initial commit of ebook 24874HEAD main

author: Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> 2025-10-15 02:14:44 -0700
committer: Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> 2025-10-15 02:14:44 -0700
commit: 306f77d74dfd16de8be2af4d42e289f16e2fa16b (patch)
tree: 3e49c6f7e2b0c1308a682fed1ba5305dcb3df0f5
284 files changed, 18197 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6833f05
--- /dev/null
+++ b/.gitattributes
@@ -0,0 +1,3 @@
+* text=auto
+*.txt text
+*.md text
diff --git a/24874-h.zip b/24874-h.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5db52f5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-h.zip
diff --git a/24874-h/24874-h.htm b/24874-h/24874-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d0d60a9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-h/24874-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,9234 @@
+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd">
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Short Stories, 1902 to 1903, by Lucy Maud Montgomery.
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css">
+/*<![CDATA[  XML blockout */
+<!--
+    p {  margin-top: .5em;
+         text-align: justify;
+         margin-bottom: .5em;
+         text-indent: 1em;
+         }
+    h1   {
+         text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* all headings centered */
+         }
+    h5,h6 {
+         text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* all headings centered */
+         }
+    h2 {
+         text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* centered and coloured */
+         }
+    h3 {
+         text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* centered and coloured */
+         }
+    h4 {
+         text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* all headings centered */
+         }
+    hr { width: 33%;
+	margin-top: 1em;
+	margin-bottom: 1em;
+       }
+    body{margin-left: 10%;
+         margin-right: 10%;
+        }
+    a  {text-decoration: none} /* no lines under links */
+    div.centered {text-align: center;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 1 */
+    div.centered table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 2 */
+
+    .cen      {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;} /* centering paragraphs */
+    .noin     {text-indent: 0em;} /* no indenting */
+    .block    {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} /* block indent */
+    .block2   {margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; padding-top: .5em; padding-bottom: .5em;} /* block indent */
+    .right    {text-align: right; padding-right: 2em;} /* right aligning paragraphs */
+    .totoc    {position: absolute; right: 2%; font-size: 60%; text-align: right;} /* Table of contents anchor */
+    .img      {text-align: center; padding: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} /* centering images */
+    .tdr      {text-align: right;} /* right align cell */
+    .tdl      {text-align: left;}  /* left align cell */
+    .tr       {margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; margin-top: 5%; margin-bottom: 5%; padding: 1em; background-color: #f6f2f2; color: black; border: dotted black 1px;} /* transcriber's notes */
+
+    // -->
+    /* XML end  ]]>*/
+    </style>
+   </head>
+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lucy Maud Montgomery Short Stories, 1902 to
+1903, 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, 1902 to 1903
+
+Author: Lucy Maud Montgomery
+
+Release Date: March 19, 2008 [EBook #24874]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** 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
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<br />
+<hr />
+<br />
+
+<h2>Lucy Maud Montgomery Short Stories, 1902 to 1903</h2>
+<br />
+
+<div class="block2">
+<p>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:</p>
+
+<div class="block2">
+<p class="noin">Lucy Maud Montgomery Short Stories, 1896 to 1901<br />
+Lucy Maud Montgomery Short Stories, 1902 to 1903<br />
+Lucy Maud Montgomery Short Stories, 1904<br />
+Lucy Maud Montgomery Short Stories, 1905 to 1906<br />
+Lucy Maud Montgomery Short Stories, 1907 to 1908<br />
+Lucy Maud Montgomery Short Stories, 1909 to 1922</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="toc" id="toc"></a><hr />
+<br />
+
+<h2>Short Stories 1902 to 1903</h2>
+<br />
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="50%" summary="List of Stories">
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl" width="80%"><a href="#A_Patent_Medicine_Testimonial">A Patent Medicine Testimonial</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr" width="20%">1903</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#A_Sandshore_Wooing">A Sandshore Wooing</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">1903</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#After_Many_Days">After Many Days</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">1903</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#An_Unconventional_Confidence">An Unconventional Confidence</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">1903</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#Aunt_Cyrillas_Christmas_Basket">Aunt Cyrilla's Christmas Basket</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">1903</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#Davenports_Story">Davenport's Story</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">1902</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#Emilys_Husband">Emily's Husband</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">1903</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#Min">Min</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">1903</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#Miss_Cordelias_Accommodation">Miss Cordelia's Accommodation</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">1903</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#Neds_Stroke_of_Business">Ned's Stroke of Business</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">1903</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#Our_Runaway_Kite">Our Runaway Kite</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">1903</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#The_Bride_Roses">The Bride Roses</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">1903</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#The_Josephs_Christmas">The Josephs' Christmas</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">1902</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#The_Magical_Bond_of_the_Sea">The Magical Bond of the Sea</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">1903</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#The_Martyrdom_of_Estella">The Martyrdom of Estella</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">1902</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#The_Old_Chest_at_Wyther_Grange">The Old Chest at Wyther Grange</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">1903</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#The_Osbornes_Christmas">The Osborne's Christmas</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">1903</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#The_Romance_of_Aunt_Beatrice">The Romance of Aunt Beatrice</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">1902</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#The_Running_Away_of_Chester">The Running Away of Chester</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">1903</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#The_Strike_at_Putney">The Strike at Putney</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">1903</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#The_Unhappiness_of_Miss_Farquhar">The Unhappiness of Miss Farquhar</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">1903</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#Why_Mr_Cropper_Changed_His_Mind">Why Mr. Cropper Changed His Mind</a></td>
+  <td class="tdr">1903</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="A_Patent_Medicine_Testimonial" id="A_Patent_Medicine_Testimonial"></a><hr />
+<br />
+
+<h2>A Patent Medicine Testimonial<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>"You might as well try to move the rock of Gibraltar as attempt to
+change Uncle Abimelech's mind when it is once made up," said Murray
+gloomily.</p>
+
+<p>Murray is like dear old Dad; he gets discouraged rather easily. Now,
+I'm not like that; I'm more like Mother's folks. As Uncle Abimelech
+has never failed to tell me when I have annoyed him, I'm "all Foster."
+Uncle Abimelech doesn't like the Fosters. But I'm glad I take after
+them. If I had folded my hands and sat down meekly when Uncle
+Abimelech made known his good will and pleasure regarding Murray and
+me after Father's death, Murray would never have got to college&mdash;nor I
+either, for that matter. Only I wouldn't have minded that very much. I
+just wanted to go to college because Murray did. I couldn't be
+separated from him. We were twins and had always been together.</p>
+
+<p>As for Uncle Abimelech's mind, I knew that he never had been known to
+change it. But, as he himself was fond of saying, there has to be a
+first time for everything, and I had determined that this was to be
+the first time for him. I hadn't any idea how I was going to bring it
+about; but it just had to be done, and I'm not "all Foster" for
+nothing.</p>
+
+<p>I knew I would have to depend on my own thinkers. Murray is clever at
+books and dissecting dead things, but he couldn't help me out in this,
+even if he hadn't settled beforehand that there was no use in opposing
+Uncle Abimelech.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going up to the garret to think this out, Murray," I said
+solemnly. "Don't let anybody disturb me, and if Uncle Abimelech comes
+over don't tell him where I am. If I don't come down in time to get
+tea, get it yourself. I shall not leave the garret until I have
+thought of some way to change Uncle Abimelech's mind."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you'll be a prisoner there for the term of your natural life,
+dear sis," said Murray sceptically. "You're a clever girl, Prue&mdash;and
+you've got enough decision for two&mdash;but you'll never get the better of
+Uncle Abimelech."</p>
+
+<p>"We'll see," I said resolutely, and up to the garret I went. I shut
+the door and bolted it good and fast to make sure. Then I piled some
+old cushions in the window seat&mdash;for one might as well be comfortable
+when one is thinking as not&mdash;and went over the whole ground from the
+beginning.</p>
+
+<p>Outside the wind was thrashing the broad, leafy top of the maple whose
+tallest twigs reached to the funny grey eaves of our old house. One
+roly-poly little sparrow blew or flew to the sill and sat there for a
+minute, looking at me with knowing eyes. Down below I could see Murray
+in a corner of the yard, pottering over a sick duck. He had set its
+broken leg and was nursing it back to health. Anyone except Uncle
+Abimelech could see that Murray was simply born to be a doctor and
+that it was flying in the face of Providence to think of making him
+anything else.</p>
+
+<p>From the garret windows I could see all over the farm, for the house
+is on the hill end of it. I could see all the dear old fields and the
+spring meadow and the beech woods in the southwest corner. And beyond
+the orchard were the two grey barns and down below at the right-hand
+corner was the garden with all my sweet peas fluttering over the
+fences and trellises like a horde of butterflies. It was a dear old
+place and both Murray and I loved every stick and stone on it, but
+there was no reason why we should go on living there when Murray
+didn't like farming. And it wasn't our own, anyhow. It all belonged to
+Uncle Abimelech.</p>
+
+<p>Father and Murray and I had always lived here together. Father's
+health broke down during his college course. That was one reason why
+Uncle Abimelech was set against Murray going to college, although
+Murray is as chubby and sturdy a fellow as you could wish to see.
+Anybody with Foster in him would be that.</p>
+
+<p>To go back to Father. The doctors told him that his only chance of
+recovering his strength was an open-air life, so Father rented one of
+Uncle Abimelech's farms and there he lived for the rest of his days.
+He did not get strong again until it was too late for college, and he
+was a square peg in a round hole all his life, as he used to tell us.
+Mother died before we could remember, so Murray and Dad and I were
+everything to each other. We were very happy too, although we were
+bossed by Uncle Abimelech more or less. But he meant it well and
+Father didn't mind.</p>
+
+<p>Then Father died&mdash;oh, that was a dreadful time! I hurried over it in
+my thinking-out. Of course when Murray and I came to look our position
+squarely in the face we found that we were dependent on Uncle
+Abimelech for everything, even the roof over our heads. We were
+literally as poor as church mice and even poorer, for at least they
+get churches rent-free.</p>
+
+<p>Murray's heart was set on going to college and studying medicine. He
+asked Uncle Abimelech to lend him enough money to get a start with and
+then he could work his own way along and pay back the loan in due
+time. Uncle Abimelech is rich, and Murray and I are his nearest
+relatives. But he simply wouldn't listen to Murray's plan.</p>
+
+<p>"I put my foot firmly down on such nonsense," he said. "And you know
+that when I put my foot down something squashes."</p>
+
+<p>It was not that Uncle Abimelech was miserly or that he grudged us
+assistance. Not at all. He was ready to deal generously by us, but it
+must be in his own way. His way was this. Murray and I were to stay on
+the farm, and when Murray was twenty-one Uncle Abimelech said he would
+deed the farm to him&mdash;make him a present of it out and out.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a good farm, Murray," he said. "Your father never made more than
+a bare living out of it because he wasn't strong enough to work it
+properly&mdash;that's what <i>he</i> got out of a college course, by the way.
+But you are strong enough and ambitious enough to do well."</p>
+
+<p>But Murray couldn't be a farmer, that was all there was to it. I told
+Uncle Abimelech so, firmly, and I talked to him for days about it, but
+Uncle Abimelech never wavered. He sat and listened to me with a
+quizzical smile on that handsome, clean-shaven, ruddy old face of his,
+with its cut-granite features. And in the end he said,</p>
+
+<p>"You ought to be the one to go to college if either of you did, Prue.
+You would make a capital lawyer, if I believed in the higher education
+of women, but I don't. Murray can take or leave the farm as he
+chooses. If he prefers the latter alternative, well and good. But he
+gets no help from me. You're a foolish little girl, Prue, to back him
+up in this nonsense of his."</p>
+
+<p>It makes me angry to be called a little girl when I put up my hair a
+year ago, and Uncle Abimelech knows it. I gave up arguing with him. I
+knew it was no use anyway.</p>
+
+<p>I thought it all over in the garret. But no way out of the dilemma
+could I see. I had eaten up all the apples I had brought with me and I
+felt flabby and disconsolate. The sight of Uncle Abimelech stalking up
+the lane, as erect and lordly as usual, served to deepen my gloom.</p>
+
+<p>I picked up the paper my apples had been wrapped in and looked it over
+gloomily. Then I saw something, and Uncle Abimelech was delivered into
+my hand.</p>
+
+<p>The whole plan of campaign unrolled itself before me, and I fairly
+laughed in glee, looking out of the garret window right down on the
+little bald spot on the top of Uncle Abimelech's head, as he stood
+laying down the law to Murray about something.</p>
+
+<p>When Uncle Abimelech had gone I went down to Murray.</p>
+
+<p>"Buddy," I said, "I've thought of a plan. I'm not going to tell you
+what it is, but you are to consent to it without knowing. I think it
+will quench Uncle Abimelech, but you must have perfect confidence in
+me. You must back me up no matter what I do and let me have my own way
+in it all."</p>
+
+<p>"All right, sis," said Murray.</p>
+
+<p>"That isn't solemn enough," I protested. "I'm serious. Promise
+solemnly."</p>
+
+<p>"I promise solemnly, 'cross my heart,'" said Murray, looking like an
+owl.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well. Remember that your role is to lie low and say nothing,
+like Brer Rabbit. Alloway's Anodyne Liniment is pretty good stuff,
+isn't it, Murray? It cured your sprain after you had tried everything
+else, didn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. But I don't see the connection."</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't necessary that you should. Well, what with your sprain and
+my rheumatics I think I can manage it."</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, Prue. Are you sure that long brooding over our troubles up
+in the garret hasn't turned your brain?"</p>
+
+<p>"My brain is all right. Now leave me, minion. There is that which I
+would do."</p>
+
+<p>Murray grinned and went. I wrote a letter, took it down to the office,
+and mailed it. For a week there was nothing more to do.</p>
+
+<p>There is just one trait of Uncle Abimelech's disposition more marked
+than his fondness for having his own way and that one thing is family
+pride. The Melvilles are a very old family. The name dates back to the
+Norman conquest when a certain Roger de Melville, who was an ancestor
+of ours, went over to England with William the Conqueror. I don't
+think the Melvilles ever did anything worth recording in history
+since. To be sure, as far back as we can trace, none of them has ever
+done anything bad either. They have been honest, respectable folks and
+I think that is something worth being proud of.</p>
+
+<p>But Uncle Abimelech pinned his family pride to Roger de Melville. He
+had the Melville coat of arms and our family tree, made out by an
+eminent genealogist, framed and hung up in his library, and he would
+not have done anything that would not have chimed in with that coat of
+arms and a conquering ancestor for the world.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of a week I got an answer to my letter. It was what I
+wanted. I wrote again and sent a parcel. In three weeks' time the
+storm burst.</p>
+
+<p>One day I saw Uncle Abimelech striding up the lane. He had a big
+newspaper clutched in his hand. I turned to Murray, who was poring
+over a book of anatomy in the corner.</p>
+
+<p>"Murray, Uncle Abimelech is coming. There is going to be a battle
+royal between us. Allow me to remind you of your promise."</p>
+
+<p>"To lie low and say nothing? That's the cue, isn't it, sis?"</p>
+
+<p>"Unless Uncle Abimelech appeals to you. In that case you are to back
+me up."</p>
+
+<p>Then Uncle Abimelech stalked in. He was purple with rage. Old Roger de
+Melville himself never could have looked fiercer. I <i>did</i> feel a quake
+or two, but I faced Uncle Abimelech undauntedly. No use in having your
+name on the roll of Battle Abbey if you can't stand your ground.</p>
+
+<p>"Prudence, what does this mean?" thundered Uncle Abimelech, as he
+flung the newspaper down on the table. Murray got up and peered over.
+Then he whistled. He started to say something but remembered just in
+time and stopped. But he did give me a black look. Murray has a
+sneaking pride of name too, although he won't own up to it and laughs
+at Uncle Abimelech.</p>
+
+<p>I looked at the paper and began to laugh. We did look so funny, Murray
+and I, in that advertisement. It took up the whole page. At the top
+were our photos, half life-size, and underneath our names and
+addresses printed out in full. Below was the letter I had written to
+the Alloway Anodyne Liniment folks. It was a florid testimonial to the
+virtues of their liniment. I said that it had cured Murray's sprain
+after all other remedies had failed and that, when I had been left a
+partial wreck from a very bad attack of rheumatic fever, the only
+thing that restored my joints and muscles to working order was
+Alloway's Anodyne Liniment, and so on.</p>
+
+<p>It was all true enough, although I dare say old Aunt
+Sarah-from-the-Hollow's rubbing had as much to do with the cures as
+the liniment. But that is neither here nor there.</p>
+
+<p>"What does this mean, Prudence?" said Uncle Abimelech again. He was
+quivering with wrath, but I was as cool as a cucumber, and Murray
+stood like a graven image.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, that, Uncle Abimelech," I said calmly, "well, it just means one
+of my ways of making money. That liniment company pays for those
+testimonials and photos, you know. They gave me fifty dollars for the
+privilege of publishing them. Fifty dollars will pay for books and
+tuition for Murray and me at Kentville Academy next winter, and Mrs.
+Tredgold is kind enough to say she will board me for what help I can
+give her around the house, and wait for Murray's until he can earn it
+by teaching."</p>
+
+<p>I rattled all this off glibly before Uncle Abimelech could get in a
+word.</p>
+
+<p>"It's disgraceful!" he stormed. "Disgraceful! Think of Sir Roger de
+Melville&mdash;and a patent medicine advertisement! Murray Melville, what
+were you about, sir, to let your sister disgrace herself and her
+family name by such an outrageous transaction?"</p>
+
+<p>I quaked a bit. If Murray should fail me! But Murray was true-blue.</p>
+
+<p>"I gave Prue a free hand, sir. It's an honest business transaction
+enough&mdash;and the family name alone won't send us to college, you know,
+sir."</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Abimelech glared at us.</p>
+
+<p>"This must be put an end to," he said. "This advertisement must not
+appear again. I won't have it!"</p>
+
+<p>"But I've signed a contract that it is to run for six months," I said
+sturdily. "And I've others in view. You remember the Herb Cure you
+recommended one spring and that it did me so much good! I'm
+negotiating with the makers of that and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The girl's mad!" said Uncle Abimelech. "Stark, staring mad!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, I'm not, Uncle Abimelech. I'm merely a pretty good
+businesswoman. You won't help Murray to go to college, so I must. This
+is the only way I have, and I'm going to see it through."</p>
+
+<p>After Uncle Abimelech had gone, still in a towering rage, Murray
+remonstrated. But I reminded him of his promise and he had to succumb.</p>
+
+<p>Next day Uncle Abimelech returned&mdash;a subdued and chastened Uncle
+Abimelech.</p>
+
+<p>"See here, Prue," he said sternly. "This thing must be stopped. I say
+it <i>must</i>. I am not going to have the name of Melville dragged all
+over the country in a patent medicine advertisement. You've played
+your game and won it&mdash;take what comfort you can out of the confession:
+If you will agree to cancel this notorious contract of yours I'll
+settle it with the company&mdash;and I'll put Murray through college&mdash;and
+you too if you want to go! Something will have to be done with you,
+that's certain. Is this satisfactory?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perfectly," I said promptly. "If you will add thereto your promise
+that you will forget and forgive, Uncle Abimelech. There are to be no
+hard feelings."</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Abimelech shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"In for a penny, in for a pound," he said. "Very well, Prue. We wipe
+off all scores and begin afresh. But there must be no more such
+doings. You've worked your little scheme through&mdash;trust a Foster for
+that! But in future you've got to remember that in law you're a
+Melville whatever you are in fact."</p>
+
+<p>I nodded dutifully. "I'll remember, Uncle Abimelech," I promised.</p>
+
+<p>After everything had been arranged and Uncle Abimelech had gone I
+looked at Murray. "Well?" I said.</p>
+
+<p>Murray twinkled. "You've accomplished the impossible, sis. But, as
+Uncle Abimelech intimated&mdash;don't you try it again."</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="A_Sandshore_Wooing" id="A_Sandshore_Wooing"></a><hr />
+<br />
+
+<h2>A Sandshore Wooing<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h2>
+<br />
+
+<p class="right">Fir Cottage, Plover Sands.<br />
+July Sixth.</p>
+
+<p>We arrived here late last night, and all day Aunt Martha has kept her
+room to rest. So I had to keep mine also, although I felt as fresh as
+a morning lark, and just in the mood for enjoyment.</p>
+
+<p>My name is Marguerite Forrester&mdash;an absurdly long name for so small a
+girl. Aunt Martha always calls me Marguer<i>ite</i>, with an accent of
+strong disapproval. She does not like my name, but she gives me the
+full benefit of it. Connie Shelmardine used to call me Rita. Connie
+was my roommate last year at the Seminary. We correspond occasionally,
+but Aunt Martha frowns on it.</p>
+
+<p>I have always lived with Aunt Martha&mdash;my parents died when I was a
+baby. Aunt Martha says I am to be her heiress if I please her&mdash;which
+means&mdash;but, oh, you do not know what "pleasing" Aunt Martha means.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt is a determined and inveterate man-hater. She has no particular
+love for women, indeed, and trusts nobody but Mrs. Saxby, her maid. I
+rather like Mrs. Saxby. She is not quite so far gone in petrifaction
+as Aunt, although she gets a little stonier every year. I expect the
+process will soon begin on me, but it hasn't yet. My flesh and blood
+are still unreasonably warm and pulsing and rebellious.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Martha would be in danger of taking a fit if she ever saw me
+talking to a man. She watches me jealously, firmly determined to guard
+me from any possible attack of a roaring and ravening lion in the
+disguise of nineteenth-century masculine attire. So I have to walk
+demurely and assume a virtue, if I have it not, while I pine after the
+untested flesh-pots of Egypt in secret.</p>
+
+<p>We have come down to spend a few weeks at Fir Cottage. Our good
+landlady is a capacious, kindly-souled creature, and I think she has
+rather a liking for me. I have been chattering to her all day, for
+there are times when I absolutely must talk to someone or go mad.</p>
+
+<br />
+
+<p class="right">July Tenth.</p>
+
+<p>This sort of life is decidedly dull. The program of every day is the
+same. I go to the sandshore with Aunt Martha and Mrs. Saxby in the
+morning, read to Aunt in the afternoons, and mope around by my
+disconsolate self in the evenings. Mrs. Blake has lent me, for shore
+use, a very fine spyglass which she owns. She says her "man" brought
+it home from "furrin' parts" before he died. While Aunt and Mrs. Saxby
+meander up and down the shore, leaving me free to a certain extent, I
+amuse myself by examining distant seas and coasts through it, thus
+getting a few peeps into a forbidden world. We see few people,
+although there is a large summer hotel about a mile up the beach. Our
+shore haunts do not seem to be popular with its guests. They prefer
+the rocks. This suits Aunt Martha admirably. I may also add that it
+doesn't suit her niece&mdash;but that is a matter of small importance.</p>
+
+<p>The first morning I noticed a white object on the rocks, about half a
+mile away, and turned my glass on it. There&mdash;apparently within a
+stone's throw of me&mdash;was a young man. He was lounging on a rock,
+looking dreamily out to sea. There was something about his face that
+reminded me of someone I know, but I cannot remember whom.</p>
+
+<p>Every morning he has reappeared on the same spot. He seems to be a
+solitary individual, given to prowling by himself. I wonder what Aunt
+would say if she knew what I am so earnestly watching through my glass
+at times.</p>
+
+<br />
+
+<p class="right">July Eleventh.</p>
+
+<p>I shall have to cease looking at the Unknown, I am afraid.</p>
+
+<p>This morning I turned my glass, as usual, on his pet haunt. I nearly
+fell over in my astonishment, for he was also looking through a
+spyglass straight at me, too, it seemed. How foolish I felt! And yet
+my curiosity was so strong that a few minutes afterward I peeped back
+again, just to see what he was doing. Then he coolly laid down his
+glass, rose, lifted his cap and bowed politely to me&mdash;or, at least, in
+my direction. I dropped my glass and smiled in a mixture of dismay and
+amusement. Then I remembered that he was probably watching me again,
+and might imagine my smile was meant for him. I banished it
+immediately, shut my glass up and did not touch it again. Soon after
+we came home.</p>
+
+<br />
+
+<p class="right">July Twelfth.</p>
+
+<p>Something has happened at last. Today I went to the shore as usual,
+fully resolved not even to glance in the forbidden direction. But in
+the end I had to take a peep, and saw him on the rocks with his glass
+levelled at me. When he saw that I was looking he laid down the glass,
+held up his hands, and began to spell out something in the deaf-mute
+alphabet. Now, I know that same alphabet. Connie taught it to me last
+year, so that we might hold communication across the schoolroom. I
+gave one frantic glance at Aunt Martha's rigid back, and then watched
+him while he deftly spelled: "I am Francis Shelmardine. Are you not
+Miss Forrester, my sister's friend?"</p>
+
+<p>Francis Shelmardine! Now I knew whom he resembled. And have I not
+heard endless dissertations from Connie on this wonderful brother of
+hers, Francis the clever, the handsome, the charming, until he has
+become the only hero of dreams I have ever had? It was too wonderful.
+I could only stare dazedly back through my glass.</p>
+
+<p>"May we know each other?" he went on. "May I come over and introduce
+myself? Right hand, yes; left, no."</p>
+
+<p>I gasped! Suppose he were to come? <i>What</i> would happen? I waved my
+left hand sorrowfully. He looked quite crestfallen and disappointed as
+he spelled out: "Why not? Would your friends disapprove?"</p>
+
+<p>I signalled: "Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you displeased at my boldness?" was his next question.</p>
+
+<p>Where had all Aunt Martha's precepts flown to then? I blush to record
+that I lifted my left hand shyly and had just time to catch his
+pleased expression when Aunt Martha came up and said it was time to go
+home. So I picked myself meekly up, shook the sand from my dress, and
+followed my good aunt dutifully home.</p>
+
+<br />
+
+<p class="right">July Thirteenth.</p>
+
+<p>When we went to the shore this morning I had to wait in spasms of
+remorse and anxiety until Aunt got tired of reading and set off along
+the shore with Mrs. Saxby. Then I reached for my glass.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Shelmardine and I had quite a conversation. Under the
+circumstances there could be no useless circumlocution in our exchange
+of ideas. It was religiously "boiled down," and ran something like
+this:</p>
+
+<p>"You are not displeased with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;but I should be."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is wrong to deceive Aunt."</p>
+
+<p>"I am quite respectable."</p>
+
+<p>"That is not the question."</p>
+
+<p>"Cannot her prejudices be overcome?"</p>
+
+<p>"Absolutely no."</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Allardyce, who is staying at the hotel, knows her well. Shall I
+bring her over to vouch for my character?"</p>
+
+<p>"It would not do a bit of good."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it is hopeless."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Would you object to knowing me on your own account?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you ever come to the shore alone?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Aunt would not permit me."</p>
+
+<p>"Must she know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I would not come without her permission."</p>
+
+<p>"You will not refuse to chat with me thus now and then?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. Perhaps not."</p>
+
+<p>I had to go home then. As we went Mrs. Saxby complimented me on my
+good colour. Aunt Martha looked her disapproval. If I were really ill
+Aunt would spend her last cent in my behalf, but she would be just as
+well pleased to see me properly pale and subdued at all times, and not
+looking as if I were too well contented in this vale of tears.</p>
+
+<br />
+
+<p class="right">July Seventeenth.</p>
+
+<p>I have "talked" a good deal with Mr. Shelmardine these past four days.
+He is to be at the beach for some weeks longer. This morning he
+signalled across from the rocks: "I mean to see you at last. Tomorrow
+I will walk over and pass you."</p>
+
+<p>"You must not. Aunt will suspect."</p>
+
+<p>"No danger. Don't be alarmed. I will do nothing rash."</p>
+
+<p>I suppose he will. He seems to be very determined. Of course, I cannot
+prevent him from promenading on our beach all day if he chooses. But
+then if he did, Aunt would speedily leave him in sole possession of
+it.</p>
+
+<p>I wonder what I had better wear tomorrow.</p>
+
+<br />
+
+<p class="right">July Nineteenth.</p>
+
+<p>Yesterday morning Aunt Martha was serene and unsuspicious. It is
+dreadful of me to be deceiving her and I do feel guilty. I sat down on
+the sand and pretended to read the "Memoirs of a Missionary"&mdash;Aunt
+likes cheerful books like that&mdash;in an agony of anticipation. Presently
+Aunt said, majestically: "Marguer<i>ite</i>, there is a man coming this
+way. We will move further down."</p>
+
+<p>And we moved. Poor Aunt!</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Shelmardine came bravely on. I felt my heart beating to my very
+finger tips. He halted by the fragment of an old stranded boat. Aunt
+had turned her back on him.</p>
+
+<p>I ventured on a look. He lifted his hat with a twinkle in his eye.
+Just then Aunt said, icily: "We will go home, Marguer<i>ite</i>. That
+creature evidently intends to persist in his intrusion."</p>
+
+<p>Home we came accordingly.</p>
+
+<p>This morning he signalled across: "Letter from Connie. Message for
+you. I mean to deliver it personally. Do you ever go to church?"</p>
+
+<p>Now, I <i>do</i> go regularly to church at home. But Aunt Martha and Mrs.
+Saxby are both such rigid church people that they would not darken the
+doors of the Methodist church at Plover Sands for any consideration.
+Needless to say, I am not allowed to go either. But it was impossible
+to make this long explanation, so I merely replied: "Not here."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you not go tomorrow morning?"</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt will not let me."</p>
+
+<p>"Coax her."</p>
+
+<p>"Coaxing never has any effect on her."</p>
+
+<p>"Would she relent if Mrs. Allardyce were to call for you?"</p>
+
+<p>Now, I have been cautiously sounding Aunt about Mrs. Allardyce, and I
+have discovered that she disapproves of her. So I said: "It would be
+useless. I will ask Aunt if I may go, but I feel almost sure that she
+will not consent."</p>
+
+<p>This evening, when Aunt was in an unusually genial mood, I plucked up
+heart of grace and asked her.</p>
+
+<p>"Marguer<i>ite</i>," she said impressively, "you know that I do not attend
+church here."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Aunt," I persisted, quakingly, "couldn't I go alone? It is not
+very far&mdash;and I will be very careful."</p>
+
+<p>Aunt merely gave me a look that said about forty distinct and separate
+things, and I was turning away in despair when Mrs. Saxby&mdash;bless her
+heart&mdash;said: "I really think it would be no harm to let the child go."</p>
+
+<p>As Aunt attaches great importance to Mrs. Saxby's opinion, she looked
+at me relentingly and said: "Well, I will think it over and let you
+know in the morning, Marguer<i>ite</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Now, everything depends on the sort of humour Aunt is in in the
+morning.</p>
+
+
+<br />
+
+<p class="right">July Twentieth.</p>
+
+<p>This morning was perfect, and after breakfast Aunt said,
+condescendingly: "I think you may attend church if you wish,
+Marguer<i>ite</i>. Remember that I expect you to conduct yourself with
+becoming prudence and modesty."</p>
+
+<p>I flew upstairs and pulled my prettiest dress out of my trunk. It is a
+delicate, shimmering grey stuff with pearly tints about it. Every time
+I get anything new, Aunt Martha and I have a battle royal over it. I
+verily believe that Aunt would like me to dress in the fashions in
+vogue in her youth. There is always a certain flavour of
+old-fashionedness about my gowns and hats. Connie used to say that it
+was delicious and gave me a piquant uniqueness&mdash;a certain unlikeness
+to other people that possessed a positive charm. That is only Connie's
+view of it, however.</p>
+
+<p>But I had had my own way about this dress and it is really very
+becoming. I wore a little silvery-grey chip hat, trimmed with pale
+pink flowers, and I pinned at my belt the sweetest cluster of
+old-fashioned blush rosebuds from the garden. Then I borrowed a hymn
+book from Mrs. Blake and ran down to undergo Aunt Martha's scrutiny.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear me, child," she said discontentedly, "you have gotten yourself
+up very frivolously, it seems to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Aunty," I protested, "I'm all in grey&mdash;every bit."</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Martha sniffed. You don't know how much Aunt can express in a
+sniff. But I tripped to church like a bird.</p>
+
+<p>The first person I saw there was Mr. Shelmardine. He was sitting right
+across from me and a smile glimmered in his eyes. I did not look at
+him again. Through the service I was subdued enough to have satisfied
+even Aunt Martha.</p>
+
+<p>When church came out, he waited for me at the entrance to his pew. I
+pretended not to see him until he said "Good morning," in a voice
+vibrating and deep, which sounded as though it might become infinitely
+tender if its owner chose. When we went down the steps he took my
+hymnal, and we walked up the long, bowery country road.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you so much for coming today," he said&mdash;as if I went to oblige
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"I had a hard time to get Aunt Martha's consent," I declared frankly.
+"I wouldn't have succeeded if Mrs. Saxby hadn't taken my part."</p>
+
+<p>"Heaven bless Mrs. Saxby," he remarked fervently. "But is there any
+known way of overcoming your aunt's scruples? If so, I am ready to
+risk it."</p>
+
+<p>"There is none. Aunt Martha is very good and kind to me, but she will
+never stop trying to bring me up. The process will be going on when I
+am fifty. And she hates men! I don't know what she would do if she saw
+me now."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Shelmardine frowned and switched the unoffending daisies viciously
+with his cane.</p>
+
+<p>"Then there is no hope of my seeing you openly and above-board?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not at present," I said faintly.</p>
+
+<p>After a brief silence we began to talk of other things. He told me how
+he happened to see me first.</p>
+
+<p>"I was curious to know who the people were who were always in the same
+place at the same time, so one day I took my telescope. I could see
+you plainly. You were reading and had your hat off. When I went back
+to the hotel I asked Mrs. Allardyce if she knew who the boarders at
+Fir Cottage were and she told me. I had heard Connie speak of you, and
+I determined to make your acquaintance."</p>
+
+<p>When we reached the lane I held out my hand for the hymnal.</p>
+
+<p>"You mustn't come any further, Mr. Shelmardine," I said hurriedly.
+"Aunt&mdash;Aunt might see you."</p>
+
+<p>He took my hand and held it, looking at me seriously.</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose I were to walk up to the cottage tomorrow and ask for you?"</p>
+
+<p>I gasped. He looked so capable of doing anything he took it into his
+head to do.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you wouldn't," I said piteously. "Aunt Martha would&mdash;you are not
+in earnest."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose not," he said regretfully. "Of course I would not do
+anything that would cause you unpleasantness. But this must not&mdash;shall
+not be our last meeting."</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt will not let me come to church again," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Does she ever take a nap in the afternoon?" he queried.</p>
+
+<p>I wriggled my parasol about in the dust uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>"Sometimes."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be at the old boat tomorrow afternoon at two-thirty," he
+said.</p>
+
+<p>I pulled my hand away.</p>
+
+<p>"I couldn't&mdash;you know I couldn't," I cried&mdash;and then I blushed to my
+ears.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you sure you couldn't?" bending a little nearer.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite sure," I murmured.</p>
+
+<p>He surrendered my hymnal at last.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you give me a rose?"</p>
+
+<p>I unpinned the whole cluster and handed it to him. He lifted it until
+it touched his lips. As for me, I scuttled up the lane in the most
+undignified fashion. At the turn I looked back. He was still standing
+there with his hat off.</p>
+
+<br />
+
+<p class="right">July Twenty-fourth.</p>
+
+<p>On Monday afternoon I slipped away to the shore while Aunt Martha and
+Mrs. Saxby were taking their regular nap and I was supposed to be
+reading sermons in my room.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Shelmardine was leaning against the old boat, but he came swiftly
+across the sand to meet me.</p>
+
+<p>"This is very kind of you," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I ought not to have come," I said repentantly. "But it is so lonely
+there&mdash;and one can't be interested in sermons and memoirs <i>all</i> the
+time."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Shelmardine laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. and Mrs. Allardyce are on the other side of the boat. Will you
+come and meet them?"</p>
+
+<p>How nice of him to bring them! I knew I should like Mrs. Allardyce,
+just because Aunt Martha didn't. We had a delightful stroll. I never
+thought of the time until Mr. Shelmardine said it was four o'clock.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, is it so late as that?" I cried. "I must go at once."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry we have kept you so long," remarked Mr. Shelmardine in a
+tone of concern. "If she should be awake, what will the consequences
+be?"</p>
+
+<p>"Too terrible to think of," I answered seriously. "I'm sorry, Mr.
+Shelmardine, but you mustn't come any further."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>We</i> will be here tomorrow afternoon," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Shelmardine!" I protested. "I wish you wouldn't put such ideas
+into my head. They won't come out&mdash;no, not if I read a whole volume of
+sermons right through."</p>
+
+<p>We looked at each other for a second. Then he began to smile, and we
+both went off into a peal of laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"At least let me know if Miss Fiske rampages," he called after me as I
+fled.</p>
+
+<p>But Aunt Martha was not awake&mdash;and I have been to the shore three
+afternoons since then. I was there today, and I'm going tomorrow for a
+boat sail with Mr. Shelmardine and the Allardyces. But I am afraid the
+former will do something rash soon. This afternoon he said: "I don't
+think I can stand this much longer."</p>
+
+<p>"Stand what?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"You know very well," he answered recklessly. "Meeting you in this
+clandestine manner, and thereby causing that poor little conscience of
+yours such misery. If your aunt were not so&mdash;unreasonable, I should
+never have stooped to it."</p>
+
+<p>"It is all my fault," I said contritely.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I hardly meant that," he said grimly. "But hadn't I better go
+frankly to your aunt and lay the whole case before her?"</p>
+
+<p>"You would never see me again if you did that," I said hastily&mdash;and
+then wished I hadn't.</p>
+
+<p>"That is the worst threat you could make," he said.</p>
+
+
+<br />
+
+<p class="right">July Twenty-fifth.</p>
+
+<p>It is all over, and I am the most miserable girl in the world. Of
+course this means that Aunt Martha has discovered everything and the
+deserved punishment of my sins has overtaken me.</p>
+
+<p>I slipped away again this afternoon and went for that boat sail. We
+had a lovely time but were rather late getting in, and I hurried home
+with many misgivings. Aunt Martha met me at the door.</p>
+
+<p>My dress was draggled, my hat had slipped back, and the kinks and curls
+of my obstreperous hair were something awful. I know I looked very
+disreputable and also, no doubt, very guilty and conscience-stricken.
+Aunt gave me an unutterable look and then followed me up to my room in
+grim silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Marguer<i>ite</i>, what does this mean?"</p>
+
+<p>I have lots of faults, but untruthfulness isn't one of them. I
+confessed everything&mdash;at least, almost everything. I didn't tell about
+the telescopes and deaf-mute alphabet, and Aunt was too
+horror-stricken to think of asking how I first made Mr. Shelmardine's
+acquaintance. She listened in stony silence. I had expected a terrible
+scolding, but I suppose my crimes simply seemed to her too enormous
+for words.</p>
+
+<p>When I had sobbed out my last word she rose, swept me one glance of
+withering contempt, and left the room. Presently Mrs. Saxby came up,
+looking concerned.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear child, what have you been doing? Your aunt says that we are
+to go home on the afternoon train tomorrow. She is terribly upset."</p>
+
+<p>I just curled up on the bed and cried, while Mrs. Saxby packed my
+trunk. I will have no chance to explain matters to Mr. Shelmardine.
+And I will never see him again, for Aunt is quite capable of whisking
+me off to Africa. He will just think me a feather-brained flirt. Oh, I
+am so unhappy!</p>
+
+
+<br />
+
+<p class="right">July Twenty-sixth.</p>
+
+<p>I am the happiest girl in the world! That is quite a different strain
+from yesterday. We leave Fir Cottage in an hour, but that doesn't
+matter now.</p>
+
+<p>I did not sleep a wink last night and crawled miserably down to
+breakfast. Aunt took not the slightest notice of me, but to my
+surprise she told Mrs. Saxby that she intended taking a farewell walk
+to the shore. I knew I would be taken, too, to be kept out of
+mischief, and my heart gave a great bound of hope. Perhaps I would
+have a chance to send word to Francis, since Aunt did not know of the
+part my spyglass had played in my bad behaviour.</p>
+
+<p>I meekly followed my grim guardians to the shore and sat dejectedly on
+my rug while they paced the sand. Francis was on the rocks. As soon as
+Aunt Martha and Mrs. Saxby were at a safe distance, I began my
+message: "All discovered. Aunt is very angry. We go home today."</p>
+
+<p>Then I snatched my glass. His face expressed the direst consternation
+and dismay. He signalled: "I must see you before you go."</p>
+
+<p>"Impossible. Aunt will never forgive me. Good-bye."</p>
+
+<p>I saw a look of desperate determination cross his face. If forty Aunt
+Marthas had swooped down upon me, I could not have torn my eyes from
+that glass.</p>
+
+<p>"I love you. You know it. Do you care for me? I must have my answer
+now."</p>
+
+<p>What a situation! No time or chance for any maidenly hesitation or
+softening aureole of words. Aunt and Mrs. Saxby had almost reached the
+point where they invariably turned. I had barely time to spell out a
+plain, blunt "yes" and read his answer.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall go home at once, get Mother and Connie, follow you, and
+demand possession of my property. I shall win the day. Have no fear.
+Till then, good-bye, my darling."</p>
+
+<p>"Marguerite," said Mrs. Saxby at my elbow, "it is time to go."</p>
+
+<p>I got up obediently. Aunt Martha was as grim and uncompromising as
+ever, and Mrs. Saxby looked like a chief mourner, but do you suppose I
+cared? I dropped behind them just once before we left the shore. I
+knew he was watching me and I waved my hand.</p>
+
+<p>I suppose I am really engaged to Francis Shelmardine. But was there
+ever such a funny wooing? And <i>what</i> will Aunt Martha say?</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="After_Many_Days" id="After_Many_Days"></a><hr />
+<br />
+
+<h2>After Many Days<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>The square, bare front room of the Baxter Station Hotel&mdash;so called
+because there was no other house in the place to dispute the
+title&mdash;was filled with men. Some of them were putting up at the hotel
+while they worked at the new branch line, and some of them had dropped
+in to exchange news and banter while waiting for the mail train.</p>
+
+<p>Gabe Foley, the proprietor, was playing at checkers with one of the
+railroad men, but was not too deeply absorbed in the game to take in
+all that was said around him. The air was dim with tobacco smoke, and
+the brilliant, scarlet geraniums which Mrs. Foley kept in the bay
+window looked oddly out of place. Gabe knew all those present except
+one man&mdash;a stranger who had landed at Baxter Station from the
+afternoon freight. Foley's hotel did not boast of a register, and the
+stranger did not volunteer any information regarding his name or
+business. He had put in the afternoon and early evening strolling
+about the village and talking to the men on the branch line. Now he
+had come in and ensconced himself in the corner behind the stove,
+where he preserved a complete silence.</p>
+
+<p>He had a rather rough face and was flashily dressed. Altogether, Gabe
+hardly liked his looks, put as long as a man paid his bill and did not
+stir up a row Gabe Foley did not interfere with him.</p>
+
+<p>Three or four farmers from "out Greenvale way" were drawn up by the
+stove, discussing the cheese factory sales and various Greenvale
+happenings. The stranger appeared to be listening to them intently,
+although he took no part in their conversation.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he brought his tilted chair down with a sharp thud. Gabe
+Foley had paused in his manipulation of a king to hurl a question at
+the Greenvale men.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it true that old man Strong is to be turned out next week?"</p>
+
+<p>"True enough," answered William Jeffers. "Joe Moore is going to
+foreclose. Stephen Strong has got three years behind with the interest
+and Moore is out of patience. It seems hard on old Stephen, but Moore
+ain't the man to hesitate for that. He'll have his own out of it."</p>
+
+<p>"What will the Strongs do?" asked Gabe.</p>
+
+<p>"That's the question everyone in Greenvale is asking. Lizzie Strong
+has always been a delicate little girl, but maybe she'll manage to
+scare up a living. Old Stephen is to be the most pitied. I don't see
+anything for him but the poorhouse."</p>
+
+<p>"How did Stephen Strong come to get into such a tight place?" the
+stranger asked suddenly. "When I was in these parts a good many years
+ago he was considered a well-to-do man."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, so he was," replied William Jeffers. "But he began to get in
+debt when his wife took sick. He spent no end of money on doctors and
+medicines for her. And then he seemed to have a streak of bad luck
+besides&mdash;crops failed and cows died and all that sort of thing. He's
+been going behind ever since. He kind of lost heart when his wife
+died. And now Moore is going to foreclose. It's my opinion poor old
+Stephen won't live any time if he's turned out of his home."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know what the mortgage comes to?"</p>
+
+<p>"Near three thousand, counting overdue interest."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'm sorry for old Stephen," said Gabe, returning to his game.
+"If anybody deserves a peaceful old age he does. He's helped more
+people than you could count, and he was the best Christian in
+Greenvale, or out of it."</p>
+
+<p>"He was too good," said a Greenvale man crustily. "He just let himself
+be imposed upon all his life. There's dozens of people owes him and
+he's never asked for a cent from them. And he's always had some
+shiftless critter or other hanging round and devouring his substance."</p>
+
+<p>"D'ye mind that Ben Butler who used to be in Greenvale twenty years
+ago?" asked a third man. "If ever there was an imp of Satan 'twas
+him&mdash;old Ezra Butler's son from the valley. Old Stephen kept him for
+three or four years and was as good to him as if he'd been his own
+son."</p>
+
+<p>"Most people out our way do mind Ben Butler," returned William Jeffers
+grimly, "even if he ain't been heard tell of for twenty years. He
+wasn't the kind you could forget in a hurry. Where'd he go? Out to the
+Kootenay, wasn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Somewhere there. He was a reg'lar young villain&mdash;up to every kind of
+mischief. Old Stephen caught him stealing his oats one time and 'stead
+of giving him a taste of jail for it, as he ought to have done, he
+just took him right into his family and kept him there for three
+years. I used to tell him he'd be sorry for it, but he always
+persisted that Ben wasn't bad at heart and would come out all right
+some day. No matter what the young varmint did old Stephen would make
+excuses for him&mdash;'his ma was dead,' or he 'hadn't had no bringing-up.'
+I was thankful when he did finally clear out without doing some
+penitentiary work."</p>
+
+<p>"If poor old Stephen hadn't been so open-handed to every unfortunate
+critter he came across," said Gabe, "he'd have had more for himself
+today."</p>
+
+<p>The whistle of the mail train cut short the discussion of Stephen
+Strong's case. In a minute the room was vacant, except for the
+stranger. When left to himself he also rose and walked out. Turning
+away from the station, he struck briskly into the Greenvale road.</p>
+
+<p>About three miles from the station he halted before a house built close
+to the road. It was old-fashioned, but large and comfortable-looking,
+with big barns in the rear and an orchard on the left slope. The house
+itself was in the shadow of the firs, but the yard lay out in the
+moonlight and the strange visitor did not elect to cross it. Instead,
+he turned aside into the shadow of the trees around the garden and,
+leaning against the old rail fence, gave himself up to contemplation of
+some kind.</p>
+
+<p>There was a light in the kitchen. The window-blind was not down and he
+had a fairly good view of the room. The only visible occupant was a
+grey-haired old man sitting by the table, reading from a large open
+volume before him. The stranger whistled softly.</p>
+
+<p>"That's old Stephen&mdash;reading the Bible same as ever, by all that's
+holy! He hasn't changed much except that he's got mighty grey. He must
+be close on to seventy. It's a shame to turn an old man like him out
+of house and home. But Joe Moore always was a genuine skinflint."</p>
+
+<p>He drew himself softly up and sat on the fence. He saw old Stephen
+Strong close his book, place his spectacles on it, and kneel down by
+his chair. The old man remained on his knees for some time and then,
+taking up his candle, left the kitchen. The man on the fence still sat
+there. Truth to tell, he was chuckling to himself as he recalled all
+the mischief he had done in the old days&mdash;the doubtful jokes, tricks,
+and escapades he had gone through with.</p>
+
+<p>He could not help remembering at the same time how patient old Stephen
+Strong had always been with him. He recalled the time he had been
+caught stealing the oats. How frightened and sullen he had been! And
+how gently the old man had talked to him and pointed out the sin of
+which he had been guilty!</p>
+
+<p>He had never stolen again, but in other respects he had not mended his
+ways much. Behind old Stephen's back he laughed at him and his
+"preaching." But Stephen Strong had never lost faith in him. He had
+always asserted mildly that "Ben would come out all right by and by."
+Ben Butler remembered this too, as he sat on the fence.</p>
+
+<p>He had "always liked old Stephen," he told himself. He was sorry he
+had fallen on such evil times.</p>
+
+<p>"Preaching and praying don't seem to have brought him out clear after
+all," he said with a chuckle that quickly died away. Somehow, even in
+his worst days, Ben Butler had never felt easy when he mocked old
+Stephen. "Three thousand dollars! I could do it but I reckon I'd be a
+blamed fool. I ain't a-going to do it. Three thousand ain't picked up
+every day, even in the Kootenay&mdash;'specially by chaps like me."</p>
+
+<p>He patted his pocket knowingly. Fifteen years previously he had gone
+to the Kootenay district with visions of making a fortune that were
+quickly dispelled by reality. He had squandered his wages as soon as
+paid, and it was only of late years that he had "pulled up a bit," as
+he expressed it, and saved his three thousand dollars.</p>
+
+<p>He had brought the money home with him, having some vague notion of
+buying a farm and "settling down to do the respectable." But he had
+already given up the idea. This country was too blamed quiet for him,
+he said. He would go back to the Kootenay, and he knew what he would
+do with his money. Jake Perkins and Wade Brown, two "pals" of his,
+were running a flourishing grocery and saloon combined. They would be
+glad of another partner with some cash. It would suit him to a T.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll clear out tomorrow," he mused as he walked back. "As long as I
+stay here old Stephen will haunt me, sure as fate. Wonder what he was
+praying for tonight. He always used to say the Lord would provide, but
+He don't appear to have done it. Well, I ain't His deputy."</p>
+
+<p>The next afternoon Ben Butler went over to Greenvale and called at
+Stephen Strong's. He found only the old man at home. Old Stephen did
+not recognize him at first, but made him heartily welcome when he did.</p>
+
+<p>"Ben, I do declare! Ben Butler! How are you? How are you? Sit down,
+Ben&mdash;here, take this chair. Where on earth did you come from?"</p>
+
+<p>"Baxter just now&mdash;Kootenay on the large scale," answered Ben. "Thought
+I'd come over and see you again. Didn't expect you'd remember me at
+all."</p>
+
+<p>"Remember you! Why, of course I do. I haven't ever forgot you, Ben.
+Many's the time I've wondered where you was and how you was getting
+on. And you tell me you've been in the Kootenay! Well, well, you have
+seen a good bit more of the world than I ever have. You've changed a
+lot, Ben. You ain't a boy no longer. D'ye mind all the pranks you used
+to play?"</p>
+
+<p>Ben laughed sheepishly.</p>
+
+<p>"I reckon I do. But it ain't myself I come here to talk about&mdash;not
+much to say if I did. It's just been up and down with me. How are you
+yourself, sir? They were telling me over at Baxter that you were kind
+of in trouble."</p>
+
+<p>The old man's face clouded over; all the sparkle went out of his kind
+blue eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Ben, yes," he said, with a heavy sigh. "I've kind of gone
+downhill, that's a fact. The old farm has to go, Ben&mdash;I'm sorry for
+that&mdash;I'd have liked to have ended my days here, but it's not to be. I
+don't want to complain. The Lord does all things well. I haven't a
+doubt but that it all fits into His wise purposes&mdash;not a doubt, Ben,
+although it may be kind of hard to see it."</p>
+
+<p>Ben was always skittish of "pious talk." He veered around adroitly.</p>
+
+<p>"I dunno as the Lord has had much to do with this, sir. Seems to me as
+if 'twas the other one as was running it, with Joe Moore for deputy.
+The main thing, as I look at it, is to get a cinch on him. How much
+does the mortgage amount to, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"About three thousand dollars, interest and all."</p>
+
+<p>Old Stephen's voice trembled. The future looked very dark to him in
+his old age.</p>
+
+<p>Ben put his hand inside his coat and brought out a brand-new, plump
+pocketbook. He opened it, laid it on his knee, and counted out a
+number of crisp notes.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, sir," he said, pushing them along the table. "I reckon that'll
+keep you out of Joe Moore's clutches. There's three thousand there if
+I ain't made a mistake. That'll set you clear, won't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ben!" Old Stephen's voice trembled with amazement. "Ben, I can't take
+it. It wouldn't be fair&mdash;or right. I could never pay you back."</p>
+
+<p>Ben slipped the rubber band around his wallet and replaced it airily.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want it paid back, sir. It's a little gift, so to speak, just
+to let you know I ain't ungrateful for all you did for me. If it
+hadn't been for you I might have been in the penitentiary by now. As
+for the money, it may seem a pile to you, but we don't think anything
+more of a thousand or so in the Kootenay than you Greenvale folks do
+of a fiver&mdash;not a bit more. We do things on a big scale out there."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Ben, are you sure you can afford it&mdash;that you won't miss it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pop sure. Don't you worry, I'm all right."</p>
+
+<p>"Bless you&mdash;bless you!" The tears were running down old Stephen's face
+as he gathered up the money with a shaking hand. "I always knew you
+would do well, Ben&mdash;always said it. I knew you'd a good heart. I just
+can't realize this yet&mdash;it seems too good to be true. The old place
+saved&mdash;I can die in peace. Of course, I'll pay you back some of it
+anyhow if I'm spared a while longer. Bless you, Ben."</p>
+
+<p>Ben would not stay long after that. He said he had to leave on the
+4:30 train. He was relieved when he got away from the old man's thanks
+and questions. Ben did not find it easy to answer some of the latter.
+When he was out of sight of the house he sat on a fence and counted up
+his remaining funds.</p>
+
+<p>"Just enough to take me back to the Kootenay&mdash;and then begin over
+again, I s'pose. But 'twas worth the money to see the old fellow's
+face. He'd thank the Lord and me, he said. How Jake and Wade'd roar to
+hear them two names in partnership! But I'm going to pull up a bit
+after this, see if I don't, just to justify the old man's faith in me.
+'Twould be too bad to disappoint him if he's believed for so long that
+I was going to turn out all right yet."</p>
+
+<p>When the 4:30 train went out Ben Butler stood on the rear platform.
+Gabe Foley watched him abstractedly as he receded.</p>
+
+<p>"Blamed if I know who that fellow was," he remarked to a crony. "He
+never told his name, but seems to me I've seen him before. He has a
+kind of hang-dog look, I think. But he paid up square and it is none
+of my business."</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="An_Unconventional_Confidence" id="An_Unconventional_Confidence"></a><hr />
+<br />
+
+<h2>An Unconventional Confidence<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>The Girl in Black-and-Yellow ran frantically down the grey road under
+the pines. There was nobody to see her, but she would have run if all
+Halifax had been looking on. For had she not on the loveliest new
+hat&mdash;a "creation" in yellow chiffon with big black <i>choux</i>&mdash;and a
+dress to match? And was there not a shower coming straight from the
+hills across the harbour?</p>
+
+<p>Down at the end of the long resinous avenue the Girl saw the shore
+road, with the pavilion shutting out the view of the harbour's mouth.
+Below the pavilion, clean-shaven George's Island guarded the town like
+a sturdy bulldog, and beyond it were the wooded hills, already lost in
+a mist of rain.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I shall be too late," moaned the Girl. But she held her hat
+steady with one hand and ran on. If she could only reach the pavilion
+in time! It was a neck-and-neck race between the rain and the Girl,
+but the Girl won. Just as she flew out upon the shore road, a tall
+Young Man came pelting down the latter, and they both dashed up the
+steps of the pavilion together as the rain swooped down upon them and
+blotted George's Island and the smoky town and the purple banks of the
+Eastern Passage from view.</p>
+
+<p>The pavilion was small at the best of times, and just now the rain was
+beating into it on two sides, leaving only one dry corner. Into this
+the Girl moved. She was flushed and triumphant. The Young Man thought
+that in all his life he had never seen anyone so pretty.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm so glad I didn't get my hat wet," said the Girl breathlessly, as
+she straightened it with a careful hand and wondered if she looked
+very blown and blowsy.</p>
+
+<p>"It would have been a pity," admitted the Young Man. "It is a very
+pretty hat."</p>
+
+<p>"Pretty!" The Girl looked the scorn her voice expressed. "Anyone can
+have a <i>pretty</i> hat. Our cook has one. This is a <i>creation</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," said the Young Man humbly. "I ought to have known. But I
+am very stupid."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I suppose a mere man couldn't be expected to understand
+exactly," said the Girl graciously.</p>
+
+<p>She smiled at him in a friendly fashion, and he smiled back. The Girl
+thought that she had never seen such lovely brown eyes before. He
+could not be a Haligonian. She was sure she knew all the nice young
+men with brown eyes in Halifax.</p>
+
+<p>"Please sit down," she said plaintively. "I'm tired."</p>
+
+<p>The Young Man smiled again at the idea of his sitting down because the
+Girl was tired. But he sat down, and so did she, on the only dry seat
+to be found.</p>
+
+<p>"Goodness knows how long this rain will last," said the Girl, making
+herself comfortable and picturesque, "but I shall stay here until it
+clears up, if it rains for a week. I will <i>not</i> have my hat spoiled. I
+suppose I shouldn't have put it on. Beatrix said it was going to rain.
+Beatrix is such a horribly good prophet. I detest people who are good
+prophets, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think that they are responsible for all the evils that they
+predict," said the Young Man solemnly.</p>
+
+<p>"That is just what I told Beatrix. And I was determined to put on this
+hat and come out to the park today. I simply <i>had</i> to be alone, and I
+knew I'd be alone out here. Everybody else would be at the football
+game. By the way, why aren't you there?"</p>
+
+<p>"I wasn't even aware that there was a football game on hand," said the
+Young Man, as if he knew he ought to be ashamed of his ignorance, and
+was.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear me," said the Girl pityingly. "Where can you have been not to
+have heard of it? It's between the Dalhousie team and the Wanderers.
+Almost everybody here is on the Wanderers' side, because they are
+Haligonians, but I am not. I like the college boys best. Beatrix says
+that it is just because of my innate contrariness. Last year I simply
+screamed myself hoarse with enthusiasm. The Dalhousie team won the
+trophy."</p>
+
+<p>"If you are so interested in the game, it is a wonder you didn't go to
+see it yourself," said the Young Man boldly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I just couldn't," said the Girl with a sigh. "If anybody had
+ever told me that there would be a football game in Halifax, and that
+I would elect to prowl about by myself in the park instead of going to
+it, I'd have laughed them to scorn. Even Beatrix would never have
+dared to prophesy <i>that</i>. But you see it has happened. I was too
+crumpled up in my mind to care about football today. I had to come
+here and have it out with myself. That is why I put on my hat. I
+thought, perhaps, I might get through with my mental gymnastics in
+time to go to the game afterwards. But I didn't. It is just maddening,
+too. I got this hat and dress on purpose to wear to it. They're black
+and yellow, you see&mdash;the Dalhousie colours. It was my own idea. I was
+sure it would make a sensation. But I couldn't go to the game and take
+any interest in it, feeling as I do, could I, now?"</p>
+
+<p>The Young Man said, of course, she couldn't. It was utterly out of the
+question.</p>
+
+<p>The Girl smiled. Without a smile, she was charming. With a smile, she
+was adorable.</p>
+
+<p>"I like to have my opinions bolstered up. Do you know, I want to tell
+you something? May I?"</p>
+
+<p>"You may. I'll never tell anyone as long as I live," said the Young
+Man solemnly.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know you and you don't know me. That is why I want to tell
+you about it. I <i>must</i> tell somebody, and if I told anybody I knew,
+they'd tell it all over Halifax. It is dreadful to be talking to you
+like this. Beatrix would have three fits, one after the other, if she
+saw me. But Beatrix is a slave to conventionality. I glory in
+discarding it at times. You don't mind, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all," said the Young Man sincerely.</p>
+
+<p>The Girl sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"I have reached that point where I must have a confidant, or go crazy.
+Once I could tell things to Beatrix. That was before she got engaged.
+Now she tells everything to <i>him</i>. There is no earthly way of
+preventing her. I've tried them all. So, nowadays, when I get into
+trouble, I tell it out loud to myself in the glass. It's a relief, you
+know. But that is no good now. I want to tell it to somebody who can
+say things back. Will you promise to say things back?"</p>
+
+<p>The Young Man assured her that he would when the proper time came.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well. But please don't look at me while I'm telling you. I'll be
+sure to blush in places. When Beatrix wants to be particularly
+aggravating she says I have lost the art of blushing. But that is only
+her way of putting it, you know. Sometimes I blush dreadfully."</p>
+
+<p>The Young Man dragged his eyes from the face under the
+black-and-yellow hat, and fastened them on a crooked pine tree that
+hung out over the bank.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," began the Girl, "the root of the whole trouble is simply this.
+There is a young man in England. I always think of him as the
+Creature. He is the son of a man who was Father's especial crony in
+boyhood, before Father emigrated to Canada. Worse than that, he comes
+of a family which has contracted a vile habit of marrying into our
+family. It has come down through the ages so long that it has become
+chronic. Father left most of his musty traditions in England, but he
+brought this pet one with him. He and this friend agreed that the
+latter's son should marry one of Father's daughters. It ought to have
+been Beatrix&mdash;she is the oldest. But Beatrix had a pug nose. So Father
+settled on me. From my earliest recollection I have been given to
+understand that just as soon as I grew up there would be a ready-made
+husband imported from England for me. I was doomed to it from my
+cradle. Now," said the Girl, with a tragic gesture, "I ask you, could
+<i>anything</i> be more hopelessly, appallingly stupid and devoid of
+romance than that?"</p>
+
+<p>The Young Man shook his head, but did not look at her.</p>
+
+<p>"It's pretty bad," he admitted.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," said the Girl pathetically, "the shadow of it has been over
+my whole life. Of course, when I was a very little girl I didn't mind
+it so much. It was such a long way off and lots of things might
+happen. The Creature might run away with some other girl&mdash;or I might
+have the smallpox&mdash;or Beatrix's nose might be straight when she grew
+up. And if Beatrix's nose were straight she'd be a great deal prettier
+than I am. But nothing did happen&mdash;and her nose is puggier than ever.
+Then when I grew up things were horrid. I never could have a single
+little bit of fun. And Beatrix had such a good time! She had scores of
+lovers in spite of her nose. To be sure, she's engaged now&mdash;and he's a
+horrid, faddy little creature. But he is her own choice. She wasn't
+told that there was a man in England whom she must marry by and by,
+when he got sufficiently reconciled to the idea to come and ask her.
+Oh, it makes me furious!"</p>
+
+<p>"Is&mdash;is there&mdash;anyone else?" asked the Young Man hesitatingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear, no. How could there be? Why, you know, I couldn't have the
+tiniest flirtation with another man when I was as good as engaged to
+the Creature. That is one of my grievances. Just think how much fun
+I've missed! I used to rage to Beatrix about it, but she would tell me
+that I ought to be thankful to have the chance of making such a good
+match&mdash;the Creature is rich, you know, and clever. As if I cared how
+clever or rich he is! Beatrix made me so cross that I gave up saying
+anything and sulked by myself. So they think I'm quite reconciled to
+it, but I'm not."</p>
+
+<p>"He might be very nice after all," suggested the Young Man.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Nice</i>! That isn't the point. Oh, don't you see? But no, you're a
+man&mdash;you <i>can't</i> understand. You must just take my word for it. The
+whole thing makes me furious. But I haven't told you the worst. The
+Creature is on his way out to Canada now. He may arrive here at any
+minute. And they are all so aggravatingly delighted over it."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you suppose <i>he</i> feels like?" asked the Young Man
+reflectively.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said the Girl frankly, "I've been too much taken up with my
+own feelings to worry about his. But I daresay they are pretty much
+like mine. He must loathe and detest the very thought of me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't think he does," said the Young Man gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you? Well, what do you suppose he <i>does</i> think of it all? You
+ought to understand the man's part of it better than I can."</p>
+
+<p>"There's as much difference in men as in women," said the Young Man in
+an impersonal tone. "I may be right or wrong, you see, but I imagine
+he would feel something like this: From boyhood he has understood that
+away out in Canada there is a little girl growing up who is some day
+to be his wife. She becomes his boyish ideal of all that is good and
+true. He pictures her as beautiful and winsome and sweet. She is his
+heart's lady, and the thought of her abides with him as a safeguard
+and an inspiration. For her sake he resolves to make the most of
+himself, and live a clean, loyal life. When she comes to him she must
+find his heart fit to receive her. There is never a time in all his
+life when the dream of her does not gleam before him as of a star to
+which he may aspire with all reverence and love."</p>
+
+<p>The Young Man stopped abruptly, and looked at the Girl. She bent
+forward with shining eyes, and touched his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"You are splendid," she said softly. "If he thought so&mdash;but no&mdash;I am
+sure he doesn't. He's just coming out here like a martyr going to the
+stake. He knows he will be expected to propose to me when he gets
+here. And he knows that I know it too. And <i>he</i> knows and <i>I</i> know
+that I will be expected to say my very prettiest 'yes.'"</p>
+
+<p>"But are you going to say it?" asked the Young Man anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>The Girl leaned forward. "No. That is my secret. I am going to say a
+most emphatic 'no.'"</p>
+
+<p>"But won't your family make an awful row?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. But I rather enjoy a row now and then. It stirs up one's
+grey matter so nicely. I came out here this afternoon and thought the
+whole affair over from beginning to end. And I have determined to say
+'no.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I wouldn't make it so irreconcilable as that," said the Young Man
+lightly. "I'd leave a loophole of escape. You see, if you were to like
+him a little better than you expect, it would be awkward to have
+committed yourself by a rash vow to saying 'no,' wouldn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose it would," said the Girl thoughtfully, "but then, you know,
+I won't change my mind."</p>
+
+<p>"It's just as well to be on the safe side," said the Young Man.</p>
+
+<p>The Girl got up. The rain was over and the sun was coming out through
+the mists.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you are right," she said. "So I'll just resolve that I will
+say 'no' if I don't want to say 'yes.' That really amounts to the same
+thing, you know. Thank you so much for letting me tell you all about
+it. It must have bored you terribly, but it has done me so much good.
+I feel quite calm and rational now, and can go home and behave myself.
+Goodbye."</p>
+
+<p>"Goodbye," said the Young Man gravely. He stood on the pavilion and
+watched the Girl out of sight beyond the pines.</p>
+
+<p>When the Girl got home she was told that the Dalhousie team had won
+the game, eight to four. The Girl dragged her hat off and waved it
+joyously.</p>
+
+<p>"What a shame I wasn't there! They'd have gone mad over my dress."</p>
+
+<p>But the next item of information crushed her. The Creature had
+arrived. He had called that afternoon, and was coming to dinner that
+night.</p>
+
+<p>"How fortunate," said the Girl, as she went to her room, "that I
+relieved my mind to that Young Man out in the park today. If I had
+come back with all that pent-up feeling seething within me and heard
+this news right on top of it all, I might have flown into a thousand
+pieces. What lovely brown eyes he had! I do dote on brown eyes. The
+Creature will be sure to have fishy blue ones."</p>
+
+<br />
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+<br />
+
+<p>When the Girl went down to meet the Creature she found herself
+confronted by the Young Man. For the first, last, and only time in her
+life, the Girl had not a word to say. But her family thought her
+confusion very natural and pretty. They really had not expected her to
+behave so well. As for the Young Man, his manner was flawless.</p>
+
+<p>Toward the end of the dinner, when the Girl was beginning to recover
+herself, he turned to her.</p>
+
+<p>"You know I promised never to tell," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Be sure you don't, then," said the Girl meekly.</p>
+
+<p>"But aren't you glad you left the loophole?" he persisted.</p>
+
+<p>The Girl smiled down into her lap.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps," she said.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="Aunt_Cyrillas_Christmas_Basket" id="Aunt_Cyrillas_Christmas_Basket"></a><hr />
+<br />
+
+<h2>Aunt Cyrilla's Christmas Basket<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>When Lucy Rose met Aunt Cyrilla coming downstairs, somewhat flushed
+and breathless from her ascent to the garret, with a big, flat-covered
+basket hanging over her plump arm, she gave a little sigh of despair.
+Lucy Rose had done her brave best for some years&mdash;in fact, ever since
+she had put up her hair and lengthened her skirts&mdash;to break Aunt
+Cyrilla of the habit of carrying that basket with her every time she
+went to Pembroke; but Aunt Cyrilla still insisted on taking it, and
+only laughed at what she called Lucy Rose's "finicky notions." Lucy
+Rose had a horrible, haunting idea that it was extremely provincial
+for her aunt always to take the big basket, packed full of country
+good things, whenever she went to visit Edward and Geraldine.
+Geraldine was so stylish, and might think it queer; and then Aunt
+Cyrilla always would carry it on her arm and give cookies and apples
+and molasses taffy out of it to every child she encountered and, just
+as often as not, to older folks too. Lucy Rose, when she went to town
+with Aunt Cyrilla, felt chagrined over this&mdash;all of which goes to
+prove that Lucy was as yet very young and had a great deal to learn in
+this world.</p>
+
+<p>That troublesome worry over what Geraldine would think nerved her to
+make a protest in this instance.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Aunt C'rilla," she pleaded, "you're surely not going to take
+that funny old basket to Pembroke this time&mdash;Christmas Day and all."</p>
+
+<p>"'Deed and 'deed I am," returned Aunt Cyrilla briskly, as she put it
+on the table and proceeded to dust it out. "I never went to see Edward
+and Geraldine since they were married that I didn't take a basket of
+good things along with me for them, and I'm not going to stop now. As
+for it's being Christmas, all the more reason. Edward is always real
+glad to get some of the old farmhouse goodies. He says they beat city
+cooking all hollow, and so they do."</p>
+
+<p>"But it's so countrified," moaned Lucy Rose.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I am countrified," said Aunt Cyrilla firmly, "and so are you.
+And what's more, I don't see that it's anything to be ashamed of.
+You've got some real silly pride about you, Lucy Rose. You'll grow
+out of it in time, but just now it is giving you a lot of trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"The basket is a lot of trouble," said Lucy Rose crossly. "You're
+always mislaying it or afraid you will. And it does look so funny to
+be walking through the streets with that big, bulgy basket hanging on
+your arm."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not a mite worried about its looks," returned Aunt Cyrilla
+calmly. "As for its being a trouble, why, maybe it is, but I have
+that, and other people have the pleasure of it. Edward and Geraldine
+don't need it&mdash;I know that&mdash;but there may be those that will. And if
+it hurts your feelings to walk 'longside of a countrified old lady
+with a countrified basket, why, you can just fall behind, as it were."</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Cyrilla nodded and smiled good-humouredly, and Lucy Rose, though
+she privately held to her own opinion, had to smile too.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, let me see," said Aunt Cyrilla reflectively, tapping the snowy
+kitchen table with the point of her plump, dimpled forefinger, "what
+shall I take? That big fruit cake for one thing&mdash;Edward does like my
+fruit cake; and that cold boiled tongue for another. Those three mince
+pies too, they'd spoil before we got back or your uncle'd make himself
+sick eating them&mdash;mince pie is his besetting sin. And that little
+stone bottle full of cream&mdash;Geraldine may carry any amount of style,
+but I've yet to see her look down on real good country cream, Lucy
+Rose; and another bottle of my raspberry vinegar. That plate of jelly
+cookies and doughnuts will please the children and fill up the chinks,
+and you can bring me that box of ice-cream candy out of the pantry,
+and that bag of striped candy sticks your uncle brought home from the
+corner last night. And apples, of course&mdash;three or four dozen of those
+good eaters&mdash;and a little pot of my greengage preserves&mdash;Edward'll
+like that. And some sandwiches and pound cake for a snack for
+ourselves. Now, I guess that will do for eatables. The presents for
+the children can go in on top. There's a doll for Daisy and the little
+boat your uncle made for Ray and a tatted lace handkerchief apiece for
+the twins, and the crochet hood for the baby. Now, is that all?"</p>
+
+<p>"There's a cold roast chicken in the pantry," said Lucy Rose wickedly,
+"and the pig Uncle Leo killed is hanging up in the porch. Couldn't you
+put them in too?"</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Cyrilla smiled broadly. "Well, I guess we'll leave the pig alone;
+but since you have reminded me of it, the chicken may as well go in. I
+can make room."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy Rose, in spite of her prejudices, helped with the packing and,
+not having been trained under Aunt Cyrilla's eye for nothing, did it
+very well too, with much clever economy of space. But when Aunt
+Cyrilla had put in as a finishing touch a big bouquet of pink and
+white everlastings, and tied the bulging covers down with a firm hand,
+Lucy Rose stood over the basket and whispered vindictively:</p>
+
+<p>"Some day I'm going to burn this basket&mdash;when I get courage enough.
+Then there'll be an end of lugging it everywhere we go like a&mdash;like an
+old market-woman."</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Leopold came in just then, shaking his head dubiously. He was
+not going to spend Christmas with Edward and Geraldine, and perhaps
+the prospect of having to cook and eat his Christmas dinner all alone
+made him pessimistic.</p>
+
+<p>"I mistrust you folks won't get to Pembroke tomorrow," he said sagely.
+"It's going to storm."</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Cyrilla did not worry over this. She believed matters of this
+kind were fore-ordained, and she slept calmly. But Lucy Rose got up
+three times in the night to see if it were storming, and when she did
+sleep had horrible nightmares of struggling through blinding
+snowstorms dragging Aunt Cyrilla's Christmas basket along with her.</p>
+
+<p>It was not snowing in the early morning, and Uncle Leopold drove Aunt
+Cyrilla and Lucy Rose and the basket to the station, four miles off.
+When they reached there the air was thick with flying flakes. The
+stationmaster sold them their tickets with a grim face.</p>
+
+<p>"If there's any more snow comes, the trains might as well keep
+Christmas too," he said. "There's been so much snow already that
+traffic is blocked half the time, and now there ain't no place to
+shovel the snow off onto."</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Cyrilla said that if the train were to get to Pembroke in time
+for Christmas, it would get there; and she opened her basket and gave
+the stationmaster and three small boys an apple apiece.</p>
+
+<p>"That's the beginning," groaned Lucy Rose to herself.</p>
+
+<p>When their train came along Aunt Cyrilla established herself in one
+seat and her basket in another, and looked beamingly around her at her
+fellow travellers.</p>
+
+<p>These were few in number&mdash;a delicate little woman at the end of the
+car, with a baby and four other children, a young girl across the
+aisle with a pale, pretty face, a sunburned lad three seats ahead in a
+khaki uniform, a very handsome, imposing old lady in a sealskin coat
+ahead of him, and a thin young man with spectacles opposite.</p>
+
+<p>"A minister," reflected Aunt Cyrilla, beginning to classify, "who
+takes better care of other folks' souls than of his own body; and
+that woman in the sealskin is discontented and cross at something&mdash;got
+up too early to catch the train, maybe; and that young chap must be
+one of the boys not long out of the hospital. That woman's children
+look as if they hadn't enjoyed a square meal since they were born; and
+if that girl across from me has a mother, I'd like to know what the
+woman means, letting her daughter go from home in this weather in
+clothes like that."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy Rose merely wondered uncomfortably what the others thought of
+Aunt Cyrilla's basket.</p>
+
+<p>They expected to reach Pembroke that night, but as the day wore on the
+storm grew worse. Twice the train had to stop while the train hands
+dug it out. The third time it could not go on. It was dusk when the
+conductor came through the train, replying brusquely to the questions
+of the anxious passengers.</p>
+
+<p>"A nice lookout for Christmas&mdash;no, impossible to go on or back&mdash;track
+blocked for miles&mdash;what's that, madam?&mdash;no, no station near&mdash;woods for
+miles. We're here for the night. These storms of late have played the
+mischief with everything."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear," groaned Lucy Rose.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Cyrilla looked at her basket complacently. "At any rate, we won't
+starve," she said.</p>
+
+<p>The pale, pretty girl seemed indifferent. The sealskin lady looked
+crosser than ever. The khaki boy said, "Just my luck," and two of the
+children began to cry. Aunt Cyrilla took some apples and striped candy
+sticks from her basket and carried them to them. She lifted the oldest
+into her ample lap and soon had them all around her, laughing and
+contented.</p>
+
+<p>The rest of the travellers straggled over to the corner and drifted
+into conversation. The khaki boy said it was hard lines not to get
+home for Christmas, after all.</p>
+
+<p>"I was invalided from South Africa three months ago, and I've been in
+the hospital at Netley ever since. Reached Halifax three days ago and
+telegraphed the old folks I'd eat my Christmas dinner with them, and
+to have an extra-big turkey because I didn't have any last year.
+They'll be badly disappointed."</p>
+
+<p>He looked disappointed too. One khaki sleeve hung empty by his side.
+Aunt Cyrilla passed him an apple.</p>
+
+<p>"We were all going down to Grandpa's for Christmas," said the little
+mother's oldest boy dolefully. "We've never been there before, and
+it's just too bad."</p>
+
+<p>He looked as if he wanted to cry but thought better of it and bit off
+a mouthful of candy.</p>
+
+<p>"Will there be any Santa Claus on the train?" demanded his small
+sister tearfully. "Jack says there won't."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess he'll find you out," said Aunt Cyrilla reassuringly.</p>
+
+<p>The pale, pretty girl came up and took the baby from the tired mother.
+"What a dear little fellow," she said softly.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you going home for Christmas too?" asked Aunt Cyrilla.</p>
+
+<p>The girl shook her head. "I haven't any home. I'm just a shop girl out
+of work at present, and I'm going to Pembroke to look for some."</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Cyrilla went to her basket and took out her box of cream candy.
+"I guess we might as well enjoy ourselves. Let's eat it all up and
+have a good time. Maybe we'll get down to Pembroke in the morning."</p>
+
+<p>The little group grew cheerful as they nibbled, and even the pale girl
+brightened up. The little mother told Aunt Cyrilla her story aside.
+She had been long estranged from her family, who had disapproved of
+her marriage. Her husband had died the previous summer, leaving her in
+poor circumstances.</p>
+
+<p>"Father wrote to me last week and asked me to let bygones be bygones
+and come home for Christmas. I was so glad. And the children's hearts
+were set on it. It seems too bad that we are not to get there. I have
+to be back at work the morning after Christmas."</p>
+
+<p>The khaki boy came up again and shared the candy. He told amusing
+stories of campaigning in South Africa. The minister came too, and
+listened, and even the sealskin lady turned her head over her
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>By and by the children fell asleep, one on Aunt Cyrilla's lap and one
+on Lucy Rose's, and two on the seat. Aunt Cyrilla and the pale girl
+helped the mother make up beds for them. The minister gave his
+overcoat and the sealskin lady came forward with a shawl.</p>
+
+<p>"This will do for the baby," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"We must get up some Santa Claus for these youngsters," said the khaki
+boy. "Let's hang their stockings on the wall and fill 'em up as best
+we can. I've nothing about me but some hard cash and a jack-knife.
+I'll give each of 'em a quarter and the boy can have the knife."</p>
+
+<p>"I've nothing but money either," said the sealskin lady regretfully.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Cyrilla glanced at the little mother. She had fallen asleep with
+her head against the seat-back.</p>
+
+<p>"I've got a basket over there," said Aunt Cyrilla firmly, "and I've
+some presents in it that I was taking to my nephew's children. I'm
+going to give 'em to these. As for the money, I think the mother is
+the one for it to go to. She's been telling me her story, and a
+pitiful one it is. Let's make up a little purse among us for a
+Christmas present."</p>
+
+<p>The idea met with favour. The khaki boy passed his cap and everybody
+contributed. The sealskin lady put in a crumpled note. When Aunt
+Cyrilla straightened it out she saw that it was for twenty dollars.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Lucy Rose had brought the basket. She smiled at Aunt
+Cyrilla as she lugged it down the aisle and Aunt Cyrilla smiled back.
+Lucy Rose had never touched that basket of her own accord before.</p>
+
+<p>Ray's boat went to Jacky, and Daisy's doll to his oldest sister, the
+twins' lace handkerchiefs to the two smaller girls and the hood to the
+baby. Then the stockings were filled up with doughnuts and jelly
+cookies and the money was put in an envelope and pinned to the little
+mother's jacket.</p>
+
+<p>"That baby is such a dear little fellow," said the sealskin lady
+gently. "He looks something like my little son. He died eighteen
+Christmases ago."</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Cyrilla put her hand over the lady's kid glove. "So did mine,"
+she said. Then the two women smiled tenderly at each other. Afterwards
+they rested from their labours and all had what Aunt Cyrilla called a
+"snack" of sandwiches and pound cake. The khaki boy said he hadn't
+tasted anything half so good since he left home.</p>
+
+<p>"They didn't give us pound cake in South Africa," he said.</p>
+
+<p>When morning came the storm was still raging. The children wakened and
+went wild with delight over their stockings. The little mother found
+her envelope and tried to utter thanks and broke down; and nobody knew
+what to say or do, when the conductor fortunately came in and made a
+diversion by telling them they might as well resign themselves to
+spending Christmas on the train.</p>
+
+<p>"This is serious," said the khaki boy, "when you consider that we've
+no provisions. Don't mind for myself, used to half rations or no
+rations at all. But these kiddies will have tremendous appetites."</p>
+
+<p>Then Aunt Cyrilla rose to the occasion.</p>
+
+<p>"I've got some emergency rations here," she announced. "There's plenty
+for all and we'll have our Christmas dinner, although a cold one.
+Breakfast first thing. There's a sandwich apiece left and we must fill
+up on what is left of the cookies and doughnuts and save the rest for
+a real good spread at dinner time. The only thing is, I haven't any
+bread."</p>
+
+<p>"I've a box of soda crackers," said the little mother eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>Nobody in that car will ever forget that Christmas. To begin with,
+after breakfast they had a concert. The khaki boy gave two
+recitations, sang three songs, and gave a whistling solo. Lucy Rose
+gave three recitations and the minister a comic reading. The pale shop
+girl sang two songs. It was agreed that the khaki boy's whistling solo
+was the best number, and Aunt Cyrilla gave him the bouquet of
+everlastings as a reward of merit.</p>
+
+<p>Then the conductor came in with the cheerful news that the storm was
+almost over and he thought the track would be cleared in a few hours.</p>
+
+<p>"If we can get to the next station we'll be all right," he said. "The
+branch joins the main line there and the tracks will be clear."</p>
+
+<p>At noon they had dinner. The train hands were invited in to share it.
+The minister carved the chicken with the brakeman's jack-knife and the
+khaki boy cut up the tongue and the mince pies, while the sealskin
+lady mixed the raspberry vinegar with its due proportion of water.
+Bits of paper served as plates. The train furnished a couple of
+glasses, a tin pint cup was discovered and given to the children, Aunt
+Cyrilla and Lucy Rose and the sealskin lady drank, turn about, from
+the latter's graduated medicine glass, the shop girl and the little
+mother shared one of the empty bottles, and the khaki boy, the
+minister, and the train men drank out of the other bottle.</p>
+
+<p>Everybody declared they had never enjoyed a meal more in their lives.
+Certainly it was a merry one, and Aunt Cyrilla's cooking was never
+more appreciated; indeed, the bones of the chicken and the pot of
+preserves were all that was left. They could not eat the preserves
+because they had no spoons, so Aunt Cyrilla gave them to the little
+mother.</p>
+
+<p>When all was over, a hearty vote of thanks was passed to Aunt Cyrilla
+and her basket. The sealskin lady wanted to know how she made her
+pound cake, and the khaki boy asked for her receipt for jelly cookies.
+And when two hours later the conductor came in and said the
+snowploughs had got along and they'd soon be starting, they all
+wondered if it could really be less than twenty-four hours since they
+met.</p>
+
+<p>"I feel as if I'd been campaigning with you all my life," said the
+khaki boy.</p>
+
+<p>At the next station they all parted. The little mother and the
+children had to take the next train back home. The minister stayed
+there, and the khaki boy and the sealskin lady changed trains. The
+sealskin lady shook Aunt Cyrilla's hand. She no longer looked
+discontented or cross.</p>
+
+<p>"This has been the pleasantest Christmas I have ever spent," she said
+heartily. "I shall never forget that wonderful basket of yours. The
+little shop girl is going home with me. I've promised her a place in
+my husband's store."</p>
+
+<p>When Aunt Cyrilla and Lucy Rose reached Pembroke there was nobody to
+meet them because everyone had given up expecting them. It was not far
+from the station to Edward's house and Aunt Cyrilla elected to walk.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll carry the basket," said Lucy Rose.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Cyrilla relinquished it with a smile. Lucy Rose smiled too.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a blessed old basket," said the latter, "and I love it. Please
+forget all the silly things I ever said about it, Aunt C'rilla."</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="Davenports_Story" id="Davenports_Story"></a><hr />
+<br />
+
+<h2>Davenport's Story<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>It was a rainy afternoon, and we had been passing the time by telling
+ghost stories. That is a very good sort of thing for a rainy
+afternoon, and it is a much better time than after night. If you tell
+ghost stories after dark they are apt to make you nervous, whether you
+own up to it or not, and you sneak home and dodge upstairs in mortal
+terror, and undress with your back to the wall, so that you can't
+fancy there is anything behind you.</p>
+
+<p>We had each told a story, and had had the usual assortment of
+mysterious noises and death warnings and sheeted spectres and so on,
+down through the whole catalogue of horrors&mdash;enough to satisfy any
+reasonable ghost-taster. But Jack, as usual, was dissatisfied. He said
+our stories were all second-hand stuff. There wasn't a man in the
+crowd who had ever seen or heard a ghost; all our so-called authentic
+stories had been told us by persons who had the story from other
+persons who saw the ghosts.</p>
+
+<p>"One doesn't get any information from that," said Jack. "I never
+expect to get so far along as to see a real ghost myself, but I would
+like to see and talk to one who had."</p>
+
+<p>Some persons appear to have the knack of getting their wishes granted.
+Jack is one of that ilk. Just as he made the remark, Davenport
+sauntered in and, finding out what was going on, volunteered to tell a
+ghost story himself&mdash;something that had happened to his grandmother,
+or maybe it was his great-aunt; I forget which. It was a very good
+ghost story as ghost stories go, and Davenport told it well. Even Jack
+admitted that, but he said:</p>
+
+<p>"It's only second-hand too. Did you ever have a ghostly experience
+yourself, old man?"</p>
+
+<p>Davenport put his finger tips critically together.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you believe me if I said I had?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Jack unblushingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Then there would be no use in my saying it."</p>
+
+<p>"But you don't mean that you ever really had, of course?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. Something queer happened once. I've never been able to
+explain it&mdash;from a practical point of view, that is. Want to hear
+about it?"</p>
+
+<p>Of course we did. This was exciting. Nobody would ever have suspected
+Davenport of seeing ghosts.</p>
+
+<p>"It's conventional enough," he began. "Ghosts don't seem to have much
+originality. But it's firsthand, Jack, if that's what you want. I
+don't suppose any of you have ever heard me speak of my brother,
+Charles. He was my senior by two years, and was a quiet, reserved sort
+of fellow&mdash;not at all demonstrative, but with very strong and deep
+affections.</p>
+
+<p>"When he left college he became engaged to Dorothy Chester. She was
+very beautiful, and my brother idolized her. She died a short time
+before the date set for their marriage, and Charles never recovered
+from the blow.</p>
+
+<p>"I married Dorothy's sister, Virginia. Virginia did not in the least
+resemble her sister, but our eldest daughter was strikingly like her
+dead aunt. We called her Dorothy, and Charles was devoted to her.
+Dolly, as we called her, was always 'Uncle Charley's girl.'</p>
+
+<p>"When Dolly was twelve years old Charles went to New Orleans on
+business, and while there took yellow fever and died. He was buried
+there, and Dolly half broke her childish heart over his death.</p>
+
+<p>"One day, five years later, when Dolly was seventeen, I was writing
+letters in my library. That very morning my wife and Dolly had gone to
+New York en route for Europe. Dolly was going to school in Paris for a
+year. Business prevented my accompanying them even as far as New York,
+but Gilbert Chester, my wife's brother, was going with them. They were
+to sail on the <i>Aragon</i> the next morning.</p>
+
+<p>"I had written steadily for about an hour. At last, growing tired, I
+threw down my pen and, leaning back in my chair, was on the point of
+lighting a cigar when an unaccountable impulse made me turn round. I
+dropped my cigar and sprang to my feet in amazement. There was only
+one door in the room and I had all along been facing it. I could have
+sworn nobody had entered, yet there, standing between me and the
+bookcase, was a man&mdash;and that man was my brother Charles!</p>
+
+<p>"There was no mistaking him; I saw him as plainly as I see you. He was
+a tall, rather stout man, with curly hair and a fair, close-clipped
+beard. He wore the same light-grey suit which he had worn when bidding
+us good-bye on the morning of his departure for New Orleans. He had no
+hat on, but wore spectacles, and was standing in his old favourite
+attitude, with his hands behind him.</p>
+
+<p>"I want you to understand that at this precise moment, although I was
+surprised beyond measure, I was not in the least frightened, because I
+did not for a moment suppose that what I saw was&mdash;well, a ghost or
+apparition of any sort. The thought that flashed across my bewildered
+brain was simply that there had been some absurd mistake somewhere,
+and that my brother had never died at all, but was here, alive and
+well. I took a hasty step towards him.</p>
+
+<p>"'Good heavens, old fellow!' I exclaimed. 'Where on earth have you
+come from? Why, we all thought you were dead!'</p>
+
+<p>"I was quite close to him when I stopped abruptly. Somehow I couldn't
+move another step. He made no motion, but his eyes looked straight
+into mine.</p>
+
+<p>"'Do not let Dolly sail on the <i>Aragon</i> tomorrow,' he said in slow,
+clear tones that I heard distinctly.</p>
+
+<p>"And then he was gone&mdash;yes, Jack, I know it is a very conventional way
+of ending up a ghost story,| but I have to tell you just what
+occurred, or at least what I thought occurred. One moment he was there
+and the next moment he wasn't. He did not pass me or go out of the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>"For a few moments I felt dazed. I was wide awake and in my right and
+proper senses so far as I could judge, and yet the whole thing seemed
+incredible. Scared? No, I wasn't conscious of being scared. I was
+simply bewildered.</p>
+
+<p>"In my mental confusion one thought stood out sharply&mdash;Dolly was in
+danger of some kind, and if the warning was really from a supernatural
+source, it must not be disregarded. I rushed to the station and,
+having first wired to my wife not to sail on the <i>Aragon</i>, I found
+that I could connect with the five-fifteen train for New York. I took
+it with the comfortable consciousness that my friends would certainly
+think I had gone out of my mind.</p>
+
+<p>"I arrived in New York at eight o'clock the next morning and at once
+drove to the hotel where my wife, daughter and brother-in-law were
+staying. I found them greatly mystified by my telegram. I suppose my
+explanation was a very lame one. I know I felt decidedly like a fool.
+Gilbert laughed at me and said I had dreamed the whole thing. Virginia
+was perplexed, but Dolly accepted the warning unhesitatingly.</p>
+
+<p>"'Of course it was Uncle Charley,' she said confidently. 'We will not
+sail on the <i>Aragon</i> now.'</p>
+
+<p>"Gilbert had to give in to this decision with a very bad grace, and
+the <i>Aragon</i> sailed that day minus three of her intended passengers.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you've all heard of the historic collision between the <i>Aragon</i>
+and the <i>Astarte</i> in a fog, and the fearful loss of life it involved.
+Gilbert didn't laugh when the news came, I assure you. Virginia and
+Dolly sailed a month later on the <i>Marseilles</i>, and reached the other
+side in safety. That's all the story, boys&mdash;the only experience of the
+kind I ever had," concluded Davenport.</p>
+
+<p>We had many questions to ask and several theories to advance. Jack
+said Davenport had dreamed it and that the collision of the <i>Aragon</i>
+and the <i>Astarte</i> was simply a striking coincidence. But Davenport
+merely smiled at all our suggestions and, as it cleared up just about
+three, we told no more ghost stories.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="Emilys_Husband" id="Emilys_Husband"></a><hr />
+<br />
+
+<h2>Emily's Husband<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>Emily Fair got out of Hiram Jameson's waggon at the gate. She took her
+satchel and parasol and, in her clear, musical tones, thanked him for
+bringing her home. Emily had a very distinctive voice. It was very
+sweet always and very cold generally; sometimes it softened to
+tenderness with those she loved, but in it there was always an
+undertone of inflexibility and reserve. Nobody had ever heard Emily
+Fair's voice tremble.</p>
+
+<p>"You are more than welcome, Mrs. Fair," said Hiram Jameson, with a
+glance of bold admiration. Emily met it with an unflinching
+indifference. She disliked Hiram Jameson. She had been furious under
+all her external composure because he had been at the station when she
+left the train.</p>
+
+<p>Jameson perceived her scorn, but chose to disregard it.</p>
+
+<p>"Proud as Lucifer," he thought as he drove away. "Well, she's none the
+worse of that. I don't like your weak women&mdash;they're always sly. If
+Stephen Fair don't get better she'll be free and then&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He did not round out the thought, but he gloated over the memory of
+Emily, standing by the gate in the harsh, crude light of the autumn
+sunset, with her tawny, brown hair curling about her pale, oval face
+and the scornful glint in her large, dark-grey eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Emily stood at the gate for some time after Jameson's waggon had
+disappeared. When the brief burst of sunset splendour had faded out
+she turned and went into the garden where late asters and
+chrysanthemums still bloomed. She gathered some of the more perfect
+ones here and there. She loved flowers, but to-night the asters
+seemed to hurt her, for she presently dropped those she had gathered
+and deliberately set her foot on them.</p>
+
+<p>A sudden gust of wind came over the brown, sodden fields and the
+ragged maples around the garden writhed and wailed. The air was raw
+and chill. The rain that had threatened all day was very near. Emily
+shivered and went into the house.</p>
+
+<p>Amelia Phillips was bending over the fire. She came forward and took
+Emily's parcels and wraps with a certain gentleness that sat oddly on
+her grim personality.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you tired? I'm glad you're back. Did you walk from the station?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Hiram Jameson was there and offered to drive me home. I'd rather
+have walked. It's going to be a storm, I think. Where is John?"</p>
+
+<p>"He went to the village after supper," answered Amelia, lighting a
+lamp. "We needed some things from the store."</p>
+
+<p>The light flared up as she spoke and brought out her strong, almost
+harsh features and deep-set black eyes. Amelia Phillips looked like an
+overdone sketch in charcoal.</p>
+
+<p>"Has anything happened in Woodford while I've been away?" asked Emily
+indifferently. Plainly she did not expect an affirmative answer.
+Woodford life was not eventful.</p>
+
+<p>Amelia glanced at her sharply. So she had not heard! Amelia had
+expected that Hiram Jameson would have told her. She wished that he
+had, for she never felt sure of Emily. The older sister knew that
+beneath that surface reserve was a passionate nature, brooking no
+restraint when once it overleaped the bounds of her Puritan
+self-control. Amelia Phillips, with all her naturally keen insight and
+her acquired knowledge of Emily's character, had never been able to
+fathom the latter's attitude of mind towards her husband. From the
+time that Emily had come back to her girlhood's home, five years
+before, Stephen Fair's name had never crossed her lips.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you haven't heard that Stephen is very ill," said Amelia
+slowly.</p>
+
+<p>Not a feature of Emily's face changed. Only in her voice when she
+spoke was a curious jarring, as if a false note had been struck in a
+silver melody.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter with him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Typhoid," answered Amelia briefly. She felt relieved that Emily had
+taken it so calmly. Amelia hated Stephen Fair with all the intensity
+of her nature because she believed that he had treated Emily ill, but
+she had always been distrustful that Emily in her heart of hearts
+loved her husband still. That, in Amelia Phillips' opinion, would have
+betrayed a weakness not to be tolerated.</p>
+
+<p>Emily looked at the lamp unwinkingly.</p>
+
+<p>"That wick needs trimming," she said. Then, with a sudden recurrence
+of the untuneful note:</p>
+
+<p>"Is he dangerously ill?"</p>
+
+<p>"We haven't heard for three days. The doctors were not anxious about
+him Monday, though they said it was a pretty severe case."</p>
+
+<p>A faint, wraith-like change of expression drifted over Emily's
+beautiful face and was gone in a moment. What was it&mdash;relief? Regret?
+It would have been impossible to say. When she next spoke her vibrant
+voice was as perfectly melodious as usual.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I will go to bed, Amelia. John will not be back until late I
+suppose, and I am very tired. There comes the rain. I suppose it will
+spoil all the flowers. They will be beaten to pieces."</p>
+
+<p>In the dark hall Emily paused for a moment and opened the front door
+to be cut in the face with a whip-like dash of rain. She peered out
+into the thickly gathering gloom. Beyond, in the garden, she saw the
+asters tossed about, phantom-like. The wind around the many-cornered
+old farmhouse was full of wails and sobs.</p>
+
+<p>The clock in the sitting-room struck eight. Emily shivered and shut
+the door. She remembered that she had been married at eight o'clock
+that very morning seven years ago. She thought she could see herself
+coming down the stairs in her white dress with her bouquet of asters.
+For a moment she was glad that those mocking flowers in the garden
+would be all beaten to death before morning by the lash of wind and
+rain.</p>
+
+<p>Then she recovered her mental poise and put the hateful memories away
+from her as she went steadily up the narrow stairs and along the hall
+with its curious slant as the house had settled, to her own room under
+the north-western eaves.</p>
+
+<p>When she had put out her light and gone to bed she found that she
+could not sleep. She pretended to believe that it was the noise of the
+storm that kept her awake. Not even to herself would Emily confess
+that she was waiting and listening nervously for John's return home.
+That would have been to admit a weakness, and Emily Fair, like Amelia,
+despised weakness.</p>
+
+<p>Every few minutes a gust of wind smote the house, with a roar as of a
+wild beast, and bombarded Emily's window with a volley of rattling
+drops. In the silences that came between the gusts she heard the soft,
+steady pouring of the rain on the garden paths below, mingled with a
+faint murmur that came up from the creek beyond the barns where the
+pine boughs were thrashing in the storm. Emily suddenly thought of a
+weird story she had once read years before and long forgotten&mdash;a story
+of a soul that went out in a night of storm and blackness and lost its
+way between earth and heaven. She shuddered and drew the counterpane
+over her face.</p>
+
+<p>"Of all things I hate a fall storm most," she muttered. "It frightens
+me."</p>
+
+<p>Somewhat to her surprise&mdash;for even her thoughts were generally well
+under the control of her unbending will&mdash;she could not help thinking
+of Stephen&mdash;thinking of him not tenderly or remorsefully, but
+impersonally, as of a man who counted for nothing in her life. It was
+so strange to think of Stephen being ill. She had never known him to
+have a day's sickness in his life before. She looked back over her
+life much as if she were glancing with a chill interest at a series of
+pictures which in no way concerned her. Scene after scene, face after
+face, flashed out on the background of the darkness.</p>
+
+<p>Emily's mother had died at her birth, but Amelia Phillips, twenty
+years older than the baby sister, had filled the vacant place so well
+and with such intuitive tenderness that Emily had never been conscious
+of missing a mother. John Phillips, too, the grave, silent, elder
+brother, loved and petted the child. Woodford people were fond of
+saying that John and Amelia spoiled Emily shamefully.</p>
+
+<p>Emily Phillips had never been like the other Woodford girls and had no
+friends of her own age among them. Her uncommon beauty won her many
+lovers, but she had never cared for any of them until Stephen Fair,
+fifteen years her senior, had come a-wooing to the old, gray,
+willow-girdled Phillips homestead.</p>
+
+<p>Amelia and John Phillips never liked him. There was an ancient feud
+between the families that had died out among the younger generation,
+but was still potent with the older.</p>
+
+<p>From the first Emily had loved Stephen. Indeed, deep down in her
+strange, wayward heart, she had cared for him long before the
+memorable day when he had first looked at her with seeing eyes and
+realized that the quiet, unthought-of child who had been growing up at
+the old Phillips place had blossomed out into a woman of strange,
+seraph-like beauty and deep grey eyes whose expression was nevermore
+to go out of Stephen Fair's remembrance from then till the day of his
+death.</p>
+
+<p>John and Amelia Phillips put their own unjustifiable dislike of
+Stephen aside when they found that Emily's heart was set on him. The
+two were married after a brief courtship and Emily went out from her
+girlhood's home to the Fair homestead, two miles away.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen's mother lived with them. Janet Fair had never liked Emily.
+She had not been willing for Stephen to marry her. But, apart from
+this, the woman had a natural, ineradicable love of making mischief
+and took a keen pleasure in it. She loved her son and she had loved
+her husband, but nevertheless, when Thomas Fair had been alive she had
+fomented continual strife and discontent between him and Stephen. Now
+it became her pleasure to make what trouble she could between Stephen
+and his wife.</p>
+
+<p>She had the advantage of Emily in that she was always sweet-spoken
+and, on the surface, sweet-tempered. Emily, hurt and galled in a score
+of petty ways, so subtle that they were beyond a man's courser
+comprehension, astonished her husband by her fierce outbursts of anger
+that seemed to him for the most part without reason or excuse. He
+tried his best to preserve the peace between his wife and mother; and
+when he failed, not understanding all that Emily really endured at the
+elder woman's merciless hands, he grew to think her capricious and
+easily irritated&mdash;a spoiled child whose whims must not be taken too
+seriously.</p>
+
+<p>To a certain extent he was right. Emily had been spoiled. The unbroken
+indulgence which her brother and sister had always accorded her had
+fitted her but poorly to cope with the trials of her new life. True,
+Mrs. Fair was an unpleasant woman to live with, but if Emily had
+chosen to be more patient under petty insults, and less resentful of
+her husband's well-meant though clumsy efforts for harmony, the older
+woman could have effected real little mischief. But this Emily refused
+to be, and the breach between husband and wife widened insidiously.</p>
+
+<p>The final rupture came two years after their marriage. Emily, in
+rebellious anger, told her husband that she would no longer live in
+the same house with his mother.</p>
+
+<p>"You must choose between us," she said, her splendid voice vibrating
+with all the unleashed emotion of her being, yet with no faltering in
+it. "If she stays I go."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen Fair, harassed and bewildered, was angry with the relentless
+anger of a patient man roused at last.</p>
+
+<p>"Go, then," he said sternly, "I'll never turn my mother from my door
+for any woman's whim."</p>
+
+<p>The stormy red went out of Emily's face, leaving it like a marble
+wash.</p>
+
+<p>"You mean that!" she said calmly. "Think well. If I go I'll never
+return."</p>
+
+<p>"I do mean it," said Stephen. "Leave my house if you will&mdash;if you hold
+your marriage vow so lightly. When your senses return you are welcome
+to come back to me. I will never ask you to."</p>
+
+<p>Without another word Emily turned away. That night she went back to
+John and Amelia. They, on their part, welcomed her back gladly,
+believing her to be a wronged and ill-used woman. They hated Stephen
+Fair with a new and personal rancour. The one thing they could hardly
+have forgiven Emily would have been the fact of her relenting towards
+him.</p>
+
+<p>But she did not relent. In her soul she knew that, with all her just
+grievances, she had been in the wrong, and for that she could not
+forgive him!</p>
+
+<p>Two years after she had left Stephen Mrs. Fair died, and his widowed
+sister-in-law went to keep house for him. If he thought of Emily he
+made no sign. Stephen Fair never broke a word once passed.</p>
+
+<p>Since their separation no greeting or look had ever passed between
+husband and wife. When they met, as they occasionally did, neither
+impassive face changed. Emily Fair had buried her love deeply. In her
+pride and anger she would not let herself remember even where she had
+dug its grave.</p>
+
+<p>And now Stephen was ill. The strange woman felt a certain pride in her
+own inflexibility because the fact did not affect her. She told
+herself that she could not have felt more unconcerned had he been the
+merest stranger. Nevertheless she waited and watched for John
+Phillips' homecoming.</p>
+
+<p>At ten o'clock she heard his voice in the kitchen. She leaned out of
+the bed and pulled open her door. She heard voices below, but could
+not distinguish the words, so she rose and went noiselessly out into
+the hall, knelt down by the stair railing and listened. The door of
+the kitchen was open below her and a narrow shaft of light struck on
+her white, intent face. She looked like a woman waiting for the decree
+of doom.</p>
+
+<p>At first John and Amelia talked of trivial matters. Then the latter
+said abruptly:</p>
+
+<p>"Did you hear how Stephen Fair was?"</p>
+
+<p>"He's dying," was the brief response.</p>
+
+<p>Emily heard Amelia's startled exclamation. She gripped the square
+rails with her hands until the sharp edges dinted deep into her
+fingers. John's voice came up to her again, harsh and expressionless:</p>
+
+<p>"He took a bad turn the day before yesterday and has been getting
+worse ever since. The doctors don't expect him to live till morning."</p>
+
+<p>Amelia began to talk rapidly in low tones. Emily heard nothing
+further. She got up and went blindly back into her room with such
+agony tearing at her heartstrings that she dully wondered why she
+could not shriek aloud.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen&mdash;her husband&mdash;dying! In the burning anguish of that moment her
+own soul was as an open book before her. The love she had buried rose
+from the deeps of her being in an awful, accusing resurrection.</p>
+
+<p>Out of her stupor and pain a purpose formed itself clearly. She must
+go to Stephen&mdash;she must beg and win his forgiveness before it was too
+late. She dared not go down to John and ask him to take her to her
+husband. He might refuse. The Phillipses had been known to do even
+harder things than that. At the best there would be a storm of protest
+and objection on her brother's and sister's part, and Emily felt that
+she could not encounter that in her present mood. It would drive her
+mad.</p>
+
+<p>She lit a lamp and dressed herself noiselessly, but with feverish
+haste. Then she listened. The house was very still. Amelia and John
+had gone to bed. She wrapped herself in a heavy woollen shawl hanging
+in the hall and crept downstairs. With numbed fingers she fumbled at
+the key of the hall door, turned it and slipped out into the night.</p>
+
+<p>The storm seemed to reach out and clutch her and swallow her up. She
+went through the garden, where the flowers already were crushed to
+earth; she crossed the long field beyond, where the rain cut her face
+like a whip and the wind almost twisted her in its grasp like a broken
+reed. Somehow or other, more by blind instinct than anything else, she
+found the path that led through commons and woods and waste valleys to
+her lost home.</p>
+
+<p>In after years that frenzied walk through the storm and blackness
+seemed as an unbroken nightmare to Emily Fair's recollection. Often
+she fell. Once as she did so a jagged, dead limb of fir struck her
+forehead and cut in it a gash that marked her for life. As she
+struggled to her feet and found her way again the blood trickled down
+over her face.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh God, don't let him die before I get to him&mdash;don't&mdash;don't&mdash;don't!"
+she prayed desperately with more of defiance than entreaty in her
+voice. Then, realizing this, she cried out in horror. Surely some
+fearsome punishment would come upon her for her wickedness&mdash;she would
+find her husband lying dead.</p>
+
+<p>When Emily opened the kitchen door of the Fair homestead Almira
+Sentner cried out in her alarm, who or what was this creature with the
+white face and wild eyes, with her torn and dripping garments and
+dishevelled, wind-writhen hair and the big drops of blood slowly
+trickling from her brow?</p>
+
+<p>The next moment she recognized Emily and her face hardened. This
+woman, Stephen's sister-in-law, had always hated Emily Fair.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want here?" she said harshly.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is my husband?" asked Emily.</p>
+
+<p>"You can't see him," said Mrs. Sentner defiantly. "The doctors won't
+allow anyone in the room but those he's used to. Strangers excite
+him."</p>
+
+<p>The insolence and cruelty of her speech fell on unheeding ears. Emily,
+understanding only that her husband yet lived, turned to the hall
+door.</p>
+
+<p>"Stand back!" she said in a voice that was little more than a
+thrilling whisper, but which yet had in it something that cowed Almira
+Sentner's malice. Sullenly she stood aside and Emily went unhindered
+up the stairs to the room where the sick man lay.</p>
+
+<p>The two doctors in attendance were there, together with the trained
+nurse from the city. Emily pushed them aside and fell on her knees by
+the bed. One of the doctors made a hasty motion as if to draw her
+back, but the other checked him.</p>
+
+<p>"It doesn't matter now," he said significantly.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen Fair turned his languid, unshorn head on the pillow. His dull,
+fevered eyes met Emily's. He had not recognized anyone all day, but he
+knew his wife.</p>
+
+<p>"Emily!" he whispered.</p>
+
+<p>Emily drew his head close to her face and kissed his lips
+passionately.</p>
+
+<p>"Stephen, I've come back to you. Forgive me&mdash;forgive me&mdash;say that you
+forgive me."</p>
+
+<p>"It's all right, my girl," he said feebly.</p>
+
+<p>She buried her face in the pillow beside his with a sob.</p>
+
+<p>In the wan, grey light of the autumn dawn the old doctor came to the
+bedside and lifted Emily to her feet. She had not stirred the whole
+night. Now she raised her white face with dumb pleading in her eyes.
+The doctor glanced at the sleeping form on the bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Your husband will live, Mrs. Fair," he said gently. "I think your
+coming saved him. His joy turned the ebbing tide in favour of life."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God!" said Emily.</p>
+
+<p>And for the first time in her life her beautiful voice trembled.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="Min" id="Min"></a><hr />
+<br />
+
+<h2>Min<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>The morning sun hung, a red, lustreless ball, in the dull grey sky. A
+light snow had fallen in the night and the landscape, crossed by
+spider-like trails of fences, was as white and lifeless as if wrapped
+in a shroud.</p>
+
+<p>A young man was driving down the road to Rykman's Corner; the youthful
+face visible above the greatcoat was thoughtful and refined, the eyes
+deep blue and peculiarly beautiful, the mouth firm yet sensitive. It
+was not a handsome face, but there was a strangely subtle charm about
+it.</p>
+
+<p>The chill breathlessness of the air seemed prophetic of more snow. The
+Reverend Allan Telford looked across the bare wastes and cold white
+hills and shivered, as if the icy lifelessness about him were slowly
+and relentlessly creeping into his own heart and life.</p>
+
+<p>He felt utterly discouraged. In his soul he was asking bitterly what
+good had come of all his prayerful labours among the people of this
+pinched, narrow world, as rugged and unbeautiful in form and life as
+the barren hills that shut them in.</p>
+
+<p>He had been two years among them and he counted it two years of
+failure. He had been too outspoken for them; they resented sullenly
+his direct and incisive tirades against their pet sins. They viewed
+his small innovations on their traditional ways of worship with
+disfavour and distrust and shut him out of their lives with an
+ever-increasing coldness. He had meant well and worked hard and he
+felt his failure keenly.</p>
+
+<p>His thoughts reverted to a letter received the preceding day from a
+former classmate, stating that the pastorate of a certain desirable
+town church had become vacant and hinting that a call was to be
+moderated for him unless he signified his unwillingness to accept.</p>
+
+<p>Two years before, Allan Telford, fresh from college and full of
+vigorous enthusiasm and high ideas, would have said:</p>
+
+<p>"No, that is not for me. My work must lie among the poor and lowly of
+earth as did my Master's. Shall I shrink from it because, to worldly
+eyes, the way looks dreary and uninviting?"</p>
+
+<p>Now, looking back on his two years' ministry, he said wearily:</p>
+
+<p>"I can remain here no longer. If I do, I fear I shall sink down into
+something almost as pitiful as one of these canting, gossiping people
+myself. I can do them no good&mdash;they do not like or trust me. I will
+accept this call and go back to my own world."</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps the keynote of his failure was sounded in his last words, "my
+own world." He had never felt, or tried to feel, that this narrow
+sphere was his own world. It was some lower level to which he had come
+with good tidings and honest intentions but, unconsciously, he had
+held himself above it, and his people felt and resented this. They
+expressed it by saying he was "stuck-up."</p>
+
+<p>Rykman's Corner came into view as he drove over the brow of a long
+hill. He hated the place, knowing it well for what it was&mdash;a festering
+hotbed of gossip and malice, the habitat of all the slanderous rumours
+and innuendoes that permeated the social tissue of the community. The
+newest scandal, the worst-flavoured joke, the latest details of the
+most recent quarrel, were always to be had at Rykman's store.</p>
+
+<p>As the minister drove down the hill, a man came out of a small house
+at the foot and waited on the road. Had it been possible Telford would
+have pretended not to see him, but it was not possible, for Isaac
+Galletly meant to be seen and hailed the minister cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Good mornin', Mr. Telford. Ye won't mind giving me a lift down to the
+Corner, I dessay?"</p>
+
+<p>Telford checked his horse reluctantly and Galletly crawled into the
+cutter. He was that most despicable of created beings, a male gossip,
+and he spent most of his time travelling from house to house in the
+village, smoking his pipe in neighbourly kitchens and fanning into an
+active blaze all the smouldering feuds of the place. He had been
+nicknamed "The Morning Chronicle" by a sarcastic schoolteacher who had
+sojourned a winter at the Corner. The name was an apt one and clung.
+Telford had heard it.</p>
+
+<p>I suppose he is starting out on his rounds now, he thought.</p>
+
+<p>Galletly plunged undauntedly into the conversational gap.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite a fall of snow last night. Reckon we'll have more 'fore long.
+That was a grand sermon ye gave us last Sunday, Mr. Telford. Reckon it
+went home to some folks, judgin' from all I've heard. It was needed
+and that's a fact. 'Live peaceably with all men'&mdash;that's what I lay
+out to do. There ain't a house in the district but what I can drop
+into and welcome. 'Tain't everybody in Rykman's Corner can say the
+same."</p>
+
+<p>Galletly squinted out of the corner of his eye to see if the minister
+would open on the trail of this hint. Telford's passive face was
+discouraging but Galletly was not to be baffled.</p>
+
+<p>"I s'pose ye haven't heard about the row down at Palmers' last night?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>The monosyllable was curt. Telford was vainly seeking to nip
+Galletly's gossip in the bud. The name of Palmer conveyed no especial
+meaning to his ear. He knew where the Palmer homestead was, and that
+the plaintive-faced, fair-haired woman, whose name was Mrs. Fuller and
+who came to church occasionally, lived there. His knowledge went no
+further. He had called three times and found nobody at home&mdash;at least,
+to all appearances. Now he was fated to have the whole budget of some
+vulgar quarrel forced on him by Galletly.</p>
+
+<p>"No? Everyone's talkin' of it. The long and short of it is that Min
+Palmer has had a regular up-and-down row with Rose Fuller and turned
+her and her little gal out of doors. I believe the two women had an
+awful time. Min's a Tartar when her temper's up&mdash;and that's pretty
+often. Nobody knows how Rose managed to put up with her so long. But
+she has had to go at last. Goodness knows what the poor critter'll do.
+She hasn't a cent nor a relation&mdash;she was just an orphan girl that
+Palmer brought up. She is at Rawlingses now. Maybe when Min cools off,
+she'll let her go back but it's doubtful. Min hates her like p'isen."</p>
+
+<p>To Telford this was all very unintelligible. But he understood that
+Mrs. Fuller was in trouble of some kind and that it was his duty to
+help her if possible, although he had an odd and unaccountable
+aversion to the woman, for which he had often reproached himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is this woman you call Min Palmer?" he said coldly. "What are the
+family circumstances? I ought to know, perhaps, if I am to be of any
+service&mdash;but I have no wish to hear idle gossip."</p>
+
+<p>His concluding sentence was quite unheeded by Galletly.</p>
+
+<p>"Min Palmer's the worst woman in Rykman's Corner&mdash;or out of it. She
+always was an odd one. I mind her when she was a girl&mdash;a saucy,
+black-eyed baggage she was! Handsome, some folks called her. I never
+c'd see it. Her people were a queer crowd and Min was never brung up
+right&mdash;jest let run wild all her life. Well, Rod Palmer took to
+dancin' attendance on her. Rod was a worthless scamp. Old Palmer was
+well off and Rod was his only child, but this Rose lived there and
+kept house for them after Mis' Palmer died. She was a quiet,
+well-behaved little creetur. Folks said the old man wanted Rod to
+marry her&mdash;dunno if 'twas so or not. In the end, howsomever, he had
+to marry Min. Her brother got after him with a horse-whip, ye
+understand. Old Palmer was furious but he had to give in and Rod
+brought her home. She was a bit sobered down by her trouble and lived
+quiet and sullen-like at first. Her and Rod fought like cat and dog.
+Rose married Osh Fuller, a worthless, drunken fellow. He died in a
+year or so and left Rose and her baby without a roof over their heads.
+Then old Palmer went and brought her home. He set great store by Rose
+and he c'dn't bear Min. Min had to be civil to Rose as long as old
+Palmer lived. Fin'lly Rod up and died and 'twasn't long before his
+father went too. Then the queer part came in. Everyone expected that
+he'd purvide well for Rose and Min'd come in second best. But no will
+was to be found. I don't say but what it was all right, mind you. I
+may have my own secret opinion, of course. Old Palmer had a regular
+mania, as ye might say, for makin' wills. He'd have a lawyer out from
+town every year and have a new will made and the old one burnt. Lawyer
+Bell was there and made one 'bout eight months 'fore he died. It was
+s'posed he'd destroyed it and then died 'fore he'd time to make
+another. He went off awful sudden. Anyway, everything went to Min's
+child&mdash;to Min as ye might say. She's been boss. Rose still stayed on
+there and Min let her, which was more than folks expected of her. But
+she's turned her out at last. Min's in one of her tantrums now and
+'tain't safe to cross her path."</p>
+
+<p>"What is Mrs. Fuller to do?" asked Telford anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"That's the question. She's sickly&mdash;can't work much&mdash;and then she has
+her leetle gal. Min was always jealous of that child. It's a real
+purty, smart leetle creetur and old Palmer made a lot of it. Min's own
+is an awful-looking thing&mdash;a cripple from the time 'twas born. There's
+no doubt 'twas a jedgement on her. As for Rose, no doubt the god of
+the widow and fatherless will purvide for her."</p>
+
+<p>In spite of his disgust, Telford could not repress a smile at the
+tone, half-whine, half-snuffle, with which Galletly ended up.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I had better call and see this Mrs. Palmer," he said slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"'Twould be no airthly use, Mr. Telford. Min'd slam the door in your
+face if she did nothing worse. She hates ministers and everything
+that's good. She hasn't darkened a church door for years. She never
+had any religious tendency to begin with, and when there was such a
+scandal about her, old Mr. Dinwoodie, our pastor then&mdash;a godly man,
+Mr. Telford&mdash;he didn't hold no truck with evildoers&mdash;he went right to
+her to reprove and rebuke her for her sins. Min, she flew at him. She
+vowed then she'd never go to church again, and she never has. People
+hereabouts has talked to her and tried to do her good, but it ain't no
+use. Why, I've heard that woman say there was no God. It's a fact, Mr.
+Telford&mdash;I have. Some of our ministers has tried to visit her. They
+didn't try it more than once. The last one&mdash;he was about your heft&mdash;he
+got a scare, I tell you. Min just caught him by the shoulder and shook
+him like a rat! Didn't see it myself but Mrs. Rawlings did. Ye ought
+to hear her describin' of it."</p>
+
+<p>Galletly chuckled over the recollection, his wicked little eyes
+glistening with delight. Telford was thankful when they reached the
+store. He felt that he could not endure this man's society any
+longer.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, he felt strangely interested. This Min Palmer must at
+least be different from the rest of the Cornerites, if only in the
+greater force of her wickedness. He almost felt as if her sins on the
+grand scale were less blameworthy than the petty vices of her
+censorious neighbours.</p>
+
+<p>Galletly eagerly joined the group of loungers on the dirty wet
+platform, and Telford passed into the store. A couple of slatternly
+women were talking to Mrs. Rykman about "the Palmer row." Telford made
+his small purchases hastily. As he turned from the counter, he came
+face to face with a woman who had paused in the doorway to survey the
+scene with an air of sullen scorn. By some subtle intuition Telford
+knew that this was Min Palmer.</p>
+
+<p>The young man's first feeling was one of admiration for the woman
+before him, who, in spite of her grotesque attire and defiant,
+unwomanly air, was strikingly beautiful. She was tall, and not even
+the man's ragged overcoat which she wore could conceal the grace of
+her figure. Her abundant black hair was twisted into a sagging knot at
+her neck, and from beneath the old fur cap looked out a pair of large
+and brilliant black eyes, heavily lashed, and full of a smouldering
+fire. Her skin was tanned and coarsened, but the warm crimson blood
+glowed in her cheeks with a dusky richness, and her face was a perfect
+oval, with features chiselled in almost classic regularity of outline.</p>
+
+<p>Telford had a curious experience at that moment. He seemed to see,
+looking out from behind this external mask of degraded beauty, the
+semblance of what this woman might have been under more favouring
+circumstance of birth and environment, wherein her rich, passionate
+nature, potent for either good or evil, might have been trained and
+swayed aright until it had developed grandly out into the glorious
+womanhood the Creator must have planned for her. He knew, as if by
+revelation, that this woman had nothing in common with the narrow,
+self-righteous souls of Rykman's Corner. Warped and perverted though
+her nature might be, she was yet far nobler than those who sat in
+judgement upon her.</p>
+
+<p>Min made some scanty purchases and left the store quickly, brushing
+unheedingly past the minister as she did so. He saw her step on a
+rough wood-sleigh and drive down the river road. The platform loungers
+had been silent during her call, but now the talk bubbled forth anew.
+Telford was sick at heart as he drove swiftly away. He felt for Min
+Palmer a pity he could not understand or analyze. The attempt to
+measure the gulf between what she was and what she might have been
+hurt him like the stab of a knife.</p>
+
+<p>He made several calls at various houses along the river during the
+forenoon. After dinner he suddenly turned his horse towards the Palmer
+place. Isaac Galletly, comfortably curled up in a neighbour's chimney
+corner, saw him drive past.</p>
+
+<p>"Ef the minister ain't goin' to Palmers' after all!" he chuckled.
+"He's a set one when he does take a notion. Well, I warned him what to
+expect. If Min claws his eyes out, he'll only have himself to blame."</p>
+
+<p>Telford was not without his own misgivings as he drove into the Palmer
+yard. He tied his horse to the fence and looked doubtfully about him.
+Untrodden snowdrifts were heaped about the front door, so he turned
+towards the kitchen and walked slowly past the bare lilac trees along
+the fence. There was no sign of life about the place. It was beginning
+to snow again, softly and thickly, and the hills and river were hidden
+behind a misty white veil.</p>
+
+<p>He lifted his hand to knock, but before he could do so, the door was
+flung open and Min herself confronted him on the threshold.</p>
+
+<p>She did not now have on the man's overcoat which she had worn at the
+store, and her neat, close-fitting home-spun dress revealed to
+perfection the full, magnificent curves of her figure. Her splendid
+hair was braided about her head in a glossy coronet, and her dark eyes
+were ablaze with ill-suppressed anger. Again Telford was overcome by a
+sense of her wonderful loveliness. Not all the years of bondage to
+ill-temper and misguided will had been able to blot out the beauty of
+that proud, dark face.</p>
+
+<p>She lifted one large but shapely brown hand and pointed to the gate.</p>
+
+<p>"Go!" she said threateningly.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Palmer," began Telford, but she silenced him with an imperious
+gesture.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want any of your kind here. I hate all you ministers. Did you
+come here to lecture me? I suppose some of the Corner saints set you
+on me. You'll never cross my threshold."</p>
+
+<p>Telford returned her defiant gaze unflinchingly. His dark-blue eyes,
+magnetic in their power and sweetness, looked gravely, questioningly,
+into Min's stormy orbs. Slowly the fire and anger faded out of her
+face and her head drooped.</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't fit for you to talk to anyway," she said with a sort of
+sullen humility. "Maybe you mean well but you can't do me any good.
+I'm past that now. The Corner saints say I'm possessed of the devil.
+Perhaps I am&mdash;if there is one."</p>
+
+<p>"I do mean well," said Telford slowly. "I did not come here to reprove
+you. I came to help you if I could&mdash;if you needed help, Mrs. Palmer&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't call me that," she interrupted passionately. She flung out her
+hands as if pushing some loathly, invisible thing from her. "I hate
+the name&mdash;as I hated all who ever bore it. I never had anything but
+wrong and dog-usage from them all. Call me Min&mdash;that's the only name
+that belongs to me now. Go&mdash;why don't you go? Don't stand there
+looking at me like that. I'm not going to change my mind. I don't want
+any praying and whining round me. I've been well sickened of that.
+Go!"</p>
+
+<p>Telford threw back his head and looked once more into her eyes. A long
+look passed between them. Then he silently lifted his cap and, with no
+word of farewell, he turned and went down to the gate. A bitter sense
+of defeat and disappointment filled his heart as he drove away.</p>
+
+<p>Min stood in the doorway and watched the sleigh out of sight down the
+river road. Then she gave a long, shivering sigh that was almost a
+moan.</p>
+
+<p>"If I had met that man long ago," she said slowly, as if groping
+vaguely in some hitherto unsounded depth of consciousness, "I would
+never have become what I am. I felt that as I looked at him&mdash;it all
+came over me with an awful sickening feeling&mdash;just as if we were
+standing alone somewhere out of the world where there was no need of
+words to say things. He doesn't despise me&mdash;he wouldn't sneer at me,
+bad as I am, like those creatures up there. He could have helped me
+if we had met in time, but it's too late now."</p>
+
+<p>She locked her hands over her eyes and groaned, swaying her body to
+and fro as one in mortal agony. Presently she looked out again with
+hard, dry eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"What a fool I am!" she said bitterly. "How the Corner saints would
+stare if they saw me! I suppose some of them do&mdash;" with a glance at
+the windows of a neighbouring house. "Yes, there's Mrs. Rawlings
+staring out and Rose peeking over her shoulder."</p>
+
+<p>Her face hardened. The old sway of evil passion reasserted itself.</p>
+
+<p>"She shall never come back here&mdash;never. Oh, she was a sweet-spoken cat
+of a thing&mdash;but she had claws. I've been blamed for all the trouble.
+But if ever I had a chance, I'd tell that minister how she used to
+twit and taunt me in that sugary way of hers&mdash;how she schemed and
+plotted against me as long as she could. More fool I to care what he
+thinks either! I wish I were dead. If 'twasn't for the child, I'd go
+and drown myself at that black spring-hole down there&mdash;I'd be well out
+of the way."</p>
+
+<br />
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+<br />
+
+<p>It was a dull grey afternoon a week afterwards when Allan Telford
+again walked up the river road to the Palmer place. The wind was
+bitter and he walked with bent head to avoid its fury. His face was
+pale and worn and he looked years older.</p>
+
+<p>He paused at the rough gate and leaned over it while he scanned the
+house and its surroundings eagerly. As he looked, the kitchen door
+opened and Min, clad in the old overcoat, came out and walked swiftly
+across the yard.</p>
+
+<p>Telford's eyes followed her with pitiful absorption. He saw her lead a
+horse from the stable and harness it into a wood-sleigh loaded with
+bags of grain. Once she paused to fling her arms about the animal's
+neck, laying her face against it with a caressing motion.</p>
+
+<p>The pale minister groaned aloud. He longed to snatch her forever from
+that hard, unwomanly toil and fold her safely away from jeers and
+scorn in the shelter of his love. He knew it was madness&mdash;he had told
+himself so every hour in which Min's dark, rebellious face had haunted
+him&mdash;yet none the less was he under its control.</p>
+
+<p>Min led the horse across the yard and left it standing before the
+kitchen door; she had not seen the bowed figure at the gate. When she
+reappeared, he saw her dark eyes and the rose-red lustre of her face
+gleam out from under the old crimson shawl wrapped about her head.</p>
+
+<p>As she caught the horse by the bridle, the kitchen door swung heavily
+to with a sharp, sudden bang. The horse, a great, powerful, nervous
+brute, started wildly and then reared in terror.</p>
+
+<p>The ice underfoot was glib and treacherous. Min lost her foothold and
+fell directly under the horse's hoofs as they came heavily down. The
+animal, freed from her detaining hand, sprang forward, dragging the
+laden sleigh over the prostrate woman.</p>
+
+<p>It had all passed in a moment. The moveless figure lay where it had
+fallen, one outstretched hand still grasping the whip. Telford sprang
+over the gate and rushed up the slope like a madman. He flung himself
+on his knees beside her.</p>
+
+<p>"Min! Min!" he called wildly.</p>
+
+<p>There was no answer. He lifted her in his arms and staggered into the
+house with his burden, his heart stilling with a horrible fear as he
+laid her gently down on the old lounge in one corner of the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>The room was a large one and everything was neat and clean. The fire
+burned brightly, and a few green plants were in blossom by the south
+window. Beside them sat a child of about seven years who turned a
+startled face at Telford's reckless entrance.</p>
+
+<p>The boy had Min's dark eyes and perfectly chiselled features, refined
+by suffering into cameo-like delicacy, and the silken hair fell in
+soft, waving masses about the spiritual little face. By his side
+nestled a tiny dog, with satin ears and paws fringed as with ravelled
+silk.</p>
+
+<p>Telford paid heed to nothing, not even the frightened child. He was as
+one distraught.</p>
+
+<p>"Min," he wailed again, striving tremblingly to feel her pulse while
+cold drops came out on his forehead.</p>
+
+<p>Min's face was as pallid as marble, save for one heavy bruise across
+the cheek and a cruel cut at the edge of the dark hair, from which the
+blood trickled down on the pillow.</p>
+
+<p>She opened her eyes wonderingly at his call, looking up with a dazed,
+appealing expression of pain and dread. A low moan broke from her
+white lips. Telford sprang to his feet in a tumult of quivering joy.</p>
+
+<p>"Min, dear," he said gently, "you have been hurt&mdash;not seriously, I
+hope. I must leave you for a minute while I run for help&mdash;I will not
+be long."</p>
+
+<p>"Come back," said Min in a low but distinct tone.</p>
+
+<p>He paused impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>"It is of no use to get help," Min went on calmly. "I'm dying&mdash;I know
+it. Oh, my God!"</p>
+
+<p>She pressed her hand to her side and writhed. Telford turned
+desperately to the door. Min raised her arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Come here," she said resolutely.</p>
+
+<p>He obeyed mutely. She looked up at him with bright, unquailing eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you go one step&mdash;don't leave me here to die alone. I'm past
+help&mdash;and I've something to say to you. I must say it and I haven't
+much time."</p>
+
+<p>Telford hardly heeded her in his misery.</p>
+
+<p>"Min, let me go for help&mdash;let me do something," he implored. "You must
+not die&mdash;you must not!"</p>
+
+<p>Min had fallen back, gasping, on the blood-stained pillow.</p>
+
+<p>He knelt beside her and put his arm about the poor, crushed body.</p>
+
+<p>"I must hurry," she said faintly. "I can't die with it on my mind.
+Rose&mdash;it's all hers&mdash;all. There was a will&mdash;he made it&mdash;old Gran'ther
+Palmer. He always hated me. I found it before he died&mdash;and read it. He
+left everything to her&mdash;not a cent to me nor his son's child&mdash;we were
+to starve&mdash;beg. I was like a madwoman. When he died&mdash;I hid the will. I
+meant&mdash;to burn it&mdash;but I never could. It's tortured me&mdash;night and
+day&mdash;I've had no peace. You'll find it in a box&mdash;in my room. Tell
+her&mdash;tell Rose&mdash;how wicked I've been. And my boy&mdash;what will become of
+him? Rose hates him&mdash;she'll turn him out&mdash;or ill-treat him&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Telford lifted his white, drawn face.</p>
+
+<p>"I will take your child, Min. He shall be to me as my own son."</p>
+
+<p>An expression of unspeakable relief came into the dying woman's face.</p>
+
+<p>"It is good&mdash;of you. I can die&mdash;in peace&mdash;now. I'm glad to die&mdash;to get
+clear of it all. I'm tired&mdash;of living so. Perhaps&mdash;I'll have a
+chance&mdash;somewhere else. I've never&mdash;had any&mdash;here."</p>
+
+<p>The dark eyes drooped&mdash;closed. Telford moaned shudderingly.</p>
+
+<p>Once again Min opened her eyes and looked straight into his.</p>
+
+<p>"If I had met you&mdash;long ago&mdash;you would have&mdash;loved me&mdash;and I would
+have been&mdash;a good woman. It is well for us&mdash;for you&mdash;that I am&mdash;dying.
+Your path will be clear&mdash;you will be good and successful&mdash;but you will
+always&mdash;remember me."</p>
+
+<p>Telford bent and pressed his lips to Min's pain-blanched mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think&mdash;we will&mdash;ever meet again?" she said faintly. "Out
+there&mdash;it's so dark&mdash;God can never&mdash;forgive me&mdash;I've been so&mdash;wicked."</p>
+
+<p>"Min, the all-loving Father is more merciful than man. He will forgive
+you, if you ask Him, and you will wait for me till I come. I will stay
+here and do my duty&mdash;I will try hard&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>His voice broke. Min's great black eyes beamed out on him with
+passionate tenderness. The strong, deep, erring nature yielded at
+last. An exceeding bitter cry rose to her lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, God&mdash;forgive me&mdash;forgive me!"</p>
+
+<p>And with the cry, the soul of poor suffering, sinning, sinned-against
+Min Palmer fled&mdash;who shall say whither? Who shall say that her
+remorseful cry was not heard, even at that late hour, by a Judge more
+merciful than her fellow creatures?</p>
+
+<p>Telford still knelt on the bare floor, holding in his arms the dead
+form of the woman he loved&mdash;his, all his, in death, as she could never
+have been in life. Death had bridged the gulf between them.</p>
+
+<p>The room was very silent. To Min's face had returned something of its
+girlhood's innocence. The hard, unlovely lines were all smoothed out.
+The little cripple crept timidly up to Telford, with the silky head of
+the dog pressed against his cheek. Telford gathered the distorted
+little body to his side and looked earnestly into the small
+face&mdash;Min's face, purified and spiritualized. He would have it near
+him always. He bent and reverently kissed the cold face, the closed
+eyelids and the blood-stained brow of the dead woman. Then he stood
+up.</p>
+
+<p>"Come with me, dear," he said gently to the child.</p>
+
+<br />
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+<br />
+
+<p>The day after the funeral, Allan Telford sat in the study of his
+little manse among the encircling wintry hills. Close to the window
+sat Min's child, his small, beautiful face pressed against the panes,
+and the bright-eyed dog beside him.</p>
+
+<p>Telford was writing in his journal.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall stay here&mdash;close to her grave. I shall see it every time I
+look from my study window&mdash;every time I stand in my pulpit&mdash;every time
+I go in and out among my people. I begin to see wherein I have failed.
+I shall begin again patiently and humbly. I wrote today to decline the
+C&mdash;&mdash; church call. My heart and my work are here."</p>
+
+<p>He closed the book and bowed his head on it. Outside the snow fell
+softly; he knew that it was wrapping that new-made grave on the cold,
+fir-sentinelled hillside with a stainless shroud of infinite purity
+and peace.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="Miss_Cordelias_Accommodation" id="Miss_Cordelias_Accommodation"></a><hr />
+<br />
+
+<h2>Miss Cordelia's Accommodation<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>"Poor little creatures!" said Miss Cordelia compassionately.</p>
+
+<p>She meant the factory children. In her car ride from the school where
+she taught to the bridge that spanned the river between Pottstown, the
+sooty little manufacturing village on one side, and Point Pleasant,
+which was merely a hamlet, on the other, she had seen dozens of them,
+playing and quarrelling on the streets or peering wistfully out of
+dingy tenement windows.</p>
+
+<p>"Tomorrow is Saturday," she reflected, "and they've no better place to
+play in than the back streets and yards. It's a shame. There's work
+for our philanthropists here, but they don't seem to see it. Well, I'm
+so sorry for them it hurts me to look at them, but I can't do
+anything."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Cordelia sighed and then brightened up, because she realized that
+she was turning her back upon Pottstown for two blissful days and
+going to Point Pleasant, which had just one straggling, elm-shaded
+street hedging on old-fashioned gardens and cosy little houses and
+trailing off into the real country in a half-hour's walk.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Cordelia lived alone in a tiny house at Point Pleasant. It was so
+tiny that you would have wondered how anyone could live in it.</p>
+
+<p>"But it's plenty big for a little old maid like me," Miss Cordelia
+would have told you. "And it's my own&mdash;I'm queen there. There's solid
+comfort in having one spot for your own self. To be sure, if I had
+less land and more house it would be better."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Cordelia always laughed here. It was one of her jokes. There was
+a four-acre field behind the house. Both had been left to her by an
+uncle. The field was of no use to Miss Cordelia; she didn't keep a cow
+and she hadn't time to make a garden. But she liked her field; when
+people asked her why she didn't sell it she said:</p>
+
+<p>"I'm fond of it. I like to walk around in it when the grass grows
+long. And it may come in handy some time. Mother used to say if you
+kept anything seven years it would come to use. I've had my field a
+good bit longer than that, but maybe the time will come yet. Meanwhile
+I rejoice in the fact that I am a landed proprietor to the extent of
+four acres."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Cordelia had thought of converting her field into a playground
+for the factory children and asking detachments of them over on
+Saturday afternoon. But she knew that her Point Pleasant neighbours
+would object to this, so that project was dropped.</p>
+
+<p>When Miss Cordelia pushed open her little gate, hung crookedly in a
+very compact and prim spruce hedge, she stopped in amazement and said,
+"Well, for pity's sake!"</p>
+
+<p>Cynthia Ann Flemming, who lived on the other side of the spruce hedge,
+now came hurrying over.</p>
+
+<p>"Good evening, Cordelia. I have a letter that was left with me for
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;that&mdash;horse," said Miss Cordelia, with a long breath between
+every word. "Where did he come from? Tied at my front door&mdash;and he's
+eaten the tops off every one of my geraniums! Where's his owner or
+rider or something?"</p>
+
+<p>The horse in question was a mild-eyed, rather good-looking quadruped,
+tied by a halter to the elm at Miss Cordelia's door and contentedly
+munching a mouthful of geranium stalks. Cynthia Ann came through the
+hedge with the letter.</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe this will explain," she said. "Same boy brought it as brought
+the horse&mdash;a little freckly chap mostly all grin and shirtsleeves.
+Said he was told to take the letter and horse to Miss Cordelia Herry,
+Elm Street, Point Pleasant, and he couldn't wait. So he tied the
+creature in there and left the letter with me. He came half an hour
+ago. Well, he has played havoc with your geraniums and no mistake."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Cordelia opened and read her letter. When she finished it she
+looked at the curious Cynthia Ann solemnly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if that isn't John Drew all over! I suspected he was at the
+bottom of it as soon as I laid my eyes on that animal. John Drew is a
+cousin of mine. He's been living out at Poplar Valley and he writes me
+that he has gone out west, and wants me to take 'old Nap.' I suppose
+that is the horse. He says that Nap is getting old and not much use
+for work and he couldn't bear the thought of shooting him or selling
+him to someone who might ill-treat him, so he wants me to take him and
+be kind to him for old times' sake. John and I were just like brother
+and sister when we were children. If this isn't like him nothing ever
+was. He was always doing odd things and thinking they were all right.
+And now he's off west and here is the horse. If it were a cat or a
+dog&mdash;but a horse!"</p>
+
+<p>"Your four-acre field will come in handy now," said Cynthia Ann
+jestingly.</p>
+
+<p>"So it will." Miss Cordelia spoke absently. "The very thing! Yes, I'll
+put him in there."</p>
+
+<p>"But you don't really mean that you're going to keep the horse, are
+you?" protested Cynthia Ann. "Why, he is no good to you&mdash;and think of
+the expense of feeding him!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll keep him for a while," said Miss Cordelia briskly. "As you say,
+there is the four-acre field. It will keep him in eating for a while.
+I always knew that field had a mission. Poor John Drew! I'd like to
+oblige him for old times' sake, as he says, although this is as crazy
+as anything he ever did. But I have a plan. Meanwhile, I can't feed
+Nap on geraniums."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Cordelia always adapted herself quickly and calmly to new
+circumstances. "It is never any use to get in a stew about things,"
+she was wont to say. So now she untied Nap gingerly, with many rueful
+glances at her geraniums, and led him away to the field behind the
+house, where she tied him safely to a post with such an abundance of
+knots that there was small fear of his getting away.</p>
+
+<p>When the mystified Cynthia Ann had returned home Miss Cordelia set
+about getting her tea and thinking over the plan that had come to her
+concerning her white elephant.</p>
+
+<p>"I can keep him for the summer," she said. "I'll have to dispose of
+him in the fall for I've no place to keep him in, and anyway I
+couldn't afford to feed him. I'll see if I can borrow Mr. Griggs's
+express wagon for Saturday afternoons, and if I can those poor factory
+children in my grade shall have a weekly treat or my name is not
+Cordelia Herry. I'm not so sure but that John Drew has done a good
+thing after all. Poor John! He always did take things so for granted."</p>
+
+<br />
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+<br />
+
+<p>All the point pleasant people soon knew about Miss Cordelia's
+questionable windfall, and she was overwhelmed with advice and
+suggestions. She listened to all tranquilly and then placidly followed
+her own way. Mr. Griggs was very obliging in regard to his old express
+wagon, and the next Saturday Point Pleasant was treated to a mild
+sensation&mdash;nothing less than Miss Cordelia rattling through the
+village, enthroned on the high seat of Mr. Griggs's yellow express
+wagon, drawn by old Nap who, after a week of browsing idleness in the
+four-acre field, was quite frisky and went at a decided amble down Elm
+Street and across the bridge. The long wagon had been filled up with
+board seats, and when Miss Cordelia came back over the bridge the
+boards were crowded with factory children&mdash;pale-faced little creatures
+whose eyes were aglow with pleasure at this unexpected outing.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Cordelia drove straight out to the big pine-clad hills of
+Deepdale, six miles from Pottstown. Then she tied Nap in a convenient
+lane and turned the children loose to revel in the woods and fields.
+How they did enjoy themselves! And how Miss Cordelia enjoyed seeing
+them enjoy themselves!</p>
+
+<p>When dinner time came she gathered them all around her and went to the
+wagon. In it she had a basket of bread and butter.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't afford anything more," she told Cynthia Ann, "but they must
+have something to stay their little stomachs. And I can get some water
+at a farmhouse."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Cordelia had had her eye on a certain farmhouse all the morning.
+She did not know anything about the people who lived there, but she
+liked the looks of the place. It was a big, white, green-shuttered
+house, throned in wide-spreading orchards, with a green sweep of
+velvety lawn in front.</p>
+
+<p>To this Miss Cordelia took her way, surrounded by her small
+passengers, and they all trooped into the great farmhouse yard just as
+a big man stepped out of a nearby barn. As he approached, Miss
+Cordelia thought she had never seen anybody so much like an incarnate
+smile before. Smiles of all kinds seemed literally to riot over his
+ruddy face and in and out of his eyes and around the corners of his
+mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, well!" he said, when he came near enough to be heard. "Is
+this a runaway school, ma'am?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm the runaway schoolma'am," responded Miss Cordelia with a twinkle.
+"And these are a lot of factory children I've brought out for a
+Saturday treat. I thought I might get some water from your well, and
+maybe you will lend us a tin dipper or two?"</p>
+
+<p>"Water? Tut, tut!" said the big man, with three distinct smiles on his
+face. "Milk's the thing, ma'am&mdash;milk. I'll tell my housekeeper to
+bring some out. And all of you come over to the lawn and make
+yourselves at home. Bless you, ma'am, I'm fond of children. My name is
+Smiles, ma'am&mdash;Abraham Smiles."</p>
+
+<p>"It suits you," said Miss Cordelia emphatically, before she thought,
+and then blushed rosy-red over her bluntness.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smiles laughed. "Yes, I guess I always have an everlasting grin
+on. Had to live up to my name, you see, in spite of my naturally
+cantankerous disposition; But come this way, ma'am, I can see the
+hunger sticking out of those youngsters' eyes. We'll have a sort of
+impromptu picnic here and now, I'll tell my housekeeper to send out
+some jam too."</p>
+
+<p>While the children devoured their lunch Miss Cordelia found herself
+telling Mr. Smiles all about old Nap and her little project.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to bring out a load every fine Saturday all summer," she
+said. "It's all I can do. They enjoy it so, the little creatures. It's
+terrible to think how cramped their lives are. They just exist in
+soot. Some of them here never saw green fields before today."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smiles listened and beamed and twinkled until Miss Cordelia felt
+almost as dazzled as if she were looking at the sun.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, ma'am, I like this plan of yours and I want to have a hand
+in helping it along. Bring your loads of children out here every
+Saturday, right here to Beechwood Farm, and turn them loose in my
+beech woods and upland pastures. I'll put up some swings for them and
+have some games, and I'll provide the refreshments also. Trouble,
+ma'am? No, trouble and I ain't on speaking terms. It'll be a pleasure,
+ma'am. I'm fond of children even if I am a grumpy cross-grained old
+bachelor. If you can give up your own holiday to give them a good
+time, surely I can do something too."</p>
+
+<p>When Miss Cordelia and her brood of tired, happy little lads and
+lasses ambled back to town in the golden dusk she felt that the
+expedition had been an emphatic success. Even old Nap seemed to jog
+along eye-deep in satisfaction. Probably he was ruminating on the
+glorious afternoon he had spent in Mr. Smiles's clover pasture.</p>
+
+<p>Every fine Saturday that summer Miss Cordelia took some of the factory
+children to the country. The Point Pleasant people nicknamed her
+equipage "Miss Cordelia's accommodation," and it became a mild
+standing joke.</p>
+
+<p>As for Mr. Smiles, he proved a valuable assistant. Like Miss Cordelia,
+he gave his Saturdays over to the children, and high weekly revel was
+held at Beechwood Farm.</p>
+
+<p>But when the big bronze and golden leaves began to fall in the beech
+woods, Miss Cordelia sorrowfully realized that the summer was over and
+that the weekly outings which she had enjoyed as much as the children
+must soon be discontinued.</p>
+
+<p>"I feel so sorry," she told Mr. Smiles, "but it can't be helped. It
+will soon be too cold for our jaunts and of course I can't keep Nap
+through the winter. I hate to part with him, I've grown so fond of
+him, but I must."</p>
+
+<p>She looked regretfully at Nap, who was nibbling Mr. Smiles's clover
+aftermath. He was sleek and glossy. It had been the golden summer of
+Nap's life.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smiles coughed in an embarrassed fashion. Miss Cordelia looked at
+him and was amazed to see that not a smile was on or about his face.
+He looked absurdly serious.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to buy Nap," he said in a sepulchral tone, "but that is not
+the only thing I want. I want you too, ma'am. I'm tired of being a
+cross old bachelor. I think I'd like to be a cross old husband, for a
+change. Do you think you could put up with me in that capacity, Miss
+Cordelia, my dear?"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Cordelia gave a half gasp and then she had to laugh. "Oh, Mr.
+Smiles, I'll agree to anything if you'll only smile again. It seems
+unnatural to see you look so solemn."</p>
+
+<p>The smiles at once broke loose and revelled over her wooer's face.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you will come?" he said eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour later they had their plans made. At New Year's Miss
+Cordelia was to leave her school and sooty Pottstown and come to be
+mistress of Beechwood Farm.</p>
+
+<p>"And look here," said Mr. Smiles. "Every fine Saturday you shall have
+a big, roomy sleigh and Nap, and drive into town for some children and
+bring them out here for their weekly treat as usual. The house is
+large enough to hold them, goodness knows, and if it isn't there are
+the barns for the overflow. This is going to be our particular pet
+charity all our lives, ma'am&mdash;I mean Cordelia, my dear."</p>
+
+<p>"Blessings on old Nap," said Miss Cordelia with a happy light in her
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"He shall live in clover for the rest of his days," added Mr. Smiles
+smilingly.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="Neds_Stroke_of_Business" id="Neds_Stroke_of_Business"></a><hr />
+<br />
+
+<h2>Ned's Stroke of Business<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>"Jump in, Ned; I can give you a lift if you're going my way." Mr.
+Rogers reined up his prancing grey horse, and Ned Allen sprang lightly
+into the comfortable cutter. The next minute they were flying down the
+long, glistening road, rosy-white in the sunset splendour. The first
+snow of the season had come, and the sleighing was, as Ned said,
+"dandy."</p>
+
+<p>"Going over to Windsor, I suppose," said Mr. Rogers, with a glance at
+the skates that were hanging over Ned's shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir; all the Carleton boys are going over tonight. The moon is
+out, and the ice is good. We have to go in a body, or the Windsor
+fellows won't leave us alone. There's safety in numbers."</p>
+
+<p>"Pretty hard lines when boys have to go six miles for a skate,"
+commented Mr. Rogers.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's that or nothing," laughed Ned. "There isn't a saucerful of
+ice any nearer, except that small pond in Old Dutcher's field, behind
+his barn. And you know Old Dutcher won't allow a boy to set foot
+there. He says they would knock down his fences climbing over them,
+and like as not set fire to his barn."</p>
+
+<p>"Old Dutcher was always a crank," said Mr. Rogers, "and doubtless will
+be to the end. By the way, I heard a rumour to the effect that you are
+soon going to take a course at the business college in Trenton. I hope
+it's true."</p>
+
+<p>Ned's frank face clouded over. "I'm afraid not, sir. The truth is, I
+guess Mother can't afford it. Of course, Aunt Ella has very kindly
+offered to board me free for the term, but fees, books, and so on
+would require at least fifty dollars. I don't expect to go."</p>
+
+<p>"That's a pity. Can't you earn the necessary money yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>Ned shook his head. "Not much chance for that in Carleton, Mr. Rogers.
+I've cudgelled my brains for the past month trying to think of some
+way, but in vain. Well, here is the crossroad, so I must get off.
+Thank you for the drive, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Keep on thinking, Ned," advised Mr. Rogers, as the lad jumped out.
+"Perhaps you'll hit on some plan yet to earn that money, and if you
+do&mdash;well, it will prove that you have good stuff in you."</p>
+
+<p>"I think it would," laughed Ned to himself, as he trudged away. "A
+quiet little farming village in winter isn't exactly a promising field
+for financial operations."</p>
+
+<p>At Winterby Corners Ned found a crowd of boys waiting for him, and
+soon paired off with his chum, Jim Slocum. Jim, as usual, was
+grumbling because they had to go all the way to Windsor to skate.</p>
+
+<p>"Like as not we'll get into a free fight with the Windsorites when we
+get there, and be chevied off the ice," he complained.</p>
+
+<p>The rivalry which existed between the Carleton and the Windsor boys
+was bitter and of long standing.</p>
+
+<p>"We ought to be able to hold our own tonight," said Ned. "There'll be
+thirty of us there."</p>
+
+<p>"If we could only get Old Dutcher to let us skate on his pond!" said
+Jim. "It wouldn't hurt his old pond! And the ice is always splendid on
+it. I'd give a lot if we could only go there."</p>
+
+<p>Ned was silent. A sudden idea had come to him. He wondered if it were
+feasible. "Anyhow, I'll try it," he said to himself. "I'll interview
+Old Dutcher tomorrow."</p>
+
+<p>The skating that night was not particularly successful. The small pond
+at Windsor was crowded, the Windsor boys being out in force and,
+although no positive disturbance arose, they contrived to make matters
+unpleasant for the Carletonites, who tramped moodily homeward in no
+very good humour, most of them declaring that, skating or no skating,
+they would not go to Windsor again.</p>
+
+<p>The next day Ned Allen went down to see Mr. Dutcher, or Old Dutcher,
+as he was universally called in Carleton. Ned did not exactly look
+forward to the interview with pleasure. Old Dutcher was a crank&mdash;there
+was no getting around that fact. He had "good days" occasionally when,
+for him, he was fairly affable, but they were few and far between, and
+Ned had no reason to hope that this would be one. Old Dutcher was
+unmarried, and his widowed sister kept house for him. This poor lady
+had a decidedly lonely life of it, for Old Dutcher studiously
+discouraged visitors. His passion for solitude was surpassed only by
+his eagerness to make and save money. Although he was well-to-do, he
+would wrangle over a cent, and was the terror of all who had ever had
+dealings with him.</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately for Ned and his project, this did turn out to be one of
+Old Dutcher's good days. He had just concluded an advantageous bargain
+with a Windsor cattle-dealer, and hence he received Ned with what, for
+Old Dutcher, might be called absolute cordiality. Besides, although
+Old Dutcher disliked all boys on principle, he disliked Ned less than
+the rest because the boy had always treated him respectfully and had
+never played any tricks on him on Hallowe'en or April Fool's Day.</p>
+
+<p>"I've come down to see you on a little matter of business, Mr.
+Dutcher," said Ned, boldly and promptly. It never did to beat about
+the bush with Old Dutcher; you had to come straight to the point. "I
+want to know if you will rent your pond behind the barn to me for a
+skating-rink."</p>
+
+<p>Old Dutcher's aspect was certainly not encouraging. "No, I won't. You
+ought to know that. I never allow anyone to skate there. I ain't going
+to have a parcel of whooping, yelling youngsters tearing over my
+fences, disturbing my sleep at nights, and like as not setting fire to
+my barns. No, sir! I ain't going to rent that pond for no
+skating-rink."</p>
+
+<p>Ned smothered a smile. "Just wait a moment, Mr. Dutcher," he said
+respectfully. "I want you to hear my proposition before you refuse
+definitely. First, I'll give you ten dollars for the rent of the pond;
+then I'll see that there will be no running over your fields and
+climbing your fences, no lighting of fire or matches about it, and no
+'whooping and yelling' at nights. My rink will be open only from two
+to six in the afternoon and from seven to ten in the evening. During
+that time I shall always be at the pond to keep everything in order.
+The skaters will come and go by the lane leading from the barn to the
+road. I think that if you agree to my proposition, Mr. Dutcher, you
+will not regret it."</p>
+
+<p>"What's to prevent my running such a rink myself?" asked Old Dutcher
+gruffly.</p>
+
+<p>"It wouldn't pay you, Mr. Dutcher," answered Ned promptly. "The
+Carleton boys wouldn't patronize a rink run by you."</p>
+
+<p>Old Dutcher's eyes twinkled. It did not displease him to know that the
+Carleton boys hated him. In fact, it seemed as if he rather liked it.</p>
+
+<p>"Besides," went on Ned, "you couldn't afford the time. You couldn't be
+on the pond for eight hours a day and until ten o'clock at night. I
+can, as I've nothing else to do just now. If I had, I wouldn't have to
+be trying to make money by a skating-rink."</p>
+
+<p>Old Dutcher scowled. Ten dollars was ten dollars and, as Ned had said,
+he knew very well that he could not run a rink by himself. "Well," he
+said, half reluctantly, "I suppose I'll let you go ahead. Only
+remember I'll hold you responsible if anything happens."</p>
+
+<p>Ned went home in high spirits. By the next day he had placards out in
+conspicuous places&mdash;on the schoolhouse, at the forge, at Mr. Rogers's
+store, and at Winterby Corners&mdash;announcing that he had rented Mr.
+Dutcher's pond for a skating-rink, and that tickets for the same at
+twenty-five cents a week for each skater could be had upon application
+to him.</p>
+
+<p>Ned was not long left in doubt as to the success of his enterprise. It
+was popular from the start. There were about fifty boys in Carleton
+and Winterby, and they all patronized the rink freely. At first Ned
+had some trouble with two or three rowdies, who tried to evade his
+rules. He was backed up, however, by Old Dutcher's reputation and by
+the public opinion of the other boys, as well as by his own undoubted
+muscle, and soon had everything going smoothly. The rink flourished
+amain, and everybody, even Old Dutcher, was highly pleased.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of the season Ned paid Old Dutcher his ten dollars, and had
+plenty left to pay for books and tuition at the business college in
+Trenton. On the eve of his departure Mr. Rogers, who had kept a keen
+eye on Ned's enterprise, again picked him up on the road.</p>
+
+<p>"So you found a way after all, Ned," he said genially. "I had an idea
+you would. My bookkeeper will be leaving me about the time you will be
+through at the college. I will be wanting in his place a young man
+with a good nose for business, and I rather think that you will be
+that young man. What do you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, sir," stammered Ned, scarcely believing his ears. A
+position in Mr. Rogers's store meant good salary and promotion. He had
+never dared to hope for such good fortune. "If you&mdash;think I can give
+satisfaction&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You manipulated Old Dutcher, and you've earned enough in a very
+slow-going place to put you through your business-college term, so I
+am sure you are the man I'm looking for. I believe in helping those
+who have 'gumption' enough to help themselves, so we'll call it a
+bargain, Ned."</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="Our_Runaway_Kite" id="Our_Runaway_Kite"></a><hr />
+<br />
+
+<h2>Our Runaway Kite<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>Of course there was nobody for us to play with on the Big Half Moon,
+but then, as Claude says, you can't have everything. We just had to
+make the most of each other, and we did.</p>
+
+<p>The Big Half Moon is miles from anywhere, except the Little Half Moon.
+But nobody lives there, so that doesn't count.</p>
+
+<p>We live on the Big Half Moon. "We" are Father and Claude and I and
+Aunt Esther and Mimi and Dick. It used to be only Father and Claude
+and I. It is all on account of the kite that there are more of us.
+This is what I want to tell you about.</p>
+
+<p>Father is the keeper of the Big Half Moon lighthouse. He has always
+been the keeper ever since I can remember, although that isn't very
+long. I am only eleven years old. Claude is twelve.</p>
+
+<p>In winter, when the harbour is frozen over, there isn't any need of a
+light on the Big Half Moon, and we all move over to the mainland, and
+Claude and Mimi and Dick and I go to school. But as soon as spring
+comes, back we sail to our own dear island, so glad that we don't know
+what to do with ourselves.</p>
+
+<p>The funny part used to be that people always pitied us when the time
+came for us to return. They said we must be so lonesome over there,
+with no other children near us, and not even a woman to look after us.</p>
+
+<p>Why, Claude and I were never lonesome. There was always so much to do,
+and Claude is splendid at making believe. He makes the very best
+pirate chief I ever saw. Dick is pretty good, but he can never roar
+out his orders in the bloodcurdling tones that Claude can.</p>
+
+<p>Of course Claude and I would have liked to have someone to play with
+us, because it is hard to run pirate caves and things like that with
+only two. But we used to quarrel a good deal with the mainland
+children in winter, so perhaps it was just as well that there were
+none of them on the Big Half Moon. Claude and I never quarrelled. We
+used to argue sometimes and get excited, but that was as far as it
+ever went. When I saw Claude getting too excited I gave in to him. He
+is a boy, you know, and they have to be humoured; they are not like
+girls.</p>
+
+<p>As for having a woman to look after us, I thought that just too silly,
+and so did Claude. What did we need with a woman when we had Father?
+He could cook all we wanted to eat and make molasses taffy that was
+just like a dream. He kept our clothes all mended, and everything
+about the lighthouse was neat as wax. Of course I helped him lots. I
+like pottering round.</p>
+
+<p>He used to hear our lessons and tell us splendid stories and saw that
+we always said our prayers. Claude and I wouldn't have done anything
+to make him feel bad for the world. Father is just lovely.</p>
+
+<p>To be sure, he didn't seem to have any relations except us. This used
+to puzzle Claude and me. Everybody on the mainland had relations; why
+hadn't we? Was it because we lived on an island? We thought it would
+be so jolly to have an uncle and aunt and some cousins. Once we asked
+Father about it, but he looked so sorrowful all of a sudden that we
+wished we hadn't. He said it was all his fault. I didn't see how that
+could be, but I never said anything more about it to Father. Still, I
+did wish we had some relations.</p>
+
+<p>It is always lovely out here on the Big Half Moon in summer. When it
+is fine the harbour is blue and calm, with little winds and ripples
+purring over it, and the mainland shores look like long blue lands
+where fairies dwell. Away out over the bar, where the big ships go, it
+is always hazy and pearl-tinted, like the inside of the mussel shells.
+Claude says he is going to sail out there when he grows up. I would
+like to too, but Claude says I can't because I'm a girl. It is
+dreadfully inconvenient to be a girl at times.</p>
+
+<p>When it storms it is grand to see the great waves come crashing up
+against the Big Half Moon as if they meant to swallow it right down.
+You can't see the Little Half Moon at all then; it is hidden by the
+mist and spume.</p>
+
+<p>We had our pirate cave away up among the rocks, where we kept an old
+pistol with the lock broken, a rusty cutlass, a pair of knee boots,
+and Claude's jute beard and wig. Down on the shore, around one of the
+horns of the Half Moon, was the Mermaid's Pool, where we sailed our
+toy boats and watched for sea kelpies. We never saw any. Dick says
+there is no such thing as a kelpy. But then Dick has no imagination.
+It is no argument against a thing that you've never seen it. I have
+never seen the pyramids, either, but I know that there are pyramids.</p>
+
+<p>Every summer we had some hobby. The last summer before Dick and Mimi
+came we were crazy about kites. A winter boy on the mainland showed
+Claude how to make them, and when we went back to the Big Half Moon we
+made kites galore. Even pirating wasn't such good fun. Claude would go
+around to the other side of the Big Half Moon and we would play
+shipwrecked mariners signalling to each other with kites. Oh, it was
+very exciting.</p>
+
+<p>We had one kite that was a dandy. It was as big as we could make it
+and covered with lovely red paper; we had pasted gold tinsel stars all
+over it and written our names out in full on it&mdash;Claude Martin Leete
+and Philippa Brewster Leete, Big Half Moon Lighthouse. That kite had
+the most magnificent tail, too.</p>
+
+<p>It used to scare the gulls nearly to death when we sent up our kites.
+They didn't know what to make of them. And the Big Half Moon is such a
+place for gulls&mdash;there are hundreds of them here.</p>
+
+<p>One day there was a grand wind for kite-flying, and Claude and I were
+having a splendid time. We used our smaller kites for signalling, and
+when we got tired of that Claude sent me to the house for the big
+one. I'm sure I don't know how it happened, but when I was coming back
+over the rocks I tripped and fell, and my elbow went clear through
+that lovely kite. You would never have believed that one small elbow
+could make such a big hole. Claude said it was just like a girl to
+fall and stick her elbow through a kite, but I don't see why it should
+be any more like a girl than a boy. Do you?</p>
+
+<p>We had to hurry to fix the kite if we wanted to send it up before the
+wind fell, so we rushed into the lighthouse to get some paper. We knew
+there was no more red paper, and the looks of the kite were spoiled,
+anyhow, so we just took the first thing that came handy&mdash;an old letter
+that was lying on the bookcase in the sitting-room. I suppose we
+shouldn't have taken it, although, as matters turned out, it was the
+best thing we could have done; but Father was away to the mainland to
+buy things, and we never thought it could make any difference about an
+old yellow letter. It was one Father had taken from a drawer in the
+bookcase which he had cleaned out the night before. We patched the
+kite up with the letter, a sheet on each side, and dried it by the
+fire. Then we started out, and up went the kite like a bird. The wind
+was glorious, and it soared and strained like something alive. All at
+once&mdash;snap! And there was Claude, standing with a bit of cord in his
+hand, looking as foolish as a flatfish, and our kite sailing along at
+a fearful rate of speed over to the mainland.</p>
+
+<p>I might have said to Claude, So like a boy! but I didn't. Instead, I
+sympathized with him, and pointed out that it really didn't matter
+because I had spoiled it by jabbing my elbow through it. By this time
+the kite was out of sight, and we never expected to see or hear of it
+again.</p>
+
+<br />
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+<br />
+
+<p>A month later a letter came to the Big Half Moon for Father. Jake
+Wiggins brought it over in his sloop. Father went off by himself to
+read it, and such a queer-looking face as he had when he came back!
+His eyes looked as if he had been crying, but that couldn't be, I
+suppose, because Claude says men never cry. Anyhow, his face was all
+glad and soft and smiley.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you two young pirates and freebooters want to know what has become
+of your kite?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>Then he sat down beside us on the rocks at the Mermaid's Pool and told
+us the whole story, and read his letter to us. It was the most amazing
+thing.</p>
+
+<p>It seems Father had had relations after all&mdash;a brother and a sister in
+particular. But when he was a young man he quarrelled with his
+brother, who didn't treat him very well&mdash;but he's been dead for years,
+so I won't say a word against him&mdash;and had gone away from home. He
+never went back, and he never even let them know he was living.</p>
+
+<p>Father says that this was very wrong of him, and I suppose it was,
+since he says so; but I don't see how Father could do anything wrong.</p>
+
+<p>Anyway, he had a sister Esther whom he loved very much; but he felt
+bitter against her too, because he thought she took his brother's part
+too much. So, though a letter of hers, asking him to go back, did
+reach him, he never answered it, and he never heard anything more.
+Years afterward he felt sorry and went back, but his brother was dead
+and his sister had gone away, and he couldn't find out a single thing
+about her.</p>
+
+<p>So much for that; and now about the kite. The letter Father had just
+received was from his sister, our Aunt Esther and the mother of Dick
+and Mimi. She was living at a place hundreds of miles inland. Her
+husband was dead and, as we found out later, although she did not say
+a word about it in the letter, she was very poor. One day when Dick
+and Mimi were out in the woods looking for botany specimens they saw
+something funny in the top of a tree. Dick climbed up and got it. It
+was a big red kite with a patch on each side and names written on it.
+They carried it home to their mother. Dick has since told us that she
+turned as pale as the dead when she saw our names on it. You see,
+Philippa was her mother's name and Claude was her father's. And when
+she read the letter that was pasted over the hole in the kite she knew
+who we must be, for it was the very letter she had written to her
+brother so long ago. So she sat right down and wrote again, and this
+was the letter Jake Wiggins brought to the Big Half Moon. It was a
+beautiful letter. I loved Aunt Esther before I ever saw her, just from
+that letter.</p>
+
+<p>Next day Father got Jake to take his place for a few days, and he left
+Claude and me over on the mainland while he went to see Aunt Esther.
+When he came back he brought Aunt Esther and Dick and Mimi with him,
+and they have been here ever since.</p>
+
+<p>You don't know how splendid it is! Aunt Esther is such a dear, and
+Dick and Mimi are too jolly for words. They love the Big Half Moon as
+well as Claude and I do, and Dick makes a perfectly elegant
+shipwrecked mariner.</p>
+
+<p>But the best of it all is that we have relations now!</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="The_Bride_Roses" id="The_Bride_Roses"></a><hr />
+<br />
+
+<h2>The Bride Roses<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>Miss Corona awoke that June morning with a sigh, the cause of which
+she was at first too sleepy to understand. Then it all came over her
+with a little sickening rush; she had fallen asleep with tear-wet
+lashes the night before on account of it.</p>
+
+<p>This was Juliet Gordon's wedding day, and she, Miss Corona, could not
+go to the wedding and was not even invited, all because of the
+Quarrel, a generation old, and so chronic and bitter and terrible that
+it always presented itself to Miss Corona's mental vision as spelled
+with a capital. Well might Miss Corona hate it. It had shut her up
+into a lonely life for long years. Juliet Gordon and Juliet's father,
+Meredith Gordon, were the only relations Miss Corona had in the world,
+and the old family feud divided them by a gulf which now seemed
+impassable.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Corona turned over on her pillows, lifted one corner of the white
+window-blind and peeped out. Below her a river of early sunshine was
+flowing through the garden, and the far-away slopes were translucent
+green in their splendour of young day, with gauzy, uncertain mists
+lingering, spiritlike, in their intervales. A bird, his sleek plumage
+iridescent in the sunlight, was perched on the big chestnut bough that
+ran squarely across the window, singing as if his heart would burst
+with melody and the joy of his tiny life. No bride could have wished
+anything fairer for her day of days, and Miss Corona dropped back on
+her pillows with another gentle sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm so glad that the dear child has a fine day to be married," she
+said.</p>
+
+<p>Juliet Gordon was always "dear child" to Miss Corona, although the two
+had never spoken to each other in their lives.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Corona was a brisk and early riser as a rule, with a genuine
+horror of lazy people who lay late abed or took over-long to get their
+eyes well opened, but this morning she made no hurry about rising,
+even though scurrying footsteps, banging doors, and over-loud tinkling
+of dishes in the room below betokened that Charlotta was already up
+and about. And Charlotta, as poor Miss Corona knew only too well, was
+fatally sure to do something unfortunate if she were not under some
+careful, overseeing eye. To be sure, Charlotta's intentions were
+always good.</p>
+
+<p>But Miss Corona was not thinking about Charlotta this morning, and she
+felt so strong a distaste for her lonely, purposeless life that she
+was in no haste to go forth to meet another day of it.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Corona felt just the least little bit tired of living, although
+she feared it was very wicked of her to feel so. She lay there
+listlessly for half an hour longer, looking through a mist of tears at
+the portrait of her stern old father hanging on the wall at the foot
+of the bed, and thinking over the Quarrel.</p>
+
+<p>It had happened thirty years ago, when Miss Corona had been a girl of
+twenty, living alone with her father at the old Gordon homestead on
+the hill, with the big black spruce grove behind it on the north and
+far-reaching slopes of green fields before it on the south. Down in
+the little northern valley below the spruce grove lived her uncle,
+Alexis Gordon. His son, Meredith, had seemed to Corona as her own
+brother. The mothers of both were dead; neither had any other brother
+or sister. The two children had grown up together, playmates and
+devoted friends. There had never been any sentiment or lovemaking
+between them to mar a perfect comradeship. They were only the best of
+friends, whatever plans the fathers might have cherished for the union
+of their estates and children, putting the property consideration
+first, as the Gordons were always prone to do.</p>
+
+<p>But, if Roderick and Alexis Gordon had any such plans, all went by the
+board when they quarreled. Corona shivered yet over the bitterness of
+that time. The Gordons never did anything half-heartedly. The strife
+between the two brothers was determined and irreconcilable.</p>
+
+<p>Corona's father forbade her to speak to her uncle and cousin or to
+hold any communication with them. Corona wept and obeyed him. She had
+always obeyed her father; it had never entered into her mind to do
+anything else. Meredith had resented her attitude hotly, and from that
+day they had never spoken or met, while the years came and went, each
+making a little wider and more hopeless the gulf of coldness and anger
+and distrust.</p>
+
+<p>Ten years later Roderick Gordon died, and in five months Alexis Gordon
+followed him to the grave. The two brothers who had hated each other
+so unyieldingly in life slept very peaceably side by side in the old
+Gordon plot of the country graveyard, but their rancour still served
+to embitter the lives of their descendants.</p>
+
+<p>Corona, with a half-guilty sense of disloyalty to her father, hoped
+that she and Meredith might now be friends again. He was married, and
+had one little daughter. In her new and intolerable loneliness
+Corona's heart yearned after her own people. But she was too timid to
+make any advances, and Meredith never made any. Corona believed that
+he hated her, and let slip her last fluttering hope that the old
+breach would ever be healed.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear! oh, dear!" she sobbed softly into her pillows. It seemed a
+terrible thing to her that one of her race and kin was to be married
+and she could not be present at the ceremony, she who had never seen a
+Gordon bride.</p>
+
+<p>When Miss Corona went downstairs at last, she found Charlotta sobbing
+in the kitchen porch. The small handmaiden was doubled up on the
+floor, with her face muffled in her gingham apron and her long braids
+of red hair hanging with limp straightness down her back. When
+Charlotta was in good spirits, they always hung perkily over each
+shoulder, tied up with enormous bows of sky-blue ribbon.</p>
+
+<p>"What have you done this time?" asked Miss Corona, without the
+slightest intention of being humorous or sarcastic.</p>
+
+<p>"I've&mdash;I've bruk your green and yaller bowl," sniffed Charlotta.
+"Didn't mean to, Miss C'rona. It jest slipped out so fashion 'fore I
+c'd grab holt on it. And it's bruk into forty millyun pieces. Ain't I
+the onluckiest girl?"</p>
+
+<p>"You certainly are," sighed Miss Corona. At any other time she would
+have been filled with dismay over the untoward fate of her green and
+yellow bowl, which had belonged to her great-grandmother and had stood
+on the hall table to hold flowers as long as she could remember. But
+just now her heart was so sore over the Quarrel that there was no room
+for other regrets. "Well, well, crying won't mend it. I suppose it is
+a judgment on me for staying abed so late. Go and sweep up the pieces,
+and do try and be a little more careful, Charlotte."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes'm," said Charlotta meekly. She dared not resent being called
+Charlotte just then. "And I'll tell you what I'll do, ma'am, to make
+up, I'll go and weed the garden. Yes'm, I'll do it beautiful."</p>
+
+<p>"And pull up more flowers than weeds," Miss Corona reflected
+mournfully. But it did not matter; nothing mattered. She saw Charlotta
+sally forth into the garden with a determined, do-or-die expression
+surmounting her freckles, without feeling interest enough to go and
+make sure that she did not root out all the late asters in her tardy
+and wilfully postponed warfare on weeds.</p>
+
+<p>This mood lasted until the afternoon. Then Miss Corona, whose heart
+and thoughts were still down in the festive house in the valley,
+roused herself enough to go out and see what Charlotta was doing.
+After finding out, she wandered idly about the rambling, old-fashioned
+place, which was full of nooks and surprises. At every turn you might
+stumble on some clump or tangle of sweetness, showering elusive
+fragrance on the air, that you would never have suspected. Nothing in
+the garden was planted quite where it should be, yet withal it was the
+most delightful spot imaginable.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Corona pushed her way into the cherry-tree copse, and followed a
+tiny, overgrown path to a sunshiny corner beyond. She had not been
+there since last summer; the little path was getting almost
+impassable. When she emerged from the cherry trees, somewhat rumpled
+and pulled about in hair and attire, but attended, as if by a
+benediction, by the aromatic breath of the mint she had trodden on,
+she gave a little cry and stood quite still, gazing at the rosebush
+that grew in the corner. It was so large and woody that it seemed more
+like a tree than a bush, and it was snowed over with a splendour of
+large, pure white roses.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear life," whispered Miss Corona tremulously, as she tiptoed towards
+it. "The bride roses have bloomed again! How very strange! Why, there
+has not been a rose on that tree for twenty years."</p>
+
+<p>The rosebush had been planted there by Corona's great-grandmother, the
+lady of the green and yellow bowl. It was a new variety, brought out
+from Scotland by Mary Gordon, and it bore large white roses which
+three generations of Gordon brides had worn on their wedding day. It
+had come to be a family tradition among the Gordons that no luck would
+attend the bride who did not carry a white rose from Mary Gordon's
+rose-tree.</p>
+
+<p>Long years ago the tree had given up blooming, nor could all the
+pruning and care given it coax a single blossom from it. Miss Corona,
+tinctured with the superstition apt to wait on a lonely womanhood,
+believed in her heart that the rosebush had a secret sympathy with the
+fortunes of the Gordon women. She, the last of them on the old
+homestead, would never need the bride roses. Wherefore, then, should
+the old tree bloom? And now, after all these years, it had flung all
+its long-hoarded sweetness into blossom again. Miss Corona thrilled at
+the thought. The rosebush had bloomed again for a Gordon bride, but
+Miss Corona was sure there was another meaning in it too; she
+believed it foretokened some change in her own life, some
+rejuvenescence of love and beauty like to that of the ancient
+rose-tree. She bent over its foam of loveliness almost reverently.</p>
+
+<p>"They have bloomed for Juliet's wedding," she murmured. "A Gordon
+bride must wear the bride roses, indeed she must. And this&mdash;why, it is
+almost a miracle."</p>
+
+<p>She ran, light-footedly as a girl, to the house for scissors and a
+basket. She would send Juliet Gordon the bride roses. Her cheeks were
+pink from excitement as she snipped them off. How lovely they were!
+How very large and fragrant! It was as if all the grace and perfume
+and beauty and glory of those twenty lost summers were found here at
+once in them. When Miss Corona had them ready, she went to the door
+and called, "Charlotte! Charlotte!"</p>
+
+<p>Now Charlotta, having atoned to her conscience for the destruction of
+the green and yellow bowl by faithfully weeding the garden, a task
+which she hated above all else, was singing a hymn among the sweet
+peas, and her red braids were over her shoulders. This ought to have
+warned Miss Corona, but Miss Corona was thinking of other things, and
+kept on calling patiently, while Charlotta weeded away for dear life,
+and seemed smitten with treble deafness.</p>
+
+<p>After a time Miss Corona remembered and sighed. She did hate to call
+the child that foolish name with its foreign sound. Just as if plain
+"Charlotte" were not good enough for her, and much more suitable to
+"Smith" too! Ordinarily Miss Corona would not have given in. But the
+case was urgent; she could not stand upon her dignity just now.</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotta!" she called entreatingly.</p>
+
+<p>Instantly Charlotta flew to the garden gate and raced up to the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes'm," she said meekly. "You want me, Miss C'rona?"</p>
+
+<p>"Take this box down to Miss Juliet Gordon, and ask that it be given to
+her at once," said Miss Corona, "Don't loiter, Charlotta. Don't stop
+to pick gum in the grove, or eat sours in the dike, or poke sticks
+through the bridge, or&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But Charlotta had gone.</p>
+
+<br />
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+<br />
+
+<p>Down in the valley, the other Gordon house was in a hum of excitement.
+Upstairs Juliet had gone to her invalid mother's room to show herself
+in her wedding dress to the pale little lady lying on the sofa. She
+was a tall, stately young girl with the dark grey Gordon eyes and the
+pure creaminess of colouring, flawless as a lily petal. Her face was a
+very sweet one, and the simple white dress she wore became her dainty,
+flowerlike beauty as nothing elaborate could have done.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not going to put on my veil until the last moment," she said
+laughingly. "I would feel married right away if I did. And oh, Mother
+dear, isn't it too bad? My roses haven't come. Father is back from the
+station, and they were not there. I am so disappointed. Romney
+ordered pure white roses because I said a Gordon bride must carry
+nothing else. Come in"&mdash;as a knock sounded at the door.</p>
+
+<p>Laura Burton, Juliet's cousin and bridesmaid, entered with a box.</p>
+
+<p>"Juliet dear, the funniest little red-headed girl with the most
+enormous freckles has just brought this for you. I haven't an idea
+where she came from; she looked like a messenger from pixy-land."</p>
+
+<p>Juliet opened the box and gave a cry.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mother, look&mdash;look! What perfect roses! Who could have sent them?
+Oh, here's a note from&mdash;from&mdash;why, Mother, it's from Cousin Corona."</p>
+
+<div class="block"><p>"My dear child," ran the letter in Miss Corona's fine,
+old-fashioned script. "I am sending you the Gordon bride roses.
+The rose-tree has bloomed for the first time in twenty years, my
+dear, and it must surely be in honour of your wedding day. I
+hope you will wear them for, although I have never known you, I
+love you very much. I was once a dear friend of your father's.
+Tell him to let you wear the roses I send for old times' sake. I
+wish you every happiness, my dear.</p>
+
+<p class="right">"Your affectionate cousin,<br />
+"Corona Gordon."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Oh, how sweet and lovely of her!" said Juliet gently, as she laid the
+letter down. "And to think she was not even invited! I wanted to send
+her an invitation, but Father said it would be better not to&mdash;she was
+so hard and bitter against us that she would probably regard it as an
+insult."</p>
+
+<p>"He must have been mistaken about her attitude," said Mrs. Gordon. "It
+certainly is a great pity she was not invited, but it is too late now.
+An invitation sent two hours before the ceremony would be an insult
+indeed."</p>
+
+<p>"Not if the bride herself took it!" exclaimed Juliet impulsively.
+"I'll go myself to Cousin Corona, and ask her to come to my wedding."</p>
+
+<p>"Go yourself! Child, you can't do such a thing! In that dress...."</p>
+
+<p>"Go I must, Momsie. Why, it's only a three minutes' walk. I'll go up
+the hill by the old field-path, and no one will see me. Oh, don't say
+a word&mdash;there, I'm gone!"</p>
+
+<p>"That child!" sighed the mother protestingly, as she heard Juliet's
+flying feet on the stairs. "What a thing for a bride to do!"</p>
+
+<p>Juliet, with her white silken skirts caught up above grasses and dust,
+ran light-footedly through the green lowland fields and up the hill,
+treading for the first time the faint old field-path between the two
+homes, so long disused that it was now barely visible in its fringing
+grasses and star-dust of buttercups. Where it ran into the spruce
+grove was a tiny gate which Miss Corona had always kept in good
+repair, albeit it was never used. Juliet pushed up the rusty hasp and
+ran through.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Corona was sitting alone in her shadowy parlour, hanging over a
+few of the bride roses with falling tears, when something tall and
+beautiful and white, came in like a blessing and knelt by her chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Cousin Corona," said a somewhat breathless bride, "I have come to
+thank you for your roses and ask you to forgive us all for the old
+quarrel."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear child," said Miss Corona out of her amazement, "there is nothing
+to forgive. I've loved you all and longed for you. Dear child, you
+have brought me great happiness."</p>
+
+<p>"And you must come to my wedding," cried Juliet. "Oh, you must&mdash;or I
+shall think you have not really forgiven us. You would never refuse
+the request of a bride, Cousin Corona. We are queens on our wedding
+day, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it's not that, dear child&mdash;but I'm not dressed&mdash;I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll help you dress. And I won't go back without you. The guests and
+the minister must wait if necessary&mdash;yes, even Romney must wait. Oh, I
+want you to meet Romney. Come, dear."</p>
+
+<p>And Miss Corona went. Charlotta and the bride got her into her grey
+silk and did her hair, and in a very short time she and Juliet were
+hurrying down the old field-path. In the hollow Meredith Gordon met
+them.</p>
+
+<p>"Cousin Meredith," said Miss Corona tremulously.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Corona."</p>
+
+<p>He took both her hands in his, and kissed her heartily. "Forgive me
+for misunderstanding you so long. I thought you hated us all."</p>
+
+<p>Turning to Juliet, he said with a fatherly smile,</p>
+
+<p>"What a terrible girl it is for having its own way! Who ever heard of
+a Gordon bride doing such an unconventional thing? There, scamper off
+to the house before your guests come. Laura has made your roses up
+into what she calls 'a dream of a bouquet,' I'll take Cousin Corona up
+more leisurely."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I knew that something beautiful was going to happen when the old
+rose-tree bloomed," murmured Miss Corona happily.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="The_Josephs_Christmas" id="The_Josephs_Christmas"></a><hr />
+<br />
+
+<h2>The Josephs' Christmas<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>The month before Christmas was always the most exciting and mysterious
+time in the Joseph household. Such scheming and planning, such putting
+of curly heads together in corners, such counting of small hoards,
+such hiding and smuggling of things out of sight, as went on among the
+little Josephs!</p>
+
+<p>There were a good many of them, and very few of the pennies; hence the
+reason for so much contriving and consulting. From fourteen-year-old
+Mollie down to four-year-old Lennie there were eight small Josephs in
+all in the little log house on the prairie; so that when each little
+Joseph wanted to give a Christmas box to each of the other little
+Josephs, and something to Father and Mother Joseph besides, it is no
+wonder that they had to cudgel their small brains for ways and means
+thereof.</p>
+
+<p>Father and Mother were always discreetly blind and silent through
+December. No questions were asked no matter what queer things were
+done. Many secret trips to the little store at the railway station two
+miles away were ignored, and no little Joseph was called to account
+because he or she looked terribly guilty when somebody suddenly came
+into the room. The air was simply charged with secrets.</p>
+
+<p>Sister Mollie was the grand repository of these; all the little
+Josephs came to her for advice and assistance. It was Mollie who for
+troubled small brothers and sisters did such sums in division as this:
+How can I get a ten-cent present for Emmy and a fifteen-cent one for
+Jimmy out of eighteen cents? Or, how can seven sticks of candy be
+divided among eight people so that each shall have one? It was Mollie
+who advised regarding the purchase of ribbon and crepe paper. It was
+Mollie who put the finishing touches to most of the little gifts. In
+short, all through December Mollie was weighed down under an avalanche
+of responsibility. It speaks volumes for her sagacity and skill that
+she never got things mixed up or made any such terrible mistake as
+letting one little Joseph find out what another was going to give
+him. "Dead" secrecy was the keystone of all plans and confidences.</p>
+
+<p>During this particular December the planning and contriving had been
+more difficult and the results less satisfactory than usual. The
+Josephs were poor at any time, but this winter they were poorer than
+ever. The crops had failed in the summer, and as a consequence the
+family were, as Jimmy said, "on short commons." But they made the
+brave best of their small resources, and on Christmas Eve every little
+Joseph went to bed with a clear conscience, for was there not on the
+corner table in the kitchen a small mountain of tiny&mdash;sometimes very
+tiny&mdash;gifts labelled with the names of recipients and givers, and
+worth their weight in gold if love and good wishes count for anything?</p>
+
+<p>It was beginning to snow when the small small Josephs went to bed, and
+when the big small Josephs climbed the stairs it was snowing thickly.
+Mr. and Mrs. Joseph sat before the fire and listened to the wind
+howling about the house.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad I'm not driving over the prairie tonight," said Mr. Joseph.
+"It's quite a storm. I hope it will be fine tomorrow, for the
+children's sake. They've set their hearts on having a sleigh ride, and
+it will be too bad if they can't have it when it's about all the
+Christmas they'll have this year. Mary, this is the first Christmas
+since we came west that we couldn't afford some little extras for
+them, even if 'twas only a box of nuts and candy."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Joseph sighed over Jimmy's worn jacket which she was mending.
+Then she smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind, John. Things will be better next Christmas, we'll hope.
+The children will not mind, bless their hearts. Look at all the little
+knick-knacks they've made for each other. Last week when I was over at
+Taunton, Mr. Fisher had his store all gayified up,' as Jim says, with
+Christmas presents. I did feel that I'd ask nothing better than to go
+in and buy all the lovely things I wanted, just for once, and give
+them to the children tomorrow morning. They've never had anything
+really nice for Christmas. But there! We've all got each other and
+good health and spirits, and a Christmas wouldn't be much without
+those if we had all the presents in the world."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Joseph nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"That's so. I don't want to grumble; but I tell you I did want to get
+Maggie a 'real live doll,' as she calls it. She never has had anything
+but homemade dolls, and that small heart of hers is set on a real one.
+There was one at Fisher's store today&mdash;a big beauty with real hair,
+and eyes that opened and shut. Just fancy Maggie's face if she saw
+such a Christmas box as that tomorrow morning."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't let's fancy it," laughed Mrs. Joseph, "it is only aggravating.
+Talking of candy reminds me that I made a big plateful of taffy for
+the children today. It's all the 'Christmassy' I could give them. I'll
+get it out and put it on the table along with the children's presents.
+That can't be someone at the door!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is, though," said Mr. Joseph as he strode to the door and flung it
+open.</p>
+
+<p>Two snowed-up figures were standing on the porch. As they stepped in,
+the Josephs recognized one of them as Mr. Ralston, a wealthy merchant
+in a small town fifteen miles away.</p>
+
+<p>"Late hour for callers, isn't it?" said Mr. Ralston. "The fact is, our
+horse has about given out, and the storm is so bad that we can't
+proceed. This is my wife, and we are on our way to spend Christmas
+with my brother's family at Lindsay. Can you take us in for the night,
+Mr. Joseph?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, and welcome!" exclaimed Mr. Joseph heartily, "if you don't
+mind a shakedown by the kitchen fire for the night. My, Mrs. Ralston,"
+as his wife helped her off with her things, "but you are snowed up!
+I'll see to putting your horse away, Mr. Ralston. This way, if you
+please."</p>
+
+<p>When the two men came stamping into the house again Mrs. Ralston and
+Mrs. Joseph were sitting at the fire, the former with a steaming hot
+cup of tea in her hand. Mr. Ralston put the big basket he was
+carrying down on a bench in the corner.</p>
+
+<p>"Thought I'd better bring our Christmas flummery in," he said. "You
+see, Mrs. Joseph, my brother has a big family, so we are taking them a
+lot of Santa Claus stuff. Mrs. Ralston packed this basket, and
+goodness knows what she put in it, but she half cleaned out my store.
+The eyes of the Lindsay youngsters will dance tomorrow&mdash;that is, if we
+ever get there."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Joseph gave a little sigh in spite of herself, and looked
+wistfully at the heap of gifts on the corner table. How meagre and
+small they did look, to be sure, beside that bulgy basket with its
+cover suggestively tied down.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Ralston looked too.</p>
+
+<p>"Santa Claus seems to have visited you already," she said with a
+smile.</p>
+
+<p>The Josephs laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Our Santa Claus is somewhat out of pocket this year," said Mr. Joseph
+frankly. "Those are the little things the small folks here have made
+for each other. They've been a month at it, and I'm always kind of
+relieved when Christmas is over and there are no more mysterious
+doings. We're in such cramped quarters here that you can't move
+without stepping on somebody's secret."</p>
+
+<p>A shakedown was spread in the kitchen for the unexpected guests, and
+presently the Ralstons found themselves alone. Mrs. Ralston went over
+to the Christmas table and looked at the little gifts half tenderly
+and half pityingly.</p>
+
+<p>"They're not much like the contents of our basket, are they?" she
+said, as she touched the calendar Jimmie had made for Mollie out of
+cardboard and autumn leaves and grasses.</p>
+
+<p>"Just what I was thinking," returned her husband, "and I was thinking
+of something else, too. I've a notion that I'd like to see some of the
+things in our basket right here on this table."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd like to see them all," said Mrs. Ralston promptly. "Let's just
+leave them here, Edward. Roger's family will have plenty of presents
+without them, and for that matter we can send them ours when we go
+back home."</p>
+
+<p>"Just as you say," agreed Mr. Ralston. "I like the idea of giving the
+small folk of this household a rousing good Christmas for once.
+They're poor I know, and I dare say pretty well pinched this year like
+most of the farmers hereabout after the crop failure."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Ralston untied the cover of the big basket. Then the two of them,
+moving as stealthily as if engaged in a burglary, transferred the
+contents to the table. Mr. Ralston got out a small pencil and a note
+book, and by dint of comparing the names attached to the gifts on the
+table they managed to divide theirs up pretty evenly among the little
+Josephs.</p>
+
+<p>When all was done Mrs. Ralston said, "Now, I'm going to spread that
+tablecloth carelessly over the table. We will be going before
+daylight, probably, and in the hurry of getting off I hope that Mr.
+and Mrs. Joseph will not notice the difference till we're gone."</p>
+
+<p>It fell out as Mrs. Ralston had planned. The dawn broke fine and clear
+over a vast white world. Mr. and Mrs. Joseph were early astir;
+breakfast for the storm-stayed travellers was cooked and eaten by
+lamplight; then the horse and sleigh were brought to the door and Mr.
+Ralston carried out his empty basket.</p>
+
+<p>"I expect the trail will be heavy," he said, "but I guess we'd get to
+Lindsay in time for dinner, anyway. Much obliged for your kindness,
+Mr. Joseph. When you and Mrs. Joseph come to town we shall hope to
+have a chance to return it. Good-bye and a merry Christmas to you
+all."</p>
+
+<p>When Mrs. Joseph went back to the kitchen her eyes fell on the
+heaped-up table in the corner.</p>
+
+<p>"Why-y!" she said, and snatched off the cover.</p>
+
+<p>One look she gave, and then this funny little mother began to cry;
+but they were happy tears. Mr. Joseph came too, and looked and
+whistled.</p>
+
+<p>There really seemed to be everything on that table that the hearts of
+children could desire&mdash;three pairs of skates, a fur cap and collar, a
+dainty workbasket, half a dozen gleaming new books, a writing desk, a
+roll of stuff that looked like a new dress, a pair of fur-topped kid
+gloves just Mollie's size, and a china cup and saucer. All these were
+to be seen at the first glance; and in one corner of the table was a
+big box filled with candies and nuts and raisins, and in the other a
+doll with curling golden hair and brown eyes, dressed in "real"
+clothes and with all her wardrobe in a trunk beside her. Pinned to her
+dress was a leaf from Mr. Ralston's notebook with Maggie's name
+written on it.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, this is Christmas with a vengeance," said Mr. Joseph.</p>
+
+<p>"The children will go wild with delight," said his wife happily.</p>
+
+<p>They pretty nearly did when they all came scrambling down the stairs a
+little later. Such a Christmas had never been known in the Joseph
+household before. Maggie clasped her doll with shining eyes, Mollie
+looked at the workbasket that her housewifely little heart had always
+longed for, studious Jimmy beamed over the books, and Ted and Hal
+whooped with delight over the skates. And as for the big box of good
+things, why, everybody appreciated that. That Christmas was one to
+date from in that family.</p>
+
+<p>I'm glad to be able to say, too, that even in the heyday of their
+delight and surprise over their wonderful presents, the little Josephs
+did not forget to appreciate the gifts they had prepared for each
+other. Mollie thought her calendar just too pretty for anything, and
+Jimmy was sure the new red mittens which Maggie had knitted for him
+with her own chubby wee fingers, were the very nicest, gayest mittens
+a boy had ever worn.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Joseph's taffy was eaten too. Not a scrap of it was left. As Ted
+said loyally, "It was just as good as the candy in the box and had
+more 'chew' to it besides."</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="The_Magical_Bond_of_the_Sea" id="The_Magical_Bond_of_the_Sea"></a><hr />
+<br />
+
+<h2>The Magical Bond of the Sea<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>A late September wind from the northwest was sweeping over the waters
+of Racicot Harbour. It blew in, strong with the tang of the salt seas,
+past the grim lighthouse rock on the one hand and the sandbars on the
+other, up the long, narrow funnel of darkly blue water, until it
+whistled among the masts of the boats at anchor and among the
+stovepipe chimneys of the fishing village. It was a wind that sang and
+piped and keened of many things&mdash;but what it sang to each listener was
+only what was in that listener's heart. And Nora Shelley, standing at
+the door of her father's bleached cottage on the grey sands, heard a
+new strain in it. The wind had sung often to her of the outer world
+she longed for, but there had never been the note of fulfilment in it
+before.</p>
+
+<p>There's a new life beyond, Nora, whistled the wind. A good life&mdash;and
+it's yours for the taking. You have but to put out your hand and all
+you've wished for will be in your grasp.</p>
+
+<p>Nora leaned out from the door to meet the wind. She loved that
+northwest gale; it was a staunch old friend of hers. Very slim and
+straight was Nora, with a skin as white as the foam flakes crisping
+over the sands, and eyes of the tremulous, haunting blue that deepens
+on the water after a fair sunset. But her hair was as black as
+midnight, and her lips blossomed out with a ripe redness against the
+uncoloured purity of her face. She was far and away the most beautiful
+of the harbour girls, but hardly the most popular. Men and women alike
+thought her proud. Even her friends felt themselves called upon to
+make excuses for her unlikeness to themselves.</p>
+
+<p>Nora had dosed the door behind her to shut in the voices. She wanted
+to be alone with the wind while she made her decision. Before her the
+sandy shingle, made firm by a straggling growth of some pale sea-ivy,
+sloped down to the sapphire cup of the harbour. Around her were the
+small, uncouth houses of the village&mdash;no smaller or more uncouth than
+the one which was her home&mdash;with children playing noisily on the paths
+between them. The mackerel boats curtsied and nodded outside; beyond
+them the sharp tip of Sandy Point was curdled white with seagulls.
+Down at the curve of the cove a group of men were laughing and talking
+loudly in front of French Joe's fish-house. This was the life that she
+had always known.</p>
+
+<p>Across the harbour, on a fir-fringed headland, stood Dalveigh. John
+Cameron, childless millionaire, had built a summer cottage on that
+point two years ago, and given it the name of the old ancestral estate
+in Scotland. To the Racicot fishing folk the house and grounds were
+as a dream of enchantment made real. Few of them had ever seen
+anything like it.</p>
+
+<p>Nora Shelley knew Dalveigh well. She had been the Camerons' guest many
+times that summer, finding in the luxury and beauty of their
+surroundings something that entered with a strange aptness into her
+own nature. It was as if it were hers by right of fitness. And this
+was the life that might be hers, did she so choose.</p>
+
+<p>In reality, her choice was already made, and she knew it. But it
+pleased her to pretend for a little time that it was not, and to dally
+tenderly with-the old loves and emotions that tugged at her heart and
+clamoured to be remembered.</p>
+
+<p>Within, in the low-ceilinged living room, with its worn, uneven floor
+and its blackened walls hung with fish nets and oilskins, four people
+were sitting. John Cameron and his wife were given the seats of honour
+in the middle of the room. Mrs. Cameron was a handsome, well-dressed
+woman, with an expression that was discontented and, at times,
+petulant. Yet her face had a good deal of plain common sense in it,
+and not even the most critical of the Racicot folks could say that she
+"put on airs." Her husband was a small, white-haired man, with a
+fresh, young-looking face. He was popular in Racicot, for he mingled
+freely with the sailors and fishermen. Moreover, Dalveigh was an
+excellent market for fresh mackerel.</p>
+
+<p>Nathan Shelley, in his favourite corner behind the stove, sat lurching
+forward with his hands on his knees. He had laid aside his pipe out of
+deference to Mrs. Cameron, and it was hard for him to think without
+it. He wished his wife would go to work; it seemed uncanny to see her
+idle. She had sat idle only once that he remembered&mdash;the day they had
+brought Ned Shelley in, dank and dripping, after the August storm ten
+years before. Mrs. Shelley sat by the crooked, small-paned window and
+looked out down the harbour. The coat she had been patching for her
+husband when the Camerons came still lay in her lap, and she had
+folded her hands upon it. She was a big woman, slow of speech and
+manner, with a placid, handsome face&mdash;a face that had not visibly
+stirred even when she had heard the Camerons' proposition.</p>
+
+<p>They wanted Nora&mdash;these rich people who had so much in life wanted the
+blossom of girlhood that had never bloomed for them. John Cameron
+pleaded his cause well.</p>
+
+<p>"We will look on her as our own," he said at last. "We have grown to
+love her this summer. She is beautiful and clever&mdash;she has a right to
+more than Racicot can give her. You have other children&mdash;we are
+childless. And we do not take her from you utterly. You will see her
+every summer when we come to Dalveigh."</p>
+
+<p>"It won't be the same thing quite," said Nathan Shelley drily. "She'll
+belong to your life then&mdash;not ours. And no matter how many young ones
+folks has, they don't want to lose none of 'em. But I dunno as we
+ought to let our feelings stand in Nora's light. She's clever, and
+she's been hankering for more'n we can ever give her. I was the same
+way once. Lord, how I raged at Racicot! I broke away finally&mdash;went to
+a city and got work. But it wasn't no use. I'd left it too long. The
+sea had got into my blood. I toughed it out for two years, and then I
+had to come back. I didn't want to, mark you, but I had to come. Been
+here ever since. But maybe 'twill be different with the girl. She's
+younger than I was; if the hankering for the sea and the life of the
+shore hasn't got into her too deep, maybe she'll be able to cut loose
+for good. But you don't know how the sea calls to one of its own."</p>
+
+<p>Cameron smiled. He thought that this dry old salt was a bit of a poet
+in his own way. Very likely Nora got her ability and originality from
+him. There did not seem to be a great deal in the phlegmatic,
+good-looking mother.</p>
+
+<p>"What say, wife?" asked Shelley at last.</p>
+
+<p>His wife had said in her slow way, "Leave it to Nora," and to Nora it
+was left.</p>
+
+<p>When she came in at last, her face stung to radiant beauty by the
+northwest wind, she found it hard to tell them after all. She looked
+at her mother appealingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it go or stay, girl," demanded her father brusquely.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I'll go," said Nora slowly. Then, catching sight of her
+mother's face, she ran to her and flung her arms about her. "But I'll
+never forget you, Mother," she cried. "I'll love you always&mdash;you and
+Father."</p>
+
+<p>Her mother loosened the clinging arms and pushed her gently towards
+the Camerons.</p>
+
+<p>"Go to them," she said calmly. "You belong to them now."</p>
+
+<p>The news spread quickly over Racicot. Before night everyone on the
+harbour shore knew that the Camerons were going to adopt Nora Shelley
+and take her away with them. There was much surprise and more envy.
+The shore women tossed their heads.</p>
+
+<p>"Reckon Nora is in great feather," they said. "She always did think
+herself better than anyone else. Nate Shelley and his wife spoiled her
+ridiculous. Wonder what Rob Fletcher thinks of it?"</p>
+
+<p>Nora asked her brother to tell the news to Rob Fletcher himself, but
+Merran Andrews was before him. She was at Rob before he had fairly
+landed, when the fishing boats came in at sunset.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you heard the news, Rob? Nora's going away to be a fine lady.
+The Camerons have been daft about her all summer, and now they are
+going to adopt her."</p>
+
+<p>Merran wanted Rob herself. He was a big, handsome fellow, and
+well-off&mdash;the pick of the harbour men in every way. He had slighted
+her for Nora, and it pleased her to stab him now, though she meant to
+be nice to him later on.</p>
+
+<p>He turned white under his tan, but he did not choose to make a book of
+his heart for Merran's bold black eyes to read. "It's a great thing
+for her," he answered calmly. "She was meant for better things than
+can be found at Racicot."</p>
+
+<p>"She was always too good for common folks, if that is what you mean,"
+said Merran spitefully.</p>
+
+<p>Nora and Rob did not meet until the next evening, when she rowed
+herself home from Dalveigh. He was at the shore to tie up her boat and
+help her out. They walked up the sands together in the heart of the
+autumn sunset, with the northwest wind whistling in their ears and the
+great star of the lighthouse gleaming wanly out against the golden
+sky. Nora felt uncomfortable, and resented it. Rob Fletcher was
+nothing to her; he never had been anything but the good friend to whom
+she told her strange thoughts and longings. Why should her heart ache
+over him? She wished he would talk, but he strode along in silence,
+with his fine head drooping a little.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you have heard that I am going away, Rob?" she said at
+last.</p>
+
+<p>He nodded. "Yes, I've heard it from a hundred mouths, more or less,"
+he answered, not looking at her.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a splendid thing for me, isn't it?" dared Nora.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't know," he said slowly. "Looking at it from the outside,
+it seems so. But from the inside it mayn't look the same. Do you
+think you'll be able to cut twenty years of a life out of your heart
+without any pain?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'll be homesick, if that is what you mean," said Nora
+petulantly. "Of course I'll be that at first. I expect it&mdash;but people
+get over that. And it is not as if I were going away for good. I'll be
+back next summer&mdash;every summer."</p>
+
+<p>"It'll be different," said Rob stubbornly, thinking as old Nathan
+Shelley had thought. "You'll be a fine lady&mdash;oh, all the better for
+that perhaps&mdash;but you'll not be the same. No, no, the new life will
+change you; not all at once, maybe, but in the end. You'll be one of
+them, not one of us. But will you be happy? That's the question I'm
+asking."</p>
+
+<p>In anyone else Nora would have resented this. But she never felt angry
+with Rob.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I shall be," she said thoughtfully. "And, anyway, I must go.
+It doesn't seem as if I could help myself if I wanted to.
+Something&mdash;out beyond there&mdash;is calling me, always has been calling me
+ever since I was a tiny girl and found out there was a big world far
+away from Racicot. And it always seemed to me that I would find a way
+to it some day. That was why I kept going to school long after the
+other girls stopped. Mother thought I'd better stop home; she said too
+much book learning would make me discontented and too different from
+the people I had to live along. But Father let me go; he understood;
+he said I was like him when he was young. I learned everything and
+read everything I could. It seems to me as if I had been walking along
+a narrow pathway all my life. And now it seems as if a gate were
+opened before me and I can pass through into a wider world. It isn't
+the luxury and the pleasure or the fine house and dresses that tempt
+me, though the people here think so&mdash;even Mother thinks so. But it is
+not. It's just that something seems to be in my grasp that I've always
+longed for, and I must go&mdash;Rob, I must go."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, if you feel like that you must go," he answered, looking down at
+her troubled face gently. "And it's best for you to go, Nora. I
+believe that, and I'm not so selfish as not to be able to hope that
+you'll find all you long for. But it will change you all the more if
+it is so. Nora! Nora! Whatever am I going to do without you!"</p>
+
+<p>The sudden passion bursting out in his tone frightened her.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't, Rob, don't! And you won't miss me long. There's many another."</p>
+
+<p>"No, there isn't. Don't fling me that dry bone of comfort. There's no
+other, and never has been any other&mdash;none but you, Nora, and well you
+know it."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry," she said faintly.</p>
+
+<p>"You needn't be," said Rob grimly. "After all, I'd rather love you
+than not, hurt as it will. I never had much hope of getting you to
+listen to me, so there's no great disappointment there. You're too
+good for me&mdash;I've always known that. A girl that is fit to mate with
+the Camerons is far above Rob Fletcher, fisherman."</p>
+
+<p>"I never had such a thought," protested Nora.</p>
+
+<p>"I know it," he said, casing himself up in his quietness again. "But
+it's so&mdash;and now I've got to lose you. But there'll never be any other
+for me, Nora."</p>
+
+<p>He left her at her father's door. She watched his stalwart figure out
+of sight around the point, and raged to find tears in her eyes and a
+bitter yearning in her heart. For a moment she repented&mdash;she would
+stay&mdash;she could not go. Then over the harbour flashed out the lights
+of Dalveigh. The life behind them glittered, allured, beckoned. Nay,
+she must go on&mdash;she had made her choice. There was no turning back
+now.</p>
+
+<br />
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+<br />
+
+<p>Nora Shelley went away with the Camerons, and Dalveigh was deserted.
+Winter came down on Racicot Harbour, and the colony of fisher folk at
+its head gave themselves over to the idleness of the season&mdash;a time
+for lounging and gossipping and long hours of lazy contentment smoking
+in the neighbours' chimney corners, when tales were told of the sea
+and the fishing. The Harbour laid itself out to be sociable in winter.
+There was no time for that in summer. People had to work eighteen
+hours out of the twenty-four then. In the winter there was spare time
+to laugh and quarrel, woo and wed and&mdash;were a man so minded&mdash;dream, as
+did Rob Fletcher in his loneliness.</p>
+
+<p>In a Racicot winter much was made of small things. The arrival of Nora
+Shelley's weekly letter to her father and mother was an event in the
+village. The post-mistress in the Cove store spread the news that it
+had come, and that night the Shelley kitchen would be crowded. Isobel
+Shelley, Nora's younger sister, read the letter aloud by virtue of
+having gone to school long enough to be able to pronounce the words
+and tell where the places named were situated.</p>
+
+<p>The Camerons had spent the autumn in New York and had then gone south
+for the winter. Nora wrote freely of her new life. In the beginning
+she admitted great homesickness, but after the first few letters she
+made no further mention of that. She wrote little of herself, but she
+described fully the places she had visited, the people she had met,
+the wonderful things she had seen. She sent affectionate messages to
+all her old friends and asked after all her old interests. But the
+letters came to be more and more like those of a stranger and one
+apart from the Racicot life, and the father and mother felt it.</p>
+
+<p>"She's changing," muttered old Nathan. "It had to be so&mdash;it's well for
+her that it is so&mdash;but it hurts. She ain't ours any more. We've lost
+the girl, wife, lost her forever."</p>
+
+<p>Rob Fletcher always came and listened to the letters in silence while
+the others buzzed and commented. Rob, so the Harbour folk said, was
+much changed. He had grown unsociable and preferred to stay home and
+read books rather than go a-visiting as did others. The Harbour folk
+shook their heads over this. There was something wrong with a man who
+read books when there was a plenty of other amusements. Jacob Radnor
+had read books all one winter and had drowned himself in the
+spring&mdash;jumped overboard from his dory at the herring nets. And that
+was what came of books, mark you.</p>
+
+<p>The Camerons came later to Dalveigh the next summer, on account of
+John Cameron's health, which was not good. It was the first of August
+before a host of servants came to put Dalveigh in habitable order, and
+a week later the family came. They brought a houseful of guests with
+them.</p>
+
+<p>At sunset on the day of her arrival Nora Shelley looked out cross the
+harbour to the fishing village. She was tired after her journey, and
+she had not meant to go over until the morning, but now she knew she
+must go at once. Her mother was over there; the old life called to
+her; the northwest wind swept up the channel and whistled alluringly
+to her at the window of her luxurious room. It brought to her the tang
+of the salt wastes and filled her heart with a great, bitter-sweet
+yearning.</p>
+
+<p>She was more beautiful than ever. In the year that had passed she had
+blossomed out to a gracious fulfilment of womanhood. Even the Camerons
+had wondered at her swift adaptation to her new surroundings. She
+seemed to have put Racicot behind her as one puts by an old garment.
+In everything she had held her own royally. Her adopted parents were
+proud of her beauty and her nameless, untamed charm. They had lavished
+every indulgence upon her. In those few short months she had lived
+more keenly and fully than in all her life before. The Nora Shelley
+who went away was not, so it would seem, the Nora Shelley who came
+back.</p>
+
+<p>But when she looked from her window to the waves and saw the star of
+the lighthouse and the blaze of the sunset in the window of the
+fishing-houses and heard the summons of the wind, something broke
+loose in her soul and overwhelmed her, like a wave of the sea. She
+must go at once&mdash;at once&mdash;at once. Not a moment could she wait.</p>
+
+<p>She was dressed for dinner, but with tingling fingers she threw off
+her costly gown and put on her dark travelling suit again. She left
+her hair as it was and knotted a crimson scarf about her head. She
+would slip away quietly to the boathouse, get Davy to launch the
+little sailboat for her&mdash;and then for a fleet skim over the harbour
+before that glorious wind! She hoped not to be seen, but Mrs. Cameron
+met her in the hall.</p>
+
+<p>"Nora!" she said in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I must go, Aunty! I must go!" the girl cried feverishly. She was
+afraid Mrs. Cameron would try to prevent her going, and all at once
+she knew that she could not bear that.</p>
+
+<p>"Must go? Where? Dinner is almost ready, and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't want any dinner. I'm going home&mdash;I will sail over."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear child, don't be foolish. It's too late to go over the
+harbour tonight. They won't be expecting you. Wait until the morning."</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;oh, you don't understand. I must go&mdash;I must! My mother is over
+there."</p>
+
+<p>Something in the girl's last sentence or the tone in which it was
+uttered brought a look of pain to Mrs. Cameron's face. But she made no
+further attempt to dissuade her.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if you must. But you cannot go alone&mdash;no, Nora, I cannot allow
+it. The wind is too high and it is too late for you to go over by
+yourself. Clark Bryant will take you."</p>
+
+<p>Nora would have protested but she knew it would be in vain. She
+submitted somewhat sullenly and walked down to the shore in silence.
+Clark Bryant strode beside her, humouring her mood. He was a tall,
+stout man, with an ugly, clever, sarcastic face. He was as clever as
+he looked, and was one of the younger millionaires whom John Cameron
+drew around him in the development of his huge financial schemes.
+Bryant was in love with Nora. This was why the Camerons had asked him
+to join their August house party at Dalveigh, and why he had accepted.
+It had occurred to Nora that this was the case, but as yet she had
+never troubled to think the situation over seriously.</p>
+
+<p>She liked Clark Bryant well enough, but just at the moment he was in
+the way. She did not want to take him over to Racicot&mdash;just why she
+could not have explained. There was in her no snobbish shame of her
+humble home. But he did not belong there; he was an alien, and she
+wished to go back to it for the first time alone.</p>
+
+<p>At the boathouse Davy launched the small sailboat and Nora took the
+tiller. She knew every inch of the harbour. As the sail filled before
+the wind and the boat sprang across the upcurling waves, her brief
+sullenness fell away from her. She no longer resented Clark Bryant's
+presence&mdash;she forgot it. He was no more to her than the mast by which
+he stood. The spell of the sea and the wind surged into her heart and
+filled it with wild happiness and measureless content. Over yonder,
+where the lights gleamed on the darkening shore under the high-sprung
+arch of pale golden sky, was home. How the wind whistled to welcome
+her back! The lash of it against her face&mdash;the flick of salt spray on
+her lips&mdash;the swing of the boat as it cut through the racing
+crests&mdash;how glorious it all was!</p>
+
+<p>Clark Bryant watched her, understanding all at once that he was
+nothing to her, that he had no part or lot in her heart. He was as one
+forgotten and left behind. And how lovely, how desirable she was! He
+had never seen her look so beautiful. The shawl had slipped down to
+her shoulders and her head rose out of it like some magnificent flower
+out of a crimson calyx. The masses of her black hair lifted from her
+face in the rush of the wind and swayed back again like rich shadows.
+Her lips were stung scarlet with the sea's sharp caresses, and her
+eyes, large and splendid, looked past him unseeing to the harbour
+lights of Racicot.</p>
+
+<p>When they swung in by the wharf Nora sprang from the boat before
+Bryant had time to moor it. Pausing for an instant, she called down to
+him, carelessly, "Don't wait for me. I shall not go back tonight."</p>
+
+<p>Then she caught her shawl around her head and almost ran up the wharf
+and along the shore. No one was abroad, for it was supper hour in
+Racicot. In the Shelley kitchen the family was gathered around the
+table, when the door was flung open and Nora stood on the threshold.
+For a moment they gazed at her as at an apparition. They had not known
+the precise day of her coming and were not aware of the Camerons'
+arrival at Dalveigh.</p>
+
+<p>"It's the girl herself. It's Nora," said old Nathan, rising from his
+bench.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother!" cried Nora. She ran across the room and buried her face in
+her mother's breast, sobbing.</p>
+
+<p>When the news spread, the Racicot people crowded in to see Nora until
+the house was full. They spent a noisy, merry, whole-hearted evening
+of the old sort. The men smoked and most of the women knitted while
+they talked. They were pleased to find that Nora did not put on any
+airs. Old Jonas Myers bluntly told her that he didn't see as her year
+among rich folks had done her much good, after all.</p>
+
+<p>"You're just the same as when you went away," he said. "They haven't
+made a fine lady of you. Folks here thought you'd be something
+wonderful."</p>
+
+<p>Nora laughed. She was glad that they did not find her changed. Old
+Nathan chuckled in his dry way. There was a difference in the girl,
+and he saw it, though the neighbours did not, but it was not the
+difference he had feared. His daughter was not utterly taken from him
+yet.</p>
+
+<p>Nora sat by her mother and was happy. But as the evening wore away she
+grew very quiet, and watched the door with something piteous in her
+eyes. Old Nathan noticed it and thought she was tired. He gave the
+curious neighbours a good-natured hint, and they presently withdrew.
+When they had all gone Nora went out to the door alone.</p>
+
+<p>The wind had died down and the shore, gemmed with its twinkling
+lights, was very still, for it was too late an hour for Racicot folk
+to be abroad in the mackerel season. The moon was rising and the
+harbour was a tossing expanse of silver waves. The mellow light fell
+on a tall figure lurking at the angle of the road that led past the
+Shelley cottage. Nora saw and recognized it. She flew down the sandy
+slope with outstretched hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Rob&mdash;Rob!"</p>
+
+<p>"Nora!" he said huskily, holding out his hand. But she flung herself
+on his breast and clung to him, half laughing, half crying.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Rob! I've been looking for you all the evening. Every time there
+was a step I said to myself, 'That is Rob, now.' And when the door
+opened to let in another, my heart died within me. I dared not even
+ask after you for fear of what they might tell me. Why didn't you
+come?"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't know that I'd be welcome," he whispered, holding her closer
+to him. "I've been hanging about thinking to get a glimpse of you
+unbeknown. I thought maybe you wouldn't want to see me tonight."</p>
+
+<p>"Not want to see you! Oh, Rob, this evening at Dalveigh, when I looked
+across to Racicot, it was you I thought of before all&mdash;even before
+Mother."</p>
+
+<p>She drew back and looked at him with her soul in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"What a splendid fellow you are&mdash;how handsome you are, Rob!" she
+cried. All the reserve of womanhood fell away from her in the inrush
+of emotions. For the moment she was a child again, telling out her
+thoughts with all a child's frankness. "I've been in a dream this past
+year&mdash;a lovely dream&mdash;a fair dream, but only a dream, after all. And
+now I've wakened. And you are part of the wakening&mdash;the best part! Oh,
+to think I never knew before!"</p>
+
+<p>"Knew what, my girl?"</p>
+
+<p>He had her close against his heart now; the breath of her lips mingled
+with his, but he would not kiss her yet.</p>
+
+<p>"That I loved you," she whispered back. "Oh, Rob, you are all the
+world to me. I belong to you and the sea. But I never knew it until I
+crossed the harbour tonight. Then I knew&mdash;it came to me all at once,
+like a flood of understanding. I knew I could never go away
+again&mdash;that I must stay here forever where I could hear that call of
+wind and waves. The new life was good&mdash;good&mdash;but it could not go deep
+enough. And when you did not come I knew what was in my heart for you
+as well."</p>
+
+<br />
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+<br />
+
+<p>That night Nora lay beside her sisters in the tiny room that looked
+out on the harbour. The younger girls slept soundly, but Nora kept
+awake to listen to the laughter of the wind outside, and con over what
+she and Rob had said to each other. There was no blot on her happiness
+save a sorry wonder what the Camerons would say when they knew.</p>
+
+<p>"They will think me ungrateful and fickle," she sighed. "They don't
+know that I can't help it even if I would. They will never
+understand."</p>
+
+<p>Nor did they. When Nora told them that she was going back to Racicot,
+they laughed at her kindly at first, treating it as the passing whim
+of a homesick girl. Later, when they came to understand that she meant
+it, they were grieved and angry. There were scenes of pleading and
+tears and reproaches. Nora cried bitterly in Mrs. Cameron's arms, but
+stood rock-firm. She could never go back to them&mdash;never.</p>
+
+<p>They appealed to Nathan Shelley finally, but he refused to say
+anything.</p>
+
+<p>"It can't be altered," he told them. "The sea has called her and
+she'll listen to naught else. I'm sorry enough for the girl's own
+sake. It would have been better for her if she could have cut loose
+from it all and lived your life, I dare say. But you've made a fair
+trial and it's of no use. I know what's in her heart&mdash;it was in mine
+once&mdash;and I'll say no word of rebuke to her. She's free to go or stay
+as she chooses&mdash;just as free as she was last year."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Cameron made one more appeal to Nora. She told the girl bitterly
+that she was ungrateful.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not that," said Nora with quivering lips. "I love you, and I'm
+grateful to you. But your life isn't for me, after all. I thought it
+was&mdash;I longed so for it. And I loved it, too&mdash;I love it yet. But
+there's something stronger in me that holds me here."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think you realize what you are doing, Nora. You have been a
+little homesick and you are glad to be back. But after we have gone
+and you must settle into the old Racicot life again, you will not be
+contented. You will find that your life with us will have unfitted you
+for this. There will be no real place for you here&mdash;nothing for you to
+do. You will be as a stranger here."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no. I am going to marry Rob Fletcher," said Nora proudly.</p>
+
+<p>"Marry Rob Fletcher! And you might have married Clark Bryant, Nora!"</p>
+
+<p>Nora shook her head. "That could never have been. I thought it might
+once&mdash;but I know better now. You see, I love Rob."</p>
+
+<p>There did not seem to be anything more to say after that. Mrs. Cameron
+did not try to say anything. She went away in sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>Nora cried bitterly after she had gone. But there were no tears in her
+eyes that night when she walked on the shore with Rob Fletcher. The
+wind whistled around them, and the stars came out in the great ebony
+dome of the sky over the harbour. Laughter and song of the fishing
+folk were behind them, and the deep, solemn call of the sea before.
+Over the harbour gleamed the score of lights at Dalveigh. Rob looked
+from them to Nora.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think you'll ever regret yon life, my girl?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never, Rob. It seems to me now like a beautiful garment put on for a
+holiday and worn easily and pleasantly for a time. But I've put it off
+now, and put on workaday clothes again. It is only a week since I left
+Dalveigh, but it seems long ago. Listen to the wind, Rob! It is
+singing of the good days to be for you and me."</p>
+
+<p>He bent over and kissed her.</p>
+
+<p>"My own dear lass!" he said softly.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="The_Martyrdom_of_Estella" id="The_Martyrdom_of_Estella"></a><hr />
+<br />
+
+<h2>The Martyrdom of Estella<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>Estella was waiting under the poplars at the gate for Spencer Morgan.
+She was engaged to him, and he always came to see her on Saturday and
+Wednesday evenings. It was after sunset, and the air was mellow and
+warm-hued. The willow trees along the walk and the tall birches in the
+background stood out darkly distinct against the lemon-tinted sky. The
+breath of mint floated out from the garden, and the dew was falling
+heavily.</p>
+
+<p>Estella leaned against the gate, listening for the sound of wheels and
+dreamily watching the light shining out from the window of Vivienne
+LeMar's room. The blind was up and she could see Miss LeMar writing at
+her table. Her profile was clear and distinct against the lamplight.</p>
+
+<p>Estella reflected without the least envy that Miss LeMar was very
+beautiful. She had never seen anyone who was really beautiful
+before&mdash;beautiful with the loveliness of the heroines in the novels
+she sometimes read or the pictures she had seen.</p>
+
+<p>Estella Bowes was not pretty. She was a nice-looking girl, with clear
+eyes, rosy cheeks, and a pervading air of the content and happiness
+her life had always known. She was an orphan and lived with her uncle
+and aunt. In the summer they sometimes took a boarder for a month or
+two, and this summer Miss LeMar had come. She had been with them about
+a week. She was an actress from the city and had around her all the
+glamour of a strange, unknown life. Nothing was known about her. The
+Boweses liked her well enough as a boarder. Estella admired and held
+her in awe. She wondered what Spencer would think of this beautiful
+woman. He had not yet seen her.</p>
+
+<p>It was quite dark when he came. Estella opened the gate for him, but
+he got out of his buggy and walked up the lane beside her with his arm
+about her. Miss LeMar's light had removed to the parlour where she was
+singing, accompanying herself on the cottage organ. Estella felt
+annoyed. The parlour was considered her private domain on Wednesday
+and Saturday night, but Miss LeMar did not know that.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is singing?" asked Spencer. "What a voice she has!"</p>
+
+<p>"That's our new boarder, Miss LeMar," answered Estella. "She's an
+actress and sings and does everything. She is awfully pretty,
+Spencer."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?" said the young man indifferently.</p>
+
+<p>He was not in the least interested in the Boweses' new boarder.
+Indeed, he considered her advent a nuisance. He pressed Estella closer
+to him, and when they reached the garden gate he kissed her. Estella
+always remembered that moment afterwards. She was so supremely happy.</p>
+
+<p>Spencer went off to put up his horse, and Estella waited for him on
+the porch steps, wondering if any other girl in the world could be
+quite so happy as she was, or love anyone as much as she loved
+Spencer. She did not see how it could be possible, because there was
+only one Spencer.</p>
+
+<p>When Spencer came back she took him into the parlour, half shyly, half
+proudly. He was a handsome fellow, with a magnificent physique. Miss
+LeMar stopped singing and turned around on the organ stool as they
+entered. The little room was flooded with a mellow light from the
+pink-globed lamp on the table, and in the soft, shadowy radiance she
+was as beautiful as a dream. She wore a dress of crepe, cut low in the
+neck. Estella had never seen anyone dressed so before. To her it
+seemed immodest.</p>
+
+<p>She introduced Spencer. He bowed awkwardly and sat stiffly down by the
+window with his eyes riveted on Miss LeMar's face. Estella, catching a
+glimpse of herself in the old-fashioned mirror above the mantel,
+suddenly felt a cold chill of dissatisfaction. Her figure had never
+seemed to her so stout and stiff, her brown hair so dull and prim, her
+complexion so muddy, her features so commonplace. She wished Miss
+LeMar would go out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>Vivienne LeMar watched the two faces before her; a hard gleam, half
+mockery, half malice, flashed into her eyes and a smile crept about
+her lips. She looked straight in Spencer Morgan's honest blue eyes and
+read there the young man's dazzled admiration. There was contempt in
+the look she turned on Estella.</p>
+
+<p>"You were singing when we came in," said Spencer. "Won't you go on,
+please? I am very fond of music."</p>
+
+<p>Miss LeMar turned again to the organ. The gleaming curves of her neck
+and shoulders rose out of their filmy sheathings of lace. Spencer,
+sitting where he could see her face with its rose-leaf bloom and the
+ringlets of golden hair clustering about it, gazed at her, unheeding
+of aught else. Estella saw his look. She suddenly began to hate the
+black-eyed witch at the organ&mdash;and to fear her as well. Why did
+Spencer look at her like that? She wished she had not brought him in
+at all. She felt commonplace and angry, and wanted to cry.</p>
+
+<p>Vivienne LeMar went on singing, drifting from one sweet love song into
+another. Once she looked up at Spencer Morgan. He rose quickly and
+went to her side, looking down at her with a strange fire in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Estella got up abruptly and left the room. She was angry and jealous,
+but she thought Spencer would follow her. When he did not, she could
+not believe it. She waited on the porch for him, not knowing whether
+she were more angry or miserable. She would not go back into the room.
+Vivienne LeMar had stopped singing. She could hear a low murmur of
+voices. When she had waited there an hour, she went in and upstairs to
+her room with ostentatious footsteps. She was too angry to cry or to
+realize what had happened, and still kept hoping all sorts of
+impossible things as she sat by her window.</p>
+
+<p>It was ten o'clock when Spencer went away and Vivienne LeMar passed
+up the hall to her room. Estella clenched her hands in an access of
+helpless rage. She was very angry, but under her fury was a horrible
+ache of pain. It could not be only three hours since she had been so
+happy! It must be more than that! What had happened? Had she made a
+fool of herself? Ought she to have behaved in any other way? Perhaps
+Spencer had come out to look for her after she had gone upstairs and,
+not finding her, had gone back to Miss LeMar to show her he was angry.
+This poor hope was a small comfort. She wished she had not acted as
+she had. It looked spiteful and jealous, and Spencer did not like
+people who were spiteful and jealous. She would show him she was sorry
+when he came back, and it would be all right.</p>
+
+<p>She lay awake most of the night, thinking out plausible reasons and
+excuses for Spencer's behaviour, and trying to convince herself that
+she had exaggerated everything absurdly. Towards morning she fell
+asleep and awoke hardly remembering what had happened. Then it rolled
+back upon her crushingly.</p>
+
+<p>But she rose and dressed in better spirits. It had been hardest to lie
+there and do nothing. Now the day was before her and something
+pleasant might happen. Spencer might come back in the evening. She
+would be doubly nice to him to make up.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bowes looked sharply at her niece's dull eyes and pale cheeks at
+the breakfast table. She had her own thoughts of things. She was a
+large, handsome woman with a rather harsh face.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you go upstairs last night and leave Spencer Morgan with Miss
+LeMar?" she asked bluntly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," muttered Estella.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you have a quarrel with him?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"What made you act so queer?"</p>
+
+<p>"I couldn't help it," faltered the girl.</p>
+
+<p>The food she was eating seemed to choke her. She wished she were a
+hundred miles away from everyone she ever knew.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bowes gave a grunt of dissatisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I think it is a pretty queer piece of business. But if you are
+satisfied, it isn't anyone else's concern, I suppose. He stayed with
+her till ten o'clock and when he left she did everything but kiss
+him&mdash;and she asked him to come back too. I heard."</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt!" protested the girl.</p>
+
+<p>She felt as if her aunt were striking her blow after blow on a
+sensitive, quivering spot. It was bad enough to know it all, but to
+hear it put into such cold, brutal words was more than she could
+endure. It seemed to make everything so horribly sure.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess I had a right to listen, hadn't I, with such goings on in my
+own house? You're a little fool, Estella Bowes! I don't believe that
+LeMar girl is a bit better than she ought to be. I wish I'd never
+taken her to board, and if you say so, I'll send her packing right off
+and not give her a chance to make mischief atween folks."</p>
+
+<p>Estella's suffering found vent in a burst of anger.</p>
+
+<p>"You needn't do anything of the sort!" she cried.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all nonsense about Spencer&mdash;it was my fault&mdash;and anyhow, if he
+is so easily led away as that, I am sure I don't want him! I wish to
+goodness, Aunt, you'd leave me alone!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, very well!" returned Mrs. Bowes in an offended tone. "It was for
+your own good I spoke. You know best, I suppose. If you don't care, I
+don't know that anyone else need."</p>
+
+<p>Estella went about her work like one in a dream. A great hatred had
+sprung up in her heart against Vivienne LeMar. The simple-hearted
+country girl felt almost murderous. The whole day seemed like a
+nightmare to her. When night came she dressed herself with feverish
+care, for she could not quell the hope that Spencer would surely come
+again. But he did not; and when she went up to bed, it did not seem as
+if she could live through the night. She lay staring wide-eyed through
+the darkness until dawn. She wished that she might cry, but no tears
+came to her relief.</p>
+
+<p>Next day she went to work with furious energy. When her usual tasks
+were done, she ransacked the house for other employment. She was
+afraid if she stopped work for a moment she would go mad. Mrs. Bowes
+watched her with a grim pity.</p>
+
+<p>At night she walked to prayer meeting in the schoolhouse a mile away.
+She always went, and Spencer was generally on hand to see her home. He
+was not there tonight. She wished she had not come. It was dreadful to
+have to sit still and think. She did not hear a word the minister
+said.</p>
+
+<p>She had to walk home with a crowd of girls and nerve herself to answer
+their merry sallies that no one might suspect. She was tortured by the
+fear that everyone knew her shame and humiliation and was pitying her.
+She got hysterically gay, but underneath all she was constantly trying
+to assign a satisfactory reason for Spencer's nonappearance. He was
+often kept away, and of course he was a little cross at her yet, as
+was natural. If he had come before her then, she could have gone down
+in the very dust at his feet and implored his forgiveness.</p>
+
+<p>When she reached home she went into the garden and sat down. The calm
+of the night soothed her. She felt happier and more hopeful. She
+thought over all that had passed between her and Spencer and all his
+loving assurances, and the recollection comforted her. She was almost
+happy when she went in.</p>
+
+<p>Tomorrow is Sunday, she thought when she wakened in the morning. Her
+step was lighter and her face brighter. Mrs. Bowes seemed to be in a
+bad humour. Presently she said bluntly:</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know that Spencer Morgan was here last night?"</p>
+
+<p>Estella felt the cold tighten round her heart. Yet underneath it
+sprang up a wild, sweet hope.</p>
+
+<p>"Spencer here! I suppose he forgot it was prayer meeting night. What
+did he say? Why didn't you tell him where I was?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know that he forgot it was prayer meeting night," returned
+Mrs. Bowes with measured emphasis. "'Tisn't likely his memory has
+failed so all at once. He didn't ask where you was. He took good care
+to go before you got home too. Miss LeMar entertained him. I guess she
+was quite capable of it."</p>
+
+<p>Estella bent over her dishes in silence. Her face was deadly white.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll send her away," said Mrs. Bowes pityingly. "When she's gone,
+Spencer will soon come back to you."</p>
+
+<p>"No, you won't!" said Estella fiercely. "If you do, she'll only go
+over to Barstows', and it would be worse than ever. I don't care&mdash;I'll
+show them both I don't care! As for Spencer coming back to me, do you
+think I want her leavings? He's welcome to go."</p>
+
+<p>"He's only just fooled by her pretty face," persisted Mrs. Bowes in a
+clumsy effort at consolation. "She's just turning his head, the hussy,
+and he isn't really in his proper senses. You'll see, he'll be ashamed
+of himself when he comes to them again. He knows very well in his
+heart that you're worth ten girls like her."</p>
+
+<p>Estella faced around.</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt," she said desperately, "you mean well, I know, but you're
+killing me! I can't stand it. For pity's sake, don't say another word
+to me about this, no matter what happens. And don't keep looking at me
+as if I were a martyr! She watches us and it would please her to think
+I cared. I don't&mdash;and I mean she shall see I don't. I guess I'm well
+rid of a fellow as fickle as he is, and I've sense enough to know it."</p>
+
+<p>She went upstairs then, tearing off her turquoise engagement ring as
+she climbed the steps. All sorts of wild ideas flashed through her
+head. She would go down and confront Vivienne LeMar&mdash;she would rush
+off and find Spencer and throw his ring at him, no matter where he
+was&mdash;she would go away where no one would ever see her again. Why
+couldn't she die? Was it possible people could suffer like this and
+yet go on living?</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care&mdash;I don't care!" she moaned, telling the lie aloud to
+herself, as if she hoped that by this means she would come to believe
+it.</p>
+
+<p>When twilight came she went out to the front steps and leaned her
+aching head against the honeysuckle trellis. The sun had just set and
+the whole world swam in dusky golden light. The wonderful beauty
+frightened her. She felt like a blot on it.</p>
+
+<p>While she stood there, a buggy came driving up the lane and wheeled
+about at the steps. In it was Spencer Morgan.</p>
+
+<p>Estella saw him and, in spite of the maddening throb of hope that
+seemed suddenly to transfigure the world for her, her pride rose in
+arms. Had Spencer come the night before, he would have found her
+loving and humble. Even now, had she but been sure that he had come to
+see her, she would have unbent. But was it the other? The torturing
+doubt stung her to the quick.</p>
+
+<p>She waited, stubbornly resolved that she would not speak first. It was
+not in her place. Spencer Morgan flicked his horse sharply with his
+whip. He dared not look at Estella, but he felt her uncompromising
+attitude. He was miserably ashamed of himself, and he felt angry at
+Estella for his shame.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you care to come for a drive?" he asked awkwardly, with a covert
+glance at the parlour windows.</p>
+
+<p>Estella caught the glance and her jealous perception instantly divined
+its true significance. Her heart died within her. She did not care
+what she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," she cried with a toss of her head, "it's not me you want&mdash;it's
+Miss LeMar, isn't it? She's away at the shore. You'll find her there,
+I dare say."</p>
+
+<p>Still, in spite of all, she perversely hoped. If he would only make
+any sign, the least in the world, that he was sorry&mdash;that he still
+loved her&mdash;she could forgive him everything. When he drove away
+without another word, she could not believe it again. Surely he would
+not go&mdash;surely he knew she did not mean it&mdash;he would turn back before
+he got to the gate.</p>
+
+<p>But he did not. She saw him disappear around the turn of the road. She
+could not see if he took the shore lane further on, but she was sure
+he would. She was furious at herself for acting as she had done. It
+was all her fault again! Oh, if he would only give her another chance!</p>
+
+<p>She was in her room when she heard the buggy drive up again. She knew
+it was Spencer and that he had brought Vivienne LeMar home. Acting on
+a sudden wild impulse, the girl stepped out on the landing and
+confronted her rival as she came up the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>The latter paused at sight of the white face and anguished eyes. There
+was a little mocking smile on her lovely face.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss LeMar," said Estella in a quivering voice, "what do you mean by
+all this? You know I'm engaged to Spencer Morgan!"</p>
+
+<p>Miss LeMar laughed softly.</p>
+
+<p>"Really? If you are engaged to the young man, my dear Miss Bowes, I
+would advise you to look after him more sharply. He seems very willing
+to flirt, I should say."</p>
+
+<p>She passed on to her room with a malicious smile. Estella shrank back
+against the wall, humiliated and baffled. When she found herself
+alone, she crawled back to her room and threw herself face downward on
+the bed, praying that she might die.</p>
+
+<p>But she had to live through the horrible month that followed&mdash;a month
+so full of agony that she seemed to draw every breath in pain. Spencer
+never sought her again; he went everywhere with Miss LeMar. His
+infatuation was the talk of the settlement. Estella knew that her
+story was in everyone's mouth, and her pride smarted; but she carried
+a brave front outwardly. No one should say she cared.</p>
+
+<p>She believed that the actress was merely deluding Spencer for her own
+amusement and would never dream of marrying him. But one day the idea
+occurred to her that she might. Estella had always told herself that
+even if Spencer wanted to come back to her she would never take him
+back, but now, by the half-sick horror that came over her, she knew
+how strong the hope had really been and despised herself more than
+ever.</p>
+
+<p>One evening she was alone in the parlour. She had lit the lamp and was
+listlessly arranging the little room. She looked old and worn. Her
+colour was gone and her eyes were dull. As she worked, the door opened
+and Vivienne LeMar walked or, rather, reeled into the room.</p>
+
+<p>Estella dropped the book she held and gazed at her as one in a dream.
+The actress's face was flushed and her hair was wildly disordered. Her
+eyes glittered with an unearthly light. She was talking incoherently.
+The air was heavy with the fumes of brandy.</p>
+
+<p>Estella laughed hysterically. Vivienne LeMar was grossly intoxicated.
+This woman whom Spencer Morgan worshipped, for whom he had forsaken
+her, was reeling about the room, laughing idiotically, talking wildly
+in a thick voice. If he could but see her now!</p>
+
+<p>Estella turned white with the passion of the wild idea that had come
+to her. Spencer Morgan should see this woman in her true colours.</p>
+
+<p>She lost no time. Swiftly she left the room and locked the door behind
+her on the maudlin, babbling creature inside. Then she flung a shawl
+over her head and ran from the house. It was not far to the Morgan
+homestead. She ran all the way, hardly knowing what she was doing.
+Mrs. Morgan answered her knock. She gazed in bewilderment at Estella's
+wild face.</p>
+
+<p>"I want Spencer," said the girl through her white lips.</p>
+
+<p>The elder woman stepped back in dumb amazement. She knew and rued her
+son's folly. What could Estella want with him?</p>
+
+<p>The young man appeared in the doorway. Estella caught him by the arm
+and pulled him outside.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss LeMar wants you at once," she said hoarsely. "At once&mdash;you are
+to come at once!"</p>
+
+<p>"Has anything happened to her?" cried Spencer savagely. "Is she
+ill&mdash;is she&mdash;what is the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, she is not ill. But she wants you. Come at once."</p>
+
+<p>He started off bareheaded. Estella followed him up the road
+breathlessly. Surely it was the strangest walk ever a girl had, she
+told herself with mirthless laughter. She pushed the key into his hand
+at the porch.</p>
+
+<p>"She's in the parlour," she said wildly. "Go in and look at her,
+Spencer."</p>
+
+<p>Spencer snatched the key and fitted it into the door. He was full of
+fear. Had Estella gone out of her mind? Had she done anything to
+Vivienne? Had she&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>As he entered, the actress reeled to her feet and came to meet him. He
+stood and gazed at her stupidly. This could not be Vivienne, this
+creature reeking with brandy, uttering such foolish words! What fiend
+was this in her likeness?</p>
+
+<p>He grew sick at heart and brain; she had her arms about him. He tried
+to push her away, but she clung closer, and her senseless laughter
+echoed through the room. He flung her from him with an effort and
+rushed out through the hall and down the road like a madman. Estella,
+watching him, felt that she was avenged. She was glad with a joy more
+pitiful than grief.</p>
+
+<p>Vivienne LeMar left the cottage the next day. Mrs. Bowes, suspecting
+some mystery, questioned Estella sharply, but could find out nothing.
+The girl kept her own counsel stubbornly. The interest and curiosity
+of the village centred around Spencer Morgan, and his case was well
+discussed. Gossip said that the actress had jilted him and that he was
+breaking his heart about it. Then came the rumour that he was going
+West.</p>
+
+<p>Estella heard it apathetically. Life seemed ended for her. There was
+nothing to look forward to. She could not even look back. All the past
+was embittered. She had never met Spencer since the night she went
+after him. She sometimes wondered what he must think of her for what
+she had done. Did he think her unwomanly and revengeful? She did not
+care. It was rather a relief to hear that he was going away. She would
+not be tortured by the fear of meeting him then. She was sure he would
+never come back to her. If he did, she would never forgive him.</p>
+
+<p>One evening in early harvest Estella was lingering by the lane gate at
+twilight. She had worked slavishly all day and was very tired, but she
+was loath to go into the house, where her trouble always seemed to
+weigh on her more heavily. The dusk, sweet night seemed to soothe her
+as it always did.</p>
+
+<p>She leaned her head against the poplar by the gate. How long Spencer
+Morgan had been standing by her she did not know, but when she looked
+up he was there. In the dim light she could see how haggard and
+hollow-eyed he had grown. He had changed almost as much as herself.</p>
+
+<p>The girl's first proud impulse was to turn coldly away and leave him.
+But some strange tumult in her heart kept her still. What had he come
+to say?</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment's fateful silence. Then Spencer spoke in a muffled
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I couldn't go away without seeing you once more, Estella, to say
+good-bye. Perhaps you won't speak to me. You must hate me. I deserve
+it."</p>
+
+<p>He paused, but she said no word. She could not. After a space, he went
+wistfully on.</p>
+
+<p>"I know you can never forgive me&mdash;no girl could. I've behaved like a
+fool. There isn't any excuse to be made for me. I don't think I could
+have been in my right senses, Estella. It all seems like some bad
+dream now. When I saw her that night, I came to my right mind, and
+I've been the most miserable man alive ever since. Not for her&mdash;but
+because I'd lost you. I can't bear to live here any longer, so I am
+going away. Will you say good-bye, Estella?"</p>
+
+<p>Still she did not speak. There were a hundred things she wanted to say
+but she could not say them. Did he mean that he loved her still? If
+she were sure of that, she could forgive him anything, but her doubt
+rendered her mute.</p>
+
+<p>The young man turned away despairingly from her rigid attitude. So be
+it&mdash;he had brought his fate on himself.</p>
+
+<p>He had gone but a few steps when Estella suddenly found her voice with
+a gasp.</p>
+
+<p>"Spencer!" He came swiftly back. "Oh, Spencer&mdash;do&mdash;you&mdash;do you love me
+still?"</p>
+
+<p>He caught her hands in his.</p>
+
+<p>"Love you&mdash;oh, Estella, yes, yes! I always have. That other wasn't
+love&mdash;it was just madness. When it passed I hated life because I'd
+lost you. I know you can't forgive me, but, oh&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He broke down. Estella flung her arms around his neck and put her face
+up to his. She felt as if her heart must break with its great
+happiness. He understood her mute pardon. In their kiss the past was
+put aside. Estella's martyrdom was ended.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="The_Old_Chest_at_Wyther_Grange" id="The_Old_Chest_at_Wyther_Grange"></a><hr />
+<br />
+
+<h2>The Old Chest at Wyther Grange<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>When I was a child I always thought a visit to Wyther Grange was a
+great treat. It was a big, quiet, old-fashioned house where
+Grandmother Laurance and Mrs. DeLisle, my Aunt Winnifred, lived. I was
+a favourite with them, yet I could never overcome a certain awe of
+them both. Grandmother was a tall, dignified old lady with keen black
+eyes that seemed veritably to bore through one. She always wore
+stiffly-rustling gowns of rich silk made in the fashion of her youth.
+I suppose she must have changed her dress occasionally, but the
+impression on my mind was always the same, as she went trailing about
+the house with a big bunch of keys at her belt&mdash;keys that opened a
+score of wonderful old chests and boxes and drawers. It was one of my
+dearest delights to attend Grandmother in her peregrinations and watch
+the unfolding and examining of all those old treasures and heirlooms
+of bygone Laurances.</p>
+
+<p>Of Aunt Winnifred I was less in awe, possibly because she dressed in a
+modern way and so looked to my small eyes more human and natural. As
+Winnifred Laurance she had been the beauty of the family and was a
+handsome woman still, with brilliant dark eyes and cameo-like
+features. She always looked very sad, spoke in a low sweet voice, and
+was my childish ideal of all that was high-bred and graceful.</p>
+
+<p>I had many beloved haunts at the Grange, but I liked the garret best.
+It was a roomy old place, big enough to have comfortably housed a
+family in itself, and was filled with cast-off furniture and old
+trunks and boxes of discarded finery. I was never tired of playing
+there, dressing up in the old-fashioned gowns and hats and practising
+old-time dance steps before the high, cracked mirror that hung at one
+end. That old garret was a veritable fairyland to me.</p>
+
+<p>There was one old chest which I could not explore and, like all
+forbidden things, it possessed a great attraction for me. It stood
+away back in a dusty, cobwebbed corner, a strong, high wooden box,
+painted blue. From some words which I had heard Grandmother let fall I
+was sure it had a history; it was the one thing she never explored in
+her periodical overhaulings. When I grew tired of playing I liked to
+creep up on it and sit there, picturing out my own fancies concerning
+it&mdash;of which my favourite one was that some day I should solve the
+riddle and open the chest to find it full of gold and jewels with
+which I might restore the fortune of the Laurances and all the
+traditionary splendours of the old Grange.</p>
+
+<p>I was sitting there one day when Aunt Winnifred and Grandmother
+Laurance came up the narrow dark staircase, the latter jingling her
+keys and peering into the dusty corners as she came along the room.
+When they came to the old chest, Grandmother rapped the top smartly
+with her keys.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder what is in this old chest," she said. "I believe it really
+should be opened. The moths may have got into it through that crack in
+the lid."</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you open it, Mother?" said Mrs. DeLisle. "I am sure that
+key of Robert's would fit the lock."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Grandmother in the tone that nobody, not even Aunt
+Winnifred, ever dreamed of disputing. "I will not open that chest
+without Eliza's permission. She confided it to my care when she went
+away, and I promised that it should never be opened until she came for
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Eliza," said Mrs. DeLisle thoughtfully. "I wonder what she is
+like now. Very much changed, like all the rest of us, I suppose. It is
+almost thirty years since she was here. How pretty she was!"</p>
+
+<p>"I never approved of her," said Grandmother brusquely. "She was a
+sentimental, fanciful creature. She might have married well but she
+preferred to waste her life pining over the memory of a man who was
+not worthy to untie the shoelace of a Laurance."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. DeLisle sighed softly and made no reply. People said that she had
+had her own romance in her youth and that her mother had sternly
+repressed it. I had heard that her marriage with Mr. DeLisle was
+loveless on her part and proved very unhappy. But he had been dead
+many years, and Aunt Winnifred never spoke of him.</p>
+
+<p>"I have made up my mind what to do," said Grandmother decidedly. "I
+will write to Eliza and ask her if I may open the chest to see if the
+moths have got into it. If she refuses, well and good. I have no doubt
+that she <i>will</i> refuse. She will cling to her old sentimental ideas as
+long as the breath is in her body."</p>
+
+<p>I rather avoided the old chest after this. It took on a new
+significance in my eyes and seemed to me like the tomb of
+something&mdash;possibly some dead and buried romance of the past.</p>
+
+<p>Later on a letter came to Grandmother; she passed it over the table to
+Mrs. DeLisle.</p>
+
+<p>"That is from Eliza," she said. "I would know her writing
+anywhere&mdash;none of your modern sprawly, untidy hands, but a fine
+lady-like script, as regular as copperplate. Read the letter,
+Winnifred; I haven't my glasses and I dare say Eliza's rhapsodies
+would tire me very much. You need not read them aloud&mdash;I can imagine
+them all. Let me know what she says about the chest."</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Winnifred opened and read the letter and laid it down with a
+brief sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"This is all she says about the chest. 'If it were not for one thing
+that is in it, I would ask you to open the chest and burn all its
+contents. But I cannot bear that anyone but myself should see or touch
+that one thing. So please leave the chest as it is, dear Aunt. It is
+no matter if the moths do get in.' That is all," continued Mrs.
+DeLisle, "and I must confess that I am disappointed. I have always had
+an almost childish curiosity about that old chest, but I seem fated
+not to have it gratified. That 'one thing' must be her wedding dress.
+I have always thought that she locked it away there."</p>
+
+<p>"Her answer is just what I expected of her," said Grandmother
+impatiently. "Evidently the years have not made her more sensible.
+Well, I wash my hands of her belongings, moths or no moths."</p>
+
+<p>It was not until ten years afterwards that I heard anything more of
+the old chest. Grandmother Laurance had died, but Aunt Winnifred still
+lived at the Grange. She was very lonely, and the winter after
+Grandmother's death she sent me an invitation to make her a long
+visit.</p>
+
+<p>When I revisited the garret and saw the old blue chest in the same
+dusty corner, my childish curiosity revived and I begged Aunt
+Winnifred to tell me its history.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad you have reminded me of it," said Mrs. DeLisle. "I have
+intended to open the chest ever since Mother's death but I kept
+putting it off. You know, Amy, poor Eliza Laurance died five years
+ago, but even then Mother would not have the chest opened. There is no
+reason why it should not be examined now. If you like, we will go and
+open it at once and afterwards I will tell you the story."</p>
+
+<p>We went eagerly up the garret stairs. Aunt knelt down before the old
+chest and selected a key from the bunch at her belt.</p>
+
+<p>"Would it not be too provoking, Amy, if this key should not fit after
+all? Well, I do not believe you would be any more disappointed than
+I."</p>
+
+<p>She turned the key and lifted the heavy lid. I bent forward eagerly. A
+layer of tissue paper revealed itself, with a fine tracing of sifted
+dust in its crinkles.</p>
+
+<p>"Lift it up, child," said my aunt gently. "There are no ghosts for
+you, at least, in this old chest."</p>
+
+<p>I lifted the paper up and saw that the chest was divided into two
+compartments. Lying on the top of one was a small, square, inlaid box.
+This Mrs. DeLisle took up and carried to the window. Lifting up the
+cover she laid it in my lap.</p>
+
+<p>"There, Amy, look through it and let us see what old treasures have
+lain hidden there these forty years."</p>
+
+<p>The first thing I took out was a small square case covered with dark
+purple velvet. The tiny clasp was almost rusted away and yielded
+easily. I gave a little cry of admiration. Aunt Winnifred bent over my
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"That is Eliza's portrait at the age of twenty, and that is Willis
+Starr's. Was she not lovely, Amy?"</p>
+
+<p>Lovely indeed was the face looking out at me from its border of
+tarnished gilt. It was the face of a young girl, in shape a perfect
+oval, with delicate features and large dark-blue eyes. Her hair,
+caught high on the crown and falling on her neck in the long curls of
+a bygone fashion, was a warm auburn, and the curves of her bare neck
+and shoulders were exquisite.</p>
+
+<p>"The other picture is that of the man to whom she was betrothed. Tell
+me, Amy, do you think him handsome?"</p>
+
+<p>I looked at the other portrait critically. It was that of a young man
+of about twenty-five; he was undeniably handsome, but there was
+something I did not like in his face and I said so.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Winnifred made no reply&mdash;she was taking out the remaining
+contents of the box. There was a white silk fan with delicately carved
+ivory sticks, a packet of old letters and a folded paper containing
+some dried and crumpled flowers. Aunt laid the box aside and unpacked
+the chest in silence. First came a ball dress of pale-yellow satin
+brocade, made with the trained skirt, "baby" waist and full puffed
+sleeves of a former generation. Beneath it was a case containing a
+necklace of small but perfect pearls and a pair of tiny satin
+slippers. The rest of the compartment was filled with household linen,
+fine and costly but yellowed with age&mdash;damask table linen and webs of
+the uncut fabric.</p>
+
+<p>In the second compartment lay a dress. Aunt Winnifred lifted it out
+reverently. It was a gown of rich silk that had once been white, but
+now, like the linen, it was yellow with age. It was simply made and
+trimmed with cobwebby old lace. Wrapped around it was a long white
+bridal veil, redolent with some strange, old-time perfume that had
+kept its sweetness all through the years.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Amy, this is all," said Aunt Winnifred with a quiver in her
+voice. "And now for the story. Where shall I begin?"</p>
+
+<p>"At the very beginning, Aunty. You see I know nothing at all except
+her name. Tell me who she was and why she put her wedding dress away
+here."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Eliza!" said Aunt dreamily. "It is a sorrowful story, Amy, and
+it seems so long ago now. I must be an old woman. Forty years ago&mdash;and
+I was only twenty then. Eliza Laurance was my cousin, the only
+daughter of Uncle Henry Laurance. My father&mdash;your grandfather, Amy,
+you don't remember him&mdash;had two brothers, each of whom had an only
+daughter. Both these girls were called Eliza after your
+great-grandmother. I never saw Uncle George's Eliza but once. He was a
+rich man and his daughter was much sought after, but she was no
+beauty, I promise you that, and proud and vain to the last degree.
+Her home was in a distant city and she never came to Wyther Grange.</p>
+
+<p>"The other Eliza Laurance was a poor man's daughter. She and I were of
+the same age and did not look unlike each other, although I was not so
+pretty by half. You can see by the portrait how beautiful she was, and
+it does her scant justice, for half her charm lay in her arch
+expression and her vivacious ways. She had her little faults, of
+course, and was rather over much given to romance and sentiment. This
+did not seem much of a defect to me then, Amy, for I was young and
+romantic too. Mother never cared much for Eliza, I think, but everyone
+else liked her. One winter Eliza came to Wyther Grange for a long
+visit. The Grange was a very lively place then, Amy. Eliza kept the
+old house ringing with merriment. We went out a great deal and she was
+always the belle of any festivity we attended. Yet she wore her
+honours easily; all the flattery and homage she received did not turn
+her head.</p>
+
+<p>"That winter we first met Willis Starr. He was a newcomer, and nobody
+knew much about him, but one or two of the best families took him up,
+and his own fascinations did the rest. He became what you would call
+the rage. He was considered very handsome, his manners were polished
+and easy, and people said he was rich.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think, Amy, that I ever trusted Willis Starr. But like all
+the rest, I was blinded by his charm. Mother was almost the only one
+who did not worship at his shrine, and very often she dropped hints
+about penniless adventurers that made Eliza very indignant.</p>
+
+<p>"From the first he had paid Eliza marked attention and seemed utterly
+bewitched by her. Well, his was an easy winning. Eliza loved him with
+her whole impulsive, girlish heart and made no attempt to hide it.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall never forget the night they were first engaged. It was
+Eliza's birthday, and we were invited to a ball that evening. This
+yellow gown is the very one she wore. I suppose that is why she put it
+away here&mdash;the gown she wore on the happiest night of her life. I had
+never seen her look more beautiful&mdash;her neck and arms were bare, and
+she wore this string of pearls and carried a bouquet of her favourite
+white roses.</p>
+
+<p>"When we reached home after the dance, Eliza had her happy secret to
+tell us. She was engaged to Willis Starr, and they were to be married
+in early spring.</p>
+
+<p>"Willis Starr certainly seemed to be an ideal lover, and Eliza was so
+perfectly happy that she seemed to grow more beautiful and radiant
+every day.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Amy, the wedding day was set. Eliza was to be married from the
+Grange, as her own mother was dead, and I was to be bridesmaid. We
+made her wedding dress together, she and I. Girls were not above
+making their own gowns then, and not a stitch was set in Eliza's save
+those put there by loving fingers and blessed by loving wishes. It was
+I who draped the veil over her sunny curls&mdash;see how yellow and creased
+it is now, but it was as white as snow that day.</p>
+
+<p>"A week before the wedding, Willis Starr was spending the evening at
+the Grange. We were all chattering gaily about the coming event, and
+in speaking of the invited guests Eliza said something about the
+other Eliza Laurance, the great heiress, looking archly at Willis over
+her shoulder as she spoke. It was some merry badinage about the cousin
+whose namesake she was but whom she so little resembled.</p>
+
+<p>"We all laughed, but I shall never forget the look that came over
+Willis Starr's face. It passed quickly, but the chill fear that it
+gave me remained. A few minutes later I left the room on some trifling
+errand, and as I returned through the dim hall I was met by Willis
+Starr. He laid his hand on my arm and bent his evil face&mdash;for it <i>was</i>
+evil then, Amy&mdash;close to mine.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tell me,' he said in a low but rude tone, 'is there another Eliza
+Laurance who is an heiress?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Certainly there is,' I said sharply. 'She is our cousin and the
+daughter of our Uncle George. Our Eliza is not an heiress. You surely
+did not suppose she was!'</p>
+
+<p>"Willis stepped aside with a mocking smile.</p>
+
+<p>"'I did&mdash;what wonder? I had heard much about the great heiress, Eliza
+Laurance, and the great beauty, Eliza Laurance. I supposed they were
+one and the same. You have all been careful not to undeceive me.'</p>
+
+<p>"'You forget yourself, Mr. Starr, when you speak so to me,' I retorted
+coldly. 'You have deceived yourself. We have never dreamed of allowing
+anyone to think that Eliza was an heiress. She is sweet and lovely
+enough to be loved for her own sake.'</p>
+
+<p>"I went back to the parlour full of dismay. Willis Starr remained
+gloomy and taciturn all the rest of the evening, but nobody seemed to
+notice it but myself.</p>
+
+<p>"The next day we were all so busy that I almost forgot the incident
+of the previous evening. We girls were up in the sewing room putting
+the last touches to the wedding gown. Eliza tried it and her veil on
+and was standing so, in all her silken splendour, when a letter was
+brought in. I guessed by her blush who was the writer. I laughed and
+ran downstairs, leaving her to read it.</p>
+
+<p>"When I returned she was still standing just where I had left her in
+the middle of the room, holding the letter in her hand. Her face was
+as white as her veil, and her wide-open eyes had a dazed, agonized
+look as of someone who had been stricken a mortal blow. All the soft
+happiness and sweetness had gone out of them. They were the eyes of an
+old woman, Amy.</p>
+
+<p>"'Eliza, what is the matter?' I said. 'Has anything happened to
+Willis?'</p>
+
+<p>"She made no answer, but walked to the fireplace, dropped the letter
+in a bed of writhing blue flame and watched it burn to white ashes.
+Then she turned to me.</p>
+
+<p>"'Help me take off this gown, Winnie,' she said dully. 'I shall never
+wear it again. There will be no wedding. Willis is gone.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Gone!' I echoed stupidly.</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes. I am not the heiress, Winnie. It was the fortune, not the girl,
+he loved. He says he is too poor for us to dream of marrying when I
+have nothing. Oh, such a cruel, heartless letter! Why did he not kill
+me? It would have been so much more merciful! I loved him so&mdash;I
+trusted him so! Oh, Winnie, Winnie, what am I to do!'</p>
+
+<p>"There was something terrible in the contrast between her passionate
+words and her calm face and lifeless voice. I wanted to call Mother,
+but she would not let me. She went away to her own room, trailing
+along the dark hall in her dress and veil, and locked herself in.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I told it all to the others in some fashion. You can imagine
+their anger and dismay. Your father, Amy&mdash;he was a hot-blooded,
+impetuous, young fellow then&mdash;went at once to seek Willis Starr. But
+he was gone, no one knew where, and the whole country rang with the
+gossip and scandal of the affair. Eliza knew nothing of this, for she
+was ill and unconscious for many a day. In a novel or story she would
+have died, I suppose, and that would have been the end of it. But this
+was in real life, and Eliza did not die, although many times we
+thought she would.</p>
+
+<p>"When she did recover, how frightfully changed she was! It almost
+broke my heart to see her. Her very nature seemed to have changed
+too&mdash;all her joyousness and light-heartedness were dead. From that
+time she was a faded, dispirited creature, no more like the Eliza we
+had known than the merest stranger. And then after a while came other
+news&mdash;Willis Starr was married to the other Eliza Laurance, the true
+heiress. He had made no second mistake. We tried to keep it from Eliza
+but she found it out at last. That was the day she came up here alone
+and packed this old chest. Nobody ever knew just what she put into it.
+But you and I see now, Amy&mdash;her ball dress, her wedding gown, her love
+letters and, more than all else, her youth and happiness&mdash;this old
+chest was the tomb of it all. Eliza Laurance was really buried here.</p>
+
+<p>"She went home soon after. Before she went she exacted a promise from
+Mother that the old chest should be left at the Grange unopened until
+she came for it herself. But she never came back, and I do not think
+she ever intended to, and I never saw her again.</p>
+
+<p>"That is the story of the old chest. It was all over so long ago&mdash;the
+heartbreak and the misery&mdash;but it all seems to come back to me now.
+Poor Eliza!"</p>
+
+<p>My own eyes were full of tears as Aunt Winnifred went down the stairs,
+leaving me sitting dreamily there in the sunset light, with the old
+yellowed bridal veil across my lap and the portrait of Eliza Laurance
+in my hand. Around me were the relics of her pitiful story&mdash;the old,
+oft-repeated story of a faithless love and a woman's broken heart&mdash;the
+gown she had worn, the slippers in which she had danced
+light-heartedly at her betrothal ball, her fan, her pearls, her
+gloves&mdash;and it somehow seemed to me as if I were living in those old
+years myself, as if the love and happiness, the betrayal and pain were
+part of my own life. Presently Aunt Winnifred came back through the
+twilight shadows.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us put all these things back in their grave, Amy," she said.
+"They are of no use to anyone now. The linen might be bleached and
+used, I dare say&mdash;but it would seem like a sacrilege. It was Mother's
+wedding present to Eliza. And the pearls&mdash;would you care to have them,
+Amy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, no," I said with a little shiver. "I would never wear them,
+Aunt Winnifred. I should feel like a ghost if I did. Put everything
+back just as we found it&mdash;only her portrait. I would like to keep
+that."</p>
+
+<p>Reverently we put gowns and letters and trinkets back into the old
+blue chest. Aunt Winnifred closed the lid and turned the key softly.
+She bowed her head over it for a minute and then we went together in
+silence down the shadowy garret stairs of Wyther Grange.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="The_Osbornes_Christmas" id="The_Osbornes_Christmas"></a><hr />
+<br />
+
+<h2>The Osbornes' Christmas<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>Cousin Myra had come to spend Christmas at "The Firs," and all the
+junior Osbornes were ready to stand on their heads with delight.
+Darby&mdash;whose real name was Charles&mdash;did it, because he was only eight,
+and at eight you have no dignity to keep up. The others, being older,
+couldn't.</p>
+
+<p>But the fact of Christmas itself awoke no great enthusiasm in the
+hearts of the junior Osbornes. Frank voiced their opinion of it the
+day after Cousin Myra had arrived. He was sitting on the table with
+his hands in his pockets and a cynical sneer on his face. At least,
+Frank flattered himself that it was cynical. He knew that Uncle Edgar
+was said to wear a cynical sneer, and Frank admired Uncle Edgar very
+much and imitated him in every possible way. But to you and me it
+would have looked just as it did to Cousin Myra&mdash;a very discontented
+and unbecoming scowl.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm awfully glad to see you, Cousin Myra," explained Frank carefully,
+"and your being here may make some things worth while. But Christmas
+is just a bore&mdash;a regular bore."</p>
+
+<p>That was what Uncle Edgar called things that didn't interest him, so
+that Frank felt pretty sure of his word. Nevertheless, he wondered
+uncomfortably what made Cousin Myra smile so queerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, how dreadful!" she said brightly. "I thought all boys and girls
+looked upon Christmas as the very best time in the year."</p>
+
+<p>"We don't," said Frank gloomily. "It's just the same old thing year in
+and year out. We know just exactly what is going to happen. We even
+know pretty well what presents we are going to get. And Christmas Day
+itself is always the same. We'll get up in the morning, and our
+stockings will be full of things, and half of them we don't want. Then
+there's dinner. It's always so poky. And all the uncles and aunts come
+to dinner&mdash;just the same old crowd, every year, and they say just the
+same things. Aunt Desda always says, 'Why, Frankie, how you have
+grown!' She knows I hate to be called Frankie. And after dinner
+they'll sit round and talk the rest of the day, and that's all. Yes, I
+call Christmas a nuisance."</p>
+
+<p>"There isn't a single bit of fun in it," said Ida discontentedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Not a bit!" said the twins, both together, as they always said
+things.</p>
+
+<p>"There's lots of candy," said Darby stoutly. He rather liked
+Christmas, although he was ashamed to say so before Frank.</p>
+
+<p>Cousin Myra smothered another of those queer smiles.</p>
+
+<p>"You've had too much Christmas, you Osbornes," she said seriously. "It
+has palled on your taste, as all good things will if you overdo them.
+Did you ever try giving Christmas to somebody else?"</p>
+
+<p>The Osbornes looked at Cousin Myra doubtfully. They didn't understand.</p>
+
+<p>"We always send presents to all our cousins," said Frank hesitatingly.
+"That's a bore, too. They've all got so many things already it's no
+end of bother to think of something new."</p>
+
+<p>"That isn't what I mean," said Cousin Myra. "How much Christmas do you
+suppose those little Rolands down there in the hollow have? Or Sammy
+Abbott with his lame back? Or French Joe's family over the hill? If
+you have too much Christmas, why don't you give some to them?"</p>
+
+<p>The Osbornes looked at each other. This was a new idea.</p>
+
+<p>"How could we do it?" asked Ida.</p>
+
+<p>Whereupon they had a consultation. Cousin Myra explained her plan, and
+the Osbornes grew enthusiastic over it. Even Frank forgot that he was
+supposed to be wearing a cynical sneer.</p>
+
+<p>"I move we do it, Osbornes," said he.</p>
+
+<p>"If Father and Mother are willing," said Ida.</p>
+
+<p>"Won't it be jolly!" exclaimed the twins.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, rather," said Darby scornfully. He did not mean to be scornful.
+He had heard Frank saying the same words in the same tone, and thought
+it signified approval.</p>
+
+<p>Cousin Myra had a talk with Father and Mother Osborne that night, and
+found them heartily in sympathy with her plans.</p>
+
+<p>For the next week the Osbornes were agog with excitement and interest.
+At first Cousin Myra made the suggestions, but their enthusiasm soon
+outstripped her, and they thought out things for themselves. Never did
+a week pass so quickly. And the Osbornes had never had such fun,
+either.</p>
+
+<p>Christmas morning there was not a single present given or received at
+"The Firs" except those which Cousin Myra and Mr. and Mrs. Osborne
+gave to each other. The junior Osbornes had asked that the money which
+their parents had planned to spend in presents for them be given to
+them the previous week; and given it was, without a word.</p>
+
+<p>The uncles and aunts arrived in due time, but not with them was the
+junior Osbornes' concern. They were the guests of Mr. and Mrs.
+Osborne. The junior Osbornes were having a Christmas dinner party of
+their own. In the small dining room a table was spread and loaded with
+good things. Ida and the twins cooked that dinner all by themselves.
+To be sure, Cousin Myra had helped some, and Frank and Darby had
+stoned all the raisins and helped pull the home-made candy; and all
+together they had decorated the small dining room royally with
+Christmas greens.</p>
+
+<p>Then their guests came. First, all the little Rolands from the Hollow
+arrived&mdash;seven in all, with very red, shining faces and not a word to
+say for themselves, so shy were they. Then came a troop from French
+Joe's&mdash;four black-eyed lads, who never knew what shyness meant. Frank
+drove down to the village in the cutter and brought lame Sammy back
+with him, and soon after the last guest arrived&mdash;little Tillie Mather,
+who was Miss Rankin's "orphan 'sylum girl" from over the road.
+Everybody knew that Miss Rankin never kept Christmas. She did not
+believe in it, she said, but she did not prevent Tillie from going to
+the Osbornes' dinner party.</p>
+
+<p>Just at first the guests were a little stiff and unsocial; but they
+soon got acquainted, and so jolly was Cousin Myra&mdash;who had her dinner
+with the children in preference to the grown-ups&mdash;and so friendly the
+junior Osbornes, that all stiffness vanished. What a merry dinner it
+was! What peals of laughter went up, reaching to the big dining room
+across the hall, where the grown-ups sat in rather solemn state. And
+how those guests did eat and frankly enjoy the good things before
+them! How nicely they all behaved, even to the French Joes! Myra had
+secretly been a little dubious about those four mischievous-looking
+lads, but their manners were quite flawless. Mrs. French Joe had been
+drilling them for three days&mdash;ever since they had been invited to "de
+Chrismus dinner at de beeg house."</p>
+
+<p>After the merry dinner was over, the junior Osbornes brought in a
+Christmas tree, loaded with presents. They had bought them with the
+money that Mr. and Mrs. Osborne had meant for their own presents, and
+a splendid assortment they were. All the French-Joe boys got a pair of
+skates apiece, and Sammy a set of beautiful books, and Tillie was made
+supremely happy with a big wax doll. Every little Roland got just what
+his or her small heart had been longing for. Besides, there were nuts
+and candies galore.</p>
+
+<p>Then Frank hitched up his pony again, but this time into a great pung
+sleigh, and the junior Osbornes took their guests for a sleigh-drive,
+chaperoned by Cousin Myra. It was just dusk when they got back,
+having driven the Rolands and the French Joes and Sammy and Tillie to
+their respective homes.</p>
+
+<p>"This has been the jolliest Christmas I ever spent," said Frank,
+emphatically.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought we were just going to give the others a good time, but it
+was they who gave it to us," said Ida.</p>
+
+<p>"Weren't the French Joes jolly?" giggled the twins. "Such cute
+speeches as they would make!"</p>
+
+<p>"Me and Teddy Roland are going to be chums after this," announced
+Darby. "He's an inch taller than me, but I'm wider."</p>
+
+<p>That night Frank and Ida and Cousin Myra had a little talk after the
+smaller Osbornes had been haled off to bed.</p>
+
+<p>"We're not going to stop with Christmas, Cousin Myra," said Frank, at
+the end of it. "We're just going to keep on through the year. We've
+never had such a delightful old Christmas before."</p>
+
+<p>"You've learned the secret of happiness," said Cousin Myra gently.</p>
+
+<p>And the Osbornes understood what she meant.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="The_Romance_of_Aunt_Beatrice" id="The_Romance_of_Aunt_Beatrice"></a><hr />
+<br />
+
+<h2>The Romance of Aunt Beatrice<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>Margaret always maintains that it was a direct inspiration of
+Providence that took her across the street to see Aunt Beatrice that
+night. And Aunt Beatrice believes that it was too. But the truth of
+the matter is that Margaret was feeling very unhappy, and went over to
+talk to Aunt Beatrice as the only alternative to a fit of crying.
+Margaret's unhappiness has nothing further to do with this story, so
+it may be dismissed with the remark that it did not amount to much, in
+spite of Margaret's tragical attitude, and was dissipated at once and
+forever by the arrival of a certain missent letter the next day.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Beatrice was alone. Her brother and his wife had gone to the "at
+home" which Mrs. Cunningham was giving that night in honour of the
+Honourable John Reynolds, M.P. The children were upstairs in bed, and
+Aunt Beatrice was darning their stockings, a big basketful of which
+loomed up aggressively on the table beside her. Or, to speak more
+correctly, she had been darning them. Just when Margaret was sliding
+across the icy street Aunt Beatrice was bent forward in her chair, her
+hands over her face, while soft, shrinking little sobs shook her from
+head to foot.</p>
+
+<p>When Margaret's imperative knock came at the front door, Aunt Beatrice
+started guiltily and wished earnestly that she had waited until she
+went to bed before crying, if cry she must. She knew Margaret's knock,
+and she did not want her gay young niece, of all people in the world,
+to suspect the fact or the cause of her tears.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope she won't notice my eyes," she thought, as she hastily plumped
+a big ugly dark-green shade, with an almond-eyed oriental leering from
+it, over the lamp, before going out to let Margaret in.</p>
+
+<p>Margaret did not notice at first. She was too deeply absorbed in her
+own troubles to think that anyone else in the world could be miserable
+too. She curled up in the deep easy-chair by the fire, and clasped her
+hands behind her curly head with a sigh of physical comfort and mental
+unhappiness, while Aunt Beatrice, warily sitting with her back to the
+light, took up her work again.</p>
+
+<p>"You didn't go to Mrs. Cunningham's 'at home,' Auntie," said Margaret
+lazily, feeling that she must make some conversation to justify her
+appearance. "You were invited, weren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Beatrice nodded. The hole she was darning in the knee of Willie
+Hayden's stocking must be done very carefully. Mrs. George Hayden was
+particular about such matters. Perhaps this was why Aunt Beatrice did
+not speak.</p>
+
+<p>"Why didn't you go?" asked Margaret absently, wondering why there had
+been no letter for her that morning&mdash;and this was the third day too!
+Could Gilbert be ill? Or was he flirting with some other girl and
+forgetting her? Margaret swallowed a big lump in her throat, and
+resolved that she would go home next week&mdash;no, she wouldn't,
+either&mdash;if he was as hateful and fickle as that&mdash;what was Aunt
+Beatrice saying?</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'm&mdash;I'm not used to going to parties now, my dear. And the
+truth is I have no dress fit to wear. At least Bella said so, because
+the party was to be a very fashionable affair. She said my old grey
+silk wouldn't do at all. Of course she knows. She had to have a new
+dress for it, and, we couldn't both have that. George couldn't afford
+it these hard times. And, as Bella said, it would be very foolish of
+me to get an expensive dress that would be no use to me afterward. But
+it doesn't matter. And, of course, somebody had to stay with the
+children."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," assented Margaret dreamily. Mrs. Cunningham's "at home"
+was of no particular interest. The guests were all middle-aged people
+whom the M.P. had known in his boyhood and Margaret, in her
+presumptuous youth, thought it would be a very prosy affair, although
+it had made quite a sensation in quiet little Murraybridge, where
+people still called an "at home" a party plain and simple.</p>
+
+<p>"I saw Mr. Reynolds in church Sunday afternoon," she went on. "He is
+very fine-looking, I think. Did you ever meet him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I used to know him very well long ago," answered Aunt Beatrice,
+bowing still lower over her work. "He used to live down in Wentworth,
+you know, and he visited his married sister here very often. He was
+only a boy at that time. Then&mdash;he went out to British Columbia
+and&mdash;and&mdash;we never heard much more about him."</p>
+
+<p>"He's very rich and owns dozens of mines and railroads and things like
+that," said Margaret, "and he's a member of the Dominion Parliament,
+too. They say he's one of the foremost men in the House and came very
+near getting a portfolio in the new cabinet. I like men like that.
+They are so interesting. Wouldn't it be awfully nice and complimentary
+to have one of them in love with you? Is he married?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I don't know," said Aunt Beatrice faintly. "I have never heard
+that he was."</p>
+
+<p>"There, you've run the needle into your finger," said Margaret
+sympathetically.</p>
+
+<p>"It's of no consequence," said Aunt Beatrice hastily.</p>
+
+<p>She wiped away the drop of blood and went on with her work. Margaret
+watched her dreamily. What lovely hair Aunt Beatrice had! It was so
+thick and glossy, with warm bronze tones where the lamp-light fell on
+it under that hideous weird old shade. But Aunt Beatrice wore it in
+such an unbecoming way. Margaret idly wondered if she would comb her
+hair straight back and prim when she was thirty-five. She thought it
+very probable if that letter did not come tomorrow.</p>
+
+<p>From Aunt Beatrice's hair Margaret's eyes fell to Aunt Beatrice's
+face. She gave a little jump. Had Aunt Beatrice been crying? Margaret
+sat bolt upright.</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt Beatrice, did you want to go to that party?" she demanded
+explosively. "Now tell me the truth."</p>
+
+<p>"I did," said Aunt Beatrice weakly. Margaret's sudden attack fairly
+startled the truth out of her. "It is very silly of me, I know, but I
+did want to go. I didn't care about a new dress. I'd have been quite
+willing to wear my grey silk, and I could have fixed the sleeves. What
+difference would it have made? Nobody would ever have noticed me, but
+Bella thought it wouldn't do."</p>
+
+<p>She paused long enough to give a little sob which she could not
+repress. Margaret made use of the opportunity to exclaim violently,
+"It's a shame!"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you don't understand why I wanted to go to this particular
+party so much," went on Aunt Beatrice shyly. "I'll tell you why&mdash;if
+you won't laugh at me. I wanted to see John Reynolds&mdash;not to talk to
+him&mdash;oh, I dare say he wouldn't remember me&mdash;but just to see him.
+Long ago&mdash;fifteen years ago&mdash;we were engaged. And&mdash;and&mdash;I loved him so
+much then, Margaret."</p>
+
+<p>"You poor dear!" said Margaret sympathetically. She reached over and
+patted her aunt's hand. She thought that this little bit of romance,
+long hidden and unsuspected, blossoming out under her eyes, was
+charming. In her interest she quite forgot her own pet grievance.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;and then we quarrelled. It was a dreadful quarrel and it was
+about such a trifle. We parted in anger and he went away. He never
+came back. It was all my fault. Well, it is all over long ago and
+everybody has forgotten. I&mdash;I don't mind it now. But I just wanted to
+see him once more and then come quietly away."</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt Beatrice, you are going to that party yet," said Margaret
+decisively.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it is impossible, my dear."</p>
+
+<p>"No, it isn't. Nothing is impossible when I make up my mind. You must
+go. I'll drag you there by main force if it comes to that. Oh, I have
+such a jolly plan, Auntie. You know my black and yellow dinner
+dress&mdash;no, you don't either, for I've never worn it here. The folks at
+home all said it was too severe for me&mdash;and so it is. Nothing suits me
+but the fluffy, chuffy things with a tilt to them. Gil&mdash;er&mdash;I
+mean&mdash;well, yes, Gilbert always declared that dress made me look like
+a cross between an unwilling nun and a ballet girl, so I took a
+dislike to it. But it's as lovely as a dream. Oh, when you see it your
+eyes will stick out. You must wear it tonight. It's just your style,
+and I'm sure it will fit you, for our figures are so much alike."</p>
+
+<p>"But it is too late."</p>
+
+<p>"'Tisn't. It's not more than half an hour since Uncle George and Aunt
+Bella went. I'll have you ready in a twinkling."</p>
+
+<p>"But the fire&mdash;and the children!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll stay here and look after both. I won't burn the house down, and
+if the twins wake up I'll give them&mdash;what is it you give
+them&mdash;soothing syrup? So go at once and get you ready, while I fly
+over for the dress. I'll fix your hair up when I get back."</p>
+
+<p>Margaret was gone before Aunt Beatrice could speak again. Her niece's
+excitement seized hold of her too. She flung the stockings into the
+basket and the basket into the closet.</p>
+
+<p>"I will go&mdash;and I won't do another bit of darning tonight. I hate
+it&mdash;I hate it&mdash;I hate it! Oh, how much good it does me to say it!"</p>
+
+<p>When Margaret came flying up the stairs Aunt Beatrice was ready save
+for hair and dress. Margaret cast the gown on the bed, revealing all
+its beauty of jetted lace and soft yellow silk with a dextrous sweep
+of her arm. Aunt Beatrice gave a little cry of admiration.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it lovely?" demanded Margaret. "And I've brought you my opera
+cape and my fascinator and my black satin slippers with the cunningest
+gold buckles, and some sweet pale yellow roses that Uncle Ned gave me
+yesterday. Oh, Aunt Beatrice! What magnificent arms and shoulders you
+have! They're like marble. Mine are so scrawny I'm just ashamed to
+have people know they belong to me."</p>
+
+<p>Margaret's nimble fingers were keeping time with her tongue. Aunt
+Beatrice's hair went up as if by magic into soft puffs and waves and
+twists, and a golden rose was dropped among the bronze masses. Then
+the lovely dress was put on and pinned and looped and pulled until it
+fell into its simple, classical lines around the tall, curving figure.
+Margaret stepped back and clapped her hands admiringly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Auntie, you're beautiful! Now I'll pop down for the cloak and
+fascinator. I left them hanging by the fire."</p>
+
+<p>When Margaret had gone Aunt Beatrice caught up the lamp and tiptoed
+shamefacedly across the hall to the icy-cold spare room. In the long
+mirror she saw herself reflected from top to toe&mdash;or was it herself!
+Could it be&mdash;that gracious woman with the sweet eyes and flushed
+cheeks, with rounded arms gleaming through their black laces and the
+cluster of roses nestling against the warm white flesh of the
+shoulder?</p>
+
+<p>"I do look nice," she said aloud, with a little curtsey to the radiant
+reflection. "It is all the dress, I know. I feel like a queen in
+it&mdash;no, like a girl again&mdash;and that's better."</p>
+
+<p>Margaret went to Mrs. Cunningham's door with her.</p>
+
+<p>"How I wish I could go in and see the sensation you'll make, Aunt
+Beatrice," she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>"You dear, silly child! It's just the purple and fine linen," laughed
+Aunt Beatrice. But she did not altogether think so, and she rang the
+doorbell unquailingly. In the hall Mrs. Cunningham herself came
+beamingly to greet her.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Beatrice! I'm so glad. Bella said you could not come because
+you had a headache."</p>
+
+<p>"My headache got quite better after they left, and so I thought I
+would get ready and come, even if it were rather late," said Beatrice
+glibly, wondering if Sapphira had ever worn a black-and-yellow dress,
+and if so, might not her historic falsehood be traced to its
+influence?</p>
+
+<p>When they came downstairs together, Beatrice, statuesque and erect in
+her trailing draperies, and Mrs. Cunningham secretly wondering where
+on earth Beatrice Hayden had got such a magnificent dress and what she
+had done to herself to make her look as she did&mdash;a man came through
+the hall. At the foot of the stairs they met. He put out his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Beatrice! It must be Beatrice! How little you have changed!"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Cunningham was not particularly noted in Murraybridge for her
+tact, but she had a sudden visitation of the saving grace at that
+moment, and left the two alone.</p>
+
+<p>Beatrice put her hand into the M.P.'s.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad to see you," she said simply, looking up at him.</p>
+
+<p>She could not say that he had not changed, for there was little in
+this tall, broad-shouldered man of the world, with grey glints in his
+hair, to suggest the slim, boyish young lover whose image she had
+carried in her heart all the long years.</p>
+
+<p>But the voice, though deeper and mellower, was the same, and the thin,
+clever mouth that went up at one corner and down at the other in a
+humorous twist; and one little curl of reddish hair fell over his
+forehead away from its orderly fellows, just as it used to when she
+had loved to poke her fingers through it; and, more than all, the
+deep-set grey eyes looking down into her blue ones were unchanged.
+Beatrice felt her heart beating to her fingertips.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you were not coming," he said. "I expected to meet you here
+and I was horribly disappointed. I thought the bitterness of that
+foolish old quarrel must be strong enough to sway you yet."</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't Bella tell you I had a headache?" faltered Beatrice.</p>
+
+<p>"Bella? Oh, your brother's wife! I wasn't talking to her. I've been
+sulking in corners ever since I concluded you were not coming. How
+beautiful you are, Beatrice! You'll let an old friend say that much,
+won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>Beatrice laughed softly. She had forgotten for years that she was
+beautiful, but the sweet old knowledge had come back to her again. She
+could not help knowing that he spoke the simple truth, but she said
+mirthfully,</p>
+
+<p>"You've learned to flatter since the old days, haven't you? Don't you
+remember you used to tell me I was too thin to be pretty? But I
+suppose a bit of blarney is a necessary ingredient in the composition
+of an M.P."</p>
+
+<p>He was still holding her hand. With a glance of dissatisfaction at the
+open parlour door, he drew her away to the little room at the end of
+the hall, which Mrs. Cunningham, for reasons known only to herself,
+called her library.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in here with me," he said masterfully. "I want to have a long
+talk with you before the other people get hold of you."</p>
+
+<p>When Beatrice got home from the party ten minutes before her brother
+and his wife, Margaret was sitting Turk fashion in the big armchair,
+with her eyes very wide open and owlish.</p>
+
+<p>"You dear girlie, were you asleep?" asked Aunt Beatrice indulgently.</p>
+
+<p>Margaret nodded. "Yes, and I've let the fire go out. I hope you're not
+cold. I must run before Aunt Bella gets here, or she'll scold. Had a
+nice time?"</p>
+
+<p>"Delightful. You were a dear to lend me this dress. It was so funny to
+see Bella staring at it."</p>
+
+<p>When Margaret had put on her hat and jacket she went as far as the
+street door, and then tiptoed back to the sitting-room. Aunt Beatrice
+was leaning back in the armchair, with a drooping rose held softly
+against her lips, gazing dreamily into the dull red embers.</p>
+
+<p>"Auntie," said Margaret contritely, "I can't go home without
+confessing, although I know it is a heinous offence to interrupt the
+kind of musing that goes with dying embers and faded roses in the
+small hours. But it would weigh on my conscience all night if I
+didn't. I was asleep, but I wakened up just before you came in and
+went to the window. I didn't mean to spy upon anyone&mdash;but that street
+was bright as day! And if you will let an M.P. kiss you on the
+doorstep in glaring moonlight, you must expect to be seen."</p>
+
+<p>"I wouldn't have cared if there had been a dozen onlookers," said Aunt
+Beatrice frankly, "and I don't believe he would either."</p>
+
+<p>Margaret threw up her hands. "Well, my conscience is clear, at least.
+And remember, Aunt Beatrice, I'm to be bridesmaid&mdash;I insist upon that.
+And, oh, won't you ask me to visit you when you go down to Ottawa next
+winter? I'm told it's such a jolly place when the House is in session.
+And you'll need somebody to help you entertain, you know. The wife of
+a cabinet minister has to do lots of that. But I forgot&mdash;he isn't a
+cabinet minister yet. But he will be, of course. Promise that you'll
+have me, Aunt Beatrice, promise quick. I hear Uncle George and Aunt
+Bella coming."</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Beatrice promised. Margaret flew to the door.</p>
+
+<p>"You'd better keep that dress," she called back softly, as she opened
+it.</p>
+
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="The_Running_Away_of_Chester" id="The_Running_Away_of_Chester"></a><hr />
+<br />
+
+<h2>The Running Away of Chester<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>Chester did the chores with unusual vim that night. His lips were set
+and there was an air of resolution as plainly visible on his small,
+freckled face as if it had been stamped there. Mrs. Elwell saw him
+flying around, and her grim features took on a still grimmer
+expression.</p>
+
+<p>"Ches is mighty lively tonight," she muttered. "I s'pose he's in a gog
+to be off on some foolishness with Henry Wilson. Well, he won't, and
+he needn't think it."</p>
+
+<p>Lige Barton, the hired man, also thought this was Chester's purpose,
+but he took a more lenient view of it than did Mrs. Elwell.</p>
+
+<p>"The little chap is going through things with a rush this evening," he
+reflected. "Guess he's laying out for a bit of fun with the Wilson
+boy."</p>
+
+<p>But Chester was not planning anything connected with Henry Wilson, who
+lived on the other side of the pond and was the only chum he
+possessed. After the chores were done, he lingered a little while
+around the barns, getting his courage keyed up to the necessary pitch.</p>
+
+<p>Chester Stephens was an orphan without kith or kin in the world,
+unless his father's stepsister, Mrs. Harriet Elwell, could be called
+so. His parents had died in his babyhood, and Mrs. Elwell had taken
+him to bring up. She was a harsh woman, with a violent temper, and she
+had scolded and worried the boy all his short life. Upton people said
+it was a shame, but nobody felt called upon to interfere. Mrs. Elwell
+was not a person one would care to make an enemy of.</p>
+
+<p>She eyed Chester sourly when he went in, expecting some request to be
+allowed to go with Henry, and prepared to refuse it sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt Harriet," said Chester suddenly, "can I go to school this year?
+It begins tomorrow."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Mrs. Elwell, when she had recovered from her surprise at
+this unexpected question. "You've had schoolin' in plenty&mdash;more'n I
+ever had, and all you're goin' to get!"</p>
+
+<p>"But, Aunt Harriet," persisted Chester, his face flushed with
+earnestness, "I'm nearly thirteen, and I can barely read and write a
+little. The other boys are ever so far ahead of me. I don't know
+anything."</p>
+
+<p>"You know enough to be disrespectful!" exclaimed Mrs. Elwell. "I
+suppose you want to go to school to idle away your time, as you do at
+home&mdash;lazy good-for-nothing that you are!" Chester thought of the
+drudgery that had been his portion all his life. He resented being
+called lazy when he was willing enough to work, but he made one more
+appeal.</p>
+
+<p>"If you'll let me go to school this year, I'll work twice as hard out
+of school to make up for it&mdash;indeed, I will. Do let me go, Aunt
+Harriet. I haven't been to school a day for over a year."</p>
+
+<p>"Let's hear no more of this nonsense," said Mrs. Elwell, taking a
+bottle from the shelf above her with the air of one who closes a
+discussion. "Here, run down to the Bridge and get me this bottle full
+of vinegar at Jacob's store. Be smart, too, d'ye hear! I ain't going
+to have you idling around the Bridge neither. If you ain't back in
+twenty minutes, it won't be well for you."</p>
+
+<p>Chester did his errand at the Bridge with a heart full of bitter
+disappointment and anger.</p>
+
+<p>"I won't stand it any longer!" he muttered. "I'll run away&mdash;I don't
+care where, so long as it's away from her. I wish I could get out West
+on the harvest excursions."</p>
+
+<p>On his return home, as he crossed the yard in the dusk, he stumbled
+over a stick of wood and fell. The bottle of vinegar slipped from his
+hand and was broken on the doorstep. Mrs. Elwell saw the accident from
+the window. She rushed out and jerked the unlucky lad to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Take that, you sulky little cub!" she exclaimed, cuffing his ears
+soundly. "I'll teach you to break and spill things you're sent for!
+You did it on purpose. Get off to bed with you this instant."</p>
+
+<p>Chester crept off to his garret chamber with a very sullen face. He
+was too used to being sent to bed without any supper to care much for
+that, although he was hungry. But his whole being was in a tumult of
+rebellion over the injustice that was meted out to him.</p>
+
+<p>"I won't stand it!" he muttered over and over again. "I'll run away. I
+won't stay here."</p>
+
+<p>To talk of running away was one thing. To do it without a cent in your
+pocket or a place to run to was another. But Chester had a great deal
+of determination in his make-up when it was fairly roused, and his
+hard upbringing had made him older and shrewder than his years. He lay
+awake late that night, thinking out ways and means, but could arrive
+at no satisfactory conclusion.</p>
+
+<p>The next day Mrs. Elwell said, "Ches, Abner Stearns wants you to go up
+there for a fortnight while Tom Bixby is away, and drive the milk
+wagon of mornings and do the chores for Mrs. Stearns. You might as
+well put in the time 'fore harvest that way as any other. So hustle
+off&mdash;and mind you behave yourself."</p>
+
+<p>Chester heard the news gladly. He had not yet devised any feasible
+plan for running away, and he always liked to work at the Stearns'
+place. To be sure, Mrs. Elwell received all the money he earned, but
+Mrs. Stearns was kind to him, and though he had to work hard and
+constantly, he was well fed and well treated by all.</p>
+
+<p>The following fortnight was a comparatively happy one for the lad.
+But he did not forget his purpose of shaking the dust of Upton from
+his feet as soon as possible, and he cudgelled his brains trying to
+find a way.</p>
+
+<p>On the evening when he left the Stearns' homestead, Mr. Stearns paid
+him for his fortnight's work, much to the boy's surprise, for Mrs.
+Elwell had always insisted that all such money should be paid directly
+to her. Chester found himself the possessor of four dollars&mdash;an amount
+of riches that almost took away his breath. He had never in his whole
+life owned more than ten cents at a time. As he tramped along the road
+home, he kept his hand in his pocket, holding fast to the money, as if
+he feared it would otherwise dissolve into thin air.</p>
+
+<p>His mind was firmly made up. He would run away once and for all. This
+money was rightly his; he had earned every cent of it. It would surely
+last him until he found employment elsewhere. At any rate, he would
+go; and even if he starved, he would never come back to Aunt
+Harriet's!</p>
+
+<p>When he reached home, he found Mrs. Elwell in an unusual state of
+worry. Lige had given warning&mdash;and this on the verge of harvest!</p>
+
+<p>"Did Stearns say anything about coming down tomorrow to pay me for
+your work?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"No, ma'am. He didn't say a word about it," said Chester boldly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I hope he will. Take yourself off to bed, Ches. I'm sick of
+seeing you standing there, on one foot or t'other, like a gander."</p>
+
+<p>Chester had been shifting about uneasily. He realized that, if his
+project did not miscarry, he would not see his aunt again, and his
+heart softened to her. Harsh as she was, she was the only protector he
+had ever known, and the boy had a vague wish to carry away with him
+some kindly word or look from her. Such, however, was not
+forthcoming, and Chester obeyed her command and took himself off to
+the garret. Here he sat down and reflected on his plans.</p>
+
+<p>He must go that very night. When Mr. Stearns failed to appear on the
+morrow, Mrs. Elwell was quite likely to march up and demand the amount
+of Chester's wages. It would all come out then, and he would lose his
+money&mdash;besides, no doubt, getting severely punished into the bargain.</p>
+
+<p>His preparations did not take long. He had nothing to carry with him.
+The only decent suit of clothes he possessed was his well-worn Sunday
+one. This he put on, carefully stowing away in his pocket the precious
+four dollars.</p>
+
+<p>He had to wait until he thought his aunt was asleep, and it was about
+eleven when he crept downstairs, his heart quaking within him, and got
+out by the porch window. When he found himself alone in the clear
+moonlight of the August night, a sense of elation filled his cramped
+little heart. He was free, and he would never come back here&mdash;never!</p>
+
+<p>"Wisht I could have seen Henry to say good-by to him, though," he
+muttered with a wistful glance at the big house across the pond where
+the unconscious Henry was sleeping soundly with never a thought of
+moonlight flittings for anyone in his curly head.</p>
+
+<p>Chester meant to walk to Roxbury Station ten miles away. Nobody knew
+him there, and he could catch the morning train. Late as it was, he
+kept to fields and wood-roads lest he might be seen and recognized. It
+was three o'clock when he reached Roxbury, and he knew the train did
+not pass through until six. With the serenity of a philosopher who is
+starting out to win his way in the world and means to make the best of
+things, Chester curled himself up in the hollow space of a big lumber
+pile behind the station, and so tired was he that he fell soundly
+asleep in a few minutes.</p>
+
+<br />
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+<br />
+
+<p>Chester was awakened by the shriek of the express at the last crossing
+before the station. In a panic of haste he scrambled out of his lumber
+and dashed into the station house, where a sleepy, ill-natured agent
+stood behind the ticket window. He looked sharply enough at the
+freckled, square-jawed boy who asked for a second-class ticket to
+Belltown. Chester's heart quaked within him at the momentary thought
+that the ticket agent recognized him. He had an agonized vision of
+being collared without ceremony and haled straightway back to Aunt
+Harriet. When the ticket and his change were pushed out to him, he
+snatched them and fairly ran.</p>
+
+<p>"Bolted as if the police were after him," reflected the agent, who did
+not sell many tickets and so had time to take a personal interest in
+the purchasers thereof. "I've seen that youngster before, though I
+can't recollect where. He's got a most fearful determined look."</p>
+
+<p>Chester drew an audible sigh of relief when the train left the
+station. He was fairly off now and felt that he could defy even
+curious railway officials.</p>
+
+<p>It was not his first train ride, for Mrs. Elwell had once taken him to
+Belltown to get an aching tooth extracted, but it was certainly his
+first under such exhilarating circumstances, and he meant to enjoy it.
+To be sure, he was very hungry, but that, he reflected, was only what
+he would probably be many times before he made his fortune, and it was
+just as well to get used to it. Meanwhile, it behooved him to keep his
+eyes open. On the road from Roxbury to Belltown there was not much to
+be seen that morning that Chester did not see.</p>
+
+<p>The train reached Belltown about noon. He did not mean to stop long
+there&mdash;it was too near Upton. From the conductor on the train, he
+found that a boat left Belltown for Montrose at two in the afternoon.
+Montrose was a hundred miles from Upton, and Chester thought he would
+be safe there. To Montrose, accordingly, he decided to go, but the
+first thing was to get some dinner. He went into a grocery store and
+bought some crackers and a bit of cheese. He had somewhere picked up
+the idea that crackers and cheese were about as economical food as you
+could find for adventurous youths starting out on small capital.</p>
+
+<p>He found his way to the only public square Belltown boasted, and
+munched his food hungrily on a bench under the trees. He would go to
+Montrose and there find something to do. Later on he would gradually
+work his way out West, where there was more room for an ambitious
+small boy to expand and grow. Chester dreamed some dazzling dreams as
+he sat there on the bench under the Belltown chestnuts. Passers-by, if
+they noticed him at all, saw merely a rather small, poorly clad boy,
+with a great many freckles, a square jaw and shrewd, level-gazing grey
+eyes. But this same lad was mapping out a very brilliant future for
+himself as people passed him heedlessly by. He would get out West,
+somehow or other, some time or other, and make a fortune. Then,
+perhaps, he would go back to Upton for a visit and shine in his
+splendour before all his old neighbours. It all seemed very easy and
+alluring, sitting there in the quiet little Belltown square. Chester,
+you see, possessed imagination. That, together with the crackers and
+cheese, so cheered him up that he felt ready for anything. He was
+aroused from a dream of passing Aunt Harriet by in lofty scorn and a
+glittering carriage, by the shrill whistle of the boat. Chester
+pocketed his remaining crackers and cheese and his visions also, and
+was once more his alert, wide-awake self. He had inquired the way to
+the wharf from the grocer, so he found no difficulty in reaching it.
+When the boat steamed down the muddy little river, Chester was on
+board of her.</p>
+
+<p>He was glad to be out of Belltown, for he was anything but sure that
+he would not encounter some Upton people as long as he was in it. They
+often went to Belltown on business, but never to Montrose.</p>
+
+<p>There were not many passengers on the boat, and Chester scrutinized
+them all so sharply in turn that he could have sworn to each and every
+one of them for years afterwards had it been necessary. The one he
+liked best was a middle-aged lady who sat just before him on the
+opposite side of the deck She was plump and motherly looking, with a
+fresh, rosy face and beaming blue eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"If I was looking for anyone to adopt me I'd pick her," said Chester
+to himself. The more he looked at her, the better he liked her. He
+labelled her in his mind as "the nice, rosy lady."</p>
+
+<p>The nice, rosy lady noticed Chester staring at her after awhile. She
+smiled promptly at him&mdash;a smile that seemed fairly to irradiate her
+round face&mdash;and then began fumbling in an old-fashioned reticule she
+carried, and from which she presently extracted a chubby little paper
+bag.</p>
+
+<p>"If you like candy, little boy," she said to Chester, "here is some of
+my sugar taffy for you."</p>
+
+<p>Chester did not exactly like being called a little boy. But her voice
+and smile were irresistible and won his heart straightway. He took the
+candy with a shy, "Thank you, ma'am," and sat holding it in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Eat it," commanded the rosy lady authoritatively. "That is what taffy
+is for, you know."</p>
+
+<p>So Chester ate it. It was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted
+in his life, and filled a void which even the crackers and cheese had
+left vacant. The rosy lady watched every mouthful he ate as if she
+enjoyed it more than he did. When he had finished the taffy she smiled
+one of her sociable smiles again and said, "Well, what do you think of
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's the nicest taffy I ever ate," answered Chester enthusiastically,
+as if he were a connoisseur in all kinds of taffies. The rosy lady
+nodded, well pleased.</p>
+
+<p>"That is just what everyone says about my sugar taffy. Nobody up our
+way can match it, though goodness knows they try hard enough. My
+great-grandmother invented the recipe herself, and it has been in our
+family ever since. I'm real glad you liked it."</p>
+
+<p>She smiled at him again, as if his appreciation of her taffy was a
+bond of good fellowship between them. She did not know it but,
+nevertheless, she was filling the heart of a desperate small boy, who
+had run away from home, with hope and encouragement and self-reliance.
+If there were such kind folks as this in the world, why, he would get
+along all right. The rosy lady's smiles and taffy&mdash;the smiles much
+more than the taffy&mdash;went far to thaw out of him a certain hardness
+and resentfulness against people in general that Aunt Harriet's harsh
+treatment had instilled into him. Chester instantly made a resolve
+that when he grew stout and rosy and prosperous he would dispense
+smiles and taffy and good cheer generally to all forlorn small boys on
+boats and trains.</p>
+
+<p>It was almost dark when they reached Montrose. Chester lost sight of
+the rosy lady when they left the boat, and it gave him a lonesome
+feeling; but he could not indulge in that for long at a time. Here he
+was at his destination&mdash;at dark, in a strange city a hundred miles
+from home.</p>
+
+<p>"The first thing is to find somewhere to sleep," he said to himself,
+resolutely declining to feel frightened, although the temptation was
+very strong.</p>
+
+<p>Montrose was not really a very big place. It was only a bustling
+little town of some twenty thousand inhabitants, but to Chester's eyes
+it was a vast metropolis. He had never been in any place bigger than
+Belltown, and in Belltown you could see one end of it, at least, no
+matter where you were. Montrose seemed endless to Chester as he stood
+at the head of Water Street and gazed in bewilderment along one of its
+main business avenues&mdash;a big, glittering, whirling place where one
+small boy could so easily be swallowed up that he would never be heard
+of again.</p>
+
+<p>Chester, after paying his fare to Montrose and buying his cheese and
+crackers, had just sixty cents left. This must last him until he found
+work, so that the luxury of lodgings was out of the question, even if
+he had known where to look for them. To be sure, there were benches in
+a public square right in front of him; but Chester was afraid that if
+he curled up on one of them for the night, a policeman might question
+him, and he did not believe he could give a very satisfactory account
+of himself. In his perplexity, he thought of his cosy lumber pile at
+Roxbury Station and remembered that when he had left the boat he had
+noticed a large vacant lot near the wharf which was filled with piles
+of lumber. Back to this he went and soon succeeded in finding a place
+to stow himself. His last waking thought was that he must be up and
+doing bright and early the next morning, and that it must surely be
+longer than twenty-four hours since he had crept downstairs and out of
+Aunt Harriet's porch window at Upton.</p>
+
+<br />
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+<br />
+
+<p>Montrose seemed less alarming by daylight, which was not so
+bewildering as the blinking electric lights. Chester was up betimes,
+ate the last of his cheese and crackers and started out at once to
+look for work. He determined to be thorough, and he went straight into
+every place of business he came to, from a blacksmith's forge to a
+department store, and boldly asked the first person he met if they
+wanted a boy there. There was, however, one class of places Chester
+shunned determinedly. He never went into a liquor saloon. The last
+winter he had been allowed to go to school in Upton, his teacher had
+been a pale, patient little woman who hated the liquor traffic with
+all her heart. She herself had suffered bitterly through it, and she
+instilled into her pupils a thorough aversion to it. Chester would
+have chosen death by starvation before he would have sought for
+employment in a liquor saloon. But there certainly did not seem room
+for him anywhere else. Nobody wanted a boy. The answer to his question
+was invariably "No." As the day wore on, Chester's hopes and courage
+went down to zero, but he still tramped doggedly about. He would be
+thorough, at least. Surely somewhere in this big place, where everyone
+seemed so busy, there must be something for him to do.</p>
+
+<p>Once there seemed a chance of success. He had gone into a big
+provision store and asked the clerk behind the counter if they wanted
+a boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we do," said the clerk, looking him over critically, "but I
+hardly think you'll fill the bill. However, come in and see the boss."</p>
+
+<p>He took Chester into a dark, grimy little inner office where a fat,
+stubby man was sitting before a desk with his feet upon it.</p>
+
+<p>"Hey? What!" he said when the clerk explained. "Looking for the place?
+Why, sonny, you're not half big enough."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm a great deal bigger than I look," cried Chester breathlessly.
+"That is, sir&mdash;I mean I'm ever so much stronger than I look. I'll work
+hard, sir, ever so hard&mdash;and I'll grow."</p>
+
+<p>The fat, stubby man roared with laughter. What was grim earnest to
+poor Chester was a joke to him.</p>
+
+<p>"No doubt you will, my boy," he said genially, "but I'm afraid you'll
+hardly grow fast enough to suit us. Boys aren't like pigweed, you
+know. No, no, our boy must be a big, strapping fellow of eighteen or
+nineteen. He'll have a deal of heavy lifting to do."</p>
+
+<p>Chester went out of the store with a queer choking in his throat. For
+one horrible moment he thought he was going to cry&mdash;he, Chester
+Stephens, who had run away from home to do splendid things! A nice
+ending that would be to his fine dreams! He thrust his hands into his
+pockets and strode along the street, biting his lips fiercely. He
+would not cry&mdash;no, he would not! And he <i>would</i> find work!</p>
+
+<p>Chester did not cry, but neither, alas, did he find work. He parted
+with ten cents of his precious hoard for more crackers, and he spend
+the night again in the lumber yard.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps I'll have better luck tomorrow, he thought hopefully.</p>
+
+<p>But it really seemed as if there were to be no luck for Chester except
+bad luck. Day after day passed and, although he tramped resolutely
+from street to street and visited every place that seemed to offer any
+chance, he could get no employment. In spite of his pluck, his heart
+began to fail him.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of a week Chester woke up among his lumber to a realization
+that he was at the end of his resources. He had just five cents left
+out of the four dollars that were to have been the key to his fortune.
+He sat gloomily on the wall of his sleeping apartment and munched the
+one solitary cracker he had left. It must carry him through the day
+unless he got work. The five cents must be kept for some dire
+emergency.</p>
+
+<p>He started uptown rather aimlessly. In his week's wanderings he had
+come to know the city very well and no longer felt confused with its
+size and bustle. He envied every busy boy he saw. Back in Upton he had
+sometimes resented the fact that he was kept working continually and
+was seldom allowed an hour off. Now he was burdened with spare time.
+It certainly did not seem as if things were fairly divided, he
+thought. And then he thought no more just then, for one of the queer
+spells in his head came on. He had experienced them at intervals
+during the last three days. Something seemed to break loose in his
+head and spin wildly round and round, while houses and people and
+trees danced and wobbled all about him. Chester vaguely wondered if
+this could be what Aunt Harriet had been wont to call a "judgement."
+But then, he had done nothing very bad&mdash;nothing that would warrant a
+judgement, he thought. It was surely no harm to run away from a place
+where you were treated so bad and where they did not seem to want you.
+Chester felt bitter whenever he thought of Aunt Harriet.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he found himself in the market square of Montrose. It was
+market day, and the place was thronged with people from the
+surrounding country settlements. Chester had hoped that he might pick
+up a few cents, holding a horse or cow for somebody or carrying a
+market basket, but no such chance offered itself. He climbed up on
+some bales of pressed hay in one corner and sat there moodily; there
+was dejection in the very dangle of his legs over the bales. Chester,
+you see, was discovering what many a boy before him has
+discovered&mdash;that it is a good deal easier to sit down and make a
+fortune in dreams than it is to go out into the world and make it.</p>
+
+<p>Two men were talking to each other near him. At first Chester gave no
+heed to their conversation, but presently a sentence made him prick up
+his ears.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, there's a pretty fair crop out at Hopedale," one man was saying,
+"but whether it's going to be got in in good shape is another matter.
+It's terrible hard to get any help. Every spare man-jack far and wide
+has gone West on them everlasting harvest excursions. Salome Whitney
+at the Mount Hope Farm is in a predicament. She's got a hired man, but
+he can't harvest grain all by himself. She spent the whole of
+yesterday driving around, trying to get a couple of men or boys to
+help him, but I dunno if she got anyone or not."</p>
+
+<p>The men moved out of earshot at this juncture, but Chester got down
+from the bales with a determined look. If workers were wanted in
+Hopedale, that was the place for him. He had done a man's work at
+harvest time in Upton the year before. Lige Barton had said so
+himself. Hope and courage returned with a rush.</p>
+
+<p>He accosted the first man he met and asked if he could tell him the
+way to Hopedale.</p>
+
+<p>"Reckon I can, sonny. I live in the next district. Want to go there?
+If you wait till evening, I can give you a lift part of the way. It's
+five miles out."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, sir," said Chester firmly, "but I must go at once if
+you'll kindly direct me. It's important."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's a straight road. That's Albemarle Street down
+there&mdash;follow it till it takes you out to the country, and then keep
+straight on till you come to a church painted yellow and white. Turn
+to your right, and over the hill is Hopedale. But you'd better wait
+for me. You don't look fit to walk five miles."</p>
+
+<p>But Chester was off. Walk five miles! Pooh! He could walk twenty with
+hope to lure him on. Albemarle Street finally frayed off into a real
+country road. Chester was glad to find himself out in the country once
+more, with the great golden fields basking on either side and the
+wooded hills beyond, purple with haze. He had grown to hate the town
+with its cold, unheeding faces. It was good to breathe clear air again
+and feel the soft, springy soil of the ferny roadside under his tired
+little feet.</p>
+
+<p>Long before the five miles were covered, Chester began to wonder if he
+would hold out to the end of them. He had to stop and rest frequently,
+when those queer dizzy spells came on. His feet seemed like lead. But
+he kept doggedly on. He would not give in now! The white and yellow
+church was the most welcome sight that had ever met his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Over the hill he met a man and inquired the way to Mount Hope Farm.
+Fortunately, it was nearby. At the gate Chester had to stop again to
+recover from his dizziness.</p>
+
+<p>He liked the look of the place, with its great, comfortable barns and
+quaint, roomy old farmhouse, all set down in a trim quadrangle of
+beeches and orchards. There was an appearance of peace and prosperity
+about it.</p>
+
+<p>If only Miss Salome Whitney will hire me! thought Chester wistfully,
+as he crept up the slope. I'm afraid she'll say I'm too small. Wisht I
+could stretch three inches all at once. Wisht I wasn't so dizzy.
+Wisht&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>What Chester's third wish was will never be known, for just as he
+reached the kitchen door the worst dizzy spell of all came on. Trees,
+barns, well-sweep, all whirled around him with the speed of wind. He
+reeled and fell, a limp, helpless little body, on Miss Salome
+Whitney's broad, spotless sandstone doorstep.</p>
+
+<br />
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+<br />
+
+<p>In the Mount Hope kitchen Miss Salome was at that moment deep in
+discussion with her "help" over the weighty question of how the
+damsons were to be preserved. Miss Salome wanted them boiled;
+Clemantiny Bosworth, the help, insisted that they ought to be baked.
+Clemantiny was always very positive. She had "bossed" Miss Salome for
+years, and both knew that in the end the damsons would be baked, but
+the argument had to be carried out for dignity's sake.</p>
+
+<p>"They're so sour when they're baked," protested Miss Salome.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you don't want damsons sweet, do you?" retorted Clemantiny
+scornfully. "That's the beauty of damsons&mdash;their tartness. And they
+keep ever so much better baked, Salome&mdash;you know they do. My
+grandmother <i>always</i> baked hers, and they would keep for three years."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Salome knew that when Clemantiny dragged her grandmother into the
+question, it was time to surrender. Beyond that, dignity degenerated
+into stubbornness. It would be useless to say that she did not want to
+keep her damsons for three years, and that she was content to eat them
+up and trust to Providence for the next year's supply.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, bake them then," she said placidly. "I don't suppose it
+makes much difference one way or another. Only, I insist&mdash;what was
+that noise, Clemantiny? It sounded like something falling against the
+porch door."</p>
+
+<p>"It's that worthless dog of Martin's, I suppose," said Clemantiny,
+grasping a broom handle with a grimness that boded ill for the dog.
+"Mussing up my clean doorstep with his dirty paws again. I'll fix
+him!"</p>
+
+<p>Clemantiny swept out through the porch and jerked open the door. There
+was a moment's silence. Then Miss Salome heard her say, "For the
+land's sake! Salome Whitney, come here."</p>
+
+<p>What Miss Salome saw when she hurried out was a white-faced boy
+stretched on the doorstep at Clemantiny's feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Is he dead?" she gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"Dead? No," sniffed Clemantiny. "He's fainted, that's what he is.
+Where on earth did he come from? He ain't a Hopedale boy."</p>
+
+<p>"He must be carried right in," exclaimed Miss Salome in distress.
+"Why, he may die there. He must be very ill."</p>
+
+<p>"Looks more to me as if he had fainted from sheer starvation,"
+returned Clemantiny brusquely as she picked him up in her lean,
+muscular arms. "Why, he's skin and bone. He ain't hardly heavier than
+a baby. Well, this is a mysterious piece of work. Where'll I put him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lay him on the sofa," said Miss Salome as soon as she had recovered
+from the horror into which Clemantiny's starvation dictum had thrown
+her. A child starving to death on her doorstep! "What do you do for
+people in a faint, Clemantiny?"</p>
+
+<p>"Wet their face&mdash;and hist up their feet&mdash;and loosen their collar,"
+said Clemantiny in a succession of jerks, doing each thing as she
+mentioned it. "And hold ammonia to their nose. Run for the ammonia,
+Salome. Look, will you? Skin and bone!"</p>
+
+<p>But Miss Salome had gone for the ammonia. There was a look on the
+boy's thin, pallid face that tugged painfully at her heart-strings.</p>
+
+<p>When Chester came back to consciousness with the pungency of the
+ammonia reeking through his head, he found himself lying on very soft
+pillows in a very big white sunny kitchen, where everything was
+scoured to a brightness that dazzled you. Bending over him was a tall,
+gaunt woman with a thin, determined face and snapping black eyes, and,
+standing beside her with a steaming bowl in her hand, was the nice
+rosy lady who had given him the taffy on the boat!</p>
+
+<p>When he opened his eyes, Miss Salome knew him.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it's the little boy I saw on the boat!" she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you've come to!" said Clemantiny, eyeing Chester severely. "And
+now perhaps you'll explain what you mean by fainting away on doorsteps
+and scaring people out of their senses."</p>
+
+<p>Chester thought that this must be the mistress of Mount Hope Farm, and
+hastened to propitiate her.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry," he faltered feebly. "I didn't mean to&mdash;I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You're not to do any talking until you've had something to eat,"
+snapped Clemantiny inconsistently. "Here, open your mouth and take
+this broth. Pretty doings, I say!"</p>
+
+<p>Clemantiny spoke as sharply as Aunt Harriet had ever done, but somehow
+or other Chester did not feel afraid of her and her black eyes. She
+sat down by his side and fed him from the bowl of hot broth with a
+deft gentleness oddly in contrast with her grim expression.</p>
+
+<p>Chester thought he had never in all his life tasted anything so good
+as that broth. The boy was really almost starved. He drank every drop
+of it. Clemantiny gave a grunt of satisfaction as she handed the empty
+bowl and spoon to the silent, smiling Miss Salome.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, who are you and what do you want?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>Chester had been expecting this question, and while coming along the
+Hopedale road he had thought out an answer to it. He began now,
+speaking the words slowly and gaspingly, as if reciting a hastily
+learned lesson.</p>
+
+<p>"My name is Chester Benson. I belong to Upton up the country. My folks
+are dead and I came to Montrose to look for work, I've been there a
+week and couldn't get anything to do. I heard a man say that you
+wanted men to help in the harvest, so I came out to see if you'd hire
+me."</p>
+
+<p>In spite of his weakness, Chester's face turned very red before he got
+to the end of his speech. He was new to deception. To be sure, there
+was not, strictly speaking, an untrue word in it. As for his name, it
+was Chester Benson Stephens. But for all that, Chester could not have
+felt or looked more guilty if he had been telling an out-and-out
+falsehood at every breath.</p>
+
+<p>"Humph!" said Clemantiny in a dissatisfied tone. "What on earth do you
+suppose a midget like you can do in the harvest field? And we don't
+want any more help, anyway. We've got enough."</p>
+
+<p>Chester grew sick with disappointment. But at this moment Miss Salome
+spoke up.</p>
+
+<p>"No, we haven't, Clemantiny. We want another hand, and I'll hire you,
+Chester&mdash;that's your name, isn't it? I'll give you good wages, too."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Salome!" protested Clemantiny.</p>
+
+<p>But Miss Salome only said, "I've made up my mind, Clemantiny."</p>
+
+<p>Clemantiny knew that when Miss Salome did make up her mind and
+announced it in that very quiet, very unmistakable tone, she was
+mistress of the situation and intended to remain so.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, very well," she retorted. "You'll please yourself, Salome, of
+course. I think it would be wiser to wait until you found out a little
+more about him."</p>
+
+<p>"And have him starving on people's doorsteps in the meantime?"
+questioned Miss Salome severely.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," returned Clemantiny with the air of one who washes her hands
+of a doubtful proposition, "don't blame me if you repent of it."</p>
+
+<p>By this time Chester had grasped the wonderful fact that his troubles
+were ended&mdash;for a while, at least. He raised himself up on one arm and
+looked gratefully at Miss Salome.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," he said. "I'll work hard. I'm used to doing a lot."</p>
+
+<p>"There, there!" said Miss Salome, patting his shoulder gently. "Lie
+down and rest. Dinner will be ready soon, and I guess you'll be ready
+for it."</p>
+
+<p>To Clemantiny she added in a low, gentle tone, "There's a look on his
+face that reminded me of Johnny. It came out so strong when he sat up
+just now that it made me feel like crying. Don't you notice it,
+Clemantiny?"</p>
+
+<p>"Can't say that I do," replied that energetic person, who was flying
+about the kitchen with a speed that made Chester's head dizzy trying
+to follow her with his eyes. "All I can see is freckles and bones&mdash;but
+if you're satisfied, I am. For law's sake, don't fluster me, Salome.
+There's a hundred and one things to be done out of hand. This frolic
+has clean dundered the whole forenoon's work."</p>
+
+<p>After dinner Chester decided that it was time to make himself useful.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't I go right to work now?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"We don't begin harvest till tomorrow," said Miss Salome. "You'd
+better rest this afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm all right now," insisted Chester. "I feel fine. Please give
+me something to do."</p>
+
+<p>"You can go out and cut me some wood for my afternoon's baking," said
+Clemantiny. "And see you cut it short enough. Any other boy that's
+tried always gets it about two inches too long."</p>
+
+<p>When he had gone out, she said scornfully to Miss Salome, "Well, what
+do you expect that size to accomplish in a harvest field, Salome
+Whitney?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not very much, perhaps," said Miss Salome mildly. "But what could I
+do? You wouldn't have me turn the child adrift on the world again,
+would you, Clemantiny?"</p>
+
+<p>Clemantiny did not choose to answer this appeal. She rattled her
+dishes noisily into the dishpan.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, where are you going to put him to sleep?" she demanded. "The
+hands you've got will fill the kitchen chamber. There's only the spare
+room left. You'll hardly put him there, I suppose? Your philanthropy
+will hardly lead you as far as <i>that</i>."</p>
+
+<p>When Clemantiny employed big words and sarcasm at the same time, the
+effect was tremendous. But Miss Salome didn't wilt.</p>
+
+<p>"What makes you so prejudiced against him?" she asked curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm <i>not</i> prejudiced against him. But that story about himself didn't
+ring true. I worked in Upton years ago, and there weren't any Bensons
+there then. There's more behind that he hasn't told. I'd find out what
+it was before I took him into my house, that's all. But I'm not
+prejudiced."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well," said Miss Salome soothingly, "we must do the best we can
+for him. It's a sort of duty. And as for a room for him&mdash;why, I'll put
+him in Johnny's."</p>
+
+<p>Clemantiny opened her mouth and shut it again. She understood that it
+would be a waste of breath to say anything more. If Miss Salome had
+made up her mind to put this freckled, determined-looking waif,
+dropped on her doorstep from heaven knew where, into Johnny's room,
+that was an end of the matter.</p>
+
+<p>"But I'll not be surprised at anything after this," she muttered as
+she carried her dishes into the pantry. "First a skinny little urchin
+goes and faints on her doorstep. Then she hires him and puts him in
+Johnny's room. Johnny's room! Salome Whitney, what <i>do</i> you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps Miss Salome hardly knew what she meant. But somehow her heart
+went out warmly to this boy. In spite of Clemantiny's sniffs, she held
+to the opinion that he looked like Johnny. Johnny was a little nephew
+of hers. She had taken him to bring up when his parents died, and she
+had loved him very dearly. He had died four years ago, and since that
+time the little front room over the front porch had never been
+occupied. It was just as Johnny had left it. Beyond keeping it
+scrupulously clean, Miss Salome never allowed it to be disturbed. And
+now a somewhat ragged lad from nowhere was to be put into it! No
+wonder Clemantiny shook her head when Miss Salome went up to air it.</p>
+
+<br />
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+<br />
+
+<p>Even Clemantiny had to admit that Chester was willing to work. He
+split wood until she called him to stop. Then he carried in the
+wood-box full, and piled it so neatly that even the grim handmaiden
+was pleased. After that, she sent him to the garden to pick the early
+beans. In the evening he milked three cows and did all the chores,
+falling into the ways of the place with a deft adaptability that went
+far to soften Clemantiny's heart.</p>
+
+<p>"He's been taught to work somewheres," she admitted grudgingly, "and
+he's real polite and respectful. But he looks too cute by half. And
+his name isn't Benson any more than mine. When I called him 'Chester
+Benson' out there in the cow-yard, he stared at me fer half a minute
+'sif I'd called him Nebuchadnezzar."</p>
+
+<p>When bedtime came, Miss Salome took Chester up to a room whose
+whiteness and daintiness quite took away the breath of a lad who had
+been used to sleeping in garrets or hired men's kitchen chambers all
+his life. Later on Miss Salome came in to see if he was comfortable,
+and stood, with her candle in her hand, looking down very kindly at
+the thin, shrewd little face on the pillow.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you'll sleep real well here, Chester," she said. "I had a
+little boy once who used to sleep here. You&mdash;you look like him. Good
+night."</p>
+
+<p>She bent over him and kissed his forehead. Chester had never been
+kissed by anyone before, so far as he could remember. Something came
+up in his throat that felt about as big as a pumpkin. At the same
+moment he wished he could have told Miss Salome the whole truth about
+himself. I might tell her in the morning, he thought, as he watched
+her figure passing out of the little porch chamber.</p>
+
+<p>But on second thought he decided that this would never do. He felt
+sure she would disapprove of his running away, and would probably
+insist upon his going straight back to Upton or, at least, informing
+Aunt Harriet of his whereabouts. No, he could not tell her.</p>
+
+<p>Clemantiny was an early riser, but when she came into the kitchen the
+next morning the fire was already made and Chester was out in the yard
+with three of the five cows milked.</p>
+
+<p>"Humph!" said Clemantiny amiably. "New brooms sweep clean."</p>
+
+<p>But she gave him cream with his porridge that morning. Generally, all
+Miss Salome's hired hands got from Clemantiny was skim milk.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Salome's regular hired man lived in a little house down in the
+hollow. He soon turned up, and the other two men she had hired for
+harvest also arrived. Martin, the man, looked Chester over
+quizzically.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think you can do, sonny?"</p>
+
+<p>"Anything," said Chester sturdily. "I'm used to work."</p>
+
+<p>"He's right," whispered Clemantiny aside. "He's smart as a steel trap.
+But just you keep an eye on him all the same, Martin."</p>
+
+<p>Chester soon proved his mettle in the harvest field. In the brisk
+three weeks that followed, even Clemantiny had to admit that he earned
+every cent of his wages. His active feet were untiring and his wiry
+arms could pitch and stock with the best. When the day's work was
+ended, he brought in wood and water for Clemantiny, helped milk the
+cows, gathered the eggs, and made on his own responsibility a round
+of barns and outhouses to make sure that everything was snug and tight
+for the night.</p>
+
+<p>"Freckles-and-Bones has been well trained somewhere," said Clemantiny
+again.</p>
+
+<p>It was hardly fair to put the bones in now, for Chester was growing
+plump and hearty. He had never been so happy in his life. Upton
+drudgery and that dreadful week in Montrose seemed like a bad dream.
+Here, in the golden meadows of Mount Hope Farm, he worked with a right
+good will. The men liked him, and he soon became a favourite with
+them. Even Clemantiny relented somewhat. To be sure, she continued
+very grim, and still threw her words at him as if they were so many
+missiles warranted to strike home. But Chester soon learned that
+Clemantiny's bark was worse than her bite. She was really very good to
+him and fed him lavishly. But she declared that this was only to put
+some flesh on him.</p>
+
+<p>"It offends me to see bones sticking through anybody's skin like that.
+We aren't used to such objects at Mount Hope Farm, thank goodness.
+Yes, you may smile, Salome. I like him well enough, and I'll admit
+that he knows how to make himself useful, but I don't trust him any
+more than ever I did. He's mighty close about his past life. You can't
+get any more out of him than juice out of a post. I've tried, and I
+know."</p>
+
+<p>But it was Miss Salome who had won Chester's whole heart. He had never
+loved anybody in his hard little life before. He loved her with an
+almost dog-like devotion. He forgot that he was working to earn
+money&mdash;and make his fortune. He worked to please Miss Salome. She was
+good and kind and gentle to him, and his starved heart thawed and
+expanded in the sunshine of her atmosphere. She went to the little
+porch room every night to kiss him good night. Chester would have been
+bitterly disappointed if she had failed to go.</p>
+
+<p>She was greatly shocked to find out that he had never said his prayers
+before going to bed. She insisted on teaching him the simple little
+one she had used herself when a child. When Chester found that it
+would please her, he said it every night. There was nothing he would
+not have done for Miss Salome.</p>
+
+<p>She talked a good deal to him about Johnny and she gave him the
+jack-knife that Johnny had owned.</p>
+
+<p>"It belonged to a good, manly little boy once," she said, "and now I
+hope it belongs to another such."</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't very good," said Chester repentantly, "but I'll try to be,
+Miss Salome&mdash;honest, I will."</p>
+
+<p>One day he heard Miss Salome speaking of someone who had run away from
+home. "A wicked, ungrateful boy," she called him. Chester blushed
+until his freckles were drowned out in a sea of red, and Clemantiny
+saw it, of course. When did anything ever escape those merciless black
+eyes of Clemantiny's?</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think it's always wrong for a fellow to run away, Miss
+Salome?" he faltered.</p>
+
+<p>"It can't ever be right," said Miss Salome decidedly.</p>
+
+<p>"But if he wasn't treated well&mdash;and was jawed at&mdash;and not let go to
+school?" pleaded Chester.</p>
+
+<p>Clemantiny gave Miss Salome a look as of one who would say, You're
+bat-blind if you can't read between the lines of that; but Miss Salome
+was placidly unconscious. She was not really thinking of the subject
+at all, and did not guess that Chester meant anything more than
+generalities.</p>
+
+<p>"Not even then," she said firmly. "Nothing can justify a boy for
+running away&mdash;especially as Jarvis Colemen did&mdash;never even left a word
+behind him to say where he'd gone. His aunt thought he'd fallen into
+the river."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't suppose she would have grieved much if he had," said Clemantiny
+sarcastically, all the while watching Chester, until he felt as if
+she were boring into his very soul and reading all his past life.</p>
+
+<p>When the harvest season drew to a close, dismay crept into the soul of
+our hero. Where would he go now? He hated to think of leaving Mount
+Hope Farm and Miss Salome. He would have been content to stay there
+and work as hard as he had ever worked at Upton, merely for the roof
+over his head and the food he ate. The making of a fortune seemed a
+small thing compared to the privilege of being near Miss Salome.</p>
+
+<p>"But I suppose I must just up and go," he muttered dolefully.</p>
+
+<p>One day Miss Salome had a conference with Clemantiny. At the end of it
+the latter said, "Do as you please," in the tone she might have used
+to a spoiled child. "But if you'd take my advice&mdash;which you won't and
+never do&mdash;you'd write to somebody in Upton and make inquiries about
+him first. What he says is all very well and he sticks to it
+marvellous, and there's no tripping him up. But there's something
+behind, Salome Whitney&mdash;mark my words, there's something behind."</p>
+
+<p>"He looks so like Johnny," said Miss Salome wistfully.</p>
+
+<p>"And I suppose you think that covers a multitude of sins," said
+Clemantiny contemptuously.</p>
+
+<br />
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+<br />
+
+<p>On the day when the last load of rustling golden sheaves was carried
+into the big barn and stowed away in the dusty loft, Miss Salome
+called Chester into the kitchen. Chester's heart sank as he obeyed the
+summons.</p>
+
+<p>His time was up, and now he was to be paid his wages and sent away. To
+be sure, Martin had told him that morning that a man in East Hopedale
+wanted a boy for a spell, and that he, Martin, would see that he got
+the place if he wanted it. But that did not reconcile him to leaving
+Mount Hope Farm.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Salome was sitting in her favourite sunny corner of the kitchen
+and Clemantiny was flying around with double briskness. The latter's
+thin lips were tightly set and disapproval was writ large in every
+flutter of her calico skirts.</p>
+
+<p>"Chester," said Miss Salome kindly, "your time is up today."</p>
+
+<p>Chester nodded. For a moment he felt as he had felt when he left the
+provision store in Montrose. But he would not let Clemantiny see him
+cry. Somehow, he would not have minded Miss Salome.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you thinking of doing now?" Miss Salome went on.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a man at East Hopedale wants a boy," said Chester, "and
+Martin says he thinks I'll suit."</p>
+
+<p>"That is Jonas Smallman," said Miss Salome thoughtfully. "He has the
+name of being a hard master. It isn't right of me to say so, perhaps.
+I really don't know much about him. But wouldn't you rather stay here
+with me for the winter, Chester?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ma'am? Miss Salome?" stammered Chester. He heard Clemantiny give a
+snort behind him and mutter, "Clean infatuated&mdash;clean infatuated,"
+without in the least knowing what she meant.</p>
+
+<p>"We really need a chore boy all the year round," said Miss Salome.
+"Martin has all he can do with the heavy work. And there are the
+apples to be picked. If you care to stay, you shall have your board
+and clothes for doing the odd jobs, and you can go to school all
+winter. In the spring we will see what need be done then."</p>
+
+<p>If he would care to stay! Chester could have laughed aloud. His eyes
+were shining with joy as he replied, "Oh, Miss Salome, I'll be so glad
+to stay! I&mdash;I&mdash;didn't want to go away. I'll try to do everything you
+want me to do. I'll work ever so hard."</p>
+
+<p>"Humph!"</p>
+
+<p>This, of course, was from Clemantiny, as she set a pan of apples on
+the stove with an emphatic thud. "Nobody ever doubted your willingness
+to work. Pity everything else about you isn't as satisfactory."</p>
+
+<p>"Clemantiny!" said Miss Salome rebukingly. She put her arms about
+Chester and drew him to her. "Then it is all settled, Chester. You are
+my boy now, and of course I shall expect you to be a good boy."</p>
+
+<p>If ever a boy was determined to be good, that boy was Chester. That
+day was the beginning of a new life for him. He began to go to the
+Hopedale school the next week. Miss Salome gave him all Johnny's old
+school books and took an eager interest in his studies.</p>
+
+<p>Chester ought to have been very happy, and at first he was; but as the
+bright, mellow days of autumn passed by, a shadow came over his
+happiness. He could not help thinking that he had really deceived Miss
+Salome, and was deceiving her still&mdash;Miss Salome, who had such
+confidence in him. He was not what he pretended to be. And as for his
+running away, he felt sure that Miss Salome would view that with
+horror. As the time passed by and he learned more and more what a high
+standard of honour and truth she had, he felt more and more ashamed of
+himself. When she looked at him with her clear, trustful, blue eyes,
+Chester felt as guilty as if he had systematically deceived her with
+intent to do harm. He began to wish that he had the courage to tell
+her the whole truth about himself.</p>
+
+<p>Moreover, he began to think that perhaps he had not done right, after
+all, in running away from Aunt Harriet. In Miss Salome's code nothing
+could be right that was underhanded, and Chester was very swiftly
+coming to look at things through Miss Salome's eyes. He felt sure that
+Johnny would never have acted as he had, and if Chester now had one
+dear ambition on earth, it was to be as good and manly a fellow as
+Johnny must have been. But he could never be that as long as he kept
+the truth about himself from Miss Salome.</p>
+
+<p>"That boy has got something on his mind," said the terrible
+Clemantiny, who, Chester felt convinced, could see through a stone
+wall.</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense! What could he have on his mind?" said Miss Salome. But she
+said it a little anxiously. She, too, had noticed Chester's absent
+ways and abstracted face.</p>
+
+<p>"Goodness me, I don't know! I don't suppose he has robbed a bank or
+murdered anybody. But he is worrying over something, as plain as
+plain."</p>
+
+<p>"He is getting on very well at school," said Miss Salome. "His teacher
+says so, and he is very eager to learn. I don't know what can be
+troubling him."</p>
+
+<p>She was fated not to know for a fortnight longer. During that time
+Chester fought out his struggle with himself, and conquered. He must
+tell Miss Salome, he decided, with a long sigh. He knew that it would
+mean going back to Upton and Aunt Harriet and the old, hard life, but
+he would not sail under false colours any longer.</p>
+
+<br />
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+<br />
+
+<p>Chester went into the kitchen one afternoon when he came home from
+school, with his lips set and his jaws even squarer than usual. Miss
+Salome was making some of her famous taffy, and Clemantiny was
+spinning yarn on the big wheel.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Salome," said Chester desperately, "if you're not too busy,
+there is something I'd like to tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" asked Miss Salome good-humouredly, turning to him with
+her spoon poised in midair over her granite saucepan.</p>
+
+<p>"It's about myself. I&mdash;I&mdash;oh, Miss Salome, I didn't tell you the
+truth about myself. I've got to tell it now. My name isn't
+Benson&mdash;exactly&mdash;and I ran away from home."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear me!" said Miss Salome mildly. She dropped her spoon, handle and
+all, into the taffy and never noticed it. "Dear me, Chester!"</p>
+
+<p>"I knew it," said Clemantiny triumphantly. "I knew it&mdash;and I always
+said it. Run away, did you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes'm. My name is Chester Benson Stephens, and I lived at Upton with
+Aunt Harriet Elwell. But she ain't any relation to me, really. She's
+only father's stepsister. She&mdash;she&mdash;wasn't kind to me and she wouldn't
+let me go to school&mdash;so I ran away."</p>
+
+<p>"But, dear me, Chester, didn't you know that was very wrong?" said
+Miss Salome in bewilderment.</p>
+
+<p>"No'm&mdash;I didn't know it then. I've been thinking lately that maybe it
+was. I'm&mdash;I'm real sorry."</p>
+
+<p>"What did you say your real name was?" demanded Clemantiny.</p>
+
+<p>"Stephens, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"And your mother's name before she was married?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mary Morrow," said Chester, wondering what upon earth Clemantiny
+meant.</p>
+
+<p>Clemantiny turned to Miss Salome with an air of surrendering a dearly
+cherished opinion.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, ma'am, I guess you must be right about his looking like Johnny.
+I must say I never could see the resemblance, but it may well be
+there, for he&mdash;that very fellow there&mdash;and Johnny are first cousins.
+Their mothers were sisters!"</p>
+
+<p>"Clemantiny!" exclaimed Miss Salome.</p>
+
+<p>"You may well say 'Clemantiny.' Such a coincidence! It doesn't make
+you and him any relation, of course&mdash;the cousinship is on the mother's
+side. But it's there. Mary Morrow was born and brought up in Hopedale.
+She went to Upton when I did, and married Oliver Stephens there. Why,
+I knew his father as well as I know you."</p>
+
+<p>"This is wonderful," said Miss Salome. Then she added sorrowfully,
+"But it doesn't make your running away right, Chester."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell us all about it," demanded Clemantiny, sitting down on the
+wood-box. "Sit down, boy, sit down&mdash;don't stand there looking as if
+you were on trial for your life. Tell us all about it."</p>
+
+<p>Thus adjured, Chester sat down and told them all about it&mdash;his
+moonlight flitting and his adventures in Montrose. Miss Salome
+exclaimed with horror over the fact of his sleeping in a pile of
+lumber for seven nights, but Clemantiny listened in silence, never
+taking her eyes from the boy's pale face. When Chester finished, she
+nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"We've got it all now. There's nothing more behind, Salome. It would
+have been better for you to have told as straight a story at first,
+young man."</p>
+
+<p>Chester knew that, but, having no reply to make, made none. Miss
+Salome looked at him wistfully.</p>
+
+<p>"But, with it all, you didn't do right to run away, Chester," she said
+firmly. "I dare say your aunt was severe with you&mdash;but two wrongs
+never make a right, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"No'm," said Chester.</p>
+
+<p>"You must go back to your aunt," continued Miss Salome sadly.</p>
+
+<p>Chester nodded. He knew this, but he could not trust himself to speak.
+Then did Clemantiny arise in her righteous indignation.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I never heard of such nonsense, Salome Whitney! What on earth
+do you want to send him back for? I knew Harriet Elwell years ago, and
+if she's still what she was then, it ain't much wonder Chester ran
+away from her. I'd say 'run,' too. Go back, indeed! You keep him right
+here, as you should, and let Harriet Elwell look somewhere else for
+somebody to scold!"</p>
+
+<p>"Clemantiny!" expostulated Miss Salome.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I must and will speak my mind, Salome. There's no one else to
+take Chester's part, it seems. You have as much claim on him as
+Harriet Elwell has. She ain't any real relation to him any more than
+you are."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Salome looked troubled. Perhaps there was something in
+Clemantiny's argument. And she hated to think of seeing Chester go. He
+looked more like Johnny than ever, as he stood there with his flushed
+face and wistful eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Chester," she said gravely, "I leave it to you to decide. If you
+think you ought to go back to your aunt, well and good. If not, you
+shall stay here."</p>
+
+<p>This was the hardest yet. Chester wished she had not left the decision
+to him. It was like cutting off his own hand. But he spoke up
+manfully.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I think I ought to go back, Miss Salome, and I want to pay back
+the money, too."</p>
+
+<p>"I think so, too, Chester, although I'm sorry as sorry can be. I'll go
+back to Upton with you. We'll start tomorrow. If, when we get there,
+your aunt is willing to let you stay with me, you can come back."</p>
+
+<p>"There's a big chance of that!" said Clemantiny sourly. "A woman's
+likely to give up a boy like Chester&mdash;a good, steady worker and as
+respectful and obliging as there is between this and sunset&mdash;very
+likely, isn't she! Well, this taffy is all burnt to the saucepan and
+clean ruined&mdash;but what's the odds! All I hope, Salome Whitney, is that
+the next time you adopt a boy and let him twine himself 'round a
+person's heart, you'll make sure first that you are going to stick to
+it. I don't like having my affections torn up by the roots."</p>
+
+<p>Clemantiny seized the saucepan and disappeared with it into the pantry
+amid a whirl of pungent smoke.</p>
+
+<p>Mount Hope Farm was a strangely dismal place that night. Miss Salome
+sighed heavily and often as she made her preparations for the morrow's
+journey.</p>
+
+<p>Clemantiny stalked about with her grim face grimmer than ever. As for
+Chester, when he went to bed that night in the little porch chamber,
+he cried heartily into his pillows. He didn't care for pride any
+longer; he just cried and didn't even pretend he wasn't crying when
+Miss Salome came in to sit by him a little while and talk to him. That
+talk comforted Chester. He realized that, come what might, he would
+always have a good friend in Miss Salome&mdash;aye, and in Clemantiny, too.</p>
+
+<p>Chester never knew it, but after he had fallen asleep, with the tears
+still glistening on his brown cheeks, Clemantiny tiptoed silently in
+with a candle in her hand and bent over him with an expression of
+almost maternal tenderness on her face. It was late and an aroma of
+boiling sugar hung about her. She had sat up long after Miss Salome
+was abed, to boil another saucepan of taffy for Chester to eat on his
+journey.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor, dear child!" she said, softly touching one of his crisp curls.
+"It's a shame in Salome to insist on his going back. She doesn't know
+what she's sending him to, or she wouldn't. He didn't say much against
+his aunt, and Salome thinks she was only just a little bit cranky. But
+<i>I</i> could guess."</p>
+
+<p>Early in the morning Miss Salome and Chester started. They were to
+drive to Montrose, leave their team there and take the boat for
+Belltown. Chester bade farewell to the porch chamber and the long,
+white kitchen and the friendly barns with a full heart. When he
+climbed into the wagon, Clemantiny put a big bagful of taffy into his
+hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-by, Chester," she said. "And remember, you've always got a
+friend in me, anyhow."</p>
+
+<p>Then Clemantiny went back into the kitchen and cried&mdash;good,
+rough-spoken, tender-hearted Clemantiny sat down and cried.</p>
+
+<p>It was an ideal day for travelling&mdash;crisp, clear and sunny&mdash;but
+neither Chester nor Miss Salome was in a mood for enjoyment.</p>
+
+<p>Back over Chester's runaway route they went, and reached Belltown on
+the boat that evening.</p>
+
+<p>They stayed in Belltown overnight and in the morning took the train to
+Roxbury Station. Here Miss Salome hired a team from the storekeeper
+and drove out to Upton.</p>
+
+<p>Chester felt his heart sink as they drove into the Elwell yard. How
+well he knew it!</p>
+
+<p>Miss Salome tied her hired nag to the gatepost and took Chester by the
+hand. They went to the door and knocked. It was opened with a jerk and
+Mrs. Elwell stood before them. She had probably seen them from the
+window, for she uttered no word of surprise at seeing Chester again.
+Indeed, she said nothing at all, but only stood rigidly before them.</p>
+
+<p>Dear me, what a disagreeable-looking woman! thought Miss Salome. But
+she said courteously, "Are you Mrs. Elwell?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am," said that lady forbiddingly.</p>
+
+<p>"I've brought your nephew home," continued Miss Salome, laying her
+hand encouragingly on Chester's shrinking shoulder. "I have had him
+hired for some time on my farm at Hopedale, but I didn't know until
+yesterday that he had run away from you. When he told me about it, I
+thought he ought to come straight back and return your four dollars,
+and so did he. So I have brought him."</p>
+
+<p>"You might have saved yourself the trouble then!" cried Mrs. Elwell
+shrilly. Her black eyes flashed with anger. "I'm done with him and
+don't want the money. Run away when there was work to do, and thinks
+he can come back now that it's all done and loaf all winter, does he?
+He shall never enter my house again."</p>
+
+<p>"That he shall not!" cried Miss Salome, at last finding her tongue.
+Her gentle nature was grievously stirred by the heartlessness shown in
+the face and voice of Mrs. Elwell. "That he shall not!" she cried
+again. "But he shall not want for a home as long as I have one to give
+him. Come, Chester, we'll go home."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you well of him," Mrs. Elwell said sarcastically.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Salome already repented her angry retort. She was afraid she had
+been undignified, but she wished for a moment that Clemantiny was
+there. Wicked as she feared it was, Miss Salome thought she could have
+enjoyed a tilt between her ancient handmaid and Mrs. Elwell.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Elwell, if I have used any intemperate
+expressions," she said with great dignity. "You provoked me more than
+was becoming by your remarks. I wish you good morning."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Elwell slammed the door shut.</p>
+
+<p>With her cheeks even more than usually rosy, Miss Salome led Chester
+down to the gate, untied her horse and drove out of the yard. Not
+until they reached the main road did she trust herself to speak to the
+dazed lad beside her.</p>
+
+<p>"What a disagreeable women!" she ejaculated at last. "I don't wonder
+you ran away, Chester&mdash;I don't, indeed! Though, mind you, I don't
+think it was right, for all that. But I'm gladder than words can say
+that she wouldn't take you back. You are mine now, and you will stay
+mine. I want you to call me Aunt Salome after this. Get up, horse! If
+we can catch that train at Roxbury, we'll be home by night yet."</p>
+
+<p>Chester was too happy to speak. He had never felt so glad and grateful
+in his life before.</p>
+
+<p>They got home that night just as the sun was setting redly behind the
+great maples on the western hill. As they drove into the yard,
+Clemantiny's face appeared, gazing at them over the high board fence
+of the cow-yard. Chester waved his hand at her gleefully.</p>
+
+<p>"Lawful heart!" said Clemantiny. She set down her pail and came out to
+the lane on a run. She caught Chester as he sprang from the wagon and
+gave him a hearty hug.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad clean down to my boot soles to see you back again," she
+said.</p>
+
+<p>"He's back for good," said Miss Salome. "Chester, you'd better go in
+and study up your lessons for tomorrow."</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="The_Strike_at_Putney" id="The_Strike_at_Putney"></a><hr />
+<br />
+
+<h2>The Strike at Putney<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>The church at Putney was one that gladdened the hearts of all the
+ministers in the presbytery whenever they thought about it. It was
+such a satisfactory church. While other churches here and there were
+continually giving trouble in one way or another, the Putneyites were
+never guilty of brewing up internal or presbyterial strife.</p>
+
+<p>The Exeter church people were always quarrelling among themselves and
+carrying their quarrels to the courts of the church. The very name of
+Exeter gave the members of presbytery the cold creeps. But the Putney
+church people never quarrelled.</p>
+
+<p>Danbridge church was in a chronic state of ministerlessness. No
+minister ever stayed in Danbridge longer than he could help. The
+people were too critical, and they were also noted heresy hunters.
+Good ministers fought shy of Danbridge, and poor ones met with a chill
+welcome. The harassed presbytery, worn out with "supplying," were
+disposed to think that the millennium would come if ever the
+Danbridgians got a minister whom they liked. At Putney they had had
+the same minister for fifteen years and hoped and expected to have him
+for fifteen more. They looked with horror-stricken eyes on the
+Danbridge theological coquetries.</p>
+
+<p>Bloom Valley church was over head and heels in debt and had no visible
+prospect of ever getting out. The moderator said under his breath that
+they did over-much praying and too little hoeing. He did not believe
+in faith without works. Tarrytown Road kept its head above water but
+never had a cent to spare for missions or the schemes of the church.</p>
+
+<p>In bright and shining contradistinction to these the Putney church had
+always paid its way and gave liberally to all departments of church
+work. If other springs of supply ran dry the Putneyites
+enthusiastically got up a "tea" or a "social," and so raised the
+money. Naturally the "heft" of this work fell on the women, but they
+did not mind&mdash;in very truth, they enjoyed it. The Putney women had the
+reputation of being "great church workers," and they plumed themselves
+on it, putting on airs at conventions among the less energetic women
+of the other churches.</p>
+
+<p>They were especially strong on societies. There was the Church Aid
+Society, the Girls' Flower Band, and the Sewing Circle. There was a
+Mission Band and a Helping Hand among the children. And finally there
+was the Women's Foreign Mission Auxiliary, out of which the whole
+trouble grew which convulsed the church at Putney for a brief time and
+furnished a standing joke in presbyterial circles for years
+afterwards. To this day ministers and elders tell the story of the
+Putney church strike with sparkling eyes and subdued chuckles. It
+never grows old or stale. But the Putney elders are an exception. They
+never laugh at it. They never refer to it. It is not in the wicked,
+unregenerate heart of man to make a jest of his own bitter defeat.</p>
+
+<p>It was in June that the secretary of the Putney W.F.M. Auxiliary wrote
+to a noted returned missionary who was touring the country, asking her
+to give an address on mission work before their society. Mrs.
+Cotterell wrote back saying that her brief time was so taken up
+already that she found it hard to make any further engagements, but
+she could not refuse the Putney people who were so well and favourably
+known in mission circles for their perennial interest and liberality.
+So, although she could not come on the date requested, she would, if
+acceptable, come the following Sunday.</p>
+
+<p>This suited the Putney Auxiliary very well. On the Sunday referred to
+there was to be no evening service in the church owing to Mr.
+Sinclair's absence. They therefore appointed the missionary meeting
+for that night, and made arrangements to hold it in the church itself,
+as the classroom was too small for the expected audience.</p>
+
+<p>Then the thunderbolt descended on the W.F.M.A. of Putney from a clear
+sky. The elders of the church rose up to a man and declared that no
+woman should occupy the pulpit of the Putney church. It was in direct
+contravention to the teachings of St. Paul.</p>
+
+<p>To make matters worse, Mr. Sinclair declared himself on the elders'
+side. He said that he could not conscientiously give his consent to a
+woman occupying his pulpit, even when that woman was Mrs. Cotterell
+and her subject foreign missions.</p>
+
+<p>The members of the Auxiliary were aghast. They called a meeting
+extraordinary in the classroom and, discarding all forms and
+ceremonies in their wrath, talked their indignation out.</p>
+
+<p>Out of doors the world basked in June sunshine and preened itself in
+blossom. The birds sang and chirped in the lichened maples that cupped
+the little church in, and peace was over all the Putney valley. Inside
+the classroom disgusted women buzzed like angry bees.</p>
+
+<p>"What on earth are we to do?" sighed the secretary plaintively. Mary
+Kilburn was always plaintive. She sat on the steps of the platform,
+being too wrought up in her mind to sit in her chair at the desk, and
+her thin, faded little face was twisted with anxiety. "All the
+arrangements are made and Mrs. Cotterell is coming on the tenth. How
+can we tell her that the men won't let her speak?"</p>
+
+<p>"There was never anything like this in Putney church before," groaned
+Mrs. Elder Knox. "It was Andrew McKittrick put them up to it. I always
+said that man would make trouble here yet, ever since he moved to
+Putney from Danbridge. I've talked and argued with Thomas until I'm
+dumb, but he is as set as a rock."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see what business the men have to interfere with us anyhow,"
+said her daughter Lucy, who was sitting on one of the window-sills.
+"We don't meddle with them, I'm sure. As if Mrs. Cotterell would
+contaminate the pulpit!"</p>
+
+<p>"One would think we were still in the dark ages," said Frances
+Spenslow sharply. Frances was the Putney schoolteacher. Her father was
+one of the recalcitrant elders and Frances felt it bitterly&mdash;all the
+more that she had tried to argue with him and had been sat upon as a
+"child who couldn't understand."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm more surprised at Mr. Sinclair than at the elders," said Mrs.
+Abner Keech, fanning herself vigorously. "Elders are subject to queer
+spells periodically. They think they assert their authority that way.
+But Mr. Sinclair has always seemed so liberal and broad-minded."</p>
+
+<p>"You never can tell what crotchet an old bachelor will take into his
+head," said Alethea Craig bitingly.</p>
+
+<p>The others nodded agreement. Mr. Sinclair's inveterate celibacy was a
+standing grievance with the Putney women.</p>
+
+<p>"If he had a wife who could be our president this would never have
+happened, I warrant you," said Mrs. King sagely.</p>
+
+<p>"But what are we going to do, ladies?" said Mrs. Robbins briskly. Mrs.
+Robbins was the president. She was a big, bustling woman with clear
+blue eyes and crisp, incisive ways. Hitherto she had held her peace.
+"They must talk themselves out before they can get down to business,"
+she had reflected sagely. But she thought the time had now come to
+speak.</p>
+
+<p>"You know," she went on, "we can talk and rage against the men all day
+if we like. They are not trying to prevent us. But that will do no
+good. Here's Mrs. Cotterell invited, and all the neighbouring
+auxiliaries notified&mdash;and the men won't let us have the church. The
+point is, how are we going to get out of the scrape?"</p>
+
+<p>A helpless silence descended upon the classroom. The eyes of every
+woman present turned to Myra Wilson. Everyone could talk, but when it
+came to action they had a fashion of turning to Myra.</p>
+
+<p>She had a reputation for cleverness and originality. She never talked
+much. So far today she had not said a word. She was sitting on the
+sill of the window across from Lucy Knox. She swung her hat on her
+knee, and loose, moist rings of dark hair curled around her dark,
+alert face. There was a sparkle in her grey eyes that boded ill to the
+men who were peaceably pursuing their avocations, rashly indifferent
+to what the women might be saying in the maple-shaded classroom.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you any suggestion to make, Miss Wilson?" said Mrs. Robbins,
+with a return to her official voice and manner.</p>
+
+<p>Myra put her long, slender index finger to her chin.</p>
+
+<p>"I think," she said decidedly, "that we must strike."</p>
+
+<br />
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+<br />
+
+<p>When Elder Knox went in to tea that evening he glanced somewhat
+apprehensively at his wife. They had had an altercation before she
+went to the meeting, and he supposed she had talked herself into
+another rage while there. But Mrs. Knox was placid and smiling. She
+had made his favourite soda biscuits for him and inquired amiably
+after his progress in hoeing turnips in the southeast meadow.</p>
+
+<p>She made, however, no reference to the Auxiliary meeting, and when the
+biscuits and the maple syrup and two cups of matchless tea had nerved
+the elder up, his curiosity got the better of his prudence&mdash;for even
+elders are human and curiosity knows no gender&mdash;and he asked what they
+had done at the meeting.</p>
+
+<p>"We poor men have been shaking in our shoes," he said facetiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Were you?" Mrs. Knox's voice was calm and faintly amused. "Well, you
+didn't need to. We talked the matter over very quietly and came to the
+conclusion that the session knew best and that women hadn't any right
+to interfere in church business at all."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy Knox turned her head away to hide a smile. The elder beamed. He
+was a peace-loving man and disliked "ructions" of any sort and
+domestic ones in particular. Since the decision of the session Mrs.
+Knox had made his life a burden to him. He did not understand her
+sudden change of base, but he accepted it very thankfully.</p>
+
+<p>"That's right&mdash;that's right," he said heartily. "I'm glad to hear you
+coming out so sensible, Maria. I was afraid you'd work yourselves up
+at that meeting and let Myra Wilson or Alethea Craig put you up to
+some foolishness or other. Well, I guess I'll jog down to the Corner
+this evening and order that barrel of pastry flour you want."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you needn't," said Mrs. Knox indifferently. "We won't be needing
+it now."</p>
+
+<p>"Not needing it! But I thought you said you had to have some to bake
+for the social week after next."</p>
+
+<p>"There isn't going to be any social."</p>
+
+<p>"Not any social?"</p>
+
+<p>Elder Knox stared perplexedly at his wife. A month previously the
+Putney church had been recarpeted, and they still owed fifty dollars
+for it. This, the women declared, they would speedily pay off by a big
+cake and ice-cream social in the hall. Mrs. Knox had been one of the
+foremost promoters of the enterprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Not any social?" repeated the elder again. "Then how is the money for
+the carpet to be got? And <i>why</i> isn't there going to be a social?"</p>
+
+<p>"The men can get the money somehow, I suppose," said Mrs. Knox. "As
+for the social, why, of course, if women aren't good enough to speak
+in church they are not good enough to work for it either. Lucy, dear,
+will you pass me the cookies?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lucy dear" passed the cookies and then rose abruptly and left the
+table. Her father's face was too much for her.</p>
+
+<p>"What confounded nonsense is this?" demanded the elder explosively.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Knox opened her mellow brown eyes widely, as if in amazement at
+her husband's tone.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't understand you," she said. "Our position is perfectly
+logical."</p>
+
+<p>She had borrowed that phrase from Myra Wilson, and it floored the
+elder. He got up, seized his hat, and strode from the room.</p>
+
+<p>That night, at Jacob Wherrison's store at the Corner, the Putney men
+talked over the new development. The social was certainly off&mdash;for a
+time, anyway.</p>
+
+<p>"Best let 'em alone, I say," said Wherrison. "They're mad at us now
+and doing this to pay us out. But they'll cool down later on and we'll
+have the social all right."</p>
+
+<p>"But if they don't," said Andrew McKittrick gloomily, "who is going to
+pay for that carpet?"</p>
+
+<p>This was an unpleasant question. The others shirked it.</p>
+
+<p>"I was always opposed to this action of the session," said Alec Craig.
+"It wouldn't have hurt to have let the woman speak. 'Tisn't as if it
+was a regular sermon."</p>
+
+<p>"The session knew best," said Andrew sharply. "And the
+minister&mdash;you're not going to set your opinion up against his, are
+you, Craig?"</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't know they taught such reverence for ministers in Danbridge,"
+retorted Craig with a laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Best let 'em alone, as Wherrison says," said Abner Keech.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't see what else we can do," said John Wilson shortly.</p>
+
+<br />
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+<br />
+
+<p>On Sunday morning the men were conscious of a bare, deserted
+appearance in the church. Mr. Sinclair perceived it himself. After
+some inward wondering he concluded that it was because there were no
+flowers anywhere. The table before the pulpit was bare. On the organ a
+vase held a sorry, faded bouquet left over from the previous week. The
+floor was' unswept. Dust lay thickly on the pulpit Bible, the choir
+chairs, and the pew backs.</p>
+
+<p>"This church looks disgraceful," said John Robbins in an angry
+undertone to his daughter Polly, who was president of the Flower
+Band. "What in the name of common sense is the good of your Flower
+Banders if you can't keep the place looking decent?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is no Flower Band now, Father," whispered Polly in turn. "We've
+disbanded. Women haven't any business to meddle in church matters. You
+know the session said so."</p>
+
+<p>It was well for Polly that she was too big to have her ears boxed.
+Even so, it might not have saved her if they had been anywhere else
+than in church.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the men who were sitting in the choir&mdash;three basses and two
+tenors&mdash;were beginning to dimly suspect that there was something amiss
+here too. Where were the sopranos and the altos? Myra Wilson and
+Alethea Craig and several other members of the choir were sitting down
+in their pews with perfectly unconscious faces. Myra was looking out
+of the window into the tangled sunlight and shadow of the great
+maples. Alethea Craig was reading her Bible.</p>
+
+<p>Presently Frances Spenslow came in. Frances was organist, but today,
+instead of walking up to the platform, she slipped demurely into her
+father's pew at one side of the pulpit. Eben Craig, who was the Putney
+singing master and felt himself responsible for the choir, fidgeted
+uneasily. He tried to catch Frances's eye, but she was absorbed in
+reading the mission report she had found in the rack, and Eben was
+finally forced to tiptoe down to the Spenslow pew and whisper, "Miss
+Spenslow, the minister is waiting for the doxology. Aren't you going
+to take the organ?"</p>
+
+<p>Frances looked up calmly. Her clear, placid voice was audible not only
+to those in the nearby pews, but to the minister.</p>
+
+<p>"No, Mr. Craig. You know if a woman isn't fit to speak in the church
+she can't be fit to sing in it either."</p>
+
+<p>Eben Craig looked exceedingly foolish. He tiptoed gingerly back to his
+place. The minister, with an unusual flush on his thin, ascetic face,
+rose suddenly and gave out the opening hymn.</p>
+
+<p>Nobody who heard the singing in Putney church that day ever forgot it.
+Untrained basses and tenors, unrelieved by a single female voice, are
+not inspiring.</p>
+
+<p>There were no announcements of society meetings for the forthcoming
+week. On the way home from church that day irate husbands and fathers
+scolded, argued, or pleaded, according to their several dispositions.
+One and all met with the same calm statement that if a noble,
+self-sacrificing woman like Mrs. Cotterell were not good enough to
+speak in the Putney church, ordinary, everyday women could not be fit
+to take any part whatever in its work.</p>
+
+<p>Sunday School that afternoon was a harrowing failure. Out of all the
+corps of teachers only one was a man, and he alone was at his post. In
+the Christian Endeavour meeting on Tuesday night the feminine element
+sat dumb and unresponsive. The Putney women never did things by
+halves.</p>
+
+<p>The men held out for two weeks. At the end of that time they
+"happened" to meet at the manse and talked the matter over with the
+harassed minister. Elder Knox said gloomily, "It's this way. Nothing
+can move them women. I know, for I've tried. My authority has been set
+at naught in my own household. And I'm laughed at if I show my face in
+any of the other settlements."</p>
+
+<p>The Sunday School superintendent said the Sunday School was going to
+wrack and ruin, also the Christian Endeavour. The condition of the
+church for dust was something scandalous, and strangers were making a
+mockery of the singing. And the carpet had to be paid for. He supposed
+they would have to let the women have their own way.</p>
+
+<p>The next Sunday evening after service Mr. Sinclair arose hesitatingly.
+His face was flushed, and Alethea Craig always declared that he looked
+"just plain everyday cross." He announced briefly that the session
+after due deliberation had concluded that Mrs. Cotterell might occupy
+the pulpit on the evening appointed for her address.</p>
+
+<p>The women all over the church smiled broadly. Frances Spenslow got up
+and went to the organ stool. The singing in the last hymn was good and
+hearty. Going down the steps after dismissal Mrs. Elder Knox caught
+the secretary of the Church Aid by the arm.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess," she whispered anxiously, "you'd better call a special
+meeting of the Aids at my house tomorrow afternoon. If we're to get
+that social over before haying begins we've got to do some smart
+scurrying."</p>
+
+<p>The strike in the Putney church was over.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="The_Unhappiness_of_Miss_Farquhar" id="The_Unhappiness_of_Miss_Farquhar"></a><hr />
+<br />
+
+<h2>The Unhappiness of Miss Farquhar<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>Frances Farquhar was a beauty and was sometimes called a society
+butterfly by people who didn't know very much about it. Her father was
+wealthy and her mother came of an extremely blue-blooded family.
+Frances had been out for three years, and was a social favourite.
+Consequently, it may be wondered why she was unhappy.</p>
+
+<p>In plain English, Frances Farquhar had been jilted&mdash;just a
+commonplace, everyday jilting! She had been engaged to Paul Holcomb;
+he was a very handsome fellow, somewhat too evidently aware of the
+fact, and Frances was very deeply in love with him&mdash;or thought herself
+so, which at the time comes to pretty much the same thing. Everybody
+in her set knew of her engagement, and all her girl friends envied
+her, for Holcomb was a matrimonial catch.</p>
+
+<p>Then the crash came. Nobody outside the family knew exactly what did
+happen, but everybody knew that the Holcomb-Farquhar match was off,
+and everybody had a different story to account for it.</p>
+
+<p>The simple truth was that Holcomb was fickle and had fallen in love
+with another girl. There was nothing of the man about him, and it did
+not matter to his sublimely selfish caddishness whether he broke
+Frances Farquhar's heart or not. He got his freedom and he married
+Maud Carroll in six months' time.</p>
+
+<p>The Farquhars, especially Ned, who was Frances's older brother and
+seldom concerned himself about her except when the family honour was
+involved, were furious at the whole affair. Mr. Farquhar stormed, and
+Ned swore, and Della lamented her vanished role of bridemaid. As for
+Mrs. Farquhar, she cried and said it would ruin Frances's future
+prospects.</p>
+
+<p>The girl herself took no part in the family indignation meetings. But
+she believed that her heart was broken. Her love and her pride had
+suffered equally, and the effect seemed disastrous.</p>
+
+<p>After a while the Farquhars calmed down and devoted themselves to the
+task of cheering Frances up. This they did not accomplish. She got
+through the rest of the season somehow and showed a proud front to the
+world, not even flinching when Holcomb himself crossed her path. To be
+sure, she was pale and thin, and had about as much animation as a
+mask, but the same might be said of a score of other girls who were
+not suspected of having broken hearts.</p>
+
+<p>When the summer came Frances asserted herself. The Farquhars went to
+Green Harbour every summer. But this time Frances said she would not
+go, and stuck to it. The whole family took turns coaxing her and had
+nothing to show for their pains.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going up to Windy Meadows to stay with Aunt Eleanor while you
+are at the Harbour," she declared. "She has invited me often enough."</p>
+
+<p>Ned whistled. "Jolly time you'll have of it, Sis. Windy Meadows is
+about as festive as a funeral. And Aunt Eleanor isn't lively, to put
+it in the mildest possible way."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care if she isn't. I want to get somewhere where people won't
+look at me and talk about&mdash;that," said Frances, looking ready to cry.</p>
+
+<p>Ned went out and swore at Holcomb again, and then advised his mother
+to humour Frances. Accordingly, Frances went to Windy Meadows.</p>
+
+<p>Windy Meadows was, as Ned had said, the reverse of lively. It was a
+pretty country place, with a sort of fag-end by way of a little
+fishing village, huddled on a wind-swept bit of beach, locally known
+as the "Cove." Aunt Eleanor was one of those delightful people, so few
+and far between in this world, who have perfectly mastered the art of
+minding their own business exclusively. She left Frances in peace.</p>
+
+<p>She knew that her niece had had "some love trouble or other," and
+hadn't gotten over it rightly.</p>
+
+<p>"It's always best to let those things take their course," said this
+philosophical lady to her "help" and confidant, Margaret Ann Peabody.
+"She'll get over it in time&mdash;though she doesn't think so now, bless
+you."</p>
+
+<p>For the first fortnight Frances revelled in a luxury of unhindered
+sorrow. She could cry all night&mdash;and all day too, if she
+wished&mdash;without having to stop because people might notice that her
+eyes were red. She could mope in her room all she liked. And there
+were no men who demanded civility.</p>
+
+<p>When the fortnight was over, Aunt Eleanor took crafty counsel with
+herself. The letting-alone policy was all very well, but it would not
+do to have the girl die on her hands. Frances was getting paler and
+thinner every day&mdash;and she was spoiling her eyelashes by crying.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish," said Aunt Eleanor one morning at breakfast, while Frances
+pretended to eat, "that I could go and take Corona Sherwood out for a
+drive today. I promised her last week that I would, but I've never had
+time yet. And today is baking and churning day. It's a shame. Poor
+Corona!"</p>
+
+<p>"Who is she?" asked Frances, trying to realize that there was actually
+someone in the world besides herself who was to be pitied.</p>
+
+<p>"She is our minister's sister. She has been ill with rheumatic fever.
+She is better now, but doesn't seem to get strong very fast. She ought
+to go out more, but she isn't able to walk. I really must try and get
+around tomorrow. She keeps house for her brother at the manse. He
+isn't married, you know."</p>
+
+<p>Frances didn't know, nor did she in the least degree care. But even
+the luxury of unlimited grief palls, and Frances was beginning to feel
+this vaguely. She offered to go and take Miss Sherwood out driving.</p>
+
+<p>"I've never seen her," she said, "but I suppose that doesn't matter. I
+can drive Grey Tom in the phaeton, if you like."</p>
+
+<p>It was just what Aunt Eleanor intended, and she saw Frances drive off
+that afternoon with a great deal of satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>"Give my love to Corona," she told her, "and say for me that she isn't
+to go messing about among those shore people until she's perfectly
+well. The manse is the fourth house after you turn the third corner."</p>
+
+<p>Frances kept count of the corners and the houses and found the manse.
+Corona Sherwood herself came to the door. Frances had been expecting
+an elderly personage with spectacles and grey crimps; she was
+surprised to find that the minister's sister was a girl of about her
+own age and possessed of a distinct worldly prettiness. Corona was
+dark, with a different darkness from that of Frances, who had ivory
+outlines and blue-black hair, while Corona was dusky and piquant.</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes brightened with delight when Frances told her errand.</p>
+
+<p>"How good of you and Miss Eleanor! I am not strong enough to walk far
+yet&mdash;or do anything useful, in fact, and Elliott so seldom has time to
+take me out."</p>
+
+<p>"Where shall we go?" asked Frances when they started. "I don't know
+much about this locality."</p>
+
+<p>"Can we drive to the Cove first? I want to see poor little Jacky Hart.
+He has been so sick&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt Eleanor positively forbade that," said Frances dubiously. "Will
+it be safe to disobey her?"</p>
+
+<p>Corona laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Eleanor blames my poor shore people for making me sick at first,
+but it was really not that at all. And I want to see Jacky Hart so
+much. He has been ill for some time with some disease of the spine and
+he is worse lately. I'm sure Miss Eleanor won't mind my calling just
+to see him."</p>
+
+<p>Frances turned Grey Tom down the shore road that ran to the Cove and
+past it to silvery, wind-swept sands, rimming sea expanses crystal
+clear. Jacky Hart's home proved to be a tiny little place overflowing
+with children. Mrs. Hart was a pale, tired-looking woman with the
+patient, farseeing eyes so often found among the women who watch sea
+and shore every day and night of their lives for those who sometimes
+never return.</p>
+
+<p>She spoke of Jacky with the apathy of hopelessness. The doctor said he
+would not last much longer. She told all her troubles unreservedly to
+Corona in her monotonous voice. Her "man" was drinking again and the
+mackerel catch was poor.</p>
+
+<p>When Mrs. Hart asked Corona to go in and see Jacky, Frances went too.
+The sick boy, a child with a delicate, wasted face and large, bright
+eyes, lay in a tiny bedroom off the kitchen. The air was hot and
+heavy. Mrs. Hart stood at the foot of the bed with her tragic face.</p>
+
+<p>"We have to set up nights with him now," she said. "It's awful hard on
+me and my man. The neighbours are kind enough and come sometimes, but
+most of them have enough to do. His medicine has to be given every
+half hour. I've been up for three nights running now. Jabez was off to
+the tavern for two. I'm just about played out."</p>
+
+<p>She suddenly broke down and began to cry, or rather whimper, in a
+heart-broken way.</p>
+
+<p>Corona looked troubled. "I wish I could come tonight, Mrs. Hart, but
+I'm afraid I'm really not strong enough yet."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know much about sickness," spoke up Frances firmly, "but if
+to sit by the child and give him his medicine regularly is all that is
+necessary, I am sure I can do that. I'll come and sit up with Jacky
+tonight if you care to have me."</p>
+
+<p>Afterwards, when she and Corona were driving away, she wondered a good
+deal at herself. But Corona was so evidently pleased with her offer,
+and took it all so much as a matter of course, that Frances had not
+the courage to display her wonder. They had their drive through the
+great green bowl of the country valley, brimming over with sunshine,
+and afterwards Corona made Frances go home with her to tea.</p>
+
+<p>Rev. Elliott Sherwood had got back from his pastoral visitations, and
+was training his sweet peas in the way they should go against the
+garden fence. He was in his shirt sleeves and wore a big straw hat,
+and seemed in nowise disconcerted thereby. Corona introduced him, and
+he took Grey Tom away and put him in the barn. Then he went back to
+his sweet peas. He had had his tea, he said, so that Frances did not
+see him again until she went home. She thought he was a very
+indifferent young man, and not half so nice as his sister.</p>
+
+<p>But she went and sat up with Jacky Hart that night, getting to the
+Cove at dark, when the sea was a shimmer of fairy tints and the boats
+were coming in from the fishing grounds. Jacky greeted her with a
+wonderful smile, and later on she found herself watching alone by his
+bed. The tiny lamp on the table burned dim, and outside, on the rocks,
+there was loud laughing and talking until a late hour.</p>
+
+<p>Afterwards a silence fell, through which the lap of the waves on the
+sands and the far-off moan of the Atlantic surges came sonorously.
+Jacky was restless and wakeful, but did not suffer, and liked to talk.
+Frances listened to him with a new-born power of sympathy, which she
+thought she must have caught from Corona. He told her all the tragedy
+of his short life, and how bad he felt, about Dad's taking to drink
+and Mammy's having to work so hard.</p>
+
+<p>The pitiful little sentences made Frances's heart ache. The maternal
+instinct of the true woman awoke in her. She took a sudden liking to
+the child. He was a spiritual little creature, and his sufferings had
+made him old and wise. Once in the night he told Frances that he
+thought the angels must look like her.</p>
+
+<p>"You are so sweet pretty," he said gravely. "I never saw anyone so
+pretty, not even Miss C'rona. You look like a picture I once saw on
+Mr. Sherwood's table when I was up at the manse one day 'fore I got
+so bad I couldn't walk. It was a woman with a li'l baby in her arms
+and a kind of rim round her head. I would like something most awful
+much."</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, dear?" said Frances gently. "If I can get or do it for
+you, I will."</p>
+
+<p>"You could," he said wistfully, "but maybe you won't want to. But I do
+wish you'd come here just once every day and sit here five minutes and
+let me look at you&mdash;just that. Will it be too much trouble?"</p>
+
+<p>Frances stooped and kissed him. "I will come every day, Jacky," she
+said; and a look of ineffable content came over the thin little face.
+He put up his hand and touched her cheek.</p>
+
+<p>"I knew you were good&mdash;as good as Miss C'rona, and she is an angel. I
+love you."</p>
+
+<p>When morning came Frances went home. It was raining, and the sea was
+hidden in mist. As she walked along the wet road, Elliott Sherwood
+came splashing along in a little two-wheeled gig and picked her up. He
+wore a raincoat and a small cap, and did not look at all like a
+minister&mdash;or, at least, like Frances's conception of one.</p>
+
+<p>Not that she knew much about ministers. Her own minister at home&mdash;that
+is to say, the minister of the fashionable uptown church which she
+attended&mdash;was a portly, dignified old man with silvery hair and
+gold-rimmed glasses, who preached scholarly, cultured sermons and was
+as far removed from Frances's personal life as a star in the Milky
+Way.</p>
+
+<p>But a minister who wore rubber coats and little caps and drove about
+in a two-wheeled gig, very much mud-bespattered, and who talked about
+the shore people as if they were household intimates of his, was
+absolutely new to Frances.</p>
+
+<p>She could not help seeing, however, that the crisp brown hair under
+the edges of the unclerical-looking cap curled around a remarkably
+well-shaped forehead, beneath which flashed out a pair of very fine
+dark-grey eyes; he had likewise a good mouth, which was resolute and
+looked as if it might be stubborn on occasion; and, although he was
+not exactly handsome, Frances decided that she liked his face.</p>
+
+<p>He tucked the wet, slippery rubber apron of his conveyance about her
+and then proceeded to ask questions. Jacky Hart's case had to be
+reported on, and then Mr. Sherwood took out a notebook and looked over
+its entries intently.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you want any more work of that sort to do?" he asked her abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>Frances felt faintly amused. He talked to her as he might have done to
+Corona, and seemed utterly oblivious of the fact that her profile was
+classic and her eyes delicious. His indifference piqued Frances a
+little in spite of her murdered heart. Well, if there was anything she
+could do she might as well do it, she told him briefly, and he, with
+equal brevity, gave her directions for finding some old lady who lived
+on the Elm Creek road and to whom Corona had read tracts.</p>
+
+<p>"Tracts are a mild dissipation of Aunt Clorinda's," he said. "She
+fairly revels in them. She is half blind and has missed Corona very
+much."</p>
+
+<p>There were other matters also&mdash;a dozen or so of factory girls who
+needed to be looked after and a family of ragged children to be
+clothed. Frances, in some dismay, found herself pledged to help in all
+directions, and then ways and means had to be discussed. The long, wet
+road, sprinkled with houses, from whose windows people were peering to
+see "what girl the minister was driving," seemed very short. Frances
+did not know it, but Elliott Sherwood drove a full mile out of his
+way that morning to take her home, and risked being late for a very
+important appointment&mdash;from which it may be inferred that he was not
+quite so blind to the beautiful as he had seemed.</p>
+
+<p>Frances went through the rain that afternoon and read tracts to Aunt
+Clorinda. She was so dreadfully tired that night that she forgot to
+cry, and slept well and soundly.</p>
+
+<p>In the morning she went to church for the first time since coming to
+Windy Meadows. It did not seem civil not to go to hear a man preach
+when she had gone slumming with his sister and expected to assist him
+with his difficulties over factory girls. She was surprised at Elliott
+Sherwood's sermon, and mentally wondered why such a man had been
+allowed to remain for four years in a little country pulpit. Later on
+Aunt Eleanor told her it was for his health.</p>
+
+<p>"He was not strong when he left college, so he came here. But he is as
+well as ever now, and I expect he will soon be gobbled up by some of
+your city churches. He preached in Castle Street church last winter,
+and I believe they were delighted with him."</p>
+
+<p>This was all of a month later. During that time Frances thought that
+she must have been re-created, so far was her old self left behind.
+She seldom had an idle moment; when she had, she spent it with Corona.
+The two girls had become close friends, loving each other with the
+intensity of exceptional and somewhat exclusive natures.</p>
+
+<p>Corona grew strong slowly, and could do little for her brother's
+people, but Frances was an excellent proxy, and Elliott Sherwood kept
+her employed. Incidentally, Frances had come to know the young
+minister, with his lofty ideals and earnest efforts, very well. He
+had got into a ridiculous habit of going to her&mdash;her, Frances
+Farquhar!&mdash;for advice in many perplexities.</p>
+
+<p>Frances had nursed Jacky Hart and talked temperance to his father and
+read tracts to Aunt Clorinda and started a reading circle among the
+factory girls and fitted out all the little Jarboes with dresses and
+coaxed the shore children to go to school and patched up a feud
+between two 'longshore families and done a hundred other things of a
+similar nature.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Eleanor said nothing, as was her wise wont, but she talked it
+over with Margaret Ann Peabody, and agreed with that model domestic
+when she said: "Work'll keep folks out of trouble and help 'em out of
+it when they are in. Just as long as that girl brooded over her own
+worries and didn't think of anyone but herself she was miserable. But
+as soon as she found other folks were unhappy, too, and tried to help
+'em out a bit, she helped herself most of all. She's getting fat and
+rosy, and it is plain to be seen that the minister thinks there isn't
+the like of her on this planet."</p>
+
+<p>One night Frances told Corona all about Holcomb. Elliott Sherwood was
+away, and Frances had gone up to stay all night with Corona at the
+manse. They were sitting in the moonlit gloom of Corona's room, and
+Frances felt confidential. She had expected to feel badly and cry a
+little while she told it. But she did not, and before she was half
+through, it did not seem as if it were worth telling after all. Corona
+was deeply sympathetic. She did not say a great deal, but what she did
+say put Frances on better terms with herself.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I shall get over it," the latter declared finally. "Once I
+thought I never would&mdash;but the truth is, I'm getting over it now. I'm
+very glad&mdash;but I'm horribly ashamed, too, to find myself so fickle."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think you are fickle, Frances," said Corona gravely,
+"because I don't think you ever really loved that man at all. You only
+imagined you did. And he was not worthy of you. You are so good, dear;
+those shore people just worship you. Elliott says you can do anything
+you like with them."</p>
+
+<p>Frances laughed and said she was not at all good. Yet she was pleased.
+Later on, when she was brushing her hair before the mirror and smiling
+absently at her reflection, Corona said: "Frances, what is it like to
+be as pretty as you are?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense!" said Frances by way of answer.</p>
+
+<p>"It is not nonsense at all. You must know you are very lovely,
+Frances. Elliott says you are the most beautiful girl he has ever
+seen."</p>
+
+<p>For a girl who has told herself a dozen times that she would never
+care again for masculine admiration, Frances experienced a very odd
+thrill of delight on hearing that the minister of Windy Meadows
+thought her beautiful. She knew he admired her intellect and had
+immense respect for what he called her "genius for influencing
+people," but she had really believed all along that, if Elliott
+Sherwood had been asked, he could not have told whether she was a whit
+better looking than Kitty Martin of the Cove, who taught a class in
+Sunday school and had round rosy cheeks and a snub nose.</p>
+
+<p>The summer went very quickly. One day Jacky Hart died&mdash;drifted out
+with the ebb tide, holding Frances's hand. She had loved the patient,
+sweet-souled little creature and missed him greatly.</p>
+
+<p>When the time to go home came Frances felt dull. She hated to leave
+Windy Meadows and Corona and her dear shore people and Aunt Eleanor
+and&mdash;and&mdash;well, Margaret Ann Peabody.</p>
+
+<p>Elliott Sherwood came up the night before she went away. When
+Margaret Ann showed him reverentially in, Frances was sitting in a
+halo of sunset light, and the pale, golden chrysanthemums in her hair
+shone like stars in the blue-black coils.</p>
+
+<p>Elliott Sherwood had been absent from Windy Meadows for several days.
+There was a subdued jubilance in his manner.</p>
+
+<p>"You think I have come to say good-bye, but I haven't," he told her.
+"I shall see you again very soon, I hope. I have just received a call
+to Castle Street church, and it is my intention to accept. So Corona
+and I will be in town this winter."</p>
+
+<p>Frances tried to tell him how glad she was, but only stammered.
+Elliott Sherwood came close up to her as she stood by the window in
+the fading light, and said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>But on second thoughts I shall not record what he said&mdash;or what she
+said either. Some things should be left to the imagination.</p>
+
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<a name="Why_Mr_Cropper_Changed_His_Mind" id="Why_Mr_Cropper_Changed_His_Mind"></a><hr />
+<br />
+
+<h2>Why Mr. Cropper Changed His Mind<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h2>
+<br />
+
+<p>"Well, Miss Maxwell, how did you get along today?" asked Mr. Baxter
+affably, when the new teacher came to the table.</p>
+
+<p>She was a slight, dark girl, rather plain-looking, but with a smart,
+energetic way. Mr. Baxter approved of her; he "liked her style," as he
+would have said.</p>
+
+<p>The summer term had just opened in the Maitland district. Esther
+Maxwell was a stranger, but she was a capable girl, and had no doubt
+of her own ability to get and keep the school in good working order.
+She smiled brightly at Mr. Baxter.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well for a beginning. The children seem bright and teachable and
+not hard to control."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Baxter nodded. "There are no bad children in the school except the
+Cropper boys&mdash;and they can be good enough if they like. Reckon they
+weren't there today?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Miss Maxwell, I think it only fair to tell you that you may
+have trouble with those boys when they do come. Forewarned is
+forearmed, you know. Mr. Cropper was opposed to our hiring you. Not,
+of course, that he had any personal objection to you, but he is set
+against female teachers, and when a Cropper is set there is nothing on
+earth can change him. He says female teachers can't keep order. He's
+started in with a spite at you on general principles, and the boys
+know it. They know he'll back them up in secret, no matter what they
+do, just to prove his opinions. Cropper is sly and slippery, and it is
+hard to corner him."</p>
+
+<p>"Are the boys big?" queried Esther anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Thirteen and fourteen and big for their age. You can't whip
+'em&mdash;that is the trouble. A man might, but they'd twist you around
+their fingers. You'll have your hands full, I'm afraid. But maybe
+they'll behave all right after all."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Baxter privately had no hope that they would, but Esther hoped
+for the best. She could not believe that Mr. Cropper would carry his
+prejudices into a personal application. This conviction was
+strengthened when he overtook her walking from school the next day and
+drove her home. He was a big, handsome man with a very suave, polite
+manner. He asked interestedly about her school and her work, hoped she
+was getting on well, and said he had two young rascals of his own to
+send soon. Esther felt relieved. She thought that Mr. Baxter had
+exaggerated matters a little.</p>
+
+<p>"That plum tree of Mrs. Charley's is loaded with fruit again this
+year," remarked Mr. Baxter at the tea table that evening. "I came past
+it today on my way 'cross lots home from the woods. There will be
+bushels of plums on it."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't suppose poor Mrs. Charley will get one of them any more than
+she ever has," said Mrs. Baxter indignantly. "It's a burning shame,
+that's what it is! I just wish she could catch the Croppers once."</p>
+
+<p>"You haven't any proof that it is really them, Mary," objected her
+husband, "and you shouldn't make reckless accusations before folks."</p>
+
+<p>"I know very well it is them," retorted Mrs. Baxter, "and so do you,
+Adoniram. And Mrs. Charley knows it too, although she can't prove
+it&mdash;more's the pity! I don't say Isaac Cropper steals those plums with
+his own hands. But he knows who does&mdash;and the plums go into Mehitable
+Cropper's preserving kettle; there's nothing surer."</p>
+
+<p>"You see, Miss Maxwell, it's this way," explained Mr. Baxter, turning
+to Esther. "Mrs. Charley Cropper's husband was Isaac's brother. They
+never got on well together, and when Charley died there was a
+tremendous fuss about the property. Isaac acted mean and scandalous
+clear through, and public opinion has been down on him ever since. But
+Mrs. Charley is a pretty smart woman, and he didn't get the better of
+her in everything. There was a strip of disputed land between the two
+farms, and she secured it. There's a big plum tree growing on it
+close to the line fence. It's the finest one in Maitland. But Mrs.
+Charley never gets a plum from it."</p>
+
+<p>"But what becomes of them?" asked Esther.</p>
+
+<p>"They disappear," said Mr. Baxter, with a significant nod. "When the
+plums are anything like ripe Mrs. Charley discovers some day that
+there isn't one left on the tree. She has never been able to get a
+scrap of proof as to who took them, or she'd make it hot for them. But
+nobody in Maitland has any doubt in his own mind that Isaac Cropper
+knows where those plums go."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think Mr. Cropper would steal," protested Esther.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he doesn't consider it stealing, you know. He claims the land
+and says the plums are his. I don't doubt that he is quite clear in
+his own mind that they are. And he does hate Mrs. Charley. I'd give
+considerable to see the old sinner fairly caught, but he is too deep."</p>
+
+<p>"I think Mr. Baxter is too hard on Mr. Cropper," said Esther to
+herself later on. "He has probably some private prejudice against
+him."</p>
+
+<br />
+<hr style='width: 15%;' />
+<br />
+
+<p>But a month later she had changed her opinion. During that time the
+Cropper boys had come to school.</p>
+
+<p>At first Esther had been inclined to like them. They were handsome
+lads, with the same smooth way that characterized their father, and
+seemed bright and intelligent. For a few days all went well, and
+Esther felt decidedly relieved.</p>
+
+<p>But before long a subtle spirit of insubordination began to make
+itself felt in the school. Esther found herself powerless to cope with
+it. The Croppers never openly defied her, but they did precisely as
+they pleased. The other pupils thought themselves at liberty to follow
+this example, and in a month's time poor Esther had completely lost
+control of her little kingdom. Some complaints were heard among the
+ratepayers and even Mr. Baxter looked dubious. She knew that unless
+she could regain her authority she would be requested to hand in her
+resignation, but she was baffled by the elusive system of defiance
+which the Cropper boys had organized.</p>
+
+<p>One day she resolved to go to Mr. Cropper himself and appeal to his
+sense of justice, if he had any. It had been an especially hard day in
+school. When she had been absent at the noon hour all the desks in the
+schoolroom had been piled in a pyramid on the floor, books and slates
+interchanged, and various other pranks played. When questioned every
+pupil denied having done or helped to do it. Alfred and Bob Cropper
+looked her squarely in the eyes and declared their innocence in their
+usual gentlemanly fashion, yet Esther felt sure that they were the
+guilty ones. She also knew what exaggerated accounts of the affair
+would be taken home to Maitland tea tables, and she felt like sitting
+down to cry. But she did not. Instead she set her mouth firmly, helped
+the children restore the room to order, and after school went up to
+Isaac Cropper's house.</p>
+
+<p>That gentleman himself came in from the harvest field looking as
+courtly as usual, even in his rough working clothes. He shook hands
+heartily, told her he was glad to see her, and began talking about the
+weather. Esther was not to be turned from her object thus, although
+she felt her courage ebbing away from her as it always did in the
+presence of the Cropper imperviousness.</p>
+
+<p>"I have come up to see you about Alfred and Robert, Mr. Cropper," she
+said. "They are not behaving well in school."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed!" Mr. Cropper's voice expressed bland surprise. "That is
+strange. As a rule I do not think Alfred and Robert have been
+troublesome to their teachers. What have they been doing now?"</p>
+
+<p>"They refuse to obey my orders," said Esther faintly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, well, Miss Maxwell, perhaps you will pardon my saying that a
+teacher should be able to enforce her orders. My boys are
+high-spirited fellows and need a strong, firm hand to restrain them. I
+have always said I considered it advisable to employ a male teacher
+in Maitland school. We should have better order. Not that I disapprove
+of you personally&mdash;far from it. I should be glad to see you succeed.
+But I have heard many complaints regarding the order in school at
+present."</p>
+
+<p>"I had no trouble until your boys came," retorted Esther, losing her
+temper a little, "and I believe that if you were willing to co-operate
+with me that I could govern them."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you see," said Mr. Cropper easily, "when I send my boys to
+school I naturally expect that the teacher will be capable of doing
+the work she has been hired to do."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you refuse to help me?" said Esther in a trembling voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, my dear young lady, what can I do? Boys soon know when they can
+disobey a teacher with impunity. No doubt you will be able to secure a
+school easier to control and will do good work. But here, as I have
+already said, we need a firm hand at the helm. But you are not going
+yet, Miss Maxwell? You need some refreshment after your long walk.
+Mrs. Cropper will bring you in something."</p>
+
+<p>"No, thank you," said poor Esther. She felt that she must get away at
+once or she would burst into heartsick tears under those steely, bland
+blue eyes. When she got home she shut herself up in her room and
+cried. There was nothing for her to do but resign, she thought
+dismally.</p>
+
+<p>On the following Saturday Esther went for an afternoon walk, carrying
+her kodak with her. It was a brilliantly fine autumn day, and woods
+and fields were basking in a mellow haze. Esther went across lots to
+Mrs. Charley Cropper's house, intending to make a call. But the house
+was locked up and evidently deserted, so she rambled past it to the
+back fields. Passing through a grove of maples she came out among
+leafy young saplings on the other side. Just beyond her, with its
+laden boughs hanging over the line fence, was the famous plum tree.
+Esther looked at it for a moment. Then an odd smile gleamed over her
+face and she lifted her kodak.</p>
+
+<p>Monday evening Esther called on Mr. Cropper again. After the
+preliminary remarks in which he indulged, she said, with seeming
+irrelevance, that Saturday had been a fine day.</p>
+
+<p>"There was an excellent light for snapshots," she went on coolly. "I
+went out with my kodak and was lucky enough to get a good negative. I
+have brought you up a proof. I thought you would be interested in it."</p>
+
+<p>She rose and placed the proof on the table before Mr. Cropper. The
+plum tree came out clearly. Bob and Alf Cropper were up among the
+boughs picking the plums. On the ground beneath them stood their
+father with a basket of fruit in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Cropper looked at the proof and from it to Esther. His eyes had
+lost their unconcerned glitter, but his voice was defiant.</p>
+
+<p>"The plums are mine by right," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps," said Esther calmly, "but there are some who do not think
+so. Mrs. Charley, for instance&mdash;she would like to see this proof, I
+think."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't show it to her," cried Mr. Cropper hastily. "I tell you, Miss
+Maxwell, the plums are mine. But I am tired of fighting over them and
+I had decided before this that I'd let her have them after this. It's
+only a trifle, anyhow. And about that little matter we were discussing
+the other night, Miss Maxwell. I have been thinking it over, and I
+admit I was somewhat unreasonable. I'll talk to Alfred and Robert and
+see what I can do."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," said Esther quietly. "The matter of the plums isn't my
+business and I don't wish to be involved in your family feuds,
+especially as you say that you mean to allow Mrs. Charley to enjoy her
+own in future. As for the school, we will hope that matters will
+improve."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll leave the proof with me, won't you?" said Mr. Cropper
+eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, certainly," said Esther, smiling. "I have the negative still, you
+know."</p>
+
+<p>From that time out the Cropper boys were models of good behaviour and
+the other turbulent spirits, having lost their leaders, were soon
+quelled. Complaint died away, and at the end of the term Esther was
+re-engaged.</p>
+
+<p>"You seem to have won old Cropper over to your side entirely," Mr.
+Baxter told her that night. "He said at the meeting today that you
+were the best teacher we had ever had and moved to raise your salary.
+I never knew Isaac Cropper to change his opinions so handsomely."</p>
+
+<p>Esther smiled. She knew it had taken a powerful lever to change Mr.
+Cropper's opinion, but she kept her own counsel.</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lucy Maud Montgomery Short Stories,
+1902 to 1903, by Lucy Maud Montgomery
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONTGOMERY SHORT STORIES ***
+
+***** This file should be named 24874-h.htm or 24874-h.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/8/7/24874/
+
+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.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+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
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
+
+</pre>
+
+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/24874-page-images/af0001.png b/24874-page-images/af0001.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2325ec2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/af0001.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ap0017.png b/24874-page-images/ap0017.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..23aad27
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ap0017.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ap0018.png b/24874-page-images/ap0018.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..da43235
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ap0018.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ap0019.png b/24874-page-images/ap0019.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..191549c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ap0019.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ap0020.png b/24874-page-images/ap0020.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4d04d9c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ap0020.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ap0021.png b/24874-page-images/ap0021.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a0f4617
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ap0021.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ap0022.png b/24874-page-images/ap0022.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..adf18b7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ap0022.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ap0023.png b/24874-page-images/ap0023.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7a36a3c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ap0023.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ap0024.png b/24874-page-images/ap0024.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9b654ca
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ap0024.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ap0025.png b/24874-page-images/ap0025.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ca43c6d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ap0025.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/bp0001.png b/24874-page-images/bp0001.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d7b76df
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/bp0001.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/bp0002.png b/24874-page-images/bp0002.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1ea7925
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/bp0002.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/bp0003.png b/24874-page-images/bp0003.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..35881e6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/bp0003.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/bp0004.png b/24874-page-images/bp0004.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..dc9d211
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/bp0004.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/bp0005.png b/24874-page-images/bp0005.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..33f1bd8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/bp0005.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/bp0006.png b/24874-page-images/bp0006.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ff5b7bb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/bp0006.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/bp0007.png b/24874-page-images/bp0007.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..55f75df
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/bp0007.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/bp0008.png b/24874-page-images/bp0008.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..48f3ff6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/bp0008.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/bp0009.png b/24874-page-images/bp0009.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1060efc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/bp0009.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/bp0010.png b/24874-page-images/bp0010.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7cd52e4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/bp0010.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/bp0011.png b/24874-page-images/bp0011.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1413de1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/bp0011.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/bp0012.png b/24874-page-images/bp0012.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c80bb38
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/bp0012.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/bp0013.png b/24874-page-images/bp0013.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..97c23e6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/bp0013.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/bp0014.png b/24874-page-images/bp0014.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5948519
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/bp0014.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/bp0015.png b/24874-page-images/bp0015.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..70056dd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/bp0015.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/cp0001.png b/24874-page-images/cp0001.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c53aaa7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/cp0001.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/cp0002.png b/24874-page-images/cp0002.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..19b0b8c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/cp0002.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/cp0003.png b/24874-page-images/cp0003.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0f202e5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/cp0003.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/cp0004.png b/24874-page-images/cp0004.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..46e8512
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/cp0004.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/cp0005.png b/24874-page-images/cp0005.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..20e0162
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/cp0005.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/cp0006.png b/24874-page-images/cp0006.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..07955e4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/cp0006.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/cp0007.png b/24874-page-images/cp0007.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3d6e18c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/cp0007.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/cp0008.png b/24874-page-images/cp0008.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a9ad944
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/cp0008.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/cp0009.png b/24874-page-images/cp0009.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4d387db
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/cp0009.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/cp0010.png b/24874-page-images/cp0010.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c811ba8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/cp0010.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/cp0011.png b/24874-page-images/cp0011.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3b73cb5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/cp0011.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/df001.png b/24874-page-images/df001.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b17d121
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/df001.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/dp0153.png b/24874-page-images/dp0153.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2595e40
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/dp0153.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/dp0154.png b/24874-page-images/dp0154.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..63d1753
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/dp0154.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/dp0155.png b/24874-page-images/dp0155.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3b6823a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/dp0155.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/dp0156.png b/24874-page-images/dp0156.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bd8505e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/dp0156.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/dp0157.png b/24874-page-images/dp0157.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4edf360
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/dp0157.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/dp0158.png b/24874-page-images/dp0158.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c6890d9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/dp0158.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/dp0159.png b/24874-page-images/dp0159.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b6b9f3c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/dp0159.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/dp0160.png b/24874-page-images/dp0160.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a230480
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/dp0160.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ep0045.png b/24874-page-images/ep0045.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9681ff6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ep0045.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ep0046.png b/24874-page-images/ep0046.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b45af6f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ep0046.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ep0047.png b/24874-page-images/ep0047.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..886c7c5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ep0047.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ep0048.png b/24874-page-images/ep0048.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..87ebf9e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ep0048.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ep0049.png b/24874-page-images/ep0049.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5b1bc7b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ep0049.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ep0050.png b/24874-page-images/ep0050.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..dd2eb88
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ep0050.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ep0051.png b/24874-page-images/ep0051.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2b10e8c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ep0051.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ep0052.png b/24874-page-images/ep0052.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..85f30a5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ep0052.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ep0053.png b/24874-page-images/ep0053.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..22a2f1b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ep0053.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ep0054.png b/24874-page-images/ep0054.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..191c741
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ep0054.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ep0055.png b/24874-page-images/ep0055.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fd578bf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ep0055.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ep0056.png b/24874-page-images/ep0056.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cc8a22a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ep0056.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ep0057.png b/24874-page-images/ep0057.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1965fdf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ep0057.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ep0058.png b/24874-page-images/ep0058.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5aa7547
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ep0058.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ep0059.png b/24874-page-images/ep0059.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ed7aa3f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ep0059.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/fp0015.png b/24874-page-images/fp0015.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d2f9d3f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/fp0015.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/fp0016.png b/24874-page-images/fp0016.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..293463f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/fp0016.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/fp0017.png b/24874-page-images/fp0017.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c4c1aee
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/fp0017.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/fp0018.png b/24874-page-images/fp0018.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c16c4ed
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/fp0018.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/fp0019.png b/24874-page-images/fp0019.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2fd6020
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/fp0019.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/fp0020.png b/24874-page-images/fp0020.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2b8c995
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/fp0020.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/gp0038.png b/24874-page-images/gp0038.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8217525
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/gp0038.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/gp0039.png b/24874-page-images/gp0039.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a744ce1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/gp0039.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/gp0040.png b/24874-page-images/gp0040.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c3c6d02
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/gp0040.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/gp0041.png b/24874-page-images/gp0041.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..46d0432
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/gp0041.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/gp0042.png b/24874-page-images/gp0042.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..954927d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/gp0042.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/gp0043.png b/24874-page-images/gp0043.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..066cf94
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/gp0043.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/gp0044.png b/24874-page-images/gp0044.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..563b4c1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/gp0044.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/gp0045.png b/24874-page-images/gp0045.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8a10108
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/gp0045.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/gp0046.png b/24874-page-images/gp0046.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8b3f891
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/gp0046.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/gp0047.png b/24874-page-images/gp0047.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..16c9dbc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/gp0047.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/hp0105.png b/24874-page-images/hp0105.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6c7afaa
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/hp0105.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/hp0106.png b/24874-page-images/hp0106.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..254c174
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/hp0106.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/hp0107.png b/24874-page-images/hp0107.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e33d2ca
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/hp0107.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/hp0108.png b/24874-page-images/hp0108.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4a7c78e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/hp0108.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/hp0109.png b/24874-page-images/hp0109.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2a0dede
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/hp0109.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/hp0110.png b/24874-page-images/hp0110.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..215c7ff
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/hp0110.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/hp0111.png b/24874-page-images/hp0111.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..31662cc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/hp0111.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/hp0112.png b/24874-page-images/hp0112.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5f19652
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/hp0112.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/hp0113.png b/24874-page-images/hp0113.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..eb3084a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/hp0113.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/hp0114.png b/24874-page-images/hp0114.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..24ddf23
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/hp0114.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/hp0115.png b/24874-page-images/hp0115.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b0db12b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/hp0115.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/hp0116.png b/24874-page-images/hp0116.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1f4e7ed
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/hp0116.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/hp0117.png b/24874-page-images/hp0117.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cac6433
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/hp0117.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/hp0118.png b/24874-page-images/hp0118.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..13632da
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/hp0118.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/hp0119.png b/24874-page-images/hp0119.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f1cd5eb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/hp0119.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/hp0120.png b/24874-page-images/hp0120.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ca93936
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/hp0120.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/hp0121.png b/24874-page-images/hp0121.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7d58500
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/hp0121.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/if0001.png b/24874-page-images/if0001.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..55132f6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/if0001.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ip0107.png b/24874-page-images/ip0107.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a5aa4da
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ip0107.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ip0108.png b/24874-page-images/ip0108.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2c54a76
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ip0108.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ip0109.png b/24874-page-images/ip0109.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ea552c7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ip0109.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ip0110.png b/24874-page-images/ip0110.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f38d5b2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ip0110.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ip0111.png b/24874-page-images/ip0111.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cb23299
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ip0111.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ip0112.png b/24874-page-images/ip0112.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a65fc2c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ip0112.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ip0113.png b/24874-page-images/ip0113.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..18cfaff
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ip0113.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/ip0114.png b/24874-page-images/ip0114.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..baea42d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/ip0114.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/jf0001.png b/24874-page-images/jf0001.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9de362a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/jf0001.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/jp0139.png b/24874-page-images/jp0139.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..02addad
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/jp0139.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/jp0140.png b/24874-page-images/jp0140.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3dc3e4b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/jp0140.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/jp0141.png b/24874-page-images/jp0141.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..086fff6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/jp0141.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/jp0142.png b/24874-page-images/jp0142.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0adebec
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/jp0142.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/jp0143.png b/24874-page-images/jp0143.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3c1ac1b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/jp0143.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/kf0001.png b/24874-page-images/kf0001.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3c9c36e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/kf0001.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/kp0215.png b/24874-page-images/kp0215.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3d25179
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/kp0215.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/kp0216.png b/24874-page-images/kp0216.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4ee4cdf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/kp0216.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/kp0217.png b/24874-page-images/kp0217.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..286a9a3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/kp0217.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/kp0218.png b/24874-page-images/kp0218.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ba46765
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/kp0218.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/kp0219.png b/24874-page-images/kp0219.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d69463b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/kp0219.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/kp0220.png b/24874-page-images/kp0220.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a2400da
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/kp0220.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/lp0013.png b/24874-page-images/lp0013.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d29cf9a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/lp0013.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/lp0014.png b/24874-page-images/lp0014.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..92ddbad
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/lp0014.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/lp0015.png b/24874-page-images/lp0015.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6c4d160
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/lp0015.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/lp0016.png b/24874-page-images/lp0016.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e062c50
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/lp0016.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/lp0017.png b/24874-page-images/lp0017.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fbdb0e1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/lp0017.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/lp0018.png b/24874-page-images/lp0018.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..77c553d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/lp0018.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/lp0019.png b/24874-page-images/lp0019.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bb734b6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/lp0019.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/lp0020.png b/24874-page-images/lp0020.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1c38b44
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/lp0020.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/lp0021.png b/24874-page-images/lp0021.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6e7f816
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/lp0021.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/lp0022.png b/24874-page-images/lp0022.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..da5b578
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/lp0022.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/lp0023.png b/24874-page-images/lp0023.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..75a1baa
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/lp0023.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/lp0024.png b/24874-page-images/lp0024.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..163fda6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/lp0024.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/lp0025.png b/24874-page-images/lp0025.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ef61afc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/lp0025.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/mp0171.png b/24874-page-images/mp0171.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..52ce540
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/mp0171.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/mp0172.png b/24874-page-images/mp0172.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..418a579
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/mp0172.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/mp0173.png b/24874-page-images/mp0173.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..09e9f53
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/mp0173.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/mp0174.png b/24874-page-images/mp0174.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..abfce45
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/mp0174.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/mp0175.png b/24874-page-images/mp0175.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b3c9168
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/mp0175.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/mp0176.png b/24874-page-images/mp0176.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ff8c34a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/mp0176.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/mp0177.png b/24874-page-images/mp0177.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..990ef67
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/mp0177.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/mp0178.png b/24874-page-images/mp0178.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2f9bfe4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/mp0178.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/mp0179.png b/24874-page-images/mp0179.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..401accf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/mp0179.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/mp0180.png b/24874-page-images/mp0180.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ee3c282
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/mp0180.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/np0001.png b/24874-page-images/np0001.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cb60a83
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/np0001.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/np0002.png b/24874-page-images/np0002.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3fced2b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/np0002.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/np0003.png b/24874-page-images/np0003.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0d2f8db
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/np0003.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/np0004.png b/24874-page-images/np0004.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f7702b3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/np0004.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/np0005.png b/24874-page-images/np0005.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fa623b5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/np0005.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/np0006.png b/24874-page-images/np0006.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ffe9597
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/np0006.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/np0007.png b/24874-page-images/np0007.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d459e73
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/np0007.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/np0008.png b/24874-page-images/np0008.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4859931
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/np0008.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/np0009.png b/24874-page-images/np0009.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b7977ce
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/np0009.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/np0010.png b/24874-page-images/np0010.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..17ffd3e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/np0010.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/np0011.png b/24874-page-images/np0011.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c9bc495
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/np0011.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/np0012.png b/24874-page-images/np0012.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9ac140a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/np0012.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/np0013.png b/24874-page-images/np0013.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..60ea219
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/np0013.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/np0014.png b/24874-page-images/np0014.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..477ec86
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/np0014.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/np0015.png b/24874-page-images/np0015.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1224238
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/np0015.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/np0016.png b/24874-page-images/np0016.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fe771b2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/np0016.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/np0017.png b/24874-page-images/np0017.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1a055e7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/np0017.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/np0018.png b/24874-page-images/np0018.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1166705
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/np0018.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/op0089.png b/24874-page-images/op0089.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b3219d5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/op0089.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/op0090.png b/24874-page-images/op0090.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a3cb33b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/op0090.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/op0091.png b/24874-page-images/op0091.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6119d65
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/op0091.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/op0092.png b/24874-page-images/op0092.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a7f6718
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/op0092.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/op0093.png b/24874-page-images/op0093.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f305fb2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/op0093.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/op0094.png b/24874-page-images/op0094.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..756e6e9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/op0094.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/op0095.png b/24874-page-images/op0095.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..693b0a2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/op0095.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/op0096.png b/24874-page-images/op0096.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..70ebef3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/op0096.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/op0097.png b/24874-page-images/op0097.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..edea37e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/op0097.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/op0098.png b/24874-page-images/op0098.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e0befcf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/op0098.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/op0099.png b/24874-page-images/op0099.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..aa4d5c5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/op0099.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/op0100.png b/24874-page-images/op0100.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2da06a0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/op0100.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/op0101.png b/24874-page-images/op0101.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f3ac424
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/op0101.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/op0102.png b/24874-page-images/op0102.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..231311a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/op0102.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/op0103.png b/24874-page-images/op0103.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a8d4854
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/op0103.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/op0104.png b/24874-page-images/op0104.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1537b5e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/op0104.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/pp0141.png b/24874-page-images/pp0141.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..55b518e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/pp0141.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/pp0142.png b/24874-page-images/pp0142.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0f7e13b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/pp0142.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/pp0143.png b/24874-page-images/pp0143.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..228101b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/pp0143.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/pp0144.png b/24874-page-images/pp0144.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a565044
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/pp0144.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/pp0145.png b/24874-page-images/pp0145.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..795613f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/pp0145.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/pp0146.png b/24874-page-images/pp0146.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f682e03
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/pp0146.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/pp0147.png b/24874-page-images/pp0147.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..901d46b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/pp0147.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/pp0148.png b/24874-page-images/pp0148.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bff0eb5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/pp0148.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/pp0149.png b/24874-page-images/pp0149.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1f8e665
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/pp0149.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/pp0150.png b/24874-page-images/pp0150.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9811766
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/pp0150.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/pp0151.png b/24874-page-images/pp0151.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..613f924
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/pp0151.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/pp0152.png b/24874-page-images/pp0152.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..77ad94b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/pp0152.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/pp0153.png b/24874-page-images/pp0153.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ad3716a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/pp0153.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/pp0154.png b/24874-page-images/pp0154.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..27e6e8f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/pp0154.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/qp0061.png b/24874-page-images/qp0061.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..dea2319
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/qp0061.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/qp0062.png b/24874-page-images/qp0062.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3554a53
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/qp0062.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/qp0063.png b/24874-page-images/qp0063.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e428a5e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/qp0063.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/qp0064.png b/24874-page-images/qp0064.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..08c3485
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/qp0064.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/qp0065.png b/24874-page-images/qp0065.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e031c89
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/qp0065.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/qp0066.png b/24874-page-images/qp0066.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1e9edbb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/qp0066.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/qp0067.png b/24874-page-images/qp0067.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..481a133
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/qp0067.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/rp0211.png b/24874-page-images/rp0211.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..adfa5b8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/rp0211.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/rp0212.png b/24874-page-images/rp0212.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..aacbed8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/rp0212.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/rp0213.png b/24874-page-images/rp0213.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..73ec521
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/rp0213.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/rp0214.png b/24874-page-images/rp0214.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..27b0262
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/rp0214.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/rp0215.png b/24874-page-images/rp0215.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2988608
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/rp0215.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/rp0216.png b/24874-page-images/rp0216.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..485d60a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/rp0216.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/rp0217.png b/24874-page-images/rp0217.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..60dfd36
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/rp0217.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/rp0218.png b/24874-page-images/rp0218.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ae5c4ad
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/rp0218.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/rp0219.png b/24874-page-images/rp0219.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4cb2144
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/rp0219.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/rp0220.png b/24874-page-images/rp0220.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..583bb53
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/rp0220.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/rp0221.png b/24874-page-images/rp0221.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..73dbfde
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/rp0221.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/rp0222.png b/24874-page-images/rp0222.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4777985
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/rp0222.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sf0001.png b/24874-page-images/sf0001.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cc62406
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sf0001.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sf0002.png b/24874-page-images/sf0002.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..af011a4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sf0002.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sf0003.png b/24874-page-images/sf0003.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..01e14e2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sf0003.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0107.png b/24874-page-images/sp0107.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cbdee8b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0107.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0108.png b/24874-page-images/sp0108.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..33528dc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0108.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0109.png b/24874-page-images/sp0109.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..14249ab
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0109.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0110.png b/24874-page-images/sp0110.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e5392ae
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0110.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0111.png b/24874-page-images/sp0111.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..64c9a41
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0111.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0112.png b/24874-page-images/sp0112.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..edf3f9b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0112.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0113.png b/24874-page-images/sp0113.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cd0c3a1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0113.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0114.png b/24874-page-images/sp0114.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e0644d5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0114.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0115.png b/24874-page-images/sp0115.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d516e87
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0115.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0116.png b/24874-page-images/sp0116.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5155fb7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0116.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0117.png b/24874-page-images/sp0117.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..42d0c65
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0117.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0118.png b/24874-page-images/sp0118.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..debd9d7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0118.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0119.png b/24874-page-images/sp0119.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d19fea5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0119.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0120.png b/24874-page-images/sp0120.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0f1dc41
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0120.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0121.png b/24874-page-images/sp0121.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4bb6c78
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0121.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0122.png b/24874-page-images/sp0122.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0ec06d7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0122.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0123.png b/24874-page-images/sp0123.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..72bf4e5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0123.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0124.png b/24874-page-images/sp0124.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5d8664c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0124.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0125.png b/24874-page-images/sp0125.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..366dfee
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0125.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0126.png b/24874-page-images/sp0126.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1fe5552
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0126.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0127.png b/24874-page-images/sp0127.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f0a68d7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0127.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0128.png b/24874-page-images/sp0128.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..78e6375
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0128.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0129.png b/24874-page-images/sp0129.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0a1afd8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0129.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0130.png b/24874-page-images/sp0130.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7e53d12
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0130.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0131.png b/24874-page-images/sp0131.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7a6833b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0131.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0132.png b/24874-page-images/sp0132.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4ced4a4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0132.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0133.png b/24874-page-images/sp0133.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..941ba1a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0133.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0134.png b/24874-page-images/sp0134.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e98596c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0134.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0135.png b/24874-page-images/sp0135.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a286711
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0135.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0136.png b/24874-page-images/sp0136.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a121c34
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0136.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0137.png b/24874-page-images/sp0137.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ae45e66
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0137.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0138.png b/24874-page-images/sp0138.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cd3cc17
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0138.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0139.png b/24874-page-images/sp0139.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bc3fa0b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0139.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0140.png b/24874-page-images/sp0140.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5e4de81
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0140.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0141.png b/24874-page-images/sp0141.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f7e087c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0141.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/sp0142.png b/24874-page-images/sp0142.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bafc418
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/sp0142.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/tf0001.png b/24874-page-images/tf0001.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1b3b623
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/tf0001.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/tp0231.png b/24874-page-images/tp0231.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..040a9fa
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/tp0231.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/tp0232.png b/24874-page-images/tp0232.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2211e2f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/tp0232.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/tp0233.png b/24874-page-images/tp0233.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cd5f456
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/tp0233.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/tp0234.png b/24874-page-images/tp0234.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d4fdaa6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/tp0234.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/tp0235.png b/24874-page-images/tp0235.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..75f9130
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/tp0235.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/tp0236.png b/24874-page-images/tp0236.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8177edd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/tp0236.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/tp0237.png b/24874-page-images/tp0237.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..496e59c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/tp0237.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/tp0238.png b/24874-page-images/tp0238.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..03b25d4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/tp0238.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/tp0239.png b/24874-page-images/tp0239.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..42cef53
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/tp0239.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/tp0240.png b/24874-page-images/tp0240.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8fd3b78
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/tp0240.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/up0181.png b/24874-page-images/up0181.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cb37cb8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/up0181.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/up0182.png b/24874-page-images/up0182.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d894ed3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/up0182.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/up0183.png b/24874-page-images/up0183.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8c45a20
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/up0183.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/up0184.png b/24874-page-images/up0184.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7dd5fca
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/up0184.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/up0185.png b/24874-page-images/up0185.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a980b23
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/up0185.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/up0186.png b/24874-page-images/up0186.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7076c2a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/up0186.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/up0187.png b/24874-page-images/up0187.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0fc90ee
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/up0187.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/up0188.png b/24874-page-images/up0188.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1ba0cc5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/up0188.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/up0189.png b/24874-page-images/up0189.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ba23c56
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/up0189.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/up0190.png b/24874-page-images/up0190.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..13ad274
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/up0190.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/up0191.png b/24874-page-images/up0191.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..753ab4f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/up0191.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/up0192.png b/24874-page-images/up0192.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7c6f65d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/up0192.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/up0193.png b/24874-page-images/up0193.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..77c3cef
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/up0193.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/vf0001.png b/24874-page-images/vf0001.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..76df948
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/vf0001.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/vp0181.png b/24874-page-images/vp0181.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f7809c1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/vp0181.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/vp0182.png b/24874-page-images/vp0182.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5a23162
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/vp0182.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/vp0183.png b/24874-page-images/vp0183.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c367aa4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/vp0183.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/vp0184.png b/24874-page-images/vp0184.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..efb8f35
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/vp0184.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/vp0185.png b/24874-page-images/vp0185.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1487650
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/vp0185.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/vp0186.png b/24874-page-images/vp0186.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..19cf89d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/vp0186.png
diff --git a/24874-page-images/vp0187.png b/24874-page-images/vp0187.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..09a63bc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874-page-images/vp0187.png
diff --git a/24874.txt b/24874.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..412fe8e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,8940 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lucy Maud Montgomery Short Stories, 1902 to
+1903, 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, 1902 to 1903
+
+Author: Lucy Maud Montgomery
+
+Release Date: March 19, 2008 [EBook #24874]
+
+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, 1902 to 1903
+
+
+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 1902 to 1903
+
+    A Patent Medicine Testimonial                            1903
+    A Sandshore Wooing                                       1903
+    After Many Days                                          1903
+    An Unconventional Confidence                             1903
+    Aunt Cyrilla's Christmas Basket                          1903
+    Davenport's Story                                        1902
+    Emily's Husband                                          1903
+    Min                                                      1903
+    Miss Cordelia's Accommodation                            1903
+    Ned's Stroke of Business                                 1903
+    Our Runaway Kite                                         1903
+    The Bride Roses                                          1903
+    The Josephs' Christmas                                   1902
+    The Magical Bond of the Sea                              1903
+    The Martyrdom of Estella                                 1902
+    The Old Chest at Wyther Grange                           1903
+    The Osborne's Christmas                                  1903
+    The Romance of Aunt Beatrice                             1902
+    The Running Away of Chester                              1903
+    The Strike at Putney                                     1903
+    The Unhappiness of Miss Farquhar                         1903
+    Why Mr. Cropper Changed His Mind                         1903
+
+
+
+
+A Patent Medicine Testimonial
+
+
+"You might as well try to move the rock of Gibraltar as attempt to
+change Uncle Abimelech's mind when it is once made up," said Murray
+gloomily.
+
+Murray is like dear old Dad; he gets discouraged rather easily. Now,
+I'm not like that; I'm more like Mother's folks. As Uncle Abimelech
+has never failed to tell me when I have annoyed him, I'm "all Foster."
+Uncle Abimelech doesn't like the Fosters. But I'm glad I take after
+them. If I had folded my hands and sat down meekly when Uncle
+Abimelech made known his good will and pleasure regarding Murray and
+me after Father's death, Murray would never have got to college--nor I
+either, for that matter. Only I wouldn't have minded that very much. I
+just wanted to go to college because Murray did. I couldn't be
+separated from him. We were twins and had always been together.
+
+As for Uncle Abimelech's mind, I knew that he never had been known to
+change it. But, as he himself was fond of saying, there has to be a
+first time for everything, and I had determined that this was to be
+the first time for him. I hadn't any idea how I was going to bring it
+about; but it just had to be done, and I'm not "all Foster" for
+nothing.
+
+I knew I would have to depend on my own thinkers. Murray is clever at
+books and dissecting dead things, but he couldn't help me out in this,
+even if he hadn't settled beforehand that there was no use in opposing
+Uncle Abimelech.
+
+"I'm going up to the garret to think this out, Murray," I said
+solemnly. "Don't let anybody disturb me, and if Uncle Abimelech comes
+over don't tell him where I am. If I don't come down in time to get
+tea, get it yourself. I shall not leave the garret until I have
+thought of some way to change Uncle Abimelech's mind."
+
+"Then you'll be a prisoner there for the term of your natural life,
+dear sis," said Murray sceptically. "You're a clever girl, Prue--and
+you've got enough decision for two--but you'll never get the better of
+Uncle Abimelech."
+
+"We'll see," I said resolutely, and up to the garret I went. I shut
+the door and bolted it good and fast to make sure. Then I piled some
+old cushions in the window seat--for one might as well be comfortable
+when one is thinking as not--and went over the whole ground from the
+beginning.
+
+Outside the wind was thrashing the broad, leafy top of the maple whose
+tallest twigs reached to the funny grey eaves of our old house. One
+roly-poly little sparrow blew or flew to the sill and sat there for a
+minute, looking at me with knowing eyes. Down below I could see Murray
+in a corner of the yard, pottering over a sick duck. He had set its
+broken leg and was nursing it back to health. Anyone except Uncle
+Abimelech could see that Murray was simply born to be a doctor and
+that it was flying in the face of Providence to think of making him
+anything else.
+
+From the garret windows I could see all over the farm, for the house
+is on the hill end of it. I could see all the dear old fields and the
+spring meadow and the beech woods in the southwest corner. And beyond
+the orchard were the two grey barns and down below at the right-hand
+corner was the garden with all my sweet peas fluttering over the
+fences and trellises like a horde of butterflies. It was a dear old
+place and both Murray and I loved every stick and stone on it, but
+there was no reason why we should go on living there when Murray
+didn't like farming. And it wasn't our own, anyhow. It all belonged to
+Uncle Abimelech.
+
+Father and Murray and I had always lived here together. Father's
+health broke down during his college course. That was one reason why
+Uncle Abimelech was set against Murray going to college, although
+Murray is as chubby and sturdy a fellow as you could wish to see.
+Anybody with Foster in him would be that.
+
+To go back to Father. The doctors told him that his only chance of
+recovering his strength was an open-air life, so Father rented one of
+Uncle Abimelech's farms and there he lived for the rest of his days.
+He did not get strong again until it was too late for college, and he
+was a square peg in a round hole all his life, as he used to tell us.
+Mother died before we could remember, so Murray and Dad and I were
+everything to each other. We were very happy too, although we were
+bossed by Uncle Abimelech more or less. But he meant it well and
+Father didn't mind.
+
+Then Father died--oh, that was a dreadful time! I hurried over it in
+my thinking-out. Of course when Murray and I came to look our position
+squarely in the face we found that we were dependent on Uncle
+Abimelech for everything, even the roof over our heads. We were
+literally as poor as church mice and even poorer, for at least they
+get churches rent-free.
+
+Murray's heart was set on going to college and studying medicine. He
+asked Uncle Abimelech to lend him enough money to get a start with and
+then he could work his own way along and pay back the loan in due
+time. Uncle Abimelech is rich, and Murray and I are his nearest
+relatives. But he simply wouldn't listen to Murray's plan.
+
+"I put my foot firmly down on such nonsense," he said. "And you know
+that when I put my foot down something squashes."
+
+It was not that Uncle Abimelech was miserly or that he grudged us
+assistance. Not at all. He was ready to deal generously by us, but it
+must be in his own way. His way was this. Murray and I were to stay on
+the farm, and when Murray was twenty-one Uncle Abimelech said he would
+deed the farm to him--make him a present of it out and out.
+
+"It's a good farm, Murray," he said. "Your father never made more than
+a bare living out of it because he wasn't strong enough to work it
+properly--that's what _he_ got out of a college course, by the way.
+But you are strong enough and ambitious enough to do well."
+
+But Murray couldn't be a farmer, that was all there was to it. I told
+Uncle Abimelech so, firmly, and I talked to him for days about it, but
+Uncle Abimelech never wavered. He sat and listened to me with a
+quizzical smile on that handsome, clean-shaven, ruddy old face of his,
+with its cut-granite features. And in the end he said,
+
+"You ought to be the one to go to college if either of you did, Prue.
+You would make a capital lawyer, if I believed in the higher education
+of women, but I don't. Murray can take or leave the farm as he
+chooses. If he prefers the latter alternative, well and good. But he
+gets no help from me. You're a foolish little girl, Prue, to back him
+up in this nonsense of his."
+
+It makes me angry to be called a little girl when I put up my hair a
+year ago, and Uncle Abimelech knows it. I gave up arguing with him. I
+knew it was no use anyway.
+
+I thought it all over in the garret. But no way out of the dilemma
+could I see. I had eaten up all the apples I had brought with me and I
+felt flabby and disconsolate. The sight of Uncle Abimelech stalking up
+the lane, as erect and lordly as usual, served to deepen my gloom.
+
+I picked up the paper my apples had been wrapped in and looked it over
+gloomily. Then I saw something, and Uncle Abimelech was delivered into
+my hand.
+
+The whole plan of campaign unrolled itself before me, and I fairly
+laughed in glee, looking out of the garret window right down on the
+little bald spot on the top of Uncle Abimelech's head, as he stood
+laying down the law to Murray about something.
+
+When Uncle Abimelech had gone I went down to Murray.
+
+"Buddy," I said, "I've thought of a plan. I'm not going to tell you
+what it is, but you are to consent to it without knowing. I think it
+will quench Uncle Abimelech, but you must have perfect confidence in
+me. You must back me up no matter what I do and let me have my own way
+in it all."
+
+"All right, sis," said Murray.
+
+"That isn't solemn enough," I protested. "I'm serious. Promise
+solemnly."
+
+"I promise solemnly, 'cross my heart,'" said Murray, looking like an
+owl.
+
+"Very well. Remember that your role is to lie low and say nothing,
+like Brer Rabbit. Alloway's Anodyne Liniment is pretty good stuff,
+isn't it, Murray? It cured your sprain after you had tried everything
+else, didn't it?"
+
+"Yes. But I don't see the connection."
+
+"It isn't necessary that you should. Well, what with your sprain and
+my rheumatics I think I can manage it."
+
+"Look here, Prue. Are you sure that long brooding over our troubles up
+in the garret hasn't turned your brain?"
+
+"My brain is all right. Now leave me, minion. There is that which I
+would do."
+
+Murray grinned and went. I wrote a letter, took it down to the office,
+and mailed it. For a week there was nothing more to do.
+
+There is just one trait of Uncle Abimelech's disposition more marked
+than his fondness for having his own way and that one thing is family
+pride. The Melvilles are a very old family. The name dates back to the
+Norman conquest when a certain Roger de Melville, who was an ancestor
+of ours, went over to England with William the Conqueror. I don't
+think the Melvilles ever did anything worth recording in history
+since. To be sure, as far back as we can trace, none of them has ever
+done anything bad either. They have been honest, respectable folks and
+I think that is something worth being proud of.
+
+But Uncle Abimelech pinned his family pride to Roger de Melville. He
+had the Melville coat of arms and our family tree, made out by an
+eminent genealogist, framed and hung up in his library, and he would
+not have done anything that would not have chimed in with that coat of
+arms and a conquering ancestor for the world.
+
+At the end of a week I got an answer to my letter. It was what I
+wanted. I wrote again and sent a parcel. In three weeks' time the
+storm burst.
+
+One day I saw Uncle Abimelech striding up the lane. He had a big
+newspaper clutched in his hand. I turned to Murray, who was poring
+over a book of anatomy in the corner.
+
+"Murray, Uncle Abimelech is coming. There is going to be a battle
+royal between us. Allow me to remind you of your promise."
+
+"To lie low and say nothing? That's the cue, isn't it, sis?"
+
+"Unless Uncle Abimelech appeals to you. In that case you are to back
+me up."
+
+Then Uncle Abimelech stalked in. He was purple with rage. Old Roger de
+Melville himself never could have looked fiercer. I _did_ feel a quake
+or two, but I faced Uncle Abimelech undauntedly. No use in having your
+name on the roll of Battle Abbey if you can't stand your ground.
+
+"Prudence, what does this mean?" thundered Uncle Abimelech, as he
+flung the newspaper down on the table. Murray got up and peered over.
+Then he whistled. He started to say something but remembered just in
+time and stopped. But he did give me a black look. Murray has a
+sneaking pride of name too, although he won't own up to it and laughs
+at Uncle Abimelech.
+
+I looked at the paper and began to laugh. We did look so funny, Murray
+and I, in that advertisement. It took up the whole page. At the top
+were our photos, half life-size, and underneath our names and
+addresses printed out in full. Below was the letter I had written to
+the Alloway Anodyne Liniment folks. It was a florid testimonial to the
+virtues of their liniment. I said that it had cured Murray's sprain
+after all other remedies had failed and that, when I had been left a
+partial wreck from a very bad attack of rheumatic fever, the only
+thing that restored my joints and muscles to working order was
+Alloway's Anodyne Liniment, and so on.
+
+It was all true enough, although I dare say old Aunt
+Sarah-from-the-Hollow's rubbing had as much to do with the cures as
+the liniment. But that is neither here nor there.
+
+"What does this mean, Prudence?" said Uncle Abimelech again. He was
+quivering with wrath, but I was as cool as a cucumber, and Murray
+stood like a graven image.
+
+"Why, that, Uncle Abimelech," I said calmly, "well, it just means one
+of my ways of making money. That liniment company pays for those
+testimonials and photos, you know. They gave me fifty dollars for the
+privilege of publishing them. Fifty dollars will pay for books and
+tuition for Murray and me at Kentville Academy next winter, and Mrs.
+Tredgold is kind enough to say she will board me for what help I can
+give her around the house, and wait for Murray's until he can earn it
+by teaching."
+
+I rattled all this off glibly before Uncle Abimelech could get in a
+word.
+
+"It's disgraceful!" he stormed. "Disgraceful! Think of Sir Roger de
+Melville--and a patent medicine advertisement! Murray Melville, what
+were you about, sir, to let your sister disgrace herself and her
+family name by such an outrageous transaction?"
+
+I quaked a bit. If Murray should fail me! But Murray was true-blue.
+
+"I gave Prue a free hand, sir. It's an honest business transaction
+enough--and the family name alone won't send us to college, you know,
+sir."
+
+Uncle Abimelech glared at us.
+
+"This must be put an end to," he said. "This advertisement must not
+appear again. I won't have it!"
+
+"But I've signed a contract that it is to run for six months," I said
+sturdily. "And I've others in view. You remember the Herb Cure you
+recommended one spring and that it did me so much good! I'm
+negotiating with the makers of that and--"
+
+"The girl's mad!" said Uncle Abimelech. "Stark, staring mad!"
+
+"Oh, no, I'm not, Uncle Abimelech. I'm merely a pretty good
+businesswoman. You won't help Murray to go to college, so I must. This
+is the only way I have, and I'm going to see it through."
+
+After Uncle Abimelech had gone, still in a towering rage, Murray
+remonstrated. But I reminded him of his promise and he had to succumb.
+
+Next day Uncle Abimelech returned--a subdued and chastened Uncle
+Abimelech.
+
+"See here, Prue," he said sternly. "This thing must be stopped. I say
+it _must_. I am not going to have the name of Melville dragged all
+over the country in a patent medicine advertisement. You've played
+your game and won it--take what comfort you can out of the confession:
+If you will agree to cancel this notorious contract of yours I'll
+settle it with the company--and I'll put Murray through college--and
+you too if you want to go! Something will have to be done with you,
+that's certain. Is this satisfactory?"
+
+"Perfectly," I said promptly. "If you will add thereto your promise
+that you will forget and forgive, Uncle Abimelech. There are to be no
+hard feelings."
+
+Uncle Abimelech shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"In for a penny, in for a pound," he said. "Very well, Prue. We wipe
+off all scores and begin afresh. But there must be no more such
+doings. You've worked your little scheme through--trust a Foster for
+that! But in future you've got to remember that in law you're a
+Melville whatever you are in fact."
+
+I nodded dutifully. "I'll remember, Uncle Abimelech," I promised.
+
+After everything had been arranged and Uncle Abimelech had gone I
+looked at Murray. "Well?" I said.
+
+Murray twinkled. "You've accomplished the impossible, sis. But, as
+Uncle Abimelech intimated--don't you try it again."
+
+
+
+
+A Sandshore Wooing
+
+
+                                       Fir Cottage, Plover Sands.
+                                                      July Sixth.
+
+We arrived here late last night, and all day Aunt Martha has kept her
+room to rest. So I had to keep mine also, although I felt as fresh as
+a morning lark, and just in the mood for enjoyment.
+
+My name is Marguerite Forrester--an absurdly long name for so small a
+girl. Aunt Martha always calls me Marguer_ite_, with an accent of
+strong disapproval. She does not like my name, but she gives me the
+full benefit of it. Connie Shelmardine used to call me Rita. Connie
+was my roommate last year at the Seminary. We correspond occasionally,
+but Aunt Martha frowns on it.
+
+I have always lived with Aunt Martha--my parents died when I was a
+baby. Aunt Martha says I am to be her heiress if I please her--which
+means--but, oh, you do not know what "pleasing" Aunt Martha means.
+
+Aunt is a determined and inveterate man-hater. She has no particular
+love for women, indeed, and trusts nobody but Mrs. Saxby, her maid. I
+rather like Mrs. Saxby. She is not quite so far gone in petrifaction
+as Aunt, although she gets a little stonier every year. I expect the
+process will soon begin on me, but it hasn't yet. My flesh and blood
+are still unreasonably warm and pulsing and rebellious.
+
+Aunt Martha would be in danger of taking a fit if she ever saw me
+talking to a man. She watches me jealously, firmly determined to guard
+me from any possible attack of a roaring and ravening lion in the
+disguise of nineteenth-century masculine attire. So I have to walk
+demurely and assume a virtue, if I have it not, while I pine after the
+untested flesh-pots of Egypt in secret.
+
+We have come down to spend a few weeks at Fir Cottage. Our good
+landlady is a capacious, kindly-souled creature, and I think she has
+rather a liking for me. I have been chattering to her all day, for
+there are times when I absolutely must talk to someone or go mad.
+
+
+                                                      July Tenth.
+
+
+This sort of life is decidedly dull. The program of every day is the
+same. I go to the sandshore with Aunt Martha and Mrs. Saxby in the
+morning, read to Aunt in the afternoons, and mope around by my
+disconsolate self in the evenings. Mrs. Blake has lent me, for shore
+use, a very fine spyglass which she owns. She says her "man" brought
+it home from "furrin' parts" before he died. While Aunt and Mrs. Saxby
+meander up and down the shore, leaving me free to a certain extent, I
+amuse myself by examining distant seas and coasts through it, thus
+getting a few peeps into a forbidden world. We see few people,
+although there is a large summer hotel about a mile up the beach. Our
+shore haunts do not seem to be popular with its guests. They prefer
+the rocks. This suits Aunt Martha admirably. I may also add that it
+doesn't suit her niece--but that is a matter of small importance.
+
+The first morning I noticed a white object on the rocks, about half a
+mile away, and turned my glass on it. There--apparently within a
+stone's throw of me--was a young man. He was lounging on a rock,
+looking dreamily out to sea. There was something about his face that
+reminded me of someone I know, but I cannot remember whom.
+
+Every morning he has reappeared on the same spot. He seems to be a
+solitary individual, given to prowling by himself. I wonder what Aunt
+would say if she knew what I am so earnestly watching through my glass
+at times.
+
+
+                                                   July Eleventh.
+
+I shall have to cease looking at the Unknown, I am afraid.
+
+This morning I turned my glass, as usual, on his pet haunt. I nearly
+fell over in my astonishment, for he was also looking through a
+spyglass straight at me, too, it seemed. How foolish I felt! And yet
+my curiosity was so strong that a few minutes afterward I peeped back
+again, just to see what he was doing. Then he coolly laid down his
+glass, rose, lifted his cap and bowed politely to me--or, at least, in
+my direction. I dropped my glass and smiled in a mixture of dismay and
+amusement. Then I remembered that he was probably watching me again,
+and might imagine my smile was meant for him. I banished it
+immediately, shut my glass up and did not touch it again. Soon after
+we came home.
+
+
+                                                    July Twelfth.
+
+Something has happened at last. Today I went to the shore as usual,
+fully resolved not even to glance in the forbidden direction. But in
+the end I had to take a peep, and saw him on the rocks with his glass
+levelled at me. When he saw that I was looking he laid down the glass,
+held up his hands, and began to spell out something in the deaf-mute
+alphabet. Now, I know that same alphabet. Connie taught it to me last
+year, so that we might hold communication across the schoolroom. I
+gave one frantic glance at Aunt Martha's rigid back, and then watched
+him while he deftly spelled: "I am Francis Shelmardine. Are you not
+Miss Forrester, my sister's friend?"
+
+Francis Shelmardine! Now I knew whom he resembled. And have I not
+heard endless dissertations from Connie on this wonderful brother of
+hers, Francis the clever, the handsome, the charming, until he has
+become the only hero of dreams I have ever had? It was too wonderful.
+I could only stare dazedly back through my glass.
+
+"May we know each other?" he went on. "May I come over and introduce
+myself? Right hand, yes; left, no."
+
+I gasped! Suppose he were to come? _What_ would happen? I waved my
+left hand sorrowfully. He looked quite crestfallen and disappointed as
+he spelled out: "Why not? Would your friends disapprove?"
+
+I signalled: "Yes."
+
+"Are you displeased at my boldness?" was his next question.
+
+Where had all Aunt Martha's precepts flown to then? I blush to record
+that I lifted my left hand shyly and had just time to catch his
+pleased expression when Aunt Martha came up and said it was time to go
+home. So I picked myself meekly up, shook the sand from my dress, and
+followed my good aunt dutifully home.
+
+
+                                                 July Thirteenth.
+
+When we went to the shore this morning I had to wait in spasms of
+remorse and anxiety until Aunt got tired of reading and set off along
+the shore with Mrs. Saxby. Then I reached for my glass.
+
+Mr. Shelmardine and I had quite a conversation. Under the
+circumstances there could be no useless circumlocution in our exchange
+of ideas. It was religiously "boiled down," and ran something like
+this:
+
+"You are not displeased with me?"
+
+"No--but I should be."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"It is wrong to deceive Aunt."
+
+"I am quite respectable."
+
+"That is not the question."
+
+"Cannot her prejudices be overcome?"
+
+"Absolutely no."
+
+"Mrs. Allardyce, who is staying at the hotel, knows her well. Shall I
+bring her over to vouch for my character?"
+
+"It would not do a bit of good."
+
+"Then it is hopeless."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Would you object to knowing me on your own account?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Do you ever come to the shore alone?"
+
+"No. Aunt would not permit me."
+
+"Must she know?"
+
+"Yes. I would not come without her permission."
+
+"You will not refuse to chat with me thus now and then?"
+
+"I don't know. Perhaps not."
+
+I had to go home then. As we went Mrs. Saxby complimented me on my
+good colour. Aunt Martha looked her disapproval. If I were really ill
+Aunt would spend her last cent in my behalf, but she would be just as
+well pleased to see me properly pale and subdued at all times, and not
+looking as if I were too well contented in this vale of tears.
+
+
+                                                July Seventeenth.
+
+I have "talked" a good deal with Mr. Shelmardine these past four days.
+He is to be at the beach for some weeks longer. This morning he
+signalled across from the rocks: "I mean to see you at last. Tomorrow
+I will walk over and pass you."
+
+"You must not. Aunt will suspect."
+
+"No danger. Don't be alarmed. I will do nothing rash."
+
+I suppose he will. He seems to be very determined. Of course, I cannot
+prevent him from promenading on our beach all day if he chooses. But
+then if he did, Aunt would speedily leave him in sole possession of
+it.
+
+I wonder what I had better wear tomorrow.
+
+
+                                                 July Nineteenth.
+
+Yesterday morning Aunt Martha was serene and unsuspicious. It is
+dreadful of me to be deceiving her and I do feel guilty. I sat down on
+the sand and pretended to read the "Memoirs of a Missionary"--Aunt
+likes cheerful books like that--in an agony of anticipation. Presently
+Aunt said, majestically: "Marguer_ite_, there is a man coming this
+way. We will move further down."
+
+And we moved. Poor Aunt!
+
+Mr. Shelmardine came bravely on. I felt my heart beating to my very
+finger tips. He halted by the fragment of an old stranded boat. Aunt
+had turned her back on him.
+
+I ventured on a look. He lifted his hat with a twinkle in his eye.
+Just then Aunt said, icily: "We will go home, Marguer_ite_. That
+creature evidently intends to persist in his intrusion."
+
+Home we came accordingly.
+
+This morning he signalled across: "Letter from Connie. Message for
+you. I mean to deliver it personally. Do you ever go to church?"
+
+Now, I _do_ go regularly to church at home. But Aunt Martha and Mrs.
+Saxby are both such rigid church people that they would not darken the
+doors of the Methodist church at Plover Sands for any consideration.
+Needless to say, I am not allowed to go either. But it was impossible
+to make this long explanation, so I merely replied: "Not here."
+
+"Will you not go tomorrow morning?"
+
+"Aunt will not let me."
+
+"Coax her."
+
+"Coaxing never has any effect on her."
+
+"Would she relent if Mrs. Allardyce were to call for you?"
+
+Now, I have been cautiously sounding Aunt about Mrs. Allardyce, and I
+have discovered that she disapproves of her. So I said: "It would be
+useless. I will ask Aunt if I may go, but I feel almost sure that she
+will not consent."
+
+This evening, when Aunt was in an unusually genial mood, I plucked up
+heart of grace and asked her.
+
+"Marguer_ite_," she said impressively, "you know that I do not attend
+church here."
+
+"But, Aunt," I persisted, quakingly, "couldn't I go alone? It is not
+very far--and I will be very careful."
+
+Aunt merely gave me a look that said about forty distinct and separate
+things, and I was turning away in despair when Mrs. Saxby--bless her
+heart--said: "I really think it would be no harm to let the child go."
+
+As Aunt attaches great importance to Mrs. Saxby's opinion, she looked
+at me relentingly and said: "Well, I will think it over and let you
+know in the morning, Marguer_ite_."
+
+Now, everything depends on the sort of humour Aunt is in in the
+morning.
+
+
+                                                  July Twentieth.
+
+This morning was perfect, and after breakfast Aunt said,
+condescendingly: "I think you may attend church if you wish,
+Marguer_ite_. Remember that I expect you to conduct yourself with
+becoming prudence and modesty."
+
+I flew upstairs and pulled my prettiest dress out of my trunk. It is a
+delicate, shimmering grey stuff with pearly tints about it. Every time
+I get anything new, Aunt Martha and I have a battle royal over it. I
+verily believe that Aunt would like me to dress in the fashions in
+vogue in her youth. There is always a certain flavour of
+old-fashionedness about my gowns and hats. Connie used to say that it
+was delicious and gave me a piquant uniqueness--a certain unlikeness
+to other people that possessed a positive charm. That is only Connie's
+view of it, however.
+
+But I had had my own way about this dress and it is really very
+becoming. I wore a little silvery-grey chip hat, trimmed with pale
+pink flowers, and I pinned at my belt the sweetest cluster of
+old-fashioned blush rosebuds from the garden. Then I borrowed a hymn
+book from Mrs. Blake and ran down to undergo Aunt Martha's scrutiny.
+
+"Dear me, child," she said discontentedly, "you have gotten yourself
+up very frivolously, it seems to me."
+
+"Why, Aunty," I protested, "I'm all in grey--every bit."
+
+Aunt Martha sniffed. You don't know how much Aunt can express in a
+sniff. But I tripped to church like a bird.
+
+The first person I saw there was Mr. Shelmardine. He was sitting right
+across from me and a smile glimmered in his eyes. I did not look at
+him again. Through the service I was subdued enough to have satisfied
+even Aunt Martha.
+
+When church came out, he waited for me at the entrance to his pew. I
+pretended not to see him until he said "Good morning," in a voice
+vibrating and deep, which sounded as though it might become infinitely
+tender if its owner chose. When we went down the steps he took my
+hymnal, and we walked up the long, bowery country road.
+
+"Thank you so much for coming today," he said--as if I went to oblige
+him.
+
+"I had a hard time to get Aunt Martha's consent," I declared frankly.
+"I wouldn't have succeeded if Mrs. Saxby hadn't taken my part."
+
+"Heaven bless Mrs. Saxby," he remarked fervently. "But is there any
+known way of overcoming your aunt's scruples? If so, I am ready to
+risk it."
+
+"There is none. Aunt Martha is very good and kind to me, but she will
+never stop trying to bring me up. The process will be going on when I
+am fifty. And she hates men! I don't know what she would do if she saw
+me now."
+
+Mr. Shelmardine frowned and switched the unoffending daisies viciously
+with his cane.
+
+"Then there is no hope of my seeing you openly and above-board?"
+
+"Not at present," I said faintly.
+
+After a brief silence we began to talk of other things. He told me how
+he happened to see me first.
+
+"I was curious to know who the people were who were always in the same
+place at the same time, so one day I took my telescope. I could see
+you plainly. You were reading and had your hat off. When I went back
+to the hotel I asked Mrs. Allardyce if she knew who the boarders at
+Fir Cottage were and she told me. I had heard Connie speak of you, and
+I determined to make your acquaintance."
+
+When we reached the lane I held out my hand for the hymnal.
+
+"You mustn't come any further, Mr. Shelmardine," I said hurriedly.
+"Aunt--Aunt might see you."
+
+He took my hand and held it, looking at me seriously.
+
+"Suppose I were to walk up to the cottage tomorrow and ask for you?"
+
+I gasped. He looked so capable of doing anything he took it into his
+head to do.
+
+"Oh, you wouldn't," I said piteously. "Aunt Martha would--you are not
+in earnest."
+
+"I suppose not," he said regretfully. "Of course I would not do
+anything that would cause you unpleasantness. But this must not--shall
+not be our last meeting."
+
+"Aunt will not let me come to church again," I said.
+
+"Does she ever take a nap in the afternoon?" he queried.
+
+I wriggled my parasol about in the dust uneasily.
+
+"Sometimes."
+
+"I shall be at the old boat tomorrow afternoon at two-thirty," he
+said.
+
+I pulled my hand away.
+
+"I couldn't--you know I couldn't," I cried--and then I blushed to my
+ears.
+
+"Are you sure you couldn't?" bending a little nearer.
+
+"Quite sure," I murmured.
+
+He surrendered my hymnal at last.
+
+"Will you give me a rose?"
+
+I unpinned the whole cluster and handed it to him. He lifted it until
+it touched his lips. As for me, I scuttled up the lane in the most
+undignified fashion. At the turn I looked back. He was still standing
+there with his hat off.
+
+
+                                              July Twenty-fourth.
+
+On Monday afternoon I slipped away to the shore while Aunt Martha and
+Mrs. Saxby were taking their regular nap and I was supposed to be
+reading sermons in my room.
+
+Mr. Shelmardine was leaning against the old boat, but he came swiftly
+across the sand to meet me.
+
+"This is very kind of you," he said.
+
+"I ought not to have come," I said repentantly. "But it is so lonely
+there--and one can't be interested in sermons and memoirs _all_ the
+time."
+
+Mr. Shelmardine laughed.
+
+"Mr. and Mrs. Allardyce are on the other side of the boat. Will you
+come and meet them?"
+
+How nice of him to bring them! I knew I should like Mrs. Allardyce,
+just because Aunt Martha didn't. We had a delightful stroll. I never
+thought of the time until Mr. Shelmardine said it was four o'clock.
+
+"Oh, is it so late as that?" I cried. "I must go at once."
+
+"I'm sorry we have kept you so long," remarked Mr. Shelmardine in a
+tone of concern. "If she should be awake, what will the consequences
+be?"
+
+"Too terrible to think of," I answered seriously. "I'm sorry, Mr.
+Shelmardine, but you mustn't come any further."
+
+"_We_ will be here tomorrow afternoon," he said.
+
+"Mr. Shelmardine!" I protested. "I wish you wouldn't put such ideas
+into my head. They won't come out--no, not if I read a whole volume of
+sermons right through."
+
+We looked at each other for a second. Then he began to smile, and we
+both went off into a peal of laughter.
+
+"At least let me know if Miss Fiske rampages," he called after me as I
+fled.
+
+But Aunt Martha was not awake--and I have been to the shore three
+afternoons since then. I was there today, and I'm going tomorrow for a
+boat sail with Mr. Shelmardine and the Allardyces. But I am afraid the
+former will do something rash soon. This afternoon he said: "I don't
+think I can stand this much longer."
+
+"Stand what?" I asked.
+
+"You know very well," he answered recklessly. "Meeting you in this
+clandestine manner, and thereby causing that poor little conscience of
+yours such misery. If your aunt were not so--unreasonable, I should
+never have stooped to it."
+
+"It is all my fault," I said contritely.
+
+"Well, I hardly meant that," he said grimly. "But hadn't I better go
+frankly to your aunt and lay the whole case before her?"
+
+"You would never see me again if you did that," I said hastily--and
+then wished I hadn't.
+
+"That is the worst threat you could make," he said.
+
+
+                                               July Twenty-fifth.
+
+It is all over, and I am the most miserable girl in the world. Of
+course this means that Aunt Martha has discovered everything and the
+deserved punishment of my sins has overtaken me.
+
+I slipped away again this afternoon and went for that boat sail. We
+had a lovely time but were rather late getting in, and I hurried home
+with many misgivings. Aunt Martha met me at the door.
+
+My dress was draggled, my hat had slipped back, and the kinks and curls
+of my obstreperous hair were something awful. I know I looked very
+disreputable and also, no doubt, very guilty and conscience-stricken.
+Aunt gave me an unutterable look and then followed me up to my room in
+grim silence.
+
+"Marguer_ite_, what does this mean?"
+
+I have lots of faults, but untruthfulness isn't one of them. I
+confessed everything--at least, almost everything. I didn't tell about
+the telescopes and deaf-mute alphabet, and Aunt was too
+horror-stricken to think of asking how I first made Mr. Shelmardine's
+acquaintance. She listened in stony silence. I had expected a terrible
+scolding, but I suppose my crimes simply seemed to her too enormous
+for words.
+
+When I had sobbed out my last word she rose, swept me one glance of
+withering contempt, and left the room. Presently Mrs. Saxby came up,
+looking concerned.
+
+"My dear child, what have you been doing? Your aunt says that we are
+to go home on the afternoon train tomorrow. She is terribly upset."
+
+I just curled up on the bed and cried, while Mrs. Saxby packed my
+trunk. I will have no chance to explain matters to Mr. Shelmardine.
+And I will never see him again, for Aunt is quite capable of whisking
+me off to Africa. He will just think me a feather-brained flirt. Oh, I
+am so unhappy!
+
+
+                                               July Twenty-sixth.
+
+I am the happiest girl in the world! That is quite a different strain
+from yesterday. We leave Fir Cottage in an hour, but that doesn't
+matter now.
+
+I did not sleep a wink last night and crawled miserably down to
+breakfast. Aunt took not the slightest notice of me, but to my
+surprise she told Mrs. Saxby that she intended taking a farewell walk
+to the shore. I knew I would be taken, too, to be kept out of
+mischief, and my heart gave a great bound of hope. Perhaps I would
+have a chance to send word to Francis, since Aunt did not know of the
+part my spyglass had played in my bad behaviour.
+
+I meekly followed my grim guardians to the shore and sat dejectedly on
+my rug while they paced the sand. Francis was on the rocks. As soon as
+Aunt Martha and Mrs. Saxby were at a safe distance, I began my
+message: "All discovered. Aunt is very angry. We go home today."
+
+Then I snatched my glass. His face expressed the direst consternation
+and dismay. He signalled: "I must see you before you go."
+
+"Impossible. Aunt will never forgive me. Good-bye."
+
+I saw a look of desperate determination cross his face. If forty Aunt
+Marthas had swooped down upon me, I could not have torn my eyes from
+that glass.
+
+"I love you. You know it. Do you care for me? I must have my answer
+now."
+
+What a situation! No time or chance for any maidenly hesitation or
+softening aureole of words. Aunt and Mrs. Saxby had almost reached the
+point where they invariably turned. I had barely time to spell out a
+plain, blunt "yes" and read his answer.
+
+"I shall go home at once, get Mother and Connie, follow you, and
+demand possession of my property. I shall win the day. Have no fear.
+Till then, good-bye, my darling."
+
+"Marguerite," said Mrs. Saxby at my elbow, "it is time to go."
+
+I got up obediently. Aunt Martha was as grim and uncompromising as
+ever, and Mrs. Saxby looked like a chief mourner, but do you suppose I
+cared? I dropped behind them just once before we left the shore. I
+knew he was watching me and I waved my hand.
+
+I suppose I am really engaged to Francis Shelmardine. But was there
+ever such a funny wooing? And _what_ will Aunt Martha say?
+
+
+
+
+After Many Days
+
+
+The square, bare front room of the Baxter Station Hotel--so called
+because there was no other house in the place to dispute the
+title--was filled with men. Some of them were putting up at the hotel
+while they worked at the new branch line, and some of them had dropped
+in to exchange news and banter while waiting for the mail train.
+
+Gabe Foley, the proprietor, was playing at checkers with one of the
+railroad men, but was not too deeply absorbed in the game to take in
+all that was said around him. The air was dim with tobacco smoke, and
+the brilliant, scarlet geraniums which Mrs. Foley kept in the bay
+window looked oddly out of place. Gabe knew all those present except
+one man--a stranger who had landed at Baxter Station from the
+afternoon freight. Foley's hotel did not boast of a register, and the
+stranger did not volunteer any information regarding his name or
+business. He had put in the afternoon and early evening strolling
+about the village and talking to the men on the branch line. Now he
+had come in and ensconced himself in the corner behind the stove,
+where he preserved a complete silence.
+
+He had a rather rough face and was flashily dressed. Altogether, Gabe
+hardly liked his looks, put as long as a man paid his bill and did not
+stir up a row Gabe Foley did not interfere with him.
+
+Three or four farmers from "out Greenvale way" were drawn up by the
+stove, discussing the cheese factory sales and various Greenvale
+happenings. The stranger appeared to be listening to them intently,
+although he took no part in their conversation.
+
+Presently he brought his tilted chair down with a sharp thud. Gabe
+Foley had paused in his manipulation of a king to hurl a question at
+the Greenvale men.
+
+"Is it true that old man Strong is to be turned out next week?"
+
+"True enough," answered William Jeffers. "Joe Moore is going to
+foreclose. Stephen Strong has got three years behind with the interest
+and Moore is out of patience. It seems hard on old Stephen, but Moore
+ain't the man to hesitate for that. He'll have his own out of it."
+
+"What will the Strongs do?" asked Gabe.
+
+"That's the question everyone in Greenvale is asking. Lizzie Strong
+has always been a delicate little girl, but maybe she'll manage to
+scare up a living. Old Stephen is to be the most pitied. I don't see
+anything for him but the poorhouse."
+
+"How did Stephen Strong come to get into such a tight place?" the
+stranger asked suddenly. "When I was in these parts a good many years
+ago he was considered a well-to-do man."
+
+"Well, so he was," replied William Jeffers. "But he began to get in
+debt when his wife took sick. He spent no end of money on doctors and
+medicines for her. And then he seemed to have a streak of bad luck
+besides--crops failed and cows died and all that sort of thing. He's
+been going behind ever since. He kind of lost heart when his wife
+died. And now Moore is going to foreclose. It's my opinion poor old
+Stephen won't live any time if he's turned out of his home."
+
+"Do you know what the mortgage comes to?"
+
+"Near three thousand, counting overdue interest."
+
+"Well, I'm sorry for old Stephen," said Gabe, returning to his game.
+"If anybody deserves a peaceful old age he does. He's helped more
+people than you could count, and he was the best Christian in
+Greenvale, or out of it."
+
+"He was too good," said a Greenvale man crustily. "He just let himself
+be imposed upon all his life. There's dozens of people owes him and
+he's never asked for a cent from them. And he's always had some
+shiftless critter or other hanging round and devouring his substance."
+
+"D'ye mind that Ben Butler who used to be in Greenvale twenty years
+ago?" asked a third man. "If ever there was an imp of Satan 'twas
+him--old Ezra Butler's son from the valley. Old Stephen kept him for
+three or four years and was as good to him as if he'd been his own
+son."
+
+"Most people out our way do mind Ben Butler," returned William Jeffers
+grimly, "even if he ain't been heard tell of for twenty years. He
+wasn't the kind you could forget in a hurry. Where'd he go? Out to the
+Kootenay, wasn't it?"
+
+"Somewhere there. He was a reg'lar young villain--up to every kind of
+mischief. Old Stephen caught him stealing his oats one time and 'stead
+of giving him a taste of jail for it, as he ought to have done, he
+just took him right into his family and kept him there for three
+years. I used to tell him he'd be sorry for it, but he always
+persisted that Ben wasn't bad at heart and would come out all right
+some day. No matter what the young varmint did old Stephen would make
+excuses for him--'his ma was dead,' or he 'hadn't had no bringing-up.'
+I was thankful when he did finally clear out without doing some
+penitentiary work."
+
+"If poor old Stephen hadn't been so open-handed to every unfortunate
+critter he came across," said Gabe, "he'd have had more for himself
+today."
+
+The whistle of the mail train cut short the discussion of Stephen
+Strong's case. In a minute the room was vacant, except for the
+stranger. When left to himself he also rose and walked out. Turning
+away from the station, he struck briskly into the Greenvale road.
+
+About three miles from the station he halted before a house built close
+to the road. It was old-fashioned, but large and comfortable-looking,
+with big barns in the rear and an orchard on the left slope. The house
+itself was in the shadow of the firs, but the yard lay out in the
+moonlight and the strange visitor did not elect to cross it. Instead,
+he turned aside into the shadow of the trees around the garden and,
+leaning against the old rail fence, gave himself up to contemplation of
+some kind.
+
+There was a light in the kitchen. The window-blind was not down and he
+had a fairly good view of the room. The only visible occupant was a
+grey-haired old man sitting by the table, reading from a large open
+volume before him. The stranger whistled softly.
+
+"That's old Stephen--reading the Bible same as ever, by all that's
+holy! He hasn't changed much except that he's got mighty grey. He must
+be close on to seventy. It's a shame to turn an old man like him out
+of house and home. But Joe Moore always was a genuine skinflint."
+
+He drew himself softly up and sat on the fence. He saw old Stephen
+Strong close his book, place his spectacles on it, and kneel down by
+his chair. The old man remained on his knees for some time and then,
+taking up his candle, left the kitchen. The man on the fence still sat
+there. Truth to tell, he was chuckling to himself as he recalled all
+the mischief he had done in the old days--the doubtful jokes, tricks,
+and escapades he had gone through with.
+
+He could not help remembering at the same time how patient old Stephen
+Strong had always been with him. He recalled the time he had been
+caught stealing the oats. How frightened and sullen he had been! And
+how gently the old man had talked to him and pointed out the sin of
+which he had been guilty!
+
+He had never stolen again, but in other respects he had not mended his
+ways much. Behind old Stephen's back he laughed at him and his
+"preaching." But Stephen Strong had never lost faith in him. He had
+always asserted mildly that "Ben would come out all right by and by."
+Ben Butler remembered this too, as he sat on the fence.
+
+He had "always liked old Stephen," he told himself. He was sorry he
+had fallen on such evil times.
+
+"Preaching and praying don't seem to have brought him out clear after
+all," he said with a chuckle that quickly died away. Somehow, even in
+his worst days, Ben Butler had never felt easy when he mocked old
+Stephen. "Three thousand dollars! I could do it but I reckon I'd be a
+blamed fool. I ain't a-going to do it. Three thousand ain't picked up
+every day, even in the Kootenay--'specially by chaps like me."
+
+He patted his pocket knowingly. Fifteen years previously he had gone
+to the Kootenay district with visions of making a fortune that were
+quickly dispelled by reality. He had squandered his wages as soon as
+paid, and it was only of late years that he had "pulled up a bit," as
+he expressed it, and saved his three thousand dollars.
+
+He had brought the money home with him, having some vague notion of
+buying a farm and "settling down to do the respectable." But he had
+already given up the idea. This country was too blamed quiet for him,
+he said. He would go back to the Kootenay, and he knew what he would
+do with his money. Jake Perkins and Wade Brown, two "pals" of his,
+were running a flourishing grocery and saloon combined. They would be
+glad of another partner with some cash. It would suit him to a T.
+
+"I'll clear out tomorrow," he mused as he walked back. "As long as I
+stay here old Stephen will haunt me, sure as fate. Wonder what he was
+praying for tonight. He always used to say the Lord would provide, but
+He don't appear to have done it. Well, I ain't His deputy."
+
+The next afternoon Ben Butler went over to Greenvale and called at
+Stephen Strong's. He found only the old man at home. Old Stephen did
+not recognize him at first, but made him heartily welcome when he did.
+
+"Ben, I do declare! Ben Butler! How are you? How are you? Sit down,
+Ben--here, take this chair. Where on earth did you come from?"
+
+"Baxter just now--Kootenay on the large scale," answered Ben. "Thought
+I'd come over and see you again. Didn't expect you'd remember me at
+all."
+
+"Remember you! Why, of course I do. I haven't ever forgot you, Ben.
+Many's the time I've wondered where you was and how you was getting
+on. And you tell me you've been in the Kootenay! Well, well, you have
+seen a good bit more of the world than I ever have. You've changed a
+lot, Ben. You ain't a boy no longer. D'ye mind all the pranks you used
+to play?"
+
+Ben laughed sheepishly.
+
+"I reckon I do. But it ain't myself I come here to talk about--not
+much to say if I did. It's just been up and down with me. How are you
+yourself, sir? They were telling me over at Baxter that you were kind
+of in trouble."
+
+The old man's face clouded over; all the sparkle went out of his kind
+blue eyes.
+
+"Yes, Ben, yes," he said, with a heavy sigh. "I've kind of gone
+downhill, that's a fact. The old farm has to go, Ben--I'm sorry for
+that--I'd have liked to have ended my days here, but it's not to be. I
+don't want to complain. The Lord does all things well. I haven't a
+doubt but that it all fits into His wise purposes--not a doubt, Ben,
+although it may be kind of hard to see it."
+
+Ben was always skittish of "pious talk." He veered around adroitly.
+
+"I dunno as the Lord has had much to do with this, sir. Seems to me as
+if 'twas the other one as was running it, with Joe Moore for deputy.
+The main thing, as I look at it, is to get a cinch on him. How much
+does the mortgage amount to, sir?"
+
+"About three thousand dollars, interest and all."
+
+Old Stephen's voice trembled. The future looked very dark to him in
+his old age.
+
+Ben put his hand inside his coat and brought out a brand-new, plump
+pocketbook. He opened it, laid it on his knee, and counted out a
+number of crisp notes.
+
+"Here, sir," he said, pushing them along the table. "I reckon that'll
+keep you out of Joe Moore's clutches. There's three thousand there if
+I ain't made a mistake. That'll set you clear, won't it?"
+
+"Ben!" Old Stephen's voice trembled with amazement. "Ben, I can't take
+it. It wouldn't be fair--or right. I could never pay you back."
+
+Ben slipped the rubber band around his wallet and replaced it airily.
+
+"I don't want it paid back, sir. It's a little gift, so to speak, just
+to let you know I ain't ungrateful for all you did for me. If it
+hadn't been for you I might have been in the penitentiary by now. As
+for the money, it may seem a pile to you, but we don't think anything
+more of a thousand or so in the Kootenay than you Greenvale folks do
+of a fiver--not a bit more. We do things on a big scale out there."
+
+"But, Ben, are you sure you can afford it--that you won't miss it?"
+
+"Pop sure. Don't you worry, I'm all right."
+
+"Bless you--bless you!" The tears were running down old Stephen's face
+as he gathered up the money with a shaking hand. "I always knew you
+would do well, Ben--always said it. I knew you'd a good heart. I just
+can't realize this yet--it seems too good to be true. The old place
+saved--I can die in peace. Of course, I'll pay you back some of it
+anyhow if I'm spared a while longer. Bless you, Ben."
+
+Ben would not stay long after that. He said he had to leave on the
+4:30 train. He was relieved when he got away from the old man's thanks
+and questions. Ben did not find it easy to answer some of the latter.
+When he was out of sight of the house he sat on a fence and counted up
+his remaining funds.
+
+"Just enough to take me back to the Kootenay--and then begin over
+again, I s'pose. But 'twas worth the money to see the old fellow's
+face. He'd thank the Lord and me, he said. How Jake and Wade'd roar to
+hear them two names in partnership! But I'm going to pull up a bit
+after this, see if I don't, just to justify the old man's faith in me.
+'Twould be too bad to disappoint him if he's believed for so long that
+I was going to turn out all right yet."
+
+When the 4:30 train went out Ben Butler stood on the rear platform.
+Gabe Foley watched him abstractedly as he receded.
+
+"Blamed if I know who that fellow was," he remarked to a crony. "He
+never told his name, but seems to me I've seen him before. He has a
+kind of hang-dog look, I think. But he paid up square and it is none
+of my business."
+
+
+
+
+An Unconventional Confidence
+
+
+The Girl in Black-and-Yellow ran frantically down the grey road under
+the pines. There was nobody to see her, but she would have run if all
+Halifax had been looking on. For had she not on the loveliest new
+hat--a "creation" in yellow chiffon with big black _choux_--and a
+dress to match? And was there not a shower coming straight from the
+hills across the harbour?
+
+Down at the end of the long resinous avenue the Girl saw the shore
+road, with the pavilion shutting out the view of the harbour's mouth.
+Below the pavilion, clean-shaven George's Island guarded the town like
+a sturdy bulldog, and beyond it were the wooded hills, already lost in
+a mist of rain.
+
+"Oh, I shall be too late," moaned the Girl. But she held her hat
+steady with one hand and ran on. If she could only reach the pavilion
+in time! It was a neck-and-neck race between the rain and the Girl,
+but the Girl won. Just as she flew out upon the shore road, a tall
+Young Man came pelting down the latter, and they both dashed up the
+steps of the pavilion together as the rain swooped down upon them and
+blotted George's Island and the smoky town and the purple banks of the
+Eastern Passage from view.
+
+The pavilion was small at the best of times, and just now the rain was
+beating into it on two sides, leaving only one dry corner. Into this
+the Girl moved. She was flushed and triumphant. The Young Man thought
+that in all his life he had never seen anyone so pretty.
+
+"I'm so glad I didn't get my hat wet," said the Girl breathlessly, as
+she straightened it with a careful hand and wondered if she looked
+very blown and blowsy.
+
+"It would have been a pity," admitted the Young Man. "It is a very
+pretty hat."
+
+"Pretty!" The Girl looked the scorn her voice expressed. "Anyone can
+have a _pretty_ hat. Our cook has one. This is a _creation_."
+
+"Of course," said the Young Man humbly. "I ought to have known. But I
+am very stupid."
+
+"Well, I suppose a mere man couldn't be expected to understand
+exactly," said the Girl graciously.
+
+She smiled at him in a friendly fashion, and he smiled back. The Girl
+thought that she had never seen such lovely brown eyes before. He
+could not be a Haligonian. She was sure she knew all the nice young
+men with brown eyes in Halifax.
+
+"Please sit down," she said plaintively. "I'm tired."
+
+The Young Man smiled again at the idea of his sitting down because the
+Girl was tired. But he sat down, and so did she, on the only dry seat
+to be found.
+
+"Goodness knows how long this rain will last," said the Girl, making
+herself comfortable and picturesque, "but I shall stay here until it
+clears up, if it rains for a week. I will _not_ have my hat spoiled. I
+suppose I shouldn't have put it on. Beatrix said it was going to rain.
+Beatrix is such a horribly good prophet. I detest people who are good
+prophets, don't you?"
+
+"I think that they are responsible for all the evils that they
+predict," said the Young Man solemnly.
+
+"That is just what I told Beatrix. And I was determined to put on this
+hat and come out to the park today. I simply _had_ to be alone, and I
+knew I'd be alone out here. Everybody else would be at the football
+game. By the way, why aren't you there?"
+
+"I wasn't even aware that there was a football game on hand," said the
+Young Man, as if he knew he ought to be ashamed of his ignorance, and
+was.
+
+"Dear me," said the Girl pityingly. "Where can you have been not to
+have heard of it? It's between the Dalhousie team and the Wanderers.
+Almost everybody here is on the Wanderers' side, because they are
+Haligonians, but I am not. I like the college boys best. Beatrix says
+that it is just because of my innate contrariness. Last year I simply
+screamed myself hoarse with enthusiasm. The Dalhousie team won the
+trophy."
+
+"If you are so interested in the game, it is a wonder you didn't go to
+see it yourself," said the Young Man boldly.
+
+"Well, I just couldn't," said the Girl with a sigh. "If anybody had
+ever told me that there would be a football game in Halifax, and that
+I would elect to prowl about by myself in the park instead of going to
+it, I'd have laughed them to scorn. Even Beatrix would never have
+dared to prophesy _that_. But you see it has happened. I was too
+crumpled up in my mind to care about football today. I had to come
+here and have it out with myself. That is why I put on my hat. I
+thought, perhaps, I might get through with my mental gymnastics in
+time to go to the game afterwards. But I didn't. It is just maddening,
+too. I got this hat and dress on purpose to wear to it. They're black
+and yellow, you see--the Dalhousie colours. It was my own idea. I was
+sure it would make a sensation. But I couldn't go to the game and take
+any interest in it, feeling as I do, could I, now?"
+
+The Young Man said, of course, she couldn't. It was utterly out of the
+question.
+
+The Girl smiled. Without a smile, she was charming. With a smile, she
+was adorable.
+
+"I like to have my opinions bolstered up. Do you know, I want to tell
+you something? May I?"
+
+"You may. I'll never tell anyone as long as I live," said the Young
+Man solemnly.
+
+"I don't know you and you don't know me. That is why I want to tell
+you about it. I _must_ tell somebody, and if I told anybody I knew,
+they'd tell it all over Halifax. It is dreadful to be talking to you
+like this. Beatrix would have three fits, one after the other, if she
+saw me. But Beatrix is a slave to conventionality. I glory in
+discarding it at times. You don't mind, do you?"
+
+"Not at all," said the Young Man sincerely.
+
+The Girl sighed.
+
+"I have reached that point where I must have a confidant, or go crazy.
+Once I could tell things to Beatrix. That was before she got engaged.
+Now she tells everything to _him_. There is no earthly way of
+preventing her. I've tried them all. So, nowadays, when I get into
+trouble, I tell it out loud to myself in the glass. It's a relief, you
+know. But that is no good now. I want to tell it to somebody who can
+say things back. Will you promise to say things back?"
+
+The Young Man assured her that he would when the proper time came.
+
+"Very well. But please don't look at me while I'm telling you. I'll be
+sure to blush in places. When Beatrix wants to be particularly
+aggravating she says I have lost the art of blushing. But that is only
+her way of putting it, you know. Sometimes I blush dreadfully."
+
+The Young Man dragged his eyes from the face under the
+black-and-yellow hat, and fastened them on a crooked pine tree that
+hung out over the bank.
+
+"Well," began the Girl, "the root of the whole trouble is simply this.
+There is a young man in England. I always think of him as the
+Creature. He is the son of a man who was Father's especial crony in
+boyhood, before Father emigrated to Canada. Worse than that, he comes
+of a family which has contracted a vile habit of marrying into our
+family. It has come down through the ages so long that it has become
+chronic. Father left most of his musty traditions in England, but he
+brought this pet one with him. He and this friend agreed that the
+latter's son should marry one of Father's daughters. It ought to have
+been Beatrix--she is the oldest. But Beatrix had a pug nose. So Father
+settled on me. From my earliest recollection I have been given to
+understand that just as soon as I grew up there would be a ready-made
+husband imported from England for me. I was doomed to it from my
+cradle. Now," said the Girl, with a tragic gesture, "I ask you, could
+_anything_ be more hopelessly, appallingly stupid and devoid of
+romance than that?"
+
+The Young Man shook his head, but did not look at her.
+
+"It's pretty bad," he admitted.
+
+"You see," said the Girl pathetically, "the shadow of it has been over
+my whole life. Of course, when I was a very little girl I didn't mind
+it so much. It was such a long way off and lots of things might
+happen. The Creature might run away with some other girl--or I might
+have the smallpox--or Beatrix's nose might be straight when she grew
+up. And if Beatrix's nose were straight she'd be a great deal prettier
+than I am. But nothing did happen--and her nose is puggier than ever.
+Then when I grew up things were horrid. I never could have a single
+little bit of fun. And Beatrix had such a good time! She had scores of
+lovers in spite of her nose. To be sure, she's engaged now--and he's a
+horrid, faddy little creature. But he is her own choice. She wasn't
+told that there was a man in England whom she must marry by and by,
+when he got sufficiently reconciled to the idea to come and ask her.
+Oh, it makes me furious!"
+
+"Is--is there--anyone else?" asked the Young Man hesitatingly.
+
+"Oh, dear, no. How could there be? Why, you know, I couldn't have the
+tiniest flirtation with another man when I was as good as engaged to
+the Creature. That is one of my grievances. Just think how much fun
+I've missed! I used to rage to Beatrix about it, but she would tell me
+that I ought to be thankful to have the chance of making such a good
+match--the Creature is rich, you know, and clever. As if I cared how
+clever or rich he is! Beatrix made me so cross that I gave up saying
+anything and sulked by myself. So they think I'm quite reconciled to
+it, but I'm not."
+
+"He might be very nice after all," suggested the Young Man.
+
+"_Nice_! That isn't the point. Oh, don't you see? But no, you're a
+man--you _can't_ understand. You must just take my word for it. The
+whole thing makes me furious. But I haven't told you the worst. The
+Creature is on his way out to Canada now. He may arrive here at any
+minute. And they are all so aggravatingly delighted over it."
+
+"What do you suppose _he_ feels like?" asked the Young Man
+reflectively.
+
+"Well," said the Girl frankly, "I've been too much taken up with my
+own feelings to worry about his. But I daresay they are pretty much
+like mine. He must loathe and detest the very thought of me."
+
+"Oh, I don't think he does," said the Young Man gravely.
+
+"Don't you? Well, what do you suppose he _does_ think of it all? You
+ought to understand the man's part of it better than I can."
+
+"There's as much difference in men as in women," said the Young Man in
+an impersonal tone. "I may be right or wrong, you see, but I imagine
+he would feel something like this: From boyhood he has understood that
+away out in Canada there is a little girl growing up who is some day
+to be his wife. She becomes his boyish ideal of all that is good and
+true. He pictures her as beautiful and winsome and sweet. She is his
+heart's lady, and the thought of her abides with him as a safeguard
+and an inspiration. For her sake he resolves to make the most of
+himself, and live a clean, loyal life. When she comes to him she must
+find his heart fit to receive her. There is never a time in all his
+life when the dream of her does not gleam before him as of a star to
+which he may aspire with all reverence and love."
+
+The Young Man stopped abruptly, and looked at the Girl. She bent
+forward with shining eyes, and touched his hand.
+
+"You are splendid," she said softly. "If he thought so--but no--I am
+sure he doesn't. He's just coming out here like a martyr going to the
+stake. He knows he will be expected to propose to me when he gets
+here. And he knows that I know it too. And _he_ knows and _I_ know
+that I will be expected to say my very prettiest 'yes.'"
+
+"But are you going to say it?" asked the Young Man anxiously.
+
+The Girl leaned forward. "No. That is my secret. I am going to say a
+most emphatic 'no.'"
+
+"But won't your family make an awful row?"
+
+"Of course. But I rather enjoy a row now and then. It stirs up one's
+grey matter so nicely. I came out here this afternoon and thought the
+whole affair over from beginning to end. And I have determined to say
+'no.'"
+
+"Oh, I wouldn't make it so irreconcilable as that," said the Young Man
+lightly. "I'd leave a loophole of escape. You see, if you were to like
+him a little better than you expect, it would be awkward to have
+committed yourself by a rash vow to saying 'no,' wouldn't it?"
+
+"I suppose it would," said the Girl thoughtfully, "but then, you know,
+I won't change my mind."
+
+"It's just as well to be on the safe side," said the Young Man.
+
+The Girl got up. The rain was over and the sun was coming out through
+the mists.
+
+"Perhaps you are right," she said. "So I'll just resolve that I will
+say 'no' if I don't want to say 'yes.' That really amounts to the same
+thing, you know. Thank you so much for letting me tell you all about
+it. It must have bored you terribly, but it has done me so much good.
+I feel quite calm and rational now, and can go home and behave myself.
+Goodbye."
+
+"Goodbye," said the Young Man gravely. He stood on the pavilion and
+watched the Girl out of sight beyond the pines.
+
+When the Girl got home she was told that the Dalhousie team had won
+the game, eight to four. The Girl dragged her hat off and waved it
+joyously.
+
+"What a shame I wasn't there! They'd have gone mad over my dress."
+
+But the next item of information crushed her. The Creature had
+arrived. He had called that afternoon, and was coming to dinner that
+night.
+
+"How fortunate," said the Girl, as she went to her room, "that I
+relieved my mind to that Young Man out in the park today. If I had
+come back with all that pent-up feeling seething within me and heard
+this news right on top of it all, I might have flown into a thousand
+pieces. What lovely brown eyes he had! I do dote on brown eyes. The
+Creature will be sure to have fishy blue ones."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When the Girl went down to meet the Creature she found herself
+confronted by the Young Man. For the first, last, and only time in her
+life, the Girl had not a word to say. But her family thought her
+confusion very natural and pretty. They really had not expected her to
+behave so well. As for the Young Man, his manner was flawless.
+
+Toward the end of the dinner, when the Girl was beginning to recover
+herself, he turned to her.
+
+"You know I promised never to tell," he said.
+
+"Be sure you don't, then," said the Girl meekly.
+
+"But aren't you glad you left the loophole?" he persisted.
+
+The Girl smiled down into her lap.
+
+"Perhaps," she said.
+
+
+
+
+Aunt Cyrilla's Christmas Basket
+
+
+When Lucy Rose met Aunt Cyrilla coming downstairs, somewhat flushed
+and breathless from her ascent to the garret, with a big, flat-covered
+basket hanging over her plump arm, she gave a little sigh of despair.
+Lucy Rose had done her brave best for some years--in fact, ever since
+she had put up her hair and lengthened her skirts--to break Aunt
+Cyrilla of the habit of carrying that basket with her every time she
+went to Pembroke; but Aunt Cyrilla still insisted on taking it, and
+only laughed at what she called Lucy Rose's "finicky notions." Lucy
+Rose had a horrible, haunting idea that it was extremely provincial
+for her aunt always to take the big basket, packed full of country
+good things, whenever she went to visit Edward and Geraldine.
+Geraldine was so stylish, and might think it queer; and then Aunt
+Cyrilla always would carry it on her arm and give cookies and apples
+and molasses taffy out of it to every child she encountered and, just
+as often as not, to older folks too. Lucy Rose, when she went to town
+with Aunt Cyrilla, felt chagrined over this--all of which goes to
+prove that Lucy was as yet very young and had a great deal to learn in
+this world.
+
+That troublesome worry over what Geraldine would think nerved her to
+make a protest in this instance.
+
+"Now, Aunt C'rilla," she pleaded, "you're surely not going to take
+that funny old basket to Pembroke this time--Christmas Day and all."
+
+"'Deed and 'deed I am," returned Aunt Cyrilla briskly, as she put it
+on the table and proceeded to dust it out. "I never went to see Edward
+and Geraldine since they were married that I didn't take a basket of
+good things along with me for them, and I'm not going to stop now. As
+for it's being Christmas, all the more reason. Edward is always real
+glad to get some of the old farmhouse goodies. He says they beat city
+cooking all hollow, and so they do."
+
+"But it's so countrified," moaned Lucy Rose.
+
+"Well, I am countrified," said Aunt Cyrilla firmly, "and so are you.
+And what's more, I don't see that it's anything to be ashamed of.
+You've got some real silly pride about you, Lucy Rose. You'll grow
+out of it in time, but just now it is giving you a lot of trouble."
+
+"The basket is a lot of trouble," said Lucy Rose crossly. "You're
+always mislaying it or afraid you will. And it does look so funny to
+be walking through the streets with that big, bulgy basket hanging on
+your arm."
+
+"I'm not a mite worried about its looks," returned Aunt Cyrilla
+calmly. "As for its being a trouble, why, maybe it is, but I have
+that, and other people have the pleasure of it. Edward and Geraldine
+don't need it--I know that--but there may be those that will. And if
+it hurts your feelings to walk 'longside of a countrified old lady
+with a countrified basket, why, you can just fall behind, as it were."
+
+Aunt Cyrilla nodded and smiled good-humouredly, and Lucy Rose, though
+she privately held to her own opinion, had to smile too.
+
+"Now, let me see," said Aunt Cyrilla reflectively, tapping the snowy
+kitchen table with the point of her plump, dimpled forefinger, "what
+shall I take? That big fruit cake for one thing--Edward does like my
+fruit cake; and that cold boiled tongue for another. Those three mince
+pies too, they'd spoil before we got back or your uncle'd make himself
+sick eating them--mince pie is his besetting sin. And that little
+stone bottle full of cream--Geraldine may carry any amount of style,
+but I've yet to see her look down on real good country cream, Lucy
+Rose; and another bottle of my raspberry vinegar. That plate of jelly
+cookies and doughnuts will please the children and fill up the chinks,
+and you can bring me that box of ice-cream candy out of the pantry,
+and that bag of striped candy sticks your uncle brought home from the
+corner last night. And apples, of course--three or four dozen of those
+good eaters--and a little pot of my greengage preserves--Edward'll
+like that. And some sandwiches and pound cake for a snack for
+ourselves. Now, I guess that will do for eatables. The presents for
+the children can go in on top. There's a doll for Daisy and the little
+boat your uncle made for Ray and a tatted lace handkerchief apiece for
+the twins, and the crochet hood for the baby. Now, is that all?"
+
+"There's a cold roast chicken in the pantry," said Lucy Rose wickedly,
+"and the pig Uncle Leo killed is hanging up in the porch. Couldn't you
+put them in too?"
+
+Aunt Cyrilla smiled broadly. "Well, I guess we'll leave the pig alone;
+but since you have reminded me of it, the chicken may as well go in. I
+can make room."
+
+Lucy Rose, in spite of her prejudices, helped with the packing and,
+not having been trained under Aunt Cyrilla's eye for nothing, did it
+very well too, with much clever economy of space. But when Aunt
+Cyrilla had put in as a finishing touch a big bouquet of pink and
+white everlastings, and tied the bulging covers down with a firm hand,
+Lucy Rose stood over the basket and whispered vindictively:
+
+"Some day I'm going to burn this basket--when I get courage enough.
+Then there'll be an end of lugging it everywhere we go like a--like an
+old market-woman."
+
+Uncle Leopold came in just then, shaking his head dubiously. He was
+not going to spend Christmas with Edward and Geraldine, and perhaps
+the prospect of having to cook and eat his Christmas dinner all alone
+made him pessimistic.
+
+"I mistrust you folks won't get to Pembroke tomorrow," he said sagely.
+"It's going to storm."
+
+Aunt Cyrilla did not worry over this. She believed matters of this
+kind were fore-ordained, and she slept calmly. But Lucy Rose got up
+three times in the night to see if it were storming, and when she did
+sleep had horrible nightmares of struggling through blinding
+snowstorms dragging Aunt Cyrilla's Christmas basket along with her.
+
+It was not snowing in the early morning, and Uncle Leopold drove Aunt
+Cyrilla and Lucy Rose and the basket to the station, four miles off.
+When they reached there the air was thick with flying flakes. The
+stationmaster sold them their tickets with a grim face.
+
+"If there's any more snow comes, the trains might as well keep
+Christmas too," he said. "There's been so much snow already that
+traffic is blocked half the time, and now there ain't no place to
+shovel the snow off onto."
+
+Aunt Cyrilla said that if the train were to get to Pembroke in time
+for Christmas, it would get there; and she opened her basket and gave
+the stationmaster and three small boys an apple apiece.
+
+"That's the beginning," groaned Lucy Rose to herself.
+
+When their train came along Aunt Cyrilla established herself in one
+seat and her basket in another, and looked beamingly around her at her
+fellow travellers.
+
+These were few in number--a delicate little woman at the end of the
+car, with a baby and four other children, a young girl across the
+aisle with a pale, pretty face, a sunburned lad three seats ahead in a
+khaki uniform, a very handsome, imposing old lady in a sealskin coat
+ahead of him, and a thin young man with spectacles opposite.
+
+"A minister," reflected Aunt Cyrilla, beginning to classify, "who
+takes better care of other folks' souls than of his own body; and
+that woman in the sealskin is discontented and cross at something--got
+up too early to catch the train, maybe; and that young chap must be
+one of the boys not long out of the hospital. That woman's children
+look as if they hadn't enjoyed a square meal since they were born; and
+if that girl across from me has a mother, I'd like to know what the
+woman means, letting her daughter go from home in this weather in
+clothes like that."
+
+Lucy Rose merely wondered uncomfortably what the others thought of
+Aunt Cyrilla's basket.
+
+They expected to reach Pembroke that night, but as the day wore on the
+storm grew worse. Twice the train had to stop while the train hands
+dug it out. The third time it could not go on. It was dusk when the
+conductor came through the train, replying brusquely to the questions
+of the anxious passengers.
+
+"A nice lookout for Christmas--no, impossible to go on or back--track
+blocked for miles--what's that, madam?--no, no station near--woods for
+miles. We're here for the night. These storms of late have played the
+mischief with everything."
+
+"Oh, dear," groaned Lucy Rose.
+
+Aunt Cyrilla looked at her basket complacently. "At any rate, we won't
+starve," she said.
+
+The pale, pretty girl seemed indifferent. The sealskin lady looked
+crosser than ever. The khaki boy said, "Just my luck," and two of the
+children began to cry. Aunt Cyrilla took some apples and striped candy
+sticks from her basket and carried them to them. She lifted the oldest
+into her ample lap and soon had them all around her, laughing and
+contented.
+
+The rest of the travellers straggled over to the corner and drifted
+into conversation. The khaki boy said it was hard lines not to get
+home for Christmas, after all.
+
+"I was invalided from South Africa three months ago, and I've been in
+the hospital at Netley ever since. Reached Halifax three days ago and
+telegraphed the old folks I'd eat my Christmas dinner with them, and
+to have an extra-big turkey because I didn't have any last year.
+They'll be badly disappointed."
+
+He looked disappointed too. One khaki sleeve hung empty by his side.
+Aunt Cyrilla passed him an apple.
+
+"We were all going down to Grandpa's for Christmas," said the little
+mother's oldest boy dolefully. "We've never been there before, and
+it's just too bad."
+
+He looked as if he wanted to cry but thought better of it and bit off
+a mouthful of candy.
+
+"Will there be any Santa Claus on the train?" demanded his small
+sister tearfully. "Jack says there won't."
+
+"I guess he'll find you out," said Aunt Cyrilla reassuringly.
+
+The pale, pretty girl came up and took the baby from the tired mother.
+"What a dear little fellow," she said softly.
+
+"Are you going home for Christmas too?" asked Aunt Cyrilla.
+
+The girl shook her head. "I haven't any home. I'm just a shop girl out
+of work at present, and I'm going to Pembroke to look for some."
+
+Aunt Cyrilla went to her basket and took out her box of cream candy.
+"I guess we might as well enjoy ourselves. Let's eat it all up and
+have a good time. Maybe we'll get down to Pembroke in the morning."
+
+The little group grew cheerful as they nibbled, and even the pale girl
+brightened up. The little mother told Aunt Cyrilla her story aside.
+She had been long estranged from her family, who had disapproved of
+her marriage. Her husband had died the previous summer, leaving her in
+poor circumstances.
+
+"Father wrote to me last week and asked me to let bygones be bygones
+and come home for Christmas. I was so glad. And the children's hearts
+were set on it. It seems too bad that we are not to get there. I have
+to be back at work the morning after Christmas."
+
+The khaki boy came up again and shared the candy. He told amusing
+stories of campaigning in South Africa. The minister came too, and
+listened, and even the sealskin lady turned her head over her
+shoulder.
+
+By and by the children fell asleep, one on Aunt Cyrilla's lap and one
+on Lucy Rose's, and two on the seat. Aunt Cyrilla and the pale girl
+helped the mother make up beds for them. The minister gave his
+overcoat and the sealskin lady came forward with a shawl.
+
+"This will do for the baby," she said.
+
+"We must get up some Santa Claus for these youngsters," said the khaki
+boy. "Let's hang their stockings on the wall and fill 'em up as best
+we can. I've nothing about me but some hard cash and a jack-knife.
+I'll give each of 'em a quarter and the boy can have the knife."
+
+"I've nothing but money either," said the sealskin lady regretfully.
+
+Aunt Cyrilla glanced at the little mother. She had fallen asleep with
+her head against the seat-back.
+
+"I've got a basket over there," said Aunt Cyrilla firmly, "and I've
+some presents in it that I was taking to my nephew's children. I'm
+going to give 'em to these. As for the money, I think the mother is
+the one for it to go to. She's been telling me her story, and a
+pitiful one it is. Let's make up a little purse among us for a
+Christmas present."
+
+The idea met with favour. The khaki boy passed his cap and everybody
+contributed. The sealskin lady put in a crumpled note. When Aunt
+Cyrilla straightened it out she saw that it was for twenty dollars.
+
+Meanwhile, Lucy Rose had brought the basket. She smiled at Aunt
+Cyrilla as she lugged it down the aisle and Aunt Cyrilla smiled back.
+Lucy Rose had never touched that basket of her own accord before.
+
+Ray's boat went to Jacky, and Daisy's doll to his oldest sister, the
+twins' lace handkerchiefs to the two smaller girls and the hood to the
+baby. Then the stockings were filled up with doughnuts and jelly
+cookies and the money was put in an envelope and pinned to the little
+mother's jacket.
+
+"That baby is such a dear little fellow," said the sealskin lady
+gently. "He looks something like my little son. He died eighteen
+Christmases ago."
+
+Aunt Cyrilla put her hand over the lady's kid glove. "So did mine,"
+she said. Then the two women smiled tenderly at each other. Afterwards
+they rested from their labours and all had what Aunt Cyrilla called a
+"snack" of sandwiches and pound cake. The khaki boy said he hadn't
+tasted anything half so good since he left home.
+
+"They didn't give us pound cake in South Africa," he said.
+
+When morning came the storm was still raging. The children wakened and
+went wild with delight over their stockings. The little mother found
+her envelope and tried to utter thanks and broke down; and nobody knew
+what to say or do, when the conductor fortunately came in and made a
+diversion by telling them they might as well resign themselves to
+spending Christmas on the train.
+
+"This is serious," said the khaki boy, "when you consider that we've
+no provisions. Don't mind for myself, used to half rations or no
+rations at all. But these kiddies will have tremendous appetites."
+
+Then Aunt Cyrilla rose to the occasion.
+
+"I've got some emergency rations here," she announced. "There's plenty
+for all and we'll have our Christmas dinner, although a cold one.
+Breakfast first thing. There's a sandwich apiece left and we must fill
+up on what is left of the cookies and doughnuts and save the rest for
+a real good spread at dinner time. The only thing is, I haven't any
+bread."
+
+"I've a box of soda crackers," said the little mother eagerly.
+
+Nobody in that car will ever forget that Christmas. To begin with,
+after breakfast they had a concert. The khaki boy gave two
+recitations, sang three songs, and gave a whistling solo. Lucy Rose
+gave three recitations and the minister a comic reading. The pale shop
+girl sang two songs. It was agreed that the khaki boy's whistling solo
+was the best number, and Aunt Cyrilla gave him the bouquet of
+everlastings as a reward of merit.
+
+Then the conductor came in with the cheerful news that the storm was
+almost over and he thought the track would be cleared in a few hours.
+
+"If we can get to the next station we'll be all right," he said. "The
+branch joins the main line there and the tracks will be clear."
+
+At noon they had dinner. The train hands were invited in to share it.
+The minister carved the chicken with the brakeman's jack-knife and the
+khaki boy cut up the tongue and the mince pies, while the sealskin
+lady mixed the raspberry vinegar with its due proportion of water.
+Bits of paper served as plates. The train furnished a couple of
+glasses, a tin pint cup was discovered and given to the children, Aunt
+Cyrilla and Lucy Rose and the sealskin lady drank, turn about, from
+the latter's graduated medicine glass, the shop girl and the little
+mother shared one of the empty bottles, and the khaki boy, the
+minister, and the train men drank out of the other bottle.
+
+Everybody declared they had never enjoyed a meal more in their lives.
+Certainly it was a merry one, and Aunt Cyrilla's cooking was never
+more appreciated; indeed, the bones of the chicken and the pot of
+preserves were all that was left. They could not eat the preserves
+because they had no spoons, so Aunt Cyrilla gave them to the little
+mother.
+
+When all was over, a hearty vote of thanks was passed to Aunt Cyrilla
+and her basket. The sealskin lady wanted to know how she made her
+pound cake, and the khaki boy asked for her receipt for jelly cookies.
+And when two hours later the conductor came in and said the
+snowploughs had got along and they'd soon be starting, they all
+wondered if it could really be less than twenty-four hours since they
+met.
+
+"I feel as if I'd been campaigning with you all my life," said the
+khaki boy.
+
+At the next station they all parted. The little mother and the
+children had to take the next train back home. The minister stayed
+there, and the khaki boy and the sealskin lady changed trains. The
+sealskin lady shook Aunt Cyrilla's hand. She no longer looked
+discontented or cross.
+
+"This has been the pleasantest Christmas I have ever spent," she said
+heartily. "I shall never forget that wonderful basket of yours. The
+little shop girl is going home with me. I've promised her a place in
+my husband's store."
+
+When Aunt Cyrilla and Lucy Rose reached Pembroke there was nobody to
+meet them because everyone had given up expecting them. It was not far
+from the station to Edward's house and Aunt Cyrilla elected to walk.
+
+"I'll carry the basket," said Lucy Rose.
+
+Aunt Cyrilla relinquished it with a smile. Lucy Rose smiled too.
+
+"It's a blessed old basket," said the latter, "and I love it. Please
+forget all the silly things I ever said about it, Aunt C'rilla."
+
+
+
+
+Davenport's Story
+
+
+It was a rainy afternoon, and we had been passing the time by telling
+ghost stories. That is a very good sort of thing for a rainy
+afternoon, and it is a much better time than after night. If you tell
+ghost stories after dark they are apt to make you nervous, whether you
+own up to it or not, and you sneak home and dodge upstairs in mortal
+terror, and undress with your back to the wall, so that you can't
+fancy there is anything behind you.
+
+We had each told a story, and had had the usual assortment of
+mysterious noises and death warnings and sheeted spectres and so on,
+down through the whole catalogue of horrors--enough to satisfy any
+reasonable ghost-taster. But Jack, as usual, was dissatisfied. He said
+our stories were all second-hand stuff. There wasn't a man in the
+crowd who had ever seen or heard a ghost; all our so-called authentic
+stories had been told us by persons who had the story from other
+persons who saw the ghosts.
+
+"One doesn't get any information from that," said Jack. "I never
+expect to get so far along as to see a real ghost myself, but I would
+like to see and talk to one who had."
+
+Some persons appear to have the knack of getting their wishes granted.
+Jack is one of that ilk. Just as he made the remark, Davenport
+sauntered in and, finding out what was going on, volunteered to tell a
+ghost story himself--something that had happened to his grandmother,
+or maybe it was his great-aunt; I forget which. It was a very good
+ghost story as ghost stories go, and Davenport told it well. Even Jack
+admitted that, but he said:
+
+"It's only second-hand too. Did you ever have a ghostly experience
+yourself, old man?"
+
+Davenport put his finger tips critically together.
+
+"Would you believe me if I said I had?" he asked.
+
+"No," said Jack unblushingly.
+
+"Then there would be no use in my saying it."
+
+"But you don't mean that you ever really had, of course?"
+
+"I don't know. Something queer happened once. I've never been able to
+explain it--from a practical point of view, that is. Want to hear
+about it?"
+
+Of course we did. This was exciting. Nobody would ever have suspected
+Davenport of seeing ghosts.
+
+"It's conventional enough," he began. "Ghosts don't seem to have much
+originality. But it's firsthand, Jack, if that's what you want. I
+don't suppose any of you have ever heard me speak of my brother,
+Charles. He was my senior by two years, and was a quiet, reserved sort
+of fellow--not at all demonstrative, but with very strong and deep
+affections.
+
+"When he left college he became engaged to Dorothy Chester. She was
+very beautiful, and my brother idolized her. She died a short time
+before the date set for their marriage, and Charles never recovered
+from the blow.
+
+"I married Dorothy's sister, Virginia. Virginia did not in the least
+resemble her sister, but our eldest daughter was strikingly like her
+dead aunt. We called her Dorothy, and Charles was devoted to her.
+Dolly, as we called her, was always 'Uncle Charley's girl.'
+
+"When Dolly was twelve years old Charles went to New Orleans on
+business, and while there took yellow fever and died. He was buried
+there, and Dolly half broke her childish heart over his death.
+
+"One day, five years later, when Dolly was seventeen, I was writing
+letters in my library. That very morning my wife and Dolly had gone to
+New York en route for Europe. Dolly was going to school in Paris for a
+year. Business prevented my accompanying them even as far as New York,
+but Gilbert Chester, my wife's brother, was going with them. They were
+to sail on the _Aragon_ the next morning.
+
+"I had written steadily for about an hour. At last, growing tired, I
+threw down my pen and, leaning back in my chair, was on the point of
+lighting a cigar when an unaccountable impulse made me turn round. I
+dropped my cigar and sprang to my feet in amazement. There was only
+one door in the room and I had all along been facing it. I could have
+sworn nobody had entered, yet there, standing between me and the
+bookcase, was a man--and that man was my brother Charles!
+
+"There was no mistaking him; I saw him as plainly as I see you. He was
+a tall, rather stout man, with curly hair and a fair, close-clipped
+beard. He wore the same light-grey suit which he had worn when bidding
+us good-bye on the morning of his departure for New Orleans. He had no
+hat on, but wore spectacles, and was standing in his old favourite
+attitude, with his hands behind him.
+
+"I want you to understand that at this precise moment, although I was
+surprised beyond measure, I was not in the least frightened, because I
+did not for a moment suppose that what I saw was--well, a ghost or
+apparition of any sort. The thought that flashed across my bewildered
+brain was simply that there had been some absurd mistake somewhere,
+and that my brother had never died at all, but was here, alive and
+well. I took a hasty step towards him.
+
+"'Good heavens, old fellow!' I exclaimed. 'Where on earth have you
+come from? Why, we all thought you were dead!'
+
+"I was quite close to him when I stopped abruptly. Somehow I couldn't
+move another step. He made no motion, but his eyes looked straight
+into mine.
+
+"'Do not let Dolly sail on the _Aragon_ tomorrow,' he said in slow,
+clear tones that I heard distinctly.
+
+"And then he was gone--yes, Jack, I know it is a very conventional way
+of ending up a ghost story,| but I have to tell you just what
+occurred, or at least what I thought occurred. One moment he was there
+and the next moment he wasn't. He did not pass me or go out of the
+door.
+
+"For a few moments I felt dazed. I was wide awake and in my right and
+proper senses so far as I could judge, and yet the whole thing seemed
+incredible. Scared? No, I wasn't conscious of being scared. I was
+simply bewildered.
+
+"In my mental confusion one thought stood out sharply--Dolly was in
+danger of some kind, and if the warning was really from a supernatural
+source, it must not be disregarded. I rushed to the station and,
+having first wired to my wife not to sail on the _Aragon_, I found
+that I could connect with the five-fifteen train for New York. I took
+it with the comfortable consciousness that my friends would certainly
+think I had gone out of my mind.
+
+"I arrived in New York at eight o'clock the next morning and at once
+drove to the hotel where my wife, daughter and brother-in-law were
+staying. I found them greatly mystified by my telegram. I suppose my
+explanation was a very lame one. I know I felt decidedly like a fool.
+Gilbert laughed at me and said I had dreamed the whole thing. Virginia
+was perplexed, but Dolly accepted the warning unhesitatingly.
+
+"'Of course it was Uncle Charley,' she said confidently. 'We will not
+sail on the _Aragon_ now.'
+
+"Gilbert had to give in to this decision with a very bad grace, and
+the _Aragon_ sailed that day minus three of her intended passengers.
+
+"Well, you've all heard of the historic collision between the _Aragon_
+and the _Astarte_ in a fog, and the fearful loss of life it involved.
+Gilbert didn't laugh when the news came, I assure you. Virginia and
+Dolly sailed a month later on the _Marseilles_, and reached the other
+side in safety. That's all the story, boys--the only experience of the
+kind I ever had," concluded Davenport.
+
+We had many questions to ask and several theories to advance. Jack
+said Davenport had dreamed it and that the collision of the _Aragon_
+and the _Astarte_ was simply a striking coincidence. But Davenport
+merely smiled at all our suggestions and, as it cleared up just about
+three, we told no more ghost stories.
+
+
+
+
+Emily's Husband
+
+
+Emily Fair got out of Hiram Jameson's waggon at the gate. She took her
+satchel and parasol and, in her clear, musical tones, thanked him for
+bringing her home. Emily had a very distinctive voice. It was very
+sweet always and very cold generally; sometimes it softened to
+tenderness with those she loved, but in it there was always an
+undertone of inflexibility and reserve. Nobody had ever heard Emily
+Fair's voice tremble.
+
+"You are more than welcome, Mrs. Fair," said Hiram Jameson, with a
+glance of bold admiration. Emily met it with an unflinching
+indifference. She disliked Hiram Jameson. She had been furious under
+all her external composure because he had been at the station when she
+left the train.
+
+Jameson perceived her scorn, but chose to disregard it.
+
+"Proud as Lucifer," he thought as he drove away. "Well, she's none the
+worse of that. I don't like your weak women--they're always sly. If
+Stephen Fair don't get better she'll be free and then--"
+
+He did not round out the thought, but he gloated over the memory of
+Emily, standing by the gate in the harsh, crude light of the autumn
+sunset, with her tawny, brown hair curling about her pale, oval face
+and the scornful glint in her large, dark-grey eyes.
+
+Emily stood at the gate for some time after Jameson's waggon had
+disappeared. When the brief burst of sunset splendour had faded out
+she turned and went into the garden where late asters and
+chrysanthemums still bloomed. She gathered some of the more perfect
+ones here and there. She loved flowers, but to-night the asters
+seemed to hurt her, for she presently dropped those she had gathered
+and deliberately set her foot on them.
+
+A sudden gust of wind came over the brown, sodden fields and the
+ragged maples around the garden writhed and wailed. The air was raw
+and chill. The rain that had threatened all day was very near. Emily
+shivered and went into the house.
+
+Amelia Phillips was bending over the fire. She came forward and took
+Emily's parcels and wraps with a certain gentleness that sat oddly on
+her grim personality.
+
+"Are you tired? I'm glad you're back. Did you walk from the station?"
+
+"No. Hiram Jameson was there and offered to drive me home. I'd rather
+have walked. It's going to be a storm, I think. Where is John?"
+
+"He went to the village after supper," answered Amelia, lighting a
+lamp. "We needed some things from the store."
+
+The light flared up as she spoke and brought out her strong, almost
+harsh features and deep-set black eyes. Amelia Phillips looked like an
+overdone sketch in charcoal.
+
+"Has anything happened in Woodford while I've been away?" asked Emily
+indifferently. Plainly she did not expect an affirmative answer.
+Woodford life was not eventful.
+
+Amelia glanced at her sharply. So she had not heard! Amelia had
+expected that Hiram Jameson would have told her. She wished that he
+had, for she never felt sure of Emily. The older sister knew that
+beneath that surface reserve was a passionate nature, brooking no
+restraint when once it overleaped the bounds of her Puritan
+self-control. Amelia Phillips, with all her naturally keen insight and
+her acquired knowledge of Emily's character, had never been able to
+fathom the latter's attitude of mind towards her husband. From the
+time that Emily had come back to her girlhood's home, five years
+before, Stephen Fair's name had never crossed her lips.
+
+"I suppose you haven't heard that Stephen is very ill," said Amelia
+slowly.
+
+Not a feature of Emily's face changed. Only in her voice when she
+spoke was a curious jarring, as if a false note had been struck in a
+silver melody.
+
+"What is the matter with him?"
+
+"Typhoid," answered Amelia briefly. She felt relieved that Emily had
+taken it so calmly. Amelia hated Stephen Fair with all the intensity
+of her nature because she believed that he had treated Emily ill, but
+she had always been distrustful that Emily in her heart of hearts
+loved her husband still. That, in Amelia Phillips' opinion, would have
+betrayed a weakness not to be tolerated.
+
+Emily looked at the lamp unwinkingly.
+
+"That wick needs trimming," she said. Then, with a sudden recurrence
+of the untuneful note:
+
+"Is he dangerously ill?"
+
+"We haven't heard for three days. The doctors were not anxious about
+him Monday, though they said it was a pretty severe case."
+
+A faint, wraith-like change of expression drifted over Emily's
+beautiful face and was gone in a moment. What was it--relief? Regret?
+It would have been impossible to say. When she next spoke her vibrant
+voice was as perfectly melodious as usual.
+
+"I think I will go to bed, Amelia. John will not be back until late I
+suppose, and I am very tired. There comes the rain. I suppose it will
+spoil all the flowers. They will be beaten to pieces."
+
+In the dark hall Emily paused for a moment and opened the front door
+to be cut in the face with a whip-like dash of rain. She peered out
+into the thickly gathering gloom. Beyond, in the garden, she saw the
+asters tossed about, phantom-like. The wind around the many-cornered
+old farmhouse was full of wails and sobs.
+
+The clock in the sitting-room struck eight. Emily shivered and shut
+the door. She remembered that she had been married at eight o'clock
+that very morning seven years ago. She thought she could see herself
+coming down the stairs in her white dress with her bouquet of asters.
+For a moment she was glad that those mocking flowers in the garden
+would be all beaten to death before morning by the lash of wind and
+rain.
+
+Then she recovered her mental poise and put the hateful memories away
+from her as she went steadily up the narrow stairs and along the hall
+with its curious slant as the house had settled, to her own room under
+the north-western eaves.
+
+When she had put out her light and gone to bed she found that she
+could not sleep. She pretended to believe that it was the noise of the
+storm that kept her awake. Not even to herself would Emily confess
+that she was waiting and listening nervously for John's return home.
+That would have been to admit a weakness, and Emily Fair, like Amelia,
+despised weakness.
+
+Every few minutes a gust of wind smote the house, with a roar as of a
+wild beast, and bombarded Emily's window with a volley of rattling
+drops. In the silences that came between the gusts she heard the soft,
+steady pouring of the rain on the garden paths below, mingled with a
+faint murmur that came up from the creek beyond the barns where the
+pine boughs were thrashing in the storm. Emily suddenly thought of a
+weird story she had once read years before and long forgotten--a story
+of a soul that went out in a night of storm and blackness and lost its
+way between earth and heaven. She shuddered and drew the counterpane
+over her face.
+
+"Of all things I hate a fall storm most," she muttered. "It frightens
+me."
+
+Somewhat to her surprise--for even her thoughts were generally well
+under the control of her unbending will--she could not help thinking
+of Stephen--thinking of him not tenderly or remorsefully, but
+impersonally, as of a man who counted for nothing in her life. It was
+so strange to think of Stephen being ill. She had never known him to
+have a day's sickness in his life before. She looked back over her
+life much as if she were glancing with a chill interest at a series of
+pictures which in no way concerned her. Scene after scene, face after
+face, flashed out on the background of the darkness.
+
+Emily's mother had died at her birth, but Amelia Phillips, twenty
+years older than the baby sister, had filled the vacant place so well
+and with such intuitive tenderness that Emily had never been conscious
+of missing a mother. John Phillips, too, the grave, silent, elder
+brother, loved and petted the child. Woodford people were fond of
+saying that John and Amelia spoiled Emily shamefully.
+
+Emily Phillips had never been like the other Woodford girls and had no
+friends of her own age among them. Her uncommon beauty won her many
+lovers, but she had never cared for any of them until Stephen Fair,
+fifteen years her senior, had come a-wooing to the old, gray,
+willow-girdled Phillips homestead.
+
+Amelia and John Phillips never liked him. There was an ancient feud
+between the families that had died out among the younger generation,
+but was still potent with the older.
+
+From the first Emily had loved Stephen. Indeed, deep down in her
+strange, wayward heart, she had cared for him long before the
+memorable day when he had first looked at her with seeing eyes and
+realized that the quiet, unthought-of child who had been growing up at
+the old Phillips place had blossomed out into a woman of strange,
+seraph-like beauty and deep grey eyes whose expression was nevermore
+to go out of Stephen Fair's remembrance from then till the day of his
+death.
+
+John and Amelia Phillips put their own unjustifiable dislike of
+Stephen aside when they found that Emily's heart was set on him. The
+two were married after a brief courtship and Emily went out from her
+girlhood's home to the Fair homestead, two miles away.
+
+Stephen's mother lived with them. Janet Fair had never liked Emily.
+She had not been willing for Stephen to marry her. But, apart from
+this, the woman had a natural, ineradicable love of making mischief
+and took a keen pleasure in it. She loved her son and she had loved
+her husband, but nevertheless, when Thomas Fair had been alive she had
+fomented continual strife and discontent between him and Stephen. Now
+it became her pleasure to make what trouble she could between Stephen
+and his wife.
+
+She had the advantage of Emily in that she was always sweet-spoken
+and, on the surface, sweet-tempered. Emily, hurt and galled in a score
+of petty ways, so subtle that they were beyond a man's courser
+comprehension, astonished her husband by her fierce outbursts of anger
+that seemed to him for the most part without reason or excuse. He
+tried his best to preserve the peace between his wife and mother; and
+when he failed, not understanding all that Emily really endured at the
+elder woman's merciless hands, he grew to think her capricious and
+easily irritated--a spoiled child whose whims must not be taken too
+seriously.
+
+To a certain extent he was right. Emily had been spoiled. The unbroken
+indulgence which her brother and sister had always accorded her had
+fitted her but poorly to cope with the trials of her new life. True,
+Mrs. Fair was an unpleasant woman to live with, but if Emily had
+chosen to be more patient under petty insults, and less resentful of
+her husband's well-meant though clumsy efforts for harmony, the older
+woman could have effected real little mischief. But this Emily refused
+to be, and the breach between husband and wife widened insidiously.
+
+The final rupture came two years after their marriage. Emily, in
+rebellious anger, told her husband that she would no longer live in
+the same house with his mother.
+
+"You must choose between us," she said, her splendid voice vibrating
+with all the unleashed emotion of her being, yet with no faltering in
+it. "If she stays I go."
+
+Stephen Fair, harassed and bewildered, was angry with the relentless
+anger of a patient man roused at last.
+
+"Go, then," he said sternly, "I'll never turn my mother from my door
+for any woman's whim."
+
+The stormy red went out of Emily's face, leaving it like a marble
+wash.
+
+"You mean that!" she said calmly. "Think well. If I go I'll never
+return."
+
+"I do mean it," said Stephen. "Leave my house if you will--if you hold
+your marriage vow so lightly. When your senses return you are welcome
+to come back to me. I will never ask you to."
+
+Without another word Emily turned away. That night she went back to
+John and Amelia. They, on their part, welcomed her back gladly,
+believing her to be a wronged and ill-used woman. They hated Stephen
+Fair with a new and personal rancour. The one thing they could hardly
+have forgiven Emily would have been the fact of her relenting towards
+him.
+
+But she did not relent. In her soul she knew that, with all her just
+grievances, she had been in the wrong, and for that she could not
+forgive him!
+
+Two years after she had left Stephen Mrs. Fair died, and his widowed
+sister-in-law went to keep house for him. If he thought of Emily he
+made no sign. Stephen Fair never broke a word once passed.
+
+Since their separation no greeting or look had ever passed between
+husband and wife. When they met, as they occasionally did, neither
+impassive face changed. Emily Fair had buried her love deeply. In her
+pride and anger she would not let herself remember even where she had
+dug its grave.
+
+And now Stephen was ill. The strange woman felt a certain pride in her
+own inflexibility because the fact did not affect her. She told
+herself that she could not have felt more unconcerned had he been the
+merest stranger. Nevertheless she waited and watched for John
+Phillips' homecoming.
+
+At ten o'clock she heard his voice in the kitchen. She leaned out of
+the bed and pulled open her door. She heard voices below, but could
+not distinguish the words, so she rose and went noiselessly out into
+the hall, knelt down by the stair railing and listened. The door of
+the kitchen was open below her and a narrow shaft of light struck on
+her white, intent face. She looked like a woman waiting for the decree
+of doom.
+
+At first John and Amelia talked of trivial matters. Then the latter
+said abruptly:
+
+"Did you hear how Stephen Fair was?"
+
+"He's dying," was the brief response.
+
+Emily heard Amelia's startled exclamation. She gripped the square
+rails with her hands until the sharp edges dinted deep into her
+fingers. John's voice came up to her again, harsh and expressionless:
+
+"He took a bad turn the day before yesterday and has been getting
+worse ever since. The doctors don't expect him to live till morning."
+
+Amelia began to talk rapidly in low tones. Emily heard nothing
+further. She got up and went blindly back into her room with such
+agony tearing at her heartstrings that she dully wondered why she
+could not shriek aloud.
+
+Stephen--her husband--dying! In the burning anguish of that moment her
+own soul was as an open book before her. The love she had buried rose
+from the deeps of her being in an awful, accusing resurrection.
+
+Out of her stupor and pain a purpose formed itself clearly. She must
+go to Stephen--she must beg and win his forgiveness before it was too
+late. She dared not go down to John and ask him to take her to her
+husband. He might refuse. The Phillipses had been known to do even
+harder things than that. At the best there would be a storm of protest
+and objection on her brother's and sister's part, and Emily felt that
+she could not encounter that in her present mood. It would drive her
+mad.
+
+She lit a lamp and dressed herself noiselessly, but with feverish
+haste. Then she listened. The house was very still. Amelia and John
+had gone to bed. She wrapped herself in a heavy woollen shawl hanging
+in the hall and crept downstairs. With numbed fingers she fumbled at
+the key of the hall door, turned it and slipped out into the night.
+
+The storm seemed to reach out and clutch her and swallow her up. She
+went through the garden, where the flowers already were crushed to
+earth; she crossed the long field beyond, where the rain cut her face
+like a whip and the wind almost twisted her in its grasp like a broken
+reed. Somehow or other, more by blind instinct than anything else, she
+found the path that led through commons and woods and waste valleys to
+her lost home.
+
+In after years that frenzied walk through the storm and blackness
+seemed as an unbroken nightmare to Emily Fair's recollection. Often
+she fell. Once as she did so a jagged, dead limb of fir struck her
+forehead and cut in it a gash that marked her for life. As she
+struggled to her feet and found her way again the blood trickled down
+over her face.
+
+"Oh God, don't let him die before I get to him--don't--don't--don't!"
+she prayed desperately with more of defiance than entreaty in her
+voice. Then, realizing this, she cried out in horror. Surely some
+fearsome punishment would come upon her for her wickedness--she would
+find her husband lying dead.
+
+When Emily opened the kitchen door of the Fair homestead Almira
+Sentner cried out in her alarm, who or what was this creature with the
+white face and wild eyes, with her torn and dripping garments and
+dishevelled, wind-writhen hair and the big drops of blood slowly
+trickling from her brow?
+
+The next moment she recognized Emily and her face hardened. This
+woman, Stephen's sister-in-law, had always hated Emily Fair.
+
+"What do you want here?" she said harshly.
+
+"Where is my husband?" asked Emily.
+
+"You can't see him," said Mrs. Sentner defiantly. "The doctors won't
+allow anyone in the room but those he's used to. Strangers excite
+him."
+
+The insolence and cruelty of her speech fell on unheeding ears. Emily,
+understanding only that her husband yet lived, turned to the hall
+door.
+
+"Stand back!" she said in a voice that was little more than a
+thrilling whisper, but which yet had in it something that cowed Almira
+Sentner's malice. Sullenly she stood aside and Emily went unhindered
+up the stairs to the room where the sick man lay.
+
+The two doctors in attendance were there, together with the trained
+nurse from the city. Emily pushed them aside and fell on her knees by
+the bed. One of the doctors made a hasty motion as if to draw her
+back, but the other checked him.
+
+"It doesn't matter now," he said significantly.
+
+Stephen Fair turned his languid, unshorn head on the pillow. His dull,
+fevered eyes met Emily's. He had not recognized anyone all day, but he
+knew his wife.
+
+"Emily!" he whispered.
+
+Emily drew his head close to her face and kissed his lips
+passionately.
+
+"Stephen, I've come back to you. Forgive me--forgive me--say that you
+forgive me."
+
+"It's all right, my girl," he said feebly.
+
+She buried her face in the pillow beside his with a sob.
+
+In the wan, grey light of the autumn dawn the old doctor came to the
+bedside and lifted Emily to her feet. She had not stirred the whole
+night. Now she raised her white face with dumb pleading in her eyes.
+The doctor glanced at the sleeping form on the bed.
+
+"Your husband will live, Mrs. Fair," he said gently. "I think your
+coming saved him. His joy turned the ebbing tide in favour of life."
+
+"Thank God!" said Emily.
+
+And for the first time in her life her beautiful voice trembled.
+
+
+
+
+Min
+
+
+The morning sun hung, a red, lustreless ball, in the dull grey sky. A
+light snow had fallen in the night and the landscape, crossed by
+spider-like trails of fences, was as white and lifeless as if wrapped
+in a shroud.
+
+A young man was driving down the road to Rykman's Corner; the youthful
+face visible above the greatcoat was thoughtful and refined, the eyes
+deep blue and peculiarly beautiful, the mouth firm yet sensitive. It
+was not a handsome face, but there was a strangely subtle charm about
+it.
+
+The chill breathlessness of the air seemed prophetic of more snow. The
+Reverend Allan Telford looked across the bare wastes and cold white
+hills and shivered, as if the icy lifelessness about him were slowly
+and relentlessly creeping into his own heart and life.
+
+He felt utterly discouraged. In his soul he was asking bitterly what
+good had come of all his prayerful labours among the people of this
+pinched, narrow world, as rugged and unbeautiful in form and life as
+the barren hills that shut them in.
+
+He had been two years among them and he counted it two years of
+failure. He had been too outspoken for them; they resented sullenly
+his direct and incisive tirades against their pet sins. They viewed
+his small innovations on their traditional ways of worship with
+disfavour and distrust and shut him out of their lives with an
+ever-increasing coldness. He had meant well and worked hard and he
+felt his failure keenly.
+
+His thoughts reverted to a letter received the preceding day from a
+former classmate, stating that the pastorate of a certain desirable
+town church had become vacant and hinting that a call was to be
+moderated for him unless he signified his unwillingness to accept.
+
+Two years before, Allan Telford, fresh from college and full of
+vigorous enthusiasm and high ideas, would have said:
+
+"No, that is not for me. My work must lie among the poor and lowly of
+earth as did my Master's. Shall I shrink from it because, to worldly
+eyes, the way looks dreary and uninviting?"
+
+Now, looking back on his two years' ministry, he said wearily:
+
+"I can remain here no longer. If I do, I fear I shall sink down into
+something almost as pitiful as one of these canting, gossiping people
+myself. I can do them no good--they do not like or trust me. I will
+accept this call and go back to my own world."
+
+Perhaps the keynote of his failure was sounded in his last words, "my
+own world." He had never felt, or tried to feel, that this narrow
+sphere was his own world. It was some lower level to which he had come
+with good tidings and honest intentions but, unconsciously, he had
+held himself above it, and his people felt and resented this. They
+expressed it by saying he was "stuck-up."
+
+Rykman's Corner came into view as he drove over the brow of a long
+hill. He hated the place, knowing it well for what it was--a festering
+hotbed of gossip and malice, the habitat of all the slanderous rumours
+and innuendoes that permeated the social tissue of the community. The
+newest scandal, the worst-flavoured joke, the latest details of the
+most recent quarrel, were always to be had at Rykman's store.
+
+As the minister drove down the hill, a man came out of a small house
+at the foot and waited on the road. Had it been possible Telford would
+have pretended not to see him, but it was not possible, for Isaac
+Galletly meant to be seen and hailed the minister cheerfully.
+
+"Good mornin', Mr. Telford. Ye won't mind giving me a lift down to the
+Corner, I dessay?"
+
+Telford checked his horse reluctantly and Galletly crawled into the
+cutter. He was that most despicable of created beings, a male gossip,
+and he spent most of his time travelling from house to house in the
+village, smoking his pipe in neighbourly kitchens and fanning into an
+active blaze all the smouldering feuds of the place. He had been
+nicknamed "The Morning Chronicle" by a sarcastic schoolteacher who had
+sojourned a winter at the Corner. The name was an apt one and clung.
+Telford had heard it.
+
+I suppose he is starting out on his rounds now, he thought.
+
+Galletly plunged undauntedly into the conversational gap.
+
+"Quite a fall of snow last night. Reckon we'll have more 'fore long.
+That was a grand sermon ye gave us last Sunday, Mr. Telford. Reckon it
+went home to some folks, judgin' from all I've heard. It was needed
+and that's a fact. 'Live peaceably with all men'--that's what I lay
+out to do. There ain't a house in the district but what I can drop
+into and welcome. 'Tain't everybody in Rykman's Corner can say the
+same."
+
+Galletly squinted out of the corner of his eye to see if the minister
+would open on the trail of this hint. Telford's passive face was
+discouraging but Galletly was not to be baffled.
+
+"I s'pose ye haven't heard about the row down at Palmers' last night?"
+
+"No."
+
+The monosyllable was curt. Telford was vainly seeking to nip
+Galletly's gossip in the bud. The name of Palmer conveyed no especial
+meaning to his ear. He knew where the Palmer homestead was, and that
+the plaintive-faced, fair-haired woman, whose name was Mrs. Fuller and
+who came to church occasionally, lived there. His knowledge went no
+further. He had called three times and found nobody at home--at least,
+to all appearances. Now he was fated to have the whole budget of some
+vulgar quarrel forced on him by Galletly.
+
+"No? Everyone's talkin' of it. The long and short of it is that Min
+Palmer has had a regular up-and-down row with Rose Fuller and turned
+her and her little gal out of doors. I believe the two women had an
+awful time. Min's a Tartar when her temper's up--and that's pretty
+often. Nobody knows how Rose managed to put up with her so long. But
+she has had to go at last. Goodness knows what the poor critter'll do.
+She hasn't a cent nor a relation--she was just an orphan girl that
+Palmer brought up. She is at Rawlingses now. Maybe when Min cools off,
+she'll let her go back but it's doubtful. Min hates her like p'isen."
+
+To Telford this was all very unintelligible. But he understood that
+Mrs. Fuller was in trouble of some kind and that it was his duty to
+help her if possible, although he had an odd and unaccountable
+aversion to the woman, for which he had often reproached himself.
+
+"Who is this woman you call Min Palmer?" he said coldly. "What are the
+family circumstances? I ought to know, perhaps, if I am to be of any
+service--but I have no wish to hear idle gossip."
+
+His concluding sentence was quite unheeded by Galletly.
+
+"Min Palmer's the worst woman in Rykman's Corner--or out of it. She
+always was an odd one. I mind her when she was a girl--a saucy,
+black-eyed baggage she was! Handsome, some folks called her. I never
+c'd see it. Her people were a queer crowd and Min was never brung up
+right--jest let run wild all her life. Well, Rod Palmer took to
+dancin' attendance on her. Rod was a worthless scamp. Old Palmer was
+well off and Rod was his only child, but this Rose lived there and
+kept house for them after Mis' Palmer died. She was a quiet,
+well-behaved little creetur. Folks said the old man wanted Rod to
+marry her--dunno if 'twas so or not. In the end, howsomever, he had
+to marry Min. Her brother got after him with a horse-whip, ye
+understand. Old Palmer was furious but he had to give in and Rod
+brought her home. She was a bit sobered down by her trouble and lived
+quiet and sullen-like at first. Her and Rod fought like cat and dog.
+Rose married Osh Fuller, a worthless, drunken fellow. He died in a
+year or so and left Rose and her baby without a roof over their heads.
+Then old Palmer went and brought her home. He set great store by Rose
+and he c'dn't bear Min. Min had to be civil to Rose as long as old
+Palmer lived. Fin'lly Rod up and died and 'twasn't long before his
+father went too. Then the queer part came in. Everyone expected that
+he'd purvide well for Rose and Min'd come in second best. But no will
+was to be found. I don't say but what it was all right, mind you. I
+may have my own secret opinion, of course. Old Palmer had a regular
+mania, as ye might say, for makin' wills. He'd have a lawyer out from
+town every year and have a new will made and the old one burnt. Lawyer
+Bell was there and made one 'bout eight months 'fore he died. It was
+s'posed he'd destroyed it and then died 'fore he'd time to make
+another. He went off awful sudden. Anyway, everything went to Min's
+child--to Min as ye might say. She's been boss. Rose still stayed on
+there and Min let her, which was more than folks expected of her. But
+she's turned her out at last. Min's in one of her tantrums now and
+'tain't safe to cross her path."
+
+"What is Mrs. Fuller to do?" asked Telford anxiously.
+
+"That's the question. She's sickly--can't work much--and then she has
+her leetle gal. Min was always jealous of that child. It's a real
+purty, smart leetle creetur and old Palmer made a lot of it. Min's own
+is an awful-looking thing--a cripple from the time 'twas born. There's
+no doubt 'twas a jedgement on her. As for Rose, no doubt the god of
+the widow and fatherless will purvide for her."
+
+In spite of his disgust, Telford could not repress a smile at the
+tone, half-whine, half-snuffle, with which Galletly ended up.
+
+"I think I had better call and see this Mrs. Palmer," he said slowly.
+
+"'Twould be no airthly use, Mr. Telford. Min'd slam the door in your
+face if she did nothing worse. She hates ministers and everything
+that's good. She hasn't darkened a church door for years. She never
+had any religious tendency to begin with, and when there was such a
+scandal about her, old Mr. Dinwoodie, our pastor then--a godly man,
+Mr. Telford--he didn't hold no truck with evildoers--he went right to
+her to reprove and rebuke her for her sins. Min, she flew at him. She
+vowed then she'd never go to church again, and she never has. People
+hereabouts has talked to her and tried to do her good, but it ain't no
+use. Why, I've heard that woman say there was no God. It's a fact, Mr.
+Telford--I have. Some of our ministers has tried to visit her. They
+didn't try it more than once. The last one--he was about your heft--he
+got a scare, I tell you. Min just caught him by the shoulder and shook
+him like a rat! Didn't see it myself but Mrs. Rawlings did. Ye ought
+to hear her describin' of it."
+
+Galletly chuckled over the recollection, his wicked little eyes
+glistening with delight. Telford was thankful when they reached the
+store. He felt that he could not endure this man's society any
+longer.
+
+Nevertheless, he felt strangely interested. This Min Palmer must at
+least be different from the rest of the Cornerites, if only in the
+greater force of her wickedness. He almost felt as if her sins on the
+grand scale were less blameworthy than the petty vices of her
+censorious neighbours.
+
+Galletly eagerly joined the group of loungers on the dirty wet
+platform, and Telford passed into the store. A couple of slatternly
+women were talking to Mrs. Rykman about "the Palmer row." Telford made
+his small purchases hastily. As he turned from the counter, he came
+face to face with a woman who had paused in the doorway to survey the
+scene with an air of sullen scorn. By some subtle intuition Telford
+knew that this was Min Palmer.
+
+The young man's first feeling was one of admiration for the woman
+before him, who, in spite of her grotesque attire and defiant,
+unwomanly air, was strikingly beautiful. She was tall, and not even
+the man's ragged overcoat which she wore could conceal the grace of
+her figure. Her abundant black hair was twisted into a sagging knot at
+her neck, and from beneath the old fur cap looked out a pair of large
+and brilliant black eyes, heavily lashed, and full of a smouldering
+fire. Her skin was tanned and coarsened, but the warm crimson blood
+glowed in her cheeks with a dusky richness, and her face was a perfect
+oval, with features chiselled in almost classic regularity of outline.
+
+Telford had a curious experience at that moment. He seemed to see,
+looking out from behind this external mask of degraded beauty, the
+semblance of what this woman might have been under more favouring
+circumstance of birth and environment, wherein her rich, passionate
+nature, potent for either good or evil, might have been trained and
+swayed aright until it had developed grandly out into the glorious
+womanhood the Creator must have planned for her. He knew, as if by
+revelation, that this woman had nothing in common with the narrow,
+self-righteous souls of Rykman's Corner. Warped and perverted though
+her nature might be, she was yet far nobler than those who sat in
+judgement upon her.
+
+Min made some scanty purchases and left the store quickly, brushing
+unheedingly past the minister as she did so. He saw her step on a
+rough wood-sleigh and drive down the river road. The platform loungers
+had been silent during her call, but now the talk bubbled forth anew.
+Telford was sick at heart as he drove swiftly away. He felt for Min
+Palmer a pity he could not understand or analyze. The attempt to
+measure the gulf between what she was and what she might have been
+hurt him like the stab of a knife.
+
+He made several calls at various houses along the river during the
+forenoon. After dinner he suddenly turned his horse towards the Palmer
+place. Isaac Galletly, comfortably curled up in a neighbour's chimney
+corner, saw him drive past.
+
+"Ef the minister ain't goin' to Palmers' after all!" he chuckled.
+"He's a set one when he does take a notion. Well, I warned him what to
+expect. If Min claws his eyes out, he'll only have himself to blame."
+
+Telford was not without his own misgivings as he drove into the Palmer
+yard. He tied his horse to the fence and looked doubtfully about him.
+Untrodden snowdrifts were heaped about the front door, so he turned
+towards the kitchen and walked slowly past the bare lilac trees along
+the fence. There was no sign of life about the place. It was beginning
+to snow again, softly and thickly, and the hills and river were hidden
+behind a misty white veil.
+
+He lifted his hand to knock, but before he could do so, the door was
+flung open and Min herself confronted him on the threshold.
+
+She did not now have on the man's overcoat which she had worn at the
+store, and her neat, close-fitting home-spun dress revealed to
+perfection the full, magnificent curves of her figure. Her splendid
+hair was braided about her head in a glossy coronet, and her dark eyes
+were ablaze with ill-suppressed anger. Again Telford was overcome by a
+sense of her wonderful loveliness. Not all the years of bondage to
+ill-temper and misguided will had been able to blot out the beauty of
+that proud, dark face.
+
+She lifted one large but shapely brown hand and pointed to the gate.
+
+"Go!" she said threateningly.
+
+"Mrs. Palmer," began Telford, but she silenced him with an imperious
+gesture.
+
+"I don't want any of your kind here. I hate all you ministers. Did you
+come here to lecture me? I suppose some of the Corner saints set you
+on me. You'll never cross my threshold."
+
+Telford returned her defiant gaze unflinchingly. His dark-blue eyes,
+magnetic in their power and sweetness, looked gravely, questioningly,
+into Min's stormy orbs. Slowly the fire and anger faded out of her
+face and her head drooped.
+
+"I ain't fit for you to talk to anyway," she said with a sort of
+sullen humility. "Maybe you mean well but you can't do me any good.
+I'm past that now. The Corner saints say I'm possessed of the devil.
+Perhaps I am--if there is one."
+
+"I do mean well," said Telford slowly. "I did not come here to reprove
+you. I came to help you if I could--if you needed help, Mrs. Palmer--"
+
+"Don't call me that," she interrupted passionately. She flung out her
+hands as if pushing some loathly, invisible thing from her. "I hate
+the name--as I hated all who ever bore it. I never had anything but
+wrong and dog-usage from them all. Call me Min--that's the only name
+that belongs to me now. Go--why don't you go? Don't stand there
+looking at me like that. I'm not going to change my mind. I don't want
+any praying and whining round me. I've been well sickened of that.
+Go!"
+
+Telford threw back his head and looked once more into her eyes. A long
+look passed between them. Then he silently lifted his cap and, with no
+word of farewell, he turned and went down to the gate. A bitter sense
+of defeat and disappointment filled his heart as he drove away.
+
+Min stood in the doorway and watched the sleigh out of sight down the
+river road. Then she gave a long, shivering sigh that was almost a
+moan.
+
+"If I had met that man long ago," she said slowly, as if groping
+vaguely in some hitherto unsounded depth of consciousness, "I would
+never have become what I am. I felt that as I looked at him--it all
+came over me with an awful sickening feeling--just as if we were
+standing alone somewhere out of the world where there was no need of
+words to say things. He doesn't despise me--he wouldn't sneer at me,
+bad as I am, like those creatures up there. He could have helped me
+if we had met in time, but it's too late now."
+
+She locked her hands over her eyes and groaned, swaying her body to
+and fro as one in mortal agony. Presently she looked out again with
+hard, dry eyes.
+
+"What a fool I am!" she said bitterly. "How the Corner saints would
+stare if they saw me! I suppose some of them do--" with a glance at
+the windows of a neighbouring house. "Yes, there's Mrs. Rawlings
+staring out and Rose peeking over her shoulder."
+
+Her face hardened. The old sway of evil passion reasserted itself.
+
+"She shall never come back here--never. Oh, she was a sweet-spoken cat
+of a thing--but she had claws. I've been blamed for all the trouble.
+But if ever I had a chance, I'd tell that minister how she used to
+twit and taunt me in that sugary way of hers--how she schemed and
+plotted against me as long as she could. More fool I to care what he
+thinks either! I wish I were dead. If 'twasn't for the child, I'd go
+and drown myself at that black spring-hole down there--I'd be well out
+of the way."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a dull grey afternoon a week afterwards when Allan Telford
+again walked up the river road to the Palmer place. The wind was
+bitter and he walked with bent head to avoid its fury. His face was
+pale and worn and he looked years older.
+
+He paused at the rough gate and leaned over it while he scanned the
+house and its surroundings eagerly. As he looked, the kitchen door
+opened and Min, clad in the old overcoat, came out and walked swiftly
+across the yard.
+
+Telford's eyes followed her with pitiful absorption. He saw her lead a
+horse from the stable and harness it into a wood-sleigh loaded with
+bags of grain. Once she paused to fling her arms about the animal's
+neck, laying her face against it with a caressing motion.
+
+The pale minister groaned aloud. He longed to snatch her forever from
+that hard, unwomanly toil and fold her safely away from jeers and
+scorn in the shelter of his love. He knew it was madness--he had told
+himself so every hour in which Min's dark, rebellious face had haunted
+him--yet none the less was he under its control.
+
+Min led the horse across the yard and left it standing before the
+kitchen door; she had not seen the bowed figure at the gate. When she
+reappeared, he saw her dark eyes and the rose-red lustre of her face
+gleam out from under the old crimson shawl wrapped about her head.
+
+As she caught the horse by the bridle, the kitchen door swung heavily
+to with a sharp, sudden bang. The horse, a great, powerful, nervous
+brute, started wildly and then reared in terror.
+
+The ice underfoot was glib and treacherous. Min lost her foothold and
+fell directly under the horse's hoofs as they came heavily down. The
+animal, freed from her detaining hand, sprang forward, dragging the
+laden sleigh over the prostrate woman.
+
+It had all passed in a moment. The moveless figure lay where it had
+fallen, one outstretched hand still grasping the whip. Telford sprang
+over the gate and rushed up the slope like a madman. He flung himself
+on his knees beside her.
+
+"Min! Min!" he called wildly.
+
+There was no answer. He lifted her in his arms and staggered into the
+house with his burden, his heart stilling with a horrible fear as he
+laid her gently down on the old lounge in one corner of the kitchen.
+
+The room was a large one and everything was neat and clean. The fire
+burned brightly, and a few green plants were in blossom by the south
+window. Beside them sat a child of about seven years who turned a
+startled face at Telford's reckless entrance.
+
+The boy had Min's dark eyes and perfectly chiselled features, refined
+by suffering into cameo-like delicacy, and the silken hair fell in
+soft, waving masses about the spiritual little face. By his side
+nestled a tiny dog, with satin ears and paws fringed as with ravelled
+silk.
+
+Telford paid heed to nothing, not even the frightened child. He was as
+one distraught.
+
+"Min," he wailed again, striving tremblingly to feel her pulse while
+cold drops came out on his forehead.
+
+Min's face was as pallid as marble, save for one heavy bruise across
+the cheek and a cruel cut at the edge of the dark hair, from which the
+blood trickled down on the pillow.
+
+She opened her eyes wonderingly at his call, looking up with a dazed,
+appealing expression of pain and dread. A low moan broke from her
+white lips. Telford sprang to his feet in a tumult of quivering joy.
+
+"Min, dear," he said gently, "you have been hurt--not seriously, I
+hope. I must leave you for a minute while I run for help--I will not
+be long."
+
+"Come back," said Min in a low but distinct tone.
+
+He paused impatiently.
+
+"It is of no use to get help," Min went on calmly. "I'm dying--I know
+it. Oh, my God!"
+
+She pressed her hand to her side and writhed. Telford turned
+desperately to the door. Min raised her arm.
+
+"Come here," she said resolutely.
+
+He obeyed mutely. She looked up at him with bright, unquailing eyes.
+
+"Don't you go one step--don't leave me here to die alone. I'm past
+help--and I've something to say to you. I must say it and I haven't
+much time."
+
+Telford hardly heeded her in his misery.
+
+"Min, let me go for help--let me do something," he implored. "You must
+not die--you must not!"
+
+Min had fallen back, gasping, on the blood-stained pillow.
+
+He knelt beside her and put his arm about the poor, crushed body.
+
+"I must hurry," she said faintly. "I can't die with it on my mind.
+Rose--it's all hers--all. There was a will--he made it--old Gran'ther
+Palmer. He always hated me. I found it before he died--and read it. He
+left everything to her--not a cent to me nor his son's child--we were
+to starve--beg. I was like a madwoman. When he died--I hid the will. I
+meant--to burn it--but I never could. It's tortured me--night and
+day--I've had no peace. You'll find it in a box--in my room. Tell
+her--tell Rose--how wicked I've been. And my boy--what will become of
+him? Rose hates him--she'll turn him out--or ill-treat him--"
+
+Telford lifted his white, drawn face.
+
+"I will take your child, Min. He shall be to me as my own son."
+
+An expression of unspeakable relief came into the dying woman's face.
+
+"It is good--of you. I can die--in peace--now. I'm glad to die--to get
+clear of it all. I'm tired--of living so. Perhaps--I'll have a
+chance--somewhere else. I've never--had any--here."
+
+The dark eyes drooped--closed. Telford moaned shudderingly.
+
+Once again Min opened her eyes and looked straight into his.
+
+"If I had met you--long ago--you would have--loved me--and I would
+have been--a good woman. It is well for us--for you--that I am--dying.
+Your path will be clear--you will be good and successful--but you will
+always--remember me."
+
+Telford bent and pressed his lips to Min's pain-blanched mouth.
+
+"Do you think--we will--ever meet again?" she said faintly. "Out
+there--it's so dark--God can never--forgive me--I've been so--wicked."
+
+"Min, the all-loving Father is more merciful than man. He will forgive
+you, if you ask Him, and you will wait for me till I come. I will stay
+here and do my duty--I will try hard--"
+
+His voice broke. Min's great black eyes beamed out on him with
+passionate tenderness. The strong, deep, erring nature yielded at
+last. An exceeding bitter cry rose to her lips.
+
+"Oh, God--forgive me--forgive me!"
+
+And with the cry, the soul of poor suffering, sinning, sinned-against
+Min Palmer fled--who shall say whither? Who shall say that her
+remorseful cry was not heard, even at that late hour, by a Judge more
+merciful than her fellow creatures?
+
+Telford still knelt on the bare floor, holding in his arms the dead
+form of the woman he loved--his, all his, in death, as she could never
+have been in life. Death had bridged the gulf between them.
+
+The room was very silent. To Min's face had returned something of its
+girlhood's innocence. The hard, unlovely lines were all smoothed out.
+The little cripple crept timidly up to Telford, with the silky head of
+the dog pressed against his cheek. Telford gathered the distorted
+little body to his side and looked earnestly into the small
+face--Min's face, purified and spiritualized. He would have it near
+him always. He bent and reverently kissed the cold face, the closed
+eyelids and the blood-stained brow of the dead woman. Then he stood
+up.
+
+"Come with me, dear," he said gently to the child.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The day after the funeral, Allan Telford sat in the study of his
+little manse among the encircling wintry hills. Close to the window
+sat Min's child, his small, beautiful face pressed against the panes,
+and the bright-eyed dog beside him.
+
+Telford was writing in his journal.
+
+"I shall stay here--close to her grave. I shall see it every time I
+look from my study window--every time I stand in my pulpit--every time
+I go in and out among my people. I begin to see wherein I have failed.
+I shall begin again patiently and humbly. I wrote today to decline the
+C---- church call. My heart and my work are here."
+
+He closed the book and bowed his head on it. Outside the snow fell
+softly; he knew that it was wrapping that new-made grave on the cold,
+fir-sentinelled hillside with a stainless shroud of infinite purity
+and peace.
+
+
+
+
+Miss Cordelia's Accommodation
+
+
+"Poor little creatures!" said Miss Cordelia compassionately.
+
+She meant the factory children. In her car ride from the school where
+she taught to the bridge that spanned the river between Pottstown, the
+sooty little manufacturing village on one side, and Point Pleasant,
+which was merely a hamlet, on the other, she had seen dozens of them,
+playing and quarrelling on the streets or peering wistfully out of
+dingy tenement windows.
+
+"Tomorrow is Saturday," she reflected, "and they've no better place to
+play in than the back streets and yards. It's a shame. There's work
+for our philanthropists here, but they don't seem to see it. Well, I'm
+so sorry for them it hurts me to look at them, but I can't do
+anything."
+
+Miss Cordelia sighed and then brightened up, because she realized that
+she was turning her back upon Pottstown for two blissful days and
+going to Point Pleasant, which had just one straggling, elm-shaded
+street hedging on old-fashioned gardens and cosy little houses and
+trailing off into the real country in a half-hour's walk.
+
+Miss Cordelia lived alone in a tiny house at Point Pleasant. It was so
+tiny that you would have wondered how anyone could live in it.
+
+"But it's plenty big for a little old maid like me," Miss Cordelia
+would have told you. "And it's my own--I'm queen there. There's solid
+comfort in having one spot for your own self. To be sure, if I had
+less land and more house it would be better."
+
+Miss Cordelia always laughed here. It was one of her jokes. There was
+a four-acre field behind the house. Both had been left to her by an
+uncle. The field was of no use to Miss Cordelia; she didn't keep a cow
+and she hadn't time to make a garden. But she liked her field; when
+people asked her why she didn't sell it she said:
+
+"I'm fond of it. I like to walk around in it when the grass grows
+long. And it may come in handy some time. Mother used to say if you
+kept anything seven years it would come to use. I've had my field a
+good bit longer than that, but maybe the time will come yet. Meanwhile
+I rejoice in the fact that I am a landed proprietor to the extent of
+four acres."
+
+Miss Cordelia had thought of converting her field into a playground
+for the factory children and asking detachments of them over on
+Saturday afternoon. But she knew that her Point Pleasant neighbours
+would object to this, so that project was dropped.
+
+When Miss Cordelia pushed open her little gate, hung crookedly in a
+very compact and prim spruce hedge, she stopped in amazement and said,
+"Well, for pity's sake!"
+
+Cynthia Ann Flemming, who lived on the other side of the spruce hedge,
+now came hurrying over.
+
+"Good evening, Cordelia. I have a letter that was left with me for
+you."
+
+"But--that--horse," said Miss Cordelia, with a long breath between
+every word. "Where did he come from? Tied at my front door--and he's
+eaten the tops off every one of my geraniums! Where's his owner or
+rider or something?"
+
+The horse in question was a mild-eyed, rather good-looking quadruped,
+tied by a halter to the elm at Miss Cordelia's door and contentedly
+munching a mouthful of geranium stalks. Cynthia Ann came through the
+hedge with the letter.
+
+"Maybe this will explain," she said. "Same boy brought it as brought
+the horse--a little freckly chap mostly all grin and shirtsleeves.
+Said he was told to take the letter and horse to Miss Cordelia Herry,
+Elm Street, Point Pleasant, and he couldn't wait. So he tied the
+creature in there and left the letter with me. He came half an hour
+ago. Well, he has played havoc with your geraniums and no mistake."
+
+Miss Cordelia opened and read her letter. When she finished it she
+looked at the curious Cynthia Ann solemnly.
+
+"Well, if that isn't John Drew all over! I suspected he was at the
+bottom of it as soon as I laid my eyes on that animal. John Drew is a
+cousin of mine. He's been living out at Poplar Valley and he writes me
+that he has gone out west, and wants me to take 'old Nap.' I suppose
+that is the horse. He says that Nap is getting old and not much use
+for work and he couldn't bear the thought of shooting him or selling
+him to someone who might ill-treat him, so he wants me to take him and
+be kind to him for old times' sake. John and I were just like brother
+and sister when we were children. If this isn't like him nothing ever
+was. He was always doing odd things and thinking they were all right.
+And now he's off west and here is the horse. If it were a cat or a
+dog--but a horse!"
+
+"Your four-acre field will come in handy now," said Cynthia Ann
+jestingly.
+
+"So it will." Miss Cordelia spoke absently. "The very thing! Yes, I'll
+put him in there."
+
+"But you don't really mean that you're going to keep the horse, are
+you?" protested Cynthia Ann. "Why, he is no good to you--and think of
+the expense of feeding him!"
+
+"I'll keep him for a while," said Miss Cordelia briskly. "As you say,
+there is the four-acre field. It will keep him in eating for a while.
+I always knew that field had a mission. Poor John Drew! I'd like to
+oblige him for old times' sake, as he says, although this is as crazy
+as anything he ever did. But I have a plan. Meanwhile, I can't feed
+Nap on geraniums."
+
+Miss Cordelia always adapted herself quickly and calmly to new
+circumstances. "It is never any use to get in a stew about things,"
+she was wont to say. So now she untied Nap gingerly, with many rueful
+glances at her geraniums, and led him away to the field behind the
+house, where she tied him safely to a post with such an abundance of
+knots that there was small fear of his getting away.
+
+When the mystified Cynthia Ann had returned home Miss Cordelia set
+about getting her tea and thinking over the plan that had come to her
+concerning her white elephant.
+
+"I can keep him for the summer," she said. "I'll have to dispose of
+him in the fall for I've no place to keep him in, and anyway I
+couldn't afford to feed him. I'll see if I can borrow Mr. Griggs's
+express wagon for Saturday afternoons, and if I can those poor factory
+children in my grade shall have a weekly treat or my name is not
+Cordelia Herry. I'm not so sure but that John Drew has done a good
+thing after all. Poor John! He always did take things so for granted."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+All the point pleasant people soon knew about Miss Cordelia's
+questionable windfall, and she was overwhelmed with advice and
+suggestions. She listened to all tranquilly and then placidly followed
+her own way. Mr. Griggs was very obliging in regard to his old express
+wagon, and the next Saturday Point Pleasant was treated to a mild
+sensation--nothing less than Miss Cordelia rattling through the
+village, enthroned on the high seat of Mr. Griggs's yellow express
+wagon, drawn by old Nap who, after a week of browsing idleness in the
+four-acre field, was quite frisky and went at a decided amble down Elm
+Street and across the bridge. The long wagon had been filled up with
+board seats, and when Miss Cordelia came back over the bridge the
+boards were crowded with factory children--pale-faced little creatures
+whose eyes were aglow with pleasure at this unexpected outing.
+
+Miss Cordelia drove straight out to the big pine-clad hills of
+Deepdale, six miles from Pottstown. Then she tied Nap in a convenient
+lane and turned the children loose to revel in the woods and fields.
+How they did enjoy themselves! And how Miss Cordelia enjoyed seeing
+them enjoy themselves!
+
+When dinner time came she gathered them all around her and went to the
+wagon. In it she had a basket of bread and butter.
+
+"I can't afford anything more," she told Cynthia Ann, "but they must
+have something to stay their little stomachs. And I can get some water
+at a farmhouse."
+
+Miss Cordelia had had her eye on a certain farmhouse all the morning.
+She did not know anything about the people who lived there, but she
+liked the looks of the place. It was a big, white, green-shuttered
+house, throned in wide-spreading orchards, with a green sweep of
+velvety lawn in front.
+
+To this Miss Cordelia took her way, surrounded by her small
+passengers, and they all trooped into the great farmhouse yard just as
+a big man stepped out of a nearby barn. As he approached, Miss
+Cordelia thought she had never seen anybody so much like an incarnate
+smile before. Smiles of all kinds seemed literally to riot over his
+ruddy face and in and out of his eyes and around the corners of his
+mouth.
+
+"Well, well, well!" he said, when he came near enough to be heard. "Is
+this a runaway school, ma'am?"
+
+"I'm the runaway schoolma'am," responded Miss Cordelia with a twinkle.
+"And these are a lot of factory children I've brought out for a
+Saturday treat. I thought I might get some water from your well, and
+maybe you will lend us a tin dipper or two?"
+
+"Water? Tut, tut!" said the big man, with three distinct smiles on his
+face. "Milk's the thing, ma'am--milk. I'll tell my housekeeper to
+bring some out. And all of you come over to the lawn and make
+yourselves at home. Bless you, ma'am, I'm fond of children. My name is
+Smiles, ma'am--Abraham Smiles."
+
+"It suits you," said Miss Cordelia emphatically, before she thought,
+and then blushed rosy-red over her bluntness.
+
+Mr. Smiles laughed. "Yes, I guess I always have an everlasting grin
+on. Had to live up to my name, you see, in spite of my naturally
+cantankerous disposition; But come this way, ma'am, I can see the
+hunger sticking out of those youngsters' eyes. We'll have a sort of
+impromptu picnic here and now, I'll tell my housekeeper to send out
+some jam too."
+
+While the children devoured their lunch Miss Cordelia found herself
+telling Mr. Smiles all about old Nap and her little project.
+
+"I'm going to bring out a load every fine Saturday all summer," she
+said. "It's all I can do. They enjoy it so, the little creatures. It's
+terrible to think how cramped their lives are. They just exist in
+soot. Some of them here never saw green fields before today."
+
+Mr. Smiles listened and beamed and twinkled until Miss Cordelia felt
+almost as dazzled as if she were looking at the sun.
+
+"Look here, ma'am, I like this plan of yours and I want to have a hand
+in helping it along. Bring your loads of children out here every
+Saturday, right here to Beechwood Farm, and turn them loose in my
+beech woods and upland pastures. I'll put up some swings for them and
+have some games, and I'll provide the refreshments also. Trouble,
+ma'am? No, trouble and I ain't on speaking terms. It'll be a pleasure,
+ma'am. I'm fond of children even if I am a grumpy cross-grained old
+bachelor. If you can give up your own holiday to give them a good
+time, surely I can do something too."
+
+When Miss Cordelia and her brood of tired, happy little lads and
+lasses ambled back to town in the golden dusk she felt that the
+expedition had been an emphatic success. Even old Nap seemed to jog
+along eye-deep in satisfaction. Probably he was ruminating on the
+glorious afternoon he had spent in Mr. Smiles's clover pasture.
+
+Every fine Saturday that summer Miss Cordelia took some of the factory
+children to the country. The Point Pleasant people nicknamed her
+equipage "Miss Cordelia's accommodation," and it became a mild
+standing joke.
+
+As for Mr. Smiles, he proved a valuable assistant. Like Miss Cordelia,
+he gave his Saturdays over to the children, and high weekly revel was
+held at Beechwood Farm.
+
+But when the big bronze and golden leaves began to fall in the beech
+woods, Miss Cordelia sorrowfully realized that the summer was over and
+that the weekly outings which she had enjoyed as much as the children
+must soon be discontinued.
+
+"I feel so sorry," she told Mr. Smiles, "but it can't be helped. It
+will soon be too cold for our jaunts and of course I can't keep Nap
+through the winter. I hate to part with him, I've grown so fond of
+him, but I must."
+
+She looked regretfully at Nap, who was nibbling Mr. Smiles's clover
+aftermath. He was sleek and glossy. It had been the golden summer of
+Nap's life.
+
+Mr. Smiles coughed in an embarrassed fashion. Miss Cordelia looked at
+him and was amazed to see that not a smile was on or about his face.
+He looked absurdly serious.
+
+"I want to buy Nap," he said in a sepulchral tone, "but that is not
+the only thing I want. I want you too, ma'am. I'm tired of being a
+cross old bachelor. I think I'd like to be a cross old husband, for a
+change. Do you think you could put up with me in that capacity, Miss
+Cordelia, my dear?"
+
+Miss Cordelia gave a half gasp and then she had to laugh. "Oh, Mr.
+Smiles, I'll agree to anything if you'll only smile again. It seems
+unnatural to see you look so solemn."
+
+The smiles at once broke loose and revelled over her wooer's face.
+
+"Then you will come?" he said eagerly.
+
+Half an hour later they had their plans made. At New Year's Miss
+Cordelia was to leave her school and sooty Pottstown and come to be
+mistress of Beechwood Farm.
+
+"And look here," said Mr. Smiles. "Every fine Saturday you shall have
+a big, roomy sleigh and Nap, and drive into town for some children and
+bring them out here for their weekly treat as usual. The house is
+large enough to hold them, goodness knows, and if it isn't there are
+the barns for the overflow. This is going to be our particular pet
+charity all our lives, ma'am--I mean Cordelia, my dear."
+
+"Blessings on old Nap," said Miss Cordelia with a happy light in her
+eyes.
+
+"He shall live in clover for the rest of his days," added Mr. Smiles
+smilingly.
+
+
+
+
+Ned's Stroke of Business
+
+
+"Jump in, Ned; I can give you a lift if you're going my way." Mr.
+Rogers reined up his prancing grey horse, and Ned Allen sprang lightly
+into the comfortable cutter. The next minute they were flying down the
+long, glistening road, rosy-white in the sunset splendour. The first
+snow of the season had come, and the sleighing was, as Ned said,
+"dandy."
+
+"Going over to Windsor, I suppose," said Mr. Rogers, with a glance at
+the skates that were hanging over Ned's shoulder.
+
+"Yes, sir; all the Carleton boys are going over tonight. The moon is
+out, and the ice is good. We have to go in a body, or the Windsor
+fellows won't leave us alone. There's safety in numbers."
+
+"Pretty hard lines when boys have to go six miles for a skate,"
+commented Mr. Rogers.
+
+"Well, it's that or nothing," laughed Ned. "There isn't a saucerful of
+ice any nearer, except that small pond in Old Dutcher's field, behind
+his barn. And you know Old Dutcher won't allow a boy to set foot
+there. He says they would knock down his fences climbing over them,
+and like as not set fire to his barn."
+
+"Old Dutcher was always a crank," said Mr. Rogers, "and doubtless will
+be to the end. By the way, I heard a rumour to the effect that you are
+soon going to take a course at the business college in Trenton. I hope
+it's true."
+
+Ned's frank face clouded over. "I'm afraid not, sir. The truth is, I
+guess Mother can't afford it. Of course, Aunt Ella has very kindly
+offered to board me free for the term, but fees, books, and so on
+would require at least fifty dollars. I don't expect to go."
+
+"That's a pity. Can't you earn the necessary money yourself?"
+
+Ned shook his head. "Not much chance for that in Carleton, Mr. Rogers.
+I've cudgelled my brains for the past month trying to think of some
+way, but in vain. Well, here is the crossroad, so I must get off.
+Thank you for the drive, sir."
+
+"Keep on thinking, Ned," advised Mr. Rogers, as the lad jumped out.
+"Perhaps you'll hit on some plan yet to earn that money, and if you
+do--well, it will prove that you have good stuff in you."
+
+"I think it would," laughed Ned to himself, as he trudged away. "A
+quiet little farming village in winter isn't exactly a promising field
+for financial operations."
+
+At Winterby Corners Ned found a crowd of boys waiting for him, and
+soon paired off with his chum, Jim Slocum. Jim, as usual, was
+grumbling because they had to go all the way to Windsor to skate.
+
+"Like as not we'll get into a free fight with the Windsorites when we
+get there, and be chevied off the ice," he complained.
+
+The rivalry which existed between the Carleton and the Windsor boys
+was bitter and of long standing.
+
+"We ought to be able to hold our own tonight," said Ned. "There'll be
+thirty of us there."
+
+"If we could only get Old Dutcher to let us skate on his pond!" said
+Jim. "It wouldn't hurt his old pond! And the ice is always splendid on
+it. I'd give a lot if we could only go there."
+
+Ned was silent. A sudden idea had come to him. He wondered if it were
+feasible. "Anyhow, I'll try it," he said to himself. "I'll interview
+Old Dutcher tomorrow."
+
+The skating that night was not particularly successful. The small pond
+at Windsor was crowded, the Windsor boys being out in force and,
+although no positive disturbance arose, they contrived to make matters
+unpleasant for the Carletonites, who tramped moodily homeward in no
+very good humour, most of them declaring that, skating or no skating,
+they would not go to Windsor again.
+
+The next day Ned Allen went down to see Mr. Dutcher, or Old Dutcher,
+as he was universally called in Carleton. Ned did not exactly look
+forward to the interview with pleasure. Old Dutcher was a crank--there
+was no getting around that fact. He had "good days" occasionally when,
+for him, he was fairly affable, but they were few and far between, and
+Ned had no reason to hope that this would be one. Old Dutcher was
+unmarried, and his widowed sister kept house for him. This poor lady
+had a decidedly lonely life of it, for Old Dutcher studiously
+discouraged visitors. His passion for solitude was surpassed only by
+his eagerness to make and save money. Although he was well-to-do, he
+would wrangle over a cent, and was the terror of all who had ever had
+dealings with him.
+
+Fortunately for Ned and his project, this did turn out to be one of
+Old Dutcher's good days. He had just concluded an advantageous bargain
+with a Windsor cattle-dealer, and hence he received Ned with what, for
+Old Dutcher, might be called absolute cordiality. Besides, although
+Old Dutcher disliked all boys on principle, he disliked Ned less than
+the rest because the boy had always treated him respectfully and had
+never played any tricks on him on Hallowe'en or April Fool's Day.
+
+"I've come down to see you on a little matter of business, Mr.
+Dutcher," said Ned, boldly and promptly. It never did to beat about
+the bush with Old Dutcher; you had to come straight to the point. "I
+want to know if you will rent your pond behind the barn to me for a
+skating-rink."
+
+Old Dutcher's aspect was certainly not encouraging. "No, I won't. You
+ought to know that. I never allow anyone to skate there. I ain't going
+to have a parcel of whooping, yelling youngsters tearing over my
+fences, disturbing my sleep at nights, and like as not setting fire to
+my barns. No, sir! I ain't going to rent that pond for no
+skating-rink."
+
+Ned smothered a smile. "Just wait a moment, Mr. Dutcher," he said
+respectfully. "I want you to hear my proposition before you refuse
+definitely. First, I'll give you ten dollars for the rent of the pond;
+then I'll see that there will be no running over your fields and
+climbing your fences, no lighting of fire or matches about it, and no
+'whooping and yelling' at nights. My rink will be open only from two
+to six in the afternoon and from seven to ten in the evening. During
+that time I shall always be at the pond to keep everything in order.
+The skaters will come and go by the lane leading from the barn to the
+road. I think that if you agree to my proposition, Mr. Dutcher, you
+will not regret it."
+
+"What's to prevent my running such a rink myself?" asked Old Dutcher
+gruffly.
+
+"It wouldn't pay you, Mr. Dutcher," answered Ned promptly. "The
+Carleton boys wouldn't patronize a rink run by you."
+
+Old Dutcher's eyes twinkled. It did not displease him to know that the
+Carleton boys hated him. In fact, it seemed as if he rather liked it.
+
+"Besides," went on Ned, "you couldn't afford the time. You couldn't be
+on the pond for eight hours a day and until ten o'clock at night. I
+can, as I've nothing else to do just now. If I had, I wouldn't have to
+be trying to make money by a skating-rink."
+
+Old Dutcher scowled. Ten dollars was ten dollars and, as Ned had said,
+he knew very well that he could not run a rink by himself. "Well," he
+said, half reluctantly, "I suppose I'll let you go ahead. Only
+remember I'll hold you responsible if anything happens."
+
+Ned went home in high spirits. By the next day he had placards out in
+conspicuous places--on the schoolhouse, at the forge, at Mr. Rogers's
+store, and at Winterby Corners--announcing that he had rented Mr.
+Dutcher's pond for a skating-rink, and that tickets for the same at
+twenty-five cents a week for each skater could be had upon application
+to him.
+
+Ned was not long left in doubt as to the success of his enterprise. It
+was popular from the start. There were about fifty boys in Carleton
+and Winterby, and they all patronized the rink freely. At first Ned
+had some trouble with two or three rowdies, who tried to evade his
+rules. He was backed up, however, by Old Dutcher's reputation and by
+the public opinion of the other boys, as well as by his own undoubted
+muscle, and soon had everything going smoothly. The rink flourished
+amain, and everybody, even Old Dutcher, was highly pleased.
+
+At the end of the season Ned paid Old Dutcher his ten dollars, and had
+plenty left to pay for books and tuition at the business college in
+Trenton. On the eve of his departure Mr. Rogers, who had kept a keen
+eye on Ned's enterprise, again picked him up on the road.
+
+"So you found a way after all, Ned," he said genially. "I had an idea
+you would. My bookkeeper will be leaving me about the time you will be
+through at the college. I will be wanting in his place a young man
+with a good nose for business, and I rather think that you will be
+that young man. What do you say?"
+
+"Thank you, sir," stammered Ned, scarcely believing his ears. A
+position in Mr. Rogers's store meant good salary and promotion. He had
+never dared to hope for such good fortune. "If you--think I can give
+satisfaction--"
+
+"You manipulated Old Dutcher, and you've earned enough in a very
+slow-going place to put you through your business-college term, so I
+am sure you are the man I'm looking for. I believe in helping those
+who have 'gumption' enough to help themselves, so we'll call it a
+bargain, Ned."
+
+
+
+
+Our Runaway Kite
+
+
+Of course there was nobody for us to play with on the Big Half Moon,
+but then, as Claude says, you can't have everything. We just had to
+make the most of each other, and we did.
+
+The Big Half Moon is miles from anywhere, except the Little Half Moon.
+But nobody lives there, so that doesn't count.
+
+We live on the Big Half Moon. "We" are Father and Claude and I and
+Aunt Esther and Mimi and Dick. It used to be only Father and Claude
+and I. It is all on account of the kite that there are more of us.
+This is what I want to tell you about.
+
+Father is the keeper of the Big Half Moon lighthouse. He has always
+been the keeper ever since I can remember, although that isn't very
+long. I am only eleven years old. Claude is twelve.
+
+In winter, when the harbour is frozen over, there isn't any need of a
+light on the Big Half Moon, and we all move over to the mainland, and
+Claude and Mimi and Dick and I go to school. But as soon as spring
+comes, back we sail to our own dear island, so glad that we don't know
+what to do with ourselves.
+
+The funny part used to be that people always pitied us when the time
+came for us to return. They said we must be so lonesome over there,
+with no other children near us, and not even a woman to look after us.
+
+Why, Claude and I were never lonesome. There was always so much to do,
+and Claude is splendid at making believe. He makes the very best
+pirate chief I ever saw. Dick is pretty good, but he can never roar
+out his orders in the bloodcurdling tones that Claude can.
+
+Of course Claude and I would have liked to have someone to play with
+us, because it is hard to run pirate caves and things like that with
+only two. But we used to quarrel a good deal with the mainland
+children in winter, so perhaps it was just as well that there were
+none of them on the Big Half Moon. Claude and I never quarrelled. We
+used to argue sometimes and get excited, but that was as far as it
+ever went. When I saw Claude getting too excited I gave in to him. He
+is a boy, you know, and they have to be humoured; they are not like
+girls.
+
+As for having a woman to look after us, I thought that just too silly,
+and so did Claude. What did we need with a woman when we had Father?
+He could cook all we wanted to eat and make molasses taffy that was
+just like a dream. He kept our clothes all mended, and everything
+about the lighthouse was neat as wax. Of course I helped him lots. I
+like pottering round.
+
+He used to hear our lessons and tell us splendid stories and saw that
+we always said our prayers. Claude and I wouldn't have done anything
+to make him feel bad for the world. Father is just lovely.
+
+To be sure, he didn't seem to have any relations except us. This used
+to puzzle Claude and me. Everybody on the mainland had relations; why
+hadn't we? Was it because we lived on an island? We thought it would
+be so jolly to have an uncle and aunt and some cousins. Once we asked
+Father about it, but he looked so sorrowful all of a sudden that we
+wished we hadn't. He said it was all his fault. I didn't see how that
+could be, but I never said anything more about it to Father. Still, I
+did wish we had some relations.
+
+It is always lovely out here on the Big Half Moon in summer. When it
+is fine the harbour is blue and calm, with little winds and ripples
+purring over it, and the mainland shores look like long blue lands
+where fairies dwell. Away out over the bar, where the big ships go, it
+is always hazy and pearl-tinted, like the inside of the mussel shells.
+Claude says he is going to sail out there when he grows up. I would
+like to too, but Claude says I can't because I'm a girl. It is
+dreadfully inconvenient to be a girl at times.
+
+When it storms it is grand to see the great waves come crashing up
+against the Big Half Moon as if they meant to swallow it right down.
+You can't see the Little Half Moon at all then; it is hidden by the
+mist and spume.
+
+We had our pirate cave away up among the rocks, where we kept an old
+pistol with the lock broken, a rusty cutlass, a pair of knee boots,
+and Claude's jute beard and wig. Down on the shore, around one of the
+horns of the Half Moon, was the Mermaid's Pool, where we sailed our
+toy boats and watched for sea kelpies. We never saw any. Dick says
+there is no such thing as a kelpy. But then Dick has no imagination.
+It is no argument against a thing that you've never seen it. I have
+never seen the pyramids, either, but I know that there are pyramids.
+
+Every summer we had some hobby. The last summer before Dick and Mimi
+came we were crazy about kites. A winter boy on the mainland showed
+Claude how to make them, and when we went back to the Big Half Moon we
+made kites galore. Even pirating wasn't such good fun. Claude would go
+around to the other side of the Big Half Moon and we would play
+shipwrecked mariners signalling to each other with kites. Oh, it was
+very exciting.
+
+We had one kite that was a dandy. It was as big as we could make it
+and covered with lovely red paper; we had pasted gold tinsel stars all
+over it and written our names out in full on it--Claude Martin Leete
+and Philippa Brewster Leete, Big Half Moon Lighthouse. That kite had
+the most magnificent tail, too.
+
+It used to scare the gulls nearly to death when we sent up our kites.
+They didn't know what to make of them. And the Big Half Moon is such a
+place for gulls--there are hundreds of them here.
+
+One day there was a grand wind for kite-flying, and Claude and I were
+having a splendid time. We used our smaller kites for signalling, and
+when we got tired of that Claude sent me to the house for the big
+one. I'm sure I don't know how it happened, but when I was coming back
+over the rocks I tripped and fell, and my elbow went clear through
+that lovely kite. You would never have believed that one small elbow
+could make such a big hole. Claude said it was just like a girl to
+fall and stick her elbow through a kite, but I don't see why it should
+be any more like a girl than a boy. Do you?
+
+We had to hurry to fix the kite if we wanted to send it up before the
+wind fell, so we rushed into the lighthouse to get some paper. We knew
+there was no more red paper, and the looks of the kite were spoiled,
+anyhow, so we just took the first thing that came handy--an old letter
+that was lying on the bookcase in the sitting-room. I suppose we
+shouldn't have taken it, although, as matters turned out, it was the
+best thing we could have done; but Father was away to the mainland to
+buy things, and we never thought it could make any difference about an
+old yellow letter. It was one Father had taken from a drawer in the
+bookcase which he had cleaned out the night before. We patched the
+kite up with the letter, a sheet on each side, and dried it by the
+fire. Then we started out, and up went the kite like a bird. The wind
+was glorious, and it soared and strained like something alive. All at
+once--snap! And there was Claude, standing with a bit of cord in his
+hand, looking as foolish as a flatfish, and our kite sailing along at
+a fearful rate of speed over to the mainland.
+
+I might have said to Claude, So like a boy! but I didn't. Instead, I
+sympathized with him, and pointed out that it really didn't matter
+because I had spoiled it by jabbing my elbow through it. By this time
+the kite was out of sight, and we never expected to see or hear of it
+again.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A month later a letter came to the Big Half Moon for Father. Jake
+Wiggins brought it over in his sloop. Father went off by himself to
+read it, and such a queer-looking face as he had when he came back!
+His eyes looked as if he had been crying, but that couldn't be, I
+suppose, because Claude says men never cry. Anyhow, his face was all
+glad and soft and smiley.
+
+"Do you two young pirates and freebooters want to know what has become
+of your kite?" he said.
+
+Then he sat down beside us on the rocks at the Mermaid's Pool and told
+us the whole story, and read his letter to us. It was the most amazing
+thing.
+
+It seems Father had had relations after all--a brother and a sister in
+particular. But when he was a young man he quarrelled with his
+brother, who didn't treat him very well--but he's been dead for years,
+so I won't say a word against him--and had gone away from home. He
+never went back, and he never even let them know he was living.
+
+Father says that this was very wrong of him, and I suppose it was,
+since he says so; but I don't see how Father could do anything wrong.
+
+Anyway, he had a sister Esther whom he loved very much; but he felt
+bitter against her too, because he thought she took his brother's part
+too much. So, though a letter of hers, asking him to go back, did
+reach him, he never answered it, and he never heard anything more.
+Years afterward he felt sorry and went back, but his brother was dead
+and his sister had gone away, and he couldn't find out a single thing
+about her.
+
+So much for that; and now about the kite. The letter Father had just
+received was from his sister, our Aunt Esther and the mother of Dick
+and Mimi. She was living at a place hundreds of miles inland. Her
+husband was dead and, as we found out later, although she did not say
+a word about it in the letter, she was very poor. One day when Dick
+and Mimi were out in the woods looking for botany specimens they saw
+something funny in the top of a tree. Dick climbed up and got it. It
+was a big red kite with a patch on each side and names written on it.
+They carried it home to their mother. Dick has since told us that she
+turned as pale as the dead when she saw our names on it. You see,
+Philippa was her mother's name and Claude was her father's. And when
+she read the letter that was pasted over the hole in the kite she knew
+who we must be, for it was the very letter she had written to her
+brother so long ago. So she sat right down and wrote again, and this
+was the letter Jake Wiggins brought to the Big Half Moon. It was a
+beautiful letter. I loved Aunt Esther before I ever saw her, just from
+that letter.
+
+Next day Father got Jake to take his place for a few days, and he left
+Claude and me over on the mainland while he went to see Aunt Esther.
+When he came back he brought Aunt Esther and Dick and Mimi with him,
+and they have been here ever since.
+
+You don't know how splendid it is! Aunt Esther is such a dear, and
+Dick and Mimi are too jolly for words. They love the Big Half Moon as
+well as Claude and I do, and Dick makes a perfectly elegant
+shipwrecked mariner.
+
+But the best of it all is that we have relations now!
+
+
+
+
+The Bride Roses
+
+
+Miss Corona awoke that June morning with a sigh, the cause of which
+she was at first too sleepy to understand. Then it all came over her
+with a little sickening rush; she had fallen asleep with tear-wet
+lashes the night before on account of it.
+
+This was Juliet Gordon's wedding day, and she, Miss Corona, could not
+go to the wedding and was not even invited, all because of the
+Quarrel, a generation old, and so chronic and bitter and terrible that
+it always presented itself to Miss Corona's mental vision as spelled
+with a capital. Well might Miss Corona hate it. It had shut her up
+into a lonely life for long years. Juliet Gordon and Juliet's father,
+Meredith Gordon, were the only relations Miss Corona had in the world,
+and the old family feud divided them by a gulf which now seemed
+impassable.
+
+Miss Corona turned over on her pillows, lifted one corner of the white
+window-blind and peeped out. Below her a river of early sunshine was
+flowing through the garden, and the far-away slopes were translucent
+green in their splendour of young day, with gauzy, uncertain mists
+lingering, spiritlike, in their intervales. A bird, his sleek plumage
+iridescent in the sunlight, was perched on the big chestnut bough that
+ran squarely across the window, singing as if his heart would burst
+with melody and the joy of his tiny life. No bride could have wished
+anything fairer for her day of days, and Miss Corona dropped back on
+her pillows with another gentle sigh.
+
+"I'm so glad that the dear child has a fine day to be married," she
+said.
+
+Juliet Gordon was always "dear child" to Miss Corona, although the two
+had never spoken to each other in their lives.
+
+Miss Corona was a brisk and early riser as a rule, with a genuine
+horror of lazy people who lay late abed or took over-long to get their
+eyes well opened, but this morning she made no hurry about rising,
+even though scurrying footsteps, banging doors, and over-loud tinkling
+of dishes in the room below betokened that Charlotta was already up
+and about. And Charlotta, as poor Miss Corona knew only too well, was
+fatally sure to do something unfortunate if she were not under some
+careful, overseeing eye. To be sure, Charlotta's intentions were
+always good.
+
+But Miss Corona was not thinking about Charlotta this morning, and she
+felt so strong a distaste for her lonely, purposeless life that she
+was in no haste to go forth to meet another day of it.
+
+Miss Corona felt just the least little bit tired of living, although
+she feared it was very wicked of her to feel so. She lay there
+listlessly for half an hour longer, looking through a mist of tears at
+the portrait of her stern old father hanging on the wall at the foot
+of the bed, and thinking over the Quarrel.
+
+It had happened thirty years ago, when Miss Corona had been a girl of
+twenty, living alone with her father at the old Gordon homestead on
+the hill, with the big black spruce grove behind it on the north and
+far-reaching slopes of green fields before it on the south. Down in
+the little northern valley below the spruce grove lived her uncle,
+Alexis Gordon. His son, Meredith, had seemed to Corona as her own
+brother. The mothers of both were dead; neither had any other brother
+or sister. The two children had grown up together, playmates and
+devoted friends. There had never been any sentiment or lovemaking
+between them to mar a perfect comradeship. They were only the best of
+friends, whatever plans the fathers might have cherished for the union
+of their estates and children, putting the property consideration
+first, as the Gordons were always prone to do.
+
+But, if Roderick and Alexis Gordon had any such plans, all went by the
+board when they quarreled. Corona shivered yet over the bitterness of
+that time. The Gordons never did anything half-heartedly. The strife
+between the two brothers was determined and irreconcilable.
+
+Corona's father forbade her to speak to her uncle and cousin or to
+hold any communication with them. Corona wept and obeyed him. She had
+always obeyed her father; it had never entered into her mind to do
+anything else. Meredith had resented her attitude hotly, and from that
+day they had never spoken or met, while the years came and went, each
+making a little wider and more hopeless the gulf of coldness and anger
+and distrust.
+
+Ten years later Roderick Gordon died, and in five months Alexis Gordon
+followed him to the grave. The two brothers who had hated each other
+so unyieldingly in life slept very peaceably side by side in the old
+Gordon plot of the country graveyard, but their rancour still served
+to embitter the lives of their descendants.
+
+Corona, with a half-guilty sense of disloyalty to her father, hoped
+that she and Meredith might now be friends again. He was married, and
+had one little daughter. In her new and intolerable loneliness
+Corona's heart yearned after her own people. But she was too timid to
+make any advances, and Meredith never made any. Corona believed that
+he hated her, and let slip her last fluttering hope that the old
+breach would ever be healed.
+
+"Oh, dear! oh, dear!" she sobbed softly into her pillows. It seemed a
+terrible thing to her that one of her race and kin was to be married
+and she could not be present at the ceremony, she who had never seen a
+Gordon bride.
+
+When Miss Corona went downstairs at last, she found Charlotta sobbing
+in the kitchen porch. The small handmaiden was doubled up on the
+floor, with her face muffled in her gingham apron and her long braids
+of red hair hanging with limp straightness down her back. When
+Charlotta was in good spirits, they always hung perkily over each
+shoulder, tied up with enormous bows of sky-blue ribbon.
+
+"What have you done this time?" asked Miss Corona, without the
+slightest intention of being humorous or sarcastic.
+
+"I've--I've bruk your green and yaller bowl," sniffed Charlotta.
+"Didn't mean to, Miss C'rona. It jest slipped out so fashion 'fore I
+c'd grab holt on it. And it's bruk into forty millyun pieces. Ain't I
+the onluckiest girl?"
+
+"You certainly are," sighed Miss Corona. At any other time she would
+have been filled with dismay over the untoward fate of her green and
+yellow bowl, which had belonged to her great-grandmother and had stood
+on the hall table to hold flowers as long as she could remember. But
+just now her heart was so sore over the Quarrel that there was no room
+for other regrets. "Well, well, crying won't mend it. I suppose it is
+a judgment on me for staying abed so late. Go and sweep up the pieces,
+and do try and be a little more careful, Charlotte."
+
+"Yes'm," said Charlotta meekly. She dared not resent being called
+Charlotte just then. "And I'll tell you what I'll do, ma'am, to make
+up, I'll go and weed the garden. Yes'm, I'll do it beautiful."
+
+"And pull up more flowers than weeds," Miss Corona reflected
+mournfully. But it did not matter; nothing mattered. She saw Charlotta
+sally forth into the garden with a determined, do-or-die expression
+surmounting her freckles, without feeling interest enough to go and
+make sure that she did not root out all the late asters in her tardy
+and wilfully postponed warfare on weeds.
+
+This mood lasted until the afternoon. Then Miss Corona, whose heart
+and thoughts were still down in the festive house in the valley,
+roused herself enough to go out and see what Charlotta was doing.
+After finding out, she wandered idly about the rambling, old-fashioned
+place, which was full of nooks and surprises. At every turn you might
+stumble on some clump or tangle of sweetness, showering elusive
+fragrance on the air, that you would never have suspected. Nothing in
+the garden was planted quite where it should be, yet withal it was the
+most delightful spot imaginable.
+
+Miss Corona pushed her way into the cherry-tree copse, and followed a
+tiny, overgrown path to a sunshiny corner beyond. She had not been
+there since last summer; the little path was getting almost
+impassable. When she emerged from the cherry trees, somewhat rumpled
+and pulled about in hair and attire, but attended, as if by a
+benediction, by the aromatic breath of the mint she had trodden on,
+she gave a little cry and stood quite still, gazing at the rosebush
+that grew in the corner. It was so large and woody that it seemed more
+like a tree than a bush, and it was snowed over with a splendour of
+large, pure white roses.
+
+"Dear life," whispered Miss Corona tremulously, as she tiptoed towards
+it. "The bride roses have bloomed again! How very strange! Why, there
+has not been a rose on that tree for twenty years."
+
+The rosebush had been planted there by Corona's great-grandmother, the
+lady of the green and yellow bowl. It was a new variety, brought out
+from Scotland by Mary Gordon, and it bore large white roses which
+three generations of Gordon brides had worn on their wedding day. It
+had come to be a family tradition among the Gordons that no luck would
+attend the bride who did not carry a white rose from Mary Gordon's
+rose-tree.
+
+Long years ago the tree had given up blooming, nor could all the
+pruning and care given it coax a single blossom from it. Miss Corona,
+tinctured with the superstition apt to wait on a lonely womanhood,
+believed in her heart that the rosebush had a secret sympathy with the
+fortunes of the Gordon women. She, the last of them on the old
+homestead, would never need the bride roses. Wherefore, then, should
+the old tree bloom? And now, after all these years, it had flung all
+its long-hoarded sweetness into blossom again. Miss Corona thrilled at
+the thought. The rosebush had bloomed again for a Gordon bride, but
+Miss Corona was sure there was another meaning in it too; she
+believed it foretokened some change in her own life, some
+rejuvenescence of love and beauty like to that of the ancient
+rose-tree. She bent over its foam of loveliness almost reverently.
+
+"They have bloomed for Juliet's wedding," she murmured. "A Gordon
+bride must wear the bride roses, indeed she must. And this--why, it is
+almost a miracle."
+
+She ran, light-footedly as a girl, to the house for scissors and a
+basket. She would send Juliet Gordon the bride roses. Her cheeks were
+pink from excitement as she snipped them off. How lovely they were!
+How very large and fragrant! It was as if all the grace and perfume
+and beauty and glory of those twenty lost summers were found here at
+once in them. When Miss Corona had them ready, she went to the door
+and called, "Charlotte! Charlotte!"
+
+Now Charlotta, having atoned to her conscience for the destruction of
+the green and yellow bowl by faithfully weeding the garden, a task
+which she hated above all else, was singing a hymn among the sweet
+peas, and her red braids were over her shoulders. This ought to have
+warned Miss Corona, but Miss Corona was thinking of other things, and
+kept on calling patiently, while Charlotta weeded away for dear life,
+and seemed smitten with treble deafness.
+
+After a time Miss Corona remembered and sighed. She did hate to call
+the child that foolish name with its foreign sound. Just as if plain
+"Charlotte" were not good enough for her, and much more suitable to
+"Smith" too! Ordinarily Miss Corona would not have given in. But the
+case was urgent; she could not stand upon her dignity just now.
+
+"Charlotta!" she called entreatingly.
+
+Instantly Charlotta flew to the garden gate and raced up to the door.
+
+"Yes'm," she said meekly. "You want me, Miss C'rona?"
+
+"Take this box down to Miss Juliet Gordon, and ask that it be given to
+her at once," said Miss Corona, "Don't loiter, Charlotta. Don't stop
+to pick gum in the grove, or eat sours in the dike, or poke sticks
+through the bridge, or--"
+
+But Charlotta had gone.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Down in the valley, the other Gordon house was in a hum of excitement.
+Upstairs Juliet had gone to her invalid mother's room to show herself
+in her wedding dress to the pale little lady lying on the sofa. She
+was a tall, stately young girl with the dark grey Gordon eyes and the
+pure creaminess of colouring, flawless as a lily petal. Her face was a
+very sweet one, and the simple white dress she wore became her dainty,
+flowerlike beauty as nothing elaborate could have done.
+
+"I'm not going to put on my veil until the last moment," she said
+laughingly. "I would feel married right away if I did. And oh, Mother
+dear, isn't it too bad? My roses haven't come. Father is back from the
+station, and they were not there. I am so disappointed. Romney
+ordered pure white roses because I said a Gordon bride must carry
+nothing else. Come in"--as a knock sounded at the door.
+
+Laura Burton, Juliet's cousin and bridesmaid, entered with a box.
+
+"Juliet dear, the funniest little red-headed girl with the most
+enormous freckles has just brought this for you. I haven't an idea
+where she came from; she looked like a messenger from pixy-land."
+
+Juliet opened the box and gave a cry.
+
+"Oh, Mother, look--look! What perfect roses! Who could have sent them?
+Oh, here's a note from--from--why, Mother, it's from Cousin Corona."
+
+    "My dear child," ran the letter in Miss Corona's fine,
+    old-fashioned script. "I am sending you the Gordon bride roses.
+    The rose-tree has bloomed for the first time in twenty years, my
+    dear, and it must surely be in honour of your wedding day. I
+    hope you will wear them for, although I have never known you, I
+    love you very much. I was once a dear friend of your father's.
+    Tell him to let you wear the roses I send for old times' sake. I
+    wish you every happiness, my dear.
+
+                                  "Your affectionate cousin,
+                                            "Corona Gordon."
+
+"Oh, how sweet and lovely of her!" said Juliet gently, as she laid the
+letter down. "And to think she was not even invited! I wanted to send
+her an invitation, but Father said it would be better not to--she was
+so hard and bitter against us that she would probably regard it as an
+insult."
+
+"He must have been mistaken about her attitude," said Mrs. Gordon. "It
+certainly is a great pity she was not invited, but it is too late now.
+An invitation sent two hours before the ceremony would be an insult
+indeed."
+
+"Not if the bride herself took it!" exclaimed Juliet impulsively.
+"I'll go myself to Cousin Corona, and ask her to come to my wedding."
+
+"Go yourself! Child, you can't do such a thing! In that dress...."
+
+"Go I must, Momsie. Why, it's only a three minutes' walk. I'll go up
+the hill by the old field-path, and no one will see me. Oh, don't say
+a word--there, I'm gone!"
+
+"That child!" sighed the mother protestingly, as she heard Juliet's
+flying feet on the stairs. "What a thing for a bride to do!"
+
+Juliet, with her white silken skirts caught up above grasses and dust,
+ran light-footedly through the green lowland fields and up the hill,
+treading for the first time the faint old field-path between the two
+homes, so long disused that it was now barely visible in its fringing
+grasses and star-dust of buttercups. Where it ran into the spruce
+grove was a tiny gate which Miss Corona had always kept in good
+repair, albeit it was never used. Juliet pushed up the rusty hasp and
+ran through.
+
+Miss Corona was sitting alone in her shadowy parlour, hanging over a
+few of the bride roses with falling tears, when something tall and
+beautiful and white, came in like a blessing and knelt by her chair.
+
+"Cousin Corona," said a somewhat breathless bride, "I have come to
+thank you for your roses and ask you to forgive us all for the old
+quarrel."
+
+"Dear child," said Miss Corona out of her amazement, "there is nothing
+to forgive. I've loved you all and longed for you. Dear child, you
+have brought me great happiness."
+
+"And you must come to my wedding," cried Juliet. "Oh, you must--or I
+shall think you have not really forgiven us. You would never refuse
+the request of a bride, Cousin Corona. We are queens on our wedding
+day, you know."
+
+"Oh, it's not that, dear child--but I'm not dressed--I--"
+
+"I'll help you dress. And I won't go back without you. The guests and
+the minister must wait if necessary--yes, even Romney must wait. Oh, I
+want you to meet Romney. Come, dear."
+
+And Miss Corona went. Charlotta and the bride got her into her grey
+silk and did her hair, and in a very short time she and Juliet were
+hurrying down the old field-path. In the hollow Meredith Gordon met
+them.
+
+"Cousin Meredith," said Miss Corona tremulously.
+
+"Dear Corona."
+
+He took both her hands in his, and kissed her heartily. "Forgive me
+for misunderstanding you so long. I thought you hated us all."
+
+Turning to Juliet, he said with a fatherly smile,
+
+"What a terrible girl it is for having its own way! Who ever heard of
+a Gordon bride doing such an unconventional thing? There, scamper off
+to the house before your guests come. Laura has made your roses up
+into what she calls 'a dream of a bouquet,' I'll take Cousin Corona up
+more leisurely."
+
+"Oh, I knew that something beautiful was going to happen when the old
+rose-tree bloomed," murmured Miss Corona happily.
+
+
+
+
+The Josephs' Christmas
+
+
+The month before Christmas was always the most exciting and mysterious
+time in the Joseph household. Such scheming and planning, such putting
+of curly heads together in corners, such counting of small hoards,
+such hiding and smuggling of things out of sight, as went on among the
+little Josephs!
+
+There were a good many of them, and very few of the pennies; hence the
+reason for so much contriving and consulting. From fourteen-year-old
+Mollie down to four-year-old Lennie there were eight small Josephs in
+all in the little log house on the prairie; so that when each little
+Joseph wanted to give a Christmas box to each of the other little
+Josephs, and something to Father and Mother Joseph besides, it is no
+wonder that they had to cudgel their small brains for ways and means
+thereof.
+
+Father and Mother were always discreetly blind and silent through
+December. No questions were asked no matter what queer things were
+done. Many secret trips to the little store at the railway station two
+miles away were ignored, and no little Joseph was called to account
+because he or she looked terribly guilty when somebody suddenly came
+into the room. The air was simply charged with secrets.
+
+Sister Mollie was the grand repository of these; all the little
+Josephs came to her for advice and assistance. It was Mollie who for
+troubled small brothers and sisters did such sums in division as this:
+How can I get a ten-cent present for Emmy and a fifteen-cent one for
+Jimmy out of eighteen cents? Or, how can seven sticks of candy be
+divided among eight people so that each shall have one? It was Mollie
+who advised regarding the purchase of ribbon and crepe paper. It was
+Mollie who put the finishing touches to most of the little gifts. In
+short, all through December Mollie was weighed down under an avalanche
+of responsibility. It speaks volumes for her sagacity and skill that
+she never got things mixed up or made any such terrible mistake as
+letting one little Joseph find out what another was going to give
+him. "Dead" secrecy was the keystone of all plans and confidences.
+
+During this particular December the planning and contriving had been
+more difficult and the results less satisfactory than usual. The
+Josephs were poor at any time, but this winter they were poorer than
+ever. The crops had failed in the summer, and as a consequence the
+family were, as Jimmy said, "on short commons." But they made the
+brave best of their small resources, and on Christmas Eve every little
+Joseph went to bed with a clear conscience, for was there not on the
+corner table in the kitchen a small mountain of tiny--sometimes very
+tiny--gifts labelled with the names of recipients and givers, and
+worth their weight in gold if love and good wishes count for anything?
+
+It was beginning to snow when the small small Josephs went to bed, and
+when the big small Josephs climbed the stairs it was snowing thickly.
+Mr. and Mrs. Joseph sat before the fire and listened to the wind
+howling about the house.
+
+"I'm glad I'm not driving over the prairie tonight," said Mr. Joseph.
+"It's quite a storm. I hope it will be fine tomorrow, for the
+children's sake. They've set their hearts on having a sleigh ride, and
+it will be too bad if they can't have it when it's about all the
+Christmas they'll have this year. Mary, this is the first Christmas
+since we came west that we couldn't afford some little extras for
+them, even if 'twas only a box of nuts and candy."
+
+Mrs. Joseph sighed over Jimmy's worn jacket which she was mending.
+Then she smiled.
+
+"Never mind, John. Things will be better next Christmas, we'll hope.
+The children will not mind, bless their hearts. Look at all the little
+knick-knacks they've made for each other. Last week when I was over at
+Taunton, Mr. Fisher had his store all gayified up,' as Jim says, with
+Christmas presents. I did feel that I'd ask nothing better than to go
+in and buy all the lovely things I wanted, just for once, and give
+them to the children tomorrow morning. They've never had anything
+really nice for Christmas. But there! We've all got each other and
+good health and spirits, and a Christmas wouldn't be much without
+those if we had all the presents in the world."
+
+Mr. Joseph nodded.
+
+"That's so. I don't want to grumble; but I tell you I did want to get
+Maggie a 'real live doll,' as she calls it. She never has had anything
+but homemade dolls, and that small heart of hers is set on a real one.
+There was one at Fisher's store today--a big beauty with real hair,
+and eyes that opened and shut. Just fancy Maggie's face if she saw
+such a Christmas box as that tomorrow morning."
+
+"Don't let's fancy it," laughed Mrs. Joseph, "it is only aggravating.
+Talking of candy reminds me that I made a big plateful of taffy for
+the children today. It's all the 'Christmassy' I could give them. I'll
+get it out and put it on the table along with the children's presents.
+That can't be someone at the door!"
+
+"It is, though," said Mr. Joseph as he strode to the door and flung it
+open.
+
+Two snowed-up figures were standing on the porch. As they stepped in,
+the Josephs recognized one of them as Mr. Ralston, a wealthy merchant
+in a small town fifteen miles away.
+
+"Late hour for callers, isn't it?" said Mr. Ralston. "The fact is, our
+horse has about given out, and the storm is so bad that we can't
+proceed. This is my wife, and we are on our way to spend Christmas
+with my brother's family at Lindsay. Can you take us in for the night,
+Mr. Joseph?"
+
+"Certainly, and welcome!" exclaimed Mr. Joseph heartily, "if you don't
+mind a shakedown by the kitchen fire for the night. My, Mrs. Ralston,"
+as his wife helped her off with her things, "but you are snowed up!
+I'll see to putting your horse away, Mr. Ralston. This way, if you
+please."
+
+When the two men came stamping into the house again Mrs. Ralston and
+Mrs. Joseph were sitting at the fire, the former with a steaming hot
+cup of tea in her hand. Mr. Ralston put the big basket he was
+carrying down on a bench in the corner.
+
+"Thought I'd better bring our Christmas flummery in," he said. "You
+see, Mrs. Joseph, my brother has a big family, so we are taking them a
+lot of Santa Claus stuff. Mrs. Ralston packed this basket, and
+goodness knows what she put in it, but she half cleaned out my store.
+The eyes of the Lindsay youngsters will dance tomorrow--that is, if we
+ever get there."
+
+Mrs. Joseph gave a little sigh in spite of herself, and looked
+wistfully at the heap of gifts on the corner table. How meagre and
+small they did look, to be sure, beside that bulgy basket with its
+cover suggestively tied down.
+
+Mrs. Ralston looked too.
+
+"Santa Claus seems to have visited you already," she said with a
+smile.
+
+The Josephs laughed.
+
+"Our Santa Claus is somewhat out of pocket this year," said Mr. Joseph
+frankly. "Those are the little things the small folks here have made
+for each other. They've been a month at it, and I'm always kind of
+relieved when Christmas is over and there are no more mysterious
+doings. We're in such cramped quarters here that you can't move
+without stepping on somebody's secret."
+
+A shakedown was spread in the kitchen for the unexpected guests, and
+presently the Ralstons found themselves alone. Mrs. Ralston went over
+to the Christmas table and looked at the little gifts half tenderly
+and half pityingly.
+
+"They're not much like the contents of our basket, are they?" she
+said, as she touched the calendar Jimmie had made for Mollie out of
+cardboard and autumn leaves and grasses.
+
+"Just what I was thinking," returned her husband, "and I was thinking
+of something else, too. I've a notion that I'd like to see some of the
+things in our basket right here on this table."
+
+"I'd like to see them all," said Mrs. Ralston promptly. "Let's just
+leave them here, Edward. Roger's family will have plenty of presents
+without them, and for that matter we can send them ours when we go
+back home."
+
+"Just as you say," agreed Mr. Ralston. "I like the idea of giving the
+small folk of this household a rousing good Christmas for once.
+They're poor I know, and I dare say pretty well pinched this year like
+most of the farmers hereabout after the crop failure."
+
+Mrs. Ralston untied the cover of the big basket. Then the two of them,
+moving as stealthily as if engaged in a burglary, transferred the
+contents to the table. Mr. Ralston got out a small pencil and a note
+book, and by dint of comparing the names attached to the gifts on the
+table they managed to divide theirs up pretty evenly among the little
+Josephs.
+
+When all was done Mrs. Ralston said, "Now, I'm going to spread that
+tablecloth carelessly over the table. We will be going before
+daylight, probably, and in the hurry of getting off I hope that Mr.
+and Mrs. Joseph will not notice the difference till we're gone."
+
+It fell out as Mrs. Ralston had planned. The dawn broke fine and clear
+over a vast white world. Mr. and Mrs. Joseph were early astir;
+breakfast for the storm-stayed travellers was cooked and eaten by
+lamplight; then the horse and sleigh were brought to the door and Mr.
+Ralston carried out his empty basket.
+
+"I expect the trail will be heavy," he said, "but I guess we'd get to
+Lindsay in time for dinner, anyway. Much obliged for your kindness,
+Mr. Joseph. When you and Mrs. Joseph come to town we shall hope to
+have a chance to return it. Good-bye and a merry Christmas to you
+all."
+
+When Mrs. Joseph went back to the kitchen her eyes fell on the
+heaped-up table in the corner.
+
+"Why-y!" she said, and snatched off the cover.
+
+One look she gave, and then this funny little mother began to cry;
+but they were happy tears. Mr. Joseph came too, and looked and
+whistled.
+
+There really seemed to be everything on that table that the hearts of
+children could desire--three pairs of skates, a fur cap and collar, a
+dainty workbasket, half a dozen gleaming new books, a writing desk, a
+roll of stuff that looked like a new dress, a pair of fur-topped kid
+gloves just Mollie's size, and a china cup and saucer. All these were
+to be seen at the first glance; and in one corner of the table was a
+big box filled with candies and nuts and raisins, and in the other a
+doll with curling golden hair and brown eyes, dressed in "real"
+clothes and with all her wardrobe in a trunk beside her. Pinned to her
+dress was a leaf from Mr. Ralston's notebook with Maggie's name
+written on it.
+
+"Well, this is Christmas with a vengeance," said Mr. Joseph.
+
+"The children will go wild with delight," said his wife happily.
+
+They pretty nearly did when they all came scrambling down the stairs a
+little later. Such a Christmas had never been known in the Joseph
+household before. Maggie clasped her doll with shining eyes, Mollie
+looked at the workbasket that her housewifely little heart had always
+longed for, studious Jimmy beamed over the books, and Ted and Hal
+whooped with delight over the skates. And as for the big box of good
+things, why, everybody appreciated that. That Christmas was one to
+date from in that family.
+
+I'm glad to be able to say, too, that even in the heyday of their
+delight and surprise over their wonderful presents, the little Josephs
+did not forget to appreciate the gifts they had prepared for each
+other. Mollie thought her calendar just too pretty for anything, and
+Jimmy was sure the new red mittens which Maggie had knitted for him
+with her own chubby wee fingers, were the very nicest, gayest mittens
+a boy had ever worn.
+
+Mrs. Joseph's taffy was eaten too. Not a scrap of it was left. As Ted
+said loyally, "It was just as good as the candy in the box and had
+more 'chew' to it besides."
+
+
+
+
+The Magical Bond of the Sea
+
+
+A late September wind from the northwest was sweeping over the waters
+of Racicot Harbour. It blew in, strong with the tang of the salt seas,
+past the grim lighthouse rock on the one hand and the sandbars on the
+other, up the long, narrow funnel of darkly blue water, until it
+whistled among the masts of the boats at anchor and among the
+stovepipe chimneys of the fishing village. It was a wind that sang and
+piped and keened of many things--but what it sang to each listener was
+only what was in that listener's heart. And Nora Shelley, standing at
+the door of her father's bleached cottage on the grey sands, heard a
+new strain in it. The wind had sung often to her of the outer world
+she longed for, but there had never been the note of fulfilment in it
+before.
+
+There's a new life beyond, Nora, whistled the wind. A good life--and
+it's yours for the taking. You have but to put out your hand and all
+you've wished for will be in your grasp.
+
+Nora leaned out from the door to meet the wind. She loved that
+northwest gale; it was a staunch old friend of hers. Very slim and
+straight was Nora, with a skin as white as the foam flakes crisping
+over the sands, and eyes of the tremulous, haunting blue that deepens
+on the water after a fair sunset. But her hair was as black as
+midnight, and her lips blossomed out with a ripe redness against the
+uncoloured purity of her face. She was far and away the most beautiful
+of the harbour girls, but hardly the most popular. Men and women alike
+thought her proud. Even her friends felt themselves called upon to
+make excuses for her unlikeness to themselves.
+
+Nora had dosed the door behind her to shut in the voices. She wanted
+to be alone with the wind while she made her decision. Before her the
+sandy shingle, made firm by a straggling growth of some pale sea-ivy,
+sloped down to the sapphire cup of the harbour. Around her were the
+small, uncouth houses of the village--no smaller or more uncouth than
+the one which was her home--with children playing noisily on the paths
+between them. The mackerel boats curtsied and nodded outside; beyond
+them the sharp tip of Sandy Point was curdled white with seagulls.
+Down at the curve of the cove a group of men were laughing and talking
+loudly in front of French Joe's fish-house. This was the life that she
+had always known.
+
+Across the harbour, on a fir-fringed headland, stood Dalveigh. John
+Cameron, childless millionaire, had built a summer cottage on that
+point two years ago, and given it the name of the old ancestral estate
+in Scotland. To the Racicot fishing folk the house and grounds were
+as a dream of enchantment made real. Few of them had ever seen
+anything like it.
+
+Nora Shelley knew Dalveigh well. She had been the Camerons' guest many
+times that summer, finding in the luxury and beauty of their
+surroundings something that entered with a strange aptness into her
+own nature. It was as if it were hers by right of fitness. And this
+was the life that might be hers, did she so choose.
+
+In reality, her choice was already made, and she knew it. But it
+pleased her to pretend for a little time that it was not, and to dally
+tenderly with-the old loves and emotions that tugged at her heart and
+clamoured to be remembered.
+
+Within, in the low-ceilinged living room, with its worn, uneven floor
+and its blackened walls hung with fish nets and oilskins, four people
+were sitting. John Cameron and his wife were given the seats of honour
+in the middle of the room. Mrs. Cameron was a handsome, well-dressed
+woman, with an expression that was discontented and, at times,
+petulant. Yet her face had a good deal of plain common sense in it,
+and not even the most critical of the Racicot folks could say that she
+"put on airs." Her husband was a small, white-haired man, with a
+fresh, young-looking face. He was popular in Racicot, for he mingled
+freely with the sailors and fishermen. Moreover, Dalveigh was an
+excellent market for fresh mackerel.
+
+Nathan Shelley, in his favourite corner behind the stove, sat lurching
+forward with his hands on his knees. He had laid aside his pipe out of
+deference to Mrs. Cameron, and it was hard for him to think without
+it. He wished his wife would go to work; it seemed uncanny to see her
+idle. She had sat idle only once that he remembered--the day they had
+brought Ned Shelley in, dank and dripping, after the August storm ten
+years before. Mrs. Shelley sat by the crooked, small-paned window and
+looked out down the harbour. The coat she had been patching for her
+husband when the Camerons came still lay in her lap, and she had
+folded her hands upon it. She was a big woman, slow of speech and
+manner, with a placid, handsome face--a face that had not visibly
+stirred even when she had heard the Camerons' proposition.
+
+They wanted Nora--these rich people who had so much in life wanted the
+blossom of girlhood that had never bloomed for them. John Cameron
+pleaded his cause well.
+
+"We will look on her as our own," he said at last. "We have grown to
+love her this summer. She is beautiful and clever--she has a right to
+more than Racicot can give her. You have other children--we are
+childless. And we do not take her from you utterly. You will see her
+every summer when we come to Dalveigh."
+
+"It won't be the same thing quite," said Nathan Shelley drily. "She'll
+belong to your life then--not ours. And no matter how many young ones
+folks has, they don't want to lose none of 'em. But I dunno as we
+ought to let our feelings stand in Nora's light. She's clever, and
+she's been hankering for more'n we can ever give her. I was the same
+way once. Lord, how I raged at Racicot! I broke away finally--went to
+a city and got work. But it wasn't no use. I'd left it too long. The
+sea had got into my blood. I toughed it out for two years, and then I
+had to come back. I didn't want to, mark you, but I had to come. Been
+here ever since. But maybe 'twill be different with the girl. She's
+younger than I was; if the hankering for the sea and the life of the
+shore hasn't got into her too deep, maybe she'll be able to cut loose
+for good. But you don't know how the sea calls to one of its own."
+
+Cameron smiled. He thought that this dry old salt was a bit of a poet
+in his own way. Very likely Nora got her ability and originality from
+him. There did not seem to be a great deal in the phlegmatic,
+good-looking mother.
+
+"What say, wife?" asked Shelley at last.
+
+His wife had said in her slow way, "Leave it to Nora," and to Nora it
+was left.
+
+When she came in at last, her face stung to radiant beauty by the
+northwest wind, she found it hard to tell them after all. She looked
+at her mother appealingly.
+
+"Is it go or stay, girl," demanded her father brusquely.
+
+"I think I'll go," said Nora slowly. Then, catching sight of her
+mother's face, she ran to her and flung her arms about her. "But I'll
+never forget you, Mother," she cried. "I'll love you always--you and
+Father."
+
+Her mother loosened the clinging arms and pushed her gently towards
+the Camerons.
+
+"Go to them," she said calmly. "You belong to them now."
+
+The news spread quickly over Racicot. Before night everyone on the
+harbour shore knew that the Camerons were going to adopt Nora Shelley
+and take her away with them. There was much surprise and more envy.
+The shore women tossed their heads.
+
+"Reckon Nora is in great feather," they said. "She always did think
+herself better than anyone else. Nate Shelley and his wife spoiled her
+ridiculous. Wonder what Rob Fletcher thinks of it?"
+
+Nora asked her brother to tell the news to Rob Fletcher himself, but
+Merran Andrews was before him. She was at Rob before he had fairly
+landed, when the fishing boats came in at sunset.
+
+"Have you heard the news, Rob? Nora's going away to be a fine lady.
+The Camerons have been daft about her all summer, and now they are
+going to adopt her."
+
+Merran wanted Rob herself. He was a big, handsome fellow, and
+well-off--the pick of the harbour men in every way. He had slighted
+her for Nora, and it pleased her to stab him now, though she meant to
+be nice to him later on.
+
+He turned white under his tan, but he did not choose to make a book of
+his heart for Merran's bold black eyes to read. "It's a great thing
+for her," he answered calmly. "She was meant for better things than
+can be found at Racicot."
+
+"She was always too good for common folks, if that is what you mean,"
+said Merran spitefully.
+
+Nora and Rob did not meet until the next evening, when she rowed
+herself home from Dalveigh. He was at the shore to tie up her boat and
+help her out. They walked up the sands together in the heart of the
+autumn sunset, with the northwest wind whistling in their ears and the
+great star of the lighthouse gleaming wanly out against the golden
+sky. Nora felt uncomfortable, and resented it. Rob Fletcher was
+nothing to her; he never had been anything but the good friend to whom
+she told her strange thoughts and longings. Why should her heart ache
+over him? She wished he would talk, but he strode along in silence,
+with his fine head drooping a little.
+
+"I suppose you have heard that I am going away, Rob?" she said at
+last.
+
+He nodded. "Yes, I've heard it from a hundred mouths, more or less,"
+he answered, not looking at her.
+
+"It's a splendid thing for me, isn't it?" dared Nora.
+
+"Well, I don't know," he said slowly. "Looking at it from the outside,
+it seems so. But from the inside it mayn't look the same. Do you
+think you'll be able to cut twenty years of a life out of your heart
+without any pain?"
+
+"Oh, I'll be homesick, if that is what you mean," said Nora
+petulantly. "Of course I'll be that at first. I expect it--but people
+get over that. And it is not as if I were going away for good. I'll be
+back next summer--every summer."
+
+"It'll be different," said Rob stubbornly, thinking as old Nathan
+Shelley had thought. "You'll be a fine lady--oh, all the better for
+that perhaps--but you'll not be the same. No, no, the new life will
+change you; not all at once, maybe, but in the end. You'll be one of
+them, not one of us. But will you be happy? That's the question I'm
+asking."
+
+In anyone else Nora would have resented this. But she never felt angry
+with Rob.
+
+"I think I shall be," she said thoughtfully. "And, anyway, I must go.
+It doesn't seem as if I could help myself if I wanted to.
+Something--out beyond there--is calling me, always has been calling me
+ever since I was a tiny girl and found out there was a big world far
+away from Racicot. And it always seemed to me that I would find a way
+to it some day. That was why I kept going to school long after the
+other girls stopped. Mother thought I'd better stop home; she said too
+much book learning would make me discontented and too different from
+the people I had to live along. But Father let me go; he understood;
+he said I was like him when he was young. I learned everything and
+read everything I could. It seems to me as if I had been walking along
+a narrow pathway all my life. And now it seems as if a gate were
+opened before me and I can pass through into a wider world. It isn't
+the luxury and the pleasure or the fine house and dresses that tempt
+me, though the people here think so--even Mother thinks so. But it is
+not. It's just that something seems to be in my grasp that I've always
+longed for, and I must go--Rob, I must go."
+
+"Yes, if you feel like that you must go," he answered, looking down at
+her troubled face gently. "And it's best for you to go, Nora. I
+believe that, and I'm not so selfish as not to be able to hope that
+you'll find all you long for. But it will change you all the more if
+it is so. Nora! Nora! Whatever am I going to do without you!"
+
+The sudden passion bursting out in his tone frightened her.
+
+"Don't, Rob, don't! And you won't miss me long. There's many another."
+
+"No, there isn't. Don't fling me that dry bone of comfort. There's no
+other, and never has been any other--none but you, Nora, and well you
+know it."
+
+"I'm sorry," she said faintly.
+
+"You needn't be," said Rob grimly. "After all, I'd rather love you
+than not, hurt as it will. I never had much hope of getting you to
+listen to me, so there's no great disappointment there. You're too
+good for me--I've always known that. A girl that is fit to mate with
+the Camerons is far above Rob Fletcher, fisherman."
+
+"I never had such a thought," protested Nora.
+
+"I know it," he said, casing himself up in his quietness again. "But
+it's so--and now I've got to lose you. But there'll never be any other
+for me, Nora."
+
+He left her at her father's door. She watched his stalwart figure out
+of sight around the point, and raged to find tears in her eyes and a
+bitter yearning in her heart. For a moment she repented--she would
+stay--she could not go. Then over the harbour flashed out the lights
+of Dalveigh. The life behind them glittered, allured, beckoned. Nay,
+she must go on--she had made her choice. There was no turning back
+now.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Nora Shelley went away with the Camerons, and Dalveigh was deserted.
+Winter came down on Racicot Harbour, and the colony of fisher folk at
+its head gave themselves over to the idleness of the season--a time
+for lounging and gossipping and long hours of lazy contentment smoking
+in the neighbours' chimney corners, when tales were told of the sea
+and the fishing. The Harbour laid itself out to be sociable in winter.
+There was no time for that in summer. People had to work eighteen
+hours out of the twenty-four then. In the winter there was spare time
+to laugh and quarrel, woo and wed and--were a man so minded--dream, as
+did Rob Fletcher in his loneliness.
+
+In a Racicot winter much was made of small things. The arrival of Nora
+Shelley's weekly letter to her father and mother was an event in the
+village. The post-mistress in the Cove store spread the news that it
+had come, and that night the Shelley kitchen would be crowded. Isobel
+Shelley, Nora's younger sister, read the letter aloud by virtue of
+having gone to school long enough to be able to pronounce the words
+and tell where the places named were situated.
+
+The Camerons had spent the autumn in New York and had then gone south
+for the winter. Nora wrote freely of her new life. In the beginning
+she admitted great homesickness, but after the first few letters she
+made no further mention of that. She wrote little of herself, but she
+described fully the places she had visited, the people she had met,
+the wonderful things she had seen. She sent affectionate messages to
+all her old friends and asked after all her old interests. But the
+letters came to be more and more like those of a stranger and one
+apart from the Racicot life, and the father and mother felt it.
+
+"She's changing," muttered old Nathan. "It had to be so--it's well for
+her that it is so--but it hurts. She ain't ours any more. We've lost
+the girl, wife, lost her forever."
+
+Rob Fletcher always came and listened to the letters in silence while
+the others buzzed and commented. Rob, so the Harbour folk said, was
+much changed. He had grown unsociable and preferred to stay home and
+read books rather than go a-visiting as did others. The Harbour folk
+shook their heads over this. There was something wrong with a man who
+read books when there was a plenty of other amusements. Jacob Radnor
+had read books all one winter and had drowned himself in the
+spring--jumped overboard from his dory at the herring nets. And that
+was what came of books, mark you.
+
+The Camerons came later to Dalveigh the next summer, on account of
+John Cameron's health, which was not good. It was the first of August
+before a host of servants came to put Dalveigh in habitable order, and
+a week later the family came. They brought a houseful of guests with
+them.
+
+At sunset on the day of her arrival Nora Shelley looked out cross the
+harbour to the fishing village. She was tired after her journey, and
+she had not meant to go over until the morning, but now she knew she
+must go at once. Her mother was over there; the old life called to
+her; the northwest wind swept up the channel and whistled alluringly
+to her at the window of her luxurious room. It brought to her the tang
+of the salt wastes and filled her heart with a great, bitter-sweet
+yearning.
+
+She was more beautiful than ever. In the year that had passed she had
+blossomed out to a gracious fulfilment of womanhood. Even the Camerons
+had wondered at her swift adaptation to her new surroundings. She
+seemed to have put Racicot behind her as one puts by an old garment.
+In everything she had held her own royally. Her adopted parents were
+proud of her beauty and her nameless, untamed charm. They had lavished
+every indulgence upon her. In those few short months she had lived
+more keenly and fully than in all her life before. The Nora Shelley
+who went away was not, so it would seem, the Nora Shelley who came
+back.
+
+But when she looked from her window to the waves and saw the star of
+the lighthouse and the blaze of the sunset in the window of the
+fishing-houses and heard the summons of the wind, something broke
+loose in her soul and overwhelmed her, like a wave of the sea. She
+must go at once--at once--at once. Not a moment could she wait.
+
+She was dressed for dinner, but with tingling fingers she threw off
+her costly gown and put on her dark travelling suit again. She left
+her hair as it was and knotted a crimson scarf about her head. She
+would slip away quietly to the boathouse, get Davy to launch the
+little sailboat for her--and then for a fleet skim over the harbour
+before that glorious wind! She hoped not to be seen, but Mrs. Cameron
+met her in the hall.
+
+"Nora!" she said in astonishment.
+
+"Oh, I must go, Aunty! I must go!" the girl cried feverishly. She was
+afraid Mrs. Cameron would try to prevent her going, and all at once
+she knew that she could not bear that.
+
+"Must go? Where? Dinner is almost ready, and--"
+
+"Oh, I don't want any dinner. I'm going home--I will sail over."
+
+"My dear child, don't be foolish. It's too late to go over the
+harbour tonight. They won't be expecting you. Wait until the morning."
+
+"No--oh, you don't understand. I must go--I must! My mother is over
+there."
+
+Something in the girl's last sentence or the tone in which it was
+uttered brought a look of pain to Mrs. Cameron's face. But she made no
+further attempt to dissuade her.
+
+"Well, if you must. But you cannot go alone--no, Nora, I cannot allow
+it. The wind is too high and it is too late for you to go over by
+yourself. Clark Bryant will take you."
+
+Nora would have protested but she knew it would be in vain. She
+submitted somewhat sullenly and walked down to the shore in silence.
+Clark Bryant strode beside her, humouring her mood. He was a tall,
+stout man, with an ugly, clever, sarcastic face. He was as clever as
+he looked, and was one of the younger millionaires whom John Cameron
+drew around him in the development of his huge financial schemes.
+Bryant was in love with Nora. This was why the Camerons had asked him
+to join their August house party at Dalveigh, and why he had accepted.
+It had occurred to Nora that this was the case, but as yet she had
+never troubled to think the situation over seriously.
+
+She liked Clark Bryant well enough, but just at the moment he was in
+the way. She did not want to take him over to Racicot--just why she
+could not have explained. There was in her no snobbish shame of her
+humble home. But he did not belong there; he was an alien, and she
+wished to go back to it for the first time alone.
+
+At the boathouse Davy launched the small sailboat and Nora took the
+tiller. She knew every inch of the harbour. As the sail filled before
+the wind and the boat sprang across the upcurling waves, her brief
+sullenness fell away from her. She no longer resented Clark Bryant's
+presence--she forgot it. He was no more to her than the mast by which
+he stood. The spell of the sea and the wind surged into her heart and
+filled it with wild happiness and measureless content. Over yonder,
+where the lights gleamed on the darkening shore under the high-sprung
+arch of pale golden sky, was home. How the wind whistled to welcome
+her back! The lash of it against her face--the flick of salt spray on
+her lips--the swing of the boat as it cut through the racing
+crests--how glorious it all was!
+
+Clark Bryant watched her, understanding all at once that he was
+nothing to her, that he had no part or lot in her heart. He was as one
+forgotten and left behind. And how lovely, how desirable she was! He
+had never seen her look so beautiful. The shawl had slipped down to
+her shoulders and her head rose out of it like some magnificent flower
+out of a crimson calyx. The masses of her black hair lifted from her
+face in the rush of the wind and swayed back again like rich shadows.
+Her lips were stung scarlet with the sea's sharp caresses, and her
+eyes, large and splendid, looked past him unseeing to the harbour
+lights of Racicot.
+
+When they swung in by the wharf Nora sprang from the boat before
+Bryant had time to moor it. Pausing for an instant, she called down to
+him, carelessly, "Don't wait for me. I shall not go back tonight."
+
+Then she caught her shawl around her head and almost ran up the wharf
+and along the shore. No one was abroad, for it was supper hour in
+Racicot. In the Shelley kitchen the family was gathered around the
+table, when the door was flung open and Nora stood on the threshold.
+For a moment they gazed at her as at an apparition. They had not known
+the precise day of her coming and were not aware of the Camerons'
+arrival at Dalveigh.
+
+"It's the girl herself. It's Nora," said old Nathan, rising from his
+bench.
+
+"Mother!" cried Nora. She ran across the room and buried her face in
+her mother's breast, sobbing.
+
+When the news spread, the Racicot people crowded in to see Nora until
+the house was full. They spent a noisy, merry, whole-hearted evening
+of the old sort. The men smoked and most of the women knitted while
+they talked. They were pleased to find that Nora did not put on any
+airs. Old Jonas Myers bluntly told her that he didn't see as her year
+among rich folks had done her much good, after all.
+
+"You're just the same as when you went away," he said. "They haven't
+made a fine lady of you. Folks here thought you'd be something
+wonderful."
+
+Nora laughed. She was glad that they did not find her changed. Old
+Nathan chuckled in his dry way. There was a difference in the girl,
+and he saw it, though the neighbours did not, but it was not the
+difference he had feared. His daughter was not utterly taken from him
+yet.
+
+Nora sat by her mother and was happy. But as the evening wore away she
+grew very quiet, and watched the door with something piteous in her
+eyes. Old Nathan noticed it and thought she was tired. He gave the
+curious neighbours a good-natured hint, and they presently withdrew.
+When they had all gone Nora went out to the door alone.
+
+The wind had died down and the shore, gemmed with its twinkling
+lights, was very still, for it was too late an hour for Racicot folk
+to be abroad in the mackerel season. The moon was rising and the
+harbour was a tossing expanse of silver waves. The mellow light fell
+on a tall figure lurking at the angle of the road that led past the
+Shelley cottage. Nora saw and recognized it. She flew down the sandy
+slope with outstretched hands.
+
+"Rob--Rob!"
+
+"Nora!" he said huskily, holding out his hand. But she flung herself
+on his breast and clung to him, half laughing, half crying.
+
+"Oh, Rob! I've been looking for you all the evening. Every time there
+was a step I said to myself, 'That is Rob, now.' And when the door
+opened to let in another, my heart died within me. I dared not even
+ask after you for fear of what they might tell me. Why didn't you
+come?"
+
+"I didn't know that I'd be welcome," he whispered, holding her closer
+to him. "I've been hanging about thinking to get a glimpse of you
+unbeknown. I thought maybe you wouldn't want to see me tonight."
+
+"Not want to see you! Oh, Rob, this evening at Dalveigh, when I looked
+across to Racicot, it was you I thought of before all--even before
+Mother."
+
+She drew back and looked at him with her soul in her eyes.
+
+"What a splendid fellow you are--how handsome you are, Rob!" she
+cried. All the reserve of womanhood fell away from her in the inrush
+of emotions. For the moment she was a child again, telling out her
+thoughts with all a child's frankness. "I've been in a dream this past
+year--a lovely dream--a fair dream, but only a dream, after all. And
+now I've wakened. And you are part of the wakening--the best part! Oh,
+to think I never knew before!"
+
+"Knew what, my girl?"
+
+He had her close against his heart now; the breath of her lips mingled
+with his, but he would not kiss her yet.
+
+"That I loved you," she whispered back. "Oh, Rob, you are all the
+world to me. I belong to you and the sea. But I never knew it until I
+crossed the harbour tonight. Then I knew--it came to me all at once,
+like a flood of understanding. I knew I could never go away
+again--that I must stay here forever where I could hear that call of
+wind and waves. The new life was good--good--but it could not go deep
+enough. And when you did not come I knew what was in my heart for you
+as well."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+That night Nora lay beside her sisters in the tiny room that looked
+out on the harbour. The younger girls slept soundly, but Nora kept
+awake to listen to the laughter of the wind outside, and con over what
+she and Rob had said to each other. There was no blot on her happiness
+save a sorry wonder what the Camerons would say when they knew.
+
+"They will think me ungrateful and fickle," she sighed. "They don't
+know that I can't help it even if I would. They will never
+understand."
+
+Nor did they. When Nora told them that she was going back to Racicot,
+they laughed at her kindly at first, treating it as the passing whim
+of a homesick girl. Later, when they came to understand that she meant
+it, they were grieved and angry. There were scenes of pleading and
+tears and reproaches. Nora cried bitterly in Mrs. Cameron's arms, but
+stood rock-firm. She could never go back to them--never.
+
+They appealed to Nathan Shelley finally, but he refused to say
+anything.
+
+"It can't be altered," he told them. "The sea has called her and
+she'll listen to naught else. I'm sorry enough for the girl's own
+sake. It would have been better for her if she could have cut loose
+from it all and lived your life, I dare say. But you've made a fair
+trial and it's of no use. I know what's in her heart--it was in mine
+once--and I'll say no word of rebuke to her. She's free to go or stay
+as she chooses--just as free as she was last year."
+
+Mrs. Cameron made one more appeal to Nora. She told the girl bitterly
+that she was ungrateful.
+
+"I'm not that," said Nora with quivering lips. "I love you, and I'm
+grateful to you. But your life isn't for me, after all. I thought it
+was--I longed so for it. And I loved it, too--I love it yet. But
+there's something stronger in me that holds me here."
+
+"I don't think you realize what you are doing, Nora. You have been a
+little homesick and you are glad to be back. But after we have gone
+and you must settle into the old Racicot life again, you will not be
+contented. You will find that your life with us will have unfitted you
+for this. There will be no real place for you here--nothing for you to
+do. You will be as a stranger here."
+
+"Oh, no. I am going to marry Rob Fletcher," said Nora proudly.
+
+"Marry Rob Fletcher! And you might have married Clark Bryant, Nora!"
+
+Nora shook her head. "That could never have been. I thought it might
+once--but I know better now. You see, I love Rob."
+
+There did not seem to be anything more to say after that. Mrs. Cameron
+did not try to say anything. She went away in sorrow.
+
+Nora cried bitterly after she had gone. But there were no tears in her
+eyes that night when she walked on the shore with Rob Fletcher. The
+wind whistled around them, and the stars came out in the great ebony
+dome of the sky over the harbour. Laughter and song of the fishing
+folk were behind them, and the deep, solemn call of the sea before.
+Over the harbour gleamed the score of lights at Dalveigh. Rob looked
+from them to Nora.
+
+"Do you think you'll ever regret yon life, my girl?"
+
+"Never, Rob. It seems to me now like a beautiful garment put on for a
+holiday and worn easily and pleasantly for a time. But I've put it off
+now, and put on workaday clothes again. It is only a week since I left
+Dalveigh, but it seems long ago. Listen to the wind, Rob! It is
+singing of the good days to be for you and me."
+
+He bent over and kissed her.
+
+"My own dear lass!" he said softly.
+
+
+
+
+The Martyrdom of Estella
+
+
+Estella was waiting under the poplars at the gate for Spencer Morgan.
+She was engaged to him, and he always came to see her on Saturday and
+Wednesday evenings. It was after sunset, and the air was mellow and
+warm-hued. The willow trees along the walk and the tall birches in the
+background stood out darkly distinct against the lemon-tinted sky. The
+breath of mint floated out from the garden, and the dew was falling
+heavily.
+
+Estella leaned against the gate, listening for the sound of wheels and
+dreamily watching the light shining out from the window of Vivienne
+LeMar's room. The blind was up and she could see Miss LeMar writing at
+her table. Her profile was clear and distinct against the lamplight.
+
+Estella reflected without the least envy that Miss LeMar was very
+beautiful. She had never seen anyone who was really beautiful
+before--beautiful with the loveliness of the heroines in the novels
+she sometimes read or the pictures she had seen.
+
+Estella Bowes was not pretty. She was a nice-looking girl, with clear
+eyes, rosy cheeks, and a pervading air of the content and happiness
+her life had always known. She was an orphan and lived with her uncle
+and aunt. In the summer they sometimes took a boarder for a month or
+two, and this summer Miss LeMar had come. She had been with them about
+a week. She was an actress from the city and had around her all the
+glamour of a strange, unknown life. Nothing was known about her. The
+Boweses liked her well enough as a boarder. Estella admired and held
+her in awe. She wondered what Spencer would think of this beautiful
+woman. He had not yet seen her.
+
+It was quite dark when he came. Estella opened the gate for him, but
+he got out of his buggy and walked up the lane beside her with his arm
+about her. Miss LeMar's light had removed to the parlour where she was
+singing, accompanying herself on the cottage organ. Estella felt
+annoyed. The parlour was considered her private domain on Wednesday
+and Saturday night, but Miss LeMar did not know that.
+
+"Who is singing?" asked Spencer. "What a voice she has!"
+
+"That's our new boarder, Miss LeMar," answered Estella. "She's an
+actress and sings and does everything. She is awfully pretty,
+Spencer."
+
+"Yes?" said the young man indifferently.
+
+He was not in the least interested in the Boweses' new boarder.
+Indeed, he considered her advent a nuisance. He pressed Estella closer
+to him, and when they reached the garden gate he kissed her. Estella
+always remembered that moment afterwards. She was so supremely happy.
+
+Spencer went off to put up his horse, and Estella waited for him on
+the porch steps, wondering if any other girl in the world could be
+quite so happy as she was, or love anyone as much as she loved
+Spencer. She did not see how it could be possible, because there was
+only one Spencer.
+
+When Spencer came back she took him into the parlour, half shyly, half
+proudly. He was a handsome fellow, with a magnificent physique. Miss
+LeMar stopped singing and turned around on the organ stool as they
+entered. The little room was flooded with a mellow light from the
+pink-globed lamp on the table, and in the soft, shadowy radiance she
+was as beautiful as a dream. She wore a dress of crepe, cut low in the
+neck. Estella had never seen anyone dressed so before. To her it
+seemed immodest.
+
+She introduced Spencer. He bowed awkwardly and sat stiffly down by the
+window with his eyes riveted on Miss LeMar's face. Estella, catching a
+glimpse of herself in the old-fashioned mirror above the mantel,
+suddenly felt a cold chill of dissatisfaction. Her figure had never
+seemed to her so stout and stiff, her brown hair so dull and prim, her
+complexion so muddy, her features so commonplace. She wished Miss
+LeMar would go out of the room.
+
+Vivienne LeMar watched the two faces before her; a hard gleam, half
+mockery, half malice, flashed into her eyes and a smile crept about
+her lips. She looked straight in Spencer Morgan's honest blue eyes and
+read there the young man's dazzled admiration. There was contempt in
+the look she turned on Estella.
+
+"You were singing when we came in," said Spencer. "Won't you go on,
+please? I am very fond of music."
+
+Miss LeMar turned again to the organ. The gleaming curves of her neck
+and shoulders rose out of their filmy sheathings of lace. Spencer,
+sitting where he could see her face with its rose-leaf bloom and the
+ringlets of golden hair clustering about it, gazed at her, unheeding
+of aught else. Estella saw his look. She suddenly began to hate the
+black-eyed witch at the organ--and to fear her as well. Why did
+Spencer look at her like that? She wished she had not brought him in
+at all. She felt commonplace and angry, and wanted to cry.
+
+Vivienne LeMar went on singing, drifting from one sweet love song into
+another. Once she looked up at Spencer Morgan. He rose quickly and
+went to her side, looking down at her with a strange fire in his eyes.
+
+Estella got up abruptly and left the room. She was angry and jealous,
+but she thought Spencer would follow her. When he did not, she could
+not believe it. She waited on the porch for him, not knowing whether
+she were more angry or miserable. She would not go back into the room.
+Vivienne LeMar had stopped singing. She could hear a low murmur of
+voices. When she had waited there an hour, she went in and upstairs to
+her room with ostentatious footsteps. She was too angry to cry or to
+realize what had happened, and still kept hoping all sorts of
+impossible things as she sat by her window.
+
+It was ten o'clock when Spencer went away and Vivienne LeMar passed
+up the hall to her room. Estella clenched her hands in an access of
+helpless rage. She was very angry, but under her fury was a horrible
+ache of pain. It could not be only three hours since she had been so
+happy! It must be more than that! What had happened? Had she made a
+fool of herself? Ought she to have behaved in any other way? Perhaps
+Spencer had come out to look for her after she had gone upstairs and,
+not finding her, had gone back to Miss LeMar to show her he was angry.
+This poor hope was a small comfort. She wished she had not acted as
+she had. It looked spiteful and jealous, and Spencer did not like
+people who were spiteful and jealous. She would show him she was sorry
+when he came back, and it would be all right.
+
+She lay awake most of the night, thinking out plausible reasons and
+excuses for Spencer's behaviour, and trying to convince herself that
+she had exaggerated everything absurdly. Towards morning she fell
+asleep and awoke hardly remembering what had happened. Then it rolled
+back upon her crushingly.
+
+But she rose and dressed in better spirits. It had been hardest to lie
+there and do nothing. Now the day was before her and something
+pleasant might happen. Spencer might come back in the evening. She
+would be doubly nice to him to make up.
+
+Mrs. Bowes looked sharply at her niece's dull eyes and pale cheeks at
+the breakfast table. She had her own thoughts of things. She was a
+large, handsome woman with a rather harsh face.
+
+"Did you go upstairs last night and leave Spencer Morgan with Miss
+LeMar?" she asked bluntly.
+
+"Yes," muttered Estella.
+
+"Did you have a quarrel with him?"
+
+"No."
+
+"What made you act so queer?"
+
+"I couldn't help it," faltered the girl.
+
+The food she was eating seemed to choke her. She wished she were a
+hundred miles away from everyone she ever knew.
+
+Mrs. Bowes gave a grunt of dissatisfaction.
+
+"Well, I think it is a pretty queer piece of business. But if you are
+satisfied, it isn't anyone else's concern, I suppose. He stayed with
+her till ten o'clock and when he left she did everything but kiss
+him--and she asked him to come back too. I heard."
+
+"Aunt!" protested the girl.
+
+She felt as if her aunt were striking her blow after blow on a
+sensitive, quivering spot. It was bad enough to know it all, but to
+hear it put into such cold, brutal words was more than she could
+endure. It seemed to make everything so horribly sure.
+
+"I guess I had a right to listen, hadn't I, with such goings on in my
+own house? You're a little fool, Estella Bowes! I don't believe that
+LeMar girl is a bit better than she ought to be. I wish I'd never
+taken her to board, and if you say so, I'll send her packing right off
+and not give her a chance to make mischief atween folks."
+
+Estella's suffering found vent in a burst of anger.
+
+"You needn't do anything of the sort!" she cried.
+
+"It's all nonsense about Spencer--it was my fault--and anyhow, if he
+is so easily led away as that, I am sure I don't want him! I wish to
+goodness, Aunt, you'd leave me alone!"
+
+"Oh, very well!" returned Mrs. Bowes in an offended tone. "It was for
+your own good I spoke. You know best, I suppose. If you don't care, I
+don't know that anyone else need."
+
+Estella went about her work like one in a dream. A great hatred had
+sprung up in her heart against Vivienne LeMar. The simple-hearted
+country girl felt almost murderous. The whole day seemed like a
+nightmare to her. When night came she dressed herself with feverish
+care, for she could not quell the hope that Spencer would surely come
+again. But he did not; and when she went up to bed, it did not seem as
+if she could live through the night. She lay staring wide-eyed through
+the darkness until dawn. She wished that she might cry, but no tears
+came to her relief.
+
+Next day she went to work with furious energy. When her usual tasks
+were done, she ransacked the house for other employment. She was
+afraid if she stopped work for a moment she would go mad. Mrs. Bowes
+watched her with a grim pity.
+
+At night she walked to prayer meeting in the schoolhouse a mile away.
+She always went, and Spencer was generally on hand to see her home. He
+was not there tonight. She wished she had not come. It was dreadful to
+have to sit still and think. She did not hear a word the minister
+said.
+
+She had to walk home with a crowd of girls and nerve herself to answer
+their merry sallies that no one might suspect. She was tortured by the
+fear that everyone knew her shame and humiliation and was pitying her.
+She got hysterically gay, but underneath all she was constantly trying
+to assign a satisfactory reason for Spencer's nonappearance. He was
+often kept away, and of course he was a little cross at her yet, as
+was natural. If he had come before her then, she could have gone down
+in the very dust at his feet and implored his forgiveness.
+
+When she reached home she went into the garden and sat down. The calm
+of the night soothed her. She felt happier and more hopeful. She
+thought over all that had passed between her and Spencer and all his
+loving assurances, and the recollection comforted her. She was almost
+happy when she went in.
+
+Tomorrow is Sunday, she thought when she wakened in the morning. Her
+step was lighter and her face brighter. Mrs. Bowes seemed to be in a
+bad humour. Presently she said bluntly:
+
+"Do you know that Spencer Morgan was here last night?"
+
+Estella felt the cold tighten round her heart. Yet underneath it
+sprang up a wild, sweet hope.
+
+"Spencer here! I suppose he forgot it was prayer meeting night. What
+did he say? Why didn't you tell him where I was?"
+
+"I don't know that he forgot it was prayer meeting night," returned
+Mrs. Bowes with measured emphasis. "'Tisn't likely his memory has
+failed so all at once. He didn't ask where you was. He took good care
+to go before you got home too. Miss LeMar entertained him. I guess she
+was quite capable of it."
+
+Estella bent over her dishes in silence. Her face was deadly white.
+
+"I'll send her away," said Mrs. Bowes pityingly. "When she's gone,
+Spencer will soon come back to you."
+
+"No, you won't!" said Estella fiercely. "If you do, she'll only go
+over to Barstows', and it would be worse than ever. I don't care--I'll
+show them both I don't care! As for Spencer coming back to me, do you
+think I want her leavings? He's welcome to go."
+
+"He's only just fooled by her pretty face," persisted Mrs. Bowes in a
+clumsy effort at consolation. "She's just turning his head, the hussy,
+and he isn't really in his proper senses. You'll see, he'll be ashamed
+of himself when he comes to them again. He knows very well in his
+heart that you're worth ten girls like her."
+
+Estella faced around.
+
+"Aunt," she said desperately, "you mean well, I know, but you're
+killing me! I can't stand it. For pity's sake, don't say another word
+to me about this, no matter what happens. And don't keep looking at me
+as if I were a martyr! She watches us and it would please her to think
+I cared. I don't--and I mean she shall see I don't. I guess I'm well
+rid of a fellow as fickle as he is, and I've sense enough to know it."
+
+She went upstairs then, tearing off her turquoise engagement ring as
+she climbed the steps. All sorts of wild ideas flashed through her
+head. She would go down and confront Vivienne LeMar--she would rush
+off and find Spencer and throw his ring at him, no matter where he
+was--she would go away where no one would ever see her again. Why
+couldn't she die? Was it possible people could suffer like this and
+yet go on living?
+
+"I don't care--I don't care!" she moaned, telling the lie aloud to
+herself, as if she hoped that by this means she would come to believe
+it.
+
+When twilight came she went out to the front steps and leaned her
+aching head against the honeysuckle trellis. The sun had just set and
+the whole world swam in dusky golden light. The wonderful beauty
+frightened her. She felt like a blot on it.
+
+While she stood there, a buggy came driving up the lane and wheeled
+about at the steps. In it was Spencer Morgan.
+
+Estella saw him and, in spite of the maddening throb of hope that
+seemed suddenly to transfigure the world for her, her pride rose in
+arms. Had Spencer come the night before, he would have found her
+loving and humble. Even now, had she but been sure that he had come to
+see her, she would have unbent. But was it the other? The torturing
+doubt stung her to the quick.
+
+She waited, stubbornly resolved that she would not speak first. It was
+not in her place. Spencer Morgan flicked his horse sharply with his
+whip. He dared not look at Estella, but he felt her uncompromising
+attitude. He was miserably ashamed of himself, and he felt angry at
+Estella for his shame.
+
+"Do you care to come for a drive?" he asked awkwardly, with a covert
+glance at the parlour windows.
+
+Estella caught the glance and her jealous perception instantly divined
+its true significance. Her heart died within her. She did not care
+what she said.
+
+"Oh," she cried with a toss of her head, "it's not me you want--it's
+Miss LeMar, isn't it? She's away at the shore. You'll find her there,
+I dare say."
+
+Still, in spite of all, she perversely hoped. If he would only make
+any sign, the least in the world, that he was sorry--that he still
+loved her--she could forgive him everything. When he drove away
+without another word, she could not believe it again. Surely he would
+not go--surely he knew she did not mean it--he would turn back before
+he got to the gate.
+
+But he did not. She saw him disappear around the turn of the road. She
+could not see if he took the shore lane further on, but she was sure
+he would. She was furious at herself for acting as she had done. It
+was all her fault again! Oh, if he would only give her another chance!
+
+She was in her room when she heard the buggy drive up again. She knew
+it was Spencer and that he had brought Vivienne LeMar home. Acting on
+a sudden wild impulse, the girl stepped out on the landing and
+confronted her rival as she came up the stairs.
+
+The latter paused at sight of the white face and anguished eyes. There
+was a little mocking smile on her lovely face.
+
+"Miss LeMar," said Estella in a quivering voice, "what do you mean by
+all this? You know I'm engaged to Spencer Morgan!"
+
+Miss LeMar laughed softly.
+
+"Really? If you are engaged to the young man, my dear Miss Bowes, I
+would advise you to look after him more sharply. He seems very willing
+to flirt, I should say."
+
+She passed on to her room with a malicious smile. Estella shrank back
+against the wall, humiliated and baffled. When she found herself
+alone, she crawled back to her room and threw herself face downward on
+the bed, praying that she might die.
+
+But she had to live through the horrible month that followed--a month
+so full of agony that she seemed to draw every breath in pain. Spencer
+never sought her again; he went everywhere with Miss LeMar. His
+infatuation was the talk of the settlement. Estella knew that her
+story was in everyone's mouth, and her pride smarted; but she carried
+a brave front outwardly. No one should say she cared.
+
+She believed that the actress was merely deluding Spencer for her own
+amusement and would never dream of marrying him. But one day the idea
+occurred to her that she might. Estella had always told herself that
+even if Spencer wanted to come back to her she would never take him
+back, but now, by the half-sick horror that came over her, she knew
+how strong the hope had really been and despised herself more than
+ever.
+
+One evening she was alone in the parlour. She had lit the lamp and was
+listlessly arranging the little room. She looked old and worn. Her
+colour was gone and her eyes were dull. As she worked, the door opened
+and Vivienne LeMar walked or, rather, reeled into the room.
+
+Estella dropped the book she held and gazed at her as one in a dream.
+The actress's face was flushed and her hair was wildly disordered. Her
+eyes glittered with an unearthly light. She was talking incoherently.
+The air was heavy with the fumes of brandy.
+
+Estella laughed hysterically. Vivienne LeMar was grossly intoxicated.
+This woman whom Spencer Morgan worshipped, for whom he had forsaken
+her, was reeling about the room, laughing idiotically, talking wildly
+in a thick voice. If he could but see her now!
+
+Estella turned white with the passion of the wild idea that had come
+to her. Spencer Morgan should see this woman in her true colours.
+
+She lost no time. Swiftly she left the room and locked the door behind
+her on the maudlin, babbling creature inside. Then she flung a shawl
+over her head and ran from the house. It was not far to the Morgan
+homestead. She ran all the way, hardly knowing what she was doing.
+Mrs. Morgan answered her knock. She gazed in bewilderment at Estella's
+wild face.
+
+"I want Spencer," said the girl through her white lips.
+
+The elder woman stepped back in dumb amazement. She knew and rued her
+son's folly. What could Estella want with him?
+
+The young man appeared in the doorway. Estella caught him by the arm
+and pulled him outside.
+
+"Miss LeMar wants you at once," she said hoarsely. "At once--you are
+to come at once!"
+
+"Has anything happened to her?" cried Spencer savagely. "Is she
+ill--is she--what is the matter?"
+
+"No, she is not ill. But she wants you. Come at once."
+
+He started off bareheaded. Estella followed him up the road
+breathlessly. Surely it was the strangest walk ever a girl had, she
+told herself with mirthless laughter. She pushed the key into his hand
+at the porch.
+
+"She's in the parlour," she said wildly. "Go in and look at her,
+Spencer."
+
+Spencer snatched the key and fitted it into the door. He was full of
+fear. Had Estella gone out of her mind? Had she done anything to
+Vivienne? Had she--
+
+As he entered, the actress reeled to her feet and came to meet him. He
+stood and gazed at her stupidly. This could not be Vivienne, this
+creature reeking with brandy, uttering such foolish words! What fiend
+was this in her likeness?
+
+He grew sick at heart and brain; she had her arms about him. He tried
+to push her away, but she clung closer, and her senseless laughter
+echoed through the room. He flung her from him with an effort and
+rushed out through the hall and down the road like a madman. Estella,
+watching him, felt that she was avenged. She was glad with a joy more
+pitiful than grief.
+
+Vivienne LeMar left the cottage the next day. Mrs. Bowes, suspecting
+some mystery, questioned Estella sharply, but could find out nothing.
+The girl kept her own counsel stubbornly. The interest and curiosity
+of the village centred around Spencer Morgan, and his case was well
+discussed. Gossip said that the actress had jilted him and that he was
+breaking his heart about it. Then came the rumour that he was going
+West.
+
+Estella heard it apathetically. Life seemed ended for her. There was
+nothing to look forward to. She could not even look back. All the past
+was embittered. She had never met Spencer since the night she went
+after him. She sometimes wondered what he must think of her for what
+she had done. Did he think her unwomanly and revengeful? She did not
+care. It was rather a relief to hear that he was going away. She would
+not be tortured by the fear of meeting him then. She was sure he would
+never come back to her. If he did, she would never forgive him.
+
+One evening in early harvest Estella was lingering by the lane gate at
+twilight. She had worked slavishly all day and was very tired, but she
+was loath to go into the house, where her trouble always seemed to
+weigh on her more heavily. The dusk, sweet night seemed to soothe her
+as it always did.
+
+She leaned her head against the poplar by the gate. How long Spencer
+Morgan had been standing by her she did not know, but when she looked
+up he was there. In the dim light she could see how haggard and
+hollow-eyed he had grown. He had changed almost as much as herself.
+
+The girl's first proud impulse was to turn coldly away and leave him.
+But some strange tumult in her heart kept her still. What had he come
+to say?
+
+There was a moment's fateful silence. Then Spencer spoke in a muffled
+voice.
+
+"I couldn't go away without seeing you once more, Estella, to say
+good-bye. Perhaps you won't speak to me. You must hate me. I deserve
+it."
+
+He paused, but she said no word. She could not. After a space, he went
+wistfully on.
+
+"I know you can never forgive me--no girl could. I've behaved like a
+fool. There isn't any excuse to be made for me. I don't think I could
+have been in my right senses, Estella. It all seems like some bad
+dream now. When I saw her that night, I came to my right mind, and
+I've been the most miserable man alive ever since. Not for her--but
+because I'd lost you. I can't bear to live here any longer, so I am
+going away. Will you say good-bye, Estella?"
+
+Still she did not speak. There were a hundred things she wanted to say
+but she could not say them. Did he mean that he loved her still? If
+she were sure of that, she could forgive him anything, but her doubt
+rendered her mute.
+
+The young man turned away despairingly from her rigid attitude. So be
+it--he had brought his fate on himself.
+
+He had gone but a few steps when Estella suddenly found her voice with
+a gasp.
+
+"Spencer!" He came swiftly back. "Oh, Spencer--do--you--do you love me
+still?"
+
+He caught her hands in his.
+
+"Love you--oh, Estella, yes, yes! I always have. That other wasn't
+love--it was just madness. When it passed I hated life because I'd
+lost you. I know you can't forgive me, but, oh--"
+
+He broke down. Estella flung her arms around his neck and put her face
+up to his. She felt as if her heart must break with its great
+happiness. He understood her mute pardon. In their kiss the past was
+put aside. Estella's martyrdom was ended.
+
+
+
+
+The Old Chest at Wyther Grange
+
+
+When I was a child I always thought a visit to Wyther Grange was a
+great treat. It was a big, quiet, old-fashioned house where
+Grandmother Laurance and Mrs. DeLisle, my Aunt Winnifred, lived. I was
+a favourite with them, yet I could never overcome a certain awe of
+them both. Grandmother was a tall, dignified old lady with keen black
+eyes that seemed veritably to bore through one. She always wore
+stiffly-rustling gowns of rich silk made in the fashion of her youth.
+I suppose she must have changed her dress occasionally, but the
+impression on my mind was always the same, as she went trailing about
+the house with a big bunch of keys at her belt--keys that opened a
+score of wonderful old chests and boxes and drawers. It was one of my
+dearest delights to attend Grandmother in her peregrinations and watch
+the unfolding and examining of all those old treasures and heirlooms
+of bygone Laurances.
+
+Of Aunt Winnifred I was less in awe, possibly because she dressed in a
+modern way and so looked to my small eyes more human and natural. As
+Winnifred Laurance she had been the beauty of the family and was a
+handsome woman still, with brilliant dark eyes and cameo-like
+features. She always looked very sad, spoke in a low sweet voice, and
+was my childish ideal of all that was high-bred and graceful.
+
+I had many beloved haunts at the Grange, but I liked the garret best.
+It was a roomy old place, big enough to have comfortably housed a
+family in itself, and was filled with cast-off furniture and old
+trunks and boxes of discarded finery. I was never tired of playing
+there, dressing up in the old-fashioned gowns and hats and practising
+old-time dance steps before the high, cracked mirror that hung at one
+end. That old garret was a veritable fairyland to me.
+
+There was one old chest which I could not explore and, like all
+forbidden things, it possessed a great attraction for me. It stood
+away back in a dusty, cobwebbed corner, a strong, high wooden box,
+painted blue. From some words which I had heard Grandmother let fall I
+was sure it had a history; it was the one thing she never explored in
+her periodical overhaulings. When I grew tired of playing I liked to
+creep up on it and sit there, picturing out my own fancies concerning
+it--of which my favourite one was that some day I should solve the
+riddle and open the chest to find it full of gold and jewels with
+which I might restore the fortune of the Laurances and all the
+traditionary splendours of the old Grange.
+
+I was sitting there one day when Aunt Winnifred and Grandmother
+Laurance came up the narrow dark staircase, the latter jingling her
+keys and peering into the dusty corners as she came along the room.
+When they came to the old chest, Grandmother rapped the top smartly
+with her keys.
+
+"I wonder what is in this old chest," she said. "I believe it really
+should be opened. The moths may have got into it through that crack in
+the lid."
+
+"Why don't you open it, Mother?" said Mrs. DeLisle. "I am sure that
+key of Robert's would fit the lock."
+
+"No," said Grandmother in the tone that nobody, not even Aunt
+Winnifred, ever dreamed of disputing. "I will not open that chest
+without Eliza's permission. She confided it to my care when she went
+away, and I promised that it should never be opened until she came for
+it."
+
+"Poor Eliza," said Mrs. DeLisle thoughtfully. "I wonder what she is
+like now. Very much changed, like all the rest of us, I suppose. It is
+almost thirty years since she was here. How pretty she was!"
+
+"I never approved of her," said Grandmother brusquely. "She was a
+sentimental, fanciful creature. She might have married well but she
+preferred to waste her life pining over the memory of a man who was
+not worthy to untie the shoelace of a Laurance."
+
+Mrs. DeLisle sighed softly and made no reply. People said that she had
+had her own romance in her youth and that her mother had sternly
+repressed it. I had heard that her marriage with Mr. DeLisle was
+loveless on her part and proved very unhappy. But he had been dead
+many years, and Aunt Winnifred never spoke of him.
+
+"I have made up my mind what to do," said Grandmother decidedly. "I
+will write to Eliza and ask her if I may open the chest to see if the
+moths have got into it. If she refuses, well and good. I have no doubt
+that she _will_ refuse. She will cling to her old sentimental ideas as
+long as the breath is in her body."
+
+I rather avoided the old chest after this. It took on a new
+significance in my eyes and seemed to me like the tomb of
+something--possibly some dead and buried romance of the past.
+
+Later on a letter came to Grandmother; she passed it over the table to
+Mrs. DeLisle.
+
+"That is from Eliza," she said. "I would know her writing
+anywhere--none of your modern sprawly, untidy hands, but a fine
+lady-like script, as regular as copperplate. Read the letter,
+Winnifred; I haven't my glasses and I dare say Eliza's rhapsodies
+would tire me very much. You need not read them aloud--I can imagine
+them all. Let me know what she says about the chest."
+
+Aunt Winnifred opened and read the letter and laid it down with a
+brief sigh.
+
+"This is all she says about the chest. 'If it were not for one thing
+that is in it, I would ask you to open the chest and burn all its
+contents. But I cannot bear that anyone but myself should see or touch
+that one thing. So please leave the chest as it is, dear Aunt. It is
+no matter if the moths do get in.' That is all," continued Mrs.
+DeLisle, "and I must confess that I am disappointed. I have always had
+an almost childish curiosity about that old chest, but I seem fated
+not to have it gratified. That 'one thing' must be her wedding dress.
+I have always thought that she locked it away there."
+
+"Her answer is just what I expected of her," said Grandmother
+impatiently. "Evidently the years have not made her more sensible.
+Well, I wash my hands of her belongings, moths or no moths."
+
+It was not until ten years afterwards that I heard anything more of
+the old chest. Grandmother Laurance had died, but Aunt Winnifred still
+lived at the Grange. She was very lonely, and the winter after
+Grandmother's death she sent me an invitation to make her a long
+visit.
+
+When I revisited the garret and saw the old blue chest in the same
+dusty corner, my childish curiosity revived and I begged Aunt
+Winnifred to tell me its history.
+
+"I am glad you have reminded me of it," said Mrs. DeLisle. "I have
+intended to open the chest ever since Mother's death but I kept
+putting it off. You know, Amy, poor Eliza Laurance died five years
+ago, but even then Mother would not have the chest opened. There is no
+reason why it should not be examined now. If you like, we will go and
+open it at once and afterwards I will tell you the story."
+
+We went eagerly up the garret stairs. Aunt knelt down before the old
+chest and selected a key from the bunch at her belt.
+
+"Would it not be too provoking, Amy, if this key should not fit after
+all? Well, I do not believe you would be any more disappointed than
+I."
+
+She turned the key and lifted the heavy lid. I bent forward eagerly. A
+layer of tissue paper revealed itself, with a fine tracing of sifted
+dust in its crinkles.
+
+"Lift it up, child," said my aunt gently. "There are no ghosts for
+you, at least, in this old chest."
+
+I lifted the paper up and saw that the chest was divided into two
+compartments. Lying on the top of one was a small, square, inlaid box.
+This Mrs. DeLisle took up and carried to the window. Lifting up the
+cover she laid it in my lap.
+
+"There, Amy, look through it and let us see what old treasures have
+lain hidden there these forty years."
+
+The first thing I took out was a small square case covered with dark
+purple velvet. The tiny clasp was almost rusted away and yielded
+easily. I gave a little cry of admiration. Aunt Winnifred bent over my
+shoulder.
+
+"That is Eliza's portrait at the age of twenty, and that is Willis
+Starr's. Was she not lovely, Amy?"
+
+Lovely indeed was the face looking out at me from its border of
+tarnished gilt. It was the face of a young girl, in shape a perfect
+oval, with delicate features and large dark-blue eyes. Her hair,
+caught high on the crown and falling on her neck in the long curls of
+a bygone fashion, was a warm auburn, and the curves of her bare neck
+and shoulders were exquisite.
+
+"The other picture is that of the man to whom she was betrothed. Tell
+me, Amy, do you think him handsome?"
+
+I looked at the other portrait critically. It was that of a young man
+of about twenty-five; he was undeniably handsome, but there was
+something I did not like in his face and I said so.
+
+Aunt Winnifred made no reply--she was taking out the remaining
+contents of the box. There was a white silk fan with delicately carved
+ivory sticks, a packet of old letters and a folded paper containing
+some dried and crumpled flowers. Aunt laid the box aside and unpacked
+the chest in silence. First came a ball dress of pale-yellow satin
+brocade, made with the trained skirt, "baby" waist and full puffed
+sleeves of a former generation. Beneath it was a case containing a
+necklace of small but perfect pearls and a pair of tiny satin
+slippers. The rest of the compartment was filled with household linen,
+fine and costly but yellowed with age--damask table linen and webs of
+the uncut fabric.
+
+In the second compartment lay a dress. Aunt Winnifred lifted it out
+reverently. It was a gown of rich silk that had once been white, but
+now, like the linen, it was yellow with age. It was simply made and
+trimmed with cobwebby old lace. Wrapped around it was a long white
+bridal veil, redolent with some strange, old-time perfume that had
+kept its sweetness all through the years.
+
+"Well, Amy, this is all," said Aunt Winnifred with a quiver in her
+voice. "And now for the story. Where shall I begin?"
+
+"At the very beginning, Aunty. You see I know nothing at all except
+her name. Tell me who she was and why she put her wedding dress away
+here."
+
+"Poor Eliza!" said Aunt dreamily. "It is a sorrowful story, Amy, and
+it seems so long ago now. I must be an old woman. Forty years ago--and
+I was only twenty then. Eliza Laurance was my cousin, the only
+daughter of Uncle Henry Laurance. My father--your grandfather, Amy,
+you don't remember him--had two brothers, each of whom had an only
+daughter. Both these girls were called Eliza after your
+great-grandmother. I never saw Uncle George's Eliza but once. He was a
+rich man and his daughter was much sought after, but she was no
+beauty, I promise you that, and proud and vain to the last degree.
+Her home was in a distant city and she never came to Wyther Grange.
+
+"The other Eliza Laurance was a poor man's daughter. She and I were of
+the same age and did not look unlike each other, although I was not so
+pretty by half. You can see by the portrait how beautiful she was, and
+it does her scant justice, for half her charm lay in her arch
+expression and her vivacious ways. She had her little faults, of
+course, and was rather over much given to romance and sentiment. This
+did not seem much of a defect to me then, Amy, for I was young and
+romantic too. Mother never cared much for Eliza, I think, but everyone
+else liked her. One winter Eliza came to Wyther Grange for a long
+visit. The Grange was a very lively place then, Amy. Eliza kept the
+old house ringing with merriment. We went out a great deal and she was
+always the belle of any festivity we attended. Yet she wore her
+honours easily; all the flattery and homage she received did not turn
+her head.
+
+"That winter we first met Willis Starr. He was a newcomer, and nobody
+knew much about him, but one or two of the best families took him up,
+and his own fascinations did the rest. He became what you would call
+the rage. He was considered very handsome, his manners were polished
+and easy, and people said he was rich.
+
+"I don't think, Amy, that I ever trusted Willis Starr. But like all
+the rest, I was blinded by his charm. Mother was almost the only one
+who did not worship at his shrine, and very often she dropped hints
+about penniless adventurers that made Eliza very indignant.
+
+"From the first he had paid Eliza marked attention and seemed utterly
+bewitched by her. Well, his was an easy winning. Eliza loved him with
+her whole impulsive, girlish heart and made no attempt to hide it.
+
+"I shall never forget the night they were first engaged. It was
+Eliza's birthday, and we were invited to a ball that evening. This
+yellow gown is the very one she wore. I suppose that is why she put it
+away here--the gown she wore on the happiest night of her life. I had
+never seen her look more beautiful--her neck and arms were bare, and
+she wore this string of pearls and carried a bouquet of her favourite
+white roses.
+
+"When we reached home after the dance, Eliza had her happy secret to
+tell us. She was engaged to Willis Starr, and they were to be married
+in early spring.
+
+"Willis Starr certainly seemed to be an ideal lover, and Eliza was so
+perfectly happy that she seemed to grow more beautiful and radiant
+every day.
+
+"Well, Amy, the wedding day was set. Eliza was to be married from the
+Grange, as her own mother was dead, and I was to be bridesmaid. We
+made her wedding dress together, she and I. Girls were not above
+making their own gowns then, and not a stitch was set in Eliza's save
+those put there by loving fingers and blessed by loving wishes. It was
+I who draped the veil over her sunny curls--see how yellow and creased
+it is now, but it was as white as snow that day.
+
+"A week before the wedding, Willis Starr was spending the evening at
+the Grange. We were all chattering gaily about the coming event, and
+in speaking of the invited guests Eliza said something about the
+other Eliza Laurance, the great heiress, looking archly at Willis over
+her shoulder as she spoke. It was some merry badinage about the cousin
+whose namesake she was but whom she so little resembled.
+
+"We all laughed, but I shall never forget the look that came over
+Willis Starr's face. It passed quickly, but the chill fear that it
+gave me remained. A few minutes later I left the room on some trifling
+errand, and as I returned through the dim hall I was met by Willis
+Starr. He laid his hand on my arm and bent his evil face--for it _was_
+evil then, Amy--close to mine.
+
+"'Tell me,' he said in a low but rude tone, 'is there another Eliza
+Laurance who is an heiress?'
+
+"'Certainly there is,' I said sharply. 'She is our cousin and the
+daughter of our Uncle George. Our Eliza is not an heiress. You surely
+did not suppose she was!'
+
+"Willis stepped aside with a mocking smile.
+
+"'I did--what wonder? I had heard much about the great heiress, Eliza
+Laurance, and the great beauty, Eliza Laurance. I supposed they were
+one and the same. You have all been careful not to undeceive me.'
+
+"'You forget yourself, Mr. Starr, when you speak so to me,' I retorted
+coldly. 'You have deceived yourself. We have never dreamed of allowing
+anyone to think that Eliza was an heiress. She is sweet and lovely
+enough to be loved for her own sake.'
+
+"I went back to the parlour full of dismay. Willis Starr remained
+gloomy and taciturn all the rest of the evening, but nobody seemed to
+notice it but myself.
+
+"The next day we were all so busy that I almost forgot the incident
+of the previous evening. We girls were up in the sewing room putting
+the last touches to the wedding gown. Eliza tried it and her veil on
+and was standing so, in all her silken splendour, when a letter was
+brought in. I guessed by her blush who was the writer. I laughed and
+ran downstairs, leaving her to read it.
+
+"When I returned she was still standing just where I had left her in
+the middle of the room, holding the letter in her hand. Her face was
+as white as her veil, and her wide-open eyes had a dazed, agonized
+look as of someone who had been stricken a mortal blow. All the soft
+happiness and sweetness had gone out of them. They were the eyes of an
+old woman, Amy.
+
+"'Eliza, what is the matter?' I said. 'Has anything happened to
+Willis?'
+
+"She made no answer, but walked to the fireplace, dropped the letter
+in a bed of writhing blue flame and watched it burn to white ashes.
+Then she turned to me.
+
+"'Help me take off this gown, Winnie,' she said dully. 'I shall never
+wear it again. There will be no wedding. Willis is gone.'
+
+"'Gone!' I echoed stupidly.
+
+"'Yes. I am not the heiress, Winnie. It was the fortune, not the girl,
+he loved. He says he is too poor for us to dream of marrying when I
+have nothing. Oh, such a cruel, heartless letter! Why did he not kill
+me? It would have been so much more merciful! I loved him so--I
+trusted him so! Oh, Winnie, Winnie, what am I to do!'
+
+"There was something terrible in the contrast between her passionate
+words and her calm face and lifeless voice. I wanted to call Mother,
+but she would not let me. She went away to her own room, trailing
+along the dark hall in her dress and veil, and locked herself in.
+
+"Well, I told it all to the others in some fashion. You can imagine
+their anger and dismay. Your father, Amy--he was a hot-blooded,
+impetuous, young fellow then--went at once to seek Willis Starr. But
+he was gone, no one knew where, and the whole country rang with the
+gossip and scandal of the affair. Eliza knew nothing of this, for she
+was ill and unconscious for many a day. In a novel or story she would
+have died, I suppose, and that would have been the end of it. But this
+was in real life, and Eliza did not die, although many times we
+thought she would.
+
+"When she did recover, how frightfully changed she was! It almost
+broke my heart to see her. Her very nature seemed to have changed
+too--all her joyousness and light-heartedness were dead. From that
+time she was a faded, dispirited creature, no more like the Eliza we
+had known than the merest stranger. And then after a while came other
+news--Willis Starr was married to the other Eliza Laurance, the true
+heiress. He had made no second mistake. We tried to keep it from Eliza
+but she found it out at last. That was the day she came up here alone
+and packed this old chest. Nobody ever knew just what she put into it.
+But you and I see now, Amy--her ball dress, her wedding gown, her love
+letters and, more than all else, her youth and happiness--this old
+chest was the tomb of it all. Eliza Laurance was really buried here.
+
+"She went home soon after. Before she went she exacted a promise from
+Mother that the old chest should be left at the Grange unopened until
+she came for it herself. But she never came back, and I do not think
+she ever intended to, and I never saw her again.
+
+"That is the story of the old chest. It was all over so long ago--the
+heartbreak and the misery--but it all seems to come back to me now.
+Poor Eliza!"
+
+My own eyes were full of tears as Aunt Winnifred went down the stairs,
+leaving me sitting dreamily there in the sunset light, with the old
+yellowed bridal veil across my lap and the portrait of Eliza Laurance
+in my hand. Around me were the relics of her pitiful story--the old,
+oft-repeated story of a faithless love and a woman's broken heart--the
+gown she had worn, the slippers in which she had danced
+light-heartedly at her betrothal ball, her fan, her pearls, her
+gloves--and it somehow seemed to me as if I were living in those old
+years myself, as if the love and happiness, the betrayal and pain were
+part of my own life. Presently Aunt Winnifred came back through the
+twilight shadows.
+
+"Let us put all these things back in their grave, Amy," she said.
+"They are of no use to anyone now. The linen might be bleached and
+used, I dare say--but it would seem like a sacrilege. It was Mother's
+wedding present to Eliza. And the pearls--would you care to have them,
+Amy?"
+
+"Oh, no, no," I said with a little shiver. "I would never wear them,
+Aunt Winnifred. I should feel like a ghost if I did. Put everything
+back just as we found it--only her portrait. I would like to keep
+that."
+
+Reverently we put gowns and letters and trinkets back into the old
+blue chest. Aunt Winnifred closed the lid and turned the key softly.
+She bowed her head over it for a minute and then we went together in
+silence down the shadowy garret stairs of Wyther Grange.
+
+
+
+
+The Osbornes' Christmas
+
+
+Cousin Myra had come to spend Christmas at "The Firs," and all the
+junior Osbornes were ready to stand on their heads with delight.
+Darby--whose real name was Charles--did it, because he was only eight,
+and at eight you have no dignity to keep up. The others, being older,
+couldn't.
+
+But the fact of Christmas itself awoke no great enthusiasm in the
+hearts of the junior Osbornes. Frank voiced their opinion of it the
+day after Cousin Myra had arrived. He was sitting on the table with
+his hands in his pockets and a cynical sneer on his face. At least,
+Frank flattered himself that it was cynical. He knew that Uncle Edgar
+was said to wear a cynical sneer, and Frank admired Uncle Edgar very
+much and imitated him in every possible way. But to you and me it
+would have looked just as it did to Cousin Myra--a very discontented
+and unbecoming scowl.
+
+"I'm awfully glad to see you, Cousin Myra," explained Frank carefully,
+"and your being here may make some things worth while. But Christmas
+is just a bore--a regular bore."
+
+That was what Uncle Edgar called things that didn't interest him, so
+that Frank felt pretty sure of his word. Nevertheless, he wondered
+uncomfortably what made Cousin Myra smile so queerly.
+
+"Why, how dreadful!" she said brightly. "I thought all boys and girls
+looked upon Christmas as the very best time in the year."
+
+"We don't," said Frank gloomily. "It's just the same old thing year in
+and year out. We know just exactly what is going to happen. We even
+know pretty well what presents we are going to get. And Christmas Day
+itself is always the same. We'll get up in the morning, and our
+stockings will be full of things, and half of them we don't want. Then
+there's dinner. It's always so poky. And all the uncles and aunts come
+to dinner--just the same old crowd, every year, and they say just the
+same things. Aunt Desda always says, 'Why, Frankie, how you have
+grown!' She knows I hate to be called Frankie. And after dinner
+they'll sit round and talk the rest of the day, and that's all. Yes, I
+call Christmas a nuisance."
+
+"There isn't a single bit of fun in it," said Ida discontentedly.
+
+"Not a bit!" said the twins, both together, as they always said
+things.
+
+"There's lots of candy," said Darby stoutly. He rather liked
+Christmas, although he was ashamed to say so before Frank.
+
+Cousin Myra smothered another of those queer smiles.
+
+"You've had too much Christmas, you Osbornes," she said seriously. "It
+has palled on your taste, as all good things will if you overdo them.
+Did you ever try giving Christmas to somebody else?"
+
+The Osbornes looked at Cousin Myra doubtfully. They didn't understand.
+
+"We always send presents to all our cousins," said Frank hesitatingly.
+"That's a bore, too. They've all got so many things already it's no
+end of bother to think of something new."
+
+"That isn't what I mean," said Cousin Myra. "How much Christmas do you
+suppose those little Rolands down there in the hollow have? Or Sammy
+Abbott with his lame back? Or French Joe's family over the hill? If
+you have too much Christmas, why don't you give some to them?"
+
+The Osbornes looked at each other. This was a new idea.
+
+"How could we do it?" asked Ida.
+
+Whereupon they had a consultation. Cousin Myra explained her plan, and
+the Osbornes grew enthusiastic over it. Even Frank forgot that he was
+supposed to be wearing a cynical sneer.
+
+"I move we do it, Osbornes," said he.
+
+"If Father and Mother are willing," said Ida.
+
+"Won't it be jolly!" exclaimed the twins.
+
+"Well, rather," said Darby scornfully. He did not mean to be scornful.
+He had heard Frank saying the same words in the same tone, and thought
+it signified approval.
+
+Cousin Myra had a talk with Father and Mother Osborne that night, and
+found them heartily in sympathy with her plans.
+
+For the next week the Osbornes were agog with excitement and interest.
+At first Cousin Myra made the suggestions, but their enthusiasm soon
+outstripped her, and they thought out things for themselves. Never did
+a week pass so quickly. And the Osbornes had never had such fun,
+either.
+
+Christmas morning there was not a single present given or received at
+"The Firs" except those which Cousin Myra and Mr. and Mrs. Osborne
+gave to each other. The junior Osbornes had asked that the money which
+their parents had planned to spend in presents for them be given to
+them the previous week; and given it was, without a word.
+
+The uncles and aunts arrived in due time, but not with them was the
+junior Osbornes' concern. They were the guests of Mr. and Mrs.
+Osborne. The junior Osbornes were having a Christmas dinner party of
+their own. In the small dining room a table was spread and loaded with
+good things. Ida and the twins cooked that dinner all by themselves.
+To be sure, Cousin Myra had helped some, and Frank and Darby had
+stoned all the raisins and helped pull the home-made candy; and all
+together they had decorated the small dining room royally with
+Christmas greens.
+
+Then their guests came. First, all the little Rolands from the Hollow
+arrived--seven in all, with very red, shining faces and not a word to
+say for themselves, so shy were they. Then came a troop from French
+Joe's--four black-eyed lads, who never knew what shyness meant. Frank
+drove down to the village in the cutter and brought lame Sammy back
+with him, and soon after the last guest arrived--little Tillie Mather,
+who was Miss Rankin's "orphan 'sylum girl" from over the road.
+Everybody knew that Miss Rankin never kept Christmas. She did not
+believe in it, she said, but she did not prevent Tillie from going to
+the Osbornes' dinner party.
+
+Just at first the guests were a little stiff and unsocial; but they
+soon got acquainted, and so jolly was Cousin Myra--who had her dinner
+with the children in preference to the grown-ups--and so friendly the
+junior Osbornes, that all stiffness vanished. What a merry dinner it
+was! What peals of laughter went up, reaching to the big dining room
+across the hall, where the grown-ups sat in rather solemn state. And
+how those guests did eat and frankly enjoy the good things before
+them! How nicely they all behaved, even to the French Joes! Myra had
+secretly been a little dubious about those four mischievous-looking
+lads, but their manners were quite flawless. Mrs. French Joe had been
+drilling them for three days--ever since they had been invited to "de
+Chrismus dinner at de beeg house."
+
+After the merry dinner was over, the junior Osbornes brought in a
+Christmas tree, loaded with presents. They had bought them with the
+money that Mr. and Mrs. Osborne had meant for their own presents, and
+a splendid assortment they were. All the French-Joe boys got a pair of
+skates apiece, and Sammy a set of beautiful books, and Tillie was made
+supremely happy with a big wax doll. Every little Roland got just what
+his or her small heart had been longing for. Besides, there were nuts
+and candies galore.
+
+Then Frank hitched up his pony again, but this time into a great pung
+sleigh, and the junior Osbornes took their guests for a sleigh-drive,
+chaperoned by Cousin Myra. It was just dusk when they got back,
+having driven the Rolands and the French Joes and Sammy and Tillie to
+their respective homes.
+
+"This has been the jolliest Christmas I ever spent," said Frank,
+emphatically.
+
+"I thought we were just going to give the others a good time, but it
+was they who gave it to us," said Ida.
+
+"Weren't the French Joes jolly?" giggled the twins. "Such cute
+speeches as they would make!"
+
+"Me and Teddy Roland are going to be chums after this," announced
+Darby. "He's an inch taller than me, but I'm wider."
+
+That night Frank and Ida and Cousin Myra had a little talk after the
+smaller Osbornes had been haled off to bed.
+
+"We're not going to stop with Christmas, Cousin Myra," said Frank, at
+the end of it. "We're just going to keep on through the year. We've
+never had such a delightful old Christmas before."
+
+"You've learned the secret of happiness," said Cousin Myra gently.
+
+And the Osbornes understood what she meant.
+
+
+
+
+The Romance of Aunt Beatrice
+
+
+Margaret always maintains that it was a direct inspiration of
+Providence that took her across the street to see Aunt Beatrice that
+night. And Aunt Beatrice believes that it was too. But the truth of
+the matter is that Margaret was feeling very unhappy, and went over to
+talk to Aunt Beatrice as the only alternative to a fit of crying.
+Margaret's unhappiness has nothing further to do with this story, so
+it may be dismissed with the remark that it did not amount to much, in
+spite of Margaret's tragical attitude, and was dissipated at once and
+forever by the arrival of a certain missent letter the next day.
+
+Aunt Beatrice was alone. Her brother and his wife had gone to the "at
+home" which Mrs. Cunningham was giving that night in honour of the
+Honourable John Reynolds, M.P. The children were upstairs in bed, and
+Aunt Beatrice was darning their stockings, a big basketful of which
+loomed up aggressively on the table beside her. Or, to speak more
+correctly, she had been darning them. Just when Margaret was sliding
+across the icy street Aunt Beatrice was bent forward in her chair, her
+hands over her face, while soft, shrinking little sobs shook her from
+head to foot.
+
+When Margaret's imperative knock came at the front door, Aunt Beatrice
+started guiltily and wished earnestly that she had waited until she
+went to bed before crying, if cry she must. She knew Margaret's knock,
+and she did not want her gay young niece, of all people in the world,
+to suspect the fact or the cause of her tears.
+
+"I hope she won't notice my eyes," she thought, as she hastily plumped
+a big ugly dark-green shade, with an almond-eyed oriental leering from
+it, over the lamp, before going out to let Margaret in.
+
+Margaret did not notice at first. She was too deeply absorbed in her
+own troubles to think that anyone else in the world could be miserable
+too. She curled up in the deep easy-chair by the fire, and clasped her
+hands behind her curly head with a sigh of physical comfort and mental
+unhappiness, while Aunt Beatrice, warily sitting with her back to the
+light, took up her work again.
+
+"You didn't go to Mrs. Cunningham's 'at home,' Auntie," said Margaret
+lazily, feeling that she must make some conversation to justify her
+appearance. "You were invited, weren't you?"
+
+Aunt Beatrice nodded. The hole she was darning in the knee of Willie
+Hayden's stocking must be done very carefully. Mrs. George Hayden was
+particular about such matters. Perhaps this was why Aunt Beatrice did
+not speak.
+
+"Why didn't you go?" asked Margaret absently, wondering why there had
+been no letter for her that morning--and this was the third day too!
+Could Gilbert be ill? Or was he flirting with some other girl and
+forgetting her? Margaret swallowed a big lump in her throat, and
+resolved that she would go home next week--no, she wouldn't,
+either--if he was as hateful and fickle as that--what was Aunt
+Beatrice saying?
+
+"Well, I'm--I'm not used to going to parties now, my dear. And the
+truth is I have no dress fit to wear. At least Bella said so, because
+the party was to be a very fashionable affair. She said my old grey
+silk wouldn't do at all. Of course she knows. She had to have a new
+dress for it, and, we couldn't both have that. George couldn't afford
+it these hard times. And, as Bella said, it would be very foolish of
+me to get an expensive dress that would be no use to me afterward. But
+it doesn't matter. And, of course, somebody had to stay with the
+children."
+
+"Of course," assented Margaret dreamily. Mrs. Cunningham's "at home"
+was of no particular interest. The guests were all middle-aged people
+whom the M.P. had known in his boyhood and Margaret, in her
+presumptuous youth, thought it would be a very prosy affair, although
+it had made quite a sensation in quiet little Murraybridge, where
+people still called an "at home" a party plain and simple.
+
+"I saw Mr. Reynolds in church Sunday afternoon," she went on. "He is
+very fine-looking, I think. Did you ever meet him?"
+
+"I used to know him very well long ago," answered Aunt Beatrice,
+bowing still lower over her work. "He used to live down in Wentworth,
+you know, and he visited his married sister here very often. He was
+only a boy at that time. Then--he went out to British Columbia
+and--and--we never heard much more about him."
+
+"He's very rich and owns dozens of mines and railroads and things like
+that," said Margaret, "and he's a member of the Dominion Parliament,
+too. They say he's one of the foremost men in the House and came very
+near getting a portfolio in the new cabinet. I like men like that.
+They are so interesting. Wouldn't it be awfully nice and complimentary
+to have one of them in love with you? Is he married?"
+
+"I--I don't know," said Aunt Beatrice faintly. "I have never heard
+that he was."
+
+"There, you've run the needle into your finger," said Margaret
+sympathetically.
+
+"It's of no consequence," said Aunt Beatrice hastily.
+
+She wiped away the drop of blood and went on with her work. Margaret
+watched her dreamily. What lovely hair Aunt Beatrice had! It was so
+thick and glossy, with warm bronze tones where the lamp-light fell on
+it under that hideous weird old shade. But Aunt Beatrice wore it in
+such an unbecoming way. Margaret idly wondered if she would comb her
+hair straight back and prim when she was thirty-five. She thought it
+very probable if that letter did not come tomorrow.
+
+From Aunt Beatrice's hair Margaret's eyes fell to Aunt Beatrice's
+face. She gave a little jump. Had Aunt Beatrice been crying? Margaret
+sat bolt upright.
+
+"Aunt Beatrice, did you want to go to that party?" she demanded
+explosively. "Now tell me the truth."
+
+"I did," said Aunt Beatrice weakly. Margaret's sudden attack fairly
+startled the truth out of her. "It is very silly of me, I know, but I
+did want to go. I didn't care about a new dress. I'd have been quite
+willing to wear my grey silk, and I could have fixed the sleeves. What
+difference would it have made? Nobody would ever have noticed me, but
+Bella thought it wouldn't do."
+
+She paused long enough to give a little sob which she could not
+repress. Margaret made use of the opportunity to exclaim violently,
+"It's a shame!"
+
+"I suppose you don't understand why I wanted to go to this particular
+party so much," went on Aunt Beatrice shyly. "I'll tell you why--if
+you won't laugh at me. I wanted to see John Reynolds--not to talk to
+him--oh, I dare say he wouldn't remember me--but just to see him.
+Long ago--fifteen years ago--we were engaged. And--and--I loved him so
+much then, Margaret."
+
+"You poor dear!" said Margaret sympathetically. She reached over and
+patted her aunt's hand. She thought that this little bit of romance,
+long hidden and unsuspected, blossoming out under her eyes, was
+charming. In her interest she quite forgot her own pet grievance.
+
+"Yes--and then we quarrelled. It was a dreadful quarrel and it was
+about such a trifle. We parted in anger and he went away. He never
+came back. It was all my fault. Well, it is all over long ago and
+everybody has forgotten. I--I don't mind it now. But I just wanted to
+see him once more and then come quietly away."
+
+"Aunt Beatrice, you are going to that party yet," said Margaret
+decisively.
+
+"Oh, it is impossible, my dear."
+
+"No, it isn't. Nothing is impossible when I make up my mind. You must
+go. I'll drag you there by main force if it comes to that. Oh, I have
+such a jolly plan, Auntie. You know my black and yellow dinner
+dress--no, you don't either, for I've never worn it here. The folks at
+home all said it was too severe for me--and so it is. Nothing suits me
+but the fluffy, chuffy things with a tilt to them. Gil--er--I
+mean--well, yes, Gilbert always declared that dress made me look like
+a cross between an unwilling nun and a ballet girl, so I took a
+dislike to it. But it's as lovely as a dream. Oh, when you see it your
+eyes will stick out. You must wear it tonight. It's just your style,
+and I'm sure it will fit you, for our figures are so much alike."
+
+"But it is too late."
+
+"'Tisn't. It's not more than half an hour since Uncle George and Aunt
+Bella went. I'll have you ready in a twinkling."
+
+"But the fire--and the children!"
+
+"I'll stay here and look after both. I won't burn the house down, and
+if the twins wake up I'll give them--what is it you give
+them--soothing syrup? So go at once and get you ready, while I fly
+over for the dress. I'll fix your hair up when I get back."
+
+Margaret was gone before Aunt Beatrice could speak again. Her niece's
+excitement seized hold of her too. She flung the stockings into the
+basket and the basket into the closet.
+
+"I will go--and I won't do another bit of darning tonight. I hate
+it--I hate it--I hate it! Oh, how much good it does me to say it!"
+
+When Margaret came flying up the stairs Aunt Beatrice was ready save
+for hair and dress. Margaret cast the gown on the bed, revealing all
+its beauty of jetted lace and soft yellow silk with a dextrous sweep
+of her arm. Aunt Beatrice gave a little cry of admiration.
+
+"Isn't it lovely?" demanded Margaret. "And I've brought you my opera
+cape and my fascinator and my black satin slippers with the cunningest
+gold buckles, and some sweet pale yellow roses that Uncle Ned gave me
+yesterday. Oh, Aunt Beatrice! What magnificent arms and shoulders you
+have! They're like marble. Mine are so scrawny I'm just ashamed to
+have people know they belong to me."
+
+Margaret's nimble fingers were keeping time with her tongue. Aunt
+Beatrice's hair went up as if by magic into soft puffs and waves and
+twists, and a golden rose was dropped among the bronze masses. Then
+the lovely dress was put on and pinned and looped and pulled until it
+fell into its simple, classical lines around the tall, curving figure.
+Margaret stepped back and clapped her hands admiringly.
+
+"Oh, Auntie, you're beautiful! Now I'll pop down for the cloak and
+fascinator. I left them hanging by the fire."
+
+When Margaret had gone Aunt Beatrice caught up the lamp and tiptoed
+shamefacedly across the hall to the icy-cold spare room. In the long
+mirror she saw herself reflected from top to toe--or was it herself!
+Could it be--that gracious woman with the sweet eyes and flushed
+cheeks, with rounded arms gleaming through their black laces and the
+cluster of roses nestling against the warm white flesh of the
+shoulder?
+
+"I do look nice," she said aloud, with a little curtsey to the radiant
+reflection. "It is all the dress, I know. I feel like a queen in
+it--no, like a girl again--and that's better."
+
+Margaret went to Mrs. Cunningham's door with her.
+
+"How I wish I could go in and see the sensation you'll make, Aunt
+Beatrice," she whispered.
+
+"You dear, silly child! It's just the purple and fine linen," laughed
+Aunt Beatrice. But she did not altogether think so, and she rang the
+doorbell unquailingly. In the hall Mrs. Cunningham herself came
+beamingly to greet her.
+
+"My dear Beatrice! I'm so glad. Bella said you could not come because
+you had a headache."
+
+"My headache got quite better after they left, and so I thought I
+would get ready and come, even if it were rather late," said Beatrice
+glibly, wondering if Sapphira had ever worn a black-and-yellow dress,
+and if so, might not her historic falsehood be traced to its
+influence?
+
+When they came downstairs together, Beatrice, statuesque and erect in
+her trailing draperies, and Mrs. Cunningham secretly wondering where
+on earth Beatrice Hayden had got such a magnificent dress and what she
+had done to herself to make her look as she did--a man came through
+the hall. At the foot of the stairs they met. He put out his hand.
+
+"Beatrice! It must be Beatrice! How little you have changed!"
+
+Mrs. Cunningham was not particularly noted in Murraybridge for her
+tact, but she had a sudden visitation of the saving grace at that
+moment, and left the two alone.
+
+Beatrice put her hand into the M.P.'s.
+
+"I am glad to see you," she said simply, looking up at him.
+
+She could not say that he had not changed, for there was little in
+this tall, broad-shouldered man of the world, with grey glints in his
+hair, to suggest the slim, boyish young lover whose image she had
+carried in her heart all the long years.
+
+But the voice, though deeper and mellower, was the same, and the thin,
+clever mouth that went up at one corner and down at the other in a
+humorous twist; and one little curl of reddish hair fell over his
+forehead away from its orderly fellows, just as it used to when she
+had loved to poke her fingers through it; and, more than all, the
+deep-set grey eyes looking down into her blue ones were unchanged.
+Beatrice felt her heart beating to her fingertips.
+
+"I thought you were not coming," he said. "I expected to meet you here
+and I was horribly disappointed. I thought the bitterness of that
+foolish old quarrel must be strong enough to sway you yet."
+
+"Didn't Bella tell you I had a headache?" faltered Beatrice.
+
+"Bella? Oh, your brother's wife! I wasn't talking to her. I've been
+sulking in corners ever since I concluded you were not coming. How
+beautiful you are, Beatrice! You'll let an old friend say that much,
+won't you?"
+
+Beatrice laughed softly. She had forgotten for years that she was
+beautiful, but the sweet old knowledge had come back to her again. She
+could not help knowing that he spoke the simple truth, but she said
+mirthfully,
+
+"You've learned to flatter since the old days, haven't you? Don't you
+remember you used to tell me I was too thin to be pretty? But I
+suppose a bit of blarney is a necessary ingredient in the composition
+of an M.P."
+
+He was still holding her hand. With a glance of dissatisfaction at the
+open parlour door, he drew her away to the little room at the end of
+the hall, which Mrs. Cunningham, for reasons known only to herself,
+called her library.
+
+"Come in here with me," he said masterfully. "I want to have a long
+talk with you before the other people get hold of you."
+
+When Beatrice got home from the party ten minutes before her brother
+and his wife, Margaret was sitting Turk fashion in the big armchair,
+with her eyes very wide open and owlish.
+
+"You dear girlie, were you asleep?" asked Aunt Beatrice indulgently.
+
+Margaret nodded. "Yes, and I've let the fire go out. I hope you're not
+cold. I must run before Aunt Bella gets here, or she'll scold. Had a
+nice time?"
+
+"Delightful. You were a dear to lend me this dress. It was so funny to
+see Bella staring at it."
+
+When Margaret had put on her hat and jacket she went as far as the
+street door, and then tiptoed back to the sitting-room. Aunt Beatrice
+was leaning back in the armchair, with a drooping rose held softly
+against her lips, gazing dreamily into the dull red embers.
+
+"Auntie," said Margaret contritely, "I can't go home without
+confessing, although I know it is a heinous offence to interrupt the
+kind of musing that goes with dying embers and faded roses in the
+small hours. But it would weigh on my conscience all night if I
+didn't. I was asleep, but I wakened up just before you came in and
+went to the window. I didn't mean to spy upon anyone--but that street
+was bright as day! And if you will let an M.P. kiss you on the
+doorstep in glaring moonlight, you must expect to be seen."
+
+"I wouldn't have cared if there had been a dozen onlookers," said Aunt
+Beatrice frankly, "and I don't believe he would either."
+
+Margaret threw up her hands. "Well, my conscience is clear, at least.
+And remember, Aunt Beatrice, I'm to be bridesmaid--I insist upon that.
+And, oh, won't you ask me to visit you when you go down to Ottawa next
+winter? I'm told it's such a jolly place when the House is in session.
+And you'll need somebody to help you entertain, you know. The wife of
+a cabinet minister has to do lots of that. But I forgot--he isn't a
+cabinet minister yet. But he will be, of course. Promise that you'll
+have me, Aunt Beatrice, promise quick. I hear Uncle George and Aunt
+Bella coming."
+
+Aunt Beatrice promised. Margaret flew to the door.
+
+"You'd better keep that dress," she called back softly, as she opened
+it.
+
+
+
+
+The Running Away of Chester
+
+
+Chester did the chores with unusual vim that night. His lips were set
+and there was an air of resolution as plainly visible on his small,
+freckled face as if it had been stamped there. Mrs. Elwell saw him
+flying around, and her grim features took on a still grimmer
+expression.
+
+"Ches is mighty lively tonight," she muttered. "I s'pose he's in a gog
+to be off on some foolishness with Henry Wilson. Well, he won't, and
+he needn't think it."
+
+Lige Barton, the hired man, also thought this was Chester's purpose,
+but he took a more lenient view of it than did Mrs. Elwell.
+
+"The little chap is going through things with a rush this evening," he
+reflected. "Guess he's laying out for a bit of fun with the Wilson
+boy."
+
+But Chester was not planning anything connected with Henry Wilson, who
+lived on the other side of the pond and was the only chum he
+possessed. After the chores were done, he lingered a little while
+around the barns, getting his courage keyed up to the necessary pitch.
+
+Chester Stephens was an orphan without kith or kin in the world,
+unless his father's stepsister, Mrs. Harriet Elwell, could be called
+so. His parents had died in his babyhood, and Mrs. Elwell had taken
+him to bring up. She was a harsh woman, with a violent temper, and she
+had scolded and worried the boy all his short life. Upton people said
+it was a shame, but nobody felt called upon to interfere. Mrs. Elwell
+was not a person one would care to make an enemy of.
+
+She eyed Chester sourly when he went in, expecting some request to be
+allowed to go with Henry, and prepared to refuse it sharply.
+
+"Aunt Harriet," said Chester suddenly, "can I go to school this year?
+It begins tomorrow."
+
+"No," said Mrs. Elwell, when she had recovered from her surprise at
+this unexpected question. "You've had schoolin' in plenty--more'n I
+ever had, and all you're goin' to get!"
+
+"But, Aunt Harriet," persisted Chester, his face flushed with
+earnestness, "I'm nearly thirteen, and I can barely read and write a
+little. The other boys are ever so far ahead of me. I don't know
+anything."
+
+"You know enough to be disrespectful!" exclaimed Mrs. Elwell. "I
+suppose you want to go to school to idle away your time, as you do at
+home--lazy good-for-nothing that you are!" Chester thought of the
+drudgery that had been his portion all his life. He resented being
+called lazy when he was willing enough to work, but he made one more
+appeal.
+
+"If you'll let me go to school this year, I'll work twice as hard out
+of school to make up for it--indeed, I will. Do let me go, Aunt
+Harriet. I haven't been to school a day for over a year."
+
+"Let's hear no more of this nonsense," said Mrs. Elwell, taking a
+bottle from the shelf above her with the air of one who closes a
+discussion. "Here, run down to the Bridge and get me this bottle full
+of vinegar at Jacob's store. Be smart, too, d'ye hear! I ain't going
+to have you idling around the Bridge neither. If you ain't back in
+twenty minutes, it won't be well for you."
+
+Chester did his errand at the Bridge with a heart full of bitter
+disappointment and anger.
+
+"I won't stand it any longer!" he muttered. "I'll run away--I don't
+care where, so long as it's away from her. I wish I could get out West
+on the harvest excursions."
+
+On his return home, as he crossed the yard in the dusk, he stumbled
+over a stick of wood and fell. The bottle of vinegar slipped from his
+hand and was broken on the doorstep. Mrs. Elwell saw the accident from
+the window. She rushed out and jerked the unlucky lad to his feet.
+
+"Take that, you sulky little cub!" she exclaimed, cuffing his ears
+soundly. "I'll teach you to break and spill things you're sent for!
+You did it on purpose. Get off to bed with you this instant."
+
+Chester crept off to his garret chamber with a very sullen face. He
+was too used to being sent to bed without any supper to care much for
+that, although he was hungry. But his whole being was in a tumult of
+rebellion over the injustice that was meted out to him.
+
+"I won't stand it!" he muttered over and over again. "I'll run away. I
+won't stay here."
+
+To talk of running away was one thing. To do it without a cent in your
+pocket or a place to run to was another. But Chester had a great deal
+of determination in his make-up when it was fairly roused, and his
+hard upbringing had made him older and shrewder than his years. He lay
+awake late that night, thinking out ways and means, but could arrive
+at no satisfactory conclusion.
+
+The next day Mrs. Elwell said, "Ches, Abner Stearns wants you to go up
+there for a fortnight while Tom Bixby is away, and drive the milk
+wagon of mornings and do the chores for Mrs. Stearns. You might as
+well put in the time 'fore harvest that way as any other. So hustle
+off--and mind you behave yourself."
+
+Chester heard the news gladly. He had not yet devised any feasible
+plan for running away, and he always liked to work at the Stearns'
+place. To be sure, Mrs. Elwell received all the money he earned, but
+Mrs. Stearns was kind to him, and though he had to work hard and
+constantly, he was well fed and well treated by all.
+
+The following fortnight was a comparatively happy one for the lad.
+But he did not forget his purpose of shaking the dust of Upton from
+his feet as soon as possible, and he cudgelled his brains trying to
+find a way.
+
+On the evening when he left the Stearns' homestead, Mr. Stearns paid
+him for his fortnight's work, much to the boy's surprise, for Mrs.
+Elwell had always insisted that all such money should be paid directly
+to her. Chester found himself the possessor of four dollars--an amount
+of riches that almost took away his breath. He had never in his whole
+life owned more than ten cents at a time. As he tramped along the road
+home, he kept his hand in his pocket, holding fast to the money, as if
+he feared it would otherwise dissolve into thin air.
+
+His mind was firmly made up. He would run away once and for all. This
+money was rightly his; he had earned every cent of it. It would surely
+last him until he found employment elsewhere. At any rate, he would
+go; and even if he starved, he would never come back to Aunt
+Harriet's!
+
+When he reached home, he found Mrs. Elwell in an unusual state of
+worry. Lige had given warning--and this on the verge of harvest!
+
+"Did Stearns say anything about coming down tomorrow to pay me for
+your work?" she asked.
+
+"No, ma'am. He didn't say a word about it," said Chester boldly.
+
+"Well, I hope he will. Take yourself off to bed, Ches. I'm sick of
+seeing you standing there, on one foot or t'other, like a gander."
+
+Chester had been shifting about uneasily. He realized that, if his
+project did not miscarry, he would not see his aunt again, and his
+heart softened to her. Harsh as she was, she was the only protector he
+had ever known, and the boy had a vague wish to carry away with him
+some kindly word or look from her. Such, however, was not
+forthcoming, and Chester obeyed her command and took himself off to
+the garret. Here he sat down and reflected on his plans.
+
+He must go that very night. When Mr. Stearns failed to appear on the
+morrow, Mrs. Elwell was quite likely to march up and demand the amount
+of Chester's wages. It would all come out then, and he would lose his
+money--besides, no doubt, getting severely punished into the bargain.
+
+His preparations did not take long. He had nothing to carry with him.
+The only decent suit of clothes he possessed was his well-worn Sunday
+one. This he put on, carefully stowing away in his pocket the precious
+four dollars.
+
+He had to wait until he thought his aunt was asleep, and it was about
+eleven when he crept downstairs, his heart quaking within him, and got
+out by the porch window. When he found himself alone in the clear
+moonlight of the August night, a sense of elation filled his cramped
+little heart. He was free, and he would never come back here--never!
+
+"Wisht I could have seen Henry to say good-by to him, though," he
+muttered with a wistful glance at the big house across the pond where
+the unconscious Henry was sleeping soundly with never a thought of
+moonlight flittings for anyone in his curly head.
+
+Chester meant to walk to Roxbury Station ten miles away. Nobody knew
+him there, and he could catch the morning train. Late as it was, he
+kept to fields and wood-roads lest he might be seen and recognized. It
+was three o'clock when he reached Roxbury, and he knew the train did
+not pass through until six. With the serenity of a philosopher who is
+starting out to win his way in the world and means to make the best of
+things, Chester curled himself up in the hollow space of a big lumber
+pile behind the station, and so tired was he that he fell soundly
+asleep in a few minutes.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Chester was awakened by the shriek of the express at the last crossing
+before the station. In a panic of haste he scrambled out of his lumber
+and dashed into the station house, where a sleepy, ill-natured agent
+stood behind the ticket window. He looked sharply enough at the
+freckled, square-jawed boy who asked for a second-class ticket to
+Belltown. Chester's heart quaked within him at the momentary thought
+that the ticket agent recognized him. He had an agonized vision of
+being collared without ceremony and haled straightway back to Aunt
+Harriet. When the ticket and his change were pushed out to him, he
+snatched them and fairly ran.
+
+"Bolted as if the police were after him," reflected the agent, who did
+not sell many tickets and so had time to take a personal interest in
+the purchasers thereof. "I've seen that youngster before, though I
+can't recollect where. He's got a most fearful determined look."
+
+Chester drew an audible sigh of relief when the train left the
+station. He was fairly off now and felt that he could defy even
+curious railway officials.
+
+It was not his first train ride, for Mrs. Elwell had once taken him to
+Belltown to get an aching tooth extracted, but it was certainly his
+first under such exhilarating circumstances, and he meant to enjoy it.
+To be sure, he was very hungry, but that, he reflected, was only what
+he would probably be many times before he made his fortune, and it was
+just as well to get used to it. Meanwhile, it behooved him to keep his
+eyes open. On the road from Roxbury to Belltown there was not much to
+be seen that morning that Chester did not see.
+
+The train reached Belltown about noon. He did not mean to stop long
+there--it was too near Upton. From the conductor on the train, he
+found that a boat left Belltown for Montrose at two in the afternoon.
+Montrose was a hundred miles from Upton, and Chester thought he would
+be safe there. To Montrose, accordingly, he decided to go, but the
+first thing was to get some dinner. He went into a grocery store and
+bought some crackers and a bit of cheese. He had somewhere picked up
+the idea that crackers and cheese were about as economical food as you
+could find for adventurous youths starting out on small capital.
+
+He found his way to the only public square Belltown boasted, and
+munched his food hungrily on a bench under the trees. He would go to
+Montrose and there find something to do. Later on he would gradually
+work his way out West, where there was more room for an ambitious
+small boy to expand and grow. Chester dreamed some dazzling dreams as
+he sat there on the bench under the Belltown chestnuts. Passers-by, if
+they noticed him at all, saw merely a rather small, poorly clad boy,
+with a great many freckles, a square jaw and shrewd, level-gazing grey
+eyes. But this same lad was mapping out a very brilliant future for
+himself as people passed him heedlessly by. He would get out West,
+somehow or other, some time or other, and make a fortune. Then,
+perhaps, he would go back to Upton for a visit and shine in his
+splendour before all his old neighbours. It all seemed very easy and
+alluring, sitting there in the quiet little Belltown square. Chester,
+you see, possessed imagination. That, together with the crackers and
+cheese, so cheered him up that he felt ready for anything. He was
+aroused from a dream of passing Aunt Harriet by in lofty scorn and a
+glittering carriage, by the shrill whistle of the boat. Chester
+pocketed his remaining crackers and cheese and his visions also, and
+was once more his alert, wide-awake self. He had inquired the way to
+the wharf from the grocer, so he found no difficulty in reaching it.
+When the boat steamed down the muddy little river, Chester was on
+board of her.
+
+He was glad to be out of Belltown, for he was anything but sure that
+he would not encounter some Upton people as long as he was in it. They
+often went to Belltown on business, but never to Montrose.
+
+There were not many passengers on the boat, and Chester scrutinized
+them all so sharply in turn that he could have sworn to each and every
+one of them for years afterwards had it been necessary. The one he
+liked best was a middle-aged lady who sat just before him on the
+opposite side of the deck She was plump and motherly looking, with a
+fresh, rosy face and beaming blue eyes.
+
+"If I was looking for anyone to adopt me I'd pick her," said Chester
+to himself. The more he looked at her, the better he liked her. He
+labelled her in his mind as "the nice, rosy lady."
+
+The nice, rosy lady noticed Chester staring at her after awhile. She
+smiled promptly at him--a smile that seemed fairly to irradiate her
+round face--and then began fumbling in an old-fashioned reticule she
+carried, and from which she presently extracted a chubby little paper
+bag.
+
+"If you like candy, little boy," she said to Chester, "here is some of
+my sugar taffy for you."
+
+Chester did not exactly like being called a little boy. But her voice
+and smile were irresistible and won his heart straightway. He took the
+candy with a shy, "Thank you, ma'am," and sat holding it in his hand.
+
+"Eat it," commanded the rosy lady authoritatively. "That is what taffy
+is for, you know."
+
+So Chester ate it. It was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted
+in his life, and filled a void which even the crackers and cheese had
+left vacant. The rosy lady watched every mouthful he ate as if she
+enjoyed it more than he did. When he had finished the taffy she smiled
+one of her sociable smiles again and said, "Well, what do you think of
+it?"
+
+"It's the nicest taffy I ever ate," answered Chester enthusiastically,
+as if he were a connoisseur in all kinds of taffies. The rosy lady
+nodded, well pleased.
+
+"That is just what everyone says about my sugar taffy. Nobody up our
+way can match it, though goodness knows they try hard enough. My
+great-grandmother invented the recipe herself, and it has been in our
+family ever since. I'm real glad you liked it."
+
+She smiled at him again, as if his appreciation of her taffy was a
+bond of good fellowship between them. She did not know it but,
+nevertheless, she was filling the heart of a desperate small boy, who
+had run away from home, with hope and encouragement and self-reliance.
+If there were such kind folks as this in the world, why, he would get
+along all right. The rosy lady's smiles and taffy--the smiles much
+more than the taffy--went far to thaw out of him a certain hardness
+and resentfulness against people in general that Aunt Harriet's harsh
+treatment had instilled into him. Chester instantly made a resolve
+that when he grew stout and rosy and prosperous he would dispense
+smiles and taffy and good cheer generally to all forlorn small boys on
+boats and trains.
+
+It was almost dark when they reached Montrose. Chester lost sight of
+the rosy lady when they left the boat, and it gave him a lonesome
+feeling; but he could not indulge in that for long at a time. Here he
+was at his destination--at dark, in a strange city a hundred miles
+from home.
+
+"The first thing is to find somewhere to sleep," he said to himself,
+resolutely declining to feel frightened, although the temptation was
+very strong.
+
+Montrose was not really a very big place. It was only a bustling
+little town of some twenty thousand inhabitants, but to Chester's eyes
+it was a vast metropolis. He had never been in any place bigger than
+Belltown, and in Belltown you could see one end of it, at least, no
+matter where you were. Montrose seemed endless to Chester as he stood
+at the head of Water Street and gazed in bewilderment along one of its
+main business avenues--a big, glittering, whirling place where one
+small boy could so easily be swallowed up that he would never be heard
+of again.
+
+Chester, after paying his fare to Montrose and buying his cheese and
+crackers, had just sixty cents left. This must last him until he found
+work, so that the luxury of lodgings was out of the question, even if
+he had known where to look for them. To be sure, there were benches in
+a public square right in front of him; but Chester was afraid that if
+he curled up on one of them for the night, a policeman might question
+him, and he did not believe he could give a very satisfactory account
+of himself. In his perplexity, he thought of his cosy lumber pile at
+Roxbury Station and remembered that when he had left the boat he had
+noticed a large vacant lot near the wharf which was filled with piles
+of lumber. Back to this he went and soon succeeded in finding a place
+to stow himself. His last waking thought was that he must be up and
+doing bright and early the next morning, and that it must surely be
+longer than twenty-four hours since he had crept downstairs and out of
+Aunt Harriet's porch window at Upton.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Montrose seemed less alarming by daylight, which was not so
+bewildering as the blinking electric lights. Chester was up betimes,
+ate the last of his cheese and crackers and started out at once to
+look for work. He determined to be thorough, and he went straight into
+every place of business he came to, from a blacksmith's forge to a
+department store, and boldly asked the first person he met if they
+wanted a boy there. There was, however, one class of places Chester
+shunned determinedly. He never went into a liquor saloon. The last
+winter he had been allowed to go to school in Upton, his teacher had
+been a pale, patient little woman who hated the liquor traffic with
+all her heart. She herself had suffered bitterly through it, and she
+instilled into her pupils a thorough aversion to it. Chester would
+have chosen death by starvation before he would have sought for
+employment in a liquor saloon. But there certainly did not seem room
+for him anywhere else. Nobody wanted a boy. The answer to his question
+was invariably "No." As the day wore on, Chester's hopes and courage
+went down to zero, but he still tramped doggedly about. He would be
+thorough, at least. Surely somewhere in this big place, where everyone
+seemed so busy, there must be something for him to do.
+
+Once there seemed a chance of success. He had gone into a big
+provision store and asked the clerk behind the counter if they wanted
+a boy.
+
+"Well, we do," said the clerk, looking him over critically, "but I
+hardly think you'll fill the bill. However, come in and see the boss."
+
+He took Chester into a dark, grimy little inner office where a fat,
+stubby man was sitting before a desk with his feet upon it.
+
+"Hey? What!" he said when the clerk explained. "Looking for the place?
+Why, sonny, you're not half big enough."
+
+"Oh, I'm a great deal bigger than I look," cried Chester breathlessly.
+"That is, sir--I mean I'm ever so much stronger than I look. I'll work
+hard, sir, ever so hard--and I'll grow."
+
+The fat, stubby man roared with laughter. What was grim earnest to
+poor Chester was a joke to him.
+
+"No doubt you will, my boy," he said genially, "but I'm afraid you'll
+hardly grow fast enough to suit us. Boys aren't like pigweed, you
+know. No, no, our boy must be a big, strapping fellow of eighteen or
+nineteen. He'll have a deal of heavy lifting to do."
+
+Chester went out of the store with a queer choking in his throat. For
+one horrible moment he thought he was going to cry--he, Chester
+Stephens, who had run away from home to do splendid things! A nice
+ending that would be to his fine dreams! He thrust his hands into his
+pockets and strode along the street, biting his lips fiercely. He
+would not cry--no, he would not! And he _would_ find work!
+
+Chester did not cry, but neither, alas, did he find work. He parted
+with ten cents of his precious hoard for more crackers, and he spend
+the night again in the lumber yard.
+
+Perhaps I'll have better luck tomorrow, he thought hopefully.
+
+But it really seemed as if there were to be no luck for Chester except
+bad luck. Day after day passed and, although he tramped resolutely
+from street to street and visited every place that seemed to offer any
+chance, he could get no employment. In spite of his pluck, his heart
+began to fail him.
+
+At the end of a week Chester woke up among his lumber to a realization
+that he was at the end of his resources. He had just five cents left
+out of the four dollars that were to have been the key to his fortune.
+He sat gloomily on the wall of his sleeping apartment and munched the
+one solitary cracker he had left. It must carry him through the day
+unless he got work. The five cents must be kept for some dire
+emergency.
+
+He started uptown rather aimlessly. In his week's wanderings he had
+come to know the city very well and no longer felt confused with its
+size and bustle. He envied every busy boy he saw. Back in Upton he had
+sometimes resented the fact that he was kept working continually and
+was seldom allowed an hour off. Now he was burdened with spare time.
+It certainly did not seem as if things were fairly divided, he
+thought. And then he thought no more just then, for one of the queer
+spells in his head came on. He had experienced them at intervals
+during the last three days. Something seemed to break loose in his
+head and spin wildly round and round, while houses and people and
+trees danced and wobbled all about him. Chester vaguely wondered if
+this could be what Aunt Harriet had been wont to call a "judgement."
+But then, he had done nothing very bad--nothing that would warrant a
+judgement, he thought. It was surely no harm to run away from a place
+where you were treated so bad and where they did not seem to want you.
+Chester felt bitter whenever he thought of Aunt Harriet.
+
+Presently he found himself in the market square of Montrose. It was
+market day, and the place was thronged with people from the
+surrounding country settlements. Chester had hoped that he might pick
+up a few cents, holding a horse or cow for somebody or carrying a
+market basket, but no such chance offered itself. He climbed up on
+some bales of pressed hay in one corner and sat there moodily; there
+was dejection in the very dangle of his legs over the bales. Chester,
+you see, was discovering what many a boy before him has
+discovered--that it is a good deal easier to sit down and make a
+fortune in dreams than it is to go out into the world and make it.
+
+Two men were talking to each other near him. At first Chester gave no
+heed to their conversation, but presently a sentence made him prick up
+his ears.
+
+"Yes, there's a pretty fair crop out at Hopedale," one man was saying,
+"but whether it's going to be got in in good shape is another matter.
+It's terrible hard to get any help. Every spare man-jack far and wide
+has gone West on them everlasting harvest excursions. Salome Whitney
+at the Mount Hope Farm is in a predicament. She's got a hired man, but
+he can't harvest grain all by himself. She spent the whole of
+yesterday driving around, trying to get a couple of men or boys to
+help him, but I dunno if she got anyone or not."
+
+The men moved out of earshot at this juncture, but Chester got down
+from the bales with a determined look. If workers were wanted in
+Hopedale, that was the place for him. He had done a man's work at
+harvest time in Upton the year before. Lige Barton had said so
+himself. Hope and courage returned with a rush.
+
+He accosted the first man he met and asked if he could tell him the
+way to Hopedale.
+
+"Reckon I can, sonny. I live in the next district. Want to go there?
+If you wait till evening, I can give you a lift part of the way. It's
+five miles out."
+
+"Thank you, sir," said Chester firmly, "but I must go at once if
+you'll kindly direct me. It's important."
+
+"Well, it's a straight road. That's Albemarle Street down
+there--follow it till it takes you out to the country, and then keep
+straight on till you come to a church painted yellow and white. Turn
+to your right, and over the hill is Hopedale. But you'd better wait
+for me. You don't look fit to walk five miles."
+
+But Chester was off. Walk five miles! Pooh! He could walk twenty with
+hope to lure him on. Albemarle Street finally frayed off into a real
+country road. Chester was glad to find himself out in the country once
+more, with the great golden fields basking on either side and the
+wooded hills beyond, purple with haze. He had grown to hate the town
+with its cold, unheeding faces. It was good to breathe clear air again
+and feel the soft, springy soil of the ferny roadside under his tired
+little feet.
+
+Long before the five miles were covered, Chester began to wonder if he
+would hold out to the end of them. He had to stop and rest frequently,
+when those queer dizzy spells came on. His feet seemed like lead. But
+he kept doggedly on. He would not give in now! The white and yellow
+church was the most welcome sight that had ever met his eyes.
+
+Over the hill he met a man and inquired the way to Mount Hope Farm.
+Fortunately, it was nearby. At the gate Chester had to stop again to
+recover from his dizziness.
+
+He liked the look of the place, with its great, comfortable barns and
+quaint, roomy old farmhouse, all set down in a trim quadrangle of
+beeches and orchards. There was an appearance of peace and prosperity
+about it.
+
+If only Miss Salome Whitney will hire me! thought Chester wistfully,
+as he crept up the slope. I'm afraid she'll say I'm too small. Wisht I
+could stretch three inches all at once. Wisht I wasn't so dizzy.
+Wisht--
+
+What Chester's third wish was will never be known, for just as he
+reached the kitchen door the worst dizzy spell of all came on. Trees,
+barns, well-sweep, all whirled around him with the speed of wind. He
+reeled and fell, a limp, helpless little body, on Miss Salome
+Whitney's broad, spotless sandstone doorstep.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the Mount Hope kitchen Miss Salome was at that moment deep in
+discussion with her "help" over the weighty question of how the
+damsons were to be preserved. Miss Salome wanted them boiled;
+Clemantiny Bosworth, the help, insisted that they ought to be baked.
+Clemantiny was always very positive. She had "bossed" Miss Salome for
+years, and both knew that in the end the damsons would be baked, but
+the argument had to be carried out for dignity's sake.
+
+"They're so sour when they're baked," protested Miss Salome.
+
+"Well, you don't want damsons sweet, do you?" retorted Clemantiny
+scornfully. "That's the beauty of damsons--their tartness. And they
+keep ever so much better baked, Salome--you know they do. My
+grandmother _always_ baked hers, and they would keep for three years."
+
+Miss Salome knew that when Clemantiny dragged her grandmother into the
+question, it was time to surrender. Beyond that, dignity degenerated
+into stubbornness. It would be useless to say that she did not want to
+keep her damsons for three years, and that she was content to eat them
+up and trust to Providence for the next year's supply.
+
+"Well, well, bake them then," she said placidly. "I don't suppose it
+makes much difference one way or another. Only, I insist--what was
+that noise, Clemantiny? It sounded like something falling against the
+porch door."
+
+"It's that worthless dog of Martin's, I suppose," said Clemantiny,
+grasping a broom handle with a grimness that boded ill for the dog.
+"Mussing up my clean doorstep with his dirty paws again. I'll fix
+him!"
+
+Clemantiny swept out through the porch and jerked open the door. There
+was a moment's silence. Then Miss Salome heard her say, "For the
+land's sake! Salome Whitney, come here."
+
+What Miss Salome saw when she hurried out was a white-faced boy
+stretched on the doorstep at Clemantiny's feet.
+
+"Is he dead?" she gasped.
+
+"Dead? No," sniffed Clemantiny. "He's fainted, that's what he is.
+Where on earth did he come from? He ain't a Hopedale boy."
+
+"He must be carried right in," exclaimed Miss Salome in distress.
+"Why, he may die there. He must be very ill."
+
+"Looks more to me as if he had fainted from sheer starvation,"
+returned Clemantiny brusquely as she picked him up in her lean,
+muscular arms. "Why, he's skin and bone. He ain't hardly heavier than
+a baby. Well, this is a mysterious piece of work. Where'll I put him?"
+
+"Lay him on the sofa," said Miss Salome as soon as she had recovered
+from the horror into which Clemantiny's starvation dictum had thrown
+her. A child starving to death on her doorstep! "What do you do for
+people in a faint, Clemantiny?"
+
+"Wet their face--and hist up their feet--and loosen their collar,"
+said Clemantiny in a succession of jerks, doing each thing as she
+mentioned it. "And hold ammonia to their nose. Run for the ammonia,
+Salome. Look, will you? Skin and bone!"
+
+But Miss Salome had gone for the ammonia. There was a look on the
+boy's thin, pallid face that tugged painfully at her heart-strings.
+
+When Chester came back to consciousness with the pungency of the
+ammonia reeking through his head, he found himself lying on very soft
+pillows in a very big white sunny kitchen, where everything was
+scoured to a brightness that dazzled you. Bending over him was a tall,
+gaunt woman with a thin, determined face and snapping black eyes, and,
+standing beside her with a steaming bowl in her hand, was the nice
+rosy lady who had given him the taffy on the boat!
+
+When he opened his eyes, Miss Salome knew him.
+
+"Why, it's the little boy I saw on the boat!" she exclaimed.
+
+"Well, you've come to!" said Clemantiny, eyeing Chester severely. "And
+now perhaps you'll explain what you mean by fainting away on doorsteps
+and scaring people out of their senses."
+
+Chester thought that this must be the mistress of Mount Hope Farm, and
+hastened to propitiate her.
+
+"I'm sorry," he faltered feebly. "I didn't mean to--I--"
+
+"You're not to do any talking until you've had something to eat,"
+snapped Clemantiny inconsistently. "Here, open your mouth and take
+this broth. Pretty doings, I say!"
+
+Clemantiny spoke as sharply as Aunt Harriet had ever done, but somehow
+or other Chester did not feel afraid of her and her black eyes. She
+sat down by his side and fed him from the bowl of hot broth with a
+deft gentleness oddly in contrast with her grim expression.
+
+Chester thought he had never in all his life tasted anything so good
+as that broth. The boy was really almost starved. He drank every drop
+of it. Clemantiny gave a grunt of satisfaction as she handed the empty
+bowl and spoon to the silent, smiling Miss Salome.
+
+"Now, who are you and what do you want?" she said.
+
+Chester had been expecting this question, and while coming along the
+Hopedale road he had thought out an answer to it. He began now,
+speaking the words slowly and gaspingly, as if reciting a hastily
+learned lesson.
+
+"My name is Chester Benson. I belong to Upton up the country. My folks
+are dead and I came to Montrose to look for work, I've been there a
+week and couldn't get anything to do. I heard a man say that you
+wanted men to help in the harvest, so I came out to see if you'd hire
+me."
+
+In spite of his weakness, Chester's face turned very red before he got
+to the end of his speech. He was new to deception. To be sure, there
+was not, strictly speaking, an untrue word in it. As for his name, it
+was Chester Benson Stephens. But for all that, Chester could not have
+felt or looked more guilty if he had been telling an out-and-out
+falsehood at every breath.
+
+"Humph!" said Clemantiny in a dissatisfied tone. "What on earth do you
+suppose a midget like you can do in the harvest field? And we don't
+want any more help, anyway. We've got enough."
+
+Chester grew sick with disappointment. But at this moment Miss Salome
+spoke up.
+
+"No, we haven't, Clemantiny. We want another hand, and I'll hire you,
+Chester--that's your name, isn't it? I'll give you good wages, too."
+
+"Now, Salome!" protested Clemantiny.
+
+But Miss Salome only said, "I've made up my mind, Clemantiny."
+
+Clemantiny knew that when Miss Salome did make up her mind and
+announced it in that very quiet, very unmistakable tone, she was
+mistress of the situation and intended to remain so.
+
+"Oh, very well," she retorted. "You'll please yourself, Salome, of
+course. I think it would be wiser to wait until you found out a little
+more about him."
+
+"And have him starving on people's doorsteps in the meantime?"
+questioned Miss Salome severely.
+
+"Well," returned Clemantiny with the air of one who washes her hands
+of a doubtful proposition, "don't blame me if you repent of it."
+
+By this time Chester had grasped the wonderful fact that his troubles
+were ended--for a while, at least. He raised himself up on one arm and
+looked gratefully at Miss Salome.
+
+"Thank you," he said. "I'll work hard. I'm used to doing a lot."
+
+"There, there!" said Miss Salome, patting his shoulder gently. "Lie
+down and rest. Dinner will be ready soon, and I guess you'll be ready
+for it."
+
+To Clemantiny she added in a low, gentle tone, "There's a look on his
+face that reminded me of Johnny. It came out so strong when he sat up
+just now that it made me feel like crying. Don't you notice it,
+Clemantiny?"
+
+"Can't say that I do," replied that energetic person, who was flying
+about the kitchen with a speed that made Chester's head dizzy trying
+to follow her with his eyes. "All I can see is freckles and bones--but
+if you're satisfied, I am. For law's sake, don't fluster me, Salome.
+There's a hundred and one things to be done out of hand. This frolic
+has clean dundered the whole forenoon's work."
+
+After dinner Chester decided that it was time to make himself useful.
+
+"Can't I go right to work now?" he asked.
+
+"We don't begin harvest till tomorrow," said Miss Salome. "You'd
+better rest this afternoon."
+
+"Oh, I'm all right now," insisted Chester. "I feel fine. Please give
+me something to do."
+
+"You can go out and cut me some wood for my afternoon's baking," said
+Clemantiny. "And see you cut it short enough. Any other boy that's
+tried always gets it about two inches too long."
+
+When he had gone out, she said scornfully to Miss Salome, "Well, what
+do you expect that size to accomplish in a harvest field, Salome
+Whitney?"
+
+"Not very much, perhaps," said Miss Salome mildly. "But what could I
+do? You wouldn't have me turn the child adrift on the world again,
+would you, Clemantiny?"
+
+Clemantiny did not choose to answer this appeal. She rattled her
+dishes noisily into the dishpan.
+
+"Well, where are you going to put him to sleep?" she demanded. "The
+hands you've got will fill the kitchen chamber. There's only the spare
+room left. You'll hardly put him there, I suppose? Your philanthropy
+will hardly lead you as far as _that_."
+
+When Clemantiny employed big words and sarcasm at the same time, the
+effect was tremendous. But Miss Salome didn't wilt.
+
+"What makes you so prejudiced against him?" she asked curiously.
+
+"I'm _not_ prejudiced against him. But that story about himself didn't
+ring true. I worked in Upton years ago, and there weren't any Bensons
+there then. There's more behind that he hasn't told. I'd find out what
+it was before I took him into my house, that's all. But I'm not
+prejudiced."
+
+"Well, well," said Miss Salome soothingly, "we must do the best we can
+for him. It's a sort of duty. And as for a room for him--why, I'll put
+him in Johnny's."
+
+Clemantiny opened her mouth and shut it again. She understood that it
+would be a waste of breath to say anything more. If Miss Salome had
+made up her mind to put this freckled, determined-looking waif,
+dropped on her doorstep from heaven knew where, into Johnny's room,
+that was an end of the matter.
+
+"But I'll not be surprised at anything after this," she muttered as
+she carried her dishes into the pantry. "First a skinny little urchin
+goes and faints on her doorstep. Then she hires him and puts him in
+Johnny's room. Johnny's room! Salome Whitney, what _do_ you mean?"
+
+Perhaps Miss Salome hardly knew what she meant. But somehow her heart
+went out warmly to this boy. In spite of Clemantiny's sniffs, she held
+to the opinion that he looked like Johnny. Johnny was a little nephew
+of hers. She had taken him to bring up when his parents died, and she
+had loved him very dearly. He had died four years ago, and since that
+time the little front room over the front porch had never been
+occupied. It was just as Johnny had left it. Beyond keeping it
+scrupulously clean, Miss Salome never allowed it to be disturbed. And
+now a somewhat ragged lad from nowhere was to be put into it! No
+wonder Clemantiny shook her head when Miss Salome went up to air it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Even Clemantiny had to admit that Chester was willing to work. He
+split wood until she called him to stop. Then he carried in the
+wood-box full, and piled it so neatly that even the grim handmaiden
+was pleased. After that, she sent him to the garden to pick the early
+beans. In the evening he milked three cows and did all the chores,
+falling into the ways of the place with a deft adaptability that went
+far to soften Clemantiny's heart.
+
+"He's been taught to work somewheres," she admitted grudgingly, "and
+he's real polite and respectful. But he looks too cute by half. And
+his name isn't Benson any more than mine. When I called him 'Chester
+Benson' out there in the cow-yard, he stared at me fer half a minute
+'sif I'd called him Nebuchadnezzar."
+
+When bedtime came, Miss Salome took Chester up to a room whose
+whiteness and daintiness quite took away the breath of a lad who had
+been used to sleeping in garrets or hired men's kitchen chambers all
+his life. Later on Miss Salome came in to see if he was comfortable,
+and stood, with her candle in her hand, looking down very kindly at
+the thin, shrewd little face on the pillow.
+
+"I hope you'll sleep real well here, Chester," she said. "I had a
+little boy once who used to sleep here. You--you look like him. Good
+night."
+
+She bent over him and kissed his forehead. Chester had never been
+kissed by anyone before, so far as he could remember. Something came
+up in his throat that felt about as big as a pumpkin. At the same
+moment he wished he could have told Miss Salome the whole truth about
+himself. I might tell her in the morning, he thought, as he watched
+her figure passing out of the little porch chamber.
+
+But on second thought he decided that this would never do. He felt
+sure she would disapprove of his running away, and would probably
+insist upon his going straight back to Upton or, at least, informing
+Aunt Harriet of his whereabouts. No, he could not tell her.
+
+Clemantiny was an early riser, but when she came into the kitchen the
+next morning the fire was already made and Chester was out in the yard
+with three of the five cows milked.
+
+"Humph!" said Clemantiny amiably. "New brooms sweep clean."
+
+But she gave him cream with his porridge that morning. Generally, all
+Miss Salome's hired hands got from Clemantiny was skim milk.
+
+Miss Salome's regular hired man lived in a little house down in the
+hollow. He soon turned up, and the other two men she had hired for
+harvest also arrived. Martin, the man, looked Chester over
+quizzically.
+
+"What do you think you can do, sonny?"
+
+"Anything," said Chester sturdily. "I'm used to work."
+
+"He's right," whispered Clemantiny aside. "He's smart as a steel trap.
+But just you keep an eye on him all the same, Martin."
+
+Chester soon proved his mettle in the harvest field. In the brisk
+three weeks that followed, even Clemantiny had to admit that he earned
+every cent of his wages. His active feet were untiring and his wiry
+arms could pitch and stock with the best. When the day's work was
+ended, he brought in wood and water for Clemantiny, helped milk the
+cows, gathered the eggs, and made on his own responsibility a round
+of barns and outhouses to make sure that everything was snug and tight
+for the night.
+
+"Freckles-and-Bones has been well trained somewhere," said Clemantiny
+again.
+
+It was hardly fair to put the bones in now, for Chester was growing
+plump and hearty. He had never been so happy in his life. Upton
+drudgery and that dreadful week in Montrose seemed like a bad dream.
+Here, in the golden meadows of Mount Hope Farm, he worked with a right
+good will. The men liked him, and he soon became a favourite with
+them. Even Clemantiny relented somewhat. To be sure, she continued
+very grim, and still threw her words at him as if they were so many
+missiles warranted to strike home. But Chester soon learned that
+Clemantiny's bark was worse than her bite. She was really very good to
+him and fed him lavishly. But she declared that this was only to put
+some flesh on him.
+
+"It offends me to see bones sticking through anybody's skin like that.
+We aren't used to such objects at Mount Hope Farm, thank goodness.
+Yes, you may smile, Salome. I like him well enough, and I'll admit
+that he knows how to make himself useful, but I don't trust him any
+more than ever I did. He's mighty close about his past life. You can't
+get any more out of him than juice out of a post. I've tried, and I
+know."
+
+But it was Miss Salome who had won Chester's whole heart. He had never
+loved anybody in his hard little life before. He loved her with an
+almost dog-like devotion. He forgot that he was working to earn
+money--and make his fortune. He worked to please Miss Salome. She was
+good and kind and gentle to him, and his starved heart thawed and
+expanded in the sunshine of her atmosphere. She went to the little
+porch room every night to kiss him good night. Chester would have been
+bitterly disappointed if she had failed to go.
+
+She was greatly shocked to find out that he had never said his prayers
+before going to bed. She insisted on teaching him the simple little
+one she had used herself when a child. When Chester found that it
+would please her, he said it every night. There was nothing he would
+not have done for Miss Salome.
+
+She talked a good deal to him about Johnny and she gave him the
+jack-knife that Johnny had owned.
+
+"It belonged to a good, manly little boy once," she said, "and now I
+hope it belongs to another such."
+
+"I ain't very good," said Chester repentantly, "but I'll try to be,
+Miss Salome--honest, I will."
+
+One day he heard Miss Salome speaking of someone who had run away from
+home. "A wicked, ungrateful boy," she called him. Chester blushed
+until his freckles were drowned out in a sea of red, and Clemantiny
+saw it, of course. When did anything ever escape those merciless black
+eyes of Clemantiny's?
+
+"Do you think it's always wrong for a fellow to run away, Miss
+Salome?" he faltered.
+
+"It can't ever be right," said Miss Salome decidedly.
+
+"But if he wasn't treated well--and was jawed at--and not let go to
+school?" pleaded Chester.
+
+Clemantiny gave Miss Salome a look as of one who would say, You're
+bat-blind if you can't read between the lines of that; but Miss Salome
+was placidly unconscious. She was not really thinking of the subject
+at all, and did not guess that Chester meant anything more than
+generalities.
+
+"Not even then," she said firmly. "Nothing can justify a boy for
+running away--especially as Jarvis Colemen did--never even left a word
+behind him to say where he'd gone. His aunt thought he'd fallen into
+the river."
+
+"Don't suppose she would have grieved much if he had," said Clemantiny
+sarcastically, all the while watching Chester, until he felt as if
+she were boring into his very soul and reading all his past life.
+
+When the harvest season drew to a close, dismay crept into the soul of
+our hero. Where would he go now? He hated to think of leaving Mount
+Hope Farm and Miss Salome. He would have been content to stay there
+and work as hard as he had ever worked at Upton, merely for the roof
+over his head and the food he ate. The making of a fortune seemed a
+small thing compared to the privilege of being near Miss Salome.
+
+"But I suppose I must just up and go," he muttered dolefully.
+
+One day Miss Salome had a conference with Clemantiny. At the end of it
+the latter said, "Do as you please," in the tone she might have used
+to a spoiled child. "But if you'd take my advice--which you won't and
+never do--you'd write to somebody in Upton and make inquiries about
+him first. What he says is all very well and he sticks to it
+marvellous, and there's no tripping him up. But there's something
+behind, Salome Whitney--mark my words, there's something behind."
+
+"He looks so like Johnny," said Miss Salome wistfully.
+
+"And I suppose you think that covers a multitude of sins," said
+Clemantiny contemptuously.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the day when the last load of rustling golden sheaves was carried
+into the big barn and stowed away in the dusty loft, Miss Salome
+called Chester into the kitchen. Chester's heart sank as he obeyed the
+summons.
+
+His time was up, and now he was to be paid his wages and sent away. To
+be sure, Martin had told him that morning that a man in East Hopedale
+wanted a boy for a spell, and that he, Martin, would see that he got
+the place if he wanted it. But that did not reconcile him to leaving
+Mount Hope Farm.
+
+Miss Salome was sitting in her favourite sunny corner of the kitchen
+and Clemantiny was flying around with double briskness. The latter's
+thin lips were tightly set and disapproval was writ large in every
+flutter of her calico skirts.
+
+"Chester," said Miss Salome kindly, "your time is up today."
+
+Chester nodded. For a moment he felt as he had felt when he left the
+provision store in Montrose. But he would not let Clemantiny see him
+cry. Somehow, he would not have minded Miss Salome.
+
+"What are you thinking of doing now?" Miss Salome went on.
+
+"There's a man at East Hopedale wants a boy," said Chester, "and
+Martin says he thinks I'll suit."
+
+"That is Jonas Smallman," said Miss Salome thoughtfully. "He has the
+name of being a hard master. It isn't right of me to say so, perhaps.
+I really don't know much about him. But wouldn't you rather stay here
+with me for the winter, Chester?"
+
+"Ma'am? Miss Salome?" stammered Chester. He heard Clemantiny give a
+snort behind him and mutter, "Clean infatuated--clean infatuated,"
+without in the least knowing what she meant.
+
+"We really need a chore boy all the year round," said Miss Salome.
+"Martin has all he can do with the heavy work. And there are the
+apples to be picked. If you care to stay, you shall have your board
+and clothes for doing the odd jobs, and you can go to school all
+winter. In the spring we will see what need be done then."
+
+If he would care to stay! Chester could have laughed aloud. His eyes
+were shining with joy as he replied, "Oh, Miss Salome, I'll be so glad
+to stay! I--I--didn't want to go away. I'll try to do everything you
+want me to do. I'll work ever so hard."
+
+"Humph!"
+
+This, of course, was from Clemantiny, as she set a pan of apples on
+the stove with an emphatic thud. "Nobody ever doubted your willingness
+to work. Pity everything else about you isn't as satisfactory."
+
+"Clemantiny!" said Miss Salome rebukingly. She put her arms about
+Chester and drew him to her. "Then it is all settled, Chester. You are
+my boy now, and of course I shall expect you to be a good boy."
+
+If ever a boy was determined to be good, that boy was Chester. That
+day was the beginning of a new life for him. He began to go to the
+Hopedale school the next week. Miss Salome gave him all Johnny's old
+school books and took an eager interest in his studies.
+
+Chester ought to have been very happy, and at first he was; but as the
+bright, mellow days of autumn passed by, a shadow came over his
+happiness. He could not help thinking that he had really deceived Miss
+Salome, and was deceiving her still--Miss Salome, who had such
+confidence in him. He was not what he pretended to be. And as for his
+running away, he felt sure that Miss Salome would view that with
+horror. As the time passed by and he learned more and more what a high
+standard of honour and truth she had, he felt more and more ashamed of
+himself. When she looked at him with her clear, trustful, blue eyes,
+Chester felt as guilty as if he had systematically deceived her with
+intent to do harm. He began to wish that he had the courage to tell
+her the whole truth about himself.
+
+Moreover, he began to think that perhaps he had not done right, after
+all, in running away from Aunt Harriet. In Miss Salome's code nothing
+could be right that was underhanded, and Chester was very swiftly
+coming to look at things through Miss Salome's eyes. He felt sure that
+Johnny would never have acted as he had, and if Chester now had one
+dear ambition on earth, it was to be as good and manly a fellow as
+Johnny must have been. But he could never be that as long as he kept
+the truth about himself from Miss Salome.
+
+"That boy has got something on his mind," said the terrible
+Clemantiny, who, Chester felt convinced, could see through a stone
+wall.
+
+"Nonsense! What could he have on his mind?" said Miss Salome. But she
+said it a little anxiously. She, too, had noticed Chester's absent
+ways and abstracted face.
+
+"Goodness me, I don't know! I don't suppose he has robbed a bank or
+murdered anybody. But he is worrying over something, as plain as
+plain."
+
+"He is getting on very well at school," said Miss Salome. "His teacher
+says so, and he is very eager to learn. I don't know what can be
+troubling him."
+
+She was fated not to know for a fortnight longer. During that time
+Chester fought out his struggle with himself, and conquered. He must
+tell Miss Salome, he decided, with a long sigh. He knew that it would
+mean going back to Upton and Aunt Harriet and the old, hard life, but
+he would not sail under false colours any longer.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Chester went into the kitchen one afternoon when he came home from
+school, with his lips set and his jaws even squarer than usual. Miss
+Salome was making some of her famous taffy, and Clemantiny was
+spinning yarn on the big wheel.
+
+"Miss Salome," said Chester desperately, "if you're not too busy,
+there is something I'd like to tell you."
+
+"What is it?" asked Miss Salome good-humouredly, turning to him with
+her spoon poised in midair over her granite saucepan.
+
+"It's about myself. I--I--oh, Miss Salome, I didn't tell you the
+truth about myself. I've got to tell it now. My name isn't
+Benson--exactly--and I ran away from home."
+
+"Dear me!" said Miss Salome mildly. She dropped her spoon, handle and
+all, into the taffy and never noticed it. "Dear me, Chester!"
+
+"I knew it," said Clemantiny triumphantly. "I knew it--and I always
+said it. Run away, did you?"
+
+"Yes'm. My name is Chester Benson Stephens, and I lived at Upton with
+Aunt Harriet Elwell. But she ain't any relation to me, really. She's
+only father's stepsister. She--she--wasn't kind to me and she wouldn't
+let me go to school--so I ran away."
+
+"But, dear me, Chester, didn't you know that was very wrong?" said
+Miss Salome in bewilderment.
+
+"No'm--I didn't know it then. I've been thinking lately that maybe it
+was. I'm--I'm real sorry."
+
+"What did you say your real name was?" demanded Clemantiny.
+
+"Stephens, ma'am."
+
+"And your mother's name before she was married?"
+
+"Mary Morrow," said Chester, wondering what upon earth Clemantiny
+meant.
+
+Clemantiny turned to Miss Salome with an air of surrendering a dearly
+cherished opinion.
+
+"Well, ma'am, I guess you must be right about his looking like Johnny.
+I must say I never could see the resemblance, but it may well be
+there, for he--that very fellow there--and Johnny are first cousins.
+Their mothers were sisters!"
+
+"Clemantiny!" exclaimed Miss Salome.
+
+"You may well say 'Clemantiny.' Such a coincidence! It doesn't make
+you and him any relation, of course--the cousinship is on the mother's
+side. But it's there. Mary Morrow was born and brought up in Hopedale.
+She went to Upton when I did, and married Oliver Stephens there. Why,
+I knew his father as well as I know you."
+
+"This is wonderful," said Miss Salome. Then she added sorrowfully,
+"But it doesn't make your running away right, Chester."
+
+"Tell us all about it," demanded Clemantiny, sitting down on the
+wood-box. "Sit down, boy, sit down--don't stand there looking as if
+you were on trial for your life. Tell us all about it."
+
+Thus adjured, Chester sat down and told them all about it--his
+moonlight flitting and his adventures in Montrose. Miss Salome
+exclaimed with horror over the fact of his sleeping in a pile of
+lumber for seven nights, but Clemantiny listened in silence, never
+taking her eyes from the boy's pale face. When Chester finished, she
+nodded.
+
+"We've got it all now. There's nothing more behind, Salome. It would
+have been better for you to have told as straight a story at first,
+young man."
+
+Chester knew that, but, having no reply to make, made none. Miss
+Salome looked at him wistfully.
+
+"But, with it all, you didn't do right to run away, Chester," she said
+firmly. "I dare say your aunt was severe with you--but two wrongs
+never make a right, you know."
+
+"No'm," said Chester.
+
+"You must go back to your aunt," continued Miss Salome sadly.
+
+Chester nodded. He knew this, but he could not trust himself to speak.
+Then did Clemantiny arise in her righteous indignation.
+
+"Well, I never heard of such nonsense, Salome Whitney! What on earth
+do you want to send him back for? I knew Harriet Elwell years ago, and
+if she's still what she was then, it ain't much wonder Chester ran
+away from her. I'd say 'run,' too. Go back, indeed! You keep him right
+here, as you should, and let Harriet Elwell look somewhere else for
+somebody to scold!"
+
+"Clemantiny!" expostulated Miss Salome.
+
+"Oh, I must and will speak my mind, Salome. There's no one else to
+take Chester's part, it seems. You have as much claim on him as
+Harriet Elwell has. She ain't any real relation to him any more than
+you are."
+
+Miss Salome looked troubled. Perhaps there was something in
+Clemantiny's argument. And she hated to think of seeing Chester go. He
+looked more like Johnny than ever, as he stood there with his flushed
+face and wistful eyes.
+
+"Chester," she said gravely, "I leave it to you to decide. If you
+think you ought to go back to your aunt, well and good. If not, you
+shall stay here."
+
+This was the hardest yet. Chester wished she had not left the decision
+to him. It was like cutting off his own hand. But he spoke up
+manfully.
+
+"I--I think I ought to go back, Miss Salome, and I want to pay back
+the money, too."
+
+"I think so, too, Chester, although I'm sorry as sorry can be. I'll go
+back to Upton with you. We'll start tomorrow. If, when we get there,
+your aunt is willing to let you stay with me, you can come back."
+
+"There's a big chance of that!" said Clemantiny sourly. "A woman's
+likely to give up a boy like Chester--a good, steady worker and as
+respectful and obliging as there is between this and sunset--very
+likely, isn't she! Well, this taffy is all burnt to the saucepan and
+clean ruined--but what's the odds! All I hope, Salome Whitney, is that
+the next time you adopt a boy and let him twine himself 'round a
+person's heart, you'll make sure first that you are going to stick to
+it. I don't like having my affections torn up by the roots."
+
+Clemantiny seized the saucepan and disappeared with it into the pantry
+amid a whirl of pungent smoke.
+
+Mount Hope Farm was a strangely dismal place that night. Miss Salome
+sighed heavily and often as she made her preparations for the morrow's
+journey.
+
+Clemantiny stalked about with her grim face grimmer than ever. As for
+Chester, when he went to bed that night in the little porch chamber,
+he cried heartily into his pillows. He didn't care for pride any
+longer; he just cried and didn't even pretend he wasn't crying when
+Miss Salome came in to sit by him a little while and talk to him. That
+talk comforted Chester. He realized that, come what might, he would
+always have a good friend in Miss Salome--aye, and in Clemantiny, too.
+
+Chester never knew it, but after he had fallen asleep, with the tears
+still glistening on his brown cheeks, Clemantiny tiptoed silently in
+with a candle in her hand and bent over him with an expression of
+almost maternal tenderness on her face. It was late and an aroma of
+boiling sugar hung about her. She had sat up long after Miss Salome
+was abed, to boil another saucepan of taffy for Chester to eat on his
+journey.
+
+"Poor, dear child!" she said, softly touching one of his crisp curls.
+"It's a shame in Salome to insist on his going back. She doesn't know
+what she's sending him to, or she wouldn't. He didn't say much against
+his aunt, and Salome thinks she was only just a little bit cranky. But
+_I_ could guess."
+
+Early in the morning Miss Salome and Chester started. They were to
+drive to Montrose, leave their team there and take the boat for
+Belltown. Chester bade farewell to the porch chamber and the long,
+white kitchen and the friendly barns with a full heart. When he
+climbed into the wagon, Clemantiny put a big bagful of taffy into his
+hands.
+
+"Good-by, Chester," she said. "And remember, you've always got a
+friend in me, anyhow."
+
+Then Clemantiny went back into the kitchen and cried--good,
+rough-spoken, tender-hearted Clemantiny sat down and cried.
+
+It was an ideal day for travelling--crisp, clear and sunny--but
+neither Chester nor Miss Salome was in a mood for enjoyment.
+
+Back over Chester's runaway route they went, and reached Belltown on
+the boat that evening.
+
+They stayed in Belltown overnight and in the morning took the train to
+Roxbury Station. Here Miss Salome hired a team from the storekeeper
+and drove out to Upton.
+
+Chester felt his heart sink as they drove into the Elwell yard. How
+well he knew it!
+
+Miss Salome tied her hired nag to the gatepost and took Chester by the
+hand. They went to the door and knocked. It was opened with a jerk and
+Mrs. Elwell stood before them. She had probably seen them from the
+window, for she uttered no word of surprise at seeing Chester again.
+Indeed, she said nothing at all, but only stood rigidly before them.
+
+Dear me, what a disagreeable-looking woman! thought Miss Salome. But
+she said courteously, "Are you Mrs. Elwell?"
+
+"I am," said that lady forbiddingly.
+
+"I've brought your nephew home," continued Miss Salome, laying her
+hand encouragingly on Chester's shrinking shoulder. "I have had him
+hired for some time on my farm at Hopedale, but I didn't know until
+yesterday that he had run away from you. When he told me about it, I
+thought he ought to come straight back and return your four dollars,
+and so did he. So I have brought him."
+
+"You might have saved yourself the trouble then!" cried Mrs. Elwell
+shrilly. Her black eyes flashed with anger. "I'm done with him and
+don't want the money. Run away when there was work to do, and thinks
+he can come back now that it's all done and loaf all winter, does he?
+He shall never enter my house again."
+
+"That he shall not!" cried Miss Salome, at last finding her tongue.
+Her gentle nature was grievously stirred by the heartlessness shown in
+the face and voice of Mrs. Elwell. "That he shall not!" she cried
+again. "But he shall not want for a home as long as I have one to give
+him. Come, Chester, we'll go home."
+
+"I wish you well of him," Mrs. Elwell said sarcastically.
+
+Miss Salome already repented her angry retort. She was afraid she had
+been undignified, but she wished for a moment that Clemantiny was
+there. Wicked as she feared it was, Miss Salome thought she could have
+enjoyed a tilt between her ancient handmaid and Mrs. Elwell.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Elwell, if I have used any intemperate
+expressions," she said with great dignity. "You provoked me more than
+was becoming by your remarks. I wish you good morning."
+
+Mrs. Elwell slammed the door shut.
+
+With her cheeks even more than usually rosy, Miss Salome led Chester
+down to the gate, untied her horse and drove out of the yard. Not
+until they reached the main road did she trust herself to speak to the
+dazed lad beside her.
+
+"What a disagreeable women!" she ejaculated at last. "I don't wonder
+you ran away, Chester--I don't, indeed! Though, mind you, I don't
+think it was right, for all that. But I'm gladder than words can say
+that she wouldn't take you back. You are mine now, and you will stay
+mine. I want you to call me Aunt Salome after this. Get up, horse! If
+we can catch that train at Roxbury, we'll be home by night yet."
+
+Chester was too happy to speak. He had never felt so glad and grateful
+in his life before.
+
+They got home that night just as the sun was setting redly behind the
+great maples on the western hill. As they drove into the yard,
+Clemantiny's face appeared, gazing at them over the high board fence
+of the cow-yard. Chester waved his hand at her gleefully.
+
+"Lawful heart!" said Clemantiny. She set down her pail and came out to
+the lane on a run. She caught Chester as he sprang from the wagon and
+gave him a hearty hug.
+
+"I'm glad clean down to my boot soles to see you back again," she
+said.
+
+"He's back for good," said Miss Salome. "Chester, you'd better go in
+and study up your lessons for tomorrow."
+
+
+
+
+The Strike at Putney
+
+
+The church at Putney was one that gladdened the hearts of all the
+ministers in the presbytery whenever they thought about it. It was
+such a satisfactory church. While other churches here and there were
+continually giving trouble in one way or another, the Putneyites were
+never guilty of brewing up internal or presbyterial strife.
+
+The Exeter church people were always quarrelling among themselves and
+carrying their quarrels to the courts of the church. The very name of
+Exeter gave the members of presbytery the cold creeps. But the Putney
+church people never quarrelled.
+
+Danbridge church was in a chronic state of ministerlessness. No
+minister ever stayed in Danbridge longer than he could help. The
+people were too critical, and they were also noted heresy hunters.
+Good ministers fought shy of Danbridge, and poor ones met with a chill
+welcome. The harassed presbytery, worn out with "supplying," were
+disposed to think that the millennium would come if ever the
+Danbridgians got a minister whom they liked. At Putney they had had
+the same minister for fifteen years and hoped and expected to have him
+for fifteen more. They looked with horror-stricken eyes on the
+Danbridge theological coquetries.
+
+Bloom Valley church was over head and heels in debt and had no visible
+prospect of ever getting out. The moderator said under his breath that
+they did over-much praying and too little hoeing. He did not believe
+in faith without works. Tarrytown Road kept its head above water but
+never had a cent to spare for missions or the schemes of the church.
+
+In bright and shining contradistinction to these the Putney church had
+always paid its way and gave liberally to all departments of church
+work. If other springs of supply ran dry the Putneyites
+enthusiastically got up a "tea" or a "social," and so raised the
+money. Naturally the "heft" of this work fell on the women, but they
+did not mind--in very truth, they enjoyed it. The Putney women had the
+reputation of being "great church workers," and they plumed themselves
+on it, putting on airs at conventions among the less energetic women
+of the other churches.
+
+They were especially strong on societies. There was the Church Aid
+Society, the Girls' Flower Band, and the Sewing Circle. There was a
+Mission Band and a Helping Hand among the children. And finally there
+was the Women's Foreign Mission Auxiliary, out of which the whole
+trouble grew which convulsed the church at Putney for a brief time and
+furnished a standing joke in presbyterial circles for years
+afterwards. To this day ministers and elders tell the story of the
+Putney church strike with sparkling eyes and subdued chuckles. It
+never grows old or stale. But the Putney elders are an exception. They
+never laugh at it. They never refer to it. It is not in the wicked,
+unregenerate heart of man to make a jest of his own bitter defeat.
+
+It was in June that the secretary of the Putney W.F.M. Auxiliary wrote
+to a noted returned missionary who was touring the country, asking her
+to give an address on mission work before their society. Mrs.
+Cotterell wrote back saying that her brief time was so taken up
+already that she found it hard to make any further engagements, but
+she could not refuse the Putney people who were so well and favourably
+known in mission circles for their perennial interest and liberality.
+So, although she could not come on the date requested, she would, if
+acceptable, come the following Sunday.
+
+This suited the Putney Auxiliary very well. On the Sunday referred to
+there was to be no evening service in the church owing to Mr.
+Sinclair's absence. They therefore appointed the missionary meeting
+for that night, and made arrangements to hold it in the church itself,
+as the classroom was too small for the expected audience.
+
+Then the thunderbolt descended on the W.F.M.A. of Putney from a clear
+sky. The elders of the church rose up to a man and declared that no
+woman should occupy the pulpit of the Putney church. It was in direct
+contravention to the teachings of St. Paul.
+
+To make matters worse, Mr. Sinclair declared himself on the elders'
+side. He said that he could not conscientiously give his consent to a
+woman occupying his pulpit, even when that woman was Mrs. Cotterell
+and her subject foreign missions.
+
+The members of the Auxiliary were aghast. They called a meeting
+extraordinary in the classroom and, discarding all forms and
+ceremonies in their wrath, talked their indignation out.
+
+Out of doors the world basked in June sunshine and preened itself in
+blossom. The birds sang and chirped in the lichened maples that cupped
+the little church in, and peace was over all the Putney valley. Inside
+the classroom disgusted women buzzed like angry bees.
+
+"What on earth are we to do?" sighed the secretary plaintively. Mary
+Kilburn was always plaintive. She sat on the steps of the platform,
+being too wrought up in her mind to sit in her chair at the desk, and
+her thin, faded little face was twisted with anxiety. "All the
+arrangements are made and Mrs. Cotterell is coming on the tenth. How
+can we tell her that the men won't let her speak?"
+
+"There was never anything like this in Putney church before," groaned
+Mrs. Elder Knox. "It was Andrew McKittrick put them up to it. I always
+said that man would make trouble here yet, ever since he moved to
+Putney from Danbridge. I've talked and argued with Thomas until I'm
+dumb, but he is as set as a rock."
+
+"I don't see what business the men have to interfere with us anyhow,"
+said her daughter Lucy, who was sitting on one of the window-sills.
+"We don't meddle with them, I'm sure. As if Mrs. Cotterell would
+contaminate the pulpit!"
+
+"One would think we were still in the dark ages," said Frances
+Spenslow sharply. Frances was the Putney schoolteacher. Her father was
+one of the recalcitrant elders and Frances felt it bitterly--all the
+more that she had tried to argue with him and had been sat upon as a
+"child who couldn't understand."
+
+"I'm more surprised at Mr. Sinclair than at the elders," said Mrs.
+Abner Keech, fanning herself vigorously. "Elders are subject to queer
+spells periodically. They think they assert their authority that way.
+But Mr. Sinclair has always seemed so liberal and broad-minded."
+
+"You never can tell what crotchet an old bachelor will take into his
+head," said Alethea Craig bitingly.
+
+The others nodded agreement. Mr. Sinclair's inveterate celibacy was a
+standing grievance with the Putney women.
+
+"If he had a wife who could be our president this would never have
+happened, I warrant you," said Mrs. King sagely.
+
+"But what are we going to do, ladies?" said Mrs. Robbins briskly. Mrs.
+Robbins was the president. She was a big, bustling woman with clear
+blue eyes and crisp, incisive ways. Hitherto she had held her peace.
+"They must talk themselves out before they can get down to business,"
+she had reflected sagely. But she thought the time had now come to
+speak.
+
+"You know," she went on, "we can talk and rage against the men all day
+if we like. They are not trying to prevent us. But that will do no
+good. Here's Mrs. Cotterell invited, and all the neighbouring
+auxiliaries notified--and the men won't let us have the church. The
+point is, how are we going to get out of the scrape?"
+
+A helpless silence descended upon the classroom. The eyes of every
+woman present turned to Myra Wilson. Everyone could talk, but when it
+came to action they had a fashion of turning to Myra.
+
+She had a reputation for cleverness and originality. She never talked
+much. So far today she had not said a word. She was sitting on the
+sill of the window across from Lucy Knox. She swung her hat on her
+knee, and loose, moist rings of dark hair curled around her dark,
+alert face. There was a sparkle in her grey eyes that boded ill to the
+men who were peaceably pursuing their avocations, rashly indifferent
+to what the women might be saying in the maple-shaded classroom.
+
+"Have you any suggestion to make, Miss Wilson?" said Mrs. Robbins,
+with a return to her official voice and manner.
+
+Myra put her long, slender index finger to her chin.
+
+"I think," she said decidedly, "that we must strike."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Elder Knox went in to tea that evening he glanced somewhat
+apprehensively at his wife. They had had an altercation before she
+went to the meeting, and he supposed she had talked herself into
+another rage while there. But Mrs. Knox was placid and smiling. She
+had made his favourite soda biscuits for him and inquired amiably
+after his progress in hoeing turnips in the southeast meadow.
+
+She made, however, no reference to the Auxiliary meeting, and when the
+biscuits and the maple syrup and two cups of matchless tea had nerved
+the elder up, his curiosity got the better of his prudence--for even
+elders are human and curiosity knows no gender--and he asked what they
+had done at the meeting.
+
+"We poor men have been shaking in our shoes," he said facetiously.
+
+"Were you?" Mrs. Knox's voice was calm and faintly amused. "Well, you
+didn't need to. We talked the matter over very quietly and came to the
+conclusion that the session knew best and that women hadn't any right
+to interfere in church business at all."
+
+Lucy Knox turned her head away to hide a smile. The elder beamed. He
+was a peace-loving man and disliked "ructions" of any sort and
+domestic ones in particular. Since the decision of the session Mrs.
+Knox had made his life a burden to him. He did not understand her
+sudden change of base, but he accepted it very thankfully.
+
+"That's right--that's right," he said heartily. "I'm glad to hear you
+coming out so sensible, Maria. I was afraid you'd work yourselves up
+at that meeting and let Myra Wilson or Alethea Craig put you up to
+some foolishness or other. Well, I guess I'll jog down to the Corner
+this evening and order that barrel of pastry flour you want."
+
+"Oh, you needn't," said Mrs. Knox indifferently. "We won't be needing
+it now."
+
+"Not needing it! But I thought you said you had to have some to bake
+for the social week after next."
+
+"There isn't going to be any social."
+
+"Not any social?"
+
+Elder Knox stared perplexedly at his wife. A month previously the
+Putney church had been recarpeted, and they still owed fifty dollars
+for it. This, the women declared, they would speedily pay off by a big
+cake and ice-cream social in the hall. Mrs. Knox had been one of the
+foremost promoters of the enterprise.
+
+"Not any social?" repeated the elder again. "Then how is the money for
+the carpet to be got? And _why_ isn't there going to be a social?"
+
+"The men can get the money somehow, I suppose," said Mrs. Knox. "As
+for the social, why, of course, if women aren't good enough to speak
+in church they are not good enough to work for it either. Lucy, dear,
+will you pass me the cookies?"
+
+"Lucy dear" passed the cookies and then rose abruptly and left the
+table. Her father's face was too much for her.
+
+"What confounded nonsense is this?" demanded the elder explosively.
+
+Mrs. Knox opened her mellow brown eyes widely, as if in amazement at
+her husband's tone.
+
+"I don't understand you," she said. "Our position is perfectly
+logical."
+
+She had borrowed that phrase from Myra Wilson, and it floored the
+elder. He got up, seized his hat, and strode from the room.
+
+That night, at Jacob Wherrison's store at the Corner, the Putney men
+talked over the new development. The social was certainly off--for a
+time, anyway.
+
+"Best let 'em alone, I say," said Wherrison. "They're mad at us now
+and doing this to pay us out. But they'll cool down later on and we'll
+have the social all right."
+
+"But if they don't," said Andrew McKittrick gloomily, "who is going to
+pay for that carpet?"
+
+This was an unpleasant question. The others shirked it.
+
+"I was always opposed to this action of the session," said Alec Craig.
+"It wouldn't have hurt to have let the woman speak. 'Tisn't as if it
+was a regular sermon."
+
+"The session knew best," said Andrew sharply. "And the
+minister--you're not going to set your opinion up against his, are
+you, Craig?"
+
+"Didn't know they taught such reverence for ministers in Danbridge,"
+retorted Craig with a laugh.
+
+"Best let 'em alone, as Wherrison says," said Abner Keech.
+
+"Don't see what else we can do," said John Wilson shortly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On Sunday morning the men were conscious of a bare, deserted
+appearance in the church. Mr. Sinclair perceived it himself. After
+some inward wondering he concluded that it was because there were no
+flowers anywhere. The table before the pulpit was bare. On the organ a
+vase held a sorry, faded bouquet left over from the previous week. The
+floor was' unswept. Dust lay thickly on the pulpit Bible, the choir
+chairs, and the pew backs.
+
+"This church looks disgraceful," said John Robbins in an angry
+undertone to his daughter Polly, who was president of the Flower
+Band. "What in the name of common sense is the good of your Flower
+Banders if you can't keep the place looking decent?"
+
+"There is no Flower Band now, Father," whispered Polly in turn. "We've
+disbanded. Women haven't any business to meddle in church matters. You
+know the session said so."
+
+It was well for Polly that she was too big to have her ears boxed.
+Even so, it might not have saved her if they had been anywhere else
+than in church.
+
+Meanwhile the men who were sitting in the choir--three basses and two
+tenors--were beginning to dimly suspect that there was something amiss
+here too. Where were the sopranos and the altos? Myra Wilson and
+Alethea Craig and several other members of the choir were sitting down
+in their pews with perfectly unconscious faces. Myra was looking out
+of the window into the tangled sunlight and shadow of the great
+maples. Alethea Craig was reading her Bible.
+
+Presently Frances Spenslow came in. Frances was organist, but today,
+instead of walking up to the platform, she slipped demurely into her
+father's pew at one side of the pulpit. Eben Craig, who was the Putney
+singing master and felt himself responsible for the choir, fidgeted
+uneasily. He tried to catch Frances's eye, but she was absorbed in
+reading the mission report she had found in the rack, and Eben was
+finally forced to tiptoe down to the Spenslow pew and whisper, "Miss
+Spenslow, the minister is waiting for the doxology. Aren't you going
+to take the organ?"
+
+Frances looked up calmly. Her clear, placid voice was audible not only
+to those in the nearby pews, but to the minister.
+
+"No, Mr. Craig. You know if a woman isn't fit to speak in the church
+she can't be fit to sing in it either."
+
+Eben Craig looked exceedingly foolish. He tiptoed gingerly back to his
+place. The minister, with an unusual flush on his thin, ascetic face,
+rose suddenly and gave out the opening hymn.
+
+Nobody who heard the singing in Putney church that day ever forgot it.
+Untrained basses and tenors, unrelieved by a single female voice, are
+not inspiring.
+
+There were no announcements of society meetings for the forthcoming
+week. On the way home from church that day irate husbands and fathers
+scolded, argued, or pleaded, according to their several dispositions.
+One and all met with the same calm statement that if a noble,
+self-sacrificing woman like Mrs. Cotterell were not good enough to
+speak in the Putney church, ordinary, everyday women could not be fit
+to take any part whatever in its work.
+
+Sunday School that afternoon was a harrowing failure. Out of all the
+corps of teachers only one was a man, and he alone was at his post. In
+the Christian Endeavour meeting on Tuesday night the feminine element
+sat dumb and unresponsive. The Putney women never did things by
+halves.
+
+The men held out for two weeks. At the end of that time they
+"happened" to meet at the manse and talked the matter over with the
+harassed minister. Elder Knox said gloomily, "It's this way. Nothing
+can move them women. I know, for I've tried. My authority has been set
+at naught in my own household. And I'm laughed at if I show my face in
+any of the other settlements."
+
+The Sunday School superintendent said the Sunday School was going to
+wrack and ruin, also the Christian Endeavour. The condition of the
+church for dust was something scandalous, and strangers were making a
+mockery of the singing. And the carpet had to be paid for. He supposed
+they would have to let the women have their own way.
+
+The next Sunday evening after service Mr. Sinclair arose hesitatingly.
+His face was flushed, and Alethea Craig always declared that he looked
+"just plain everyday cross." He announced briefly that the session
+after due deliberation had concluded that Mrs. Cotterell might occupy
+the pulpit on the evening appointed for her address.
+
+The women all over the church smiled broadly. Frances Spenslow got up
+and went to the organ stool. The singing in the last hymn was good and
+hearty. Going down the steps after dismissal Mrs. Elder Knox caught
+the secretary of the Church Aid by the arm.
+
+"I guess," she whispered anxiously, "you'd better call a special
+meeting of the Aids at my house tomorrow afternoon. If we're to get
+that social over before haying begins we've got to do some smart
+scurrying."
+
+The strike in the Putney church was over.
+
+
+
+
+The Unhappiness of Miss Farquhar
+
+
+Frances Farquhar was a beauty and was sometimes called a society
+butterfly by people who didn't know very much about it. Her father was
+wealthy and her mother came of an extremely blue-blooded family.
+Frances had been out for three years, and was a social favourite.
+Consequently, it may be wondered why she was unhappy.
+
+In plain English, Frances Farquhar had been jilted--just a
+commonplace, everyday jilting! She had been engaged to Paul Holcomb;
+he was a very handsome fellow, somewhat too evidently aware of the
+fact, and Frances was very deeply in love with him--or thought herself
+so, which at the time comes to pretty much the same thing. Everybody
+in her set knew of her engagement, and all her girl friends envied
+her, for Holcomb was a matrimonial catch.
+
+Then the crash came. Nobody outside the family knew exactly what did
+happen, but everybody knew that the Holcomb-Farquhar match was off,
+and everybody had a different story to account for it.
+
+The simple truth was that Holcomb was fickle and had fallen in love
+with another girl. There was nothing of the man about him, and it did
+not matter to his sublimely selfish caddishness whether he broke
+Frances Farquhar's heart or not. He got his freedom and he married
+Maud Carroll in six months' time.
+
+The Farquhars, especially Ned, who was Frances's older brother and
+seldom concerned himself about her except when the family honour was
+involved, were furious at the whole affair. Mr. Farquhar stormed, and
+Ned swore, and Della lamented her vanished role of bridemaid. As for
+Mrs. Farquhar, she cried and said it would ruin Frances's future
+prospects.
+
+The girl herself took no part in the family indignation meetings. But
+she believed that her heart was broken. Her love and her pride had
+suffered equally, and the effect seemed disastrous.
+
+After a while the Farquhars calmed down and devoted themselves to the
+task of cheering Frances up. This they did not accomplish. She got
+through the rest of the season somehow and showed a proud front to the
+world, not even flinching when Holcomb himself crossed her path. To be
+sure, she was pale and thin, and had about as much animation as a
+mask, but the same might be said of a score of other girls who were
+not suspected of having broken hearts.
+
+When the summer came Frances asserted herself. The Farquhars went to
+Green Harbour every summer. But this time Frances said she would not
+go, and stuck to it. The whole family took turns coaxing her and had
+nothing to show for their pains.
+
+"I'm going up to Windy Meadows to stay with Aunt Eleanor while you
+are at the Harbour," she declared. "She has invited me often enough."
+
+Ned whistled. "Jolly time you'll have of it, Sis. Windy Meadows is
+about as festive as a funeral. And Aunt Eleanor isn't lively, to put
+it in the mildest possible way."
+
+"I don't care if she isn't. I want to get somewhere where people won't
+look at me and talk about--that," said Frances, looking ready to cry.
+
+Ned went out and swore at Holcomb again, and then advised his mother
+to humour Frances. Accordingly, Frances went to Windy Meadows.
+
+Windy Meadows was, as Ned had said, the reverse of lively. It was a
+pretty country place, with a sort of fag-end by way of a little
+fishing village, huddled on a wind-swept bit of beach, locally known
+as the "Cove." Aunt Eleanor was one of those delightful people, so few
+and far between in this world, who have perfectly mastered the art of
+minding their own business exclusively. She left Frances in peace.
+
+She knew that her niece had had "some love trouble or other," and
+hadn't gotten over it rightly.
+
+"It's always best to let those things take their course," said this
+philosophical lady to her "help" and confidant, Margaret Ann Peabody.
+"She'll get over it in time--though she doesn't think so now, bless
+you."
+
+For the first fortnight Frances revelled in a luxury of unhindered
+sorrow. She could cry all night--and all day too, if she
+wished--without having to stop because people might notice that her
+eyes were red. She could mope in her room all she liked. And there
+were no men who demanded civility.
+
+When the fortnight was over, Aunt Eleanor took crafty counsel with
+herself. The letting-alone policy was all very well, but it would not
+do to have the girl die on her hands. Frances was getting paler and
+thinner every day--and she was spoiling her eyelashes by crying.
+
+"I wish," said Aunt Eleanor one morning at breakfast, while Frances
+pretended to eat, "that I could go and take Corona Sherwood out for a
+drive today. I promised her last week that I would, but I've never had
+time yet. And today is baking and churning day. It's a shame. Poor
+Corona!"
+
+"Who is she?" asked Frances, trying to realize that there was actually
+someone in the world besides herself who was to be pitied.
+
+"She is our minister's sister. She has been ill with rheumatic fever.
+She is better now, but doesn't seem to get strong very fast. She ought
+to go out more, but she isn't able to walk. I really must try and get
+around tomorrow. She keeps house for her brother at the manse. He
+isn't married, you know."
+
+Frances didn't know, nor did she in the least degree care. But even
+the luxury of unlimited grief palls, and Frances was beginning to feel
+this vaguely. She offered to go and take Miss Sherwood out driving.
+
+"I've never seen her," she said, "but I suppose that doesn't matter. I
+can drive Grey Tom in the phaeton, if you like."
+
+It was just what Aunt Eleanor intended, and she saw Frances drive off
+that afternoon with a great deal of satisfaction.
+
+"Give my love to Corona," she told her, "and say for me that she isn't
+to go messing about among those shore people until she's perfectly
+well. The manse is the fourth house after you turn the third corner."
+
+Frances kept count of the corners and the houses and found the manse.
+Corona Sherwood herself came to the door. Frances had been expecting
+an elderly personage with spectacles and grey crimps; she was
+surprised to find that the minister's sister was a girl of about her
+own age and possessed of a distinct worldly prettiness. Corona was
+dark, with a different darkness from that of Frances, who had ivory
+outlines and blue-black hair, while Corona was dusky and piquant.
+
+Her eyes brightened with delight when Frances told her errand.
+
+"How good of you and Miss Eleanor! I am not strong enough to walk far
+yet--or do anything useful, in fact, and Elliott so seldom has time to
+take me out."
+
+"Where shall we go?" asked Frances when they started. "I don't know
+much about this locality."
+
+"Can we drive to the Cove first? I want to see poor little Jacky Hart.
+He has been so sick--"
+
+"Aunt Eleanor positively forbade that," said Frances dubiously. "Will
+it be safe to disobey her?"
+
+Corona laughed.
+
+"Miss Eleanor blames my poor shore people for making me sick at first,
+but it was really not that at all. And I want to see Jacky Hart so
+much. He has been ill for some time with some disease of the spine and
+he is worse lately. I'm sure Miss Eleanor won't mind my calling just
+to see him."
+
+Frances turned Grey Tom down the shore road that ran to the Cove and
+past it to silvery, wind-swept sands, rimming sea expanses crystal
+clear. Jacky Hart's home proved to be a tiny little place overflowing
+with children. Mrs. Hart was a pale, tired-looking woman with the
+patient, farseeing eyes so often found among the women who watch sea
+and shore every day and night of their lives for those who sometimes
+never return.
+
+She spoke of Jacky with the apathy of hopelessness. The doctor said he
+would not last much longer. She told all her troubles unreservedly to
+Corona in her monotonous voice. Her "man" was drinking again and the
+mackerel catch was poor.
+
+When Mrs. Hart asked Corona to go in and see Jacky, Frances went too.
+The sick boy, a child with a delicate, wasted face and large, bright
+eyes, lay in a tiny bedroom off the kitchen. The air was hot and
+heavy. Mrs. Hart stood at the foot of the bed with her tragic face.
+
+"We have to set up nights with him now," she said. "It's awful hard on
+me and my man. The neighbours are kind enough and come sometimes, but
+most of them have enough to do. His medicine has to be given every
+half hour. I've been up for three nights running now. Jabez was off to
+the tavern for two. I'm just about played out."
+
+She suddenly broke down and began to cry, or rather whimper, in a
+heart-broken way.
+
+Corona looked troubled. "I wish I could come tonight, Mrs. Hart, but
+I'm afraid I'm really not strong enough yet."
+
+"I don't know much about sickness," spoke up Frances firmly, "but if
+to sit by the child and give him his medicine regularly is all that is
+necessary, I am sure I can do that. I'll come and sit up with Jacky
+tonight if you care to have me."
+
+Afterwards, when she and Corona were driving away, she wondered a good
+deal at herself. But Corona was so evidently pleased with her offer,
+and took it all so much as a matter of course, that Frances had not
+the courage to display her wonder. They had their drive through the
+great green bowl of the country valley, brimming over with sunshine,
+and afterwards Corona made Frances go home with her to tea.
+
+Rev. Elliott Sherwood had got back from his pastoral visitations, and
+was training his sweet peas in the way they should go against the
+garden fence. He was in his shirt sleeves and wore a big straw hat,
+and seemed in nowise disconcerted thereby. Corona introduced him, and
+he took Grey Tom away and put him in the barn. Then he went back to
+his sweet peas. He had had his tea, he said, so that Frances did not
+see him again until she went home. She thought he was a very
+indifferent young man, and not half so nice as his sister.
+
+But she went and sat up with Jacky Hart that night, getting to the
+Cove at dark, when the sea was a shimmer of fairy tints and the boats
+were coming in from the fishing grounds. Jacky greeted her with a
+wonderful smile, and later on she found herself watching alone by his
+bed. The tiny lamp on the table burned dim, and outside, on the rocks,
+there was loud laughing and talking until a late hour.
+
+Afterwards a silence fell, through which the lap of the waves on the
+sands and the far-off moan of the Atlantic surges came sonorously.
+Jacky was restless and wakeful, but did not suffer, and liked to talk.
+Frances listened to him with a new-born power of sympathy, which she
+thought she must have caught from Corona. He told her all the tragedy
+of his short life, and how bad he felt, about Dad's taking to drink
+and Mammy's having to work so hard.
+
+The pitiful little sentences made Frances's heart ache. The maternal
+instinct of the true woman awoke in her. She took a sudden liking to
+the child. He was a spiritual little creature, and his sufferings had
+made him old and wise. Once in the night he told Frances that he
+thought the angels must look like her.
+
+"You are so sweet pretty," he said gravely. "I never saw anyone so
+pretty, not even Miss C'rona. You look like a picture I once saw on
+Mr. Sherwood's table when I was up at the manse one day 'fore I got
+so bad I couldn't walk. It was a woman with a li'l baby in her arms
+and a kind of rim round her head. I would like something most awful
+much."
+
+"What is it, dear?" said Frances gently. "If I can get or do it for
+you, I will."
+
+"You could," he said wistfully, "but maybe you won't want to. But I do
+wish you'd come here just once every day and sit here five minutes and
+let me look at you--just that. Will it be too much trouble?"
+
+Frances stooped and kissed him. "I will come every day, Jacky," she
+said; and a look of ineffable content came over the thin little face.
+He put up his hand and touched her cheek.
+
+"I knew you were good--as good as Miss C'rona, and she is an angel. I
+love you."
+
+When morning came Frances went home. It was raining, and the sea was
+hidden in mist. As she walked along the wet road, Elliott Sherwood
+came splashing along in a little two-wheeled gig and picked her up. He
+wore a raincoat and a small cap, and did not look at all like a
+minister--or, at least, like Frances's conception of one.
+
+Not that she knew much about ministers. Her own minister at home--that
+is to say, the minister of the fashionable uptown church which she
+attended--was a portly, dignified old man with silvery hair and
+gold-rimmed glasses, who preached scholarly, cultured sermons and was
+as far removed from Frances's personal life as a star in the Milky
+Way.
+
+But a minister who wore rubber coats and little caps and drove about
+in a two-wheeled gig, very much mud-bespattered, and who talked about
+the shore people as if they were household intimates of his, was
+absolutely new to Frances.
+
+She could not help seeing, however, that the crisp brown hair under
+the edges of the unclerical-looking cap curled around a remarkably
+well-shaped forehead, beneath which flashed out a pair of very fine
+dark-grey eyes; he had likewise a good mouth, which was resolute and
+looked as if it might be stubborn on occasion; and, although he was
+not exactly handsome, Frances decided that she liked his face.
+
+He tucked the wet, slippery rubber apron of his conveyance about her
+and then proceeded to ask questions. Jacky Hart's case had to be
+reported on, and then Mr. Sherwood took out a notebook and looked over
+its entries intently.
+
+"Do you want any more work of that sort to do?" he asked her abruptly.
+
+Frances felt faintly amused. He talked to her as he might have done to
+Corona, and seemed utterly oblivious of the fact that her profile was
+classic and her eyes delicious. His indifference piqued Frances a
+little in spite of her murdered heart. Well, if there was anything she
+could do she might as well do it, she told him briefly, and he, with
+equal brevity, gave her directions for finding some old lady who lived
+on the Elm Creek road and to whom Corona had read tracts.
+
+"Tracts are a mild dissipation of Aunt Clorinda's," he said. "She
+fairly revels in them. She is half blind and has missed Corona very
+much."
+
+There were other matters also--a dozen or so of factory girls who
+needed to be looked after and a family of ragged children to be
+clothed. Frances, in some dismay, found herself pledged to help in all
+directions, and then ways and means had to be discussed. The long, wet
+road, sprinkled with houses, from whose windows people were peering to
+see "what girl the minister was driving," seemed very short. Frances
+did not know it, but Elliott Sherwood drove a full mile out of his
+way that morning to take her home, and risked being late for a very
+important appointment--from which it may be inferred that he was not
+quite so blind to the beautiful as he had seemed.
+
+Frances went through the rain that afternoon and read tracts to Aunt
+Clorinda. She was so dreadfully tired that night that she forgot to
+cry, and slept well and soundly.
+
+In the morning she went to church for the first time since coming to
+Windy Meadows. It did not seem civil not to go to hear a man preach
+when she had gone slumming with his sister and expected to assist him
+with his difficulties over factory girls. She was surprised at Elliott
+Sherwood's sermon, and mentally wondered why such a man had been
+allowed to remain for four years in a little country pulpit. Later on
+Aunt Eleanor told her it was for his health.
+
+"He was not strong when he left college, so he came here. But he is as
+well as ever now, and I expect he will soon be gobbled up by some of
+your city churches. He preached in Castle Street church last winter,
+and I believe they were delighted with him."
+
+This was all of a month later. During that time Frances thought that
+she must have been re-created, so far was her old self left behind.
+She seldom had an idle moment; when she had, she spent it with Corona.
+The two girls had become close friends, loving each other with the
+intensity of exceptional and somewhat exclusive natures.
+
+Corona grew strong slowly, and could do little for her brother's
+people, but Frances was an excellent proxy, and Elliott Sherwood kept
+her employed. Incidentally, Frances had come to know the young
+minister, with his lofty ideals and earnest efforts, very well. He
+had got into a ridiculous habit of going to her--her, Frances
+Farquhar!--for advice in many perplexities.
+
+Frances had nursed Jacky Hart and talked temperance to his father and
+read tracts to Aunt Clorinda and started a reading circle among the
+factory girls and fitted out all the little Jarboes with dresses and
+coaxed the shore children to go to school and patched up a feud
+between two 'longshore families and done a hundred other things of a
+similar nature.
+
+Aunt Eleanor said nothing, as was her wise wont, but she talked it
+over with Margaret Ann Peabody, and agreed with that model domestic
+when she said: "Work'll keep folks out of trouble and help 'em out of
+it when they are in. Just as long as that girl brooded over her own
+worries and didn't think of anyone but herself she was miserable. But
+as soon as she found other folks were unhappy, too, and tried to help
+'em out a bit, she helped herself most of all. She's getting fat and
+rosy, and it is plain to be seen that the minister thinks there isn't
+the like of her on this planet."
+
+One night Frances told Corona all about Holcomb. Elliott Sherwood was
+away, and Frances had gone up to stay all night with Corona at the
+manse. They were sitting in the moonlit gloom of Corona's room, and
+Frances felt confidential. She had expected to feel badly and cry a
+little while she told it. But she did not, and before she was half
+through, it did not seem as if it were worth telling after all. Corona
+was deeply sympathetic. She did not say a great deal, but what she did
+say put Frances on better terms with herself.
+
+"Oh, I shall get over it," the latter declared finally. "Once I
+thought I never would--but the truth is, I'm getting over it now. I'm
+very glad--but I'm horribly ashamed, too, to find myself so fickle."
+
+"I don't think you are fickle, Frances," said Corona gravely,
+"because I don't think you ever really loved that man at all. You only
+imagined you did. And he was not worthy of you. You are so good, dear;
+those shore people just worship you. Elliott says you can do anything
+you like with them."
+
+Frances laughed and said she was not at all good. Yet she was pleased.
+Later on, when she was brushing her hair before the mirror and smiling
+absently at her reflection, Corona said: "Frances, what is it like to
+be as pretty as you are?"
+
+"Nonsense!" said Frances by way of answer.
+
+"It is not nonsense at all. You must know you are very lovely,
+Frances. Elliott says you are the most beautiful girl he has ever
+seen."
+
+For a girl who has told herself a dozen times that she would never
+care again for masculine admiration, Frances experienced a very odd
+thrill of delight on hearing that the minister of Windy Meadows
+thought her beautiful. She knew he admired her intellect and had
+immense respect for what he called her "genius for influencing
+people," but she had really believed all along that, if Elliott
+Sherwood had been asked, he could not have told whether she was a whit
+better looking than Kitty Martin of the Cove, who taught a class in
+Sunday school and had round rosy cheeks and a snub nose.
+
+The summer went very quickly. One day Jacky Hart died--drifted out
+with the ebb tide, holding Frances's hand. She had loved the patient,
+sweet-souled little creature and missed him greatly.
+
+When the time to go home came Frances felt dull. She hated to leave
+Windy Meadows and Corona and her dear shore people and Aunt Eleanor
+and--and--well, Margaret Ann Peabody.
+
+Elliott Sherwood came up the night before she went away. When
+Margaret Ann showed him reverentially in, Frances was sitting in a
+halo of sunset light, and the pale, golden chrysanthemums in her hair
+shone like stars in the blue-black coils.
+
+Elliott Sherwood had been absent from Windy Meadows for several days.
+There was a subdued jubilance in his manner.
+
+"You think I have come to say good-bye, but I haven't," he told her.
+"I shall see you again very soon, I hope. I have just received a call
+to Castle Street church, and it is my intention to accept. So Corona
+and I will be in town this winter."
+
+Frances tried to tell him how glad she was, but only stammered.
+Elliott Sherwood came close up to her as she stood by the window in
+the fading light, and said--
+
+But on second thoughts I shall not record what he said--or what she
+said either. Some things should be left to the imagination.
+
+
+
+
+Why Mr. Cropper Changed His Mind
+
+
+"Well, Miss Maxwell, how did you get along today?" asked Mr. Baxter
+affably, when the new teacher came to the table.
+
+She was a slight, dark girl, rather plain-looking, but with a smart,
+energetic way. Mr. Baxter approved of her; he "liked her style," as he
+would have said.
+
+The summer term had just opened in the Maitland district. Esther
+Maxwell was a stranger, but she was a capable girl, and had no doubt
+of her own ability to get and keep the school in good working order.
+She smiled brightly at Mr. Baxter.
+
+"Very well for a beginning. The children seem bright and teachable and
+not hard to control."
+
+Mr. Baxter nodded. "There are no bad children in the school except the
+Cropper boys--and they can be good enough if they like. Reckon they
+weren't there today?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, Miss Maxwell, I think it only fair to tell you that you may
+have trouble with those boys when they do come. Forewarned is
+forearmed, you know. Mr. Cropper was opposed to our hiring you. Not,
+of course, that he had any personal objection to you, but he is set
+against female teachers, and when a Cropper is set there is nothing on
+earth can change him. He says female teachers can't keep order. He's
+started in with a spite at you on general principles, and the boys
+know it. They know he'll back them up in secret, no matter what they
+do, just to prove his opinions. Cropper is sly and slippery, and it is
+hard to corner him."
+
+"Are the boys big?" queried Esther anxiously.
+
+"Yes. Thirteen and fourteen and big for their age. You can't whip
+'em--that is the trouble. A man might, but they'd twist you around
+their fingers. You'll have your hands full, I'm afraid. But maybe
+they'll behave all right after all."
+
+Mr. Baxter privately had no hope that they would, but Esther hoped
+for the best. She could not believe that Mr. Cropper would carry his
+prejudices into a personal application. This conviction was
+strengthened when he overtook her walking from school the next day and
+drove her home. He was a big, handsome man with a very suave, polite
+manner. He asked interestedly about her school and her work, hoped she
+was getting on well, and said he had two young rascals of his own to
+send soon. Esther felt relieved. She thought that Mr. Baxter had
+exaggerated matters a little.
+
+"That plum tree of Mrs. Charley's is loaded with fruit again this
+year," remarked Mr. Baxter at the tea table that evening. "I came past
+it today on my way 'cross lots home from the woods. There will be
+bushels of plums on it."
+
+"I don't suppose poor Mrs. Charley will get one of them any more than
+she ever has," said Mrs. Baxter indignantly. "It's a burning shame,
+that's what it is! I just wish she could catch the Croppers once."
+
+"You haven't any proof that it is really them, Mary," objected her
+husband, "and you shouldn't make reckless accusations before folks."
+
+"I know very well it is them," retorted Mrs. Baxter, "and so do you,
+Adoniram. And Mrs. Charley knows it too, although she can't prove
+it--more's the pity! I don't say Isaac Cropper steals those plums with
+his own hands. But he knows who does--and the plums go into Mehitable
+Cropper's preserving kettle; there's nothing surer."
+
+"You see, Miss Maxwell, it's this way," explained Mr. Baxter, turning
+to Esther. "Mrs. Charley Cropper's husband was Isaac's brother. They
+never got on well together, and when Charley died there was a
+tremendous fuss about the property. Isaac acted mean and scandalous
+clear through, and public opinion has been down on him ever since. But
+Mrs. Charley is a pretty smart woman, and he didn't get the better of
+her in everything. There was a strip of disputed land between the two
+farms, and she secured it. There's a big plum tree growing on it
+close to the line fence. It's the finest one in Maitland. But Mrs.
+Charley never gets a plum from it."
+
+"But what becomes of them?" asked Esther.
+
+"They disappear," said Mr. Baxter, with a significant nod. "When the
+plums are anything like ripe Mrs. Charley discovers some day that
+there isn't one left on the tree. She has never been able to get a
+scrap of proof as to who took them, or she'd make it hot for them. But
+nobody in Maitland has any doubt in his own mind that Isaac Cropper
+knows where those plums go."
+
+"I don't think Mr. Cropper would steal," protested Esther.
+
+"Well, he doesn't consider it stealing, you know. He claims the land
+and says the plums are his. I don't doubt that he is quite clear in
+his own mind that they are. And he does hate Mrs. Charley. I'd give
+considerable to see the old sinner fairly caught, but he is too deep."
+
+"I think Mr. Baxter is too hard on Mr. Cropper," said Esther to
+herself later on. "He has probably some private prejudice against
+him."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But a month later she had changed her opinion. During that time the
+Cropper boys had come to school.
+
+At first Esther had been inclined to like them. They were handsome
+lads, with the same smooth way that characterized their father, and
+seemed bright and intelligent. For a few days all went well, and
+Esther felt decidedly relieved.
+
+But before long a subtle spirit of insubordination began to make
+itself felt in the school. Esther found herself powerless to cope with
+it. The Croppers never openly defied her, but they did precisely as
+they pleased. The other pupils thought themselves at liberty to follow
+this example, and in a month's time poor Esther had completely lost
+control of her little kingdom. Some complaints were heard among the
+ratepayers and even Mr. Baxter looked dubious. She knew that unless
+she could regain her authority she would be requested to hand in her
+resignation, but she was baffled by the elusive system of defiance
+which the Cropper boys had organized.
+
+One day she resolved to go to Mr. Cropper himself and appeal to his
+sense of justice, if he had any. It had been an especially hard day in
+school. When she had been absent at the noon hour all the desks in the
+schoolroom had been piled in a pyramid on the floor, books and slates
+interchanged, and various other pranks played. When questioned every
+pupil denied having done or helped to do it. Alfred and Bob Cropper
+looked her squarely in the eyes and declared their innocence in their
+usual gentlemanly fashion, yet Esther felt sure that they were the
+guilty ones. She also knew what exaggerated accounts of the affair
+would be taken home to Maitland tea tables, and she felt like sitting
+down to cry. But she did not. Instead she set her mouth firmly, helped
+the children restore the room to order, and after school went up to
+Isaac Cropper's house.
+
+That gentleman himself came in from the harvest field looking as
+courtly as usual, even in his rough working clothes. He shook hands
+heartily, told her he was glad to see her, and began talking about the
+weather. Esther was not to be turned from her object thus, although
+she felt her courage ebbing away from her as it always did in the
+presence of the Cropper imperviousness.
+
+"I have come up to see you about Alfred and Robert, Mr. Cropper," she
+said. "They are not behaving well in school."
+
+"Indeed!" Mr. Cropper's voice expressed bland surprise. "That is
+strange. As a rule I do not think Alfred and Robert have been
+troublesome to their teachers. What have they been doing now?"
+
+"They refuse to obey my orders," said Esther faintly.
+
+"Ah, well, Miss Maxwell, perhaps you will pardon my saying that a
+teacher should be able to enforce her orders. My boys are
+high-spirited fellows and need a strong, firm hand to restrain them. I
+have always said I considered it advisable to employ a male teacher
+in Maitland school. We should have better order. Not that I disapprove
+of you personally--far from it. I should be glad to see you succeed.
+But I have heard many complaints regarding the order in school at
+present."
+
+"I had no trouble until your boys came," retorted Esther, losing her
+temper a little, "and I believe that if you were willing to co-operate
+with me that I could govern them."
+
+"Well, you see," said Mr. Cropper easily, "when I send my boys to
+school I naturally expect that the teacher will be capable of doing
+the work she has been hired to do."
+
+"Then you refuse to help me?" said Esther in a trembling voice.
+
+"Why, my dear young lady, what can I do? Boys soon know when they can
+disobey a teacher with impunity. No doubt you will be able to secure a
+school easier to control and will do good work. But here, as I have
+already said, we need a firm hand at the helm. But you are not going
+yet, Miss Maxwell? You need some refreshment after your long walk.
+Mrs. Cropper will bring you in something."
+
+"No, thank you," said poor Esther. She felt that she must get away at
+once or she would burst into heartsick tears under those steely, bland
+blue eyes. When she got home she shut herself up in her room and
+cried. There was nothing for her to do but resign, she thought
+dismally.
+
+On the following Saturday Esther went for an afternoon walk, carrying
+her kodak with her. It was a brilliantly fine autumn day, and woods
+and fields were basking in a mellow haze. Esther went across lots to
+Mrs. Charley Cropper's house, intending to make a call. But the house
+was locked up and evidently deserted, so she rambled past it to the
+back fields. Passing through a grove of maples she came out among
+leafy young saplings on the other side. Just beyond her, with its
+laden boughs hanging over the line fence, was the famous plum tree.
+Esther looked at it for a moment. Then an odd smile gleamed over her
+face and she lifted her kodak.
+
+Monday evening Esther called on Mr. Cropper again. After the
+preliminary remarks in which he indulged, she said, with seeming
+irrelevance, that Saturday had been a fine day.
+
+"There was an excellent light for snapshots," she went on coolly. "I
+went out with my kodak and was lucky enough to get a good negative. I
+have brought you up a proof. I thought you would be interested in it."
+
+She rose and placed the proof on the table before Mr. Cropper. The
+plum tree came out clearly. Bob and Alf Cropper were up among the
+boughs picking the plums. On the ground beneath them stood their
+father with a basket of fruit in his hand.
+
+Mr. Cropper looked at the proof and from it to Esther. His eyes had
+lost their unconcerned glitter, but his voice was defiant.
+
+"The plums are mine by right," he said.
+
+"Perhaps," said Esther calmly, "but there are some who do not think
+so. Mrs. Charley, for instance--she would like to see this proof, I
+think."
+
+"Don't show it to her," cried Mr. Cropper hastily. "I tell you, Miss
+Maxwell, the plums are mine. But I am tired of fighting over them and
+I had decided before this that I'd let her have them after this. It's
+only a trifle, anyhow. And about that little matter we were discussing
+the other night, Miss Maxwell. I have been thinking it over, and I
+admit I was somewhat unreasonable. I'll talk to Alfred and Robert and
+see what I can do."
+
+"Very well," said Esther quietly. "The matter of the plums isn't my
+business and I don't wish to be involved in your family feuds,
+especially as you say that you mean to allow Mrs. Charley to enjoy her
+own in future. As for the school, we will hope that matters will
+improve."
+
+"You'll leave the proof with me, won't you?" said Mr. Cropper
+eagerly.
+
+"Oh, certainly," said Esther, smiling. "I have the negative still, you
+know."
+
+From that time out the Cropper boys were models of good behaviour and
+the other turbulent spirits, having lost their leaders, were soon
+quelled. Complaint died away, and at the end of the term Esther was
+re-engaged.
+
+"You seem to have won old Cropper over to your side entirely," Mr.
+Baxter told her that night. "He said at the meeting today that you
+were the best teacher we had ever had and moved to raise your salary.
+I never knew Isaac Cropper to change his opinions so handsomely."
+
+Esther smiled. She knew it had taken a powerful lever to change Mr.
+Cropper's opinion, but she kept her own counsel.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lucy Maud Montgomery Short Stories,
+1902 to 1903, by Lucy Maud Montgomery
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONTGOMERY SHORT STORIES ***
+
+***** This file should be named 24874.txt or 24874.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/8/7/24874/
+
+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.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+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
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/24874.zip b/24874.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..00506f8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/24874.zip
diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6312041
--- /dev/null
+++ b/LICENSE.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
diff --git a/NEWHDRA.STD b/NEWHDRA.STD
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a011413
--- /dev/null
+++ b/NEWHDRA.STD
@@ -0,0 +1,7 @@
+
+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
+
+
diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4cd8d8a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/README.md
@@ -0,0 +1,2 @@
+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #24874 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/24874)
author	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 02:14:44 -0700
committer	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 02:14:44 -0700
commit	306f77d74dfd16de8be2af4d42e289f16e2fa16b (patch)
tree	3e49c6f7e2b0c1308a682fed1ba5305dcb3df0f5