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diff --git a/23367-h/23367-h.htm b/23367-h/23367-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1108c3f --- /dev/null +++ b/23367-h/23367-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1192 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + Julia the Apostate, by Josephine Daskam + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Julia The Apostate, by Josephine Daskam + +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: Julia The Apostate + +Author: Josephine Daskam + +Release Date: November 6, 2007 [EBook #23367] +Last Updated: March 8, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JULIA THE APOSTATE *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + JULIA THE APOSTATE + </h1> + <h2> + By Josephine Daskam <br /> <br /> Copyright, 1903, by Charles Scribner's + Sons + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + “You don't think it's too young for me, girls?” + </p> + <p> + “Young for you—<i>par exemple!</i> I should say not,” her niece + replied, perking the quivering aigrette still more obliquely upon her + aunt's head. Carolyn used <i>par exemple</i> as a good cook uses onion—a + hint of it in everything. There were those who said that she interpolated + it in the Litany; but Carolyn, who was born Caroline and a Baptist, was + too much impressed by the liturgy of what she called The Church to insert + even an uncanonized comma. + </p> + <p> + “Now don't touch it, Aunt Julia, for it's deliciously chic, and if you had + your way you'd flatten it down right straight in the middle—you know + you would.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Trueman pursed her lips quizzically. + </p> + <p> + “I've always thought, Carrie—<i>lyn</i>,” she added hastily, as her + niece scowled, “that they put things askew to make 'em different—for + a change, as you might say. Now, if they're <i>never</i> in the middle, + it's about as tiresome, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + Elise, whose napkin-ring bore malignant witness to her loving aunt, Eliza + Judd, laughed irrepressibly: she had more sense of humor than her sister. + It was she who, though she had assisted in polishing the old copper kettle + subsequently utilized as a holder for the tongs and shovel, had refused to + consider the yet older wash-boiler in the light of a possible + coal-scuttle, greatly to the relief of her aunt, who blushed persistently + at any mention of the hearth. + </p> + <p> + She patted the older woman encouragingly. + </p> + <p> + “That's right, Aunt Ju-ju, argue it out!” she advised. + </p> + <p> + Miss Trueman winced. She had never accustomed herself to those senseless + monosyllables that parodied her name; nor could she understand the frame + of mind that found them preferable to the comfortable “Aunt Jule” of the + old days. + </p> + <p> + “Ju-ju!” Strips of unwholesome flesh-colored paste, sugar-sprinkled, dear + to her childish heart but loathed by a maturer palate, rose to her mind. + There had been another haunting recollection: for months she had been + unable to define it perfectly, though it had always brought a thrill of + disgust with its vague appeal. One day she caught it and told them. + </p> + <p> + “It was that dreadful creature Mr. Barnum exhibited,” she declared, “that + we didn't allow the children to go to see—Jo-jo, the Dog-faced Boy! + You remember?” + </p> + <p> + Their cold horror, briefly expressed, had shown her that she had + trespassed too far on their indulgence, and she spoke of it no more, but + the memory rankled. + </p> + <p> + “It's so strange you don't see how cunning it is,” Carolyn complained; + “everybody does it now. The whole Chatworth family have those names, Aunt + Ju, and it is the dearest thing to hear the old doctor call Captain Arthur + 'Ga-ga.' You know that dignified sister with the lovely silvery hair? + Well, they all call her 'Looty.' And nobody thinks of Hunter Chatworth's + real name—he's always 'Toto.'” + </p> + <p> + “And he has three children!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Trueman sighed; the constitution of the modern family amazed her + endlessly. Ga-ga, indeed! + </p> + <p> + “Do the children call him Toto, too?” she demanded, with an attempt at + sarcasm, a conversational form to which she was by nature a stranger. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know about that,” Carolyn answered carelessly. “I suppose + not. Though plenty of children do, you know. Mrs. Ranger's little girl + always calls her mother Lou.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Ranger—you mean the woman that smokes?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Trueman's tone brought vividly to the mind a person dangling from + disgusted finger-tips a mouse or beetle. + </p> + <p> + “For heaven's sake, Aunt Jule”—in moments of intense exasperation + they reverted unconsciously to the old form—“don't speak of her as + if she smoked for a living!” + </p> + <p> + “I should rather not speak of her at all,” said Miss Trueman severely. + </p> + <p> + They raised their eyebrows helplessly: Carolyn's irritation was so + unfeigned that she omitted a justly famous shrug. + </p> + <p> + For two years they had devoted an appreciable part of their busy hours to + modifying Aunt Julia's antique prejudices, developing in her the latent + aesthetic sense that their Wednesday art class taught them existed in + every one, cajoling her into a tolerance of certain phases of modern + literature considered seriously and weekly by the Monday Afternoon Club, + and incidentally utilizing her as a chaperon and housekeeper in their + modest up-town apartment. + </p> + <p> + The first six months of her sojourn had been almost entirely occupied with + accustoming herself to the absence of an attic and a cellar; long days of + depression they learned, finally, to trace to this incredible source. + Later she dealt with the problem of subsisting from eight till one on two + rolls and a cup of coffee; successfully, in the ultimate issue, as + surreptitious bits of fried ham and buckwheat cakes, with suspicious + odors, winked at discreetly by her nieces, witnessed. It would have been + unkind, as Elise suggested, to criticise Aunt Ju-ju's performances at the + ungodly hour of seven in the morning, when their own correctly Continental + repast, flanked by a chrysanthemum in a tall vase, not only tallied so + accurately with their digestive and aesthetic necessities, but appeared, + moreover, with such gratifying regularity one hour later. + </p> + <p> + Both Carolyn and her sister had inherited from their mother, Miss + True-man's older sister, a real gift for teaching, and this, rather than + their respective abilities in art and music, enabled them to impart very + successfully the elements of these necessary branches to the young ladies + of a fashionable boarding-school just outside the city. + </p> + <p> + It was politely regretted by their friends that they were unable to give + themselves unreservedly to the exercise of their art without the cramping + necessity for teaching; but it is probable that both the girls estimated + their not too extraordinary talents very sensibly, though far from + displeased by a more flattering judgment. + </p> + <p> + Miss Trueman, who possessed the characteristic veneration of the bred and + born New Englander for his native or imported school-ma'am, resented + persistently their somewhat patronizing attitude toward the profession + second only to the ministry in her stanch respect. A little of the simple + grandeur of those childhood days when “the teacher boarded with them” + clung with the ineradicable force of habit to her mind, and she could not + understand their restive attitude at “the fine positions as teachers + Hattie's girls have got.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure you make more money than that Miss Seymour that gets her own + meals in her room—she said so herself.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, there are other things to be considered, Aunt Ju; and, anyway, + she's a real bohemian, Polly Seymour. There's a fascination in it.” + </p> + <p> + “There's no fascination in being hungry that I can see, and she admitted + that, L—Elise,” Miss Trueman insisted severely. “I don't understand + how she could have done it—I would have died first. And she seemed + to think it was a great joke to have her friends give her a dinner—I + think it was terrible.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Aunt Jule, how ridiculous! We were delighted to do it—it was + perfectly dear of her to let us, too. And think of the people we met there—Rawlins + and Mr. Ware! You don't mind being poor if such men will come just out of + interest in you, I tell you. Do you remember, Elise, how Mr. Rawlins + called her 'little girl'? Mr. Ware lets her use his models whenever she + likes, too,” Carolyn added respectfully. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she's bound to arrive!” Elise agreed. + </p> + <p> + Aunt Ju-ju sniffed uncontrolledly. + </p> + <p> + “I should hope she'd arrive at the point where she could buy her own + dinners,” she remarked. “To be beholden for your bread”... + </p> + <p> + Here were two points of view as little likely to coincide as the parallel + lines of science, and at some such stage as this the discussions were wont + to cease. + </p> + <p> + To-day the apartment was swept and garnished for a social function long + planned by the nieces. Carnations leaned from tall glass vases, intricate + little cakes jostled carefully piled sandwiches, and a huge brass samovar, + borrowed for the occasion, gave dignity to the small parlor. Miss Trueman + had learned by now the unwritten law that prevented the various objects in + the once proudly segregated “drawing-room set” from association with each + other, and made no attempt to correct their intentional isolation. The + samovar she refused utterly to meddle with, assuring them that she would + as soon think of running a locomotive. + </p> + <p> + As the guests began to arrive Miss Trueman found herself regarding them + even more critically than usual; an argumentative spirit rose in her, and + her calm contradiction of Mrs. Ranger, who discussed with great subtlety + the notable advantages—even from the artistic point of view—of + the approaching spring when experienced in the city, in comparison with + that be-rhymed season's vaunted country beauties, startled more than one + person. + </p> + <p> + “Just because they're more delicate, just because you must look harder to + discover them, just because you must get as much from a pot of hyacinths + on the Avenue as from a whole field of primroses in the backwoods, you + know,” she concluded, and the little circle nodded sagely and + congratulated themselves on an unpublished paragraph. + </p> + <p> + “I don't agree with you, Mrs. Ranger,” said Aunt Ju-ju flatly, to the + absolute amazement of her nieces and the tolerant amusement of the + assembly. “I guess you haven't lived in the country much, or you wouldn't + talk so. And primroses don't grow in fields here, anyway. If you could see + my hyacinths and crocuses in round beds at home, you wouldn't mention + those poor little stalks in the pots.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ranger laughed, and directed her searching, level glance at the older + woman, who combined in her comely, undisguised middle age something at + once more matronly and more childish than the analytic authoress could + ever find in her own mirror. + </p> + <p> + “Aha!” she cried, “then you are no friend of dear old Horace, after all, + Miss Trueman! He and I, you see—” + </p> + <p> + The relation of these two urbanites was revealed no further, for a bustle + in the little hall drew attention to a newcomer unknown not only to the + guests but evidently to the hostesses, who rose, smiling uncertainly, as a + portly, broad-shouldered man with iron-gray hair made his way through the + group about the samovar. + </p> + <p> + “I'll have to introduce myself, I see,” he began, not precisely with what + an exigent society calls ease of manner, but with a certain practical + self-possession quite as effective. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't expect the girls to remember me, but I thought perhaps you + might, Julia.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Trueman peered out from the shaded five-o'clock gloom so dear to + Carolyn's soul. + </p> + <p> + “I don't seem—it's not—why, Cousin Lorando Bean, it's not + you?” + </p> + <p> + “That's it,” he said heartily, “that's just exactly it. And he's mighty + glad to see some of his relations again, I can tell you. And these are + Carrie and Lizzie, I suppose. Well, well, fifteen years is a long time, + even to an old fellow like me, and you girls were just beginning to be + young ladies when I left Connecticut. How are you all?” + </p> + <p> + If this simple greeting came like a breath of her native air to Miss + True-man, it cannot be said to have had a similar effect on her nieces. + Courtesy prevented a full expression of their feelings, but they affected + no undue delight at the presence of their new-found relative—whom + they had very sincerely forgotten, along with many other details of a + somewhat inartistic youth—and turned to their other guests with a + frank relief when they had established him, with a cup of tea, a sandwich, + and Aunt Julia, in the near-by dining-room. + </p> + <p> + “A third or fourth cousin, I believe, who has lived a long time in the + West,” they explained. The company, some of whom doubtless possessed third + or fourth cousins from the West, nodded comprehensively, and the + interrupted function flowed smoothly on again. + </p> + <p> + Cousin Lorando Bean balanced his cup on his broad palm and gazed about + appreciatively at the casts and water-colors on the dull green walls. + </p> + <p> + “Very snug little quarters, these,” he volunteered, “but, do you know, + Cousin Jule, I suppose it's all right for ladies, but I don't seem to + breathe extra well in these little rooms, somehow! I've been in two or + three of them like this, more or less, since I came to New York—people + I used to know that I've been hunting up—and, by George, I began to + feel as if I was getting red in the face, if you see what I mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed, Cousin Lorando, I do,” returned Miss Trueman eagerly, “I see + exactly. And not having any cellar—you've no idea! Nor any attic, + either. And often and often we have the gas lighted all through breakfast. + Of course there are a great many conveniences,” she added loyally, “and + there's no doubt it saves steps. But I almost think I'd rather take 'em.” + </p> + <p> + He nodded. + </p> + <p> + “What's become of the old place, Cousin Jule? I judge you've been out of + it some time?” + </p> + <p> + “Two years, Cousin Lorando. The girls had been boarding up to then, and + when Aunt Martha died they got up this plan for me to come down and live + with them, for they couldn't afford it quite, alone, and then I could + chaperon them.” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Julia delivered herself of this phrase with a certain complacency. + Mr. Bean looked up sharply. + </p> + <p> + “That means that nobody gets a show to abduct 'em while you're around, I + take it?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “We-ell, not exactly,” she demurred. + </p> + <p> + “But that's the idea? I thought so. Yes. How old is Lizzie now? Thirty?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, Cousin Lorando; L—— Elise isn't twenty-nine yet. + Carolyn is about thirty.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't seem to recall any one chaperoning you and Hattie when you were + thirty,” he suggested thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + She laughed involuntarily. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Hattie was married, Cousin Lorando, and the children were ten years + old! And, anyway, it was different then.” + </p> + <p> + “The girls were just as pretty, I guess,” he insisted. “And there were + plenty of buggies, if anybody had designs.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause, and the buzz of voices from the other room rose loudly. + </p> + <p> + “They've neither of them got their mother's looks,” he observed; and then, + with apparent irrelevance: “When will they be considered safe to go about + alone?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know exactly what you mean,” she began a little coldly, but his + laugh reassured her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, you do,” he contradicted, “and don't you be getting cross at + your Cousin Lorando Bean! You know I always loved to tease you; it made + your eyes snap—and it does now.” + </p> + <p> + “How can you?” She looked reproachfully at him. + </p> + <p> + “And I tell you this, Cousin Jule: neither of those girls will ever get up + a color like that!” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head, but she was not displeased. He took out a fat + chocolate-colored cigar and fingered it wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I mustn't smoke?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + Her quick answer surprised herself. + </p> + <p> + “I should hope you could, if that woman can!” + </p> + <p> + “Which one?” + </p> + <p> + “That Mrs. Ranger, the one near the samovar—that big brass thing. + Liz—Elise didn't introduce her to you. They don't introduce people + the way they do at home, Cousin Lorando—I hope you didn't mind. They + think it's awkward.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lord, no, I don't mind. I can spare her, anyway. She's checked up too + high for me. But she can look you through pretty thoroughly, can't she?” + </p> + <p> + “She writes books,” Miss Trueman returned, the finality of her tone + indicating that she had explained any possible idiosyncrasy of the lady in + question. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see. And the little red-haired one, does she write books, too?” + </p> + <p> + “No; she's an artist. She smokes too, though. Not cigars, like yours, but + cigarettes. She's supposed to be a very good painter, but she doesn't make + what Carrie—lyn makes. The girls have very good positions in Miss + Abrams' school.” + </p> + <p> + “Um, what do they get, now?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Trueman mentioned the modest sum with pride. + </p> + <p> + “And then with my money and what we get from the rent of the place—the + girls and I each have a third, you know—we do very nicely.” + </p> + <p> + “So you rented the place?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Cousin Lorando, though I hated to. But I wouldn't sell it, though + they wanted me to. I just couldn't.” + </p> + <p> + “I know.” + </p> + <p> + He lighted his cigar and puffed at it in meditative silence for a moment, + while the babble from the parlor floated in with the odor of the Ceylon + tea and cigarettes. + </p> + <p> + “That's what I came about, Cousin Jule—the old place. You may think + it's queer, for I never lived there but two years once, when father and + your Uncle Joe farmed it on shares; but those two years just made it home + to me. Of course Uncle Joe wasn't any real relation of mine, and you-all + weren't my real cousins, but it was the only family I ever had, so to say, + and I loved every one of you. Then we moved back into town; but you know I + came in every week or so, and Aunt Martha used to have my room in the + attic ready for me, just the same.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know; Aunt Martha never forgot you, Cousin Lorando.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's fifteen years since I saw the old place, and a lot's happened + since then, I tell you. First place, I'm a rich man, Cousin Jule. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't mean one of these multi-millionaires you have about here, for + I haven't even seven figures opposite my name; but short of that I did + very well for myself out West there, and I earned it all fair, too—though + I was pretty lucky, and that counts. + </p> + <p> + “Anyhow, never mind about that. Only I've got enough to have anything I + want, and to give my friends something, too. So as soon as I got back. + East I went straight down to the farm. But it was all shut up and a kind + of green hedge where the fence used to be, and I judged it was sold, and I + felt pretty sore about it, so I came right away.” + </p> + <p> + “They only come there in June,” Miss Trueman explained, “and they go back + before Thanksgiving.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Well, I didn't know that.” + </p> + <p> + He waited again for a few seconds, and Miss Trueman sat in respectful + silence till he should continue. + </p> + <p> + “You see, I'd been East once before, eight years ago, but I didn't see the + farm then,” he said finally. + </p> + <p> + “I got married while I was West.” + </p> + <p> + His audience of one started slightly. + </p> + <p> + “She's dead now,” he added abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Cousin Lorando—” + </p> + <p> + “You needn't bother about the sympathy, my dear, for there's none needed. + I hadn't been with her for a good while. I saw her in a concert-hall out + there, and she had curly hair and a kind of taking way with her, and so I + married her. I'd just made a big hit, and she wanted to come to New York, + and we came. We went to a big hotel, and it was dress-suits for me and + diamonds for her, and we drove in a carriage in the park in the afternoon. + She liked it, but I soon got enough. I don't care much for that sort of + thing. She wanted to go to the theatre and see the girls that she'd been + one of, you see, from the other side of the curtain. And she saw a man + there she used to know, and—well, it turned out she liked him + better, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Cousin Lorando, how terrible—for her!” + </p> + <p> + “Um, yes. She didn't think it was specially terrible, I guess, though. She + just packed up and went.” + </p> + <p> + “Went?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—with him, you see. Diamonds and all. I got a divorce, of + course. And she wasn't such a bad lot, after all, for he hadn't any money + to speak of, compared to me. It was the man she wanted. Well, she got + him.” + </p> + <p> + “How awful!” Miss Trueman murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I felt pretty sick for a while. But we hadn't been any too happy + before she saw him, you see. It was a big mistake. She wasn't exactly the + kind of woman you'd be apt to know, you see. So perhaps I got off easier + than I deserved. But I never would have married while she was alive. Not + but what I had a right to, you understand, but I guess I'm old-fashioned + more ways than one. I read about her death a year or so ago. I don't + believe she had any too good a time herself. She had an awful temper. But + she certainly did have pretty hair,” he concluded thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + Miss Trueman gasped. + </p> + <p> + “So I didn't want to see New York again; I just hated the place. And this + time I only came because I found out you and the girls were here, and you + were about all there was left. People die so. And I wanted to find out + about the old place. I wanted to buy it, if I could, when I thought it was + sold.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Cousin Lorando, I couldn't sell it!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, I s'pose not. Still, I might buy out the girls' thirds and rent + yours, couldn't I? I'd pay you as much and more than anybody else would, I + guess. And you could keep your interest. And keep half of the house, for + that matter, to use when you wanted—it's big enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, I don't see why I couldn't do that,” she said thoughtfully. + “That would be nice.” + </p> + <p> + “You see, I'm willing to make any arrangement, Cousin Jule. It's about all + there is that I'm fond of now, that old place. I haven't any folks of my + own, and not a chick nor child, and I love every stick and stone of that + farm. I love the country, and I love Connecticut country best of all, I + don't care if it is rocky. You can't make farming pay in New England any + more. But I don't need to make it pay; I'm willing to pay for the pleasure + of it. And I want to do something for the town, too. I want 'em to be glad + I came to settle there. Who's got the keys?” + </p> + <p> + “I have, right here,” she answered. “The furniture is all ours, you see; + they haven't brought much, only they've changed things all around. I + haven't renewed the lease yet for this year.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, look here, Jule,” Mr. Bean cried eagerly, dropping the end of + his cigar into a bonbon-dish on the little side-table, “why don't you run + right up there with me to-night, and we'll look it all over and sort of + plan it out? We can go up on the six-thirty, and get there by half-past + ten, and stop at the hotel, and be there all ready to look it over + to-morrow. Now, how's that?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, but, Cousin Lorando—I—there isn't time—I hadn't + planned—” + </p> + <p> + “Lord, neither had I, but what's the difference? If you want a thing done, + go and do it yourself. Wouldn't you like to go? It's lovely up there; the + spring's coming on fast, you know. I got lots of pussy-willow, and some + little fellows told me there were May-flowers somewhere. You'll see more + grass in a minute there than you can hunt up here in a week. Come on, + Cousin Jule!” + </p> + <p> + “I believe I will!” said Miss True-man, with conviction. + </p> + <p> + “Just pack up a bag for your aunt, Carrie, while I get a cab,” said Mr. + Bean from the doorway. “We're going up to the old place—I'm thinking + of buying it. I expect we'll be back tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Your cousin appears to be a person of decision,” Mrs. Ranger suggested to + the still dazed Elise, as the cab rolled away. + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand Aunt Ju-ju at all,” Carolyn interpolated crossly. She + had not been in the habit of packing her aunt's bag. “She usually makes + such a fuss about starting to go anywhere—days ahead, in fact. And + now at fifteen minutes' notice! And her best gown!” + </p> + <p> + “It makes a difference, having a man to run it,” said the novelist sagely. + </p> + <p> + When two days had passed and their aunt had not yet appeared, her nieces + were not unnecessarily alarmed, for her attachment to her old home was + great, and it required no unusual degree of imagination to picture her + delighted lingering over the old things, her purposely prolonged + transaction of business details. But four days of unexplained absence had + its effect upon their own little ménage; and when a week's visit had been + accomplished and their beseeching letters had elicited only vague postal + cards explaining nothing, but suggesting their presence at the farm, they + became convinced of the necessity for action on their part, and went, more + or less in the presumable spirit of the mountain in search of the + fractious Prophet. + </p> + <p> + Tired and cross after four hours' travel on an incredibly hot 1st of + April, they walked sternly up the board walk that led to the old-style + porch, to be greeted by their cousin, who sat in snowy shirtsleeves, + tilted back in his chair against the house, smoking his fat, dark cigar. + </p> + <p> + “Welcome home, girls—glad to see you!” he called cheerily. “Here + they are, Jule! Now don't be afraid, but come right out and see them!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, bless your heart, Lorando, I'm not afraid,” a familiar voice + answered; and Aunt Julia appeared before them, cool in blue checked + gingham, with an enveloping white apron and familiarly floury hands. + </p> + <p> + “I'm just beating up some biscuit for tea,” she explained, “but I guess + you can shake hands with me, girls “; and as she extended both arms + hospitably they saw upon her floured left hand an unmistakable shining + gold band. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Jule!” they gasped together. “Are you—is it—” + </p> + <p> + “That's it exactly,” said Cousin Lorando Bean. “She is. And I hope you'll + congratulate her, girls, though nobody knows better than I what a good + housekeeper you've lost! I'll tell you the facts of the matter, and you + can judge for yourself. If ever two people were made for each other, those + two are your Aunt Jule and me. We love the country, and we love this farm, + and what's very important, we love the same way of living.” + </p> + <p> + “That's quite true, Carrie—lyn,” Aunt Julia interposed, the tears in + her eyes, but a new decision in her voice. + </p> + <p> + “I like my tea at night, and so does your Cousin Lorando. And I should + have wanted gravy on my potato if I lived to be a hundred. And, Carrie, I + <i>could not live</i> without a cellar! + </p> + <p> + “And if you knew how nervous I got when that old dumb-waiter in the + kitchen used to whistle for the things to be put on it! I used to hate it + so—sometimes I'd wake up in the night and think I heard it! Once I + lost my temper at it, and I answered it back: 'I haven't anything to go + down, and I wouldn't give it to you if I had!'” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Aunt Jule!” they cried. + </p> + <p> + “And I tell you, Carrie, when you have cleaned house regularly, spring and + fall, for forty years, ever since you were born, it makes an awful break + to give it up! And I do love a good crayon portrait.” + </p> + <p> + They looked at each other in silence. + </p> + <p> + “And when you have a set of furniture, it makes me nervous not to have it + set together,” Aunt Julia went on determinedly. + </p> + <p> + “And I will <i>not</i> have a woman smoking in my house! + </p> + <p> + “And oh, Carrie, if you knew how I suffered with that dirty darky girl!” + </p> + <p> + “But—but, Aunt Jule, why didn't you—” + </p> + <p> + “You see, Carrie and Lizzie, it was this way,” said Mr. Bean soothingly. + </p> + <p> + “Your aunt and I got talking old times, and we found that we both felt + about the same. And after we'd looked the old house over together a day or + two, she couldn't seem to leave it, somehow, and she couldn't live in it + alone, and I always wanted it. + </p> + <p> + “So I said, 'If you'll just step over to the parson's, across the street, + with me, we'll fix this all right in about ten minutes. You've known me + ever since I was a boy, and I've known you, and it's nobody's business but + ours if we want to finish up together.' I may have said a few other + things, too, but that's neither here nor there. And when she said what + would the girls do, I told her that what with the full price of their + interest in the farm, and her third that she could add to it—for a + sort of wedding-present, you see—I didn't see but what you could + well afford to take a trip to Europe and stay about as long as you liked—she + said you wanted to do that more than anything; though why I don't know—Connecticut + ought to be good enough for anybody!” + </p> + <p> + They sank upon the porch steps, sincerely overcome. + </p> + <p> + “I knew you'd like it when you came to know it all,” said Aunt Julia + placidly. “He's the kindest man—” + </p> + <p> + And to their excited eyes the very tidies on the geometrically arranged + chairs, the bright rag rugs on the floor, the biscuits and preserves + consecrated to their New England tea, yes, even the insistent + shirt-sleeves of Cousin Lorando Bean, were lighted by a halo of content. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Julia The Apostate, by Josephine Daskam + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JULIA THE APOSTATE *** + +***** This file should be named 23367-h.htm or 23367-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/3/6/23367/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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