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diff --git a/24873.txt b/24873.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ba1e28a --- /dev/null +++ b/24873.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7731 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lucy Maud Montgomery Short Stories, 1896 to +1901, by Lucy Maud Montgomery + +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: Lucy Maud Montgomery Short Stories, 1896 to 1901 + +Author: Lucy Maud Montgomery + +Release Date: March 19, 2008 [EBook #24873] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONTGOMERY SHORT STORIES *** + + + + +Produced by Alicia Williams, Jeannie Howse and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + +Lucy Maud Montgomery Short Stories, 1896 to 1901 + + +Lucy Maud Montgomery was born at Clifton (now New London), Prince +Edward Island, Canada, on November 30, 1874. She achieved +international fame in her lifetime, putting Prince Edward Island and +Canada on the world literary map. Best known for her "Anne of Green +Gables" books, she was also a prolific writer of short stories and +poetry. She published some 500 short stories and poems and twenty +novels before her death in 1942. The Project Gutenberg collection of +her short stories was gathered from numerous sources and is presented +in chronological publishing order: + +Lucy Maud Montgomery Short Stories, 1896 to 1901 +Lucy Maud Montgomery Short Stories, 1902 to 1903 +Lucy Maud Montgomery Short Stories, 1904 +Lucy Maud Montgomery Short Stories, 1905 to 1906 +Lucy Maud Montgomery Short Stories, 1907 to 1908 +Lucy Maud Montgomery Short Stories, 1909 to 1922 + + + * * * * * + + + + +Short Stories 1896 to 1901 + + A Case of Trespass 1897 + A Christmas Inspiration 1901 + A Christmas Mistake 1899 + A Strayed Allegiance 1897 + An Invitation Given on Impulse 1900 + Detected by the Camera 1897 + In Spite of Myself 1896 + Kismet 1899 + Lillian's Business Venture 1900 + Miriam's Lover 1901 + Miss Calista's Peppermint Bottle 1900 + The Jest that Failed 1901 + The Pennington's Girl 1900 + The Red Room 1898 + The Setness of Theodosia 1901 + The Story of An Invitation 1901 + The Touch of Fate 1899 + The Waking of Helen 1901 + The Way of Winning Anne 1899 + Young Si 1901 + + + + +A Case of Trespass + + +It was the forenoon of a hazy, breathless day, and Dan Phillips was +trouting up one of the back creeks of the Carleton pond. It was +somewhat cooler up the creek than out on the main body of water, for +the tall birches and willows, crowding down to the brim, threw cool, +green shadows across it and shut out the scorching glare, while a +stray breeze now and then rippled down the wooded slopes, rustling the +beech leaves with an airy, pleasant sound. + +Out in the pond the glassy water creamed and shimmered in the hot sun, +unrippled by the faintest breath of air. Across the soft, pearly tints +of the horizon blurred the smoke of the big factory chimneys that were +owned by Mr. Walters, to whom the pond and adjacent property also +belonged. + +Mr. Walters was a comparative stranger in Carleton, having but +recently purchased the factories from the heirs of the previous owner; +but he had been in charge long enough to establish a reputation for +sternness and inflexibility in all his business dealings. + +One or two of his employees, who had been discharged by him on what +they deemed insufficient grounds, helped to deepen the impression that +he was an unjust and arbitrary man, merciless to all offenders, and +intolerant of the slightest infringement of his cast-iron rules. + +Dan Phillips had been on the pond ever since sunrise. The trout had +risen well in the early morning, but as the day wore on, growing +hotter and hotter, they refused to bite, and for half an hour Dan had +not caught one. + +He had a goodly string of them already, however, and he surveyed them +with satisfaction as he rowed his leaky little skiff to the shore of +the creek. + +"Pretty good catch," he soliloquized. "Best I've had this summer, so +far. That big spotted one must weigh near a pound. He's a beauty. +They're a good price over at the hotels now, too. I'll go home and +get my dinner and go straight over with them. That'll leave me time +for another try at them about sunset. Whew, how hot it is! I must take +Ella May home a bunch of them blue flags. They're real handsome!" + +He tied his skiff under the crowding alders, gathered a big bunch of +the purple flag lilies with their silky petals, and started homeward, +whistling cheerily as he stepped briskly along the fern-carpeted wood +path that wound up the hill under the beeches and firs. + +He was a freckled, sunburned lad of thirteen years. His neighbours all +said that Danny was "as smart as a steel trap," and immediately added +that they wondered where he got his smartness from--certainly not from +his father! + +The elder Phillips had been denominated "shiftless and slack-twisted" +by all who ever had any dealings with him in his unlucky, aimless +life--one of those improvident, easygoing souls who sit contentedly +down to breakfast with a very faint idea where their dinner is to come +from. + +When he had died, no one had missed him, unless it were his patient, +sad-eyed wife, who bravely faced her hard lot, and toiled +unremittingly to keep a home for her two children--Dan and a girl two +years younger, who was a helpless cripple, suffering from some form of +spinal disease. + +Dan, who was old and steady for his years, had gone manfully to work +to assist his mother. Though he had been disappointed in all his +efforts to obtain steady employment, he was active and obliging, and +earned many a small amount by odd jobs around the village, and by +helping the Carleton farmers in planting and harvest. + +For the last two years, however, his most profitable source of summer +income had been the trout pond. The former owner had allowed anyone +who wished to fish in his pond, and Dan made a regular business of it, +selling his trout at the big hotels over at Mosquito Lake. This, in +spite of its unattractive name, was a popular summer resort, and Dan +always found a ready market for his catch. + +When Mr. Walters purchased the property it somehow never occurred to +Dan that the new owner might not be so complaisant as his predecessor +in the matter of the best trouting pond in the country. + +To be sure, Dan often wondered why it was the pond was so deserted +this summer. He could not recall having seen a single person on it +save himself. Still, it did not cross his mind that there could be any +particular reason for this. + +He always fished up in the cool, dim creeks, which long experience had +taught him were best for trout, and came and went by a convenient wood +path; but he had no thought of concealment in so doing. He would not +have cared had all Carleton seen him. + +He had done very well with his fish so far, and prices for trout at +the Lake went up every day. Dan was an enterprising boy, and a general +favourite with the hotel owners. They knew that he could always be +depended on. + +Mrs. Phillips met him at the door when he reached home. + +"See, Mother," said Dan exultantly, as he held up his fish. "Just look +at that fellow, will you? A pound if he's an ounce! I ought to get a +good price for these, I can tell you. Let me have my dinner now, and +I'll go right over to the Lake with them." + +"It's a long walk for you, Danny," replied his mother pityingly, "and +it's too hot to go so far. I'm afraid you'll get sun-struck or +something. You'd better wait till the cool of the evening. You're +looking real pale and thin this while back." + +"Oh, I'm all right, Mother," assured Dan cheerfully. "I don't mind the +heat a bit. A fellow must put up with some inconveniences. Wait till I +bring home the money for these fish. And I mean to have another catch +tonight. It's you that's looking tired. I wish you didn't have to work +so hard, Mother. If I could only get a good place you could take it +easier. Sam French says that Mr. Walters wants a boy up there at the +factory, but I know I wouldn't do. I ain't big enough. Perhaps +something will turn up soon though. When our ship comes in, Mother, +we'll have our good times." + +He picked up his flags and went into the little room where his sister +lay. + +"See what I've brought you, Ella May!" he said, as he thrust the cool, +moist clusters into her thin, eager hands. "Did you ever see such +beauties?" + +"Oh, Dan, how lovely they are! Thank you ever so much! If you are +going over to the Lake this afternoon, will you please call at Mrs. +Henny's and get those nutmeg geranium slips she promised me? Just look +how nice my others are growing. The pink one is going to bloom." + +"I'll bring you all the geranium slips at the Lake, if you like. When +I get rich, Ella May, I'll build you a big conservatory, and I'll get +every flower in the world in it for you. You shall just live and sleep +among posies. Is dinner ready, Mother? Trouting's hungry work, I tell +you. What paper is this?" + +He picked up a folded newspaper from the table. + +"Oh, that's only an old Lake _Advertiser_," answered Mrs. Phillips, as +she placed the potatoes on the table and wiped her moist, hot face +with the corner of her gingham apron. "Letty Mills brought it in +around a parcel this morning. It's four weeks old, but I kept it to +read if I ever get time. It's so seldom we see a paper of any kind +nowadays. But I haven't looked at it yet. Why, Danny, what on earth is +the matter?" + +For Dan, who had opened the paper and glanced over the first page, +suddenly gave a choked exclamation and turned pale, staring stupidly +at the sheet before him. + +"See, Mother," he gasped, as she came up in alarm and looked over his +shoulder. This is what they read: + + Notice + + Anyone found fishing on my pond at Carleton after date will be + prosecuted according to law, without respect of persons. + + June First. H.C. Walters. + +"Oh, Danny, what does it mean?" + +Dan went and carefully closed the door of Ella May's room before he +replied. His face was pale and his voice shaky. + +"Mean? Well, Mother, it just means that I've been stealing Mr. +Walters's trout all summer--_stealing_ them. That's what it means." + +"Oh, Danny! But you didn't know." + +"No, but I ought to have remembered that he was the new owner, and +have asked him. I never thought. Mother, what does 'prosecuted +according to law' mean?" + +"I don't know, I'm sure, Danny. But if this is so, there's only one +thing to be done. You must go straight to Mr. Walters and tell him all +about it." + +"Mother, I don't dare to. He is a dreadfully hard man. Sam French's +father says--" + +"I wouldn't believe a word Sam French's father says about Mr. +Walters!" said Mrs. Phillips firmly. "He's got a spite against him +because he was dismissed. Besides, Danny, it's the only right thing to +do. You know that. We're poor, but we have never done anything +underhand yet." + +"Yes, Mother, I know," said Dan, gulping his fear bravely down. "I'll +go, of course, right after dinner. I was only scared at first. I'll +tell you what I'll do. I'll clean these trout nicely and take them to +Mr. Walters, and tell him that, if he'll only give me time, I'll pay +him back every cent of money I got for all I sold this summer. Then +maybe he'll let me off, seeing as I didn't know about the notice." + +"I'll go with you, Danny." + +"No, I'll go alone, Mother. You needn't go with me," said Dan +heroically. To himself he said that his mother had troubles enough. He +would never subject her to the added ordeal of an interview with the +stern factory owner. He would beard the lion in his den himself, if it +had to be done. + +"Don't tell Ella May anything about it. It would worry her. And don't +cry, Mother, I guess it'll be all right. Let me have my dinner now and +I'll go straight off." + +Dan ate his dinner rapidly; then he carefully cleaned his trout, put +them in a long basket, with rhubarb leaves over them, and started with +an assumed cheerfulness very far from his real feelings. + +He had barely passed the gate when another boy came shuffling along--a +tall, raw-boned lad, with an insinuating smile and shifty, cunning +eyes. The newcomer nodded familiarly to Dan. + +"Hello, sonny. Going over to the Lake with your catch, are you? You'll +fry up before you get there. There'll be nothing left of you but a +crisp." + +"No, I'm not going to the Lake. I'm going up to the factory to see Mr. +Walters." + +Sam French gave a long whistle of surprise. + +"Why, Dan, what's taking you there? You surely ain't thinking of +trying for that place, are you? Walters wouldn't look at you. Why, he +wouldn't take _me_! You haven't the ghost of a chance." + +"No, I'm not going for that. Sam, did you know that Mr. Walters had a +notice in the Lake _Advertiser_ that nobody could fish in his pond +this summer?" + +"Course I did--the old skinflint! He's too mean to live, that's what. +He never goes near the pond himself. Regular dog in the manger, he is. +Dad says--" + +"Sam, why didn't you tell me about that notice?" + +"Gracious, didn't you know? I s'posed everybody did, and here I've +been taking you for the cutest chap this side of sunset--fishing away +up in that creek where no one could see you, and cutting home through +the woods on the sly. You don't mean to tell me you never saw that +notice?" + +"No, I didn't. Do you think I'd have gone near the pond if I had? I +never saw it till today, and I'm going straight to Mr. Walters now to +tell him about it." + +Sam French stopped short in the dusty road and stared at Dan in +undisguised amazement. + +"Dan Phillips," he ejaculated, "have you plum gone out of your mind? +Boy alive, you needn't be afraid that I'd peach on you. I'm too blamed +glad to see anyone get the better of that old Walters, smart as he +thinks himself. Gee! To dream of going to him and telling him you've +been fishing in his pond! Why, he'll put you in jail. You don't know +what sort of a man he is. Dad says--" + +"Never mind what your dad says, Sam. My mind's made up." + +"Dan, you chump, listen to me. That notice says 'prosecuted according +to law.' Why, Danny, he'll put you in prison, or fine you, or +something dreadful." + +"I can't help it if he does," said Danny stoutly. "You get out of +here, Sam French, and don't be trying to scare me. I mean to be +honest, and how can I be if I don't own up to Mr. Walters that I've +been stealing his trout all summer?" + +"Stealing, fiddlesticks! Dan, I used to think you were a chap with +some sense, but I see I was mistaken. You ain't done no harm. Walters +will never miss them trout. If you're so dreadful squeamish that you +won't fish no more, why, you needn't. But just let the matter drop and +hold your tongue about it. That's _my_ advice." + +"Well, it isn't my mother's, then. I mean to go by _hers_. You needn't +argue no more, Sam. I'm going." + +"Go, then!" said Sam, stopping short in disgust. "You're a big fool, +Dan, and serve you right if Walters lands you off to jail; but I don't +wish you no ill. If I can do anything for your family after you're +gone, I will, and I'll try and give your remains Christian burial--if +there are any remains. So long, Danny! Give my love to old Walters!" + +Dan was not greatly encouraged by this interview. He shrank more than +ever from the thought of facing the stern factory owner. His courage +had almost evaporated when he entered the office at the factory and +asked shakily for Mr. Walters. + +"He's in his office there," replied the clerk, "but he's very busy. +Better leave your message with me." + +"I must see Mr. Walters himself, please," said Dan firmly, but with +inward trepidation. + +The clerk swung himself impatiently from his stool and ushered Dan +into Mr. Walters's private office. + +"Boy to see you, sir," he said briefly, as he closed the ground-glass +door behind him. + +Dan, dizzy and trembling, stood in the dreaded presence. Mr. Walters +was writing at a table covered with a businesslike litter of papers. +He laid down his pen and looked up with a frown as the clerk vanished. +He was a stern-looking man with deep-set grey eyes and a square, +clean-shaven chin. There was not an ounce of superfluous flesh on his +frame, and his voice and manner were those of the decided, resolute, +masterful man of business. + +He pointed to a capacious leather chair and said concisely, "What is +your business with me, boy?" + +Dan had carefully thought out a statement of facts beforehand, but +every word had vanished from his memory. He had only a confused, +desperate consciousness that he had a theft to confess and that it +must be done as soon as possible. He did not sit down. + +"Please, Mr. Walters," he began desperately, "I came to tell you--your +notice--I never saw it before--and I've been fishing on your pond all +summer--but I didn't know--honest--I've brought you all I caught +today--and I'll pay back for them all--some time." + +An amused, puzzled expression crossed Mr. Walters's noncommittal face. +He pushed the leather chair forward. + +"Sit down, my boy," he said kindly. "I don't quite understand this +somewhat mixed-up statement of yours. You've been fishing on my pond, +you say. Didn't you see my notice in the _Advertiser_?" + +Dan sat down more composedly. The revelation was over and he was still +alive. + +"No, sir. We hardly ever see an _Advertiser_, and nobody told me. I'd +always been used to fishing there, and I never thought but what it was +all right to keep on. I know I ought to have remembered and asked you, +but truly, sir, I didn't mean to steal your fish. I used to sell them +over at the hotels. We saw the notice today, Mother and me, and I came +right up. I've brought you the trout I caught this morning, and--if +only you won't prosecute me, sir, I'll pay back every cent I got for +the others--every cent, sir--if you'll give me time." + +Mr. Walters passed his hand across his mouth to conceal something like +a smile. + +"Your name is Dan Phillips, isn't it?" he said irrelevantly, "and you +live with your mother, the Widow Phillips, down there at Carleton +Corners, I understand." + +"Yes, sir," said Dan, wondering how Mr. Walters knew so much about +him, and if these were the preliminaries of prosecution. + +Mr. Walters took up his pen and drew a blank sheet towards him. + +"Well, Dan, I put that notice in because I found that many people who +used to fish on my pond, irrespective of leave or licence, were +accustomed to lunch or camp on my property, and did not a little +damage. I don't care for trouting myself; I've no time for it. +However, I hardly think you'll do much damage. You can keep on +fishing there. I'll give you a written permission, so that if any of +my men see you they won't interfere with you. As for these trout here, +I'll buy them from you at Mosquito Lake prices, and will say no more +about the matter. How will that do?" + +"Thank you, sir," stammered Dan. He could hardly believe his ears. He +took the slip of paper Mr. Walters handed to him and rose to his feet. + +"Wait a minute, Dan. How was it you came to tell me this? You might +have stopped your depredations, and I should not have been any the +wiser." + +"That wouldn't have been honest, sir," said Dan, looking squarely at +him. + +There was a brief silence. Mr. Walters thrummed meditatively on the +table. Dan waited wonderingly. + +Finally the factory owner said abruptly, "There's a vacant place for a +boy down here. I want it filled as soon as possible. Will you take +it?" + +"Mr. Walters! _Me!_" Dan thought the world must be turning upside +down. + +"Yes, you. You are rather young, but the duties are not hard or +difficult to learn. I think you'll do. I was resolved not to fill that +place until I could find a perfectly honest and trustworthy boy for +it. I believe I have found him. I discharged the last boy because he +lied to me about some trifling offence for which I would have forgiven +him if he had told the truth. I can bear with incompetency, but +falsehood and deceit I cannot and will not tolerate," he said, so +sternly that Dan's face paled. "I am convinced that you are incapable +of either. Will you take the place, Dan?" + +"I will if you think I can fill it, sir. I will do my best." + +"Yes, I believe you will. Perhaps I know more about you than you +think. Businessmen must keep their eyes open. We'll regard this matter +as settled then. Come up tomorrow at eight o'clock. And one word more, +Dan. You have perhaps heard that I am an unjust and hard master. I am +not the former, and you will never have occasion to find me the latter +if you are always as truthful and straightforward as you have been +today. You might easily have deceived me in this matter. That you did +not do so is the best and only recommendation I require. Take those +trout up to my house and leave them. That will do. Good afternoon." + +Dan somehow got his dazed self through the glass door and out of the +building. The whole interview had been such a surprise to him that he +was hardly sure whether or not he had dreamed it all. + +"I feel as if I were some person else," he said to himself, as he +started down the hot white road. "But Mother was right. I'll stick to +her motto. I wonder what Sam will say to this." + + + + +A Christmas Inspiration + + +"Well, I really think Santa Claus has been very good to us all," said +Jean Lawrence, pulling the pins out of her heavy coil of fair hair and +letting it ripple over her shoulders. + +"So do I," said Nellie Preston as well as she could with a mouthful of +chocolates. "Those blessed home folks of mine seem to have divined by +instinct the very things I most wanted." + +It was the dusk of Christmas Eve and they were all in Jean Lawrence's +room at No. 16 Chestnut Terrace. No. 16 was a boarding-house, and +boarding-houses are not proverbially cheerful places in which to spend +Christmas, but Jean's room, at least, was a pleasant spot, and all the +girls had brought their Christmas presents in to show each other. +Christmas came on Sunday that year and the Saturday evening mail at +Chestnut Terrace had been an exciting one. + +Jean had lighted the pink-globed lamp on her table and the mellow +light fell over merry faces as the girls chatted about their gifts. On +the table was a big white box heaped with roses that betokened a bit +of Christmas extravagance on somebody's part. Jean's brother had sent +them to her from Montreal, and all the girls were enjoying them in +common. + +No. 16 Chestnut Terrace was overrun with girls generally. But just now +only five were left; all the others had gone home for Christmas, but +these five could not go and were bent on making the best of it. + +Belle and Olive Reynolds, who were sitting on the bed--Jean could +never keep them off it--were High School girls; they were said to be +always laughing, and even the fact that they could not go home for +Christmas because a young brother had measles did not dampen their +spirits. + +Beth Hamilton, who was hovering over the roses, and Nellie Preston, +who was eating candy, were art students, and their homes were too far +away to visit. As for Jean Lawrence, she was an orphan, and had no +home of her own. She worked on the staff of one of the big city +newspapers and the other girls were a little in awe of her +cleverness, but her nature was a "chummy" one and her room was a +favourite rendezvous. Everybody liked frank, open-handed and hearted +Jean. + +"It was so funny to see the postman when he came this evening," said +Olive. "He just bulged with parcels. They were sticking out in every +direction." + +"We all got our share of them," said Jean with a sigh of content. + +"Even the cook got six--I counted." + +"Miss Allen didn't get a thing--not even a letter," said Beth quickly. +Beth had a trick of seeing things that other girls didn't. + +"I forgot Miss Allen. No, I don't believe she did," answered Jean +thoughtfully as she twisted up her pretty hair. "How dismal it must be +to be so forlorn as that on Christmas Eve of all times. Ugh! I'm glad +I have friends." + +"I saw Miss Allen watching us as we opened our parcels and letters," +Beth went on. "I happened to look up once, and such an expression as +was on her face, girls! It was pathetic and sad and envious all at +once. It really made me feel bad--for five minutes," she concluded +honestly. + +"Hasn't Miss Allen any friends at all?" asked Beth. + +"No, I don't think she has," answered Jean. "She has lived here for +fourteen years, so Mrs. Pickrell says. Think of that, girls! Fourteen +years at Chestnut Terrace! Is it any wonder that she is thin and +dried-up and snappy?" + +"Nobody ever comes to see her and she never goes anywhere," said Beth. +"Dear me! She must feel lonely now when everybody else is being +remembered by their friends. I can't forget her face tonight; it +actually haunts me. Girls, how would you feel if you hadn't anyone +belonging to you, and if nobody thought about you at Christmas?" + +"Ow!" said Olive, as if the mere idea made her shiver. + +A little silence followed. To tell the truth, none of them liked Miss +Allen. They knew that she did not like them either, but considered +them frivolous and pert, and complained when they made a racket. + +"The skeleton at the feast," Jean called her, and certainly the +presence of the pale, silent, discontented-looking woman at the No. 16 +table did not tend to heighten its festivity. + +Presently Jean said with a dramatic flourish, "Girls, I have an +inspiration--a Christmas inspiration!" + +"What is it?" cried four voices. + +"Just this. Let us give Miss Allen a Christmas surprise. She has not +received a single present and I'm sure she feels lonely. Just think +how we would feel if we were in her place." + +"That is true," said Olive thoughtfully. "Do you know, girls, this +evening I went to her room with a message from Mrs. Pickrell, and I do +believe she had been crying. Her room looked dreadfully bare and +cheerless, too. I think she is very poor. What are we to do, Jean?" + +"Let us each give her something nice. We can put the things just +outside of her door so that she will see them whenever she opens it. +I'll give her some of Fred's roses too, and I'll write a Christmassy +letter in my very best style to go with them," said Jean, warming up +to her ideas as she talked. + +The other girls caught her spirit and entered into the plan with +enthusiasm. + +"Splendid!" cried Beth. "Jean, it is an inspiration, sure enough. +Haven't we been horribly selfish--thinking of nothing but our own +gifts and fun and pleasure? I really feel ashamed." + +"Let us do the thing up the very best way we can," said Nellie, +forgetting even her beloved chocolates in her eagerness. "The shops +are open yet. Let us go up town and invest." + +Five minutes later five capped and jacketed figures were scurrying up +the street in the frosty, starlit December dusk. Miss Allen in her +cold little room heard their gay voices and sighed. She was crying by +herself in the dark. It was Christmas for everybody but her, she +thought drearily. + +In an hour the girls came back with their purchases. + +"Now, let's hold a council of war," said Jean jubilantly. "I hadn't +the faintest idea what Miss Allen would like so I just guessed wildly. +I got her a lace handkerchief and a big bottle of perfume and a +painted photograph frame--and I'll stick my own photo in it for fun. +That was really all I could afford. Christmas purchases have left my +purse dreadfully lean." + +"I got her a glove-box and a pin tray," said Belle, "and Olive got her +a calendar and Whittier's poems. And besides we are going to give her +half of that big plummy fruit cake Mother sent us from home. I'm sure +she hasn't tasted anything so delicious for years, for fruit cakes +don't grow on Chestnut Terrace and she never goes anywhere else for a +meal." + +Beth had bought a pretty cup and saucer and said she meant to give one +of her pretty water-colours too. Nellie, true to her reputation, had +invested in a big box of chocolate creams, a gorgeously striped candy +cane, a bag of oranges, and a brilliant lampshade of rose-coloured +crepe paper to top off with. + +"It makes such a lot of show for the money," she explained. "I am +bankrupt, like Jean." + +"Well, we've got a lot of pretty things," said Jean in a tone of +satisfaction. "Now we must do them up nicely. Will you wrap them in +tissue paper, girls, and tie them with baby ribbon--here's a box of +it--while I write that letter?" + +While the others chatted over their parcels Jean wrote her letter, and +Jean could write delightful letters. She had a decided talent in that +respect, and her correspondents all declared her letters to be things +of beauty and joy forever. She put her best into Miss Allen's +Christmas letter. Since then she has written many bright and clever +things, but I do not believe she ever in her life wrote anything more +genuinely original and delightful than that letter. Besides, it +breathed the very spirit of Christmas, and all the girls declared that +it was splendid. + +"You must all sign it now," said Jean, "and I'll put it in one of +those big envelopes; and, Nellie, won't you write her name on it in +fancy letters?" + +Which Nellie proceeded to do, and furthermore embellished the envelope +by a border of chubby cherubs, dancing hand in hand around it and a +sketch of No. 16 Chestnut Terrace in the corner in lieu of a stamp. +Not content with this she hunted out a huge sheet of drawing paper and +drew upon it an original pen-and-ink design after her own heart. A +dudish cat--Miss Allen was fond of the No. 16 cat if she could be said +to be fond of anything--was portrayed seated on a rocker arrayed in +smoking jacket and cap with a cigar waved airily aloft in one paw +while the other held out a placard bearing the legend "Merry +Christmas." A second cat in full street costume bowed politely, hat in +paw, and waved a banner inscribed with "Happy New Year," while faintly +suggested kittens gambolled around the border. The girls laughed until +they cried over it and voted it to be the best thing Nellie had yet +done in original work. + +All this had taken time and it was past eleven o'clock. Miss Allen had +cried herself to sleep long ago and everybody else in Chestnut Terrace +was abed when five figures cautiously crept down the hall, headed by +Jean with a dim lamp. Outside of Miss Allen's door the procession +halted and the girls silently arranged their gifts on the floor. + +"That's done," whispered Jean in a tone of satisfaction as they +tiptoed back. "And now let us go to bed or Mrs. Pickrell, bless her +heart, will be down on us for burning so much midnight oil. Oil has +gone up, you know, girls." + +It was in the early morning that Miss Allen opened her door. But early +as it was, another door down the hall was half open too and five rosy +faces were peering cautiously out. The girls had been up for an hour +for fear they would miss the sight and were all in Nellie's room, +which commanded a view of Miss Allen's door. + +That lady's face was a study. Amazement, incredulity, wonder, chased +each other over it, succeeded by a glow of pleasure. On the floor +before her was a snug little pyramid of parcels topped by Jean's +letter. On a chair behind it was a bowl of delicious hot-house roses +and Nellie's placard. + +Miss Allen looked down the hall but saw nothing, for Jean had slammed +the door just in time. Half an hour later when they were going down to +breakfast Miss Allen came along the hall with outstretched hands to +meet them. She had been crying again, but I think her tears were happy +ones; and she was smiling now. A cluster of Jean's roses were pinned +on her breast. + +"Oh, girls, girls," she said, with a little tremble in her voice, "I +can never thank you enough. It was so kind and sweet of you. You don't +know how much good you have done me." + +Breakfast was an unusually cheerful affair at No. 16 that morning. +There was no skeleton at the feast and everybody was beaming. Miss +Allen laughed and talked like a girl herself. + +"Oh, how surprised I was!" she said. "The roses were like a bit of +summer, and those cats of Nellie's were so funny and delightful. And +your letter too, Jean! I cried and laughed over it. I shall read it +every day for a year." + +After breakfast everyone went to Christmas service. The girls went +uptown to the church they attended. The city was very beautiful in the +morning sunshine. There had been a white frost in the night and the +tree-lined avenues and public squares seemed like glimpses of +fairyland. + +"How lovely the world is," said Jean. + +"This is really the very happiest Christmas morning I have ever +known," declared Nellie. "I never felt so really Christmassy in my +inmost soul before." + +"I suppose," said Beth thoughtfully, "that it is because we have +discovered for ourselves the old truth that it is more blessed to give +than to receive. I've always known it, in a way, but I never realized +it before." + +"Blessing on Jean's Christmas inspiration," said Nellie. "But, girls, +let us try to make it an all-the-year-round inspiration, I say. We can +bring a little of our own sunshine into Miss Allen's life as long as +we live with her." + +"Amen to that!" said Jean heartily. "Oh, listen, girls--the Christmas +chimes!" + +And over all the beautiful city was wafted the grand old message of +peace on earth and good will to all the world. + + + + +A Christmas Mistake + + +"Tomorrow is Christmas," announced Teddy Grant exultantly, as he sat +on the floor struggling manfully with a refractory bootlace that was +knotted and tagless and stubbornly refused to go into the eyelets of +Teddy's patched boots. "Ain't I glad, though. Hurrah!" + +His mother was washing the breakfast dishes in a dreary, listless sort +of way. She looked tired and broken-spirited. Ted's enthusiasm seemed +to grate on her, for she answered sharply: + +"Christmas, indeed. I can't see that it is anything for us to rejoice +over. Other people may be glad enough, but what with winter coming on +I'd sooner it was spring than Christmas. Mary Alice, do lift that +child out of the ashes and put its shoes and stockings on. Everything +seems to be at sixes and sevens here this morning." + +Keith, the oldest boy, was coiled up on the sofa calmly working out +some algebra problems, quite oblivious to the noise around him. But he +looked up from his slate, with his pencil suspended above an obstinate +equation, to declaim with a flourish: + + "Christmas comes but once a year, + And then Mother wishes it wasn't here." + +"I don't, then," said Gordon, son number two, who was preparing his +own noon lunch of bread and molasses at the table, and making an +atrocious mess of crumbs and sugary syrup over everything. "I know one +thing to be thankful for, and that is that there'll be no school. +We'll have a whole week of holidays." + +Gordon was noted for his aversion to school and his affection for +holidays. + +"And we're going to have turkey for dinner," declared Teddy, getting +up off the floor and rushing to secure his share of bread and +molasses, "and cranb'ry sauce and--and--pound cake! Ain't we, Ma?" + +"No, you are not," said Mrs. Grant desperately, dropping the dishcloth +and snatching the baby on her knee to wipe the crust of cinders and +molasses from the chubby pink-and-white face. "You may as well know it +now, children, I've kept it from you so far in hopes that something +would turn up, but nothing has. We can't have any Christmas dinner +tomorrow--we can't afford it. I've pinched and saved every way I could +for the last month, hoping that I'd be able to get a turkey for you +anyhow, but you'll have to do without it. There's that doctor's bill +to pay and a dozen other bills coming in--and people say they can't +wait. I suppose they can't, but it's kind of hard, I must say." + +The little Grants stood with open mouths and horrified eyes. No turkey +for Christmas! Was the world coming to an end? Wouldn't the government +interfere if anyone ventured to dispense with a Christmas celebration? + +The gluttonous Teddy stuffed his fists into his eyes and lifted up his +voice. Keith, who understood better than the others the look on his +mother's face, took his blubbering young brother by the collar and +marched him into the porch. The twins, seeing the summary proceeding, +swallowed the outcries they had intended to make, although they +couldn't keep a few big tears from running down their fat cheeks. + +Mrs. Grant looked pityingly at the disappointed faces about her. + +"Don't cry, children, you make me feel worse. We are not the only ones +who will have to do without a Christmas turkey. We ought to be very +thankful that we have anything to eat at all. I hate to disappoint +you, but it can't be helped." + +"Never mind, Mother," said Keith, comfortingly, relaxing his hold +upon the porch door, whereupon it suddenly flew open and precipitated +Teddy, who had been tugging at the handle, heels over head backwards. +"We know you've done your best. It's been a hard year for you. Just +wait, though. I'll soon be grown up, and then you and these greedy +youngsters shall feast on turkey every day of the year. Hello, Teddy, +have you got on your feet again? Mind, sir, no more blubbering!" + +"When I'm a man," announced Teddy with dignity, "I'd just like to see +you put me in the porch. And I mean to have turkey all the time and I +won't give you any, either." + +"All right, you greedy small boy. Only take yourself off to school +now, and let us hear no more squeaks out of you. Tramp, all of you, +and give Mother a chance to get her work done." + +Mrs. Grant got up and fell to work at her dishes with a brighter face. + +"Well, we mustn't give in; perhaps things will be better after a +while. I'll make a famous bread pudding, and you can boil some +molasses taffy and ask those little Smithsons next door to help you +pull it. They won't whine for turkey, I'll be bound. I don't suppose +they ever tasted such a thing in all their lives. If I could afford +it, I'd have had them all in to dinner with us. That sermon Mr. Evans +preached last Sunday kind of stirred me up. He said we ought always +to try and share our Christmas joy with some poor souls who had never +learned the meaning of the word. I can't do as much as I'd like to. It +was different when your father was alive." + +The noisy group grew silent as they always did when their father was +spoken of. He had died the year before, and since his death the little +family had had a hard time. Keith, to hide his feelings, began to +hector the rest. + +"Mary Alice, do hurry up. Here, you twin nuisances, get off to school. +If you don't you'll be late and then the master will give you a +whipping." + +"He won't," answered the irrepressible Teddy. "He never whips us, he +doesn't. He stands us on the floor sometimes, though," he added, +remembering the many times his own chubby legs had been seen to better +advantage on the school platform. + +"That man," said Mrs. Grant, alluding to the teacher, "makes me +nervous. He is the most abstracted creature I ever saw in my life. It +is a wonder to me he doesn't walk straight into the river some day. +You'll meet him meandering along the street, gazing into vacancy, and +he'll never see you nor hear a word you say half the time." + +"Yesterday," said Gordon, chuckling over the remembrance, "he came in +with a big piece of paper he'd picked up on the entry floor in one +hand and his hat in the other--and he stuffed his hat into the +coal-scuttle and hung up the paper on a nail as grave as you please. +Never knew the difference till Ned Slocum went and told him. He's +always doing things like that." + +Keith had collected his books and now marched his brothers and sisters +off to school. Left alone with the baby, Mrs. Grant betook herself to +her work with a heavy heart. But a second interruption broke the +progress of her dish-washing. + +"I declare," she said, with a surprised glance through the window, "if +there isn't that absent-minded schoolteacher coming through the yard! +What can he want? Dear me, I do hope Teddy hasn't been cutting capers +in school again." + +For the teacher's last call had been in October and had been +occasioned by the fact that the irrepressible Teddy would persist in +going to school with his pockets filled with live crickets and in +driving them harnessed to strings up and down the aisle when the +teacher's back was turned. All mild methods of punishment having +failed, the teacher had called to talk it over with Mrs. Grant, with +the happy result that Teddy's behaviour had improved--in the matter of +crickets at least. + +But it was about time for another outbreak. Teddy had been unnaturally +good for too long a time. Poor Mrs. Grant feared that it was the calm +before a storm, and it was with nervous haste that she went to the +door and greeted the young teacher. + +He was a slight, pale, boyish-looking fellow, with an abstracted, +musing look in his large dark eyes. Mrs. Grant noticed with amusement +that he wore a white straw hat in spite of the season. His eyes were +directed to her face with his usual unseeing gaze. + +"Just as though he was looking through me at something a thousand +miles away," said Mrs. Grant afterwards. "I believe he was, too. His +body was right there on the step before me, but where his soul was is +more than you or I or anybody can tell." + +"Good morning," he said absently. "I have just called on my way to +school with a message from Miss Millar. She wants you all to come up +and have Christmas dinner with her tomorrow." + +"For the land's sake!" said Mrs. Grant blankly. "I don't understand." +To herself she thought, "I wish I dared take him and shake him to find +if he's walking in his sleep or not." + +"You and all the children--every one," went on the teacher dreamily, +as if he were reciting a lesson learned beforehand. "She told me to +tell you to be sure and come. Shall I say that you will?" + +"Oh, yes, that is--I suppose--I don't know," said Mrs. Grant +incoherently. "I never expected--yes, you may tell her we'll come," +she concluded abruptly. + +"Thank you," said the abstracted messenger, gravely lifting his hat +and looking squarely through Mrs. Grant into unknown regions. When he +had gone Mrs. Grant went in and sat down, laughing in a sort of +hysterical way. + +"I wonder if it is all right. Could Cornelia really have told him? She +must, I suppose, but it is enough to take one's breath." + +Mrs. Grant and Cornelia Millar were cousins, and had once been the +closest of friends, but that was years ago, before some spiteful +reports and ill-natured gossip had come between them, making only a +little rift at first that soon widened into a chasm of coldness and +alienation. Therefore this invitation surprised Mrs. Grant greatly. + +Miss Cornelia was a maiden lady of certain years, with a comfortable +bank account and a handsome, old-fashioned house on the hill behind +the village. She always boarded the schoolteachers and looked after +them maternally; she was an active church worker and a tower of +strength to struggling ministers and their families. + +"If Cornelia has seen fit at last to hold out the hand of +reconciliation I'm glad enough to take it. Dear knows, I've wanted to +make up often enough, but I didn't think she ever would. We've both +of us got too much pride and stubbornness. It's the Turner blood in us +that does it. The Turners were all so set. But I mean to do my part +now she has done hers." + +And Mrs. Grant made a final attack on the dishes with a beaming face. + +When the little Grants came home and heard the news, Teddy stood on +his head to express his delight, the twins kissed each other, and Mary +Alice and Gordon danced around the kitchen. + +Keith thought himself too big to betray any joy over a Christmas +dinner, but he whistled while doing the chores until the bare welkin +in the yard rang, and Teddy, in spite of unheard of misdemeanours, was +not collared off into the porch once. + +When the young teacher got home from school that evening he found the +yellow house full of all sorts of delectable odours. Miss Cornelia +herself was concocting mince pies after the famous family recipe, +while her ancient and faithful handmaiden, Hannah, was straining into +moulds the cranberry jelly. The open pantry door revealed a tempting +array of Christmas delicacies. + +"Did you call and invite the Smithsons up to dinner as I told you?" +asked Miss Cornelia anxiously. + +"Yes," was the dreamy response as he glided through the kitchen and +vanished into the hall. + +Miss Cornelia crimped the edges of her pies delicately with a relieved +air. "I made certain he'd forget it," she said. "You just have to +watch him as if he were a mere child. Didn't I catch him yesterday +starting off to school in his carpet slippers? And in spite of me he +got away today in that ridiculous summer hat. You'd better set that +jelly in the out-pantry to cool, Hannah; it looks good. We'll give +those poor little Smithsons a feast for once in their lives if they +never get another." + +At this juncture the hall door flew open and Mr. Palmer appeared on +the threshold. He seemed considerably agitated and for once his eyes +had lost their look of space-searching. + +"Miss Millar, I am afraid I did make a mistake this morning--it has +just dawned on me. I am almost sure that I called at Mrs. Grant's and +invited her and her family instead of the Smithsons. And she said they +would come." + +Miss Cornelia's face was a study. + +"Mr. Palmer," she said, flourishing her crimping fork tragically, "do +you mean to say you went and invited Linda Grant here tomorrow? Linda +Grant, of all women in this world!" + +"I did," said the teacher with penitent wretchedness. "It was very +careless of me--I am very sorry. What can I do? I'll go down and tell +them I made a mistake if you like." + +"You can't do that," groaned Miss Cornelia, sitting down and wrinkling +up her forehead in dire perplexity. "It would never do in the world. +For pity's sake, let me think for a minute." + +Miss Cornelia did think--to good purpose evidently, for her forehead +smoothed out as her meditations proceeded and her face brightened. +Then she got up briskly. "Well, you've done it and no mistake. I don't +know that I'm sorry, either. Anyhow, we'll leave it as it is. But you +must go straight down now and invite the Smithsons too. And for pity's +sake, don't make any more mistakes." + +When he had gone Miss Cornelia opened her heart to Hannah. "I never +could have done it myself--never; the Turner is too strong in me. But +I'm glad it is done. I've been wanting for years to make up with +Linda. And now the chance has come, thanks to that blessed blundering +boy, I mean to make the most of it. Mind, Hannah, you never whisper a +word about its being a mistake. Linda must never know. Poor Linda! +She's had a hard time. Hannah, we must make some more pies, and I must +go straight down to the store and get some more Santa Claus stuff; +I've only got enough to go around the Smithsons." + +When Mrs. Grant and her family arrived at the yellow house next +morning Miss Cornelia herself ran out bareheaded to meet them. The two +women shook hands a little stiffly and then a rill of long-repressed +affection trickled out from some secret spring in Miss Cornelia's +heart and she kissed her new-found old friend tenderly. Linda returned +the kiss warmly, and both felt that the old-time friendship was theirs +again. + +The little Smithsons all came and they and the little Grants sat down +on the long bright dining room to a dinner that made history in their +small lives, and was eaten over again in happy dreams for months. + +How those children did eat! And how beaming Miss Cornelia and +grim-faced, soft-hearted Hannah and even the absent-minded teacher +himself enjoyed watching them! + +After dinner Miss Cornelia distributed among the delighted little +souls the presents she had bought for them, and then turned them loose +in the big shining kitchen to have a taffy pull--and they had it to +their hearts' content! And as for the shocking, taffyfied state into +which they got their own rosy faces and that once immaculate +domain--well, as Miss Cornelia and Hannah never said one word about +it, neither will I. + +The four women enjoyed the afternoon in their own way, and the +schoolteacher buried himself in algebra to his own great satisfaction. + +When her guests went home in the starlit December dusk, Miss Cornelia +walked part of the way with them and had a long confidential talk with +Mrs. Grant. When she returned it was to find Hannah groaning in and +over the kitchen and the schoolteacher dreamily trying to clean some +molasses off his boots with the kitchen hairbrush. Long-suffering Miss +Cornelia rescued her property and despatched Mr. Palmer into the +woodshed to find the shoe-brush. Then she sat down and laughed. + +"Hannah, what will become of that boy yet? There's no counting on what +he'll do next. I don't know how he'll ever get through the world, I'm +sure, but I'll look after him while he's here at least. I owe him a +huge debt of gratitude for this Christmas blunder. What an awful mess +this place is in! But, Hannah, did you ever in the world see anything +so delightful as that little Tommy Smithson stuffing himself with plum +cake, not to mention Teddy Grant? It did me good just to see them." + + + + +A Strayed Allegiance + + +"Will you go to the Cove with me this afternoon?" + +It was Marian Lesley who asked the question. + +Esterbrook Elliott unpinned with a masterful touch the delicate +cluster of Noisette rosebuds she wore at her throat and transferred +them to his buttonhole as he answered courteously: "Certainly. My +time, as you know, is entirely at your disposal." + +They were standing in the garden under the creamy bloom of drooping +acacia trees. One long plume of blossoms touched lightly the soft, +golden-brown coils of the girl's hair and cast a wavering shadow over +the beautiful, flower-like face beneath it. + +Esterbrook Elliott, standing before her, thought proudly that he had +never seen a woman who might compare with her. In every detail she +satisfied his critical, fastidious taste. There was not a discordant +touch about her. + +Esterbrook Elliott had always loved Marian Lesley--or thought he had. +They had grown up together from childhood. He was an only son and she +an only daughter. It had always been an understood thing between the +two families that the boy and girl should marry. But Marian's father +had decreed that no positive pledge should pass between them until +Marian was twenty-one. + +Esterbrook accepted his mapped-out destiny and selected bride with the +conviction that he was an exceptionally lucky fellow. Out of all the +women in the world Marian was the very one whom he would have chosen +as mistress of his fine, old home. She had been his boyhood's ideal. +He believed that he loved her sincerely, but he was not too much in +love to be blind to the worldly advantages of his marriage with his +cousin. + +His father had died two years previously, leaving him wealthy and +independent. Marian had lost her mother in childhood; her father died +when she was eighteen. Since then she had lived alone with her aunt. +Her life was quiet and lonely. Esterbrook's companionship was all that +brightened it, but it was enough. Marian lavished on him all the rich, +womanly love of her heart. On her twenty-first birthday they were +formally betrothed. They were to be married in the following autumn. + +No shadow had drifted across the heaven of her happiness. She believed +herself secure in her lover's unfaltering devotion. True, at times she +thought his manner lacked a lover's passionate ardour. He was always +attentive and courteous. She had only to utter a wish to find that it +had been anticipated; he spent every spare minute at her side. + +Yet sometimes she half wished he would betray more lover-like +impatience and intensity. Were all lovers as calm and undemonstrative? + +She reproached herself for this incipient disloyalty as often as it +vexingly intruded its unwelcome presence across her inner +consciousness. Surely Esterbrook was fond and devoted enough to +satisfy the most exacting demands of affection. Marian herself was +somewhat undemonstrative and reserved. Passing acquaintances called +her cold and proud. Only the privileged few knew the rich depths of +womanly tenderness in her nature. + +Esterbrook thought that he fully appreciated her. As he had walked +homeward the night of their betrothal, he had reviewed with +unconscious criticism his mental catalogue of Marian's graces and good +qualities, admitting, with supreme satisfaction, that there was not +one thing about her that he could wish changed. + +This afternoon, under the acacias, they had been planning about their +wedding. There was no one to consult but themselves. + +They were to be married early in September and then go abroad. +Esterbrook mapped out the details of their bridal tour with careful +thoughtfulness. They would visit all the old-world places that Marian +wished to see. Afterwards they would come back home. He discussed +certain changes he wished to make in the old Elliott mansion to fit it +for a young and beautiful mistress. + +He did most of the planning. Marian was content to listen in happy +silence. Afterwards she had proposed this walk to the Cove. + +"What particular object of charity have you found at the Cove now?" +asked Esterbrook, with lazy interest, as they walked along. + +"Mrs. Barrett's little Bessie is very ill with fever," answered +Marian. Then, catching his anxious look, she hastened to add, "It is +nothing infectious--some kind of a slow, sapping variety. There is no +danger, Esterbrook." + +"I was not afraid for myself," he replied quietly. "My alarm was for +you. You are too precious to me, Marian, for me to permit you to risk +health and life, if it were dangerous. What a Lady Bountiful you are +to those people at the Cove. When we are married you must take me in +hand and teach me your creed of charity. I'm afraid I've lived a +rather selfish life. You will change all that, dear. You will make a +good man of me." + +"You are that now, Esterbrook," she said softly. "If you were not, I +could not love you." + +"It is a negative sort of goodness, I fear. I have never been tried or +tempted severely. Perhaps I should fail under the test." + +"I am sure you would not," answered Marian proudly. + +Esterbrook laughed; her faith in him was pleasant. He had no thought +but that he would prove worthy of it. + +The Cove, so-called, was a little fishing hamlet situated on the low, +sandy shore of a small bay. The houses, clustered in one spot, seemed +like nothing so much as larger shells washed up by the sea, so grey +and bleached were they from long exposure to sea winds and spray. + +Dozens of ragged children were playing about them, mingled with +several disreputable yellow curs that yapped noisily at the strangers. + +Down on the sandy strip of beach below the houses groups of men were +lounging about. The mackerel, season had not yet set in; the spring +herring netting was past. It was holiday time among the sea folks. +They were enjoying it to the full, a happy, ragged colony, careless of +what the morrows might bring forth. + +Out beyond, the boats were at anchor, floating as gracefully on the +twinkling water as sea birds, their tall masts bowing landward on the +swell. A lazy, dreamful calm had fallen over the distant seas; the +horizon blues were pale and dim; faint purple hazes blurred the +outlines of far-off headlands and cliffs; the yellow sands sparkled in +the sunshine as if powdered with jewels. + +A murmurous babble of life buzzed about the hamlet, pierced through by +the shrill undertones of the wrangling children, most of whom had +paused in their play to scan the visitors with covert curiosity. + +Marian led the way to a house apart from the others at the very edge +of the shelving rock. The dooryard was scrupulously clean and +unlittered; the little footpath through it was neatly bordered by +white clam shells; several thrifty geraniums in bloom looked out from +the muslin-curtained windows. + +A weary-faced woman came forward to meet them. + +"Bessie's much the same, Miss Lesley," she said, in answer to Marian's +inquiry. "The doctor you sent was here today and did all he could for +her. He seemed quite hopeful. She don't complain or nothing--just lies +there and moans. Sometimes she gets restless. It's very kind of you to +come so often, Miss Lesley. Here, Magdalen, will you put this basket +the lady's brought up there on the shelf?" + +A girl, who had been sitting unnoticed with her back to the visitors, +at the head of the child's cot in one corner of the room, stood up and +slowly turned around. Marian and Esterbrook Elliott both started with +involuntary surprise. Esterbrook caught his breath like a man suddenly +awakened from sleep. In the name of all that was wonderful, who or +what could this girl be, so little in harmony with her surroundings? + +Standing in the crepuscular light of the corner, her marvellous beauty +shone out with the vivid richness of some rare painting. She was tall, +and the magnificent proportions of her figure were enhanced rather +than marred by the severely plain dress of dark print that she wore. +The heavy masses of her hair, a shining auburn dashed with golden +foam, were coiled in a rich, glossy knot at the back of the +classically modelled head and rippled back from a low brow whose waxen +fairness even the breezes of the ocean had spared. + +The girl's face was a full, perfect oval, with features of faultless +regularity, and the large, full eyes were of tawny hazel, darkened +into inscrutable gloom in the dimness of the corner. + +Not even Marian Lesley's face was more delicately tinted, but not a +trace of colour appeared in the smooth, marble-like cheeks; yet the +waxen pallor bore no trace of disease or weakness, and the large, +curving mouth was of an intense crimson. + +She stood quite motionless. There was no trace of embarrassment or +self-consciousness in her pose. When Mrs. Barrett said, "This is my +niece, Magdalen Crawford," she merely inclined her head in grave, +silent acknowledgement. As she moved forward to take Marian's basket, +she seemed oddly out of place in the low, crowded room. Her presence +seemed to throw a strange restraint over the group. + +Marian rose and went over to the cot, laying her slender hand on the +hot forehead of the little sufferer. The child opened its brown eyes +questioningly. + +"How are you today, Bessie?" + +"Mad'len--I want Mad'len," moaned the little plaintive voice. + +Magdalen came over and stood beside Marian Lesley. + +"She wants me," she said in a low, thrilling voice; free from all +harsh accent or intonation. "I am the only one she seems to know +always. Yes, darling, Mad'len is here--right beside you. She will not +leave you." + +She knelt by the little cot and passed her arm under the child's neck, +drawing the curly head close to her throat with a tender, soothing +motion. + +Esterbrook Elliott watched the two women intently--the one standing by +the cot, arrayed in simple yet costly apparel, with her beautiful, +high-bred face, and the other, kneeling on the bare, sanded floor in +her print dress, with her splendid head bent low over the child and +the long fringe of burnished lashes sweeping the cold pallor of the +oval cheek. + +From the moment that Magdalen Crawford's haunting eyes had looked +straight into his for one fleeting second, an unnamable thrill of pain +and pleasure stirred his heart, a thrill so strong and sudden and +passionate that his face paled with emotion; the room seemed to swim +before his eyes in a mist out of which gleamed that wonderful face +with its mesmeric, darkly radiant eyes, burning their way into deeps +and abysses of his soul hitherto unknown to him. + +When the mist cleared away and his head grew steadier, he wondered at +himself. Yet he trembled in every limb and the only clear idea that +struggled out of his confused thoughts was an overmastering desire to +take that cold face between his hands and kiss it until its +passionless marble glowed into warm and throbbing life. + +"Who is that girl?" he said abruptly, when they had left the cottage. +"She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen--present company +always excepted," he concluded, with a depreciatory laugh. + +The delicate bloom on Marian's face deepened slightly. + +"You had much better to have omitted that last sentence," she said +quietly, "it was so palpably an afterthought. Yes, she is wonderfully +lovely--a strange beauty, I fancied. There seemed something odd and +uncanny about it to me. She must be Mrs. Barrett's niece. I remember +that when I was down here about a month ago Mrs. Barrett told me she +expected a niece of hers to live with her--for a time at least. Her +parents were both dead, the father having died recently. Mrs. Barrett +seemed troubled about her. She said that the girl had been well +brought up and used to better things than the Cove could give her, and +she feared that she would be very discontented and unhappy. I had +forgotten all about it until I saw the girl today. She certainly seems +to be a very superior person; she will find the Cove very lonely, I am +sure. It is not probable she will stay there long. I must see what I +can do for her, but her manner seemed rather repellent, don't you +think?" + +"Hardly," responded Esterbrook curtly. "She seemed surprisingly +dignified and self-possessed, I fancied, for a girl in her position. A +princess could not have looked and bowed more royally. There was not a +shadow of embarrassment in her manner, in spite of the incongruity of +her surroundings. You had much better leave her alone, Marian. In all +probability she would resent any condescension on your part. What +wonderful, deep, lovely eyes she has." + +Again the sensitive colour flushed Marian's cheek as his voice lapsed +unconsciously into a dreamy, retrospective tone, and a slight +restraint came over her manner, which did not depart. Esterbrook went +away at sunset. Marian asked him to remain for the evening, but he +pleaded some excuse. + +"I shall come tomorrow afternoon," he said, as he stooped to drop a +careless good-bye kiss on her face. + +Marian watched him wistfully as he rode away, with an unaccountable +pain in her heart. She felt more acutely than ever that there were +depths in her lover's nature that she was powerless to stir into +responsive life. + +Had any other that power? She thought of the girl at the Cove, with +her deep eyes and wonderful face. A chill of premonitory fear seized +upon her. + +"I feel exactly as if Esterbrook had gone away from me forever," she +said slowly to herself, stooping to brush her cheek against a +dew-cold, milk-white acacia bloom, "and would never come back to me +again. If that could happen, I wonder what there would be left to live +for?" + + * * * * * + +Esterbrook Elliott meant, or honestly thought he meant, to go home +when he left Marian. Nevertheless, when he reached the road branching +off to the Cove he turned his horse down it with a flush on his dark +cheek. He realized that the motive of the action was disloyal to +Marian and he felt ashamed of his weakness. + +But the desire to see Magdalen Crawford once more and to look into the +depths of her eyes was stronger than all else, and overpowered every +throb of duty and resistance. + +He saw nothing of her when he reached the Cove. He could think of no +excuse for calling at the Barrett cottage, so he rode slowly past the +hamlet and along the shore. + +The sun, red as a smouldering ember, was half buried in the silken +violet rim of the sea; the west was a vast lake of saffron and rose +and ethereal green, through which floated the curved shallop of a thin +new moon, slowly deepening from lustreless white, through gleaming +silver, into burnished gold, and attended by one solitary, pearl-white +star. The vast concave of sky above was of violet, infinite and +flawless. Far out dusky amethystine islets clustered like gems on the +shining breast of the bay. The little pools of water along the low +shores glowed like mirrors of polished jacinth. The small, +pine-fringed headlands ran out into the water, cutting its lustrous +blue expanse like purple wedges. + +As Esterbrook turned one of them he saw Magdalen standing out on the +point of the next, a short distance away. Her back was towards him, +and her splendid figure was outlined darkly against the vivid sky. + +Esterbrook sprang from his horse and left the animal standing by +itself while he walked swiftly out to her. His heart throbbed +suffocatingly. He was conscious of no direct purpose save merely to +see her. + +She turned when he reached her with a slight start of surprise. His +footsteps had made no sound on the tide-rippled sand. + +For a few moments they faced each other so, eyes burning into eyes +with mute soul-probing and questioning. The sun had disappeared, +leaving a stain of fiery red to mark his grave; the weird, radiant +light was startlingly vivid and clear. Little crisp puffs and flakes +of foam scurried over the point like elfin things. The fresh wind, +blowing up the bay, tossed the lustrous rings of hair about Magdalen's +pale face; all the routed shadows of the hour had found refuge in her +eyes. + +Not a trace of colour appeared in her face under Esterbrook Elliott's +burning gaze. But when he said "Magdalen!" a single, hot scorch of +crimson flamed up into her cheeks protestingly. She lifted her hand +with a splendid gesture, but no word passed her lips. + +"Magdalen, have you nothing to say to me?" he asked, coming closer to +her with an imploring passion in his face never seen by Marian +Lesley's eyes. He reached out his hand, but she stepped back from his +touch. + +"What should I have to say to you?" + +"Say that you are glad to see me." + +"I am not glad to see you. You have no right to come here. But I knew +you would come." + +"You knew it? How?" + +"Your eyes told me so today. I am not blind--I can see further than +those dull fisher folks. Yes, I knew you would come. That is why I +came here tonight--so that you would find me alone and I could tell +you that you were not to come again." + +"Why must you tell me that, Magdalen?" + +"Because, as I have told you, you have no right to come." + +"But if I will not obey you? If I will come in defiance of your +prohibition?" + +She turned her steady luminous eyes on his pale, set face. + +"You would stamp yourself as a madman, then," she said coldly. "I know +that you are Miss Lesley's promised husband. Therefore, you are either +false to her or insulting to me. In either case the companionship of +Magdalen Crawford is not what you must seek. Go!" + +She turned away from him with an imperious gesture of dismissal. +Esterbrook Elliott stepped forward and caught one firm, white wrist. + +"I shall not obey you," he said in a low, intense tone; his fine eyes +burned into hers. "You may send me away, but I will come back, again +and yet again until you have learned to welcome me. Why should you +meet me like an enemy? Why can we not be friends?" + +The girl faced him once more. + +"Because," she said proudly, "I am not your equal. There can be no +friendship between us. There ought not to be. Magdalen Crawford, the +fisherman's niece, is no companion for you. You will be foolish, as +well as disloyal, if you ever try to see me again. Go back to the +beautiful, high-bred woman you love and forget me. Perhaps you think I +am talking strangely. Perhaps you think me bold and unwomanly to speak +so plainly to you, a stranger. But there are some circumstances in +life when plain-speaking is best. I do not want to see you again. Now, +go back to your own world." + +Esterbrook Elliott slowly turned from her and walked in silence back +to the shore. In the shadows of the point he stopped to look back at +her, standing out like some inspired prophetess against the fiery +background of the sunset sky and silver-blue water. The sky overhead +was thick-sown with stars; the night breeze was blowing up from its +lair in distant, echoing sea caves. On his right the lights of the +Cove twinkled out through the dusk. + +"I feel like a coward and a traitor," he said slowly. "Good God, what +is this madness that has come over me? Is this my boasted strength of +manhood?" + +A moment later the hoof beats of his horse died away up the shore. + +Magdalen Crawford lingered on the point until the last dull red faded +out into the violet gloom of the June sea dusk, than which nothing can +be rarer or diviner, and listened to the moan and murmur of the sea +far out over the bay with sorrowful eyes and sternly set lips. + +The next day, when the afternoon sun hung hot and heavy over the +water, Esterbrook Elliott came again to the Cove. He found it +deserted. A rumour of mackerel had come, and every boat had sailed +out in the rose-red dawn to the fishing grounds. But down on a strip +of sparkling yellow sand he saw Magdalen Crawford standing, her hand +on the rope that fastened a small white dory to the fragment of a +half-embedded wreck. + +She was watching a huddle of gulls clustered on the tip of a narrow, +sandy spit running out to the left. She turned at the sound of his +hurried foot-fall behind her. Her face paled slightly, and into the +depths of her eyes leapt a passionate, mesmeric glow that faded as +quickly as it came. + +"You see I have come back in spite of your command, Magdalen." + +"I do see it," she answered in a gravely troubled voice. "You are a +madman who refuses to be warned." + +"Where are you going, Magdalen?" She had loosened the rope from the +wreck. + +"I am going to row over to Chapel Point for salt. They think the boats +will come in tonight loaded with mackerel--look at them away out there +by the score--and salt will be needed." + +"Can you row so far alone?" + +"Easily. I learned to row long ago--for a pastime then. Since coming +here I find it of great service to me." + +She stepped lightly into the tiny shallop and picked up an oar. The +brilliant sunshine streamed about her, burnishing the rich tints of +her hair into ruddy gold. She balanced herself to the swaying of the +dory with the grace of a sea bird. The man looking at her felt his +brain reel. + +"Good-bye, Mr. Elliott." + +For answer he sprang into the dory and, snatching an oar, pushed +against the old wreck with such energy that the dory shot out from the +shore like a foam bell. His sudden spring had set it rocking +violently. Magdalen almost lost her footing and caught blindly at his +arm. As her fingers closed on his wrist a thrill as of fire shot +through his every vein. + +"Why have you done this, Mr. Elliott? You must go back." + +"But I will not," he said masterfully, looking straight into her eyes +with an imperiousness that sat well upon him. "I am going to row you +over to Chapel Point. I have the oars--I will be master this once, at +least." + +For an instant her eyes flashed defiant protest, then drooped before +his. A sudden, hot blush crimsoned her pale face. His will had +mastered hers; the girl trembled from head to foot, and the proud, +sensitive, mouth quivered. + +Into the face of the man watching her breathlessly flashed a +triumphant, passionate joy. He put out his hand and gently pushed her +down into the seat. Sitting opposite, he took up the oars and pulled +out over the sheet of sparkling blue water, through which at first the +bottom of white sand glimmered wavily but afterwards deepened to +translucent, dim depths of greenness. + +His heart throbbed tumultuously. Once the thought of Marian drifted +across his mind like a chill breath of wind, but it was forgotten when +his eyes met Magdalen's. + +"Tell me about yourself, Magdalen," he said at last, breaking the +tremulous, charmed, sparkling silence. + +"There is nothing to tell," she answered with characteristic +straightforwardness. "My life has been a very uneventful one. I have +never been rich, or very well educated, but--it used to be different +from now. I had some chance before--before Father died." + +"You must have found it very lonely and strange when you came here +first." + +"Yes. At first I thought I should die--but I do not mind it now. I +have made friends with the sea; it has taught me a great deal. There +is a kind of inspiration in the sea. When one listens to its +never-ceasing murmur afar out there, always sounding at midnight and +midday, one's soul goes out to meet Eternity. Sometimes it gives me so +much pleasure that it is almost pain." + +She stopped abruptly. + +"I don't know why I am talking to you like this." + +"You are a strange girl, Magdalen. Have you no other companion than +the sea?" + +"No. Why should I wish to have? I shall not be here long." + +Elliott's face contracted with a spasm of pain. + +"You are not going away, Magdalen?" + +"Yes--in the fall. I have my own living to earn, you know. I am very +poor. Uncle and Aunt are very kind, but I cannot consent to burden +them any longer than I can help." + +A sigh that was almost a moan broke from Esterbrook Elliott's lips. + +"You must not go away, Magdalen. You must stay here--with me!" + +"You forget yourself," she said proudly. "How dare you speak to me so? +Have you forgotten Miss Lesley? Or are you a traitor to us both?" + +Esterbrook made no answer. He bowed his pale, miserable face before +her, self-condemned. + +The breast of the bay sparkled with its countless gems like the breast +of a fair woman. The shores were purple and amethystine in the +distance. Far out, bluish, phantom-like sails clustered against the +pallid horizon. The dory danced like a feather over the ripples. They +were close under the shadow of Chapel Point. + + * * * * * + +Marian Lesley waited in vain for her lover that afternoon. When he +came at last in the odorous dusk of the June night she met him on the +acacia-shadowed verandah with cold sweetness. Perhaps some subtle +woman-instinct whispered to her where and how he had spent the +afternoon, for she offered him no kiss, nor did she ask him why he had +failed to come sooner. + +His eyes lingered on her in the dim light, taking in every detail of +her sweet womanly refinement and loveliness, and with difficulty he +choked back a groan. Again he asked himself what madness had come over +him, and again for an answer rose up the vision of Magdalen Crawford's +face as he had seen it that day, crimsoning beneath his gaze. + +It was late when he left. Marian watched him out of sight, standing +under the acacias. She shivered as with a sudden chill. "I feel as I +think Vashti must have felt," she murmured aloud, "when, discrowned +and unqueened, she crept out of the gates of Shushan to hide her +broken heart. I wonder if Esther has already usurped my sceptre. Has +that girl at the Cove, with her pale, priestess-like face and +mysterious eyes, stolen his heart from me? Perhaps not, for it may +never have been mine. I know that Esterbrook Elliott will be true to +the letter of his vows to me, no matter what it may cost him. But I +want no pallid shadow of the love that belongs to another. The hour of +abdication is at hand, I fear. And what will be left for throneless +Vashti then?" + +Esterbrook Elliott, walking home through the mocking calm of the +night, fought a hard battle with himself. + +He was face to face with the truth at last--the bitter knowledge that +he had never loved Marian Lesley, save with a fond, brotherly +affection, and that he did love Magdalen Crawford with a passion that +threatened to sweep before it every vestige of his honour and +loyalty. + +He had seen her but three times--and his throbbing heart lay in the +hollow of her cold white hand. + +He shut his eyes and groaned. What madness. What unutterable folly! He +was not free--he was bound to another by every cord of honour and +self-respect. And, even were he free, Magdalen Crawford would be no +fit wife for him--in the eyes of the world, at least. A girl from the +Cove--a girl with little education and no social standing--aye! but he +loved her. + +He groaned again and again in his misery. Afar down the slope the bay +waters lay like an inky strip and the distant, murmurous plaint of the +sea came out of the stillness of the night; the lights at the Cove +glimmered faintly. + +In the week that followed he went to the Cove every day. Sometimes he +did not see Magdalen; at other times he did. But at the end of the +week he had conquered in the bitter, heart-crushing struggle with +himself. If he had weakly given way to the first mad sweep of a new +passion, the strength of his manhood reasserted itself at last. +Faltering and wavering were over, though there was passionate pain in +his voice when he said at last, "I am not coming back again, +Magdalen." + +They were standing in the shadow of the pine-fringed point that ran +out to the left of the Cove. They had been walking together along the +shore, watching the splendour of the sea sunset that flamed and glowed +in the west, where there was a sea of mackerel clouds, crimson and +amber tinted, with long, ribbon-like strips of apple-green sky +between. They had walked in silence, hand in hand, as children might +have done, yet with the stir and throb of a mighty passion seething in +their hearts. + +Magdalen turned as Esterbrook spoke, and looked at him in a long +silence. The bay stretched out before them, tranced and shimmering; a +few stars shone down through the gloom of dusk. Right across the +translucent greens and roses and blues of the west hung a dark, +unsightly cloud, like the blurred outline of a monstrous bat. In the +dim, reflected light the girl's mournful face took on a weird, +unearthly beauty. She turned her eyes from Esterbrook Elliott's set +white face to the radiant gloom of the sea. + +"That is best," she answered at last, slowly. + +"Best--yes! Better that we had never met! I love you--you know +it--words are idle between us. I never loved before--I thought I did. +I made a mistake and I must pay the penalty of that mistake. You +understand me?" + +"I understand," she answered simply. + +"I do not excuse myself--I have been weak and cowardly and disloyal. +But I have conquered myself--I will be true to the woman to whom I am +pledged. You and I must not meet again. I will crush this madness to +death. I think I have been delirious ever since that day I saw you +first, Magdalen. My brain is clearer now. I see my duty and I mean to +do it at any cost. I dare not trust myself to say more. Magdalen, I +have much for which to ask your forgiveness." + +"There is nothing to forgive," she said steadily. "I have been as much +to blame as you. If I had been as resolute as I ought to have been--if +I had sent you away the second time as I did the first--this would not +have come to pass. I have been weak too, and I deserve to atone for my +weakness by suffering. There is only one path open to us. Esterbrook, +good-bye." Her voice quivered with an uncontrollable spasm of pain, +but the misty, mournful eyes did not swerve from his. The man stepped +forward and caught her in his arms. + +"Magdalen, good-bye, my darling. Kiss me once--only once--before I +go." + +She loosened his arms and stepped back proudly. + +"No! No man kisses my lips unless he is to be my husband. Good-bye, +dear." + +He bowed his head silently and went away, looking back not once, else +he might have seen her kneeling on the damp sand weeping noiselessly +and passionately. + + * * * * * + +Marian Lesley looked at his pale, determined face the next evening and +read it like an open book. + +She had grown paler herself; there were purple shadows under the sweet +violet eyes that might have hinted of her own sleepless nights. + +She greeted him calmly, holding out a steady, white hand of welcome. +She saw the traces of the struggle through which he had passed and +knew that he had come off victor. + +The knowledge made her task a little harder. It would have been easier +to let slip the straining cable than to cast it from her when it lay +unresistingly in her hand. + +For an instant her heart thrilled with an unutterably sweet hope. +Might he not forget in time? Need she snap in twain the weakened bond +between them after all? Perhaps she might win back her lost sceptre, +yet if-- + +Womanly pride throttled the struggling hope. No divided allegiance, no +hollow semblance of queenship for her! + +Her opportunity came when Esterbrook asked with grave earnestness if +their marriage might not be hastened a little--could he not have his +bride in August? For a fleeting second Marian closed her eyes and the +slender hands, lying among the laces in her lap, clasped each other +convulsively. + +Then she said quietly, "Sometimes I have thought, Esterbrook, that it +might be better--if we were never married at all." + +Esterbrook turned a startled face upon her. + +"Not married at all! Marian, what do you mean?" + +"Just what I say. I do not think we are as well suited to each other +after all as we have fancied. We have loved each other as brother and +sister might--that is all. I think it will be best to be brother and +sister forever--nothing more." + +Esterbrook sprang to his feet. + +"Marian, do you know what you are saying? You surely cannot have +heard--no one could have told you--" + +"I have heard nothing," she interrupted hurriedly. "No one has told me +anything. I have only said what I have been thinking of late. I am +sure we have made a mistake. It is not too late to remedy it. You will +not refuse my request, Esterbrook? You will set me free?" + +"Good heavens, Marian!" he said hoarsely. "I cannot realize that you +are in earnest. Have you ceased to care for me?" The rigidly locked +hands were clasped a little tighter. + +"No--I shall always care for you as my friend if you will let me. But +I know we could not make each other happy--the time for that has gone +by. I would never be satisfied, nor would you. Esterbrook, will you +release me from a promise which has become an irksome fetter?" + +He looked down on her upturned face mistily. A great joy was surging +up in his heart--yet it was mingled with great regret. + +He knew--none better--what was passing out of his life, what he was +losing when he lost that pure, womanly nature. + +"If you really mean this, Marian," he said slowly, "if you really have +come to feel that your truest love is not and never can be mine--that +I cannot make you happy--then there is nothing for me to do but to +grant your request. You are free." + +"Thank you, dear," she said gently, as she stood up. + +She slipped his ring from her finger and held it out to him. He took +it mechanically. He still felt dazed and unreal. + +Marian held out her hand. + +"Good-night, Esterbrook," she said, a little wearily. "I feel tired. I +am glad you see it all in the same light as I do." + +"Marian," he said earnestly, clasping the outstretched hand, "are you +sure that you will be happy--are you sure that you are doing a wise +thing?" + +"Quite sure," she answered, with a faint smile. "I am not acting +rashly. I have thought it all over carefully. Things are much better +so, dear. We will always be friends. Your joys and sorrows will be to +me as my own. When another love comes to bless your life, Esterbrook, +I will be glad. And now, good-night. I want to be alone now." + +At the doorway he turned to look back at her, standing in all her +sweet stateliness in the twilight duskness, and the keen realization +of all he had lost made him bow his head with a quick pang of regret. + +Then he went out into the darkness of the summer night. + +An hour later he stood alone on the little point where he had parted +with Magdalen the night before. A restless night wind was moaning +through the pines that fringed the bank behind him; the moon shone +down radiantly, turning the calm expanse of the bay into a milk-white +sheen. + +He took Marian's ring from his pocket and kissed it reverently. Then +he threw it from him far out over the water. For a second the diamond +flashed in the moonlight; then, with a tiny splash, it fell among the +ripples. + +Esterbrook turned his face to the Cove, lying dark and silent in the +curve between the crescent headlands. A solitary light glimmered from +the low eaves of the Barrett cottage. + +Tomorrow, was his unspoken thought, I will be free; to go back to +Magdalen. + + + + +An Invitation Given on Impulse + + +It was a gloomy Saturday morning. The trees in the Oaklawn grounds +were tossing wildly in the gusts of wind, and sodden brown leaves were +blown up against the windows of the library, where a score of girls +were waiting for the principal to bring the mail in. + +The big room echoed with the pleasant sound of girlish voices and low +laughter, for in a fortnight school would close for the holidays, and +they were all talking about their plans and anticipations. + +Only Ruth Mannering was, as usual, sitting by herself near one of the +windows, looking out on the misty lawn. She was a pale, slender girl, +with a sad face, and was dressed in rather shabby black. She had no +special friend at Oaklawn, and the other girls did not know much about +her. If they had thought about it at all, they would probably have +decided that they did not like her; but for the most part they simply +overlooked her. + +This was not altogether their fault. Ruth was poor and apparently +friendless, but it was not her poverty that was against her. Lou +Scott, who was "as poor as a church mouse," to quote her own frank +admission, was the most popular girl in the seminary, the boon +companion of the richest girls, and in demand with everybody. But Lou +was jolly and frank and offhanded, while Ruth was painfully shy and +reserved, and that was the secret of the whole matter. + +There was "no fun in her," the girls said, and so it came about that +she was left out of their social life, and was almost as solitary at +Oaklawn as if she had been the only girl there. She was there for the +special purpose of studying music, and expected to earn her own living +by teaching it when she left. She believed that the girls looked down +on her on this account; this was unjust, of course, but Ruth had no +idea how much her own coldness and reserve had worked against her. + +Across the room Carol Golden was, as usual, the centre of an animated +group; Golden Carol as her particular friends sometimes called her, +partly because of her beautiful voice, and partly because of her +wonderful fleece of golden hair. Carol was one of the seminary pets, +and seemed to Ruth Mannering to have everything that she had not. + +Presently the mail was brought in, and there was a rush to the table, +followed by exclamations of satisfaction or disappointment. In a few +minutes the room was almost deserted. Only two girls remained: Carol +Golden, who had dropped into a big chair to read her many letters; and +Ruth Mannering, who had not received any and had gone silently back to +her part of the window. + +Presently Carol gave a little cry of delight. Her mother had written +that she might invite any friend she wished home with her to spend the +holidays. Carol had asked for this permission, and now that it had +come was ready to dance for joy. As to whom she would ask, there could +be only one answer to that. Of course it must be her particular +friend, Maud Russell, who was the cleverest and prettiest girl at +Oaklawn, at least so her admirers said. She was undoubtedly the +richest, and was the acknowledged "leader." The girls affectionately +called her "Princess," and Carol adored her with that romantic +affection that is found only among school girls. She knew, too, that +Maud would surely accept her invitation because she did not intend to +go home. Her parents were travelling in Europe, and she expected to +spend her holidays with some cousins, who were almost strangers to +her. + +Carol was so much pleased that she felt as if she must talk to +somebody, so she turned to Ruth. + +"Isn't it delightful to think that we'll all be going home in a +fortnight?" + +"Yes, very--for those that have homes to go to," said Ruth drearily. + +Carol felt a quick pang of pity and self-reproach. "Haven't you?" she +asked. + +Ruth shook her head. In spite of herself, the kindness of Carol's tone +brought the tears to her eyes. + +"My mother died a year ago," she said in a trembling voice, "and since +then I have had no real home. We were quite alone in the world, Mother +and I, and now I have nobody." + +"Oh, I'm so sorry for you," cried Carol impulsively. She leaned +forward and took Ruth's hand in a gentle way. "And do you mean to say +that you'll have to stay here all through the holidays? Why, it will +be horrid." + +"Oh, I shall not mind it much," said Ruth quickly, "with study and +practice most of the time. Only now, when everyone is talking about +it, it makes me wish that I had some place to go." + +Carol dropped Ruth's hand suddenly in the shock of a sudden idea that +darted into her mind. + +A stray girl passing through the hall called out, "Ruth, Miss Siviter +wishes to see you about something in Room C." + +Ruth got up quickly. She was glad to get away, for it seemed to her +that in another minute she would break down altogether. + +Carol Golden hardly noticed her departure. She gathered up her letters +and went abstractedly to her room, unheeding a gay call for "Golden +Carol" from a group of girls in the corridor. Maud Russell was not in +and Carol was glad. She wanted to be alone and fight down that sudden +idea. + +"It is ridiculous to think of it," she said aloud, with a petulance +very unusual in Golden Carol, whose disposition was as sunny as her +looks. "Why, I simply cannot. I have always been longing to ask Maud +to visit me, and now that the chance has come I am not going to throw +it away. I am very sorry for Ruth, of course. It must be dreadful to +be all alone like that. But it isn't my fault. And she is so fearfully +quiet and dowdy--what would they all think of her at home? Frank and +Jack would make such fun of her. I shall ask Maud just as soon as she +comes in." + +Maud did come in presently, but Carol did not give her the invitation. +Instead, she was almost snappish to her idol, and the Princess soon +went out again in something of a huff. + +"Oh, dear," cried Carol, "now I've offended her. What has got into me? +What a disagreeable thing a conscience is, although I'm sure I don't +know why mine should be prodding me so! I don't want to invite Ruth +Mannering home with me for the holidays, but I feel exactly as if I +should not have a minute's peace of mind all the time if I didn't. +Mother would think it all right, of course. She would not mind if Ruth +dressed in calico and never said anything but yes and no. But how the +boys would laugh! I simply won't do it, conscience or no conscience." + +In view of this decision it was rather strange that the next morning, +Carol Golden went down to Ruth Mannering's lonely little room on +Corridor Two and said, "Ruth, will you go home with me for the +holidays? Mother wrote me to invite anyone I wished to. Don't say you +can't come, dear, because you must." + +Carol never, as long as she lived, forgot Ruth's face at that moment. + +"It was absolutely transfigured," she said afterwards. "I never saw +anyone look so happy in my life." + + * * * * * + +A fortnight later unwonted silence reigned at Oaklawn. The girls were +scattered far and wide, and Ruth Mannering and Carol Golden were at +the latter's home. + +Carol was a very much surprised girl. Under the influence of kindness +and pleasure Ruth seemed transformed into a different person. Her +shyness and reserve melted away in the sunny atmosphere of the Golden +home. Mrs. Golden took her into her motherly heart at once; and as for +Frank and Jack, whose verdict Carol had so dreaded, they voted Ruth +"splendid." She certainly got along very well with them; and if she +did not make the social sensation that pretty Maud Russell might have +made, the Goldens all liked her and Carol was content. + +"Just four days more," sighed Carol one afternoon, "and then we must +go back to Oaklawn. Can you realize it, Ruth?" + +Ruth looked up from her book with a smile. Even in appearance she had +changed. There was a faint pink in her cheeks and a merry light in her +eyes. + +"I shall not be sorry to go back to work," she said. "I feel just like +it because I have had so pleasant a time here that it has heartened me +up for next term. I think it will be very different from last. I begin +to see that I kept to myself too much and brooded over fancied +slights." + +"And then you are to room with me since Maud is not coming back," said +Carol. "What fun we shall have. Did you ever toast marshmallows over +the gas? Why, I declare, there is Mr. Swift coming up the walk. Look, +Ruth! He is the richest man in Westleigh." + +Ruth peeped out of the window over Carol's shoulder. + +"He reminds me of somebody," she said absently, "but I can't think who +it is. Of course, I have never seen him before. What a good face he +has!" + +"He is as good as he looks," said Carol, enthusiastically. "Next to +Father, Mr. Swift is the nicest man in the world. I have always been +quite a pet of his. His wife is dead, and so is his only daughter. She +was a lovely girl and died only two years ago. It nearly broke Mr. +Swift's heart. And he has lived alone ever since in that great big +house up at the head of Warner Street, the one you admired so, Ruth, +the last time we were uptown. There's the bell for the second time, +Mary can't have heard it. I'll go myself." + +As Carol showed the caller into the room, Ruth rose to leave and thus +came face to face with him. Mr. Swift started perceptibly. + +"Mr. Swift, this is my school friend, Miss Mannering," said Carol. + +Mr. Swift seemed strangely agitated as he took Ruth's timidly offered +hand. + +"My dear young lady," he said hurriedly, "I am going to ask you what +may seem a very strange question. What was your mother's name?" + +"Agnes Hastings," answered Ruth in surprise. And then Carol really +thought that Mr. Swift had gone crazy, for he drew Ruth into his arms +and kissed her. + +"I knew it," he said. "I was sure you were Agnes' daughter, for you +are the living image of what she was when I last saw her. Child, you +don't know me, but I am your Uncle Robert. Your mother was my +half-sister." + +"Oh, Mr. Swift!" cried Carol, and then she ran for her mother. + +Ruth turned pale and dropped into a chair, and Mr. Swift sat down +beside her. + +"To think that I have found you at last, child. How puzzled you look. +Did your mother never speak of me? How is she? Where is she?" + +"Mother died last year," said Ruth. + +"Poor Agnes! And I never knew! Don't cry, little girl. I want you to +tell me all about it. She was much younger than I was, and when our +mother died my stepfather went away and took her with him. I remained +with my father's people and eventually lost all trace of my sister. I +was a poor boy then, but things have looked up with me and I have +often tried to find her." + +By this time Carol had returned with her father and mother, and there +was a scene--laughing, crying, explaining--and I don't really know +which of the two girls was the more excited, Carol or Ruth. As for Mr. +Swift, he was overjoyed to find his niece and wanted to carry her off +with him then and there, but Mrs. Golden insisted on her finishing her +visit. When the question of returning to Oaklawn came up, Mr. Swift +would not hear of it at first, but finally yielded to Carol's +entreaties and Ruth's own desire. + +"I shall graduate next year, Uncle, and then I can come back to you +for good." + +That evening when Ruth was alone in her room, trying to collect her +thoughts and realize that the home and love that she had so craved +were really to be hers at last, Golden Carol was with her mother in +the room below, talking it all over. + +"Just think, Mother, if I had not asked Ruth to come here, this would +not have happened. And I didn't want to, I wanted to ask Maud so much, +and I was dreadfully disappointed when I couldn't--for I really +couldn't. I could not help remembering the look in Ruth's eyes when +she said that she had no home to go to, and so I asked her instead of +Maud. How dreadful it would have been if I hadn't." + + + + +Detected by the Camera + + +One summer I was attacked by the craze for amateur photography. It +became chronic afterwards, and I and my camera have never since been +parted. We have had some odd adventures together, and one of the most +novel of our experiences was that in which we played the part of chief +witness against Ned Brooke. + +I may say that my name is Amy Clarke, and that I believe I am +considered the best amateur photographer in our part of the country. +That is all I need tell you about myself. + +Mr. Carroll had asked me to photograph his place for him when the +apple orchards were in bloom. He has a picturesque old-fashioned +country house behind a lawn of the most delightful old trees and +flanked on each side by the orchards. So I went one June afternoon, +with all my accoutrements, prepared to "take" the Carroll +establishment in my best style. + +Mr. Carroll was away but was expected home soon, so we waited for him, +as all the family wished to be photographed under the big maple at the +front door. I prowled around among the shrubbery at the lower end of +the lawn and, after a great deal of squinting from various angles, I +at last fixed upon the spot from which I thought the best view of the +house might be obtained. Then Gertie and Lilian Carroll and I got into +the hammocks and swung at our leisure, enjoying the cool breeze +sweeping through the maples. + +Ned Brooke was hanging around as usual, watching us furtively. Ned was +one of the hopeful members of a family that lived in a tumble-down +shanty just across the road from the Carrolls. They were wretchedly +poor, and old Brooke, as he was called, and Ned were employed a good +deal by Mr. Carroll--more out of charity than anything else, I fancy. + +The Brookes had a rather shady reputation. They were notoriously lazy, +and it was suspected that their line of distinction between their own +and their neighbours' goods was not very clearly drawn. Many people +censured Mr. Carroll for encouraging them at all, but he was too +kind-hearted to let them suffer actual want and, as a consequence, one +or the other of them was always dodging about his place. + +Ned was a lank, tow-headed youth of about fourteen, with shifty, +twinkling eyes that could never look you straight in the face. His +appearance was anything but prepossessing, and I always felt, when I +looked at him, that if anyone wanted to do a piece of shady work by +proxy, Ned Brooke would be the very lad for the business. + +Mr. Carroll came at last, and we all went down to meet him at the +gate. Ned Brooke also came shuffling along to take the horse, and Mr. +Carroll tossed the reins to him and at the same time handed a +pocketbook to his wife. + +"Just as well to be careful where you put that," he said laughingly. +"There's a sum in it not to be picked up on every gooseberry bush. +Gilman Harris paid me this morning for that bit of woodland I sold him +last fall--five hundred dollars. I promised that you and the girls +should have it to get a new piano, so there it is for you." + +"Thank you," said Mrs. Carroll delightedly. "However, you'd better put +it back in your pocket till we go in. Amy is in a hurry." + +Mr. Carroll took back the pocketbook and dropped it carelessly into +the inside pocket of the light overcoat that he wore. + +I happened to glance at Ned Brooke just then, and I could not help +noticing the sudden crafty, eager expression that flashed over his +face. He eyed the pocketbook in Mr. Carroll's hands furtively, after +which he went off with the horse in a great hurry. + +The girls were exclaiming and thanking their father, and nobody +noticed Ned Brooke's behaviour but myself, and it soon passed out of +my mind. + +"Come to take the place, are you, Amy?" said Mr. Carroll. "Well, +everything is ready, I think. I suppose we'd better proceed. Where +shall we stand? You had better group us as you think best." + +Whereupon I proceeded to arrange them in due order under the maple. +Mrs. Carroll sat in a chair, while her husband stood behind her. +Gertie stood on the steps with a basket of flowers in her hand, and +Lilian was at one side. The two little boys, Teddy and Jack, climbed +up into the maple, and little Dora, the dimpled six-year-old, stood +gravely in the foreground with an enormous grey cat hugged in her +chubby arms. + +It was a pretty group in a pretty setting, and I thrilled with +professional pride as I stepped back for a final, knowing squint at it +all. Then I went to my camera, slipped in the plate, gave them due +warning and took off the cap. + +I took two plates to make sure and then the thing was over, but as I +had another plate left I thought I might as well take a view of the +house by itself, so I carried my camera to a new place and had just +got everything ready to lift the cap when Mr. Carroll came down and +said: + +"If you girls want to see something pretty, come to the back field +with me. That will wait till you come back, won't it, Amy?" + +So we all betook ourselves to the back field, a short distance away, +where Mr. Carroll proudly displayed two of the prettiest little Jersey +cows I had ever seen. + +We returned to the house by way of the back lane and, as we came in +sight of the main road, my brother Cecil drove up and said that if I +were ready, I had better go home with him and save myself a hot, dusty +walk. + +The Carrolls all went down to the fence to speak to Cecil, but I +dashed hurriedly down through the orchard, leaped over the fence into +the lawn and ran to the somewhat remote corner where I had left my +camera. I was in a desperate hurry, for I knew Cecil's horse did not +like to be kept waiting, so I never even glanced at the house, but +snatched off the cap, counted two and replaced it. + +Then I took out my plate, put it in the holder and gathered up my +traps. I suppose I was about five minutes at it all and I had my back +to the house the whole time, and when I laid all my things ready and +emerged from my retreat, there was nobody to be seen about the place. + +As I hurried up through the lawn, I noticed Ned Brooke walking at a +smart pace down the lane, but the fact did not make any particular +impression on me at the time, and was not recalled until afterwards. + +Cecil was waiting for me, so I got in the buggy and we drove off. On +arriving home I shut myself up in my dark room and proceeded to +develop the first two negatives of the Carroll housestead. They were +both excellent, the first one being a trifle the better, so that I +decided to finish from it. I intended also to develop the third, but +just as I finished the others, a half-dozen city cousins swooped down +upon us and I had to put away my paraphernalia, emerge from my dark +retreat and fly around to entertain them. + +The next day Cecil came in and said: + +"Did you hear, Amy, that Mr. Carroll has lost a pocketbook with five +hundred dollars in it?" + +"No!" I exclaimed. "How? When? Where?" + +"Don't overwhelm a fellow. I can answer only one question--last night. +As to the 'how,' they don't know, and as to the 'where'--well, if they +knew that, there might be some hope of finding it. The girls are in a +bad way. The money was to get them their longed-for piano, it seems, +and now it's gone." + +"But how did it happen, Cecil?" + +"Well, Mr. Carroll says that Mrs. Carroll handed the pocketbook back +to him at the gate yesterday, and he dropped it in the inside pocket +of his over-coat--" + +"I saw him do it," I cried. + +"Yes, and then, before he went to be photographed, he hung his coat up +in the hall. It hung there until the evening, and nobody seems to have +thought about the money, each supposing that someone else had put it +carefully away. After tea Mr. Carroll put on the coat and went to see +somebody over at Netherby. He says the thought of the pocketbook never +crossed his mind; he had forgotten all about putting it in that coat +pocket. He came home across the fields about eleven o'clock and found +that the cows had broken into the clover hay, and he had a great chase +before he got them out. When he went in, just as he entered the door, +the remembrance of the money flashed over him. He felt in his pocket, +but there was no pocketbook there; he asked his wife if she had taken +it out. She had not, and nobody else had. There was a hole in the +pocket, but Mr. Carroll says it was too small for the pocketbook to +have worked through. However, it must have done so--unless someone +took it out of his pocket at Netherby, and that is not possible, +because he never had his coat off, and it was in an inside pocket. +It's not likely that they will ever see it again. Someone may pick it +up, of course, but the chances are slim. Mr. Carroll doesn't know his +exact path across the fields, and if he lost it while he was after the +cows, it's a bluer show still. They've been searching all day, of +course. The girls are awfully disappointed." + +A sudden recollection came to me of Ned Brooke's face as I had seen it +the day before at the gate, coupled with the remembrance of seeing him +walking down the lane at a quick pace, so unlike his usual shambling +gait, while I ran through the lawn. + +"How do they know it was lost?" I said. "Perhaps it was stolen before +Mr. Carroll went to Netherby." + +"They think not," said Cecil. "Who would have stolen it?" + +"Ned Brooke. I saw him hanging around. And you never saw such a look +as came over his face when he heard Mr. Carroll say there was five +hundred dollars in that pocketbook." + +"Well, I did suggest to them that Ned might know something about it, +for I remembered having seen him go down the lane while I was waiting +for you, but they won't hear of such a thing. The Brookes are kind of +proteges of theirs, you know, and they won't believe anything bad of +them. If Ned did take it, however, there's not a shadow of evidence +against him." + +"No, I suppose not," I answered thoughtfully, "but the more I think it +over, the more I'm convinced that he took it. You know, we all went to +the back field to look at the Jerseys, and all that time the coat was +hanging there in the hall, and not a soul in the house. And it was +just after we came back that I saw Ned scuttling down the lane so +fast." + +I mentioned my suspicions to the Carrolls a few days afterwards, when +I went down with the photographs, and found that they had discovered +no trace of the lost pocketbook. But they seemed positively angry when +I hinted that Ned Brooke might know more about its whereabouts than +anyone else. They declared that they would as soon think of suspecting +one of themselves as Ned, and altogether they seemed so offended at my +suggestion that I held my peace and didn't irritate them by any more +suppositions. + +Afterwards, in the excitement of our cousins' visit, the matter passed +out of my mind completely. They stayed two weeks, and I was so busy +the whole time that I never got a chance to develop that third plate +and, in fact, I had forgotten all about it. + +One morning soon after they went away, I remembered the plate and +decided to go and develop it. Cecil went with me, and we shut +ourselves up in our den, lit our ruby lantern and began operations. I +did not expect much of the plate, because it had been exposed and +handled carelessly, and I thought that it might prove to be +underexposed or light-struck. So I left Cecil to develop it while I +prepared the fixing bath. Cecil was whistling away when suddenly he +gave a tremendous "whew" of astonishment and sprang to his feet. + +"Amy, Amy, look here!" he cried. + +I rushed to his side and looked at the plate as he held it up in the +rosy light. It was a splendid one, and the Carroll house came out +clear, with the front door and the steps in full view. + +And there, just in the act of stepping from the threshold, was the +figure of a boy with an old straw hat on his head and--in his +hand--the pocketbook! + +He was standing with his head turned towards the corner of the house +as if listening, with one hand holding his ragged coat open and the +other poised in mid-air with the pocketbook, as if he were just going +to put it in his inside pocket. The whole scene was as clear as +noonday, and nobody with eyes in his head could have failed to +recognize Ned Brooke. + +"Goodness!" I gasped. "In with it--quick!" + +And we doused the thing into the fixing bath and then sat down +breathlessly and looked at each other. + +"I say, Amy," said Cecil, "what a sell this will be on the Carrolls! +Ned Brooke couldn't do such a thing--oh, no! The poor injured boy at +whom everyone has such an unlawful pick! I wonder if this will +convince them." + +"Do you think they can get it all back?" I asked. "It's not likely he +would have dared to use any of it yet." + +"I don't know. We'll have a try, anyhow. How long before this plate +will be dry enough to carry down to the Carrolls as circumstantial +evidence?" + +"Three hours or thereabouts," I answered, "but perhaps sooner. I'll +take two prints off when it is ready. I wonder what the Carrolls will +say." + +"It's a piece of pure luck that the plate should have turned out so +well after the slap-dash way in which it was taken and used. I say, +Amy, isn't this quite an adventure?" + +At last the plate was dry, and I printed two proofs. We wrapped them +up carefully and marched down to Mr. Carroll's. + +You never saw people so overcome with astonishment as the Carrolls +were when Cecil, with the air of a statesman unfolding the evidence of +some dreadful conspiracy against the peace and welfare of the nation, +produced the plate and the proofs, and held them out before them. + +Mr. Carroll and Cecil took the proofs and went over to the Brooke +shanty. They found only Ned and his mother at home. At first Ned, when +taxed with his guilt, denied it, but when Mr. Carroll confronted him +with the proofs, he broke down in a spasm of terror and confessed all. +His mother produced the pocketbook and the money--they had not dared +to spend a single cent of it--and Mr. Carroll went home in triumph. + +Perhaps Ned Brooke ought not to have been let off so easily as he was, +but his mother cried and pleaded, and Mr. Carroll was too kind-hearted +to resist. So he did not punish them at all, save by utterly +discarding the whole family and their concerns. The place got too hot +for them after the story came out, and in less than a month all moved +away--much to the benefit of Mapleton. + + + + +In Spite of Myself + + +My trunk was packed and I had arranged with my senior partner--I was +the junior member of a law firm--for a month's vacation. Aunt Lucy had +written that her husband had gone on a sea trip and she wished me to +superintend the business of his farm and mills in his absence, if I +could arrange to do so. She added that "Gussie" thought it was a pity +to trouble me, and wanted to do the overseeing herself, but that +she--Aunt Lucy--preferred to have a man at the head of affairs. + +I had never seen my step-cousin, Augusta Ashley, but I knew, from Aunt +Lucy's remarks concerning her, pretty much what sort of person she +was--just the precise kind I disliked immeasurably. I had no idea what +her age was, but doubtless she was over thirty, tall, determined, +aggressive, with a "faculty" for managing, a sharp, probing nose, and +a y-formation between her eyebrows. I knew the type, and I was assured +that the period of sojourn with my respected aunt would be one of +strife between Miss Ashley and myself. + +I wrote to Aunt Lucy to expect me, made all necessary arrangements, +and went to bid Nellie goodbye. I had made up my mind to marry Nellie. +I had never openly avowed myself her suitor, but we were cousins, and +had grown up together, so that I knew her well enough to be sure of my +ground. I liked her so well that it was easy to persuade myself that I +was in love with her. She more nearly fulfilled the requirements of my +ideal wife than anyone I knew. She was pleasant to look upon, without +being distractingly pretty; small and fair and womanly. She dressed +nicely, sang and played agreeably, danced well, and had a cheerful, +affectionate disposition. She was not alarmingly clever, had no +"hobbies," and looked up to me as heir to all the wisdom of the +ages--what man does not like to be thought clever and brilliant? I had +no formidable rival, and our families were anxious for the match. I +considered myself a lucky fellow. I felt that I would be very lonely +without Nellie when I was away, and she admitted frankly that she +would miss me awfully. She looked so sweet that I was on the point of +asking her then and there to marry me. Well, fate interfered in the +guise of a small brother, so I said goodbye and left, mentally +comparing her to my idea of Miss Augusta Ashley, much to the latter's +disadvantage. + +When I stepped from the train at a sleepy country station next day I +was promptly waylaid by a black-eyed urchin who informed me that Mrs. +Ashley had sent him with an express wagon for my luggage, and that +"Miss Gussie" was waiting with the carriage at the store, pointing +down to a small building before whose door a girl was trying to soothe +her frightened horse. + +As I went down the slope towards her I noticed she was tall--quite too +tall for my taste. I dislike women who can look into my eyes on a +level--but I had to admit that her form was remarkably symmetrical and +graceful. She put out her hand--it was ungloved and large, but white +and firm, with a cool, pleasant touch--and said, with a composure akin +to indifference, "Mr. Carslake, I presume. Mother could not come to +meet you, so she sent me. Will you be kind enough to hold my horse for +a few minutes? I want to get something in the store." Whereupon she +calmly transferred the reins to me and disappeared. + +At the time she certainly did not impress me as pretty, yet neither +could I call her plain. Taken separately, her features were good. Her +nose was large and straight, the mouth also a trifle large but firm +and red, the brow wide and white, shadowed by a straying dash of brown +curl or two. She had a certain cool, statuesque paleness, accentuated +by straight, fine, black brows, and her eyes were a bluish grey; but +the pupils, as I afterward found out, had a trick of dilating into +wells of blackness which, added to a long fringe of very dark lashes, +made her eyes quite the most striking feature of her face. Her +expression was open and frank, and her voice clear and musical without +being sweet. She looked about twenty-two. + +At the time I did not fancy her appearance and made a mental note to +the effect that I would never like Miss Ashley. I had no use for cool, +businesslike women--women should have no concern with business. Nellie +would never have troubled her dear, curly head over it. + +Miss Ashley came out with her arms full of packages, stowed them away +in the carriage, got in, told me which road to take, and did not again +speak till we were out of the village and driving along a pretty +country lane, arched over with crimson maples and golden-brown +beeches. The purplish haze of a sunny autumn day mellowed over the +fields, and the bunch of golden rod at my companion's belt was akin to +the plumed ranks along the fences. I hazarded the remark that it was a +fine day; Miss Ashley gravely admitted that it was. Then a deep smile +seemed to rise somewhere in her eyes and creep over her face, +discovering a dimple here and there as it proceeded. + +"Don't let's talk about the weather--the subject is rather stale," she +said. "I suppose you are wondering why on earth Mother had to drag you +away out here. I tried to show her how foolish it was, but I didn't +succeed. Mother thinks there must be a man at the head of affairs or +they'll never go right. I could have taken full charge easily enough; +I haven't been Father's 'boy' all my life for nothing. There was no +need to take you away from your business." + +I protested. I said I was going to take a vacation anyway, and +business was not pressing just then. I also hinted that, while I had +no doubt of her capacity, she might have found the duties of +superintendent rather arduous. + +"Not at all," she said, with a serenity that made me groan inwardly. +"I like it. Father always said I was a born business manager. You'll +find Ashley's Mills very quiet, I'm afraid. It's a sort of charmed +Sleepy Hollow. See, there's home," as we turned a maple-blazoned +corner and looked from the crest of one hill across to that of +another. "Home" was a big, white, green-shuttered house buried amid a +riot of autumn colour, with a big grove of dark green spruces at the +back. Below them was a glimpse of a dark blue mill pond and beyond it +long sweeps of golden-brown meadow land, sloping up till they dimmed +in horizon mists of pearl and purple. + +"How pretty," I exclaimed admiringly. + +"Isn't it?" said Gussie proudly. "I love it." Her pupils dilated into +dark pools, and I rather unwillingly admitted that Miss Ashley was a +fine-looking girl. + +As we drove up Aunt Lucy was standing on the steps of the verandah, +over whose white roof trailed a luxuriant creeper, its leaves tinged +by October frosts into lovely wine reds and tawny yellows. Gussie +sprang out, barely touching my offered hand with her fingertips. + +"There's Mother waiting to pounce on you and hear all the family +news," she said, "so go and greet her like a dutiful nephew." + +"I must take out your horse for you first," I said politely. + +"Not at all," said Miss Ashley, taking the reins from my hands in a +way not to be disputed. "I always unharness Charley myself. No one +understands him half so well. Besides, I'm used to it. Didn't I tell +you I'd always been Father's boy?" + +"I well believe it," I thought in disgust, as she led the horse over +to the well and I went up to Aunt Lucy. Through the sitting-room +windows I kept a watchful eye on Miss Ashley as she watered and deftly +unharnessed Charley and led him into his stable with sundry pats on +his nose. Then I saw no more of her till she came in to tell us tea +was ready, and led the way out to the dining room. + +It was evident Miss Gussie held the reins of household government, and +no doubt worthily. Those firm, capable white hands of hers looked as +though they might be equal to a good many emergencies. She talked +little, leaving the conversation to Aunt Lucy and myself, though she +occasionally dropped in an apt word. Toward the end of the meal, +however, she caught hold of an unfortunate opinion I had incautiously +advanced and tore it into tatters. The result was a spirited argument, +in which Miss Gussie held her own with such ability that I was utterly +routed and found another grievance against her. It was very +humiliating to be worsted by a girl--a country girl at that, who had +passed most of her life on a farm! No doubt she was strong-minded and +wanted to vote. I was quite prepared to believe anything of her. + +After tea Miss Ashley proposed a walk around the premises, in order to +initiate me into my duties. Apart from his farm, Mr. Ashley owned +large grist-and saw-mills and did a flourishing business, with the +details of which Miss Gussie seemed so conversant that I lost all +doubt of her ability to run the whole thing as she had claimed. I felt +quite ignorant in the light of her superior knowledge, and our walk +was enlivened by some rather too lively discussions between us. We +walked about together, however, till the shadows of the firs by the +mills stretched nearly across the pond and the white moon began to put +on a silvery burnish. Then we wound up by a bitter dispute, during +which Gussie's eyes were very black and each cheek had a round, red +stain on it. She had a little air of triumph at having defeated me. + +"I have to go now and see about putting away the milk, and I dare say +you're not sorry to be rid of me," she said, with a demureness I had +not credited her with, "but if you come to the verandah in half an +hour I'll bring you out a glass of new milk and some pound cake I made +today by a recipe that's been in the family for one hundred years, and +I hope it will choke you for all the snubs you've been giving me." She +walked away after this amiable wish, and I stood by the pond till the +salmon tints faded from its waters and stars began to mirror +themselves brokenly in its ripples. The mellow air was full of sweet, +mingled eventide sounds as I walked back to the house. Aunt Lucy was +knitting on the verandah. Gussie brought out cake and milk and chatted +to us while we ate, in an inconsequent girlish way, or fed bits of +cake to a green-eyed goblin in the likeness of a black cat. + +She appeared in such an amiable light that I was half inclined to +reconsider my opinion of her. When I went to my room the vase full of +crimson leaves on my table suggested Gussie, and I repented of my +unfriendliness for a moment--and only for a moment. Gussie and her +mother passed through the hall below, and Aunt Lucy's soft voice +floated up through my half-open door. + +"Well, how do you like your cousin, my dear?" + +Whereat that decided young lady promptly answered, "I think he is the +most conceited youth I've met for some time." + +Pleasant, wasn't it? I thought of Nellie's meek admiration of all my +words and ways, and got her photo out to soothe my vanity. For the +first time it struck me that her features were somewhat insipid. The +thought seemed like disloyalty, so I banished it and went to bed. + +I expected to dream of that disagreeable Gussie, but I did not, and I +slept so soundly that it was ten o'clock the next morning before I +woke. I sprang out of bed in dismay, dressed hastily, and ran down, +not a little provoked at myself. Through the window I saw Gussie in +the garden digging up some geraniums. She was enveloped in a +clay-stained brown apron, a big flapping straw hat half hid her face, +and she wore a pair of muddy old kid gloves. Her whole appearance was +disreputable, and the face she turned to me as I said "Good morning" +had a diagonal streak of clay across it. I added slovenliness to my +already long list of her demerits. + +"Good afternoon, rather. Don't you know what time it is? The men were +here three hours ago for their orders. I thought it a pity to disturb +your peaceful dreams, so I gave them myself and sent them off." + +I was angrier than ever. A nice beginning I had made. And was that +girl laughing at me? + +"I expected to be called in time, certainly," I said stiffly. "I am +not accustomed to oversleep myself. I promise it will not occur +again." + +My dignity was quite lost on Gussie. She peeled off her gloves +cheerfully and said, "I suppose you'd like some breakfast. Just wait +till I wash my hands and I'll get you some. Then if you're pining to +be useful you can help me take up these geraniums." + +There was no help for it. After I had breakfasted I went, with many +misgivings. We got on fairly well, however. Gussie was particularly +lively and kept me too busy for argument. I quite enjoyed the time and +we did not quarrel until nearly the last, when we fell out bitterly +over some horticultural problem and went in to dinner in sulky +silence. Gussie disappeared after dinner and I saw no more of her. I +was glad of this, but after a time I began to find it a little dull. +Even a dispute would have been livelier. I visited the mills, looked +over the farm, and then carelessly asked Aunt Lucy where Miss Ashley +was. Aunt Lucy replied that she had gone to visit a friend and would +not be back till the next day. + +This was satisfactory, of course, highly so. What a relief it was to +be rid of that girl with her self-assertiveness and independence. I +said to myself that I hoped her friend would keep her for a week. I +forgot to be disappointed that she had not when, next afternoon, I saw +Gussie coming in at the gate with a tolerably large satchel and an +armful of golden rod. I sauntered down to relieve her, and we had a +sharp argument under way before we were halfway up the lane. As usual +Gussie refused to give in that she was wrong. + +Her walk had brought a faint, clear tint to her cheeks and her +rippling dusky hair had half slipped down on her neck. She said she +had to make some cookies for tea and if I had nothing better to do I +might go and talk to her while she mixed them. It was not a gracious +invitation but I went, rather than be left to my own company. + +By the end of the week I was as much at home at Ashley Mills as if I +had lived there all my life. Gussie and I were thrown together a good +deal, for lack of other companions, and I saw no reason to change my +opinion of her. She could be lively and entertaining when she chose, +and at times she might be called beautiful. Still, I did not approve +of her--at least I thought so, most of the time. Once in a while came +a state of feeling which I did not quite understand. + +One evening I went to prayer meeting with Aunt Lucy and Gussie. I had +not seen the minister of Ashley Mills before, though Gussie and her +mother seemed to know him intimately. I had an idea that he was old +and silvery-haired and benevolent-looking. So I was rather surprised +to find him as young as myself--a tall, pale, intellectual-looking +man, with a high, white brow and dark, earnest eyes--decidedly +attractive. + +I was still more surprised when, after the service, he joined Gussie +at the door and went down the steps with her. I felt distinctly +ill-treated as I fell back with Aunt Lucy. There was no reason why I +should--none; it ought to have been a relief. Rev. Carroll Martin had +every right to see Miss Ashley home if he chose. Doubtless a girl who +knew all there was to be known about business, farming, and milling, +to say nothing of housekeeping and gardening, could discuss theology +also. It was none of my business. + +I don't know what kept me awake so late that night. As a consequence I +overslept myself. I had managed to redeem my reputation on this point, +but here it was lost again. I felt cross and foolish and cantankerous +when I went out. + +There was some unusual commotion at the well. It was an old-fashioned +open one, with a chain and windlass. Aunt Lucy was peering anxiously +down its mouth, from which a ladder was sticking. Just as I got there +Gussie emerged from its depths with a triumphant face. Her skirt was +muddy and draggled, her hair had tumbled down, and she held a dripping +black cat. + +"Coco must have fallen into the well last night," she explained, as I +helped her to the ground. "I missed him at milking-time, and when I +came to the well this morning I heard the most ear-splitting yowls +coming up from it. I couldn't think where he could possibly be, for +the water was quite calm, until I saw he had crept into a little +crevice in the stones on the side. So I got a ladder and went down +after him." + +"You should have called me," I said sourly. "You might have killed +yourself, going down there." + +"And Coco might have tumbled in and drowned while you were getting +up," retorted Gussie. "Besides, what was the need? I could go down as +well as you." + +"No doubt," I said, more sharply than I had any business to. "I don't +dream of disputing your ability to do anything you may take it into +your head to do. Most young ladies are not in the habit of going down +wells, however." + +"Perhaps not," she rejoined, with freezing calmness. "But, as you may +have discovered, I am not 'most young ladies.' I am myself, Augusta +Ashley, and accountable to nobody but myself if I choose to go down +the well every day for pure love of it." + +She walked off in her wet dress with her muddy cat. Gussie Ashley was +the only girl I ever saw who could be dignified under such +circumstances. + +I was in a very bad humour with myself as I went off to see about +having the well cleaned out. I had offended Gussie and I knew she +would not be easily appeased. Nor was she. For a week she kept me +politely, studiously, at a distance, in spite of my most humble +advances. Rev. Carroll was a frequent caller, ostensibly to make +arrangements about a Sunday school they were organizing in a poor part +of the community. Gussie and he held long conversations on this +enthralling subject. Then Gussie went on another visit to her friend, +and when she came back so did Rev. Carroll. + +One calm, hazy afternoon I was coming slowly up from the mills. +Happening to glance at the kitchen roof, I gasped. It was on fire in +one place. Evidently the dry shingles had caught fire from a spark. +There was not a soul about save Gussie, Aunt Lucy, and myself. I +dashed wildly into the kitchen, where Gussie was peeling apples. + +"The house is on fire," I exclaimed. Gussie dropped her knife and +turned pale. + +"Don't wake Mother," was all she said, as she snatched a bucket of +water from the table. The ladder was still lying by the well. In a +second I had raised it to the roof and, while Gussie went up it like a +squirrel and dashed the water on the flames, I had two more buckets +ready for her. + +Fortunately the fire had made little headway, though a few minutes +more would have given it a dangerous start. The flames hissed and died +out as Gussie threw on the water, and in a few seconds only a small +black hole in the shingles remained. Gussie slid down the ladder. She +trembled in every limb, but she put out her wet hand to me with a +faint, triumphant smile. We shook hands across the ladder with a +cordiality never before expressed. + +For the next week, in spite of Rev. Carroll, I was happy when I +thought of Gussie and miserable when I thought of Nellie. I held +myself in some way bound to her and--was she not my ideal? +Undoubtedly! + +One day I got a letter from my sister. It was long and newsy, and the +eighth page was most interesting. + +"If you don't come home and look after Nellie," wrote Kate, "you'll +soon not have her to look after. You remember that old lover of hers, +Rod Allen? Well, he's home from the west now, immensely rich, they +say, and his attentions to Nellie are the town talk. I think she likes +him too. If you bury yourself any longer at Ashley Mills I won't be +responsible for the consequences." + +This lifted an immense weight from my mind, but the ninth page hurled +it back again. + +"You never say anything of Miss Ashley in your letters. What is she +like--young or old, ugly or pretty, clever or dull? I met a lady +recently who knows her and thinks she is charming. She also said Miss +Ashley was to be married soon to Rev. Something-or-Other. Is it true?" + +Aye, was it? Quite likely. Kate's letter made a very miserable man of +me. Gussie found me a dull companion that day. After several vain +attempts to rouse me to interest she gave it up. + +"There's no use talking to you," she said impatiently. "I believe you +are homesick. That letter you got this morning looked suspicious. +Anyhow, I hope you'll get over it before I get back." + +"Are you going away again?" I asked. + +"Yes. I am going to stay a few days with Flossie." Flossie was that +inseparable chum of hers. + +"You seem to spend a good deal of your time with her," I remarked +discontentedly. + +Gussie opened her eyes at my tone. + +"Why, of course," she said. "Flossie and I have always been chums. And +she needs me more than ever just now, for she is awfully busy. She is +to be married next month." + +"Oh, I see--and you--" + +"I'm to be bridesmaid, of course, and we've heaps to do. Flossie +wanted to wait until Christmas, but Mr. Martin is in a--" + +"Mr. Martin," I interrupted. "Is Mr. Martin going to marry your +friend?" + +"Why, yes. Didn't you know? They just suit each other. There he comes +now. He's going to drive me over, and I'm not ready. Talk to him, for +pity's sake, while I go and dress." + +I never enjoyed a conversation more. Rev. Carroll Martin was a +remarkably interesting man. + +Nellie married Rod Allen at Christmas and I was best man. Nellie made +a charming little bride, and Rod fairly worshipped her. My own wedding +did not come off until spring, as Gussie said she could not get ready +before that. + + + + +Kismet + + +The fifth heat in the free-for-all was just over. "Lu-Lu" had won, and +the crowd on the grand stand and the hangers-on around the track were +cheering themselves hoarse. Clear through the noisy clamour shrilled a +woman's cry. + +"Ah--I have dropped my scorecard." + +A man in front of her turned. + +"I have an extra one, madame. Will you accept it?" + +Her small, modishly-gloved hand closed eagerly on it before she lifted +her eyes to his face. Both started convulsively. The man turned very +pale, but the woman's ripe-tinted face coloured darkly. + +"You?" she faltered. + +His lips parted in the coldly-grave smile she remembered and hated. + +"You are not glad to see me," he said calmly, "but that, I suppose, +was not to be expected. I did not come here to annoy you. This meeting +is as unexpected to me as to you. I had no suspicion that for the last +half-hour I had been standing next to my--" + +She interrupted him by an imperious gesture. Still clutching the +scorecard she half-turned from him. Again he smiled, this time with a +tinge of scorn, and shifted his eyes to the track. + +None of the people around them had noticed the little by-play. All +eyes were on the track, which was being cleared for the first heat of +another race. The free-for-all horses were being led away blanketed. +The crowd cheered "Lu-Lu" as she went past, a shapeless oddity. The +backers of "Mascot", the rival favourite, looked gloomy. + +The woman noticed nothing of all this. She was small, very pretty, +still young, and gowned in a quite unmistakable way. She studied the +man's profile furtively. He looked older than when she had seen him +last--there were some silver threads gleaming in his close-clipped +dark hair and short, pointed beard. Otherwise there was little change +in the quiet features and somewhat stern grey eyes. She wondered if he +had cared at all. + +They had not met for five years. She shut her eyes and looked in on +her past. It all came back very vividly. She had been eighteen when +they were married--a gay, high-spirited girl and the season's beauty. +He was much older and a quiet, serious student. Her friends had +wondered why she married him--sometimes she wondered herself, but she +had loved him, or thought so. + +The marriage had been an unhappy one. She was fond of society and +gaiety, he wanted quiet and seclusion. She Was impulsive and +impatient, he deliberate and grave. The strong wills clashed. After +two years of an unbearable sort of life they had separated--quietly, +and without scandal of any sort. She had wanted a divorce, but he +would not agree to that, so she had taken her own independent fortune +and gone back to her own way of life. In the following five years she +had succeeded in burying all remembrance well out of sight. No one +knew if she were satisfied or not; her world was charitable to her and +she lived a gay and quite irreproachable life. She wished that she had +not come to the races. It was such an irritating encounter. She opened +her eyes wearily; the dusty track, the flying horses, the gay dresses +of the women on the grandstand, the cloudless blue sky, the brilliant +September sunshine, the purple distances all commingled in a glare +that made her head ache. Before it all she saw the tall figure by her +side, his face turned from her, watching the track intently. + +She wondered with a vague curiosity what induced him to come to the +races. Such things were not greatly in his line. Evidently their +chance meeting had not disturbed him. It was a sign that he did not +care. She sighed a little wearily and closed her eyes. When the heat +was over he turned to her. + +"May I ask how you have been since--since we met last? You are looking +extremely well. Has Vanity Fair palled in any degree?" + +She was angry at herself and him. Where had her careless society +manner and well-bred composure gone? She felt weak and hysterical. +What if she should burst into tears before the whole crowd--before +those coldly critical grey eyes? She almost hated him. + +"No--why should it? I have found it very pleasant--and I have been +well--very well. And you?" + +He jotted down the score carefully before he replied. + +"I? Oh, a book-worm and recluse always leads a placid life. I never +cared for excitement, you know. I came down here to attend a sale of +some rare editions, and a well-meaning friend dragged me out to see +the races. I find it rather interesting, I must confess, much more so +than I should have fancied. Sorry I can't stay until the end. I must +go as soon as the free-for-all is over, if not before. I have backed +'Mascot'; you?" + +"'Lu-Lu'" she answered quickly--it almost seemed defiantly. How +horribly unreal it was--this carrying on of small talk, as if they +were the merest of chance-met acquaintances! "She belongs to a friend +of mine, so I am naturally interested." + +"She and 'Mascot' are ties now--both have won two heats. One more for +either will decide it. This is a good day for the races. Excuse me." + +He leaned over and brushed a scrap of paper from her grey cloak. She +shivered slightly. + +"You are cold! This stand is draughty." + +"I am not at all cold, thank you. What race is this?--oh! the +three-minute one." + +She bent forward with assumed interest to watch the scoring. She was +breathing heavily. There were tears in her eyes--she bit her lips +savagely and glared at the track until they were gone. + +Presently he spoke again, in the low, even tone demanded by +circumstances. + +"This is a curious meeting, is it not?--quite a flavor of romance! +By-the-way, do you read as many novels as ever?" + +She fancied there was mockery in his tone. She remembered how very +frivolous he used to consider her novel-reading. Besides, she resented +the personal tinge. What right had he? + +"Almost as many," she answered carelessly. + +"I was very intolerant, wasn't I?" he said after a pause. "You thought +so--you were right. You have been happier since you--left me?" + +"Yes," she said defiantly, looking straight into his eyes. + +"And you do not regret it?" + +He bent down a little. His sleeve brushed against her shoulder. +Something in his face arrested the answer she meant to make. + +"I--I--did not say that," she murmured faintly. + +There was a burst of cheering. The free-for-all horses were being +brought out for the sixth heat. She turned away to watch them. The +scoring began, and seemed likely to have no end. She was tired of it +all. It didn't matter a pin to her whether "Lu-Lu" or "Mascot" won. +What _did_ matter! Had Vanity Fair after all been a satisfying +exchange for love? He _had_ loved her once, and they had been happy at +first. She had never before said, even in her own heart: "I am sorry," +but--suddenly, she felt his hand on her shoulder, and looked up. Their +eyes met. He stooped and said almost in a whisper: + +"Will you come back to me?" + +"I don't know," she whispered breathlessly, as one half-fascinated. + +"We were both to blame--but I the most. I was too hard on you--I ought +to have made more allowance. We are wiser now both of us. Come back +to me--my wife." + +His tone was cold and his face expressionless. It was on her lips to +cry out "No," passionately. + +But the slender, scholarly hand on her shoulder was trembling with the +intensity of his repressed emotion. He _did_ care, then. A wild +caprice flashed into her brain. She sprang up. + +"See," she cried, "they're off now. This heat will probably decide the +race. If 'Lu-Lu' wins I will not go back to you, if 'Mascot' does I +will. That is my decision." + +He turned paler, but bowed in assent. He knew by bitter experience how +unchangeable her whims were, how obstinately she clung to even the +most absurd. + +She leaned forward breathlessly. The crowd hung silently on the track. +"Lu-Lu" and "Mascot" were neck and neck, getting in splendid work. +Half-way round the course "Lu-Lu" forged half a neck ahead, and her +backers went mad. But one woman dropped her head in her hands and +dared look no more. One man with white face and set lips watched the +track unswervingly. + +Again "Mascot" crawled up, inch by inch. They were on the home +stretch, they were equal, the cheering broke out, then silence, then +another terrific burst, shouts, yells and clappings--"Mascot" had won +the free-for-all. In the front row a woman stood up, swayed and shaken +as a leaf in the wind. She straightened her scarlet hat and readjusted +her veil unsteadily. There was a smile on her lips and tears in her +eyes. No one noticed her. A man beside her drew her hand through his +arm in a quiet proprietary fashion. They left the grand stand +together. + + + + +Lilian's Business Venture + + +Lilian Mitchell turned into the dry-goods store on Randall Street, +just as Esther Miller and Ella Taylor came out. They responded coldly +to her greeting and exchanged significant glances as they walked away. + +Lilian's pale face crimsoned. She was a tall, slender girl of about +seventeen, and dressed in mourning. These girls had been her close +friends once. But that was before the Mitchells had lost their money. +Since then Lilian had been cut by many of her old chums and she felt +it keenly. + +The clerks in the store were busy and Lilian sat down to wait her +turn. Near to her two ladies were also waiting and chatting. + +"Helen wants me to let her have a birthday party," Mrs. Saunders was +saying wearily. "She has been promised it so long and I hate to +disappoint the child, but our girl left last week, and I cannot +possibly make all the cakes and things myself. I haven't the time or +strength, so Helen must do without her party." + +"Talking of girls," said Mrs. Reeves impatiently, "I am almost +discouraged. It is so hard to get a good all-round one. The last one I +had was so saucy I had to discharge her, and the one I have now cannot +make decent bread. I never had good luck with bread myself either." + +"That is Mrs. Porter's great grievance too. It is no light task to +bake bread for all those boarders. Have you made your jelly yet?" + +"No. Maria cannot make it, she says, and I detest messing with jelly. +But I really must see to it soon." + +At this point a saleswoman came up to Lilian, who made her small +purchases and went out. + +"There goes Lilian Mitchell," said Mrs. Reeves in an undertone. "She +looks very pale. They say they are dreadfully poor since Henry +Mitchell died. His affairs were in a bad condition, I am told." + +"I am sorry for Mrs. Mitchell," responded Mrs. Saunders. "She is such +a sweet woman. Lilian will have to do something, I suppose, and there +is so little chance for a girl here." + +Lilian, walking down the street, was wearily turning over in her mind +the problems of her young existence. Her father had died the preceding +spring. He had been a supposedly prosperous merchant; the Mitchells +had always lived well, and Lilian was a petted and only child. Then +came the shock of Henry Mitchell's sudden death and of financial ruin. +His affairs were found to be hopelessly involved; when all the debts +were paid there was left only the merest pittance--barely enough for +house-rent--for Lilian and her mother to live upon. They had moved +into a tiny cottage in an unfashionable locality, and during the +summer Lilian had tried hard to think of something to do. Mrs. +Mitchell was a delicate woman, and the burden of their situation fell +on Lilian's young shoulders. + +There seemed to be no place for her. She could not teach and had no +particular talent in any line. There was no opening for her in +Willington, which was a rather sleepy little place, and Lilian was +almost in despair. + +"There really doesn't seem to be any real place in the world for me, +Mother," she said rather dolefully at the supper table. "I've no +talent at all; it is dreadful to have been born without one. And yet I +_must_ do something, and do it soon." + +And Lilian, after she had washed up the tea dishes, went upstairs and +had a good cry. + +But the darkest hour, so the proverb goes, is just before the dawn, +and after Lilian had had her cry out and was sitting at her window in +the dusk, watching a thin new moon shining over the trees down the +street, her inspiration came to her. A minute later she whirled into +the tiny sitting-room where her mother was sewing. + +"Mother, our fortune is made! I have an idea!" + +"Don't lose it, then," said Mrs. Mitchell with a smile. "What is it, +my dear?" + +Lilian sobered herself, sat down by her mother's side, and proceeded +to recount the conversation she had heard in the store that afternoon. + +"Now, Mother, this is where my brilliant idea comes in. You have often +told me I am a born cook and I always have good luck. Now, tomorrow +morning I shall go to Mrs. Saunders and offer to furnish all the good +things for Helen's birthday party, and then I'll ask Mrs. Reeves and +Mrs. Porter if I may make their bread for them. That will do for a +beginning, I like cooking, you know, and I believe that in time I can +work up a good business." + +"It seems to be a good idea," said Mrs. Mitchell thoughtfully, "and I +am willing that you should try. But have you thought it all out +carefully? There will be many difficulties." + +"I know. I don't expect smooth sailing right along, and perhaps I'll +fail altogether; but somehow I don't believe I will." + +"A great many of your old friends will think--" + +"Oh, yes; I know _that_ too, but I am not going to mind it, Mother. I +don't think there is any disgrace in working for my living. I'm going +to do my best and not care what people say." + +Early next morning Lilian started out. She had carefully thought over +the details of her small venture, considered ways and means, and +decided on the most advisable course. She would not attempt too much, +and she felt sure of success. + +To secure competent servants was one of the problems of Willington +people. At Drayton, a large neighbouring town, were several factories, +and into these all the working girls from Willington had crowded, +leaving very few who were willing to go out to service. Many of those +who did were poor cooks, and Lilian shrewdly suspected that many a +harassed housekeeper in the village would be glad to avail herself of +the new enterprise. + +Lilian was, as she had said of herself, "a born cook." This was her +capital, and she meant to make the most of it. Mrs. Saunders listened +to her businesslike details with surprise and delight. + +"It is the very thing," she said. "Helen is so eager for that party, +but I could not undertake it myself. Her birthday is Friday. Can you +have everything ready by then?" + +"Yes, I think so," said Lilian briskly, producing her notebook. +"Please give me the list of what you want and I will do my best." + +From Mrs. Saunders she went to Mrs. Reeves and found a customer as +soon as she had told the reason of her call. "I'll furnish all the +bread and rolls you need," she said, "and they will be good, too. Now, +about your jelly. I can make good jelly, and I'll be very glad to make +yours." + +When she left, Lilian had an order for two dozen glasses of apple +jelly, as well as a standing one for bread and rolls. Mrs. Porter was +next visited and grasped eagerly at the opportunity. + +"I know your bread will be good," she said, "and you may count on me +as a regular customer." + +Lilian thought she had enough on hand for a first attempt and went +home satisfied. On her way she called at the grocery store with an +order that surprised Mr. Hooper. When she told him of her plan he +opened his eyes. + +"I must tell my wife about that. She isn't strong and she doesn't like +cooking." + +After dinner Lilian went to work, enveloped in a big apron, and +whipped eggs, stoned raisins, stirred, concocted, and baked until +dark. When bedtime came she was so tired that she could hardly crawl +upstairs; but she felt happy too, for the day had been a successful +one. + +And so also were the days and weeks and months that followed. It was +hard and constant work, but it brought its reward. Lilian had not +promised more than she could perform, and her customers were +satisfied. In a short time she found herself with a regular and +growing business on her hands, for new customers were gradually added +and always came to stay. + +People who gave parties found it very convenient to follow Mrs. +Saunders's example and order their supplies from Lilian. She had a +very busy winter and, of course, it was not all plain sailing. She had +many difficulties to contend with. Sometimes days came on which +everything seemed to go wrong--when the stove smoked or the oven +wouldn't heat properly, when cakes fell flat and bread was sour and +pies behaved as only totally depraved pies can, when she burned her +fingers and felt like giving up in despair. + +Then, again, she found herself cut by several of her old +acquaintances. But she was too sensible to worry much over this. The +friends really worth having were still hers, her mother's face had +lost its look of care, and her business was prospering. She was +hopeful and wide awake, kept her wits about her and looked out for +hints, and learned to laugh over her failures. + +During the winter she and her mother had managed to do most of the +work themselves, hiring little Mary Robinson next door on especially +busy days, and now and then calling in the assistance of Jimmy Bowen +and his hand sled to carry orders to customers. But when spring came +Lilian prepared to open up her summer campaign on a much larger scale. +Mary Robinson was hired for the season, and John Perkins was engaged +to act as carrier with his express wagon. A summer kitchen was boarded +in in the backyard, and a new range bought; Lilian began operations +with a striking advertisement in the Willington _News_ and an +attractive circular sent around to all her patrons. Picnics and summer +weddings were frequent. In bread and rolls her trade was brisk and +constant. She also took orders for pickles, preserves, and jellies, +and this became such a flourishing branch that a second assistant had +to be hired. + +It was a cardinal rule with Lilian never to send out any article that +was not up to her standard. She bore the loss of her failures, and +sometimes stayed up half of the night to fill an order on time. +"Prompt and perfect" was her motto. + +The long hot summer days were very trying, and sometimes she got very +tired of it all. But when on the anniversary of her first venture she +made up her accounts she was well pleased. To be sure, she had not +made a fortune; but she had paid all their expenses, had a hundred +dollars clear, and had laid the solid foundations of a profitable +business. + +"Mother," she said jubilantly, as she wiped a dab of flour from her +nose and proceeded to concoct the icing for Blanche Remington's +wedding cake, "don't you think my business venture has been a decided +success?" + +Mrs. Mitchell surveyed her busy daughter with a motherly smile. "Yes, +I think it has," she said. + + + + +Miriam's Lover + + +I had been reading a ghost story to Mrs. Sefton, and I laid it down at +the end with a little shrug of contempt. + +"What utter nonsense!" I said. + +Mrs. Sefton nodded abstractedly above her fancywork. + +"That is. It is a very commonplace story indeed. I don't believe the +spirits of the departed trouble themselves to revisit the glimpses of +the moon for the purpose of frightening honest mortals--or even for +the sake of hanging around the favourite haunts of their existence in +the flesh. If they ever appear, it must be for a better reason than +that." + +"You don't surely think that they ever do appear?" I said +incredulously. + +"We have no proof that they do not, my dear." + +"Surely, Mary," I exclaimed, "you don't mean to say that you believe +people ever do or can see spirits--ghosts, as the word goes?" + +"I didn't say I believed it. I never saw anything of the sort. I +neither believe nor disbelieve. But you know queer things do happen at +times--things you can't account for. At least, people who you know +wouldn't lie say so. Of course, they may be mistaken. And I don't +think that everybody can see spirits either, provided they are to be +seen. It requires people of a certain organization--with a spiritual +eye, as it were. We haven't all got that--in fact, I think very few of +us have. I dare say you think I'm talking nonsense." + +"Well, yes, I think you are. You really surprise me, Mary. I always +thought you the least likely person in the world to take up with such +ideas. Something must have come under your observation to develop such +theories in your practical head. Tell me what it was." + +"To what purpose? You would remain as sceptical as ever." + +"Possibly not. Try me; I may be convinced." + +"No," returned Mrs. Sefton calmly. "Nobody ever is convinced by +hearsay. When a person has once seen a spirit--or thinks he has--he +thenceforth believes it. And when somebody else is intimately +associated with that person and knows all the circumstances--well, he +admits the possibility, at least. That is my position. But by the time +it gets to the third person--the outsider--it loses power. Besides, in +this particular instance the story isn't very exciting. But then--it's +true." + +"You have excited my curiosity. You must tell me the story." + +"Well, first tell me what you think of this. Suppose two people, both +sensitively organized individuals, loved each other with a love +stronger than life. If they were apart, do you think it might be +possible for their souls to communicate with each other in some +inexplicable way? And if anything happened to one, don't you think +that that one could and would let the spirit of the other know?" + +"You're getting into too deep waters for me, Mary," I said, shaking my +head. "I'm not an authority on telepathy, or whatever you call it. But +I've no belief in such theories. In fact, I think they are all +nonsense. I'm sure you must think so too in your rational moments." + +"I dare say it is all nonsense," said Mrs. Sefton slowly, "but if you +had lived a whole year in the same house with Miriam Gordon, you would +have been tainted too. Not that she had 'theories'--at least, she +never aired them if she had. But there was simply something about the +girl herself that gave a person strange impressions. When I first met +her I had the most uncanny feeling that she was all spirit--soul--what +you will! no flesh, anyhow. That feeling wore off after a while, but +she never seemed like other people to me. + +"She was Mr. Sefton's niece. Her father had died when she was a child. +When Miriam was twenty her mother had married a second time and went +to Europe with her husband. Miriam came to live with us while they +were away. Upon their return she was herself to be married. + +"I had never seen Miriam before. Her arrival was unexpected, and I was +absent from home when she came. I returned in the evening, and when I +saw her first she was standing under the chandelier in the drawing +room. Talk about spirits! For five seconds I thought I had seen one. + +"Miriam was a beauty. I had known that before, though I think I +hardly expected to see such wonderful loveliness. She was tall and +extremely graceful, dark--at least her hair was dark, but her skin was +wonderfully fair and clear. Her hair was gathered away from her face, +and she had a high, pure, white forehead, and the straightest, finest, +blackest brows. Her face was oval, with very large and dark eyes. + +"I soon realized that Miriam was in some mysterious fashion different +from other people. I think everyone who met her felt the same way. Yet +it was a feeling hard to define. For my own part I simply felt as if +she belonged to another world, and that part of the time she--her +soul, you know--was back there again. + +"You must not suppose that Miriam was a disagreeable person to have in +the house. On the contrary, it was the very reverse. Everybody liked +her. She was one of the sweetest, most winsome girls I ever knew, and +I soon grew to love her dearly. As for what Dick called her 'little +queernesses'--well, we got used to them in time. + +"Miriam was engaged, as I have told you, to a young Harvard man named +Sidney Claxton. I knew she loved him very deeply. When she showed me +his photograph, I liked his appearance and said so. Then I made some +teasing remark about her love-letters--just for a joke, you know. +Miriam looked at me with an odd little smile and said quickly: + +"'Sidney and I never write to each other.' + +"'Why, Miriam!' I exclaimed in astonishment. 'Do you mean to tell me +you never hear from him at all?' + +"'No, I did not say that. I hear from him every day--every hour. We +do not need to write letters. There are better means of communication +between two souls that are in perfect accord with each other.' + +"'Miriam, you uncanny creature, what do you mean?' I asked. + +"But Miriam only gave another queer smile and made no answer at all. +Whatever her beliefs or theories were, she would never discuss them. + +"She had a habit of dropping into abstracted reveries at any time or +place. No matter where she was, this, whatever it was, would come over +her. She would sit there, perhaps in the centre of a gay crowd, and +gaze right out into space, not hearing or seeing a single thing that +went on around her. + +"I remember one day in particular; we were sewing in my room. I looked +up and saw that Miriam's work had dropped on her knee and she was +leaning forward, her lips apart, her eyes gazing upward with an +unearthly expression. + +"'Don't look like that, Miriam!' I said, with a little shiver. 'You +seem to be looking at something a thousand miles away!' + +"Miriam came out of her trance or reverie and said, with a little +laugh: + +"'How do you know but that I was?' + +"She bent her head for a minute or two. Then she lifted it again and +looked at me with a sudden contraction of her level brows that +betokened vexation. + +"'I wish you hadn't spoken to me just then,' she said. 'You +interrupted the message I was receiving. I shall not get it at all +now.' + +"'Miriam,' I implored. 'I so wish my dear girl, that you wouldn't talk +so. It makes people think there is something queer about you. Who in +the world was sending you a message, as you call it?' + +"'Sidney,' said Miriam simply. + +"'Nonsense!' + +"'You think it is nonsense because you don't understand it,' was her +calm response. + +"I recall another event was when some caller dropped in and we had +drifted into a discussion about ghosts and the like--and I've no doubt +we all talked some delicious nonsense. Miriam said nothing at the +time, but when we were alone I asked her what she thought of it. + +"'I thought you were all merely talking against time,' she retorted +evasively. + +"'But, Miriam, do you really think it is possible for ghosts--' + +"'I detest that word!' + +"'Well, spirits then--to return after death, or to appear to anyone +apart from the flesh?' + +"'I will tell you what I know. If anything were to happen to +Sidney--if he were to die or be killed--he would come to me himself +and tell me.' + +"One day Miriam came down to lunch looking pale and worried. After +Dick went out, I asked her if anything were wrong. + +"'Something has happened to Sidney,' she replied, 'some painful +accident--I don't know what.' + +"'How do you know?' I cried. Then, as she looked at me strangely, I +added hastily, 'You haven't been receiving any more unearthly +messages, have you? Surely, Miriam, you are not so foolish as to +really believe in that!' + +"'I know,' she answered quickly. 'Belief or disbelief has nothing to +do with it. Yes, I have had a message. I know that some accident has +happened to Sidney--painful and inconvenient but not particularly +dangerous. I do not know what it is. Sidney will write me that. He +writes when it is absolutely necessary.' + +"'Aerial communication isn't perfected yet then?' I said +mischievously. But, observing how really worried she seemed, I added, +'Don't fret, Miriam. You may be mistaken.' + +"Well, two days afterwards she got a note from her lover--the first I +had ever known her to receive--in which he said he had been thrown +from his horse and had broken his left arm. It had happened the very +morning Miriam received her message. + +"Miriam had been with us about eight months when one day she came into +my room hurriedly. She was very pale. + +"'Sidney is ill--dangerously ill. What shall I do?' + +"I knew she must have had another of those abominable messages--or +thought she had--and really, remembering the incident of the broken +arm, I couldn't feel as sceptical as I pretended to. I tried to cheer +her, but did not succeed. Two hours later she had a telegram from her +lover's college chum, saying that Mr. Claxton was dangerously ill with +typhoid fever. + +"I was quite alarmed about Miriam in the days that followed. She +grieved and fretted continually. One of her troubles was that she +received no more messages; she said it was because Sidney was too ill +to send them. Anyhow, she had to content herself with the means of +communication used by ordinary mortals. + +"Sidney's mother, who had gone to nurse him, wrote every day, and at +last good news came. The crisis was over and the doctor in attendance +thought Sidney would recover. Miriam seemed like a new creature then, +and rapidly recovered her spirits. + +"For a week reports continued favourable. One night we went to the +opera to hear a celebrated prima donna. When we returned home Miriam +and I were sitting in her room, chatting over the events of the +evening. + +"Suddenly she sat straight up with a sort of convulsive shudder, and +at the same time--you may laugh if you like--the most horrible feeling +came over me. I didn't see anything, but I just felt that there was +something or someone in the room besides ourselves. + +"Miriam was gazing straight before her. She rose to her feet and held +out her hands. + +"'Sidney!' she said. + +"Then she fell to the floor in a dead faint. + +"I screamed for Dick, rang the bell and rushed to her. + +"In a few minutes the whole household was aroused, and Dick was off +posthaste for the doctor, for we could not revive Miriam from her +death-like swoon. She seemed as one dead. We worked over her for +hours. She would come out of her faint for a moment, give us an +unknowing stare and go shudderingly off again. + +"The doctor talked of some fearful shock, but I kept my own counsel. +At dawn Miriam came back to life at last. When she and I were left +alone, she turned to me. + +"'Sidney is dead,' she said quietly. 'I saw him--just before I +fainted. I looked up, and he was standing between me and you. He had +come to say farewell.' + +"What could I say? Almost while we were talking a telegram came. He +was dead--he had died at the very hour at which Miriam had seen him." + +Mrs. Sefton paused, and the lunch bell rang. + +"What do you think of it?" she queried as we rose. + +"Honestly, I don't know what I think of it," I answered frankly. + + + + +Miss Calista's Peppermint Bottle + + +Miss Calista was perplexed. Her nephew, Caleb Cramp, who had been her +right-hand man for years and whom she had got well broken into her +ways, had gone to the Klondike, leaving her to fill his place with the +next best man; but the next best man was slow to appear, and meanwhile +Miss Calista was looking about her warily. She could afford to wait a +while, for the crop was all in and the fall ploughing done, so that +the need of a successor to Caleb was not as pressing as it might +otherwise have been. There was no lack of applicants, such as they +were. Miss Calista was known to be a kind and generous mistress, +although she had her "ways," and insisted calmly and immovably upon +wholehearted compliance with them. She had a small, well-cultivated +farm and a comfortable house, and her hired men lived in clover. Caleb +Cramp had been perfection after his kind, and Miss Calista did not +expect to find his equal. Nevertheless, she set up a certain standard +of requirements; and although three weeks, during which Miss Calista +had been obliged to put up with the immature services of a neighbour's +boy, had elapsed since Caleb's departure, no one had as yet stepped +into his vacant and coveted shoes. + +Certainly Miss Calista was somewhat hard to please, but she was not +thinking of herself as she sat by her front window in the chilly +November twilight. Instead, she was musing on the degeneration of +hired men, and reflecting that it was high time the wheat was +thrashed, the house banked, and sundry other duties attended to. + +Ches Maybin had been up that afternoon to negotiate for the vacant +place, and had offered to give satisfaction for smaller wages than +Miss Calista had ever paid. But he had met with a brusque refusal, +scarcely as civil as Miss Calista had bestowed on drunken Jake Stinson +from the Morrisvale Road. + +Not that Miss Calista had any particular prejudice against Ches +Maybin, or knew anything positively to his discredit. She was simply +unconsciously following the example of a world that exerts itself to +keep a man down when he is down and prevent all chance of his rising. +Nothing succeeds like success, and the converse of this is likewise +true--that nothing fails like failure. There was not a person in +Cooperstown who would not have heartily endorsed Miss Calista's +refusal. + +Ches Maybin was only eighteen, although he looked several years older, +and although no flagrant misdoing had ever been proved against him, +suspicion of such was not wanting. He came of a bad stock, people said +sagely, adding that what was bred in the bone was bound to come out +in the flesh. His father, old Sam Maybin, had been a shiftless and +tricky rascal, as everybody knew, and had ended his days in the +poorhouse. Ches's mother had died when he was a baby, and he had come +up somehow, in a hand-to-mouth fashion, with all the cloud of heredity +hanging over him. He was always looked at askance, and when any +mischief came to light in the village, it was generally fastened on +him as a convenient and handy scapegoat. He was considered sulky and +lazy, and the local prophets united in predicting a bad end for him +sooner or later; and, moreover, diligently endeavoured by their +general treatment of him to put him in a fair way to fulfil their +predictions. Miss Calista, when she had shut Chester Maybin out into +the chill gloom of the November dusk, dismissed him from her thoughts. +There were other things of more moment to her just then than old Sam +Maybin's hopeful son. + +There was nobody in the house but herself, and although this was +neither alarming nor unusual, it was unusual--and Miss Calista +considered it alarming--that the sum of five hundred dollars should at +that very moment be in the upper right-hand drawer of the sideboard, +which sum had been up to the previous day safe in the coffers of the +Millageville bank. But certain unfavourable rumours were in course of +circulation about that same institution, and Miss Calista, who was +nothing if not prudent, had gone to the bank that very morning and +withdrawn her deposit. She intended to go over to Kerrytown the very +next day and deposit it in the Savings Bank there. Not another day +would she keep it in the house, and, indeed, it worried her to think +she must keep it even for the night, as she had told Mrs. Galloway +that afternoon during a neighbourly back-yard chat. + +"Not but what it's safe enough," she said, "for not a soul but you +knows I've got it. But I'm not used to have so much by me, and there +are always tramps going round. It worries me somehow. I wouldn't give +it a thought if Caleb was here. I s'pose being all alone makes me +nervous." + +Miss Calista was still rather nervous when she went to bed that night, +but she was a woman of sound sense and was determined not to give way +to foolish fears. She locked doors and windows carefully, as was her +habit, and saw that the fastenings were good and secure. The one on +the dining-room window, looking out on the back yard, wasn't; in fact, +it was broken altogether; but, as Miss Calista told herself, it had +been broken just so for the last six years, and nobody had ever tried +to get in at it yet, and it wasn't likely anyone would begin tonight. + +Miss Calista went to bed and, despite her worry, slept soon and +soundly. It was well on past midnight when she suddenly wakened and +sat bolt upright in bed. She was not accustomed to waken in the night, +and she had the impression of having been awakened by some noise. She +listened breathlessly. Her room was directly over the dining-room, and +an empty stovepipe hole opened up through the ceiling of the latter at +the head of her bed. + +There was no mistake about it. Something or some person was moving +about stealthily in the room below. It wasn't the cat--Miss Calista +had shut him in the woodshed before she went to bed, and he couldn't +possibly get out. It must certainly be a beggar or tramp of some +description. + +Miss Calista might be given over to nervousness in regard to imaginary +thieves, but in the presence of real danger she was cool and +self-reliant. As noiselessly and swiftly as any burglar himself, Miss +Calista slipped out of bed and into her clothes. Then she tip-toed out +into the hall. The late moonlight, streaming in through the hall +windows, was quite enough illumination for her purpose, and she got +downstairs and was fairly in the open doorway of the dining-room +before a sound betrayed her presence. + +Standing at the sideboard, hastily ransacking the neat contents of an +open drawer, stood a man's figure, dimly visible in the moonlight +gloom. As Miss Calista's grim form appeared in the doorway, the +midnight marauder turned with a start and then, with an inarticulate +cry, sprang, not at the courageous lady, but at the open window behind +him. + +Miss Calista, realizing with a flash of comprehension that he was +escaping her, had a woman-like impulse to get a blow in anyhow; she +grasped and hurled at her unceremonious caller the first thing that +came to hand--a bottle of peppermint essence that was standing on the +sideboard. + +The missile hit the escaping thief squarely on the shoulder as he +sprang out of the window, and the fragments of glass came clattering +down on the sill. The next moment Miss Calista found herself alone, +standing by the sideboard in a half-dazed fashion, for the whole thing +had passed with such lightning-like rapidity that it almost seemed as +if it were the dissolving end of a bad dream. But the open drawer and +the window, where the bits of glass were glistening in the moonlight, +were no dream. Miss Calista recovered herself speedily, closed the +window, lit the lamp, gathered up the broken glass, and set up the +chairs which the would-be thief had upset in his exit. An examination +of the sideboard showed the precious five hundred safe and sound in an +undisturbed drawer. + +Miss Calista kept grim watch and ward there until morning, and thought +the matter over exhaustively. In the end she resolved to keep her own +counsel. She had no clue whatever to the thief's whereabouts or +identity, and no good would come of making a fuss, which might only +end in throwing suspicion on someone who might be quite innocent. + +When the morning came Miss Calista lost no time in setting out for +Kerrytown, where the money was soon safely deposited in the bank. She +heaved a sigh of relief when she left the building. + +I feel as if I could enjoy life once more, she said to herself. +Goodness me, if I'd had to keep that money by me for a week itself, +I'd have been a raving lunatic by the end of it. + +Miss Calista had shopping to do and friends to visit in town, so that +the dull autumn day was well nigh spent when she finally got back to +Cooperstown and paused at the corner store to get a bundle of matches. + +The store was full of men, smoking and chatting around the fire, and +Miss Calista, whose pet abomination was tobacco smoke, was not at all +minded to wait any longer than she could help. But Abiram Fell was +attending to a previous customer, and Miss Calista sat grimly down by +the counter to wait her turn. + +The door opened, letting in a swirl of raw November evening wind and +Ches Maybin. He nodded sullenly to Mr. Fell and passed down the store +to mutter a message to a man at the further end. + +Miss Calista lifted her head as he passed and sniffed the air as a +charger who scents battle. The smell of tobacco was strong, and so was +that of the open boxes of dried herring on the counter, but plainly, +above all the commingled odours of a country grocery, Miss Calista +caught a whiff of peppermint, so strong as to leave no doubt of its +origin. There had been no hint of it before Ches Maybin's entrance. + +The latter did not wait long. He was out and striding along the +shadowy road when Miss Calista left the store and drove smartly after +him. It never took Miss Calista long to make up her mind about +anything, and she had weighed and passed judgement on Ches Maybin's +case while Mr. Fell was doing up her matches. + +The lad glanced up furtively as she checked her fat grey pony beside +him. + +"Good evening, Chester," she said with brisk kindness. "I can give you +a lift, if you are going my way. Jump in, quick--Dapple is a little +restless." + +A wave of crimson, duskily perceptible under his sunburned skin, +surged over Ches Maybin's face. It almost seemed as if he were going +to blurt out a blunt refusal. But Miss Calista's face was so guileless +and her tone so friendly, that he thought better of it and sprang in +beside her, and Dapple broke into an impatient trot down the long +hill lined with its bare, wind-writhen maples. + +After a few minutes' silence Miss Calista turned to her moody +companion. + +"Chester," she said, as tranquilly as if about to ask him the most +ordinary question in the world, "why did you climb into my house last +night and try to steal my money?" + +Ches Maybin started convulsively, as if he meant to spring from the +buggy at once, but Miss Calista's hand was on his arm in a grasp none +the less firm because of its gentleness, and there was a warning gleam +in her grey eyes. + +"It won't mend matters trying to get clear of me, Chester. I know it +was you and I want an answer--a truthful one, mind you--to my +question. I am your friend, and I am not going to harm you if you tell +me the truth." + +Her clear and incisive gaze met and held irresistibly the boy's +wavering one. The sullen obstinacy of his face relaxed. + +"Well," he muttered finally, "I was just desperate, that's why. I've +never done anything real bad in my life before, but people have always +been down on me. I'm blamed for everything, and nobody wants anything +to do with me. I'm willing to work, but I can't get a thing to do. I'm +in rags and I haven't a cent, and winter's coming on. I heard you +telling Mrs. Galloway yesterday about the money. I was behind the fir +hedge and you didn't see me. I went away and planned it all out. I'd +get in some way--and I meant to use the money to get away out west as +far from here as I could, and begin life there, where nobody knew me, +and where I'd have some sort of a chance. I've never had any here. +You can put me in jail now, if you like--they'll feed and clothe me +there, anyhow, and I'll be on a level with the rest." + +The boy had blurted it all out sullenly and half-chokingly. A world of +rebellion and protest against the fate that had always dragged him +down was couched in his voice. + +Miss Calista drew Dapple to a standstill before her gate. + +"I'm not going to send you to jail, Chester. I believe you've told me +the truth. Yesterday you wanted me to give you Caleb's place and I +refused. Well, I offer it to you now. If you'll come, I'll hire you, +and give you as good wages as I gave him." + +Ches Maybin looked incredulous. + +"Miss Calista, you can't mean it." + +"I do mean it, every word. You say you have never had a chance. Well, +I am going to give you one--a chance to get on the right road and make +a man of yourself. Nobody shall ever know about last night's doings +from me, and I'll make it my business to forget them if you deserve +it. What do you say?" + +Ches lifted his head and looked her squarely in the face. + +"I'll come," he said huskily. "It ain't no use to try and thank you, +Miss Calista. But I'll live my thanks." + +And he did. The good people of Cooperstown held up their hands in +horror when they heard that Miss Calista had hired Ches Maybin, and +prophesied that the deluded woman would live to repent her rash step. +But not all prophecies come true. Miss Calista smiled serenely and +kept on her own misguided way. And Ches Maybin proved so efficient +and steady that the arrangement was continued, and in due time people +outlived their old suspicions and came to regard him as a thoroughly +smart and trustworthy young man. + +"Miss Calista has made a man of Ches Maybin," said the oracles. "He +ought to be very grateful to her." + +And he was. But only he and Miss Calista and the peppermint bottle +ever knew the precise extent of his gratitude, and they never told. + + + + +The Jest That Failed + + +"I think it is simply a disgrace to have a person like that in our +class," said Edna Hayden in an injured tone. + +"And she doesn't seem a bit ashamed of it, either," said Agnes +Walters. + +"Rather proud of it, I should say," returned her roommate, spitefully. +"It seems to me that if I were so poor that I had to 'room' myself and +dress as dowdily as she does that I really couldn't look anybody in +the face. What must the boys think of her? And if it wasn't for her +being in it, our class would be the smartest and dressiest in the +college--even those top-lofty senior girls admit that." + +"It's a shame," said Agnes, conclusively. "But she needn't expect to +associate with our set. I, for one, won't have anything to do with +her." + +"Nor I. I think it is time she should be taught her place. If we could +only manage to inflict some decided snub on her, she might take the +hint and give up trying to poke herself in where she doesn't belong. +The idea of her consenting to be elected on the freshmen executive! +But she seems impervious to snubs." + +"Edna, let's play a joke on her. It will serve her right. Let us send +an invitation in somebody's name to the senior 'prom.'" + +"The very thing! And sign Sidney Hill's name to it. He's the +handsomest and richest fellows at Payzant, and belongs to one of the +best families in town, and he's awfully fastidious besides. No doubt +she will feel immensely flattered and, of course, she'll accept. Just +think how silly she'll feel when she finds out he never sent it. Let's +write it now, and send it at once. There is no time to lose, for the +'prom' is on Thursday night." + +The freshmen co-eds at Payzant College did not like Grace Seeley--that +is to say, the majority of them. They were a decidedly snobbish class +that year. No one could deny that Grace was clever, but she was poor, +dressed very plainly--"dowdily," the girls said--and "roomed" herself, +that phrase meaning that she rented a little unfurnished room and +cooked her own meals over an oil stove. + +The "senior prom," as it was called, was the annual reception which +the senior class gave in the middle of every autumn term. It was the +smartest and gayest of all the college functions, and a Payzant co-ed +who received an invitation to it counted herself fortunate. The senior +girls were included as a matter of course, but a junior, soph, or +freshie could not go unless one of the senior boys invited her. + +Grace Seeley was studying Greek in her tiny room that afternoon when +the invitation was brought to her. It was scrupulously orthodox in +appearance and form, and Grace never doubted that it was genuine, +although she felt much surprised that Sidney Hill, the leader of his +class and the foremost figure in all college sports and societies, +should have asked her to go with him to the senior prom. + +But she was girlishly pleased at the prospect. She was as fond of a +good time as any other girl, and she had secretly wished very much +that she could go to the brilliant and much talked about senior prom. + +Grace was quite unaware of her own unpopularity among her class +co-eds, although she thought it was very hard to get acquainted with +them. Without any false pride herself, and of a frank, independent +nature, it never occurred to her that the other Payzant freshies could +look down on her because she was poor, or resent her presence among +them because she dressed plainly. + +She straightway wrote a note of acceptance to Sidney Hill, and that +young man naturally felt much mystified when he opened and read it in +the college library next morning. + +"Grace Seeley," he pondered. "That's the jolly girl with the brown +eyes that I met at the philomathic the other night. She thanks me for +my invitation to the senior prom, and accepts with pleasure. Why, I +certainly never invited her or anyone else to go with me to the senior +prom. There must be some mistake." + +Grace passed him at this moment on her way to the Latin classroom. She +bowed and smiled in a friendly fashion and Sidney Hill felt decidedly +uncomfortable. What was he to do? He did not like to think of putting +Miss Seeley in a false position because somebody had sent her an +invitation in his name. + +"I suppose it is some cad who has a spite at me that has done it," he +reflected, "but if so I'll spoil his game. I'll take Miss Seeley to +the prom as if I had never intended doing anything else. She shan't be +humiliated just because there is someone at Payzant who would stoop to +that sort of thing." + +So he walked up the hall with Grace and expressed his pleasure at her +acceptance, and on the evening of the prom he sent her a bouquet of +white carnations, whose spicy fragrance reminded her of her own little +garden at home. Grace thought it extremely nice of him, and dressed in +a flutter of pleasant anticipation. + +Her gown was a very simple one of sheer white organdie, and was the +only evening dress she had. She knew there would be many smarter +dresses at the reception, but the knowledge did not disturb her +sensible head in the least. + +She fingered the dainty white frills lovingly as she remembered the +sunny summer days at home in the little sewing-room, where cherry +boughs poked their blossoms in at the window, when her mother and +sisters had helped her to make it, with laughing prophesies and +speculations as to its first appearance. Into seam and puff and frill +many girlish hopes and dreams had been sewn, and they all came back to +Grace as she put it on, and helped to surround her with an atmosphere +of happiness. + +When she was ready she picked up her bouquet and looked herself over +in the mirror, from the top of her curly head to the tips of her +white shoes, with a little nod of satisfaction. Grace was not exactly +pretty, but she had such a bright, happy face and such merry brown +eyes and such a friendly smile that she was very pleasant to look +upon, and a great many people thought so that night. + +Grace had never in all her life before had so good a time as she had +at that senior prom. The seniors were quick to discover her unaffected +originality and charm, and everywhere she went she was the centre of a +merry group. In short, Grace, as much to her own surprise as anyone's, +found herself a social success. + +Presently Sidney brought his brother up to be introduced, and the +latter said: + +"Miss Seeley, will you excuse my asking if you have a brother or any +relative named Max Seeley?" + +Grace nodded. "Oh, yes, my brother Max. He is a doctor out west." + +"I was sure of it," said Murray Hill triumphantly. "You resemble him +so strongly. Please don't consider me as a stranger a minute longer, +for Max and I are like brothers. Indeed, I owe my life to him. Last +summer I was out there on a surveying expedition, and I took typhoid +in a little out-of-the-way place where good nursing was not to be had +for love or money. Your brother attended me and he managed to pull me +through. He never left me day or night until I was out of danger, and +he worked like a Trojan for me." + +"Dear old Max," said Grace, her brown eyes shining with pride and +pleasure. "That is so like him. He is such a dear brother and I +haven't seen him for four years. To see somebody who knows him so well +is next best thing to seeing himself." + +"He is an awfully fine fellow," said Mr. Hill heartily, "and I'm +delighted to have met the 'little sister' he used to talk so much +about. I want you to come ever and meet my mother and sister. They +have heard me talk so much about Max that they think almost as much +of him as I do, and they will be glad to meet his sister." + +Mrs. Hill, a handsome, dignified lady who was one of the chaperones of +the prom, received Grace warmly, while Beatrice Hill, an extremely +pretty, smartly gowned girl, made her feel at home immediately. + +"You came with Sid, didn't you?" she whispered. "Sid is so sly--he +never tells us whom he is going to take anywhere. But when I saw you +come in with him I knew I was going to like you, you looked so jolly. +And you're really the sister of that splendid Dr. Seeley who saved +Murray's life last summer? And to think you've been at Payzant nearly +a whole term and we never knew it!" + +"Well, how have you enjoyed our prom, Miss Seeley?" asked Sid, as they +walked home together under the arching elms of the college campus. + +"Oh! it was splendid," said Grace enthusiastically. "Everybody was so +nice. And then to meet someone who could tell me so much about Max! I +must write them home all about it before I sleep, just to calm my head +a bit. Mother and the girls will be so interested, and I must send Lou +and Mab a carnation apiece for their scrapbooks." + +"Give me one back, please," said Sid. And Grace with a little blush, +did so. + +That night, while Grace was slipping the stems of her carnations and +putting them into water, three little bits of conversation were being +carried on which it is necessary to report in order to round up this +story neatly and properly, as all stories should be rounded up. + +In the first place, Beatrice Hill was saying to Sidney, "Oh, Sid, that +Miss Seeley you had at the prom is a lovely girl. I don't know when +I've met anyone I liked so much. She was so jolly and friendly and she +didn't put on learned airs at all, as so many of those Payzant girls +do. I asked her all about herself and she told me, and all about her +mother and sisters and home and the lovely times they had together, +and how hard they worked to send her to college too, and how she +taught school in vacations and 'roomed' herself to help along. Isn't +it so brave and plucky of her! I know we are going to be great +friends." + +"I hope so," said Sidney briefly, "because I have an idea that she and +I are going to be very good friends too." + +And Sidney went upstairs and put away a single white carnation very +carefully. + +In the second place, Mrs. Hill was saying to her eldest son, "I liked +that Miss Seeley very much. She seemed a very sweet girl." + +And, finally, Agnes Walters and Edna Hayden were discussing the matter +in great mystification in their room. + +"I can't understand it at all," said Agnes slowly. "Sid Hill took her +to the prom and he must have sent her those carnations too. She could +never have afforded them herself. And did you see the fuss his people +made over her? I heard Beatrice telling her that she was coming to +call on her tomorrow, and Mrs. Hill said she must look upon +'Beechlawn' as her second home while she was at Payzant. If the Hills +are going to take her up we'll have to be nice to her." + +"I suppose," said Edna conclusively, "the truth of the matter is that +Sid Hill meant to ask her anyway. I dare say he asked her long ago, +and she would know our invitation was a fraud. So the joke is on +ourselves, after all." + +But, as you and I know, that, with the exception of the last sentence, +was not the truth of the matter at all. + + + + +The Penningtons' Girl + + +Winslow had been fishing--or pretending to--all the morning, and he +was desperately thirsty. He boarded with the Beckwiths on the +Riverside East Shore, but he was nearer Riverside West, and he knew +the Penningtons well. He had often been there for bait and milk and +had listened times out of mind to Mrs. Pennington's dismal tales of +her tribulations with hired girls. She never could get along with +them, and they left, on an average, after a fortnight's trial. She was +on the lookout for one now, he knew, and would likely be cross, but he +thought she would give him a drink. + +He rowed his skiff into the shore and tied it to a fir that hung out +from the bank. A winding little footpath led up to the Pennington +farmhouse, which crested the hill about three hundred yards from the +shore. Winslow made for the kitchen door and came face to face with a +girl carrying a pail of water--Mrs. Pennington's latest thing in hired +girls, of course. + +Winslow's first bewildered thought was "What a goddess!" and he +wondered, as he politely asked for a drink, where on earth Mrs. +Pennington had picked her up. She handed him a shining dipper half +full and stood, pail in hand, while he drank it. + +She was rather tall, and wore a somewhat limp, faded print gown, and a +big sunhat, beneath which a glossy knot of chestnut showed itself. Her +skin was very fair, somewhat freckled, and her mouth was delicious. As +for her eyes, they were grey, but beyond that simply defied +description. + +"Will you have some more?" she asked in a soft, drawling voice. + +"No, thank you. That was delicious. Is Mrs. Pennington home?" + +"No. She has gone away for the day." + +"Well, I suppose I can sit down here and rest a while. You've no +serious objections, have you?" + +"Oh, no." + +She carried her pail into the kitchen and came out again presently +with a knife and a pan of apples. Sitting down on a bench under the +poplars she proceeded to peel them with a disregard of his presence +that piqued Winslow, who was not used to being ignored in this +fashion. Besides, as a general rule, he had been quite good friends +with Mrs. Pennington's hired girls. She had had three strapping +damsels during his sojourn in Riverside, and he used to sit on this +very doorstep and chaff them. They had all been saucy and talkative. +This girl was evidently a new species. + +"Do you think you'll get along with Mrs. Pennington?" he asked +finally. "As a rule she fights with her help, although she is a most +estimable woman." + +The girl smiled quite broadly. + +"I guess p'r'aps she's rather hard to suit," was the answer, "but I +like her pretty well so far. I think we'll get along with each other. +If we don't I can leave--like the others did." + +"What is your name?" + +"Nelly Ray." + +"Well, Nelly, I hope you'll be able to keep your place. Let me give +you a bit of friendly advice. Don't let the cats get into the pantry. +That is what Mrs. Pennington has quarrelled with nearly every one of +her girls about." + +"It is quite a bother to keep them out, ain't it?" said Nelly calmly. +"There's dozens of cats about the place. What on earth makes them keep +so many?" + +"Mr. Pennington has a mania for cats. He and Mrs. Pennington have a +standing disagreement about it. The last girl left here because she +couldn't stand the cats; they affected her nerves, she said. I hope +you don't mind them." + +"Oh, no; I kind of like cats. I've been tryin' to count them. Has +anyone ever done that?" + +"Not that I know of. I tried but I had to give up in despair--never +could tell when I was counting the same cat over again. Look at that +black goblin sunning himself on the woodpile. I say, Nelly, you're not +going, are you?" + +"I must. It's time to get dinner. Mr. Pennington will be in from the +fields soon." + +The next minute he heard her stepping briskly about the kitchen, +shooing out intruding cats, and humming a darky air to herself. He +went reluctantly back to the shore and rowed across the river in a +brown study. + +I don't know whether Winslow was afflicted with chronic thirst or not, +or whether the East side water wasn't so good as that of the West +side; but I do know that he fairly haunted the Pennington farmhouse +after that. Mrs. Pennington was home the next time he went, and he +asked her about her new girl. To his surprise the good lady was +unusually reticent. She couldn't really say very much about Nelly. No, +she didn't belong anywhere near Riverside. In fact, she--Mrs. +Pennington--didn't think she had any settled home at present. Her +father was travelling over the country somewhere. Nelly was a good +little girl, and very obliging. Beyond this Winslow could get no more +information, so he went around and talked to Nelly, who was sitting on +the bench under the poplars and seemed absorbed in watching the +sunset. + +She dropped her g's badly and made some grammatical errors that caused +Winslow's flesh to creep on his bones. But any man could have forgiven +mistakes from such dimpled lips in such a sweet voice. + +He asked her to go for a row up the river in the twilight and she +assented; she handled an oar very well, he found out, and the exercise +became her. Winslow tried to get her to talk about herself, but failed +signally and had to content himself with Mrs. Pennington's meagre +information. He told her about himself frankly enough--how he had had +fever in the spring and had been ordered to spend the summer in the +country and do nothing useful until his health was fully restored, and +how lonesome it was in Riverside in general and at the Beckwith farm +in particular. He made out quite a dismal case for himself and if +Nelly wasn't sorry for him, she should have been. + + * * * * * + +At the end of a fortnight Riverside folks began to talk about Winslow +and the Penningtons' hired girl. He was reported to be "dead gone" on +her; he took her out rowing every evening, drove her to preaching up +the Bend on Sunday nights, and haunted the Pennington farmhouse. Wise +folks shook their heads over it and wondered that Mrs. Pennington +allowed it. Winslow was a gentleman, and that Nelly Ray, whom nobody +knew anything about, not even where she came from, was only a common +hired girl, and he had no business to be hanging about her. She was +pretty, to be sure; but she was absurdly stuck-up and wouldn't +associate with other Riverside "help" at all. Well, pride must have a +fall; there must be something queer about her when she was so awful +sly as to her past life. + +Winslow and Nelly did not trouble themselves in the least over all +this gossip; in fact, they never even heard it. Winslow was hopelessly +in love, when he found this out he was aghast. He thought of his +father, the ambitious railroad magnate; of his mother, the brilliant +society leader; of his sisters, the beautiful and proud; he was +honestly frightened. It would never do; he must not go to see Nelly +again. He kept this prudent resolution for twenty-four hours and then +rowed over to the West shore. He found Nelly sitting on the bank in +her old faded print dress and he straightway forgot everything he +ought to have remembered. + +Nelly herself never seemed to be conscious of the social gulf between +them. At least she never alluded to it in any way, and accepted +Winslow's attentions as if she had a perfect right to them. She had +broken the record by staying with Mrs. Pennington four weeks, and +even the cats were in subjection. + +Winslow was well enough to have gone back to the city and, in fact, +his father was writing for him. But he couldn't leave Beckwiths', +apparently. At any rate he stayed on and met Nelly every day and +cursed himself for a cad and a cur and a weak-brained idiot. + +One day he took Nelly for a row up the river. They went further than +usual around the Bend. Winslow didn't want to go too far, for he knew +that a party of his city friends, chaperoned by Mrs. Keyton-Wells, +were having a picnic somewhere up along the river shore that day. But +Nelly insisted on going on and on, and of course she had her way. When +they reached a little pine-fringed headland they came upon the +picnickers, within a stone's throw. Everybody recognized Winslow. +"Why, there is Burton!" he heard Mrs. Keyton-Wells exclaim, and he +knew she was putting up her glasses. Will Evans, who was an especial +chum of his, ran down to the water's edge. "Bless me, Win, where did +you come from? Come right in. We haven't had tea yet. Bring your +friend too," he added, becoming conscious that Winslow's friend was a +mighty pretty girl. Winslow's face was crimson. He avoided Nelly's +eye. + +"Are them people friends of yours?" she asked in a low tone. + +"Yes," he muttered. + +"Well, let us go ashore if they want us to," she said calmly. "I don't +mind." + +For three seconds Winslow hesitated. Then he pulled ashore and helped +Nelly to alight on a jutting rock. There was a curious, set expression +about his fine mouth as he marched Nelly up to Mrs. Keyton-Wells and +introduced her. Mrs. Keyton-Wells's greeting was slightly cool, but +very polite. She supposed Miss Ray was some little country girl with +whom Burton Winslow was carrying on a summer flirtation; respectable +enough, no doubt, and must be treated civilly, but of course wouldn't +expect to be made an equal of exactly. The other women took their cue +from her, but the men were more cordial. Miss Ray might be shabby, but +she was distinctly fetching, and Winslow looked savage. + +Nelly was not a whit abashed, seemingly, by the fashionable circle in +which she found herself, and she talked away to Will Evans and the +others in her soft drawl as if she had known them all her life. All +might have gone passably well, had not a little Riverside imp, by name +of Rufus Hent, who had been picked up by the picnickers to run their +errands, come up just then with a pail of water. + +"Golly!" he ejaculated in very audible tones. "If there ain't Mrs. +Pennington's hired girl!" + +Mrs. Keyton-Wells stiffened with horror. Winslow darted a furious +glance at the tell-tale that would have annihilated anything except a +small boy. Will Evans grinned and went on talking to Nelly, who had +failed to hear, or at least to heed, the exclamation. + +The mischief was done, the social thermometer went down to zero in +Nelly's neighbourhood. The women ignored her altogether. Winslow set +his teeth together and registered a mental vow to wring Rufus Hent's +sunburned neck at the first opportunity. He escorted Nelly to the +table and waited on her with ostentatious deference, while Mrs. +Keyton-Wells glanced at him stonily and made up her mind to tell his +mother when she went home. + +Nelly's social ostracism did not affect her appetite. But after lunch +was over, she walked down to the skiff. Winslow followed her. + +"Do you want to go home?" he asked. + +"Yes, it's time I went, for the cats may be raidin' the pantry. But +you must not come; your friends here want you." + +"Nonsense!" said Winslow sulkily. "If you are going I am too." + +But Nelly was too quick for him; she sprang into the skiff, unwound +the rope, and pushed off before he guessed her intention. + +"I can row myself home and I mean to," she announced, taking up the +oars defiantly. + +"Nelly," he implored. + +Nelly looked at him wickedly. + +"You'd better go back to your friends. That old woman with the +eyeglasses is watchin' you." + +Winslow said something strong under his breath as he went back to the +others. Will Evans and his chums began to chaff him about Nelly, but +he looked so dangerous that they concluded to stop. There is no +denying that Winslow was in a fearful temper just then with Mrs. +Keyton-Wells, Evans, himself, Nelly--in fact, with all the world. + +His friends drove him home in the evening on their way to the station +and dropped him at the Beckwith farm. At dusk he went moodily down to +the shore. Far up the Bend was dim and shadowy and stars were shining +above the wooded shores. Over the river the Pennington farmhouse +lights twinkled out alluringly. Winslow watched them until he could +stand it no longer. Nelly had made off with his skiff, but Perry +Beckwith's dory was ready to hand. In five minutes, Winslow was +grounding her on the West shore. Nelly was sitting on a rock at the +landing place. He went over and sat down silently beside her. A full +moon was rising above the dark hills up the Bend and in the faint +light the girl was wonderfully lovely. + +"I thought you weren't comin' over at all tonight," she said, smiling +up at him, "and I was sorry, because I wanted to say goodbye to you." + +"Goodbye? Nelly, you're not going away?" + +"Yes. The cats were in the pantry when I got home." + +"Nelly!" + +"Well, to be serious. I'm not goin' for that, but I really am goin'. +I had a letter from Dad this evenin'. Did you have a good time after I +left this afternoon? Did Mrs. Keyton-Wells thaw out?" + +"Hang Mrs. Keyton-Wells! Nelly, where are you going?" + +"To Dad, of course. We used to live down south together, but two +months ago we broke up housekeepin' and come north. We thought we +could do better up here, you know. Dad started out to look for a place +to settle down and I came here while he was prospectin'. He's got a +house now, he says, and wants me to go right off. I'm goin' tomorrow." + +"Nelly, you mustn't go--you mustn't, I tell you," exclaimed Winslow in +despair. "I love you--I love you--you must stay with me forever." + +"You don't know what you're sayin', Mr. Winslow," said Nelly coldly. +"Why, you can't marry me--a common servant girl." + +"I can and I will, if you'll have me," answered Winslow recklessly. "I +can't ever let you go. I've loved you ever since I first saw you. +Nelly, won't you be my wife? Don't you love me?" + +"Well, yes, I do," confessed Nelly suddenly; and then it was fully +five minutes before Winslow gave her a chance to say anything else. + +"Oh, what will your people say?" she contrived to ask at last. "Won't +they be in a dreadful state? Oh, it will never do for you to marry +me." + +"Won't it?" said Winslow in a tone of satisfaction. "I rather think it +will. Of course, my family will rampage a bit at first. I daresay +Father'll turn me out. Don't worry over that, Nelly. I'm not afraid of +work. I'm not afraid of anything except losing you." + +"You'll have to see what Dad says," remarked Nelly, after another +eloquent interlude. + +"He won't object, will he? I'll write to him or go and see him. Where +is he?" + +"He is in town at the Arlington." + +"The Arlington!" Winslow was amazed. The Arlington was the most +exclusive and expensive hotel in town. + +"What is he doing there?" + +"Transacting a real estate or railroad deal with your father, I +believe, or something of that sort." + +"Nelly!" + +"Well?" + +"What do you mean?" + +"Just what I say." + +Winslow got up and looked at her. + +"Nelly, who are you?" + +"Helen Ray Scott, at your service, sir." + +"Not Helen Ray Scott, the daughter of the railroad king?" + +"The same. Are you sorry that you're engaged to her? If you are, +she'll stay Nelly Ray." + +Winslow dropped back on the seat with a long breath. + +"Nelly, I don't understand. Why did you deceive me? I feel stunned." + +"Oh, do forgive me," she said merrily. "I shouldn't have, I +suppose--but you know you took me for the hired girl the very first +time you saw me, and you patronized me and called me Nelly; so I let +you think so just for fun. I never thought it would come to this. When +Father and I came north I took a fancy to come here and stay with Mrs. +Pennington--who is an old nurse of mine--until Father decided where to +take up our abode. I got here the night before we met. My trunk was +delayed so I put on an old cotton dress her niece had left here--and +you came and saw me. I made Mrs. Pennington keep the secret--she +thought it great fun; and I really was a great hand to do little +chores and keep the cats in subjection too. I made mistakes in grammar +and dropped my g's on purpose--it was such fun to see you wince when I +did it. It was cruel to tease you so, I suppose, but it was so sweet +just to be loved for myself--not because I was an heiress and a +belle--I couldn't bear to tell you the truth. Did you think I +couldn't read your thoughts this afternoon, when I insisted on going +ashore? You were a little ashamed of me--you know you were. I didn't +blame you for that, but if you hadn't gone ashore and taken me as you +did I would never have spoken to you again. Mrs. Keyton-Wells won't +snub me next time we meet. And some way I don't think your father will +turn you out, either. Have you forgiven me yet, Burton?" + +"I shall never call you anything but Nelly," said Winslow +irrelevantly. + + + + +The Red Room + + +You would have me tell you the story, Grandchild? 'Tis a sad one and +best forgotten--few remember it now. There are always sad and dark +stories in old families such as ours. + +Yet I have promised and must keep my word. So sit down here at my feet +and rest your bright head on my lap, that I may not see in your young +eyes the shadows my story will bring across their bonny blue. + +I was a mere child when it all happened, yet I remember it but too +well, and I can recall how pleased I was when my father's stepmother, +Mrs. Montressor--she not liking to be called grandmother, seeing she +was but turned of fifty and a handsome woman still--wrote to my mother +that she must send little Beatrice up to Montressor Place for the +Christmas holidays. So I went joyfully though my mother grieved to +part with me; she had little to love save me, my father, Conrad +Montressor, having been lost at sea when but three months wed. + +My aunts were wont to tell me how much I resembled him, being, so they +said, a Montressor to the backbone; and this I took to mean +commendation, for the Montressors were a well-descended and +well-thought-of family, and the women were noted for their beauty. +This I could well believe, since of all my aunts there was not one but +was counted a pretty woman. Therefore I took heart of grace when I +thought of my dark face and spindling shape, hoping that when I should +be grown up I might be counted not unworthy of my race. + +The Place was an old-fashioned, mysterious house, such as I delighted +in, and Mrs. Montressor was ever kind to me, albeit a little stern, +for she was a proud woman and cared but little for children, having +none of her own. + +But there were books there to pore over without let or hindrance--for +nobody questioned of my whereabouts if I but kept out of the way--and +strange, dim family portraits on the walls to gaze upon, until I knew +each proud old face well, and had visioned a history for it in my own +mind--for I was given to dreaming and was older and wiser than my +years, having no childish companions to keep me still a child. + +There were always some of my aunts at the Place to kiss and make much +of me for my father's sake--for he had been their favourite brother. +My aunts--there were eight of them--had all married well, so said +people who knew, and lived not far away, coming home often to take tea +with Mrs. Montressor, who had always gotten on well with her +step-daughters, or to help prepare for some festivity or other--for +they were notable housekeepers, every one. + +They were all at Montressor Place for Christmas, and I got more +petting than I deserved, albeit they looked after me somewhat more +strictly than did Mrs. Montressor, and saw to it that I did not read +too many fairy tales or sit up later at nights than became my years. + +But it was not for fairy tales and sugarplums nor yet for petting that +I rejoiced to be at the Place at that time. Though I spoke not of it +to anyone, I had a great longing to see my Uncle Hugh's wife, +concerning whom I had heard much, both good and bad. + +My Uncle Hugh, albeit the oldest of the family, had never married +until now, and all the countryside rang with talk of his young wife. I +did not hear as much as I wished, for the gossips took heed to my +presence when I drew anear and turned to other matters. Yet, being +somewhat keener of comprehension than they knew, I heard and +understood not a little of their talk. + +And so I came to know that neither proud Mrs. Montressor nor my good +aunts, nor even my gentle mother, looked with overmuch favour on what +my Uncle Hugh had done. And I did hear that Mrs. Montressor had chosen +a wife for her stepson, of good family and some beauty, but that my +Uncle Hugh would have none of her--a thing Mrs. Montressor found hard +to pardon, yet might so have done had not my uncle, on his last voyage +to the Indies--for he went often in his own vessels--married and +brought home a foreign bride, of whom no one knew aught save that her +beauty was a thing to dazzle the day and that she was of some strange +alien blood such as ran not in the blue veins of the Montressors. + +Some had much to say of her pride and insolence, and wondered if Mrs. +Montressor would tamely yield her mistress-ship to the stranger. But +others, who were taken with her loveliness and grace, said that the +tales told were born of envy and malice, and that Alicia Montressor +was well worthy of her name and station. + +So I halted between two opinions and thought to judge for myself, but +when I went to the Place my Uncle Hugh and his bride were gone for a +time, and I had even to swallow my disappointment and bide their +return with all my small patience. + +But my aunts and their stepmother talked much of Alicia, and they +spoke slightingly of her, saying that she was but a light woman and +that no good would come of my Uncle Hugh's having wed her, with other +things of a like nature. Also they spoke of the company she gathered +around her, thinking her to have strange and unbecoming companions for +a Montressor. All this I heard and pondered much over, although my +good aunts supposed that such a chit as I would take no heed to their +whisperings. + +When I was not with them, helping to whip eggs and stone raisins, and +being watched to see that I ate not more than one out of five, I was +surely to be found in the wing hall, poring over my book and grieving +that I was no more allowed to go into the Red Room. + +The wing hall was a narrow one and dim, connecting the main rooms of +the Place with an older wing, built in a curious way. The hall was +lighted by small, square-paned windows, and at its end a little +flight of steps led up to the Red Room. + +Whenever I had been at the Place before--and this was often--I had +passed much of my time in this same Red Room. It was Mrs. Montressor's +sitting-room then, where she wrote her letters and examined household +accounts, and sometimes had an old gossip in to tea. The room was +low-ceilinged and dim, hung with red damask, and with odd, square +windows high up under the eaves and a dark wainscoting all around it. +And there I loved to sit quietly on the red sofa and read my fairy +tales, or talk dreamily to the swallows fluttering crazily against the +tiny panes. + +When I had gone this Christmas to the Place I soon bethought myself of +the Red Room--for I had a great love for it. But I had got no further +than the steps when Mrs. Montressor came sweeping down the hall in +haste and, catching me by the arm, pulled me back as roughly as if it +had been Bluebeard's chamber itself into which I was venturing. + +Then, seeing my face, which I doubt not was startled enough, she +seemed to repent of her haste and patted me gently on the head. + +"There, there, little Beatrice! Did I frighten you, child? Forgive an +old woman's thoughtlessness. But be not too ready to go where you are +not bidden, and never venture foot in the Red Room now, for it belongs +to your Uncle Hugh's wife, and let me tell you she is not over fond of +intruders." + +I felt sorry overmuch to hear this, nor could I see why my new aunt +should care if I went in once in a while, as had been my habit, to +talk to the swallows and misplace nothing. But Mrs. Montressor saw to +it that I obeyed her, and I went no more to the Red Room, but busied +myself with other matters. + +For there were great doings at the Place and much coming and going. My +aunts were never idle; there was to be much festivity Christmas week +and a ball on Christmas Eve. And my aunts had promised me--though not +till I had wearied them of my coaxing--that I should stay up that +night and see as much of the gaiety as was good for me. So I did their +errands and went early to bed every night without complaint--though I +did this the more readily for that, when they thought me safely +asleep, they would come in and talk around my bedroom fire, saying +that of Alicia which I should not have heard. + +At last came the day when my Uncle Hugh and his wife were expected +home--though not until my scanty patience was well nigh wearied +out--and we were all assembled to meet them in the great hall, where a +ruddy firelight was gleaming. + +My Aunt Frances had dressed me in my best white frock and my crimson +sash, with much lamenting over my skinny neck and arms, and bade me +behave prettily, as became my bringing up. So I slipped in a corner, +my hands and feet cold with excitement, for I think every drop of +blood in my body had gone to my head, and my heart beat so hardly that +it even pained me. + +Then the door opened and Alicia--for so I was used to hearing her +called, nor did I ever think of her as my aunt in my own mind--came +in, and a little in the rear my tall, dark uncle. + +She came proudly forward to the fire and stood there superbly while +she loosened her cloak, nor did she see me at all at first, but +nodded, a little disdainfully, it seemed, to Mrs. Montressor and my +aunts, who were grouped about the drawing-room door, very ladylike and +quiet. + +But I neither saw nor heard aught at the time save her only, for her +beauty, when she came forth from her crimson cloak and hood, was +something so wonderful that I forgot my manners and stared at her as +one fascinated--as indeed I was, for never had I seen such loveliness +and hardly dreamed it. + +Pretty women I had seen in plenty, for my aunts and my mother were +counted fair, but my uncle's wife was as little like to them as a +sunset glow to pale moonshine or a crimson rose to white day-lilies. + +Nor can I paint her to you in words as I saw her then, with the long +tongues of firelight licking her white neck and wavering over the rich +masses of her red-gold hair. + +She was tall--so tall that my aunts looked but insignificant beside +her, and they were of no mean height, as became their race; yet no +queen could have carried herself more royally, and all the passion and +fire of her foreign nature burned in her splendid eyes, that might +have been dark or light for aught that I could ever tell, but which +seemed always like pools of warm flame, now tender, now fierce. + +Her skin was like a delicate white rose leaf, and when she spoke I +told my foolish self that never had I heard music before; nor do I +ever again think to hear a voice so sweet, so liquid, as that which +rippled over her ripe lips. + +I had often in my own mind pictured this, my first meeting with +Alicia, now in one way, now in another, but never had I dreamed of her +speaking to me at all, so that it came to me as a great surprise when +she turned and, holding out her lovely hands, said very graciously: + +"And is this the little Beatrice? I have heard much of you--come, kiss +me, child." + +And I went, despite my Aunt Elizabeth's black frown, for the glamour +of her loveliness was upon me, and I no longer wondered that my Uncle +Hugh should have loved her. + +Very proud of her was he too; yet I felt, rather than saw--for I was +sensitive and quick of perception, as old-young children ever +are--that there was something other than pride and love in his face +when he looked on her, and more in his manner than the fond lover--as +it were, a sort of lurking mistrust. + +Nor could I think, though to me the thought seemed as treason, that +she loved her husband overmuch, for she seemed half condescending and +half disdainful to him; yet one thought not of this in her presence, +but only remembered it when she had gone. + +When she went out it seemed to me that nothing was left, so I crept +lonesomely away to the wing hall and sat down by a window to dream of +her; and she filled my thoughts so fully that it was no surprise when +I raised my eyes and saw her coming down the hall alone, her bright +head shining against the dark old walls. + +When she paused by me and asked me lightly of what I was dreaming, +since I had such a sober face, I answered her truly that it was of +her--whereat she laughed, as one not ill pleased, and said half +mockingly: + +"Waste not your thoughts so, little Beatrice. But come with me, +child, if you will, for I have taken a strange fancy to your solemn +eyes. Perchance the warmth of your young life may thaw out the ice +that has frozen around my heart ever since I came among these cold +Montressors." + +And, though I understood not her meaning, I went, glad to see the Red +Room once more. So she made me sit down and talk to her, which I did, +for shyness was no failing of mine; and she asked me many questions, +and some that I thought she should not have asked, but I could not +answer them, so 'twere little harm. + +After that I spent a part of every day with her in the Red Room. And +my Uncle Hugh was there often, and he would kiss her and praise her +loveliness, not heeding my presence--for I was but a child. + +Yet it ever seemed to me that she endured rather than welcomed his +caresses, and at times the ever-burning flame in her eyes glowed so +luridly that a chill dread would creep over me, and I would remember +what my Aunt Elizabeth had said, she being a bitter-tongued woman, +though kind at heart--that this strange creature would bring on us all +some evil fortune yet. + +Then would I strive to banish such thoughts and chide myself for +doubting one so kind to me. + +When Christmas Eve drew nigh my silly head was full of the ball day +and night. But a grievous disappointment befell me, for I awakened +that day very ill with a most severe cold; and though I bore me +bravely, my aunts discovered it soon, when, despite my piteous +pleadings, I was put to bed, where I cried bitterly and would not be +comforted. For I thought I should not see the fine folk and, more +than all, Alicia. + +But that disappointment, at least, was spared me, for at night she +came into my room, knowing of my longing--she was ever indulgent to my +little wishes. And when I saw her I forgot my aching limbs and burning +brow, and even the ball I was not to see, for never was mortal +creature so lovely as she, standing there by my bed. + +Her gown was of white, and there was nothing I could liken the stuff +to save moonshine falling athwart a frosted pane, and out from it +swelled her gleaming breast and arms, so bare that it seemed to me a +shame to look upon them. Yet it could not be denied they were of +wondrous beauty, white as polished marble. + +And all about her snowy throat and rounded arms, and in the masses of +her splendid hair, were sparkling, gleaming stones, with hearts of +pure light, which I know now to have been diamonds, but knew not then, +for never had I seen aught of their like. + +And I gazed at her, drinking in her beauty until my soul was filled, +as she stood like some goddess before her worshipper. I think she read +my thought in my face and liked it--for she was a vain woman, and to +such even the admiration of a child is sweet. + +Then she leaned down to me until her splendid eyes looked straight +into my dazzled ones. + +"Tell me, little Beatrice--for they say the word of a child is to be +believed--tell me, do you think me beautiful?" + +I found my voice and told her truly that I thought her beautiful +beyond my dreams of angels--as indeed she was. Whereat she smiled as +one well pleased. + +Then my Uncle Hugh came in, and though I thought that his face +darkened as he looked on the naked splendour of her breast and arms, +as if he liked not that the eyes of other men should gloat on it, yet +he kissed her with all a lover's fond pride, while she looked at him +half mockingly. + +Then said he, "Sweet, will you grant me a favour?" + +And she answered, "It may be that I will." + +And he said, "Do not dance with that man tonight, Alicia. I mistrust +him much." + +His voice had more of a husband's command than a lover's entreaty. She +looked at him with some scorn, but when she saw his face grow +black--for the Montressors brooked scant disregard of their authority, +as I had good reason to know--she seemed to change, and a smile came +to her lips, though her eyes glowed balefully. + +Then she laid her arms about his neck and--though it seemed to me that +she had as soon strangled as embraced him--her voice was wondrous +sweet and caressing as she murmured in his ear. + +He laughed and his brow cleared, though he said still sternly, "Do not +try me too far, Alicia." + +Then they went out, she a little in advance and very stately. + +After that my aunts also came in, very beautifully and modestly +dressed, but they seemed to me as nothing after Alicia. For I was +caught in the snare of her beauty, and the longing to see her again so +grew upon me that after a time I did an undutiful and disobedient +thing. + +I had been straitly charged to stay in bed, which I did not, but got +up and put on a gown. For it was in my mind to go quietly down, if by +chance I might again see Alicia, myself unseen. + +But when I reached the great hall I heard steps approaching and, +having a guilty conscience, I slipped aside into the blue parlour and +hid me behind the curtains lest my aunts should see me. + +Then Alicia came in, and with her a man whom I had never before seen. +Yet I instantly bethought myself of a lean black snake, with a +glittering and evil eye, which I had seen in Mrs. Montressor's garden +two summers agone, and which was like to have bitten me. John, the +gardener, had killed it, and I verily thought that if it had a soul, +it must have gotten into this man. + +Alicia sat down and he beside her, and when he had put his arms about +her, he kissed her face and lips. Nor did she shrink from his embrace, +but even smiled and leaned nearer to him with a little smooth motion, +as they talked to each other in some strange, foreign tongue. + +I was but a child and innocent, nor knew I aught of honour and +dishonour. Yet it seemed to me that no man should kiss her save only +my Uncle Hugh, and from that hour I mistrusted Alicia, though I +understood not then what I afterwards did. + +And as I watched them--not thinking of playing the spy--I saw her face +grow suddenly cold, and she straightened herself up and pushed away +her lover's arms. + +Then I followed her guilty eyes to the door, where stood my Uncle +Hugh, and all the pride and passion of the Montressors sat on his +lowering brow. Yet he came forward quietly as Alicia and the snake +drew apart and stood up. + +At first he looked not at his guilty wife but at her lover, and smote +him heavily in the face. Whereat he, being a coward at heart, as are +all villains, turned white and slunk from the room with a muttered +oath, nor was he stayed. + +My uncle turned to Alicia, and very calmly and terribly he said, "From +this hour you are no longer wife of mine!" + +And there was that in his tone which told that his forgiveness and +love should be hers nevermore. + +Then he motioned her out and she went, like a proud queen, with her +glorious head erect and no shame on her brow. + +As for me, when they were gone I crept away, dazed and bewildered +enough, and went back to my bed, having seen and heard more than I had +a mind for, as disobedient people and eavesdroppers ever do. + +But my Uncle Hugh kept his word, and Alicia was no more wife to him, +save only in name. Yet of gossip or scandal there was none, for the +pride of his race kept secret his dishonour, nor did he ever seem +other than a courteous and respectful husband. + +Nor did Mrs. Montressor and my aunts, though they wondered much among +themselves, learn aught, for they dared question neither their brother +nor Alicia, who carried herself as loftily as ever, and seemed to pine +for neither lover nor husband. As for me, no one dreamed I knew aught +of it, and I kept my own counsel as to what I had seen in the blue +parlour on the night of the Christmas ball. + +After the New Year I went home, but ere long Mrs. Montressor sent for +me again, saying that the house was lonely without little Beatrice. So +I went again and found all unchanged, though the Place was very quiet, +and Alicia went out but little from the Red Room. + +Of my Uncle Hugh I saw little, save when he went and came on the +business of his estate, somewhat more gravely and silently than of +yore, or brought to me books and sweetmeats from town. + +But every day I was with Alicia in the Red Room, where she would talk +to me, oftentimes wildly and strangely, but always kindly. And though +I think Mrs. Montressor liked our intimacy none too well, she said no +word, and I came and went as I listed with Alicia, though never quite +liking her strange ways and the restless fire in her eyes. + +Nor would I ever kiss her, after I had seen her lips pressed by the +snake's, though she sometimes coaxed me, and grew pettish and vexed +when I would not; but she guessed not my reason. + +March came in that year like a lion, exceedingly hungry and fierce, +and my Uncle Hugh had ridden away through the storm nor thought to be +back for some days. + +In the afternoon I was sitting in the wing hall, dreaming wondrous +day-dreams, when Alicia called me to the Red Room. And as I went, I +marvelled anew at her loveliness, for the blood was leaping in her +face and her jewels were dim before the lustre of her eyes. Her hand, +when she took mine, was burning hot, and her voice had a strange ring. + +"Come, little Beatrice," she said, "come talk to me, for I know not +what to do with my lone self today. Time hangs heavily in this gloomy +house. I do verily think this Red Room has an evil influence over me. +See if your childish prattle can drive away the ghosts that riot in +these dark old corners--ghosts of a ruined and shamed life! Nay, +shrink not--do I talk wildly? I mean not all I say--my brain seems on +fire, little Beatrice. Come; it may be you know some grim old legend +of this room--it must surely have one. Never was place fitter for a +dark deed! Tush! never be so frightened, child--forget my vagaries. +Tell me now and I will listen." + +Whereat she cast herself lithely on the satin couch and turned her +lovely face on me. So I gathered up my small wits and told her what I +was not supposed to know--how that, generations agone, a Montressor +had disgraced himself and his name, and that, when he came home to his +mother, she had met him in that same Red Room and flung at him taunts +and reproaches, forgetting whose breast had nourished him; and that +he, frantic with shame and despair, turned his sword against his own +heart and so died. But his mother went mad with her remorse, and was +kept a prisoner in the Red Room until her death. + +So lamely told I the tale, as I had heard my Aunt Elizabeth tell it, +when she knew not I listened or understood. Alicia heard me through +and said nothing, save that it was a tale worthy of the Montressors. +Whereat I bridled, for I too was a Montressor, and proud of it. + +But she took my hand soothingly in hers and said, "Little Beatrice, if +tomorrow or the next day they should tell you, those cold, proud +women, that Alicia was unworthy of your love, tell me, would you +believe them?" + +And I, remembering what I had seen in the blue parlour, was +silent--for I could not lie. So she flung my hand away with a bitter +laugh, and picked lightly from the table anear a small dagger with a +jewelled handle. + +It seemed to me a cruel-looking toy and I said so--whereat she smiled +and drew her white fingers down the thin, shining blade in a fashion +that made me cold. + +"Such a little blow with this," she said, "such a little blow--and the +heart beats no longer, the weary brain rests, the lips and eyes smile +never again! 'Twere a short path out of all difficulties, my +Beatrice." + +And I, understanding her not, yet shivering, begged her to cast it +aside, which she did carelessly and, putting a hand under my chin, she +turned up my face to hers. + +"Little, grave-eyed Beatrice, tell me truly, would it grieve you much +if you were never again to sit here with Alicia in this same Red +Room?" + +And I made answer earnestly that it would, glad that I could say so +much truly. Then her face grew tender and she sighed deeply. + +Presently she opened a quaint, inlaid box and took from it a shining +gold chain of rare workmanship and exquisite design, and this she hung +around my neck, nor would suffer me to thank her but laid her hand +gently on my lips. + +"Now go," she said. "But ere you leave me, little Beatrice, grant me +but the one favour--it may be that I shall never ask another of you. +Your people, I know--those cold Montressors--care little for me, but +with all my faults, I have ever been kind to you. So, when the +morrow's come, and they tell you that Alicia is as one worse than +dead, think not of me with scorn only but grant me a little pity--for +I was not always what I am now, and might never have become so had a +little child like you been always anear me, to keep me pure and +innocent. And I would have you but the once lay your arms about my +neck and kiss me." + +And I did so, wondering much at her manner--for it had in it a strange +tenderness and some sort of hopeless longing. Then she gently put me +from the room, and I sat musing by the hall window until night fell +darkly--and a fearsome night it was, of storm and blackness. And I +thought how well it was that my Uncle Hugh had not to return in such a +tempest. Yet, ere the thought had grown cold, the door opened and he +strode down the hall, his cloak drenched and wind-twisted, in one hand +a whip, as though he had but then sprung from his horse, in the other +what seemed like a crumpled letter. + +Nor was the night blacker than his face, and he took no heed of me as +I ran after him, thinking selfishly of the sweetmeats he had promised +to bring me--but I thought no more of them when I got to the door of +the Red Room. + +Alicia stood by the table, hooded and cloaked as for a journey, but +her hood had slipped back, and her face rose from it marble-white, +save where her wrathful eyes burned out, with dread and guilt and +hatred in their depths, while she had one arm raised as if to thrust +him back. + +As for my uncle, he stood before her and I saw not his face, but his +voice was low and terrible, speaking words I understood not then, +though long afterwards I came to know their meaning. + +And he cast foul scorn at her that she should have thought to fly with +her lover, and swore that naught should again thwart his vengeance, +with other threats, wild and dreadful enough. + +Yet she said no word until he had done, and then she spoke, but what +she said I know not, save that it was full of hatred and defiance and +wild accusation, such as a mad woman might have uttered. + +And she defied him even then to stop her flight, though he told her to +cross that threshold would mean her death; for he was a wronged and +desperate man and thought of nothing save his own dishonour. + +Then she made as if to pass him, but he caught her by her white wrist; +she turned on him with fury, and I saw her right hand reach stealthily +out over the table behind her, where lay the dagger. + +"Let me go!" she hissed. + +And he said, "I will not." + +Then she turned herself about and struck at him with the dagger--and +never saw I such a face as was hers at the moment. + +He fell heavily, yet held her even in death, so that she had to wrench +herself free, with a shriek that rings yet in my ears on a night when +the wind wails over the rainy moors. She rushed past me unheeding, and +fled down the hall like a hunted creature, and I heard the heavy door +clang hollowly behind her. + +As for me, I stood there looking at the dead man, for I could neither +move nor speak and was like to have died of horror. And presently I +knew nothing, nor did I come to my recollection for many a day, when I +lay abed, sick of a fever and more like to die than live. + +So that when at last I came out from the shadow of death, my Uncle +Hugh had been long cold in his grave, and the hue and cry for his +guilty wife was well nigh over, since naught had been seen or heard of +her since she fled the country with her foreign lover. + +When I came rightly to my remembrance, they questioned me as to what I +had seen and heard in the Red Room. And I told them as best I could, +though much aggrieved that to my questions they would answer nothing +save to bid me to stay still and think not of the matter. + +Then my mother, sorely vexed over my adventures--which in truth were +but sorry ones for a child--took me home. Nor would she let me keep +Alicia's chain, but made away with it, how I knew not and little +cared, for the sight of it was loathsome to me. + +It was many years ere I went again to Montressor Place, and I never +saw the Red Room more, for Mrs. Montressor had the old wing torn down, +deeming its sorrowful memories dark heritage enough for the next +Montressor. + +So, Grandchild, the sad tale is ended, and you will not see the Red +Room when you go next month to Montressor Place. The swallows still +build under the eaves, though--I know not if you will understand their +speech as I did. + + + + +The Setness of Theodosia + + +When Theodosia Ford married Wesley Brooke after a courtship of three +years, everybody concerned was satisfied. There was nothing +particularly romantic in either the courtship or marriage. Wesley was +a steady, well-meaning, rather slow fellow, comfortably off. He was +not at all handsome. But Theodosia was a very pretty girl with the +milky colouring of an auburn blonde and large china-blue eyes. She +looked mild and Madonna-like and was known to be sweet-tempered. +Wesley's older brother, Irving Brooke, had married a woman who kept +him in hot water all the time, so Heatherton folks said, but they +thought there was no fear of that with Wesley and Theodosia. They +would get along together all right. + +Only old Jim Parmelee shook his head and said, "They might, and then +again they mightn't"; he knew the stock they came of and it was a kind +you could never predict about. + +Wesley and Theodosia were third cousins; this meant that old Henry +Ford had been the great-great-grandfather of them both. Jim Parmelee, +who was ninety, had been a small boy when this remote ancestor was +still alive. + +"I mind him well," said old Jim on the morning of Theodosia's wedding +day. There was a little group about the blacksmith's forge. Old Jim +was in the centre. He was a fat, twinkling-eyed old man, fresh and +ruddy in spite of his ninety years. "And," he went on, "he was about +the settest man you'd ever see or want to see. When old Henry Ford +made up his mind on any p'int a cyclone wouldn't turn him a +hairsbreadth--no, nor an earthquake neither. Didn't matter a mite how +much he suffered for it--he'd stick to it if it broke his heart. There +was always some story or other going round about old Henry's setness. +The family weren't quite so bad--only Tom. He was Dosia's +great-grandfather, and a regular chip of the old block. Since then +it's cropped out now and again all through the different branches of +the family. I mistrust if Dosia hasn't got a spice of it, and Wes +Brooke too, but mebbe not." + +Old Jim was the only croaker. Wesley and Theodosia were married, in +the golden prime of the Indian summer, and settled down on their snug +little farm. Dosia was a beautiful bride, and Wesley's pride in her +was amusingly apparent. He thought nothing too good for her, the +Heatherton people said. It was a sight to make an old heart young to +see him march up the aisle of the church on Sunday in all the glossy +splendour of his wedding suit, his curly black head held high and his +round boyish face shining with happiness, stopping and turning proudly +at his pew to show Theodosia in. + +They always sat alone together in the big pew, and Alma Spencer, who +sat behind them, declared that they held each other's hands all +through the service. This lasted until spring; then came a sensation +and scandal, such as decorous Heatherton had not known since the time +Isaac Allen got drunk at Centreville Fair and came home and kicked his +wife. + +One evening in early April Wesley came home from the store at "the +Corner," where he had lingered to talk over politics and farming +methods with his cronies. This evening he was later than usual, and +Theodosia had his supper kept warm for him. She met him on the porch +and kissed him. He kissed her in return, and held her to him for a +minute, with her bright head on his shoulder. The frogs were singing +down in the south meadow swamp, and there was a splendour of silvery +moonrise over the wooded Heatherton hills. Theodosia always remembered +that moment. + +When they went in, Wesley, full of excitement, began to talk of what +he had heard at the store. Ogden Greene and Tom Cary were going to +sell out and go to Manitoba. There were better chances for a man out +there, he said; in Heatherton he might slave all his life and never +make more than a bare living. Out west he might make a fortune. + +Wesley talked on in this strain for some time, rehashing all the +arguments he had heard Greene and Cary use. He had always been rather +disposed to grumble at his limited chances in Heatherton, and now the +great West seemed to stretch before him, full of alluring prospects +and visions. Ogden and Tom wanted him to go too, he said. He had half +a notion to. Heatherton was a stick-in-the-mud sort of place anyhow. + +"What say, Dosia?" + +He looked across the table at her, his eyes bright and questioning. +Theodosia had listened in silence, as she poured his tea and passed +him her hot, flaky biscuits. There was a little perpendicular wrinkle +between her straight eyebrows. + +"I think Ogden and Tom are fools," she said crisply. "They have good +farms here. What do they want to go west for, or you, either? Don't +get silly notions in your head, Wes." + +Wesley flushed. + +"Wouldn't you go with me, Dosia?" he said, trying to speak lightly. + +"No, I wouldn't," said Theodosia, in her calm, sweet voice. Her face +was serene, but the little wrinkle had grown deeper. Old Jim Parmelee +would have known what it meant. He had seen the same expression on +old Henry Ford's face many a time. + +Wesley laughed good-humouredly, as if at a child. His heart was +suddenly set on going west, and he was sure he could soon bring +Theodosia around. He did not say anything more about it just then. +Wesley thought he knew how to manage women. + +When he broached the subject again, two days later, Theodosia told him +plainly that it was no use. She would never consent to leave +Heatherton and all her friends and go out to the prairies. The idea +was just rank foolishness, and he would soon see that himself. + +All this Theodosia said calmly and sweetly, without any trace of +temper or irritation. Wesley still believed that he could persuade her +and he tried perseveringly for a fortnight. By the end of that time he +discovered that Theodosia was not a great-great-granddaughter of old +Henry Ford for nothing. + +Not that Theodosia ever got angry. Neither did she laugh at him. She +met his arguments and pleadings seriously enough, but she never +wavered. + +"If you go to Manitoba, Wes, you'll go alone," she said. "I'll never +go, so there is no use in any more talking." + +Wesley was a descendant of old Henry Ford too. Theodosia's unexpected +opposition roused all the latent stubbornness of his nature. He went +over to Centreville oftener, and kept his blood at fever heat talking +to Greene and Cary, who wanted him to go with them and spared no pains +at inducement. + +The matter was gossiped about in Heatherton, of course. People knew +that Wesley Brooke had caught "the western fever," and wanted to sell +out and go to Manitoba, while Theodosia was opposed to it. They +thought Dosia would have to give in in the end, but said it was a pity +Wes Brooke couldn't be contented to stay where he was well off. + +Theodosia's family naturally sided with her and tried to dissuade +Wesley. But he was mastered by that resentful irritation, roused in a +man by opposition where he thinks he should be master, which will +drive him into any cause. + +One day he told Theodosia that he was going. She was working her +butter in her little, snowy-clean dairy under the great willows by the +well. Wesley was standing in the doorway, his stout, broad-shouldered +figure filling up the sunlit space. He was frowning and sullen. + +"I'm going west in two weeks' time with the boys, Dosia," he said +stubbornly. "You can come with me or stay here--just exactly as you +please. But I'm going." + +Theodosia went on spatting her balls of golden butter on the print in +silence. She was looking very neat and pretty in her big white apron, +her sleeves rolled up high above her plump, dimpled elbows, and her +ruddy hair curling about her face and her white throat. She looked as +pliable as her butter. + +Her silence angered her husband. He shuffled impatiently. + +"Well, what have you to say, Dosia?" + +"Nothing," said Theodosia. "If you have made up your mind to go, go +you will, I suppose. But I will not. There is no use in talking. We've +been over the ground often enough, Wes. The matter is settled." + +Up to that moment Wesley had always believed that his wife would yield +at last, when she saw that he was determined. Now he realized that she +never would. Under that exterior of milky, dimpled flesh and calm blue +eyes was all the iron will of old dead and forgotten Henry Ford. This +mildest and meekest of girls and wives was not to be moved a +hairsbreadth by all argument or entreaty, or insistence on a husband's +rights. + +A great, sudden anger came over the man. He lifted his hand and for +one moment it seemed to Theodosia as if he meant to strike her. Then +he dropped it with the first oath that had ever crossed his lips. + +"You listen to me," he said thickly. "If you won't go with me I'll +never come back here--never. When you want to do your duty as a wife +you can come to me. But I'll never come back." + +He turned on his heel and strode away. Theodosia kept on spatting her +butter. The little perpendicular wrinkle had come between her brows +again. At that moment an odd, almost uncanny resemblance to the old +portrait of her great-great-grandfather, which hung on the parlour +wall at home, came out on her girlish face. + +The fortnight passed by. Wesley was silent and sullen, never speaking +to his wife when he could avoid it. Theodosia was as sweet and serene +as ever. She made an extra supply of shirts and socks for him, put up +his lunch basket, and packed his trunk carefully. But she never spoke +of his journey. + +He did not sell his farm. Irving Brooke rented it. Theodosia was to +live in the house. The business arrangements were simple and soon +concluded. + +Heatherton folks gossiped a great deal. They all condemned Theodosia. +Even her own people sided against her now. They hated to be mixed up +in a local scandal, and since Wes was bound to go they told Theodosia +that it was her duty to go with him, no matter how much she disliked +it. It would be disgraceful not to. They might as well have talked to +the four winds. Theodosia was immoveable. They coaxed and argued and +blamed--it all came to the same thing. Even those of them who could be +"set" enough themselves on occasion could not understand Theodosia, +who had always been so tractable. They finally gave up, as Wesley had +done, baffled. Time would bring her to her senses, they said; you just +had to leave that still, stubborn kind alone. + +On the morning of Wesley's departure Theodosia arose at sunrise and +prepared a tempting breakfast. Irving Brooke's oldest son, Stanley, +who was to drive Wesley to the station, came over early with his +express wagon. Wesley's trunk, corded and labelled, stood on the back +platform. The breakfast was a very silent meal. When it was over +Wesley put on his hat and overcoat and went to the door, around which +Theodosia's morning-glory vines were beginning to twine. The sun was +not yet above the trees and the long shadows lay on the dewy grass. +The wet leaves were flickering on the old maples that grew along the +fence between the yard and the clover field beyond. The skies were all +pearly blue, cleanswept of clouds. From the little farmhouse the green +meadows sloped down to the valley, where a blue haze wound in and out +like a glistening ribbon. + +Theodosia went out and stood looking inscrutably on, while Wesley and +Irving hoisted the trunk into the wagon and tied it. Then Wesley came +up the porch steps and looked at her. + +"Dosia," he said a little huskily, "I said I wouldn't ask you to go +again, but I will. Will you come with me yet?" + +"No," said Theodosia gently. + +He held out his hand. He did not offer to kiss her. + +"Goodbye, Dosia." + +"Goodbye, Wes." + +There was no tremor of an eyelash with her. Wesley smiled bitterly and +turned away. When the wagon reached the end of the little lane he +turned and looked back for the last time. Through all the years that +followed he carried with him the picture of his wife as he saw her +then, standing amid the airy shadows and wavering golden lights of the +morning, the wind blowing the skirt of her pale blue wrapper about +her feet and ruffling the locks of her bright hair into a delicate +golden cloud. Then the wagon disappeared around a curve in the road, +and Theodosia turned and went back into her desolate home. + +For a time there was a great buzz of gossip over the affair. People +wondered over it. Old Jim Parmelee understood better than the others. +When he met Theodosia he looked at her with a curious twinkle in his +keen old eyes. + +"Looks as if a man could bend her any way he'd a mind to, doesn't +she?" he said. "Looks is deceiving. It'll come out in her face by and +by--she's too young yet, but it's there. It does seem unnatteral to +see a woman so stubborn--you'd kinder look for it more in a man." + +Wesley wrote a brief letter to Theodosia when he reached his +destination. He said he was well and was looking about for the best +place to settle. He liked the country fine. He was at a place called +Red Butte and guessed he'd locate there. + +Two weeks later he wrote again. He had taken up a claim of three +hundred acres. Greene and Cary had done the same. They were his +nearest neighbours and were three miles away. He had knocked up a +little shack, was learning to cook his own meals, and was very busy. +He thought the country was a grand one and the prospects good. + +Theodosia answered his letter and told him all the Heatherton news. +She signed herself "Theodosia Brooke," but otherwise there was +nothing in the letter to indicate that it was written by a wife to +her husband. + +At the end of a year Wesley wrote and once more asked her to go out to +him. He was getting on well, and was sure she would like the place. It +was a little rough, to be sure, but time would improve that. + +"Won't you let bygones be bygones, Dosia?" he wrote, "and come out to +me. Do, my dear wife." + +Theodosia wrote back, refusing to go. She never got any reply, nor did +she write again. + +People had given up talking about the matter and asking Theodosia when +she was going out to Wes. Heatherton had grown used to the chronic +scandal within its decorous borders. Theodosia never spoke of her +husband to anyone, and it was known that they did not correspond. She +took her youngest sister to live with her. She had her garden and hens +and a cow. The farm brought her enough to live on, and she was always +busy. + + * * * * * + +When fifteen years had gone by there were naturally some changes in +Heatherton, sleepy and; unprogressive as it was. Most of the old +people were in the little hillside burying-ground that fronted the +sunrise. Old Jim Parmelee was there with his recollections of four +generations. Men and women who had been in their prime when Wesley +went away were old now and the children were grown up and married. + +Theodosia was thirty-five and was nothing like! the slim, dimpled girl +who had stood on the porch steps and watched her husband drive away +that morning fifteen years ago. She was stout and comely; the auburn +hair was darker and arched away from her face in smooth, shining waves +instead of the old-time curls. Her face was unlined and +fresh-coloured, but no woman could live in subjection to her own +unbending will for so many years and not show it. Nobody, looking at +Theodosia now, would have found it hard to believe that a woman with +such a determined, immoveable face could stick to a course of conduct +in defiance of circumstances. + +Wesley Brooke was almost forgotten. People knew, through +correspondents of Greene and Cary, that he had prospered and grown +rich. The curious old story had crystallized into accepted history. + +A life may go on without ripple or disturbance for so many years that +it may seem to have settled into a lasting calm; then a sudden wind of +passion may sweep over it and leave behind a wake of tempestuous +waters. Such a time came at last to Theodosia. + +One day in August Mrs. Emory Merritt dropped in. Emory Merritt's +sister was Ogden Greene's wife, and the Merritts kept up an occasional +correspondence with her. Hence, Cecilia Merritt always knew what was +to be known about Wesley Brooke, and always told Theodosia because she +had never been expressly forbidden to do so. + +Today she looked slightly excited. Secretly she was wondering if the +news she brought would have any effect whatever on Theodosia's +impassive calm. + +"Do you know, Dosia, Wesley's real sick? In fact, Phoebe Greene says +they have very poor hopes of him. He was kind of ailing all the +spring, it seems, and about a month ago he was took down with some +kind of slow fever they have out there. Phoebe says they have a hired +nurse from the nearest town and a good doctor, but she reckons he +won't get over it. That fever goes awful hard with a man of his +years." + +Cecilia Merritt, who was the fastest talker in Heatherton, had got +this out before she was brought up by a queer sound, half gasp, half +cry, from Theodosia. The latter looked as if someone had struck her a +physical blow. + +"Mercy, Dosia, you ain't going to faint! I didn't suppose you'd care. +You never seemed to care." + +"Did you say," asked Theodosia thickly, "that Wesley was sick--dying?" + +"Well, that's what Phoebe said. She may be mistaken. Dosia Brooke, +you're a queer woman. I never could make you out and I never expect +to. I guess only the Lord who made you can translate you." + +Theodosia stood up. The sun was getting low, and the valley beneath +them, ripening to harvest, was like a river of gold. She folded up her +sewing with a steady hand. + +"It's five o'clock, so I'll ask you to excuse me, Cecilia. I have a +good deal to attend to. You can ask Emory if he'll drive me to the +station in the morning. I'm going out to Wes." + +"Well, for the land's sake," said Cecilia Merritt feebly, as she tied +on her gingham sunbonnet. She got up and went home in a daze. + +Theodosia packed her trunk and worked all night, dry-eyed, with agony +and fear tearing at her heart. The iron will had snapped at last, like +a broken reed, and fierce self-condemnation seized on her. "I've been +a wicked woman," she moaned. + +A week from that day Theodosia climbed down from the dusty stage that +had brought her from the station over the prairies to the +unpretentious little house where Wesley Brooke lived. A young girl, so +like what Ogden Greene's wife had been fifteen years before that +Theodosia involuntarily exclaimed, "Phoebe," came to the door. Beyond +her, Theodosia saw the white-capped nurse. + +Her voice trembled. + +"Does--does Wesley Brooke live here?" she asked. + +The girl nodded. + +"Yes. But he is very ill at present. Nobody is allowed to see him." + +Theodosia put up her hand and loosened her bonnet strings as if they +were choking her. She had been sick with the fear that Wesley would be +dead before she got to him. The relief was almost overwhelming. + +"But I must see him," she cried hysterically--she, the calm, +easy-going Dosia, hysterical--"I am his wife--and oh, if he had died +before I got here!" + +The nurse came forward. + +"In that case I suppose you must," she conceded. "But he does not +expect you. I must prepare him for the surprise." + +She turned to the door of a room opening off the kitchen, but +Theodosia, who had hardly heard her, was before her. She was inside +the room before the nurse could prevent her. Then she stood, afraid +and trembling, her eyes searching the dim apartment hungrily. + +When they fell on the occupant of the bed Theodosia started in bitter +surprise. All unconsciously she had been expecting to find Wesley as +he had been when they parted. Could this gaunt, haggard creature, with +the unkempt beard and prematurely grey hair and the hollow, beseeching +eyes, be the ruddy, boyish-faced husband of her youth? She gave a +choking cry of pain and shame, and the sick man turned his head. Their +eyes met. + +Amazement, incredulity, hope, dread, all flashed in succession over +Wesley Brooke's lined face. He raised himself feebly up. + +"Dosia," he murmured. + +Theodosia staggered across the room and fell on her knees by the bed. +She clasped his head to her breast and kissed him again and again. + +"Oh, Wes, Wes, can you forgive me? I've been a wicked, stubborn +woman--and I've spoiled our lives. Forgive me." + +He held his thin trembling arms around her and devoured her face with +his eyes. + +"Dosia, when did you come? Did you know I was sick?" + +"Wes, I can't talk till you say you've forgiven me." + +"Oh, Dosia, you have just as much to forgive. We were both too set. I +should have been more considerate." + +"Just say, I forgive you, Dosia,'" she entreated. + +"I forgive you, Dosia," he said gently, "and oh, it's so good to see +you once more, darling. There hasn't been an hour since I left you +that I haven't longed for your sweet face. If I had thought you really +cared I'd have gone back. But I thought you didn't. It broke my heart. +You did though, didn't you?" + +"Oh, yes, yes, yes," she said, holding him more closely, with her +tears falling. + +When the young doctor from Red Butte came that evening he found a +great improvement in his patient. Joy and happiness, those world-old +physicians, had done what drugs and medicines had failed to do. + +"I'm going to get better, Doc," said Wesley. "My wife has come and +she's going to stay. You didn't know I was married, did you? I'll tell +you the story some day. I proposed going back east, but Dosia says +she'd rather stay here. I'm the happiest man in Red Butte, Doc." + +He squeezed Theodosia's hand as he had used to do long ago in +Heatherton church, and Dosia smiled down at him. There were no +dimples now, but her smile was very sweet. The ghostly finger of old +Henry Ford, pointing down through the generations, had lost its power +to brand with its malediction the life of these, his descendants. +Wesley and Theodosia had joined hands with their long-lost happiness. + + + + +The Story of an Invitation + + +Bertha Sutherland hurried home from the post office and climbed the +stairs of her boarding-house to her room on the third floor. Her +roommate, Grace Maxwell, was sitting on the divan by the window, +looking out into the twilight. + +A year ago Bertha and Grace had come to Dartmouth to attend the +Academy, and found themselves roommates. Bertha was bright, pretty and +popular, the favourite of her classmates and teachers; Grace was a +grave, quiet girl, dressed in mourning. She was quite alone in the +world, the aunt who had brought her up having recently died. At first +she had felt shy with bright and brilliant Bertha; but they soon +became friends, and the year that followed was a very pleasant one. It +was almost ended now, for the terminal exams had begun, and in a +week's time the school would close for the holidays. + +"Have some chocolates, Grace," said Bertha gaily. "I got such good +news in my letter tonight that I felt I must celebrate it fittingly. +So I went into Carter's and invested all my spare cash in caramels. +It's really fortunate the term is almost out, for I'm nearly bankrupt. +I have just enough left to furnish a 'tuck-out' for commencement +night, and no more." + +"What is your good news, may I ask?" said Grace. + +"You know I have an Aunt Margaret--commonly called Aunt Meg--out at +Riversdale, don't you? There never was such a dear, sweet, jolly aunty +in the world. I had a letter from her tonight. Listen, I'll read you +what she says." + + _I want you to spend your holidays with me, my dear. Mary + Fairweather and Louise Fyshe and Lily Dennis are coming, too. So + there is just room for one more, and that one must be yourself. + Come to Riversdale when school closes, and I'll feed you on + strawberries and cream and pound cake and doughnuts and mince + pies, and all the delicious, indigestible things that school + girls love and careful mothers condemn. Mary and Lou and Lil are + girls after your own heart, I know, and you shall all do just as + you like, and we'll have picnics and parties and merry doings + galore._ + +"There," said Bertha, looking up with a laugh. "Isn't that lovely?" + +"How delightful it must be to have friends like that to love you and +plan for you," said Grace wistfully. "I am sure you will have a +pleasant vacation, Bertie. As for me, I am going into Clarkman's +bookstore until school reopens. I saw Mr. Clarkman today and he agreed +to take me." + +Bertha looked surprised. She had not known what Grace's vacation plans +were. + +"I don't think you ought to do that, Grace," she said thoughtfully. +"You are not strong, and you need a good rest. It will be awfully +trying to work at Clarkman's all summer." + +"There is nothing else for me to do," said Grace, trying to speak +cheerfully. "You know I'm as poor as the proverbial church mouse, +Bertie, and the simple truth is that I can't afford to pay my board +all summer and get my winter outfit unless I do something to earn it. +I shall be too busy to be lonesome, and I shall expect long, newsy +letters from you, telling me all your fun--passing your vacation on to +me at second-hand, you see. Well, I must set to work at those algebra +problems. I tried them before dark, but I couldn't solve them. My head +ached and I felt so stupid. How glad I shall be when exams are over." + +"I suppose I must revise that senior English this evening," said +Bertha absently. + +But she made no move to do so. She was studying her friend's face. How +very pale and thin Grace looked--surely much paler and thinner than +when she had come to the Academy, and she had not by any means been +plump and rosy then. + +I believe she could not stand two months at Clarkman's, thought +Bertha. If I were not going to Aunt Meg's, I would ask her to go home +with me. Or even if Aunt Meg had room for another guest, I'd just +write her all about Grace and ask if I could bring her with me. Aunt +Meg would understand--she always understands. But she hasn't, so it +can't be. + +Just then a thought darted into Bertha's brain. + +"What nonsense!" she said aloud so suddenly and forcibly that Grace +fairly jumped. + +"What is?" + +"Oh, nothing much," said Bertha, getting up briskly. "See here, I'm +going to get to work. I've wasted enough time." + +She curled herself up on the divan and tried to study her senior +English. But her thoughts wandered hopelessly, and finally she gave it +up in despair and went to bed. There she could not sleep; she lay +awake and wrestled with herself. It was after midnight when she sat up +in bed and said solemnly, "I will do it." + +Next day Bertha wrote a confidential letter to Aunt Meg. She thanked +her for her invitation and then told her all about Grace. + +"And what I want to ask, Aunt Meg, is that you will let me transfer my +invitation to Grace, and ask her to go to Riversdale this summer in my +place. Don't think me ungrateful. No, I'm sure you won't, you always +understand things. But you can't have us both, and I'd rather Grace +should go. It will do her so much good, and I have a lovely home of my +own to go to, and she has none." + +Aunt Meg understood, as usual, and was perfectly willing. So she wrote +to Bertha and enclosed a note of invitation for Grace. + +I shall have to manage this affair very carefully, reflected Bertha. +Grace must never suspect that I did it on purpose. I will tell her +that circumstances have prevented me from accepting Aunt Meg's +invitation. That is true enough--no need to say that the circumstances +are hers, not mine. And I'll say I just asked Aunt Meg to invite her +in my place and that she has done so. + +When Grace came home from her history examination that day, Bertha +told her story and gave her Aunt Meg's cordial note. + +"You must come to me in Bertha's place," wrote the latter. "I feel as +if I knew you from her letters, and I will consider you as a sort of +honorary niece, and I'll treat you as if you were Bertha herself." + +"Isn't it splendid of Aunt Meg?" said Bertha diplomatically. "Of +course you'll go, Gracie." + +"Oh, I don't know," said Grace in bewilderment. "Are you sure you +don't want to go, Bertha?" + +"Indeed, I do want to go, dreadfully," said Bertha frankly. "But as +I've told you, it is impossible. But if I am disappointed, Aunt Meg +musn't be. You must go, Grace, and that is all there is about it." + +In the end, Grace did go, a little puzzled and doubtful still, but +thankful beyond words to escape the drudgery of the counter and the +noise and heat of the city. Bertha went home, feeling a little bit +blue in secret, it cannot be denied, but also feeling quite sure that +if she had to do it all over again, she would do just the same. + +The summer slipped quickly by, and finally two letters came to Bertha, +one from Aunt Meg and one from Grace. + +"I've had a lovely time," wrote the latter, "and, oh, Bertie, what do +you think? I am to stay here always. Oh, of course I am going back to +school next month, but this is to be my home after this. Aunt Meg--she +makes me call her that--says I must stay with her for good." + +In Aunt Meg's letter was this paragraph: + + _Grace is writing to you, and will have told you that I intend + to keep her here. You know I have always wanted a daughter of my + own, but my greedy brothers and sisters would never give me one + of theirs. So I intend to adopt Grace. She is the sweetest girl + in the world, and I am very grateful to you for sending her + here. You will not know her when you see her. She has grown + plump and rosy._ + +Bertha folded her letters up with a smile. "I have a vague, delightful +feeling that I am the good angel in a storybook," she said. + + + + +The Touch of Fate + + +Mrs. Major Hill was in her element. This did not often happen, for in +the remote prairie town of the Canadian Northwest, where her husband +was stationed, there were few opportunities for match-making. And Mrs. +Hill was--or believed herself to be--a born matchmaker. + +Major Hill was in command of the detachment of Northwest Mounted +Police at Dufferin Bluff. Mrs. Hill was wont to declare that it was +the most forsaken place to be found in Canada or out of it; but she +did her very best to brighten it up, and it is only fair to say that +the N.W.M.P., officers and men, seconded her efforts. + +When Violet Thayer came west to pay a long-promised visit to her old +schoolfellow, Mrs. Hill's cup of happiness bubbled over. In her secret +soul she vowed that Violet should never go back east unless it were +post-haste to prepare a wedding trousseau. There were at least half a +dozen eligibles among the M.P.s, and Mrs. Hill, after some reflection, +settled on Ned Madison as the flower of the flock. + +"He and Violet are simply made for each other," she told Major Hill +the evening before Miss Thayer's arrival. "He has enough money and he +is handsome and fascinating. And Violet is a beauty and a clever woman +into the bargain. They can't help falling in love, I'm sure; it's +fate!" + +"Perhaps Miss Thayer may be booked elsewhere already," suggested Major +Hill. He had seen more than one of his wife's card castles fall into +heartbreaking ruin. + +"Oh, no; Violet would have told me if that were the case. It's really +quite time for her to think of settling down. She is twenty-five, you +know. The men all go crazy over her, but she's dreadfully hard to +please. However, she can't help liking Ned. He hasn't a single fault. +I firmly believe it is foreordained." + +And in this belief Mrs. Hill rested securely, but nevertheless did not +fail to concoct several feminine artifices for the helping on of +foreordination. It was a working belief with her that it was always +well to have the gods in your debt. + +Violet Thayer came, saw, and conquered. Within thirty-six hours of her +arrival at Dufferin Bluff she had every one of the half-dozen +eligibles at her feet, not to mention a score or more ineligibles. She +would have been surprised indeed had it been otherwise. Miss Thayer +knew her power, and was somewhat unduly fond of exercising it. But she +was a very nice girl into the bargain, and so thought one and all of +the young men who frequented Mrs. Hill's drawing-room and counted it +richly worth while merely to look at Miss Thayer after having seen +nothing for weeks except flabby half-breed girls and blue-haired +squaws. + +Madison was foremost in the field, of course. Madison was really a +nice fellow, and quite deserved all Mrs. Hill's encomiums. He was +good-looking and well groomed--could sing and dance divinely and play +the violin to perfection. The other M.P.s were all jealous of him, and +more so than ever when Violet Thayer came. They did not consider that +any one of them had the ghost of a chance if Madison entered the lists +against them. + +Violet liked Madison, and was very chummy with him after her own +fashion. She thought all the M.P.s were nice boys, and they amused +her, for which she was grateful. She had expected Dufferin Bluff to be +very dull, and doubtless it would pall after a time, but for a change +it was delightful. + +The sixth evening after her arrival found Mrs. Hill's room crowded, as +usual, with M.P.s. Violet was looking her best in a distracting new +gown--Sergeant Fox afterwards described it to a brother officer as a +"stunning sort of rig between a cream and a blue and a brown"; she +flirted impartially with all the members of her circle at first, but +gradually narrowed down to Ned Madison, much to the delight of Mrs. +Hill, who was hovering around like a small, brilliant butterfly. + +Violet was talking to Madison and watching John Spencer out of the +tail of her eye. Spencer was not an M.P. He had some government post +at Dufferin Bluff, and this was his first call at Lone Poplar Villa +since Miss Thayer's arrival. He did not seem to be dazzled by her at +all, and after his introduction had promptly retired to a corner with +Major Hill, where they talked the whole evening about the trouble on +the Indian reservation at Loon Lake. + +Possibly this indifference piqued Miss Thayer. Possibly she considered +it refreshing after the servile adulation of the M.P.s. At any rate, +when all the latter were gathered about the piano singing a chorus +with gusto, she shook Madison off and went over to the corner where +Spencer, deserted by the Major, whose bass was wanted, was sitting in +solitary state. + +He looked up indifferently as Violet shimmered down on the divan +beside him. Sergeant Robinson, who was watching them jealously from +the corner beyond the palms, and would have given his eyes, or at +least one of them, for such a favour, mentally vowed that Spencer was +the dullest fellow he had ever put those useful members on. + +"Don't you sing, Mr. Spencer?" asked Violet by way of beginning a +conversation, as she turned her splendid eyes full upon him. Robinson +would have lost his head under them, but Spencer kept his heroically. + +"No," was his calmly brief reply, given without any bluntness, but +with no evident intention of saying anything more. + +In spite of her social experience Violet felt disconcerted. + +"If he doesn't want to talk to me I won't try to make him," she +thought crossly. No man had ever snubbed her so before. + +Spencer listened immovably to the music for a time. Then he turned to +his companion with a palpable effort to be civilly sociable. + +"How do you like the west, Miss Thayer?" he said. + +Violet smiled--the smile most men found dangerous. + +"Very much, so far as I have seen it. There is a flavour about the +life here that I like, but I dare say it would soon pall. It must be +horribly lonesome here most of the time, especially in winter." + +"The M.P.s are always growling that it is," returned Spencer with a +slight smile. "For my own part I never find it so." + +Violet decided that his smile was very becoming to him and that she +liked the way his dark hair grew over his forehead. + +"I don't think I've seen you at Lone Poplar Villa before?" she said. + +"No. I haven't been here for some time. I came up tonight to see the +Major about the Loon Lake trouble." + +"Otherwise you wouldn't have come," thought Violet. +"Flattering--very!" Aloud she said, "Is it serious?" + +"Oh, no. A mere squabble among the Indians. Have you ever visited the +Reservation, Miss Thayer? No? Well, you should get some of your M.P. +friends to take you out. It would be worth while." + +"Why don't you ask me to go yourself?" said Violet audaciously. + +Spencer smiled again. "Have I failed in politeness by not doing so? I +fear you would find me an insufferably dull companion." + +So he was not going to ask her after all. Violet felt piqued. She was +also conscious of a sensation very near akin to disappointment. She +looked across at Madison. How trim and dapper he was! + +"I hate a bandbox man," she said to herself. + +Spencer meanwhile had picked up one of Mrs. Hill's novels from the +stand beside him. + +"_Fools of Habit_," he said, glancing at the cover. "I see it is +making quite a sensation down east. I suppose you've read it?" + +"Yes. It is very frivolous and clever--all froth but delightful froth. +Did you like it?" + +Spencer balanced the novel reflectively on his slender brown hand. + +"Well, yes, rather. But I don't care for novels as a rule. I don't +understand them. The hero of this book, now--do you believe that a man +in love would act as he did?" + +"I don't know," said Violet amusedly. "You ought to be a better judge +than I. You are a man." + +"I have never loved anybody, so I am in no position to decide," said +Spencer. + +There was as little self-consciousness in his voice as if he were +telling her a fact concerning the Loon Lake trouble. Violet rose to +the occasion. + +"You have an interesting experience to look forward to," she said. + +Spencer turned his deep-set grey eyes squarely upon her. + +"I don't know that. When I said I had never loved, I meant more than +the love of a man for some particular woman. I meant love in every +sense. I do not know what it is to have an affection for any human +being. My parents died before I can remember. My only living relative +was a penurious old uncle who brought me up for shame's sake and +kicked me out on the world as soon as he could. I don't make friends +easily. I have a few acquaintances whom I like, but there is not a +soul on earth for whom I care, or who cares for me." + +"What a revelation love will be to you when it comes," said Violet +softly. Again he looked into her eyes. + +"Do you think it will come?" he asked. + +Before she could reply Mrs. Hill pounced upon them. Violet was wanted +to sing. Mr. Spencer would excuse her, wouldn't he? Mr. Spencer did so +obligingly. Moreover, he got up and bade his hostess good night. +Violet gave him her hand. + +"You will call again?" she said. + +Spencer looked across at Madison--perhaps it was accidental. + +"I think not," he said. "If, as you say, love will come some time, it +would be a very unpleasant revelation if it came in hopeless guise, +and one never knows what may happen." + +Miss Thayer was conscious of a distinct fluttering of her heart as she +went across to the piano. This was a new sensation for her, and worthy +of being analyzed. After the M.P.s had gone she asked Mrs. Hill who +Mr. Spencer was. + +"Oh, John Spencer," said Mrs. Hill carelessly. "He's at the head of +the Land Office here. That's really all I know about him. Jack says he +is a downright good fellow and all that, you know. But he's no earthly +good in a social way; he can't talk or he won't. He's flat. So +different from Mr. Madison, isn't he?" + +"Very," said Violet emphatically. + +After Mrs. Hill had gone out Violet walked to the nearest mirror and +looked at herself with her forefinger in the dimple of her chin. + +"It is very odd," she said. She did not mean the dimple. + + * * * * * + +Spencer had told her he was not coming back. She did not believe this, +but she did not expect him for a few days. Consequently, when he +appeared the very next evening she was surprised. Madison, to whom she +was talking when Spencer entered, does not know to this day what she +had started to say to him, for she never finished her sentence. + +"I wonder if it is the Loon Lake affair again?" she thought nervously. + +Mrs. Hill came up at this point and whisked Madison off for a waltz. +Spencer, seeing his chance, came straight across the room to her. +Sergeant Robinson, who was watching them as usual, is willing to make +affidavit that Miss Thayer changed colour. + +After his greeting Spencer said nothing. He sat beside her, and they +watched Mrs. Hill and Madison dancing. Violet wondered why she did not +feel bored. When she saw Madison coming back to her she was conscious +of an unreasonable anger with him. She got up abruptly. + +"Let us go out on the verandah," she said imperiously. "It is +absolutely stifling in here." + +They went out. It was very cool and dusky. The lights of the town +twinkled out below them, and the prairie bluffs behind them were dark +and sibilant. + +"I am going to drive over to Loon Lake tomorrow afternoon to look into +affairs there," said Spencer. "Will you go with me?" + +Violet reflected a moment. "You didn't ask me as if you really wanted +me to go," she said. + +Spencer put his hand over the white fingers that rested on the +railing. He bent forward until his breath stirred the tendrils of hair +on her forehead. + +"Yes, I do," he said distinctly. "I want you to go with me to Loon +Lake tomorrow more than I ever wanted any thing in my life before." + +Later on, when everybody had gone, Violet had her bad quarter of an +hour with Mrs. Hill. That lady felt herself aggrieved. + +"I think you treated poor Ned very badly tonight, Vi. He felt really +blue over it. And it was awfully bad form to go out with Spencer as +you did and stay there so long. And you oughtn't to flirt with him--he +doesn't understand the game." + +"I'm not going to flirt with him," said Miss Thayer calmly. + +"Oh, I suppose it's just your way. Only don't turn the poor fellow's +head. By the way, Ned is coming up with his camera tomorrow afternoon +to take us all." + +"I'm afraid he won't find me at home," said Violet sweetly. "I am +going out to Loon Lake with Mr. Spencer." + +Mrs. Hill flounced off to bed in a pet. She was disgusted with +everything, she declared to the Major. Things had been going so +nicely, and now they were all muddled. + +"Isn't Madison coming up to time?" queried the Major sleepily. + +"Madison! It's Violet. She is behaving abominably. She treated poor +Ned shamefully tonight. You saw yourself how she acted with Spencer, +and she's going to Loon Lake with him tomorrow, she says. I'm sure I +don't know what she can see in him. He's the dullest, pokiest fellow +alive--so different from her in every way." + +"Perhaps that is why she likes him," suggested the Major. "The +attraction of opposites and all that, you know." + +But Mrs. Hill crossly told him he didn't know anything about it, so, +being a wise man, he held his tongue. + + * * * * * + +During the next two weeks Mrs. Hill was the most dissatisfied woman in +the four districts, and every M.P. down to the rawest recruit +anathemized Spencer in secret a dozen times a day. Violet simply +dropped everyone else, including Madison, in the coolest, most +unmistakable way. + +One night Spencer did not come to Lone Poplar Villa. Violet looked for +him to the last. When she realized that he was not coming she went to +the verandah to have it out with herself. As she sat huddled up in a +dim corner beneath a silkily rustling western maple two M.P.s came out +and, not seeing her, went on with their conversation. + +"Heard about Spencer?" questioned one. + +"No. What of him?" + +"Well, they say Miss Thayer's thrown him over. Yesterday I was passing +here about four in the afternoon and I saw Spencer coming in. I went +down to the Land Office and was chatting to Cribson when the door +opened about half an hour later and Spencer burst in. He was pale as +the dead, and looked wild. 'Has Fyshe gone to Rainy River about those +Crown Lands yet?' he jerked out. Cribson said, 'No.' Then tell him he +needn't; I'm going myself,' said Spencer and out he bolted. He posted +off to Rainy River today, and won't be back for a fortnight. She'll be +gone then." + +"Rather rough on Spencer after the way she encouraged him," returned +the other as they passed out of earshot. + +Violet got up. All the callers were gone, and she swept in to Mrs. +Hill dramatically. + +"Edith," she said in the cold, steady voice that, to those who knew +her, meant breakers ahead for somebody, "Mr. Spencer was here +yesterday when I was riding with the Major, was he not? What did you +tell him about me?" + +Mrs. Hill looked at Violet's blazing eyes and wilted. + +"I--didn't tell him anything--much." + +"What was it?" + +Mrs. Hill began to sob. + +"Don't look at me like that, Violet! He just dropped in and we were +talking about you--at least I was--and I had heard that Harry St. Maur +was paying you marked attention before you came west--and--and that +some people thought you were engaged--and so--and so--" + +"You told Mr. Spencer that I was engaged to Harry St. Maur?" + +"No-o-o--I just hinted. I didn't mean an-any harm. I never dreamed +you'd really c-care. I thought you were just amusing yourself--and so +did everybody--and I wanted Ned Madison--" + +Violet had turned very pale. + +"I love him," she said hoarsely, "and you've sent him away. He's gone +to Rainy River. I shall never see him again!" + +"Oh, yes, you will," gasped Mrs. Hill faintly. "He'll come back when +he knows--you c-can write and tell him--" + +"Do you suppose I am going to write and ask him to come back?" said +Violet wildly. "I've enough pride left yet to keep me from doing that +for a man at whose head I've thrown myself openly--yes, openly, and +who has never, in words at least, told me he cared anything about me. +I will never forgive you, Edith!" + +Then Mrs. Hill found herself alone with her lacerated feelings. After +soothing them with a good cry, she set to work thinking seriously. +There was no doubt she had muddled things badly, but there was no use +leaving them in a muddle when a word or two fitly spoken might set +them straight. + +Mrs. Hill sat down and wrote a very diplomatic letter before she went +to bed, and the next morning she waylaid Sergeant Fox and asked him if +he would ride down to Rainy River with a very important message for +Mr. Spencer. Sergeant Fox wondered what it could be, but it was not +his to reason why; it was his only to mount and ride with all due +speed, for Mrs. Hill's whims and wishes were as stringent and binding +as the rules of the force. + +That evening when Mrs. Hill and Violet--the latter very silent and +regal--were sitting on the verandah, a horseman came galloping up the +Rainy River trail. Mrs. Hill excused herself and went in. Five minutes +later John Spencer, covered with the alkali dust of his twenty miles' +ride, dismounted at Violet's side. + + * * * * * + +The M.P.s gave a concert at the barracks that night and Mrs. Hill and +her Major went to it, as well as everyone else of any importance in +town except Violet and Spencer. They sat on Major Hill's verandah and +watched the moon rising over the bluffs and making milk-white +reflections in the prairie lakes. + +"It seems a year of misery since last night," sighed Violet happily. + +"You couldn't have been quite as miserable as I was," said Spencer +earnestly. "You were everything--absolutely everything to me. Other +men have little rills and driblets of affection for sisters and +cousins and aunts, but everything in me went out to you. Do you +remember you told me the first time we met that love would be a +revelation to me? It has been more. It has been a new gospel. I hardly +dared hope you could care for me. Even yet I don't know why you do." + +"I love you," said Violet gravely, "because you are you." + +Than which, of course, there could be no better reason. + + + + +The Waking of Helen + + +Robert Reeves looked somewhat curiously at the girl who was waiting on +him at his solitary breakfast. He had not seen her before, arriving at +his summer boarding house only the preceding night. + +It was a shabby farmhouse on the inland shore of a large bay that was +noted for its tides, and had wonderful possibilities of light and +shade for an impressionist. Reeves was an enthusiastic artist. It +mattered little to him that the boarding accommodations were most +primitive, the people uncultured and dull, the place itself utterly +isolated, as long as he could revel in those transcendent sunsets and +sunrises, those marvellous moonlights, those wonderful purple shores +and sweeps of shimmering blue water. + +The owner of the farm was Angus Fraser, and he and his wife seemed to +be a reserved, uncouth pair, with no apparent interest in life save to +scratch a bare living out of their few stony acres. He had an +impression that they were childless and was at a loss to place this +girl who poured his tea and brought in his toast. She did not resemble +either Fraser or his wife. She was certainly not beautiful, being very +tall and rather awkward, and dressed in a particularly unbecoming dark +print wrapper. Her luxuriant hair was thick and black, and was coiled +in a heavy knot at the nape of her neck. Her features were delicate +but irregular, and her skin was very brown. Her eyes attracted +Reeves's notice especially; they were large and dark and full of a +half-unconscious, wistful longing, as if a prisoned soul behind them +were vainly trying to reveal itself. + +Reeves could find out nothing of her from herself, for she responded +to his tentative questions about the place in the briefest fashion. +Afterwards he interviewed Mrs. Fraser cautiously, and ascertained that +the girl's name was Helen Fraser, and that she was Angus's niece. + +"Her father and mother are dead and we've brought her up. Helen's a +good girl in most ways--a little obstinate and sulky now and then--but +generally she's steady enough, and as for work, there ain't a girl in +Bay Beach can come up to her in house or field. Angus calculates she +saves him a man's wages clear. No, I ain't got nothing to say against +Helen." + +Nevertheless, Reeves felt somehow that Mrs. Fraser did not like her +husband's niece. He often heard her scolding or nagging Helen at her +work, and noticed that the latter never answered back. But once, after +Mrs. Angus's tongue had been especially bitter, he met the girl +hurrying along the hall from the kitchen with her eyes full of tears. +Reeves felt as if someone had struck him a blow. He went to Angus and +his wife that afternoon. He wished to paint a shore picture, he said, +and wanted a model. Would they allow Miss Fraser to pose for him? He +would pay liberally for her time. + +Angus and his wife had no objection. They would pocket the money, and +Helen could be spared a spell every day as well as not. Reeves told +Helen of his plan himself, meeting her in the evening as she was +bringing the cows home from the low shore pastures beyond the marsh. +He was surprised at the sudden illumination of her face. It almost +transfigured her from a plain, sulky-looking girl into a beautiful +woman. + +But the glow passed quickly. She assented to his plan quietly, almost +lifelessly. He walked home with her behind the cows and talked of the +sunset and the mysterious beauty of the bay and the purple splendour +of the distant coasts. She listened in silence. Only once, when he +spoke of the distant murmur of the open sea, she lifted her head and +looked at him. + +"What does it say to you?" she asked. + +"It speaks of eternity. And to you?" + +"It calls me," she answered simply, "and then I want to go out and +meet it--and it hurts me too. I can't tell how or why. Sometimes it +makes me feel as if I were asleep and wanted to wake and didn't know +how." + +She turned and looked out over the bay. A dying gleam of sunset broke +through a cloud and fell across her hair. For a moment she seemed the +spirit of the shore personified--all its mystery, all its uncertainty, +all its elusive charm. + +She has possibilities, thought Reeves. + +Next day he began his picture. At first he had thought of painting her +as the incarnation of a sea spirit, but decided that her moods were +too fitful. So he began to sketch her as "Waiting"--a woman looking +out across the bay with a world of hopeless longing in her eyes. The +subject suited her well, and the picture grew apace. + +When he was tired of work he made her walk around the shore with him, +or row up the head of the bay in her own boat. He tried to draw her +out, at first with indifferent success. She seemed to be frightened of +him. He talked to her of many things--the far outer world whose echoes +never reached her, foreign lands where he had travelled, famous men +and women whom he had met, music, art and books. When he spoke of +books he touched the right chord. One of those transfiguring flashes +he delighted to evoke now passed over her plain face. + +"That is what I've always wanted," she said hungrily, "and I never get +them. Aunt hates to see me reading. She says it is a waste of time. +And I love it so. I read every scrap of paper I can get hold of, but I +hardly ever see a book." + +The next day Reeves took his Tennyson to the shore and began to read +the _Idylls of the King_ to her. + +"It is beautiful," was her sole verbal comment, but her rapt eyes said +everything. + +After that he never went out with her without a book--now one of the +poets, now some prose classic. He was surprised by her quick +appreciation of and sympathy with the finest passages. Gradually, too, +she forgot her shyness and began to talk. She knew nothing of his +world, but her own world she knew and knew well. She was a mine of +traditional history about the bay. She knew the rocky coast by heart, +and every old legend that clung to it. They drifted into making +excursions along the shore and explored its wildest retreats. The girl +had an artist's eye for scenery and colour effect. + +"You should have been an artist," Reeves told her one day when she had +pointed out to him the exquisite loveliness of a shaft of light +falling through a cleft in the rocks across a dark-green pool at their +base. + +"I would rather be a writer," she said slowly, "if I could only write +something like those books you have read to me. What a glorious +destiny it must be to have something to say that the whole world is +listening for, and to be able to say it in words that will live +forever! It must be the noblest human lot." + +"Yet some of those men and women were neither good nor noble," said +Reeves gently, "and many of them were unhappy." + +Helen dismissed the subject as abruptly as she always did when the +conversation touched too nearly on the sensitive edge of her soul +dreams. + +"Do you know where I am taking you today?" she said. + +"No--where?" + +"To what the people here call the Kelpy's Cave. I hate to go there. I +believe there is something uncanny about it, but I think you will like +to see it. It is a dark little cave in the curve of a small cove, and +on each side the headlands of rock run far out. At low tide we can +walk right around, but when the tide comes in it fills the Kelpy's +Cave. If you were there and let the tide come past the points, you +would be drowned unless you could swim, for the rocks are so steep and +high it is impossible to climb them." + +Reeves was interested. + +"Was anyone ever caught by the tide?" + +"Yes," returned Helen, with a shudder. "Once, long ago, before I was +born, a girl went around the shore to the cave and fell asleep +there--and the tide came in and she was drowned. She was young and +very pretty, and was to have been married the next week. I've been +afraid of the place ever since." + +The treacherous cave proved to be a picturesque and innocent-looking +spot, with the beach of glittering sand before it and the high gloomy +walls of rock on either hand. + +"I must come here some day and sketch it," said Reeves +enthusiastically, "and you must be the Kelpy, Helen, and sit in the +cave with your hair wrapped about you and seaweed clinging to it." + +"Do you think a kelpy would look like that?" said the girl dreamily. +"I don't. I think it is a wild, wicked little sea imp, malicious and +mocking and cruel, and it sits here and watches for victims." + +"Well, never mind your sea kelpies," Reeves said, fishing out his +Longfellow. "They are a tricky folk, if all tales be true, and it is +supposed to be a very rash thing to talk about them in their own +haunts. I want to read you 'The Building of the Ship.' You will like +it, I'm sure." + +When the tide turned they went home. + +"We haven't seen the kelpy, after all," said Reeves. + +"I think I shall see him some day," said Helen gravely. "I think he is +waiting for me there in that gloomy cave of his, and some time or +other he will get me." + +Reeves smiled at the gloomy fancy, and Helen smiled back at him with +one of her sudden radiances. The tide was creeping swiftly up over the +white sands. The sun was low and the bay was swimming in a pale blue +glory. They parted at Clam Point, Helen to go for the cows and Reeves +to wander on up the shore. He thought of Helen at first, and the +wonderful change that had come over her of late; then he began to +think of another face--a marvellously lovely one with blue eyes as +tender as the waters before him. Then Helen was forgotten. + +The summer waned swiftly. One afternoon Reeves took a fancy to revisit +the Kelpy's Cave. Helen could not go. It was harvest time, and she was +needed in the field. + +"Don't let the kelpy catch you," she said to him half seriously. "The +tide will turn early this afternoon, and you are given to +day-dreaming." + +"I'll be careful," he promised laughingly, and he meant to be careful. +But somehow when he reached the cave its unwholesome charm overcame +him, and he sat down on the boulder at its mouth. + +"An hour yet before tide time," he said. "Just enough time to read +that article on impressionists in my review and then stroll home by +the sandshore." + +From reading he passed to day-dreaming, and day-dreaming drifted into +sleep, with his head pillowed on the rocky walls of the cave. + +How long he had slept he did not know, but he woke with a start of +horror. He sprang to his feet, realizing his position instantly. The +tide was in--far in past the headlands already. Above and beyond him +towered the pitiless unscalable rocks. There was no way of escape. + +Reeves was no coward, but life was sweet to him, and to die like +that--like a drowned rat in a hole--to be able to do nothing but wait +for that swift and sure oncoming death! He reeled against the damp +rock wall, and for a moment sea and sky and prisoning headlands and +white-lined tide whirled before his eyes. + +Then his head grew clearer. He tried to think. How long had he? Not +more than twenty minutes at the outside. Well, death was sure and he +would meet it bravely. But to wait--to wait helplessly! He should go; +mad with the horror of it before those endless minutes would have +passed! + +He took something from his pocket and bent his, head over it, pressing +his lips to it repeatedly. And then, when he raised his face again, a +dory was coming around the headland on his right, and Helen Fraser was +in it. + +Reeves was dizzy again with the shock of joy and thankfulness. He ran +down over the little stretch of sand still uncovered by the tide and +around to the rocks of the headlands against which the dory was +already grating. He sprang forward impulsively and caught the girl's +cold hands in his as she dropped the oars and stood up. + +"Helen, you have saved me! How can I ever thank you? I--" + +He broke off abruptly, for she was looking up at him, breathlessly and +voicelessly, with her whole soul in her eyes. He saw in them a +revelation that amazed him; he dropped her hands and stepped back as +if she had struck him in the face. + +Helen did not notice the change in him. She clasped her hands together +and her voice trembled. + +"Oh, I was afraid I should be too late! When I came in from the field +Aunt Hannah said you had not come back--and I knew it was tide +time--and I felt somehow that it had caught you in the cave. I ran +down over the marsh and took Joe Simmon's dory. If I had not got here +in time--" + +She broke off shiveringly. Reeves stepped into the dory and took up +the oars. + +"The kelpy would have been sure of its victim then," he said, trying +to speak lightly. "It would have almost served me right for +neglecting your warning. I was very careless. You must let me row +back. I am afraid you have overtasked your strength trying to cheat +the kelpy." + +Reeves rowed homeward in an absolute silence. Helen did not speak and +he could not. When they reached the dory anchorage he helped her out. + +"I think I'll go out to the Point for a walk," he said. "I want to +steady my nerves. You must go right home and rest. Don't be anxious--I +won't take any more chances with sea kelpies." + +Helen went away without a word, and Reeves walked slowly out to the +Point. He was grieved beyond measure at the discovery he believed he +had made. He had never dreamed of such a thing. He was not a vain man, +and was utterly free from all tendency to flirtation. It had never +occurred to him that the waking of the girl's deep nature might be +attended with disastrous consequences. He had honestly meant to help +her, and what had he done? + +He felt very uncomfortable; he could not conscientiously blame +himself, but he saw that he had acted foolishly. And of course he must +go away at once. And he must also tell her something she ought to +know. He wished he had told her long ago. + +The following afternoon was a perfect one. Reeves was sketching on the +sandshore when Helen came. She sat down on a camp stool a little to +one side and did not speak. After a few moments Reeves pushed away his +paraphernalia impatiently. + +"I don't feel in a mood for work," he said. "It is too dreamy a +day--one ought to do nothing to be in keeping. Besides, I'm getting +lazy now that my vacation is nearly over. I must go in a few days." + +He avoided looking at her, so he did not see the sudden pallor of her +face. + +"So soon?" she said in a voice expressive of no particular feeling. + +"Yes. I ought not to have lingered so long. My world will be +forgetting me and that will not do. It has been a very pleasant summer +and I shall be sorry to leave Bay Beach." + +"But you will come back next summer?" asked Helen quickly. "You said +you would." + +Reeves nerved himself for his very distasteful task. + +"Perhaps," he said, with an attempt at carelessness, "but if I do so, +I shall not come alone. Somebody who is very dear to me will come with +me--as my wife. I have never told you about her, Helen, but you and I +are such good friends that I do not mind doing so now. I am engaged to +a very sweet girl, and we expect to be married next spring." + +There was a brief silence. Reeves had been vaguely afraid of a scene +and was immensely relieved to find his fear unrealized. Helen sat very +still. He could not see her face. Did she care, after all? Was he +mistaken? + +When she spoke her voice was perfectly calm. + +"Thank you, it is very kind of you to tell me about her. I suppose she +is very beautiful." + +"Yes, here is her picture. You can judge for yourself." + +Helen took the portrait from his hand and looked at it steadily. It +was a miniature painted on ivory, and the face looking out from it was +certainly lovely. + +"It is no wonder you love her," said the girl in a low tone as she +handed it back. "It must be strange to be so beautiful as that." + +Reeves picked up his Tennyson. + +"Shall I read you something? What will you have?" + +"Read 'Elaine,' please. I want to hear that once more." + +Reeves felt a sudden dislike to her choice. + +"Wouldn't you prefer something else?" he asked, hurriedly turning over +the leaves. "'Elaine' is rather sad. Shan't I read 'Guinevere' +instead?" + +"No," said Helen in the same lifeless tone. "I have no sympathy for +Guinevere. She suffered and her love was unlawful, but she was loved +in return--she did not waste her love on someone who did not want or +care for it. Elaine did, and her life went with it. Read me the +story." + +Reeves obeyed. When he had finished he held the book out to her. + +"Helen, will you take this Tennyson from me in remembrance of our +friendship and of the Kelpy's Cave? I shall never forget that I owe my +life to you." + +"Thank you." + +She took the book and placed a little thread of crimson seaweed that +had been caught in the sand between the pages of "Elaine." Then she +rose. + +"I must go back now. Aunt will need me. Thank you again for the book, +Mr. Reeves, and for all your kindness to me." + +Reeves was relieved when the interview was over. Her calmness had +reassured him. She did not care very much, after all; it was only a +passing fancy, and when he was gone she would soon forget him. + +He went away a few days later, and Helen bade him an impassive +good-bye. When the afternoon was far spent she stole away from the +house to the shore, with her Tennyson in her hand, and took her way to +the Kelpy's Cave. + +The tide was just beginning to come in. She sat down on the big +boulder where Reeves had fallen asleep. Beyond stretched the gleaming +blue waters, mellowing into a hundred fairy shades horizonward. + +The shadows of the rocks were around her. In front was the white line +of the incoming tide; it had almost reached the headlands. A few +minutes more and escape would be cut off--yet she did not move. + +When the dark green water reached her, and the lapping wavelets +swished up over the hem of her dress, she lifted her head and a sudden +strange smile flashed over her face. + +Perhaps the kelpy understood it. + + + + +The Way of the Winning of Anne + + +Jerome Irving had been courting Anne Stockard for fifteen years. He +had begun when she was twenty and he was twenty-five, and now that +Jerome was forty, and Anne, in a village where everybody knew +everybody else's age, had to own to being thirty-five, the courtship +did not seem any nearer a climax than it had at the beginning. But +that was not Jerome's fault, poor fellow! + +At the end of the first year he had asked Anne to marry him, and Anne +had refused. Jerome was disappointed, but he kept his head and went on +courting Anne just the same; that is he went over to Esek Stockard's +house every Saturday night and spent the evening, he walked home with +Anne from prayer meeting and singing school and parties when she would +let him, and asked her to go to all the concerts and socials and +quilting frolics that came off. Anne never would go, of course, but +Jerome faithfully gave her the chance. Old Esek rather favoured +Jerome's suit, for Anne was the plainest of his many daughters, and no +other fellow seemed at all anxious to run Jerome off the track; but +she took her own way with true Stockard firmness, and matters were +allowed to drift on at the will of time or chance. + +Three years later Jerome tried his luck again, with precisely the same +result, and after that he had asked Anne regularly once a year to +marry him, and just as regularly Anne said no a little more brusquely +and a little more decidedly every year. Now, in the mellowness of a +fifteen-year-old courtship, Jerome did not mind it at all. He knew +that everything comes to the man who has patience to wait. + +Time, of course, had not stood still with Anne and Jerome, or with the +history of Deep Meadows. At the Stockard homestead the changes had +been many and marked. Every year or two there had been a wedding in +the big brick farmhouse, and one of old Esek's girls had been the +bride each time. Julia and Grace and Celia and Betty and Theodosia +and Clementina Stockard were all married and gone. But Anne had never +had another lover. There had to be an old maid in every big family she +said, and she was not going to marry Jerome Irving just for the sake +of having Mrs. on her tombstone. + +Old Esek and his wife had been put away in the Deep Meadows +burying-ground. The broad, fertile Stockard acres passed into Anne's +possession. She was a good business-woman, and the farm continued to +be the best in the district. She kept two hired men and a servant +girl, and the sixteen-year-old of her oldest sister lived with her. +There were few visitors at the Stockard place now, but Jerome "dropped +in" every Saturday night with clockwork regularity and talked to Anne +about her stock and advised her regarding the rotation of her crops +and the setting out of her orchards. And at ten o'clock he would take +his hat and cane and tell Anne to be good to herself, and go home. + +Anne had long since given up trying to discourage him; she even +accepted attentions from him now that she had used to refuse. He +always walked home with her from evening meetings and was her partner +in the games at quilting parties. It was great fun for the young +folks. "Old Jerome and Anne" were a standing joke in Deep Meadows. But +the older people had ceased to expect anything to come of it. + +Anne laughed at Jerome as she had always done, and would not have +owned for the world that she could have missed him. Jerome was useful, +she admitted, and a comfortable friend; and she would have liked him +well enough if he would only omit that ridiculous yearly ceremony of +proposal. + +It was Jerome's fortieth birthday when Anne refused him again. He +realized this as he went down the road in the moonlight, and doubt and +dismay began to creep into his heart. Anne and he were both getting +old--there was no disputing that fact. It was high time that he +brought her to terms if he was ever going to. Jerome was an +easy-going mortal and always took things placidly, but he did not +mean to have all those fifteen years of patient courting go for +nothing He had thought Anne would get tired of saying no, sooner or +later, and say yes, if for no other reason than to have a change; but +getting tired did not seem to run in the Stockard blood. She had said +no that night just as coolly and decidedly and unsentimentally as she +said it fifteen years before. Jerome had the sensation of going around +in a circle and never getting any further on. He made up his mind that +something must be done, and just as he got to the brook that divides +Deep Meadows West from Deep Meadows Central an idea struck him; it was +a good idea and amused him. He laughed aloud and slapped his thigh, +much to the amusement of two boys who were sitting unnoticed on the +railing of the bridge. + +"There's old Jerome going home from seeing Anne Stockard," said one. +"Wonder what on earth he's laughing at. Seems to me if I couldn't get +a wife without hoeing a fifteen-year row, I'd give up trying." + +But, then, the speaker was a Hamilton, and the Hamiltons never had any +perseverance. + +Jerome, although a well-to-do man, owning a good farm, had, so to +speak, no home of his own. The old Irving homestead belonged to his +older brother, who had a wife and family. Jerome lived with them and +was so used to it he didn't mind. + +At forty a lover must not waste time. Jerome thought out the details +that night, and next day he opened the campaign. But it was not until +the evening after that that Anne Stockard heard the news. It was her +niece, Octavia, who told her. The latter had been having a chat up the +lane with Sam Mitchell, and came in with a broad smile on her round, +rosy face and a twinkle in her eyes. + +"I guess you've lost your beau this time, Aunt Anne. It looks as if he +meant to take you at your word at last." + +"What on earth do you mean?" asked Anne, a little sharply. She was in +the pantry counting eggs, and Octavia's interruption made her lose her +count. "Now I can't remember whether it was six or seven dozen I said +last. I shall have to count them all over again. I wish, Octavia, that +you could think of something besides beaus all the time." + +"Well, but listen," persisted Octavia wickedly. "Jerome Irving was at +the social at the Cherry Valley parsonage last night, and he had +Harriet Warren there--took her there, and drove her home again." + +"I don't believe it," cried Anne, before she thought. She dropped an +egg into the basket so abruptly that the shell broke. + +"Oh, it's true enough. Sam Mitchell told me; he was there and saw him. +Sam says he looked quite beaming, and was dressed to kill, and +followed Harriet around like her shadow. I guess you won't have any +more bother with him, Aunt Anne." + +In the process of picking the broken egg out of the whole ones Anne +had recovered her equanimity. She gave a careful little laugh. + +"Well, it's to be hoped so. Goodness knows it's time he tried somebody +else. Go and change your dress for milking, Octavia, and don't spend +quite so much time gossiping up the lane with Sam Mitchell. He always +was a fetch-and-carry. Young girls oughtn't to be so pert." + +When the subdued Octavia had gone, Anne tossed the broken eggshell out +of the pantry window viciously enough. + +"There's no fool like an old fool. Jerome Irving always was an idiot. +The idea of his going after Harriet Warren! He's old enough to be her +father. And a Warren, too! I've seen the time an Irving wouldn't be +seen on the same side of the road with a Warren. Well, anyhow, I don't +care, and he needn't suppose I will. It will be a relief not to have +him hanging around any longer." + +It might have been a relief, but Anne felt strangely lonely as she +walked home alone from prayer meeting the next night. Jerome had not +been there. The Warrens were Methodists and Anne rightly guessed that +he had gone to the Methodist prayer meeting at Cherry Valley. + +"Dancing attendance on Harriet," she said to herself scornfully. + +When she got home she looked at her face in the glass more critically +than she had done for years. Anne Stockard at her best had never been +pretty. When young she had been called "gawky." She was very tall and +her figure was lank and angular. She had a long, pale face and dusky +hair. Her eyes had been good--a glimmering hazel, large and +long-lashed. They were pretty yet, but the crow's feet about them were +plainly visible. There were brackets around her mouth too, and her +cheeks were hollow. Anne suddenly realized, as she had never realized +before, that she had grown old--that her youth was left far behind. +She was an old maid, and Harriet Warren was young, and pretty. Anne's +long, thin lips suddenly quivered. + +"I declare, I'm a worse fool than Jerome," she said angrily. + +When Saturday night came Jerome did not. The corner of the big, +old-fashioned porch where he usually sat looked bare and lonely. Anne +was short with Octavia and boxed the cat's ears and raged at herself. +What did she care if Jerome Irving never came again? She could have +married him years ago if she had wanted to--everybody knew that! + +At sunset she saw a buggy drive past her gate. Even at that distance +she recognized Harriet Warren's handsome, high-coloured profile. It +was Jerome's new buggy and Jerome was driving. The wheel spokes +flashed in the sunlight as they crept up the hill. Perhaps they +dazzled Anne's eyes a little; at least, for that or some other reason +she dabbed her hand viciously over them as she turned sharply about +and went upstairs. Octavia was practising her music lesson in the +parlour below and singing in a sweet shrill voice. The hired men were +laughing and talking in the yard. Anne slammed down her window and +banged her door and then lay down on her bed; she said her head ached. + +The Deep Meadows people were amused and made joking remarks to Anne, +which she had to take amiably because she had no excuse for resenting +them. In reality they stung her pride unendurably. When Jerome had +gone she realized that she had no other intimate friend and that she +was a very lonely woman whom nobody cared about. One night--it was +three weeks afterward--she met Jerome and Harriet squarely. She was +walking to church with Octavia, and they were driving in the opposite +direction. Jerome had his new buggy and crimson lap robe. His horse's +coat shone like satin and had rosettes of crimson on his bridle. +Jerome was dressed extremely well and looked quite young, with his +round, ruddy, clean-shaven face and clear blue eyes. + +Harriet was sitting primly and consciously by his side; she was a very +handsome girl with bold eyes and was somewhat overdressed. She wore a +big flowery hat and a white lace veil and looked at Anne with a +supercilious smile. + +Anne felt dowdy and old; she was very pale. Jerome lifted his hat and +bowed pleasantly as they drove past. Suddenly Harriet laughed out. +Anne did not look back, but her face crimsoned darkly. Was that girl +laughing at her? She trembled with anger and a sharp, hurt feeling. +When she got home that night she sat a long while by her window. + +Jerome was gone--and he let Harriet Warren laugh at her and he would +never come back to her. Well, it did not matter, but she had been a +fool. Only it had never occurred to her that Jerome could act so. + +"If I'd thought he would I mightn't have been so sharp with him," was +as far as she would let herself go even in thought. + +When four weeks had elapsed Jerome came over one Saturday night. He +was fluttered and anxious, but hid it in a masterly manner. + +Anne was taken by surprise. She had not thought he would ever come +again, and was off her guard. He had come around the porch corner +abruptly as she stood there in the dusk, and she started very +perceptibly. + +"Good evening, Anne," he said, easily and unblushingly. + +Anne choked up. She was very angry, or thought she was. Jerome +appeared not to notice her lack of welcome. He sat coolly down in his +old place. His heart was beating like a hammer, but Anne did not know +that. + +"I suppose," she said cuttingly, "that you're on your way down to the +bridge. It's almost a pity for you to waste time stopping here at all, +any more than you have of late. No doubt Harriet'll be expecting you." + +A gleam of satisfaction flashed over Jerome's face. He looked shrewdly +at Anne, who was not looking at him, but was staring uncompromisingly +out over the poppy beds. A jealous woman always gives herself away. If +Anne had been indifferent she would not have given him that slap in +the face. + +"I dunno's she will," he replied coolly. "I didn't say for sure +whether I'd be down tonight or not. It's so long since I had a chat +with you I thought I'd drop in for a spell. But of course if I'm not +wanted I can go where I will be." + +Anne could not get back her self-control. Her nerves were "all strung +up," as she would have said. She had a feeling that she was right on +the brink of a "scene," but she could not help herself. + +"I guess it doesn't matter much what I want," she said stonily. "At +any rate, it hasn't seemed that way lately. You don't care, of course. +Oh, no! Harriet Warren is all you care about. Well, I wish you joy of +her." + +Jerome looked puzzled, or pretended to. In reality he was hugging +himself with delight. + +"I don't just understand you, Anne," he said hesitatingly "You appear +to be vexed about something." + +"I? Oh, no, I'm not, Mr. Irving. Of course old friends don't count +now. Well, I've no doubt new ones will wear just as well." + +"If it's about my going to see Harriet," said Jerome easily "I don't +see as how it can matter much to you. Goodness knows, you took enough +pains to show me you didn't want me. I don't blame you. A woman has a +right to please herself, and a man ought to have sense to take his +answer and go. I hadn't, and that's where I made my mistake. I don't +mean to pester you any more, but we can be real good friends, can't +we? I'm sure I'm as much your friend as ever I was." + +Now, I hold that this speech of Jerome's, delivered in a cool, +matter-of-fact tone, as of a man stating a case with dispassionate +fairness, was a masterpiece. It was the last cleverly executed +movement of the campaign. If it failed to effect a capitulation, he +was a defeated man. But it did not fail. + +Anne had got to that point where an excited woman must go mad or cry. +Anne cried. She sat flatly down on a chair and burst into tears. + +Jerome's hat went one way and his cane another. Jerome himself sprang +across the intervening space and dropped into the chair beside Anne. +He caught her hand in his and threw his arm boldly around her waist. + +"Goodness gracious, Anne! Do you care after all? Tell me that!" + +"I don't suppose it matters to you if I do," sobbed Anne. "It hasn't +seemed to matter, anyhow." + +"Anne, look here! Didn't I come after you for fifteen years? It's you +I always have wanted and want yet, if I can get you. I don't care a +rap for Harriet Warren or anyone but you. Now that's the truth right +out, Anne." + +No doubt it was, and Anne was convinced of it. But she had to have her +cry out--on Jerome's shoulder--and it soothed her nerves wonderfully. +Later on Octavia, slipping noiselessly up the steps in the dusk, saw a +sight that transfixed her with astonishment. When she recovered +herself she turned and fled wildly around the house, running bump into +Sam Mitchell, who was coming across the yard from a twilight +conference with the hired men. + +"Goodness, Tavy, what's the matter? Y' look 'sif y'd seen a ghost." + +Octavia leaned up against the wall in spasms of mirth. + +"Oh, Sam," she gasped, "old Jerome Irving and Aunt Anne are sitting +round there in the dark on the front porch and he had his arms around +her, kissing her! And they never saw nor heard me, no more'n if they +were deaf and blind!" + +Sam gave a tremendous whistle and then went off into a shout of +laughter whose echoes reached even to the gloom of the front porch and +the ears of the lovers. But they did not know he was laughing at them +and would not have cared if they had. They were too happy for that. + +There was a wedding that fall and Anne Stockard was the bride. When +she was safely his, Jerome confessed all and was graciously forgiven. + +"But it was kind of mean to Harriet," said Anne rebukingly, "to go +with her and get her talked about and then drop her as you did. Don't +you think so yourself, Jerome?" + +Her husband's eyes twinkled. + +"Well, hardly that. You see, Harriet's engaged to that Johnson fellow +out west. 'Tain't generally known, but I knew it and that's why I +picked on her. I thought it probable that she'd be willing enough to +flirt with me for a little diversion, even if I was old. Harriet's +that sort of a girl. And I made up my mind that if that didn't fetch +it nothing would and I'd give up for good and all. But it did, didn't +it, Anne?" + +"I should say so. It was horrid of you, Jerome--but I daresay it's +just as well you did or I'd likely never have found out that I +couldn't get along without you. I did feel dreadful. Poor Octavia +could tell you I was as cross as X. How did you come to think of it, +Jerome?" + +"A fellow had to do something," said Jerome oracularly, "and I'd have +done most anything to get you, Anne, that's a fact. And there it +was--courting fifteen years and nothing to show for it. I dunno, +though, how I did come to think of it. Guess it was a sort of +inspiration. Anyhow, I've got you and that's what I set out to do in +the beginning." + + + + +Young Si + + +Mr. Bentley had just driven into the yard with the new summer boarder. +Mrs. Bentley and Agnes were peeping at her from behind the parlour +curtains with the keen interest that they--shut in by their restricted +farm life--always felt in any visitor from the outside world lying +beyond their boundary of purple misted hills. + +Mrs. Bentley was a plump, rosy-cheeked woman with a motherly smile. +Agnes was a fair, slim schoolgirl, as tall as her mother, with a sweet +face and a promise of peach blossom prettiness in the years to come. +The arrival of a summer boarder was a great event in her quiet life. + +"Ain't she pretty?" whispered Mrs. Bentley admiringly, as the girl +came slowly up the green slope before the house. "I do hope she's +nice. You can generally calculate on men boarders, but girls are +doubtful. Preserve me from a cranky boarder! I've had enough of them. +I kinder like her looks, though." + +Ethel Lennox had paused at the front door as Mrs. Bentley and Agnes +came into the hall. Agnes gazed at the stranger with shy, unenvious +admiration; the latter stood on the stone step just where the big +chestnut by the door cast flickering gleams and shadows over her dress +and shining hair. + +She was tall, and gowned in some simple white material that fell about +her in graceful folds. She wore a cluster of pale pink roses at her +belt, and a big, picturesque white hat shaded her face and the glossy, +clinging masses of her red hair--hair that was neither auburn nor +chestnut but simply red. Nor would anyone have wished it otherwise, +having once seen that glorious mass, with all its wonderful +possibilities of rippling luxuriance. + +Her complexion was of that perfect, waxen whiteness that goes with +burnished red hair and the darkest of dilated violet eyes. Her +delicately chiselled features wore what might have been a somewhat too +decided impress of spirit and independence, had it not been for the +sweet mouth, red and dimpled and curving, that parted in a slow, +charming smile as Mrs. Bentley came forward with her kindly welcome. + +"You must be real tired, Miss Lennox. It's a long drive from the train +down here. Agnes, show Miss Lennox up to her room, and tea will be +ready when you come down." + +Agnes came forward with the shy grace that always won friends for her, +and the two girls went slowly up the broad, old-fashioned staircase, +while Mrs. Bentley bustled away to bring in the tea and put a goblet +of damask roses on the table. + +"She looks like a picture, doesn't she, John?" she said to her +husband. "I never saw such a face--and that hair too. Would you have +believed red hair could be so handsome? She seems real friendly--none +of your stuck-up fine ladies! I've had all I want of them, I can tell +you!" + +"Sh--sh--sh!" said Mr. Bentley warningly, as Ethel Lennox came in with +her arm about Agnes. + +She looked even more lovely without her hat, with the soft red +tendrils of hair lying on her forehead. Mrs. Bentley sent a +telegraphic message of admiration across the table to her husband, who +was helping the cold tongue and feeling his way to a conversation. + +"You'll find it pretty quiet here, Miss Lennox. We're plain folks and +there ain't much going and coming. Maybe you don't mind that, though?" + +"I like it. When one has been teaching school all the year in a noisy +city, quiet seems the one thing to be desired. Besides, I like to +fancy myself something of an artist. I paint and sketch a little when +I have time, and Miss Courtland, who was here last summer, said I +could not find a more suitable spot. So I came because I knew that +mackerel fishing was carried on along the shore, and I would have a +chance to study character among the fishermen." + +"Well, the shore ain't far away, and it's pretty--though maybe us +folks here don't appreciate it rightly, being as we're so used to it. +Strangers are always going crazy over its 'picturesqueness,' as they +call it. As for 'character,' I reckon you'll find all you want of that +among the Pointers; anyway, I never seed such critters as they be. +When you get tired of painting, maybe you can amuse yourself trying to +get to the bottom of our mystery." + +"Oh, have you a mystery? How interesting!" + +"Yes, a mystery--a mystery," repeated Mr. Bentley solemnly, "that +nobody hain't been able to solve so far. I've give it up--so has +everyone else. Maybe you'll have better luck." + +"But what is it?" + +"The mystery," said Mr. Bentley dramatically, "is--Young Si. He's the +mystery. Last spring, just when the herring struck in, a young chap +suddenly appeared at the Point. He appeared--from what corner of the +globe nobody hain't ever been able to make out. He bought a boat and a +shanty down at my shore and went into a sort of mackerel partnership +with Snuffy Curtis--Snuffy supplying the experience and this young +fellow the cash, I reckon. Snuffy's as poor as Job's turkey; it was a +windfall for him. And there he's fished all summer." + +"But his name--Young Si?" + +"Well, of course, that isn't it. He did give himself out as Brown, but +nobody believes that's his handle--sounds unnatteral here. He bought +his establishment from 'old Si,' who used to fish down there and was a +mysterious old critter in a way too. So when this young fellow stepped +in from goodness knows where, some of the Pointers christened him +Young Si for a joke, and he never gets anything else. Doesn't seem to +mind it. He's a moody, keep-to-himself sort of chap. Yet he ain't +unpopular along shore, I believe. Snuffy was telling me they like him +real well, considering his unsociableness. Anyways, he's as handsome a +chap as I ever seed, and well eddicated too. He ain't none of your +ordinary fishermen. Some of us kind of think he's a runaway--got into +some scrape or another, maybe, and is skulking around here to keep out +of jail. But wife here won't give in to that." + +"No, I never will," said Mrs. Bentley firmly. "Young Si comes here +often for milk and butter, and he's a perfect gentleman. Nobody'll +ever convince me that he has done anything to be ashamed of, +whatever's his reason for wasting his life down there at that shore." + +"He ain't wasting his life," chuckled Mr. Bentley. "He's making +money, Young Si is, though he don't seem to care about that a mite. +This has been a big year for mackerel, and he's smart. If he didn't +know much when he begun, he's ahead of Snuffy now. And as for work, I +never saw his beat. He seems possessed. Up afore sunrise every blessed +morning and never in bed till midnight, and just slaving away all +between time. I said to him t'other day, says I: 'Young Si, you'll +have to let up on this sort of thing and take a rest. You can't stand +it. You're not a Pointer. Pointers can stand anything, but it'll kill +you.' + +"He give one of them bitter laughs of his. Says he: 'It's no +difference if it does. Nobody'll care,' and off he walks, sulky like. +There's something about Young Si I can't understand," concluded Mr. +Bentley. + +Ethel Lennox was interested. A melancholy, mysterious hero in a +setting of silver-rimmed sand hills and wide blue sweeps of ocean was +something that ought to lend piquancy to her vacation. + +"I should like to see this prince in disguise," she said. "It all +sounds very romantic." + +"I'll take you to the shore after tea if you'd like," said Agnes +eagerly. "Si's just splendid," she continued in a confidential aside +as they rose from the table. "Pa doesn't half like him because he +thinks there's something queer about him. But I do. He's a gentleman, +as Ma says. I don't believe he's done anything wrong." + + * * * * * + +Ethel Lennox sauntered out into the orchard to wait for Agnes. She sat +down under an apple tree and began to read, but soon the book slipped +from her hands and the beautiful head leaned back against the grey, +lichened trunk of the old tree. The sweet mouth drooped wistfully. +There was a sad, far-away look in the violet eyes. The face was not +that of a happy girl, so thought Agnes as she came down the apple tree +avenue. + +But how pretty she is! she thought. Won't the folks around here stare +at her! They always do at our boarders, but we've never had one like +her. + +Ethel sprang up. "I had no idea you would be here so soon," she said +brightly. "Just wait till I get my hat." + +When she came out they started off, and presently found themselves +walking down a grassy, deep-rutted lane that ran through mown hay +fields, green with their rich aftergrowth, and sheets of pale ripening +oats and golden-green wheat, until it lost itself in the rolling sand +hills at the foot of the slope. + +Beyond the sand hills stretched the shining expanse of the ocean, of +the faint, bleached blue of hot August seas, and reaching out into a +horizon laced with long trails of pinkish cloud. Numberless fishing +boats dotted the shimmering reaches. + +"That furthest-off boat is Young Si's," said Agnes. "He always goes to +that particular spot." + +"Is he really all your father says?" asked Miss Lennox curiously. + +"Indeed, he is. He isn't any more like the rest of the shore men than +you are. He's queer, of course. I don't believe he's happy. It seems +to me he's worrying over something, but I'm sure it is nothing wrong. +Here we are," she added, as they passed the sand hills and came out on +the long, level beach. + +To their left the shore curved around in a semi-circle of dazzling +whiteness; at their right stood a small grey fish-house. + +"That's Young Si's place," said Agnes. "He lives there night and day. +Wouldn't it make anyone melancholy? No wonder he's mysterious. I'm +going to get his spyglass. He told me I might always use it." + +She pushed open the door and entered, followed by Ethel. The interior +was rough but clean. It was a small room, lighted by one tiny window +looking out on the water. In one corner a rough ladder led up to the +loft above. The bare lathed walls were hung with fishing jackets, +nets, mackerel lines and other shore appurtenances. A little stove +bore a kettle and a frying pan. A low board table was strewn with +dishes and the cold remnants of a hasty repast; benches were placed +along the walls. A fat, bewhiskered kitten, looking as if it were cut +out of black velvet, was dozing on the window sill. + +"This is Young Si's cat," explained Agnes, patting the creature, which +purred joyously and opened its sleepy green eyes. "It's the only thing +he cares for, I believe. Witch! Witch! How are you, Witch? Well, +here's the spyglass. Let's go out and have a look. Si's catching +mackerel," announced Agnes a few minutes later, after she had +scrutinized each boat in turn, "and he won't be in for an hour yet. If +you like, we have time for a walk up the shore." + +The sun slipped lower and lower in the creamy sky, leaving a trail of +sparkles that ran across the water and lost itself in the west. Sea +gulls soared and dipped, and tiny "sand peeps" flitted along the +beach. Just as the red rim of the sun dipped in the purpling sea, the +boats began to come in. + +"Most of them will go around to the Point," explained Agnes, with a +contemptuous sweep of her hand towards a long headland running out +before them. "They belong there and they're a rough crowd. You don't +catch Young Si associating with the Pointers. There, he's getting up +sail. We'll just have time to get back before he comes in." + +They hurried back across the dampening sand as the sun disappeared, +leaving a fiery spot behind him. The shore was no longer quiet and +deserted. The little spot where the fishing house stood had suddenly +started into life. Roughly clad boys were running hither and thither, +carrying fish or water. The boats were hauled up on the skids. A +couple of shaggy old tars, who had strolled over from the Point to +hear about Young Si's catch, were smoking their pipes at the corner of +his shanty. A mellow afterlight was shining over sea and shore. The +whole scene delighted Ethel's artist eyes. + +Agnes nudged her companion. + +"There! If you want to see Young Si," she whispered, pointing to the +skids, where a busy figure was discernible in a large boat, "that's +him, with his back to us, in the cream-coloured boat. He's counting +out mackerel. If you go over to that platform behind him, you'll get a +good look when he turns around. I'm going to coax a mackerel out of +that stingy old Snuffy, if I can." + +She tripped off, and Ethel walked slowly over to the boats. The men +stared at her in open-mouthed admiration as she passed them and walked +out on the platform behind Young Si. There was no one near the two. +The others were all assembled around Snuffy's boat. Young Si was +throwing out the mackerel with marvellous rapidity, but at the sound +of a footstep behind him he turned and straightened up his tall form. +They stood face to face. + +"Miles!" + +"Ethel!" + +Young Si staggered back against the mast, letting two silvery bloaters +slip through his hands overboard. His handsome, sunburned face was +very white. + +Ethel Lennox turned abruptly and silently and walked swiftly across +the sand. Agnes felt her arm touched, and turned to see Ethel +standing, pale and erect, beside her. + +"Let us go home," said the latter unsteadily. "It is very damp here--I +feel chilled." + +"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Agnes penitently. "I ought to have told you to +bring a shawl. It is always damp on the shore after sunset. Here, +Snuffy, give me my mackerel. Thank you. I'm ready now, Miss Lennox." + +They reached the lane before Agnes remembered to ask the question +Ethel dreaded. + +"Oh, did you see Young Si? And what do you think of him?" + +Ethel turned her face away and answered with studied carelessness. "He +seems to be quite a superior fisherman so far as I could see in the +dim light. It was very dusky there, you know. Let us walk a little +faster. My shoes are quite wet." + +When they reached home, Miss Lennox excused herself on the plea of +weariness and went straight to her room. + + * * * * * + +Back at the shore Young Si had recovered himself and stooped again to +his work. His face was set and expressionless. A dull red burned in +each bronzed cheek. He threw out the mackerel mechanically, but his +hands trembled. + +Snuffy strolled over to the boat. "See that handsome girl, Si?" he +asked lazily. "One of the Bentleys' boarders, I hear. Looks as if she +might have stepped out of a picture frame, don't she?" + +"We've no time to waste, Curtis," said Young Si harshly, "with all +these fish to clean before bedtime. Stop talking and get to work." + +Snuffy shrugged his shoulders and obeyed in silence. Young Si was not +a person to be trifled with. The catch was large and it was late +before they finished. Snuffy surveyed the full barrels complacently. + +"Good day's work," he muttered, "but hard--I'm dead beat out. 'Low +I'll go to bed. In the name o' goodness, Si, whar be you a-goin' to?" + +Young Si had got into a dory and untied it. He made no answer, but +rowed out from the shore. Snuffy stared at the dory blankly until it +was lost in the gloom. + +"Ef that don't beat all!" he ejaculated. "I wonder if Si is in his +right senses? He's been actin' quar right along, and now to start off, +Lord knows whar, at this hour o' night! I really don't believe it's +safe to stay here alone with him." + +Snuffy shook his unkempt head dubiously. + +Young Si rowed steadily out over the dark waves. An eastern breeze was +bringing in a damp sea fog that blurred darkly over the outlines of +horizon and shore. The young fisherman found himself alone in a world +of water and grey mist. He stopped rowing and leaned forward on his +oars. + +"To see her here, of all places!" he muttered. "Not a word, scarcely a +look, after all this long heartbreak! Well, perhaps it is better so. +And yet to know she is so near! How beautiful she is! And I love her +more than ever. That is where the sting lies. I thought that in this +rough life, amid all these rude associations, where nothing could +remind me of her, I might forget. And now--" + +He clenched his hands. The mist was all around and about him, +creeping, impalpable, phantom-like. The dory rocked gently on the +swell. From afar came the low persistent murmur of the ocean. + + * * * * * + +The next day Ethel Lennox declined to visit Si's shore. Instead she +went to the Point and sketched all day. She went again the next day +and the next. The Point was the most picturesque part of the shore, +she averred, and the "types" among its inhabitants most interesting. +Agnes Bentley ceased to suggest another visit to Si's shore. She had a +vague perception that her companion did not care to discuss the +subject. + +At the end of a week Mrs. Bentley remarked: "What in the world can +have happened to Young Si? It's a whole week since he was here for +milk or butter. He ain't sick, is he?" + +Mr. Bentley chuckled amusedly. + +"I 'low I can tell you the reason of that. Si's getting his stuff at +Walden's now. I saw him going there twice this week. 'Liza Walden's +got ahead of you at last, Mary." + +"Well, I never did!" said Mrs. Bentley. "Well, Young Si is the first +that ever preferred 'Liza Walden's butter to mine. Everyone knows what +hers is like. She never works her salt half in. Well, Young Si's +welcome to it, I'm sure; I wish him joy of his exchange." + +Mrs. Bentley rattled her dishes ominously. It was plain her faith in +Young Si had received a severe shock. + +Upstairs in her room, Ethel Lennox, with a few undried tears +glistening on her cheeks, was writing a letter. Her lips were +compressed and her hand trembled: + +"I have discovered that it is no use to run away from fate," she +wrote. "No matter how hard we try to elude it, and how sure we are +that we have succeeded, it will rise and meet us where we least expect +it. I came down here tired and worn out, looking for peace and +rest--and lo! the most disquieting element of my life is here to +confront me. + +"I'm going to confess, Helen. 'Open confession is good for the soul,' +you know, and I shall treat myself to a good dose while the mood is +on. + +"You know, of course, that I was once engaged to Miles Lesley. You +also know that that engagement was broken last autumn for unexplained +reasons. Well, I will tell you all about it and then mail this letter +speedily, before I change my mind. + +"It is over a year now since Miles and I first became engaged. As you +are aware, his family is wealthy, and noted for its exclusiveness. I +was a poor school teacher, and you may imagine with what horror his +relatives received the news of Miles's attentions to one whom they +considered his inferior. Now that I have thought the whole matter over +calmly, I scarcely blame them. It must be hard for aristocratic +parents who have lavished every care upon a son, and cherished for him +the highest hopes, when he turns from the women of his own order to +one considered beneath him in station. But I did not view the subject +in this light then; and instead of declining his attentions, as I +perhaps should have done, I encouraged them--I loved him so dearly, +Nell!--and in spite of family opposition, Miles soon openly declared +his attachment. + +"When his parents found they could not change his purpose, their +affection for him forced them into outward acquiescence, but their +reluctant condescension was gall and wormwood to me. I saw things only +from my own point of view, and was keenly sensitive to their politely +concealed disapprobation, and my offended vanity found its victim in +Miles. I belonged to the class who admit and resent slights, instead +of ignoring them, as do the higher bred, and I thought he would not +see those offered to me. I grew cold and formal to him. He was very +patient, but his ways were not mine, and my manner puzzled and annoyed +him. Our relations soon became strained, and the trifle necessary for +an open quarrel was easily supplied. + +"One evening I went to a large At Home given by his mother. I knew but +few and, as Miles was necessarily busy with his social duties to her +guests, I was, after the first hurried greeting, left unattended for a +time. Not being accustomed to such functions, I resented this as a +covert insult and, in a fit of jealous pique, I blush to own that I +took the revenge of a peasant maid and entered into a marked +flirtation with Fred Currie, who had paid me some attention before my +engagement. When Miles was at liberty to seek me, he found me, to all +appearances, quite absorbed in my companion and oblivious of his +approach. He turned on his heel and went away, nor did he come near me +the rest of the evening. + +"I went home angry enough, but so miserable and repentant that if +Miles had been his usual patient self when he called the following +evening I would have begged his forgiveness. But I had gone too far; +his mother was shocked by my gaucherie, and he was humiliated and +justly exasperated. We had a short, bitter quarrel. I said a great +many foolish, unpardonable things, and finally I threw his ring at +him. He gave me a startled look then, in which there was something of +contempt, and went away without another word. + +"After my anger had passed, I was wretchedly unhappy. I realized how +unworthily I had acted, how deeply I loved Miles, and how lonely and +empty my life would be without him. But he did not come back, and soon +after I learned he had gone away--whither no one knew, but it was +supposed abroad. Well, I buried my hopes and tears in secret and went +on with my life as people have to do--a life in which I have learned +to think, and which, I hope, has made me nobler and better. + +"This summer I came here. I heard much about a certain mysterious +stranger known as 'Young Si' who was fishing mackerel at this shore. I +was very curious. The story sounded romantic, and one evening I went +down to see him. I met him face to face and, Helen, it was Miles +Lesley! + +"For one minute earth, sky and sea reeled around me. The next, I +remembered all, and turned and walked away. He did not follow. + +"You may be sure that I now religiously avoid that part of the shore. +We have never met since, and he has made no effort to see me. He +clearly shows that he despises me. Well, I despise myself. I am very +unhappy, Nell, and not only on my own account, for I feel that if +Miles had never met me, his mother would not now be breaking her heart +for her absent boy. My sorrow has taught me to understand hers, and I +no longer resent her pride. + +"You need hardly be told after this that I leave here in another week. +I cannot fabricate a decent excuse to go sooner, or I would." + +In the cool twilight Ethel went with Agnes Bentley to mail her letter. +As they stopped at the door of the little country store, a young man +came around the corner. It was Young Si. He was in his rough fishing +suit, with a big herring net trailing over his shoulder, but no +disguise could effectually conceal his splendid figure. Agnes sprang +forward eagerly. + +"Si, where have you been? Why have you never I been up to see us for +so long?" + +Young Si made no verbal reply. He merely lifted his cap with formal +politeness and turned on his heel. + +"Well, I never!" exclaimed Agnes, as soon as she recovered her powers +of speech. "If that is how Young Si is going to treat his friends! He +must have got offended at something. I wonder what it is," she added, +her curiosity getting the better of her indignation. + +When they came out they saw the solitary figure of Young Si far adown, +crossing the dim, lonely shore fields. In the dusk Agnes failed to +notice the pallor of her companion's face and the unshed tears in her +eyes. + + * * * * * + +"I've just been down to the Point," said Agnes, coming in one sultry +afternoon about a week later, "and Little Ev said as there was no +fishing today he'd take us out for that sail tonight if you wanted to +go." + +Ethel Lennox put her drawing away listlessly. She looked pale and +tired. She was going away the next day, and this was to be her last +visit to the shore. + +About an hour before sunset a boat glided out from the shadow of the +Point. In it were Ethel Lennox and Agnes, together with Little Ev, the +sandy-haired, undersized Pointer who owned the boat. + +The evening was fine, and an off-shore breeze was freshening up +rapidly. They did not notice the long, dark bank of livid cloud low in +the northwest. + +"Isn't this glorious!" exclaimed Ethel. Her hat was straining back +from her head and the red rings of her hair were blowing about her +face. + +Agnes looked about her more anxiously. Wiser in matters of sea and +shore than her companion, there were some indications she did not +like. + +Young Si, who was standing with Snuffy their skids, lowered his +spyglass with a start. + +"It is Agnes Bentley and--and--that boarder of theirs," he said +anxiously, "and they've gone out with Little Ev in that wretched, +leaky tub of his. Where are their eyes that they can't see a squall +coming up?" + +"An' Little Ev don't know as much about managing a boat as a cat!" +exclaimed Snuffy excitedly. "Sign 'em to come back." + +Si shook his head. "They're too far out. I don't know that the squall +will amount to very much. In a good boat, with someone who knew how to +manage it, they'd be all right. But with Little Ev--" He began walking +restlessly up and down the narrow platform. + +The boat was now some distance out. The breeze had stiffened to a slow +strong wind and the dull-grey level of the sea was whipped into +white-caps. + +Agnes bent towards Ethel. "It's getting too rough. I think we'd better +go back. I'm afraid we're in for a thunder squall. Look at the +clouds." + +A long, sullen muttering verified her words. + +"Little Ev," she shouted, "we want to go in." + +Little Ev, thus recalled to things about him, looked around in alarm. +The girls questioned each other with glances of dismay. The sky had +grown very black, and the peals of thunder came louder and more +continuously. A jagged bolt of lightning hurtled over the horizon. +Over land and sea was "the green, malignant light of coming storm." + +Little Ev brought the boat's head abruptly round as a few heavy drops +of rain fell. + +"Ev, the boat is leaking!" shrieked Agnes, above the wind. "The +water's coming in!" + +"Bail her out then," shouted Ev, struggling with the sail. "There's +two cans under the seat. I've got to lower this sail. Bail her out." + +"I'll help you," said Ethel. + +She was very pale, but her manner was calm. Both girls bailed +energetically. + +Young Si, watching through the glass, saw them. He dropped it and ran +to his boat, white and resolute. + +"They've sprung a leak. Here, Curtis, launch the boat. We've got to go +out or Ev will drown them." + +They shot out from the shore just as the downpour came, blotting out +sea and land in one driving sheet of white rain. + +"Young Si is coming off for us," said Agnes. "We'll be all right if he +gets here in time. This boat is going to sink, sure." + +Little Ev was completely demoralized by fear. The girls bailed +unceasingly, but the water gained every minute. Young Si was none too +soon. + +"Jump, Ev!" he shouted as his boat shot alongside. "Jump for your +life!" + +He dragged Ethel Lennox in as he spoke. Agnes sprang from one boat to +the other like a cat, and Little Ev jumped just as a thunderous crash +seemed to burst above them and air and sky were filled with blue +flame. + +The danger was past, for the squall had few difficulties for Si and +Snuffy. When they reached the shore, Agnes, who had quite recovered +from her fright, tucked her dripping skirts about her and announced +her determination to go straight home with Snuffy. + +"I can't get any wetter than I am," she said cheerfully. "I'll send Pa +down in the buggy for Miss Lennox. Light the fire in your shanty, Si, +and let her get dry. I'll be as quick as I can." + +Si picked Ethel up in his strong arms and carried her into the +fish-house. He placed her on one of the low benches and hurriedly +began to kindle a fire. Ethel sat up dazedly and pushed back the +dripping masses of her bright hair. Young Si turned and looked down at +her with a passionate light in his eyes. She put out her cold, wet +hands wistfully. + +"Oh, Miles!" she whispered. + +Outside, the wind shook the frail building and tore the shuddering sea +to pieces. The rain poured down. It was already settling in for a +night of storm. But, inside, Young Si's fire was casting cheery flames +over the rude room, and Young Si himself was kneeling by Ethel Lennox +with his arm about her and her head on his broad shoulder. There were +happy tears in her eyes and her voice quivered as she said, "Miles, +can you forgive me? If you knew how bitterly I have repented--" + +"Never speak of the past again, my sweet. In my lonely days and nights +down here by the sea, I have forgotten all but my love." + +"Miles, how did you come here? I thought you were in Europe." + +"I did travel at first. I came down here by chance, and resolved to +cut myself utterly adrift from my old life and see if I could not +forget you. I was not very successful." He smiled down into her eyes. +"And you were going away tomorrow. How perilously near we have been to +not meeting! But how are we going to explain all this to our friends +along shore?" + +"I think we had better not explain it at all. I will go away tomorrow, +as I intended, and you can quietly follow soon. Let 'Young Si' remain +the mystery he has always been." + +"That will be best--decidedly so. They would never understand if we +did tell them. And I daresay they would be very much disappointed to +find I was not a murderer or a forger or something of that sort. They +have always credited me with an evil past. And you and I will go back +to our own world, Ethel. You will be welcome there now, sweet--my +family, too, have learned a lesson, and will do anything to promote my +happiness." + +Agnes drove Ethel Lennox to the station next day. The fierce wind that +had swept over land and sea seemed to have blown away all the hazy +vapours and oppressive heats in the air, and the morning dawned as +clear and fresh as if the sad old earth with all her passionate tears +had cleansed herself from sin and stain and come forth radiantly pure +and sweet. Ethel bubbled over with joyousness. Agnes wondered at the +change in her. + +"Good-bye, Miss Lennox," she said wistfully. "You'll come back to see +us some time again, won't you?" + +"Perhaps," smiled Ethel, "and if not, Agnes, you must come and see me. +Some day I may tell you a secret." + +About a week later Young Si suddenly vanished, and his disappearance +was a nine-day's talk along shore. His departure was as mysterious as +his advent. It leaked out that he had quietly disposed of his boat and +shanty to Snuffy Curtis, sent his mackerel off and, that done, slipped +from the Pointers' lives, never more to re-enter them. + +Little Ev was the last of the Pointers to see him tramping along the +road to the station in the dusk of the autumn twilight. And the next +morning Agnes Bentley, going out of doors before the others, found on +the doorstep a basket containing a small, vociferous black kitten with +a card attached to its neck. On it was written: "Will Agnes please +befriend Witch in memory of Young Si?" + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lucy Maud Montgomery Short Stories, +1896 to 1901, by Lucy Maud Montgomery + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONTGOMERY SHORT STORIES *** + +***** This file should be named 24873.txt or 24873.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/8/7/24873/ + +Produced by Alicia Williams, Jeannie Howse and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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