the muddy Missouri. + + +"As one of the representative women of Clematis, you are invited to +attend a meeting at the home of Mrs. Sophia Warren, Saturday the 12th +inst. at 2 P. M. Object of meeting, the organization of a Woman's Club +for the purpose of expanding the horizon of the individual members and +uplifting the community as a whole. Please be prompt." + + +The arrival of the postman while Persis was busy with a fitting, gave +Joel time to examine the mail and frame a withering denunciation of +Mrs. Warren's plan. He sprung the same upon his sister with +pyrotechnic effect a little later. + +"A woman's club! Clematis is getting on. Pretty soon the women'll be +smoking cigarettes and wanting to run for mayor and letting their own +rightful sphere go to the everlasting bow-wows. Expand their horizons! +What's the good of a horizon to a woman who's got a house to look +after, and a man around to do her thinking for her? If women folks +nowadays worked as hard as their grandmothers did, we wouldn't hear any +of this nonsense about clubs. As good old Doctor Watts says: + + "'For Satan finds some mischief still + For idle hands to do.'" + + +Persis, arranging a cascade of lace, over the voluptuous bosom of her +adjustable bust-form, stood back to get the effect. "Maybe you're +right, Joel," she acknowledged placidly, "but I'm going to that meeting +at Sophia Warren's Saturday if I have to sew all Friday night to get my +week's work out of the way." + +In the face of masculine scoffs, which sometimes, as in Joel's case, +became denunciatory rather than humorous, about twenty of the +representative thirty Mrs. Warren had called from her list of +acquaintances, accepted the invitation and were on hand at the hour +designated. The opposition of sundry husbands and fathers, as well as +of those unattached males who disapproved of women's clubs on general +principles, had lent to the project the seductive flavor of forbidden +fruit. The women who donned their Sunday best that Saturday afternoon +had an exhilarating sense of adventure. Even Annabel Sinclair, +invariably bored by the society of her own sex, made her appearance +with the others and from her post of observation in the corner, noted +the effect of lavender on Gladys Wells' complexion, and wondered why +Thad West's mother didn't try anti-fat. + +As the clock struck two, Mrs. Warren rose with a Jack-in-the-box effect +from behind the table where she had ensconced herself after welcoming +the last arrival. Mrs. Warren had taught school before her marriage +and under the stimulus of her present responsibility, her voice and +manner reverted to their earlier pedagogical precision. As she rapped +the assembly to order, she had every appearance of a teacher calling on +the A-class to recite. + +"Ladies, I am glad to see so many of you punctual. Miss Persis Dale +has sent word that she will be detained for a little by the pressure of +Saturday's work, but that she will join us later, and undoubtedly other +tardy arrivals will have excuses equally good. And now, ladies, the +first business of the afternoon will be the election of a chairman." + +"Oh, you've got to be chairman," observed Mrs. West conversationally +from the largest armchair. "None of the rest of us know enough." +Corroborative nods and murmurs approved the suggestion, and Mrs. Warren +acknowledged the compliment by a prim little bow. + +"Do I understand you to make this in the form of a motion, Mrs. West?" + +"Why, ye-es, I s'pose so," returned Mrs. West, visibly startled by the +suggestion that she had performed that feat without a realizing sense +of its momentous character. + +"Is there a second to this motion?" + +The chilling silence, which the first hint of parliamentary procedure +imposes on the most voluble gathering, unaccustomed to its +technicalities, was broken at length, by the voice of Susan Fitzgerald, +who said faintly, "I do," and blushed to the roots of her hair. + +"You have heard the motion, ladies. All in favor signify it, by saying +_aye_." + +Twenty voices in unison gave an effect at once businesslike and +harmonious; and the representative women of Clematis looked vaguely +pleased to find their end so easily attained. + +"Contrary-minded, the same sign." A breathless pause while the +assembly waited for the daring opposition to manifest itself. "The +motion appears to be carried, carried unanimously, ladies. I thank you +for your confidence. We shall now proceed to consider the best method +of organizing ourselves so as to expand the horizon of the individual +members"--Mrs. Warren was quoting, unabashed, from her own +post-card--"in addition to uplifting the community as a whole." + +The chairman went into temporary eclipse by taking her seat, and the +gathering no longer frozen into speechlessness by the realization that +there was a motion before the house, rippled out in brook-like fluency. + +"I think a card club would be just too grand for anything," gushed +Gladys Wells with an effect of girlishness, quite misleading. "My +cousin in Springfield belongs to a card club, and they have just the +grandest times. Everybody pays ten cents each meeting, and that goes +for the prize. My cousin won a perfectly grand cut-glass butter dish." + +"I don't see how parlor gambling would help uplift the community," +commented Mrs. Richards coldly from the opposite side of the room. + +The seemingly inevitable clash was averted by Susan Fitzgerald, who +rose and addressed the chair, a feat of such reckless daring as to +reduce the assembly to instant dumbness. + +"Mrs. President, I think a suffrage club is what we need in Clematis +'most of anything. We women have submitted to being downtrodden long +enough, and the only way for us to force men to give us our rights is +to organize and stand shoulder to shoulder. It's time for us to +arise--to arise in our might and defy the oppressor." + +Susan subsided, mopping her moist forehead as if her oratorical effort +had occupied an hour, rather than a trifle over thirty seconds. +Gradually the meeting recovered from its temporary paralysis. + +"If it's going to be that sort of a club, I'm sure Robert wouldn't +approve of my having anything to do with it," Mrs. Hornblower remarked +with great distinctness, though apparently addressing her remarks to +her right-hand neighbor. "Robert isn't what you'd call a tyrant, but +he believes that a man ought to be master in his own house. If he +thought there was any danger of my getting interested in such subjects, +he'd put his foot right down and that would be the end of it." + +The ghost of a titter swept over the gathering. Mrs. Hornblower, +though fond of flaunting her wifely subjection in the faces of her +acquaintances, never failed to get her own way in any domestic crisis +where she had taken the trouble to form a preference. And on the other +hand, poor Susan Fitzgerald, for all her blustering defiance of the +tyrant sex, could in reality be overawed and browbeaten by any male not +yet out of kilts. Before the phantom-like laughter had quite died +away, Mrs. Hornblower added majestically: "But I don't want my opinions +to count too much either way as I may be leaving Clematis before long." + +The expansion of the horizon of the representative women of Clematis, +with the incidental uplift of the community, was immediately relegated +to the background of interest. "Leaving Clematis!" exclaimed a dozen +voices, the accent of shocked protest easily perceptible above mere +surprise and curiosity. + +Mrs. Hornblower, in her evident enjoyment of the sensation of which she +was the center, was in no hurry to explain. + +"We're thinking of selling the farm and investing in an apple orchard," +she announced at length. "Robert's worked hard all his life, and we +think it's about time he began to take things easy. The comp'ny +undertakes to do all the work of taking care of the orchard and +marketing the fruit for a quarter of our net profits, and that'll leave +me and Robert free to travel 'round and enjoy ourselves. We're looking +over plans now for our villa." + +Even Annabel Sinclair straightened herself suddenly, galvanized into +closer attention by that magic word. + +"I've heard tell that there was lots of money in apples," exclaimed +Mrs. West. "But I didn't s'pose there was enough so that folks +wouldn't need to do any work to get it out." + +"You see, people in general don't appreciate what science and system +can do," patronizingly explained Mrs. Hornblower. "If you'd read some +of the literature the Apple of Eden Investment Comp'ny sends us, it +would be an eye-opener." + +"Ladies, ladies!" expostulated the chairman, "we are forgetting the +object of our meeting." Then temporarily setting aside her official +duties in favor of her responsibility as hostess, she hurried forward +to greet a new arrival. "So glad to see you, Mrs. Leveridge. But I'm +sorry you couldn't persuade young Mrs. Thompson to accompany you." + +"She'd agreed to come," replied Mrs. Leveridge, loosening her +bonnet-strings and sighing. "But at the last minute she found it +wasn't possible." + +The room rustled expectantly. There is always a chance that the reason +for a bride's regrets may be of interest. + +"Nothing serious, I hope," said Mrs. West insinuatingly. + +Mrs. Leveridge's sigh was provocative of further questions. + +"Well, no, and then again, yes. It isn't anything like a death in the +family. But you don't have to live long to find out that death ain't +the worst thing." + +"My goodness, Minerva," exclaimed Susan Fitzgerald, aghast. "What's +happened?" + +Mrs. Leveridge's deliberative gaze swept the silently expectant company. + +"Of course, I wouldn't repeat it everywhere. But I'm sure anything I +say won't go a step further." + +Twenty voices replied, "Of course not," with a unanimity which gave it +the effect of a congregational response in the litany. + +Mrs. Leveridge, having made terms with her conscience, from all +appearances rather enjoyed the responsibility of enlightening her +audience, "It's her husband." + +"Her husband!" cried Susan Fitzgerald protestingly; "why, she hasn't +been married six months." + +Mrs. Leveridge's smile showed more than a tinge of patronage. + +"If you'd ever been married yourself, Susan, you'd know that six months +was enough, quite enough. If he's that kind of a man, six weeks is +about as long as he can keep on his good behavior." + +"He hasn't been beating her, has he?" asked Mrs. Hornblower, her voice +dropping to a thrilled whisper. + +"No, I'd call it worse than that, myself. You see when I stopped for +Mis' Thompson, on my way here, I found her crying and taking on +something terrible. She had a letter in her hand, and of course I +s'posed it had brought some bad news that was working her up, and I +begged her to tell me about it so's to ease her mind, you understand. + +"Well, she kept on moaning and crying, and at last it all came out. It +seems that when she went to the closet to get down her jacket, a coat +of her husband's fell off the hanger. The pockets was stuffed with +letters, the shiftless way men-folks have, and they went sprawling all +over the floor. She picked up this among the rest. It was addressed +to W. Thompson, at some hotel in Cleveland, and it had been forwarded +to the city office of his firm. And seeing it was a dashing sort of +writing that stretched clear across the envelope, and didn't look a +mite like business, she was curious to know what it was about." + +"Now, don't tell me there was anything bad in that letter," implored +Mrs. West. "I always thought young Mr. Thompson had such a nice face." + +"Well, if handsome is that handsome does, he hasn't any more looks to +boast of than a striped snake. It was a letter from a girl, a regular +love-letter from start to finish. It opened up with 'Tommy Darling.'" + +"But young Mr. Thompson's name is Wilbur," somebody objected. + +"I guess the Tommy was pet for Thompson. The envelope was directed to +W. Thompson and you can't squeeze a Tommy out of a W. no matter how +hard you try. The girl, whoever she is, has gone into it with her eyes +open. Two or three times she dropped little hints about his wife. +Didn't say _wife_ right out, you know. It was kind of veiled, but you +couldn't help understanding." + +"Was there any name signed?" asked Annabel Sinclair, opening her lips +for the first time that afternoon. She herself had long before +realized the unadvisability of signing one's name to one's epistolary +efforts. + +"'Twas just signed 'Enid.' There was a monogram on the paper, but I +couldn't make it out. Seems as if you could find 'most any letter in a +monogram. The paper was nice and heavy and all scented up. Poor Mis' +Thompson!" + +"She ought to leave him," exploded Susan Fitzgerald. "And I shouldn't +blame her a mite if she poisoned his coffee first. If women could +vote, they'd send a man like that to the gallows." + +Mrs. West championed the absent sex. "In a case of that sort, Susan, +you can't put all the blame off on to the man. There's a woman in it, +too, every time, and the one's as deep in the mud as the other is in +the mire. And like as not," continued Mrs. West, a tell-tale tension +in her voice, "he was a nice, clean-minded young man when she came +along, making eyes at him, like a snake charming a sparrow. I'm not +crazy about voting, but if I had the ballot, I'd vote for locking up +those kind of women and keeping every last one of 'em at hard labor for +the term of their natural lives." + +The moment was electric, and Mrs. Warren hastily proffered her services +as a lightning-rod. "Is she going to leave him, do you think?" + +"Well, I guess she's got a crazy notion in her head that maybe he can +explain. I tried to talk her out of that idea. As I said to her, a +man capable of anything of that sort won't stop at lying out of it. +And I should judge," concluded Mrs. Leveridge, "that that young Mr. +Thompson would be capable of a real convincing lie. He don't look +wicked, but he does look smart." + +The outer door opened and closed with an impetus just short of a slam, +irresistibly suggestive in some obscure fashion, of the entrance of +ardent youth. "I didn't think 'twas worth while to ring," explained +Persis Dale, nodding to the right and left as she advanced to greet her +hostess. "Sorry to be so late. I guess you've got everything pretty +nearly settled by now." She bowed rather stiffly to Annabel Sinclair, +sitting silent in her corner, and acknowledged with reluctant +admiration that the woman certainly was a credit to her dressmaker. + +A guilty constraint settled upon the gathering so fluent a moment +before, and psychologically considered, there was food for reflection +in the sudden embarrassed silence. These good women were far from +being vulgar gossips with one or two possible exceptions. They were +shocked at this unanticipated revelation of human perfidy. The young +wife, humiliated and heart-broken before the morning glow of romance +had faded from her marriage, had their profoundest sympathy. Yet when +the curtain rises on a human drama, however tragic its development, the +little thrill that runs over the audience is not altogether unpleasant. +Regrettable as it is that Othello should smother his wife, there seems +a certain gratification in making ourselves familiar with the details +of the operation. It was the consciousness of this unacknowledged +satisfaction which rendered Mrs. Warren's guests abashed at Persis' +advent, like children discovered in some forbidden pastime. They +avoided one another's eyes, assuming an expression of grave absorption, +whose obvious implication was that the uplifting of the community was +the matter most in their thought. + +With all her interest in other people's affairs, the personality of +Persis Dale was as a killing frost to many a flourishing scandal. She +had a readiness to believe the best, a reluctance to condemn her fellow +men on anything short of convincing proof, fatal to calumny. Although +perhaps justified in thinking the worst of young Mr. Thompson, no one +present felt disposed to enlighten Persis as to the character of the +discussion which had engrossed a gathering convened for the high moral +purposes outlined on Mrs. Warren's post-card. + +"I--we--well, we have not reached any conclusion as yet," explained the +chairman of the meeting, with a notable accession of color. "Several +suggestions have been made, however, and we hope you will have +something to add." + +Persis would not have been Persis had she failed to have something to +suggest. Whether her businesslike methods aided in bringing matters to +a focus, or whether the change was due to a conscience-stricken +reaction on the part of the representative women of Clematis, it is +certain that the deliberations of the body were not again side-tracked +by the intrusion of personal matters. The business of the afternoon +was transacted with a rapidity putting to shame some more pretentious +conventions, the women wisely refusing to be hampered or restricted by +the tangles of parliamentary law, in which, as every one knows, much +really important legislation is strangled. + +When the meeting adjourned at quarter of six, an hour which sent +prudent housewives scurrying homeward, Mrs. Sophia Warren was the duly +elected president of the Clematis Woman's Club, while Susan Fitzgerald +had accepted the duties of secretary of the organization. The members +had voted to meet weekly, taking up the study of English literature, +and current events, the two subjects to divide the program equally. +The club was to hold itself in readiness to grapple with questions of +civic improvement, and already a committee had been appointed to +arrange for a Harvest Home Festival at the county almshouse for the +edification of the inmates. It really began to look as if the horizon +of a number of people would be enlarged and the community as a whole +uplifted, with or without its consent. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +DIANTHA GROWS UP. + +Now that Annabel Sinclair had no immediate use for Persis' services, +Diantha's wardrobe could receive attention. The girl presented herself +at the dressmaker's late one afternoon, her smooth forehead disfigured +by an irritated frown, her mouth resolutely unsmiling. Under one arm +she carried a roll of cheap white lawn. Annabel frequently commented +on the uselessness of buying expensive materials for a girl who grew as +rapidly as Diantha, though the reasonableness of this contention was +slightly discounted by her recognized ability to demonstrate that the +cream of things was invariably her portion, while an all-wise +Providence had obviously designed the skimmed milk for the rest of the +world. + +Her eyes upon the girl's averted face, Persis measured off the coarse +stuff, using her arm as a yard-stick. "Hm! Even with skirts as skimpy +as they are now, this won't be enough by a yard and a half. Better +call it two yards. It's high time your skirts were coming down where +they belong. You can't stay a little girl forever." + +Some magic had erased the fretful pucker between Diantha's brows. The +grim ungirlish compression of her lips softened into angelic mildness. +As she turned upon Persis, she looked an older sister of the Sistine +cherubs. + +"How long--about how long do you think it had better be, Miss Persis?" + +"I should say"--Persis looked her over with an impersonal air, lending +weight to the resulting judgment--"I should say about to your +shoe-tops." + +Had she guessed the consequences of such an expression of opinion, she +might have modified her verdict or at least held it in reserve. A +tempest swept the room. Persis was seized, whirled this way and then +that, hugged, kissed, forced to join in a delirious two-step. With +scarcely breath to protest, powerless in the grip of the storm she had +herself evoked, she finally came to anchor between the secretary and +the armchair, Diantha still holding her fast. + +"Shoe-tops! You _did_ say shoe-tops, didn't you, darling Miss Persis?" + +"Yes, I said shoe-tops, and I'm glad I didn't say a train. A real long +dress would have been the death of me, it's more'n likely. For all +you're as tall as Jack's bean-stalk, Diantha Sinclair, you're not grown +up yet." + +Persis freed herself, smiling ruefully as she arranged her disordered +hair. The delicious girlishness of the outburst in which she had +involuntarily participated had the effect of challenging her own +obstinate sense of being on the threshold of things, and making her +wonder if perhaps she were not growing old. That the passing shadow on +her face failed to attract Diantha's attention was due less to lack of +insight than to youth's cheerfully selfish absorption in its own +problems. "May I pick out the style from the grown-up part of the +fashion books?" was the girl's breathless question. + +"It's got to be simple," Persis warned her sternly. Then softening: +"But good land! Grandmothers nowadays are wearing simple little +girlish things with ribbon bows in the back. Pick out what you want. +Everything in this month's book is just about right for sixteen." + +As Diantha gave herself to rapturous study of the fashion-plates, +Persis studied her. "She's in a fair way to make a beauty. Annabel at +her best never held a candle to what this girl is likely to turn out. +Annabel's looks are skin deep. Diantha's have top-roots running to her +brain and her heart, too. Only she ought to be happier. 'Most any +girl face is pretty to look at if it's happy enough, same as 'most any +flower is pretty if it grows in the sun." + +A harassing reflection troubled Diantha's bliss. "Miss Persis, I +haven't got a petticoat that comes below my knees." + +"I'll make you a petticoat the same length as the dress. That's always +the best way. A skirt that's too long looks as if you wanted to show +the lace, and one's that too short looks as if you were trying to save +on cotton cloth, and I don't know which is worse." To herself Persis +added: "If she went home and asked her mother for a long petticoat, the +fat would all be in the fire." + +For a woman at least as conscientious as the average of her sex, Persis +was singularly unmindful of the enormity of encouraging a daughter to +act in defiance of her mother's wishes. Had she been called upon to +defend herself, she might have explained that she had small respect for +the authority of a motherhood which had never progressed beyond the +physical relationship. Annabel, a reluctant mother in the beginning, +had been consistently selfish ever since, and Persis gave scant +recognition to parental rights that were not the out-growth of parental +love. Moreover, the project she had in mind was of too complex +importance for her to allow it to be side-tracked by petty scruples. + +"Like enough she'll refuse to pay my bill," thought Persis, with a grim +smile, as she watched Diantha turning the gaily colored plates like a +butterfly fluttering from blossom to blossom. "I guess she won't go as +far as that though, as long as there ain't another dressmaker in +Clematis she'd trust to make her a kimono. If she says anything, +that'll pave the way for me to give her a good plain talking to, and +even if I never get a cent for the dress, I might as well give my +missionary money that way as any other." + +The rush of the season--Clematis is sufficiently sophisticated to know +in what months propriety demands overworking one's dressmaker and +milliner--was already over, and the little frock made rapid progress. +Cheap and plain and simple as it was, its effect upon the wearer, even +in its stages of incompleteness, was so striking that Persis sometimes +forgot her official duty in the satisfaction of a long admiring stare. +And probably in her sixteen years of existence, Diantha had never so +nearly approximated all the cardinal virtues as in that idyllic week. +She besieged Persis with offers of assistance, pleading for permission +to pull basting threads or overcast seams. At home she was gentle, +yielding, subdued. Her father, having learned through bitter +experience how open to the attack of a million miseries love makes the +heart, had resolved that fate should not again trick him. He had +steeled himself against the appeal of Diantha's babyhood and had +watched unmoved her precocious development. The mocking politeness +which characterized his manner toward his wife was replaced in the case +of the daughter by a distant formality. Yet now as Diantha went about +the house with dreamy eyes and a half smile on her lips, there were +times when the father looked at her almost wistfully and wondered of +what she were thinking. With all due respect to the human will, we +must acknowledge ourselves creatures of circumstance in no little +degree, when two yards of lawn, retailing at twelve and a half cents, +can prove so potent a factor in character and destiny. + +Diantha's mother might have prescribed quinine had she noted anything +unusual in the girl's demeanor. But Annabel had reached a crucial +stage in her flirtation with Thad West. The boy was developing a +gratifying jealousy of the tenor singer in the Unitarian church choir +and must be treated with a nice commingling of indulgence and severity +to prevent his asserting himself in the crude masculine fashion, and +either terminating the intimacy or else permanently getting the upper +hand. Annabel was enjoying the crisis of the game and found it +impossible to spare from her own absorbing interests a thought for such +a minor consideration as Diantha's moods. + +Diantha anticipated the time when she was to call for her finished +frock by more than an hour. "I know you're not ready yet," she +apologized, as Persis looked at the clock. "But I thought I'd like to +watch you work, if you don't mind." + +"Of course I don't mind, child. Just put those fashion books on the +table and take the easy chair." Persis bent over the finishings of the +little frock with a vague satisfaction in the nearness of the +motionless figure. She was growing fond of Diantha, a not unnatural +result of the adoring attention Diantha had lavished upon her for a +week past. But because Persis was a woman with a living to make, and +Diantha was a girl with a dream to be dreamed, scarcely a word was +spoken till the last stitch was taken. + +"There!" Persis removed a basting thread with a jerk, making an +unsuccessful pretense that the finishing of this dress was like the +completion of any other piece of work. "There! It's done at last. I +suppose you'll want to try it on." + +"Yes," said Diantha, "I'll try it on." And as the faded blue serge +slipped from her shoulders to be replaced by the white lawn, the +Diantha who had been, took her departure to that remote country from +which the children never come back. + +Persis was almost appalled by the result for which she was principally +responsible. The tall Diantha in a dress to her shoe-tops was +disconcertingly unlike the little girl she had known. She looked older +than her years, stately, self-contained and beautiful. It was not till +Persis had fortified herself by the reflection that she might as well +be hung for an old sheep as for a lamb, that she ventured another +revolutionary suggestion. + +"Diantha, I s'pose you'll make some change in the way you do your hair?" + +"Yes, indeed." Diantha, scrutinizing herself in the mirror, frowned at +the drooping curls with an air of restrained disgust. "This way is +only suitable for children." + +Persis' negligent gesture called attention to the open door of the +bedroom. "There's a box of hairpins on the dresser. If you like, you +can fix yourself up and surprise your mother." + +Diantha vanished swiftly. She had no illusions regarding the nature of +the coming surprise. Her mother would be very angry, but the sooner +that storm had spent itself, the better. Relentlessly the golden curls +were sacrificed to the impressive coiffure of the woman of fashion. +For a novice Diantha was remarkably deft, her skill suggesting periods +of anticipatory practise with her door locked and no eyes but her own +to admire the effect. + +During the progress of this rite, Persis in the adjoining room, looked +at the clock, glanced at the window and then paced the floor, for once +in her well-disciplined life too nervous to utilize the flying moments. +Persis was in the dilemma of a stage manager whose curtain is ready to +go up, and whose _prima donna_ is about to appear, while the audience +has failed to materialize. To such mischances does one subject one's +self in assuming the responsibilities of a deputy-providence. + +Then her brow cleared, even while her heart jumped into her throat. +The gate clicked, and a lithe figure swung up the path. Persis took +her time in answering the peremptory knock. + +"Good afternoon, Miss Persis. Mother said that you--" + +"Walk in, Thad. Yes, I've a little package to send your mother. Sit +down while I look for it." + +Would the girl never come! The curtain was rung up, the audience +waiting. But the stage was empty. How long a time in Heaven's name +did Diantha expect to spend in combing her hair. "I should think she +was waiting for it to grow," thought the harassed Persis. Very +deliberately she opened and closed every drawer in the old-fashioned +secretary, though she knew the upper contained only old letters and the +second, garden seeds. + +Thad was fidgeting. "If you can't put your hand on it, Miss Persis, +don't bother to hunt. I'll drop in again in a day or two." + +"Just a minute, Thad. It must be right around here. It can't--ah!" +Persis forgot the ending of the unnecessary sentence. For now Thad +West was at liberty to leave whenever he pleased. + +A tall slender figure advanced into the room. Diantha's grace had +always made her an anomaly among tall children. Her hair was parted +and drawn back simply, after the fashion doubtless designed by earth's +beauties, since it is the despair of plain women. The yellow curls, +sacrificing their individual distinction, had magnanimously contributed +to the perfection of the exquisite golden coil at the back of her +shapely head. No one would have looked twice at the plain little lawn, +but it proved superior to some more pretentious gowns in that it set +off the charms of the wearer, instead of distracting attention from +them. The unlooked-for apparition brought Thad West to his feet, and +so Youth and Beauty met as if hitherto they had been strangers. + +For a long half minute they stood without speaking. "Oh, good +afternoon," Diantha said at last, and veiled her eyes from his +fascinated stare. Formerly she had treated him with the free-and-easy +pertness of a precocious child. Now the exquisite shyness of +maidenhood enveloped her. Instinct drew her back from the man's +inevitable advance. "I didn't know it was so late," she said to +Persis, oblivious to Thad's gasping greeting. "I must hurry." + +Thad's sense of confusion was like a physical dizziness. This regal +young beauty was the daughter of the woman whose hand he had held +surreptitiously the previous evening. With an effort he steadied +himself, only to make the discovery that in that hazy moment the world +had undergone a process of readjustment. He knew as well as he was +ever to know it, that Annabel Sinclair belonged to another generation +from his own. + +"I suppose you want to take this along." Persis' gesture indicated the +package containing the discarded serge which Diantha would have been +glad to contribute to the wardrobe of the youthful Trotters. But with +all her daring, her courage was hardly equal to such a step. She put +out her hand for the package, but Thad had already pounced upon it. + +"I--I'm going your way," he said, a trace of his recent disorder in his +stammering speech. "I'll carry it for you." + +Silently Diantha accepted the offer. She kissed Persis good-by in a +fashion which the critical might have pronounced needlessly +provocative, though her dreamy eyes protested that nothing was further +from her maiden thoughts than the presence of Thad West. Persis, who +was intensely alive to every phase of the dramatic situation, had +caught a glimpse of the young fellow's face during the affectionate +leave-taking and was abundantly satisfied. + +"Thad's no fool, though he's acted like the twin brother to an idiot. +He can't help seeing that the mother of a grown-up girl like Diantha +hadn't ought to be flirting with a boy like him. If he doesn't see it +now he will before he gets her home, or I miss my guess." + +Mr. and Mrs. Stanley Sinclair were seated side by side on their front +porch, presenting an agreeable picture of domesticity. The reason for +Annabel's presence was that the tenor singer of the Unitarian choir was +accustomed to pass the house at that hour. Sinclair stayed on simply +because he suspected that his wife wished him indoors. He read aloud +inane items of village news from the weekly paper, and only the veiled +mockery of his eyes betrayed the fact that he was not the most devoted +and the most complacent of husbands. + +As the two young people came into view, Annabel's air of indifferent +listlessness changed to rigid attention. She recognized the gallant +figure of the young man considerably before she knew his graceful +companion. Her husband's eyes were quicker. His paper dropped from +his hand, and his emotions found vent in an explosive and needlessly +profane monosyllable. + +The two culprits came up the walk, Thad with a fine color, Diantha +extraordinarily self-possessed. The girl's eyes rested on her mother's +face, then went in swift appeal to her father's. Their consternation +was too obvious to be ignored. + +"I wore my new dress home," she remarked casually. Then with sudden +recklessness: "Do you like it?" + +"It's--it's absurd," pronounced Annabel almost with a snarl. So a +mother tigress might have corrected her offspring. Never had she +seemed less prepossessing to her youthful adorer than at that moment. +Anger aged her indescribably. The young man looked at her and dropped +his eyes ashamed. + +"It's no longer than other girls of sixteen are wearing," said Diantha, +and turned to Thad. "Thank you for carrying my bundle." She took the +package and vanished. Nothing in her outward composure indicated that +her heart was thumping, and girlhood's ready tears burning under her +drooping lids. + +Persis' device had been eminently successful, entailing consequences, +indeed, she was far from anticipating. For Stanley Sinclair had waked +to the fact that he was the father of a beautiful girl on the verge of +womanhood, and his sense of parental responsibility, long before +drugged, manacled and locked into a dark cell, had roused at last and +was clamoring to be free from its prison. Annabel, his wife, had +recognized a possible rival in her own household. And lastly, Thad +West was the prey of an uneasy suspicion that perhaps, after all, the +mother of Diantha Sinclair had been making a fool of him. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE NEW ARRIVAL + +Mindful of her promise to Mrs. Trotter, Persis had looked through her +piece-bag apparently with excellent results. For the little garments +symbolic of humanity's tenderest hopes, the garments that are to clothe +the unborn child, were growing rapidly under her skilful fingers. + +The first slip had been severely plain, and then Persis, yielding to a +temptation most women will understand, began to fashion scraps of +embroidery and odds and ends of lace and insertion into tiny yokes and +bands. After many a long day's work she sat by the shaded lamp +finishing the diminutive garments with stitches worthy of a bridal +outfit. + +"Who is it that's expecting?" Joel demanded one evening, his sex not +proving an impregnable armor against the assaults of curiosity. + +The brevity of Persis' answer indicated reluctance to import the +desired information. "Mis' Trotter." + +"Bartholomew Trotter's wife? And of course she's going to pay you for +all this fiddling and folderol." + +Persis accepted the implied rebuke meekly. "I guess I'm paying myself +in the satisfaction I get out of it. I started in to stitch up some +slips on the machine, but I just couldn't stand it. Machine sewing's +all right for grown folks, but it does seem that when a little child's +getting ready to come into the world, there'd ought to be a needle +weaving back and forth, and tender thoughts and hopes weaving along +with it. And specially if a baby's going to be born into a home like +the Trotters', you can't grudge it a little bit of beauty to start out +with." + +"Well, I must say it's lucky that so far you women have been kept where +you belong. Weaving hopes, indeed! As if 'twould make any difference +to that young one of Trotter's whether it was rigged out like a +millionaire baby or wrapped up in a horse blanket." + +Persis sewed on unmoved. "I don't say the baby'd know the difference. +It's just my way of showing respect for the human race." + +Her industry was not premature. One Saturday night she carried to the +Trotters' squalid home a daintily fashioned, freshly laundered outfit +which took Mrs. Trotter's restrained and self-respecting gratitude +quite by storm. Forgetting for once the public obligation to provide +for the needs of her family present and to come, she accepted the gift +in a silence vastly more eloquent than her usual volubility. Then the +muscles of her scrawny throat twitched, and a tear splashed down on the +soft cambric. Nor did she, during the interview, recover her usual +poise sufficiently to refer to the obligation under which Bartholomew +and herself were placing the community; and Persis returned home in a +mood of even more than her customary tolerance. + +That was Saturday night. Early Monday morning little Benny brought +word that his mother was sick and wanted Miss Persis to come right +away. Joel had not risen, and Persis scrawled a hasty note explaining +her abrupt departure and set out for the Trotter establishment, +stopping on the way to ask a favor of Susan Fitzgerald. + +Susan was finishing her early breakfast, her hair still wound about her +crimping pins, the painfully strained and denuded effect which resulted +being a necessary preliminary to the rippling luxuriance of the +afternoon. Persis stated her errand tersely. + +"Susan, they've sent for me from Trotters', and there's no telling when +I'll be home. I wish you'd go up to the house, if you've nothing +particular on hand and look after Joel. He's the helplessest man ever +born when it comes to doing for himself." + +In her complex excitement, Susan fluttered like an impaled butterfly. +"Oh, dear me! I mean of course I will, Persis. But what do you want +me to do?" + +"Oh, just get his meals and amuse him till I get back. You can keep +Joel pretty cheerful if you'll let him unload all his notions on you. +Joel generally finds a good listener good comp'ny." + +"And so poor Lizzie Trotter's going through that again," exclaimed +Susan, momentarily forgetting her own prospective ordeal, in sympathy +for the other woman's severer trial. "I don't want to accuse Divine +Providence, but I must say it hardly seems fair to put all the +responsibility for getting the children into the world off on women. +If 'twas turn and turn about, now, I wouldn't say a word." + +"I guess if that was the way of it, there'd never be more'n three in a +family, and it took a sight of people to fill up the world, starting +with the garden of Eden. Well, I must hurry, Susan. I won't be gone a +mite longer'n I can help." + +As Susan removed her crimping pins, her agitation grew. The favor +Persis had asked so lightly, and she had granted so readily, took on a +new aspect as she considered it. Susan shared the respect of Clematis +for Joel Dale's intellectuality and stood rather in awe of his foibles. +Her hands trembled as she arranged her undulating locks in the fashion +ordinarily reserved for afternoons. Her cooking might not suit him. +Her efforts to be entertaining might not measure up to his lofty +standards. She quaked, picturing his possible displeasure. For this +courageous champion of the rights of womankind who did not hesitate to +call the Creator Himself to account for seeming injustice, became the +meekest of the meek when confronted with the sex from which oppressors +are made. + +Susan's apprehensions were not so groundless as might be fancied. Joel +Dale was in a very bad humor after he had finished reading his sister's +note. Joel held the not unpopular theory that the supreme duty of +woman is to make some man comfortable. Religion and philanthropy were +legitimate diversions if not allowed to interfere with the higher +claim. Even the exercise of talent might be tendered a patronizing +approval, if this, too, knew its place. Joel was willing that Persis +should utilize her gifts in earning his living provided she did not +forget the complex ministrations involved in making him "comfortable." +He was ready to allow her to help her poorer neighbors, so that she was +never absent when he wanted her. But if that jealous divinity, his +Comfort, were denied its due, the indulgent brother was lost in the +affronted tyrant. + +Poor Susan Fitzgerald found her tremors doubled by the sight of his +lowering face. "Mr. Dale, I've come up to keep house for you to-day, +seeing--seeing Persis has been called away." She blushed, realizing +that Joel was undoubtedly in the secret of that errand. After forty +years in a world where birth is the one inevitable human experience, +aside from death, she had never been able to rid herself of the +impression that it was essentially immodest. + +Though the cloud of Jovian displeasure did not remove immediately from +Joel's brow, his mood underwent an instant change. His sister had not +been guilty of leaving him to shift for himself. The opportune +appearance of Susan Fitzgerald indicated a proper regard for the +masculine helplessness, which is also, by some obscure process of +reasoning, the badge of masculine superiority. Moreover Susan's +presence furnished the opportunity of setting forth in detail sundry +theories which to Persis were an old story. To a gentleman of Joel's +temperament, a new audience is at times a necessity. + +"You won't have much trouble getting my meals," he assured her, his +cold dignity thawing rapidly. "Just set on the dish of apples and +nuts." + +Susan's near-sighted eyes narrowed as she gazed at him. "You mean for +dessert?" + +"Dessert! When Adam and Eve started housekeeping do you s'pose they +sat down to soup to begin with and wound up with pie? The Lord put 'em +in a garden instead of a butcher's shop, because He wanted 'em to eat +vegetable food and not poison themselves with dead animals." Joel's +voice had grown almost cheerful. His ardor in the dissemination of his +dietetic theories waxed and waned, but when there was a new observer to +be impressed, he always found the crucifixion of his appetites well +worth while. He seated himself at the table with a gesture which +seemed to wave into some remote background the temptation of sausages +and buckwheat cakes. + +"No trouble for me. Just set on the nuts and apples, same as our +ancestors ate before they got wiser'n their Creator and learned to cook +their victuals. We're the only animals that ain't satisfied with raw +food. And we're the only ones that are everlastingly kicking about +indigestion." + +"I declare!" exclaimed Susan Fitzgerald, carried away by this masterly +logic. "You certainly have your own way of looking at subjects, Mr. +Dale." + +"Well, I'll admit that I'm not much at taking up with second-hand +opinions. Now, here's another idea of mine." He held up a walnut +between his thumb and finger. "There's a tree in that, ain't there?" + +"Why, yes." Susan's ready admission gave every indication of a +willingness to be impressed. + +"Well, what's enough to give a start to a tree that may grow seventy +feet or over, ought to start a man off to his day's work pretty well. +That's my way of reasoning." + +"But don't you feel an awful goneness after a breakfast like that?" + +"Goneness!" Magnificently Joel waved away the suggestion. "With an +apple and five or six good nuts inside me, I feel like I could run +through a troop, as the psalmist says, and leap over a wall." + +Susan's admiring murmur indicated that the sustaining effect of the +diet Joel recommended was due less to its intrinsic virtue than to some +unusual and dominating quality of Joel's personality. And Joel, +struggling with a peculiarly tough Brazil nut, reflected that Susan +Fitzgerald was an intelligent woman as well as an agreeable one. + +The morning passed pleasantly for both. Susan possessed the gift which +men have ever highly esteemed in the sex, the faculty of continued +silence, combined with close attention. Some of Joel's theories +impressed her as startling, but like many very proper people, Susan +rather enjoyed being shocked, if the sensation was not overdone. +Whether she murmured approval or blushed in decorous protest, it was +plain that she found Joel's monologues immensely interesting. She +could hardly believe her ears when the clock struck twelve. + +Susan brought the nuts and apples out again after their brief period of +retirement, and seated herself at the table, to share the Eden-like +repast. "You'd be an awful easy man to cook for, Mr. Dale," she said, +with a glance which in another woman would have been coquettish. + +But the arrow glanced harmless. Joel's mood was abstracted. Not for +some time had he put into practise his theories regarding uncooked +food, and his rebellious appetite craved more stimulating fare. He +munched his nuts with distracting memories of yesterday's pot roast. +He found himself resenting Susan's eager compliance. She should have +insisted on preparing him a good meal--good from her standpoint--and as +a gentleman he could have done no less than show his appreciation by +eating it. + +For once Joel had lost interest in his own eloquence. Inward voices +were protesting against this return to the fare which had satisfied +Father Adam. When he retired to the armchair, after dinner, and +relapsed into a sulky silence, Susan remembered that the obligation to +amuse him was also nominated in the bond. Luckily his tastes were +literary, which rendered her task a simple one. + +Susan stepped into the tightly-closed, partially darkened parlor which +never in the sultriest weather seemed wholly to lose the chill of its +unwarmed winter days. The center of the room was occupied by a square +table, on each corner of which lay a book, the four arranged with +geometrical nicety. Susan was too familiar with Clematis traditions +not to know that the books on the center-table were seldom of a sort +one would care to open, but as she lifted the nearest volume and saw +that it was a collections of poems, she felt a comforting certainty +that luck was with her. + +"You're a great admirer of po'try, ain't you, Mr. Dale? I've always +understood so." + +With an effort Joel roused himself. + +"Another has expressed my sentiments, Miss Fitzgerald. + + "Verse sweetens toil, however rude the sound.'" + + +"Then if you'd like, I'll read you a little so's to help pass the +time." Susan seated herself near the window, cleared her throat and +opening the volume at random, began in the self-conscious and unnatural +voice characterizing ninety-nine people out of every hundred who +attempt the reading of verse. + + "'O there's a heart for every one + If every one could find it. + Then up and seek, ere youth is gone, + Whate'er the task, ne'er mind it. + For if you chance to meet at last + With that one heart intended--'" + + +Susan's voice had grown husky. She cleared her throat again. "I'm +afraid I made a poor selection," she apologized. "You see I'm not as +familiar with po'try as you are, Mr. Dale." She turned the leaves in a +confusion that increased as her groping vision stumbled continually on +lines startlingly sentimental. + + + "'Let thy love in kisses rain + On my cheeks and eye-lids pale.'" + + +Susan opened ten pages ahead and tried again. + + + "'When stars are in the quiet skies, + Then most I pine for thee. + Bend on me, then, thy tender eyes, + As stars look on the sea.'" + + +Joel's change of position was subtly suggestive of weariness. Susan +whirled the leaves and took a desperate plunge. + + + "'Ask if I love thee? O, smiles can not tell + Plainer what tears are now showing too well. + Had I not loved thee my sky had been clear; + Had I not loved thee, I had not been here.'" + + +It was plainly impossible for a self-respecting single woman to +continue. "Why, they're all silly," she exclaimed, with a little +nervous giggle. Her face flamed. What was she to say next, not only +to carry out Persis Dale's injunction, but to occupy the blank silence +which contradictorily seemed echoing with that fateful refrain, "Had I +not loved thee I had not been here." + +When in doubt, play trumps. Susan Fitzgerald's chief interest in life +was the question of woman's suffrage. And the confusion which had +swept her mind bare of small talk, had not jostled her substantial +ideas on the familiar theme. She determined to broach the subject +delicately and with caution. If Joel cared for discussion, this would +occupy a good portion of the afternoon, and be a sufficient antidote +for her unfortunate poetical selections. It was even possible that a +strong forceful presentation of the case might result in making a +convert. Susan thrilled, realizing what such an accession would mean +to the cause. + +"Mr. Dale," she began, feeling her way to a tactful introduction. "I +am sure you must have a pretty good opinion of women. A man with such +a sister as you've got couldn't help it." + +Her opening was unfortunate. No man is so reluctant to recognize +feminine superiority as the one who profits most by the gifts of some +woman. Joel's brow clouded, and his answer showed a cautious resolve +not to be trapped into any compromising admission. + +"Oh, I haven't anything against women folks. I've always thought the +poet went too far when he said: + + "'Mankind from Adam has been woman's fools. + Women from Eve have been the Devil's tools.'" + +Despite the negative nature of this encouragement, Susan continued. + +"I'm sure a fair-minded man like you are, Mr. Dale, wouldn't want to +keep any woman out of what rightfully belonged to her. You'd want her +to have a chance to fill her place in the world, wouldn't you?" + +"Why, yes, I'd be in favor of that." Joel's voice was less positive +than his words, owing to an inward uncertainty as to the trend of these +observations. + +"Well, Mr. Dale, there's lots of us that are ready to take up our share +of the duties the Creator designed for us. We are standing waiting +like the people in the parable that nobody had hired. The trouble is +you won't let us, you men won't. We've got to wait for you to give us +our rights. All our willingness doesn't amount to anything till you +are ready." + +A sudden harassing suspicion assailed the target of Susan's eloquence, +and no sooner had it entered his mind than a dozen details instantly +corroborated it. Joel remembered the look which had accompanied +Susan's declaration that he would be an easy man to cook for. The love +poems had in themselves been equivalent to an avowal of passion even +without her tell-tale blushes. And now at last he grasped the +underlying meaning of her vague hints and obscure figures of speech. +For though she talked of rights and duties and the designs of the +Creator, there could be no doubt that she meant a husband. + +Joel rose to his feet and his mute tempestuous indignation was not +without interest as throwing light on the workings of the masculine +mind. In such a design as he attributed to Susan, it would seem that +the lady had much to lose and little to gain. She was vigorous, +well-preserved, possessed of a competence, while Joel was doubly +bankrupt. Yet his mood was far removed from humble gratitude. He was +furious at her presumption, alert to defend his threatened +prerogatives, angry at Persis for exposing him to such an attack under +his own roof where ignominious retreat was his only safety. + +"I've just thought of a little matter I've got to look after this +afternoon," he said, his manner nicely calculated to repel any tender +advances. "I'll have to hurry along, and there won't be any occasion +for you to linger. Please hang the key on the nail so Persis can let +herself in when she comes." + +His sudden hauteur was not lost on Susan. She sighed as he withdrew. + +"Funny how real liberal-minded men won't listen to argument when it +comes to some questions. But maybe he'll think over what I said and +it'll have an influence sooner or later. Anyway, we've got to be +prepared to sow beside all waters." + +The leather-covered book, whose failure to serve her purpose was +indirectly responsible for the broaching of so delicate a question, +caught her wandering attention. She picked it up, reading the title +aloud. + +"_Love Songs of Many Lands_. No wonder I couldn't find one that was +sensible. Well, I declare!" + +The book had opened at the fly-leaf. "Persis from Justin," Susan read, +bringing her near-sighted eyes close to the faded ink. She pursed her +lips and shook her head in disapproving surprise. + +"Persis Dale must have known some man pretty well to let him give her +anything so pointed. I should have thought she'd have felt awfully +embarrassed if she ever read the poems. Justin! Justin! There was a +Justin Ware, but I never heard there was anything between them." + +She returned the book to the chilly front room, adjusting it to the +proper angle on the center-table, as if it had been a part of a +geometrical diagram, And finally, after locking the door and hanging +the key where Persis, or any other arrival, would immediately notice +it, she turned her downcast face toward home. + +"I'm afraid I hurt Mr. Dale's feelings. It beats all how sensitive +some natures are. It's lucky I didn't get as far as what you would +call the real telling arguments." + +If Susan Fitzgerald's mood was despondent, as she reviewed the +activities of the day, such was not the case with Persis Dale. In the +Trotters' shabby cottage, exaltation reigned. Young Doctor Ballard, +lean and boyish, looked ready to be congratulated on a good piece of +work, though perfectly aware ha could never in this world, at least, +collect his fee for medical attendance. Bartholomew's complacent +self-importance almost straightened his bowed shoulders and redeemed +the weakness of his sagging lips and feeble chin. Lizzie, his wife, +spent and pallid, her gaunt temples hollowed and her face chiseled by +suffering, smiled contentedly as she lay against her pillow, a creature +lifted for the moment above the petty weaknesses, pitiable fruit of +life-long and grinding poverty, by the gracious dignity of motherhood. +As for Persis, as she carried the new arrival down-stairs to make the +acquaintance of his brothers and sisters, her comely face was radiant. +Weariness was forgotten. The hours of uncertainty, the long hours when +Life and Death matched forces in that old duel renewed with each new +existence, had all been forgotten. For a man was born. + +The little Trotters gathered around in an ecstasy of pleasure and +surprise. In a household where food was scanty, and every new pair of +shoes was a serious economic problem, there was no lack of welcome for +the newcomer. Chirpy little voices commented on the new brother's +surprising pinkness, his diminutive proportions and his belligerent +fashion of clenching his fists. + +"He's got on the nice clean dress the angels made him," said Winnie, +the observant. "See the lace in the sleeves." + +"I wish the angels had made him some hair instead," suggested Wilbur, +plainly aggrieved. "'Cause he could have worn some of our old clothes, +but he can't wear our hair." + +"He can have my jack-knife when he gets big enough," declared Benny, +the oldest of the flock. He drew the cherished possession from his +pocket as if ready to surrender it on the instant. And that offer was +a signal for a general outburst of generosity. + +"He can have my tooth brush." + +"I'll give him my rubber boot. Maybe when he's big enough to wear it, +somebody will give him one for the other leg." + +"You're going to let the new baby have your high chair, ain't you, +Essie?" Thus Winnie prompted the sister now compelled to relinquish +the honors and dignities attaching to the post of baby of the family. +And Essie, nodding her little tow head, laid a rose-leaf cheek against +the crumpled carnation of the newcomer. "Nice litty brudder," she +cooed. "Essie loves 'oo." + +"My gracious me!" thought Persis Dale, as she tucked the baby into the +battered cradle, never long without an occupant, "It's queer that we +ain't shaking our heads and groaning over this. The Trotters can't +afford a new baby any more than I can afford a steam yacht. There +ain't enough of anything to go around, and yet we're all holding up our +heads and acting as if this was the best day's work we ever had a hand +in. It's no use talking. Down in our hearts we know that life's a +good thing, even when we've got to take poverty and hardships along +with it. And that's why we start in singing Psalms in spite of +ourselves when a new baby comes." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A CONFIDENTIAL CHAT + +"I believe," said young Mr. Thompson, "that I've been owing you a +little bill for some weeks, Miss Dale. It had completely slipped my +mind." + +He looked old and worn, Persis thought, more like the man who must +settle for the spring finery of a family of grown daughters, than a +complacent young husband paying for his wife's first new gown since the +wedding. There was a flatness in his voice that matched the weariness +in his eyes, and forthwith a dozen questions raced through her alert +brain. + +"Well, Mr. Thompson, I hope you like the dress. I always tell my +customers that I'm as anxious to please their husbands as I am to +please them. 'Tain't fair, from my point of view, to ask a man to pay +out good money for clothes he just despises." + +Evasion is an art possessed in its perfection by few of the sterner sex. + +"Mrs. Thompson hasn't worn the dress yet," explained Mrs. Thompson's +husband. "I dare say it's very pretty." He had taken a little roll of +bills from his pocket, but his absent air showed conclusively that he +was thinking neither of them nor of his answer. + +Persis lowered her voice confidentially. + +"If I was you, Mr. Thompson, I wouldn't encourage her in that way of +doing. Maybe it seems like prejudiced advice, coming from a +dressmaker, so, but I never could see there was any saving in hanging a +dress away in the closet and not getting any wear out of it, till it +was clear out of style. You know how it is with young wives. They've +got their hearts so set on having their husbands praise 'em for being +saving that they make those little mistakes. You just tell her that +you'd rather spend a little more money, if it came to that, and see her +look her prettiest." + +"Mrs. Thompson is not--" began the young husband and broke off +uncertainly. His troubled eyes went to the kind resolute face +opposite, and the little roll of greenbacks dropped to the floor +unheeded. "Fact is," said the young fellow, carried away by that +impulse toward confidence which the sight of Persis was likely to +inspire in the least communicative, "fact is we're having the deuce of +a time." + +Persis nodded understandingly. "That ain't strange the first year or +so. After the honeymoon's over, then comes the getting acquainted. I +don't care how well folks have known each other beforehand, they've got +to start all over again after they're married. But don't worry; it +don't take long as a rule." + +"You don't quite get my idea." Young Mr. Thompson scowled at the +floor. "It's worse than you think. I'm in a fix, a devil of a fix. +Part of it I'm to blame for. I'm one of those guys with a sense of +humor, you know. I'm the regular George Cohan kind, and between my +practical jokes and some interfering old maids--I--I beg your pardon." + +"I'm not partial to 'em myself," smiled Persis reassuringly. + +There was an instant of understanding silence. "Well, anyway," groaned +the young man, "with a little outside help, I've queered myself for +good. And that's tough on a chap not a year married, believe me." + +He stared at the floor gloomily and when he lifted his eyes, she saw +the whole story on its way. "You wouldn't call Thompson an unusual +name, would you?" + +"One of the commonest, I should say." + +"And there's nothing so strange about 'W. Thompson' that you'd strain +your neck getting another look at it on a sign. Half the men you meet +are named William, to say nothing of the Walters and the Warrens, and +the new crop of Woodrow Wilsons." + +Persis' murmur of agreement was admirably calculated to encourage the +flow of confidence, not to check it. + +"Look at that." Young Mr. Thompson pulled a letter from his pocket and +slammed it down on the table. "There's the proof that I'm a hound and +a blackguard and that hanging would be too good for me. At least +that's what all the women tell my wife. And take it from me, they +know." + +Persis picked up the envelope and studied the superscription. It had +originally been addressed to Mr. W. Thompson, Hollenden Hotel, +Cleveland, Ohio, and later redirected in another hand to the firm by +which Mr. Thompson was employed. The unhappy husband explained: + +"Our men generally stop at the Hollenden when they are in Cleveland. I +never was there in my life. But Hudson, one of our fellows, blew in +one night and noticing a letter directed to W. Thompson, he knew, of +course, it must be for me. That's just the sort of 'buttinski' that +Hudson is. If he'd run across a tombstone with W. Thompson on it, he'd +have expressed it to me before he'd eaten his dinner. So he told the +clerk he knew me and sent the letter on to the main office. Now, +perhaps you'll appreciate the rest of my story better, if you'll read +the letter." + +Gratified by the permission, for young Mr. Thompson had succeeded in +piquing her curiosity, Persis drew the enclosure from the envelope and +for an instant studied the monogram at the head of the sheet. When her +gaze dropped to the address, her eyebrows lifted. + +"Yes, I know," murmured young Mr. Thompson. "'Tommy darling.' Tommy +is short for Thompson, I suppose. Tommy-rot, I call it. You might +read it aloud if you don't mind. It'll help me to have a realization +of what I'm up against." + +Persis complied. + + +"Tommy darling: + +"Here I am writing you again for all I promised myself that I +wouldn't--not ever. It makes me feel so dishonorable when I think of +Her. And then, dear, I think of you and everything else is forgotten +for a little while. + +"That lovely, sad, happy, heart-breaking afternoon together! I've +lived on the memory of it ever since. I thought when we said good-by +that it was for the last time. I really meant it, dear. But now the +thought of never seeing you again is like a great black wall shutting +out everything bright and beautiful. I'm not brave enough to bear it. + +"Tell me when and where we can see each other, Tommy. I'm not going to +think of Her, but only of you and me and the joy of loving and being +loved. + +"Enid." + + +"She seems," observed Persis Dale, folding the letter carefully, "to be +of a real affectionate disposition." Young Mr. Thompson passed the +comment over without remark. + +"They gave me the letter at the office. It was pretty near a month +after it was written and I judged the two of them had seen each other +before that, and one lost letter wouldn't matter. And then it occurred +to me that I'd have a little fun with Molly. Get me?" + +Persis' look indicated understanding rather than approval. + +"You can't think worse than I've said to myself a thousand times. I +put the letter in my pocket, and I had it all figured out how she'd +find it and ask me about it, and then read it and be angry for about +half a minute. And I took it for granted that I was going to be right +there to explain and that I'd have the laugh on her before she had the +chance to get to feeling real bad. It looked awful funny to me. It's +a great thing to have a man-size sense of humor." + +Persis was too interested to smile. + +"Then the weather got warm and I changed to another suit and forgot to +change the letter. I'd laid several little plots to help her to find +it, like sending her to my pocket for postage stamps, but she didn't +fall to 'em, and finally the letter got to be an old story. I pretty +nearly forgot all about it. When she did find it, I was off on a trip +and she'd talked the thing over with all the old women in the +neighborhood before I got back." He ran his fingers through his hair. +"Explain! Well, she thinks it's a mighty slim story, and the deuce of +it is that she's right. Any dam fool could make up a better one." + +"I b'lieve you could have done better yourself," Persis suggested +smoothly, "if you'd been in the story business." + +The young fellow looked at her, and a quick flush swept to the roots of +his hair. + +"That sounds," he began breathlessly, "that sounds as if you took stock +in me in spite of the way things look." + +"I've lived long enough to know that looks are deceiving whether you're +talking about women or just things." Persis studied the address again +and compressed her lips. "See that this letter don't get lost, strayed +or stolen," she directed, with that instinctive assumption of authority +which is the badge of the competent. "We might find it useful in +clearing things up." + +The young man's ruddy color rose again. "Then you think--" he faltered +and broke off. + +"I think that when folks act fair and square, their lives ain't going +to be ruined by a little mistake. Of course it's going to be cleared +up. Careful, Mr. Thompson. You seem to be stepping on a lot of money. +And it must belong to you, because I can't afford to carpet my room +with greenbacks." + +His answering laugh showed the contagion of her optimism. Young Mr. +Thompson picked up his money and paid his bill, "I'm going home and +coax Molly into putting on that new dress," he declared boyishly. +"It's the first dress I ever bought for her, and I'm crazy to see how +she looks in it." + +Persis approved the suggestion. "But don't be discouraged if she needs +a lot of coaxing. It's as natural for women to primp and fuss and fix +their hair up pretty ways when they're feeling happy as 'tis for plants +to put out leaves in the spring. But heavy hearts are like winter +weather. If you want any blossoms in December, you've got to work for +'em." She wrote "received payment" beneath Mr. Thompson's bill and +went to the secretary for the change. Young Mr. Thompson pocketed his +forty-five cents and detained the hand that tendered it. + +"Look here, Miss Dale," he said, "you've braced me up wonderfully. I +feel more like a man and less like a feather-bolster than I did when I +came in. I wonder if you couldn't--" He hesitated and pressed her +fingers persuasively. "Couldn't you manage to drop a hint to Molly +about appearances being deceptive, you know." + +"I'll say more than that before I'm done with her," Persis promised +briskly. And they shook hands over again, and young Mr. Thompson +departed with an alert step that argued a corresponding lightness of +heart. And because Persis Dale was a woman of action, she sat down at +the secretary and penned a letter to a total stranger, to Mr. W. +Thompson, care of the Hollenden Hotel, Cleveland. The letter itself +was brief and to the point. + + +"Dear Sir: + +"I should like to know if you are expecting word from a young woman +named Enid. In case you are, kindly communicate with the undersigned. + +"Yours truly, + + "Persis Dale." + + +Brief as the letter was its composition took some little time. The +deftness which characterized Persis in most of her work, did not extend +to her epistolary efforts. She was still puckering her forehead over +the page when Thomas Hardin knocked. The door was ajar and glancing +over her shoulder, she called to him to enter. + +"You'll excuse me for not getting up, Thomas. When once I sit down to +an ink bottle, I stick to it till I finish. I'm in a hurry to get this +letter off to-night." She wrote the address and dried the ink by +moving the paper gently back and forth. + +Thomas' face showed relief. He had come prepared to make a painful +disclosure and the brief period of waiting was as welcome as similar +postponement to the possessor of an aching tooth who calls at the +dentist's office and finds the practitioner busy. But as Persis +immediately proceeded to fold the letter and seal the envelope, his +respite was brief. + +"Persis, did you know there was insanity in my family?" + +Persis, applying a crumpled stamp to the tip of her tongue, started +violently. "Good gracious, Thomas, no! I never heard it mentioned." + +"I thought maybe 'twas my duty to speak to you about it. It was my +great-uncle, Captain Silas Hardin. He was my father's uncle, and he--" + +"Why, I know all about him, Thomas. How he was shipwrecked off in the +Indian Ocean somewhere and floated around on a raft, and the different +ones got crazy with the heat and thirst and all and jumped overboard. +And it was an English ship that found the old captain, and he was just +raving when they took him aboard. I can remember him when I was a +little girl. There was a blue anchor tattooed on his hand, and I +thought it was the most wonderful thing in the world. But then he was +as sensible as anybody." + +"Yes, he was all right in his later days, but when he first came home +from England, he had lots of queer ways about him, I've heard my mother +say. And as long as he lived, he'd stand off and stare at the corner +of the room where there wasn't nothing with his eyes kind of fixed, and +it was enough to make your hair rise up to look at him." + +"I don't wonder, poor soul. I guess if we'd seen what he had, there'd +be times when it would all come back to us. By the way, Thomas, seeing +as you go right past the post-office, I'll ask you to mail this letter. +I want it to be sure to get off the first mail." + +Thomas tacitly accepted the commission by holding out his hand for the +letter. Then he read the superscription. "W. Thompson! Why, there's +a W. Thompson in Clematis." + +"This," replied Persis, and the confidence of her tone would have +warmed the heart of young Mr. Thompson, "this is a different one." + +Thomas waited to hear more, but no further particulars were vouchsafed. +He felt mildly aggrieved. "Didn't know you had acquaintances in +Cleveland," he suggested by way of a stimulus to confidence. + +"I haven't many." Persis compressed her lips, and Thomas looked again +at the envelope. The sense of elation due to the discovery that Persis +was disposed to regard the insanity of Captain Silas Hardin lightly, +was eclipsed by a new anxiety. Persis had friends of whose existence +he was unaware. She corresponded with men in distant cities. These +apparently trivial facts took on greater import as he mused. His own +chances to win her, dishearteningly small at the best of times in view +of his checkered record, suddenly sank below the level of +insignificance and ceased to exist. + +He looked across at Persis on the other side of the table. She had +picked up a piece of sewing, but her look of absorption showed that her +trained fingers were doing their work without the supervision of the +brain. Nor could he flatter himself that her thoughts were of him. He +was a modest man, but for the moment he resented with bitterness the +self-evident fact that she was temporarily oblivious to his presence. + +He got to his feet, pushing back his chair noisily. "Maybe I'd better +be going, so's your letter will be dead sure to get to the post-office +on time," he said, his voice harsh with disappointment. + +Persis stooped to bite a thread. "Thank you, Thomas," she answered +placidly. "I'll be easier in my mind when I know it's mailed." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +EVE AND THE APPLE + +Joel was aggrieved. For the second time in a month his sister was +planning to desert him. Putting the claims of an unborn infant before +his comfort, Persis had basely abandoned him to the wiles of Susan +Fitzgerald. And now she had agreed, though reluctantly, to do a day's +work for Mrs. Hornblower at the latter's home. That thrifty housewife +had urged a lame knee as her reason for requesting Persis to depart so +radically from her usual custom, and Persis had accepted the excuse +with reservations. + +"Fact is, Lena Hornblower can never get it into her head that I'm a +dressmaker and not a sewing girl," Persis confided to Joel at the +breakfast table. "I'm not saying that her knee ain't lame, but I guess +if she can stand up to be fitted, she'd be equal to getting in and out +of a buggy. Lena Hornblower's always looking for a chance to save a +penny. She's got an idea that it's bound to be cheaper to have your +sewing done at the house. All I can say," concluded Persis, buttering +her toast, "is that she's going to find herself mistaken." + +Joel's abstracted gaze indicated a total lack of interest in the +subject. + +"I've been thinking," he remarked with that suavity of manner as +prophetic of a storm as thunder-claps in July, "that I might as well +get me a room somewhere in the neighborhood. There's no sense in +making a pretense that you're keeping house for me when you're gadding +and gadding, here to-day and to-morrow off the Lord knows where. If I +had a comfortable room, somewheres," continued Joel, with the noble +resignation of conscious martyrdom, "and a little stove so's I could +get my meals, then I'd know just what to expect, and I wouldn't have to +ask no odds of nobody." + +Persis had listened to similar propositions before. It was a perennial +threat which in the passing of years had lost its power to terrify. +Yet with the inevitable feminine impulse to smooth the feathers of +ruffled masculinity, she began, "When I drove by Susan Fitzgerald's +yesterday morning--" + +Joel set down his coffee cup with an emphasis that splashed the +table-cloth. + +"That'll do, Persis. I'll tell you once for all that I won't have that +woman here. I can go hungry if it comes to that, but I won't stand for +your putting that old maid up to set her cap for me." + +"Goodness, Joel, Susan hasn't any reason in life to want to +marry--anybody." Persis had come very near an uncomplimentary +frankness, but her native tact had suddenly asserted itself and made +the statement general. + +Joel smiled satirically. + +"Maybe you know better'n I do about that, and then again, maybe you +don't," he replied darkly. Then with a reversion to his air of injury, +he added: "Here's Hornblower come for you already." + +As a matter of fact, the thrifty Mrs. Hornblower had despatched her +husband for Persis at the earliest hour permissible, resolved to prove +the economy of her scheme by adding to the activities of the day at +both ends. Persis, quite aware of her patron's purpose, smiled +comprehendingly and proceeded to clear the table without undue haste or +excitement. Mr. Hornblower had waited full thirty minutes before she +came lightly down the path and with unruffled serenity bade him good +morning. + +"Sorry to keep you waiting, but you were half an hour ahead of the time +I said." + +Robert Hornblower, who had that repressed and submissive air not +infrequent in husbands whose wives make a boast of their womanly +subjection, mumbled that it didn't matter. As he helped her to her +seat, Persis noticed that he had lost flesh since she had seen him +last, and that some plow-share, sharper than that of time, had deepened +the furrows that criss-crossed his sagging cheeks. "How're the crops +coming on?" she asked, as she settled herself beside him. + +"Fine!" Mr. Hornblower spoke with a lack of reserve unusual in his +pessimistic profession. "Potatoes ain't quite up to last year, but the +corn crop's a record breaker." + +"Mis' Hornblower's knee trouble her much?" + +"Well, no, not to say trouble." Mr. Hornblower plucked his beard with +his disengaged hand and cast a thoughtful glance at his companion. +"She's a little oneasy in her mind though, Mis' Hornblower is. She's +got an idea in her head and it keeps her as oneasy as a flea. If she +should open up to you, maybe you'd see your way to say something kind +of quieting." + +"But what's she got to worry about?" + +"That's what I say," said Mr. Hornblower, gesturing with his whip. +"We're comf'table and prosperous, ain't we? Maybe there's a way to get +more. I don't say there ain't. But what's the use of more, when +you've got enough? The house suits me just as 'tis, and my victuals +suit me, and my friends that I've summered and wintered with, forty +years and over, they suit me, too. What do I want of a villa, or of +trips to Europe, where the folks talk all kinds of heathenish gibberish +instead of good United States!" + +"But I don't see how--" + +"Maybe she'll open up to you," repeated Mr. Hornblower, lowering his +voice though such a precaution was obviously unnecessary. "Mind I +don't say it ain't a pretty scheme. Anyhow, it looks good on paper. +But with me the point's just here--enough's enough." + +Persis found Mrs. Hornblower more communicative than her spouse. As +all roads lead to Rome, so, with Mrs. Hornblower, all topics of +conversation led directly to the subject uppermost in her thoughts. +The inevitable discussion of the prevailing modes led by a short path +to Persis' full enlightenment. + +"I want it fixed real tasty, Persis, for all it's not a new dress. +I've had it going on four years, but I've been sparing of it and +careful, so it's not like a dress you wear for getting supper and for +trailing round in the yard after the dew falls. Robert's always been +fond of this dress. I s'pose I'm kind of foolish to humor him so, but +I'm always careful about consulting his tastes. Seems as if a wife had +ought to be satisfied if she dresses in a way that pleases her husband." + +"Sometimes I've thought," replied Persis, as she turned the pages of +her latest fashion magazine, "that when it comes to women's clothes, +men don't know what they do like. If a man goes with his wife to buy a +hat, nine times out of ten, he'll pick out the worst-looking thing in +the shop, and then he'll wonder why she's falling off in her looks. +Now, Mis' Hornblower, what do you think of this pannier style? Taking +out the extra fulness from the back and using it in folds, I could hide +where it's getting worn on the seams." + +"I s'pose we'd have a better choice of styles by waiting for next +month's book," said Mrs. Hornblower, regarding the model Persis had +indicated with an evident lack of favor. "But my plans are so +unsettled that I want to hurry through my dress-making. I dare say +you've heard we're likely to leave Clematis 'most any time." + +"I'd heard it hinted, but I didn't take much stock in it. Clematis +would be sorry to lose you, and it would be pretty hard on you leaving +Clematis." + +Mrs. Hornblower smiled. "Oh, I haven't a thing against Clematis, +Persis. Robert says that of course it doesn't give a man any kind of a +chance to make money and I guess he's right. I believe in leaving such +things for the men-folks to settle. These new-fangled women who are +always setting up to know best and saying what they will do and what +they won't do, can't have much of an opinion of the Bible. I'm sure it +says as plain as the nose on your face 'wives obey your husbands,' and +'where thou goest I will go.'" + +Persis scrutinized the back breadths of the lavender foulard. "But +Ruth was talking to her mother-in-law," she objected, off her guard for +the instant, since only the death of Mrs. Hornblower senior, had ended +the hostilities between herself and her son's wife. Then regretting +her tactless words, she hastened to say, "Don't you think that when a +man gets to Mr. Hornblower's age, he does better in work he's used to +than if he tries his hand at something new? It's easy enough +transplanting a sapling, but an old tree's different." + +"It all depends," replied Mrs. Hornblower coldly, piqued, as Persis had +feared, by her reference to the delicate subject. But her desire to +dazzle the plodding dressmaker with visions of her future prosperity, +proved too much for her resentment. And soon, as they ripped and +basted, Mrs. Hornblower was dilating on the unparalleled opportunity +for wealth furnished by the Apple of Eden Investment Company. She +quoted freely from its literature and outlined, with more or less +detail, the care-free and opulent existence upon which the family of +Hornblower would enter when the farm had been sold and the proceeds +wisely invested. + +"It's a disappointment to me that the whole thing isn't settled and +done with by this time. But I always leave Robert to decide such +matters, and Robert thought 'twas best to wait till Mr. Ware's visit. +Ouch! My goodness gracious, Persis! You must take my arm for a +pin-cushion." + +This time Persis' contrition was not assumed. + +"I'm awfully sorry, Mis' Hornblower. The lining's so thin. I'll have +the sleeve off in a shake before it gets spotted." + +"That'll have to be bandaged," exclaimed Mrs. Hornblower, surveying her +injured arm in the mirror with a not unnatural annoyance. "A little +prick is to be expected now and then when you're dress-making, but this +was a regular jab. I don't know what ails you, Persis. Looks like +your mind must have been running on Thomas Hardin." + +Persis' unwonted humility was disarming, and by dinner-time Mrs. +Hornblower was sufficiently recovered to be patronizing. + +"Of course this foulard is a sort of make-shift, you might say, Persis. +It'll do me till I have a chance to get something real up-to-date and +dressy in Paris." + +Persis, laying down her work as the clock struck twelve, had no reply +to make, and Robert Hornblower, whose punctuality at meals was notable, +a characteristic shared by all henpecked husbands, entered the house at +that moment, casting a quick glance at his wife's face as a sailor +watches the sky for signs of a squall. + +"We've spent the morning fixing up your favorite gown, so as it'll be +pretty near as good as new," Persis informed him, as she accepted a +well-filled plate at his hands. Then as the farmer looked a little +blank, she directed his attention to the renovated lavender foulard +hanging over a chair. + +Mr. Hornblower's expression was still vague. "Oh, you mean that pink--" + +The women interrupted him with a derisive cry of "Pink!" But while +Persis laughed, Mrs. Hornblower flashed upon her husband a look of +ineffable scorn. + +"As if I'd ever wore pink or ever would, a color for children." + +"Them bright colors is all one to me," said the unhappy Mr. Hornblower, +proceeding with fatal facility to make a bad matter worse. "They're +all too kind of flashy. Now, my mother used to have a dress," he +continued, meeting Persis' sympathetic gaze, "that suited me down to +the ground. Satin, it was, or maybe 'twas silk or velvet. Anyhow, it +looked rich. And it was sort of silvery, and then again, darker'n +silver and sort of ripply and shiny--" + +"Robert ain't very well posted on names," said Robert's wife with +deadly calm. "But he knows what he likes, same as most men, and that +lavender foulard has always been his special favorite. His special +favorite," she repeated sternly, as she met her husband's wavering eye. + +"Oh, the lavender foulard!" exclaimed Mr. Hornblower, with an +unsuccessful attempt to give the impression that only at that moment +had he discovered what they were talking about. "The lavender foulard, +to be sure." He cut himself an enormous slice from the boiled beef and +bowed his head over his plate, as if offering thanks for an excuse to +retire gracefully from the conversation. + +But this did not agree with Mrs. Hornblower's intentions. "Tired, +ain't you, Robert?" Her solicitude was so marked as to suggest an +ulterior motive. + +"I guess this is about as busy a time of year as any," commented Persis. + +And Mr. Hornblower, having now reached a point in his struggle with the +boiled beef where he could make himself intelligible, began +ponderously, "Oh, as far as that goes--" + +"Robert realizes that he ain't as young as he was," said Mrs. +Hornblower, taking the words from his mouth. "While he's not an old +man yet, he feels that he's done his share of work. If there's a good +time waiting for him, he means to get to it before he's so old it won't +do him any good." + +"Sometimes I think," observed Persis sententiously, "that enjoying +one's self's a good deal like jam. You spread it on bread and butter, +and you can eat a sight of it. But if you set down to a pot of jam and +nothing else, it turns your stomach in no time." + +The sudden illumination of Mr. Hornblower's heavy features indicated +that he had grasped Persis' metaphor. He broke out eagerly. "Now, +that's just what I was saying to my wife. If a man--" + +"Robert looks at it this way," explained Mrs. Hornblower, deftly +cutting in. "He says he couldn't enjoy himself just idling, but he +don't look on travel and improving his mind in that light. Robert +feels that enlarging your horizon, and getting culture and polish is a +part of anybody's duty. Robert feels real strongly on that subject," +concluded Mrs. Hornblower, looking hard at her husband, as if defying +him to deny it. + +The worm made a visible effort to turn. "Whatever you may say about +Clematis," said Mr. Hornblower, apparently with the full intention of +paying an impassioned tribute to his native town. But again the +supports were cut from beneath his feet, and he was left dangling in +midair. + +"Robert thinks as well of Clematis as anybody," Mrs. Hornblower +acknowledged generously. "He's got a real fondness for the town. But +as he says, the world's a big place, and it don't stand to reason that +all of it that's worth seeing is right under our noses. Robert says +that some folks who think they're so dreadful patriotic are nothing in +the world but narrow." + +For a moment Mr. Hornblower seemed tempted to take up the gauntlet with +himself, challenging his own forcibly expressed convictions. And then +as if realizing the uselessness of such an attempt, he sighed heavily +and sought consolation in the gravy. And Mrs. Hornblower demonstrated +the sweeping character of her victory by saying plaintively: "Of course +a woman always feels breaking off old associations the way a man can't +understand. Robert laughs at me. He says he b'lieves I fairly get +attached to a mop I've used and hate to change to a new one. But a +woman can't be a good wife, Persis, and think of herself. She's just +got to set aside her own feelings and preferences, and look at what's +best for her husband." + +It was characteristic of Mrs. Hornblower's shrewdness that supper was +always late when she had a dressmaker in the house. The fire refused +to draw. A scarcity of eggs necessitated a change in her plans for +supper, and the new menu invariably demanded more time than that +originally decided upon. Persis, left to herself, and thoroughly +understanding the purpose back of these various delays and +postponements, smiled grimly, yet not without a certain reluctant +admiration, and retaliated by sewing more and more slowly. And for the +hundredth time that day, her thoughts returned to Mrs. Hornblower's +careless reference to a prospective visit. Mr. Ware! Could she have +meant Justin? His connection with the apple company made this seem +almost certain, and yet it was inconceivable that Lena Hornblower +should refer to his coming with such nonchalant certainty when she +herself was in the dark. Persis' capable hands dropped to her lap. +For the minute she was a girl again, parting from the boy who loved +her, lifting her tear-wet face for the comfort of his kisses. Twenty +years! Twenty long hard years! And now Justin Ware was really coming +home. + +She put the question bluntly to Robert Hornblower as he drove her home +after dark. "Your wife said something about a Mr. Ware's coming here +before long. I used to go to school with somebody of that name, Justin +Ware." + +The depressed and silent Mr. Hornblower roused himself. + +"It's the same one. The Wares never had nothing, but I guess this here +Justin has cleaned up a lot of money. Don't follow that everybody +could do the same in his place, though. Some folks have the luck, and +some have got the pluck, and some have both." He sighed. "Of course +you understand, Persis, that Lena wants me to do exactly as I think +best. Only--only when a woman gets her heart set on a thing, a man +feels like a brute to think of having his own way." + +"Yes," Persis said gently, "I understand." And then with more optimism +than she felt she added: "Maybe something will happen so she'll look at +it different." + +Thomas Hardin and Joel were awaiting her in the unsocial silence +characteristic of their sex when no feminine incentive to +conversational brilliancy is at hand. Thomas' eyes kindled as he said +good evening. Joel, after two meals in which he had fended for +himself, looked more than ever like an early Christian martyr. +"There's a letter come for you," he said with marked coldness. + +Persis whirled about, a wild foolish hope in her heart. "A letter? +Where?" + +"On the mantel, next the clock!" Joel's eyes followed his sister as +she crossed the room with that quick light step, so reminiscent of +girlhood. She pounced upon the letter and even her brother's eyes, +dimmed by life-long self-absorption, could see that her face fell. + +"I didn't know you knew anybody in Cleveland." + +"Cleveland." In some mysterious manner, Persis' animation had +returned. The confirmed meddler has one thing in her favor, that +whatever the crisis of her own fortunes, there are always the affairs +of other people to distract her thoughts. She dropped into a chair by +the lamp and read the brief letter with breathless interest, too +absorbed even to apologize. + + +"Miss Persis Dale, + + "Clematis. + +"Dear Madam--Yours of the 12th inst. received. I am at a loss to +understand your very extraordinary inquiry, unless by some chance a +letter intended for me has fallen into your hands. In that case I am +enclosing stamps to have it forwarded by special delivery. I hardly +need remind you that it is a serious offence in the eyes of the law to +retain mail which is the property of another person. + +"Yours truly, + + "W. Thompson. + + "Hollenden Hotel, Cleveland, Ohio." + + +Joel stared at his sister as she read down the page, her color rising, +a curious, triumphant little smile playing about her lips. Thomas +glowered at the floor. So this answer to the letter he himself had +posted, was responsible for that look on her face. + +"I guess I'll have to be going," he exclaimed, getting to his feet with +the conviction that he had borne all that was possible for the time +being. + +Persis glanced up in surprise. "Already, Thomas? Well, give my love +to Nellie when you see her." She crossed the room and placed the +letter in her writing-desk, that triumphant smile still transforming +her face. + +It might have brought comfort to Thomas' heart if he had seen her an +hour or two later, for the smile had disappeared. She stood before the +plush-framed photograph upon the mantel, a strange wistful wonder on +her face. + +"Oh, Justin," she whispered as she looked. "Oh, Justin, Justin!" She +put out her hands as if for all their capable strength they felt the +need of a comforting touch. And then the amiable young face smiling +back at her, blurred before her wet appealing eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +A DAY TO HERSELF + +Persis had resolved on a new gown. + +The livelier iris which in spring changes on the burnished dove, +reveals nature's universal tactics. On looking over her wardrobe after +her day at the Hornblower farm, Persis had been appalled by its +manifest shortcomings. The black mohair, held to the light, betrayed +an unmistakable greenish tinge. The navy blue was long since out of +style. As for the wine-colored henrietta, it had never been becoming. +The material had been presented Persis by a customer who had +unexpectedly gone into mourning, and she had made it up and worn it +with much the emotion of an old-time penitent in his hair-cloth shirt. +And yet in twenty-four hours the mohair had not become perceptibly +greener nor was the blue more strikingly passée. It was Persis herself +who had changed. + +As she stood before the mirror, fitting her own lining, she defended +her course as the wisest women will do, though when judge, jury and +advocate are all one, the verdict is a foregone conclusion. She +tightened the seam under her arm, used the scissors discreetly here and +there, and continued to argue the point, though there was none who had +a right to question or to criticize. + +"It's bad policy for a dressmaker to go around shabby. It's like a +doctor with an invalid wife and sickly children. And anyway, I haven't +had anything new for over a year, unless I count that blue chambray +wrapper. As little as I spend on clothes, I guess when I do want a new +gown it's nobody's business." + +The argument was plausible, convincing. Any listener who had been on +the point of accusing Persis of extravagance, must have humbly +acknowledged his mistake and begged her pardon. But Persis had a +harder task than to convince an outsider that she needed an addition to +her wardrobe. She was striving, and without success, to alter her own +uneasy conviction that the prospective visit of Justin Ware was +responsible for her novel and engrossing interest in her personal +appearance. + +Persis, studying her reflection in the mirror, directed the point of +the scissors toward her throat as if deliberating suicide. "I wonder," +she mused, "how 'twould look to have it turn away at the neck in a V. +'Tisn't as if I was sixty." + +The scissors, obedient to the suggestion, snipped a cautious line +directly beneath Persis' chin. The cambric was folded back to give the +desired V-effect, and Persis' countenance assumed an expression of +complacence altogether justifiable. Then at this most inopportune +moment, Joel entered. + +"Persis, have you seen my bottle of Rand's Remedy?" Joel had reached +the stage, perhaps the most dangerous in his unceasing round, when he +was ready to accept implicitly the claims made for every patent +panacea. He dosed himself without mercy. He had a different pill for +every hour, pills for promoting digestion, for regulating the heart +action, for producing flesh. He swallowed weird powders, before and +after meals. He took a wine-glass of a sticky unwholesome-looking +fluid before retiring. Every periodical that came into the house he +scanned for advertisements of proprietary remedies, and his manner +sometimes suggested a complete willingness to contract asthma or +sciatica in order to have an excuse for testing the cures so glowingly +endorsed. + +The spectacle of his sister, becomingly arrayed in the lining of the +new gown, temporarily eclipsed the claims of Rand's Remedy. Joel came +to a jerky halt and stood open-mouthed. + +"Dress-goods must be getting expensive." Having convinced himself that +his eyes had not deceived him, Joel relieved his feelings by heavy +sarcasm. "It's a pity you can't afford cloth enough to cover you. I +guess it's true that modesty's getting to be a lost art when a woman of +your age will flaunt around--" + +The goaded Persis spoke to the point. "Seems to me I remember not so +very long back when you were taking a constitutional out on the front +lawn without much more'n a bath-towel between you and the public." + +"What are you talking about?" Joel reddened angrily. "I'm a man, +ain't I?" + +"Well, we won't discuss that, seeing it's nothing to do with the case. +But I will say that the very men who make the most fuss about women's +dressing immodest, wouldn't mind riding through town on a band wagon +with nothing on but a pair of tights. And I think they'd be in better +business looking after the beams in their own eyes." + +"That sort of thing is meant to allure." Joel pointed an accusing +finger toward the V-neck. "It's 'stepping o'er the bounds of modesty,' +as Shakespeare says, to entice your fellowmen." + +"The jaw-bone of that ass that Samson killed a thousand Philistines +with," returned Persis severely, "ain't to be compared for deadliness, +it seems, with a woman's collar-bone. Looks to me as if 'twas high +time to stop calling women the weaker sex when it takes so little to +bring about a man's undoing. I've known plenty of foolish women in my +time, but the most scatter-brained, silly girl I ever set my eyes on +could see any number of men with their collars off and their trousers +rolled up and not be any more allured than if she was looking at so +many gate-posts. You men have certainly got to be a feeble sex, Joel. +The wonder is you don't mind owning up to it." + +"'Vanity of vanities,'" taunted Joel from the doorway, "'all is +vanity.'" He withdrew hastily, carrying with him the uneasy conviction +that he had come off second-best in the encounter. And Persis, her +cheeks hot with indignation, cut the V-neck a good eighth of an inch +lower than she had intended. + +In spite of this inauspicious beginning, she was presently singing over +her work. There was something distinctly exhilarating in the idea of +devoting a week to her personal needs, keeping her customers waiting, +if necessary, though she hardly thought this probable, as the season +was still slack. And the elation of her mood reached its climax when +Annabel Sinclair sent Diantha down to say that she wished her black net +made over, and was in a hurry. Persis had heard nothing from Annabel +since Diantha had worn home her first long dress. And though she had +reckoned on the probability that the opening of the fall season would +bring her irate patron to terms, Persis experienced vast satisfaction +in returning a nonchalant reply to the peremptory message. + +"Can't do a thing just now, Diantha. Next week, Friday, if your mother +hasn't got anybody else--" + +"Oh, she won't get anybody else, Miss Persis. Nobody else would suit +her." + +Diantha looked taller and more mature than ever in a plain, loosely +fitting blue serge. Persis appraised it with judicial eye. "Ready +made, ain't it, Diantha?" + +The girl blushed tempestuously, "Yes, father bought it for me in the +city. Mother said-- That other dress, you know--" + +"Yes, I s'pose your mother thought we'd ought to have consulted her, +instead of going ahead. Well, tell her I'm busy for the rest of this +week, Diantha, and for next, up till Friday." + +If this were a dismissal, Diantha failed to accept it. She perched on +the arm of the big chair and watched with fascinated eyes the heavy +shears biting their way through a filmy fabric of a delicate gray +shade. "How pretty!" Diantha murmured. Then with more animation. +"Thad West says you're the best dressmaker anywhere around here. He +says that you could make lots of money in the city." + +"I'm quite set up by his good opinion--seeing he knows so much about +it." That Persis' dry retort veiled sarcasm was far from Diantha's +thought. She continued guilelessly. + +"He's got such good taste, Thad has. Don't you think men have better +taste than women, Miss Persis? All women care about is following the +styles, and men think whether the way you do your hair is becoming or +not. If a thing isn't pretty, they don't care a bit about its being +stylish." + +Persis glanced up from her cutting. She had noticed this phenomenon +before, the impulse of the girl who feels a proprietary interest in +some particular male, to indulge in sweeping generalities concerning +the opposite sex. When Persis had schemed to bring about the dramatic +encounter between Thad West and the Diantha newly emerged from the +chrysalis stage, she had but one end in view; to show the young man the +essential absurdity of any sentimental acquaintance between himself and +the mother of this blooming maid. With a vague uneasiness she realized +the possibility that she had overshot the mark. + +"I think Thad dresses beautifully himself," Diantha purred on. "When +you're little you can't see but what men's clothes are all alike. +Isn't that funny? Now, Thad's neckties--" + +There was a heavy step upon the porch, and Persis was spared further +harrowing details. "Oh, it's the doctor," Diantha cried, with a sigh +for her interrupted confidences. "Is anybody sick?" + +"Nobody here," said Persis, and she echoed Diantha's sigh. The +doctor's appearance suggested that she might be needed to act as nurse +in some household too poor to pay for professional care. For a dozen +years the old doctor had called on her freely for such gratuitous +service, and his successor had promptly fallen into a similar practise. +At this juncture Persis felt a most unchristian reluctance to act the +part of ministering angel in any sick room. Nothing adds to a woman's +apparent age so rapidly as working by day and caring for the sick at +night. Persis had seen herself, on more than one occasion, take on ten +years in a week of such double duty. And just now she wanted to appear +youthful and pretty, not haggard and worn. She greeted the doctor less +cordially than was her wont for the reason that in her heart she knew +she must do whatever he asked. + +Doctor Ballard shook hands with Persis, nodded casually to Diantha and +waited openly for that ingenuous young person to take her departure. +As the door closed behind her, he dropped into the armchair she had +vacated, crossed his legs and sighed. + +"Miss Persis, I'm up a tree. I want some advice." + +"You're welcome to all I've got." Persis, regretting the reserve of +her greeting, beamed upon him affectionately. + +"Did you ever know a woman to die just because she'd decided that was +the proper caper?" + +"Trouble?" Persis questioned laconically. + +"Lord, no! Everything comfortable. Husband who worships her. As far +as I can diagnose the case, it's a sort of homesickness for the pearly +gates." + +"Kind of as if she'd got disgusted with this world," suggested Persis, +with one of her flashes of intuition, "and wanted to get some place +where things would be more congenial." + +"You've hit it to a T. Now, what I want to know is this, can people +keep up that kind of nonsense till they die of it? I've got a patient +right now who's lost thirty pounds by it. She won't eat. She won't +make an effort. She sits around smiling like an angel off on +sick-leave, and the same as tells me I can't do anything for her +because she's wanted over the river. Husband's about crazy." + +"What's her name?" + +Professional caution did not seal Doctor Ballard's tips. In many a +sick room, by more than one deathbed, he and this keen-eyed woman had +come to know each other with a completeness of understanding which even +wedlock does not always bring. "It's Nelson Richards' wife," he said +without hesitation, nor did he ask her to respect his confidence. + +"Yes, I mistrusted it was Charlotte Richards. Goodness has always been +Charlotte's specialty, so to speak, the kind of goodness," Persis +explained carefully, "that ain't good for anything in particular. And +she's lost thirty pounds?" + +"I'd stake my professional reputation," said the doctor vehemently, +"that nothing ails that woman except that she thinks Heaven would be a +better background for her saintliness than earth. The question is +whether she can carry it to the point of suicide." + +"Of course she can, if she wants to. I've seen it happen more'n once. +The thing to do is to give her a reason for wanting to stay on +earth--to look after things." Persis stood motionless, the hand +holding the shears extended in a fashion suggesting Lady Macbeth. A +spark of light illumined her meditative eyes. + +"Well?" said the doctor hopefully. He recognized the signs. + +"I won't say that I haven't got an idea, but it'll bear thinking +about"--Persis' favorite formula. "I'll try to find time to drop in +and see Charlotte." + +"She doesn't need cheering, you understand," said the doctor. "She's +as cheerful as the devil himself. 'A very bad night, doctor, and the +palpitation is worse. This morning my Heavenly home seems very near.'" +He mimicked Mrs. Richards' sanctimonious tones with a skill which won +even from the abstracted Persis the tribute of a smile. + +"No, I won't try to cheer her," she promised. "Stirring up, not +cheering up, is what Charlotte needs. And I don't say but what I've +got an idea. I can't spare any time for a few days, though, Doctor. I +need to do some sewing for myself, and I'm going to do it, come what +may." + +Vain boast. Persis was washing the dishes after the midday meal when +Joel entered the kitchen to announce a caller. "It's the Chase girl, +Mildred I think her name is. Anyway, it's the oldest one. And I guess +she wants a dress made. She's got a bundle under her arm." + +Persis thought this unlikely. "Those Chase girls make their own +clothes and do pretty well at it, too. I've often wanted to give 'em a +few hints about the shoulder seams, but except for that, they look real +shipshape. And anyway, I can't do anything for a week yet. I'm going +to attend to my own sewing." + +Mildred Chase greeted Persis with a smile so radiant as to give a +misleading impression of comeliness. She shook hands with the +dressmaker, apparently struggling against an impulse to fall on her +neck and kiss her. Persis, whose acquaintance with the girl was +comparatively slight, viewed those indications of overmastering +affection with perplexity. + +Mildred did not wait to be questioned. Her volubility suggested that +she could not have withheld information if she had tried. + +"Oh, Miss Dale; I've got the greatest news to tell you. You'd never +guess in the world. I'm going to be married." + +"Well, all I can say is, Mildred, that it's not the most surprising +news I ever heard," Persis answered kindly. There was something +pleasant in the sight of this flushed, happy young creature who only +the other day had been a dull heavy-eyed girl and soon would be a dull +heavy-eyed wife. It was her little hour, her transient spring-time. +Persis choked back a sigh. + +Mildred was fumbling at the parcel in her lap. "I've always said one +thing, that if ever I got married, Miss Dale was going to make my +wedding dress. I can sew well enough for ordinary clothes, but a +wedding dress is sort of special. That calls for a regular dressmaker, +and there ain't but one dressmaker in Clematis that counts." + +"When's the wedding to be?" Persis asked. A sudden sinking of the +heart foretold the answer. + +"It's a week from Saturday. It's so sudden that I can hardly believe +it myself. We didn't think we could be married for a year, anyway, but +Jim got a raise unexpected. They're going to send him West, and he's +bound I shall go when he does." + +The parcel was unwrapped at last, its shimmering white contents +contrasting with the girl's shabby dress and work-roughened hands, much +as the dreams of the wedding-day contrast with the hard realities that +follow. Persis looked, hesitated, thought of the filmy gray, just cut +and awaiting basting, thought of the hopes that linked the present with +her lost girlhood, and ended as she had always ended, by unselfish +surrender. + +"It's pretty goods," she said, touching it lightly with the tips of her +fingers. "And--and there's nothing I like better to make than wedding +clothes, my dear." + +Certain important details came up for discussion, interrupted +frequently by the outgushing of Mildred's artless confidences, to all +of which Persis listened patiently. And when the girl took her +departure, the impulse which had manifested itself on her arrival +proved too strong to resist. She kissed Persis good-by, and Persis +returned the kiss. + +The rudimentary beginnings of a new gray gown were bundled together and +tucked away to wait their fate, while Persis worked till a late hour on +Mildred Chase's wedding dress. But tired as she was, with that +undercurrent of depression which sometimes most unjustly is the +attendant on generous sacrifice, she found time to write a letter to a +gentleman named Thompson, in care of the Hollenden Hotel, Cleveland. + + +"Mr. W. Thompson: + +"Dear Sir--Yours received. Nothing could be further from my wish than +to keep anything that belongs to somebody else, but you can understand +that I don't feel like sending a young lady's letter to the first man +who happens to ask for it, especially as Thompson is not what you would +call an unusual name. If the young lady who wrote the letter will drop +me a line asking me to forward it to you, I'll be happy to oblige her. +She won't even have to write any thing but her first name, unless she +likes. + +"Yours truly, + + "Persis Dale. + +"P. S. If the young lady will tell me your full name, when she writes, +it will make you a lot surer to get the letter. W. Thompson is a name +that fits lots of people." + + +This epistolary weight off her conscience, Persis went up-stairs to +bed, and for the first time in twenty years, she went without a good +night to the photograph in the blue plush frame. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +SHOULD AULD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT + +Justin Ware arrived in town the day Persis finished Mildred's wedding +dress. She heard the news from Joel, who had been at the station when +the train came in. This was not a happy accident, nor was it intended +as a spontaneous welcome to the returning son of Clematis. Year in and +year out, except when the state of his health prevented, Joel kept a +standing engagement with the four-twenty train, and few left town or +entered it without his knowledge. + +"He's filled out considerable, Justin Ware has, but except for that he +hasn't changed much. Got a seal ring and silk lining to his overcoat. +He ain't what you call a flashy dresser, but he lays it all over the +young chaps like Thad West who think they're so swell." + +Persis listened without comment. She had worked unusually hard that +week, and the tired lines of her face acknowledged as much. She set +them at defiance in a peculiarly feminine fashion by dressing that +evening in the unbecoming henrietta and doing her hair in the plainest, +most severe fashion. At half past seven Thomas Hardin came. + +"That Ware feller is going to put up at the Clematis House. He's a big +bug all right. Wanted a private setting-room, he did," Thomas +chuckled. "Guess he's the sort that can't remember back further than +he feels like doing. Old man Ware's private setting-room was a keg o' +nails in Sol Peter's store. Nobody else ever thought of taking that +particular keg. Stood right back of the stove, I remember. You never +caught old man Ware putting on any airs." + +"Justin and me was always the best of friends," said Joel, puffing out +his thin chest pompously, as if he felt himself vicariously honored by +Mr. Ware's tendency to exclusiveness. "We took a shine to each other +when we were little shavers. As Addison says: + + "'Great souls by instinct to each other turn + Demand alliance, and in friendship burn!' + + +"Yes, sir, it was a real David and Jonathan affair. That's his picture +upon the mantel now." + +Thomas Hardin turned his head. "'Tis so," he assented. "Hasn't +changed such an all-fired lot only now he looks as if he'd cut his +wisdom teeth quite a spell back." His gaze wandered to Persis, +silently basting the breadths of a gray crępe skirt. "You must have +been acquainted with him, too," he said politely, striving to include +her in the conversation. + +"Yes, I knew him." Persis did not lift her eyes. + +"All the family knew Justin," Joel explained. "Him and me being such +friends, he was in and out of the house same as if he belonged here. I +didn't speak to him to-day, because I never was one to cheapen myself +by doing my visiting on a depot platform. We'll have plenty of chances +to talk over old times. + + "'There is nothing can equal the tender hours + When life is first in bloom.'" + + +It seemed to Persis during the next two days that wherever she turned +she heard of Justin Ware. There was no escaping the subject. Without +question Justin's business methods were the acme of up-to-date +effectiveness. An outbreak of war could hardly have stirred the town +to more seething excitement than the advent of this well-dressed young +man with his self-confident air and full pocketbook. Clematis was +apple-mad. The Apple of Eden Investment Company and its optimistic +promises eclipsed in interest the combined fascinations of politics and +scandal. The groups in those local lounging-places, which in rural +communities are the legitimate successors of the Roman forum, passed +over prospective congressional legislation and Annabel Sinclair's +latest escapade in favor of apple orchards. The statistics which fell +so convincingly from Ware's lips were quoted, derided, defended, +denied. The hardest argument the objectors had to encounter was Ware +himself. The atmosphere of prosperity surrounding him, his air of +familiarity with luxury, could not be offset by logic. The program of +the Clematis Woman's Club was fairly swamped by the eagerness of the +members to question Mrs. Hornblower as to the possibilities of profit +in this form of investment. Persis, who had come to the meeting late, +went away early while the discussion was at its height and missed a +paper by Gladys Wells entitled, _No Knot at the End of the Thread_. + +Persis Dale was not lacking in self-respect. But for twenty years her +self-respect had been identical with her loyalty. She could not fancy +the one arrayed against the other. She clung desperately to the hope +that Justin would explain. For half her lifetime she had found excuses +for his silence, and the habit was too strong to be smothered +overnight. But even her prejudiced tenderness recognized the +insufficiency of the grounds on which she had exonerated the lover of +her girlhood from blame. It was no longer possible to judge his faith +by her own, scorning all doubt of him as she would have scorned the +grossest of temptations. She could have borne the news of his death +without outward evidence of emotion, but this bewilderment and +uncertainty taxed her strength almost to the breaking point. Through +the days, with the help of her work, she kept herself so well in hand +as almost to believe that the victory was lasting. But as the dusk +settled down, the old questioning began. Would he come? Could he stay +away longer? He had been in town five days without seeing her, six +days, seven. Against her will and her judgment, she found herself +waiting, listening, hoping. Footsteps echoed outside, lagging feet, +reluctant to leave comfort behind, swift feet, hurrying to keep some +tryst with joy. She heard them pass and repass while her pulses leaped +with a hope she knew to be folly, and then steadied to the old +monotonous beat. She grew to hate the face of the tall clock in the +corner ticking off the seconds glibly, leering as the time grew late, +as if it alone knew her secret and mocked her disappointment. Thomas +Hardin, coming in on one or two occasions, had exclaimed at the sight +of her colorless face. Ordinarily she knew his step, but now her +strained nerves misinterpreted the most familiar sights and sounds. + +If the days were hard, the nights were torture. Even that poor, +tormenting, futile hope that left her sick and shaken was better than +hopelessness. There were no stars in the darkness that brooded over +her heart after the sun went down. As she lay with clenched hands, +counting the ten thousand woolly sheep whose agility in overleaping an +obstructive wall is for some mysterious reason assumed to be soporific +in its influence, she was conscious of a sort of terror of the thoughts +lurking in ambush, ready to spring out upon her if she were off her +guard for an instant. It was useless to tell herself that she was no +poorer than before, that nothing had changed. In her heart she knew +better. She had worked on through the gray years, facing a colorless +future, without a word from her one-time lover, to tell her that he +lived or ever thought of her, and yet a dream, too vague and illusory +to be named hope, had been her stay and solace. Now as she stared +wide-eyed into the dark, she asked herself what was left. + +It was no wonder that the gray crępe grew apace. For the first time in +her well-disciplined life, Persis gave up the struggle with refractory +nerves, left her bed night after night and sewed till daybreak. For +whatever might fail, her work was left, that grim consoler, who, +masking benignity by a scowl, has kept ten million hearts from breaking. + +The gown was finished at daybreak, one bright October morning, and that +evening Persis tried it on, in the apathetic mood that mercifully +relieves tense feelings when the limit of endurance has been reached. +It was late, according to Clematis standards. For almost twenty-four +hours that dreadful, unbeaten hopefulness would be quiescent. Thomas +Hardin had come and gone. Joel was in bed. Persis Dale put on her new +gray gown and scrutinized herself in the mirror. She had lost interest +in her personal appearance, but her professional instinct told her that +the dress was a success. + +"It would be real becoming if my hair wasn't strained back so. A dress +can't do much for you when you look like a skinned rabbit, all on +account of your hair." She recalled the coiffure in which Annabel +Sinclair had presented herself the previous day, and loosening the coil +of her hair, as glossy and abundant as ever, she imitated with a skill +which surprised herself, Annabel's version of the latest mode. She was +studying the effect when some one knocked. + +It was quarter of nine. It occurred to Persis that some one of the +neighbors must be ill. There seemed no other explanation for such a +summons at that hour. She crossed the room hurriedly and opened the +door. + +A man stood outside, and after a moment of hesitation he entered, +putting out his hand. + +"Good evening, Miss Dale. I hope you haven't forgotten me." + +Persis recalled afterward with the amazement self-discovery so +frequently entails, that the one thought for which her mind had room +was an intense thankfulness that she had arrayed herself in the gray +dress. That emotion was infinitely removed from vanity. The new gown +had become an armor. Except for its aid she would have been at too +great a disadvantage in this encounter. + +The hand she extended was quite steady. "Of course I haven't forgotten +you, Justin. Won't you sit down?" + +Justin pulled up a chair for her before seating himself. He had an +impulse to gain time, the result of being taken by surprise. This was +not quite the Persis he had expected to find. In recalling that early +affair of the heart with the indulgent smile its absurdity demanded, +Justin's imagination had drawn an unflattering sketch of the object of +his boyish devotion. But his first glance told him that Persis Dale +was still a good-looking woman, with an unmistakable dignity of manner, +and, surprising as it seemed, some commendable ideas as to dress. His +eyes dwelt on her with approval. He really wished he had called +earlier. + +They talked for a little of the most obvious matters as old friends +will, meeting after many years. He was less at ease than she, and +asked her permission to smoke, finding the manipulation of his +cigarette a help in concealing if not overcoming his unwonted sense of +embarrassment. The talk turned presently to common acquaintances, +dangerous ground, he realized, though he asked himself what other +interest they had in common. Persis was able to give him considerable +information concerning friends, some of whose very names he had +forgotten. She left him to direct the conversation as he would. He +reflected that she was more quiet than he would have expected to find +her, more reserved, but by no means a woman to laugh at. That had been +his mistake. + +He was lighting his second cigarette when he caught sight of the +plush-framed photograph. He stared till his match went out, and +rising, crossed the room. As he scrutinized the likeness of his callow +self, he gave way to laughter, his first spontaneous expression of +feeling since he entered the room. + +"Upon my word, Persis," he cried gaily, using her name for the first +time and seemingly unconscious that he had done so. "It's been +extremely charitable of you to give this jay house-room for so long." +He scratched another match, lit his cigarette and laughed again. "I +wonder if I could have been such an unconscionable donkey as I looked." + +Persis moved slightly in her chair, but failed to reassure him on that +point. + +"We really wore our hair in that style, didn't we?" he continued +humorously. "And yet the thunderbolts spared us. And that classy +thing in ties! By jove! Persis, you'll have to make me a present of +this for old times' sake. This pretty picture of smiling innocence +gets on my nerves. I shall feel easier when it has been consigned to +the flames." + +From the armchair Persis spoke. Her voice was low and distinct. + +"Let that picture alone." + +The accent of authority was unmistakable. Justin Ware turned, and +stood transfixed by what he saw. Persis' cheeks were crimson, her eyes +ablaze. His astonishment over the discovery that she was angry, +blended with surprised admiration. Persis in a fury was almost a +handsome woman. + +He went back to his chair, a trifle uncertain as to the next move. He +had made a study of women, too, but this country dressmaker baffled him +for the moment. Her heated defense of his picture would have suggested +a conclusion flattering to his vanity had it not been for the +incongruous fact that seemingly her anger was directed against himself. +There was a piquant flavor to the situation gratifying to his epicure's +taste. + +"It's good of you to stand up for the fellow, Persis. You always were +kind-hearted, I remember. But really isn't this stretching charity too +far? Such a Rube is meant to be laughed at. There's nothing else to +do with him. And to think that he and I were one only--let's see, how +many years has it been?" + +"We won't talk about that picture any more." + +He regarded her humorously through the haze of smoke. "And why not?" + +"He's a friend of mine. I don't care to have him laughed at!" + +"But you forget my relation to the gentleman, my dear Persis. If any +one should be sensitive, it surely is I." + +"You've nothing to do with him," Persis declared, biting off her words +in peppery mouthfuls. "You're as much of a stranger to him as you are +to me. We'll just let him alone. There's things enough to talk about, +I should hope, without making fun of that poor boy." + +"Suppose I give you one of my late photographs in exchange for the +cherub with the curly locks." + +"I don't want it." + +Justin was a trifle taken aback. He had hardly made the offer before +he had accused himself of indiscretion. To be sure Persis was taking a +very proper attitude. She showed no inclination to presume on the +sentimental phase of their former acquaintance. She had said +distinctly that they were strangers. And yet it was as well to be +guarded. The bluntness of her retort gave him an almost rueful +conviction of the needlessness of caution. + +The flame of Persis' anger had burned itself out almost immediately, +but the red embers still glowed in her eyes, and her cheeks were hot. +She changed the subject with no pretense at finesse: "You seen Minerva +Leveridge yet?" + +"I don't seem to recall any one of that name." + +"She was Minerva Bacon, and she married Joe Leveridge, old Doctor +Whitely's nephew. You must remember him. Quiet sort of boy with a +cast in his eye." + +"Oh, yes. I remember the fellow now. His name was Leveridge, was it?" + +"Yes. He died six or seven years ago. He left Minerva comf'tably +fixed, judging from the mourning she wore. When a widow's crępe veil +reaches to her heels it's pretty sure her husband left her some life +insurance. You been to the Sinclairs' yet?" + +"Why, yes." Justin looked a little guilty. As a matter of fact he had +found time to drop in to see Annabel more than once. "I met Mrs. +Sinclair on the street near the hotel one afternoon, and she asked me +to call." + +"That's why she was in such a hurry for the net," thought Persis. +Aloud she said: "Her Diantha is an awfully pretty girl, as much of a +belle as ever her mother was." + +"No? I haven't happened to see the girl, but it's hard to think of +Mrs. Sinclair as the mother of a grown daughter." + +Ware realized with amazement that he would not again be allowed to +broach the subject of the photograph. He had that fondness for playing +with fire which so frequently survives in the adults of both sexes, and +he gave the conversation a semi-sentimental twist more than once, only +to be brought back sharply to practicalities by the lady in gray. +There was no doubt that Persis meant to be mistress of the situation. + +"I shall see you very soon again," he said, as he shook hands for good +night. He would probably have said this in any case, such consolatory +assurances being instinctive with him, but for a wonder he meant it. +He had looked forward to this meeting with reluctance and had only made +the call because even his complacent conscience had assured him that to +omit it would be inexcusable. And virtue had been unexpectedly +rewarded. He had enjoyed himself. He wanted to call again. + +"Good night," said Persis, and neglected to assure him of her pleasure +in the anticipation of his speedy return. She withdrew her hand. +"Good night," she repeated. And if she recalled their last parting in +that very room, she was not sure whether the contrast was a ground for +laughter or for tears. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +'TWIXT THE CUP AND THE LIP + +The night following Justin Ware's visit, Persis slept as soundly as a +tired child. It was not that the interview had relieved her +apprehensions nor in any way set her mind at rest, but after prolonged +uncertainty, even the realization of one's worst forebodings may come +as a relief. She slept late and rose more weary than when she went to +bed. Yet in spite of that numbing sense of lassitude which clung like +weights to her limbs, and for all her unaccustomed aversion to the +thought of work, she knew her battle was won. Never again would she +watch and listen and strangle at their birth, poor futile prayers for +some assurance that a man's heart was still hers. + +As if some evil spell had been broken, she recalled with pangs of +self-reproach various duties she had neglected, in her unwonted +self-absorption. She had not even kept her promise to Doctor Ballard +to see his obdurate patient. Persis realized how completely she had +regained her poise when she chuckled over the plan which had suggested +itself as she listened to Doctor Ballard's diagnosis of Mrs. Richards' +ailment. + +"I'm so kind of headachy and restless that my sewing's bound to be a +fizzle. I'll run in to see Charlotte this afternoon. It's a shame I +haven't been there before. Don't know what the doctor'll think of me." + +Considering that she was merely planning a little friendly call on a +sick neighbor, Persis made her toilet with surprising care. In putting +up her hair she again selected Annabel Sinclair as a model. She donned +the gray crępe, a startling innovation, for in Clematis to wear a new +dress on week-days, for any occasion less important than a wedding or a +funeral, argued constitutional extravagance. As a final step in her +preparation she rubbed her cheeks violently with a rough crash towel, +the resulting brilliant complexion successfully obliterating all traces +of weariness, the flotsam and jetsam of anxious days and haunted +nights. And then with a jauntiness remarkable under the circumstances, +Persis departed, resolved by fair means or foul to distract the +thoughts of Mrs. Nelson Richards from the occupancy of a reserved +apartment in the Heavenly mansions. + +Charlotte Richards had always been a pretty woman of that ethereal type +of beauty that is not noticeably diminished by fragility. Persis, +looking her over, estimated that the thirty pounds the doctor credited +her with losing had been appreciably increased since he made his appeal +for aid. At the same time, the dressmaker admitted with grudging +admiration the effectiveness of the picture the invalid presented as +she lay back in her rocking-chair, bright-colored pillows heaped about +her, a slender figure in black, the wide blue eyes matched by the blue +veins in the temples, and with violet shadows below. In the bright, +prosaic little sitting-room she looked as out of place as a Raphael's +cherub in a kindergarten, a creature unmistakably belonging to another +sphere. + +"Dear Persis," breathed Mrs. Richards, and extended a transparent hand. +"You'll forgive my not getting up," she added gently. + +"Don't mention it." Persis' ringing tones had a heartiness which +seemed plebeian contrasted with Mrs. Richards' subdued murmurs. "You +look the picture of comfort in that big chair. I'd hate to have you +disturb yourself." + +The faintest imaginable shadow crossed the other's face. + +"I have very little strength, Persis. Day by day I am growing weaker. +But don't think I am complaining. I am quite happy as I lie here +picturing the glories of the New Jerusalem." + +"I've found that rare beef was the best thing in the world for that +kind of thoughts," responded Persis. "I buy the round and scrape it. +You can take it raw if it's ice-cold, but I like it best made into a +ball and just scorched on both sides, enough to heat it through." + +The invalid's smile was distinctly superior. + +"You are trying to encourage me, Persis, but you have nursed too many +of the sick not to see that I'm very near the river. Earthly remedies +are of no avail," declared Mrs. Richards, who had the constitutional +incapacity of numberless people to speak of death and the hereafter, +and yet remain simple and unaffected. "But I do not find the thought +depressing. Far from it. My heart is light when I think of the joys +that await me." + +"I didn't know but on your husband's account you'd feel like making an +effort." + +Mrs. Richards sighed. + +"Poor Nelson! Yes, my heart bleeds when I think of Nelson left in his +loneliness. But it won't be for long. He will soon follow me." + +Persis elevated her brows. + +"Well, no, Charlotte. Don't deceive yourself about that. Nelson will +feel your going, and for a time he'll take on something terrible. But +he won't die of it. He comes of good long-lived stock, Nelson does, +and though he's no boy, he's likely got twenty-five or thirty years +ahead of him. And that brings me around to what was in my mind when I +came over." + +She relapsed into silence, studying a figure in the carpet, and +apparently not quite certain how to continue. "Well?" questioned Mrs. +Richards, and for the first time during the interview there was a +querulous note in her voice. + +"It's about Nelson's future. Of course, as far as you're concerned, +there's no reason to worry. There's some folks that are naturally +constituted to enjoy Heaven, and there's others who seem to belong to +this earth. Nelson's one sort and you're another." This time her +pause was protracted. + +"Well?" Mrs. Richards prompted feverishly. "Go on." + +"I really don't know, Charlotte. Maybe I've been a little mite +impulsive speaking out this way. Perhaps I'd better not say anything +more." + +"Anything more? You haven't said anything yet, as far as I can see," +returned Mrs. Richards tartly. "Don't be mysterious, Persis." + +"Well, for some days now, I've been deliberating opening up my mind to +you. They do say that folks that are kind of on the border-line +between the two worlds, can see things plainer than other people. But +I won't say another word unless I get your solemn promise that what I +tell you don't go any further." + +"Of course I shall respect your confidence, Persis." Mrs. Richards +swallowed impatiently. "I always tell Nelson everything, but except +for him--" + +"But Nelson's the very last one I want to hear this. Never mind, +Charlotte. I see it was a crazy idea, my coming over this afternoon. +I don't know what got into me. We won't talk about it any more. Did +those dahlias grow in your garden, Charlotte? They're the finest I've +seen this year." + +"Persis Dale, you certainly can be an aggravating woman when you try. +What about Nelson?" + +"Do you promise you'll never breathe a word to any soul alive, least of +all to Nelson himself?" + +Mrs. Richards hesitated. But curiosity was not altogether foreign to +her saintly nature, and Persis' reluctance to impart the confidence +naturally increased her desire to hear it. "I promise," she agreed, +with an effort to keep the eagerness out of her voice. + +"Well, then, this is what I was coming at. Of course I see that as you +lie here you're bound to be thinking about Nelson, and worrying over +what's going to become of him while you're enjoying yourself on the +other side." + +"That is all arranged," Mrs. Richards interrupted. "His sister Hetty +is coming to keep house for him." + +"Hetty's no kind of companion for Nelson. He's a man who likes +cheerful company, and Hetty's what I call a natural widow. You know +some folks are born that way. They kind of hang crępe on everything +they touch. Hetty drizzles tears as easy as a sponge." + +"Well, really, Persis, as long as Nelson and I are satisfied with the +arrangement I don't know as you have any call to trouble yourself." + +Persis met the invalid's irritated protest with an air of disarming +frankness. + +"Of course you wouldn't see, and that's just what I'm coming at. I +suppose Nelson has told you that he and I had a little boy and girl +affair when we was both of us too young to know our own minds." + +Mrs. Richards' incredulous gasp indicated with sufficient clearness +that she had not been favored with her husband's confidence regarding +that chapter in his past. + +"You and Nelson?" + +"Yes. Now, I don't mean, Charlotte, that we was ever engaged. Mother +thought I was too young to have steady company, and Nelson was just a +boy, and he took her snubbings to heart more'n he would have done if +he'd been older." + +"He's always given me to understand," said the wife with dignity, "that +I was the only woman he ever cared for." + +"I guess they generally say that, don't they, Charlotte? It's kind of +like the 'honor and obey' in the marriage service. Women say it when +they know they _can't_ honor and they _won't_ obey. It's just a form. +But as far as Nelson goes," explained Persis thoughtfully, "I dare say +he could fix that up with his conscience without any trouble, seeing +our sweethearting never got beyond a few kisses at the gate. He did +give me a ring once, but 'twas nothing but carnelian. Land! Who'd +think of that twice?" + +Mrs. Richards, breathing hard, had no comment to offer on that delicate +point. + +"Now the case is just this." Persis spoke briskly. "After you're dead +and gone, Nelson's bound to marry again. A widower just can't help +himself. What with all the women scheming to catch him, he's got about +as much chance as a potato-bug turned loose in a chicken-yard. Queer +thing, the difference between bachelors and widowers," mused Persis, +straying temporarily into generalizations. "By the time a bachelor's +as old as Nelson, the women have kind of given up on him. But if a +man's been married once it proves that he's got a soft spot somewhere, +and all that's needed is for them to keep on trying till they find it. +But as I was saying. Charlotte, I thought that it might ease your mind +to know that he ain't going to be allowed to throw himself away. While +I don't want to seem boastful about it, I don't mind saying to you that +there's not another woman in the town who would stand any show +alongside me, if Nelson was free to pick and choose. And I'll give you +my solemn promise that he shan't put anybody in your place that you'd +be ashamed to acknowledge for your husband's second wife." + +Forgetting her pitiful lack of strength, Mrs. Richards sat erect, her +hollow cheeks aflame. + +"Persis Dale, have you got the nerve to sit there and tell me to my +face that you're going to set your cap for my husband after I'm dead?" + +"Now lie down, Charlotte, till I explain." Persis' soothing tone +suggested readiness to excuse the natural peevishness of an invalid. +"You mustn't go to exciting yourself, and hastening the end." + +Mrs. Richards promptly resumed her recumbent position. + +"I've talked plain to you, Charlotte," Persis said, "because you're not +of the same clay as most women. You've always been wrapped up in +celestial things since you was a girl. But a woman can't live with a +man as long as you've lived with Nelson and not feel responsible for +him. And I've told you this so there won't be a single shadow on your +mind these last days. I'll look out for Nelson." She spoke with the +air of one accepting a sacred trust. + +"I never heard of such a thing," breathed Mrs. Richards from the +pillows. + +"Of course while you were living, Charlotte," Persis continued, as if +the release so cheerfully anticipated by the invalid had already been +consummated, "I never should have allowed myself to think of Nelson +twice. But I own I've blamed my mother more than once for sending him +about his business the way she did. Nelson is a man in a thousand, +steady and affectionate and a careful provider. If he's been so good +to you, Charlotte, just think what the second wife has reason to +expect!" + +In muffled tones Mrs. Richards confided to the pillow that never in all +her life--and seemed unable to proceed further. + +"Well, I must be going." Suiting the action to the words, Persis rose. +"Send for me any time, Charlotte. Ever since I heard about your state +of health, I've felt drawn to you, same as if you were a sister. Mind, +I'll drop my sewing and everything any time you want me. And as for +Nelson's future, don't you give yourself an anxious thought about that." + +"Good-by," said Mrs. Richard's faintly, and closed her eyes. And with +a commiserative glance in which lurked a spice of humor, Persis +withdrew. At the door she encountered Nelson Richards hurrying home +early from his work to spend as much time as possible with his wife. +Anxiety had left its signature on Nelson's jovial face. He walked with +dragging step and drooping shoulders, apprehension counterfeiting age. +But at the sight of Persis he roused himself from his customary +abstraction. + +"Hello, Persis. Well, I declare you're a sight for sore eyes." He +regarded her with frank admiration, an unconscious tribute to the +effectiveness of the gray crępe. "Looks like you was renewing your +youth," he continued with heavy gallantry. "Ain't seen you look so +handsome since you was sixteen." + +Persis had not invented the episode of Nelson's boyish admiration. In +all important details she had held rigidly to the truth, though it is +doubtful whether those innocent, sexless kisses at the gate had been +recalled in the past dozen years by either party to the transaction. +But it was true that Nelson Richards had always had a warm spot in his +affections for his first sweetheart, and the cordiality of his greeting +was by no means perfunctory. + +Persis smiled upon him kindly. + +"Thank you, Nelson. Wish I could say as much for you, but to tell the +truth, you look to me a little peaked." + +"Well, I have felt better." He lowered his big voice discreetly. +"Fact is I'm worried pretty near to death over Charlotte. What do you +think about her, Persis? Doctor says he don't find nothing out of +shape with her organs. Looks as if she'd ought to pick up, don't it?" + +He swallowed hard as he put the question, his eyes eloquent with dumb +misery, and Persis laid a friendly hand upon his arm as she answered +with reassuring certainty: "Don't you worry, Nelson. I feel it in my +bones that Charlotte's going to be better before long." + +"I'd as soon take your say-so as any doctor's." The big man looked at +her gratefully. "Come in as often as you can, Persis. There ain't +nobody we'd rather see." + +He tramped into the house, armed in his splendid masculine obtuseness, +stooped to kiss his wife's hot cheek, and said, as was inevitable, the +last thing he should have thought of saying. + +"Saw Persis Dale out here just now, and I'll be darned if she ain't +getting better looking every day." + +"I can't see that that's enough to excuse profanity," said Mrs. +Richards witheringly. "Persis Dale is a coarse scheming creature." +Then as her husband burst into astonished protests, she showed signs of +hysteria. + +"Oh, of course you'll stand up for her. I wouldn't have expected +anything else. You go out to the ice-chest, Nelson Richards, and heat +up that cup of beef tea you set away last night." Left to herself she +lay back upon the pillows, gazing at the ceiling with vindictive eyes. + +"As long as she hasn't got the decency to wait till I'm in my grave," +said Mrs. Richards tearfully, "I'll fool her. I'll show her there's +many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A CONFESSION TOO MANY + +People were talking. That system of wireless telegraphy which +ante-dates Marconi's invention by ten thousand generations, had done +effective service. In the remotest farm-houses it was known that +Justin Ware had called on Persis Dale twice within a week. He came +between half past eight and nine, so said reliable rumor, and the +lateness of the hour of his arrival as well as of his departure, made +only too plain the relaxing influence of city life on country-bred +standards. + +Annabel Sinclair heard and turned faint and sick, so closely does +jealousy counterfeit love. As far as Justin Ware was concerned, the +news of his untimely death would have affected Annabel less than the +information that the chops had not been sent from the butcher's in time +for dinner. But he was a man and that he should choose to spend two +evenings in a week with another woman, after she had given him to +understand that his society would be agreeable to herself, argued a +decline in her powers of fascination. She told herself that she hated +Persis, that she hated Justin, that she loathed life and the miserable +business of being a woman, and she ended by finding pretexts for daily +excursions past the Clematis House, always arrayed in the most fetching +street costumes. When on the third day she encountered Justin, that +gentleman responded gallantly to her pensive tender reproach. His was +no Jericho heart, to demand a seven-day siege. He had found Persis +Dale unexpectedly interesting, but Annabel was unexpectedly pretty, and +a liking for pickles does not preclude a taste for sweets. + +Thomas Hardin's married sister, Mrs. Gibson, heard the news with +consternation. She had long been aware of the state of her brother's +affections, this indeed arguing no especial insight, since an infant in +arms would have possessed sufficient intuition to read the heart of the +guileless Thomas. Mrs. Gibson had regarded Persis in the proprietary +light of a prospective sister-in-law, even going so far as to criticize +her with the frank freedom which is the prerogative of kinship. When +the first rumor of Justin's attentions reached the good woman's ears, +she made a hurried trip to town for the sole purpose of interviewing +her brother. + +As good luck would have it, business was slack at the moment of her +arrival, and Thomas left two lanky country-women to the care of his +assistant, and followed his sister to a dingy space in the rear which, +primarily serving as a store-room, was also by virtue of a certain +gloomy privacy, peculiarly adapted to the discussion of a subject of +such delicacy. + +Mrs. Gibson dusted a chair with needless ostentation and then focused +her regard on her brother who stood before her a self-confessed +culprit, conscious guilt as manifest in his attitude as in the flaming +confusion of his face. + +"Thomas, what's this I hear about Persis Dale?" + +"I don't know, Nellie. What have you heard?" + +Mrs. Gibson's glance expressed her scorn of the evasion. + +"Is it true that Justin Ware is going with her?" + +"Why, I've heard, Nellie, that he's been over there once or twice. Old +friend of Joel's," explained Thomas, with a futile effort to speak +convincingly. + +"Fiddlesticks! If I thought you really believed that any man would +walk from the Clematis House out to the Dale place for the sake of +hearing Joel Dale talk about the latest cure-all, I'd be ashamed to own +you for my brother. If he goes, he goes to see Persis. Now, what do +you mean to do about it?" + +"Nellie, I haven't any right to interfere. If she wants Justin Ware's +company it's her own business. She's not beholden to me." + +"No," snapped Mrs. Gibson. "And why ain't she? Because you've been +shilly-shallying along as though 'twas her business to pop the +question. You men are getting nowadays so you can't do a thing for +yourselves, you just hang back and leave us women to do it all." + +Thomas squirmed like an impaled beetle. "Guess I'd better go back into +the store, Nellie. George means well, but he hasn't much of a +head-piece--" + +"Thomas Hardin, you stay where you are till I'm done with you. Now +tell me straight. Have you ever asked Persis Dale to marry you?" + +"Well, Nellie, to be candid, I never have got really to the point. I +want her to know the worst about me first. I wouldn't take her in for +all the world, and then have her sorry afterward." + +"Take her in! Of course, you'll take her in. If all men stopped for +that, weddings would have gone out of fashion long ago. And it's well +for women's peace of mind that they don't have to know the worst about +the men they marry. I'm ashamed of you, Thomas! To think you've got +no more gumption than to stand around like a ninny and let that city +man walk off with the woman you've always wanted." + +"If she'd rather marry Justin Ware," Thomas began and failed to finish +his sentence, his voice strangled by his inward anguish. His sister +snorted. + +"Good lord! Thomas, a woman's going to marry the man that asks her. +By all accounts that Ware won't be mealy-mouthed. If he wants her, +he'll not stand back and let another man have the first say." + +There was a reasonableness in this presentation of the case which +impressed Thomas as his air of irresolution showed. + +"Then you think I've got a chance, Nellie?" + +His sister groaned her exasperation. "You had all the chance till this +Ware turned up. Of course when a woman's got a choice it makes a +difference. But there's nothing gained by holding off and letting him +have everything his own way. If you don't ask her, of course she'll +take him, provided she gets the chance. And if you do ask her, she may +take you. So you won't lose anything by trying." + +As a result of this plain unflattering counsel, Thomas Hardin dressed +that evening with unusual care, and with the approach of darkness +turned his face toward his familiar goal, his emotions befitting a +participant in the charge of the Light Brigade. His throat was +parched, his heart hammered. While absolutely certain that Persis was +aware of his aspiration, the thought of expressing it, of making a +formal offer, was distinctly terrifying. And moreover there was a +disagreeable preliminary that must receive attention, the confession of +another of those misdemeanors of his past, as irrepressible a brood as +hounded poor Macbeth. The episode dated back to his twentieth year, +when Annabel Sinclair was just waking up to the knowledge of her beauty +and the power it gave her over the susceptible sex. Thomas blushed to +recall how ignominiously he himself had capitulated. + +Fate was on his side that evening. Joel was absent. Persis was kind. +She sat by the lamp stitching, and the inevitable suggestion of +comfortable domesticity was in itself an inspiration. He thanked +Heaven for her lowered gaze, confident that if he were forced to meet +her candid eyes, he should never find courage to begin. + +"Persis, there's something I want to tell you. It ain't pleasant to +speak about it, but I think it's one of the things that ought to be +said before--I mean I'd be a good deal easier in my mind if you knew +all about it." + +"I don't believe it's anything so very bad, Thomas," Persis said with +unaccustomed gentleness. + +"Well, I don't know. She was so pretty and cute that it sort of went +to my head, but that's no excuse." + +"Who was pretty?" + +Persis let her work fall. Her eyes met her lover's with a challenge +that did not tend to lessen Thomas's confusion. + +"Well, Persis, you've a right to know. Of course I wouldn't mention it +to anybody else. Not that she was a mite to blame," interpolated +Thomas with instinctive chivalry, "for it was all my fault from start +to finish. It--it was Stanley Sinclair's wife." + +Absorbed as he was in relieving his conscience of its intolerable load, +it did not occur to Thomas to emphasize the fact that on the occasion +when he had played so culpable a part, Annabel still bore her maiden +name. It was a good two years before the dignified Stanley Sinclair +had recognized in the giddy, shallow, little beauty, the fitting mate +for his staid maturity. And that his failure to make this point clear +might lead to a serious misapprehension on Persis' part, failed to +present itself as a possibility to the honest blunderer. + +"Well?" Persis' tone was crisply interrogative. "What happened?" + +"Why, she looked so like a kitten, Persis, that you can't hardly help +petting, that I put my arm around her. And I--" He cleared his throat, +his eyes, fortunately for his resolution, fixed upon the floor. "Well, +I might as well make a clean breast of it. I did kiss her. Of course +I ought to be ashamed--" + +"Yes." Persis agreed icily. "You ought." + +She had listened with a sort of sickened revolt to Thomas' stammered +confession. Nothing that Annabel Sinclair could do would surprise her, +nor did she wonder when boys of Thad West's age yielded to her lure. +But that this man, this staid, stanch Thomas, on whom she had counted +more implicitly than she knew, should have proved so easy a victim +shook her native faith in humankind. "All men are alike," thought +Persis, in her haste betrayed into one of those sweepingly unjust +generalizations such as King David penitently acknowledged. + +Thomas' eyes came up from the carpet at her tone. He looked at her +with a sort of terror. The fixed sternness of her face made her seem a +stranger. Little as he had relished the idea of acknowledging his +bygone weakness, he had not dreamed of a result like this. + +For a moment he gazed at her with dumb appeal, then faltered: "I +was--was afraid you'd be disgusted with me, Persis." + +"I am." + +He swallowed hard as if her answer were a mouthful that resisted +mastication. For a little they sat silent. Persis picked up her work +and resumed her sewing with a brave show of indifference though the +seam ran into a blur before her eyes. And at last Thomas spoke. + +"I'm sorry you take it this way, Persis, but it couldn't be helped. I +had to clear up things before--I didn't feel it would be fair to ask +you anything that would bind you till you knew the worst about me. And +now--" + +There was another long silence. Then Thomas found himself upon his +feet, feeling for his hat, groping like a blind man. + +"Good-by, Persis. I wish I'd been a better man. But the fact is I +ain't fit to tie your shoe-strings, and that ends it. Good-by." + +He held out his hand, a formality unprecedented. She realized that he +meant it for good-by, not good night. Some perversity kept her eyes +upon her work, her hands occupied. + +"Good-by, Thomas." + +The door creaked ajar. There was a pause. It closed reluctantly. She +heard him stumble at the steps, go haltingly down the path. She +stabbed the fabric in her hand with her needle as if that minute tool +had been a weapon. + +"Men are all alike," repeated Persis, the tears running down her +cheeks. "But there's a difference in women. And the Annabel Sinclair +kind, with brains enough to keep 'em from being downright bad and not +enough conscience to make 'em good, are the worst of the lot. If the +devil couldn't count on their help in laying traps for good men, he'd +be dreadful handicapped." + +She swept the tears from her cheeks with a swift gesture, swallowed +those which had not yet fallen and fell to sewing frantically for there +were steps outside. But the late caller was not Justin Ware as for the +moment she had feared, but Mrs. West entering with the ponderous +dignity inseparable from two hundred pounds avoirdupois. Persis rose +hastily and pulled forward the big armchair, her action due to a +well-grounded fear for her furniture in addition to the impulse of her +native courtesy. + +"Set down, Mis' West. You're looking first-rate." + +"If I am it's more than I feel," the stout woman returned in a hollow +voice. "I'm so worried about Thad that I wonder there's anything left +of me." + +Persis, politely forbearing to call attention to the fact that enough +of Mrs. West remained for all practical purposes, regarded her friend +with kindly concern. "My, is Annabel Sinclair pestering that boy yet? +I thought--" + +"Persis, it's not Annabel now. It's the young one--Diantha." + +"Oh!" Persis resumed her sewing, with heightened color. + +"Yes. I used to think he was as crazy about that woman as anybody +could well be, but that wasn't to be named in the same day with the +state he's in now. He goes around as if he was in a sort of daze. +Sometimes I have to ask him three times over if he'll have another +helping of pie." + +"Well, it may not be sensible, Mis' West, but it's nature. I guess +there's nothing to do except put up with it." + +"But, Persis, she's so young." + +"She's younger than her mother, that's sure. And that's in her favor." + +"And she's Annabel Sinclair's daughter." + +"Well, that's better'n if she was somebody's wife." + +"It's easy for you to make light of it, Persis. But if he was your +boy--" Mrs. West produced a voluminous handkerchief from about her +person, hid her face in its folds and sobbed. + +"If he was my boy, Mis' West, I guess I'd act as foolish as other +mothers. But seeing he ain't, I can look at the affair kind of +detached and sensible. I don't suppose you're especially set up over +the idea of Diantha Sinclair for a daughter-in-law, but if mothers +picked out wives for their sons, there'd be mighty few girls who'd pass +muster, and the balance would have to settle down to be old maids." + +"It isn't that I don't think anybody's good enough for Thad," said Mrs. +West in hasty disclaimer. "I can see his faults fast enough." + +"Yes, you can see his faults, and you can excuse 'em, too. That's what +being a mother means. And you can see Diantha's faults, and you can't +excuse 'em without a struggle. Yet she's as pretty as a pink, and a +sweet-dispositioned girl, too. She's a long ways yet from being a +woman, but as far as I can see, she's started in the right direction." + +"I'd hate to think of my Thad leading the life Stanley Sinclair's had +to for the last fifteen years," said Mrs. West with feeling. + +"Well the cases ain't the same. When youth mates with youth, there's +hopes of them learning their lessons together and not making such hard +work of it, either. But what can you expect when a man along in the +forties decides it's time for him to settle down, and ties himself up +to some giddy young thing, so brimful of life that it's all she can do +to keep her toes on the ground. It's like hitching up a colt with some +slow-going old plug from a livery stable. YOU drive 'em that way, and +either the colt's spirit is going to get broken, or else the plug will +travel at a good deal faster clip than he likes." + +Mrs. West's attention had plainly wandered during Persis' homily. + +"Beats all how that girl grew up all in a minute, so to speak," she +said irrelevantly. + +Persis gave her entire attention to her work. + +"It don't seem any time since I was here and she came in to ask about +some sewing of her mother's. Her dress was up to her knees, and her +hair hanging in curls. Except for being tall she looked about ten +years old. And the next thing anybody knows, she's a young lady with +all the airs and graces." + +Persis preserved a guilty silence. + +"I didn't know but you might have some idea," Mrs. West suggested +hopefully, "You know you agreed to see what you could do about Annabel, +and then Thad got tired of her all at once, so there wasn't any call +for you to interfere." + +With a determined shake of her head, Persis declined the new commission. + +"No, Mis' West. I'm not going to have a finger in this pie, and I +advise you to let the young folks alone. If you don't want him to +marry her, your one chance is to leave 'em be. And if they do make a +match of it, either one might have done worse." + +While Persis gave no hint to her caller of her own complicity in the +situation Mrs. West deplored, at the bar of her own conscience she made +no effort to disclaim the responsibility. It helped to ease the hurt +due to the revelation of Thomas' weakness to busy her thoughts with +other people. + +"If they do take each other it's got to be for better instead of worse. +I made that match without meaning to, but as long as I had a hand in +it, I'm going to see that both of 'em behave." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE MAIL BAG + +"I should 'most think you'd have to give up the dressmaking business or +else hire a secretary. It takes considerable time to attend to such a +correspondence as you're getting to have." + +Joel slammed a bunch of letters down upon the table, his ill-temper +expressing itself as naively as that of a child. Nor was its occasion +a mystery to his sister. Numerous letters marked the recipient as an +individual of consequence. Joel's mail was limited to communications +from the distributors of quack remedies to whom he had communicated his +symptoms in accordance with instructions set forth in their +benevolently inquisitive advertisements. When Persis received several +letters on the same mail, the possibility that he might be a person of +secondary importance in the establishment presented itself to Joel with +disquieting force. + +"Like enough they're from some of my customers asking when I can spare +'em a little extra time," Persis suggested soothingly. + +"No, they ain't. Least ways some of 'em are from men. And I must say, +Persis, it don't look well, your carrying on a correspondence with two +or three men-folks and your own brother not know anything about it. As +the poet says: + + "'A lost good name is ne'er retrieved.' + + +"Who's this that's writing you from the Clematis House, anyway?" + +"I haven't looked to see," Persis replied dryly, but her comely face +took on color. + +"Looks bad when a man right in the same town's ashamed to say what he's +got to say to your face. Has to seal it up in an envelope. If you +were a little readier to ask advice, Persis, it would be better for +you. You women, sheltered and guarded all your lives, ain't expected +to know much about the world, and if you just won't seek counsel from +them that's able to give it, of course some unscrupulous rapscallion is +going to make fools of you." + +"Well, Joel," Persis promised with unimpaired good humor, "if I ever +get in a tight place where I need your advice, I'll ask for it." But +she made no move to investigate the contents of the promising pile upon +the table, and without attempting to mask his umbrage, Joel withdrew +his offended dignity to the porch. Even then, in splendid refutation +of the theory that curiosity is the cardinal vice of her sex, Persis +completed the task on which she was engaged before putting herself in a +position to answer Joel's inquiry as to the identity of the +correspondent using the stationery of the Clematis House. + +It was her first letter from that source for many a year and she +scrutinized the address long and thoughtfully. "I shouldn't even have +known his handwriting. If anybody'd told me that six months ago, I'd +have laughed in his face." But now instead of laughing she sighed, and +her face remained grave throughout the reading of the communication. + + +"Dear Persis--I am unexpectedly called out of town and shall not be +able to see you Thursday as I had expected. I do not think, however, +that I shall be away more than six weeks or two months at the longest. +There are some good business prospects here, which I have not as yet +brought to a satisfactory termination, but apart from that, the +temptation to see more of my old friends is too strong to be resisted. + +"Sincerely yours, + + "J. M. W." + + +"I guess he means the Hornblowers, by 'business prospects,'" mused +Persis, and replaced the letter in its envelope. For Mrs. Robert +Hornblower's anticipations of a life of luxurious ease had been +temporarily thwarted by the unexpected and unprecedented opposition of +her hitherto compliant husband. Even a worm will turn. Robert +Hornblower, after a lifetime of meek submission, had suddenly become +contumacious and unruly. The wifely authority, exercised so long under +another name, had as yet been powerless to bring him to the point of +disposing of his farm. The man had aged under the strain, had lost +flesh and color, along with sleep and appetite, and yet to the surprise +of his acquaintances and his own secret amazement, he had proved that +he had a will of his own by stubbornly reiterating his refusal to be +coerced into acting against his best judgment. And while Mrs. +Hornblower was confident of ultimate victory, it was not easy for her +to forgive her husband for delaying in so unjustifiable a fashion their +entrance into the Promised Land. + +The second letter to receive Persis' attention was addressed in a hand +which, like Justin's, seemed hauntingly familiar. Persis studied the +post-mark with the result of piquing her curiosity, rather than +satisfying it. + +"Warren, New York. First time I ever heard of that place to my +knowledge. Beats all how folks can know your name, when you hadn't +even found out that their town was on the map." With a mounting and +pleasurable sense of her own importance, Persis opened the letter and +looked first at the signature of the writer. Then with an exclamation +of interest, she gave herself to the perusal of the communication, +forgetting Justin Ware for the moment as completely as if he had never +existed. + + +"My Dear Miss Dale--A friend of mine, Mr. Washington Thompson, has +asked me to write requesting you to forward him at once a letter of +mine which has come into your possession though I am at a loss to +understand how. I have told Mr. Thompson that after all this time the +letter is perfectly worthless, but he does not seem to be of that +opinion. Accordingly I am troubling you by this request. Mr. Thompson +will be at the Munroe Hotel, Cincinnati, from the twelfth to the +fifteenth, and for the week following at the Hollenden Hotel, Cleveland. + +"Yours truly, + + "Enid Randolph. + + "Warren, New York." + + +Persis sprang to her feet and ran out upon the porch. The irate Joel, +nursing his wrongs in dignified silence, experienced a new sense of +injury at the sight of her radiant face. + +"Joel, when you happen to pass young Mis' Thompson's I want you to stop +and tell her that I've got a piece of goods here that maybe belongs to +her. Ask her if she'll come in the first time she's by. You might +say, Joel, that I'd be much obliged if she'd make a point of coming +soon, as I have a general cleaning up along about this season, and I +like to get rid of all the odds and ends that are cluttering up things." + +Nothing in Joel's expression indicated that he had even heard the +commission, but his look of gloomy abstraction did not deceive his +sister who was perfectly aware that he understood her request and would +take a certain satisfaction in executing it. She returned to her mail, +making short work of an advertisement of a new substitute for silk +linings and another which offered a fashion periodical at bargain +prices. The last letter in the pile again aroused her curiosity, for +the upper left-hand corner bore the legend, "Delaney and Briggs, +Attorneys at Law." + +"Lawyers, too. Well, I don't blame Joel for feeling exercised." She +recalled the implied threat in a recent communication from Mr. +Washington Thompson regarding the return of his property, and the +thought crossed her mind that possibly he had invoked legal aid for its +recovery. + +She was standing as she began to read. Half-way down the page she +uttered an exclamation and staggered to a chair. She finished the +letter, laid it down, took it up again and reread it. Then rising, she +busied herself with various tasks about the room, doing over several +things she had already completed and ignoring some obvious needs. This +accomplished, she read the letter for a third time and brought out her +sewing. After five minutes of desultory work, she folded the garment +and laid it away. For the next two hours she might have served as a +study of contemplation. Her chin upon her hands, her eyes musing, she +sat motionless, almost rigid, as the big clock ticked off the seconds. + +Joel shuffled into the room on the stroke of twelve. "Mis' Thompson +says she'll likely go by sometime to-day or to-morrow and she'll stop +in." + +Persis did not reply, and for the first time Joel noticed his sister's +unusual attitude. He looked at her and then at the clock. + +"Ain't dinner ready?" + +"Dinner?" + +"Yes, dinner! What ails you? You act as if you'd never heard of such +a thing as meal-time." + +"I didn't think it was time for dinner yet," Persis answered, rousing +herself. Again Joel inspected her sharply. + +"Haven't you been sewing this morning?" + +"No, I did start, but I didn't feel like keeping it up." + +Joel's face expressed mingled concern and amazement. That Persis +should sit idle a morning from choice was extraordinary enough to be +alarming. "Don't you feel well?" + +"Me? Oh, yes, I'm all right." Persis went into the next room and +began her preparations for the meal. It took her longer than usual. +Joel watched the clock with frowning vexation, but some quality +abnormal and vaguely disquieting in his sister's manner kept him from +putting into words the impression that a man who is kept waiting a full +hour for his dinner is hardly used. + +His mood softened when at length appetizing odors diffusing themselves +through the house, indicated that the pot roast of day before yesterday +which under Persis' thrifty management had as many final appearances as +a _prima donna_, was soon to grace the table as an Irish stew. Joel +dearly loved that savory concoction, and though he was on his guard +against allowing her to suspect the fact, he privately placed his +sister's dumplings on a par with Addison's poems. Forgetting both his +grievance of the morning and his later anxiety, due to Persis' singular +conduct, he gave himself up to cheerful anticipation. + +The problem which for generations has exercised the wits of amateur +debaters was settled satisfactorily in this instance, at least. The +joys of anticipation far exceeded the pleasure of realization. Joel +took one swallow of the stew and dropped his spoon with a splash. + +"What in Sam Hill! What kind of a mess do you call this?" + +Persis took a hasty sip, looked incredulous and sipped again. Slowly +the shamed blood crept to the roots of her hair. Yet she spoke with a +self-control fairly brazen. + +"Looks as if I'd made a mistake and put in sugar instead of salt." + +Joel's gaze swept the table, hawk-like in its searching eagerness. + +"Where's the dumplings?" + +"I--well, I declare, I forgot the dumplings." + +He experienced a chill of actual terror. This was his sister Persis, +Persis the practical and reliable, this woman who sugared the stew, and +allowed the _chef-d'oeuvre_ of the dinner to slip her mind. He was +immediately aware of a singular flush staining her cheeks, a feverish +glitter in her eye. + +The gentleness of his comment took her by surprise. "I guess, Persis, +it was only that you was thinking of something else." + +"That was it, Joel." She hesitated, then moved by his forbearance +spoke out plainly. "I was thinking, Joel, how it would seem to be +rich." + +Again his heart jumped. Such vague vain wishing, so characteristic of +many women, was absolutely foreign to his sister's temperament. He +could not remember the time when she had overlooked the present +satisfaction, however poor and meager, in favor of some joy of fancy. + +"I wouldn't let my mind stray off to such things," he said uneasily. + +"Well, Joel, I guess I'll have to face it. The fact is, you see, I am +rich." + +Her words fell like a thunderbolt, confirming his worst fears. He sat +aghast, unable to decide whether Persis had lost her mind, or this was +the delirium incident to some acute seizure. In tones of such +unnatural gentleness that his sister started as they fell on her ears, +he offered the only suggestion which occurred to him at the moment. + +"Hadn't you better go lie down, Persis?" + +"Me? Why, I feel all right." + +"Well, even if you do, lying down won't hurt you. It's the best thing +known to lengthen life. You'd ought to take better care of yourself, +Persis. Half an hour a day--" + +His sister interrupted him with a burst of laughter in which his +preternaturally acute senses detected the wildness of mania. + +"Joel, I know what ails you. You think I'm taking leave of my senses. +It does sound that way, I own, for a Dale to be talking about being +rich. I don't mean the Vanderbilt kind of riches, you know, but a nice +little income so I can keep a servant girl and never do any more sewing +and maybe buy an automobile." + +"Persis Dale," exclaimed Joel, "you're as crazy as a June bug." + +"Look for yourself, then." Persis turned to the secretary where she +had placed the letter she had received that morning. She felt more +like herself than at any time since she had perused the contents of +that final astonishing communication. In combatting Joel's +incredulity, she was able to set at rest certain disquieting doubts of +her own as to her sanity. + +Joel's jaw dropped as he read. "Mrs. Persis Ann Crawford. Why, that +must mean Aunt Persis." + +"Sure. The one I was named for. And I guess it's a good twenty-five +years since we've had a line from her." She laughed a little +hysterically, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief. "I don't s'pose +I'm crying because she's dead, seeing I took it for granted that she'd +passed away years ago. And yet all the time to leave me her money. +Ain't life the funniest mix-up. Yesterday I couldn't have afforded so +much as a sick-headache. And now if I want a run of typhoid fever or +my appendix cut out, it's nobody's business." + +Joel laid down the letter with a gulp. The impression uppermost in his +mind was the singular blindness of fortune in selecting the recipients +of its bounty. + +"It's a good deal of a responsibility for a woman," he said ruefully. +"Seeing I'm the oldest, it's rather odd Aunt Persis Ann didn't realize +that I was the proper one to inherit. But I guess she thought it was +all in the family, and you'd be guided by my advice." + +Persis' answer was irrelevant. "Joel, seems to me that so far my +life's been for all the world like a checked gingham, if you know what +I mean." + +But Joel did not know. "Checked gingham! I never heard such crazy +talk." + +"Made up of the same little things, all just alike," Persis explained +patiently. "And nothing especially bright or cheerful about any of +'em. I've a feeling as if I'd like a splash of color now, velvet as +green as grass and fire-red satin." + +"Sounds as if you had the Scarlet Woman in mind," Joel said +disapprovingly, and before Persis had time to explain, young Mrs. +Thompson had knocked. She was a sorry figure for a wife of less than a +year's standing, a drooping little woman, pale, listless and heavy-eyed. + +"Mr. Dale said something about your having a piece of my goods," she +explained with such an effect of indifference that Persis wondered she +had taken the trouble to call. Then her gaze went to the table and the +untouched meal. "I'm afraid I've interrupted you." + +"Not a mite, Mis' Thompson. Walk right in! Joel!" Persis' +authoritative glance in her brother's direction indicated the propriety +of his withdrawal. Joel rose reluctantly. It was not a fitting that +was in prospect nor even a discussion of styles where questions might +arise which could not suitably be debated before one of the opposite +sex. But since Persis only wished to return the young woman a piece of +goods that had been overlooked when her dress was sent home, Joel felt +not unreasonably that he might have witnessed the transaction without +offending the most rigid notions of what was seemly. + +Persis searched in her piece-bag and produced an infinitesimal scrap of +green voile. Young Mrs. Thompson accepted the offering with evident +surprise. + +"Yes, that's my goods," she acknowledged. "But it's so little, I don't +see how I can use it." + +"You never can tell when a scrap like that will come in useful," Persis +declared convincingly. "And by the way, Mis' Thompson, I wonder if +your husband happens to have handy that ridiculous letter that was +meant for another Thompson." + +The worthless scrap of green dropped from the young wife's shaking +hands. "Why, what makes you think--" + +"That letter," Persis explained steadily, "was written to a Mr. +Washington Thompson. I don't wonder he shortens it to a W., do you? +To have Washington for your first name must be a good deal like having +the Washington monument in your front yard, sort of overpowering. Of +course, as Enid says--Enid's the girl, you know--a love-letter as old +as that ain't of no real use. Love-letters and eggs are a good deal +alike. You can keep 'em in cold storage month in and month out, but +while they don't exactly spoil, they ain't the same as fresh ones." + +Persis was talking to give the little woman time. From the pigeonholes +of her secretary she produced the letters she needed, and meanwhile +kept a wary eye upon the camphor bottle, always within reach for the +benefit of sensitive patrons likely to succumb to the ordeal of +fitting. To judge from young Mrs. Thompson's colorless face, she might +need it at any moment. + +"I own I kind of interfered with what was none of my business," Persis +acknowledged with as pleasing a frankness as if such interferences were +not in line with her normal activities. "But I kind of worried over +having a love-letter wandering around that way and not getting where it +belonged. That might make lots of trouble." + +"But who was 'Her'?" demanded young Mrs. Thompson wildly. And Persis, +whose sense of responsibility for her kind extended even to her unknown +correspondents, looked grave as she answered. + +"Dearie, I don't know. But I'm sure of one thing, that it wasn't you. +Here's his letter to me, madder'n a wet hen, he was, too. And here's +hers. You see it's the same writing as the one your husband has; I'm +glad she wrote her name right out plain, because I said particular that +the 'Enid' would be enough." + +Then Persis dropped both letters and caught Mrs. Thompson in her arms. +The younger woman was small and slender, and under the stress of +excitement Persis lifted her to the couch as easily as if she had been +a child. Then she sprinkled the white face with water from the pitcher +on the table and brought the camphor bottle into play, all the time +murmuring words of endearment and sympathy whose restorative effect was +possibly not second to that of her other remedies. Young Mrs. Thompson +returned to consciousness to hear herself called a "lamb" and a "poor +dear." She opened her heavy eyes and gave back a rapturous smile to +the other woman's comprehending gaze. + +"I--I don't believe I ever was so happy," murmured young Mrs. Thompson. +"Then he did leave it in his pocket just for a joke. And, oh, dear +Miss Dale, if it's a girl I'm going to call her Persis." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +AN ACQUISITION + +The Dale homestead was undergoing repairs. For years Persis had +patched up the roof when it leaked and papered with her own hands such +rooms as had become too dingy to be longer tolerated. Now she was +giving free rein to her exuberant fancy in the matter of improvements. +A telephone had been installed in the house the day following the +communication from the legal advisers of the late Persis Ann Crawford +and this in spite of Joel's passionate protests. + +"May be a hoax for all you know. Better wait till the money's in your +hand before you run into extravagance piling up debts for us to work +off later. I guess it's a true saying that if you put a beggar on +horseback, he'll ride to the devil." + +Within a week the innovations had reduced him to a condition of +disapproving dumbness. Paperhangers and plasterers had taken +possession of the old house. The roof was being reshingled. The new +electric lights gave to each successive evening an air of festive +brilliancy. The sagging porch was in process of reconstruction. It +was the dull season from the builder's standpoint, and Persis had no +difficulty in securing workmen in sufficient numbers to hurry the work +with what seemed to herself, as well as to Joel, almost magical +despatch. A generous check deposited to her credit in the Clematis +Savings Bank had relieved Joel's earlier apprehensions. The bequest +was no hoax. But his constitutional parsimony rebelled against the +outlay as if each expenditure had meant want in the future. While his +dignity demanded that he should cease the protests that were +disregarded, his air of patient martyrdom expressed his sentiments with +all the plainness of speech. + +The feminine half of the population of Clematis was in despair. For +Persis Dale had announced with every indication of finality that after +she had finished the gowns in hand, her career as dressmaker would +immediately terminate. Mrs. Robert Hornblower, bitter because Persis' +fortune had materialized before her own, commented freely on the fact +that Persis Dale hadn't the strength of mind to come into money without +beginning to put on airs. Mrs. Richards, who was so far convalescent +that she had been able to attend divine worship the previous Sabbath, +rolled her eyes Heavenward and deplored the effects of pomps and +vanities on certain constitutions. Even so true and tried a friend as +Mrs. West was driven to remonstrate. + +"I don't say that you ought to work the way you've done all your life, +Persis, rushing from one dress to another, fit to break your neck. But +it does seem as if after always being busy you couldn't be real happy +to settle down to idleness." + +Persis smiled. + +"I guess I wasn't cut out for a butterfly, Mis' West, even if I'd got +started in time. I'm not afraid but what I can find plenty to do. As +far as the sewing goes, I feel like a man I read of who laid a wager +he'd eat a quail a day for thirty days. Well, he got along fine. +Didn't seem to mind it a bit. When it came the twenty-fifth day and +everybody was congratulating him on making his money so easy, he up and +quit. 'No use, boys,' he said, when they began to tell him what a fool +he was. 'I've just naturally got to the stopping-point.' And it's the +same with me. I've done my sewing and haven't fretted over it, though +when I think of the millions and millions of stitches I've taken in +twenty years, I wonder I haven't turned into a sewing-machine. But +I've got to the stopping-point now. It's more'n likely I'll buy my own +clothes ready-made, after this." + +In a month's time the old house was transformed beyond recognition, the +fresh paint of the exterior holding its own bravely against the +pretensions of the fresh paper and new carpets within. Thomas Hardin +had sent to Boston for those carpets, the patterns in stock not +satisfying Persis' exacting ideas. The transaction had been conducted +with businesslike despatch on both sides, though on one occasion Thomas +relaxed his dignity sufficiently to say, "Guess you're going to look +pretty fine up there." + +Persis dryly admitted the prospective improvement. "Some folks can't +bear to part with what's old, but I own I've got a liking for new +things. When I can afford a change, I'm glad to have it." + +"Friends the same as carpets," Thomas thought with a little bitterness +for which he at once reproached himself. For, after all, Persis' +friendship had been stanch and steadfast till his own confession had +disclosed his unworthiness. He atoned for his momentary lapse by +making her a substantial discount on the linoleum she wanted for the +kitchen. + +The seal of silence Joel had placed upon his lips was broken when the +question of engaging a servant girl came to the fore. "Ain't you going +to leave yourself nothing to do?" he demanded wildly. Then with a +cunning for which few would have given him credit. "You'll get as fat +as Etta West sitting around all day and being waited on." + +Persis listened unmoved, her rather enigmatic smile suggesting that she +clearly foresaw a way out of that difficulty. + +"I'm not afraid but what I can find enough to keep me busy. Besides, I +need a servant girl to look after things when I'm away." + +"Away? Are you going away?" + +"I'm going whenever I happen to feel like it. And the first time'll be +next week, Monday." + +"Persis, where are you going?" + +"To the city for a week or so." + +Joel deliberated. He rose and paced the room, halting at length in a +dramatic posture, face to face with his sister. + +"Persis, I've got no love for the city as you well know. As the poet +says, 'God the first garden made and the first city, Cain.' But I'm +ready to sacrifice myself for what's best for you. I'll go along." + +Persis regarded him without any indication of fervent gratitude for the +sacrifice so nobly announced. + +"It's good of you, Joel, but it won't be necessary." + +He waved her protest away with a dominating gesture. + +"It _is_ necessary. It won't do to turn a woman like you loose in a +city like Boston. As long as you didn't have any money, it wasn't so +much matter. But now there'll be folks to sell you gold bricks, and +when you unwrap 'em, they won't be nothing but plain ordinary bricks +after all." + +"They can't sell me bricks if I won't buy 'em, Joel." + +"You don't know what they can do. You never went up against a +professional sharper. Women ain't any match for that kind. They'll +probably give me a bed at the hotel that hasn't been used since +sometime last winter, but never mind. I'm going along to protect you." + +"Joel!" Persis' tone for all its gentleness showed plenty of decision. +"Thank you, but this time I don't want you." + +"What's that?" + +"Some other time when you feel like running up to the city for a few +days, we'll go together. But just now I've got some business to attend +to." + +"You mean I'd be in the way?" + +"Yes." + +"Persis." Joel spoke in heart-broken accents. "I guess the Good Book +ain't far wrong in calling money the root of all evil. Up till you +come into this prop'ty, you was all a man could ask for in a sister." +Like many another, Joel found his blessings brightest in retrospect. +"But now you're as set as a post and as stubborn as a mule. It's +pretty dangerous, Persis, when a woman gets the idea she knows all +that's worth knowing. As the poet says, 'A little learning is a +dangerous thing.' I feel in my bones that there's trouble coming out +of this wild-goose chase of yours." + +It was not characteristic of Joel to keep his grievances secret. +Wherever he went for the next few days, he fairly oozed reproach and +resentment. And on the Monday when Persis took the ten o'clock train +for Boston it was generally understood that she had declined the +pleasure of her brother's company and was bent on an errand whose +nature she alone knew. + +"She'll put up at a hotel, I suppose," said Mrs. Hornblower. "She'll +have to, for there's nobody in Boston she knows well enough to visit. +A single woman staying alone at a hotel sounds dreadful improper to me. +Robert would never allow me to do such a thing, never for a minute. +And nobody even knows what she's gone for." + +But Annabel Sinclair thought she knew. "I shouldn't wonder," she told +Diantha, "if when Persis Dale gets back we'd see startling changes." + +Her confidential tone was balm to Diantha's spirit. For since the +daughter's sudden leap into maturity, the relations between the two had +been strained, the instinct of sex rivalry overmastering such shadowy +maternal impulses as had outlived Diantha's babyhood. The girl +responded eagerly to the advance. + +"Yes, I shouldn't wonder if she'd have lots of new clothes." + +"She'll need more than clothes to make her presentable, and she knows +it, too." Annabel's voice was rasping. "They have beauty-shops in the +cities, you know, where they fix over old women who want to look young, +skin off the wrinkles and all sorts of things." She flashed a glance +at the mirror--there was always a mirror convenient in the Sinclair +establishment--and smiled with malicious enjoyment. Annabel did not +need skinning. + +Diantha edged away with sudden distaste. "I don't think Miss Persis +would do anything like that, mama." + +"Why not?" Her mother spoke fiercely. "It's the sensible thing to do +when you need it. After her good looks are gone, there's nothing left +for a woman." The bitterness of a participant in a losing fight flung +a black shadow across her fairness. For defy Time as she would, the +day must come when he would triumph. She looked again at herself in +the mirror as if already he had stolen the bloom from her cheek and the +gold from her hair and shuddered at the thought of what must be. + +Persis had said to her brother that she might be away a week. On the +sixth day came a brief note to the effect that her business was not +quite finished and that she would let him know when to expect her. +Another week went by, and one afternoon Joel received his first +telegram. + +He stood staring at the sinister brown envelope with its black +lettering, and a chilly fear clutched his heart. One catastrophe after +another suggested itself, each to be discarded in favor of another more +appalling. Persis had lost her money. She had met with an accident. +She was dead. His bony hand shook till the envelope rattled, and the +small boy who had brought the message eyed him with curiosity. + +"Any answer?" + +The question was reassuring. It suggested that Persis was still to be +reached by mundane means of communication. Joel regarded the lad +appealingly. + +"Say, son, do you know what's in this?" + +"Naw!" The boy's tone showed impatience tinged with contempt. "Why +don't you look and see for yourself?" + +The suggestion seemed reasonable, and Joel followed it. The +typewritten enclosure blurred before his eyes, and so strong is the +force of apprehension that he seemed to see words of ominous import +staring up at him through the confusion. Then the mist cleared and his +forebodings with it. + + +"Home on four-twenty train not necessary to meet me tell Mary to have +plenty for supper. + +"Persis Dale." + + +Joel felt the sense of grievance which is the almost inevitable sequel +to groundless fears. "There's no answer," he told the boy gruffly. +The urchin sidled away and Joel stood rigid, regarding the slip in his +hand. His first move was to count the words. Seventeen! Joel +groaned. What extravagance. If she had said "unnecessary" instead of +"not necessary" there would have been a saving of one to begin with. +And the closing injunction might have been omitted altogether. "Tell +Mary to have plenty for supper." What an extraordinary request to +telegraph from the city of Boston. Could it be that in the metropolis +of New England she had lacked for food to satisfy the pangs of appetite? + +So absorbed did he become in attempting to solve the riddle that he +almost forgot to impart the contents of the telegram to Mary. The +fresh-colored farmer's daughter who had found life extremely monotonous +without the vivacious presence of her mistress, heard the news with +elation and showed no surprise over the concluding request. + +"I've heard how they feed folks in them city places. Ma's cousin was a +waiter in a Boston boarding-house onct, and she says she was fairly +ashamed to set before folks the little dabs that was served out, for +all the world like samples. I guess after two whole weeks of that kind +of food, Miss Dale's good and hungry." + +Joel noticed with irritation that Persis had carried her independence +to the point of suggesting that it was not necessary for him to meet +her, though she was well aware that his presence at the station when +the four-twenty train came in, had taken on almost the sacredness of a +religious rite. "Looks as if she wasn't in any dreadful hurry to see +me," Joel mused. It occurred to him that it would be a fitting return +for Persis' perverseness for him to retire to his room and refuse to +leave except at her humble and reiterated entreaty. It is unfortunate +that so often the course of conduct consistent with one's dignity +involves a painful sacrifice. As train-time drew near, Joel realized +that he would not be equal to the ordeal of absenting himself, even for +so worthy a cause as to teach Persis a much-needed lesson. + +There was the usual number of loungers on the station platform, and +Joel was soon surrounded by an interested circle. As the brother of a +woman of property, he had acquired a certain vicarious importance in +the last few weeks. Information as to what Persis was doing, or about +to do, was sought eagerly in all directions, and Joel's vanity was +flattered at finding himself the center of attention, even though in +his heart he was well aware of the reason. + +"Sister having a good time up to Boston?" inquired a florid man, who +despite the chilliness of the late fall day was in his shirt-sleeves. + +The uncertainty in Joel's mind as to whether Persis had spent her time +attending the theater or in the surgical ward of a hospital, caused him +to evade a direct answer. + +"Oh, so-so. I'm expecting her home on this train." + +The countenances of the group brightened. Some of them had come a long +distance to await the four-twenty train. Pressing work was on the +consciences of several. It was agreeable to know that their sacrifices +were not thrown away. They would see Persis Dale step off the train +and would be able to tell their wives at supper whether, as far as +their obtuse masculine powers of observation had been able to +determine, she was arrayed in the spoils of city shops. + +The train screamed at the crossing half a mile below and made its +appearance with the usual accompaniments of smoke and rattle. +Passengers looked with weary interest at the crowd on the platform, and +the crowd on the platform watched eagerly for alighting passengers. A +farmer living in the vicinity left the smoking-car to be given scant +welcome, for the lookers-on were anticipating something more +impressive. A fat old woman with a basket and a couple of shawl-straps +was also coldly received. Then some one caught Joel's arm with an +exclamation, muffled but profane. + +There was a parlor-car at the rear of the train, a concession to the +passengers for Montreal. From this a rather striking procession was +descending. It was led by a dark handsome boy about twelve years of +age, while a fair girl, a little younger, followed behind. Another boy +and then another girl, smaller and chubbier than their predecessors, +were next to receive the assistance of the obsequious porter. And +lastly he gave his attention to a woman who carried a baby in her arms. +The woman wore a hat and coat new to Clematis, but there was something +not unfamiliar in her erect carriage, and the capable fashion in which, +she directed the movements of her little flock. + +"Straight ahead, children. Algie, you walk right toward that hack with +the two gray horses, and the rest of you follow Algie. Well, here's +Uncle Joel come to meet us." + +Some one pushed Joel forward. With his jaw dropping and his eyes +protruding, he looked like a criminal urged on toward the scaffold +rather than a man of affectionate disposition welcoming home a family +circle unexpectedly enlarged. The hoarse gurgle which escaped his lips +might have gassed for a greeting, or it might have presaged an +epileptic seizure. + +"Well, Joel." Persis nodded affably, at the same time patting the baby +which, frightened by the proximity of so many strange faces, was +beginning to whimper. "As long as you're here, you might as well see +about our trunks. Give Uncle Joel the checks, Algie. No, not that +pocket. You put 'em in the right-hand one." + +The crowd surged nearer and a piping voice made itself heard above the +confusion. "Miss Dale, looks as if you was going to have lively times +with all that company." + +Persis cast a benignant gaze in the speaker's direction. She had never +held curiosity in low esteem as do the more rigid moralists, +acknowledging indeed, her full share of that characteristic. And +moreover she was quite willing that her old friends and neighbors, the +most of whom had congratulated her so heartily on her recent good +fortune, should know of her latest acquisition. + +"I guess we'll have a lively time all right, Mr. Jones, but these +children ain't what you call company. I adopted the whole lot up to +Boston, and every one of the five's a Dale, as hard and fast as the law +can make 'em." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A WOMAN AT LAST + +Even if Joel's command of English had enabled him to express himself +freely regarding his sister's latest acquisition, the opportunity was +not immediately forthcoming. The demonstrations of five excited +children, introduced into an environment entirely unfamiliar, proved +absorbing to all the household. With the exception of the baby who +clung shyly to Persis, refusing to leave her side, the new +reinforcements to the Dale family at once organized exploring +expeditions about the premises. Little feet clattered on the stairs +and shrilly sweet voices announced discoveries from garret to cellar. +Joel, who had improved the first opportunity to withdraw to his own +room, pushed the heaviest chair against the door in lieu of a key and +sat in the chair. And though his knob rattled a number of times, the +investigations of the juvenile explorers ceased at his threshold. + +When the summons of the supper-bell sounded through the house, Joel was +uncertain whether to indicate his displeasure by remaining in his room +or to present himself as usual, allowing Persis to see with her own +eyes the condition to which her selfishness had reduced him. He +decided on the latter course, not so much as a concession to his +appetite as because he feared that in Persis' present absorption, his +absence would hardly be noticed. Wearing the expression becoming one +stricken by the hand of a friend, he left his room and faced the +invaders below. + +The dining-room table had been extended to a length which carried his +thoughts back to his childhood. The baby, a frail-looking child, +between two and three, had not yet attained the dignity of a place at +the table but sat in a high-chair at Persis' left and drummed with her +spoon upon the adjustable shelf which served the double purpose of +keeping her in place and supporting her bowl of bread and milk. The +renaissance of the high-chair was responsible for a curious surge of +emotion through Joel's consciousness. Persis herself had once occupied +that chair and for a moment his sister's matronly figure at the head of +the table was singularly suggestive of his mother. He dropped into his +place with a hollow groan. + +"Has he got a stomach ache?" inquired five-year-old Celia from the +other end of the table. The echoing whisper was distinctly audible. +Betty, ten years old, pink, prim and pretty, blushed reproachfully at +her new foster sister, while Mary, who was just bringing in the milk +toast, was agitated by a tremor which imperiled the family supper. + +"Sh!" Persis temporarily subdued the outbreaking of her new +responsibilities by a lift of the eyebrows, and began to serve the milk +toast with lavish hand. Joel waved away the plate Mary brought him. + +"I can't eat that truck. Truth is I haven't got a mite of appetite, +but just to keep up my strength I'll take a soft-boiled egg. I've got +to have something sustaining." + +"Two eggs, Mary," said Persis to her hand-maid. "And give 'em just two +minutes and a half." The order failed to attract the attention of +Celia, absorbed at the moment in allaying the pangs of appetite. It +was not till the eggs were brought in and placed by Joel's plate that +the irrepressible infant was roused to the realization of the enormity +of the situation. She dropped her fork with a clatter. + +"Oh, Aunt Persis, see what they've gone and done." + +"What is it, child?" + +"You said that little chickies came out of eggs." There was no further +pretense of whispering on Celia's part. Her voice rose in a tragic +wail. "And now he's going to eat up those eggs, and I wanted to save +'em to make chickies of. Oh, dear, dear!" + +"'Tain't the right time of year for chickens, dearie," Persis explained +soothingly. "We'll have plenty next spring." But Joel glanced at the +objects which had called out Celia's protest with an air of extreme +distaste. + +"It's enough to take away a hearty man's appetite," he complained. "I +guess if my victuals are going to be grudged me, I'd better eat +up-stairs." + +"Don't gobble, Malcolm," said Persis, ignoring her brother's burst of +ill temper and addressing the little lad on her right. "And tuck your +napkin under your chin so you won't get anything on your blouse." + +At this point the tactful Betty created a diversion by inquiring, "When +shall we start going to school, Aunt Persis? Monday?" + +"Looks to me as if to-morrow'd be the best day. It's my idea that if a +thing's worth starting at all, you can't start too soon. Some folks +save up their good resolutions for the first of the year, but it's a +better way to begin right off as soon as you think of it. And then +when the New Year comes, you're just that much ahead." + +"I'm going to study awful hard," declared Algie, with an air of putting +this good counsel to immediate application. + +"Well, I'm not," announced Malcolm with equal decision. And then as +Betty emitted a protesting and shocked murmur, he explained: "Of course +I'll study some, but I've got to save the most of my strength for +playing football when I'm big." + +Joel pushed back his chair and took his egg cup from the table. + +"I guess I'll go to my room, Persis," he said in a hollow voice. +"Maybe up-stairs where it's quiet, I'll be able to eat a little. And +to-morrow you'd better have Mary make me some beef tea. I've got to +have something to keep up my strength." Slowly and solemnly he mounted +the stairs, convinced by the increased animation of the voices in the +room below that his departure had not cast an irreparable gloom over +the cheerful spirits of the diners. + +This time he did not feel it necessary to barricade the door. Indeed +he left it a trifle ajar, and so was party to the cheerful confusion of +getting the children to bed. The baby--Amaryllis was her impossible +name, though she looked too fragile to sustain its weight--was to share +Persis' quarters. The two older girls occupied the chamber adjoining. +The two boys had been assigned to a snug little room on the other side +of the hall. + +"Close by me so I can hear every mite of their rowdy-dow," Joel thought +with bitterness. But in spite of himself he listened. The children +were calling to one another across the hall. Apparently their previous +acquaintance had been slight, and in addition to the excitement of +finding themselves in a new environment, they were experiencing the +more intoxicating novelty of becoming acquainted all at once with a +fair-sized contingent of brothers and sisters. + +"'Most ready for bed, children?" Persis' voice sounded rich and deep, +contrasting with the piping chatter. "Time you was asleep, for +to-morrow's a school day. And you've got to say your prayers yet." + +"I said mine on the train coming down," explained Malcolm with his +quaint drawl. "Thought I might as well save the time as long as there +wasn't anything else to do." + +"I've got a new prayer to say," announced Celia, flashing into the +hall, a diminutive apparition, white-clad, with twinkling pink feet. +"It's this way: + + "'Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool? + Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full.'" + + +"I think I can teach you a nicer prayer than that," Persis said +serenely, while the older children laughed with the vast superiority of +their wider knowledge. Joel uttered an exclamation of horror. + +"Children are natural blasphemers. Persis ought to take that little +limb [Transcriber's note: lamb?] in hand. If she don't know the +difference between Mother Goose and praying, she ought to be taught +quick. Old Doctor Watts was in the right of it. + + "'Lord, we are vile, conceived in sin, + And born unholy and unclean.'" + + +The murmur of conversation in the adjoining rooms died away. Once or +twice after quiet descended, a little voice spoke out like the chirp of +a drowsy bird, brooded over by mother wings. Persis went softly down +the stairs. Joel waited long enough to make his advent impressive and +followed her. + +She sat as he had seldom seen her, thrown back in the roomy recesses of +the big easy chair, her hands lying loosely in her lap. Her attitude +suggested the relaxation following fatigue. Her eyes were half closed, +her lips smiling. An indefinable rapture radiated from her. All her +life Persis Dale had been a resolutely cheerful person. But that +consistent, conscientious optimism was as unlike her present lightness +of heart as the heat of a coal fire, carefully fed and tended, differs +from the gracious warmth of June. + +Singularly enough the sight of her satisfaction stirred her brother to +instant indignation. Up to this moment a sense of grievance had been +upper-most. Now he found himself shaken by hot anger. The instinct of +the male to dominate, outlasting the strength which sustains and +protects, spurred him on to have his way with her, to master this +madness which threatened the peace of his life. + +"Persis," he began in a loud angry voice, "what's the meaning of this +piece of tom-foolishness?" + +She opened her eyes and looked at him. After her two weeks' absence, +their longest separation in twenty years, she saw him almost as a +stranger would have done, a slight, undersized man with a bulging +forehead which told of nature's generous endowments, and the weak chin, +explaining his failure to measure up to the promise of his youth. His +disheveled hair and burning eyes gave an unprepossessing touch to the +picture. But the maternal feeling, always uppermost where her brother +was concerned, had been intensified by the children's advent. Persis +felt for the moment the indulgent disapproval of a mother toward an +unreasonable child. + +"Why, Joel!" Her voice, with its new depth and richness, caressed the +name it uttered. "What's foolish about it?" + +The gentleness of her answer misled him. He felt a sudden thrilling +conviction of his ability to bring her to terms. + +"What's foolish about it? What ain't foolish, you'd better say. Looks +to me as if you'd taken leave of your senses. Filling up the house +with pauper brats." + +The blood went out of her face. The smile lingered, but it had become +merely a muscular contraction, like the smile on dead lips. The soul +had left it. + +"Yes," she said steadily. "It's true they're poor. But it's not for +you to fling that in their faces. A man who's lived on his sister's +earnings for twenty years." + +He was dumb for a moment, wincing under the taunt but lacking words to +answer. He was not without reasonable qualities, and reason told him +he had taken the wrong track. The change in his voice when he spoke +again would have seemed ludicrous had she been in a mood to be amused. + +"See here, Persis, you've got a chance now to take things easy. You've +worked hard," he admitted patronizingly, "and you've earned a right to +enjoy the rest of your life. Now, see how silly 'twould be to saddle +yourself with looking after a pack of children. It's no joke, I can +tell you; bringing up five young ones, nursing 'em through measles and +whooping-cough and the Lord knows what, and never being sure whether +they'll turn out good or bad. Maybe you think I'm prejudiced, but I'll +bet you anything you like that at this minute half Clematis is +wondering whether you're clean crazy or what." + +Under his conciliatory address her first anger had cooled. A little +half-contemptuous smile curled her lips. + +"It's a funny thing, Joel, you've known me for quite a +spell--thirty-seven years, the sixth of October--and you haven't found +out yet that I'm not looking for an easy time. My idea of Heaven ain't +a place where you can sit down and fold your hands." + +"I s'pose you'd rather stick at home and fuss over other folks' +children than travel. You used to be crazy about foreign places, +Roosia and Italy and Egypt." Joel's eyes kindled with an unholy light +as he repeated the magic names. A bystander might have been reminded +of another tempter showing the kingdoms of the earth as a lure. + +"Time enough to travel," Persis said laconically, "when my family is +raised." + +"Giving up all the peace of your home, all the quiet--" + +"Stillness isn't peace, Joel. There's quiet enough in the grave, if +that's what you're after. I don't want the hush of the tomb around +here. I want little feet tripping up and down and little voices +calling. Seems to me as if this old house had come alive since I +brought these children into it. And I've come alive myself. It's what +I always wanted, a family of children. I gave it up like I've given up +so many things, but I've got it at last, thank God." + +"Persis," Joel remonstrated in shocked accents, "it's not becoming for +a single woman to say things like that. Wanting children, indeed. If +you weren't my sister I shouldn't know what to make of such talk." + +She leaned toward him, her hands on her knees. Her gray eyes, warmed +almost to blue by joy and tenderness, were steely as she faced him. + +"Joel, you don't take it into account that the Almighty didn't make old +maids. He made us just women, and the hunger for children is nothing +more to be ashamed of than the longing for food and drink. I'm not +accusing Him either, when I say that life isn't fair to a lot of us. +It hangs other people's burdens on our backs, and they weigh us down +till we haven't the strength to take what is rightfully ours. These +children had ought to be mine. My blood ought to be in their veins. +It's too late for that, but it's not too late for everything. What +would Aunt Persis Ann's money be worth to me if all it meant was that I +could fix up the house and leave off making dresses for other folks and +travel around and see the world? It's done more than that. It's made +up to me for being cheated out of my rights. It's made me a woman at +last." + +Up-stairs sounded a fretful wail, a sharp little note, piercing the +quiet evening with its suggestion of discomfort or alarm. In an +instant Persis was on her feet. Again her face was luminous. Suffused +with a transforming tenderness, it lost its stern lines and became +radiantly youthful. Blue misty shadows veiled the steely light of her +eyes. + +"The baby's crying," she said, and left him swiftly. And Joel, with a +bewildered sense of enlightenment carried to the point of dazzling +effulgence, clapped both hands over his throbbing head. + +"Well," he gasped, "I'll be jiggered! Looks like you can live in the +same house with a woman from the time she's born till she's gray-headed +and not know her any better than if you'd met her once at a +Sunday-school picnic. To think of Persis with all those feelings +bottled up inside her for the last twenty years. As the immortal +Shakespeare says, + + "'Who is't can read a woman?'" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO TREAD + +The morning following the heterogeneous accession to the Dale family, +Joel did not leave his bed. Whether his disability was in part or +altogether due to a desire to open his sister's eyes to the result of +her lack of consideration, Joel himself could not have told, the +correct interpretation of one's own motives being the most complex of +the sciences. It really seemed to him that he felt very ill and he +found a somber satisfaction in reflecting that in the event of his +death, Persis would realize her appalling selfishness. "'Twon't come +much short of murder," he thought with gloomy relish. + +Joel's periods of invalidism had been too frequent and prolonged for +this sporadic attack to upset the peaceful order of the household. +Persis attended to his needs with her usual matter-of-fact kindness, +though he suspected that her thoughts were with the new claimants on +her interest and found therein fresh fuel for his grievance. Later +when he called his sister in the feeble voice of the moribund and +learned from Mary that she had gone out to enter the older children in +school, he felt himself a much injured man. But this melancholy +satisfaction was brief, for Persis was back in half an hour, looking in +at his door to ask cheerfully if there was anything he wanted. +"Nothing I'm likely to get," replied Joel and turned his face to the +wall. + +Then, too, the house was quiet. Occasionally the baby's fretful voice +reached his ears or Celia's bubbling, irrepressible laughter; but the +tumult on which he had counted confidently as a factor in his +discomfort was lacking. At noon, indeed, the older children came in +with a shout, brimful of communications too important to wait, so that +the three all talked at once, each voice upraised in a laudable +endeavor to drown out the other two. But just as Joel was telling +himself that it was intolerable, enough to drive a man out of his seven +senses, the announcement of dinner produced an agreeable lull in the +uproar. And when the baby was taken upstairs for its nap and Celia +cautioned to discretion, the quiet became even more profound. Joel +found it necessary to prod his sense of grievance to keep it in action. + +He had been awake much of the preceding night, brooding upon his +wrongs, and weariness at length asserted itself and he fell asleep. He +woke with a thrilled consciousness of a light touch on his forehead and +for a moment he thought himself a child again, with his mother bending +over him. Demonstrativeness had never been a Dale characteristic. +Indeed the traditions of the community discouraged manifestations of +affection as an indication of weakness, but few mothers as they stand +beside their sleeping children can resist the sweet temptation to kiss +the little unconscious faces. And Joel Dale, prematurely aged, selfish +and embittered, woke nearer his childish self, and nearer Heaven, than +he had been in many a year. + +For a moment he lay bewildered, then opened an eye. An elfin voice +beside him commented on the fact. "Half of you's awake and half +asleep. Ain't that funny?" + +Joel's two eyes came into action long enough to perceive Celia, sitting +in a chair drawn close to the bed. Her sturdy legs were crossed, her +hands folded. She looked dangerously demure. + +"I gave you a kiss when you was asleep, a pink one. Do you like pink +kisses?" + +"Pink?" he repeated, too startled by the choice of adjectives to +realize how long it had been since any one had kissed him. + +"Aunt Persis let me have some jelly," Celia explained. "I like to lick +my lips off, but I didn't so I could give you a nice pink kiss." + +He put one hand hastily to his forehead, thereby verifying his worst +suspicions. It was sticky. Joel groaned. + +"Want me to 'poor' you?" the fairy voice inquired with an accent +indicating a sense of responsibility. A small hand moved over his +unshaven cheek. "Poor Uncle Joel! Poor Uncle Joel," cooed Celia. She +interrupted her efforts to ask with interest, "Do you like your skin +all prickles? Mine ain't that way," and proved her statement by laying +a cheek like a rose-leaf against his. Joel shrank away gasping. + +"Want me to tell you a story?" Celia did not wait for Joel's assent. +The ministering hand nestled against his cheek; she drew a long breath +and began. + +"Once when I was a little girl, there was a giant lived up by my house. +And he was an awful wicked giant, and he used to bite people's heads +off. And he wanted to fight everybody, and everybody was scared 'cept +just me." She paused, overcome by the contemplation of her own +heroism. "Wasn't that funny? Everybody was 'fraid 'cept a teenty, +weenty girl." + +Joel lay staring at his entertainer, his expression suggestive of such +excitement, not to say horror, that the narrator apparently found it +inspiring. + +"And the old giant kept a-talking and a-talking and a-biting and +a-biting. And one day I took my bow'n arrow-- No." She corrected +herself sternly, with the air of one who refuses to deviate ever so +slightly from the strict facts. "I took my sling and some stones I +found in the brook--" + +Joel suddenly realized his responsibility as a mentor of youth. "Look +here! Look here! I can't have such talk. You're making that up out +of your own head. You never lived near a giant, and I don't believe +you ever had a sling." + +"Oh, yes, I had a sling, Uncle Joel, and once I shooted a bear with +it--and a Indian." + +"I guess you haven't been very well brought up," rebuked Joel, who like +most people of his type was quite unable to distinguish between the +gambols of the creative imagination and deliberate falsifying. "Don't +you know where little girls go when they tell lies?" + +"I knew a little girl once who telled lies," admitted Celia, her +shocked accents indicating her full appreciation of the reprehensible +character of the practise. "And she went to the circus. Her uncle +took her." + +From under the bed clothing came a peculiar rasping sound like the +grating of a rusty key in a lock long unused. It was no wonder that +Celia jumped, though she was considerably less startled than Joel +himself. He had laughed, and more appalling still, had laughed at +unmistakable evidences of natural depravity which by good rights should +have awakened in him emotions of abhorrence. + +"It would be pretty serious for me to backslide now, considering the +state of my health," reflected Joel. He attempted to counteract the +effects of that indiscreet laugh by a blood-curdling groan, and this +demonstration caused Celia to repeat her calming ministrations, +smoothing his rough cheek with velvety hands, and inadvertently poking +one plump forefinger into his eye. Joel blinked. He could easily have +ordered her from the room, but he did not exercise this prerogative. +He was vaguely conscious of an unwarranted satisfaction in the nearness +of this pixy. Her preference for his society flattered his vanity. He +observed her guardedly from the corner of his eye. Undoubtedly she was +a very naughty little girl who told wrong stories and was painfully +lacking in reverence. But at the same time--Joel chuckled again, his +vocal chords responding uncertainly to the unfamiliar prompting--at the +same time she was cute. + +At the supper table the evening before for all his gloomy abstraction, +Joel had noticed Betty's engaging prettiness and had thought _apropos_ +of Celia, "Persis never picked that young one out for her looks." Now +through half closed eyes he studied the small piquant face and found +his opinion altered. Celia was not pretty. Her straight black hair, +just long enough to be continually in her eyes, was pushed back for the +moment so as to stand almost erect like a crest. Her small nose had an +engaging skyward tilt. She was dark and inclined to sallowness. But +the twinkling black eyes under the level brows would have redeemed a +far plainer face. Had Joel been of a poetic temperament he would have +compared Betty to a pink rose-bud, and Celia to a velvety pansy, saucy +and bewitching. + +Mary, coming up the stairs with a bowl of broth, stood in the doorway +petrified. Under her spatter of freckles, her comely face was pale. + +"Miss Dale thought--" She seemed unable to proceed and stood +swallowing. Celia straightened herself with a jerk. + +"Oh, goody! We'll play tea-party, Uncle Joel. No, we'll play mother. +You're my little sick boy, Uncle Joel, and I'll feed you. Give that to +me, Mary." + +Like a person hypnotized Mary advanced and delivered the steaming broth +into Celia's extended hands. Setting the bowl firmly on one knee, +Celia ladled out a generous spoonful. + +"Open your mouth, darling, and swallow this nice broth. It'll make +mama's little boy a big strong man." + +The soup-spoon journeying in Joel's direction tilted dangerously. Half +the contents splashed upon his cheek and ran in a greasy dribble down +his neck. The remainder distributed itself impartially in the vicinity +of his mouth, a few tantalizing drops finding their way between his +parted lips. + +"Land alive!" Mary made a horrified forward rush. "You're a-drowning +Mr. Dale. And look at you, wasting that nice soup, too." + +Joel frowned and Mary drew back abashed, quailing before his +disapproving glance. + +"I guess if I was being drowned I'd have the sense to mention it. And +nobody's going to the poor-house because a little soup gets spilled. +Some of the professions are pretty crowded, Mary, but there's one where +there's room at the top and at the bottom, too, and that's the one of +minding your own business." + +Poor Mary blushed till her proximity to things inflammable would have +awakened justifiable fears of a conflagration. Joel gave his attention +to his self-appointed nurse. "Steady now! Better take a little less +to start with. That's right. Now steer her straight." + +The second spoonful reached its destination without serious accident. +Celia watched her patient as he swallowed and forgot the rôle she had +assigned herself. + +"Is it good, Uncle Joel?" + +"Uhuh! Pretty fair." Joel felt for his handkerchief and wiped the +moist corner of his mouth. + +"I'm going to taste it." Celia tilted the spoon to her own lips and +sipped with appreciation. "Uncle Joel," she said thoughtfully, "if +you're afraid this'll spoil your appetite for supper, I'll eat it." + +Again Joel chuckled. This made the third time in swift succession, and +practise was giving him surprising facility. But unwarned by past +experience, Mary put in her word. "Poor Mr. Dale hasn't eaten scarcely +a mouthful to-day, and here you've had bread and jelly since dinner." + +Joel's unaccustomed smile was at once obscured. "Mary, a considerable +spell back a wise man said, 'Every fool will be meddling.' If you +aren't familiar with the author, Mary, it would pay you to read him." +Again he gave his attention to Celia. "We'll share this, turn and turn +about," he compromised. "First you have a spoonful and then me." + +Mary withdrew unheeded. Though tremendously in awe of the impecunious +and futile Joel, Mary felt no sense of diffidence where the efficient +Persis was concerned, and at once went to find her. But Persis, who +sat in one of her new bay-windows, the baby on her knee, was +entertaining Mrs. West, while her benignantly maternal eyes watched +three children playing outside. + +"I declare you could have knocked me down with a feather, Persis, when +I heard it," Mrs. West declared, her portliness rendering the figure of +speech extremely impressive. "I wouldn't have thought queer of one or +even two, but a whole family." + +"A family's what I've always wanted," Persis returned with the +cheerfulness of a woman whose life-long dream has come true. "And if I +could have found enough of the sort I was after, I'm not sure I'd have +stopped short of a round dozen." + +"It's a responsibility," sighed Mrs. West "They're kind of like +playthings to you now. You'll feel it later." + +Persis looked at her with kind eyes. "I haven't added any new +responsibility in taking these children, Mis' West. It was there just +as soon as the money and leisure came to me, and I've made a start +toward meeting it, that's all. We don't make our responsibilities; we +just wake up to 'em." + +"I must say you take to it like a duck to water," acknowledged Mrs. +West in conciliatory accents. "Some women are just as unhandy with a +baby as a man. Sophia Warren's one. Once or twice I've seen her +holding that Newell baby that lives next door, and she looked as stiff +and scared as if she was setting for her photograph." + +She leaned forward to watch the frolicsome children from the window. +"They're real nice-looking, Persis, I will say that. One, two, three +and the baby's four. Somebody said five." + +With a start Persis recalled the suspicious peace which for some time +past had pervaded the establishment. "There's another," she said, "too +little for school. Mary! Mary, do you know where Celia is?" + +Mary approached. Her consciousness of being a bearer of important +tidings communicated itself in some indefinable fashion to the other +women. They looked up, alert on the instant. + +"Celia's setting up in Mr. Joel's room." Mary gave her great news +deliberately as if to enjoy the full flavor. + +Persis started to her feet. Mrs. West raised her hands with an +eloquent gesture. + +"Has he got one of his bad spells?" she demanded. "And that child in +his room. Well, fools rush--" + +"She's playing he's her little boy," explained Mary, making the most of +the sensation of being an actor in a real drama. "She fed him his soup +and slopped him, but he took me up sharp when I tried to stop her. He +acts as if she's got him clean bewitched." + +"Well!" exclaimed Mrs. West, as Persis looked at her dumbly. "I never +expected to live to see that Scripture fulfilled. The wolf and lamb +lying down together and a weaned child in a cockatrice's den." + +"Are you sure he wasn't angry?" asked Persis, still a little pale and +doubtful. + +Mary bridled. + +"Go and see for yourself, Miss Dale, if you don't believe me. When I +tried to stop her eating a good half of that broth, and chicken as high +as 'tis, he the same as called me a fool for meddling. But you'd +better go up-stairs. You won't be satisfied till you've heard for +yourself." + +In that Mary spoke truly. Her story was too incredible to be accepted +without investigation. Persis' incredulity did not desert her till +half-way up the stairs she was met by a child's voice, fond and +confident. + +"Uncle Joel, ain't God cruel to make some dogs without tails?" + +And then as her brother's unfamiliar laugh reached her ears, Persis +turned and went softly down the stairs. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +ENID + +If Persis Dale's extraordinary action in adopting a family _en masse_ +had stirred Clematis from center to circumference, that agitation was +trivial in comparison with the flutter produced by Joel's capitulation. +Mrs. West, backed up by Mary, told the news to auditors frankly +incredulous who yet were sufficiently impressed by her sincerity to +resolve on looking into the thing for themselves. Consequently the +Dale homestead became a magnet for the curious, and many a skeptic came +and went away convinced that the day of miracles had returned. + +As a matter of fact Joel's surrender was in accord with the most +elemental of psychological laws. With the characteristic caprice of +her sex in matters of the heart, Celia had taken a violent fancy to +this pale-blooded hypochondriac, and made no secret of the fact that +she regarded him as her especial property. Nothing is so flattering to +the vanity as the preference of a child, that naive, spontaneous +affection to which it is impossible to impute mercenary motives. And +Joel had responded by becoming Celia's abject slave. He ignored the +other children for the most part, seldom betraying, unless perhaps by +an impatient gesture or a frown, that he was aware of their existence. +But his eyes were always on Celia, and when she spoke, he listened. + +As was to be expected, that morsel of femininity improved every +opportunity to parade her conquest. She took Joel to walk, holding +tightly to his hand and entertaining him with an outpouring of those +quaint fancies which have been the heritage of childhood from the +beginning and yet always seem to the older generation so marvelously +new. She inveigled him into playing whatever rôle she assigned in +fantastic dramas of her own creation. He was Celia's father or her +little boy as the whim took her, the wolf which devoured Red Riding +Hood's grandmother, or the hapless old lady herself, attacked +ruthlessly by Celia as wolf. Crawling on all fours he played elephant, +or with the handle of a basket between his teeth, he submitted to be +patted on the head and addressed as Towser. Persis looked on with a +wonder that never lost its poignancy. That the self-centered Joel +should succumb to the innocent spell of childhood had never entered her +calculations, and she reproached herself that she had so little +understood him. + +The comments of Persis' acquaintances were characteristic. Mrs. West, +on the occasion of a second call, hinted her anxiety regarding the +future of the impromptu family. "When you pick children up that way, +you can't tell how they're going to turn out." + +"And when you bring 'em into the world," remarked Persis dryly, "and +rear 'em yourself and never let 'em out of your sight when you can help +it, you don't know how they're going to turn out either." There was in +her manner an ingenious suggestion of having in mind the recent +heart-broken confidences of Thad's mother, and Etta West blushed hotly +and changed the subject. + +Mrs. Robert Hornblower looked upon the acquisition as practical +rebellion against the decrees of Providence. In Persis' presence, she +said little, having a sincere respect for her ex-dressmaker's gift of +repartee. But to Mr. Hornblower, she expressed herself in no uncertain +terms. + +"If it's the Lord's will for a woman to raise a family, it stands to +reason He'll send her a husband. This snapping your fingers in the +face of the Almighty and gathering up children from here and there and +anywhere, looks downright impious." + +"Seems to me," began Mr. Hornblower in mild expostulation, "that Persis +Dale--" + +"Yes, I know, Robert," interrupted the submissive wife. "I feel just +as you do. It's always been Persis Dale's greatest fault to imagine +that she's a law unto herself. But this time she's overstepped the +mark." + +"Those children are orphans," exclaimed Mr. Hornblower, his complexion +becoming apoplectic. "And if--" + +In another instant he would have spoken his mind. Only by raising her +voice so his next words became inaudible, did his wife avoid that +catastrophe. + +"I don't wonder you're shocked, Robert," said Mrs. Hornblower, "to +think of her bringing into Clematis children of nobody knows who, to +grow up with our own boys and girls and as like as not lead 'em astray. +All I can say is that Persis Dale may have a lot to answer for some +day." + +Though Mrs. Hornblower's stand was somewhat extreme she was not without +her supporters. Thomas Hardin's sister, Mrs. Gibson, declared with +unconcealed rancor that Persis would have done better to think about +getting a husband before interesting herself in securing a family. +Mrs. Richards, with sanctimonious rolling of her eyes, admitted that +she had recognized long before an inherent coarseness in the character +of Persis Dale. Others like Annabel Sinclair exclaimed over the folly +of burdening one's self with juvenile responsibilities when free to +seek distraction wherever one pleased. + +Diantha did not agree with her mother. Ever since the memorable +occasion when, with the dressmaker's connivance, she had startled +Clematis by growing up between noon and supper-time, she had been one +of Persis' attendant satellites. But after the advent of the children +she fairly haunted the establishment. She dropped in after breakfast +to announce that Miss Perkins credited Algie with having the best head +for arithmetic of any boy in her room and came again at noon to suggest +taking Malcolm and Celia for a walk. But though she distributed her +favors with creditable impartiality, she found the baby peculiarly +fascinating. And rather to Persis' surprise, the frail and fretful +little creature, who looked askance even at the kindly Mary, fell under +the spell of the girlish beauty and always had a smile for Diantha. + +"Goodness, child, you do look grown up," Persis exclaimed abruptly one +afternoon, as she glanced at the pair snuggled in the depths of the +armchair, Diantha had flung her hat aside. Her face was dreamy as she +looked down at the little head against her shoulder. All her girlish +coquetry, every trace of juvenile mischief, the occasional flashes of +petulance which told that she was her mother's daughter had vanished. +She looked a brooding madonna. + +Ordinarily Diantha would have fluttered at the compliment. In her +present preoccupation, it drew from her only a thoughtful smile. + +"She's going to sleep," she said, an exquisite softness in her voice. +"How nice and heavy their heads feel when they're sleepy, Miss Persis!" + +"Well?" + +"I'm going to adopt a lot of children some day. I always was crazy to +have a crowd around. The way I've prayed for a sister," sighed +Diantha, her face temporarily overcast. And then brightening: "When I +get old enough to do as I please, I'll make up for it." + +Persis, studying the rapt young face, made no immediate reply. Her +sense of guilty complicity in Diantha's precocious womanhood distracted +her attention from the girl's resentful speech. Apparently her silence +proved stimulating to Diantha's impulse toward confidences. + +"Do you know the latest notion mother's got in her head?" + +"No." + +"She wants to send me off to school somewhere. She talks to father and +talks to him, till I'm afraid she'll tire him into it. Thad West says +any woman can get her way if she never stops talking about it." + +Persis regarded her keenly and Diantha's color rose. For no apparent +reason her blush became a conflagration. + +"I didn't know you and Thad had much chance to talk things over +nowadays." + +"They won't let him come to the house. They say I'm too young." +Diantha laughed mockingly. "And mother was only a little older when +she married father, and she was engaged twice before that." + +"I suppose you keep on seeing him just the same." + +"Course I do." + +Persis mused. Diantha was wrong, undoubtedly, and yet more sinned +against than sinning. Cautions and expostulations were unavailing with +this spirited young creature, smarting under continued injustice and +seeing with her uncompromising clearness of vision the selfish jealousy +which would keep her out of her birthright indefinitely. "You want to +be real careful, Diantha," said Persis, realizing the futility of her +words. "Thad's a nice boy and you're a nice girl, but it don't look +well for young folks to be meeting on the sly." + +She tried but with little success, to exercise a certain supervision +over Diantha that winter. Though the children came down with measles +one after another, and Joel had an attack of rheumatism which kept him +a prisoner in his bed for seven weeks, it seemed to Persis that Diantha +was never really out of her mind. She was surprised on the other hand +to find how little Justin Ware was in her thoughts. Instead of +returning to Clematis in a few weeks as he had intended, he had been +called West unexpectedly. He had not written Persis to apprise her of +his change of plans, and she heard of it only through Mrs. Hornblower. +And the astonishing part was that she heard it with scarcely a pang. +She had discontinued her practise of saying good night to the +photograph in the plush frame with Justin Ware's return, but sometimes +when the house was still, she took her stand before it and studied the +pleasant, immature face intently, as if trying to read from its +ingenuous smile a solution of some inward perplexity. + +The measles and the winter ran their course together. The children +ventured out and the daffodils ventured up. Joel hobbled about with a +cane and took Celia in search of violets. The baby who had come very +near dying, decided apparently that since recovery was in order she +might as well make a thorough job of it and began to grow fat and +sweet-tempered and to acquire dimples. And Persis made the pleasing +discovery that in the months during which she had been a woman of +property, she had not spent her income and resolved at once on +rectifying this needless opulence. + +"I've done considerable plodding in my time, I wouldn't mind a little +skimming for a change," thought Persis. Next to a family she had long +craved an automobile. The surplus of her income was sufficient for the +purchase of one of the cheaper grades of cars. Persis decided on a +visit to the city, with a view to making this investment. + +"I'm a little seedy with being shut in so much this winter, and a trip +will do me good whether I buy an automobile or not. Mary's mother will +come and stay with her and help out with the children. And if Joel +wants to go along, he can." But apparently the protective impulse +which had moved Joel to offer his company on the occasion of her +previous visit had waned during the winter. He declined the invitation +without thanks. + +It was proof enough of Persis' temperamental youthfulness that she +reached the city with as keen a sense of adventure as if she had been a +runaway boy following a circus. She went to the modest hotel she had +patronized the previous fall and was surprised and flattered when the +clerk called her by name. + +"Gives a body a home-coming feeling, that does," remarked Persis, as +she wrote the cramped signature which so poorly represented her robust +personality. "I don't see how you can remember everybody, with folks +coming and going all the time." + +"There are some people it's easy to remember," replied the clerk +gallantly and at the same time with sincerity. Whatever else time +erased from the tablets of his memory, he would never forget Persis, +and her acquisition of a family. Then he looked at her +interrogatively, for Persis had jumped, blotting the register. + +"You'll have to excuse me." Persis reached for the blotter. "I saw a +name I know and it sort of took my breath." There were but two +signatures on the page besides her own, the names of Mrs. Honoria Walsh +and Enid Randolph, both of Warren, New York. + +"I'll give you room forty-two," said the clerk, taking a key from the +hook and nodding to a watchful lad in uniform. "Mrs. Walsh and her +niece Miss Randolph are on the same floor. If they are friends of +yours--" + +"No, I wouldn't say that," Persis interrupted. "It's just that I've +heard of 'em before." As she left the elevator on the second floor, +two women glided past her, one the portly widow with abundant crępe who +is not easily differentiated, the other a stately girl with blonde hair +and a scornfully tilted chin. Instinct told Persis that the latter was +Enid. + +She enjoyed her first day vastly. She drove some two hundred miles in +machines of different makes and listened with keen interest to the +arguments proving conclusively that each was superior to all others. +Night found her tired, a little homesick for the children, but still +happy, nevertheless. She finished her dinner--a good dinner as became +a woman of means--and went into the little writing-room off the parlor +with the intention of jogging Mary's memory regarding the baby's diet. +There was but one person in the room, a young woman with fair hair +busily engaged in writing. + +Persis sat down at the next desk. She was aware of a marked +acceleration of the pulse which to her temperament was far from +disquieting. + +"Excuse me, but isn't this Miss Enid Randolph?" + +"Yes." The young woman looked up from her letter. Though her hair was +light, her brows were dark and her air distinctly distant. + +"I've always wanted to meet you." Persis spoke with unabashed +friendliness. "I've been interested in you for quite a spell. My name +is Dale, Persis Dale." + +Miss Randolph lifted her fine eyebrows, but offered no further comment +on this interesting circumstance. + +"Perhaps you'll remember," Persis continued briskly, "that we've had a +little correspondence. At least you wrote me about a letter of yours +to a Mr. Wash--" + +"I remember the incident clearly," said Miss Randolph. For all her +chilling air, she glanced toward the door to assure herself that they +were not overheard. "It is true I wrote you," she continued with a +hauteur which would have reduced a less buoyant nature to instant +dumbness. "But I hardly see that this constitutes a ground for +considering ourselves acquaintances." + +So far from being crushed, Persis smiled. And there was something so +frankly spontaneous in her look of amusement, that the young woman +colored. + +"Bless you, I know it wasn't a letter of introduction," Persis assured +her with unimpaired good humor. "But I've always wanted to tell you +that when you wrote me that time, you did a lot of good without knowing +it. Love-letters seem to me like firearms. In the proper hands +they're real useful, but if the wrong people get hold of 'em it's bound +to make trouble. At least that was the way with the one you wrote Mr. +Wash--" + +For the second time Miss Randolph looked toward the door, and when next +Persis saw her eyes they were appealing rather than disdainful. + +"The letter by mistake was sent to a young man who lives in Clematis," +Persis continued. "His name is Thompson, and W. Thompson, at that. He +thought it such a joke that he put it in his pocket for his wife to +find. Didn't know 'twas loaded, you see. And when she did find it and +he explained, she didn't believe him. I don't know as anybody believed +him but me, but it seemed such a silly explanation for a sensible man +to make up that I felt pretty sure it must be true." + +Miss Randolph put down her pen and gave herself up to the business of +listening. + +"If I could tell you how that little woman looked," declared Persis, +"it would just make your heart jump to think it was you that helped +her. Only six months married, she was, too. Well, I took a risk and +wrote to Mr. Thompson, Cleveland, and when I got his letter I knew +everything was all right. But I wasn't sure of proving it to young +Mrs. Thompson. After a woman's brooded over a thing as long as she +had, with her neighbors egging her on to do something desperate, she's +not going to be convinced with anything short of downright proof. But +between your letter and Mr. Wash--" + +"I don't see," interrupted Miss Randolph quickly, "that she has +anything to thank me for. You certainly deserve all the credit, Miss +Dale, for clearing up the mystery." + +"Well, they were grateful all right," Persis smiled reminiscently. +"The baby's six weeks old now, and her name is Persis Dale Thompson. +And they're both about as happy as any folks you're likely to see till +you die and go to Heaven. But I couldn't have done anything without +your help, and I wish I thought you was half as contented as I know +they are." + +"Really," said Miss Randolph, with an unsuccessful attempt to duplicate +her earlier reserve, "it is impossible for me to see--" + +"Yes, I know." Persis leaned toward her, speaking with a vehemence +that swept the feeble expostulation aside. "But just because I never +set eyes on you before ain't any reason why I shouldn't want you to be +happy. I've laid awake nights thinking about that letter of yours, so +loving and so sorrowful. Dearie, if love pulls you one way and +conscience the other, there's only one thing to do and that's the right +thing." + +"Really," began Miss Randolph, and then her eyes unexpectedly filled, +quenching the incipient fire of her indignation. She had recourse to +her handkerchief and Persis patted her shoulder, and in that instant +the two were friends. + +"You don't quite understand," explained Enid in a muffled voice. +"'Tommy' isn't married. 'Her' is auntie." + +Persis drew a sigh of such unmistakable relief that the girl looked at +her amazed. The older woman's face was shining. + +"Well, that's a weight off my mind," she smiled. "Nothing but your +aunt. Thank goodness." + +"A weight off your mind!" Enid repeated. "But you didn't know me." + +"No, but I knew you were a young thing in trouble, and that 'Her' gave +me many a bad minute." + +Enid's fingers reached gropingly toward her new-found friend. Their +two hands clasped and held fast. + +"Auntie took me when I was a little girl. I was an orphan. She's been +everything to me, and she adores me. But she doesn't like Tommy." + +"Why not?" + +"She hasn't anything really against him except that he's poor. It +would kill her to have me leave her to marry him. I can't bring myself +to do it. And yet I can't bring myself to give Tommy up." She was +crying in earnest now, and the clasp of Persis' hand tightened. + +"You can't and you oughtn't. There's too much sacrifice of love these +days. Young fellows instead of having homes of their own are +supporting two or three grown-up sisters and getting crabbed and +bitter. And girls the Lord meant for wives and mothers stay at home +because the old folks don't want to spare them. Nine times out of ten +it's like Abraham sacrificing Isaac, and there's a he-goat somewhere +round in the bushes that would do just as well." + +"But it would seem so dreadfully ungrateful to disappoint her," gasped +Enid Randolph with the air of one who longs to be disproved. "After +she's done everything for me." + +"Bless you, child, if you love and are sure of him, the mother who bore +you wouldn't have a right to say no. And what's more, if you're +sensible enough to go your own way, she'll probably end up by thinking +he next thing to made the world and taking all the credit for the +match. You're twenty-one, of course." + +"Twenty-three." + +"Then I wouldn't have any more of this underhanded business. Talk it +out with your aunt, and unless she can show you good reasons for giving +up your young man, you've got the best reason in the world for taking +him." + +Enid deliberated. Then very slowly she tore her letter to bits. + +"I was saying good-by to him forever--for the twenty-ninth time." She +smiled somewhat palely. "But I rather think, Miss Persis Dale, that +I'll take your advice." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A STALLED ENGINE + +"Well, I don't expect to be any nearer flying till I get to Heaven and +they fit me to a pair of wings. I might try a little jaunt in an +air-ship some day, but I don't feel as if I'd relish that for a steady +diet. For this world, an automobile is plenty good enough for me." + +Not for many a year had Persis been possessed by such a sense of +buoyancy and youthfulness. The road lay straight and smooth before +her. The little car, obedient to her strong capable hand, spun along +the shining track, counterfeiting by the swiftness of its motion the +breeze lacking in the languid spring day. Persis had laid aside her +hat, and the rush of air ruffled her abundant hair and rouged her +cheeks. As a matter of fact, Persis was not so near flying as she +thought. In the most conservative community, there would have been +little danger of her arrest for exceeding the speed limit. But to one +accustomed to the sedate jog-trot of farm horses taken from the plow to +hitch to the capacious carry-all, the ten-mile-an-hour gait of the new +motor seemed exhilarating flight. + +The day had the deceptive stillness by which nature disguises the +ferocious intensity of her spring-time activities. Bird, beast and +insensate clod all felt the challenge of the season. Persis had +responded characteristically by cleaning house from six o'clock till +noon and making a dress for Betty in the interval which less strenuous +natures devote to afternoon naps. And now that Celia was off somewhere +with Joel, and Betty had promised to look after the baby, and the boys +had received permission to inspect a family of puppies newly arrived in +the neighborhood, Persis was scurrying hither and thither with all the +ebullient light-heartedness of a girl let out of school. She had +startled the staid residents of Twin Rivers, where the spectacle of a +woman driving a car ranked in interest second only to a circus parade. +She had frightened two horses and narrowly escaped running over a +chicken. And now she turned her face homeward, with the deliberate +intention of ignoring the approach of supper-time and inviting young +Mrs. Thompson to take the baby out for an airing. At no other time of +the year would Persis have considered being late to supper for no +reason except that she was loath to shorten her pleasure. Without +doubt the momentous interview between Mother Eve and the most subtle of +beasts occurred in the spring when the moral defenses need +reinforcement. + +Against the deepening gold of the west, a black speck showed, emerging +rapidly into distinctness as the vehicles approached. The +slower-moving of the two was still at too great a distance for Persis +to distinguish its occupants when she began to slow down, her dread of +causing an accident through frightening some one's horse counteracting +her unwonted feeling of irresponsibility. The car had come almost to a +standstill when out of the recesses of the still distant buggy Persis +caught a flash of pink. She had the trained eye for color +characteristic of her profession. And this peculiarly trying shade of +pink she always associated with Diantha Sinclair, who had an audacious +fondness for testing her flawless coloring with hues capable of turning +the ordinary complexion to saffron. + +Prompt action is characteristic of the intuitive. Logic takes time. +Persis never attempted to account for the unreasoning certainty which +on occasion took command of her actions. It was impossible for her to +recognize Diantha's companion or to know indeed, that the opalescent +flash of pink stood for Diantha's nearness. Yet she was sure of both +things and of much besides. And with her conviction that the case was +serious, an adequate plan of action instantly presented itself. + +The car stopped with a jerk, and in the middle of the road, so that the +on-coming driver would have to exercise caution in passing. The +panting engine became silent. Persis alighted. She made several tours +of inspection of her property, her face expressive of gravest concern. +Occasionally she touched a screw or lever tentatively and then shook +her head. Finally dropping on her knees in the dust, she thrust her +head between the wheels and gazed inquiringly at the bottom of the car. +Thus occupied she was too engrossed to notice that the thud of horse's +hoofs was coming very near. Suddenly the sound ceased. + +"Why," cried a girlish voice, "it's Miss Persis." + +Persis gave up her unavailing scrutiny and climbed slowly to her feet. +As she dusted her knees, she welcomed the occupants of the buggy with a +fine blending of surprise and relief. + +"Well, I venture to say I know just how ship-wrecked folks feel when +they're off on a raft in mid-ocean and they sight a sail. Ain't this a +funny fix, half past four in the afternoon and me ten miles from home? +And to make it worse I wrenched my knee a mite cleaning house this +morning." This last statement was strictly accurate though her limp as +she advanced toward them was exaggerated. "I don't know what I'd have +done," declared Persis, "if you hadn't happened along." + +Diantha's face reflected the pinkness of the gown which had betrayed +her. Thad West looked frankly sulky and quite at a loss. + +"That's the worst of those dog-goned things," he exclaimed, scowling at +the object blocking his way. "They're always giving out just when you +need them most. I wouldn't take one as a gift," he added savagely, and +only the enthusiastic motorist will understand what it cost Persis not +to refute his words on the spot. + +"Have you tried everything you can think of to make it go, Miss +Persis?" Diantha asked, her troubled tones indicating how much she took +to heart her friend's misadventure. + +Persis' glance implied affectionate appreciation. + +"Well, you see, dearie, they gave me lessons in the city on how to run +a car, but I suppose it's too much to expect that I'll know everything +about it right off from the start. I dare say some real smart person +could fix it in a jiffy." She was so certain on this point that she +quaked for fear Thad might begin experimenting, but that young man's +confidence in his mechanical ability was luckily limited. He sat +scowling and twisting the lines in his hands, while his horse looked +back over its shoulder as if it shared its master's impatience of the +delay. + +"I didn't relish the idea of setting here in the road all night," +explained Persis, still with an air of relief. "Seems fairly +providential your coming along in the nick o' time." + +"Fact is," said Thad sullenly, "we're not going home for a while." + +"Well, I'm in no real hurry," Persis returned obligingly. "If the +children get hungry, Mary'll feed 'em. They're all too little to worry +if I'm not home on the minute, and Joel ain't the worrying kind." + +"Truth is, Miss Persis," exclaimed the goaded lad, "it isn't what you'd +call convenient for us to take you along this evening." + +"Thad!" cried Diantha in accents of unutterable reproach. + +"Well, I don't mean to be impolite, but it's not convenient and you +know it." + +"Thad West, Miss Persis is just about my dearest friend in Clematis. +And if you think I'm going to leave her here alone ten miles from home, +with an automobile that won't go--and getting dark--and a lame knee--" + +"Well, of course if you feel that way about it," returned the unhappy +young man, "there's nothing more to be said. But you know yourself--" + +"I guess I'd better light my lamps before I leave," remarked Persis +briskly. She attended to that little matter and hobbled toward the +buggy. Thad alighted and assisted her to climb in with so poor a grace +as to make her suspicions an absolute certainty. + +"Now, children," Persis settled herself and slipping an arm deftly +behind Thad's back, she took Diantha's slim hand in hers, "I never was +one to be a kill-joy. You drive round as long as you feel like it and +don't mind me, no more'n if I was a coach dog running on behind." + +"Thad!" exclaimed Diantha in peremptory fashion. "I'm going to tell +her." + +"Just as you think best," replied young Mr. West, who bade fair to find +this a convenient stock phrase. + +Diantha's hand gave that of Persis a tremulous pressure, suggestive of +fluttering nerves. "Miss Persis," she said in a thrilling +half-whisper, "we're going to be married, Thad and I." + +Persis returned the squeeze. "I thought as much, dearie. I've seen +you look at him and him look at you, and that made it plain enough to a +body with eyes. And I'm glad to hear it. For all I've missed it +myself, I believe marriage is about the best thing there is. Thad's +got his faults and you've got yours, and it stands to reason you're +going to do better at mastering 'em if each helps the other, than if +you struggle along alone. There's nothing easy about marriage except +for lazy folks and cowards, but things that are hard are the only ones +that pay. Some people will tell you it's a risk, and so it is, but +most things are when you come to that. I believe in getting married +and in early marriages, too, and so I'm glad to know that some day you +and Thad--" + +Thad West gave his horse a quite unnecessary cut with the whip. In the +voice of a dying zephyr, Diantha interrupted. + +"You don't understand, Miss Persis. It isn't some day. It's to-day. +We're running off to be married." + +"Oh!" Persis' hold on the fluttering little hand tightened. Her +silence seemed to imply reflection. + +"Well, that puts a different face on it. I suppose it's because I +think so much of marriage that I hate to have it mixed up with things +that are underhanded. My idea of husband and wife, you see, is just +two folks helping each other to make a better man and a better woman, +instead of backing each other up in lying--" + +"Lying!" exploded Thad. "Who's going to do any lying?" + +"Diantha's not eighteen yet, and you haven't got her parents' +permission for her to marry you. The only way you can manage it is to +lie about her age and start your new life with that hanging over you. +And all because you can't wait one little year. Looks like Thad's +afraid he will change his mind about Diantha, and Diantha's in a hurry +for fear she will find somebody she likes better'n Thad." + +Two vehement protests mingled in inextricable confusion. "They won't +let me see her except on the sly," cried Thad, making himself heard at +last. "They've said I wasn't to come to the house. And I won't stand +it." + +"Of course you won't," Persis agreed. "That's past all reason that two +young people dead in love with each other aren't to have a chance to do +their courting. That's got to be different." + +"But father won't have it." + +"To-morrow I'm going to drop in and have a talk with your father. I'm +not afraid of obstinacy in a man that's got ordinary sense somewhere in +the back of his head. It's the brainless sort of folks that can't be +moved after they've once got set. Stanley Sinclair knows enough to +listen to reason. And he's got to do it." + +"But mother," began Diantha, and then sobbed. His face sternly set, +Thad gulped. Even the self-contained Persis found her eyes moist. + +"Yes, child, I understand. I knew your mother before you were born, +and I'll own that we're likely to have a little trouble in that +quarter. But when folks have common sense and everything else dead +against 'em, there's nothing for 'em to do but give up. Sometimes I've +felt," Persis added thoughtfully, "as if I'd just enjoy a real plain +talk with your mother." + +"If we go back now," stormed Thad, "it'll be the same story over again +next year. They're never going to let me marry Diantha unless I run +off with her." + +"Next year she'll be of age and her own mistress, and you'll have no +cause to run. Diantha's the sort of girl that ought to be married in +church with bridesmaids and the wedding march and pews full Of folks +looking on. 'Tain't only about once in a generation that a bride as +pretty as Diantha comes along, and the idea of marrying her in some +minister's back parlor, with the student lamp turned low to save oil +and the servant girl called in for a witness, is a plain case of +casting pearls before swine. Not that I've got anything against +ministers," Persis added, in hasty amends to the cloth. + +The weeping Diantha was sobbing less violently. Persis was sure she +was giving close attention. Possibly Thad was impressed by the same +view of the case, for he spoke with the aggressive confidence of one +who feels that his cause is imperiled. + +"Church wedding! Makes me laugh to think what Diantha's mother would +say to that." + +"Well, if they won't give Diantha a wedding next year, I will. And +it'll be the kind," Persis promised solemnly, "that'll make Clematis +sit up and take notice." + +Neither of the lovers spoke. Gazing down the winding road with the +dreamy air of one who sees beautiful visions, Persis broke the tense +silence. + +"I've given up dressmaking for good, but there's one dress I'm willing +to break my rule for, and that's Diantha Sinclair's wedding gown. I've +got a picture of it in my mind's eye, if the styles don't change too +much between now and next June. And if anything could make Diantha +look sweeter than she does now, 'twould be that wedding dress. And the +making of it ain't going to cost her a cent." + +Diantha leaned behind Thad's back and left a damp kiss on her friend's +forehead. Persis knew her battle was won. Thad knew it too, and a +hollow groan escaped him. + +"By the way, Thad, I'm going to arrange with Mr. Sinclair to let you +call on Diantha twice a week, and if you should happen to feel like +seeing her between times, she's pretty likely to be at my house along +in the afternoon. If you should drop in 'most any day about four +o'clock, you'd probably find her. And now s'pose both of you come home +with me for supper. I'll telephone Diantha's folks where she is, so +they won't worry." + +"I think--I think that'll be awfully nice, don't you, Thad?" said +Diantha. + +And the loser in the unequal contest surrendered without a blow as he +answered, "Just as you say." + +Persis had not overestimated her persuasive powers. She actually +brought the Sinclairs to agree to the liberal terms she had promised +the young people. The hauteur with which Stanley Sinclair received her +at his office the following day, and the explicitness of his statement +that he was not anxious for her advice concerning his domestic affairs, +proved unavailing before Persis' matter-of-fact bluntness. Anger +availed him little since she remained cool. His irony rebounded +harmless from her absolute certainty of being in the right. Forced to +retreat step by step, he ended by conceding all that she demanded for +the lovers. If he had an air when he bade her good morning, of +resolving never to forgive her, the knowledge that she had gained all +she came for imparted an unfeigned cordiality to her farewell. + +The interview with Annabel was briefer and more dramatic, but quite as +conclusive. As she pondered on the success that had attended her +efforts, Persis indulged in brief philosophy. + +"Anybody's at a terrible disadvantage that's afraid of the truth. Now, +it doesn't worry me a mite to have Annabel call me an old maid, but if +I tell her she's thirty-eight she feels worse than if I'd stuck a knife +into her. Annabel makes me think of those squirming things that live +under stones. All you have to do to bring 'em to terms is to turn the +stone over and let the light in on 'em. It beats all how Annabel will +scramble to get away from the truth." + +The man commissioned to bring home Persis Dale's car relished his task +enormously. He told every one that there wasn't a thing the matter +with the machine. She had just stalled her engine and didn't know +enough to get it started again. All Clematis enjoyed the joke, Persis +in particular. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +A DEFERRED INTERMENT + +Except for the clerk at the Clematis House the first person to welcome +Justin Ware on his next return to his native town was Annabel Sinclair. +She wore a little white veil, vastly becoming, but masking a tragedy, +since she thereby acknowledged the deterioration of her complexion. +The dramatic encounter took place one block from the hotel, and Annabel +clasping her gloved hands uttered the single word; "You!" + +The greeting, abrupt in type, is anything else on the lips of a woman +who has studied the possibilities of that monosyllable. On Annabel's +lips it expressed incredulous wonder, gentle reproach and strong +feeling held in check by womanly modesty. No man can rise superior to +this subtle flattery. Justin greeted her as if she were the woman of +his dreams. + +"It's really you--after almost a year." The reproach was uppermost in +her voice now, but she mitigated its severity by allowing him to retain +possession of the hand he had seized. + +"It has been a long year--for me," replied Justin, and the rival artist +thrilled with responsive admiration. For his manner said as plainly as +words that throughout those dragging twelve months one thought had +possessed him, the desire to see her again. + +"Were you on your way home? May I walk with you?" He asked the favor +with deferential tenderness. She granted it with an effective flutter +of the lids. Each, realizing the other's proficiency in the game, was +spurred to emulation. + +And then abruptly the curtain dropped on the play, for at the first +street corner, an automobile barked a warning. Justin, who had +gallantly taken his companion's arm, the better to assist her in the +perils of the crossing, raised his eyes and at once lost interest in +Annabel Sinclair and her kind. + +The woman driving the car to all appearances had not recognized him, +her absorption preventing her from differentiating the human species +beyond the broad classification of those likely to be run over and +those in no such danger. Her color was high, and her face despite a +grim intentness indicated keen satisfaction. A handsome boy sat beside +her, and Justin had a confused impression of a number of other children +in charge of a buxom girl on the back seat. He stood motionless gazing +after the flying car and oblivious to Annabel's resentful glances. + +"Well, good afternoon if you've decided to spend the rest of the day on +the street corner." + +Justin roused himself. But he had lost heart in these amateur +theatricals. + +"Whose car is Persis Dale driving?" + +"Her own. A year brings changes, you see, Mr. Ware. The car and the +children all belong to her." + +"What!" he shouted. His first not unnatural idea was that Persis had +become the wife of a prosperous widower, and he was astonished at the +pang for which this thought was responsible. Resentfully Annabel +recognized the difference between the voice of real emotion and +counterfeit tenderness. + +Her lips curled as she allayed his consternation. "She came into a +little money--an obliging aunt died, I believe. Pity it hadn't come +early enough to do her some real good. She patched up her old house, +and adopted five or six orphan-asylum kids, and I suppose the poor +thing thinks she's having a good time." Even to the most prejudiced +eye Annabel could not have looked beautiful at that moment. The venom +that poisoned her spirit, disfigured her face like a scar. Hag-ridden +by those unlovely twins, jealousy and hate, she looked for the instant +prematurely old. + +Justin did not notice. He was absorbed in gleaning from her all +possible information as to the change in Persis' circumstances and +quite indifferent to the emotions of his reluctant informant. With the +relentlessness of the thoroughly selfish, he continued his +cross-examination till Annabel's mind seemed to herself a squeezed +orange. She felt something like terror mingling with a sense of +physical exhaustion. It always frightened her to find herself unable +to keep a man's attention focused on herself when she had him to +herself. + +"When shall I see you again?" she asked, as she approached her home. +Had the interview continued with the dramatic intensity of its +beginning, she could safely have left him to ask that question. Under +the circumstances she did not dare. + +"I'm not quite sure. I have some business that has hung fire an +unconscionable time, and ungallant as it seems, we twentieth century +fellows have to put business before pleasure." He smiled +propitiatingly and therein lay the sting, that he did not even take the +trouble to conceal that he was trying to appease her. Their parting +sank to the level of the commonplace for he shook hands hastily, and +her look of appeal flattened itself ineffectively against his +preoccupation. + +A little skilful quizzing of the hotel clerk confirmed in every detail +Annabel's remarkable story, and in his own room Justin sat down to +think the matter through to a conclusion. The renewal of his +acquaintance with Persis Dale nearly a year earlier had enlightened him +as to the tenacity of certain impressions he had thought obliterated +long before. The girl he had loved in his callow youth and had +forgotten, still retained something of her old fascination for him. A +year earlier this discovery was responsible for an amused wonder at +himself, coupled with a realization of the need of caution. Now common +sense took sides with his lingering fondness. Persis Dale, with a +comfortable little fortune added to her unique personality, had become +distinctly desirable. She was a woman with an infinite capacity for +surprises, which meant that she would not bore the man she married, +unduly. With a little metropolitan polish added to her native +cleverness she should be able to give a good account of herself +socially. The children were a drawback of course, but there must be +some way of getting rid of an adopted family of which one tired. And +it was quite impossible that Persis' fondness for the little ones she +had picked up the other day, so to speak, would prove a serious rival +to an affection which had been a vital factor in her life for more than +twenty years. + +By supper-time he had made up his mind. With a little sigh for the +freedom he was relinquishing, he resolved on matrimony. He had always +intended to marry somebody and domesticity with Persis promised at +least commonplace comfort, something Justin was the last man on earth +to despise. With the children disposed of, Joel sent adrift and +Persis' money wisely handled, there was no reason why they should not +get on better than the majority of married people. Justin ate an +unusually hearty supper as if to fortify himself for his wooing. + +He had made up his mind to ignore the change in Persis' circumstances +that his call might seem a spontaneous tribute to her personal +attractions. But the change in the house and its furnishings was so +pronounced that he judged it bad policy to pass it over without +comment. "I thought for a minute I'd come to the wrong house, Persis, +and I felt positively alarmed about myself. I knew if I couldn't find +the Dale place blindfolded, I needed the services of a nerve +specialist." He laughed a little with an air of catching himself up +before he had said too much, something he had found effective with many +women. + +She smiled upon him gravely. "It was the improvements that mixed you +up, I suppose. There was a spot on the ceiling of mother's room where +the rain leaked through the winter she died. After the papering was +finished I missed that spot as if it had been human. Time and again +when I went into that room I'd jump as if I'd got into somebody else's +house by mistake." Her voice lost a subtle pensive quality as she +added: "But the new furniture ain't the best of the changes, Justin. I +wish I could show you the children, but they're all in bed and asleep." + +"I'm not sure I'm sorry." Justin's voice was low and caressing. "It's +always been hard for us two to have any time alone. I used to wonder +when I came here who would be sitting by and listening to every word we +said, your father or your mother or Joel or some other young fellow +who'd discovered the most charming girl in Clematis. If fate has +granted us an evening to ourselves at last, let's be thankful." + +He thought it a very fair beginning. The reference to their early love +affair could not fail to soften her. The implication that the +interference of interested third parties was responsible for keeping +them apart was cleverly done. It was a distinct surprise at the end of +an hour to find himself no further along than at the start. Justin had +no intention of offering his hand and heart to any woman without a +reasonable assurance of a rapturous acceptance, and singularly enough, +he was far from certainty. He had been making love in a restrained and +subtle fashion for the better part of an hour and was ready for an +avowal of his devotion as soon as Persis showed any intention of +meeting him half-way. But up to this point, she had skilfully +disguised any such intention, and while showing no displeasure at the +sentimental tendency disclosed in his remark, had so persistently +injected a tincture of matter-of-factness into the conversation that he +seemed as far as ever from coming to the point. With it all, her air +was friendly. He suspected her of playing with him, taking her revenge +by keeping him in doubt overnight. + +Resistance seldom detracts from a woman's value in a man's eyes. When +Justin rose to go he was almost ready to believe himself in love. He +was a little angry, slightly amused and more in doubt as to her state +of mind than he often felt regarding his opponents in the eternal duel. +When Persis gave him her hand for good night he held it in both his own +for a moment and raised it to his lips. The curious rekindling of a +burned-out tenderness, due to her lack of responsiveness, gave the act +an effect of sincerity which impressed him, even while he thrilled with +honest passion, as an excellent move. + +He looked into her eyes and found them gravely contemplative. +"Justin," she said, "there's something I want to speak to you about if +you're not in a hurry." + +He tingled with triumph. Women were all alike. She could play the +coquette for an hour, but she could not let him leave her till she had +heard the words he had been trying all the evening to speak. He put +down his hat. "You know of course," he said with an air of repressed +feeling, "that I am at your service now and always." And as her eyes +fell he laid his hand on hers. + +It was not easy to restore the balance, but Persis did it. "The +property my aunt left me," she began in her most matter-of-fact voice, +"brings me a pretty fair income, but nothing's good enough as long as +it might be better. Only yesterday I got an offer of ten thousand +dollars for some water-works stock in a place out West where Aunt +Persis Ann lived for a good many years." + +Justin put his hands in his pockets, the character of her opening +rendering sentimental advances ludicrously inopportune. + +"Have you any idea what income you get from that stock?" + +"Last year it was a thousand and fifty dollars." + +"Why, that's over ten per cent. on what the fellow offers you," Justin +exclaimed, and Persis nodded. + +"Yes, about ten per cent. And in the Apple of Eden Investment Company +I'd be guaranteed twenty-five per cent. by the tenth year, with a good +chance to double my money even before that. I didn't stop you to ask +your advice, Justin, for I can see you'd feel a little delicate about +urging me to invest in your company. But what I've heard from Mis' +Hornblower makes it plain enough that the best thing for me to do is to +turn my property into cash as fast as I can and put every penny into +apples." + +Justin crossed his feet, reflecting impatiently that it was high time +for Persis Dale to have a husband. His elation over all that was +implied by her consulting him on so personal a matter, was almost lost +in his feeling of annoyance. This made it plain that he must lose no +time, but marry her offhand. What with her penchant for orphans and +for foolish investments, she would make ducks and drakes of her fortune +unless a man peremptorily took the helm. + +"It would be a pity to be precipitate, Persis. An investment that pays +ten per cent. isn't to be sneezed at nowadays. And this fellow's offer +just now looks as if the stock wasn't in any danger of depreciating." + +He glanced at her and was annoyed to find her face stubborn. Had she +been the type of woman to accept masculine counsel as akin to divine +guidance, his task would have been easier. Her evident lack of +yielding forced him to take a superior tone. + +"My dear girl, you will admit that I am a little better versed in +business matters than you are. And my advice is to hold on to your +stock unless you should have a better reason for selling than appears +at present." + +"Ten per cent. looks pretty well alongside the Savings bank, I'll +admit. But why shouldn't I get twenty-five? I've got these children +to educate. I can use considerable more than if I just had myself to +think of." + +He gulped down his vexation, "Raising apples is a science, Persis. The +weakness of the American investor is to imagine that he can do whatever +any other fellow has done. Because some horticultural shark doubles +his money on his orchard in a banner year, you fancy you can do the +same every year." + +"Gracious, Justin! I'm not going into apple-raising. I've got my +hands full enough without that. I'm going to leave the company to run +my orchard for me. All they ask is twenty-five per cent of the net +profits, but you know that without my telling you." + +"And suppose there comes a year like 1896, when apples didn't bring +enough to pay for the barrels they were packed in? You can't count on +top-notch prices every season." + +"No, but I can count on the company's guarantee." + +An oath, a tribute to her obstinacy, winged through his brain. In his +exasperation he forgot caution. + +"That guarantee--" + +"Well?" + +"There's nothing to hold us after you've become the owner of the +property. If we find that running your orchard isn't profitable, as we +might easily do after one or two bad seasons, we could slip from under, +and you could use the guarantee as you call it, for curl papers. +That's all it would be good for." + +He was glad to see that he had shaken her foolish stubbornness at last. +She caught her breath like one jerked back from an unrealized danger by +a friendly hand. + +"I--I guess it's lucky I consulted you, Justin. It's foolish for a +woman to think that she's up to all the tricks in business nowadays." +The slight trembling of her hand tempted him to kiss it, though he +compromised by merely taking it again. + +"If I've helped you a little, Persis, dear girl, I'm very happy. I +only wish you were willing to make use of me always." His hope that +this was the psychological moment was dashed when ignoring the +attempted caress, she grasped his hand and shook if vigorously. + +"Good night, Justin. Thank you for setting me right in that matter. I +believe that's the baby starting to cry. I'll have to hurry up before +she rouses the house." + +But she got no farther than the foot of the stairs on this errand, and +Justin, letting himself out, gave voice to the oath he had thought more +than once that evening. Persis stood listening as he made his way down +the walk, but up-stairs all was still. She returned to the living-room +rather slowly. Through all the various changes in the household, +indicative of increased prosperity, the photograph in the blue plush +frame had triumphantly retained its post of honor on the mantel, a +landmark of constancy. Now she took it up with hands that trembled. + +"It's not that I've got anything against you." She addressed it as if +there were an intelligence back of the vacuous pleasantness of the +young face. "It's only that there's not any you and hasn't been for I +don't know how long. It's so much deader than death, all ashes to +ashes and dust to dust and the spirit turned into something different." +And then Justin's hopes would have soared high had he seen her, for she +kissed the lips that smiled at her, a strange kiss in which pity +blended with forgiveness. + +Holding fast to the blue plush frame, Persis passed through the house +to the woodshed, found a trowel among the garden tools, and then made +her way into the night. The sky was overcast, hiding the stars, but +the flitting fire-flies outlined strange constellations against the +velvety darkness. Persis groped her way through the dewy grass toward +the syringa bush, guided as much by the odor of blossoms as by sight, +and falling on her knees used her trowel industriously for many +minutes. And when the grave was deep enough, she laid the plush frame +into its recesses, hiding the smile she once had loved with heaped-up +earth. Since so many of her girlish hopes were covered by that same +earth, it is not strange that her tears fell upon the little mound. + +"I'm going to miss that picture same as if it was alive. It was always +smiling so cheerful that it cheered me just to look at it. But when a +thing's dead, it ought to be buried, and as it is, I guess this funeral +is pretty near twenty years behind time." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +CHECKMATE + +In spite of the lack of success which had attended his tentative +wooing, Justin Ware slept soundly, woke cheerful and made a comfortable +breakfast. Over his coffee and pancakes he outlined not the plans for +a systematic siege of Persis' affections, but the maneuver through +which he hoped to carry the Hornblower citadel by storm. He had used +no meaningless figure of speech when he assured Annabel of his practise +of making pleasure secondary to business. Robert Hornblower's +resistance had piqued and baffled him, the more as he knew that Mrs. +Hornblower was his uncompromising ally. Indeed his presence in +Clematis at this juncture was due to a letter from this invaluable +colleague, casually mentioning that her husband had received an offer +for the farm which she wished he might be induced to accept. "While I +leave all such matters for Robert to decide, as I consider to be a +wife's _plain_ duty," wrote Mrs. Hornblower, with a lavish use of +italics, "I have not hesitated to tell him that I think his closing +with the offer is for the best interests of us all." And Justin had +interpreted the communication to mean that his confederate believed the +day of victory at hand. + +He finished his breakfast at an early hour, judged by metropolitan +standards, selected the most promising animal from the sorry exhibition +of horse-flesh in the local livery and drove out to the Hornblower +farm, smoking on the way a better cigar than could be bought in +Clematis, and feeling unusually well satisfied with the world and +himself. His failure to bring the Hornblower affair to a successful +conclusion had annoyed him, not so much because of the importance of +the transaction, as because his professional pride was hurt at finding +himself unequal to the task of convincing a henpecked old man. From +the tone of Mrs. Hornblower's letter he was confident this failure was +about to be retrieved, and that Persis would prove amenable to his +flattering advances, could be taken for granted. On one point he must +be firm. From the beginning he must assume the necessity of her +renouncing her recently acquired family. He could say and with truth +that children made him nervous. But to postpone the settlement of the +difficulty until after the wedding would be a fatal blunder. When +women felt sure of a man, they sometimes developed a disagreeable +tenacity in holding to their own way. Altogether on this early morning +drive, Justin's difficulties dwindled almost to imperceptible points +while his blessings loomed large, a state of mind we are assured, most +favorable to success. + +Mr. Hornblower came from the barn as he drove up and greeted him with +successfully disguised cordiality. But a glance convinced Justin that +the long siege was nearly at an end. In the pouches under the man's +weary eyes, in a certain sagging of his lower lip, in an indefinable +air of being beaten, Justin read the signs of approaching capitulation. + +"Mis' Hornblower is in the house. I guess you'd better see her this +morning. I'm pretty busy for visiting." + +"I won't keep you long, Mr. Hornblower. I just want to lay a +proposition before you that's sure to interest as good a business man +as you are." Justin waited while the farmer tied the horse, and then, +slipping his hand through the old man's arm, guided him dexterously +around the house. Robert Hornblower yielded like one hypnotized, an +expression of rigid horror on his face as if while seeing some peril +immediately ahead, he found himself unable to avoid it. + +Mrs. Hornblower sat in a rocking-chair by the window, tapping the floor +with her heel as the chair swayed, and nervously smoothing imaginary +wrinkles from an immaculate apron. Justin took a step toward her, then +stopped with an awkward jerk. Early as he was, another caller was +ahead of him. In the opposite corner, grim and unsmiling as fate, sat +Persis Dale. + +Justin realized his own embarrassment with angry wonder. He had the +emotions of a boy caught in a foray on the preserve closet. "Good +morning," he said, and was shocked by the startled suspicion of his own +voice. He carried out his original intention of shaking hands with +Mrs. Hornblower, though without his customary grace of manner, and then +turned to go through the same ceremony with Persis, but her tightly +folded arms gave little encouragement to this design. He compromised +by taking a chair near her and saying pleasantly, "You're an early +arrival." + +"I calculated you'd be here as soon as you got done your breakfast," +Persis replied, and left him to interpret the ambiguous remark as he +pleased. + +Justin's career had not been of a sort to cultivate undue +sensitiveness. A moment sufficed to make him master of himself. "I +came out to discuss a little business proposition with Mr. Hornblower," +he explained carelessly. "But I don't want to interfere with the +enjoyment of you ladies. Some other time--" + +"Don't mind me," interposed Persis. "Mis' Hornblower and I haven't +anything special to talk about. We're interested in your business +proposition, both of us." + +"I don't know as I care to hear it," interrupted Mr. Hornblower, +speaking with a certain wildness, an indication that he had almost +reached the limit of resistance. His voice was shrill and unnatural. +"All I want is to be left in peace on the farm where my father lived +and died before me." + +"Robert," said the submissive Mrs. Hornblower witheringly, "I'd be +ashamed to talk as if I'd been born an oyster instead of a man." + +"Of course, Mr. Hornblower," Ware began soothingly, "I should be very +unwilling to over-persuade you. If my proposition does not commend +itself to your own good judgment, you are perfectly justified in +turning it down. Or if you are not in the mood for talking business +to-day, some other time--" + +"There's no time like the present," said Persis Dale. "And if you +don't like what he's got to offer, you can say no, Mr. Hornblower, and +stick to it. Your _no_ is as good as his _yes_, I'm sure, when it's +your business that's being talked of." + +She had suddenly become the dominant figure in the room. Mrs. +Hornblower glanced at her uncertainly. The promoter smiled +propitiatingly. The old man shuffled toward her with an evident hope +that through proximity he might profit by her sturdy strength. + +"I don't mind listening, Persis," he said tremulously. "I'm a +reasonable man. What I object to is being nagged and badgered as if I +didn't have a right to say my soul was my own." + +"I'm sure, Mr. Hornblower," Ware interrupted, "that Miss Dale will tell +you that I have no wish to hurry you into any decision you will regret. +In our business, satisfied patrons are our best asset. I only want to +call attention to a little matter that may have escaped your attention +and then leave you to think it over." Though his remarks were +addressed to the farmer, his appealing gaze was fixed on Persis. He +was disagreeably uncertain as to her attitude. Possibly she had come +with the purpose of doing him a favor. And possibly-- But he +dismissed the alternative before it had taken shape in his thoughts. +On the evening before he had made plain his willingness to take up +their acquaintance just where it had left off, twenty years before. +And if he knew anything of women, nothing would induce her to imperil +the renewal of that relation. + +In spite of this conviction his manner showed embarrassment as he began +his explanation. The smooth phrases he had used so often that he could +have spoken them in his sleep came readily to his lips, but even to +himself they sounded hollow and unconvincing. He was embarrassed too, +by Persis' tendency to ask questions, to inform herself as to every +detail of the plan he was unfolding. So persistent was she in her +cross-examination, that Mrs. Hornblower showed signs of irritation. + +"Goodness, Persis, it ain't necessary for Mr. Ware to go into all those +points. It ain't as if this was the first time we had ever talked over +the matter." + +"It's just as well to have things plain," Persis replied imperturbably. +Justin noticed that she looked less youthful and comely than on the +occasions when he had previously seen her. She had the gray and +care-worn look excusable in a woman approaching the fortieth mile-stone +who has spent a wakeful night. He was conscious of a sense of +annoyance in noting the distinctness of the triangle formed by her firm +mouth and the lines that slanted obliquely back from its corners. Her +persistence, too, troubled him. He was well aware that there is no +more serious flaw in a wife than the habit of asking questions. + +In spite of interruptions he finally finished his story and folded the +papers from which he had used certain figures to give his statements an +authoritative air. Mr. Hornblower squirmed uneasily, looking at Persis +as if appealing for help. + +"As I said before, Mr. Hornblower," Justin assured him with an air of +gentle consideration, "I am not at all desirous of hurrying you in the +matter. If you prefer to think over what I have said, and then when +you reach a decision--" + +"I don't see," exclaimed Mrs. Hornblower, from her seat near the +window, "why it shouldn't be settled to-day. We've got a good offer +for the farm now, but if Robert keeps Mr. Jeffreys hanging by the +gills, the chances are that he'll satisfy himself somewhere else. And +it isn't as though we hadn't talked this over from A to izzard." + +"You've got to make up your mind sometimes," Persis Dale corroborated +her. "I always feel as if 'twas a relief to get a thing settled." + +Mrs. Hornblower who up to this moment had seemed to regard Persis' +presence as an affront, smiled upon her almost affectionately. Robert +Hornblower had an air of feeling himself deserted. Justin was not sure. + +"But before you get the thing all settled and signed," Persis continued +smoothly, "there's one little thing I'd like to have Mr. Ware explain. +If, this investment is such a good thing for you, why isn't it just as +good for me?" + +A tense silence followed which Mrs. Hornblower broke. "For you?" She +pushed her spectacles up on her forehead as if she found the lenses an +obstruction to vision rather than an aid. "Have you--have you been +thinking of putting any money into apples?" + +"I asked him last night about investing ten thousand dollars in this +company. He talked against it--strong. He gave me to understand that +if I was getting ten per cent. on my money I was lucky." + +Justin sat with his eyes on the floor, making no effort to explain. It +was checkmate, and he knew it. The love of his youth had played with +him, tricked him, used him for her purposes even while he believed her +on the point of capitulation. It was small consolation at that moment +to realize that greater men had lost greater stakes through that little +illusion of being irresistible to the sex. He turned sick with +humiliation, hot with hate. He had prided himself on his +sophistication, and this country woman had laid a trap for him into +which he had obligingly blundered. To attempt an explanation would be +folly. Checkmate! + +"Ten per cent.!" Mrs. Hornblower's voice rose shrill and frightened. +"Why, in the Apple of Eden Investment Company--" + +"Yes, I reminded him about the twenty-five per cent. by the tenth year, +and he laughed at me. Said the guarantee you set such store by might +as well be used for curl papers, if the company got sick of its +bargain." + +"Why don't you say something?" Mrs. Hornblower turned on Justin +furiously. "What do you mean by letting her run on in this crazy +fashion and never wagging your tongue?" Underneath her anger sounded a +note of despair. No one who knew Persis Dale ever doubted her absolute +truth. And unless she had lied the thing was beyond explanation. + +Before Justin could reply, Robert Hornblower was on his feet. Another +startling transformation had come over the old man. Years and +decrepitude fell from him like a discarded garment. As he advanced +upon Justin, his fists clenched, he actually looked a formidable figure. + +"You get out of my house, you sneaking lying swindler. You clear out +and never open your head to me one word about your damned old company +or I'll--" + +"Robert!" shrieked Mrs. Hornblower in hysterical protest. + +Ware rose with as much dignity as the situation permitted. Few men can +feel themselves the target of the scorn of three honest people and not +wince, and Justin, whatever his weaknesses, did not lack sensibility. + +"If you wish to accept Miss Dale's version of the matter, it is +immaterial to me. I have given you more time than I could well afford +to spare so small an investment, because I remembered you as my boyhood +friends. I shall be glad to drop the matter." And then, quite against +his will, he looked at Persis. + +She sat straight and pale, her eyes steely, her lips grim. And once he +had kissed those lips, and those contemptuous eyes had poured into his, +faith and love unstinted. As he stumbled toward the door, the thought +crossed his mind that the boy who had won the love and respect of +Persis Dale was not the poor dolt he had thought him. The years had +brought loss as well as gain. + +"Good morning." He made an effort to speak with his customary easy +self-possession, and Mr. Hornblower's answer was to slam the door upon +him. "Good riddance to damned bad rubbish," he roared. + +"Robert!" screamed Mrs. Hornblower. "Profanity at your age. Twice in +five minutes." + +"Hold your tongue!" + +The mental collapse of Mrs. Hornblower was physically evident. Flabby +and shaken, she sat looking with unfeigned terror at her metamorphosed +lord and master. And Mr. Hornblower, puffing out his chest, looked +very much like the oldest son of the individual he had appeared an hour +previous. + +"I've got a word to say to you, Lena," remarked the reconstructed Mr. +Hornblower. "Women are all right when they keep their place. After +this I want to have it understood I'm not going to have any +interference in my business." He walked to the door and turned for a +parting defiance. "Damned if I will." + +Mrs. Hornblower's attack of hysterics occupied Persis till noon. She +looked pale and heavy-eyed as she alighted from her car at her own +door. She was about to enter when an object on the lawn caught her +eye. Tacked to an upright stake driven into the turf, was a flapping +piece of brown paper on which appeared straggling letters, executed in +colored chalk. + + +"Notiss + +I will not klene my teth agen onles I get a nikle a weak + +Malcolm Dale." + + + +Persis read this defiance twice, and her lips twitched. She turned +toward the house, but by this time the children had espied her and +shriekingly descended upon her, "like the plagues of Egypt," thought +Mary, watching from the window. + +"What makes you look that way?" cried Celia, clutching Persis' hand. +"I don't like it." + +"What way, child?" + +"As though you was a widow." + +Persis laughed, thereby diminishing her resemblance to the mourner of +Celia's fancy. With a child holding fast to each hand, and the others +prancing about her and getting underfoot like so many kittens, she made +her way indoors. "Children been good, Mary?" + +"Why, yes'm," Mary admitted with reserve. "I gave Algie that cough +mixture same as you said, and Malcolm he kept coughing fit to tear his +throat to pieces. Betty says he likes the sirupy taste. And Celia +teased the baby kissing her till she got her crying." + +"I like the taste of the baby," remarked Celia, who had lent an +attentive ear to the account of the family misdemeanors. "It's like +tooth powder, the pink kind." + +"A letter came for you, Miss Dale. Now, my gracious, what's happened +to it? I put it right here on the table." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +DE PROFUNDIS + +In the unabashed pursuit of pleasure into which Persis had plunged, +Joel was a half-hearted participant. His life-long habit of standing +scornfully aloof while his fellow beings strove to enjoy themselves, +proved no match for Celia's artless appeals. "Please come, Uncle +Joel," she would, coax. "It's lots more fun with you along." And to +the open amusement of his neighbors and his sister's ill-concealed +wonder, Joel submitted to long automobile rides, to briefer excursions +on the river and lake and to eating picnic luncheons with his back +against a tree and on his face an expression conveying his unshaken +conviction that there were ants in his sandwich. It is unlikely that +Joel's presence on these occasions added in any marked degree to the +general hilarity, but Celia's satisfaction was unmistakable. She +always sat beside him with an air of proprietorship, digging her sharp +little elbow into the sparse cushioning of his lean thighs or when +weary, dropping her frowsy head against his shoulder with an engaging +certainty that it was there for that very purpose. Like many another +who has defied capture till after middle life, Joel atoned for past +immunity by the thoroughness of his surrender. + +But on this particular August morning, when an all-day expedition had +been planned to Huckleberry Mountain, Joel revolted. Whether he had +really been surfeited with picnics, or only feared that he might grow +to enjoy such puerile forms of entertainment, and so lose some of the +austere dignity which had hitherto distinguished him, it is certain +that he came down to breakfast with his mind made up. Even to Celia's +coaxing he was adamant. + +"You mustn't tease Uncle Joel any more," Persis finally admonished the +child. "You don't want him to go if he wouldn't have a good time." +And to her brother she added, "You'd better go to the hotel for your +dinner, Joel." + +"Oh, I can pick up something that'll do me for a dinner," Joel replied +with his old keen relish for playing the martyr. And then Celia, +dropping her oatmeal spoon, lurched forward in her chair and imprinted +a milky kiss upon his coat sleeve. + +"I'll get Uncle Joel's dinner," Celia murmured. "I'll take care of +him." + +"But you're going on the picnic." + +"No, Aunt Persis," Celia resumed an upright position with a suddenness +that endangered her half-emptied bowl of porridge. "I don't like +picnics 'thout Uncle Joel. I'd rather stay with him." + +Joel groped for the toast. The plate was directly in front of him, but +he could not see it for a blinding rush of tears. Never in his life +had he known such sweet elation, never such humility. There is an +irresistible flattery in the preference of a child. Except for the +love of his dead mother and for his sister's affection, the latter a +curious blending of duty and traditional sentiment which would have +kept on working automatically whatever he might have done, Joel had +never inspired a single unselfish attachment until Celia came into his +life. The thing was overwhelming. His hand shook till his fork +clattered against his plate. What was he to have won the heart of a +child? + +In the two hours that elapsed before their departure, he suffered +agonies of apprehension that Celia would change her mind. Scraps of +cynical comment on the fickleness of her sex, some of them dating back +to Virgil and Juvenal, flitted through his memory and stung like +gad-flies. After winning such honor, after Celia had elected to remain +with him, he felt himself unable to endure the ignominy of having her +reconsider. While Mary made the beds, and Persis packed the luncheon +in the kitchen, and the children raced about getting in one another's +way, and prolonging the preparations they were desirous of hastening, +Joel waited in a cold sweat, half realizing the absurdity of his +misgiving, but quite at its mercy. He knew that if Celia changed her +mind at the last minute and departed with the others, life would not be +worth the living. + +But the elf-like little creature showed no signs of vacillation. After +rendering valuable assistance in getting the others ready, including +the feat of breaking a fruit jar containing the lemon juice and sugar, +she came and stood at Joel's side, serenely contemplative and content. +Even toward Celia Joel had never been demonstrative. But as the picnic +party took possession of the machine, and half a dozen hands waved a +farewell, he slipped his arm about the child's shoulders and drew her +to him. The day was edged with gold. The warm August sunshine seemed +to reach the very depths of his heart. He had a confused impression +that he had done life an injustice. + +"Tell me a story, Uncle Joel," commanded Celia, nestling closer. "Tell +me about Miranda and Ariel and that horrid old Caliban." For to reduce +Shakespeare to the juvenile comprehension had been one of the tasks +imposed on Joel by his new fealty, nor did it seem to him, as once it +might have done, a base perversion of the matchless creations of the +English tongue that in diluted and modified form, they should interest +and entertain a little maid of six. + +The morning was a long rapture for the two strange comrades. Joel told +stories till Celia tired of a passive rôle and entertained him with +some of those flights of fancy compared with which the most audacious +attempts of the adult imagination seem tame and groveling. Then they +took a walk, hand in hand, after which Celia discovered that she was +hungry and a raid was made upon the pantry. Perhaps nothing so +conclusively proved the completeness of Joel's subordination as the +overthrow of his dietetic theories. The first course of their meal was +bread and molasses and it wound up with honey and ginger snaps. + +By this time the sun had taken full possession of the front piazza, and +Joel pulled his chair around to the shady north side of the house and +sat there in after-dinner tranquillity while Celia played about on the +lawn. Joel's eyes followed every movement of the quaint little figure. +He remembered with wonder that other people thought Betty the prettier +of the two girls. To him that small piquant face with the unruly hair, +the straight black brows and the wonderful kindling eyes, embodied all +that was beautiful. His selfish middle-aged heart ached under the +strain of accommodating this wealth of sweet swelling tenderness. + +Celia had wandered across the grass toward the clump of maples which +once had shaded the big barn erected in Joel's youth and never rebuilt +after the fire. She turned to kiss her hand, and he kissed his back, +the first time in a matter of some five and thirty years that his +dignity had so unbent. The realization that the act would prove highly +diverting to his neighbors caused him to glance anxiously toward the +road. But the white ribbon of dust was undisturbed by vehicles, and +his mind relieved, he looked again for Celia. + +A full half minute he stared incredulously, looking this way and that, +wavering between startled apprehension and a conviction of his own +folly. For Celia was nowhere to be seen. The grass over which her +little feet had twinkled as he turned his head, rippled in the wind and +gave no sign. The child had not had time to reach the trees, behind, +whose trunks her slight form might easily be concealed. And then as +Joel told himself that he was a fool, a faint wailing cry brought him +to his feet. + +He was running before he had time to formulate his fear. And then a +startling memory spurred him to more desperate haste. He recalled the +old well by the barn, boarded over years before and later so concealed +by the encroachment of grass and weeds that its very existence had been +forgotten. But time had taken its toll even from the stubborn oak, and +at last it had yielded under a child's light weight. Joel knew it as +he ran, but the sight of the splintered irregular opening, across which +the clover heads nodded serenely to one another, gave a poignant +anguish to his realization. He tore the rotting planks aside, and +looked as it seemed, down into unrelieved blackness. Then his +sun-dazzled vision adjusted itself to the gloom and he saw the dank, +slime-covered stones that formed the sides of the well, and below the +black gleam of water and something pink and white, that struggled and +went under, and showed again. + +"Celia, Celia!" Joel shouted. "Don't be scared. Uncle Joel's coming." + +He had been a coward all his life. In his boyhood he had shrunk away +from risks which to Persis were exhilarating and delightful. The ill +health of twenty years had tended to confirm and increase that native +weakness. Yet at this supreme moment no thought of his own danger +crossed his mind, The saving of Celia was all. + +He kicked off his slippers and gripping the curb for support, lowered +himself into the pit. A rush of cold air like a breath from an open +grave enveloped him. Finding foothold in the crevices of the green +damp stones, digging his fingers into slimy crannies, panting, +slipping, bruising his flesh without feeling the hurt, this frail +hypochondriac went to the aid of the child who somehow had blundered +into his heart. + +The water in the well reached Joel's arm-pits as he stood on its bottom +and lifted Celia to his shoulder. She clung to him for a little with a +suffocating grip, strangling, sobbing, panic-stricken. And as he +strove to soothe her, for the first time fear laid its cold hand upon +him. He looked up to the circle of blue sky so terrifyingly distant +and it seemed incredible that he could ever have made that precipitous +descent. Unencumbered he had accomplished the miracle, but he knew he +could never climb back to the warm peace of the upper air with Celia in +his arms. + +The child's sobs were quieting. She was perched upon his shoulder, her +arm wound tightly about his neck. Even at the moment when all the +tragic possibilities of the event crowded on his mind, he felt the +tremor of her rigid little body and thought anxiously that Celia was in +danger of taking cold. + +With an effort he took a grip upon realities. Gently he loosened the +pressure of the child's encircling arms. + +"Celia, honey, don't hold Uncle Joel so tight. He's got to get breath +enough to holler, so somebody will come and take us out of this." + +He had shouted till he was hoarse before he realized his folly. There +were no neighbors near enough to hear his cries. The sensible thing +was to husband his strength till some vehicle passed and then call +lustily. Again he addressed the child. + +"Celia, dearie, keep your ears open. When we hear wheels coming, we'll +holler for all we're worth." + +They listened till they heard upon the road the rhythmic foot-beats of +horses, and the rattle of some farmer's wagon rumbling homeward from +the village. Then together they screamed for help. But the hoofs went +on beating their tattoo till the sound grew faint, and the rattle of +the wagon died in the distance. Again and again the sound which told +of human nearness woke hope in their hearts only to die in the ensuing +silence. + +"Uncle Joel," Celia wailed, "I'm co-old." Her sobs echoed uncannily as +if the well were filled with the ghosts of weeping children. Again he +gazed at the disk of blue sky overhead. He seemed to himself to be +viewing it from some indeterminate half-way house between life and +death. And yet of the two, the invisible world seemed nearer than the +earth roofed over by that placid sky. + +As time passed his suffering became acute. The weight of the child on +his shoulder was an increasing torture. The cramped arm raised to hold +her secure was racked by intolerable pain. The chill of the water was +paralyzing. His heart labored. His breath came with difficulty. +Celia seemed to be relapsing into an unnatural drowsiness. Her body +sagged lifelessly. He found it necessary to stand close to the side of +the well, that the wet stones might help to support her weight. + +There was only once he prayed, unless his struggle be counted as one +long prayer. But when his appeal found words, it was less a petition +than a suggestion. "She's so little, Lord, for it to end here, and +she's had a hard time so far. The fun's just beginning." It showed no +lack of wisdom, perhaps, that his prayer ended there. + +His mind must have wandered a little later. It seemed as if his mother +were beside him, encouraging him as she had done long before in his +boyhood when he had wrestled with a difficult task. And then he was +out in the woods with a crowd of his boyhood companions and the wild +geese were flying south. Honk! Honk! Honk! "Guess that's why it's +so cold," Joel said, addressing the shadowy assembly. "Winter's +coming." + +The sound of his own voice brought him back to reality. What he had +heard was the horn of Persis' car. She had returned. And the love of +life woke in him and gave him strength to scream lustily again and +again. + +As the children scrambled out upon the grass, all talking at once, +Persis lifted an authoritative hand. "Hush! I thought I heard some +one call." + +"I don't hear nothing, Miss Dale," said Mary tranquilly. Persis again +enjoined silence. As her gaze swept uneasily over the peaceful, +familiar scene, her eyes were arrested by one of the rotting boards +which had formed the cover of the unused well. + +Joel, wrenching it from its place, had flung it out into the clover. +It had not been there that morning, Persis knew. + +She ran toward it with a conviction of calamity which only took +concrete form when she heard her brother's call issuing from the depths +of the earth. + +"The well," she cried with self-accusing anguish. "The old well." But +when she stood by its edge and sent her voice ringing down into its +depth, it was steady and strong. + +"I'm going for help, Joel. 'Twon't be much of any time now. Just a +little longer." + +Mary and the children had never seen the Persis who came running toward +them. They shrank back from her stern presence, half afraid. + +"Mary, take the children into the house and keep them there. Call up +the doctor and tell him to get here as quick as he can. And have that +coil of new rope that's in the shed ready for me by the time I'm back." + +She had leaped into the machine while she was giving her orders. It +described a dizzy circle in the grass, shot down the driveway, and sped +screaming along the dusty road. Before the trembling Mary had had more +than time to discharge her commissions the car was back with half a +dozen strong men, harvesters from the farm just below, crowded into the +seats. And when Doctor Ballard turned his sweating horse up the drive +half an hour later, Joel and Celia were between hot blankets, and +stimulants had already stirred their sluggish blood. + +It was eight o'clock before the doctor left. "I've got to see the +Packard boy, or I wouldn't go. I'll come back and stay the night +through." + +Persis nodded. "I'd feel easier to have you in the house. There won't +be no need for you to lose your sleep. The spare room's all made up." + +Some twenty minutes later Joel roused and spoke. His respiration was +hurried and articulation difficult. + +"Persis--Celia?" + +She understood the syncopated sentence. + +"Celia's doing fine, the doctor thinks. She's got a little +temperature, but a child's likely to have fever for any little thing." + +He waited some time before putting the next question, rallying his +strength for the ordeal of speech. + +"Don't s'pose--'twould do for me--to see her?" + +Persis looked at him with a curious tightening of the lips, in her eyes +an unaccustomed blending of tenderness and pride. + +"You shall see her, if you want to, Joel. 'Tain't going to hurt +her--to speak of." + +From the room across the hall she brought Celia, a chrysalid child, +sleeping heavily, closely wrapped in an old plaid shawl, and laid her +on Joel's bed. Celia's thatch of black hair fell untidily across the +pillow. The fever gave her olive skin an unwonted color. Joel made an +ineffectual effort to lift his arm. Then as he desisted, sighing, his +sister gently lifted his hand till it touched the hot fingers of the +sleeping child. + +"They're--such little--things--Persis." His labored breath made speech +fragmentary. "It's funny, how--they fill up--all the room in--a man's +heart." + +"Yes, I know, Joel. But I guess maybe you'd better not talk." + +"Makes me think of--what the Good Book says, Persis. 'A little +child--'" + +He did not finish the quotation. After Persis was sure that he was +asleep, she carried Celia back to her bed and renewed her watch. The +doctor came in about ten o'clock and stood for a little with his +fingers on his patient's pulse. + +"You'd better not lose your sleep, Doctor," Persis suggested, glancing +at the weary young face. "You go into the spare room and I'll call you +if I need you." + +"I'm not tired," the doctor answered. "I'd as soon sit here for a +while." But he did not meet her eye. + +It was an hour later when the struggling breath lengthened into a sigh, +deep-drawn and profound, irresistibly suggestive of untold relief. The +doctor was at the bedside instantly, but after a moment he laid the +limp hand gently down and turned away. + +Persis sank upon her knees, putting her hands over her face down which +the tears were streaming, those strange illogical tears which are +life's tribute to death, however it may come. Yet even while she wept, +phrases of thanksgiving sang melodiously through her brain and echoed +in her heart. For to this brother of hers it had been given to redeem +a life of weakness and failure by a single heroic sacrifice and to die +a man. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +EAVESDROPPING + +The winter following Joel's death was unusually severe and to Persis +seemed well-nigh endless. Though Celia had escaped the attack of +pneumonia anticipated by the doctor, her long hours of exposure, +coupled with the shock, had told on the sensitive child, and it was +months before she seemed her usual blithe, audacious self. Without +question Celia sorely missed her vanished play-fellow, and Persis, who +had postponed her entering school for another year, because she did not +feel that the child was strong enough for the confinement of the school +room, sometimes doubted her own wisdom and was half convinced that the +companionship of other children and the distraction of Celia's thoughts +would have proved sufficient advantage to counterbalance all drawbacks. +The others of Persis' flock with occasional digressions varying in +seriousness from chilblains to croup, maintained as satisfactory a +health average as the mother of a young family can expect. + +After the unprecedented severity of the winter the spring came early, +as if nature had repented her harshness and had set herself to make +amends. The sparkle came back to Celia's eyes and the lilt to her +voice. The children who had been models of deportment while the cold +lasted, developed a frisky unruliness, resulting in Malcolm's playing +truant and Algie's coming home with a black eye, trophy of his first +fight. Persis was too thankful over being able to raise every window +in the house and have the sweet spring air flooding in upon her, to +take these enormities very much to heart. Indeed, she was almost too +busy to deal with the culprits as they deserved. + +After two years in which she had hardly touched a needle, except for +the children's little garments, Persis was again busy dressmaking. For +she had not forgotten her promise to Diantha Sinclair, and Diantha's +wedding-day was approaching, simultaneously with her eighteenth +birthday. Backed up by Persis, Diantha had declared her intentions and +put in a plea for a church wedding. And when her mother stormed and +threatened, Diantha made her defiance. + +"Oh, very well, mama. Only I'm going to be married in church. And if +you won't give me a wedding, Miss Persis will." + +In a frenzy Annabel appealed to her husband. Since he felt as keenly +as she in the matter of what he called "Miss Dale's unwarrantable +interference," their mutual indignation was actually proving a bond +between that ill-mated pair. Since Persis had committed the +indiscretion of reminding her of her age, Annabel had never spoken to +her quondam dressmaker, and even such a crisis as the present could not +bring her to the point of submitting to another interview, in which she +might hear other truths equally unwelcome. If was her husband who +faced the enemy. + +Persis listened unperturbed while he stated his grievance. "Mr. +Sinclair, if it hadn't been for me that girl of yours would have been +married a year ago. It would have been a runaway match if I hadn't +coaxed her into giving up and waiting until she could marry with the +law to back her up in doing as she pleased. I made Diantha some +promises then, and I'm going to keep 'em." + +"Your conscience is too tractable, I suppose, to trouble you over +setting a young girl like Diantha against her parents." + +Persis regarded him with a slow smile, the significance of which +Sinclair plainly had no difficulty in understanding. He flushed to the +roots of his whitening hair. + +"Mr. Sinclair, when a girl's happy at home, I do think it's a pity for +her to jump into being a woman at eighteen. More'n one I've coaxed +into waiting. But when a girl's disposition is wearing thin through +bickering and nagging day in and day out, the sooner she's in a home of +her own the better." + +"I am glad you are ready to guarantee the success of this affair for +which you are so largely responsible," remarked Mr. Sinclair. This was +more of a home-thrust than he knew, but Persis did not wince. + +"As for guaranteeing that anybody's going to be happy anywhere, Mr. +Sinclair, only the Almighty can do that. My idea is that Diantha has a +better chance with a young man who loves her than with a mother who is +jealous of her and a father who hasn't got the courage to take her +part." + +"If you're going to fall back on vilification, Miss Dale," remarked the +other participant in the dialogue, plainly in a towering rage, "the +sooner this interview terminates, the better." + +"Well, Mr. Sinclair, I guess you're right about that. Talking things +over won't convert either of us. And you understand," continued +Persis, following her caller to the door, "that you're not to feel +driven to give Diantha a church wedding. Only if you don't, I will." + +It was due to Persis' effective championship that Diantha's wedding +bade fair to prove what the reporter of the _Clematis Weekly News_ +called "A social event of almost metropolitan importance." There were +to be bridesmaids and ushers and a best man. Admission to the church +was by card, and the ensuing reception at the home of the bride's +parents was scheduled to set a new pace for Clematis society. And +while Annabel, inwardly raging, struggled to put a bold face on her +defeat, Persis was busy with the gown she was resolved to make her +masterpiece. The children were not allowed to enter the room where the +work was progressing, though they sometimes took awe-stricken peeps +through the crack at the mysterious, sheet-draped object suspended from +hooks, and in the twilight taking on an aspect distinctly ghostly. It +was necessary, too, to carpet the floor of the workroom with sheets +when Diantha had a fitting, all of which added enormously to the +romance and mystic glamour inevitably connected with a wedding dress. +The children, with whom Diantha had always been a prime favorite, +instead of rushing tumultuously to meet her, now stood off when she +presented herself, and looked her over, as if like the dress in +Persis's workroom, she had become enveloped in mystery. + +Mingled with the scraps of white satin which littered the floor were +scraps of black silk. After the wedding-day had been fixed upon, the +mother of the groom swept down upon Persis, wheedling and peremptory by +turns. + +"Persis Dale, I don't care if you are worth enough to buy and sell me +twice over, you've got to make me a dress to wear to my boy's wedding. +It's no use for you to shake your head, Persis, I ain't had a +waist-line since you went out of business. And when I think how +Annabel Sinclair's going to be rigged out, I'm worried for fear Thad +will be ashamed of me. They say she's going up the city every week for +fittings, just as if she was going to be the bride 'stead of Diantha." + +It was clearly reprehensible in Mrs. West after throwing herself on +Persis' sympathy and carrying her point, to be late to a fitting. +Persis, who planned to clear the cobwebs from her tired brain by an +exhilarating spin in her car at four o'clock, had appointed two for +Mrs. West to try on the black silk. By quarter past she was fidgety, +and as the clock struck the half hour, she waxed indignant. + +"Now, Etta West needn't think I'm going to put myself out to make her +dress if she can't keep her appointments. Folks that ask favors ought +to be particular not to make any more trouble than they can help." + +Another ten minutes of waiting quite exhausted Persis' store of +patience. She stepped into the kitchen where Mary's sister was helping +Mary with the extra work due to Persis' engrossing activities. + +"Keep an eye on Celia and the baby, girls. If they say they're hungry +try 'em with bread and butter without any sugar. I'll probably be back +before the rest get home from school, but if I'm not here, tell 'em not +to go away. We'll have a good ride before supper." + +The West dwelling had that look of peaceful complacency characteristic +of well-ordered establishments in mid-afternoon. Persis entered by the +unlocked kitchen door, carrying Mrs. West's skirt over her arm. "Mis' +West," she called challengingly, "Mis' West." And then as the silence +remained unbroken, she found her irritation evaporating in anxiety. +Could anything be wrong? "Mis' West," she called again at the foot of +the stairs, and an observer could have argued from her altered voice a +corresponding psychological change. + +A sound answered her, something between a grunt and a groan, and +sufficient to send her scurrying up the stairs with a marked +acceleration of the pulse. Her vague foreboding took shape when as she +reached the upper hall, she caught sight of a prostrate figure, +partially visible through a half-open door. "A stroke!" thought +Persis, and the black silk slipping from her arm, dropped in an +unheeded heap. + +The recumbent figure did not move as Persis flew down the hall, but as +she entered the room, the head stirred slightly as if to look in her +direction. Persis dropped upon her knees. + +"Can you understand me, Etta?" she spoke with terrifying gentleness. + +"Don't be a fool, Persis Dale." The vehemence of the rejoinder was +startling. "Why shouldn't I understand?" + +"Then it's just a fall, is it?" + +Mrs. West hesitated before replying. "No," she returned in a tone of +marked irritability, "I didn't fall." + +"Then what's the matter?" + +"I didn't say there was anything the matter, did I?" Mrs. West's ill +humor seemed to be gaining on her. "I s'pose if a body wants to lie +down for a while--in her own room--after her day's work is done--her +neighbors haven't any real call to make a fuss." + +The amazed Persis continued in a kneeling position, her bewilderment +rendering her incapable of movement. + +"You mean that you're lying here--because you like it?" + +"On a warm day," said Mrs. West with dignity, "a floor's cooler than a +bed and it saves mussing the spread." + +Persis studied her thoughtfully. "I can't say you look cool, Mis' +West. I guess I never saw you so fire-red as you are at this minute. +But if that's your idea of having a good time, why, every one to his +taste, as the old woman said when she kissed the cow." + +She rose with a dignity that matched Mrs. West's own and moved toward +the door. "Maybe you remember that you had an appointment for a +fitting at two," she suggested coldly, "I brought your dress over, but +of course if you're busy enjoying yourself--" + +"Persis Dale," cried Mrs. West, her voice breaking, "I didn't think you +had it in you to be so hard-hearted." + +Slowly Persis retraced her steps. Her prostrate friend was weeping. +Large impressive tears rolled slowly over cheeks whose fiery hue +suggested the possibility that each drop might immediately be converted +into steam. + +"Mis' West," began Persis in a tone of strained patience, "will you +please tell me if you've taken leave of your senses or what?" + +Mrs. West's tears flowed faster. Hysterical tremors agitated the +recumbent mass. "I--I can't get up," she exploded at length, in +seemingly reluctant confidence. + +"Can't get up? But how did you get down?" + +"Persis--I--I was rolling." + +"Rolling!" + +"To reduce, Persis. My cousin Aggie said she took off twenty pounds in +ten weeks rolling half an hour a day. And I thought it was worth +trying." + +Persis suddenly averted her face. + +"Don't laugh, Persis. It may be funny for a man to be fat, but it's a +tragedy for a woman. I've been thinking how Annabel Sinclair will look +at that wedding, with a figure like a girl of twenty-one, and it didn't +seem as if I could stand two hundred and twenty-six. But if rolling's +a cure, I guess I started too late." + +"Why can't you get up, Mis' West?" inquired Persis, regarding the +prostrate woman with a becomingly serious countenance. "You haven't +wrenched yourself, anywhere, have you?" + +"Not that I know of, Persis. I didn't hear anything snap. I guess I'm +stalled, like a horse. Maybe if I wasn't quite so near the couch I +could manage. If Thad or his father get home before I'm up, I'll never +hear the last of it." + +Realizing that her friend's apprehension was well grounded, Persis +brought her strong muscles and resolute will to bear upon the problem. +She had lifted many a sick patient too weak to turn upon his pillow, +and she knew the trick of making every ounce of energy count. Inspired +by her example, Mrs. West put forth all her strength and as a result of +their combined efforts she rose with ponderous slowness into a sitting +position. The rest was easy. With Persis boosting and panting +encouragement, the unhappy exponent of other people's theories regained +her feet and tottered to a chair. + +"Goodness, gracious, Persis, I'm as limp as a wash-rag. No more +rolling for me, not if I get up to three hundred pounds." She looked +at her friend appealingly. "Don't ask me to stand up and be fitted, +Persis. There's no more starch in my knees than if they were pieces of +string." + +Persis made haste to disclaim any such intention. "What you want is a +fan, Mis' West, and a cup of tea, to quiet your nerves down. You've +got to get braced up before Mr. West comes in, or he'll be at you to +find out what the trouble is. And when a man gets a little joke like +this on his wife, he's bound to make it last the rest of his natural +life." + +Leaving her friend to compose herself, Persis hurried to the kitchen +and brewed the restorative cup of tea she had recommended. As she +carried it to her patient the telephone lifted up its voice. + +Mrs. West counted the rings. "One, two, three, four. That's Nellie +Gibson's call, Persis. I wish you'd listen and see if you can find out +if Josephine Newhall has got there yet. Nellie's been talking of that +visit all winter." + +Persis complied unhesitatingly. In Clematis no kill-joy had arisen to +question the propriety of listening to the conversation of the other +subscribers to a party line. It was the universal understanding that +one of the foremost if not the chief advantage in having a telephone, +was the gratification to be derived from overhearing the confidences of +one's neighbors. To have denominated this eavesdropping, would have +aroused general indignation. + +Persis took down the telephone without a qualm and instantly recognized +the high-pitched voice of Mrs. Gibson, Thomas Hardin's sister. She was +speaking more loudly than is necessary in such conversation and with a +seeming lack of amiability. + +"Well if you won't come to supper to-night, when will you come? Set a +time right now." + +"Really I don't know, Nellie." Persis started as the gentle +deprecating tones reached her ears. "I'm pretty busy at this season. +I guess I hadn't better say--" + +"Fiddlesticks and folderol! I know just how busy you are. I guess if +Persis Dale hadn't thrown you over like a worn-out shoe, you'd have +found time enough to get over to see her every blessed night of the +world." + +It was clearly the moment for Persis to hang up the receiver. +Regrettable as it is to record, she listened with a seeming accession +of interest for Thomas' reply. But his only answer was a discreet +silence. + +"When you talk of being busy," Mrs. Gibson continued witheringly, "I +know what's in your mind. You mean you won't come to this house while +Josephine is here." + +Still silence on the part of Thomas. + +"Thomas Hardin," his sister burst out, "why don't you say something? I +can stand a man that takes the roof off when he's mad lots better than +the kind that shut up like clams. Are you coming to supper this week +or not?" + +"No, Nellie, I guess not." + +"You mean you're not coming near the house while Josephine stays? Be a +man. Speak out plain." + +"Nellie," said the goaded Thomas, acting on her counsel, "I haven't got +a thing against any friend of yours, but I'm tired of your +match-making." + +"Match-making!" Mrs. Gibson repeated, like most who adopt that most +thankless of the professions ready on the instant to repudiate it. +"Me!" + +"Yes, Nellie, I'm not a suspicious man, but a child in arms could see +through your little game. I dare say you mean it kindly, but when a +man's not looking for a wife, it's embarrassing to have first one woman +and then another thrown at his head." + +"I suppose," commented Mrs. Gibson acridly, "you'd rather end up your +days a pitiable old bachelor, mooning over the woman who played with +you for a dozen years and threw you down at last." + +"If she threw me down, 'twas because I deserved it." + +"Deserve nothing. You haven't the sense to go in when it rains, Thomas +Hardin, and a week-old kitten would beat you for gumption. But for all +that, you're a long sight more of a catch than most men." + +This impassioned tribute apparently left Thomas dumb. Mrs. Gibson +followed up her advantage. + +"I suppose you'd rather set in meeting and look at the back of Persis +Dale's bonnet than to have a nice wife of your own in the pew beside +you." + +"Well, since you ask me, Nellie, I would." + +"She's made you a laughing-stock. She don't care any more for you--" + +"Of course she don't. Why should she? A woman like her." + +"Then I wash my hands of you." Mrs. Gibson's voice suggested tears. + +"Thank you, Nellie," Thomas returned gratefully, and his sister's +receiver slammed into the hook. Thomas followed suit, and last of all, +Persis Dale, after assuring herself that she was not likely to hear +more, returned the receiver to its place and went to satisfy her +friend's curiosity. + +"Well?" Mrs. West had emptied her teacup and the soothing effects of +the potion showed in her altered voice. + +"Yes, Josephine's there," Persis replied to the elliptical inquiry. +"But I gathered from something that was let drop that maybe she +wouldn't stay long. So if you want a visit with her you'd better not +waste any time." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +WEDDING BELLS + +The wedding dress was finished and a success. + +"I guess it'll have to be my valedictory," Persis said with +ill-concealed elation. "I'm never going to beat that if I dressmake +till I'm a hundred." As for Diantha, her ecstasy implied that whatever +the risks attached to the matrimonial venture, they were abundantly +offset by the privilege of arraying one's self in habiliments of such +transcendental charm. + +But of the two, the girl's happiness was the least overcast. Diantha +did not realize the pathos of her ability to leave her home without a +pang. Since tears are only the reverse side of joy, the bride who says +farewell to her girlhood dry-eyed is a legitimate object of sympathy. +Diantha's unclouded happiness was significant of all that her youth had +lacked. + +But Persis' satisfaction was superficial. Underneath her stubborn +cheer, her genial vivacity, self-reproach was astir. While she +listened to the outpourings of Diantha's ardent confidence and laughed +over the children's naive inquiries regarding the approaching and +stupendous event, she stood a prisoner at the bar of her conscience, +summoned to defend herself against the charge of injustice to a friend. +And the more she pondered the question, the more advisable it seemed +for her to plead guilty and throw herself upon the mercy of the court. + +She recalled in extenuation of Thomas's offense that his confession had +been strictly voluntary, prompted only by his own sense of honor. He +might have retained the confidence and friendship he valued above all +else, simply by holding his peace. Moreover his provocation had not +been slight. "She looked so like a kitten," he had said of Annabel. +Persis knew the look he meant, that inimitable blending of challenge +and retreat, shyness and daring so commingled as to be most +provocative. Of course he was no match for Annabel, poor honest Thomas. + +"It's the good men they make the quickest work of," thought Persis, +turning restlessly on an uneasy pillow. "It never would have entered +Thomas' head, to think any harm of a married woman. A different kind +of man would be on his guard against her and against himself, too. It +came on Thomas like a thunder-clap out of a clear sky." + +Having reached the point of leniency toward her one-time lover, +severity with herself was a natural sequence. "'Tain't as if I was a +girl," Persis owned, in sorrowful compunction. "I'd ought to know what +men are by this time, and that the best of 'em need to be braced up by +some good woman's backbone." She could not escape from the painful +conviction that she had failed her friend. He had turned to her for +help and her hurt pride had rendered her oblivious to his need. + +And pride was still to be reckoned with. Even now when she realized +her fault, she shrank from extending the olive branch. Thomas loved +her and had always loved her. The episode of Annabel Sinclair had not +altered his loyalty by so much as a ripple on the surface. And yet to +show by a lifted eyelash or a hand held out that she was ready to let +bygones be bygones seemed among the impossibilities. The generations +of dumb women whose blood ran in her veins stretched out ghostly hands +to hold her back from frankness. That was a woman's lot, to endure +silently and leave the initiative to the man. + +June came and found her vacillating and uncertain. Mystic fragrances, +still whispery nights, dewy mornings, gay with flowers, were flung into +the scale. And when Diantha's wedding was but two days off, Persis +suddenly capitulated. + +"I've always said that folks who'd let their lives go to smash for want +of speaking out deserved all they got. And now it looks as if I was +that sort of a fool myself. Algie!" Apparently apprehensive that +common sense would again yield the field to tradition, she flew: to the +window. "Algie!" she shrieked. + +The boy came on the run. Something in Persis' voice made him aware +that the occasion did not admit of trifling. + +"Algie, jump on your wheel and ride down to Mr. Hardin's store. Tell +him that if it's convenient I'd like to see him this evening. Quick +now." + +Algie's obedience was instantaneous. With compressed lips Persis +watched his vanishing figure, her color coming and going. + +"Well, so far, so good. I guess now I've got up my courage to send for +him I can leave the rest to luck." + +Thomas came that evening, extremely self-conscious in a new suit, his +air of unwonted elegance heightened by a fresh shave and with his shoes +polished into almost immodest prominence. The children, in spite of +their aggrieved protests, had been sent to bed with the chickens. Mary +had been despatched to young Mrs. Thompson's on an errand, and the two +had the house to themselves. Thomas waited for Persis to explain her +summons. As she rendered him no assistance, he took the responsibility +of steering the conversation. + +"I looks pretty fine round here, Persis. Shouldn't hardly know the +place." + +"Well, there have been lots of changes, Thomas, Joel gone and all. +Five children in a house change things without anybody to help 'em." + +"They're nice-looking children, too. That oldest boy, Algie, takes my +eye." + +"He'll be better-looking when that cut on his lip heals up. He got +hurt in a fight the other day, the second he's had in three months. I +wanted to ask you what you thought I'd ought to do when he gets to +fighting." + +Thomas' heart went down with a thud. So this was why she had sent for +him, to consult him regarding the training of the boys. He had not +known how her summons had inflated his hopes until this sickening +collapse. It was only by an effort that he rallied his thoughts +sufficiently to answer. + +"Well, I wouldn't worry about that if I was you, Persis. Seems like +all young things was taken the same way. Puppies are always +squabbling, but 'tisn't that there's any hard feeling. They just want +to try their teeth. Seems to me I'd be pretty worried over a boy who +never wanted to fight." + +Persis listened appreciatively. "Thank you, Thomas. It's a good thing +for a woman who's bringing up a pair of boys to get a man's point of +view now and then. I'm afraid I've kind of neglected those children +this spring. I've been so taken up with Diantha Sinclair's wedding." + +"She'll be a mighty pretty bride," observed Thomas, striving manfully +to do his part in the conversational see-saw. "She looks a lot like +her mother when--" He broke off, overwhelmed by the realization that +he had introduced the one topic which should never have been mentioned +between Persis and himself. Choking with mortification, turning deeply +crimson as all the blood in his body seemed rushing toward his brain, +he sat motionless, an unhappy martyr consumed in the fires of his own +sensitiveness. + +But something had given Persis a clew. She leaned forward, quite +forgetful of her recent shrinking. + +"Thomas, you remember what you told me about Annabel Sinclair the last +time you were here?" + +"Lord!" he panted, but her gaze held him mercilessly. "I'm not likely +to forget it." + +"What I want to know is this. How old was Annabel when--when you +kissed her?" + +Thomas drew out his handkerchief and mopped his damp forehead. + +"Why, I s'pose she was fifteen or sixteen. She wasn't as tall as +Diantha is, and I guess she was a few years younger." + +Persis did not reply. When he ventured to look in her direction, she +was regarding him with strange dilated eyes. + +"Thomas, you said she was Stanley Sinclair's wife." + +"Well, she is, isn't she? Why, you don't mean--" + +He interrupted himself, his look changing. "What kind of a man d'ye +think I am, Persis Dale?" he challenged her angrily. "If you've known +me all your life and think I'm the sort to be carrying on with other +men's wives--well, I guess I'd better be going." + +He got to his feet and then sank helplessly into a chair. He had never +seen Persis cry before. He had not realized that she could cry. Yet +without doubt those were tears upon her cheeks. + +But if crying, Persis was smiling, too. His heart fluttered, and +performed some extraordinary gymnastic feat, when she held out her hand. + +"Thomas, I was in the wrong, I'll own it. I never favored jumping at +conclusions and less than ever now. Maybe--maybe if I hadn't thought +so much of you, I'd have been slower to think evil." + +He did not trouble himself with the feminine lack of logic indicated in +her closing words. He had clasped her hand in both of his and was +holding it last, as if he never meant to let it go. + +"Persis--Persis, you weren't fair to me in that, but I don't lay any +claim to being all I'd ought to be. There's no end of things you'd +have to forgive. I don't know as I've ever told you about the time Ed +Collins and I--" + +A movement on the part of Persis' disengaged hand checked his +confession. + +"Thomas," she protested while she smiled, "if you own up to any more +things, I declare I believe I'll have to even up by telling you how old +I am. And that's one thing a woman don't like to mention, except, of +course, to her husband." + +Two days later Diantha Sinclair was married at eight o'clock in the +evening. The church was crowded. Wide-eyed girls took in every detail +and dreamed of acting the star rôle on a similar happy occasion. +Complacent matrons, in their Sunday best, exchanged voluble comments. +The wedding party was a trifle late, and the guests were all early +which gave opportunity for soul-satisfying gossip. + +"Ain't those flowers lovely! I never saw anything to beat 'em except +maybe, at Elder Larkins' funeral. They say Persis Dale went over to +the Lakeview florist's in that car of hers and brought back flowers +enough to fill a wash tub." + +"Mis' West looks real nice in that new black silk. There's nothing +like black for toning down a fat woman." + +"There's Eddie Ryan in a dress-suit. Wonder if it's his'n or just +borrowed. It hangs kind of baggy. Shouldn't wonder if his cousin up +to Boston let him take his." + +Annabel Sinclair's slight girlish figure was the center of interest +until the entrance of the bridal party. She must have guessed how the +tongues were wagging but her color did not fluctuate under the ordeal. +At last Annabel had come to the point of assisting nature. The carmine +had been applied with artistic restraint, and she had never looked +lovelier, but her happiness in her beauty had vanished. To retain the +admiration which was the breath in her nostrils, she must henceforth +resort to artifice, covering up and hiding what would sooner or later +be revealed in spite of her. She was not thinking of Diantha as she +sat looking straight before her but only of her own hard fate. + +"Annabel Sinclair might be the bride herself," remarked one kindly +matron on the other side of the church. "Beats all how she keeps her +looks." + +"Ain't that a handsome dress, though," sighed her companion. "She had +it made in the city. But Persis Dale made Diantha's dress, and +somebody who saw it, told me it was the handsomest thing she ever +clapped her eyes on. Persis Dale sets everything by that girl." + +If the occupants of the pews enjoyed the long wait, not so Thad West. +Pale and perspiring, he looked more like a patient about to be conveyed +to an operating table, than a bridegroom on the threshold of his +happiness. + +"What do you s'pose is wrong, Scotty?" He clutched the arm of the +friend selected to stand by him in this ordeal. "It's way past time." + +"Oh, well, girls are always late," returned Scotty with soothing +intent. Thad thought wrathfully that it was all very well for him to +take that tone. He wasn't going to be married, hang it. + +"Ring all right, Scotty?" + +"Sure thing." But in spite of the prompt assurance the best man's hand +went to his waistcoat pocket and fumbled a long nervous minute while +the perspiration trickled down Thad's spine. And then young Scott felt +in the other pocket and breathed a sigh of relief. "Here 'tis." + +"You want to keep better track of your dates than that," exclaimed Thad +angrily. "You'll queer everything if you go feeling around in all your +pockets when he's ready for the ring." His voice took on a tone of +appeal. "Haven't you got an extra handkerchief, Scotty? If I keep on +at this rate, my collar--" + +"You just keep quiet and I'll mop you up a bit," returned the obliging +Scotty, but his friendly ministrations were interrupted by a +blood-curdling whisper from the bridegroom. + +"_My God, here they come._" + +There was no doubt about it. The little organ was wheezing out the +wedding march as if it meant to be equal to the occasion if this proved +its swan-song. The ushers were advancing up the aisle two by two. +With drooping heads and measured steps, the bridesmaids followed, and +then came Diantha on her father's arm. The little flutter that went +over the waiting assembly was chiefly an involuntary tribute to her +girlish grace and beauty, though the dress, too, came in for its share. + +"Might have been bought in Paris for all anybody could tell," was the +assurance passed from lip to lip. Clematis was proud of that wedding +dress. + +Stanley Sinclair, very straight and handsome as he moved up the aisle, +looked down on the bright head near his shoulder and remembered that +other girl who twenty years before had come up the church aisle to meet +him at the altar. He had learned long before to sneer at his own lost +illusions, but singularly enough, never until this moment had it +occurred to him to wonder what her dreams might have been that far-away +June day. To his discomfiture the query brought a pang, and he had +thought himself beyond such weakness. The petrified heart has a +certain advantage over that of flesh, though possibly the ache which +proves it human is a ground for felicitation. + +Ten minutes later Thad was wondering what he had been afraid of. Why, +it was nothing. He could hardly believe that a matter so momentous +could be disposed of in so few minutes. And yet it was true, and +Diantha's little hand was in his, to have and to hold till death did +them part. + +Diantha's composure throughout the ceremony had suggested that being +married was an every-day matter to a person of her wide experience. +Her poise and self-possession were the occasion of wondering comment +among the many who were hardly able to realize even now that she had +really grown up. It was not till the reception, when Persis with +Thomas following bashfully in her wake came up lo proffer her good +wishes, that Diantha relapsed into youthfulness. She flung her arms +about her old friend's neck and kissed her tumultuously. + +"Darling Miss Persis, how perfectly lovely you look! Did you get that +beautiful dress just for my wedding?" + +The composition of Persis' reply apparently took a little time. She +did not speak for a minute. + +"Yes, I made it for your wedding," she returned at length. "But I used +it for my own, too. Thomas and I slipped over to the minister's after +supper and got married. So we'll both wish each other joy, my dearie." + +It was a shock of course, but Clematis was getting used to that where +Persis was concerned. And Mrs. Hornblower voiced the feeling of more +than herself when she commented on the affair at the next meeting of +the Woman's Club. Persis was not present. She and Thomas had gone on +a wedding trip to the seashore, and taken all the children. + +"It's a kind of back-handed way of getting a family," said Mrs. +Hornblower. "Picking up one child here and another there, and then +winding up with a husband. But I must say it'll take a load off my +mind to see a man at the head of Persis Dale's pew." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +FAIR PLAY + +The late October sunshine poured its prodigal gold into the little room +of which Annabel Sinclair was the sole occupant, and as its single door +and window were both closed, the resulting temperature was suggestive +of mid-July. The room itself was plain and bare. The cottage Thad +West had purchased the year following his marriage was needlessly +spacious for the immediate requirements of the two young people and for +that reason, several of the rooms had been left unfurnished or nearly +so, until time should justify Thad's foresight. As a rule Annabel had +a feline instinct for comfort, selecting the easiest chair and the +pleasantest outlook almost unconsciously. To-day her discomfort and +the convent-like austerity of her surroundings failed to impress her. +She was hardly aware of them. + +She was not in her daughter's home of her own volition that October +morning. She had yielded as the most self-willed must on occasion to +the assumption of her little world that this was the place where she +would wish to be. But the first glimpse of Diantha had convinced her +that her shrinking recoil had been well-grounded. Diantha, deadly pale +and yet with little flickering, unsteady smiles, Diantha, quiet and +self-possessed, with nothing but those white cheeks to show how flesh +and spirit shrank from the approaching ordeal, was terrifyingly a +stranger. But that she was a woman there could be no doubt. And this +woman, soon to be a mother, was her child. + +The little, bare, remote room seemed a refuge. Annabel closed the door +and would have locked it, but the key was missing. She sank into the +single chair, her face storm-swept, transformed by her emotion almost +beyond recognition. The natural assumption would have been that she +was enduring vicariously the suffering of her daughter, bearing for the +second time the pangs that had given Diantha life. As a matter of +fact, Diantha's pain and peril were remote from her mood. Her mind had +room for one thought: "Hast thou found me, O mine enemy!" + +As she stared before her, hand gripping hand, her bloodless lips moving +inarticulately, she saw the monstrous folly of her self-deception. She +had played at youth, listened to the love-making of undeveloped boys +whose mother she might have been, and made herself believe that she +could cheat Time. And Time, too, had had his fun. For the moment it +almost seemed to her that her girlish prettiness had been his merciless +concession to add to the spirit of the game, as a cat lets a mouse run +with a sense of recovered freedom, only to pounce again. + +And now she was to be a grandmother. She made a futile effort to face +the thought, to adjust her idea of herself to so astounding a +development. But it was like the effort to imagine herself belonging +to another race, Ethiopian or Oriental. It was unthinkable. She had a +clearly defined conception of grandmothers, persons with a generous +waist-line and white hair. Undoubtedly they were useful people in +their way, and worthy of regard. But she found it impossible to +realize that she herself might belong to their number. + +As if recalling some experience far distant, she fell to reviewing the +events of the previous evening. Her caller had been a young fellow +with a carefully nurtured and on the whole a promising mustache and +with a lurid taste in socks. She had enjoyed the call. The boy's +crude efforts at veiled sentiment, his languishing glances had been +incense to her vanity. But to-morrow! "How is your little grandchild, +Mrs. Sinclair?" he would say. Or no! He would not say it. He would +not come again. He must realize, as she was doing, the absurdity of +their acquaintance. He would laugh at the old woman who had painted +her cheeks that she might look a girl and had let him kiss her hand as +though granting a priceless favor. Annabel moaned faintly as she +writhed. Every one would laugh. Every one must have been laughing for +years over her silly pretenses. + +She did not know how long a time had elapsed before heavy footsteps +creaked down the hall. She shuddered and her body stiffened. The +knock was twice repeated before she could utter an audible, "Come in." + +Mrs. West pushed the door ajar and started violently as her eyes fell +on Annabel. As not infrequently happens with women who preserve an +unnaturally youthful appearance, under the stress of deep emotion, +Annabel had aged years in an hour. It was a moment before Mrs. West +could recover herself. + +"I've made us a cup of tea, Mis' Sinclair, and set out a light lunch. +We'll both feel better for a bite." + +Annabel shook her head. "I don't want--anything." It took an effort +to stifle a frenzied appeal to be left to herself. + +This was far from Mrs. West's thoughts. She creaked into the little +room, her ample proportions making it seem more cramped and small than +ever, and patted Annabel's shoulder. + +"Oh, come now, Mis' Sinclair, I know just how you feel."--Never was +boast vainer.--"But Diantha's going to come through this all right. +She's young and she's strong. The doctor says she's got everything in +her favor." + +Annabel's answer was a vague uncomprehending stare. Then she began to +understand. Mrs. West supposed her consumed with anxiety for her +daughter's safety, whereas the possibility that Diantha might die had +hardly occurred to her. She found herself wondering if she were unlike +all other women, an abnormality in her selfishness. In the larger +matters Annabel had remained contemptuously indifferent to the opinion +of her sex, though she would have found their criticism of her personal +appearance disquieting. But now she was conscious of an unaccustomed +sense of relief that Mrs. West could not read her thoughts. + +"I don't want--anything," she repeated mechanically, and Thad's mother +departed with obvious reluctance. In five minutes she was back with a +cup of tea which Annabel swallowed in hopes of thus purchasing immunity +from further kindly attentions. And Mrs. West, bearing away the empty +tea-cup, carried too, a better opinion of Annabel Sinclair than she +would have believed possible. + +"I never thought she cared anything much for Diantha," she told Persis +who had dropped in several times during the day to see how matters were +progressing. "But I must say, I did her an injustice. She's been +pretty nearly crazy all day. She looks like a ghost." + +"Well, she's Diantha's mother when all's said and done," Persis +responded. Happiness makes for tolerance. With all her charity for +the wrong-doer, Persis had made an exception of Annabel Sinclair. But +now the years of fatness, following instead of preceding the lean +years, the overflowing fulness of her heart and life had taught her new +indulgence. She was capable of believing that there was good in the +woman. + +The afternoon dragged cruelly. Now and then some faint sound reached +Annabel, vaguely suggestive of the battle which must be waged for every +new existence, and each time the sagging body of the woman stiffened, +and her breath grew hurried. Once Thad passed her window, his young +face set and white, and his eyes reddened as if from weeping. Annabel +shrank away fearful that his glance might fall on her, but the fixed +eyes of the young husband saw only his wife's girlish face as he had +seen it last, colorless, quivering, undaunted. + +It was not far from four o'clock when the sound of hurrying feet +quickened Annabel's lagging pulses. A door shut quickly and then +another. Some one was hurrying down the hall; some one who brought +news. Annabel found herself on her feet. And then, instinctively she +caught at the back of her chair to support herself, for the floor was +undulating and the sunny room had grown dark. + +Out of the shapeless blur in which her surroundings blended, a face +took shape, the face of Mrs. West, wet with tears and radiant with +smiles. It was she who had sped so lightly down the long hall as if +joy had given wings to her feet. + +"It's a boy!" She laughed out the three exultant words and hurried +back to some interrupted task. Annabel continued to stand. When at +length she released her grip of the chair, her fingers were numb and +stiff. The thought crossed her mind that now she was at liberty to go +home, since her grandson had come into the world, but the effort seemed +beyond her strength. She sank into the chair again, half closing her +eyes. The poignant pain of the past hours had changed to an +overwhelming listlessness. She was too tired to think any longer, too +tired even to suffer. + +A brisk knock at the door roused her from her apathy sufficiently for a +resentful wish that they would leave her to herself. Then the door +opened and Persis entered. Her face wore the look that had impressed +Annabel on the face of Mrs. West, that look of supreme satisfaction, +blended with a curious, vicarious pride, and with it all, something +that told of tears held back. Annabel's eyes went from that radiant +look to the shawl-draped bundle in Persis' arms. She put out her hand +as if to ward off a danger. + +Persis halted, gazing in consternation at the wreck of Annabel. In +that shallow face the record of mental anguish was so unmistakable that +the other woman felt a pang of self-reproach. + +"Here I've been leaving this poor little bundle of nerves to fight this +thing through all alone. I'd ought to have known she'd be scaring +herself into a conniption." As a reaction from the severity with which +she dealt with her own thoughtlessness, Persis' voice, in addressing +Annabel was as tender and caressing as if she strove to soothe a +troubled child. + +"Well, Mis' Sinclair, your worry's over. Diantha came through this +fine, and before we know it, she'll be up and about and as lively as a +cricket. But it's been a hard day for you same as for the rest of us. +The Lord asks a good deal of women, to help Him keep this old world +a-going, but He's got His own way of making it up to 'em." + +As if to give point to her words, Persis' eyes dropped to the bundle in +her arms. She came a step nearer. + +"I s'pose, of course, you're glad it's a boy. I don't know why it is, +but you just can't help feeling tickled when the first baby's a boy. +Nine pounds, too. That's a grandson to be proud of." + +"Don't! Don't! I don't want to see it." + +Annabel's cry was involuntary, wrung from her by the realization of +Persis' purpose. And Persis who had lifted the shawl that concealed +the little face, let it fall again and stood staring. + +"You don't want--to see the baby?" + +The revulsion indicated by Annabel's attitude was a sufficient answer. +Persis crossed to the cot-bed and sat down. If there was a person on +earth she cordially detested, it was Annabel Sinclair, yet the +conviction that this poor counterfeit of a woman was in need of +strength and sympathy was sufficient to thrust that old dislike into +the background. + +"I guess to-day's been pretty trying to your nerves, Mis' Sinclair. +But you'll feel better if you take a look at this nice boy. I've seen +a good many of 'em first and last, and I told Diantha I'd never set +eyes on a finer baby." + +A curious distortion of Annabel's face broke off Persis' eulogy. "Are +you feeling sick, Mis' Sinclair?" she asked in real alarm, thinking +that she would never have given Annabel credit for this excess of +material solicitude. + +"Sick? Yes, I'm sick of everything. I'm glad that child's a boy. +Those people that drown the girl babies like kittens, are in the right +of it. No woman ought to live beyond thirty." + +"Some of us," remarked Persis, recovering herself with difficulty, +"would have missed a good deal at that rate." But her lips curled +slightly. She was beginning to understand and to acquit herself of +past injustice. + +Annabel had reached a point where speech was a necessity. For years, +she had returned Persis' dislike with the added venom of a small +nature. But at this moment, when an outpouring of confidence seemed +essential, she knew there was no one to whom she could speak so freely +as to this woman she had hated. + +"Life's cruel, cruel! It promises us women everything. And then it +cheats us and tricks us and takes away all that it gave, one thing +after another. It's like bleeding to death, losing your beauty little +by little, fighting your hardest and knowing you've got to be beaten in +the end. When I was a child in bed I used to think I heard footsteps +coming along the hall, slow and stealthy, and I'd lie there trembling +and quaking, afraid to open my eyes. That's the way I've been +listening to old age, creeping on me--for the last ten years." + +"And if only you'd got your courage up to opening your eyes when you +were a little, trembly thing, scared of those footsteps, like enough +all you'd have seen beside your bed was your mother smiling down on +you." + +Annabel looked at the speaker without replying. Her look offered +little encouragement for Persis to continue, but she needed no such +incentive. + +"You talk about life's being cruel. Why, you poor little soul, you +don't know what life's like. You've never given it a chance. You +haven't played fair." + +For years Persis had acknowledged to a desire to give Annabel Sinclair +"a good talking to." On various occasions she had uttered truths that +had cut like knives. She had the same truths to utter now but the +spirit had altered. + +"I guess every girl that was ever born liked to have men courting her +and ready to fight one another for a kind word from her. That's +nature. But it ain't nature to have it last, Mis' Sinclair. And +that's where you made your mistake. You wanted to keep right on +pretending it was May after it got along to August or so." + +Something she saw in the poor harassed face caused her to change her +position slightly, so that she could pat the listless hand of Diantha's +mother while she spoke. + +"Life ain't cruel, you poor soul! It comes along with both hands full. +It says to the little girl, 'Come, drop that doll-baby, I've got +something better than that. Here's a lover for you.' And then it says +to the girl that's picking and choosing among her beaux, 'Drop that +flirting, I've got something better for you. Here's a husband and a +home!' And so it goes. Instead of getting poorer all the time, we're +getting richer." + +She looked at Annabel tentatively. She was not altogether sure that +her eloquence was having effect. But as Annabel sat in an attitude of +expectancy, her face turned toward her monitor, though her eyes were +downcast, Persis tried again. + +"I don't say Thomas and I haven't missed a lot, I'm not belittling +youth and its love and its hopes. But I do say that I wouldn't change +this last year of my life for any that might have been. Why, when I +wake up in the morning, my head's full of the children, thinking of 'em +and planning for 'em and sometimes worrying about 'em. It needs a +little tart taste, sometimes, to bring out the sweet. Thomas and I +have spent hours, trying to decide whether we'll make a doctor out of +Algie, or a civil engineer, and we know both of us, that when the time +comes, he'll take the bit in his teeth and do as he likes. Only it's +such fun planning it out. When I look back five years or ten, or +twenty, for that matter, and see how my life has filled up and widened +out, I feel real sorry for that little, young, silly Persis Dale who +thought she was so happy and knew so little about it. If life takes +with one hand, Mis' Sinclair, it gives with two, only you'll never find +it out as long as you grip tight to what you've got." + +She looked down on the bundle in her arms, and again her face was +irradiated by a vivid tenderness, almost as if she had been mother of +the child. + +"Now, here's a case in point, Annabel Sinclair. Right here in my arms +is a little lump of joy that ought to fill up your cup of happiness so +full that it would spill over. Seems to me if this little mite +belonged to me, if I knew my blood was in his veins, this town wouldn't +be big enough to hold me. I love my five, dear knows, but there's a +hurt in thinking that I'm never going to see the Dale stubbornness +cropping out or any of the Hardin ways. But you haven't got that +little nagging hurt to take off your joy, like a pinch in a pair of new +shoes. It's all along of you that this boy's here." + +As if dominated by the stronger will, Annabel's eyes turned toward the +bundle. And inwardly praying that this was the moment for her _coup +d'état_, Persis started to her feet. + +"I b'lieve that's Thad calling. 'Fraid like as not, that I'm going to +kidnap his son and heir. You hold the baby, Mis' Sinclair, till I see +what's wanted." + +She had tucked the baby into the curve of his grandmother's arm before +Annabel could protest, and she left the room without looking back. +Annabel, breathing fast, stared down into the little red face against +her shoulder. Such a queer little face, wrinkled with the ponderous +wisdom of the world it had so lately quitted, placid through ignorance +of the new life into which it had entered. She could not turn away her +eyes. And this being, newer than the morning paper and yet ancient as +man, was flesh of her flesh. + +The little, tightly clenched fists attracted her as irresistibly as the +face. She surprised herself by poking one tentatively, and when the +fingers opened and closed about hers, her lips parted as if to cry out. +She had not dreamed that there could be such tenacity in those wee +fingers. It was uncanny to be thus gripped by a creature so intensely +new. And Persis had said that this was one of Heaven's good gifts, a +joy that might brim life's cup over. + +The door opened and she raised her eyes. Her husband stood there, +gravely intent. She had never looked less beautiful than in her pale +disorder, but the pathos of her drooping figure and bewildered face +touched him strangely. Or perhaps it was the child in her arms. + +"It's holding to my finger, Stanley! See!" Annabel's features twisted +in a strange distorted smile. "Our little grandchild." + +He moved nearer. For all his efforts, he found it impossible to make +his voice altogether matter-of-fact. + +"You've had a hard day, I'm sure. You'd better speak to Diantha and +then let me take you home." + +She rose to her feet unsteadily, holding the child with the peculiar +awkwardness of the woman in whom the maternal instinct is lacking. But +as she passed on before him, her husband saw that the tiny hand still +curled tendril-like about her finger. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OTHER PEOPLE'S BUSINESS*** + + +******* This file should be named 23157-8.txt or 23157-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/3/1/5/23157 + + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/23157-8.zip b/23157-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b3834c0 --- /dev/null +++ b/23157-8.zip diff --git a/23157.txt b/23157.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..30346fd --- /dev/null +++ b/23157.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8844 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Other People's Business, by Harriet L. Smith + + +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: Other People's Business + The Romantic Career of the Practical Miss Dale + + +Author: Harriet L. Smith + + + +Release Date: October 23, 2007 [eBook #23157] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OTHER PEOPLE'S BUSINESS*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +OTHER PEOPLE'S BUSINESS + +The Romantic Career of the Practical Miss Dale + +by + +HARRIET LUMMIS SMITH + + + + + + + +Indianapolis +The Bobbs-Merrill Company +Publishers + +Copyright 1916 +The Bobbs-Merrill Company + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + I INTRODUCING PERSIS + II THE LOVER + III A FITTING + IV THE WOMAN'S CLUB + V DIANTHA GROWS UP + VI THE NEW ARRIVAL + VII A CONFIDENTIAL CHAT + VIII EVE AND THE APPLE + IX A DAY TO HERSELF + X SHOULD AULD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT + XI TWIXT THE CUP AND THE LIP + XII A CONFESSION TOO MANY + XIII THE MAIL BAG + XIV AN ACQUISITION + XV A WOMAN AT LAST + XVI WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO TREAD + XVII ENID + XVIII A STALLED ENGINE + XIX A DEFERRED INTERMENT + XX CHECKMATE + XXI DE PROFUNDIS + XXII EAVESDROPPING + XXIII WEDDING BELLS + XXIV FAIR PLAY + + + + +OTHER PEOPLE'S BUSINESS + + +CHAPTER I + +INTRODUCING PERSIS + +The knocking at the side door and the thumping overhead blended in a +travesty on the anvil chorus, the staccato tapping of somebody's +knuckles rising flute-like above the hammering of Joel's cane. TO some +temperaments the double summons would have proved confusing, but Persis +Dale dropped her sewing and moved briskly to the door, addressing the +ceiling as she went. "'Twon't hurt you to wait." + +The stout woman on the steps entered heavily and fell into a chair that +creaked an inarticulate protest. Persis' quick ear caught the signal +of distress. + +"Mis' West, you'd be more comf'table in the armchair. I fight shy of +it because it's too comf'table. If I set back into the hollow, it's +because my work's done for the day. And here's a palm-leaf. You look +as hot as mustard-plaster." + +Having thus tactfully interfered for the preservation of her property, +Persis cast a swiftly appraising glance at the chair her caller had +vacated. "Front rung sprung just as I expected," was her unspoken +comment. "It's a wonder that Etta West don't use more discretion about +furniture." + +Mrs. West dabbed her moist forehead with her handkerchief, flopped the +palm-leaf indeterminately and cast an alarmed glance heavenward. +"Gracious, Persis, first thing you know, he'll be coming through." + +"'Twon't hurt him to wait," Persis said again, as if long testing had +proved the reliability of the formula. "He called me up-stairs fifteen +minutes ago," she added, "to have me get down the 'cyclopedia and find +out when Confucius was born." + +"I want to know," murmured Mrs. West, visibly impressed. "He's +certainly got an active mind." + +"He has," Persis agreed dryly. "And it's the sort of mind that makes +lots of activity for other folks' hands and feet. Does that noise +worry you, Mis' West? For if it does, I'll run up and quiet him before +we get down to business." + +Mrs. West approved the suggestion. "I brought my black serge," she +explained, "to have you see if it'll pay for a regular making-over--new +lining and all--or whether I'd better freshen it up and get all the +wear I can out of it, just as 'tis. But I declare! With all that +noise over my head, I wouldn't know a Dutch neck from a placket-hole. +I don't see how you stand it, Persis, day in and day out." + +"There's lots in getting used to things," Persis explained, and left +the room with the buoyant step of a girl. She looked every one of her +six and thirty years, but her movements still retained the ardent +lightness of youth. Beaten people drag through life. Only the +unconquered move as Persis moved, as though shod with wings. + +The anvil chorus ceased abruptly when Persis opened the door of her +brother's room. She entered with caution for the darkness seemed +impenetrable, after the sunny brightness of the spring afternoon. Joel +Dale's latest contribution to hygienic science was the discovery that +sunshine was poison to his constitution. Not only were the shutters +closed, and the shades drawn, but a patch-work bed-quilt had been +tacked over the window that no obtrusive ray of light should work havoc +with his health. Joel's voice was hoarsely tragic as he called to his +sister to shut the door. + +"I'm going to as soon as I can find my way to the knob. It's so +pitch-dark in here that I'm as blind as an owl till I get used to it." + +"Maybe 'twould help your eye-sight if you was the one getting +poisoned," Joel returned sarcastically in the querulous tones of the +confirmed invalid. "I've 'suffered the pangs of three several deaths,' +as Shakespeare says, because you left the door part way open the last +time you went to the 'cyclopedia." For twenty years Joel had been an +omnivorous reader, and his speech bristled with quotations gathered +from his favorite volumes, and generally tagged with the author's name. +The quotations were not always apt, but they helped to confirm the +village of Clematis in the conviction that Joel Dale was an +intellectual man. + +By the time Persis had groped her way to the bed, she was sufficiently +accustomed to the dim light to be able to distinguish her brother's +restless eyes gleaming feverishly in the pallid blur of his face. +"What do you want now, Joel?" she asked, with the mechanical gentleness +of overtaxed patience. + +"Persis, there's a text o' Scripture that's weighing on my mind. I +can't exactly place it, and I've got to know the context before I can +figure out its meaning. 'Be not righteous over-much, neither make +thyself over-wise. Why shouldst thou destroy thyself?' That's the way +it runs, as near as I can remember. Now if righteousness is a good +thing and wisdom too, why on earth--" + +"Goodness, Joel! I don't believe that's anywhere in the Bible. Sounds +more like one of those old heathens you're so fond of reading. And +anyway," continued Persis firmly, frustrating her brother's evident +intention to argue the point. "I can't look it up now. Mis' West's +down-stairs." + +"Come to discuss the weighty question o' clothes, I s'pose. 'Bonnets +and ornaments of the legs, wimples and mantles and stomachers,' as the +prophet says. And that's of more importance than to satisfy the +cravings of a troubled mind. If the world was given up to the tender +mercies o' women, there'd be no more inventions except some new kind of +crimping pin, and nothing would be written but fashion notes." + +"I'll have to go now, Joel." Persis Dale, having supported her +brother from the time she was a girl of seventeen, had enjoyed ample +opportunity to become familiar with his opinion of her sex. As the +manly qualities had declined in Joel, his masculine arrogance had waxed +strong. The sex instinct had become concentrated in a sense of +superiority so overwhelming that the woman was not born whom Joel would +not have regarded as a creature of inferior parts, to be patronized or +snubbed, as the merits of the case demanded. + +"Do you want a drink of water?" Persis asked, running through the +familiar formula. "Shall I get you a fan, or smooth out the sheets? +Then I guess I'll go down, Joel. I wouldn't pound any more for a +while, if I was you. 'Twon't do any good." + +The sound of voices greeted her, as she descended the stairs, Mrs. +West's asthmatic tones blending with the flutey treble of a young girl. +"It's Diantha," thought Persis, her lips tightening. "I might have +known that Annabel Sinclair would send for that waist two days before +it was promised." + +The young girl sitting opposite Mrs. West was perched lightly on the +edge of her chair like a bird on the point of flight, and the skirt of +her blue cotton frock was drawn down as far as possible over a +disconcerting length of black stocking. Her fair hair was worn in +curls which fell about her shoulders. Fresh coloring and regularity of +feature gave her a beauty partially discounted by an expression of +resentful defiance, singularly at variance with her general rosebud +effect. + +"Mother sent me to see if her waist was ready, Miss Persis." Diantha +spoke like a child repeating a lesson it has been kept after school to +learn. + +"It won't be done till Saturday, Diantha. I told your mother Saturday +when she sent the goods over." + +The girl rose nimbly, the movement revealing unexpected height and +extreme slenderness, both qualities accentuated by her very juvenile +attire. She made a bird-like dart in the direction of the door, then +turned. + +"Mother said I was to coax you into finishing it for to-morrow," she +announced, a light mockery rasping under the melody of her voice. "I +know it won't do any good, but I've got to be obedient. Please +consider yourself coaxed." + +"No, it won't do any good, Diantha. The waist'll be ready about two +o'clock on Saturday." Persis stood watching the girl's retreating +figure, and the serenity of her face was for the moment clouded. + +"Diantha Sinclair reminds me of a Lombardy poplar," remarked Mrs. West. +"Nothing but spindle till you're most to the top. It does seem fairly +immoral, such a show o' stockings." + +"Annabel Sinclair seems to think she can stop that girl's growing up by +keeping her skirts to her knees," returned Persis grimly. "A young +lady daughter would be a dreadful inconvenience to Annabel." Then the +momentary sternness of her expression was lost in sympathetic +comprehension as Mrs. West bowed her head and sprinkled the black serge +with her tears. + +"There, there, Mis' West. Cry if you feel like it. Crying's the best +medicine when there's no men folks around to keep asking what the +matter is. Just let yourself go, and don't mind me." + +"Of course you know," exclaimed Mrs. West, her fat shoulders heaving as +she took full advantage of the permission. "Everybody knows. +Everybody's talking about it. To think that a son of mine would stoop +to steal a wife's affection away from her lawful husband." + +"Don't make things out any worse than they are, Mis' West. Your Thad +can't steal what never was. And Annabel Sinclair never had any +affection to give her husband nor nobody else." + +Mrs. West's distress was too acute to permit her to find comfort in a +distinction purely technical. "Thad always was such a good boy, +Persis, but now I'm prepared for anything. I think she's capable of +working him up to the point of running away with her." + +Again Persis proffered consolation. "I don't think so. Annabel +Sinclair's what I call a feeble sinner. She reminds me of Joel when he +was a little boy. He'd go down to the river, along in April when the +water was ice-cold, and he'd get off his clothes and stand on the bank +shivering. After his teeth had chattered an hour or so, mother'd come +to look him up and Joel would get into his trousers and go home meek as +a lamb. Well, Annabel's the same way. She likes to shiver on the bank +and think what a splash she'll make when she goes in, but she hasn't +got the courage to risk a wetting, let alone drowning." + +Mrs. West, blinking through her tears, looked hard at her friend. +"Seems to me you're talking awful peculiar, Persis. 'Most as if you'd +respect Annabel more if she was wickeder." + +"Maybe I would," acknowledged Persis bluntly. "Seems to me it's almost +better to have folks in earnest, if it's only about their sins. +Annabel Sinclair turns everything into play-acting, good and bad alike." + +"I don't know why Thad can't see through her," cried the distracted +mother, voicing an age-old wonder. "I used to think he was as smart as +chain-lightning, but I've changed my mind. Any man that'll let Annabel +Sinclair lead him around by the nose hasn't got any more than just +sense enough to keep him out of an asylum for the feeble-minded, if he +_is_ my son." + +"That's where all of 'em belong when it comes to a woman like Annabel," +said Persis with unwonted pessimism. "And Thad's just young enough to +be proud of having that sort of acquaintance with a married woman. Men +are queer cattle, Mis' West. The worst woman living likes to pretend +to herself that she's as good as anybody, but a man who's been decent +from the cradle up, gets lots of comfort out of thinking he's a regular +devil. At the same time," she conceded, with a change of tone, "the +thing ought to be stopped." + +"Of course it had. But how are we going to do it? I've talked to Thad +and talked to him, and so has his father. If I thought the minister +would have any influence--" + +"You just let Thad alone for a spell," Persis commanded with her usual +decision. "And you leave this thing to me. I'll try to think a way +out." + +This astonishing offer was made in a matter-of-fact tone, significant +in itself. Persis Dale earned her living as a dressmaker and pieced +out her income by acting as a nurse in the dull seasons, but her real +occupation in life was attending to other people's business. She had a +divine meddlesomeness. She was inquisitive after the fashion of a +sympathetic arch-angel. It appalled her to see people wrecking their +lives by indecision, vacillation, incapacity, by poor judgment and +crass stupidity. Her homely wisdom, the fruit of observant years, her +native common sense, her strength and discernment were all at the +service of the first comer. Responsibility, the bugbear of mankind, +was as the breath in her nostrils. + +"I wouldn't do any more talking to Thad," Persis repeated, as Mrs. West +looked at her with the instant confidence of inefficiency in one who +indicates a readiness to take the helm. "Don't make him feel that he's +so awfully important just because he's making a fool of himself. Most +boys attract more attention the first time they kick over the traces +than they ever did in all their lives before. 'Tisn't any wonder to me +that the elder brother gets a little cranky when he sees the fuss made +over the prodigal, first because he's gone wrong and then because he's +going right, same as decent folks have been doing all the time." + +"What do you mean to do, Persis?" Mrs. West's tone indicated that by +some mysterious legerdemain the burden had been shifted. It was now +Persis' problem. + +"That'll bear thinking about," Persis returned with no sign of +resenting her friend's assumption. "And while I'm turning it over in +my mind, let Thad alone, and don't wear yourself out worrying." The +injunction probably had a figurative import though Mrs. West +interpreted it literally. + +"Wear myself _out_. I can't so much as wear _off_ a pound. I've been +too upset to eat or sleep for the last two months, and I've been +gaining right along. Most folks can reduce by going without breakfast, +but seems as if it don't make any difference with me whether I touch +victuals or not." + +She was rising ponderously when Persis checked her. "Your serge, Mis' +West. We were going to see if 'twas worth making over." + +"It's time to get supper, Persis, and there ain't a mite of hurry about +that serge. Truth is," explained Mrs. West, lowering her voice to a +confidential murmur, "'twasn't altogether the dress that brought me +over. I sort of hankered for a talk with you. There never was such a +hand as you be, Persis, to hearten a body up." + +Persis found no time that evening for grappling with the problem for +which she had voluntarily made herself responsible. The preparation of +Joel's supper was a task demanding time and prayerful consideration, +for as is the case with most chronic invalids, his fastidiousness +concerning his food approached the proportions of a mania. Her efforts +to gratify her brother's insatiable curiosity on points of history and +literature, had put her several hours behind with her sewing, and as +she owned to a most unprofessional pride in keeping her word to the +letter, midnight found her still at work. A few minutes later she +folded away the finished garment and picked from the rag carpet the +usual litter of scraps and basting threads, after which she was at +liberty to attend to that mysterious rite known to the housekeeper as +"shutting up for the night," a rite never to be omitted even in the +village of Clematis where a locked door is held to indicate that +somebody is putting on airs. + +Candle in hand, Persis paused before a photograph, framed in blue plush +and occupying a prominent position on the mantel. "Good night, +Justin," she said in as matter-of-fact a tone as if she were exchanging +farewells with some chance caller. As the candle flickered, a wave of +expression seemed to cross the face in the plush frame, almost as if it +had smiled. + +It was a pleasant young face with a good forehead and frank eyes. The +indeterminate sweetness of the mouth and chin hinted that this was a +man in the making, his strength to be wrought out, his weakness to be +mastered. Like the blue plush the photograph was faded, as were alas, +the roses in Persis' cheeks. It was twenty years since they had kissed +each other good-by in that very room, boy and girl, sure of themselves +and of the future. Justin was going away to make a home for her, and +Persis would wait for him, if need be, till her hair was gray. + +He had been unfortunate from the start. Up in the garret, spicy with +the fragrance of dried herbs and of camphor, were his letters, locked +away in a small horse-hair trunk. Twice a year Persis opened the trunk +to dust the letters, and sometimes she drew out the contents of a +yellowing envelope and read a line here and there. These were the +letters over which she had wept long, long before,--blurred in places +by youth's hot tears, the letters she had carried on her heart. They +were full of the excuses in which failure is invariably fertile, +breathing from every page the fatal certainty that luck would soon turn. + +The letters became infrequent after old Mr. Ware's "stroke." Persis +understood. For them there could be no thought of marrying nor giving +in marriage while the old man lay helpless. All that Justin could +spare from his scant earnings, little enough, she knew, must be sent +home. And meanwhile Joel having discovered in a three months' illness +his fitness to play the part of invalid, had apparently decided to make +the role permanent. Like many another, Persis had found in work and +responsibility, a mysterious solace for the incessant dull ache at her +heart. + +That was twenty years before. Persis Dale, climbing the stairs as +nimbly as if it were early morning and she herself just turned sixteen, +seemed a woman eminently practical. Yet in the changes of those twenty +years, though trouble had been a frequent guest under the sloping roof +of the old-fashioned house and death had entered more than once, there +had never been a time when Persis had gone to her bed without a good +night to the photograph in the blue plush frame, never a morning when +she had begun the day without looking into the eyes of her old lover. + +The most practical woman that ever made a button-hole or rolled a +pie-crust, despite a gray shimmer at her temples and a significant +tracery at the corners of her eyes, has a chamber in her heart marked +"private" where she keeps enshrined some tender memory. At the core, +every woman is a sentimentalist. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE LOVER + +Thomas Hardin, trudging through the dusk of the spring evening, his +shoulders stooping and his hands thrust deep into his pockets, wore an +expression better befitting an apprehensive criminal than an expectant +lover. As he approached the Dale cottage where the light of Persis' +lamp shone redly through the curtained window, his look of gloom +increased, and he gave vent to frequent and explosive sighs. + +The sense of unworthiness likely to overwhelm the best of men who seek +the love of a good woman, was in Thomas' case complicated by a morbidly +sensitive conscience and ruthless honesty. To Thomas, Persis Dale +represented all that was loveliest in womankind, but he would have +resigned unhesitatingly all hope of winning her rather than have gained +her promise under false pretenses. "I can stand getting the mitten if +it comes to that," Thomas assured himself with a fearful sinking of the +heart, which belied the boast. "But I can't stand the idea of taking +her in." When she knew him at his undisguised worst, it would be time +enough to consider taking him for a possible better. + +Unluckily for his peace of mind, confession was more intricate and +protracted than in his complacency he would have believed. It seemed +impossible to finish with it. Whenever he nerved himself to the point +of putting the question which had trembled on his lips for a dozen +years, dark episodes from his past flashed into his memory with the +disconcerting suddenness of a search-light, and further humiliating +disclosures were in order before he could direct his attention to the +business of love-making. Sometimes Thomas felt that his reputation for +uprightness was a proof of hypocrisy, and that his friends and +neighbors would shrink away aghast if they suspected a fraction of his +unsavory secrets. + +Persis was alone when Thomas entered. Not till the last lingering +tinge of gold had deserted the west, would Joel venture to leave the +room barricaded against the hostile element. But at any moment now he +might think it safe to risk himself down-stairs, and knowing this, +Thomas resolved to waste no time in preliminaries. + +"How's your sister and the children?" Persis asked, shaking hands and +returning to her sewing. She offered no excuse for continuing her +work, nor did Thomas wish it. There was a delicious suggestion of +domesticity in the sight of Persis sewing by the shaded lamp while he +sat near enough to have touched the busy fingers, had he but won the +right to such a privilege. + +"Nellie's well. Little Tom's eyes have been troubling him since he had +the measles, but the doctor thinks it's nothing serious. Look here, +Persis, I was wondering as I came along if you knew that I _chewed_." + +Persis' lids dropped just in time to hide a quizzical, humorous gleam +in her eyes. The rest of her face remained becomingly grave. "I may +have suspected it, Thomas." + +"It's a filthy habit," he said, inordinately relieved by her astuteness +and yet with wonder. + +She looked up from her work to explain. "It's this way, Thomas. +Sometimes when I go into the store I catch sight of you before you see +me, and maybe one of your cheeks will be all swollen up as if you had +the toothache. Then you slip into the back room, and come out in +quarter of a minute with both of 'em the same size. It's a woman's +way, Thomas, to put two and two together." + +Thomas' face was radiant. That weight was off his conscience. He had +a right to proceed to more agreeable disclosures, undeterred by the +fear of practising deception on the noblest of God's creatures. It +contributed to his joy that Persis had known of his weakness, and yet +had not crushed him with her contempt. She had not even expressed +agreement when he had called chewing tobacco a filthy habit. + +"Persis," he began in his deepest tones, "I was thinking as I came +along--" + +The stairs creaked and Persis interrupted him. "There's Joel. It +makes it hard for him when the days are getting longer all the time. +He'll be glad when we have to light the lamps at five." + +Thomas was in a mood to wish that the village of Clematis basked in the +rays of the midnight sun. He forced a smile to his reluctant lips as +Persis' brother entered and magnanimously put the question, "How do you +find yourself to-night, Joel?" though he knew only too well the +consequences to which this exposed him. There was no surer passport to +Joel's favor than to inquire about his health if one was also willing +to listen to his answer. The people who said, "How do you do?" and +immediately began to talk of something else were the objects of Joel's +detestation, while his grateful affection went out to the select few +willing to hear in detail his physical biography since their last +meeting. Joel experienced the same satisfaction in describing the +pains in his abdomen or an attack of palpitation that a bride feels in +exhibiting her trousseau. + +"I've nothing to complain of, especially when you take into account +that I'd have been six feet under the sod by now, if I hadn't +discovered that sunshine was poison to my constitution. It sort of +draws all the vitality out of me, same as it draws the oil out of goose +feathers. I'd have improved a good ideal faster," Joel continued with +sudden irritation, "if it hadn't been for Persis' carelessness in +leaving the door open. You'd think that I had a good big life +insurance in her favor, the way she acts. As the Frenchman said, +'Defend me from my friends, I can defend myself--'" + +"I've always understood that sunshine was about the healthiest of +anything," interrupted Thomas, reddening angrily at the criticism of +Persis. "And if you want my opinion, you look to me a good deal like a +plant that's sprouted in the cellar." + +The last thing Joel wanted was another's opinion. He continued as +though Thomas had not spoken. + +"And besides that, I've been eating too much meat. Science tells us +that the human body is pretty near all water. Don't that show that +most of the needs of the body can be supplied by drinking plenty of +water?" + +Thomas shook his head. "I'd hate to try it. When I'm hungry, I +wouldn't swap a good piece of beef-steak for a hogshead of water." + +"You eat too much meat." Joel, extending an almost transparent hand +toward his sister's caller, shook a bony forefinger in warning. +"You're undermining your constitution. You're shortening your days by +your inordinate use of animal food." + +"Me! Why, bless you, Joel, I never was sick a day in my life." + +"Well, that don't prove that you never will be, does it? And anybody +with half an eye can see that you're not in good shape. Flesh don't +show nothing. A man who weighs two hundred is the first to go under +when disease gets hold of him. Your color, as like as not, is due to +fever. How many times a day do you eat meat?" + +"Well, always twice, and sometimes--" + +Joel groaned. "Rank suicide! Suicide just as much as if you put a +revolver to your head. It sounds well to talk about prime cuts of beef +and all that, but when you come down to cold facts, what's meat? Dead +stuff, that's all. It ain't reasonable to talk of building up life out +of death." + +Persis' quick ear had caught the sound of stealthy movements in the +adjoining room. She wove her needle into the seam, a practise so +habitual that probably she would have done the same if the lamp had +exploded unexpectedly, and crossing to the kitchen door, opened it +without warning. A small untidy woman, the shortcoming of her +appearance partly concealed by the old plaid shawl that enveloped her +person, dodged away from the key-hole with a celerity perhaps due to +practise. + +"It just struck me that there was more voices than two," she explained +with self-accusing haste. "And I didn't want to intrude if you was +entertaining company. Sounded to me like Thomas Hardin's voice." + +"Yes, it's Mr. Hardin. Will you come in, Mis' Trotter?" Persis' +invitation lacked its usual ring of cordiality. + +"Oh, I wouldn't want to intrude. But I says to Bartholomew this very +day, 'I'm going to run over to Persis Dale's after supper,' says I, 'to +see if she can't let me have some pieces of white goods left over from +her dressmaking.' You're doing a good deal in white this time of the +year, as a rule," concluded Mrs. Trotter, a greedy look coming into her +eyes. + +"Mis' Trotter, I always send back the pieces, even if they're no bigger +than a handkerchief. If anybody's going to make carpet rags out of the +scraps, I don't know why it shouldn't be the people who bought and paid +for the goods." + +"And that's where you're right," Mrs. Trotter agreed, with the +adaptability that was one of her strong points. "There was Mattie +Kendall, now, who kept up her dressmaking after she married Henry +Beach. Well, she set out to dress her children on the left-overs, and +it went all right while they was little. But Mamie got grasping. +After her oldest girl was as long-legged as a colt, she'd send word to +her customers and say that they needed another yard and a half or two +yards to make their dresses in any kind of style. Of course it got out +in time, and everybody who wanted sewing done went to a woman in South +Rivers. I often say to Bartholomew that honesty's the best policy, +even where it looks the other way round." + +During the progress of this moral tale, Persis' thoughts had been +self-accusing. She reflected that curiosity is not among the seven +deadly sins, and that if Mrs. Trotter found in listening at key-holes +any compensation for the undeniable hardships of her lot, only a harsh +nature would grudge her such solace. Moreover ingrained in Persis' +disposition, was the inability to hold a grudge against one who asked +her a favor. + +"I don't know, Mis' Trotter, but maybe I've got some white pieces of my +own that aren't big enough for anything but baby clothes. I'll look +over my piece-bag to-morrow. If there's anything you can use, you'll +be welcome." + +Mrs. Trotter expressed her appreciation, "With all the sewing I done +when Benny was expected, I did think I was pretty well fixed, come what +might. I didn't reckon on the twins, you see. And then when little +Tom died, they laid him out in the embroidered dress I'd counted on for +the christening of the lot. Not that I grudged it to him," added the +mother quickly, and sighed. + +This had the effect of dissipating Persis' sense of annoyance. "I'm +pretty sure I can find you something, Mis' Trotter. And I'll speak to +one or two of my customers. Some of 'em may have things put away that +they're not likely to want again." + +Mrs. Trotter received the offer with a dignity untainted by servile +gratitude. + +"Me and Bartholomew feel that in raising up a family the size of ourn, +we're doing the community a service. So we ain't afraid to take a +little help when we happen to need it. And by the way, if you should +find some of the white pieces you was talking about, maybe you wouldn't +mind cutting out the little slips and just stitching 'em up on your +machine. The needle of mine's been broke this six months, and anyway, +something's the matter with the wheels. They won't hardly turn." + +"Need oil, probably," commented Persis. She knew she was wasting her +breath in making the suggestion. The shiftlessness which left the +sewing-machine useless junk in a family of eight was a Trotter +characteristic. If Bartholomew could have appreciated the value of +machine oil, he would have been an entirely different man, and probably +able to support his family. In view of this, Persis felt that she +could do no less than add: "To be sure I'll stitch 'em up. 'Twon't +take much of any time." + +"Now I'm not going to keep you a minute longer. I guess Thomas Hardin +don't come here to talk to your brother the whole evening." Mrs. +Trotter smiled pleasantly, but with a distinct tinge of patronage, the +inevitable superiority of the wedded wife to the woman who has carried +her maiden name well through the thirties. And indeed in Mrs. +Trotter's estimation, the hardships of her matrimonial experience were +trivial in comparison with the unspeakable calamity of being an old +maid. + +After Joel was once fairly launched on the subject of hygiene, it was +difficult, as a rule, to introduce another topic of conversation under +an hour and a quarter. Persis was almost startled, on her return, to +find the two men discussing an alien theme. More surprising still, +instead of sulking over the curtailment of the dear privilege of +self-dissection, Joel was plainly interested. + +"It's one of the games where you can't lose, if you take their word for +it," Thomas was explaining to his absorbed listener. "The company +begins to pay you int'rest on your investment just as soon as you hand +over the money, six per cent. every year up to the time the orchard +gets to bearing. Then it goes up little by little, and by the tenth +year they guarantee you twenty-five per cent. Even that doesn't cover +it. They say that orchard owners in the same locality are making as +much as a hundred per cent. most years. Anybody who could spare a few +thousand would be sure of a good income for the rest of his days." + +"But there's the off years," objected Joel, a crackle of greed in his +high-pitched voice. + +"There's not going to be any off years the way those fellows figure. +They say that by thinning out the apples when the yield is heavy, they +can be sure of a crop every season." Thomas' gaze wandered to Persis +who had resumed her seat and taken up her sewing. "We're talking of a +chance to put your money where it'll get more than savings bank +int'rest," he said, resolved that Joel should not monopolize every +topic of conversation. "The Apple of Eden Investment Company, they +call it." + +"I heard you say something about twenty-five per cent," returned +Persis, sewing placidly. "'Most _too_ good to please me." + +"Now if that ain't a woman all over," Joel interjected excitedly. "The +toe of a stocking is a good enough bank for any of 'em, and as for +using foresight and putting a little capital where it'll bring in an +income for your old age, you'd think to hear 'em talk, that such a +thing was never heard tell of. If I'd had the handling of the money +that's come into this house for the last twenty years, we'd have been +on Easy Street by now. But Persis has the kind of setness that doesn't +take no account of reason. And as the poet says: + + "'He is a fool who thinks by force or skill + To turn the current of a woman's will.'" + + +Thomas, purpling with resentment, addressed his next remark to Persis. +"I don't s'pose our folks would take so much stock in all these fine +promises if there wasn't a Clematis boy secretary of the company. I +guess you remember him, Persis. Ware, his name was. Justin Ware." + +"Yes, I remember him." An abrupt movement on Persis' part had +unthreaded her needle. She bent close to the lamp, vainly trying to +insert the unsteady end of the thread into the opening it had so lately +quitted. + +"I've been telling you right along you needed glasses," triumphed Joel. +"And to keep on saying that you don't, ain't going to help the matter. +'When age, old age comes creeping on,' as the poet says--" + +"I don't need glasses any more than you need a crutch." The denial +came out with a snap. Persis Dale, patient to the point of weakness, +enduring submissively for twenty years the thankless exactions of her +brother, proved herself wholesomely human by her prompt resentment. +"My eyes are as good as they ever were," she insisted, and closed the +discussion if she did not prove her point, by putting her work away. +Secretary of an investment company making such golden promises! That +looked as if at last fortune had smiled on Justin Ware. + +The two men had the talk to themselves. Persis' absorption was +penetrated now and then by references to the miracles wrought by +scientific spraying and pruning, or the possibility of heating orchards +so that late frosts would no longer have terrors for the fruit grower, +sober facts which the literature of the Apple of Eden Investment +Company had enveloped in the rosy atmosphere of romance. Like many +people who have never made money by hard work, Joel believed profoundly +in making it by magic. His pallid face flushed feverishly, and his +eyes glittered as he discussed the possibility of making a thousand +dollars double itself in a year. + +It was ten o'clock when Thomas again had the field to himself and in +Clematis only sentimental visits were prolonged beyond that hour. +Thomas' opportunity had arrived, but with it unluckily had come the +recollection of a misdeed for which he must receive absolution before +the flood-gates of his heart were opened. + +"Persis, do you remember that old Baptist minister who lived opposite +the schoolhouse when we were kids? Elder Buck, everybody called him." + +With an effort she set aside her own recollections in favor of his. +"Oh, yes, I remember. The one whose false teeth were always slipping +down." + +"His picket fence was all torn to pieces one night. He had a way of +calling names in the pulpit, the elder had,--children of the devil and +that sort of thing--and it got some of the boys riled. And to pay him +back, they tore down his fence. Persis, I--I was one of those boys." + +He looked at her appealingly and felt his heart sink. Persis' eyes +were lowered. Her face was grave and a little sad as befits one who +has been tendered irrefutable proof of a friend's unworthiness. Thomas +gulped. Well, it was only what he had expected all along. A woman +like Persis could not be asked to overlook everything. + +"Good night, Persis," he said huskily, and he thought it more than his +deserts when she answered him with her usual kindness, "Good night, +Thomas." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A FITTING + +During the spring and summer Persis rose at half past five, and though +she slept little the night following Thomas Hardin's disclosures, she +refused to concede to her feeling of weariness so much as an extra +half-hour. Her fitful slumbers had been haunted by dreams of apples, +apples in barrels, apples in baskets, apples dropping from full +boughs and pelting her like hail-stones, for all her dodging. There +were feverishly red apples, gnarly green apples and the golden sweets, +the favorites of her childhood, all of them turning into goblins as she +approached, and leering up at her out of impish eyes which nevertheless +bore a startling resemblance to those eyes in whose depths she had once +seen only the reflection of her own loyalty. It was small wonder that +Persis woke unrefreshed. "I declare," she mused, as she twisted her +hair into the unyielding knob, highly in favor among the feminine +residents of Clematis as a morning coiffure, "a few more nights like +that would set me against apple pie for good and all." + +But the developments of the day were soon to elbow out of Persis' +thoughts the visions of the night. As she stepped out on the porch for +a whiff of the invigorating morning air, her eyes fell upon a unique +figure coming toward her across the dewy grass. In certain details it +gave a realistic presentment of an Indian famine sufferer. In respect +to costume, it was reminiscent of a bathing beach in mid-July. + +"Of all things!" Persis gasped, one hand groping for support, while the +other shaded her incredulous and indignant eyes. "Have you taken leave +of your senses, Joel Dale?" + +Her brother ascended the steps, wearing the expression of triumph +ordinarily assumed in honor of his great hygienic discoveries. He +replied to her question by another: "Persis, what do you s'pose is at +the bottom of all human ills?" + +Persis rallied. + +"I don't know as I'd undertake to speak for 'em all, but I should say +that a good nine-tenths was due to a lack of common sense." + +Joel disdained to take up the gauntlet. "Persis, it's clothes." + +His sister looked him over. Joel was attired in a pair of bathing +trunks and a bath towel, the latter festooned gracefully about his +body, low enough to show his projecting ribs. "If the style you're +wearing at present was ever to get what you'd call popular," she agreed +dryly, "I think it would make considerable trouble." + +Joel again refused to be diverted. "Clothes, Persis, are an invention +of the devil. The electricity of the body, instead of passing off into +the earth as it would do if we went around the way the Lord intended, +is kept pent up in our insides by our clothes, and of course it gets to +playing the mischief with all our organs. As old Fuller says, 'He that +is proud of the rustling of his silks, like a madman laughs at the +rattling of his fetters.'" + +"The sun is shining right on your bare back," remarked Persis acridly. +"According to your ideas yesterday, you'd ought to be ready to drop +dead." + +Joel magnanimously ignored the taunt. Like some greater men, he had +discovered that to be true to to-day's vision, one must often violate +yesterday's conviction. The charge of inconsistency never troubled him. + +"Earth and air are stuffed with helpfulness, Persis, and the clothes we +wear won't give it a chance at us. If the Lord had wanted us to be +covered, we'd have come into the world with a shell like a turtle. +Now, this rig ain't ideal because we've got to make some concessions to +folks' narrowness and prejudice, but it's a long way ahead of ordinary +dress." + +"Joel Dale!" The grim resolution of Persis' voice warned the dreamer +of the family that the limit of her forbearance had been reached. "I'm +not going to stand up for clothes, though seeing that my living, and +yours too, depends on 'em, it's not for me to run 'em down. But this I +will say, as long as we live in a civilized land, we've got to act +civilized. And as for having you show yourself on this lawn in a +get-up that would set every dog in Clematis to barking, I won't. Go +up-stairs and dress like somebody beside a Fiji islander, but first +give your feet and legs a good rubbing. If you don't, the next thing +you know, you'll be down with pneumonia." + +Perhaps Joel's tyrannical rule in the household for the last twenty +years had been due in part to his knowing the time to yield, a +knowledge that would have prolonged the sway of many a despot. He went +up-stairs in a rebellious mood which found expression in invectives +against womankind, its blindness, its wilfulness, its weak subservience +to usage. But when he appeared at the breakfast table, the +conventional shirt and trousers testified to the extent of Persis' +authority. + +Little was said during the progress of the meal. Joel, saddened by the +lack of enthusiasm with which his great discovery had been received, +maintained a dignified silence. Persis, always moved to magnanimity by +triumph, forbore to emphasize her victory by obtruding on her brother's +reserve. Not till Joel had been fortified by a hearty breakfast and +had reached the advertising columns in his perusal of the weekly paper, +did she venture to touch upon another delicate theme. + +"Joel, I wish you'd open the shutters of your bedroom and run up the +shade to the top. If ever a room needed airing and sunning, that's the +one. I'm going to give it a good cleaning as soon as I can take the +time, but this morning I'm too busy. Annabel Sinclair's coming for a +fitting at ten o'clock and that young Mis' Thompson at eleven. And I'm +as sure as I can be of anything but death and taxes, that Annabel will +be late." + +Persis' apprehension would have taken on a keener edge, could she have +been favored at that moment with a glimpse of the patron of whose +punctuality she was in doubt. Ever since eight o'clock, Diantha +Sinclair had been opening the door of her mother's room at intervals of +five minutes and closing the same noiselessly, after a brief survey of +the figure on the bed. As the tenantry of field and forest apprehend +the approach of some natural cataclysm, by means of signs imperceptible +to man's grosser senses, so to Diantha the curve of her mother's +shoulder under the sheet, presaged a storm. Her uneasiness was due to +a horrid uncertainty as to which would anger her mother the more, to be +wakened too early or to be allowed to sleep too long. + +By nine o'clock, the second of the alternatives seemed to Diantha the +more serious. She stole into her mother's room, and stationing herself +by the bed, spoke in the softest of voices; "Mama, your new dress--" + +The opening showed a tact creditable to her years. After all, it is +one thing to be wakened by the crashing of a boarding-house breakfast +gong, and another to be roused by the music of a harp. Annabel opened +her eyes with a sense of something agreeable on the way, and Diantha +promptly acted on her advantage. + +"Mama, you are to try on your new dress at ten o'clock, and it's nine +already." + +"Nine!" moaned Annabel. "You should have called me before." Yet she +made no effort to rise and after a moment added sharply: "What are you +waiting for? Can't you see I'm awake?" + +Diantha scurried like a rabbit, and her mother turned on her pillow for +another half-hour, an indulgence she would not have ventured under her +daughter's observant eyes. Like many people who defy public opinion in +large matters, she was acutely sensitive to criticism over trifles. +Aspersions of her character she accepted philosophically, almost +complacently indeed, because of her inward conviction that they were +indirectly a tribute paid by jealousy to her superior fascinations. +But a suggestion that a dress was unbecoming would make her unhappy for +days. + +Her first act on rising was to run up the shade, in order to benefit by +the full light of the morning sun. Then for some minutes she studied +her reflection in a little hand-mirror which gave back to her view a +face rapt and absorbed. With Annabel this rite was a substitute for +morning prayer, and it brought her a peace not always secured by +equally sincere devotions. Diantha's willowy height woke in her a +sense of exasperated fear. It sometimes seemed to her that the girl's +growth was with deliberate purpose, a malicious demonstration of the +fact that her mother was not so young as she looked. + +The testimony of the hand-mirror was reassuring, clear pink and white, +the crisp freshness of apple blossoms. Annabel worshiped and rose from +her knees, duly fortified against the mischances of the day, though her +divinity had been only her own beauty. + +At nineteen, Annabel had married a man twenty years her senior, who +like many of his sex assumed that a pretty wife is from the Lord and +associated amiability, compliance and other feminine graces with a +rose-leaf complexion. The earlier years of their married life had been +a succession of ghastly struggles in which both sides had been worsted, +descending to incredible brutalities. Sinclair was essentially a +gentleman, and long after those contentious years he sometimes woke +from his sleep in a cold sweat, remembering what he had said to his +wife and she to him. Her unwelcome motherhood had only widened the +breach between them. Her hysterically fierce resentment of that which +he had innocently assumed to be a woman's crowning happiness, had +extinguished finally the last gleaming embers of a flame which might +have been altar fire and hearth fire both in one. + +The man's growing apathy at length gave the victory to the woman. If +he did not hate his wife, Stanley Sinclair was so far from loving her +that his thin lips curled mockingly over the recollection of what he +had hoped on his wedding-day. If there is pathos in the lost illusions +of youth, those of middle life are grim tragedy. Sinclair wanted peace +at any price. The masculine intolerance of rivalry was less insistent +than it would have been in a younger man. Out of the wreck of things +he asked to save only quiet and the chance to live a gentleman. His +wife might go her way, so that she showed him a serene face and treated +him with tolerable courtesy. And so tacitly the two made the Great +Compromise. + +At fifty-seven Stanley Sinclair was a cynically cheerful philosopher. +He had long before discovered that technically his rights as a husband +were safe. The woman whose vanity is stronger than her affections is +shielded by triple armor, and Annabel's virtue was safe, at least while +her complexion lasted. She was a glutton of admiration, and since the +highest homage a man could pay her charms was to fall in love with her, +she bent her energies unweariedly to bringing him to the point of +candid love-making. With success, her interest waned. A lover might +last six months or even a year, but as a rule he was displaced in +considerably less time by some understudy whom Annabel had thoughtfully +kept in training for the star role. + +In Annabel's creed, masculine admiration was the supreme good. It was +the ultimate test of a woman's success, as the ability to make money +tested the success of men. Beauty was precious, because it was the +most effective lure. Talent was not to be despised, since it too could +boast its captives. But the woman who claimed that she prized her gift +for its own sake was guilty of an affectation which could deceive no +one, not at least, so shrewd an observer as Annabel. + +At nineteen she had married a man more than twice her age. Since then +her preference for youthfulness had been growing, a phenomenon not +unusual in women of her type. At thirty-seven, she looked upon her +husband as senile, patriarchal, as far removed from her generation as +the Pilgrim fathers. Men of her own age bored her. They were +interested in business, politics, their families, a thousand things +besides herself. They had lost the obsession of personality, the +you-and-I attitude which is the life-blood of flirtation. + +Just now Annabel preferred boys still young enough to be secretly proud +of the necessity of shaving every other day, young enough to swagger a +little when they lighted a cigarette. At her present rate of progress, +by the time she was fifty, she would have come by successive gradations +to the level of short trousers and turn-over collars. + +The average worshiper may hurry over his prayers, but the devotee of +vanity must not make haste with her toilet. It was quarter of eleven +when Annabel was dressed, but since the results were satisfactory, she +was untroubled over her lack of punctuality. It was Diantha who +fidgeted, and looked at the clock. + +"You're 'most an hour behind time. You'd better hurry if you don't +want Miss Persis to scold." + +"I shan't hurry for any one," Annabel returned, selecting after due +deliberation the parasol with the pink lining. Her husband was +lounging on the porch as she went out, and he greeted her with his +usual, "Good morning, my dear," his gaze following her with the gently +satiric smile which always made her feverishly impatient to consult the +little mirror she carried in her hand-bag. That smile hinted at +extraordinary insight and unnerved her as his frenzied outbursts of +anger had never done. She had lost her power to hurt him except in the +way of humiliation, but he cynically argued that the constant amusement +she afforded him almost paid this last indebtedness. It was like +having a season ticket to a theater. + +Persis Dale was fitting young Mrs. Thompson, the traveling man's wife, +when Annabel made her appearance. She nodded, glad that the half dozen +pins held loosely between her lips, relieved her from the obligation of +a welcoming smile. + +"Maybe you'd like to set on the porch, Mis' Sinclair, till I'm at +liberty. Your hour was ten, you know. It's shady out there and you +can look over the new books. And now, Mis' Thompson, before I go any +further we've got to decide whether it's to open in the front or in the +back." + +"I think the buttons down the back are more stylish," said young Mrs. +Thompson. + +"There's no doubt of that," Persis agreed. "Everything in the book is +back. But there's always more'n one way to skin a cat. I could put a +row of hooks under the lace, around this side of the yoke, and nobody'd +ever know where it was fastened, or whether you were just run into it." + +Young Mrs. Thompson hesitated, studying herself in the mirror. Persis +employed several pins in tightening a seam and expressed her views at +some length. + +"It's just this way, Mis' Thompson. If you had a nice little girl, big +enough to stand on a chair and fasten you up the back, I wouldn't say a +word against it. But of all things that rack your nerves and spoil +your temper, twisting and squirming and trying to reach three or four +buttons, first from above and then from below, is certainly the limit. +And putting a shawl over your shoulders on a hot day and going to find +some neighbor to do it for you, ain't a great deal better." + +"But this is going to be my Sunday dress," said the six-months bride, +whose color had increased appreciably during the course of Persis' +remarks. "And Will is always home for Sunday." + +"Well, if you feel like taking the risk, Mis' Thompson, I haven't a +word to say. But when a man's home for a Sunday rest, he generally +wants a rest, and dresses that button up the back don't seem to fit in +with the idea. Human nature can't stand only just so much and man +nature considerable less." + +An undecided murmur escaped the lips of young Mrs. Thompson. + +"I had a customer," continued Persis, recklessly filling her mouth with +pins, "who gave up a good position as cashier in a city glove store, to +keep house for her brother when his wife died. She was always telling +me how grateful he was. Seemed like he couldn't do enough for her. +She used to say it 'most made her uncomfortable to see that man racking +his brains to find some way of showing her how he appreciated what +she'd done for him. Please walk to the end of the room, Mis' Thompson, +slow and graceful, till I see how that skirt hangs. Just a trifle long +on the seam. I thought so. + +"Well, I made her a princess dress; gray it was and very stylish. It +hooked down the back, and then there was a drapery effect that hooked +up the side and across the shoulder. I wouldn't dare say how many +cards of hooks and eyes I used on that dress. I did ask her once how +she'd get into it, and she said that her brother, what with having been +married and all, was as handy as a woman at such things. + +"I sent it home of a Saturday, and I didn't see her for two weeks. +Then she brought it in and she was crying. She wanted me to fix it +some way so that she could get into it by herself. Easier said than +done, you can believe. She'd worn it twice, and both times they'd had +words, and some of 'em were swear words, too. Well, I did the best I +could by the dress, but it was too late to save the day. You see she'd +taken such comfort in thinking how grateful he was, that she hadn't +minded what she'd given up herself, but after that, things was +different. She went back to the city in less than a year. I think +she's a cashier in some restaurant. She couldn't get her old place in +the glove store." + +Young Mrs. Thompson had a bright idea. "Couldn't you put a row of +buttons down the back, just for looks, and then hook it under the lace, +same as you said?" + +"Easiest thing in the world," Persis assured her. The domestic peace +of the Thompson family was preserved for the time being, though neither +woman guessed for how brief a period. + +Annabel Sinclair was thoroughly out of temper when the time for her +fitting came, though she paid Persis the compliment of making a +whole-hearted effort to conceal her feelings. Persis Dale was one of +the few of whom Annabel stood in awe. Behind her back she frequently +referred to the dressmaker as an "interfering old maid," but in Persis' +presence she paid reluctant tribute to the dominating personality. When +very angry, Annabel indulged in whatever brutalities of plain speech +were suggested by a somewhat limited imagination, but her habitual +weapon was innuendo. She shrank from Persis' bluntness as a dog +cringes away from a whip. + +When young Mrs. Thompson had hurried off to the brand-new cottage on +the hill, Annabel concealed her annoyance under a smile, inquired after +Joel's health and yielded to Persis' opinion with flattering deference. +But Persis' mood was not merciful. + +"How your Diantha is growing, Mis' Sinclair. She must have left you +way behind before this." + +Annabel winced. She had long been in the habit of referring to Diantha +as "my little girl." Of late she had fancied that her listeners looked +amused at her choice of a qualifying adjective. + +"It's such a pity," she answered in her softest voice, "for a child to +grow that way. People expect so much more of tall children." + +"Well, girls often get their growth by the time they're Diantha's age. +Let's see. She must be six--" + +"I believe that seam twists," Annabel exclaimed. She chose her +criticism at random with the sole purpose of distracting Persis' +attention before the obnoxious word should be spoken. Yet it was true +that she had been married eighteen years. In another seven she would +be able to celebrate her silver wedding, an anniversary she had always +associated with old age. The horror of the situation was not lessened +by its grotesqueness. + +"The worst of it is that everybody in this dreadful little town knows +all about it," she thought with a sense of panic. "People haven't +anything to do but remember dates." She wondered if she could prevail +upon her husband to go west, leaving Diantha in school somewhere. Then +she could say what she chose of her "little girl" without appealing to +the risibilities of her audience. + +Persis, distracted for a moment by the false alarm of a twisting seam, +soon returned to her guns. With a skill Annabel was forced to admire, +she veiled her cruelty in compliment. + +"Diantha is a pretty girl. Pretty and clever with her tongue. An +apple's got to have flavor as well as a rosy skin. There'll be lively +times at your place before long. It'll make you and Mr. Sinclair feel +young again to have courting going on in the house." + +If murderous thoughts were as potent as daggers, Persis would never +have fitted another gown. Annabel was reaching the point where +self-control was difficult. Young again! Again! Even her reflection +in the mirror and the knowledge that the new dress was becoming, failed +to restore her equanimity. + +Yet in the end it was Annabel who scored. For when at length she +crossed Persis' threshold, a young man happened to be passing. A +ravishing smile banished Annabel's look of sullen resentment. Her +white-gloved hand fluttered in greeting. + +The young fellow swung upon his heel, his boyish face flushing in +undisguised rapture. He waited till Annabel reached the sidewalk, took +the pink-lined parasol from her hand with an air of proud possession, +and the two walked away together. + +From the window Persis looked grimly after them. "Make the most of +this chance," she apostrophized the pair. "I'm getting ready to take +your case in hand." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE WOMAN'S CLUB + +Persis Dale was under no misapprehension, regarding her standing in the +community. She fully appreciated the fact that she was a pillar of +Clematis society and would have accepted as her due the complimentary +implication of Mrs. Warren's post-card, even if its duplicates had not +offered a similar tribute to at least thirty of her acquaintances. The +invitations were all written in Mrs. Warren's near-Spencerian hand, the +t's expanding blottily at the tips, the curves of the capitals +suggesting in their sudden murky expansion, the Mississippi River after +its union with the muddy Missouri. + + +"As one of the representative women of Clematis, you are invited to +attend a meeting at the home of Mrs. Sophia Warren, Saturday the 12th +inst. at 2 P. M. Object of meeting, the organization of a Woman's Club +for the purpose of expanding the horizon of the individual members and +uplifting the community as a whole. Please be prompt." + + +The arrival of the postman while Persis was busy with a fitting, gave +Joel time to examine the mail and frame a withering denunciation of +Mrs. Warren's plan. He sprung the same upon his sister with +pyrotechnic effect a little later. + +"A woman's club! Clematis is getting on. Pretty soon the women'll be +smoking cigarettes and wanting to run for mayor and letting their own +rightful sphere go to the everlasting bow-wows. Expand their horizons! +What's the good of a horizon to a woman who's got a house to look +after, and a man around to do her thinking for her? If women folks +nowadays worked as hard as their grandmothers did, we wouldn't hear any +of this nonsense about clubs. As good old Doctor Watts says: + + "'For Satan finds some mischief still + For idle hands to do.'" + + +Persis, arranging a cascade of lace, over the voluptuous bosom of her +adjustable bust-form, stood back to get the effect. "Maybe you're +right, Joel," she acknowledged placidly, "but I'm going to that meeting +at Sophia Warren's Saturday if I have to sew all Friday night to get my +week's work out of the way." + +In the face of masculine scoffs, which sometimes, as in Joel's case, +became denunciatory rather than humorous, about twenty of the +representative thirty Mrs. Warren had called from her list of +acquaintances, accepted the invitation and were on hand at the hour +designated. The opposition of sundry husbands and fathers, as well as +of those unattached males who disapproved of women's clubs on general +principles, had lent to the project the seductive flavor of forbidden +fruit. The women who donned their Sunday best that Saturday afternoon +had an exhilarating sense of adventure. Even Annabel Sinclair, +invariably bored by the society of her own sex, made her appearance +with the others and from her post of observation in the corner, noted +the effect of lavender on Gladys Wells' complexion, and wondered why +Thad West's mother didn't try anti-fat. + +As the clock struck two, Mrs. Warren rose with a Jack-in-the-box effect +from behind the table where she had ensconced herself after welcoming +the last arrival. Mrs. Warren had taught school before her marriage +and under the stimulus of her present responsibility, her voice and +manner reverted to their earlier pedagogical precision. As she rapped +the assembly to order, she had every appearance of a teacher calling on +the A-class to recite. + +"Ladies, I am glad to see so many of you punctual. Miss Persis Dale +has sent word that she will be detained for a little by the pressure of +Saturday's work, but that she will join us later, and undoubtedly other +tardy arrivals will have excuses equally good. And now, ladies, the +first business of the afternoon will be the election of a chairman." + +"Oh, you've got to be chairman," observed Mrs. West conversationally +from the largest armchair. "None of the rest of us know enough." +Corroborative nods and murmurs approved the suggestion, and Mrs. Warren +acknowledged the compliment by a prim little bow. + +"Do I understand you to make this in the form of a motion, Mrs. West?" + +"Why, ye-es, I s'pose so," returned Mrs. West, visibly startled by the +suggestion that she had performed that feat without a realizing sense +of its momentous character. + +"Is there a second to this motion?" + +The chilling silence, which the first hint of parliamentary procedure +imposes on the most voluble gathering, unaccustomed to its +technicalities, was broken at length, by the voice of Susan Fitzgerald, +who said faintly, "I do," and blushed to the roots of her hair. + +"You have heard the motion, ladies. All in favor signify it, by saying +_aye_." + +Twenty voices in unison gave an effect at once businesslike and +harmonious; and the representative women of Clematis looked vaguely +pleased to find their end so easily attained. + +"Contrary-minded, the same sign." A breathless pause while the +assembly waited for the daring opposition to manifest itself. "The +motion appears to be carried, carried unanimously, ladies. I thank you +for your confidence. We shall now proceed to consider the best method +of organizing ourselves so as to expand the horizon of the individual +members"--Mrs. Warren was quoting, unabashed, from her own +post-card--"in addition to uplifting the community as a whole." + +The chairman went into temporary eclipse by taking her seat, and the +gathering no longer frozen into speechlessness by the realization that +there was a motion before the house, rippled out in brook-like fluency. + +"I think a card club would be just too grand for anything," gushed +Gladys Wells with an effect of girlishness, quite misleading. "My +cousin in Springfield belongs to a card club, and they have just the +grandest times. Everybody pays ten cents each meeting, and that goes +for the prize. My cousin won a perfectly grand cut-glass butter dish." + +"I don't see how parlor gambling would help uplift the community," +commented Mrs. Richards coldly from the opposite side of the room. + +The seemingly inevitable clash was averted by Susan Fitzgerald, who +rose and addressed the chair, a feat of such reckless daring as to +reduce the assembly to instant dumbness. + +"Mrs. President, I think a suffrage club is what we need in Clematis +'most of anything. We women have submitted to being downtrodden long +enough, and the only way for us to force men to give us our rights is +to organize and stand shoulder to shoulder. It's time for us to +arise--to arise in our might and defy the oppressor." + +Susan subsided, mopping her moist forehead as if her oratorical effort +had occupied an hour, rather than a trifle over thirty seconds. +Gradually the meeting recovered from its temporary paralysis. + +"If it's going to be that sort of a club, I'm sure Robert wouldn't +approve of my having anything to do with it," Mrs. Hornblower remarked +with great distinctness, though apparently addressing her remarks to +her right-hand neighbor. "Robert isn't what you'd call a tyrant, but +he believes that a man ought to be master in his own house. If he +thought there was any danger of my getting interested in such subjects, +he'd put his foot right down and that would be the end of it." + +The ghost of a titter swept over the gathering. Mrs. Hornblower, +though fond of flaunting her wifely subjection in the faces of her +acquaintances, never failed to get her own way in any domestic crisis +where she had taken the trouble to form a preference. And on the other +hand, poor Susan Fitzgerald, for all her blustering defiance of the +tyrant sex, could in reality be overawed and browbeaten by any male not +yet out of kilts. Before the phantom-like laughter had quite died +away, Mrs. Hornblower added majestically: "But I don't want my opinions +to count too much either way as I may be leaving Clematis before long." + +The expansion of the horizon of the representative women of Clematis, +with the incidental uplift of the community, was immediately relegated +to the background of interest. "Leaving Clematis!" exclaimed a dozen +voices, the accent of shocked protest easily perceptible above mere +surprise and curiosity. + +Mrs. Hornblower, in her evident enjoyment of the sensation of which she +was the center, was in no hurry to explain. + +"We're thinking of selling the farm and investing in an apple orchard," +she announced at length. "Robert's worked hard all his life, and we +think it's about time he began to take things easy. The comp'ny +undertakes to do all the work of taking care of the orchard and +marketing the fruit for a quarter of our net profits, and that'll leave +me and Robert free to travel 'round and enjoy ourselves. We're looking +over plans now for our villa." + +Even Annabel Sinclair straightened herself suddenly, galvanized into +closer attention by that magic word. + +"I've heard tell that there was lots of money in apples," exclaimed +Mrs. West. "But I didn't s'pose there was enough so that folks +wouldn't need to do any work to get it out." + +"You see, people in general don't appreciate what science and system +can do," patronizingly explained Mrs. Hornblower. "If you'd read some +of the literature the Apple of Eden Investment Comp'ny sends us, it +would be an eye-opener." + +"Ladies, ladies!" expostulated the chairman, "we are forgetting the +object of our meeting." Then temporarily setting aside her official +duties in favor of her responsibility as hostess, she hurried forward +to greet a new arrival. "So glad to see you, Mrs. Leveridge. But I'm +sorry you couldn't persuade young Mrs. Thompson to accompany you." + +"She'd agreed to come," replied Mrs. Leveridge, loosening her +bonnet-strings and sighing. "But at the last minute she found it +wasn't possible." + +The room rustled expectantly. There is always a chance that the reason +for a bride's regrets may be of interest. + +"Nothing serious, I hope," said Mrs. West insinuatingly. + +Mrs. Leveridge's sigh was provocative of further questions. + +"Well, no, and then again, yes. It isn't anything like a death in the +family. But you don't have to live long to find out that death ain't +the worst thing." + +"My goodness, Minerva," exclaimed Susan Fitzgerald, aghast. "What's +happened?" + +Mrs. Leveridge's deliberative gaze swept the silently expectant company. + +"Of course, I wouldn't repeat it everywhere. But I'm sure anything I +say won't go a step further." + +Twenty voices replied, "Of course not," with a unanimity which gave it +the effect of a congregational response in the litany. + +Mrs. Leveridge, having made terms with her conscience, from all +appearances rather enjoyed the responsibility of enlightening her +audience, "It's her husband." + +"Her husband!" cried Susan Fitzgerald protestingly; "why, she hasn't +been married six months." + +Mrs. Leveridge's smile showed more than a tinge of patronage. + +"If you'd ever been married yourself, Susan, you'd know that six months +was enough, quite enough. If he's that kind of a man, six weeks is +about as long as he can keep on his good behavior." + +"He hasn't been beating her, has he?" asked Mrs. Hornblower, her voice +dropping to a thrilled whisper. + +"No, I'd call it worse than that, myself. You see when I stopped for +Mis' Thompson, on my way here, I found her crying and taking on +something terrible. She had a letter in her hand, and of course I +s'posed it had brought some bad news that was working her up, and I +begged her to tell me about it so's to ease her mind, you understand. + +"Well, she kept on moaning and crying, and at last it all came out. It +seems that when she went to the closet to get down her jacket, a coat +of her husband's fell off the hanger. The pockets was stuffed with +letters, the shiftless way men-folks have, and they went sprawling all +over the floor. She picked up this among the rest. It was addressed +to W. Thompson, at some hotel in Cleveland, and it had been forwarded +to the city office of his firm. And seeing it was a dashing sort of +writing that stretched clear across the envelope, and didn't look a +mite like business, she was curious to know what it was about." + +"Now, don't tell me there was anything bad in that letter," implored +Mrs. West. "I always thought young Mr. Thompson had such a nice face." + +"Well, if handsome is that handsome does, he hasn't any more looks to +boast of than a striped snake. It was a letter from a girl, a regular +love-letter from start to finish. It opened up with 'Tommy Darling.'" + +"But young Mr. Thompson's name is Wilbur," somebody objected. + +"I guess the Tommy was pet for Thompson. The envelope was directed to +W. Thompson and you can't squeeze a Tommy out of a W. no matter how +hard you try. The girl, whoever she is, has gone into it with her eyes +open. Two or three times she dropped little hints about his wife. +Didn't say _wife_ right out, you know. It was kind of veiled, but you +couldn't help understanding." + +"Was there any name signed?" asked Annabel Sinclair, opening her lips +for the first time that afternoon. She herself had long before +realized the unadvisability of signing one's name to one's epistolary +efforts. + +"'Twas just signed 'Enid.' There was a monogram on the paper, but I +couldn't make it out. Seems as if you could find 'most any letter in a +monogram. The paper was nice and heavy and all scented up. Poor Mis' +Thompson!" + +"She ought to leave him," exploded Susan Fitzgerald. "And I shouldn't +blame her a mite if she poisoned his coffee first. If women could +vote, they'd send a man like that to the gallows." + +Mrs. West championed the absent sex. "In a case of that sort, Susan, +you can't put all the blame off on to the man. There's a woman in it, +too, every time, and the one's as deep in the mud as the other is in +the mire. And like as not," continued Mrs. West, a tell-tale tension +in her voice, "he was a nice, clean-minded young man when she came +along, making eyes at him, like a snake charming a sparrow. I'm not +crazy about voting, but if I had the ballot, I'd vote for locking up +those kind of women and keeping every last one of 'em at hard labor for +the term of their natural lives." + +The moment was electric, and Mrs. Warren hastily proffered her services +as a lightning-rod. "Is she going to leave him, do you think?" + +"Well, I guess she's got a crazy notion in her head that maybe he can +explain. I tried to talk her out of that idea. As I said to her, a +man capable of anything of that sort won't stop at lying out of it. +And I should judge," concluded Mrs. Leveridge, "that that young Mr. +Thompson would be capable of a real convincing lie. He don't look +wicked, but he does look smart." + +The outer door opened and closed with an impetus just short of a slam, +irresistibly suggestive in some obscure fashion, of the entrance of +ardent youth. "I didn't think 'twas worth while to ring," explained +Persis Dale, nodding to the right and left as she advanced to greet her +hostess. "Sorry to be so late. I guess you've got everything pretty +nearly settled by now." She bowed rather stiffly to Annabel Sinclair, +sitting silent in her corner, and acknowledged with reluctant +admiration that the woman certainly was a credit to her dressmaker. + +A guilty constraint settled upon the gathering so fluent a moment +before, and psychologically considered, there was food for reflection +in the sudden embarrassed silence. These good women were far from +being vulgar gossips with one or two possible exceptions. They were +shocked at this unanticipated revelation of human perfidy. The young +wife, humiliated and heart-broken before the morning glow of romance +had faded from her marriage, had their profoundest sympathy. Yet when +the curtain rises on a human drama, however tragic its development, the +little thrill that runs over the audience is not altogether unpleasant. +Regrettable as it is that Othello should smother his wife, there seems +a certain gratification in making ourselves familiar with the details +of the operation. It was the consciousness of this unacknowledged +satisfaction which rendered Mrs. Warren's guests abashed at Persis' +advent, like children discovered in some forbidden pastime. They +avoided one another's eyes, assuming an expression of grave absorption, +whose obvious implication was that the uplifting of the community was +the matter most in their thought. + +With all her interest in other people's affairs, the personality of +Persis Dale was as a killing frost to many a flourishing scandal. She +had a readiness to believe the best, a reluctance to condemn her fellow +men on anything short of convincing proof, fatal to calumny. Although +perhaps justified in thinking the worst of young Mr. Thompson, no one +present felt disposed to enlighten Persis as to the character of the +discussion which had engrossed a gathering convened for the high moral +purposes outlined on Mrs. Warren's post-card. + +"I--we--well, we have not reached any conclusion as yet," explained the +chairman of the meeting, with a notable accession of color. "Several +suggestions have been made, however, and we hope you will have +something to add." + +Persis would not have been Persis had she failed to have something to +suggest. Whether her businesslike methods aided in bringing matters to +a focus, or whether the change was due to a conscience-stricken +reaction on the part of the representative women of Clematis, it is +certain that the deliberations of the body were not again side-tracked +by the intrusion of personal matters. The business of the afternoon +was transacted with a rapidity putting to shame some more pretentious +conventions, the women wisely refusing to be hampered or restricted by +the tangles of parliamentary law, in which, as every one knows, much +really important legislation is strangled. + +When the meeting adjourned at quarter of six, an hour which sent +prudent housewives scurrying homeward, Mrs. Sophia Warren was the duly +elected president of the Clematis Woman's Club, while Susan Fitzgerald +had accepted the duties of secretary of the organization. The members +had voted to meet weekly, taking up the study of English literature, +and current events, the two subjects to divide the program equally. +The club was to hold itself in readiness to grapple with questions of +civic improvement, and already a committee had been appointed to +arrange for a Harvest Home Festival at the county almshouse for the +edification of the inmates. It really began to look as if the horizon +of a number of people would be enlarged and the community as a whole +uplifted, with or without its consent. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +DIANTHA GROWS UP. + +Now that Annabel Sinclair had no immediate use for Persis' services, +Diantha's wardrobe could receive attention. The girl presented herself +at the dressmaker's late one afternoon, her smooth forehead disfigured +by an irritated frown, her mouth resolutely unsmiling. Under one arm +she carried a roll of cheap white lawn. Annabel frequently commented +on the uselessness of buying expensive materials for a girl who grew as +rapidly as Diantha, though the reasonableness of this contention was +slightly discounted by her recognized ability to demonstrate that the +cream of things was invariably her portion, while an all-wise +Providence had obviously designed the skimmed milk for the rest of the +world. + +Her eyes upon the girl's averted face, Persis measured off the coarse +stuff, using her arm as a yard-stick. "Hm! Even with skirts as skimpy +as they are now, this won't be enough by a yard and a half. Better +call it two yards. It's high time your skirts were coming down where +they belong. You can't stay a little girl forever." + +Some magic had erased the fretful pucker between Diantha's brows. The +grim ungirlish compression of her lips softened into angelic mildness. +As she turned upon Persis, she looked an older sister of the Sistine +cherubs. + +"How long--about how long do you think it had better be, Miss Persis?" + +"I should say"--Persis looked her over with an impersonal air, lending +weight to the resulting judgment--"I should say about to your +shoe-tops." + +Had she guessed the consequences of such an expression of opinion, she +might have modified her verdict or at least held it in reserve. A +tempest swept the room. Persis was seized, whirled this way and then +that, hugged, kissed, forced to join in a delirious two-step. With +scarcely breath to protest, powerless in the grip of the storm she had +herself evoked, she finally came to anchor between the secretary and +the armchair, Diantha still holding her fast. + +"Shoe-tops! You _did_ say shoe-tops, didn't you, darling Miss Persis?" + +"Yes, I said shoe-tops, and I'm glad I didn't say a train. A real long +dress would have been the death of me, it's more'n likely. For all +you're as tall as Jack's bean-stalk, Diantha Sinclair, you're not grown +up yet." + +Persis freed herself, smiling ruefully as she arranged her disordered +hair. The delicious girlishness of the outburst in which she had +involuntarily participated had the effect of challenging her own +obstinate sense of being on the threshold of things, and making her +wonder if perhaps she were not growing old. That the passing shadow on +her face failed to attract Diantha's attention was due less to lack of +insight than to youth's cheerfully selfish absorption in its own +problems. "May I pick out the style from the grown-up part of the +fashion books?" was the girl's breathless question. + +"It's got to be simple," Persis warned her sternly. Then softening: +"But good land! Grandmothers nowadays are wearing simple little +girlish things with ribbon bows in the back. Pick out what you want. +Everything in this month's book is just about right for sixteen." + +As Diantha gave herself to rapturous study of the fashion-plates, +Persis studied her. "She's in a fair way to make a beauty. Annabel at +her best never held a candle to what this girl is likely to turn out. +Annabel's looks are skin deep. Diantha's have top-roots running to her +brain and her heart, too. Only she ought to be happier. 'Most any +girl face is pretty to look at if it's happy enough, same as 'most any +flower is pretty if it grows in the sun." + +A harassing reflection troubled Diantha's bliss. "Miss Persis, I +haven't got a petticoat that comes below my knees." + +"I'll make you a petticoat the same length as the dress. That's always +the best way. A skirt that's too long looks as if you wanted to show +the lace, and one's that too short looks as if you were trying to save +on cotton cloth, and I don't know which is worse." To herself Persis +added: "If she went home and asked her mother for a long petticoat, the +fat would all be in the fire." + +For a woman at least as conscientious as the average of her sex, Persis +was singularly unmindful of the enormity of encouraging a daughter to +act in defiance of her mother's wishes. Had she been called upon to +defend herself, she might have explained that she had small respect for +the authority of a motherhood which had never progressed beyond the +physical relationship. Annabel, a reluctant mother in the beginning, +had been consistently selfish ever since, and Persis gave scant +recognition to parental rights that were not the out-growth of parental +love. Moreover, the project she had in mind was of too complex +importance for her to allow it to be side-tracked by petty scruples. + +"Like enough she'll refuse to pay my bill," thought Persis, with a grim +smile, as she watched Diantha turning the gaily colored plates like a +butterfly fluttering from blossom to blossom. "I guess she won't go as +far as that though, as long as there ain't another dressmaker in +Clematis she'd trust to make her a kimono. If she says anything, +that'll pave the way for me to give her a good plain talking to, and +even if I never get a cent for the dress, I might as well give my +missionary money that way as any other." + +The rush of the season--Clematis is sufficiently sophisticated to know +in what months propriety demands overworking one's dressmaker and +milliner--was already over, and the little frock made rapid progress. +Cheap and plain and simple as it was, its effect upon the wearer, even +in its stages of incompleteness, was so striking that Persis sometimes +forgot her official duty in the satisfaction of a long admiring stare. +And probably in her sixteen years of existence, Diantha had never so +nearly approximated all the cardinal virtues as in that idyllic week. +She besieged Persis with offers of assistance, pleading for permission +to pull basting threads or overcast seams. At home she was gentle, +yielding, subdued. Her father, having learned through bitter +experience how open to the attack of a million miseries love makes the +heart, had resolved that fate should not again trick him. He had +steeled himself against the appeal of Diantha's babyhood and had +watched unmoved her precocious development. The mocking politeness +which characterized his manner toward his wife was replaced in the case +of the daughter by a distant formality. Yet now as Diantha went about +the house with dreamy eyes and a half smile on her lips, there were +times when the father looked at her almost wistfully and wondered of +what she were thinking. With all due respect to the human will, we +must acknowledge ourselves creatures of circumstance in no little +degree, when two yards of lawn, retailing at twelve and a half cents, +can prove so potent a factor in character and destiny. + +Diantha's mother might have prescribed quinine had she noted anything +unusual in the girl's demeanor. But Annabel had reached a crucial +stage in her flirtation with Thad West. The boy was developing a +gratifying jealousy of the tenor singer in the Unitarian church choir +and must be treated with a nice commingling of indulgence and severity +to prevent his asserting himself in the crude masculine fashion, and +either terminating the intimacy or else permanently getting the upper +hand. Annabel was enjoying the crisis of the game and found it +impossible to spare from her own absorbing interests a thought for such +a minor consideration as Diantha's moods. + +Diantha anticipated the time when she was to call for her finished +frock by more than an hour. "I know you're not ready yet," she +apologized, as Persis looked at the clock. "But I thought I'd like to +watch you work, if you don't mind." + +"Of course I don't mind, child. Just put those fashion books on the +table and take the easy chair." Persis bent over the finishings of the +little frock with a vague satisfaction in the nearness of the +motionless figure. She was growing fond of Diantha, a not unnatural +result of the adoring attention Diantha had lavished upon her for a +week past. But because Persis was a woman with a living to make, and +Diantha was a girl with a dream to be dreamed, scarcely a word was +spoken till the last stitch was taken. + +"There!" Persis removed a basting thread with a jerk, making an +unsuccessful pretense that the finishing of this dress was like the +completion of any other piece of work. "There! It's done at last. I +suppose you'll want to try it on." + +"Yes," said Diantha, "I'll try it on." And as the faded blue serge +slipped from her shoulders to be replaced by the white lawn, the +Diantha who had been, took her departure to that remote country from +which the children never come back. + +Persis was almost appalled by the result for which she was principally +responsible. The tall Diantha in a dress to her shoe-tops was +disconcertingly unlike the little girl she had known. She looked older +than her years, stately, self-contained and beautiful. It was not till +Persis had fortified herself by the reflection that she might as well +be hung for an old sheep as for a lamb, that she ventured another +revolutionary suggestion. + +"Diantha, I s'pose you'll make some change in the way you do your hair?" + +"Yes, indeed." Diantha, scrutinizing herself in the mirror, frowned at +the drooping curls with an air of restrained disgust. "This way is +only suitable for children." + +Persis' negligent gesture called attention to the open door of the +bedroom. "There's a box of hairpins on the dresser. If you like, you +can fix yourself up and surprise your mother." + +Diantha vanished swiftly. She had no illusions regarding the nature of +the coming surprise. Her mother would be very angry, but the sooner +that storm had spent itself, the better. Relentlessly the golden curls +were sacrificed to the impressive coiffure of the woman of fashion. +For a novice Diantha was remarkably deft, her skill suggesting periods +of anticipatory practise with her door locked and no eyes but her own +to admire the effect. + +During the progress of this rite, Persis in the adjoining room, looked +at the clock, glanced at the window and then paced the floor, for once +in her well-disciplined life too nervous to utilize the flying moments. +Persis was in the dilemma of a stage manager whose curtain is ready to +go up, and whose _prima donna_ is about to appear, while the audience +has failed to materialize. To such mischances does one subject one's +self in assuming the responsibilities of a deputy-providence. + +Then her brow cleared, even while her heart jumped into her throat. +The gate clicked, and a lithe figure swung up the path. Persis took +her time in answering the peremptory knock. + +"Good afternoon, Miss Persis. Mother said that you--" + +"Walk in, Thad. Yes, I've a little package to send your mother. Sit +down while I look for it." + +Would the girl never come! The curtain was rung up, the audience +waiting. But the stage was empty. How long a time in Heaven's name +did Diantha expect to spend in combing her hair. "I should think she +was waiting for it to grow," thought the harassed Persis. Very +deliberately she opened and closed every drawer in the old-fashioned +secretary, though she knew the upper contained only old letters and the +second, garden seeds. + +Thad was fidgeting. "If you can't put your hand on it, Miss Persis, +don't bother to hunt. I'll drop in again in a day or two." + +"Just a minute, Thad. It must be right around here. It can't--ah!" +Persis forgot the ending of the unnecessary sentence. For now Thad +West was at liberty to leave whenever he pleased. + +A tall slender figure advanced into the room. Diantha's grace had +always made her an anomaly among tall children. Her hair was parted +and drawn back simply, after the fashion doubtless designed by earth's +beauties, since it is the despair of plain women. The yellow curls, +sacrificing their individual distinction, had magnanimously contributed +to the perfection of the exquisite golden coil at the back of her +shapely head. No one would have looked twice at the plain little lawn, +but it proved superior to some more pretentious gowns in that it set +off the charms of the wearer, instead of distracting attention from +them. The unlooked-for apparition brought Thad West to his feet, and +so Youth and Beauty met as if hitherto they had been strangers. + +For a long half minute they stood without speaking. "Oh, good +afternoon," Diantha said at last, and veiled her eyes from his +fascinated stare. Formerly she had treated him with the free-and-easy +pertness of a precocious child. Now the exquisite shyness of +maidenhood enveloped her. Instinct drew her back from the man's +inevitable advance. "I didn't know it was so late," she said to +Persis, oblivious to Thad's gasping greeting. "I must hurry." + +Thad's sense of confusion was like a physical dizziness. This regal +young beauty was the daughter of the woman whose hand he had held +surreptitiously the previous evening. With an effort he steadied +himself, only to make the discovery that in that hazy moment the world +had undergone a process of readjustment. He knew as well as he was +ever to know it, that Annabel Sinclair belonged to another generation +from his own. + +"I suppose you want to take this along." Persis' gesture indicated the +package containing the discarded serge which Diantha would have been +glad to contribute to the wardrobe of the youthful Trotters. But with +all her daring, her courage was hardly equal to such a step. She put +out her hand for the package, but Thad had already pounced upon it. + +"I--I'm going your way," he said, a trace of his recent disorder in his +stammering speech. "I'll carry it for you." + +Silently Diantha accepted the offer. She kissed Persis good-by in a +fashion which the critical might have pronounced needlessly +provocative, though her dreamy eyes protested that nothing was further +from her maiden thoughts than the presence of Thad West. Persis, who +was intensely alive to every phase of the dramatic situation, had +caught a glimpse of the young fellow's face during the affectionate +leave-taking and was abundantly satisfied. + +"Thad's no fool, though he's acted like the twin brother to an idiot. +He can't help seeing that the mother of a grown-up girl like Diantha +hadn't ought to be flirting with a boy like him. If he doesn't see it +now he will before he gets her home, or I miss my guess." + +Mr. and Mrs. Stanley Sinclair were seated side by side on their front +porch, presenting an agreeable picture of domesticity. The reason for +Annabel's presence was that the tenor singer of the Unitarian choir was +accustomed to pass the house at that hour. Sinclair stayed on simply +because he suspected that his wife wished him indoors. He read aloud +inane items of village news from the weekly paper, and only the veiled +mockery of his eyes betrayed the fact that he was not the most devoted +and the most complacent of husbands. + +As the two young people came into view, Annabel's air of indifferent +listlessness changed to rigid attention. She recognized the gallant +figure of the young man considerably before she knew his graceful +companion. Her husband's eyes were quicker. His paper dropped from +his hand, and his emotions found vent in an explosive and needlessly +profane monosyllable. + +The two culprits came up the walk, Thad with a fine color, Diantha +extraordinarily self-possessed. The girl's eyes rested on her mother's +face, then went in swift appeal to her father's. Their consternation +was too obvious to be ignored. + +"I wore my new dress home," she remarked casually. Then with sudden +recklessness: "Do you like it?" + +"It's--it's absurd," pronounced Annabel almost with a snarl. So a +mother tigress might have corrected her offspring. Never had she +seemed less prepossessing to her youthful adorer than at that moment. +Anger aged her indescribably. The young man looked at her and dropped +his eyes ashamed. + +"It's no longer than other girls of sixteen are wearing," said Diantha, +and turned to Thad. "Thank you for carrying my bundle." She took the +package and vanished. Nothing in her outward composure indicated that +her heart was thumping, and girlhood's ready tears burning under her +drooping lids. + +Persis' device had been eminently successful, entailing consequences, +indeed, she was far from anticipating. For Stanley Sinclair had waked +to the fact that he was the father of a beautiful girl on the verge of +womanhood, and his sense of parental responsibility, long before +drugged, manacled and locked into a dark cell, had roused at last and +was clamoring to be free from its prison. Annabel, his wife, had +recognized a possible rival in her own household. And lastly, Thad +West was the prey of an uneasy suspicion that perhaps, after all, the +mother of Diantha Sinclair had been making a fool of him. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE NEW ARRIVAL + +Mindful of her promise to Mrs. Trotter, Persis had looked through her +piece-bag apparently with excellent results. For the little garments +symbolic of humanity's tenderest hopes, the garments that are to clothe +the unborn child, were growing rapidly under her skilful fingers. + +The first slip had been severely plain, and then Persis, yielding to a +temptation most women will understand, began to fashion scraps of +embroidery and odds and ends of lace and insertion into tiny yokes and +bands. After many a long day's work she sat by the shaded lamp +finishing the diminutive garments with stitches worthy of a bridal +outfit. + +"Who is it that's expecting?" Joel demanded one evening, his sex not +proving an impregnable armor against the assaults of curiosity. + +The brevity of Persis' answer indicated reluctance to import the +desired information. "Mis' Trotter." + +"Bartholomew Trotter's wife? And of course she's going to pay you for +all this fiddling and folderol." + +Persis accepted the implied rebuke meekly. "I guess I'm paying myself +in the satisfaction I get out of it. I started in to stitch up some +slips on the machine, but I just couldn't stand it. Machine sewing's +all right for grown folks, but it does seem that when a little child's +getting ready to come into the world, there'd ought to be a needle +weaving back and forth, and tender thoughts and hopes weaving along +with it. And specially if a baby's going to be born into a home like +the Trotters', you can't grudge it a little bit of beauty to start out +with." + +"Well, I must say it's lucky that so far you women have been kept where +you belong. Weaving hopes, indeed! As if 'twould make any difference +to that young one of Trotter's whether it was rigged out like a +millionaire baby or wrapped up in a horse blanket." + +Persis sewed on unmoved. "I don't say the baby'd know the difference. +It's just my way of showing respect for the human race." + +Her industry was not premature. One Saturday night she carried to the +Trotters' squalid home a daintily fashioned, freshly laundered outfit +which took Mrs. Trotter's restrained and self-respecting gratitude +quite by storm. Forgetting for once the public obligation to provide +for the needs of her family present and to come, she accepted the gift +in a silence vastly more eloquent than her usual volubility. Then the +muscles of her scrawny throat twitched, and a tear splashed down on the +soft cambric. Nor did she, during the interview, recover her usual +poise sufficiently to refer to the obligation under which Bartholomew +and herself were placing the community; and Persis returned home in a +mood of even more than her customary tolerance. + +That was Saturday night. Early Monday morning little Benny brought +word that his mother was sick and wanted Miss Persis to come right +away. Joel had not risen, and Persis scrawled a hasty note explaining +her abrupt departure and set out for the Trotter establishment, +stopping on the way to ask a favor of Susan Fitzgerald. + +Susan was finishing her early breakfast, her hair still wound about her +crimping pins, the painfully strained and denuded effect which resulted +being a necessary preliminary to the rippling luxuriance of the +afternoon. Persis stated her errand tersely. + +"Susan, they've sent for me from Trotters', and there's no telling when +I'll be home. I wish you'd go up to the house, if you've nothing +particular on hand and look after Joel. He's the helplessest man ever +born when it comes to doing for himself." + +In her complex excitement, Susan fluttered like an impaled butterfly. +"Oh, dear me! I mean of course I will, Persis. But what do you want +me to do?" + +"Oh, just get his meals and amuse him till I get back. You can keep +Joel pretty cheerful if you'll let him unload all his notions on you. +Joel generally finds a good listener good comp'ny." + +"And so poor Lizzie Trotter's going through that again," exclaimed +Susan, momentarily forgetting her own prospective ordeal, in sympathy +for the other woman's severer trial. "I don't want to accuse Divine +Providence, but I must say it hardly seems fair to put all the +responsibility for getting the children into the world off on women. +If 'twas turn and turn about, now, I wouldn't say a word." + +"I guess if that was the way of it, there'd never be more'n three in a +family, and it took a sight of people to fill up the world, starting +with the garden of Eden. Well, I must hurry, Susan. I won't be gone a +mite longer'n I can help." + +As Susan removed her crimping pins, her agitation grew. The favor +Persis had asked so lightly, and she had granted so readily, took on a +new aspect as she considered it. Susan shared the respect of Clematis +for Joel Dale's intellectuality and stood rather in awe of his foibles. +Her hands trembled as she arranged her undulating locks in the fashion +ordinarily reserved for afternoons. Her cooking might not suit him. +Her efforts to be entertaining might not measure up to his lofty +standards. She quaked, picturing his possible displeasure. For this +courageous champion of the rights of womankind who did not hesitate to +call the Creator Himself to account for seeming injustice, became the +meekest of the meek when confronted with the sex from which oppressors +are made. + +Susan's apprehensions were not so groundless as might be fancied. Joel +Dale was in a very bad humor after he had finished reading his sister's +note. Joel held the not unpopular theory that the supreme duty of +woman is to make some man comfortable. Religion and philanthropy were +legitimate diversions if not allowed to interfere with the higher +claim. Even the exercise of talent might be tendered a patronizing +approval, if this, too, knew its place. Joel was willing that Persis +should utilize her gifts in earning his living provided she did not +forget the complex ministrations involved in making him "comfortable." +He was ready to allow her to help her poorer neighbors, so that she was +never absent when he wanted her. But if that jealous divinity, his +Comfort, were denied its due, the indulgent brother was lost in the +affronted tyrant. + +Poor Susan Fitzgerald found her tremors doubled by the sight of his +lowering face. "Mr. Dale, I've come up to keep house for you to-day, +seeing--seeing Persis has been called away." She blushed, realizing +that Joel was undoubtedly in the secret of that errand. After forty +years in a world where birth is the one inevitable human experience, +aside from death, she had never been able to rid herself of the +impression that it was essentially immodest. + +Though the cloud of Jovian displeasure did not remove immediately from +Joel's brow, his mood underwent an instant change. His sister had not +been guilty of leaving him to shift for himself. The opportune +appearance of Susan Fitzgerald indicated a proper regard for the +masculine helplessness, which is also, by some obscure process of +reasoning, the badge of masculine superiority. Moreover Susan's +presence furnished the opportunity of setting forth in detail sundry +theories which to Persis were an old story. To a gentleman of Joel's +temperament, a new audience is at times a necessity. + +"You won't have much trouble getting my meals," he assured her, his +cold dignity thawing rapidly. "Just set on the dish of apples and +nuts." + +Susan's near-sighted eyes narrowed as she gazed at him. "You mean for +dessert?" + +"Dessert! When Adam and Eve started housekeeping do you s'pose they +sat down to soup to begin with and wound up with pie? The Lord put 'em +in a garden instead of a butcher's shop, because He wanted 'em to eat +vegetable food and not poison themselves with dead animals." Joel's +voice had grown almost cheerful. His ardor in the dissemination of his +dietetic theories waxed and waned, but when there was a new observer to +be impressed, he always found the crucifixion of his appetites well +worth while. He seated himself at the table with a gesture which +seemed to wave into some remote background the temptation of sausages +and buckwheat cakes. + +"No trouble for me. Just set on the nuts and apples, same as our +ancestors ate before they got wiser'n their Creator and learned to cook +their victuals. We're the only animals that ain't satisfied with raw +food. And we're the only ones that are everlastingly kicking about +indigestion." + +"I declare!" exclaimed Susan Fitzgerald, carried away by this masterly +logic. "You certainly have your own way of looking at subjects, Mr. +Dale." + +"Well, I'll admit that I'm not much at taking up with second-hand +opinions. Now, here's another idea of mine." He held up a walnut +between his thumb and finger. "There's a tree in that, ain't there?" + +"Why, yes." Susan's ready admission gave every indication of a +willingness to be impressed. + +"Well, what's enough to give a start to a tree that may grow seventy +feet or over, ought to start a man off to his day's work pretty well. +That's my way of reasoning." + +"But don't you feel an awful goneness after a breakfast like that?" + +"Goneness!" Magnificently Joel waved away the suggestion. "With an +apple and five or six good nuts inside me, I feel like I could run +through a troop, as the psalmist says, and leap over a wall." + +Susan's admiring murmur indicated that the sustaining effect of the +diet Joel recommended was due less to its intrinsic virtue than to some +unusual and dominating quality of Joel's personality. And Joel, +struggling with a peculiarly tough Brazil nut, reflected that Susan +Fitzgerald was an intelligent woman as well as an agreeable one. + +The morning passed pleasantly for both. Susan possessed the gift which +men have ever highly esteemed in the sex, the faculty of continued +silence, combined with close attention. Some of Joel's theories +impressed her as startling, but like many very proper people, Susan +rather enjoyed being shocked, if the sensation was not overdone. +Whether she murmured approval or blushed in decorous protest, it was +plain that she found Joel's monologues immensely interesting. She +could hardly believe her ears when the clock struck twelve. + +Susan brought the nuts and apples out again after their brief period of +retirement, and seated herself at the table, to share the Eden-like +repast. "You'd be an awful easy man to cook for, Mr. Dale," she said, +with a glance which in another woman would have been coquettish. + +But the arrow glanced harmless. Joel's mood was abstracted. Not for +some time had he put into practise his theories regarding uncooked +food, and his rebellious appetite craved more stimulating fare. He +munched his nuts with distracting memories of yesterday's pot roast. +He found himself resenting Susan's eager compliance. She should have +insisted on preparing him a good meal--good from her standpoint--and as +a gentleman he could have done no less than show his appreciation by +eating it. + +For once Joel had lost interest in his own eloquence. Inward voices +were protesting against this return to the fare which had satisfied +Father Adam. When he retired to the armchair, after dinner, and +relapsed into a sulky silence, Susan remembered that the obligation to +amuse him was also nominated in the bond. Luckily his tastes were +literary, which rendered her task a simple one. + +Susan stepped into the tightly-closed, partially darkened parlor which +never in the sultriest weather seemed wholly to lose the chill of its +unwarmed winter days. The center of the room was occupied by a square +table, on each corner of which lay a book, the four arranged with +geometrical nicety. Susan was too familiar with Clematis traditions +not to know that the books on the center-table were seldom of a sort +one would care to open, but as she lifted the nearest volume and saw +that it was a collections of poems, she felt a comforting certainty +that luck was with her. + +"You're a great admirer of po'try, ain't you, Mr. Dale? I've always +understood so." + +With an effort Joel roused himself. + +"Another has expressed my sentiments, Miss Fitzgerald. + + "Verse sweetens toil, however rude the sound.'" + + +"Then if you'd like, I'll read you a little so's to help pass the +time." Susan seated herself near the window, cleared her throat and +opening the volume at random, began in the self-conscious and unnatural +voice characterizing ninety-nine people out of every hundred who +attempt the reading of verse. + + "'O there's a heart for every one + If every one could find it. + Then up and seek, ere youth is gone, + Whate'er the task, ne'er mind it. + For if you chance to meet at last + With that one heart intended--'" + + +Susan's voice had grown husky. She cleared her throat again. "I'm +afraid I made a poor selection," she apologized. "You see I'm not as +familiar with po'try as you are, Mr. Dale." She turned the leaves in a +confusion that increased as her groping vision stumbled continually on +lines startlingly sentimental. + + + "'Let thy love in kisses rain + On my cheeks and eye-lids pale.'" + + +Susan opened ten pages ahead and tried again. + + + "'When stars are in the quiet skies, + Then most I pine for thee. + Bend on me, then, thy tender eyes, + As stars look on the sea.'" + + +Joel's change of position was subtly suggestive of weariness. Susan +whirled the leaves and took a desperate plunge. + + + "'Ask if I love thee? O, smiles can not tell + Plainer what tears are now showing too well. + Had I not loved thee my sky had been clear; + Had I not loved thee, I had not been here.'" + + +It was plainly impossible for a self-respecting single woman to +continue. "Why, they're all silly," she exclaimed, with a little +nervous giggle. Her face flamed. What was she to say next, not only +to carry out Persis Dale's injunction, but to occupy the blank silence +which contradictorily seemed echoing with that fateful refrain, "Had I +not loved thee I had not been here." + +When in doubt, play trumps. Susan Fitzgerald's chief interest in life +was the question of woman's suffrage. And the confusion which had +swept her mind bare of small talk, had not jostled her substantial +ideas on the familiar theme. She determined to broach the subject +delicately and with caution. If Joel cared for discussion, this would +occupy a good portion of the afternoon, and be a sufficient antidote +for her unfortunate poetical selections. It was even possible that a +strong forceful presentation of the case might result in making a +convert. Susan thrilled, realizing what such an accession would mean +to the cause. + +"Mr. Dale," she began, feeling her way to a tactful introduction. "I +am sure you must have a pretty good opinion of women. A man with such +a sister as you've got couldn't help it." + +Her opening was unfortunate. No man is so reluctant to recognize +feminine superiority as the one who profits most by the gifts of some +woman. Joel's brow clouded, and his answer showed a cautious resolve +not to be trapped into any compromising admission. + +"Oh, I haven't anything against women folks. I've always thought the +poet went too far when he said: + + "'Mankind from Adam has been woman's fools. + Women from Eve have been the Devil's tools.'" + +Despite the negative nature of this encouragement, Susan continued. + +"I'm sure a fair-minded man like you are, Mr. Dale, wouldn't want to +keep any woman out of what rightfully belonged to her. You'd want her +to have a chance to fill her place in the world, wouldn't you?" + +"Why, yes, I'd be in favor of that." Joel's voice was less positive +than his words, owing to an inward uncertainty as to the trend of these +observations. + +"Well, Mr. Dale, there's lots of us that are ready to take up our share +of the duties the Creator designed for us. We are standing waiting +like the people in the parable that nobody had hired. The trouble is +you won't let us, you men won't. We've got to wait for you to give us +our rights. All our willingness doesn't amount to anything till you +are ready." + +A sudden harassing suspicion assailed the target of Susan's eloquence, +and no sooner had it entered his mind than a dozen details instantly +corroborated it. Joel remembered the look which had accompanied +Susan's declaration that he would be an easy man to cook for. The love +poems had in themselves been equivalent to an avowal of passion even +without her tell-tale blushes. And now at last he grasped the +underlying meaning of her vague hints and obscure figures of speech. +For though she talked of rights and duties and the designs of the +Creator, there could be no doubt that she meant a husband. + +Joel rose to his feet and his mute tempestuous indignation was not +without interest as throwing light on the workings of the masculine +mind. In such a design as he attributed to Susan, it would seem that +the lady had much to lose and little to gain. She was vigorous, +well-preserved, possessed of a competence, while Joel was doubly +bankrupt. Yet his mood was far removed from humble gratitude. He was +furious at her presumption, alert to defend his threatened +prerogatives, angry at Persis for exposing him to such an attack under +his own roof where ignominious retreat was his only safety. + +"I've just thought of a little matter I've got to look after this +afternoon," he said, his manner nicely calculated to repel any tender +advances. "I'll have to hurry along, and there won't be any occasion +for you to linger. Please hang the key on the nail so Persis can let +herself in when she comes." + +His sudden hauteur was not lost on Susan. She sighed as he withdrew. + +"Funny how real liberal-minded men won't listen to argument when it +comes to some questions. But maybe he'll think over what I said and +it'll have an influence sooner or later. Anyway, we've got to be +prepared to sow beside all waters." + +The leather-covered book, whose failure to serve her purpose was +indirectly responsible for the broaching of so delicate a question, +caught her wandering attention. She picked it up, reading the title +aloud. + +"_Love Songs of Many Lands_. No wonder I couldn't find one that was +sensible. Well, I declare!" + +The book had opened at the fly-leaf. "Persis from Justin," Susan read, +bringing her near-sighted eyes close to the faded ink. She pursed her +lips and shook her head in disapproving surprise. + +"Persis Dale must have known some man pretty well to let him give her +anything so pointed. I should have thought she'd have felt awfully +embarrassed if she ever read the poems. Justin! Justin! There was a +Justin Ware, but I never heard there was anything between them." + +She returned the book to the chilly front room, adjusting it to the +proper angle on the center-table, as if it had been a part of a +geometrical diagram, And finally, after locking the door and hanging +the key where Persis, or any other arrival, would immediately notice +it, she turned her downcast face toward home. + +"I'm afraid I hurt Mr. Dale's feelings. It beats all how sensitive +some natures are. It's lucky I didn't get as far as what you would +call the real telling arguments." + +If Susan Fitzgerald's mood was despondent, as she reviewed the +activities of the day, such was not the case with Persis Dale. In the +Trotters' shabby cottage, exaltation reigned. Young Doctor Ballard, +lean and boyish, looked ready to be congratulated on a good piece of +work, though perfectly aware ha could never in this world, at least, +collect his fee for medical attendance. Bartholomew's complacent +self-importance almost straightened his bowed shoulders and redeemed +the weakness of his sagging lips and feeble chin. Lizzie, his wife, +spent and pallid, her gaunt temples hollowed and her face chiseled by +suffering, smiled contentedly as she lay against her pillow, a creature +lifted for the moment above the petty weaknesses, pitiable fruit of +life-long and grinding poverty, by the gracious dignity of motherhood. +As for Persis, as she carried the new arrival down-stairs to make the +acquaintance of his brothers and sisters, her comely face was radiant. +Weariness was forgotten. The hours of uncertainty, the long hours when +Life and Death matched forces in that old duel renewed with each new +existence, had all been forgotten. For a man was born. + +The little Trotters gathered around in an ecstasy of pleasure and +surprise. In a household where food was scanty, and every new pair of +shoes was a serious economic problem, there was no lack of welcome for +the newcomer. Chirpy little voices commented on the new brother's +surprising pinkness, his diminutive proportions and his belligerent +fashion of clenching his fists. + +"He's got on the nice clean dress the angels made him," said Winnie, +the observant. "See the lace in the sleeves." + +"I wish the angels had made him some hair instead," suggested Wilbur, +plainly aggrieved. "'Cause he could have worn some of our old clothes, +but he can't wear our hair." + +"He can have my jack-knife when he gets big enough," declared Benny, +the oldest of the flock. He drew the cherished possession from his +pocket as if ready to surrender it on the instant. And that offer was +a signal for a general outburst of generosity. + +"He can have my tooth brush." + +"I'll give him my rubber boot. Maybe when he's big enough to wear it, +somebody will give him one for the other leg." + +"You're going to let the new baby have your high chair, ain't you, +Essie?" Thus Winnie prompted the sister now compelled to relinquish +the honors and dignities attaching to the post of baby of the family. +And Essie, nodding her little tow head, laid a rose-leaf cheek against +the crumpled carnation of the newcomer. "Nice litty brudder," she +cooed. "Essie loves 'oo." + +"My gracious me!" thought Persis Dale, as she tucked the baby into the +battered cradle, never long without an occupant, "It's queer that we +ain't shaking our heads and groaning over this. The Trotters can't +afford a new baby any more than I can afford a steam yacht. There +ain't enough of anything to go around, and yet we're all holding up our +heads and acting as if this was the best day's work we ever had a hand +in. It's no use talking. Down in our hearts we know that life's a +good thing, even when we've got to take poverty and hardships along +with it. And that's why we start in singing Psalms in spite of +ourselves when a new baby comes." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A CONFIDENTIAL CHAT + +"I believe," said young Mr. Thompson, "that I've been owing you a +little bill for some weeks, Miss Dale. It had completely slipped my +mind." + +He looked old and worn, Persis thought, more like the man who must +settle for the spring finery of a family of grown daughters, than a +complacent young husband paying for his wife's first new gown since the +wedding. There was a flatness in his voice that matched the weariness +in his eyes, and forthwith a dozen questions raced through her alert +brain. + +"Well, Mr. Thompson, I hope you like the dress. I always tell my +customers that I'm as anxious to please their husbands as I am to +please them. 'Tain't fair, from my point of view, to ask a man to pay +out good money for clothes he just despises." + +Evasion is an art possessed in its perfection by few of the sterner sex. + +"Mrs. Thompson hasn't worn the dress yet," explained Mrs. Thompson's +husband. "I dare say it's very pretty." He had taken a little roll of +bills from his pocket, but his absent air showed conclusively that he +was thinking neither of them nor of his answer. + +Persis lowered her voice confidentially. + +"If I was you, Mr. Thompson, I wouldn't encourage her in that way of +doing. Maybe it seems like prejudiced advice, coming from a +dressmaker, so, but I never could see there was any saving in hanging a +dress away in the closet and not getting any wear out of it, till it +was clear out of style. You know how it is with young wives. They've +got their hearts so set on having their husbands praise 'em for being +saving that they make those little mistakes. You just tell her that +you'd rather spend a little more money, if it came to that, and see her +look her prettiest." + +"Mrs. Thompson is not--" began the young husband and broke off +uncertainly. His troubled eyes went to the kind resolute face +opposite, and the little roll of greenbacks dropped to the floor +unheeded. "Fact is," said the young fellow, carried away by that +impulse toward confidence which the sight of Persis was likely to +inspire in the least communicative, "fact is we're having the deuce of +a time." + +Persis nodded understandingly. "That ain't strange the first year or +so. After the honeymoon's over, then comes the getting acquainted. I +don't care how well folks have known each other beforehand, they've got +to start all over again after they're married. But don't worry; it +don't take long as a rule." + +"You don't quite get my idea." Young Mr. Thompson scowled at the +floor. "It's worse than you think. I'm in a fix, a devil of a fix. +Part of it I'm to blame for. I'm one of those guys with a sense of +humor, you know. I'm the regular George Cohan kind, and between my +practical jokes and some interfering old maids--I--I beg your pardon." + +"I'm not partial to 'em myself," smiled Persis reassuringly. + +There was an instant of understanding silence. "Well, anyway," groaned +the young man, "with a little outside help, I've queered myself for +good. And that's tough on a chap not a year married, believe me." + +He stared at the floor gloomily and when he lifted his eyes, she saw +the whole story on its way. "You wouldn't call Thompson an unusual +name, would you?" + +"One of the commonest, I should say." + +"And there's nothing so strange about 'W. Thompson' that you'd strain +your neck getting another look at it on a sign. Half the men you meet +are named William, to say nothing of the Walters and the Warrens, and +the new crop of Woodrow Wilsons." + +Persis' murmur of agreement was admirably calculated to encourage the +flow of confidence, not to check it. + +"Look at that." Young Mr. Thompson pulled a letter from his pocket and +slammed it down on the table. "There's the proof that I'm a hound and +a blackguard and that hanging would be too good for me. At least +that's what all the women tell my wife. And take it from me, they +know." + +Persis picked up the envelope and studied the superscription. It had +originally been addressed to Mr. W. Thompson, Hollenden Hotel, +Cleveland, Ohio, and later redirected in another hand to the firm by +which Mr. Thompson was employed. The unhappy husband explained: + +"Our men generally stop at the Hollenden when they are in Cleveland. I +never was there in my life. But Hudson, one of our fellows, blew in +one night and noticing a letter directed to W. Thompson, he knew, of +course, it must be for me. That's just the sort of 'buttinski' that +Hudson is. If he'd run across a tombstone with W. Thompson on it, he'd +have expressed it to me before he'd eaten his dinner. So he told the +clerk he knew me and sent the letter on to the main office. Now, +perhaps you'll appreciate the rest of my story better, if you'll read +the letter." + +Gratified by the permission, for young Mr. Thompson had succeeded in +piquing her curiosity, Persis drew the enclosure from the envelope and +for an instant studied the monogram at the head of the sheet. When her +gaze dropped to the address, her eyebrows lifted. + +"Yes, I know," murmured young Mr. Thompson. "'Tommy darling.' Tommy +is short for Thompson, I suppose. Tommy-rot, I call it. You might +read it aloud if you don't mind. It'll help me to have a realization +of what I'm up against." + +Persis complied. + + +"Tommy darling: + +"Here I am writing you again for all I promised myself that I +wouldn't--not ever. It makes me feel so dishonorable when I think of +Her. And then, dear, I think of you and everything else is forgotten +for a little while. + +"That lovely, sad, happy, heart-breaking afternoon together! I've +lived on the memory of it ever since. I thought when we said good-by +that it was for the last time. I really meant it, dear. But now the +thought of never seeing you again is like a great black wall shutting +out everything bright and beautiful. I'm not brave enough to bear it. + +"Tell me when and where we can see each other, Tommy. I'm not going to +think of Her, but only of you and me and the joy of loving and being +loved. + +"Enid." + + +"She seems," observed Persis Dale, folding the letter carefully, "to be +of a real affectionate disposition." Young Mr. Thompson passed the +comment over without remark. + +"They gave me the letter at the office. It was pretty near a month +after it was written and I judged the two of them had seen each other +before that, and one lost letter wouldn't matter. And then it occurred +to me that I'd have a little fun with Molly. Get me?" + +Persis' look indicated understanding rather than approval. + +"You can't think worse than I've said to myself a thousand times. I +put the letter in my pocket, and I had it all figured out how she'd +find it and ask me about it, and then read it and be angry for about +half a minute. And I took it for granted that I was going to be right +there to explain and that I'd have the laugh on her before she had the +chance to get to feeling real bad. It looked awful funny to me. It's +a great thing to have a man-size sense of humor." + +Persis was too interested to smile. + +"Then the weather got warm and I changed to another suit and forgot to +change the letter. I'd laid several little plots to help her to find +it, like sending her to my pocket for postage stamps, but she didn't +fall to 'em, and finally the letter got to be an old story. I pretty +nearly forgot all about it. When she did find it, I was off on a trip +and she'd talked the thing over with all the old women in the +neighborhood before I got back." He ran his fingers through his hair. +"Explain! Well, she thinks it's a mighty slim story, and the deuce of +it is that she's right. Any dam fool could make up a better one." + +"I b'lieve you could have done better yourself," Persis suggested +smoothly, "if you'd been in the story business." + +The young fellow looked at her, and a quick flush swept to the roots of +his hair. + +"That sounds," he began breathlessly, "that sounds as if you took stock +in me in spite of the way things look." + +"I've lived long enough to know that looks are deceiving whether you're +talking about women or just things." Persis studied the address again +and compressed her lips. "See that this letter don't get lost, strayed +or stolen," she directed, with that instinctive assumption of authority +which is the badge of the competent. "We might find it useful in +clearing things up." + +The young man's ruddy color rose again. "Then you think--" he faltered +and broke off. + +"I think that when folks act fair and square, their lives ain't going +to be ruined by a little mistake. Of course it's going to be cleared +up. Careful, Mr. Thompson. You seem to be stepping on a lot of money. +And it must belong to you, because I can't afford to carpet my room +with greenbacks." + +His answering laugh showed the contagion of her optimism. Young Mr. +Thompson picked up his money and paid his bill, "I'm going home and +coax Molly into putting on that new dress," he declared boyishly. +"It's the first dress I ever bought for her, and I'm crazy to see how +she looks in it." + +Persis approved the suggestion. "But don't be discouraged if she needs +a lot of coaxing. It's as natural for women to primp and fuss and fix +their hair up pretty ways when they're feeling happy as 'tis for plants +to put out leaves in the spring. But heavy hearts are like winter +weather. If you want any blossoms in December, you've got to work for +'em." She wrote "received payment" beneath Mr. Thompson's bill and +went to the secretary for the change. Young Mr. Thompson pocketed his +forty-five cents and detained the hand that tendered it. + +"Look here, Miss Dale," he said, "you've braced me up wonderfully. I +feel more like a man and less like a feather-bolster than I did when I +came in. I wonder if you couldn't--" He hesitated and pressed her +fingers persuasively. "Couldn't you manage to drop a hint to Molly +about appearances being deceptive, you know." + +"I'll say more than that before I'm done with her," Persis promised +briskly. And they shook hands over again, and young Mr. Thompson +departed with an alert step that argued a corresponding lightness of +heart. And because Persis Dale was a woman of action, she sat down at +the secretary and penned a letter to a total stranger, to Mr. W. +Thompson, care of the Hollenden Hotel, Cleveland. The letter itself +was brief and to the point. + + +"Dear Sir: + +"I should like to know if you are expecting word from a young woman +named Enid. In case you are, kindly communicate with the undersigned. + +"Yours truly, + + "Persis Dale." + + +Brief as the letter was its composition took some little time. The +deftness which characterized Persis in most of her work, did not extend +to her epistolary efforts. She was still puckering her forehead over +the page when Thomas Hardin knocked. The door was ajar and glancing +over her shoulder, she called to him to enter. + +"You'll excuse me for not getting up, Thomas. When once I sit down to +an ink bottle, I stick to it till I finish. I'm in a hurry to get this +letter off to-night." She wrote the address and dried the ink by +moving the paper gently back and forth. + +Thomas' face showed relief. He had come prepared to make a painful +disclosure and the brief period of waiting was as welcome as similar +postponement to the possessor of an aching tooth who calls at the +dentist's office and finds the practitioner busy. But as Persis +immediately proceeded to fold the letter and seal the envelope, his +respite was brief. + +"Persis, did you know there was insanity in my family?" + +Persis, applying a crumpled stamp to the tip of her tongue, started +violently. "Good gracious, Thomas, no! I never heard it mentioned." + +"I thought maybe 'twas my duty to speak to you about it. It was my +great-uncle, Captain Silas Hardin. He was my father's uncle, and he--" + +"Why, I know all about him, Thomas. How he was shipwrecked off in the +Indian Ocean somewhere and floated around on a raft, and the different +ones got crazy with the heat and thirst and all and jumped overboard. +And it was an English ship that found the old captain, and he was just +raving when they took him aboard. I can remember him when I was a +little girl. There was a blue anchor tattooed on his hand, and I +thought it was the most wonderful thing in the world. But then he was +as sensible as anybody." + +"Yes, he was all right in his later days, but when he first came home +from England, he had lots of queer ways about him, I've heard my mother +say. And as long as he lived, he'd stand off and stare at the corner +of the room where there wasn't nothing with his eyes kind of fixed, and +it was enough to make your hair rise up to look at him." + +"I don't wonder, poor soul. I guess if we'd seen what he had, there'd +be times when it would all come back to us. By the way, Thomas, seeing +as you go right past the post-office, I'll ask you to mail this letter. +I want it to be sure to get off the first mail." + +Thomas tacitly accepted the commission by holding out his hand for the +letter. Then he read the superscription. "W. Thompson! Why, there's +a W. Thompson in Clematis." + +"This," replied Persis, and the confidence of her tone would have +warmed the heart of young Mr. Thompson, "this is a different one." + +Thomas waited to hear more, but no further particulars were vouchsafed. +He felt mildly aggrieved. "Didn't know you had acquaintances in +Cleveland," he suggested by way of a stimulus to confidence. + +"I haven't many." Persis compressed her lips, and Thomas looked again +at the envelope. The sense of elation due to the discovery that Persis +was disposed to regard the insanity of Captain Silas Hardin lightly, +was eclipsed by a new anxiety. Persis had friends of whose existence +he was unaware. She corresponded with men in distant cities. These +apparently trivial facts took on greater import as he mused. His own +chances to win her, dishearteningly small at the best of times in view +of his checkered record, suddenly sank below the level of +insignificance and ceased to exist. + +He looked across at Persis on the other side of the table. She had +picked up a piece of sewing, but her look of absorption showed that her +trained fingers were doing their work without the supervision of the +brain. Nor could he flatter himself that her thoughts were of him. He +was a modest man, but for the moment he resented with bitterness the +self-evident fact that she was temporarily oblivious to his presence. + +He got to his feet, pushing back his chair noisily. "Maybe I'd better +be going, so's your letter will be dead sure to get to the post-office +on time," he said, his voice harsh with disappointment. + +Persis stooped to bite a thread. "Thank you, Thomas," she answered +placidly. "I'll be easier in my mind when I know it's mailed." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +EVE AND THE APPLE + +Joel was aggrieved. For the second time in a month his sister was +planning to desert him. Putting the claims of an unborn infant before +his comfort, Persis had basely abandoned him to the wiles of Susan +Fitzgerald. And now she had agreed, though reluctantly, to do a day's +work for Mrs. Hornblower at the latter's home. That thrifty housewife +had urged a lame knee as her reason for requesting Persis to depart so +radically from her usual custom, and Persis had accepted the excuse +with reservations. + +"Fact is, Lena Hornblower can never get it into her head that I'm a +dressmaker and not a sewing girl," Persis confided to Joel at the +breakfast table. "I'm not saying that her knee ain't lame, but I guess +if she can stand up to be fitted, she'd be equal to getting in and out +of a buggy. Lena Hornblower's always looking for a chance to save a +penny. She's got an idea that it's bound to be cheaper to have your +sewing done at the house. All I can say," concluded Persis, buttering +her toast, "is that she's going to find herself mistaken." + +Joel's abstracted gaze indicated a total lack of interest in the +subject. + +"I've been thinking," he remarked with that suavity of manner as +prophetic of a storm as thunder-claps in July, "that I might as well +get me a room somewhere in the neighborhood. There's no sense in +making a pretense that you're keeping house for me when you're gadding +and gadding, here to-day and to-morrow off the Lord knows where. If I +had a comfortable room, somewheres," continued Joel, with the noble +resignation of conscious martyrdom, "and a little stove so's I could +get my meals, then I'd know just what to expect, and I wouldn't have to +ask no odds of nobody." + +Persis had listened to similar propositions before. It was a perennial +threat which in the passing of years had lost its power to terrify. +Yet with the inevitable feminine impulse to smooth the feathers of +ruffled masculinity, she began, "When I drove by Susan Fitzgerald's +yesterday morning--" + +Joel set down his coffee cup with an emphasis that splashed the +table-cloth. + +"That'll do, Persis. I'll tell you once for all that I won't have that +woman here. I can go hungry if it comes to that, but I won't stand for +your putting that old maid up to set her cap for me." + +"Goodness, Joel, Susan hasn't any reason in life to want to +marry--anybody." Persis had come very near an uncomplimentary +frankness, but her native tact had suddenly asserted itself and made +the statement general. + +Joel smiled satirically. + +"Maybe you know better'n I do about that, and then again, maybe you +don't," he replied darkly. Then with a reversion to his air of injury, +he added: "Here's Hornblower come for you already." + +As a matter of fact, the thrifty Mrs. Hornblower had despatched her +husband for Persis at the earliest hour permissible, resolved to prove +the economy of her scheme by adding to the activities of the day at +both ends. Persis, quite aware of her patron's purpose, smiled +comprehendingly and proceeded to clear the table without undue haste or +excitement. Mr. Hornblower had waited full thirty minutes before she +came lightly down the path and with unruffled serenity bade him good +morning. + +"Sorry to keep you waiting, but you were half an hour ahead of the time +I said." + +Robert Hornblower, who had that repressed and submissive air not +infrequent in husbands whose wives make a boast of their womanly +subjection, mumbled that it didn't matter. As he helped her to her +seat, Persis noticed that he had lost flesh since she had seen him +last, and that some plow-share, sharper than that of time, had deepened +the furrows that criss-crossed his sagging cheeks. "How're the crops +coming on?" she asked, as she settled herself beside him. + +"Fine!" Mr. Hornblower spoke with a lack of reserve unusual in his +pessimistic profession. "Potatoes ain't quite up to last year, but the +corn crop's a record breaker." + +"Mis' Hornblower's knee trouble her much?" + +"Well, no, not to say trouble." Mr. Hornblower plucked his beard with +his disengaged hand and cast a thoughtful glance at his companion. +"She's a little oneasy in her mind though, Mis' Hornblower is. She's +got an idea in her head and it keeps her as oneasy as a flea. If she +should open up to you, maybe you'd see your way to say something kind +of quieting." + +"But what's she got to worry about?" + +"That's what I say," said Mr. Hornblower, gesturing with his whip. +"We're comf'table and prosperous, ain't we? Maybe there's a way to get +more. I don't say there ain't. But what's the use of more, when +you've got enough? The house suits me just as 'tis, and my victuals +suit me, and my friends that I've summered and wintered with, forty +years and over, they suit me, too. What do I want of a villa, or of +trips to Europe, where the folks talk all kinds of heathenish gibberish +instead of good United States!" + +"But I don't see how--" + +"Maybe she'll open up to you," repeated Mr. Hornblower, lowering his +voice though such a precaution was obviously unnecessary. "Mind I +don't say it ain't a pretty scheme. Anyhow, it looks good on paper. +But with me the point's just here--enough's enough." + +Persis found Mrs. Hornblower more communicative than her spouse. As +all roads lead to Rome, so, with Mrs. Hornblower, all topics of +conversation led directly to the subject uppermost in her thoughts. +The inevitable discussion of the prevailing modes led by a short path +to Persis' full enlightenment. + +"I want it fixed real tasty, Persis, for all it's not a new dress. +I've had it going on four years, but I've been sparing of it and +careful, so it's not like a dress you wear for getting supper and for +trailing round in the yard after the dew falls. Robert's always been +fond of this dress. I s'pose I'm kind of foolish to humor him so, but +I'm always careful about consulting his tastes. Seems as if a wife had +ought to be satisfied if she dresses in a way that pleases her husband." + +"Sometimes I've thought," replied Persis, as she turned the pages of +her latest fashion magazine, "that when it comes to women's clothes, +men don't know what they do like. If a man goes with his wife to buy a +hat, nine times out of ten, he'll pick out the worst-looking thing in +the shop, and then he'll wonder why she's falling off in her looks. +Now, Mis' Hornblower, what do you think of this pannier style? Taking +out the extra fulness from the back and using it in folds, I could hide +where it's getting worn on the seams." + +"I s'pose we'd have a better choice of styles by waiting for next +month's book," said Mrs. Hornblower, regarding the model Persis had +indicated with an evident lack of favor. "But my plans are so +unsettled that I want to hurry through my dress-making. I dare say +you've heard we're likely to leave Clematis 'most any time." + +"I'd heard it hinted, but I didn't take much stock in it. Clematis +would be sorry to lose you, and it would be pretty hard on you leaving +Clematis." + +Mrs. Hornblower smiled. "Oh, I haven't a thing against Clematis, +Persis. Robert says that of course it doesn't give a man any kind of a +chance to make money and I guess he's right. I believe in leaving such +things for the men-folks to settle. These new-fangled women who are +always setting up to know best and saying what they will do and what +they won't do, can't have much of an opinion of the Bible. I'm sure it +says as plain as the nose on your face 'wives obey your husbands,' and +'where thou goest I will go.'" + +Persis scrutinized the back breadths of the lavender foulard. "But +Ruth was talking to her mother-in-law," she objected, off her guard for +the instant, since only the death of Mrs. Hornblower senior, had ended +the hostilities between herself and her son's wife. Then regretting +her tactless words, she hastened to say, "Don't you think that when a +man gets to Mr. Hornblower's age, he does better in work he's used to +than if he tries his hand at something new? It's easy enough +transplanting a sapling, but an old tree's different." + +"It all depends," replied Mrs. Hornblower coldly, piqued, as Persis had +feared, by her reference to the delicate subject. But her desire to +dazzle the plodding dressmaker with visions of her future prosperity, +proved too much for her resentment. And soon, as they ripped and +basted, Mrs. Hornblower was dilating on the unparalleled opportunity +for wealth furnished by the Apple of Eden Investment Company. She +quoted freely from its literature and outlined, with more or less +detail, the care-free and opulent existence upon which the family of +Hornblower would enter when the farm had been sold and the proceeds +wisely invested. + +"It's a disappointment to me that the whole thing isn't settled and +done with by this time. But I always leave Robert to decide such +matters, and Robert thought 'twas best to wait till Mr. Ware's visit. +Ouch! My goodness gracious, Persis! You must take my arm for a +pin-cushion." + +This time Persis' contrition was not assumed. + +"I'm awfully sorry, Mis' Hornblower. The lining's so thin. I'll have +the sleeve off in a shake before it gets spotted." + +"That'll have to be bandaged," exclaimed Mrs. Hornblower, surveying her +injured arm in the mirror with a not unnatural annoyance. "A little +prick is to be expected now and then when you're dress-making, but this +was a regular jab. I don't know what ails you, Persis. Looks like +your mind must have been running on Thomas Hardin." + +Persis' unwonted humility was disarming, and by dinner-time Mrs. +Hornblower was sufficiently recovered to be patronizing. + +"Of course this foulard is a sort of make-shift, you might say, Persis. +It'll do me till I have a chance to get something real up-to-date and +dressy in Paris." + +Persis, laying down her work as the clock struck twelve, had no reply +to make, and Robert Hornblower, whose punctuality at meals was notable, +a characteristic shared by all henpecked husbands, entered the house at +that moment, casting a quick glance at his wife's face as a sailor +watches the sky for signs of a squall. + +"We've spent the morning fixing up your favorite gown, so as it'll be +pretty near as good as new," Persis informed him, as she accepted a +well-filled plate at his hands. Then as the farmer looked a little +blank, she directed his attention to the renovated lavender foulard +hanging over a chair. + +Mr. Hornblower's expression was still vague. "Oh, you mean that pink--" + +The women interrupted him with a derisive cry of "Pink!" But while +Persis laughed, Mrs. Hornblower flashed upon her husband a look of +ineffable scorn. + +"As if I'd ever wore pink or ever would, a color for children." + +"Them bright colors is all one to me," said the unhappy Mr. Hornblower, +proceeding with fatal facility to make a bad matter worse. "They're +all too kind of flashy. Now, my mother used to have a dress," he +continued, meeting Persis' sympathetic gaze, "that suited me down to +the ground. Satin, it was, or maybe 'twas silk or velvet. Anyhow, it +looked rich. And it was sort of silvery, and then again, darker'n +silver and sort of ripply and shiny--" + +"Robert ain't very well posted on names," said Robert's wife with +deadly calm. "But he knows what he likes, same as most men, and that +lavender foulard has always been his special favorite. His special +favorite," she repeated sternly, as she met her husband's wavering eye. + +"Oh, the lavender foulard!" exclaimed Mr. Hornblower, with an +unsuccessful attempt to give the impression that only at that moment +had he discovered what they were talking about. "The lavender foulard, +to be sure." He cut himself an enormous slice from the boiled beef and +bowed his head over his plate, as if offering thanks for an excuse to +retire gracefully from the conversation. + +But this did not agree with Mrs. Hornblower's intentions. "Tired, +ain't you, Robert?" Her solicitude was so marked as to suggest an +ulterior motive. + +"I guess this is about as busy a time of year as any," commented Persis. + +And Mr. Hornblower, having now reached a point in his struggle with the +boiled beef where he could make himself intelligible, began +ponderously, "Oh, as far as that goes--" + +"Robert realizes that he ain't as young as he was," said Mrs. +Hornblower, taking the words from his mouth. "While he's not an old +man yet, he feels that he's done his share of work. If there's a good +time waiting for him, he means to get to it before he's so old it won't +do him any good." + +"Sometimes I think," observed Persis sententiously, "that enjoying +one's self's a good deal like jam. You spread it on bread and butter, +and you can eat a sight of it. But if you set down to a pot of jam and +nothing else, it turns your stomach in no time." + +The sudden illumination of Mr. Hornblower's heavy features indicated +that he had grasped Persis' metaphor. He broke out eagerly. "Now, +that's just what I was saying to my wife. If a man--" + +"Robert looks at it this way," explained Mrs. Hornblower, deftly +cutting in. "He says he couldn't enjoy himself just idling, but he +don't look on travel and improving his mind in that light. Robert +feels that enlarging your horizon, and getting culture and polish is a +part of anybody's duty. Robert feels real strongly on that subject," +concluded Mrs. Hornblower, looking hard at her husband, as if defying +him to deny it. + +The worm made a visible effort to turn. "Whatever you may say about +Clematis," said Mr. Hornblower, apparently with the full intention of +paying an impassioned tribute to his native town. But again the +supports were cut from beneath his feet, and he was left dangling in +midair. + +"Robert thinks as well of Clematis as anybody," Mrs. Hornblower +acknowledged generously. "He's got a real fondness for the town. But +as he says, the world's a big place, and it don't stand to reason that +all of it that's worth seeing is right under our noses. Robert says +that some folks who think they're so dreadful patriotic are nothing in +the world but narrow." + +For a moment Mr. Hornblower seemed tempted to take up the gauntlet with +himself, challenging his own forcibly expressed convictions. And then +as if realizing the uselessness of such an attempt, he sighed heavily +and sought consolation in the gravy. And Mrs. Hornblower demonstrated +the sweeping character of her victory by saying plaintively: "Of course +a woman always feels breaking off old associations the way a man can't +understand. Robert laughs at me. He says he b'lieves I fairly get +attached to a mop I've used and hate to change to a new one. But a +woman can't be a good wife, Persis, and think of herself. She's just +got to set aside her own feelings and preferences, and look at what's +best for her husband." + +It was characteristic of Mrs. Hornblower's shrewdness that supper was +always late when she had a dressmaker in the house. The fire refused +to draw. A scarcity of eggs necessitated a change in her plans for +supper, and the new menu invariably demanded more time than that +originally decided upon. Persis, left to herself, and thoroughly +understanding the purpose back of these various delays and +postponements, smiled grimly, yet not without a certain reluctant +admiration, and retaliated by sewing more and more slowly. And for the +hundredth time that day, her thoughts returned to Mrs. Hornblower's +careless reference to a prospective visit. Mr. Ware! Could she have +meant Justin? His connection with the apple company made this seem +almost certain, and yet it was inconceivable that Lena Hornblower +should refer to his coming with such nonchalant certainty when she +herself was in the dark. Persis' capable hands dropped to her lap. +For the minute she was a girl again, parting from the boy who loved +her, lifting her tear-wet face for the comfort of his kisses. Twenty +years! Twenty long hard years! And now Justin Ware was really coming +home. + +She put the question bluntly to Robert Hornblower as he drove her home +after dark. "Your wife said something about a Mr. Ware's coming here +before long. I used to go to school with somebody of that name, Justin +Ware." + +The depressed and silent Mr. Hornblower roused himself. + +"It's the same one. The Wares never had nothing, but I guess this here +Justin has cleaned up a lot of money. Don't follow that everybody +could do the same in his place, though. Some folks have the luck, and +some have got the pluck, and some have both." He sighed. "Of course +you understand, Persis, that Lena wants me to do exactly as I think +best. Only--only when a woman gets her heart set on a thing, a man +feels like a brute to think of having his own way." + +"Yes," Persis said gently, "I understand." And then with more optimism +than she felt she added: "Maybe something will happen so she'll look at +it different." + +Thomas Hardin and Joel were awaiting her in the unsocial silence +characteristic of their sex when no feminine incentive to +conversational brilliancy is at hand. Thomas' eyes kindled as he said +good evening. Joel, after two meals in which he had fended for +himself, looked more than ever like an early Christian martyr. +"There's a letter come for you," he said with marked coldness. + +Persis whirled about, a wild foolish hope in her heart. "A letter? +Where?" + +"On the mantel, next the clock!" Joel's eyes followed his sister as +she crossed the room with that quick light step, so reminiscent of +girlhood. She pounced upon the letter and even her brother's eyes, +dimmed by life-long self-absorption, could see that her face fell. + +"I didn't know you knew anybody in Cleveland." + +"Cleveland." In some mysterious manner, Persis' animation had +returned. The confirmed meddler has one thing in her favor, that +whatever the crisis of her own fortunes, there are always the affairs +of other people to distract her thoughts. She dropped into a chair by +the lamp and read the brief letter with breathless interest, too +absorbed even to apologize. + + +"Miss Persis Dale, + + "Clematis. + +"Dear Madam--Yours of the 12th inst. received. I am at a loss to +understand your very extraordinary inquiry, unless by some chance a +letter intended for me has fallen into your hands. In that case I am +enclosing stamps to have it forwarded by special delivery. I hardly +need remind you that it is a serious offence in the eyes of the law to +retain mail which is the property of another person. + +"Yours truly, + + "W. Thompson. + + "Hollenden Hotel, Cleveland, Ohio." + + +Joel stared at his sister as she read down the page, her color rising, +a curious, triumphant little smile playing about her lips. Thomas +glowered at the floor. So this answer to the letter he himself had +posted, was responsible for that look on her face. + +"I guess I'll have to be going," he exclaimed, getting to his feet with +the conviction that he had borne all that was possible for the time +being. + +Persis glanced up in surprise. "Already, Thomas? Well, give my love +to Nellie when you see her." She crossed the room and placed the +letter in her writing-desk, that triumphant smile still transforming +her face. + +It might have brought comfort to Thomas' heart if he had seen her an +hour or two later, for the smile had disappeared. She stood before the +plush-framed photograph upon the mantel, a strange wistful wonder on +her face. + +"Oh, Justin," she whispered as she looked. "Oh, Justin, Justin!" She +put out her hands as if for all their capable strength they felt the +need of a comforting touch. And then the amiable young face smiling +back at her, blurred before her wet appealing eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +A DAY TO HERSELF + +Persis had resolved on a new gown. + +The livelier iris which in spring changes on the burnished dove, +reveals nature's universal tactics. On looking over her wardrobe after +her day at the Hornblower farm, Persis had been appalled by its +manifest shortcomings. The black mohair, held to the light, betrayed +an unmistakable greenish tinge. The navy blue was long since out of +style. As for the wine-colored henrietta, it had never been becoming. +The material had been presented Persis by a customer who had +unexpectedly gone into mourning, and she had made it up and worn it +with much the emotion of an old-time penitent in his hair-cloth shirt. +And yet in twenty-four hours the mohair had not become perceptibly +greener nor was the blue more strikingly passee. It was Persis herself +who had changed. + +As she stood before the mirror, fitting her own lining, she defended +her course as the wisest women will do, though when judge, jury and +advocate are all one, the verdict is a foregone conclusion. She +tightened the seam under her arm, used the scissors discreetly here and +there, and continued to argue the point, though there was none who had +a right to question or to criticize. + +"It's bad policy for a dressmaker to go around shabby. It's like a +doctor with an invalid wife and sickly children. And anyway, I haven't +had anything new for over a year, unless I count that blue chambray +wrapper. As little as I spend on clothes, I guess when I do want a new +gown it's nobody's business." + +The argument was plausible, convincing. Any listener who had been on +the point of accusing Persis of extravagance, must have humbly +acknowledged his mistake and begged her pardon. But Persis had a +harder task than to convince an outsider that she needed an addition to +her wardrobe. She was striving, and without success, to alter her own +uneasy conviction that the prospective visit of Justin Ware was +responsible for her novel and engrossing interest in her personal +appearance. + +Persis, studying her reflection in the mirror, directed the point of +the scissors toward her throat as if deliberating suicide. "I wonder," +she mused, "how 'twould look to have it turn away at the neck in a V. +'Tisn't as if I was sixty." + +The scissors, obedient to the suggestion, snipped a cautious line +directly beneath Persis' chin. The cambric was folded back to give the +desired V-effect, and Persis' countenance assumed an expression of +complacence altogether justifiable. Then at this most inopportune +moment, Joel entered. + +"Persis, have you seen my bottle of Rand's Remedy?" Joel had reached +the stage, perhaps the most dangerous in his unceasing round, when he +was ready to accept implicitly the claims made for every patent +panacea. He dosed himself without mercy. He had a different pill for +every hour, pills for promoting digestion, for regulating the heart +action, for producing flesh. He swallowed weird powders, before and +after meals. He took a wine-glass of a sticky unwholesome-looking +fluid before retiring. Every periodical that came into the house he +scanned for advertisements of proprietary remedies, and his manner +sometimes suggested a complete willingness to contract asthma or +sciatica in order to have an excuse for testing the cures so glowingly +endorsed. + +The spectacle of his sister, becomingly arrayed in the lining of the +new gown, temporarily eclipsed the claims of Rand's Remedy. Joel came +to a jerky halt and stood open-mouthed. + +"Dress-goods must be getting expensive." Having convinced himself that +his eyes had not deceived him, Joel relieved his feelings by heavy +sarcasm. "It's a pity you can't afford cloth enough to cover you. I +guess it's true that modesty's getting to be a lost art when a woman of +your age will flaunt around--" + +The goaded Persis spoke to the point. "Seems to me I remember not so +very long back when you were taking a constitutional out on the front +lawn without much more'n a bath-towel between you and the public." + +"What are you talking about?" Joel reddened angrily. "I'm a man, +ain't I?" + +"Well, we won't discuss that, seeing it's nothing to do with the case. +But I will say that the very men who make the most fuss about women's +dressing immodest, wouldn't mind riding through town on a band wagon +with nothing on but a pair of tights. And I think they'd be in better +business looking after the beams in their own eyes." + +"That sort of thing is meant to allure." Joel pointed an accusing +finger toward the V-neck. "It's 'stepping o'er the bounds of modesty,' +as Shakespeare says, to entice your fellowmen." + +"The jaw-bone of that ass that Samson killed a thousand Philistines +with," returned Persis severely, "ain't to be compared for deadliness, +it seems, with a woman's collar-bone. Looks to me as if 'twas high +time to stop calling women the weaker sex when it takes so little to +bring about a man's undoing. I've known plenty of foolish women in my +time, but the most scatter-brained, silly girl I ever set my eyes on +could see any number of men with their collars off and their trousers +rolled up and not be any more allured than if she was looking at so +many gate-posts. You men have certainly got to be a feeble sex, Joel. +The wonder is you don't mind owning up to it." + +"'Vanity of vanities,'" taunted Joel from the doorway, "'all is +vanity.'" He withdrew hastily, carrying with him the uneasy conviction +that he had come off second-best in the encounter. And Persis, her +cheeks hot with indignation, cut the V-neck a good eighth of an inch +lower than she had intended. + +In spite of this inauspicious beginning, she was presently singing over +her work. There was something distinctly exhilarating in the idea of +devoting a week to her personal needs, keeping her customers waiting, +if necessary, though she hardly thought this probable, as the season +was still slack. And the elation of her mood reached its climax when +Annabel Sinclair sent Diantha down to say that she wished her black net +made over, and was in a hurry. Persis had heard nothing from Annabel +since Diantha had worn home her first long dress. And though she had +reckoned on the probability that the opening of the fall season would +bring her irate patron to terms, Persis experienced vast satisfaction +in returning a nonchalant reply to the peremptory message. + +"Can't do a thing just now, Diantha. Next week, Friday, if your mother +hasn't got anybody else--" + +"Oh, she won't get anybody else, Miss Persis. Nobody else would suit +her." + +Diantha looked taller and more mature than ever in a plain, loosely +fitting blue serge. Persis appraised it with judicial eye. "Ready +made, ain't it, Diantha?" + +The girl blushed tempestuously, "Yes, father bought it for me in the +city. Mother said-- That other dress, you know--" + +"Yes, I s'pose your mother thought we'd ought to have consulted her, +instead of going ahead. Well, tell her I'm busy for the rest of this +week, Diantha, and for next, up till Friday." + +If this were a dismissal, Diantha failed to accept it. She perched on +the arm of the big chair and watched with fascinated eyes the heavy +shears biting their way through a filmy fabric of a delicate gray +shade. "How pretty!" Diantha murmured. Then with more animation. +"Thad West says you're the best dressmaker anywhere around here. He +says that you could make lots of money in the city." + +"I'm quite set up by his good opinion--seeing he knows so much about +it." That Persis' dry retort veiled sarcasm was far from Diantha's +thought. She continued guilelessly. + +"He's got such good taste, Thad has. Don't you think men have better +taste than women, Miss Persis? All women care about is following the +styles, and men think whether the way you do your hair is becoming or +not. If a thing isn't pretty, they don't care a bit about its being +stylish." + +Persis glanced up from her cutting. She had noticed this phenomenon +before, the impulse of the girl who feels a proprietary interest in +some particular male, to indulge in sweeping generalities concerning +the opposite sex. When Persis had schemed to bring about the dramatic +encounter between Thad West and the Diantha newly emerged from the +chrysalis stage, she had but one end in view; to show the young man the +essential absurdity of any sentimental acquaintance between himself and +the mother of this blooming maid. With a vague uneasiness she realized +the possibility that she had overshot the mark. + +"I think Thad dresses beautifully himself," Diantha purred on. "When +you're little you can't see but what men's clothes are all alike. +Isn't that funny? Now, Thad's neckties--" + +There was a heavy step upon the porch, and Persis was spared further +harrowing details. "Oh, it's the doctor," Diantha cried, with a sigh +for her interrupted confidences. "Is anybody sick?" + +"Nobody here," said Persis, and she echoed Diantha's sigh. The +doctor's appearance suggested that she might be needed to act as nurse +in some household too poor to pay for professional care. For a dozen +years the old doctor had called on her freely for such gratuitous +service, and his successor had promptly fallen into a similar practise. +At this juncture Persis felt a most unchristian reluctance to act the +part of ministering angel in any sick room. Nothing adds to a woman's +apparent age so rapidly as working by day and caring for the sick at +night. Persis had seen herself, on more than one occasion, take on ten +years in a week of such double duty. And just now she wanted to appear +youthful and pretty, not haggard and worn. She greeted the doctor less +cordially than was her wont for the reason that in her heart she knew +she must do whatever he asked. + +Doctor Ballard shook hands with Persis, nodded casually to Diantha and +waited openly for that ingenuous young person to take her departure. +As the door closed behind her, he dropped into the armchair she had +vacated, crossed his legs and sighed. + +"Miss Persis, I'm up a tree. I want some advice." + +"You're welcome to all I've got." Persis, regretting the reserve of +her greeting, beamed upon him affectionately. + +"Did you ever know a woman to die just because she'd decided that was +the proper caper?" + +"Trouble?" Persis questioned laconically. + +"Lord, no! Everything comfortable. Husband who worships her. As far +as I can diagnose the case, it's a sort of homesickness for the pearly +gates." + +"Kind of as if she'd got disgusted with this world," suggested Persis, +with one of her flashes of intuition, "and wanted to get some place +where things would be more congenial." + +"You've hit it to a T. Now, what I want to know is this, can people +keep up that kind of nonsense till they die of it? I've got a patient +right now who's lost thirty pounds by it. She won't eat. She won't +make an effort. She sits around smiling like an angel off on +sick-leave, and the same as tells me I can't do anything for her +because she's wanted over the river. Husband's about crazy." + +"What's her name?" + +Professional caution did not seal Doctor Ballard's tips. In many a +sick room, by more than one deathbed, he and this keen-eyed woman had +come to know each other with a completeness of understanding which even +wedlock does not always bring. "It's Nelson Richards' wife," he said +without hesitation, nor did he ask her to respect his confidence. + +"Yes, I mistrusted it was Charlotte Richards. Goodness has always been +Charlotte's specialty, so to speak, the kind of goodness," Persis +explained carefully, "that ain't good for anything in particular. And +she's lost thirty pounds?" + +"I'd stake my professional reputation," said the doctor vehemently, +"that nothing ails that woman except that she thinks Heaven would be a +better background for her saintliness than earth. The question is +whether she can carry it to the point of suicide." + +"Of course she can, if she wants to. I've seen it happen more'n once. +The thing to do is to give her a reason for wanting to stay on +earth--to look after things." Persis stood motionless, the hand +holding the shears extended in a fashion suggesting Lady Macbeth. A +spark of light illumined her meditative eyes. + +"Well?" said the doctor hopefully. He recognized the signs. + +"I won't say that I haven't got an idea, but it'll bear thinking +about"--Persis' favorite formula. "I'll try to find time to drop in +and see Charlotte." + +"She doesn't need cheering, you understand," said the doctor. "She's +as cheerful as the devil himself. 'A very bad night, doctor, and the +palpitation is worse. This morning my Heavenly home seems very near.'" +He mimicked Mrs. Richards' sanctimonious tones with a skill which won +even from the abstracted Persis the tribute of a smile. + +"No, I won't try to cheer her," she promised. "Stirring up, not +cheering up, is what Charlotte needs. And I don't say but what I've +got an idea. I can't spare any time for a few days, though, Doctor. I +need to do some sewing for myself, and I'm going to do it, come what +may." + +Vain boast. Persis was washing the dishes after the midday meal when +Joel entered the kitchen to announce a caller. "It's the Chase girl, +Mildred I think her name is. Anyway, it's the oldest one. And I guess +she wants a dress made. She's got a bundle under her arm." + +Persis thought this unlikely. "Those Chase girls make their own +clothes and do pretty well at it, too. I've often wanted to give 'em a +few hints about the shoulder seams, but except for that, they look real +shipshape. And anyway, I can't do anything for a week yet. I'm going +to attend to my own sewing." + +Mildred Chase greeted Persis with a smile so radiant as to give a +misleading impression of comeliness. She shook hands with the +dressmaker, apparently struggling against an impulse to fall on her +neck and kiss her. Persis, whose acquaintance with the girl was +comparatively slight, viewed those indications of overmastering +affection with perplexity. + +Mildred did not wait to be questioned. Her volubility suggested that +she could not have withheld information if she had tried. + +"Oh, Miss Dale; I've got the greatest news to tell you. You'd never +guess in the world. I'm going to be married." + +"Well, all I can say is, Mildred, that it's not the most surprising +news I ever heard," Persis answered kindly. There was something +pleasant in the sight of this flushed, happy young creature who only +the other day had been a dull heavy-eyed girl and soon would be a dull +heavy-eyed wife. It was her little hour, her transient spring-time. +Persis choked back a sigh. + +Mildred was fumbling at the parcel in her lap. "I've always said one +thing, that if ever I got married, Miss Dale was going to make my +wedding dress. I can sew well enough for ordinary clothes, but a +wedding dress is sort of special. That calls for a regular dressmaker, +and there ain't but one dressmaker in Clematis that counts." + +"When's the wedding to be?" Persis asked. A sudden sinking of the +heart foretold the answer. + +"It's a week from Saturday. It's so sudden that I can hardly believe +it myself. We didn't think we could be married for a year, anyway, but +Jim got a raise unexpected. They're going to send him West, and he's +bound I shall go when he does." + +The parcel was unwrapped at last, its shimmering white contents +contrasting with the girl's shabby dress and work-roughened hands, much +as the dreams of the wedding-day contrast with the hard realities that +follow. Persis looked, hesitated, thought of the filmy gray, just cut +and awaiting basting, thought of the hopes that linked the present with +her lost girlhood, and ended as she had always ended, by unselfish +surrender. + +"It's pretty goods," she said, touching it lightly with the tips of her +fingers. "And--and there's nothing I like better to make than wedding +clothes, my dear." + +Certain important details came up for discussion, interrupted +frequently by the outgushing of Mildred's artless confidences, to all +of which Persis listened patiently. And when the girl took her +departure, the impulse which had manifested itself on her arrival +proved too strong to resist. She kissed Persis good-by, and Persis +returned the kiss. + +The rudimentary beginnings of a new gray gown were bundled together and +tucked away to wait their fate, while Persis worked till a late hour on +Mildred Chase's wedding dress. But tired as she was, with that +undercurrent of depression which sometimes most unjustly is the +attendant on generous sacrifice, she found time to write a letter to a +gentleman named Thompson, in care of the Hollenden Hotel, Cleveland. + + +"Mr. W. Thompson: + +"Dear Sir--Yours received. Nothing could be further from my wish than +to keep anything that belongs to somebody else, but you can understand +that I don't feel like sending a young lady's letter to the first man +who happens to ask for it, especially as Thompson is not what you would +call an unusual name. If the young lady who wrote the letter will drop +me a line asking me to forward it to you, I'll be happy to oblige her. +She won't even have to write any thing but her first name, unless she +likes. + +"Yours truly, + + "Persis Dale. + +"P. S. If the young lady will tell me your full name, when she writes, +it will make you a lot surer to get the letter. W. Thompson is a name +that fits lots of people." + + +This epistolary weight off her conscience, Persis went up-stairs to +bed, and for the first time in twenty years, she went without a good +night to the photograph in the blue plush frame. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +SHOULD AULD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT + +Justin Ware arrived in town the day Persis finished Mildred's wedding +dress. She heard the news from Joel, who had been at the station when +the train came in. This was not a happy accident, nor was it intended +as a spontaneous welcome to the returning son of Clematis. Year in and +year out, except when the state of his health prevented, Joel kept a +standing engagement with the four-twenty train, and few left town or +entered it without his knowledge. + +"He's filled out considerable, Justin Ware has, but except for that he +hasn't changed much. Got a seal ring and silk lining to his overcoat. +He ain't what you call a flashy dresser, but he lays it all over the +young chaps like Thad West who think they're so swell." + +Persis listened without comment. She had worked unusually hard that +week, and the tired lines of her face acknowledged as much. She set +them at defiance in a peculiarly feminine fashion by dressing that +evening in the unbecoming henrietta and doing her hair in the plainest, +most severe fashion. At half past seven Thomas Hardin came. + +"That Ware feller is going to put up at the Clematis House. He's a big +bug all right. Wanted a private setting-room, he did," Thomas +chuckled. "Guess he's the sort that can't remember back further than +he feels like doing. Old man Ware's private setting-room was a keg o' +nails in Sol Peter's store. Nobody else ever thought of taking that +particular keg. Stood right back of the stove, I remember. You never +caught old man Ware putting on any airs." + +"Justin and me was always the best of friends," said Joel, puffing out +his thin chest pompously, as if he felt himself vicariously honored by +Mr. Ware's tendency to exclusiveness. "We took a shine to each other +when we were little shavers. As Addison says: + + "'Great souls by instinct to each other turn + Demand alliance, and in friendship burn!' + + +"Yes, sir, it was a real David and Jonathan affair. That's his picture +upon the mantel now." + +Thomas Hardin turned his head. "'Tis so," he assented. "Hasn't +changed such an all-fired lot only now he looks as if he'd cut his +wisdom teeth quite a spell back." His gaze wandered to Persis, +silently basting the breadths of a gray crepe skirt. "You must have +been acquainted with him, too," he said politely, striving to include +her in the conversation. + +"Yes, I knew him." Persis did not lift her eyes. + +"All the family knew Justin," Joel explained. "Him and me being such +friends, he was in and out of the house same as if he belonged here. I +didn't speak to him to-day, because I never was one to cheapen myself +by doing my visiting on a depot platform. We'll have plenty of chances +to talk over old times. + + "'There is nothing can equal the tender hours + When life is first in bloom.'" + + +It seemed to Persis during the next two days that wherever she turned +she heard of Justin Ware. There was no escaping the subject. Without +question Justin's business methods were the acme of up-to-date +effectiveness. An outbreak of war could hardly have stirred the town +to more seething excitement than the advent of this well-dressed young +man with his self-confident air and full pocketbook. Clematis was +apple-mad. The Apple of Eden Investment Company and its optimistic +promises eclipsed in interest the combined fascinations of politics and +scandal. The groups in those local lounging-places, which in rural +communities are the legitimate successors of the Roman forum, passed +over prospective congressional legislation and Annabel Sinclair's +latest escapade in favor of apple orchards. The statistics which fell +so convincingly from Ware's lips were quoted, derided, defended, +denied. The hardest argument the objectors had to encounter was Ware +himself. The atmosphere of prosperity surrounding him, his air of +familiarity with luxury, could not be offset by logic. The program of +the Clematis Woman's Club was fairly swamped by the eagerness of the +members to question Mrs. Hornblower as to the possibilities of profit +in this form of investment. Persis, who had come to the meeting late, +went away early while the discussion was at its height and missed a +paper by Gladys Wells entitled, _No Knot at the End of the Thread_. + +Persis Dale was not lacking in self-respect. But for twenty years her +self-respect had been identical with her loyalty. She could not fancy +the one arrayed against the other. She clung desperately to the hope +that Justin would explain. For half her lifetime she had found excuses +for his silence, and the habit was too strong to be smothered +overnight. But even her prejudiced tenderness recognized the +insufficiency of the grounds on which she had exonerated the lover of +her girlhood from blame. It was no longer possible to judge his faith +by her own, scorning all doubt of him as she would have scorned the +grossest of temptations. She could have borne the news of his death +without outward evidence of emotion, but this bewilderment and +uncertainty taxed her strength almost to the breaking point. Through +the days, with the help of her work, she kept herself so well in hand +as almost to believe that the victory was lasting. But as the dusk +settled down, the old questioning began. Would he come? Could he stay +away longer? He had been in town five days without seeing her, six +days, seven. Against her will and her judgment, she found herself +waiting, listening, hoping. Footsteps echoed outside, lagging feet, +reluctant to leave comfort behind, swift feet, hurrying to keep some +tryst with joy. She heard them pass and repass while her pulses leaped +with a hope she knew to be folly, and then steadied to the old +monotonous beat. She grew to hate the face of the tall clock in the +corner ticking off the seconds glibly, leering as the time grew late, +as if it alone knew her secret and mocked her disappointment. Thomas +Hardin, coming in on one or two occasions, had exclaimed at the sight +of her colorless face. Ordinarily she knew his step, but now her +strained nerves misinterpreted the most familiar sights and sounds. + +If the days were hard, the nights were torture. Even that poor, +tormenting, futile hope that left her sick and shaken was better than +hopelessness. There were no stars in the darkness that brooded over +her heart after the sun went down. As she lay with clenched hands, +counting the ten thousand woolly sheep whose agility in overleaping an +obstructive wall is for some mysterious reason assumed to be soporific +in its influence, she was conscious of a sort of terror of the thoughts +lurking in ambush, ready to spring out upon her if she were off her +guard for an instant. It was useless to tell herself that she was no +poorer than before, that nothing had changed. In her heart she knew +better. She had worked on through the gray years, facing a colorless +future, without a word from her one-time lover, to tell her that he +lived or ever thought of her, and yet a dream, too vague and illusory +to be named hope, had been her stay and solace. Now as she stared +wide-eyed into the dark, she asked herself what was left. + +It was no wonder that the gray crepe grew apace. For the first time in +her well-disciplined life, Persis gave up the struggle with refractory +nerves, left her bed night after night and sewed till daybreak. For +whatever might fail, her work was left, that grim consoler, who, +masking benignity by a scowl, has kept ten million hearts from breaking. + +The gown was finished at daybreak, one bright October morning, and that +evening Persis tried it on, in the apathetic mood that mercifully +relieves tense feelings when the limit of endurance has been reached. +It was late, according to Clematis standards. For almost twenty-four +hours that dreadful, unbeaten hopefulness would be quiescent. Thomas +Hardin had come and gone. Joel was in bed. Persis Dale put on her new +gray gown and scrutinized herself in the mirror. She had lost interest +in her personal appearance, but her professional instinct told her that +the dress was a success. + +"It would be real becoming if my hair wasn't strained back so. A dress +can't do much for you when you look like a skinned rabbit, all on +account of your hair." She recalled the coiffure in which Annabel +Sinclair had presented herself the previous day, and loosening the coil +of her hair, as glossy and abundant as ever, she imitated with a skill +which surprised herself, Annabel's version of the latest mode. She was +studying the effect when some one knocked. + +It was quarter of nine. It occurred to Persis that some one of the +neighbors must be ill. There seemed no other explanation for such a +summons at that hour. She crossed the room hurriedly and opened the +door. + +A man stood outside, and after a moment of hesitation he entered, +putting out his hand. + +"Good evening, Miss Dale. I hope you haven't forgotten me." + +Persis recalled afterward with the amazement self-discovery so +frequently entails, that the one thought for which her mind had room +was an intense thankfulness that she had arrayed herself in the gray +dress. That emotion was infinitely removed from vanity. The new gown +had become an armor. Except for its aid she would have been at too +great a disadvantage in this encounter. + +The hand she extended was quite steady. "Of course I haven't forgotten +you, Justin. Won't you sit down?" + +Justin pulled up a chair for her before seating himself. He had an +impulse to gain time, the result of being taken by surprise. This was +not quite the Persis he had expected to find. In recalling that early +affair of the heart with the indulgent smile its absurdity demanded, +Justin's imagination had drawn an unflattering sketch of the object of +his boyish devotion. But his first glance told him that Persis Dale +was still a good-looking woman, with an unmistakable dignity of manner, +and, surprising as it seemed, some commendable ideas as to dress. His +eyes dwelt on her with approval. He really wished he had called +earlier. + +They talked for a little of the most obvious matters as old friends +will, meeting after many years. He was less at ease than she, and +asked her permission to smoke, finding the manipulation of his +cigarette a help in concealing if not overcoming his unwonted sense of +embarrassment. The talk turned presently to common acquaintances, +dangerous ground, he realized, though he asked himself what other +interest they had in common. Persis was able to give him considerable +information concerning friends, some of whose very names he had +forgotten. She left him to direct the conversation as he would. He +reflected that she was more quiet than he would have expected to find +her, more reserved, but by no means a woman to laugh at. That had been +his mistake. + +He was lighting his second cigarette when he caught sight of the +plush-framed photograph. He stared till his match went out, and +rising, crossed the room. As he scrutinized the likeness of his callow +self, he gave way to laughter, his first spontaneous expression of +feeling since he entered the room. + +"Upon my word, Persis," he cried gaily, using her name for the first +time and seemingly unconscious that he had done so. "It's been +extremely charitable of you to give this jay house-room for so long." +He scratched another match, lit his cigarette and laughed again. "I +wonder if I could have been such an unconscionable donkey as I looked." + +Persis moved slightly in her chair, but failed to reassure him on that +point. + +"We really wore our hair in that style, didn't we?" he continued +humorously. "And yet the thunderbolts spared us. And that classy +thing in ties! By jove! Persis, you'll have to make me a present of +this for old times' sake. This pretty picture of smiling innocence +gets on my nerves. I shall feel easier when it has been consigned to +the flames." + +From the armchair Persis spoke. Her voice was low and distinct. + +"Let that picture alone." + +The accent of authority was unmistakable. Justin Ware turned, and +stood transfixed by what he saw. Persis' cheeks were crimson, her eyes +ablaze. His astonishment over the discovery that she was angry, +blended with surprised admiration. Persis in a fury was almost a +handsome woman. + +He went back to his chair, a trifle uncertain as to the next move. He +had made a study of women, too, but this country dressmaker baffled him +for the moment. Her heated defense of his picture would have suggested +a conclusion flattering to his vanity had it not been for the +incongruous fact that seemingly her anger was directed against himself. +There was a piquant flavor to the situation gratifying to his epicure's +taste. + +"It's good of you to stand up for the fellow, Persis. You always were +kind-hearted, I remember. But really isn't this stretching charity too +far? Such a Rube is meant to be laughed at. There's nothing else to +do with him. And to think that he and I were one only--let's see, how +many years has it been?" + +"We won't talk about that picture any more." + +He regarded her humorously through the haze of smoke. "And why not?" + +"He's a friend of mine. I don't care to have him laughed at!" + +"But you forget my relation to the gentleman, my dear Persis. If any +one should be sensitive, it surely is I." + +"You've nothing to do with him," Persis declared, biting off her words +in peppery mouthfuls. "You're as much of a stranger to him as you are +to me. We'll just let him alone. There's things enough to talk about, +I should hope, without making fun of that poor boy." + +"Suppose I give you one of my late photographs in exchange for the +cherub with the curly locks." + +"I don't want it." + +Justin was a trifle taken aback. He had hardly made the offer before +he had accused himself of indiscretion. To be sure Persis was taking a +very proper attitude. She showed no inclination to presume on the +sentimental phase of their former acquaintance. She had said +distinctly that they were strangers. And yet it was as well to be +guarded. The bluntness of her retort gave him an almost rueful +conviction of the needlessness of caution. + +The flame of Persis' anger had burned itself out almost immediately, +but the red embers still glowed in her eyes, and her cheeks were hot. +She changed the subject with no pretense at finesse: "You seen Minerva +Leveridge yet?" + +"I don't seem to recall any one of that name." + +"She was Minerva Bacon, and she married Joe Leveridge, old Doctor +Whitely's nephew. You must remember him. Quiet sort of boy with a +cast in his eye." + +"Oh, yes. I remember the fellow now. His name was Leveridge, was it?" + +"Yes. He died six or seven years ago. He left Minerva comf'tably +fixed, judging from the mourning she wore. When a widow's crepe veil +reaches to her heels it's pretty sure her husband left her some life +insurance. You been to the Sinclairs' yet?" + +"Why, yes." Justin looked a little guilty. As a matter of fact he had +found time to drop in to see Annabel more than once. "I met Mrs. +Sinclair on the street near the hotel one afternoon, and she asked me +to call." + +"That's why she was in such a hurry for the net," thought Persis. +Aloud she said: "Her Diantha is an awfully pretty girl, as much of a +belle as ever her mother was." + +"No? I haven't happened to see the girl, but it's hard to think of +Mrs. Sinclair as the mother of a grown daughter." + +Ware realized with amazement that he would not again be allowed to +broach the subject of the photograph. He had that fondness for playing +with fire which so frequently survives in the adults of both sexes, and +he gave the conversation a semi-sentimental twist more than once, only +to be brought back sharply to practicalities by the lady in gray. +There was no doubt that Persis meant to be mistress of the situation. + +"I shall see you very soon again," he said, as he shook hands for good +night. He would probably have said this in any case, such consolatory +assurances being instinctive with him, but for a wonder he meant it. +He had looked forward to this meeting with reluctance and had only made +the call because even his complacent conscience had assured him that to +omit it would be inexcusable. And virtue had been unexpectedly +rewarded. He had enjoyed himself. He wanted to call again. + +"Good night," said Persis, and neglected to assure him of her pleasure +in the anticipation of his speedy return. She withdrew her hand. +"Good night," she repeated. And if she recalled their last parting in +that very room, she was not sure whether the contrast was a ground for +laughter or for tears. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +'TWIXT THE CUP AND THE LIP + +The night following Justin Ware's visit, Persis slept as soundly as a +tired child. It was not that the interview had relieved her +apprehensions nor in any way set her mind at rest, but after prolonged +uncertainty, even the realization of one's worst forebodings may come +as a relief. She slept late and rose more weary than when she went to +bed. Yet in spite of that numbing sense of lassitude which clung like +weights to her limbs, and for all her unaccustomed aversion to the +thought of work, she knew her battle was won. Never again would she +watch and listen and strangle at their birth, poor futile prayers for +some assurance that a man's heart was still hers. + +As if some evil spell had been broken, she recalled with pangs of +self-reproach various duties she had neglected, in her unwonted +self-absorption. She had not even kept her promise to Doctor Ballard +to see his obdurate patient. Persis realized how completely she had +regained her poise when she chuckled over the plan which had suggested +itself as she listened to Doctor Ballard's diagnosis of Mrs. Richards' +ailment. + +"I'm so kind of headachy and restless that my sewing's bound to be a +fizzle. I'll run in to see Charlotte this afternoon. It's a shame I +haven't been there before. Don't know what the doctor'll think of me." + +Considering that she was merely planning a little friendly call on a +sick neighbor, Persis made her toilet with surprising care. In putting +up her hair she again selected Annabel Sinclair as a model. She donned +the gray crepe, a startling innovation, for in Clematis to wear a new +dress on week-days, for any occasion less important than a wedding or a +funeral, argued constitutional extravagance. As a final step in her +preparation she rubbed her cheeks violently with a rough crash towel, +the resulting brilliant complexion successfully obliterating all traces +of weariness, the flotsam and jetsam of anxious days and haunted +nights. And then with a jauntiness remarkable under the circumstances, +Persis departed, resolved by fair means or foul to distract the +thoughts of Mrs. Nelson Richards from the occupancy of a reserved +apartment in the Heavenly mansions. + +Charlotte Richards had always been a pretty woman of that ethereal type +of beauty that is not noticeably diminished by fragility. Persis, +looking her over, estimated that the thirty pounds the doctor credited +her with losing had been appreciably increased since he made his appeal +for aid. At the same time, the dressmaker admitted with grudging +admiration the effectiveness of the picture the invalid presented as +she lay back in her rocking-chair, bright-colored pillows heaped about +her, a slender figure in black, the wide blue eyes matched by the blue +veins in the temples, and with violet shadows below. In the bright, +prosaic little sitting-room she looked as out of place as a Raphael's +cherub in a kindergarten, a creature unmistakably belonging to another +sphere. + +"Dear Persis," breathed Mrs. Richards, and extended a transparent hand. +"You'll forgive my not getting up," she added gently. + +"Don't mention it." Persis' ringing tones had a heartiness which +seemed plebeian contrasted with Mrs. Richards' subdued murmurs. "You +look the picture of comfort in that big chair. I'd hate to have you +disturb yourself." + +The faintest imaginable shadow crossed the other's face. + +"I have very little strength, Persis. Day by day I am growing weaker. +But don't think I am complaining. I am quite happy as I lie here +picturing the glories of the New Jerusalem." + +"I've found that rare beef was the best thing in the world for that +kind of thoughts," responded Persis. "I buy the round and scrape it. +You can take it raw if it's ice-cold, but I like it best made into a +ball and just scorched on both sides, enough to heat it through." + +The invalid's smile was distinctly superior. + +"You are trying to encourage me, Persis, but you have nursed too many +of the sick not to see that I'm very near the river. Earthly remedies +are of no avail," declared Mrs. Richards, who had the constitutional +incapacity of numberless people to speak of death and the hereafter, +and yet remain simple and unaffected. "But I do not find the thought +depressing. Far from it. My heart is light when I think of the joys +that await me." + +"I didn't know but on your husband's account you'd feel like making an +effort." + +Mrs. Richards sighed. + +"Poor Nelson! Yes, my heart bleeds when I think of Nelson left in his +loneliness. But it won't be for long. He will soon follow me." + +Persis elevated her brows. + +"Well, no, Charlotte. Don't deceive yourself about that. Nelson will +feel your going, and for a time he'll take on something terrible. But +he won't die of it. He comes of good long-lived stock, Nelson does, +and though he's no boy, he's likely got twenty-five or thirty years +ahead of him. And that brings me around to what was in my mind when I +came over." + +She relapsed into silence, studying a figure in the carpet, and +apparently not quite certain how to continue. "Well?" questioned Mrs. +Richards, and for the first time during the interview there was a +querulous note in her voice. + +"It's about Nelson's future. Of course, as far as you're concerned, +there's no reason to worry. There's some folks that are naturally +constituted to enjoy Heaven, and there's others who seem to belong to +this earth. Nelson's one sort and you're another." This time her +pause was protracted. + +"Well?" Mrs. Richards prompted feverishly. "Go on." + +"I really don't know, Charlotte. Maybe I've been a little mite +impulsive speaking out this way. Perhaps I'd better not say anything +more." + +"Anything more? You haven't said anything yet, as far as I can see," +returned Mrs. Richards tartly. "Don't be mysterious, Persis." + +"Well, for some days now, I've been deliberating opening up my mind to +you. They do say that folks that are kind of on the border-line +between the two worlds, can see things plainer than other people. But +I won't say another word unless I get your solemn promise that what I +tell you don't go any further." + +"Of course I shall respect your confidence, Persis." Mrs. Richards +swallowed impatiently. "I always tell Nelson everything, but except +for him--" + +"But Nelson's the very last one I want to hear this. Never mind, +Charlotte. I see it was a crazy idea, my coming over this afternoon. +I don't know what got into me. We won't talk about it any more. Did +those dahlias grow in your garden, Charlotte? They're the finest I've +seen this year." + +"Persis Dale, you certainly can be an aggravating woman when you try. +What about Nelson?" + +"Do you promise you'll never breathe a word to any soul alive, least of +all to Nelson himself?" + +Mrs. Richards hesitated. But curiosity was not altogether foreign to +her saintly nature, and Persis' reluctance to impart the confidence +naturally increased her desire to hear it. "I promise," she agreed, +with an effort to keep the eagerness out of her voice. + +"Well, then, this is what I was coming at. Of course I see that as you +lie here you're bound to be thinking about Nelson, and worrying over +what's going to become of him while you're enjoying yourself on the +other side." + +"That is all arranged," Mrs. Richards interrupted. "His sister Hetty +is coming to keep house for him." + +"Hetty's no kind of companion for Nelson. He's a man who likes +cheerful company, and Hetty's what I call a natural widow. You know +some folks are born that way. They kind of hang crepe on everything +they touch. Hetty drizzles tears as easy as a sponge." + +"Well, really, Persis, as long as Nelson and I are satisfied with the +arrangement I don't know as you have any call to trouble yourself." + +Persis met the invalid's irritated protest with an air of disarming +frankness. + +"Of course you wouldn't see, and that's just what I'm coming at. I +suppose Nelson has told you that he and I had a little boy and girl +affair when we was both of us too young to know our own minds." + +Mrs. Richards' incredulous gasp indicated with sufficient clearness +that she had not been favored with her husband's confidence regarding +that chapter in his past. + +"You and Nelson?" + +"Yes. Now, I don't mean, Charlotte, that we was ever engaged. Mother +thought I was too young to have steady company, and Nelson was just a +boy, and he took her snubbings to heart more'n he would have done if +he'd been older." + +"He's always given me to understand," said the wife with dignity, "that +I was the only woman he ever cared for." + +"I guess they generally say that, don't they, Charlotte? It's kind of +like the 'honor and obey' in the marriage service. Women say it when +they know they _can't_ honor and they _won't_ obey. It's just a form. +But as far as Nelson goes," explained Persis thoughtfully, "I dare say +he could fix that up with his conscience without any trouble, seeing +our sweethearting never got beyond a few kisses at the gate. He did +give me a ring once, but 'twas nothing but carnelian. Land! Who'd +think of that twice?" + +Mrs. Richards, breathing hard, had no comment to offer on that delicate +point. + +"Now the case is just this." Persis spoke briskly. "After you're dead +and gone, Nelson's bound to marry again. A widower just can't help +himself. What with all the women scheming to catch him, he's got about +as much chance as a potato-bug turned loose in a chicken-yard. Queer +thing, the difference between bachelors and widowers," mused Persis, +straying temporarily into generalizations. "By the time a bachelor's +as old as Nelson, the women have kind of given up on him. But if a +man's been married once it proves that he's got a soft spot somewhere, +and all that's needed is for them to keep on trying till they find it. +But as I was saying. Charlotte, I thought that it might ease your mind +to know that he ain't going to be allowed to throw himself away. While +I don't want to seem boastful about it, I don't mind saying to you that +there's not another woman in the town who would stand any show +alongside me, if Nelson was free to pick and choose. And I'll give you +my solemn promise that he shan't put anybody in your place that you'd +be ashamed to acknowledge for your husband's second wife." + +Forgetting her pitiful lack of strength, Mrs. Richards sat erect, her +hollow cheeks aflame. + +"Persis Dale, have you got the nerve to sit there and tell me to my +face that you're going to set your cap for my husband after I'm dead?" + +"Now lie down, Charlotte, till I explain." Persis' soothing tone +suggested readiness to excuse the natural peevishness of an invalid. +"You mustn't go to exciting yourself, and hastening the end." + +Mrs. Richards promptly resumed her recumbent position. + +"I've talked plain to you, Charlotte," Persis said, "because you're not +of the same clay as most women. You've always been wrapped up in +celestial things since you was a girl. But a woman can't live with a +man as long as you've lived with Nelson and not feel responsible for +him. And I've told you this so there won't be a single shadow on your +mind these last days. I'll look out for Nelson." She spoke with the +air of one accepting a sacred trust. + +"I never heard of such a thing," breathed Mrs. Richards from the +pillows. + +"Of course while you were living, Charlotte," Persis continued, as if +the release so cheerfully anticipated by the invalid had already been +consummated, "I never should have allowed myself to think of Nelson +twice. But I own I've blamed my mother more than once for sending him +about his business the way she did. Nelson is a man in a thousand, +steady and affectionate and a careful provider. If he's been so good +to you, Charlotte, just think what the second wife has reason to +expect!" + +In muffled tones Mrs. Richards confided to the pillow that never in all +her life--and seemed unable to proceed further. + +"Well, I must be going." Suiting the action to the words, Persis rose. +"Send for me any time, Charlotte. Ever since I heard about your state +of health, I've felt drawn to you, same as if you were a sister. Mind, +I'll drop my sewing and everything any time you want me. And as for +Nelson's future, don't you give yourself an anxious thought about that." + +"Good-by," said Mrs. Richard's faintly, and closed her eyes. And with +a commiserative glance in which lurked a spice of humor, Persis +withdrew. At the door she encountered Nelson Richards hurrying home +early from his work to spend as much time as possible with his wife. +Anxiety had left its signature on Nelson's jovial face. He walked with +dragging step and drooping shoulders, apprehension counterfeiting age. +But at the sight of Persis he roused himself from his customary +abstraction. + +"Hello, Persis. Well, I declare you're a sight for sore eyes." He +regarded her with frank admiration, an unconscious tribute to the +effectiveness of the gray crepe. "Looks like you was renewing your +youth," he continued with heavy gallantry. "Ain't seen you look so +handsome since you was sixteen." + +Persis had not invented the episode of Nelson's boyish admiration. In +all important details she had held rigidly to the truth, though it is +doubtful whether those innocent, sexless kisses at the gate had been +recalled in the past dozen years by either party to the transaction. +But it was true that Nelson Richards had always had a warm spot in his +affections for his first sweetheart, and the cordiality of his greeting +was by no means perfunctory. + +Persis smiled upon him kindly. + +"Thank you, Nelson. Wish I could say as much for you, but to tell the +truth, you look to me a little peaked." + +"Well, I have felt better." He lowered his big voice discreetly. +"Fact is I'm worried pretty near to death over Charlotte. What do you +think about her, Persis? Doctor says he don't find nothing out of +shape with her organs. Looks as if she'd ought to pick up, don't it?" + +He swallowed hard as he put the question, his eyes eloquent with dumb +misery, and Persis laid a friendly hand upon his arm as she answered +with reassuring certainty: "Don't you worry, Nelson. I feel it in my +bones that Charlotte's going to be better before long." + +"I'd as soon take your say-so as any doctor's." The big man looked at +her gratefully. "Come in as often as you can, Persis. There ain't +nobody we'd rather see." + +He tramped into the house, armed in his splendid masculine obtuseness, +stooped to kiss his wife's hot cheek, and said, as was inevitable, the +last thing he should have thought of saying. + +"Saw Persis Dale out here just now, and I'll be darned if she ain't +getting better looking every day." + +"I can't see that that's enough to excuse profanity," said Mrs. +Richards witheringly. "Persis Dale is a coarse scheming creature." +Then as her husband burst into astonished protests, she showed signs of +hysteria. + +"Oh, of course you'll stand up for her. I wouldn't have expected +anything else. You go out to the ice-chest, Nelson Richards, and heat +up that cup of beef tea you set away last night." Left to herself she +lay back upon the pillows, gazing at the ceiling with vindictive eyes. + +"As long as she hasn't got the decency to wait till I'm in my grave," +said Mrs. Richards tearfully, "I'll fool her. I'll show her there's +many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A CONFESSION TOO MANY + +People were talking. That system of wireless telegraphy which +ante-dates Marconi's invention by ten thousand generations, had done +effective service. In the remotest farm-houses it was known that +Justin Ware had called on Persis Dale twice within a week. He came +between half past eight and nine, so said reliable rumor, and the +lateness of the hour of his arrival as well as of his departure, made +only too plain the relaxing influence of city life on country-bred +standards. + +Annabel Sinclair heard and turned faint and sick, so closely does +jealousy counterfeit love. As far as Justin Ware was concerned, the +news of his untimely death would have affected Annabel less than the +information that the chops had not been sent from the butcher's in time +for dinner. But he was a man and that he should choose to spend two +evenings in a week with another woman, after she had given him to +understand that his society would be agreeable to herself, argued a +decline in her powers of fascination. She told herself that she hated +Persis, that she hated Justin, that she loathed life and the miserable +business of being a woman, and she ended by finding pretexts for daily +excursions past the Clematis House, always arrayed in the most fetching +street costumes. When on the third day she encountered Justin, that +gentleman responded gallantly to her pensive tender reproach. His was +no Jericho heart, to demand a seven-day siege. He had found Persis +Dale unexpectedly interesting, but Annabel was unexpectedly pretty, and +a liking for pickles does not preclude a taste for sweets. + +Thomas Hardin's married sister, Mrs. Gibson, heard the news with +consternation. She had long been aware of the state of her brother's +affections, this indeed arguing no especial insight, since an infant in +arms would have possessed sufficient intuition to read the heart of the +guileless Thomas. Mrs. Gibson had regarded Persis in the proprietary +light of a prospective sister-in-law, even going so far as to criticize +her with the frank freedom which is the prerogative of kinship. When +the first rumor of Justin's attentions reached the good woman's ears, +she made a hurried trip to town for the sole purpose of interviewing +her brother. + +As good luck would have it, business was slack at the moment of her +arrival, and Thomas left two lanky country-women to the care of his +assistant, and followed his sister to a dingy space in the rear which, +primarily serving as a store-room, was also by virtue of a certain +gloomy privacy, peculiarly adapted to the discussion of a subject of +such delicacy. + +Mrs. Gibson dusted a chair with needless ostentation and then focused +her regard on her brother who stood before her a self-confessed +culprit, conscious guilt as manifest in his attitude as in the flaming +confusion of his face. + +"Thomas, what's this I hear about Persis Dale?" + +"I don't know, Nellie. What have you heard?" + +Mrs. Gibson's glance expressed her scorn of the evasion. + +"Is it true that Justin Ware is going with her?" + +"Why, I've heard, Nellie, that he's been over there once or twice. Old +friend of Joel's," explained Thomas, with a futile effort to speak +convincingly. + +"Fiddlesticks! If I thought you really believed that any man would +walk from the Clematis House out to the Dale place for the sake of +hearing Joel Dale talk about the latest cure-all, I'd be ashamed to own +you for my brother. If he goes, he goes to see Persis. Now, what do +you mean to do about it?" + +"Nellie, I haven't any right to interfere. If she wants Justin Ware's +company it's her own business. She's not beholden to me." + +"No," snapped Mrs. Gibson. "And why ain't she? Because you've been +shilly-shallying along as though 'twas her business to pop the +question. You men are getting nowadays so you can't do a thing for +yourselves, you just hang back and leave us women to do it all." + +Thomas squirmed like an impaled beetle. "Guess I'd better go back into +the store, Nellie. George means well, but he hasn't much of a +head-piece--" + +"Thomas Hardin, you stay where you are till I'm done with you. Now +tell me straight. Have you ever asked Persis Dale to marry you?" + +"Well, Nellie, to be candid, I never have got really to the point. I +want her to know the worst about me first. I wouldn't take her in for +all the world, and then have her sorry afterward." + +"Take her in! Of course, you'll take her in. If all men stopped for +that, weddings would have gone out of fashion long ago. And it's well +for women's peace of mind that they don't have to know the worst about +the men they marry. I'm ashamed of you, Thomas! To think you've got +no more gumption than to stand around like a ninny and let that city +man walk off with the woman you've always wanted." + +"If she'd rather marry Justin Ware," Thomas began and failed to finish +his sentence, his voice strangled by his inward anguish. His sister +snorted. + +"Good lord! Thomas, a woman's going to marry the man that asks her. +By all accounts that Ware won't be mealy-mouthed. If he wants her, +he'll not stand back and let another man have the first say." + +There was a reasonableness in this presentation of the case which +impressed Thomas as his air of irresolution showed. + +"Then you think I've got a chance, Nellie?" + +His sister groaned her exasperation. "You had all the chance till this +Ware turned up. Of course when a woman's got a choice it makes a +difference. But there's nothing gained by holding off and letting him +have everything his own way. If you don't ask her, of course she'll +take him, provided she gets the chance. And if you do ask her, she may +take you. So you won't lose anything by trying." + +As a result of this plain unflattering counsel, Thomas Hardin dressed +that evening with unusual care, and with the approach of darkness +turned his face toward his familiar goal, his emotions befitting a +participant in the charge of the Light Brigade. His throat was +parched, his heart hammered. While absolutely certain that Persis was +aware of his aspiration, the thought of expressing it, of making a +formal offer, was distinctly terrifying. And moreover there was a +disagreeable preliminary that must receive attention, the confession of +another of those misdemeanors of his past, as irrepressible a brood as +hounded poor Macbeth. The episode dated back to his twentieth year, +when Annabel Sinclair was just waking up to the knowledge of her beauty +and the power it gave her over the susceptible sex. Thomas blushed to +recall how ignominiously he himself had capitulated. + +Fate was on his side that evening. Joel was absent. Persis was kind. +She sat by the lamp stitching, and the inevitable suggestion of +comfortable domesticity was in itself an inspiration. He thanked +Heaven for her lowered gaze, confident that if he were forced to meet +her candid eyes, he should never find courage to begin. + +"Persis, there's something I want to tell you. It ain't pleasant to +speak about it, but I think it's one of the things that ought to be +said before--I mean I'd be a good deal easier in my mind if you knew +all about it." + +"I don't believe it's anything so very bad, Thomas," Persis said with +unaccustomed gentleness. + +"Well, I don't know. She was so pretty and cute that it sort of went +to my head, but that's no excuse." + +"Who was pretty?" + +Persis let her work fall. Her eyes met her lover's with a challenge +that did not tend to lessen Thomas's confusion. + +"Well, Persis, you've a right to know. Of course I wouldn't mention it +to anybody else. Not that she was a mite to blame," interpolated +Thomas with instinctive chivalry, "for it was all my fault from start +to finish. It--it was Stanley Sinclair's wife." + +Absorbed as he was in relieving his conscience of its intolerable load, +it did not occur to Thomas to emphasize the fact that on the occasion +when he had played so culpable a part, Annabel still bore her maiden +name. It was a good two years before the dignified Stanley Sinclair +had recognized in the giddy, shallow, little beauty, the fitting mate +for his staid maturity. And that his failure to make this point clear +might lead to a serious misapprehension on Persis' part, failed to +present itself as a possibility to the honest blunderer. + +"Well?" Persis' tone was crisply interrogative. "What happened?" + +"Why, she looked so like a kitten, Persis, that you can't hardly help +petting, that I put my arm around her. And I--" He cleared his throat, +his eyes, fortunately for his resolution, fixed upon the floor. "Well, +I might as well make a clean breast of it. I did kiss her. Of course +I ought to be ashamed--" + +"Yes." Persis agreed icily. "You ought." + +She had listened with a sort of sickened revolt to Thomas' stammered +confession. Nothing that Annabel Sinclair could do would surprise her, +nor did she wonder when boys of Thad West's age yielded to her lure. +But that this man, this staid, stanch Thomas, on whom she had counted +more implicitly than she knew, should have proved so easy a victim +shook her native faith in humankind. "All men are alike," thought +Persis, in her haste betrayed into one of those sweepingly unjust +generalizations such as King David penitently acknowledged. + +Thomas' eyes came up from the carpet at her tone. He looked at her +with a sort of terror. The fixed sternness of her face made her seem a +stranger. Little as he had relished the idea of acknowledging his +bygone weakness, he had not dreamed of a result like this. + +For a moment he gazed at her with dumb appeal, then faltered: "I +was--was afraid you'd be disgusted with me, Persis." + +"I am." + +He swallowed hard as if her answer were a mouthful that resisted +mastication. For a little they sat silent. Persis picked up her work +and resumed her sewing with a brave show of indifference though the +seam ran into a blur before her eyes. And at last Thomas spoke. + +"I'm sorry you take it this way, Persis, but it couldn't be helped. I +had to clear up things before--I didn't feel it would be fair to ask +you anything that would bind you till you knew the worst about me. And +now--" + +There was another long silence. Then Thomas found himself upon his +feet, feeling for his hat, groping like a blind man. + +"Good-by, Persis. I wish I'd been a better man. But the fact is I +ain't fit to tie your shoe-strings, and that ends it. Good-by." + +He held out his hand, a formality unprecedented. She realized that he +meant it for good-by, not good night. Some perversity kept her eyes +upon her work, her hands occupied. + +"Good-by, Thomas." + +The door creaked ajar. There was a pause. It closed reluctantly. She +heard him stumble at the steps, go haltingly down the path. She +stabbed the fabric in her hand with her needle as if that minute tool +had been a weapon. + +"Men are all alike," repeated Persis, the tears running down her +cheeks. "But there's a difference in women. And the Annabel Sinclair +kind, with brains enough to keep 'em from being downright bad and not +enough conscience to make 'em good, are the worst of the lot. If the +devil couldn't count on their help in laying traps for good men, he'd +be dreadful handicapped." + +She swept the tears from her cheeks with a swift gesture, swallowed +those which had not yet fallen and fell to sewing frantically for there +were steps outside. But the late caller was not Justin Ware as for the +moment she had feared, but Mrs. West entering with the ponderous +dignity inseparable from two hundred pounds avoirdupois. Persis rose +hastily and pulled forward the big armchair, her action due to a +well-grounded fear for her furniture in addition to the impulse of her +native courtesy. + +"Set down, Mis' West. You're looking first-rate." + +"If I am it's more than I feel," the stout woman returned in a hollow +voice. "I'm so worried about Thad that I wonder there's anything left +of me." + +Persis, politely forbearing to call attention to the fact that enough +of Mrs. West remained for all practical purposes, regarded her friend +with kindly concern. "My, is Annabel Sinclair pestering that boy yet? +I thought--" + +"Persis, it's not Annabel now. It's the young one--Diantha." + +"Oh!" Persis resumed her sewing, with heightened color. + +"Yes. I used to think he was as crazy about that woman as anybody +could well be, but that wasn't to be named in the same day with the +state he's in now. He goes around as if he was in a sort of daze. +Sometimes I have to ask him three times over if he'll have another +helping of pie." + +"Well, it may not be sensible, Mis' West, but it's nature. I guess +there's nothing to do except put up with it." + +"But, Persis, she's so young." + +"She's younger than her mother, that's sure. And that's in her favor." + +"And she's Annabel Sinclair's daughter." + +"Well, that's better'n if she was somebody's wife." + +"It's easy for you to make light of it, Persis. But if he was your +boy--" Mrs. West produced a voluminous handkerchief from about her +person, hid her face in its folds and sobbed. + +"If he was my boy, Mis' West, I guess I'd act as foolish as other +mothers. But seeing he ain't, I can look at the affair kind of +detached and sensible. I don't suppose you're especially set up over +the idea of Diantha Sinclair for a daughter-in-law, but if mothers +picked out wives for their sons, there'd be mighty few girls who'd pass +muster, and the balance would have to settle down to be old maids." + +"It isn't that I don't think anybody's good enough for Thad," said Mrs. +West in hasty disclaimer. "I can see his faults fast enough." + +"Yes, you can see his faults, and you can excuse 'em, too. That's what +being a mother means. And you can see Diantha's faults, and you can't +excuse 'em without a struggle. Yet she's as pretty as a pink, and a +sweet-dispositioned girl, too. She's a long ways yet from being a +woman, but as far as I can see, she's started in the right direction." + +"I'd hate to think of my Thad leading the life Stanley Sinclair's had +to for the last fifteen years," said Mrs. West with feeling. + +"Well the cases ain't the same. When youth mates with youth, there's +hopes of them learning their lessons together and not making such hard +work of it, either. But what can you expect when a man along in the +forties decides it's time for him to settle down, and ties himself up +to some giddy young thing, so brimful of life that it's all she can do +to keep her toes on the ground. It's like hitching up a colt with some +slow-going old plug from a livery stable. YOU drive 'em that way, and +either the colt's spirit is going to get broken, or else the plug will +travel at a good deal faster clip than he likes." + +Mrs. West's attention had plainly wandered during Persis' homily. + +"Beats all how that girl grew up all in a minute, so to speak," she +said irrelevantly. + +Persis gave her entire attention to her work. + +"It don't seem any time since I was here and she came in to ask about +some sewing of her mother's. Her dress was up to her knees, and her +hair hanging in curls. Except for being tall she looked about ten +years old. And the next thing anybody knows, she's a young lady with +all the airs and graces." + +Persis preserved a guilty silence. + +"I didn't know but you might have some idea," Mrs. West suggested +hopefully, "You know you agreed to see what you could do about Annabel, +and then Thad got tired of her all at once, so there wasn't any call +for you to interfere." + +With a determined shake of her head, Persis declined the new commission. + +"No, Mis' West. I'm not going to have a finger in this pie, and I +advise you to let the young folks alone. If you don't want him to +marry her, your one chance is to leave 'em be. And if they do make a +match of it, either one might have done worse." + +While Persis gave no hint to her caller of her own complicity in the +situation Mrs. West deplored, at the bar of her own conscience she made +no effort to disclaim the responsibility. It helped to ease the hurt +due to the revelation of Thomas' weakness to busy her thoughts with +other people. + +"If they do take each other it's got to be for better instead of worse. +I made that match without meaning to, but as long as I had a hand in +it, I'm going to see that both of 'em behave." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE MAIL BAG + +"I should 'most think you'd have to give up the dressmaking business or +else hire a secretary. It takes considerable time to attend to such a +correspondence as you're getting to have." + +Joel slammed a bunch of letters down upon the table, his ill-temper +expressing itself as naively as that of a child. Nor was its occasion +a mystery to his sister. Numerous letters marked the recipient as an +individual of consequence. Joel's mail was limited to communications +from the distributors of quack remedies to whom he had communicated his +symptoms in accordance with instructions set forth in their +benevolently inquisitive advertisements. When Persis received several +letters on the same mail, the possibility that he might be a person of +secondary importance in the establishment presented itself to Joel with +disquieting force. + +"Like enough they're from some of my customers asking when I can spare +'em a little extra time," Persis suggested soothingly. + +"No, they ain't. Least ways some of 'em are from men. And I must say, +Persis, it don't look well, your carrying on a correspondence with two +or three men-folks and your own brother not know anything about it. As +the poet says: + + "'A lost good name is ne'er retrieved.' + + +"Who's this that's writing you from the Clematis House, anyway?" + +"I haven't looked to see," Persis replied dryly, but her comely face +took on color. + +"Looks bad when a man right in the same town's ashamed to say what he's +got to say to your face. Has to seal it up in an envelope. If you +were a little readier to ask advice, Persis, it would be better for +you. You women, sheltered and guarded all your lives, ain't expected +to know much about the world, and if you just won't seek counsel from +them that's able to give it, of course some unscrupulous rapscallion is +going to make fools of you." + +"Well, Joel," Persis promised with unimpaired good humor, "if I ever +get in a tight place where I need your advice, I'll ask for it." But +she made no move to investigate the contents of the promising pile upon +the table, and without attempting to mask his umbrage, Joel withdrew +his offended dignity to the porch. Even then, in splendid refutation +of the theory that curiosity is the cardinal vice of her sex, Persis +completed the task on which she was engaged before putting herself in a +position to answer Joel's inquiry as to the identity of the +correspondent using the stationery of the Clematis House. + +It was her first letter from that source for many a year and she +scrutinized the address long and thoughtfully. "I shouldn't even have +known his handwriting. If anybody'd told me that six months ago, I'd +have laughed in his face." But now instead of laughing she sighed, and +her face remained grave throughout the reading of the communication. + + +"Dear Persis--I am unexpectedly called out of town and shall not be +able to see you Thursday as I had expected. I do not think, however, +that I shall be away more than six weeks or two months at the longest. +There are some good business prospects here, which I have not as yet +brought to a satisfactory termination, but apart from that, the +temptation to see more of my old friends is too strong to be resisted. + +"Sincerely yours, + + "J. M. W." + + +"I guess he means the Hornblowers, by 'business prospects,'" mused +Persis, and replaced the letter in its envelope. For Mrs. Robert +Hornblower's anticipations of a life of luxurious ease had been +temporarily thwarted by the unexpected and unprecedented opposition of +her hitherto compliant husband. Even a worm will turn. Robert +Hornblower, after a lifetime of meek submission, had suddenly become +contumacious and unruly. The wifely authority, exercised so long under +another name, had as yet been powerless to bring him to the point of +disposing of his farm. The man had aged under the strain, had lost +flesh and color, along with sleep and appetite, and yet to the surprise +of his acquaintances and his own secret amazement, he had proved that +he had a will of his own by stubbornly reiterating his refusal to be +coerced into acting against his best judgment. And while Mrs. +Hornblower was confident of ultimate victory, it was not easy for her +to forgive her husband for delaying in so unjustifiable a fashion their +entrance into the Promised Land. + +The second letter to receive Persis' attention was addressed in a hand +which, like Justin's, seemed hauntingly familiar. Persis studied the +post-mark with the result of piquing her curiosity, rather than +satisfying it. + +"Warren, New York. First time I ever heard of that place to my +knowledge. Beats all how folks can know your name, when you hadn't +even found out that their town was on the map." With a mounting and +pleasurable sense of her own importance, Persis opened the letter and +looked first at the signature of the writer. Then with an exclamation +of interest, she gave herself to the perusal of the communication, +forgetting Justin Ware for the moment as completely as if he had never +existed. + + +"My Dear Miss Dale--A friend of mine, Mr. Washington Thompson, has +asked me to write requesting you to forward him at once a letter of +mine which has come into your possession though I am at a loss to +understand how. I have told Mr. Thompson that after all this time the +letter is perfectly worthless, but he does not seem to be of that +opinion. Accordingly I am troubling you by this request. Mr. Thompson +will be at the Munroe Hotel, Cincinnati, from the twelfth to the +fifteenth, and for the week following at the Hollenden Hotel, Cleveland. + +"Yours truly, + + "Enid Randolph. + + "Warren, New York." + + +Persis sprang to her feet and ran out upon the porch. The irate Joel, +nursing his wrongs in dignified silence, experienced a new sense of +injury at the sight of her radiant face. + +"Joel, when you happen to pass young Mis' Thompson's I want you to stop +and tell her that I've got a piece of goods here that maybe belongs to +her. Ask her if she'll come in the first time she's by. You might +say, Joel, that I'd be much obliged if she'd make a point of coming +soon, as I have a general cleaning up along about this season, and I +like to get rid of all the odds and ends that are cluttering up things." + +Nothing in Joel's expression indicated that he had even heard the +commission, but his look of gloomy abstraction did not deceive his +sister who was perfectly aware that he understood her request and would +take a certain satisfaction in executing it. She returned to her mail, +making short work of an advertisement of a new substitute for silk +linings and another which offered a fashion periodical at bargain +prices. The last letter in the pile again aroused her curiosity, for +the upper left-hand corner bore the legend, "Delaney and Briggs, +Attorneys at Law." + +"Lawyers, too. Well, I don't blame Joel for feeling exercised." She +recalled the implied threat in a recent communication from Mr. +Washington Thompson regarding the return of his property, and the +thought crossed her mind that possibly he had invoked legal aid for its +recovery. + +She was standing as she began to read. Half-way down the page she +uttered an exclamation and staggered to a chair. She finished the +letter, laid it down, took it up again and reread it. Then rising, she +busied herself with various tasks about the room, doing over several +things she had already completed and ignoring some obvious needs. This +accomplished, she read the letter for a third time and brought out her +sewing. After five minutes of desultory work, she folded the garment +and laid it away. For the next two hours she might have served as a +study of contemplation. Her chin upon her hands, her eyes musing, she +sat motionless, almost rigid, as the big clock ticked off the seconds. + +Joel shuffled into the room on the stroke of twelve. "Mis' Thompson +says she'll likely go by sometime to-day or to-morrow and she'll stop +in." + +Persis did not reply, and for the first time Joel noticed his sister's +unusual attitude. He looked at her and then at the clock. + +"Ain't dinner ready?" + +"Dinner?" + +"Yes, dinner! What ails you? You act as if you'd never heard of such +a thing as meal-time." + +"I didn't think it was time for dinner yet," Persis answered, rousing +herself. Again Joel inspected her sharply. + +"Haven't you been sewing this morning?" + +"No, I did start, but I didn't feel like keeping it up." + +Joel's face expressed mingled concern and amazement. That Persis +should sit idle a morning from choice was extraordinary enough to be +alarming. "Don't you feel well?" + +"Me? Oh, yes, I'm all right." Persis went into the next room and +began her preparations for the meal. It took her longer than usual. +Joel watched the clock with frowning vexation, but some quality +abnormal and vaguely disquieting in his sister's manner kept him from +putting into words the impression that a man who is kept waiting a full +hour for his dinner is hardly used. + +His mood softened when at length appetizing odors diffusing themselves +through the house, indicated that the pot roast of day before yesterday +which under Persis' thrifty management had as many final appearances as +a _prima donna_, was soon to grace the table as an Irish stew. Joel +dearly loved that savory concoction, and though he was on his guard +against allowing her to suspect the fact, he privately placed his +sister's dumplings on a par with Addison's poems. Forgetting both his +grievance of the morning and his later anxiety, due to Persis' singular +conduct, he gave himself up to cheerful anticipation. + +The problem which for generations has exercised the wits of amateur +debaters was settled satisfactorily in this instance, at least. The +joys of anticipation far exceeded the pleasure of realization. Joel +took one swallow of the stew and dropped his spoon with a splash. + +"What in Sam Hill! What kind of a mess do you call this?" + +Persis took a hasty sip, looked incredulous and sipped again. Slowly +the shamed blood crept to the roots of her hair. Yet she spoke with a +self-control fairly brazen. + +"Looks as if I'd made a mistake and put in sugar instead of salt." + +Joel's gaze swept the table, hawk-like in its searching eagerness. + +"Where's the dumplings?" + +"I--well, I declare, I forgot the dumplings." + +He experienced a chill of actual terror. This was his sister Persis, +Persis the practical and reliable, this woman who sugared the stew, and +allowed the _chef-d'oeuvre_ of the dinner to slip her mind. He was +immediately aware of a singular flush staining her cheeks, a feverish +glitter in her eye. + +The gentleness of his comment took her by surprise. "I guess, Persis, +it was only that you was thinking of something else." + +"That was it, Joel." She hesitated, then moved by his forbearance +spoke out plainly. "I was thinking, Joel, how it would seem to be +rich." + +Again his heart jumped. Such vague vain wishing, so characteristic of +many women, was absolutely foreign to his sister's temperament. He +could not remember the time when she had overlooked the present +satisfaction, however poor and meager, in favor of some joy of fancy. + +"I wouldn't let my mind stray off to such things," he said uneasily. + +"Well, Joel, I guess I'll have to face it. The fact is, you see, I am +rich." + +Her words fell like a thunderbolt, confirming his worst fears. He sat +aghast, unable to decide whether Persis had lost her mind, or this was +the delirium incident to some acute seizure. In tones of such +unnatural gentleness that his sister started as they fell on her ears, +he offered the only suggestion which occurred to him at the moment. + +"Hadn't you better go lie down, Persis?" + +"Me? Why, I feel all right." + +"Well, even if you do, lying down won't hurt you. It's the best thing +known to lengthen life. You'd ought to take better care of yourself, +Persis. Half an hour a day--" + +His sister interrupted him with a burst of laughter in which his +preternaturally acute senses detected the wildness of mania. + +"Joel, I know what ails you. You think I'm taking leave of my senses. +It does sound that way, I own, for a Dale to be talking about being +rich. I don't mean the Vanderbilt kind of riches, you know, but a nice +little income so I can keep a servant girl and never do any more sewing +and maybe buy an automobile." + +"Persis Dale," exclaimed Joel, "you're as crazy as a June bug." + +"Look for yourself, then." Persis turned to the secretary where she +had placed the letter she had received that morning. She felt more +like herself than at any time since she had perused the contents of +that final astonishing communication. In combatting Joel's +incredulity, she was able to set at rest certain disquieting doubts of +her own as to her sanity. + +Joel's jaw dropped as he read. "Mrs. Persis Ann Crawford. Why, that +must mean Aunt Persis." + +"Sure. The one I was named for. And I guess it's a good twenty-five +years since we've had a line from her." She laughed a little +hysterically, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief. "I don't s'pose +I'm crying because she's dead, seeing I took it for granted that she'd +passed away years ago. And yet all the time to leave me her money. +Ain't life the funniest mix-up. Yesterday I couldn't have afforded so +much as a sick-headache. And now if I want a run of typhoid fever or +my appendix cut out, it's nobody's business." + +Joel laid down the letter with a gulp. The impression uppermost in his +mind was the singular blindness of fortune in selecting the recipients +of its bounty. + +"It's a good deal of a responsibility for a woman," he said ruefully. +"Seeing I'm the oldest, it's rather odd Aunt Persis Ann didn't realize +that I was the proper one to inherit. But I guess she thought it was +all in the family, and you'd be guided by my advice." + +Persis' answer was irrelevant. "Joel, seems to me that so far my +life's been for all the world like a checked gingham, if you know what +I mean." + +But Joel did not know. "Checked gingham! I never heard such crazy +talk." + +"Made up of the same little things, all just alike," Persis explained +patiently. "And nothing especially bright or cheerful about any of +'em. I've a feeling as if I'd like a splash of color now, velvet as +green as grass and fire-red satin." + +"Sounds as if you had the Scarlet Woman in mind," Joel said +disapprovingly, and before Persis had time to explain, young Mrs. +Thompson had knocked. She was a sorry figure for a wife of less than a +year's standing, a drooping little woman, pale, listless and heavy-eyed. + +"Mr. Dale said something about your having a piece of my goods," she +explained with such an effect of indifference that Persis wondered she +had taken the trouble to call. Then her gaze went to the table and the +untouched meal. "I'm afraid I've interrupted you." + +"Not a mite, Mis' Thompson. Walk right in! Joel!" Persis' +authoritative glance in her brother's direction indicated the propriety +of his withdrawal. Joel rose reluctantly. It was not a fitting that +was in prospect nor even a discussion of styles where questions might +arise which could not suitably be debated before one of the opposite +sex. But since Persis only wished to return the young woman a piece of +goods that had been overlooked when her dress was sent home, Joel felt +not unreasonably that he might have witnessed the transaction without +offending the most rigid notions of what was seemly. + +Persis searched in her piece-bag and produced an infinitesimal scrap of +green voile. Young Mrs. Thompson accepted the offering with evident +surprise. + +"Yes, that's my goods," she acknowledged. "But it's so little, I don't +see how I can use it." + +"You never can tell when a scrap like that will come in useful," Persis +declared convincingly. "And by the way, Mis' Thompson, I wonder if +your husband happens to have handy that ridiculous letter that was +meant for another Thompson." + +The worthless scrap of green dropped from the young wife's shaking +hands. "Why, what makes you think--" + +"That letter," Persis explained steadily, "was written to a Mr. +Washington Thompson. I don't wonder he shortens it to a W., do you? +To have Washington for your first name must be a good deal like having +the Washington monument in your front yard, sort of overpowering. Of +course, as Enid says--Enid's the girl, you know--a love-letter as old +as that ain't of no real use. Love-letters and eggs are a good deal +alike. You can keep 'em in cold storage month in and month out, but +while they don't exactly spoil, they ain't the same as fresh ones." + +Persis was talking to give the little woman time. From the pigeonholes +of her secretary she produced the letters she needed, and meanwhile +kept a wary eye upon the camphor bottle, always within reach for the +benefit of sensitive patrons likely to succumb to the ordeal of +fitting. To judge from young Mrs. Thompson's colorless face, she might +need it at any moment. + +"I own I kind of interfered with what was none of my business," Persis +acknowledged with as pleasing a frankness as if such interferences were +not in line with her normal activities. "But I kind of worried over +having a love-letter wandering around that way and not getting where it +belonged. That might make lots of trouble." + +"But who was 'Her'?" demanded young Mrs. Thompson wildly. And Persis, +whose sense of responsibility for her kind extended even to her unknown +correspondents, looked grave as she answered. + +"Dearie, I don't know. But I'm sure of one thing, that it wasn't you. +Here's his letter to me, madder'n a wet hen, he was, too. And here's +hers. You see it's the same writing as the one your husband has; I'm +glad she wrote her name right out plain, because I said particular that +the 'Enid' would be enough." + +Then Persis dropped both letters and caught Mrs. Thompson in her arms. +The younger woman was small and slender, and under the stress of +excitement Persis lifted her to the couch as easily as if she had been +a child. Then she sprinkled the white face with water from the pitcher +on the table and brought the camphor bottle into play, all the time +murmuring words of endearment and sympathy whose restorative effect was +possibly not second to that of her other remedies. Young Mrs. Thompson +returned to consciousness to hear herself called a "lamb" and a "poor +dear." She opened her heavy eyes and gave back a rapturous smile to +the other woman's comprehending gaze. + +"I--I don't believe I ever was so happy," murmured young Mrs. Thompson. +"Then he did leave it in his pocket just for a joke. And, oh, dear +Miss Dale, if it's a girl I'm going to call her Persis." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +AN ACQUISITION + +The Dale homestead was undergoing repairs. For years Persis had +patched up the roof when it leaked and papered with her own hands such +rooms as had become too dingy to be longer tolerated. Now she was +giving free rein to her exuberant fancy in the matter of improvements. +A telephone had been installed in the house the day following the +communication from the legal advisers of the late Persis Ann Crawford +and this in spite of Joel's passionate protests. + +"May be a hoax for all you know. Better wait till the money's in your +hand before you run into extravagance piling up debts for us to work +off later. I guess it's a true saying that if you put a beggar on +horseback, he'll ride to the devil." + +Within a week the innovations had reduced him to a condition of +disapproving dumbness. Paperhangers and plasterers had taken +possession of the old house. The roof was being reshingled. The new +electric lights gave to each successive evening an air of festive +brilliancy. The sagging porch was in process of reconstruction. It +was the dull season from the builder's standpoint, and Persis had no +difficulty in securing workmen in sufficient numbers to hurry the work +with what seemed to herself, as well as to Joel, almost magical +despatch. A generous check deposited to her credit in the Clematis +Savings Bank had relieved Joel's earlier apprehensions. The bequest +was no hoax. But his constitutional parsimony rebelled against the +outlay as if each expenditure had meant want in the future. While his +dignity demanded that he should cease the protests that were +disregarded, his air of patient martyrdom expressed his sentiments with +all the plainness of speech. + +The feminine half of the population of Clematis was in despair. For +Persis Dale had announced with every indication of finality that after +she had finished the gowns in hand, her career as dressmaker would +immediately terminate. Mrs. Robert Hornblower, bitter because Persis' +fortune had materialized before her own, commented freely on the fact +that Persis Dale hadn't the strength of mind to come into money without +beginning to put on airs. Mrs. Richards, who was so far convalescent +that she had been able to attend divine worship the previous Sabbath, +rolled her eyes Heavenward and deplored the effects of pomps and +vanities on certain constitutions. Even so true and tried a friend as +Mrs. West was driven to remonstrate. + +"I don't say that you ought to work the way you've done all your life, +Persis, rushing from one dress to another, fit to break your neck. But +it does seem as if after always being busy you couldn't be real happy +to settle down to idleness." + +Persis smiled. + +"I guess I wasn't cut out for a butterfly, Mis' West, even if I'd got +started in time. I'm not afraid but what I can find plenty to do. As +far as the sewing goes, I feel like a man I read of who laid a wager +he'd eat a quail a day for thirty days. Well, he got along fine. +Didn't seem to mind it a bit. When it came the twenty-fifth day and +everybody was congratulating him on making his money so easy, he up and +quit. 'No use, boys,' he said, when they began to tell him what a fool +he was. 'I've just naturally got to the stopping-point.' And it's the +same with me. I've done my sewing and haven't fretted over it, though +when I think of the millions and millions of stitches I've taken in +twenty years, I wonder I haven't turned into a sewing-machine. But +I've got to the stopping-point now. It's more'n likely I'll buy my own +clothes ready-made, after this." + +In a month's time the old house was transformed beyond recognition, the +fresh paint of the exterior holding its own bravely against the +pretensions of the fresh paper and new carpets within. Thomas Hardin +had sent to Boston for those carpets, the patterns in stock not +satisfying Persis' exacting ideas. The transaction had been conducted +with businesslike despatch on both sides, though on one occasion Thomas +relaxed his dignity sufficiently to say, "Guess you're going to look +pretty fine up there." + +Persis dryly admitted the prospective improvement. "Some folks can't +bear to part with what's old, but I own I've got a liking for new +things. When I can afford a change, I'm glad to have it." + +"Friends the same as carpets," Thomas thought with a little bitterness +for which he at once reproached himself. For, after all, Persis' +friendship had been stanch and steadfast till his own confession had +disclosed his unworthiness. He atoned for his momentary lapse by +making her a substantial discount on the linoleum she wanted for the +kitchen. + +The seal of silence Joel had placed upon his lips was broken when the +question of engaging a servant girl came to the fore. "Ain't you going +to leave yourself nothing to do?" he demanded wildly. Then with a +cunning for which few would have given him credit. "You'll get as fat +as Etta West sitting around all day and being waited on." + +Persis listened unmoved, her rather enigmatic smile suggesting that she +clearly foresaw a way out of that difficulty. + +"I'm not afraid but what I can find enough to keep me busy. Besides, I +need a servant girl to look after things when I'm away." + +"Away? Are you going away?" + +"I'm going whenever I happen to feel like it. And the first time'll be +next week, Monday." + +"Persis, where are you going?" + +"To the city for a week or so." + +Joel deliberated. He rose and paced the room, halting at length in a +dramatic posture, face to face with his sister. + +"Persis, I've got no love for the city as you well know. As the poet +says, 'God the first garden made and the first city, Cain.' But I'm +ready to sacrifice myself for what's best for you. I'll go along." + +Persis regarded him without any indication of fervent gratitude for the +sacrifice so nobly announced. + +"It's good of you, Joel, but it won't be necessary." + +He waved her protest away with a dominating gesture. + +"It _is_ necessary. It won't do to turn a woman like you loose in a +city like Boston. As long as you didn't have any money, it wasn't so +much matter. But now there'll be folks to sell you gold bricks, and +when you unwrap 'em, they won't be nothing but plain ordinary bricks +after all." + +"They can't sell me bricks if I won't buy 'em, Joel." + +"You don't know what they can do. You never went up against a +professional sharper. Women ain't any match for that kind. They'll +probably give me a bed at the hotel that hasn't been used since +sometime last winter, but never mind. I'm going along to protect you." + +"Joel!" Persis' tone for all its gentleness showed plenty of decision. +"Thank you, but this time I don't want you." + +"What's that?" + +"Some other time when you feel like running up to the city for a few +days, we'll go together. But just now I've got some business to attend +to." + +"You mean I'd be in the way?" + +"Yes." + +"Persis." Joel spoke in heart-broken accents. "I guess the Good Book +ain't far wrong in calling money the root of all evil. Up till you +come into this prop'ty, you was all a man could ask for in a sister." +Like many another, Joel found his blessings brightest in retrospect. +"But now you're as set as a post and as stubborn as a mule. It's +pretty dangerous, Persis, when a woman gets the idea she knows all +that's worth knowing. As the poet says, 'A little learning is a +dangerous thing.' I feel in my bones that there's trouble coming out +of this wild-goose chase of yours." + +It was not characteristic of Joel to keep his grievances secret. +Wherever he went for the next few days, he fairly oozed reproach and +resentment. And on the Monday when Persis took the ten o'clock train +for Boston it was generally understood that she had declined the +pleasure of her brother's company and was bent on an errand whose +nature she alone knew. + +"She'll put up at a hotel, I suppose," said Mrs. Hornblower. "She'll +have to, for there's nobody in Boston she knows well enough to visit. +A single woman staying alone at a hotel sounds dreadful improper to me. +Robert would never allow me to do such a thing, never for a minute. +And nobody even knows what she's gone for." + +But Annabel Sinclair thought she knew. "I shouldn't wonder," she told +Diantha, "if when Persis Dale gets back we'd see startling changes." + +Her confidential tone was balm to Diantha's spirit. For since the +daughter's sudden leap into maturity, the relations between the two had +been strained, the instinct of sex rivalry overmastering such shadowy +maternal impulses as had outlived Diantha's babyhood. The girl +responded eagerly to the advance. + +"Yes, I shouldn't wonder if she'd have lots of new clothes." + +"She'll need more than clothes to make her presentable, and she knows +it, too." Annabel's voice was rasping. "They have beauty-shops in the +cities, you know, where they fix over old women who want to look young, +skin off the wrinkles and all sorts of things." She flashed a glance +at the mirror--there was always a mirror convenient in the Sinclair +establishment--and smiled with malicious enjoyment. Annabel did not +need skinning. + +Diantha edged away with sudden distaste. "I don't think Miss Persis +would do anything like that, mama." + +"Why not?" Her mother spoke fiercely. "It's the sensible thing to do +when you need it. After her good looks are gone, there's nothing left +for a woman." The bitterness of a participant in a losing fight flung +a black shadow across her fairness. For defy Time as she would, the +day must come when he would triumph. She looked again at herself in +the mirror as if already he had stolen the bloom from her cheek and the +gold from her hair and shuddered at the thought of what must be. + +Persis had said to her brother that she might be away a week. On the +sixth day came a brief note to the effect that her business was not +quite finished and that she would let him know when to expect her. +Another week went by, and one afternoon Joel received his first +telegram. + +He stood staring at the sinister brown envelope with its black +lettering, and a chilly fear clutched his heart. One catastrophe after +another suggested itself, each to be discarded in favor of another more +appalling. Persis had lost her money. She had met with an accident. +She was dead. His bony hand shook till the envelope rattled, and the +small boy who had brought the message eyed him with curiosity. + +"Any answer?" + +The question was reassuring. It suggested that Persis was still to be +reached by mundane means of communication. Joel regarded the lad +appealingly. + +"Say, son, do you know what's in this?" + +"Naw!" The boy's tone showed impatience tinged with contempt. "Why +don't you look and see for yourself?" + +The suggestion seemed reasonable, and Joel followed it. The +typewritten enclosure blurred before his eyes, and so strong is the +force of apprehension that he seemed to see words of ominous import +staring up at him through the confusion. Then the mist cleared and his +forebodings with it. + + +"Home on four-twenty train not necessary to meet me tell Mary to have +plenty for supper. + +"Persis Dale." + + +Joel felt the sense of grievance which is the almost inevitable sequel +to groundless fears. "There's no answer," he told the boy gruffly. +The urchin sidled away and Joel stood rigid, regarding the slip in his +hand. His first move was to count the words. Seventeen! Joel +groaned. What extravagance. If she had said "unnecessary" instead of +"not necessary" there would have been a saving of one to begin with. +And the closing injunction might have been omitted altogether. "Tell +Mary to have plenty for supper." What an extraordinary request to +telegraph from the city of Boston. Could it be that in the metropolis +of New England she had lacked for food to satisfy the pangs of appetite? + +So absorbed did he become in attempting to solve the riddle that he +almost forgot to impart the contents of the telegram to Mary. The +fresh-colored farmer's daughter who had found life extremely monotonous +without the vivacious presence of her mistress, heard the news with +elation and showed no surprise over the concluding request. + +"I've heard how they feed folks in them city places. Ma's cousin was a +waiter in a Boston boarding-house onct, and she says she was fairly +ashamed to set before folks the little dabs that was served out, for +all the world like samples. I guess after two whole weeks of that kind +of food, Miss Dale's good and hungry." + +Joel noticed with irritation that Persis had carried her independence +to the point of suggesting that it was not necessary for him to meet +her, though she was well aware that his presence at the station when +the four-twenty train came in, had taken on almost the sacredness of a +religious rite. "Looks as if she wasn't in any dreadful hurry to see +me," Joel mused. It occurred to him that it would be a fitting return +for Persis' perverseness for him to retire to his room and refuse to +leave except at her humble and reiterated entreaty. It is unfortunate +that so often the course of conduct consistent with one's dignity +involves a painful sacrifice. As train-time drew near, Joel realized +that he would not be equal to the ordeal of absenting himself, even for +so worthy a cause as to teach Persis a much-needed lesson. + +There was the usual number of loungers on the station platform, and +Joel was soon surrounded by an interested circle. As the brother of a +woman of property, he had acquired a certain vicarious importance in +the last few weeks. Information as to what Persis was doing, or about +to do, was sought eagerly in all directions, and Joel's vanity was +flattered at finding himself the center of attention, even though in +his heart he was well aware of the reason. + +"Sister having a good time up to Boston?" inquired a florid man, who +despite the chilliness of the late fall day was in his shirt-sleeves. + +The uncertainty in Joel's mind as to whether Persis had spent her time +attending the theater or in the surgical ward of a hospital, caused him +to evade a direct answer. + +"Oh, so-so. I'm expecting her home on this train." + +The countenances of the group brightened. Some of them had come a long +distance to await the four-twenty train. Pressing work was on the +consciences of several. It was agreeable to know that their sacrifices +were not thrown away. They would see Persis Dale step off the train +and would be able to tell their wives at supper whether, as far as +their obtuse masculine powers of observation had been able to +determine, she was arrayed in the spoils of city shops. + +The train screamed at the crossing half a mile below and made its +appearance with the usual accompaniments of smoke and rattle. +Passengers looked with weary interest at the crowd on the platform, and +the crowd on the platform watched eagerly for alighting passengers. A +farmer living in the vicinity left the smoking-car to be given scant +welcome, for the lookers-on were anticipating something more +impressive. A fat old woman with a basket and a couple of shawl-straps +was also coldly received. Then some one caught Joel's arm with an +exclamation, muffled but profane. + +There was a parlor-car at the rear of the train, a concession to the +passengers for Montreal. From this a rather striking procession was +descending. It was led by a dark handsome boy about twelve years of +age, while a fair girl, a little younger, followed behind. Another boy +and then another girl, smaller and chubbier than their predecessors, +were next to receive the assistance of the obsequious porter. And +lastly he gave his attention to a woman who carried a baby in her arms. +The woman wore a hat and coat new to Clematis, but there was something +not unfamiliar in her erect carriage, and the capable fashion in which, +she directed the movements of her little flock. + +"Straight ahead, children. Algie, you walk right toward that hack with +the two gray horses, and the rest of you follow Algie. Well, here's +Uncle Joel come to meet us." + +Some one pushed Joel forward. With his jaw dropping and his eyes +protruding, he looked like a criminal urged on toward the scaffold +rather than a man of affectionate disposition welcoming home a family +circle unexpectedly enlarged. The hoarse gurgle which escaped his lips +might have gassed for a greeting, or it might have presaged an +epileptic seizure. + +"Well, Joel." Persis nodded affably, at the same time patting the baby +which, frightened by the proximity of so many strange faces, was +beginning to whimper. "As long as you're here, you might as well see +about our trunks. Give Uncle Joel the checks, Algie. No, not that +pocket. You put 'em in the right-hand one." + +The crowd surged nearer and a piping voice made itself heard above the +confusion. "Miss Dale, looks as if you was going to have lively times +with all that company." + +Persis cast a benignant gaze in the speaker's direction. She had never +held curiosity in low esteem as do the more rigid moralists, +acknowledging indeed, her full share of that characteristic. And +moreover she was quite willing that her old friends and neighbors, the +most of whom had congratulated her so heartily on her recent good +fortune, should know of her latest acquisition. + +"I guess we'll have a lively time all right, Mr. Jones, but these +children ain't what you call company. I adopted the whole lot up to +Boston, and every one of the five's a Dale, as hard and fast as the law +can make 'em." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A WOMAN AT LAST + +Even if Joel's command of English had enabled him to express himself +freely regarding his sister's latest acquisition, the opportunity was +not immediately forthcoming. The demonstrations of five excited +children, introduced into an environment entirely unfamiliar, proved +absorbing to all the household. With the exception of the baby who +clung shyly to Persis, refusing to leave her side, the new +reinforcements to the Dale family at once organized exploring +expeditions about the premises. Little feet clattered on the stairs +and shrilly sweet voices announced discoveries from garret to cellar. +Joel, who had improved the first opportunity to withdraw to his own +room, pushed the heaviest chair against the door in lieu of a key and +sat in the chair. And though his knob rattled a number of times, the +investigations of the juvenile explorers ceased at his threshold. + +When the summons of the supper-bell sounded through the house, Joel was +uncertain whether to indicate his displeasure by remaining in his room +or to present himself as usual, allowing Persis to see with her own +eyes the condition to which her selfishness had reduced him. He +decided on the latter course, not so much as a concession to his +appetite as because he feared that in Persis' present absorption, his +absence would hardly be noticed. Wearing the expression becoming one +stricken by the hand of a friend, he left his room and faced the +invaders below. + +The dining-room table had been extended to a length which carried his +thoughts back to his childhood. The baby, a frail-looking child, +between two and three, had not yet attained the dignity of a place at +the table but sat in a high-chair at Persis' left and drummed with her +spoon upon the adjustable shelf which served the double purpose of +keeping her in place and supporting her bowl of bread and milk. The +renaissance of the high-chair was responsible for a curious surge of +emotion through Joel's consciousness. Persis herself had once occupied +that chair and for a moment his sister's matronly figure at the head of +the table was singularly suggestive of his mother. He dropped into his +place with a hollow groan. + +"Has he got a stomach ache?" inquired five-year-old Celia from the +other end of the table. The echoing whisper was distinctly audible. +Betty, ten years old, pink, prim and pretty, blushed reproachfully at +her new foster sister, while Mary, who was just bringing in the milk +toast, was agitated by a tremor which imperiled the family supper. + +"Sh!" Persis temporarily subdued the outbreaking of her new +responsibilities by a lift of the eyebrows, and began to serve the milk +toast with lavish hand. Joel waved away the plate Mary brought him. + +"I can't eat that truck. Truth is I haven't got a mite of appetite, +but just to keep up my strength I'll take a soft-boiled egg. I've got +to have something sustaining." + +"Two eggs, Mary," said Persis to her hand-maid. "And give 'em just two +minutes and a half." The order failed to attract the attention of +Celia, absorbed at the moment in allaying the pangs of appetite. It +was not till the eggs were brought in and placed by Joel's plate that +the irrepressible infant was roused to the realization of the enormity +of the situation. She dropped her fork with a clatter. + +"Oh, Aunt Persis, see what they've gone and done." + +"What is it, child?" + +"You said that little chickies came out of eggs." There was no further +pretense of whispering on Celia's part. Her voice rose in a tragic +wail. "And now he's going to eat up those eggs, and I wanted to save +'em to make chickies of. Oh, dear, dear!" + +"'Tain't the right time of year for chickens, dearie," Persis explained +soothingly. "We'll have plenty next spring." But Joel glanced at the +objects which had called out Celia's protest with an air of extreme +distaste. + +"It's enough to take away a hearty man's appetite," he complained. "I +guess if my victuals are going to be grudged me, I'd better eat +up-stairs." + +"Don't gobble, Malcolm," said Persis, ignoring her brother's burst of +ill temper and addressing the little lad on her right. "And tuck your +napkin under your chin so you won't get anything on your blouse." + +At this point the tactful Betty created a diversion by inquiring, "When +shall we start going to school, Aunt Persis? Monday?" + +"Looks to me as if to-morrow'd be the best day. It's my idea that if a +thing's worth starting at all, you can't start too soon. Some folks +save up their good resolutions for the first of the year, but it's a +better way to begin right off as soon as you think of it. And then +when the New Year comes, you're just that much ahead." + +"I'm going to study awful hard," declared Algie, with an air of putting +this good counsel to immediate application. + +"Well, I'm not," announced Malcolm with equal decision. And then as +Betty emitted a protesting and shocked murmur, he explained: "Of course +I'll study some, but I've got to save the most of my strength for +playing football when I'm big." + +Joel pushed back his chair and took his egg cup from the table. + +"I guess I'll go to my room, Persis," he said in a hollow voice. +"Maybe up-stairs where it's quiet, I'll be able to eat a little. And +to-morrow you'd better have Mary make me some beef tea. I've got to +have something to keep up my strength." Slowly and solemnly he mounted +the stairs, convinced by the increased animation of the voices in the +room below that his departure had not cast an irreparable gloom over +the cheerful spirits of the diners. + +This time he did not feel it necessary to barricade the door. Indeed +he left it a trifle ajar, and so was party to the cheerful confusion of +getting the children to bed. The baby--Amaryllis was her impossible +name, though she looked too fragile to sustain its weight--was to share +Persis' quarters. The two older girls occupied the chamber adjoining. +The two boys had been assigned to a snug little room on the other side +of the hall. + +"Close by me so I can hear every mite of their rowdy-dow," Joel thought +with bitterness. But in spite of himself he listened. The children +were calling to one another across the hall. Apparently their previous +acquaintance had been slight, and in addition to the excitement of +finding themselves in a new environment, they were experiencing the +more intoxicating novelty of becoming acquainted all at once with a +fair-sized contingent of brothers and sisters. + +"'Most ready for bed, children?" Persis' voice sounded rich and deep, +contrasting with the piping chatter. "Time you was asleep, for +to-morrow's a school day. And you've got to say your prayers yet." + +"I said mine on the train coming down," explained Malcolm with his +quaint drawl. "Thought I might as well save the time as long as there +wasn't anything else to do." + +"I've got a new prayer to say," announced Celia, flashing into the +hall, a diminutive apparition, white-clad, with twinkling pink feet. +"It's this way: + + "'Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool? + Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full.'" + + +"I think I can teach you a nicer prayer than that," Persis said +serenely, while the older children laughed with the vast superiority of +their wider knowledge. Joel uttered an exclamation of horror. + +"Children are natural blasphemers. Persis ought to take that little +limb [Transcriber's note: lamb?] in hand. If she don't know the +difference between Mother Goose and praying, she ought to be taught +quick. Old Doctor Watts was in the right of it. + + "'Lord, we are vile, conceived in sin, + And born unholy and unclean.'" + + +The murmur of conversation in the adjoining rooms died away. Once or +twice after quiet descended, a little voice spoke out like the chirp of +a drowsy bird, brooded over by mother wings. Persis went softly down +the stairs. Joel waited long enough to make his advent impressive and +followed her. + +She sat as he had seldom seen her, thrown back in the roomy recesses of +the big easy chair, her hands lying loosely in her lap. Her attitude +suggested the relaxation following fatigue. Her eyes were half closed, +her lips smiling. An indefinable rapture radiated from her. All her +life Persis Dale had been a resolutely cheerful person. But that +consistent, conscientious optimism was as unlike her present lightness +of heart as the heat of a coal fire, carefully fed and tended, differs +from the gracious warmth of June. + +Singularly enough the sight of her satisfaction stirred her brother to +instant indignation. Up to this moment a sense of grievance had been +upper-most. Now he found himself shaken by hot anger. The instinct of +the male to dominate, outlasting the strength which sustains and +protects, spurred him on to have his way with her, to master this +madness which threatened the peace of his life. + +"Persis," he began in a loud angry voice, "what's the meaning of this +piece of tom-foolishness?" + +She opened her eyes and looked at him. After her two weeks' absence, +their longest separation in twenty years, she saw him almost as a +stranger would have done, a slight, undersized man with a bulging +forehead which told of nature's generous endowments, and the weak chin, +explaining his failure to measure up to the promise of his youth. His +disheveled hair and burning eyes gave an unprepossessing touch to the +picture. But the maternal feeling, always uppermost where her brother +was concerned, had been intensified by the children's advent. Persis +felt for the moment the indulgent disapproval of a mother toward an +unreasonable child. + +"Why, Joel!" Her voice, with its new depth and richness, caressed the +name it uttered. "What's foolish about it?" + +The gentleness of her answer misled him. He felt a sudden thrilling +conviction of his ability to bring her to terms. + +"What's foolish about it? What ain't foolish, you'd better say. Looks +to me as if you'd taken leave of your senses. Filling up the house +with pauper brats." + +The blood went out of her face. The smile lingered, but it had become +merely a muscular contraction, like the smile on dead lips. The soul +had left it. + +"Yes," she said steadily. "It's true they're poor. But it's not for +you to fling that in their faces. A man who's lived on his sister's +earnings for twenty years." + +He was dumb for a moment, wincing under the taunt but lacking words to +answer. He was not without reasonable qualities, and reason told him +he had taken the wrong track. The change in his voice when he spoke +again would have seemed ludicrous had she been in a mood to be amused. + +"See here, Persis, you've got a chance now to take things easy. You've +worked hard," he admitted patronizingly, "and you've earned a right to +enjoy the rest of your life. Now, see how silly 'twould be to saddle +yourself with looking after a pack of children. It's no joke, I can +tell you; bringing up five young ones, nursing 'em through measles and +whooping-cough and the Lord knows what, and never being sure whether +they'll turn out good or bad. Maybe you think I'm prejudiced, but I'll +bet you anything you like that at this minute half Clematis is +wondering whether you're clean crazy or what." + +Under his conciliatory address her first anger had cooled. A little +half-contemptuous smile curled her lips. + +"It's a funny thing, Joel, you've known me for quite a +spell--thirty-seven years, the sixth of October--and you haven't found +out yet that I'm not looking for an easy time. My idea of Heaven ain't +a place where you can sit down and fold your hands." + +"I s'pose you'd rather stick at home and fuss over other folks' +children than travel. You used to be crazy about foreign places, +Roosia and Italy and Egypt." Joel's eyes kindled with an unholy light +as he repeated the magic names. A bystander might have been reminded +of another tempter showing the kingdoms of the earth as a lure. + +"Time enough to travel," Persis said laconically, "when my family is +raised." + +"Giving up all the peace of your home, all the quiet--" + +"Stillness isn't peace, Joel. There's quiet enough in the grave, if +that's what you're after. I don't want the hush of the tomb around +here. I want little feet tripping up and down and little voices +calling. Seems to me as if this old house had come alive since I +brought these children into it. And I've come alive myself. It's what +I always wanted, a family of children. I gave it up like I've given up +so many things, but I've got it at last, thank God." + +"Persis," Joel remonstrated in shocked accents, "it's not becoming for +a single woman to say things like that. Wanting children, indeed. If +you weren't my sister I shouldn't know what to make of such talk." + +She leaned toward him, her hands on her knees. Her gray eyes, warmed +almost to blue by joy and tenderness, were steely as she faced him. + +"Joel, you don't take it into account that the Almighty didn't make old +maids. He made us just women, and the hunger for children is nothing +more to be ashamed of than the longing for food and drink. I'm not +accusing Him either, when I say that life isn't fair to a lot of us. +It hangs other people's burdens on our backs, and they weigh us down +till we haven't the strength to take what is rightfully ours. These +children had ought to be mine. My blood ought to be in their veins. +It's too late for that, but it's not too late for everything. What +would Aunt Persis Ann's money be worth to me if all it meant was that I +could fix up the house and leave off making dresses for other folks and +travel around and see the world? It's done more than that. It's made +up to me for being cheated out of my rights. It's made me a woman at +last." + +Up-stairs sounded a fretful wail, a sharp little note, piercing the +quiet evening with its suggestion of discomfort or alarm. In an +instant Persis was on her feet. Again her face was luminous. Suffused +with a transforming tenderness, it lost its stern lines and became +radiantly youthful. Blue misty shadows veiled the steely light of her +eyes. + +"The baby's crying," she said, and left him swiftly. And Joel, with a +bewildered sense of enlightenment carried to the point of dazzling +effulgence, clapped both hands over his throbbing head. + +"Well," he gasped, "I'll be jiggered! Looks like you can live in the +same house with a woman from the time she's born till she's gray-headed +and not know her any better than if you'd met her once at a +Sunday-school picnic. To think of Persis with all those feelings +bottled up inside her for the last twenty years. As the immortal +Shakespeare says, + + "'Who is't can read a woman?'" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO TREAD + +The morning following the heterogeneous accession to the Dale family, +Joel did not leave his bed. Whether his disability was in part or +altogether due to a desire to open his sister's eyes to the result of +her lack of consideration, Joel himself could not have told, the +correct interpretation of one's own motives being the most complex of +the sciences. It really seemed to him that he felt very ill and he +found a somber satisfaction in reflecting that in the event of his +death, Persis would realize her appalling selfishness. "'Twon't come +much short of murder," he thought with gloomy relish. + +Joel's periods of invalidism had been too frequent and prolonged for +this sporadic attack to upset the peaceful order of the household. +Persis attended to his needs with her usual matter-of-fact kindness, +though he suspected that her thoughts were with the new claimants on +her interest and found therein fresh fuel for his grievance. Later +when he called his sister in the feeble voice of the moribund and +learned from Mary that she had gone out to enter the older children in +school, he felt himself a much injured man. But this melancholy +satisfaction was brief, for Persis was back in half an hour, looking in +at his door to ask cheerfully if there was anything he wanted. +"Nothing I'm likely to get," replied Joel and turned his face to the +wall. + +Then, too, the house was quiet. Occasionally the baby's fretful voice +reached his ears or Celia's bubbling, irrepressible laughter; but the +tumult on which he had counted confidently as a factor in his +discomfort was lacking. At noon, indeed, the older children came in +with a shout, brimful of communications too important to wait, so that +the three all talked at once, each voice upraised in a laudable +endeavor to drown out the other two. But just as Joel was telling +himself that it was intolerable, enough to drive a man out of his seven +senses, the announcement of dinner produced an agreeable lull in the +uproar. And when the baby was taken upstairs for its nap and Celia +cautioned to discretion, the quiet became even more profound. Joel +found it necessary to prod his sense of grievance to keep it in action. + +He had been awake much of the preceding night, brooding upon his +wrongs, and weariness at length asserted itself and he fell asleep. He +woke with a thrilled consciousness of a light touch on his forehead and +for a moment he thought himself a child again, with his mother bending +over him. Demonstrativeness had never been a Dale characteristic. +Indeed the traditions of the community discouraged manifestations of +affection as an indication of weakness, but few mothers as they stand +beside their sleeping children can resist the sweet temptation to kiss +the little unconscious faces. And Joel Dale, prematurely aged, selfish +and embittered, woke nearer his childish self, and nearer Heaven, than +he had been in many a year. + +For a moment he lay bewildered, then opened an eye. An elfin voice +beside him commented on the fact. "Half of you's awake and half +asleep. Ain't that funny?" + +Joel's two eyes came into action long enough to perceive Celia, sitting +in a chair drawn close to the bed. Her sturdy legs were crossed, her +hands folded. She looked dangerously demure. + +"I gave you a kiss when you was asleep, a pink one. Do you like pink +kisses?" + +"Pink?" he repeated, too startled by the choice of adjectives to +realize how long it had been since any one had kissed him. + +"Aunt Persis let me have some jelly," Celia explained. "I like to lick +my lips off, but I didn't so I could give you a nice pink kiss." + +He put one hand hastily to his forehead, thereby verifying his worst +suspicions. It was sticky. Joel groaned. + +"Want me to 'poor' you?" the fairy voice inquired with an accent +indicating a sense of responsibility. A small hand moved over his +unshaven cheek. "Poor Uncle Joel! Poor Uncle Joel," cooed Celia. She +interrupted her efforts to ask with interest, "Do you like your skin +all prickles? Mine ain't that way," and proved her statement by laying +a cheek like a rose-leaf against his. Joel shrank away gasping. + +"Want me to tell you a story?" Celia did not wait for Joel's assent. +The ministering hand nestled against his cheek; she drew a long breath +and began. + +"Once when I was a little girl, there was a giant lived up by my house. +And he was an awful wicked giant, and he used to bite people's heads +off. And he wanted to fight everybody, and everybody was scared 'cept +just me." She paused, overcome by the contemplation of her own +heroism. "Wasn't that funny? Everybody was 'fraid 'cept a teenty, +weenty girl." + +Joel lay staring at his entertainer, his expression suggestive of such +excitement, not to say horror, that the narrator apparently found it +inspiring. + +"And the old giant kept a-talking and a-talking and a-biting and +a-biting. And one day I took my bow'n arrow-- No." She corrected +herself sternly, with the air of one who refuses to deviate ever so +slightly from the strict facts. "I took my sling and some stones I +found in the brook--" + +Joel suddenly realized his responsibility as a mentor of youth. "Look +here! Look here! I can't have such talk. You're making that up out +of your own head. You never lived near a giant, and I don't believe +you ever had a sling." + +"Oh, yes, I had a sling, Uncle Joel, and once I shooted a bear with +it--and a Indian." + +"I guess you haven't been very well brought up," rebuked Joel, who like +most people of his type was quite unable to distinguish between the +gambols of the creative imagination and deliberate falsifying. "Don't +you know where little girls go when they tell lies?" + +"I knew a little girl once who telled lies," admitted Celia, her +shocked accents indicating her full appreciation of the reprehensible +character of the practise. "And she went to the circus. Her uncle +took her." + +From under the bed clothing came a peculiar rasping sound like the +grating of a rusty key in a lock long unused. It was no wonder that +Celia jumped, though she was considerably less startled than Joel +himself. He had laughed, and more appalling still, had laughed at +unmistakable evidences of natural depravity which by good rights should +have awakened in him emotions of abhorrence. + +"It would be pretty serious for me to backslide now, considering the +state of my health," reflected Joel. He attempted to counteract the +effects of that indiscreet laugh by a blood-curdling groan, and this +demonstration caused Celia to repeat her calming ministrations, +smoothing his rough cheek with velvety hands, and inadvertently poking +one plump forefinger into his eye. Joel blinked. He could easily have +ordered her from the room, but he did not exercise this prerogative. +He was vaguely conscious of an unwarranted satisfaction in the nearness +of this pixy. Her preference for his society flattered his vanity. He +observed her guardedly from the corner of his eye. Undoubtedly she was +a very naughty little girl who told wrong stories and was painfully +lacking in reverence. But at the same time--Joel chuckled again, his +vocal chords responding uncertainly to the unfamiliar prompting--at the +same time she was cute. + +At the supper table the evening before for all his gloomy abstraction, +Joel had noticed Betty's engaging prettiness and had thought _apropos_ +of Celia, "Persis never picked that young one out for her looks." Now +through half closed eyes he studied the small piquant face and found +his opinion altered. Celia was not pretty. Her straight black hair, +just long enough to be continually in her eyes, was pushed back for the +moment so as to stand almost erect like a crest. Her small nose had an +engaging skyward tilt. She was dark and inclined to sallowness. But +the twinkling black eyes under the level brows would have redeemed a +far plainer face. Had Joel been of a poetic temperament he would have +compared Betty to a pink rose-bud, and Celia to a velvety pansy, saucy +and bewitching. + +Mary, coming up the stairs with a bowl of broth, stood in the doorway +petrified. Under her spatter of freckles, her comely face was pale. + +"Miss Dale thought--" She seemed unable to proceed and stood +swallowing. Celia straightened herself with a jerk. + +"Oh, goody! We'll play tea-party, Uncle Joel. No, we'll play mother. +You're my little sick boy, Uncle Joel, and I'll feed you. Give that to +me, Mary." + +Like a person hypnotized Mary advanced and delivered the steaming broth +into Celia's extended hands. Setting the bowl firmly on one knee, +Celia ladled out a generous spoonful. + +"Open your mouth, darling, and swallow this nice broth. It'll make +mama's little boy a big strong man." + +The soup-spoon journeying in Joel's direction tilted dangerously. Half +the contents splashed upon his cheek and ran in a greasy dribble down +his neck. The remainder distributed itself impartially in the vicinity +of his mouth, a few tantalizing drops finding their way between his +parted lips. + +"Land alive!" Mary made a horrified forward rush. "You're a-drowning +Mr. Dale. And look at you, wasting that nice soup, too." + +Joel frowned and Mary drew back abashed, quailing before his +disapproving glance. + +"I guess if I was being drowned I'd have the sense to mention it. And +nobody's going to the poor-house because a little soup gets spilled. +Some of the professions are pretty crowded, Mary, but there's one where +there's room at the top and at the bottom, too, and that's the one of +minding your own business." + +Poor Mary blushed till her proximity to things inflammable would have +awakened justifiable fears of a conflagration. Joel gave his attention +to his self-appointed nurse. "Steady now! Better take a little less +to start with. That's right. Now steer her straight." + +The second spoonful reached its destination without serious accident. +Celia watched her patient as he swallowed and forgot the role she had +assigned herself. + +"Is it good, Uncle Joel?" + +"Uhuh! Pretty fair." Joel felt for his handkerchief and wiped the +moist corner of his mouth. + +"I'm going to taste it." Celia tilted the spoon to her own lips and +sipped with appreciation. "Uncle Joel," she said thoughtfully, "if +you're afraid this'll spoil your appetite for supper, I'll eat it." + +Again Joel chuckled. This made the third time in swift succession, and +practise was giving him surprising facility. But unwarned by past +experience, Mary put in her word. "Poor Mr. Dale hasn't eaten scarcely +a mouthful to-day, and here you've had bread and jelly since dinner." + +Joel's unaccustomed smile was at once obscured. "Mary, a considerable +spell back a wise man said, 'Every fool will be meddling.' If you +aren't familiar with the author, Mary, it would pay you to read him." +Again he gave his attention to Celia. "We'll share this, turn and turn +about," he compromised. "First you have a spoonful and then me." + +Mary withdrew unheeded. Though tremendously in awe of the impecunious +and futile Joel, Mary felt no sense of diffidence where the efficient +Persis was concerned, and at once went to find her. But Persis, who +sat in one of her new bay-windows, the baby on her knee, was +entertaining Mrs. West, while her benignantly maternal eyes watched +three children playing outside. + +"I declare you could have knocked me down with a feather, Persis, when +I heard it," Mrs. West declared, her portliness rendering the figure of +speech extremely impressive. "I wouldn't have thought queer of one or +even two, but a whole family." + +"A family's what I've always wanted," Persis returned with the +cheerfulness of a woman whose life-long dream has come true. "And if I +could have found enough of the sort I was after, I'm not sure I'd have +stopped short of a round dozen." + +"It's a responsibility," sighed Mrs. West "They're kind of like +playthings to you now. You'll feel it later." + +Persis looked at her with kind eyes. "I haven't added any new +responsibility in taking these children, Mis' West. It was there just +as soon as the money and leisure came to me, and I've made a start +toward meeting it, that's all. We don't make our responsibilities; we +just wake up to 'em." + +"I must say you take to it like a duck to water," acknowledged Mrs. +West in conciliatory accents. "Some women are just as unhandy with a +baby as a man. Sophia Warren's one. Once or twice I've seen her +holding that Newell baby that lives next door, and she looked as stiff +and scared as if she was setting for her photograph." + +She leaned forward to watch the frolicsome children from the window. +"They're real nice-looking, Persis, I will say that. One, two, three +and the baby's four. Somebody said five." + +With a start Persis recalled the suspicious peace which for some time +past had pervaded the establishment. "There's another," she said, "too +little for school. Mary! Mary, do you know where Celia is?" + +Mary approached. Her consciousness of being a bearer of important +tidings communicated itself in some indefinable fashion to the other +women. They looked up, alert on the instant. + +"Celia's setting up in Mr. Joel's room." Mary gave her great news +deliberately as if to enjoy the full flavor. + +Persis started to her feet. Mrs. West raised her hands with an +eloquent gesture. + +"Has he got one of his bad spells?" she demanded. "And that child in +his room. Well, fools rush--" + +"She's playing he's her little boy," explained Mary, making the most of +the sensation of being an actor in a real drama. "She fed him his soup +and slopped him, but he took me up sharp when I tried to stop her. He +acts as if she's got him clean bewitched." + +"Well!" exclaimed Mrs. West, as Persis looked at her dumbly. "I never +expected to live to see that Scripture fulfilled. The wolf and lamb +lying down together and a weaned child in a cockatrice's den." + +"Are you sure he wasn't angry?" asked Persis, still a little pale and +doubtful. + +Mary bridled. + +"Go and see for yourself, Miss Dale, if you don't believe me. When I +tried to stop her eating a good half of that broth, and chicken as high +as 'tis, he the same as called me a fool for meddling. But you'd +better go up-stairs. You won't be satisfied till you've heard for +yourself." + +In that Mary spoke truly. Her story was too incredible to be accepted +without investigation. Persis' incredulity did not desert her till +half-way up the stairs she was met by a child's voice, fond and +confident. + +"Uncle Joel, ain't God cruel to make some dogs without tails?" + +And then as her brother's unfamiliar laugh reached her ears, Persis +turned and went softly down the stairs. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +ENID + +If Persis Dale's extraordinary action in adopting a family _en masse_ +had stirred Clematis from center to circumference, that agitation was +trivial in comparison with the flutter produced by Joel's capitulation. +Mrs. West, backed up by Mary, told the news to auditors frankly +incredulous who yet were sufficiently impressed by her sincerity to +resolve on looking into the thing for themselves. Consequently the +Dale homestead became a magnet for the curious, and many a skeptic came +and went away convinced that the day of miracles had returned. + +As a matter of fact Joel's surrender was in accord with the most +elemental of psychological laws. With the characteristic caprice of +her sex in matters of the heart, Celia had taken a violent fancy to +this pale-blooded hypochondriac, and made no secret of the fact that +she regarded him as her especial property. Nothing is so flattering to +the vanity as the preference of a child, that naive, spontaneous +affection to which it is impossible to impute mercenary motives. And +Joel had responded by becoming Celia's abject slave. He ignored the +other children for the most part, seldom betraying, unless perhaps by +an impatient gesture or a frown, that he was aware of their existence. +But his eyes were always on Celia, and when she spoke, he listened. + +As was to be expected, that morsel of femininity improved every +opportunity to parade her conquest. She took Joel to walk, holding +tightly to his hand and entertaining him with an outpouring of those +quaint fancies which have been the heritage of childhood from the +beginning and yet always seem to the older generation so marvelously +new. She inveigled him into playing whatever role she assigned in +fantastic dramas of her own creation. He was Celia's father or her +little boy as the whim took her, the wolf which devoured Red Riding +Hood's grandmother, or the hapless old lady herself, attacked +ruthlessly by Celia as wolf. Crawling on all fours he played elephant, +or with the handle of a basket between his teeth, he submitted to be +patted on the head and addressed as Towser. Persis looked on with a +wonder that never lost its poignancy. That the self-centered Joel +should succumb to the innocent spell of childhood had never entered her +calculations, and she reproached herself that she had so little +understood him. + +The comments of Persis' acquaintances were characteristic. Mrs. West, +on the occasion of a second call, hinted her anxiety regarding the +future of the impromptu family. "When you pick children up that way, +you can't tell how they're going to turn out." + +"And when you bring 'em into the world," remarked Persis dryly, "and +rear 'em yourself and never let 'em out of your sight when you can help +it, you don't know how they're going to turn out either." There was in +her manner an ingenious suggestion of having in mind the recent +heart-broken confidences of Thad's mother, and Etta West blushed hotly +and changed the subject. + +Mrs. Robert Hornblower looked upon the acquisition as practical +rebellion against the decrees of Providence. In Persis' presence, she +said little, having a sincere respect for her ex-dressmaker's gift of +repartee. But to Mr. Hornblower, she expressed herself in no uncertain +terms. + +"If it's the Lord's will for a woman to raise a family, it stands to +reason He'll send her a husband. This snapping your fingers in the +face of the Almighty and gathering up children from here and there and +anywhere, looks downright impious." + +"Seems to me," began Mr. Hornblower in mild expostulation, "that Persis +Dale--" + +"Yes, I know, Robert," interrupted the submissive wife. "I feel just +as you do. It's always been Persis Dale's greatest fault to imagine +that she's a law unto herself. But this time she's overstepped the +mark." + +"Those children are orphans," exclaimed Mr. Hornblower, his complexion +becoming apoplectic. "And if--" + +In another instant he would have spoken his mind. Only by raising her +voice so his next words became inaudible, did his wife avoid that +catastrophe. + +"I don't wonder you're shocked, Robert," said Mrs. Hornblower, "to +think of her bringing into Clematis children of nobody knows who, to +grow up with our own boys and girls and as like as not lead 'em astray. +All I can say is that Persis Dale may have a lot to answer for some +day." + +Though Mrs. Hornblower's stand was somewhat extreme she was not without +her supporters. Thomas Hardin's sister, Mrs. Gibson, declared with +unconcealed rancor that Persis would have done better to think about +getting a husband before interesting herself in securing a family. +Mrs. Richards, with sanctimonious rolling of her eyes, admitted that +she had recognized long before an inherent coarseness in the character +of Persis Dale. Others like Annabel Sinclair exclaimed over the folly +of burdening one's self with juvenile responsibilities when free to +seek distraction wherever one pleased. + +Diantha did not agree with her mother. Ever since the memorable +occasion when, with the dressmaker's connivance, she had startled +Clematis by growing up between noon and supper-time, she had been one +of Persis' attendant satellites. But after the advent of the children +she fairly haunted the establishment. She dropped in after breakfast +to announce that Miss Perkins credited Algie with having the best head +for arithmetic of any boy in her room and came again at noon to suggest +taking Malcolm and Celia for a walk. But though she distributed her +favors with creditable impartiality, she found the baby peculiarly +fascinating. And rather to Persis' surprise, the frail and fretful +little creature, who looked askance even at the kindly Mary, fell under +the spell of the girlish beauty and always had a smile for Diantha. + +"Goodness, child, you do look grown up," Persis exclaimed abruptly one +afternoon, as she glanced at the pair snuggled in the depths of the +armchair, Diantha had flung her hat aside. Her face was dreamy as she +looked down at the little head against her shoulder. All her girlish +coquetry, every trace of juvenile mischief, the occasional flashes of +petulance which told that she was her mother's daughter had vanished. +She looked a brooding madonna. + +Ordinarily Diantha would have fluttered at the compliment. In her +present preoccupation, it drew from her only a thoughtful smile. + +"She's going to sleep," she said, an exquisite softness in her voice. +"How nice and heavy their heads feel when they're sleepy, Miss Persis!" + +"Well?" + +"I'm going to adopt a lot of children some day. I always was crazy to +have a crowd around. The way I've prayed for a sister," sighed +Diantha, her face temporarily overcast. And then brightening: "When I +get old enough to do as I please, I'll make up for it." + +Persis, studying the rapt young face, made no immediate reply. Her +sense of guilty complicity in Diantha's precocious womanhood distracted +her attention from the girl's resentful speech. Apparently her silence +proved stimulating to Diantha's impulse toward confidences. + +"Do you know the latest notion mother's got in her head?" + +"No." + +"She wants to send me off to school somewhere. She talks to father and +talks to him, till I'm afraid she'll tire him into it. Thad West says +any woman can get her way if she never stops talking about it." + +Persis regarded her keenly and Diantha's color rose. For no apparent +reason her blush became a conflagration. + +"I didn't know you and Thad had much chance to talk things over +nowadays." + +"They won't let him come to the house. They say I'm too young." +Diantha laughed mockingly. "And mother was only a little older when +she married father, and she was engaged twice before that." + +"I suppose you keep on seeing him just the same." + +"Course I do." + +Persis mused. Diantha was wrong, undoubtedly, and yet more sinned +against than sinning. Cautions and expostulations were unavailing with +this spirited young creature, smarting under continued injustice and +seeing with her uncompromising clearness of vision the selfish jealousy +which would keep her out of her birthright indefinitely. "You want to +be real careful, Diantha," said Persis, realizing the futility of her +words. "Thad's a nice boy and you're a nice girl, but it don't look +well for young folks to be meeting on the sly." + +She tried but with little success, to exercise a certain supervision +over Diantha that winter. Though the children came down with measles +one after another, and Joel had an attack of rheumatism which kept him +a prisoner in his bed for seven weeks, it seemed to Persis that Diantha +was never really out of her mind. She was surprised on the other hand +to find how little Justin Ware was in her thoughts. Instead of +returning to Clematis in a few weeks as he had intended, he had been +called West unexpectedly. He had not written Persis to apprise her of +his change of plans, and she heard of it only through Mrs. Hornblower. +And the astonishing part was that she heard it with scarcely a pang. +She had discontinued her practise of saying good night to the +photograph in the plush frame with Justin Ware's return, but sometimes +when the house was still, she took her stand before it and studied the +pleasant, immature face intently, as if trying to read from its +ingenuous smile a solution of some inward perplexity. + +The measles and the winter ran their course together. The children +ventured out and the daffodils ventured up. Joel hobbled about with a +cane and took Celia in search of violets. The baby who had come very +near dying, decided apparently that since recovery was in order she +might as well make a thorough job of it and began to grow fat and +sweet-tempered and to acquire dimples. And Persis made the pleasing +discovery that in the months during which she had been a woman of +property, she had not spent her income and resolved at once on +rectifying this needless opulence. + +"I've done considerable plodding in my time, I wouldn't mind a little +skimming for a change," thought Persis. Next to a family she had long +craved an automobile. The surplus of her income was sufficient for the +purchase of one of the cheaper grades of cars. Persis decided on a +visit to the city, with a view to making this investment. + +"I'm a little seedy with being shut in so much this winter, and a trip +will do me good whether I buy an automobile or not. Mary's mother will +come and stay with her and help out with the children. And if Joel +wants to go along, he can." But apparently the protective impulse +which had moved Joel to offer his company on the occasion of her +previous visit had waned during the winter. He declined the invitation +without thanks. + +It was proof enough of Persis' temperamental youthfulness that she +reached the city with as keen a sense of adventure as if she had been a +runaway boy following a circus. She went to the modest hotel she had +patronized the previous fall and was surprised and flattered when the +clerk called her by name. + +"Gives a body a home-coming feeling, that does," remarked Persis, as +she wrote the cramped signature which so poorly represented her robust +personality. "I don't see how you can remember everybody, with folks +coming and going all the time." + +"There are some people it's easy to remember," replied the clerk +gallantly and at the same time with sincerity. Whatever else time +erased from the tablets of his memory, he would never forget Persis, +and her acquisition of a family. Then he looked at her +interrogatively, for Persis had jumped, blotting the register. + +"You'll have to excuse me." Persis reached for the blotter. "I saw a +name I know and it sort of took my breath." There were but two +signatures on the page besides her own, the names of Mrs. Honoria Walsh +and Enid Randolph, both of Warren, New York. + +"I'll give you room forty-two," said the clerk, taking a key from the +hook and nodding to a watchful lad in uniform. "Mrs. Walsh and her +niece Miss Randolph are on the same floor. If they are friends of +yours--" + +"No, I wouldn't say that," Persis interrupted. "It's just that I've +heard of 'em before." As she left the elevator on the second floor, +two women glided past her, one the portly widow with abundant crepe who +is not easily differentiated, the other a stately girl with blonde hair +and a scornfully tilted chin. Instinct told Persis that the latter was +Enid. + +She enjoyed her first day vastly. She drove some two hundred miles in +machines of different makes and listened with keen interest to the +arguments proving conclusively that each was superior to all others. +Night found her tired, a little homesick for the children, but still +happy, nevertheless. She finished her dinner--a good dinner as became +a woman of means--and went into the little writing-room off the parlor +with the intention of jogging Mary's memory regarding the baby's diet. +There was but one person in the room, a young woman with fair hair +busily engaged in writing. + +Persis sat down at the next desk. She was aware of a marked +acceleration of the pulse which to her temperament was far from +disquieting. + +"Excuse me, but isn't this Miss Enid Randolph?" + +"Yes." The young woman looked up from her letter. Though her hair was +light, her brows were dark and her air distinctly distant. + +"I've always wanted to meet you." Persis spoke with unabashed +friendliness. "I've been interested in you for quite a spell. My name +is Dale, Persis Dale." + +Miss Randolph lifted her fine eyebrows, but offered no further comment +on this interesting circumstance. + +"Perhaps you'll remember," Persis continued briskly, "that we've had a +little correspondence. At least you wrote me about a letter of yours +to a Mr. Wash--" + +"I remember the incident clearly," said Miss Randolph. For all her +chilling air, she glanced toward the door to assure herself that they +were not overheard. "It is true I wrote you," she continued with a +hauteur which would have reduced a less buoyant nature to instant +dumbness. "But I hardly see that this constitutes a ground for +considering ourselves acquaintances." + +So far from being crushed, Persis smiled. And there was something so +frankly spontaneous in her look of amusement, that the young woman +colored. + +"Bless you, I know it wasn't a letter of introduction," Persis assured +her with unimpaired good humor. "But I've always wanted to tell you +that when you wrote me that time, you did a lot of good without knowing +it. Love-letters seem to me like firearms. In the proper hands +they're real useful, but if the wrong people get hold of 'em it's bound +to make trouble. At least that was the way with the one you wrote Mr. +Wash--" + +For the second time Miss Randolph looked toward the door, and when next +Persis saw her eyes they were appealing rather than disdainful. + +"The letter by mistake was sent to a young man who lives in Clematis," +Persis continued. "His name is Thompson, and W. Thompson, at that. He +thought it such a joke that he put it in his pocket for his wife to +find. Didn't know 'twas loaded, you see. And when she did find it and +he explained, she didn't believe him. I don't know as anybody believed +him but me, but it seemed such a silly explanation for a sensible man +to make up that I felt pretty sure it must be true." + +Miss Randolph put down her pen and gave herself up to the business of +listening. + +"If I could tell you how that little woman looked," declared Persis, +"it would just make your heart jump to think it was you that helped +her. Only six months married, she was, too. Well, I took a risk and +wrote to Mr. Thompson, Cleveland, and when I got his letter I knew +everything was all right. But I wasn't sure of proving it to young +Mrs. Thompson. After a woman's brooded over a thing as long as she +had, with her neighbors egging her on to do something desperate, she's +not going to be convinced with anything short of downright proof. But +between your letter and Mr. Wash--" + +"I don't see," interrupted Miss Randolph quickly, "that she has +anything to thank me for. You certainly deserve all the credit, Miss +Dale, for clearing up the mystery." + +"Well, they were grateful all right," Persis smiled reminiscently. +"The baby's six weeks old now, and her name is Persis Dale Thompson. +And they're both about as happy as any folks you're likely to see till +you die and go to Heaven. But I couldn't have done anything without +your help, and I wish I thought you was half as contented as I know +they are." + +"Really," said Miss Randolph, with an unsuccessful attempt to duplicate +her earlier reserve, "it is impossible for me to see--" + +"Yes, I know." Persis leaned toward her, speaking with a vehemence +that swept the feeble expostulation aside. "But just because I never +set eyes on you before ain't any reason why I shouldn't want you to be +happy. I've laid awake nights thinking about that letter of yours, so +loving and so sorrowful. Dearie, if love pulls you one way and +conscience the other, there's only one thing to do and that's the right +thing." + +"Really," began Miss Randolph, and then her eyes unexpectedly filled, +quenching the incipient fire of her indignation. She had recourse to +her handkerchief and Persis patted her shoulder, and in that instant +the two were friends. + +"You don't quite understand," explained Enid in a muffled voice. +"'Tommy' isn't married. 'Her' is auntie." + +Persis drew a sigh of such unmistakable relief that the girl looked at +her amazed. The older woman's face was shining. + +"Well, that's a weight off my mind," she smiled. "Nothing but your +aunt. Thank goodness." + +"A weight off your mind!" Enid repeated. "But you didn't know me." + +"No, but I knew you were a young thing in trouble, and that 'Her' gave +me many a bad minute." + +Enid's fingers reached gropingly toward her new-found friend. Their +two hands clasped and held fast. + +"Auntie took me when I was a little girl. I was an orphan. She's been +everything to me, and she adores me. But she doesn't like Tommy." + +"Why not?" + +"She hasn't anything really against him except that he's poor. It +would kill her to have me leave her to marry him. I can't bring myself +to do it. And yet I can't bring myself to give Tommy up." She was +crying in earnest now, and the clasp of Persis' hand tightened. + +"You can't and you oughtn't. There's too much sacrifice of love these +days. Young fellows instead of having homes of their own are +supporting two or three grown-up sisters and getting crabbed and +bitter. And girls the Lord meant for wives and mothers stay at home +because the old folks don't want to spare them. Nine times out of ten +it's like Abraham sacrificing Isaac, and there's a he-goat somewhere +round in the bushes that would do just as well." + +"But it would seem so dreadfully ungrateful to disappoint her," gasped +Enid Randolph with the air of one who longs to be disproved. "After +she's done everything for me." + +"Bless you, child, if you love and are sure of him, the mother who bore +you wouldn't have a right to say no. And what's more, if you're +sensible enough to go your own way, she'll probably end up by thinking +he next thing to made the world and taking all the credit for the +match. You're twenty-one, of course." + +"Twenty-three." + +"Then I wouldn't have any more of this underhanded business. Talk it +out with your aunt, and unless she can show you good reasons for giving +up your young man, you've got the best reason in the world for taking +him." + +Enid deliberated. Then very slowly she tore her letter to bits. + +"I was saying good-by to him forever--for the twenty-ninth time." She +smiled somewhat palely. "But I rather think, Miss Persis Dale, that +I'll take your advice." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A STALLED ENGINE + +"Well, I don't expect to be any nearer flying till I get to Heaven and +they fit me to a pair of wings. I might try a little jaunt in an +air-ship some day, but I don't feel as if I'd relish that for a steady +diet. For this world, an automobile is plenty good enough for me." + +Not for many a year had Persis been possessed by such a sense of +buoyancy and youthfulness. The road lay straight and smooth before +her. The little car, obedient to her strong capable hand, spun along +the shining track, counterfeiting by the swiftness of its motion the +breeze lacking in the languid spring day. Persis had laid aside her +hat, and the rush of air ruffled her abundant hair and rouged her +cheeks. As a matter of fact, Persis was not so near flying as she +thought. In the most conservative community, there would have been +little danger of her arrest for exceeding the speed limit. But to one +accustomed to the sedate jog-trot of farm horses taken from the plow to +hitch to the capacious carry-all, the ten-mile-an-hour gait of the new +motor seemed exhilarating flight. + +The day had the deceptive stillness by which nature disguises the +ferocious intensity of her spring-time activities. Bird, beast and +insensate clod all felt the challenge of the season. Persis had +responded characteristically by cleaning house from six o'clock till +noon and making a dress for Betty in the interval which less strenuous +natures devote to afternoon naps. And now that Celia was off somewhere +with Joel, and Betty had promised to look after the baby, and the boys +had received permission to inspect a family of puppies newly arrived in +the neighborhood, Persis was scurrying hither and thither with all the +ebullient light-heartedness of a girl let out of school. She had +startled the staid residents of Twin Rivers, where the spectacle of a +woman driving a car ranked in interest second only to a circus parade. +She had frightened two horses and narrowly escaped running over a +chicken. And now she turned her face homeward, with the deliberate +intention of ignoring the approach of supper-time and inviting young +Mrs. Thompson to take the baby out for an airing. At no other time of +the year would Persis have considered being late to supper for no +reason except that she was loath to shorten her pleasure. Without +doubt the momentous interview between Mother Eve and the most subtle of +beasts occurred in the spring when the moral defenses need +reinforcement. + +Against the deepening gold of the west, a black speck showed, emerging +rapidly into distinctness as the vehicles approached. The +slower-moving of the two was still at too great a distance for Persis +to distinguish its occupants when she began to slow down, her dread of +causing an accident through frightening some one's horse counteracting +her unwonted feeling of irresponsibility. The car had come almost to a +standstill when out of the recesses of the still distant buggy Persis +caught a flash of pink. She had the trained eye for color +characteristic of her profession. And this peculiarly trying shade of +pink she always associated with Diantha Sinclair, who had an audacious +fondness for testing her flawless coloring with hues capable of turning +the ordinary complexion to saffron. + +Prompt action is characteristic of the intuitive. Logic takes time. +Persis never attempted to account for the unreasoning certainty which +on occasion took command of her actions. It was impossible for her to +recognize Diantha's companion or to know indeed, that the opalescent +flash of pink stood for Diantha's nearness. Yet she was sure of both +things and of much besides. And with her conviction that the case was +serious, an adequate plan of action instantly presented itself. + +The car stopped with a jerk, and in the middle of the road, so that the +on-coming driver would have to exercise caution in passing. The +panting engine became silent. Persis alighted. She made several tours +of inspection of her property, her face expressive of gravest concern. +Occasionally she touched a screw or lever tentatively and then shook +her head. Finally dropping on her knees in the dust, she thrust her +head between the wheels and gazed inquiringly at the bottom of the car. +Thus occupied she was too engrossed to notice that the thud of horse's +hoofs was coming very near. Suddenly the sound ceased. + +"Why," cried a girlish voice, "it's Miss Persis." + +Persis gave up her unavailing scrutiny and climbed slowly to her feet. +As she dusted her knees, she welcomed the occupants of the buggy with a +fine blending of surprise and relief. + +"Well, I venture to say I know just how ship-wrecked folks feel when +they're off on a raft in mid-ocean and they sight a sail. Ain't this a +funny fix, half past four in the afternoon and me ten miles from home? +And to make it worse I wrenched my knee a mite cleaning house this +morning." This last statement was strictly accurate though her limp as +she advanced toward them was exaggerated. "I don't know what I'd have +done," declared Persis, "if you hadn't happened along." + +Diantha's face reflected the pinkness of the gown which had betrayed +her. Thad West looked frankly sulky and quite at a loss. + +"That's the worst of those dog-goned things," he exclaimed, scowling at +the object blocking his way. "They're always giving out just when you +need them most. I wouldn't take one as a gift," he added savagely, and +only the enthusiastic motorist will understand what it cost Persis not +to refute his words on the spot. + +"Have you tried everything you can think of to make it go, Miss +Persis?" Diantha asked, her troubled tones indicating how much she took +to heart her friend's misadventure. + +Persis' glance implied affectionate appreciation. + +"Well, you see, dearie, they gave me lessons in the city on how to run +a car, but I suppose it's too much to expect that I'll know everything +about it right off from the start. I dare say some real smart person +could fix it in a jiffy." She was so certain on this point that she +quaked for fear Thad might begin experimenting, but that young man's +confidence in his mechanical ability was luckily limited. He sat +scowling and twisting the lines in his hands, while his horse looked +back over its shoulder as if it shared its master's impatience of the +delay. + +"I didn't relish the idea of setting here in the road all night," +explained Persis, still with an air of relief. "Seems fairly +providential your coming along in the nick o' time." + +"Fact is," said Thad sullenly, "we're not going home for a while." + +"Well, I'm in no real hurry," Persis returned obligingly. "If the +children get hungry, Mary'll feed 'em. They're all too little to worry +if I'm not home on the minute, and Joel ain't the worrying kind." + +"Truth is, Miss Persis," exclaimed the goaded lad, "it isn't what you'd +call convenient for us to take you along this evening." + +"Thad!" cried Diantha in accents of unutterable reproach. + +"Well, I don't mean to be impolite, but it's not convenient and you +know it." + +"Thad West, Miss Persis is just about my dearest friend in Clematis. +And if you think I'm going to leave her here alone ten miles from home, +with an automobile that won't go--and getting dark--and a lame knee--" + +"Well, of course if you feel that way about it," returned the unhappy +young man, "there's nothing more to be said. But you know yourself--" + +"I guess I'd better light my lamps before I leave," remarked Persis +briskly. She attended to that little matter and hobbled toward the +buggy. Thad alighted and assisted her to climb in with so poor a grace +as to make her suspicions an absolute certainty. + +"Now, children," Persis settled herself and slipping an arm deftly +behind Thad's back, she took Diantha's slim hand in hers, "I never was +one to be a kill-joy. You drive round as long as you feel like it and +don't mind me, no more'n if I was a coach dog running on behind." + +"Thad!" exclaimed Diantha in peremptory fashion. "I'm going to tell +her." + +"Just as you think best," replied young Mr. West, who bade fair to find +this a convenient stock phrase. + +Diantha's hand gave that of Persis a tremulous pressure, suggestive of +fluttering nerves. "Miss Persis," she said in a thrilling +half-whisper, "we're going to be married, Thad and I." + +Persis returned the squeeze. "I thought as much, dearie. I've seen +you look at him and him look at you, and that made it plain enough to a +body with eyes. And I'm glad to hear it. For all I've missed it +myself, I believe marriage is about the best thing there is. Thad's +got his faults and you've got yours, and it stands to reason you're +going to do better at mastering 'em if each helps the other, than if +you struggle along alone. There's nothing easy about marriage except +for lazy folks and cowards, but things that are hard are the only ones +that pay. Some people will tell you it's a risk, and so it is, but +most things are when you come to that. I believe in getting married +and in early marriages, too, and so I'm glad to know that some day you +and Thad--" + +Thad West gave his horse a quite unnecessary cut with the whip. In the +voice of a dying zephyr, Diantha interrupted. + +"You don't understand, Miss Persis. It isn't some day. It's to-day. +We're running off to be married." + +"Oh!" Persis' hold on the fluttering little hand tightened. Her +silence seemed to imply reflection. + +"Well, that puts a different face on it. I suppose it's because I +think so much of marriage that I hate to have it mixed up with things +that are underhanded. My idea of husband and wife, you see, is just +two folks helping each other to make a better man and a better woman, +instead of backing each other up in lying--" + +"Lying!" exploded Thad. "Who's going to do any lying?" + +"Diantha's not eighteen yet, and you haven't got her parents' +permission for her to marry you. The only way you can manage it is to +lie about her age and start your new life with that hanging over you. +And all because you can't wait one little year. Looks like Thad's +afraid he will change his mind about Diantha, and Diantha's in a hurry +for fear she will find somebody she likes better'n Thad." + +Two vehement protests mingled in inextricable confusion. "They won't +let me see her except on the sly," cried Thad, making himself heard at +last. "They've said I wasn't to come to the house. And I won't stand +it." + +"Of course you won't," Persis agreed. "That's past all reason that two +young people dead in love with each other aren't to have a chance to do +their courting. That's got to be different." + +"But father won't have it." + +"To-morrow I'm going to drop in and have a talk with your father. I'm +not afraid of obstinacy in a man that's got ordinary sense somewhere in +the back of his head. It's the brainless sort of folks that can't be +moved after they've once got set. Stanley Sinclair knows enough to +listen to reason. And he's got to do it." + +"But mother," began Diantha, and then sobbed. His face sternly set, +Thad gulped. Even the self-contained Persis found her eyes moist. + +"Yes, child, I understand. I knew your mother before you were born, +and I'll own that we're likely to have a little trouble in that +quarter. But when folks have common sense and everything else dead +against 'em, there's nothing for 'em to do but give up. Sometimes I've +felt," Persis added thoughtfully, "as if I'd just enjoy a real plain +talk with your mother." + +"If we go back now," stormed Thad, "it'll be the same story over again +next year. They're never going to let me marry Diantha unless I run +off with her." + +"Next year she'll be of age and her own mistress, and you'll have no +cause to run. Diantha's the sort of girl that ought to be married in +church with bridesmaids and the wedding march and pews full Of folks +looking on. 'Tain't only about once in a generation that a bride as +pretty as Diantha comes along, and the idea of marrying her in some +minister's back parlor, with the student lamp turned low to save oil +and the servant girl called in for a witness, is a plain case of +casting pearls before swine. Not that I've got anything against +ministers," Persis added, in hasty amends to the cloth. + +The weeping Diantha was sobbing less violently. Persis was sure she +was giving close attention. Possibly Thad was impressed by the same +view of the case, for he spoke with the aggressive confidence of one +who feels that his cause is imperiled. + +"Church wedding! Makes me laugh to think what Diantha's mother would +say to that." + +"Well, if they won't give Diantha a wedding next year, I will. And +it'll be the kind," Persis promised solemnly, "that'll make Clematis +sit up and take notice." + +Neither of the lovers spoke. Gazing down the winding road with the +dreamy air of one who sees beautiful visions, Persis broke the tense +silence. + +"I've given up dressmaking for good, but there's one dress I'm willing +to break my rule for, and that's Diantha Sinclair's wedding gown. I've +got a picture of it in my mind's eye, if the styles don't change too +much between now and next June. And if anything could make Diantha +look sweeter than she does now, 'twould be that wedding dress. And the +making of it ain't going to cost her a cent." + +Diantha leaned behind Thad's back and left a damp kiss on her friend's +forehead. Persis knew her battle was won. Thad knew it too, and a +hollow groan escaped him. + +"By the way, Thad, I'm going to arrange with Mr. Sinclair to let you +call on Diantha twice a week, and if you should happen to feel like +seeing her between times, she's pretty likely to be at my house along +in the afternoon. If you should drop in 'most any day about four +o'clock, you'd probably find her. And now s'pose both of you come home +with me for supper. I'll telephone Diantha's folks where she is, so +they won't worry." + +"I think--I think that'll be awfully nice, don't you, Thad?" said +Diantha. + +And the loser in the unequal contest surrendered without a blow as he +answered, "Just as you say." + +Persis had not overestimated her persuasive powers. She actually +brought the Sinclairs to agree to the liberal terms she had promised +the young people. The hauteur with which Stanley Sinclair received her +at his office the following day, and the explicitness of his statement +that he was not anxious for her advice concerning his domestic affairs, +proved unavailing before Persis' matter-of-fact bluntness. Anger +availed him little since she remained cool. His irony rebounded +harmless from her absolute certainty of being in the right. Forced to +retreat step by step, he ended by conceding all that she demanded for +the lovers. If he had an air when he bade her good morning, of +resolving never to forgive her, the knowledge that she had gained all +she came for imparted an unfeigned cordiality to her farewell. + +The interview with Annabel was briefer and more dramatic, but quite as +conclusive. As she pondered on the success that had attended her +efforts, Persis indulged in brief philosophy. + +"Anybody's at a terrible disadvantage that's afraid of the truth. Now, +it doesn't worry me a mite to have Annabel call me an old maid, but if +I tell her she's thirty-eight she feels worse than if I'd stuck a knife +into her. Annabel makes me think of those squirming things that live +under stones. All you have to do to bring 'em to terms is to turn the +stone over and let the light in on 'em. It beats all how Annabel will +scramble to get away from the truth." + +The man commissioned to bring home Persis Dale's car relished his task +enormously. He told every one that there wasn't a thing the matter +with the machine. She had just stalled her engine and didn't know +enough to get it started again. All Clematis enjoyed the joke, Persis +in particular. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +A DEFERRED INTERMENT + +Except for the clerk at the Clematis House the first person to welcome +Justin Ware on his next return to his native town was Annabel Sinclair. +She wore a little white veil, vastly becoming, but masking a tragedy, +since she thereby acknowledged the deterioration of her complexion. +The dramatic encounter took place one block from the hotel, and Annabel +clasping her gloved hands uttered the single word; "You!" + +The greeting, abrupt in type, is anything else on the lips of a woman +who has studied the possibilities of that monosyllable. On Annabel's +lips it expressed incredulous wonder, gentle reproach and strong +feeling held in check by womanly modesty. No man can rise superior to +this subtle flattery. Justin greeted her as if she were the woman of +his dreams. + +"It's really you--after almost a year." The reproach was uppermost in +her voice now, but she mitigated its severity by allowing him to retain +possession of the hand he had seized. + +"It has been a long year--for me," replied Justin, and the rival artist +thrilled with responsive admiration. For his manner said as plainly as +words that throughout those dragging twelve months one thought had +possessed him, the desire to see her again. + +"Were you on your way home? May I walk with you?" He asked the favor +with deferential tenderness. She granted it with an effective flutter +of the lids. Each, realizing the other's proficiency in the game, was +spurred to emulation. + +And then abruptly the curtain dropped on the play, for at the first +street corner, an automobile barked a warning. Justin, who had +gallantly taken his companion's arm, the better to assist her in the +perils of the crossing, raised his eyes and at once lost interest in +Annabel Sinclair and her kind. + +The woman driving the car to all appearances had not recognized him, +her absorption preventing her from differentiating the human species +beyond the broad classification of those likely to be run over and +those in no such danger. Her color was high, and her face despite a +grim intentness indicated keen satisfaction. A handsome boy sat beside +her, and Justin had a confused impression of a number of other children +in charge of a buxom girl on the back seat. He stood motionless gazing +after the flying car and oblivious to Annabel's resentful glances. + +"Well, good afternoon if you've decided to spend the rest of the day on +the street corner." + +Justin roused himself. But he had lost heart in these amateur +theatricals. + +"Whose car is Persis Dale driving?" + +"Her own. A year brings changes, you see, Mr. Ware. The car and the +children all belong to her." + +"What!" he shouted. His first not unnatural idea was that Persis had +become the wife of a prosperous widower, and he was astonished at the +pang for which this thought was responsible. Resentfully Annabel +recognized the difference between the voice of real emotion and +counterfeit tenderness. + +Her lips curled as she allayed his consternation. "She came into a +little money--an obliging aunt died, I believe. Pity it hadn't come +early enough to do her some real good. She patched up her old house, +and adopted five or six orphan-asylum kids, and I suppose the poor +thing thinks she's having a good time." Even to the most prejudiced +eye Annabel could not have looked beautiful at that moment. The venom +that poisoned her spirit, disfigured her face like a scar. Hag-ridden +by those unlovely twins, jealousy and hate, she looked for the instant +prematurely old. + +Justin did not notice. He was absorbed in gleaning from her all +possible information as to the change in Persis' circumstances and +quite indifferent to the emotions of his reluctant informant. With the +relentlessness of the thoroughly selfish, he continued his +cross-examination till Annabel's mind seemed to herself a squeezed +orange. She felt something like terror mingling with a sense of +physical exhaustion. It always frightened her to find herself unable +to keep a man's attention focused on herself when she had him to +herself. + +"When shall I see you again?" she asked, as she approached her home. +Had the interview continued with the dramatic intensity of its +beginning, she could safely have left him to ask that question. Under +the circumstances she did not dare. + +"I'm not quite sure. I have some business that has hung fire an +unconscionable time, and ungallant as it seems, we twentieth century +fellows have to put business before pleasure." He smiled +propitiatingly and therein lay the sting, that he did not even take the +trouble to conceal that he was trying to appease her. Their parting +sank to the level of the commonplace for he shook hands hastily, and +her look of appeal flattened itself ineffectively against his +preoccupation. + +A little skilful quizzing of the hotel clerk confirmed in every detail +Annabel's remarkable story, and in his own room Justin sat down to +think the matter through to a conclusion. The renewal of his +acquaintance with Persis Dale nearly a year earlier had enlightened him +as to the tenacity of certain impressions he had thought obliterated +long before. The girl he had loved in his callow youth and had +forgotten, still retained something of her old fascination for him. A +year earlier this discovery was responsible for an amused wonder at +himself, coupled with a realization of the need of caution. Now common +sense took sides with his lingering fondness. Persis Dale, with a +comfortable little fortune added to her unique personality, had become +distinctly desirable. She was a woman with an infinite capacity for +surprises, which meant that she would not bore the man she married, +unduly. With a little metropolitan polish added to her native +cleverness she should be able to give a good account of herself +socially. The children were a drawback of course, but there must be +some way of getting rid of an adopted family of which one tired. And +it was quite impossible that Persis' fondness for the little ones she +had picked up the other day, so to speak, would prove a serious rival +to an affection which had been a vital factor in her life for more than +twenty years. + +By supper-time he had made up his mind. With a little sigh for the +freedom he was relinquishing, he resolved on matrimony. He had always +intended to marry somebody and domesticity with Persis promised at +least commonplace comfort, something Justin was the last man on earth +to despise. With the children disposed of, Joel sent adrift and +Persis' money wisely handled, there was no reason why they should not +get on better than the majority of married people. Justin ate an +unusually hearty supper as if to fortify himself for his wooing. + +He had made up his mind to ignore the change in Persis' circumstances +that his call might seem a spontaneous tribute to her personal +attractions. But the change in the house and its furnishings was so +pronounced that he judged it bad policy to pass it over without +comment. "I thought for a minute I'd come to the wrong house, Persis, +and I felt positively alarmed about myself. I knew if I couldn't find +the Dale place blindfolded, I needed the services of a nerve +specialist." He laughed a little with an air of catching himself up +before he had said too much, something he had found effective with many +women. + +She smiled upon him gravely. "It was the improvements that mixed you +up, I suppose. There was a spot on the ceiling of mother's room where +the rain leaked through the winter she died. After the papering was +finished I missed that spot as if it had been human. Time and again +when I went into that room I'd jump as if I'd got into somebody else's +house by mistake." Her voice lost a subtle pensive quality as she +added: "But the new furniture ain't the best of the changes, Justin. I +wish I could show you the children, but they're all in bed and asleep." + +"I'm not sure I'm sorry." Justin's voice was low and caressing. "It's +always been hard for us two to have any time alone. I used to wonder +when I came here who would be sitting by and listening to every word we +said, your father or your mother or Joel or some other young fellow +who'd discovered the most charming girl in Clematis. If fate has +granted us an evening to ourselves at last, let's be thankful." + +He thought it a very fair beginning. The reference to their early love +affair could not fail to soften her. The implication that the +interference of interested third parties was responsible for keeping +them apart was cleverly done. It was a distinct surprise at the end of +an hour to find himself no further along than at the start. Justin had +no intention of offering his hand and heart to any woman without a +reasonable assurance of a rapturous acceptance, and singularly enough, +he was far from certainty. He had been making love in a restrained and +subtle fashion for the better part of an hour and was ready for an +avowal of his devotion as soon as Persis showed any intention of +meeting him half-way. But up to this point, she had skilfully +disguised any such intention, and while showing no displeasure at the +sentimental tendency disclosed in his remark, had so persistently +injected a tincture of matter-of-factness into the conversation that he +seemed as far as ever from coming to the point. With it all, her air +was friendly. He suspected her of playing with him, taking her revenge +by keeping him in doubt overnight. + +Resistance seldom detracts from a woman's value in a man's eyes. When +Justin rose to go he was almost ready to believe himself in love. He +was a little angry, slightly amused and more in doubt as to her state +of mind than he often felt regarding his opponents in the eternal duel. +When Persis gave him her hand for good night he held it in both his own +for a moment and raised it to his lips. The curious rekindling of a +burned-out tenderness, due to her lack of responsiveness, gave the act +an effect of sincerity which impressed him, even while he thrilled with +honest passion, as an excellent move. + +He looked into her eyes and found them gravely contemplative. +"Justin," she said, "there's something I want to speak to you about if +you're not in a hurry." + +He tingled with triumph. Women were all alike. She could play the +coquette for an hour, but she could not let him leave her till she had +heard the words he had been trying all the evening to speak. He put +down his hat. "You know of course," he said with an air of repressed +feeling, "that I am at your service now and always." And as her eyes +fell he laid his hand on hers. + +It was not easy to restore the balance, but Persis did it. "The +property my aunt left me," she began in her most matter-of-fact voice, +"brings me a pretty fair income, but nothing's good enough as long as +it might be better. Only yesterday I got an offer of ten thousand +dollars for some water-works stock in a place out West where Aunt +Persis Ann lived for a good many years." + +Justin put his hands in his pockets, the character of her opening +rendering sentimental advances ludicrously inopportune. + +"Have you any idea what income you get from that stock?" + +"Last year it was a thousand and fifty dollars." + +"Why, that's over ten per cent. on what the fellow offers you," Justin +exclaimed, and Persis nodded. + +"Yes, about ten per cent. And in the Apple of Eden Investment Company +I'd be guaranteed twenty-five per cent. by the tenth year, with a good +chance to double my money even before that. I didn't stop you to ask +your advice, Justin, for I can see you'd feel a little delicate about +urging me to invest in your company. But what I've heard from Mis' +Hornblower makes it plain enough that the best thing for me to do is to +turn my property into cash as fast as I can and put every penny into +apples." + +Justin crossed his feet, reflecting impatiently that it was high time +for Persis Dale to have a husband. His elation over all that was +implied by her consulting him on so personal a matter, was almost lost +in his feeling of annoyance. This made it plain that he must lose no +time, but marry her offhand. What with her penchant for orphans and +for foolish investments, she would make ducks and drakes of her fortune +unless a man peremptorily took the helm. + +"It would be a pity to be precipitate, Persis. An investment that pays +ten per cent. isn't to be sneezed at nowadays. And this fellow's offer +just now looks as if the stock wasn't in any danger of depreciating." + +He glanced at her and was annoyed to find her face stubborn. Had she +been the type of woman to accept masculine counsel as akin to divine +guidance, his task would have been easier. Her evident lack of +yielding forced him to take a superior tone. + +"My dear girl, you will admit that I am a little better versed in +business matters than you are. And my advice is to hold on to your +stock unless you should have a better reason for selling than appears +at present." + +"Ten per cent. looks pretty well alongside the Savings bank, I'll +admit. But why shouldn't I get twenty-five? I've got these children +to educate. I can use considerable more than if I just had myself to +think of." + +He gulped down his vexation, "Raising apples is a science, Persis. The +weakness of the American investor is to imagine that he can do whatever +any other fellow has done. Because some horticultural shark doubles +his money on his orchard in a banner year, you fancy you can do the +same every year." + +"Gracious, Justin! I'm not going into apple-raising. I've got my +hands full enough without that. I'm going to leave the company to run +my orchard for me. All they ask is twenty-five per cent of the net +profits, but you know that without my telling you." + +"And suppose there comes a year like 1896, when apples didn't bring +enough to pay for the barrels they were packed in? You can't count on +top-notch prices every season." + +"No, but I can count on the company's guarantee." + +An oath, a tribute to her obstinacy, winged through his brain. In his +exasperation he forgot caution. + +"That guarantee--" + +"Well?" + +"There's nothing to hold us after you've become the owner of the +property. If we find that running your orchard isn't profitable, as we +might easily do after one or two bad seasons, we could slip from under, +and you could use the guarantee as you call it, for curl papers. +That's all it would be good for." + +He was glad to see that he had shaken her foolish stubbornness at last. +She caught her breath like one jerked back from an unrealized danger by +a friendly hand. + +"I--I guess it's lucky I consulted you, Justin. It's foolish for a +woman to think that she's up to all the tricks in business nowadays." +The slight trembling of her hand tempted him to kiss it, though he +compromised by merely taking it again. + +"If I've helped you a little, Persis, dear girl, I'm very happy. I +only wish you were willing to make use of me always." His hope that +this was the psychological moment was dashed when ignoring the +attempted caress, she grasped his hand and shook if vigorously. + +"Good night, Justin. Thank you for setting me right in that matter. I +believe that's the baby starting to cry. I'll have to hurry up before +she rouses the house." + +But she got no farther than the foot of the stairs on this errand, and +Justin, letting himself out, gave voice to the oath he had thought more +than once that evening. Persis stood listening as he made his way down +the walk, but up-stairs all was still. She returned to the living-room +rather slowly. Through all the various changes in the household, +indicative of increased prosperity, the photograph in the blue plush +frame had triumphantly retained its post of honor on the mantel, a +landmark of constancy. Now she took it up with hands that trembled. + +"It's not that I've got anything against you." She addressed it as if +there were an intelligence back of the vacuous pleasantness of the +young face. "It's only that there's not any you and hasn't been for I +don't know how long. It's so much deader than death, all ashes to +ashes and dust to dust and the spirit turned into something different." +And then Justin's hopes would have soared high had he seen her, for she +kissed the lips that smiled at her, a strange kiss in which pity +blended with forgiveness. + +Holding fast to the blue plush frame, Persis passed through the house +to the woodshed, found a trowel among the garden tools, and then made +her way into the night. The sky was overcast, hiding the stars, but +the flitting fire-flies outlined strange constellations against the +velvety darkness. Persis groped her way through the dewy grass toward +the syringa bush, guided as much by the odor of blossoms as by sight, +and falling on her knees used her trowel industriously for many +minutes. And when the grave was deep enough, she laid the plush frame +into its recesses, hiding the smile she once had loved with heaped-up +earth. Since so many of her girlish hopes were covered by that same +earth, it is not strange that her tears fell upon the little mound. + +"I'm going to miss that picture same as if it was alive. It was always +smiling so cheerful that it cheered me just to look at it. But when a +thing's dead, it ought to be buried, and as it is, I guess this funeral +is pretty near twenty years behind time." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +CHECKMATE + +In spite of the lack of success which had attended his tentative +wooing, Justin Ware slept soundly, woke cheerful and made a comfortable +breakfast. Over his coffee and pancakes he outlined not the plans for +a systematic siege of Persis' affections, but the maneuver through +which he hoped to carry the Hornblower citadel by storm. He had used +no meaningless figure of speech when he assured Annabel of his practise +of making pleasure secondary to business. Robert Hornblower's +resistance had piqued and baffled him, the more as he knew that Mrs. +Hornblower was his uncompromising ally. Indeed his presence in +Clematis at this juncture was due to a letter from this invaluable +colleague, casually mentioning that her husband had received an offer +for the farm which she wished he might be induced to accept. "While I +leave all such matters for Robert to decide, as I consider to be a +wife's _plain_ duty," wrote Mrs. Hornblower, with a lavish use of +italics, "I have not hesitated to tell him that I think his closing +with the offer is for the best interests of us all." And Justin had +interpreted the communication to mean that his confederate believed the +day of victory at hand. + +He finished his breakfast at an early hour, judged by metropolitan +standards, selected the most promising animal from the sorry exhibition +of horse-flesh in the local livery and drove out to the Hornblower +farm, smoking on the way a better cigar than could be bought in +Clematis, and feeling unusually well satisfied with the world and +himself. His failure to bring the Hornblower affair to a successful +conclusion had annoyed him, not so much because of the importance of +the transaction, as because his professional pride was hurt at finding +himself unequal to the task of convincing a henpecked old man. From +the tone of Mrs. Hornblower's letter he was confident this failure was +about to be retrieved, and that Persis would prove amenable to his +flattering advances, could be taken for granted. On one point he must +be firm. From the beginning he must assume the necessity of her +renouncing her recently acquired family. He could say and with truth +that children made him nervous. But to postpone the settlement of the +difficulty until after the wedding would be a fatal blunder. When +women felt sure of a man, they sometimes developed a disagreeable +tenacity in holding to their own way. Altogether on this early morning +drive, Justin's difficulties dwindled almost to imperceptible points +while his blessings loomed large, a state of mind we are assured, most +favorable to success. + +Mr. Hornblower came from the barn as he drove up and greeted him with +successfully disguised cordiality. But a glance convinced Justin that +the long siege was nearly at an end. In the pouches under the man's +weary eyes, in a certain sagging of his lower lip, in an indefinable +air of being beaten, Justin read the signs of approaching capitulation. + +"Mis' Hornblower is in the house. I guess you'd better see her this +morning. I'm pretty busy for visiting." + +"I won't keep you long, Mr. Hornblower. I just want to lay a +proposition before you that's sure to interest as good a business man +as you are." Justin waited while the farmer tied the horse, and then, +slipping his hand through the old man's arm, guided him dexterously +around the house. Robert Hornblower yielded like one hypnotized, an +expression of rigid horror on his face as if while seeing some peril +immediately ahead, he found himself unable to avoid it. + +Mrs. Hornblower sat in a rocking-chair by the window, tapping the floor +with her heel as the chair swayed, and nervously smoothing imaginary +wrinkles from an immaculate apron. Justin took a step toward her, then +stopped with an awkward jerk. Early as he was, another caller was +ahead of him. In the opposite corner, grim and unsmiling as fate, sat +Persis Dale. + +Justin realized his own embarrassment with angry wonder. He had the +emotions of a boy caught in a foray on the preserve closet. "Good +morning," he said, and was shocked by the startled suspicion of his own +voice. He carried out his original intention of shaking hands with +Mrs. Hornblower, though without his customary grace of manner, and then +turned to go through the same ceremony with Persis, but her tightly +folded arms gave little encouragement to this design. He compromised +by taking a chair near her and saying pleasantly, "You're an early +arrival." + +"I calculated you'd be here as soon as you got done your breakfast," +Persis replied, and left him to interpret the ambiguous remark as he +pleased. + +Justin's career had not been of a sort to cultivate undue +sensitiveness. A moment sufficed to make him master of himself. "I +came out to discuss a little business proposition with Mr. Hornblower," +he explained carelessly. "But I don't want to interfere with the +enjoyment of you ladies. Some other time--" + +"Don't mind me," interposed Persis. "Mis' Hornblower and I haven't +anything special to talk about. We're interested in your business +proposition, both of us." + +"I don't know as I care to hear it," interrupted Mr. Hornblower, +speaking with a certain wildness, an indication that he had almost +reached the limit of resistance. His voice was shrill and unnatural. +"All I want is to be left in peace on the farm where my father lived +and died before me." + +"Robert," said the submissive Mrs. Hornblower witheringly, "I'd be +ashamed to talk as if I'd been born an oyster instead of a man." + +"Of course, Mr. Hornblower," Ware began soothingly, "I should be very +unwilling to over-persuade you. If my proposition does not commend +itself to your own good judgment, you are perfectly justified in +turning it down. Or if you are not in the mood for talking business +to-day, some other time--" + +"There's no time like the present," said Persis Dale. "And if you +don't like what he's got to offer, you can say no, Mr. Hornblower, and +stick to it. Your _no_ is as good as his _yes_, I'm sure, when it's +your business that's being talked of." + +She had suddenly become the dominant figure in the room. Mrs. +Hornblower glanced at her uncertainly. The promoter smiled +propitiatingly. The old man shuffled toward her with an evident hope +that through proximity he might profit by her sturdy strength. + +"I don't mind listening, Persis," he said tremulously. "I'm a +reasonable man. What I object to is being nagged and badgered as if I +didn't have a right to say my soul was my own." + +"I'm sure, Mr. Hornblower," Ware interrupted, "that Miss Dale will tell +you that I have no wish to hurry you into any decision you will regret. +In our business, satisfied patrons are our best asset. I only want to +call attention to a little matter that may have escaped your attention +and then leave you to think it over." Though his remarks were +addressed to the farmer, his appealing gaze was fixed on Persis. He +was disagreeably uncertain as to her attitude. Possibly she had come +with the purpose of doing him a favor. And possibly-- But he +dismissed the alternative before it had taken shape in his thoughts. +On the evening before he had made plain his willingness to take up +their acquaintance just where it had left off, twenty years before. +And if he knew anything of women, nothing would induce her to imperil +the renewal of that relation. + +In spite of this conviction his manner showed embarrassment as he began +his explanation. The smooth phrases he had used so often that he could +have spoken them in his sleep came readily to his lips, but even to +himself they sounded hollow and unconvincing. He was embarrassed too, +by Persis' tendency to ask questions, to inform herself as to every +detail of the plan he was unfolding. So persistent was she in her +cross-examination, that Mrs. Hornblower showed signs of irritation. + +"Goodness, Persis, it ain't necessary for Mr. Ware to go into all those +points. It ain't as if this was the first time we had ever talked over +the matter." + +"It's just as well to have things plain," Persis replied imperturbably. +Justin noticed that she looked less youthful and comely than on the +occasions when he had previously seen her. She had the gray and +care-worn look excusable in a woman approaching the fortieth mile-stone +who has spent a wakeful night. He was conscious of a sense of +annoyance in noting the distinctness of the triangle formed by her firm +mouth and the lines that slanted obliquely back from its corners. Her +persistence, too, troubled him. He was well aware that there is no +more serious flaw in a wife than the habit of asking questions. + +In spite of interruptions he finally finished his story and folded the +papers from which he had used certain figures to give his statements an +authoritative air. Mr. Hornblower squirmed uneasily, looking at Persis +as if appealing for help. + +"As I said before, Mr. Hornblower," Justin assured him with an air of +gentle consideration, "I am not at all desirous of hurrying you in the +matter. If you prefer to think over what I have said, and then when +you reach a decision--" + +"I don't see," exclaimed Mrs. Hornblower, from her seat near the +window, "why it shouldn't be settled to-day. We've got a good offer +for the farm now, but if Robert keeps Mr. Jeffreys hanging by the +gills, the chances are that he'll satisfy himself somewhere else. And +it isn't as though we hadn't talked this over from A to izzard." + +"You've got to make up your mind sometimes," Persis Dale corroborated +her. "I always feel as if 'twas a relief to get a thing settled." + +Mrs. Hornblower who up to this moment had seemed to regard Persis' +presence as an affront, smiled upon her almost affectionately. Robert +Hornblower had an air of feeling himself deserted. Justin was not sure. + +"But before you get the thing all settled and signed," Persis continued +smoothly, "there's one little thing I'd like to have Mr. Ware explain. +If, this investment is such a good thing for you, why isn't it just as +good for me?" + +A tense silence followed which Mrs. Hornblower broke. "For you?" She +pushed her spectacles up on her forehead as if she found the lenses an +obstruction to vision rather than an aid. "Have you--have you been +thinking of putting any money into apples?" + +"I asked him last night about investing ten thousand dollars in this +company. He talked against it--strong. He gave me to understand that +if I was getting ten per cent. on my money I was lucky." + +Justin sat with his eyes on the floor, making no effort to explain. It +was checkmate, and he knew it. The love of his youth had played with +him, tricked him, used him for her purposes even while he believed her +on the point of capitulation. It was small consolation at that moment +to realize that greater men had lost greater stakes through that little +illusion of being irresistible to the sex. He turned sick with +humiliation, hot with hate. He had prided himself on his +sophistication, and this country woman had laid a trap for him into +which he had obligingly blundered. To attempt an explanation would be +folly. Checkmate! + +"Ten per cent.!" Mrs. Hornblower's voice rose shrill and frightened. +"Why, in the Apple of Eden Investment Company--" + +"Yes, I reminded him about the twenty-five per cent. by the tenth year, +and he laughed at me. Said the guarantee you set such store by might +as well be used for curl papers, if the company got sick of its +bargain." + +"Why don't you say something?" Mrs. Hornblower turned on Justin +furiously. "What do you mean by letting her run on in this crazy +fashion and never wagging your tongue?" Underneath her anger sounded a +note of despair. No one who knew Persis Dale ever doubted her absolute +truth. And unless she had lied the thing was beyond explanation. + +Before Justin could reply, Robert Hornblower was on his feet. Another +startling transformation had come over the old man. Years and +decrepitude fell from him like a discarded garment. As he advanced +upon Justin, his fists clenched, he actually looked a formidable figure. + +"You get out of my house, you sneaking lying swindler. You clear out +and never open your head to me one word about your damned old company +or I'll--" + +"Robert!" shrieked Mrs. Hornblower in hysterical protest. + +Ware rose with as much dignity as the situation permitted. Few men can +feel themselves the target of the scorn of three honest people and not +wince, and Justin, whatever his weaknesses, did not lack sensibility. + +"If you wish to accept Miss Dale's version of the matter, it is +immaterial to me. I have given you more time than I could well afford +to spare so small an investment, because I remembered you as my boyhood +friends. I shall be glad to drop the matter." And then, quite against +his will, he looked at Persis. + +She sat straight and pale, her eyes steely, her lips grim. And once he +had kissed those lips, and those contemptuous eyes had poured into his, +faith and love unstinted. As he stumbled toward the door, the thought +crossed his mind that the boy who had won the love and respect of +Persis Dale was not the poor dolt he had thought him. The years had +brought loss as well as gain. + +"Good morning." He made an effort to speak with his customary easy +self-possession, and Mr. Hornblower's answer was to slam the door upon +him. "Good riddance to damned bad rubbish," he roared. + +"Robert!" screamed Mrs. Hornblower. "Profanity at your age. Twice in +five minutes." + +"Hold your tongue!" + +The mental collapse of Mrs. Hornblower was physically evident. Flabby +and shaken, she sat looking with unfeigned terror at her metamorphosed +lord and master. And Mr. Hornblower, puffing out his chest, looked +very much like the oldest son of the individual he had appeared an hour +previous. + +"I've got a word to say to you, Lena," remarked the reconstructed Mr. +Hornblower. "Women are all right when they keep their place. After +this I want to have it understood I'm not going to have any +interference in my business." He walked to the door and turned for a +parting defiance. "Damned if I will." + +Mrs. Hornblower's attack of hysterics occupied Persis till noon. She +looked pale and heavy-eyed as she alighted from her car at her own +door. She was about to enter when an object on the lawn caught her +eye. Tacked to an upright stake driven into the turf, was a flapping +piece of brown paper on which appeared straggling letters, executed in +colored chalk. + + +"Notiss + +I will not klene my teth agen onles I get a nikle a weak + +Malcolm Dale." + + + +Persis read this defiance twice, and her lips twitched. She turned +toward the house, but by this time the children had espied her and +shriekingly descended upon her, "like the plagues of Egypt," thought +Mary, watching from the window. + +"What makes you look that way?" cried Celia, clutching Persis' hand. +"I don't like it." + +"What way, child?" + +"As though you was a widow." + +Persis laughed, thereby diminishing her resemblance to the mourner of +Celia's fancy. With a child holding fast to each hand, and the others +prancing about her and getting underfoot like so many kittens, she made +her way indoors. "Children been good, Mary?" + +"Why, yes'm," Mary admitted with reserve. "I gave Algie that cough +mixture same as you said, and Malcolm he kept coughing fit to tear his +throat to pieces. Betty says he likes the sirupy taste. And Celia +teased the baby kissing her till she got her crying." + +"I like the taste of the baby," remarked Celia, who had lent an +attentive ear to the account of the family misdemeanors. "It's like +tooth powder, the pink kind." + +"A letter came for you, Miss Dale. Now, my gracious, what's happened +to it? I put it right here on the table." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +DE PROFUNDIS + +In the unabashed pursuit of pleasure into which Persis had plunged, +Joel was a half-hearted participant. His life-long habit of standing +scornfully aloof while his fellow beings strove to enjoy themselves, +proved no match for Celia's artless appeals. "Please come, Uncle +Joel," she would, coax. "It's lots more fun with you along." And to +the open amusement of his neighbors and his sister's ill-concealed +wonder, Joel submitted to long automobile rides, to briefer excursions +on the river and lake and to eating picnic luncheons with his back +against a tree and on his face an expression conveying his unshaken +conviction that there were ants in his sandwich. It is unlikely that +Joel's presence on these occasions added in any marked degree to the +general hilarity, but Celia's satisfaction was unmistakable. She +always sat beside him with an air of proprietorship, digging her sharp +little elbow into the sparse cushioning of his lean thighs or when +weary, dropping her frowsy head against his shoulder with an engaging +certainty that it was there for that very purpose. Like many another +who has defied capture till after middle life, Joel atoned for past +immunity by the thoroughness of his surrender. + +But on this particular August morning, when an all-day expedition had +been planned to Huckleberry Mountain, Joel revolted. Whether he had +really been surfeited with picnics, or only feared that he might grow +to enjoy such puerile forms of entertainment, and so lose some of the +austere dignity which had hitherto distinguished him, it is certain +that he came down to breakfast with his mind made up. Even to Celia's +coaxing he was adamant. + +"You mustn't tease Uncle Joel any more," Persis finally admonished the +child. "You don't want him to go if he wouldn't have a good time." +And to her brother she added, "You'd better go to the hotel for your +dinner, Joel." + +"Oh, I can pick up something that'll do me for a dinner," Joel replied +with his old keen relish for playing the martyr. And then Celia, +dropping her oatmeal spoon, lurched forward in her chair and imprinted +a milky kiss upon his coat sleeve. + +"I'll get Uncle Joel's dinner," Celia murmured. "I'll take care of +him." + +"But you're going on the picnic." + +"No, Aunt Persis," Celia resumed an upright position with a suddenness +that endangered her half-emptied bowl of porridge. "I don't like +picnics 'thout Uncle Joel. I'd rather stay with him." + +Joel groped for the toast. The plate was directly in front of him, but +he could not see it for a blinding rush of tears. Never in his life +had he known such sweet elation, never such humility. There is an +irresistible flattery in the preference of a child. Except for the +love of his dead mother and for his sister's affection, the latter a +curious blending of duty and traditional sentiment which would have +kept on working automatically whatever he might have done, Joel had +never inspired a single unselfish attachment until Celia came into his +life. The thing was overwhelming. His hand shook till his fork +clattered against his plate. What was he to have won the heart of a +child? + +In the two hours that elapsed before their departure, he suffered +agonies of apprehension that Celia would change her mind. Scraps of +cynical comment on the fickleness of her sex, some of them dating back +to Virgil and Juvenal, flitted through his memory and stung like +gad-flies. After winning such honor, after Celia had elected to remain +with him, he felt himself unable to endure the ignominy of having her +reconsider. While Mary made the beds, and Persis packed the luncheon +in the kitchen, and the children raced about getting in one another's +way, and prolonging the preparations they were desirous of hastening, +Joel waited in a cold sweat, half realizing the absurdity of his +misgiving, but quite at its mercy. He knew that if Celia changed her +mind at the last minute and departed with the others, life would not be +worth the living. + +But the elf-like little creature showed no signs of vacillation. After +rendering valuable assistance in getting the others ready, including +the feat of breaking a fruit jar containing the lemon juice and sugar, +she came and stood at Joel's side, serenely contemplative and content. +Even toward Celia Joel had never been demonstrative. But as the picnic +party took possession of the machine, and half a dozen hands waved a +farewell, he slipped his arm about the child's shoulders and drew her +to him. The day was edged with gold. The warm August sunshine seemed +to reach the very depths of his heart. He had a confused impression +that he had done life an injustice. + +"Tell me a story, Uncle Joel," commanded Celia, nestling closer. "Tell +me about Miranda and Ariel and that horrid old Caliban." For to reduce +Shakespeare to the juvenile comprehension had been one of the tasks +imposed on Joel by his new fealty, nor did it seem to him, as once it +might have done, a base perversion of the matchless creations of the +English tongue that in diluted and modified form, they should interest +and entertain a little maid of six. + +The morning was a long rapture for the two strange comrades. Joel told +stories till Celia tired of a passive role and entertained him with +some of those flights of fancy compared with which the most audacious +attempts of the adult imagination seem tame and groveling. Then they +took a walk, hand in hand, after which Celia discovered that she was +hungry and a raid was made upon the pantry. Perhaps nothing so +conclusively proved the completeness of Joel's subordination as the +overthrow of his dietetic theories. The first course of their meal was +bread and molasses and it wound up with honey and ginger snaps. + +By this time the sun had taken full possession of the front piazza, and +Joel pulled his chair around to the shady north side of the house and +sat there in after-dinner tranquillity while Celia played about on the +lawn. Joel's eyes followed every movement of the quaint little figure. +He remembered with wonder that other people thought Betty the prettier +of the two girls. To him that small piquant face with the unruly hair, +the straight black brows and the wonderful kindling eyes, embodied all +that was beautiful. His selfish middle-aged heart ached under the +strain of accommodating this wealth of sweet swelling tenderness. + +Celia had wandered across the grass toward the clump of maples which +once had shaded the big barn erected in Joel's youth and never rebuilt +after the fire. She turned to kiss her hand, and he kissed his back, +the first time in a matter of some five and thirty years that his +dignity had so unbent. The realization that the act would prove highly +diverting to his neighbors caused him to glance anxiously toward the +road. But the white ribbon of dust was undisturbed by vehicles, and +his mind relieved, he looked again for Celia. + +A full half minute he stared incredulously, looking this way and that, +wavering between startled apprehension and a conviction of his own +folly. For Celia was nowhere to be seen. The grass over which her +little feet had twinkled as he turned his head, rippled in the wind and +gave no sign. The child had not had time to reach the trees, behind, +whose trunks her slight form might easily be concealed. And then as +Joel told himself that he was a fool, a faint wailing cry brought him +to his feet. + +He was running before he had time to formulate his fear. And then a +startling memory spurred him to more desperate haste. He recalled the +old well by the barn, boarded over years before and later so concealed +by the encroachment of grass and weeds that its very existence had been +forgotten. But time had taken its toll even from the stubborn oak, and +at last it had yielded under a child's light weight. Joel knew it as +he ran, but the sight of the splintered irregular opening, across which +the clover heads nodded serenely to one another, gave a poignant +anguish to his realization. He tore the rotting planks aside, and +looked as it seemed, down into unrelieved blackness. Then his +sun-dazzled vision adjusted itself to the gloom and he saw the dank, +slime-covered stones that formed the sides of the well, and below the +black gleam of water and something pink and white, that struggled and +went under, and showed again. + +"Celia, Celia!" Joel shouted. "Don't be scared. Uncle Joel's coming." + +He had been a coward all his life. In his boyhood he had shrunk away +from risks which to Persis were exhilarating and delightful. The ill +health of twenty years had tended to confirm and increase that native +weakness. Yet at this supreme moment no thought of his own danger +crossed his mind, The saving of Celia was all. + +He kicked off his slippers and gripping the curb for support, lowered +himself into the pit. A rush of cold air like a breath from an open +grave enveloped him. Finding foothold in the crevices of the green +damp stones, digging his fingers into slimy crannies, panting, +slipping, bruising his flesh without feeling the hurt, this frail +hypochondriac went to the aid of the child who somehow had blundered +into his heart. + +The water in the well reached Joel's arm-pits as he stood on its bottom +and lifted Celia to his shoulder. She clung to him for a little with a +suffocating grip, strangling, sobbing, panic-stricken. And as he +strove to soothe her, for the first time fear laid its cold hand upon +him. He looked up to the circle of blue sky so terrifyingly distant +and it seemed incredible that he could ever have made that precipitous +descent. Unencumbered he had accomplished the miracle, but he knew he +could never climb back to the warm peace of the upper air with Celia in +his arms. + +The child's sobs were quieting. She was perched upon his shoulder, her +arm wound tightly about his neck. Even at the moment when all the +tragic possibilities of the event crowded on his mind, he felt the +tremor of her rigid little body and thought anxiously that Celia was in +danger of taking cold. + +With an effort he took a grip upon realities. Gently he loosened the +pressure of the child's encircling arms. + +"Celia, honey, don't hold Uncle Joel so tight. He's got to get breath +enough to holler, so somebody will come and take us out of this." + +He had shouted till he was hoarse before he realized his folly. There +were no neighbors near enough to hear his cries. The sensible thing +was to husband his strength till some vehicle passed and then call +lustily. Again he addressed the child. + +"Celia, dearie, keep your ears open. When we hear wheels coming, we'll +holler for all we're worth." + +They listened till they heard upon the road the rhythmic foot-beats of +horses, and the rattle of some farmer's wagon rumbling homeward from +the village. Then together they screamed for help. But the hoofs went +on beating their tattoo till the sound grew faint, and the rattle of +the wagon died in the distance. Again and again the sound which told +of human nearness woke hope in their hearts only to die in the ensuing +silence. + +"Uncle Joel," Celia wailed, "I'm co-old." Her sobs echoed uncannily as +if the well were filled with the ghosts of weeping children. Again he +gazed at the disk of blue sky overhead. He seemed to himself to be +viewing it from some indeterminate half-way house between life and +death. And yet of the two, the invisible world seemed nearer than the +earth roofed over by that placid sky. + +As time passed his suffering became acute. The weight of the child on +his shoulder was an increasing torture. The cramped arm raised to hold +her secure was racked by intolerable pain. The chill of the water was +paralyzing. His heart labored. His breath came with difficulty. +Celia seemed to be relapsing into an unnatural drowsiness. Her body +sagged lifelessly. He found it necessary to stand close to the side of +the well, that the wet stones might help to support her weight. + +There was only once he prayed, unless his struggle be counted as one +long prayer. But when his appeal found words, it was less a petition +than a suggestion. "She's so little, Lord, for it to end here, and +she's had a hard time so far. The fun's just beginning." It showed no +lack of wisdom, perhaps, that his prayer ended there. + +His mind must have wandered a little later. It seemed as if his mother +were beside him, encouraging him as she had done long before in his +boyhood when he had wrestled with a difficult task. And then he was +out in the woods with a crowd of his boyhood companions and the wild +geese were flying south. Honk! Honk! Honk! "Guess that's why it's +so cold," Joel said, addressing the shadowy assembly. "Winter's +coming." + +The sound of his own voice brought him back to reality. What he had +heard was the horn of Persis' car. She had returned. And the love of +life woke in him and gave him strength to scream lustily again and +again. + +As the children scrambled out upon the grass, all talking at once, +Persis lifted an authoritative hand. "Hush! I thought I heard some +one call." + +"I don't hear nothing, Miss Dale," said Mary tranquilly. Persis again +enjoined silence. As her gaze swept uneasily over the peaceful, +familiar scene, her eyes were arrested by one of the rotting boards +which had formed the cover of the unused well. + +Joel, wrenching it from its place, had flung it out into the clover. +It had not been there that morning, Persis knew. + +She ran toward it with a conviction of calamity which only took +concrete form when she heard her brother's call issuing from the depths +of the earth. + +"The well," she cried with self-accusing anguish. "The old well." But +when she stood by its edge and sent her voice ringing down into its +depth, it was steady and strong. + +"I'm going for help, Joel. 'Twon't be much of any time now. Just a +little longer." + +Mary and the children had never seen the Persis who came running toward +them. They shrank back from her stern presence, half afraid. + +"Mary, take the children into the house and keep them there. Call up +the doctor and tell him to get here as quick as he can. And have that +coil of new rope that's in the shed ready for me by the time I'm back." + +She had leaped into the machine while she was giving her orders. It +described a dizzy circle in the grass, shot down the driveway, and sped +screaming along the dusty road. Before the trembling Mary had had more +than time to discharge her commissions the car was back with half a +dozen strong men, harvesters from the farm just below, crowded into the +seats. And when Doctor Ballard turned his sweating horse up the drive +half an hour later, Joel and Celia were between hot blankets, and +stimulants had already stirred their sluggish blood. + +It was eight o'clock before the doctor left. "I've got to see the +Packard boy, or I wouldn't go. I'll come back and stay the night +through." + +Persis nodded. "I'd feel easier to have you in the house. There won't +be no need for you to lose your sleep. The spare room's all made up." + +Some twenty minutes later Joel roused and spoke. His respiration was +hurried and articulation difficult. + +"Persis--Celia?" + +She understood the syncopated sentence. + +"Celia's doing fine, the doctor thinks. She's got a little +temperature, but a child's likely to have fever for any little thing." + +He waited some time before putting the next question, rallying his +strength for the ordeal of speech. + +"Don't s'pose--'twould do for me--to see her?" + +Persis looked at him with a curious tightening of the lips, in her eyes +an unaccustomed blending of tenderness and pride. + +"You shall see her, if you want to, Joel. 'Tain't going to hurt +her--to speak of." + +From the room across the hall she brought Celia, a chrysalid child, +sleeping heavily, closely wrapped in an old plaid shawl, and laid her +on Joel's bed. Celia's thatch of black hair fell untidily across the +pillow. The fever gave her olive skin an unwonted color. Joel made an +ineffectual effort to lift his arm. Then as he desisted, sighing, his +sister gently lifted his hand till it touched the hot fingers of the +sleeping child. + +"They're--such little--things--Persis." His labored breath made speech +fragmentary. "It's funny, how--they fill up--all the room in--a man's +heart." + +"Yes, I know, Joel. But I guess maybe you'd better not talk." + +"Makes me think of--what the Good Book says, Persis. 'A little +child--'" + +He did not finish the quotation. After Persis was sure that he was +asleep, she carried Celia back to her bed and renewed her watch. The +doctor came in about ten o'clock and stood for a little with his +fingers on his patient's pulse. + +"You'd better not lose your sleep, Doctor," Persis suggested, glancing +at the weary young face. "You go into the spare room and I'll call you +if I need you." + +"I'm not tired," the doctor answered. "I'd as soon sit here for a +while." But he did not meet her eye. + +It was an hour later when the struggling breath lengthened into a sigh, +deep-drawn and profound, irresistibly suggestive of untold relief. The +doctor was at the bedside instantly, but after a moment he laid the +limp hand gently down and turned away. + +Persis sank upon her knees, putting her hands over her face down which +the tears were streaming, those strange illogical tears which are +life's tribute to death, however it may come. Yet even while she wept, +phrases of thanksgiving sang melodiously through her brain and echoed +in her heart. For to this brother of hers it had been given to redeem +a life of weakness and failure by a single heroic sacrifice and to die +a man. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +EAVESDROPPING + +The winter following Joel's death was unusually severe and to Persis +seemed well-nigh endless. Though Celia had escaped the attack of +pneumonia anticipated by the doctor, her long hours of exposure, +coupled with the shock, had told on the sensitive child, and it was +months before she seemed her usual blithe, audacious self. Without +question Celia sorely missed her vanished play-fellow, and Persis, who +had postponed her entering school for another year, because she did not +feel that the child was strong enough for the confinement of the school +room, sometimes doubted her own wisdom and was half convinced that the +companionship of other children and the distraction of Celia's thoughts +would have proved sufficient advantage to counterbalance all drawbacks. +The others of Persis' flock with occasional digressions varying in +seriousness from chilblains to croup, maintained as satisfactory a +health average as the mother of a young family can expect. + +After the unprecedented severity of the winter the spring came early, +as if nature had repented her harshness and had set herself to make +amends. The sparkle came back to Celia's eyes and the lilt to her +voice. The children who had been models of deportment while the cold +lasted, developed a frisky unruliness, resulting in Malcolm's playing +truant and Algie's coming home with a black eye, trophy of his first +fight. Persis was too thankful over being able to raise every window +in the house and have the sweet spring air flooding in upon her, to +take these enormities very much to heart. Indeed, she was almost too +busy to deal with the culprits as they deserved. + +After two years in which she had hardly touched a needle, except for +the children's little garments, Persis was again busy dressmaking. For +she had not forgotten her promise to Diantha Sinclair, and Diantha's +wedding-day was approaching, simultaneously with her eighteenth +birthday. Backed up by Persis, Diantha had declared her intentions and +put in a plea for a church wedding. And when her mother stormed and +threatened, Diantha made her defiance. + +"Oh, very well, mama. Only I'm going to be married in church. And if +you won't give me a wedding, Miss Persis will." + +In a frenzy Annabel appealed to her husband. Since he felt as keenly +as she in the matter of what he called "Miss Dale's unwarrantable +interference," their mutual indignation was actually proving a bond +between that ill-mated pair. Since Persis had committed the +indiscretion of reminding her of her age, Annabel had never spoken to +her quondam dressmaker, and even such a crisis as the present could not +bring her to the point of submitting to another interview, in which she +might hear other truths equally unwelcome. If was her husband who +faced the enemy. + +Persis listened unperturbed while he stated his grievance. "Mr. +Sinclair, if it hadn't been for me that girl of yours would have been +married a year ago. It would have been a runaway match if I hadn't +coaxed her into giving up and waiting until she could marry with the +law to back her up in doing as she pleased. I made Diantha some +promises then, and I'm going to keep 'em." + +"Your conscience is too tractable, I suppose, to trouble you over +setting a young girl like Diantha against her parents." + +Persis regarded him with a slow smile, the significance of which +Sinclair plainly had no difficulty in understanding. He flushed to the +roots of his whitening hair. + +"Mr. Sinclair, when a girl's happy at home, I do think it's a pity for +her to jump into being a woman at eighteen. More'n one I've coaxed +into waiting. But when a girl's disposition is wearing thin through +bickering and nagging day in and day out, the sooner she's in a home of +her own the better." + +"I am glad you are ready to guarantee the success of this affair for +which you are so largely responsible," remarked Mr. Sinclair. This was +more of a home-thrust than he knew, but Persis did not wince. + +"As for guaranteeing that anybody's going to be happy anywhere, Mr. +Sinclair, only the Almighty can do that. My idea is that Diantha has a +better chance with a young man who loves her than with a mother who is +jealous of her and a father who hasn't got the courage to take her +part." + +"If you're going to fall back on vilification, Miss Dale," remarked the +other participant in the dialogue, plainly in a towering rage, "the +sooner this interview terminates, the better." + +"Well, Mr. Sinclair, I guess you're right about that. Talking things +over won't convert either of us. And you understand," continued +Persis, following her caller to the door, "that you're not to feel +driven to give Diantha a church wedding. Only if you don't, I will." + +It was due to Persis' effective championship that Diantha's wedding +bade fair to prove what the reporter of the _Clematis Weekly News_ +called "A social event of almost metropolitan importance." There were +to be bridesmaids and ushers and a best man. Admission to the church +was by card, and the ensuing reception at the home of the bride's +parents was scheduled to set a new pace for Clematis society. And +while Annabel, inwardly raging, struggled to put a bold face on her +defeat, Persis was busy with the gown she was resolved to make her +masterpiece. The children were not allowed to enter the room where the +work was progressing, though they sometimes took awe-stricken peeps +through the crack at the mysterious, sheet-draped object suspended from +hooks, and in the twilight taking on an aspect distinctly ghostly. It +was necessary, too, to carpet the floor of the workroom with sheets +when Diantha had a fitting, all of which added enormously to the +romance and mystic glamour inevitably connected with a wedding dress. +The children, with whom Diantha had always been a prime favorite, +instead of rushing tumultuously to meet her, now stood off when she +presented herself, and looked her over, as if like the dress in +Persis's workroom, she had become enveloped in mystery. + +Mingled with the scraps of white satin which littered the floor were +scraps of black silk. After the wedding-day had been fixed upon, the +mother of the groom swept down upon Persis, wheedling and peremptory by +turns. + +"Persis Dale, I don't care if you are worth enough to buy and sell me +twice over, you've got to make me a dress to wear to my boy's wedding. +It's no use for you to shake your head, Persis, I ain't had a +waist-line since you went out of business. And when I think how +Annabel Sinclair's going to be rigged out, I'm worried for fear Thad +will be ashamed of me. They say she's going up the city every week for +fittings, just as if she was going to be the bride 'stead of Diantha." + +It was clearly reprehensible in Mrs. West after throwing herself on +Persis' sympathy and carrying her point, to be late to a fitting. +Persis, who planned to clear the cobwebs from her tired brain by an +exhilarating spin in her car at four o'clock, had appointed two for +Mrs. West to try on the black silk. By quarter past she was fidgety, +and as the clock struck the half hour, she waxed indignant. + +"Now, Etta West needn't think I'm going to put myself out to make her +dress if she can't keep her appointments. Folks that ask favors ought +to be particular not to make any more trouble than they can help." + +Another ten minutes of waiting quite exhausted Persis' store of +patience. She stepped into the kitchen where Mary's sister was helping +Mary with the extra work due to Persis' engrossing activities. + +"Keep an eye on Celia and the baby, girls. If they say they're hungry +try 'em with bread and butter without any sugar. I'll probably be back +before the rest get home from school, but if I'm not here, tell 'em not +to go away. We'll have a good ride before supper." + +The West dwelling had that look of peaceful complacency characteristic +of well-ordered establishments in mid-afternoon. Persis entered by the +unlocked kitchen door, carrying Mrs. West's skirt over her arm. "Mis' +West," she called challengingly, "Mis' West." And then as the silence +remained unbroken, she found her irritation evaporating in anxiety. +Could anything be wrong? "Mis' West," she called again at the foot of +the stairs, and an observer could have argued from her altered voice a +corresponding psychological change. + +A sound answered her, something between a grunt and a groan, and +sufficient to send her scurrying up the stairs with a marked +acceleration of the pulse. Her vague foreboding took shape when as she +reached the upper hall, she caught sight of a prostrate figure, +partially visible through a half-open door. "A stroke!" thought +Persis, and the black silk slipping from her arm, dropped in an +unheeded heap. + +The recumbent figure did not move as Persis flew down the hall, but as +she entered the room, the head stirred slightly as if to look in her +direction. Persis dropped upon her knees. + +"Can you understand me, Etta?" she spoke with terrifying gentleness. + +"Don't be a fool, Persis Dale." The vehemence of the rejoinder was +startling. "Why shouldn't I understand?" + +"Then it's just a fall, is it?" + +Mrs. West hesitated before replying. "No," she returned in a tone of +marked irritability, "I didn't fall." + +"Then what's the matter?" + +"I didn't say there was anything the matter, did I?" Mrs. West's ill +humor seemed to be gaining on her. "I s'pose if a body wants to lie +down for a while--in her own room--after her day's work is done--her +neighbors haven't any real call to make a fuss." + +The amazed Persis continued in a kneeling position, her bewilderment +rendering her incapable of movement. + +"You mean that you're lying here--because you like it?" + +"On a warm day," said Mrs. West with dignity, "a floor's cooler than a +bed and it saves mussing the spread." + +Persis studied her thoughtfully. "I can't say you look cool, Mis' +West. I guess I never saw you so fire-red as you are at this minute. +But if that's your idea of having a good time, why, every one to his +taste, as the old woman said when she kissed the cow." + +She rose with a dignity that matched Mrs. West's own and moved toward +the door. "Maybe you remember that you had an appointment for a +fitting at two," she suggested coldly, "I brought your dress over, but +of course if you're busy enjoying yourself--" + +"Persis Dale," cried Mrs. West, her voice breaking, "I didn't think you +had it in you to be so hard-hearted." + +Slowly Persis retraced her steps. Her prostrate friend was weeping. +Large impressive tears rolled slowly over cheeks whose fiery hue +suggested the possibility that each drop might immediately be converted +into steam. + +"Mis' West," began Persis in a tone of strained patience, "will you +please tell me if you've taken leave of your senses or what?" + +Mrs. West's tears flowed faster. Hysterical tremors agitated the +recumbent mass. "I--I can't get up," she exploded at length, in +seemingly reluctant confidence. + +"Can't get up? But how did you get down?" + +"Persis--I--I was rolling." + +"Rolling!" + +"To reduce, Persis. My cousin Aggie said she took off twenty pounds in +ten weeks rolling half an hour a day. And I thought it was worth +trying." + +Persis suddenly averted her face. + +"Don't laugh, Persis. It may be funny for a man to be fat, but it's a +tragedy for a woman. I've been thinking how Annabel Sinclair will look +at that wedding, with a figure like a girl of twenty-one, and it didn't +seem as if I could stand two hundred and twenty-six. But if rolling's +a cure, I guess I started too late." + +"Why can't you get up, Mis' West?" inquired Persis, regarding the +prostrate woman with a becomingly serious countenance. "You haven't +wrenched yourself, anywhere, have you?" + +"Not that I know of, Persis. I didn't hear anything snap. I guess I'm +stalled, like a horse. Maybe if I wasn't quite so near the couch I +could manage. If Thad or his father get home before I'm up, I'll never +hear the last of it." + +Realizing that her friend's apprehension was well grounded, Persis +brought her strong muscles and resolute will to bear upon the problem. +She had lifted many a sick patient too weak to turn upon his pillow, +and she knew the trick of making every ounce of energy count. Inspired +by her example, Mrs. West put forth all her strength and as a result of +their combined efforts she rose with ponderous slowness into a sitting +position. The rest was easy. With Persis boosting and panting +encouragement, the unhappy exponent of other people's theories regained +her feet and tottered to a chair. + +"Goodness, gracious, Persis, I'm as limp as a wash-rag. No more +rolling for me, not if I get up to three hundred pounds." She looked +at her friend appealingly. "Don't ask me to stand up and be fitted, +Persis. There's no more starch in my knees than if they were pieces of +string." + +Persis made haste to disclaim any such intention. "What you want is a +fan, Mis' West, and a cup of tea, to quiet your nerves down. You've +got to get braced up before Mr. West comes in, or he'll be at you to +find out what the trouble is. And when a man gets a little joke like +this on his wife, he's bound to make it last the rest of his natural +life." + +Leaving her friend to compose herself, Persis hurried to the kitchen +and brewed the restorative cup of tea she had recommended. As she +carried it to her patient the telephone lifted up its voice. + +Mrs. West counted the rings. "One, two, three, four. That's Nellie +Gibson's call, Persis. I wish you'd listen and see if you can find out +if Josephine Newhall has got there yet. Nellie's been talking of that +visit all winter." + +Persis complied unhesitatingly. In Clematis no kill-joy had arisen to +question the propriety of listening to the conversation of the other +subscribers to a party line. It was the universal understanding that +one of the foremost if not the chief advantage in having a telephone, +was the gratification to be derived from overhearing the confidences of +one's neighbors. To have denominated this eavesdropping, would have +aroused general indignation. + +Persis took down the telephone without a qualm and instantly recognized +the high-pitched voice of Mrs. Gibson, Thomas Hardin's sister. She was +speaking more loudly than is necessary in such conversation and with a +seeming lack of amiability. + +"Well if you won't come to supper to-night, when will you come? Set a +time right now." + +"Really I don't know, Nellie." Persis started as the gentle +deprecating tones reached her ears. "I'm pretty busy at this season. +I guess I hadn't better say--" + +"Fiddlesticks and folderol! I know just how busy you are. I guess if +Persis Dale hadn't thrown you over like a worn-out shoe, you'd have +found time enough to get over to see her every blessed night of the +world." + +It was clearly the moment for Persis to hang up the receiver. +Regrettable as it is to record, she listened with a seeming accession +of interest for Thomas' reply. But his only answer was a discreet +silence. + +"When you talk of being busy," Mrs. Gibson continued witheringly, "I +know what's in your mind. You mean you won't come to this house while +Josephine is here." + +Still silence on the part of Thomas. + +"Thomas Hardin," his sister burst out, "why don't you say something? I +can stand a man that takes the roof off when he's mad lots better than +the kind that shut up like clams. Are you coming to supper this week +or not?" + +"No, Nellie, I guess not." + +"You mean you're not coming near the house while Josephine stays? Be a +man. Speak out plain." + +"Nellie," said the goaded Thomas, acting on her counsel, "I haven't got +a thing against any friend of yours, but I'm tired of your +match-making." + +"Match-making!" Mrs. Gibson repeated, like most who adopt that most +thankless of the professions ready on the instant to repudiate it. +"Me!" + +"Yes, Nellie, I'm not a suspicious man, but a child in arms could see +through your little game. I dare say you mean it kindly, but when a +man's not looking for a wife, it's embarrassing to have first one woman +and then another thrown at his head." + +"I suppose," commented Mrs. Gibson acridly, "you'd rather end up your +days a pitiable old bachelor, mooning over the woman who played with +you for a dozen years and threw you down at last." + +"If she threw me down, 'twas because I deserved it." + +"Deserve nothing. You haven't the sense to go in when it rains, Thomas +Hardin, and a week-old kitten would beat you for gumption. But for all +that, you're a long sight more of a catch than most men." + +This impassioned tribute apparently left Thomas dumb. Mrs. Gibson +followed up her advantage. + +"I suppose you'd rather set in meeting and look at the back of Persis +Dale's bonnet than to have a nice wife of your own in the pew beside +you." + +"Well, since you ask me, Nellie, I would." + +"She's made you a laughing-stock. She don't care any more for you--" + +"Of course she don't. Why should she? A woman like her." + +"Then I wash my hands of you." Mrs. Gibson's voice suggested tears. + +"Thank you, Nellie," Thomas returned gratefully, and his sister's +receiver slammed into the hook. Thomas followed suit, and last of all, +Persis Dale, after assuring herself that she was not likely to hear +more, returned the receiver to its place and went to satisfy her +friend's curiosity. + +"Well?" Mrs. West had emptied her teacup and the soothing effects of +the potion showed in her altered voice. + +"Yes, Josephine's there," Persis replied to the elliptical inquiry. +"But I gathered from something that was let drop that maybe she +wouldn't stay long. So if you want a visit with her you'd better not +waste any time." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +WEDDING BELLS + +The wedding dress was finished and a success. + +"I guess it'll have to be my valedictory," Persis said with +ill-concealed elation. "I'm never going to beat that if I dressmake +till I'm a hundred." As for Diantha, her ecstasy implied that whatever +the risks attached to the matrimonial venture, they were abundantly +offset by the privilege of arraying one's self in habiliments of such +transcendental charm. + +But of the two, the girl's happiness was the least overcast. Diantha +did not realize the pathos of her ability to leave her home without a +pang. Since tears are only the reverse side of joy, the bride who says +farewell to her girlhood dry-eyed is a legitimate object of sympathy. +Diantha's unclouded happiness was significant of all that her youth had +lacked. + +But Persis' satisfaction was superficial. Underneath her stubborn +cheer, her genial vivacity, self-reproach was astir. While she +listened to the outpourings of Diantha's ardent confidence and laughed +over the children's naive inquiries regarding the approaching and +stupendous event, she stood a prisoner at the bar of her conscience, +summoned to defend herself against the charge of injustice to a friend. +And the more she pondered the question, the more advisable it seemed +for her to plead guilty and throw herself upon the mercy of the court. + +She recalled in extenuation of Thomas's offense that his confession had +been strictly voluntary, prompted only by his own sense of honor. He +might have retained the confidence and friendship he valued above all +else, simply by holding his peace. Moreover his provocation had not +been slight. "She looked so like a kitten," he had said of Annabel. +Persis knew the look he meant, that inimitable blending of challenge +and retreat, shyness and daring so commingled as to be most +provocative. Of course he was no match for Annabel, poor honest Thomas. + +"It's the good men they make the quickest work of," thought Persis, +turning restlessly on an uneasy pillow. "It never would have entered +Thomas' head, to think any harm of a married woman. A different kind +of man would be on his guard against her and against himself, too. It +came on Thomas like a thunder-clap out of a clear sky." + +Having reached the point of leniency toward her one-time lover, +severity with herself was a natural sequence. "'Tain't as if I was a +girl," Persis owned, in sorrowful compunction. "I'd ought to know what +men are by this time, and that the best of 'em need to be braced up by +some good woman's backbone." She could not escape from the painful +conviction that she had failed her friend. He had turned to her for +help and her hurt pride had rendered her oblivious to his need. + +And pride was still to be reckoned with. Even now when she realized +her fault, she shrank from extending the olive branch. Thomas loved +her and had always loved her. The episode of Annabel Sinclair had not +altered his loyalty by so much as a ripple on the surface. And yet to +show by a lifted eyelash or a hand held out that she was ready to let +bygones be bygones seemed among the impossibilities. The generations +of dumb women whose blood ran in her veins stretched out ghostly hands +to hold her back from frankness. That was a woman's lot, to endure +silently and leave the initiative to the man. + +June came and found her vacillating and uncertain. Mystic fragrances, +still whispery nights, dewy mornings, gay with flowers, were flung into +the scale. And when Diantha's wedding was but two days off, Persis +suddenly capitulated. + +"I've always said that folks who'd let their lives go to smash for want +of speaking out deserved all they got. And now it looks as if I was +that sort of a fool myself. Algie!" Apparently apprehensive that +common sense would again yield the field to tradition, she flew: to the +window. "Algie!" she shrieked. + +The boy came on the run. Something in Persis' voice made him aware +that the occasion did not admit of trifling. + +"Algie, jump on your wheel and ride down to Mr. Hardin's store. Tell +him that if it's convenient I'd like to see him this evening. Quick +now." + +Algie's obedience was instantaneous. With compressed lips Persis +watched his vanishing figure, her color coming and going. + +"Well, so far, so good. I guess now I've got up my courage to send for +him I can leave the rest to luck." + +Thomas came that evening, extremely self-conscious in a new suit, his +air of unwonted elegance heightened by a fresh shave and with his shoes +polished into almost immodest prominence. The children, in spite of +their aggrieved protests, had been sent to bed with the chickens. Mary +had been despatched to young Mrs. Thompson's on an errand, and the two +had the house to themselves. Thomas waited for Persis to explain her +summons. As she rendered him no assistance, he took the responsibility +of steering the conversation. + +"I looks pretty fine round here, Persis. Shouldn't hardly know the +place." + +"Well, there have been lots of changes, Thomas, Joel gone and all. +Five children in a house change things without anybody to help 'em." + +"They're nice-looking children, too. That oldest boy, Algie, takes my +eye." + +"He'll be better-looking when that cut on his lip heals up. He got +hurt in a fight the other day, the second he's had in three months. I +wanted to ask you what you thought I'd ought to do when he gets to +fighting." + +Thomas' heart went down with a thud. So this was why she had sent for +him, to consult him regarding the training of the boys. He had not +known how her summons had inflated his hopes until this sickening +collapse. It was only by an effort that he rallied his thoughts +sufficiently to answer. + +"Well, I wouldn't worry about that if I was you, Persis. Seems like +all young things was taken the same way. Puppies are always +squabbling, but 'tisn't that there's any hard feeling. They just want +to try their teeth. Seems to me I'd be pretty worried over a boy who +never wanted to fight." + +Persis listened appreciatively. "Thank you, Thomas. It's a good thing +for a woman who's bringing up a pair of boys to get a man's point of +view now and then. I'm afraid I've kind of neglected those children +this spring. I've been so taken up with Diantha Sinclair's wedding." + +"She'll be a mighty pretty bride," observed Thomas, striving manfully +to do his part in the conversational see-saw. "She looks a lot like +her mother when--" He broke off, overwhelmed by the realization that +he had introduced the one topic which should never have been mentioned +between Persis and himself. Choking with mortification, turning deeply +crimson as all the blood in his body seemed rushing toward his brain, +he sat motionless, an unhappy martyr consumed in the fires of his own +sensitiveness. + +But something had given Persis a clew. She leaned forward, quite +forgetful of her recent shrinking. + +"Thomas, you remember what you told me about Annabel Sinclair the last +time you were here?" + +"Lord!" he panted, but her gaze held him mercilessly. "I'm not likely +to forget it." + +"What I want to know is this. How old was Annabel when--when you +kissed her?" + +Thomas drew out his handkerchief and mopped his damp forehead. + +"Why, I s'pose she was fifteen or sixteen. She wasn't as tall as +Diantha is, and I guess she was a few years younger." + +Persis did not reply. When he ventured to look in her direction, she +was regarding him with strange dilated eyes. + +"Thomas, you said she was Stanley Sinclair's wife." + +"Well, she is, isn't she? Why, you don't mean--" + +He interrupted himself, his look changing. "What kind of a man d'ye +think I am, Persis Dale?" he challenged her angrily. "If you've known +me all your life and think I'm the sort to be carrying on with other +men's wives--well, I guess I'd better be going." + +He got to his feet and then sank helplessly into a chair. He had never +seen Persis cry before. He had not realized that she could cry. Yet +without doubt those were tears upon her cheeks. + +But if crying, Persis was smiling, too. His heart fluttered, and +performed some extraordinary gymnastic feat, when she held out her hand. + +"Thomas, I was in the wrong, I'll own it. I never favored jumping at +conclusions and less than ever now. Maybe--maybe if I hadn't thought +so much of you, I'd have been slower to think evil." + +He did not trouble himself with the feminine lack of logic indicated in +her closing words. He had clasped her hand in both of his and was +holding it last, as if he never meant to let it go. + +"Persis--Persis, you weren't fair to me in that, but I don't lay any +claim to being all I'd ought to be. There's no end of things you'd +have to forgive. I don't know as I've ever told you about the time Ed +Collins and I--" + +A movement on the part of Persis' disengaged hand checked his +confession. + +"Thomas," she protested while she smiled, "if you own up to any more +things, I declare I believe I'll have to even up by telling you how old +I am. And that's one thing a woman don't like to mention, except, of +course, to her husband." + +Two days later Diantha Sinclair was married at eight o'clock in the +evening. The church was crowded. Wide-eyed girls took in every detail +and dreamed of acting the star role on a similar happy occasion. +Complacent matrons, in their Sunday best, exchanged voluble comments. +The wedding party was a trifle late, and the guests were all early +which gave opportunity for soul-satisfying gossip. + +"Ain't those flowers lovely! I never saw anything to beat 'em except +maybe, at Elder Larkins' funeral. They say Persis Dale went over to +the Lakeview florist's in that car of hers and brought back flowers +enough to fill a wash tub." + +"Mis' West looks real nice in that new black silk. There's nothing +like black for toning down a fat woman." + +"There's Eddie Ryan in a dress-suit. Wonder if it's his'n or just +borrowed. It hangs kind of baggy. Shouldn't wonder if his cousin up +to Boston let him take his." + +Annabel Sinclair's slight girlish figure was the center of interest +until the entrance of the bridal party. She must have guessed how the +tongues were wagging but her color did not fluctuate under the ordeal. +At last Annabel had come to the point of assisting nature. The carmine +had been applied with artistic restraint, and she had never looked +lovelier, but her happiness in her beauty had vanished. To retain the +admiration which was the breath in her nostrils, she must henceforth +resort to artifice, covering up and hiding what would sooner or later +be revealed in spite of her. She was not thinking of Diantha as she +sat looking straight before her but only of her own hard fate. + +"Annabel Sinclair might be the bride herself," remarked one kindly +matron on the other side of the church. "Beats all how she keeps her +looks." + +"Ain't that a handsome dress, though," sighed her companion. "She had +it made in the city. But Persis Dale made Diantha's dress, and +somebody who saw it, told me it was the handsomest thing she ever +clapped her eyes on. Persis Dale sets everything by that girl." + +If the occupants of the pews enjoyed the long wait, not so Thad West. +Pale and perspiring, he looked more like a patient about to be conveyed +to an operating table, than a bridegroom on the threshold of his +happiness. + +"What do you s'pose is wrong, Scotty?" He clutched the arm of the +friend selected to stand by him in this ordeal. "It's way past time." + +"Oh, well, girls are always late," returned Scotty with soothing +intent. Thad thought wrathfully that it was all very well for him to +take that tone. He wasn't going to be married, hang it. + +"Ring all right, Scotty?" + +"Sure thing." But in spite of the prompt assurance the best man's hand +went to his waistcoat pocket and fumbled a long nervous minute while +the perspiration trickled down Thad's spine. And then young Scott felt +in the other pocket and breathed a sigh of relief. "Here 'tis." + +"You want to keep better track of your dates than that," exclaimed Thad +angrily. "You'll queer everything if you go feeling around in all your +pockets when he's ready for the ring." His voice took on a tone of +appeal. "Haven't you got an extra handkerchief, Scotty? If I keep on +at this rate, my collar--" + +"You just keep quiet and I'll mop you up a bit," returned the obliging +Scotty, but his friendly ministrations were interrupted by a +blood-curdling whisper from the bridegroom. + +"_My God, here they come._" + +There was no doubt about it. The little organ was wheezing out the +wedding march as if it meant to be equal to the occasion if this proved +its swan-song. The ushers were advancing up the aisle two by two. +With drooping heads and measured steps, the bridesmaids followed, and +then came Diantha on her father's arm. The little flutter that went +over the waiting assembly was chiefly an involuntary tribute to her +girlish grace and beauty, though the dress, too, came in for its share. + +"Might have been bought in Paris for all anybody could tell," was the +assurance passed from lip to lip. Clematis was proud of that wedding +dress. + +Stanley Sinclair, very straight and handsome as he moved up the aisle, +looked down on the bright head near his shoulder and remembered that +other girl who twenty years before had come up the church aisle to meet +him at the altar. He had learned long before to sneer at his own lost +illusions, but singularly enough, never until this moment had it +occurred to him to wonder what her dreams might have been that far-away +June day. To his discomfiture the query brought a pang, and he had +thought himself beyond such weakness. The petrified heart has a +certain advantage over that of flesh, though possibly the ache which +proves it human is a ground for felicitation. + +Ten minutes later Thad was wondering what he had been afraid of. Why, +it was nothing. He could hardly believe that a matter so momentous +could be disposed of in so few minutes. And yet it was true, and +Diantha's little hand was in his, to have and to hold till death did +them part. + +Diantha's composure throughout the ceremony had suggested that being +married was an every-day matter to a person of her wide experience. +Her poise and self-possession were the occasion of wondering comment +among the many who were hardly able to realize even now that she had +really grown up. It was not till the reception, when Persis with +Thomas following bashfully in her wake came up lo proffer her good +wishes, that Diantha relapsed into youthfulness. She flung her arms +about her old friend's neck and kissed her tumultuously. + +"Darling Miss Persis, how perfectly lovely you look! Did you get that +beautiful dress just for my wedding?" + +The composition of Persis' reply apparently took a little time. She +did not speak for a minute. + +"Yes, I made it for your wedding," she returned at length. "But I used +it for my own, too. Thomas and I slipped over to the minister's after +supper and got married. So we'll both wish each other joy, my dearie." + +It was a shock of course, but Clematis was getting used to that where +Persis was concerned. And Mrs. Hornblower voiced the feeling of more +than herself when she commented on the affair at the next meeting of +the Woman's Club. Persis was not present. She and Thomas had gone on +a wedding trip to the seashore, and taken all the children. + +"It's a kind of back-handed way of getting a family," said Mrs. +Hornblower. "Picking up one child here and another there, and then +winding up with a husband. But I must say it'll take a load off my +mind to see a man at the head of Persis Dale's pew." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +FAIR PLAY + +The late October sunshine poured its prodigal gold into the little room +of which Annabel Sinclair was the sole occupant, and as its single door +and window were both closed, the resulting temperature was suggestive +of mid-July. The room itself was plain and bare. The cottage Thad +West had purchased the year following his marriage was needlessly +spacious for the immediate requirements of the two young people and for +that reason, several of the rooms had been left unfurnished or nearly +so, until time should justify Thad's foresight. As a rule Annabel had +a feline instinct for comfort, selecting the easiest chair and the +pleasantest outlook almost unconsciously. To-day her discomfort and +the convent-like austerity of her surroundings failed to impress her. +She was hardly aware of them. + +She was not in her daughter's home of her own volition that October +morning. She had yielded as the most self-willed must on occasion to +the assumption of her little world that this was the place where she +would wish to be. But the first glimpse of Diantha had convinced her +that her shrinking recoil had been well-grounded. Diantha, deadly pale +and yet with little flickering, unsteady smiles, Diantha, quiet and +self-possessed, with nothing but those white cheeks to show how flesh +and spirit shrank from the approaching ordeal, was terrifyingly a +stranger. But that she was a woman there could be no doubt. And this +woman, soon to be a mother, was her child. + +The little, bare, remote room seemed a refuge. Annabel closed the door +and would have locked it, but the key was missing. She sank into the +single chair, her face storm-swept, transformed by her emotion almost +beyond recognition. The natural assumption would have been that she +was enduring vicariously the suffering of her daughter, bearing for the +second time the pangs that had given Diantha life. As a matter of +fact, Diantha's pain and peril were remote from her mood. Her mind had +room for one thought: "Hast thou found me, O mine enemy!" + +As she stared before her, hand gripping hand, her bloodless lips moving +inarticulately, she saw the monstrous folly of her self-deception. She +had played at youth, listened to the love-making of undeveloped boys +whose mother she might have been, and made herself believe that she +could cheat Time. And Time, too, had had his fun. For the moment it +almost seemed to her that her girlish prettiness had been his merciless +concession to add to the spirit of the game, as a cat lets a mouse run +with a sense of recovered freedom, only to pounce again. + +And now she was to be a grandmother. She made a futile effort to face +the thought, to adjust her idea of herself to so astounding a +development. But it was like the effort to imagine herself belonging +to another race, Ethiopian or Oriental. It was unthinkable. She had a +clearly defined conception of grandmothers, persons with a generous +waist-line and white hair. Undoubtedly they were useful people in +their way, and worthy of regard. But she found it impossible to +realize that she herself might belong to their number. + +As if recalling some experience far distant, she fell to reviewing the +events of the previous evening. Her caller had been a young fellow +with a carefully nurtured and on the whole a promising mustache and +with a lurid taste in socks. She had enjoyed the call. The boy's +crude efforts at veiled sentiment, his languishing glances had been +incense to her vanity. But to-morrow! "How is your little grandchild, +Mrs. Sinclair?" he would say. Or no! He would not say it. He would +not come again. He must realize, as she was doing, the absurdity of +their acquaintance. He would laugh at the old woman who had painted +her cheeks that she might look a girl and had let him kiss her hand as +though granting a priceless favor. Annabel moaned faintly as she +writhed. Every one would laugh. Every one must have been laughing for +years over her silly pretenses. + +She did not know how long a time had elapsed before heavy footsteps +creaked down the hall. She shuddered and her body stiffened. The +knock was twice repeated before she could utter an audible, "Come in." + +Mrs. West pushed the door ajar and started violently as her eyes fell +on Annabel. As not infrequently happens with women who preserve an +unnaturally youthful appearance, under the stress of deep emotion, +Annabel had aged years in an hour. It was a moment before Mrs. West +could recover herself. + +"I've made us a cup of tea, Mis' Sinclair, and set out a light lunch. +We'll both feel better for a bite." + +Annabel shook her head. "I don't want--anything." It took an effort +to stifle a frenzied appeal to be left to herself. + +This was far from Mrs. West's thoughts. She creaked into the little +room, her ample proportions making it seem more cramped and small than +ever, and patted Annabel's shoulder. + +"Oh, come now, Mis' Sinclair, I know just how you feel."--Never was +boast vainer.--"But Diantha's going to come through this all right. +She's young and she's strong. The doctor says she's got everything in +her favor." + +Annabel's answer was a vague uncomprehending stare. Then she began to +understand. Mrs. West supposed her consumed with anxiety for her +daughter's safety, whereas the possibility that Diantha might die had +hardly occurred to her. She found herself wondering if she were unlike +all other women, an abnormality in her selfishness. In the larger +matters Annabel had remained contemptuously indifferent to the opinion +of her sex, though she would have found their criticism of her personal +appearance disquieting. But now she was conscious of an unaccustomed +sense of relief that Mrs. West could not read her thoughts. + +"I don't want--anything," she repeated mechanically, and Thad's mother +departed with obvious reluctance. In five minutes she was back with a +cup of tea which Annabel swallowed in hopes of thus purchasing immunity +from further kindly attentions. And Mrs. West, bearing away the empty +tea-cup, carried too, a better opinion of Annabel Sinclair than she +would have believed possible. + +"I never thought she cared anything much for Diantha," she told Persis +who had dropped in several times during the day to see how matters were +progressing. "But I must say, I did her an injustice. She's been +pretty nearly crazy all day. She looks like a ghost." + +"Well, she's Diantha's mother when all's said and done," Persis +responded. Happiness makes for tolerance. With all her charity for +the wrong-doer, Persis had made an exception of Annabel Sinclair. But +now the years of fatness, following instead of preceding the lean +years, the overflowing fulness of her heart and life had taught her new +indulgence. She was capable of believing that there was good in the +woman. + +The afternoon dragged cruelly. Now and then some faint sound reached +Annabel, vaguely suggestive of the battle which must be waged for every +new existence, and each time the sagging body of the woman stiffened, +and her breath grew hurried. Once Thad passed her window, his young +face set and white, and his eyes reddened as if from weeping. Annabel +shrank away fearful that his glance might fall on her, but the fixed +eyes of the young husband saw only his wife's girlish face as he had +seen it last, colorless, quivering, undaunted. + +It was not far from four o'clock when the sound of hurrying feet +quickened Annabel's lagging pulses. A door shut quickly and then +another. Some one was hurrying down the hall; some one who brought +news. Annabel found herself on her feet. And then, instinctively she +caught at the back of her chair to support herself, for the floor was +undulating and the sunny room had grown dark. + +Out of the shapeless blur in which her surroundings blended, a face +took shape, the face of Mrs. West, wet with tears and radiant with +smiles. It was she who had sped so lightly down the long hall as if +joy had given wings to her feet. + +"It's a boy!" She laughed out the three exultant words and hurried +back to some interrupted task. Annabel continued to stand. When at +length she released her grip of the chair, her fingers were numb and +stiff. The thought crossed her mind that now she was at liberty to go +home, since her grandson had come into the world, but the effort seemed +beyond her strength. She sank into the chair again, half closing her +eyes. The poignant pain of the past hours had changed to an +overwhelming listlessness. She was too tired to think any longer, too +tired even to suffer. + +A brisk knock at the door roused her from her apathy sufficiently for a +resentful wish that they would leave her to herself. Then the door +opened and Persis entered. Her face wore the look that had impressed +Annabel on the face of Mrs. West, that look of supreme satisfaction, +blended with a curious, vicarious pride, and with it all, something +that told of tears held back. Annabel's eyes went from that radiant +look to the shawl-draped bundle in Persis' arms. She put out her hand +as if to ward off a danger. + +Persis halted, gazing in consternation at the wreck of Annabel. In +that shallow face the record of mental anguish was so unmistakable that +the other woman felt a pang of self-reproach. + +"Here I've been leaving this poor little bundle of nerves to fight this +thing through all alone. I'd ought to have known she'd be scaring +herself into a conniption." As a reaction from the severity with which +she dealt with her own thoughtlessness, Persis' voice, in addressing +Annabel was as tender and caressing as if she strove to soothe a +troubled child. + +"Well, Mis' Sinclair, your worry's over. Diantha came through this +fine, and before we know it, she'll be up and about and as lively as a +cricket. But it's been a hard day for you same as for the rest of us. +The Lord asks a good deal of women, to help Him keep this old world +a-going, but He's got His own way of making it up to 'em." + +As if to give point to her words, Persis' eyes dropped to the bundle in +her arms. She came a step nearer. + +"I s'pose, of course, you're glad it's a boy. I don't know why it is, +but you just can't help feeling tickled when the first baby's a boy. +Nine pounds, too. That's a grandson to be proud of." + +"Don't! Don't! I don't want to see it." + +Annabel's cry was involuntary, wrung from her by the realization of +Persis' purpose. And Persis who had lifted the shawl that concealed +the little face, let it fall again and stood staring. + +"You don't want--to see the baby?" + +The revulsion indicated by Annabel's attitude was a sufficient answer. +Persis crossed to the cot-bed and sat down. If there was a person on +earth she cordially detested, it was Annabel Sinclair, yet the +conviction that this poor counterfeit of a woman was in need of +strength and sympathy was sufficient to thrust that old dislike into +the background. + +"I guess to-day's been pretty trying to your nerves, Mis' Sinclair. +But you'll feel better if you take a look at this nice boy. I've seen +a good many of 'em first and last, and I told Diantha I'd never set +eyes on a finer baby." + +A curious distortion of Annabel's face broke off Persis' eulogy. "Are +you feeling sick, Mis' Sinclair?" she asked in real alarm, thinking +that she would never have given Annabel credit for this excess of +material solicitude. + +"Sick? Yes, I'm sick of everything. I'm glad that child's a boy. +Those people that drown the girl babies like kittens, are in the right +of it. No woman ought to live beyond thirty." + +"Some of us," remarked Persis, recovering herself with difficulty, +"would have missed a good deal at that rate." But her lips curled +slightly. She was beginning to understand and to acquit herself of +past injustice. + +Annabel had reached a point where speech was a necessity. For years, +she had returned Persis' dislike with the added venom of a small +nature. But at this moment, when an outpouring of confidence seemed +essential, she knew there was no one to whom she could speak so freely +as to this woman she had hated. + +"Life's cruel, cruel! It promises us women everything. And then it +cheats us and tricks us and takes away all that it gave, one thing +after another. It's like bleeding to death, losing your beauty little +by little, fighting your hardest and knowing you've got to be beaten in +the end. When I was a child in bed I used to think I heard footsteps +coming along the hall, slow and stealthy, and I'd lie there trembling +and quaking, afraid to open my eyes. That's the way I've been +listening to old age, creeping on me--for the last ten years." + +"And if only you'd got your courage up to opening your eyes when you +were a little, trembly thing, scared of those footsteps, like enough +all you'd have seen beside your bed was your mother smiling down on +you." + +Annabel looked at the speaker without replying. Her look offered +little encouragement for Persis to continue, but she needed no such +incentive. + +"You talk about life's being cruel. Why, you poor little soul, you +don't know what life's like. You've never given it a chance. You +haven't played fair." + +For years Persis had acknowledged to a desire to give Annabel Sinclair +"a good talking to." On various occasions she had uttered truths that +had cut like knives. She had the same truths to utter now but the +spirit had altered. + +"I guess every girl that was ever born liked to have men courting her +and ready to fight one another for a kind word from her. That's +nature. But it ain't nature to have it last, Mis' Sinclair. And +that's where you made your mistake. You wanted to keep right on +pretending it was May after it got along to August or so." + +Something she saw in the poor harassed face caused her to change her +position slightly, so that she could pat the listless hand of Diantha's +mother while she spoke. + +"Life ain't cruel, you poor soul! It comes along with both hands full. +It says to the little girl, 'Come, drop that doll-baby, I've got +something better than that. Here's a lover for you.' And then it says +to the girl that's picking and choosing among her beaux, 'Drop that +flirting, I've got something better for you. Here's a husband and a +home!' And so it goes. Instead of getting poorer all the time, we're +getting richer." + +She looked at Annabel tentatively. She was not altogether sure that +her eloquence was having effect. But as Annabel sat in an attitude of +expectancy, her face turned toward her monitor, though her eyes were +downcast, Persis tried again. + +"I don't say Thomas and I haven't missed a lot, I'm not belittling +youth and its love and its hopes. But I do say that I wouldn't change +this last year of my life for any that might have been. Why, when I +wake up in the morning, my head's full of the children, thinking of 'em +and planning for 'em and sometimes worrying about 'em. It needs a +little tart taste, sometimes, to bring out the sweet. Thomas and I +have spent hours, trying to decide whether we'll make a doctor out of +Algie, or a civil engineer, and we know both of us, that when the time +comes, he'll take the bit in his teeth and do as he likes. Only it's +such fun planning it out. When I look back five years or ten, or +twenty, for that matter, and see how my life has filled up and widened +out, I feel real sorry for that little, young, silly Persis Dale who +thought she was so happy and knew so little about it. If life takes +with one hand, Mis' Sinclair, it gives with two, only you'll never find +it out as long as you grip tight to what you've got." + +She looked down on the bundle in her arms, and again her face was +irradiated by a vivid tenderness, almost as if she had been mother of +the child. + +"Now, here's a case in point, Annabel Sinclair. Right here in my arms +is a little lump of joy that ought to fill up your cup of happiness so +full that it would spill over. Seems to me if this little mite +belonged to me, if I knew my blood was in his veins, this town wouldn't +be big enough to hold me. I love my five, dear knows, but there's a +hurt in thinking that I'm never going to see the Dale stubbornness +cropping out or any of the Hardin ways. But you haven't got that +little nagging hurt to take off your joy, like a pinch in a pair of new +shoes. It's all along of you that this boy's here." + +As if dominated by the stronger will, Annabel's eyes turned toward the +bundle. And inwardly praying that this was the moment for her _coup +d'etat_, Persis started to her feet. + +"I b'lieve that's Thad calling. 'Fraid like as not, that I'm going to +kidnap his son and heir. You hold the baby, Mis' Sinclair, till I see +what's wanted." + +She had tucked the baby into the curve of his grandmother's arm before +Annabel could protest, and she left the room without looking back. +Annabel, breathing fast, stared down into the little red face against +her shoulder. Such a queer little face, wrinkled with the ponderous +wisdom of the world it had so lately quitted, placid through ignorance +of the new life into which it had entered. She could not turn away her +eyes. And this being, newer than the morning paper and yet ancient as +man, was flesh of her flesh. + +The little, tightly clenched fists attracted her as irresistibly as the +face. She surprised herself by poking one tentatively, and when the +fingers opened and closed about hers, her lips parted as if to cry out. +She had not dreamed that there could be such tenacity in those wee +fingers. It was uncanny to be thus gripped by a creature so intensely +new. And Persis had said that this was one of Heaven's good gifts, a +joy that might brim life's cup over. + +The door opened and she raised her eyes. Her husband stood there, +gravely intent. She had never looked less beautiful than in her pale +disorder, but the pathos of her drooping figure and bewildered face +touched him strangely. Or perhaps it was the child in her arms. + +"It's holding to my finger, Stanley! See!" Annabel's features twisted +in a strange distorted smile. "Our little grandchild." + +He moved nearer. For all his efforts, he found it impossible to make +his voice altogether matter-of-fact. + +"You've had a hard day, I'm sure. You'd better speak to Diantha and +then let me take you home." + +She rose to her feet unsteadily, holding the child with the peculiar +awkwardness of the woman in whom the maternal instinct is lacking. But +as she passed on before him, her husband saw that the tiny hand still +curled tendril-like about her finger. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OTHER PEOPLE'S BUSINESS*** + + +******* This file should be named 23157.txt or 23157.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/3/1/5/23157 + + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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