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diff --git a/33061-h/33061-h.htm b/33061-h/33061-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9a82116 --- /dev/null +++ b/33061-h/33061-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6707 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Clover And Blue Grass, by Eliza Calvert Hall. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +body { margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} +h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { text-align: center; clear: both;} +p { margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} +p.large { text-align:center; text-indent:0; font-weight:bold; font-size: 120%; + font-variant:small-caps; line-height:1.4; margin-bottom:1.5em; } +hr { width: 33%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; page-break-before: always;} +hr.full {width: 95%;} +hr.mid {width: 45%;} +table { margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} +.pagenum { position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} +.blockquot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} +.center {text-align: center;} +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} +.u {text-decoration: underline;} +.caption {font-weight: bold;} +.ads { margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} +.old {font-family: "Old English", "Old English Text", "Old English Text MT", + "Engravers Old English", "Engravers Old English MT", "EF Old English", + Gothic, Medieval, blackletter, "Black Letter", Gothique, Gotisch, + fantacy, cursive, sans-serif;} +.figcenter { margin: auto; text-align: center;} +.poem { margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} +.poem br {display: none;} +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} +.poem span.i0 { display: block; margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i2 { display: block; margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Clover and Blue Grass, by Eliza Calvert Hall + +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: Clover and Blue Grass + +Author: Eliza Calvert Hall + +Illustrator: H. R. Ballinger + +Release Date: July 3, 2010 [EBook #33061] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CLOVER AND BLUE GRASS *** + + + + +Produced by David Garcia, Asad Razzaki and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p class="large"><big>CLOVER AND BLUE GRASS</big></p> +<hr class="mid" /> + +<p class="center"><span class="old"><big><big>By Eliza Calvert Hall</big></big></span></p> + +<p class="large">AUNT JANE OF KENTUCKY<br /> +THE LAND OF LONG AGO<br /> +CLOVER AND BLUE GRASS<br /> +TO LOVE AND TO CHERISH<br /> +A BOOK OF HAND-WOVEN COVERLETS</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 268px;"> +<a href="images/frontis.jpg"><img src="images/frontis_tn.jpg" width="268" height="400" + alt="How could a man find words to thank a mother for giving him +her daughter? Frontispiece. See page 144." title="Frontispiece." /></a> +<span class="caption">How could a man find words to thank a mother for giving him +her daughter? Frontispiece. See page <a href="#Page_144">144</a>.</span> +</div> +<hr /> + +<h1>CLOVER AND +BLUE GRASS<br /></h1> + +<p class="center"><big><i>by</i></big></p> + +<h2>Eliza Calvert Hall</h2> + +<p class="center"><br /><br /><big>With a frontispiece by</big></p> + +<h3>H. R. Ballinger<br /><br /></h3> + +<p class="center"><big>Boston<br /> + +Little, Brown, & Company<br /> + +1916</big></p> +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><i>Copyright, 1916</i>,</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">By Lida Calvert Obenchain</span>.<br /><br /></p> + +<p class="center"><i>All rights reserved</i><br /></p> + +<p class="center">Published, September, 1916</p> +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><big>TO<br /> +MARTHA CALVERT<br /> +<small>AND</small><br /> +VAL CALVERT WINSTON</big> +</p> +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="4" summary="Table of Contents"> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='right'><span class="smcap">page</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#HOW_PARSON_PAGE_WENT_TO_THE_CIRCUS"><span class="smcap">How Parson Page Went To the Circus</span></a></td><td align='right'>1</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MARY_CRAWFORDS_CHART"><span class="smcap">Mary Crawford's Chart</span></a></td><td align='right'>33</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#OLD_MAHOGANY"><span class="smcap">Old Mahogany</span></a></td><td align='right'>91</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MILLSTONES_AND_STUMBLING-BLOCKS"><span class="smcap">Millstones and Stumbling-Blocks</span></a></td><td align='right'>115</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ONE_TASTE_OF_THE_OLD_TIME">"<span class="smcap">One Taste of the Old Time</span>"</a></td><td align='right'>157</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#ONE_DAY_IN_SPRING"><span class="smcap">One Day in Spring</span></a></td><td align='right'>207</td></tr> +</table></div> +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="HOW_PARSON_PAGE_WENT_TO_THE_CIRCUS" id="HOW_PARSON_PAGE_WENT_TO_THE_CIRCUS"></a>HOW PARSON PAGE WENT TO +THE CIRCUS</h2> + +<p class="center">(The last of the "Aunt Jane" stories)</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>This story, the nineteenth and last of the "Aunt Jane" stories, +appeared in the <i>Cosmopolitan</i>, July 1910, after the publication of +<i>The Land of Long Ago</i>. Its publication in this present volume completes +the set of stories told by "Aunt Jane of Kentucky."</p><br /></div> + +<p>"I hear there's goin' to be a circus in town next +week," said Aunt Jane, "and if it wasn't for the +looks of the thing, jest for the sake of old times, I'd +like to go to town and stand on the old drug-store +corner and watch the procession go 'round the square, +like me and Abram used to do in the days when we +was young and the children growin' up around us."</p> + +<p>She broke off with a laugh relevant to some happy +thought.</p> + +<p>"I never see a show bill," she said, "that I don't +think o' the time Parson Page went to the circus. +Times has changed so, I reckon a preacher could go +to a circus nowadays and little or nothin' be said of +it. I ricollect the last time the circus come to town +Uncle Billy Bascom says to me, says he: 'Jane, they +tell me the church members and their children was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> +so thick in that tent to-day that you could 'a' held +a meetin' of the session right there and organized a +Sunday school of any denomination whatever.' But +in my day all a church member or a church member's +children could do on circus day was to stand on the +street and watch the procession; and as for a minister, +why, it wasn't hardly considered fittin' for him to +even go a-fishin', much less go to a circus. Folks +used to say a good many hard things about Parson +Page for bein' so fond of fishin', but there wasn't +anything that could keep him away from the river +when spring come and the fish begun to bite. And +when folks begun tellin' tales about the fishin' in +Reelfoot Lake, Parson Page never rested till he got there.</p> + +<p>"I reckon, honey, you know all about Reelfoot +Lake?" Aunt Jane looked questioningly at me +over her glasses and waited for my answer.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, it's a big lake where all the men go to +fish," I answered hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>The vagueness of my answer was a sure indication +of shameful ignorance, and Aunt Jane shook her +head disapprovingly.</p> + +<p>"There's somethin' wrong with the schoolin' of +children nowadays," she said gravely, "Knowin'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +what I do about Reelfoot Lake, it looks to me like +the folks that make the geography books for children +ought to put that lake down on the map in big letters +and then tell all about it. Why, child, there ain't +but one Reelfoot Lake in all the world, and every +child ought to be able to tell all the hows and the +wheres and the whens that concerns it. Schoolin's +a mighty good thing, but every now and then there's +somethin' you can't learn out o' books, and you've +got to come to some old man like Uncle Billy Bascom +or some old woman like me that can ricollect away +back yonder. Not but what it's all hearsay with +me, when it comes to Reelfoot Lake, for that was +before my day; but many's the time I've heard +father and Uncle Tandy Stevens tell about it.</p> + +<p>"Father used to say that when God created the +world in six days, he forgot to make Reelfoot Lake, +and when he finally did remember it, after goodness +knows how many thousand years, he was so put out +he didn't think about it bein' Sunday, and he jest +ripped up the earth and made that lake as quick as +he could. I've heard father name the day o' the +month it happened, but like as not, if I tried to tell +it jest so, I'd git it wrong. However, I ricollect it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +was back yonder in 1811, before the time o' railroads, +and it must 'a' been about the middle o' December, +for I ricollect hearin' father say that him and Uncle +Tandy Stevens spent that Christmas on their flatboat +in the middle o' the Mississippi River. They +made the trip to New Orleens pretty near every +year, floatin' down the Mississippi and sellin' their +tobacco or hoop-poles or whatever they had to sell, +and then they'd sell the flatboat and foot it back to +Kentucky.</p> + +<p>"Maybe you think, child, I'm drawin' the long +bow, tellin' about people walkin' from New Orleens +to Kentucky, but that's the way it was in the old +times before they had railroads everywhere. And +it wasn't such a slow way of travelin', either. Father +used to brag how he made the journey in jest thirteen +days and a half. I reckon betwixt the dangers by +land and the dangers by water a journey like that +wasn't any light matter, but I've heard father say +many a time that if the river wasn't too high or too +low, and if the weather favored him, he'd rather go +down to New Orleens in a flatboat than to go on the +finest steamboat that ever was built. You know +that Bible text that says, 'Behold, I make all things<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> +new.' Father said that text would come into his +mind every time he went on one o' these trips. They'd +float down the Little Barren River and come to the +Ohio, and down that to the Mississippi, and father +said when they'd make the turn and feel the current +o' the big river under 'em sweepin' 'em south, away +from home and into a strange country, it was jest +like a man professin' religion and goin' forward to a +new and better life. And the slaves they'd take +along to help manage the boat, they'd begin to sing +'Swing low, sweet chariot, bound for to carry me +home,' and Uncle Tandy, he'd jest throw up his hat +and holler every time.</p> + +<p>"Well, the time I'm tellin' you about, father and +Uncle Tandy had a big load o' tobacco and a big +drove o' turkeys to take down to New Orleens. +Father said that every time he built a flatboat and +loaded it up he thought about Noah and the ark, and +this time, when he started down Barren River, it was +cloudy and threatenin' rain, and the next day it begun +showerin' and then clearin' off and then showerin' +again, more like April than December. But when +they struck the Ohio they found jest the right sort +o' weather for flatboat journeyin', clear and frosty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> +at night and sunshiny all day; and they'd been floatin' +along all day and a good part of every night, as they +was in a hurry to git to New Orleens and sell their +tobacco before prices fell.</p> + +<p>"Well, the night o' the earthquake, father said +it was his time to sit up and watch the fire and guide +the boat, and he was glad of it; for he said there +wasn't anything as peaceful and happy as the nights +he'd spend on the river. With the moon and the +stars over him and the big river under him it was +like bein' in the hollow of God's hand. That night +he was pretty busy up to twelve o'clock, lookin' out +for snags and dangerous places; but about one o'clock +they'd got to a place where he knew the channel was +safe, and he was sittin' down leanin' against a pile +o' tobacco and half dozin', when all at once he heard +a rumblin' like thunder, and not a sign o' rain in the +sky, and then a noise like the noise o' many waters, +and the big waves begun lappin' around the boat, +and the first thing father knew the boat was goin' +up-stream faster than it ever had gone down. Uncle +Tandy was wide awake by this time, and he called +out to father to know what had happened, and father +says: 'God only knows what's happened! The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +Mississippi River's flowin' north instead o' south.' +And jest then they heard the rumblin' sound like +thunder again, and Uncle Tandy says: 'The end +o' the world's come, and we're travelin' up-stream +to the New Jerusalem.' And while father and Uncle +Tandy went floatin' up-stream half scared out o' +their wits, the Goshen folks and the town folks was +down on their knees prayin', and the church bells +was ringin', and everybody thought the Judgment +Day had come. Two or three people was so scared +they professed religion.</p> + +<p>"Mother said she was awake when the earthquake +happened. She never slept well when father was +off on his river trips, and she was lyin' in bed wonderin' +if he was safe, when the house begun to shake, +and the dishes and pans rattled on the shelves, and +there was father and Uncle Tandy travelin' back wards +twelve miles; and when the earthquake was +over and the river got to flowin' south again, they +floated down past Cairo and saw the big lake, pretty +near twenty-five miles long and four miles wide, +right where there'd been nothin' but woods and dry +land, and the tops o' some o' the biggest trees was +stickin' up above the water, and folks from far and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +from near was comin' to see what the earthquake had +done.</p> + +<p>"Father and Uncle Tandy never got through talkin' +about the earthquake that Sunday mornin', and Parson +Page never got tired listenin', and every time +he'd come to see father, he'd manage to bring the +talk around to fishin', and that'd start father to tellin' +about the time the lake was made; and when father'd +git through, Parson Page he'd draw a long breath +and say: 'Well, that's wonderful! wonderful! It +was a great privilege to be present at an act of creation, +as it were, and something to be thankful for all +your days.'"</p> + +<p>Aunt Jane's voice ceased suddenly, and a bewildered +look came into her clear old eyes, the look of one who +has lost connection with the present by lingering +overtime in the past, "What was I talkin' about a +while ago, child?" she asked helplessly.</p> + +<p>"Wasn't it circuses?" I suggested.</p> + +<p>The cloud of perplexity rolled away from Aunt +Jane's face, "Why, of course it was," she ejaculated, +with an accent of self-reproof for her forgetfulness. +"Didn't I start out to tell you about Parson Page +goin' to the circus, and here I am tellin' about the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +earthquake. I'm jest like an old blind horse; can't +keep in the straight road to save my life. Some +folks might say my mind was failin', but if you ever +git to be as old as I am, child, you'll know jest how +it is. A young person hasn't got much to remember, +and he can start out and tell a straight tale without +any trouble. But an old woman like me—why, +every name I hear starts up some ricollection or other, +and that keeps me goin' first to one side o' the road +and then to the other."</p> + +<p>And having explained away her lapse of memory, +Aunt Jane went cheerfully on.</p> + +<p>"I was talkin' about church members goin' to +circuses, and I started out to tell about Parson Page +the time Barnum's big show come to town. I don't +reckon there ever was such a show as Barnum's, nor +such show bills as he put up that spring. They was +pasted up all along every road leadin' into town, and +under the pictures of the animals they had Bible +texts. There was the Arabian horses and that Bible +text from Job, 'Thou hast clothed his neck with +thunder.' And under the lion's picture they had, +'The lion and the lamb shall lie down together.' And +the man that put up the show bills give out to everybody<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +that this was a show that church members could +go to and take their children to, because there'd be +two kinds o' tickets, one for the animal show and +one for the circus, and folks that didn't favor the +circus needn't go near it; but everybody, he said, +ought to see the animals, for they had pretty near +every beast of the field and bird of the air that the +Lord had created.</p> + +<p>"Well, us Goshen folks, we talked it over at home +and in our Mite Society. We'd always been mighty +strict about worldly amusements, all of us except +Uncle Jimmy Judson. He used to say: 'As long as +children ain't breakin' any of the ten commandments +or any of their bones, let 'em alone, let 'em alone.' +But the most of the children in our neighborhood +never had seen the inside of a show tent, and of course +every one of 'em was anxious to go to that show. +We went to Parson Page about it, and he studied a +while and says he: 'If the Lord made those animals, +it surely cannot be sinful to go and see them; and I +see no reason why every one in Goshen church should +not attend the animal show.' Well, that was enough +for us, and everybody in the church and out o' the +church turned out to that show.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I reckon you know, child, how it is when a circus +comes to town. Country folks has their own ways +o' passin' the time and makin' pleasure for themselves, +and town folks theirs, but a circus is one thing +that brings all the country folks and all the town +folks together. The country folks come to see the +town and the circus, and the town folks, they turn +out to see the circus and the country folks, and I +reckon they got as much fun out of us as they did +out o' the show, lookin' at our old-fashioned dresses +and bonnets and laughin' at our old-fashioned ways.</p> + +<p>"Well, the time I'm tellin' about, the country folks +turned out as they never had before, and there was +people in town from all over the county. Some of +'em, they said, had traveled half the night to git in +town bright and early. I ricollect the weather was +more like June than May. It hadn't rained for a +long time, and when the folks begun rollin' into town, +the dust rose till you couldn't see the road before +you, and there was so many carriages and buggies +and two-horse wagons hitched around the streets +it looked like there wouldn't be room for the procession +to pass. Sam Amos was standin' on the +drug-store corner with me and Abram when the music<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +begun playin' 'way down by the depot, and all the +boys and young folks broke and run down Main +Street to meet the band-wagon, and Sam said he +didn't believe they could run any faster if they was +to hear the cry, 'Behold, the Bridegroom cometh!'</p> + +<p>"The procession reached clean from the depot to +the Presbyterian church corner, and it was worth +comin' to town jest to see the horses that pulled the +chariots, some of 'em as white as milk and some coal +black and holdin' their heads so high, and steppin' +like fine ladies and lookin' so proud and so gentle, +too, and so different from the horses that we drove +to our own wagons and plows that you wouldn't +know they was any kin to each other. Why, that +night when I shut my eyes to go to sleep I could see +the big gold chariot and the white horses, and all +night long they went steppin' through my dreams.</p> + +<p>"Well, after the procession'd gone by, we went +over in the courthouse yard and eat our dinner under +the old locust trees, and then we went down toward +the river where the tents was spread. There's some +shows, honey, where there's more on the bills than +there is under the tent. I've heard Sam Amos say +that, and there was one show that he used to say<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +was so blame bad it was right good. But Mr. Barnum's +show was the kind where there was more under +the tent than there was on the bills, and the sights +us country folks saw that day give us somethin' to +talk about for a long time to come. But jest as the +animal show was about over, and people begun leavin', +a big storm come up. I thought I heard the thunder +rollin' while me and Abram and the children was +lookin' at the fat woman, but of course we couldn't +go home till we'd seen everything, and the first thing +we knew the wind was blowin' a hurricane, and it +got under the tent and lifted some o' the pegs out +o' the ground, and somebody hollered out that the +tent was about to fall down, and such a scatteration +you never did see. We got out o' that tent a good +deal quicker'n we got in, and started for town as +fast as we could go, carryin' little children and draggin' +'em along by the hand; and the rain begun +pourin' down, and everybody was wet to the skin +before they could git to the drug store or the dry +goods store or any place where folks'd take us in.</p> + +<p>"I ricollect Silas Petty said he reckoned it was a +judgment on us church members for goin' to worldly +amusements, and Abram said that couldn't be, because<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +we'd prayed for rain the Sunday before. And—bless +your life!—while the rest of us Goshen folks +was standin' around in wet clothes and wishin' we +could go home, Parson Page and Mis' Page was sittin' +high and dry in the circus tent.</p> + +<p>"Parson Page said he never could tell how he got +inside that circus tent. He said he set out to make +a bee-line for town, intendin' to stop at the drug +store till the rain was over, but the wind was blowin' +and raisin' such clouds o' dust you couldn't keep your +eyes open, and he was holdin' his hat on with one +hand and tryin' to help Mis' Page with the other, +and the crowd was kind o' carryin' 'em along, and +all at once, he said, he found he was makin' straight +for the door o' the big tent where the band was playin' +and the circus was about to begin."</p> + +<p>Here Aunt Jane paused and laughed until laughter +almost turned to tears. "There's three ways o' +tellin' this story, child," she said, as she regained +her breath. "Parson Page used to tell it his way, +and Sam Amos would tell it his way, and Mis' Page +had her way o' tellin' it. She used to laugh fit to +kill over Parson Page sayin' he didn't know how he +got into the circus tent. Says she: 'Lemuel may<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +not know how he got into the circus, but I know, +I had hold of his arm, and the wind was blowin' the +dust in my eyes, too, but I knew exactly which way +I was goin', and I was guidin' him.' Says she: 'I +had on my best silk dress, and I'd jest turned it and +made it over, and I didn't intend to have that dress +ruined for lack of a little shelter.' She said she never +once thought about tickets, and there was such a +crowd, and the wind was blowin' things every which +way and there was lightnin' and the noise o' thunder, +and while the folks in front of her was givin' up their +tickets, the folks behind was pressin' and pushin', +and between the two there wasn't anything for her +to do but go into the tent, whether she wanted to +or not. And she said for her part she didn't mind +it a bit, for that circus tent was the cheerfulest, happiest +place she ever was in. She said the music made +you feel like laughin' and steppin' lively, and folks +was eatin' peanuts and drinkin' lemonade, and the +bareback riders was tearin' around the ring, and +jest as they got fairly inside, the rain begun beatin' +down on the tent, and she thanked her stars she wasn't +outside. She said it took Parson Page some little +time to find out where he was, and when he did find<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +it out, he wanted to start right home in the rain, +and she told him he could go if he wanted to, but +she was goin' to stay there till the rain was over. +And while they was arguin' the matter, Sam Amos +come along, and Parson Page begun explainin' how +he got in by accident and wanted to git out. Sam +said nobody but a frog or a fish or a Presbyterian +minister would object to stayin' under a circus tent +in such a rain as that, and he might as well make +himself comfortable. So he found a seat for Mis' +Page and the parson, and he used to say he got more +fun out o' Parson Page than he did out o' the circus, +and he couldn't hardly see what was goin' on in the +ring for watchin' the parson's face. He had his gold-headed +cane between his knees and his hands on +top o' the cane and his head bowed over his hands +like he was engaged in prayer, and he set there as +solemn as if he was at a funeral, while everybody +around was laughin' and hollerin' at the clown's jokes.</p> + +<p>"But Mis' Page she took things fair and easy. +She said she knew the Presbytery couldn't do anything +with her, and she made up her mind, as she +was in there and couldn't git out, she'd see all there +was to be seen. The next meetin' o' the Mite Society<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +she told us all about it, and she said if the gyirls' +skyirts had jest been a little longer, there wouldn't +'a' been a thing amiss with that circus. But she said +what they lacked in length they made up in width, +and the jumpin' and ridin' was so amazin' that you +forgot all about the skyirts bein' short.</p> + +<p>"Parson Page said that circus seemed as long to +him as a Sunday service used to seem when he was a +boy. His conscience hurt him so, and he kept thinkin' +what on earth he would say, if the Presbytery heard +about it, and he felt like everybody in the tent was +lookin' at him, and he never was as glad in his life +as he was when Sam told him the show was over and +he got up to leave.</p> + +<p>"Mis' Page said they was edgin' their way out +through the crowd, and all at once Parson Page stopped +and threw up his hands like he always did when somethin' +struck him all at once, and says he: 'Bless +my soul! I've been to this circus and didn't pay +my way in.' Says he: 'That makes a bad matter +worse, and I can't leave this tent till I've paid for +myself and my wife.' And Sam Amos he laughed +fit to kill, and says he: 'It looks to me like you'll +be makin' a bad matter worse if you do pay, for,'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +says he, 'as long as you don't pay for seein' the show, +you can say it was an accident, but if folks know +you paid your way, you can't make 'em believe it +was accidental.'</p> + +<p>"Parson Page looked mighty troubled, and he +thought a while, and says he: 'Maybe you're right. +My payin' won't help the looks of things any, but +I know I'll have a better conscience all my life if I +pay as other people have done. I haven't looked +at the show,' says he, 'but I've heard the music, +and I've had a shelter from the storm and a comfortable +seat, and in all common honesty I ought +to pay.' So they started out to find the man that +sold tickets. But the ticket stand was gone, and +they stood there lookin' around, the mud nearly +ankle-deep, and Mis' Page said she was holdin' up +her silk dress and wishin' to goodness they could +git started toward town.</p> + +<p>"Sam said he knew Parson Page's conscience would +hold him there on the show-ground till he'd paid that +money, so he says: 'You and Mis' Page wait here; +I'll see if I can find the man you want.' And Sam +hunted all over the grounds till he found the head +man of the circus, and he brought him around to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +where Parson Page and Mis' Page was waitin' for +him. Mis' Page said he was as fine lookin' and well-mannered +a man as she ever had seen; and he shook +hands with her so friendly it seemed like she'd known +him all her life, and then he says to Parson Page, +as kind as you please: 'Well, my friend, what can I +do for you?'</p> + +<p>"And Parson Page he explained how he'd got into +the show tent by accident when the storm was comin' +up, and how he wanted to pay; and the showman +listened mighty polite, and when the parson got +through he says: 'Put up your purse, sir. You +don't owe me a cent.' Says he: 'The obligation's +all on my side, and it's an honor to this circus to +know that we had a minister of the gospel in our +audience, to-day.' The parson he insisted on payin', +but the showman he wouldn't hear to it. Says he: +'If Mr. Barnum was to hear that I'd charged a preacher +anything for seein' his show, I'd lose my place before +you could say "Jack Robinson!"' And Parson +Page said: 'Is that really so?' And the showman +said: 'Upon my word and honor, it is. There's no +such thing as a preacher payin' his way into one o' +Mr. Barnum's circuses.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, Parson Page put his purse back in his pocket +and thanked the showman for his kindness, but he +said he felt as if he wanted to make some sort of a +return, and he begun searchin' around in his pockets +to see if he didn't have a tract or somethin' o' that +sort to give him, and he come across a Shorter Catechism +that he'd been questionin' the children out of +the Sunday before. And he pulled it out and says +he: 'Sir, I would like to leave this little book with +you as a token of remembrance.' Sam said the showman +took it and looked at it and turned over the +pages right slow, and at last he says: 'Great Jehosaphat! +This carries me back forty years, to the time +when I was a little shaver, goin' to church Sunday +mornin' and listenin' to old Brother Bodley preach +from the day of creation down to the day of judgment, +and sittin' on the old horsehair sofa in the parlor all +Sunday evenin' wrestlin' with this very catechism +and prayin' for the sun to go down and wishin' I +could cut all the Sundays out o' the almanac.' And +he turned over the pages o' the catechism and says +he: 'Yes, here's all my old friends, "Santification" +and "Justification" and "Adoption."' Sam said +he laughed to himself, but there was a curious look<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +in his eyes like he might cry, too. And says he: +'Parson, I know you won't believe me, but there ain't +a question in this catechism that I can't answer.'</p> + +<p>"And Parson Page, he looked amazed, as anybody +would, and says he: 'Is it possible?' And the showman +handed him the book, and says he: 'I bet you +five dollars I can answer any question you ask me.' +Well, of course, Parson Page hadn't any notion of +bettin' with the showman, but he took the catechism +and says he, jest as earnest as if he was hearin' a +Sunday-school class: 'What is sanctification?' And +the showman says: 'Sanctification is an act of God's +free grace wherein he pardoneth all our sins, and accepteth +us as righteous in his sight only for the +righteousness of Christ imputed to us and received by +faith alone.'</p> + +<p>"And Parson Page looked mighty pleased, and +says he: 'That's a perfectly correct answer, but +that's justification, and I asked you what sanctification +is.' And the showman he thought a minute, +and says he: 'You're right! You're right! I always +did have trouble with justification and sanctification, +and I remember how mother'd say: "Now, +Samuel, can't you get it fixed in your mind that justification<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +is an act and sanctification is a work of +God's free grace?" I thought I did get it fixed one +o' them Sunday evenin's when mother was workin' +with me, but I see now I didn't.'</p> + +<p>"And then he pulled out his purse,—Mis' Page +said she never saw as much money at one time in +all her life,—and he handed Parson Page a five-dollar +gold piece. Parson Page didn't make any +motion toward takin' it; jest looked first at the showman +and then at Sam in a kind o' puzzled way, and +the showman says: 'Here's your money, Parson. +You won it fair and square.'</p> + +<p>"And Parson Page says: 'Sir, I don't understand +you,' and he stepped back to keep the showman +from puttin' the money in his hand—pretty much, +I reckon, the way Brother Wilson did when Squire +Schuyler was tryin' to make him take the deed to +the house that was a wedding fee; and the showman +says: 'Why, didn't I bet you five dollars I could +answer any question in this catechism, and didn't +I lose my bet?' And Parson Page says: 'Sir, I +hadn't the slightest intention of betting with you. +I am a minister of the gospel.' And the showman +he says: 'Well, Parson, you may not have intended<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +bettin' any more than you intended goin' to the circus, +but you did bet, and there's no gettin' around it. I +bet I could answer any question, and you took up the +bet and asked the question; and I lost, and you won.'</p> + +<p>"Sam Amos said he never could forgit the look on +Parson Page's face when he begun to see that he'd +not only been to the circus, but that he'd been bettin' +with the circus man. And he says: 'Sir, there's a +great misunderstanding somewhere. Surely a minister +of the gospel can ask a catechism question without +being accused of betting.' And the showman +he laughed, and says he: 'Well, we won't argue about +that, but here's your money,' And Parson Page +says: 'Sir, I shall not take it.' And the showman +he looked mighty solemn and says he: 'Do you think +it's right, Parson, to keep a fellow man from payin' +his just debts?' And Parson Page studied a while, +and says he: 'That's a hard question. I never had +to deal with just such a matter before, and I hardly +know what to say.' And the showman he says: +'I've got a conscience the same as you; my conscience +tells me to pay this money, so it must be right +for me to pay it; and if it's right for me to pay it, +it can't be wrong for you to take it.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, Parson Page studied a minute, and says +he: 'Your reasoning appears to be sound, but, still, +my conscience tells me that I ought not to take the +money, and I will not take it.' And the showman +says: 'Well, if it goes against your conscience to +keep it, put it in the contribution box next Sunday,' +Says he: 'I haven't been to church since I was a +boy, and there may be a good many changes since +then, but I reckon they're still passin' the contribution +box around.' And the parson he drew back +and shook his bead again, and the showman says: +'Well, you can give it to foreign missions; maybe +the heathen won't object to takin' a showman's +money.' And the parson says: 'Sir, I appreciate +your generosity, but on the whole I think it best +not to take the money.'</p> + +<p>"Sam said the showman looked at Parson Page a +minute, and then he slapped him on the shoulder, +and says he: 'Parson, you may not know it, but +we're pardners in this game. If it wasn't for the +church, we wouldn't need the circus, and if it wasn't +for the circus, we wouldn't need the church.' Says +he: 'You belong to the church, and I belong to the +circus; but maybe, after all, there ain't so very much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +difference betwixt an honest preacher and an honest +showman.' And then he bowed to Mis' Page like +she'd been a queen, and took Parson Page by the +hand, and the next minute he was gone like he had +a heap o' business to see to. And Sam Amos laughed, +and says he: 'Well, Parson, circus-goin' and bettin' +is enough for one day. You and me'd better go +home now, before the world, the flesh, and the devil +lay hold of you again.'</p> + +<p>"So they all started for town, Parson Page talkin' +about how kind and polite the showman was, and +how his conscience was clear since he'd offered to +pay for his seat, and how glad he was that he hadn't +taken the five dollars the showman wanted him to +take. Sam said he waited till they got to the drug +store, and then he told Parson Page to put his hand +in his coat pocket,—he had on a black luster coat +with the pocket outside,—and Parson Page put his +hand in, and there was the five-dollar gold piece. +Sam said that while the showman was shakin' hands +he slipped the money in the pocket as quick as +lightnin', and of course Sam wouldn't tell on him, +because he was glad to git another joke on Parson +Page.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, it was all Mis' Page and Sam could do to +keep him from goin' back to the show grounds to +try to find the showman and give him back his money. +Mis' Page told him it was gittin' on toward night, +and they had to go home, and Sam told him that +the show was most likely on its way to the depot. +But Parson Page shook his head, and says he: 'I +can't go home with this money in my possession.' +And Mis' Page reached out and took the gold piece +out o' his hand and slipped it into her reticule, and +says she: 'Well, now you can go home. That gold +piece won't bother you any more, for it's in my possession, +and I'm goin' to put it in the treasury of our +Mite Society,' and that's what she did the very next +meetin' we had.</p> + +<p>"Mis' Page said that Parson Page could hardly +git to sleep that night, he was so troubled and so upset, +and he kept talkin' about the things he'd done because +he thought they was right, and how they'd +led him into doin' wrong, and says he: 'This morning +when I set out for town, I thought I knew exactly +what was right and what was wrong, but now I'm so +turned and twisted,' says he, 'that if anybody asked +me whether the ten commandments ought to be observed,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +I believe I'd stop and think a long time before +I answered, and then like as not I'd say, "Sometimes +they ought, and sometimes they oughtn't."'</p> + +<p>"Well, of course the news went all over the country +that Parson Page had gone to the circus, and everywhere +Brother Page went he was kept busy explainin' +about the rain and the crowd and how he got in by +accident and couldn't git out, and by the time the +Presbytery met, all the preachers had got wind of the +story, and some of 'em laughed about it, and some +of 'em said it was a serious matter. Brother Robert +McCallum did more laughin' than anybody. He +used to say that next to savin' souls he enjoyed a +good joke more than anything in the world, and +Sam Amos used to say that if Brother McCallum +ever wanted to change his business, he could be +the end man in a nigger minstrel show without any +trouble.</p> + +<p>"Brother McCallum and Parson Page 'd been +schoolmates, so they both felt free to joke with one +another; and the minute they'd shook hands, Brother +McCallum begun laughin' about Parson Page goin' +to the circus, and says he: 'Brother Page, I wish +I'd been in your place.' Says he: 'I've always<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +thought a man loses a heap by bein' a preacher. If +anybody ought to be allowed to go to the circus,' +says he, 'it looks like it ought to be us preachers, +that's proof against temptation and that's strong to +wrestle with the world, the flesh, and the devil. Instead +o' that we send the poor, weak sinners into the +temptation and lead the preachers away from it.' +Says he: 'I went to that very show, but I wasn't +so lucky as you, for it was clear weather, and I didn't +have a chance to see anything but the animals.'</p> + +<p>"And then, after sayin' all that, what did Brother +McCallum do but git up the last day of Presbytery +and read a paper with a lot of 'whereases' and 'be it +resolveds', chargin' Brother Page with conduct unbecoming +to a minister and callin' on him to explain +matters. And Parson Page he had to own up to +everything and explain again jest how he happened +to git caught in the circus tent, and says he: 'It was +a strange place for a minister of the gospel to be in, +but my rule is to see what I can learn from every experience +that comes to me, and I believe I learned +from the circus something that, maybe, I could not +learn anywhere else.' Says he: 'As I lay that night +on a sleepless pillow, the Lord gave me an insight into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +the great mystery of predestination. I traced up the +events of the day one after another. There was my +betting with the showman, and I felt sorry for that. +But that would not have happened if I had not sought +out the showman to pay my just debt to him, and +that was a right act and a right intention, yet it led +me into wrong; and I saw in a flash that our own +acts predestine us and foreordain us to this thing or +to that. We are like children, stumbling around in +the dark, taking the wrong way and doing the wrong +thing, but over us all is the pity of the Father who +"knoweth our frame and remembereth that we are +dust."'</p> + +<p>"Says he: 'I went into that tent a Pharisee, and +I wrapped the mantle of my pride around me and +thought how much holier I was than those poor sinful +show people. But,' says he, 'I talked with the showman, +and I found as much honesty and kindness of +heart as I ever found in any church member, and I +left the show grounds with a wider charity in my +heart than I'd ever felt before, for I knew that the +showman was my brother, and I understood what +the Apostle meant when he said: "Now are they +many members; yet but one body."'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And Brother McCallum he got up, and says he: +'Well, that's more than I ever learned from any of +Brother Page's sermons,' and everybody laughed, +and that ended the matter so far as the Presbytery +was concerned.</p> + +<p>"But Sam Amos never got through teasin' Parson +Page, and every time he'd see him with a passel o' +church members, he'd go up and tell some story or +other, and then he'd turn around and say: 'You +ricollect, Parson, that happened the day you and +me went to the circus.'"</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="MARY_CRAWFORDS_CHART" id="MARY_CRAWFORDS_CHART"></a>MARY CRAWFORD'S CHART</h2> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span><br /></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> + +<p>"With this chart, madam," said the agent, "you +are absolutely independent of dressmakers +and seamstresses. After the instructions I have just +given, a woman can cut and fit any sort of garment, +from a party gown for herself to a pair of overalls +for her husband, and the chart is so scientific in its +construction, its system of measurement so accurate, +that anything cut by it has a style and finish seldom +seen in home-made garments. I have handled many +things in the course of my ten years' experience as +a traveling salesman, but this chart is the most satisfactory +invention of all. I've been handling it now +about eight months, and in that time I've sold—well, +if I were to tell you how many hundred, you wouldn't +believe me, so what's the use?—and I have yet to +hear of anybody who is dissatisfied with the chart. +The last time I talked with the general manager of +the International Dressmaking Chart Company, I +said to him, said I: 'Mr. Crampton, you could safely +give a guarantee with every one of these charts—offer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +to refund the money to any one who is dissatisfied, +and,' said I, 'I believe the only result of this would be +an increased sale. You'd never have to refund a dollar. +About a year ago I sold one to Mrs. Judge Graves +in Shepherdsville; you may know her. Her husband's +county judge, and they are two of the finest people you +ever saw. The judge has a brother right here in town, +Campbell Graves, the grocer. Your husband knows +him, I'm sure. Well, I sold Mrs. Graves this chart a +year ago, and I stopped there again on this trip just to +say 'how d'ye do' and see how the chart was holding +out. And she said to me: 'Mr. Roberts, this chart +has saved me at least fifty dollars worth of dressmaker's +bills in the last year. My husband thought, when I +bought it, that five dollars was a good deal to pay for +a thing like that, but' says she, 'he says now it was the +best investment he ever made.' I had intended to make +a thorough canvass of this neighborhood, but at twelve +o'clock to-day, just as I was sitting down to my dinner, +I got a telegram from the house telling me to go immediately +to Shepherdsville. But I'd already ordered +the horse and buggy, so I ate my dinner as quickly +as I could, and said I: 'I'll drive three miles out into +the country and stop at the first house I come to on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +right-hand side of the road beyond the tollgate, and +if I sell a chart there, I won't feel that I ran up a livery +bill for nothing. And the first house on the right-hand +side of the road beyond the tollgate happened to be +yours, and that's how I came to give you all this +trouble."</p> + +<p>Here the agent paused with a pleasant laugh. He +realized that the psychological moment was approaching, +and he began gathering up the various parts of +the chart with an air of extreme preoccupation. The +gleam of a ruby ring on his little finger caught Mary +Crawford's eye, and she noticed how white and well-formed +his hands were, the hands of one who had never +done any manual labor. She stood irresolute, fascinated +by the gleam of the red jewel, and thinking of +her little hoard up-stairs in the Japanese box in the +top bureau drawer. Five dollars from thirteen dollars +and sixty-five cents left eight dollars and sixty-five +cents. It would be three weeks before John's birthday +came. The hens were laying well, the young cow +would be "fresh" next week, and that would give her +at least two pounds more of butter per week. Then, +the agent was such a nice-mannered, obliging young +man; he had spent an hour teaching her how to use<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +the chart, and she hated to have him take all that +trouble for nothing.</p> + +<p>She looked over at her husband, and her eyes said +plainly: "Please help me to decide."</p> + +<p>But John was blind to the gentle entreaty. He had +fixed ideas as to what was a man's business and what +a woman's; so he tilted his chair back against the wall +and chewed a straw while he gazed out of the open +door. His mental comment was: "If that agent fellow +could work his hands just half as fast as he works his +jaw, he'd be a mighty good help on a farm."</p> + +<p>The agent looked up with a cheery smile. He had +folded the chart, and was tying the red tape fastenings.</p> + +<p>"I've got to get back to town in time to catch that +four o'clock train for Shepherdsville. I'm a thousand +times obliged to you, Madam, for letting me show you +the working of the chart. Sometimes I have a good deal +of difficulty in getting ladies to understand the <i>modus +operandi</i> of the thing. Unless a woman remembers +the arithmetic she learned when she was a schoolgirl, +she is apt to have trouble taking measurements. But +it's a pleasure to show any one who sees into it as readily +as you do. Most married women seem to give up +their mathematical knowledge just as they give up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +their music. But you've got yours right at your +fingers' ends. Well, good afternoon to you both, +and the next time I come this way—"</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute," said Mary. "I'll take the chart. +Just sit down and wait till I go up-stairs and get the +money."</p> + +<p>The agent made a suave bow of acquiescence, and then +stroked his mustache to conceal an involuntary smile +of triumph.</p> + +<p>"You have a fine stand of wheat, sir," he said, turning +to John and gesturing gracefully towards the field +across the road, where the sun was shimmering on the +silvery green of oats.</p> + +<p>John made no reply. He scorned to talk about +farming matters with a raw city fellow who did not +know oats from wheat, and he was laboriously counting +out a handful of silver.</p> + +<p>"Here's your money, young man," he said dryly. +"Now skip out, if you can, before Mary gets back."</p> + +<p>The agent gave a quick glance at the coins and thrust +them into his pocket. He seized his hat and valise, +darted out of the house, and was climbing into his buggy +when Mary appeared at the door, breathless and +distressed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Come back!" she cried. "You've forgotten your +money."</p> + +<p>John was standing just behind Mary, smiling broadly, +and making emphatic gestures of dismissal with both +hands. The agent understood the humor of the +situation and laughed heartily as he lifted his hat and +drove away. Mary started to the gate, blushing +scarlet with vexation and perplexity, but John held +her back.</p> + +<p>"I have heard of agents forgettin' to leave the goods," +said he, "but I never heard of one forgettin' to collect +his money. Go and put your money back, Mary; +I paid the man."</p> + +<p>"Then you must let me pay you," cried Mary. +"I really mean it, John. You must let me have my +way. I know you're hard run just now, and I never +would have bought the chart, if I had not intended +paying for it myself."</p> + +<p>She tried to open John's hand to put the money in +it, but John took hold of her hand and gave her a gentle +shove toward the foot of the stairs.</p> + +<p>"Go on and put up your money, Mary," he said. +"If half that agent fellow said is true, I'm in about +a hundred and fifty dollars. Before long, I reckon,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +you'll be makin' my coats and pants and the harness +for the horses by this here chart."</p> + +<p>And Mary went, but her gentle protestations could +be heard even after she reached her room and had +dropped the money back into the little box that was +her savings bank.</p> + +<p>She hurried through her after-supper tasks, her mind +full of the cutting and fitting she wanted to do before +bed-time. Hers was a soul that found its highest +happiness in work, and she unfolded the chart with the +delight of a child who has a new toy. The agent's +tribute to her knowledge of mathematics was no idle +flattery. Her quick brain had comprehended at once +the system of the chart, and she flushed with excitement +and pleasure as she bent over her scale and found +that her measurements and calculations were resulting +in patterns of unmistakable correctness and style. It +was like solving the fifth proposition of Euclid. +She laid aside her work that night with a reluctant sigh, +but a happy anticipation of the sewing yet to come. +The anticipation was fulfilled next day by the completion +of a shirt waist so striking in design and fit +that even John noticed its beauty and becomingness +and acknowledged that the chart was "no humbug."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You must wear that waist Monday when we go +to town," he declared. "I never saw anything fit +you as pretty as that does," and Sally McElrath echoed +John's opinion when she and Mary met at the linen +counter of Brown and Company's dry goods store; +and Mary told her of the wonderful chart as they both +examined patterns and qualities of table linen and +compared experiences as to wearing qualities of bleached +and unbleached damask.</p> + +<p>There is a system of communication in every country +neighborhood that is hardly less marvelous than the +telegraph and telephone; and before Mary could put +her chart to a second test, all Goshen knew that Mary +Crawford had a chart that would cut anything from +a baby sacque to a bolero, and that she was willing +to lend it to any one who was inclined to borrow.</p> + +<p>Sally McElrath was the first applicant for the loan +of the chart. Whatever the enterprise, if it had the +feature of novelty, Sally was its first patron and promoter. +But her promptness ended here, and her +friends declared that Sally McElrath was always the +first to begin a thing, and the last to finish it.</p> + +<p>Accompanying the chart was a set of explicit rules +for its use, and Mary read these to Sally, explaining all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +the difficult points just as the agent had explained them +to her.</p> + +<p>"Now if I were you, Sally," she said warningly, +"I would try some simple thing first, a child's apron, +or something like that, so that you won't run the risk +of ruining any expensive goods. Everything takes +practice, you know."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Sally confidently, "I'm goin' to make a +tea jacket out of a piece of China silk I got off the +bargain counter the last time I was in town."</p> + +<p>"What's a tea jacket?" asked Sally's husband, who +had been listening intently, with a faint hope that some +new shirts for himself might be the outcome of Sally's +interest in the chart.</p> + +<p>"It's a thing like this, Dan," said Sally, producing a +picture of the elegant garment in question.</p> + +<p>"Why do they call it a tea jacket?" demanded Dan.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know; I reckon they wear 'em when +they drink tea," said Sally.</p> + +<p>"But we drink coffee," said Dan argumentatively.</p> + +<p>"Well, call it a coffee jacket, then," retorted Sally. +"But whatever you call it, I'm goin' to have one, +if I don't do another stitch of spring sewin'."</p> + +<p>Dan was gazing sadly at the picture of the tea jacket<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +with its flowing oriental sleeves, lace ruffles, and ribbon +bows.</p> + +<p>"I can't figger out," he said slowly, "what use you've +got for a thing like that."</p> + +<p>"I can't either," snapped Sally, "and that's the very +reason I want it. The only things I've got any use +for are gingham aprons and kitchen towels, and they're +the things I don't want; and the only things I want +are things that I haven't got a bit of use for, like this +tea jacket here, and I'm goin' to have it, too."</p> + +<p>"All right, all right," said Dan soothingly. "If +you're pleased with the things that ain't of any use, +why, have 'em, of course. Me and the children +would like right well to have a few things that are +some use, but I reckon we can get along without 'em +a while longer. However, it looks to me as if that +chart calls for a good deal of calculatin', and it's +my opinion that you'd better get out your old <i>Ray's +Arithmetic</i> and study up awhile before you try to cut +out that jacket."</p> + +<p>"Maybe you're right," laughed Sally. "Arithmetic +always was my stumbling block at school. I +never could learn the tables, and the first year I was +married I sold butter with just twelve ounces to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +pound, till Cousin Albert's wife told me better. She'd +been takin' my butter for a month, and one Saturday +morning she said to me: 'Cousin Sally, I hate to mention +it, and I hope you won't take offence, but your +butter's short weight.' Well, of course that made +me mad, but I held my temper down, and I said: +'Cousin Ella, I think you're mistaken, I weigh my +butter myself, and I've got good true scales, and +there's twelve ounces of butter and a little over in every +pound I sell.' And Cousin Ella laughed and says: +'I know that, Cousin Sally, but there ought to be sixteen +ounces in a pound of butter. You're usin' the +wrong table.' And she picked up little Albert's arithmetic +and showed me the two tables, one for druggists +and one for grocers; and there I'd been using druggist's +weight to weigh groceries. Well, we had a good laugh +over it, and I put twenty ounces of butter to the pound +'till I made up all my short weight. I never did learn +all the multiplication table, and all the arithmetic I'm +certain about now is: one baby and another baby +makes two babies, and twelve things make a dozen. +I wouldn't remember that if it wasn't for countin' +the eggs and the napkins. But maybe Dan can help +me out with the chart."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't depend on me," said Dan emphatically; +"my arithmetic is about like yours. I know how many +pecks of corn make a bushel and how many rods are +in an acre, but that sort o' knowledge wouldn't be +much help in cuttin' out a woman's jacket." And +early the next morning Sally returned the chart, +acknowledging that its mathematical complexities +had baffled both herself and Dan. "And besides," +she added, "I don't believe there's enough of my China +silk to cut anything. I'll have to match it and get +some more the next time I go to town."</p> + +<p>One after another the neighbors borrowed Mary's +chart, and each came back with the same story,—there +was too much arithmetic about it, but if they +brought their goods some time this week or next, would +not Mary show them how to use it?</p> + +<p>Of course she would. When did Mary Crawford +ever refuse to help a neighbor?</p> + +<p>"Come whenever you please," said she cordially. +"It will not be a bit of trouble, and you'll find the chart +is easy enough, after I've given you a little help on it."</p> + +<p>They came, sometimes singly, sometimes by twos +and threes, and Mary straightway found herself at the +head of a dressmaking establishment from which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +every business feature except the hard work had been +completely eliminated. The customers sometimes +brought their children, and often stayed in friendly +fashion to dinner or supper, as the exigencies of the +work demanded a prolonged visit. Mary played the +part of the gracious hostess while she cut and tried +on, and planned and contrived and suggested, slipping +away now and then to put another stick of wood in +the kitchen stove, or see that the vegetables were not +scorching, or mix up the biscuits, or make the coffee, +or set the table, using all her fine tact to keep the guest +from feeling that she was giving trouble.</p> + +<p>Mary was social in her nature, and the pleasure of +entertaining her neighbors and her unselfish delight in +bestowing favors kept her from realizing at once the +weight of the burden she had taken on herself. But +she was a housekeeper who rarely saw the sun go +down on an unfinished task, and when she took a retrospective +view of the week, she was dismayed by +the large arrears of housework and sewing; and all +her altruism could not keep back a sigh of relief +as she saw Mandy Harris's rockaway disappear +down the road late Saturday afternoon. She sat +up till half-past ten sewing on a gingham dress<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +for Lucy Ellen and a linen blouse for little John, +and the next day she knowingly and wilfully broke +the Sabbath by sweeping and dusting the parlor and +dining-room.</p> + +<p>Monday dawned cool and cloudy, more like March +than April, and when the rain began to come down +in slow, steady fashion, she rejoiced at the prospect of +another day unbroken by callers. By Tuesday morning +April had resumed her reign. A few hours of wind +and sunshine dried up the mud and put the roads in +fine condition, and an extra number of visitors and +children came in the afternoon. Lucy Ellen and little +John were expected to entertain the latter. But Lucy +Ellen and John were by this time frankly weary of +company, and they had a standard of hospitality that +differed essentially from their mother's. It seemed +to them that hosts as well as guests had some rights, +and they were ready at all times to stand up and battle +for theirs. Lucy Ellen could not understand why +she should be sent an exile to the lonely spare-room up-stairs, +merely because she had slapped Mary Virginia +Harris for breaking her favorite china doll; and little +John was loudly indignant because he was reprimanded +for calling Jimmie Crawford names, when Jimmy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +persisted in walking over the newly-planted garden. +For the first time, both children had hard feelings toward +their gentle stepmother, and she herself longed +for the departure of the guests that she might take +John's children in her arms and explain away her +seeming harshness.</p> + +<p>Wednesday repeated the trials of Tuesday with a +few disagreeable variations, and Thursday was no +better than Wednesday. By Thursday night Mary +had abandoned all hope of finishing her own sewing +before May Meeting Sunday. Her one aim now was +to do a small amount of housework each day and get +three meals cooked for John and the children, and +even this work had to be subordinated to the increasing +demands of the dressmaking business. At times she +had a strange feeling in her head, and wondered if +this was what people meant when they spoke of having +headache; but sleep, "the balm of every woe", seldom +failed to come nightly to her pillow, and all day long +her sweet serenity never failed, even when the trying +week was fitly rounded out by a simultaneous visit +from Sally McElrath and Ma Harris. Sally had +just "dropped in", but Ma Harris came, as usual, +with intent to find or to make trouble.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> + +<p>Ma Harris was John Crawford's "mother-in-law +on his first wife's side", as Dave Amos phrased it, +and it was the opinion of the neighbors that if John +and his second wife had not been the best-natured +people in the world, they never could have put up with +Ma Harris and her "ways."</p> + +<p>She had exercised a careful supervision over John's +domestic affairs during the first wife's lifetime. When +Sarah died, she redoubled her vigilance, and when his +second marriage became an impending certainty, Ma +Harris's presence and influence hung like a dark cloud +over the future of the happy pair.</p> + +<p>"There's only one thing I'm afraid of, Mary," said +honest John. "I know you'll get along all right with +me and the children, but I don't know about Ma Harris; +I'm afraid she'll give you trouble."</p> + +<p>"Don't you worry about that," said Mary cheerily. +"I've never seen anybody yet that I couldn't get along +with, and Ma Harris won't be the exception."</p> + +<p>Popular sentiment declared that Ma Harris took her +son-in-law's second marriage much harder than she +had taken her daughter's death. Her lamentations +were loudly and impartially diffused among her acquaintances; +but it was evident that the sympathies<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +of the community were not with John's "mother-in-law +on his first wife's side."</p> + +<p>"I reckon old Mis' Harris won't bother me again +soon," said Maria Taylor. "She was over here yesterday +with her handkerchief to her eyes, mournin' +over John marryin' Mary Parrish, and I up and told +her that she ought to be givin' thanks for such a stepmother +for Sarah's children, John Crawford was too +good a man, anyhow, to be wasted on a pore, shiftless +creature like Sarah, and her death was nothin' but a +blessin' to John and the children."</p> + +<p>Ma Harris soon found that she had never given herself +a harder task than when she undertook to find +fault with John for his treatment of Mary, or with +Mary for her treatment of the children. It vexed +her soul on Sundays to see John ushering Mary into +his pew as if she had been a princess, but what could +she say? Did not all the inhabitants of Goshen know +that John had carried "pore Sarah" into the church +in his strong arms as long as she was able to be carried, +and nursed her faithfully at home until the day of her +death? Then the children fairly adored Mary; and +Mary, being a genuine mother, and having none of her +own, was free to spend all her love on John's little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +ones. Not only this, but she treated Ma Harris with +such respect and kindness that complaint was well-nigh +impossible. Altogether, Ma Harris began to +realize that the way of the fault-finder is sometimes +as hard as that of the transgressor.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mary," she said, as she dropped heavily +into a rocking-chair, "I heard yesterday that you +had a new dressmakin' chart and all the neighbors +was usin' it, and says I to Maria, 'I reckon Mary's +forgot me, and I'll have to go up and remind her +that Ma Harris is still in the land of the livin' +and jest as much in need of clothes as some other +folks.'" And she threw a withering glance in Sally's +direction.</p> + +<p>"Why, Ma Harris!" said Mary. "Didn't John give +you my message? I sent you word about the chart +last week, and I've been looking for you every day."</p> + +<p>Ma Harris's face brightened, for Mary's words +were as a healing balm to her wounded self-love.</p> + +<p>"There, now!" she exclaimed, "I didn't think you'd +slight me that-a-way, Mary. So it was John's fault, +after all. Well, I might a' known it. It's precious +few men that can remember what their wives tell 'em +to do, and I used to tell Joel that if I wanted to send<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +a message I'd send it by the telegraph company before +I'd trust him with it."</p> + +<p>Mary breathed a breath of deep relief. Peace +was restored between Ma Harris and herself, but she +knew that between her two guests there yawned a +breach that time and frequent intercourse only widened +and deepened. Once in an uncharitable moment +Sally had likened Ma Harris to Dan's old wall-eyed +mare, and more than once Ma Harris had made disparaging +remarks about Sally's cooking. The bearer +of tales had attended to her work, and thereafter the +two seldom met without an interchange of hostile words. +Mary was of those blessed ones who love and who make +peace, and for the next hour she stood as a buffer +between two masked batteries. If a sarcastic remark +were thrown out, she caught it before it could reach +its mark, and took away its sting by some kindly +interpretation of her own. If a challenge were given, +she took it up and laughed it off as a joke. If the +conversation threatened to become personal, she led +its course into the safe channel of generalities; and +for once the two enemies were completely baffled in +their efforts to bring about a quarrel. But only Mary +knew at what cost peace had been purchased, when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +she lay down on the old sofa in the hall for a moment's +rest before going to the kitchen to cook supper and make +tea-cakes for the May Meeting basket. After supper +she sewed buttons on Lucy Ellen's frock and little +John's blouse and, being a woman and young, she +thought of the pale blue dimity she had hoped to wear +to the May Meeting, because pale blue was John's +favorite color.</p> + +<p>But in the matter of women's clothes, John was not +quick to distinguish between the new and the old, and +there was nothing but loving admiration in his eyes +the next morning as he stood at the foot of the stairs +and looked up at Mary in a last year's gown of dark +blue linen with collar and cuffs of delicate embroidery. +He helped her into the carriage, and away they went +down the elm-shaded road. The carriage was shabby, +but there was a strain of noble blood in the horse, +that showed itself in a smooth, even gait, and Mary's +eyes brightened, and the color came into her face, as +she felt the exhilaration that swift motion always +brings.</p> + +<p>The poet who sang the enchantment of "midsummer +nights" might have sung with equal rapture of May +mornings, when there is a sun to warm you through,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +and a breeze to temper the warmth with a touch of +April's coolness; when the flowers on the earth's +bosom, touched by the sunshine, gleam and glow like +the jewels in the breastplate of the high priest, and +the heart beats strong with the joy of winter past +and the joy of summer to come.</p> + +<p>Mary leaned back with the long, deep sigh of perfect +happiness. Of late she had been striving with "a +life awry", but now her soul</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i0">"Smoothed itself out, a long-cramped scroll,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Freshening and fluttering in the wind."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It was May Meeting Sunday. Nobody could come +to use the chart, and she and John were riding together. +A redbird carolled to its mate in the top of a +wayside elm, and she laughed like a child.</p> + +<p>"Listen to that sweet bird!" she exclaimed. "Why, +it can almost talk. Don't you hear the words it's +singing?</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i0">"'Sweet! Sweet! Sweet!<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>With</i> you!<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>With</i> you!'"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +</div></div> + +<p>"Smart bird," said John. "Sees you and me together +and makes a song about it." And Mary laughed +and blushed as her eyes met John's.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh!" she sighed, "I almost wish we could ride on +and on and never come to the church. It seems a +pity to lose any of this sunshine and wind."</p> + +<p>"Just say the word," said John, "and we'll keep +right on and have a May Meetin' all to ourselves out +at Blue Spring, or anywhere else you say. May +Meetin's just a Sunday picnic, anyway."</p> + +<p>But Mary's conscience forbade such Sabbath breaking. +It was all right to have a picnic after you had +been to preaching, but to have the picnic without the +previous church-going was not to be thought of.</p> + +<p>It was a Sunday of great events. Not only was it +May Meeting Sunday, but the Sawyer twins were to +be baptized, and Sidney Harris and his bride were to +make their first appearance in public that day. Sidney +had married a young girl from the upper part of the +State, and it was rumored that her wedding clothes +had been made in New York, that they were worth +"a small fortune." One costume in particular, it +was said, had cost "a cool hundred", and every woman +in the church had a secret hope of seeing the gown at +the May Meeting.</p> + +<p>According to custom, every one wore her freshest, +newest raiment in honor of the day and the month.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +Mary usually felt an innocent pleasure in looking at +the new apparel of her friends, but to-day, as she +glanced around, she was moved by a strange feeling +of irritation, weariness, and dissatisfaction. That +she was wearing old clothes while every one else wore +new ones gave her little concern; but just in front of +her sat Ellen McElrath in the blue and white gingham +waist that she and Ellen had cut out that dreadful +afternoon when the sponge cake burnt up, and Ellen's +little boy pulled up all her clove pinks. The back of +the waist was cut on the bias, and the stripes did not +hit. How she had worked and worried over those +stripes and lain awake at night, wondering if she +ought not to buy Ellen enough goods to cut a new back. +She turned away her eyes, and there, across the aisle, +was little May Johnson in the pink blouse that recalled +the morning when Mary had left her churning +and baking six times to show May's mother the +working of that mysterious chart. And there was +Aunt Amanda Bassett, ambling heavily down to the +"amen corner" in the black alpaca skirt that would +wrinkle over her ample hips in spite of all the letting +out and taking up that had been done for it that hot +afternoon when the bread burned to a crisp, while Mary<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +was down on the floor turning up Aunt Amanda's hem +and trying to make both sides of the skirt the same +length. And here came Annie Matthews in the brown +and white shirt waist, that was an all-around misfit +because Annie had thought that three fourths of sixteen +inches was eight inches, Mary blamed herself +for not staying by Annie and watching her more closely. +And was that a wrinkle in the broad expanse of gingham +across Nanny McElrath's shoulders? It was; and +Mary knew there would be some ripping and altering +next week.</p> + +<p>Oh! if she could only shut out the sight of those hateful +garments! How could she ever get herself into a +reverent frame of mind surrounded by these dismal reminders +of all the work and worry of the past month?</p> + +<p>She glanced over at the old Parrish pew and Aunt +Mary's countenance of smiling peace rebuked her. If +Aunt Mary could smile, sitting lonely in the old church +thronged with memories of her dead, surely, with John +by her side and the heart of youth beating strong in +her breast, she ought not to feel like crying, especially +at May Meeting service.</p> + +<p>The church was filling rapidly, and every new arrival +roused a fresh train of vexatious memories. There was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +a rustle and flutter all over the church, a great turning +of heads, and good cause for it; for down the aisle +came Sam and Maria Sawyer, Sam bearing the twins, +one on each arm, their long white clothes reaching +far below his knees and giving him the appearance of +an Episcopal clergyman in full vestments. And close +behind these came Sidney and his bride, the latter +smiling and blushing under a hat of white lace trimmed +with bunches of purple violets, and gowned in a suit +of violet cloth, whose style carried to every mind the +conviction that it was indeed the hundred-dollar +gown.</p> + +<p>Mary touched John on the arm. She tried to speak, +and could not; but there was no need for speech. +John understood the pallor of her face and the imploring +look in her eyes. He whispered a word to +the children, then he and Mary rose and passed out +unnoticed.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" said John in a low voice, +as soon as they were fairly outside the door.</p> + +<p>But Mary only shook her head and walked faster +toward the old rockaway, which was standing in the +shade of a tall chestnut tree. There she sank on the +ground and began laughing and sobbing, while John,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +thoroughly alarmed, knelt by her, patting her on the +back and saying: "There, there, Honey; don't cry," +as if he were talking to a frightened child.</p> + +<p>The touch of his kind hands and the fresh, sweet +air on her face were quick restoratives, and in a moment +or two Mary was able to speak.</p> + +<p>"Don't look so scared, John," she gasped faintly. +"There's nothing much the matter; I'll be all right +in a minute or two. I haven't been feeling very well +lately, and I'm afraid I ought to have stayed at home +to-day. It was too warm in the church; and I got +to looking at the clothes the people had on, and nearly +everything new was cut out by my chart, and it seemed +so funny, and I felt all at once as if I wanted to cry or +laugh, I didn't know which, but I'm better now."</p> + +<p>John was listening with keen attention. Nearly all +the new clothes in the church made by Mary's chart, +and she so tired and nervous that she could not stay +inside the church! His face grew grave and stern, +but when he spoke, his voice had its usual gentleness.</p> + +<p>"You come along with me, Mary," he said, "We'll +have our Sunday meetin' out of doors, after all."</p> + +<p>He lifted the cushions and robes from the rockaway +and started towards the woods at the back of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +the church, Mary following with the docility of utter +weariness. It was wrong, of course, to miss the May +Meeting sermon, but how could she worship God with +that striped shirt waist in front of her? Her temples +throbbed, and there was a queer feeling at the back +of her head.</p> + +<p>John laid the cushions on the ground and folded the +robes into a pillow.</p> + +<p>"Now, Mary, lay right down here," he commanded. +"Sunday's a day of rest, and you've got to rest. Don't +you worry about the children. If they get tired listenin' +to the sermon, they've got sense enough to get up and +come out here; and nobody's goin' to know whether +you and me are in church or not. They're too +much taken up with the baptizin' and the bride."</p> + +<p>And with these assurances Mary closed her eyes, +and surrendered herself to the sweet influence of the +day and hour. The sunshine lay warm on her shoulders +and hands, the breath of May fanned her aching head, +and John, like a strong angel, was watching beside +her. She heard the twitter of birds in the top branches +of the giant oaks, the voices of the choir came to her +softened by the distance, and her brain took up the +rhythm of the hymn they were singing:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i0">"This is the day the Lord hath made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He calls the hours his own;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let heaven rejoice, let earth be glad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And praise surround the throne."</span> +</div></div> + +<p>But before the last stanza had been sung, the tension +of brain and body relaxed. John saw that she slept +and thanked God. He looked at her sleeping face, and +the anxiety in his own deepened. For five years he +had borne the cross of a peevish, invalid wife, and +then he had known the bliss of living with a perfectly +sound woman. He had never analyzed the nature of +his love for Mary,—as soon would he have torn away +the petals of Mary's budding roses to see what was at +their heart,—and he did not know that the charm that +had drawn him to her and kept him her lover through +three years of married life, was not alone her sweet, +unselfish nature, but the exquisite health that made +work a pleasure, the perfect equilibrium of nerve and +brain that kept a song on her lips, that made her step +like a dance, and her mere presence a spell to soothe +and heal. His heart sank at the thought of her losing +these. He had always shielded her from the heavy +drudgery that farm life brings to a woman, and now +he called memory to the witness stand and sternly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +questioned her concerning the cause of this sudden +change. She had been having a good deal of company +lately, but then Mary enjoyed company. She had +never complained about the unusual number of callers, +but who ever heard Mary complain about anything? +She was not the complaining kind. John was not a +psychologist, and could not know the danger to nerve +and brain that lies in enforced—even self-enforced—submission +to unpleasant circumstances, but his +brow darkened as he thought of her words: "Nearly +everything new was cut out by my chart." And yet, +what right had he to blame the neighbors for their +thoughtlessness? If he, Mary's husband, had not +been considerate of her health and happiness, why +should he expect the neighbors to be so?</p> + +<p>"It's all my fault at last," he thought remorsefully, +as he leaned over the sleeping woman and brushed away +an insect that had lighted on her gold-brown hair.</p> + +<p>Yes, there were faint lines around her mouth and +under her eyes, and the contour of her cheek was not +as girlish as it had been a month ago.</p> + +<p>"If that chart was at the bottom of the trouble—" But +again why should he blame the chart or the agent, +when the main fault was his?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + +<p>Taking off his coat, he laid it gently over her shoulders +and seated himself so that the shadow of his body would +screen her from a ray of sun that lay across her closed +eyelids.</p> + +<p>The minister's voice rose and fell in earnest exhortation. +He was preaching an unusually long sermon +that morning, and John was glad, for the longer his +sermon, the longer would be Mary's sleep. As for +himself, he needed no sermon within church walls. He +was listening to the voice of his conscience preaching +to him of things undone and of judgment to come.</p> + +<p>"It's curious," he said to himself, "that a man +can't see a thing that's goin' on right under his own +eyes and in his own house and that concerns his +own wife."</p> + +<p>Suddenly a new sound was heard from the church, +a duet of infant wails that drowned the minister's +words, the voices of two young protestants making +known their objections to the rite of infant baptism. +John smiled as he pictured the scene within.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't be in Sam Sawyer's place now for ten +dollars," he mentally declared; "holdin' them squallin' +young ones, and everybody in church laughin' in their +sleeves."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> + +<p>The lamentations of the twins gradually subsided. +The notes of the organ sounded, and the choir sang +joyfully. There was a hush, then the moving of many +feet as the congregation rose for the benediction; +another hush, then a murmur of voices growing +louder as the little crowd crossed the threshold of the +church, and came into the freedom of God's great +out-of-doors.</p> + +<p>Mary opened her eyes and started up with an exclamation +of self-reproach at the sight of John in his +shirt sleeves and the realization that she had slept all +through the minister's sermon.</p> + +<p>"Take it easy," said John, smiling at her and putting +on his coat with more than his usual deliberation. +"Your hair's all right, and you look fifty per cent +brighter than you did an hour ago. You needed that +nap worse'n you need Brother Smith's sermon. Now +sit still and let me do the talkin' and explainin'."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mis' Morrison," as the neighbors came hastening +up with kindly inquiries, "Mary wasn't feelin' +very well when we started this mornin', but she's +all right now. She's been workin' a little too hard lately, +and I'm afraid I haven't been as careful of her as I +ought to 'a' been."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Bless her soul!" said Aunt Tabby McElrath, giving +Mary a motherly pat on the head. "You did just +right to come out here. There's nothin' like a hot +church for makin' a body feel faint; and a day like this +it'd be better for us all if we'd have the preachin' +outdoors as well as the eatin'. Now, don't you stir, +Mary. You're always waitin' on other people; let +other people wait on you for once. And, John, you +come with me, and I'll give you a waiter of nice things +for Mary. Nobody can cook better'n Mary; that I +know. But when a person ain't feelin' very well, they'd +rather eat somebody else's cookin' than their own."</p> + +<p>"Well, it depends on who the somebody is," said her +niece, Sally McElrath. "I'd rather eat anybody +else's cookin' than my own, whether I'm feelin' well or +not; but for mercy's sake don't get anything from my +basket on that waiter you're fixin' up for Mary. My +cake ain't as light as it might be, and the icin' didn't +cook long enough; and when it comes to bread, you +all know a ten-year-old child could beat me."</p> + +<p>The May Meeting dinners in Goshen neighborhood +had long been famous. Town people who were so +fortunate as to partake of one were wont to talk of it +for years afterward, for the standards of housewifery<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +in this part of the country were of the highest, and the +consciences of the housewives made them live sternly +up to their ideals, all but Sally. Her cooking and her +housekeeping were always below the mark. But she +had the wisdom to ward off censure by a prompt and +cheerful admission of her failures, and none but a professional +critic like Ma Harris cared to find fault with +the delinquent who frankly said of herself the worst +that could be said.</p> + +<p>May Meeting in the country is like Easter Sunday +in town, a gala occasion, and it was an idyllic scene +around the little country church as the congregation +gathered under the trees. Stalwart men, matronly +women, and youth and maiden clad in fresh apparel +that matched the garb of Nature. They had worshipped +God in prayer and song within church walls, +and now they were to enjoy the gifts of God under +the arch of his blue sky and in the green aisles of his +first temple. The old earth had yielded a bountiful +tribute to man's toil, and on the damask cloths spread +over the sward lay the fruits and grains of last year's +harvest, changed by woman's skill into the viands +that are the symbols of Southern hospitality, as salt +is the symbol of the Arab's.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p> + +<p>The minister stood, and turning his face heavenward, +said grace, his words blending with the soft twitter +of birds and the murmur of wind in the young leaves. +Then arose a crescendo of voices, the bass of the men, +the treble of the women, and the shrill chatter of +children, glad with the gladness of May, but softened +and subdued because it was Sunday. And now and +then the Sawyer twins lifted up their voices and wept, +not because there was any cause for weeping, but because +weeping was as yet their only means of communication +with the strange new world into which they +had lately come. The Master who proclaimed that +the Sabbath was made for man, and who walked +through the cornfield on that holy day, might have +been an honored guest at such a feast.</p> + +<p>When John returned with the laden tray, Mary +was holding a little levee, and her sparkling eyes and +happy smile told of rested nerves and brain refreshed. +"For so He giveth to His beloved while they are +sleeping." The minister had come up to shake hands +with her and tell her that he had missed her face +from the congregation. Sidney had brought his bride +over and introduced her, and Mary was getting a +near view of the violet dress. Her spirits mounted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +as she ate the delicious food Aunt Tabby had selected +for her. She was surprised to find that she could +look at the stripes in Ellen McElrath's shirt waist +without wanting to cry, and when the meal was over +she insisted on helping to clear off the tables.</p> + +<p>"My goodness!" said Aunt Tabby McElrath, as +she placed in her basket the remains of her bread, +ham, chicken, pickles, cake, pie, and jelly. "It looks +to me like there'd been another miracle of the loaves +and fishes, for I'm surely takin' home more'n I +brought here. What a pity there ain't some poor +family around here that we could give all this good +food to."</p> + +<p>"I don't know as we'd be called a poor family," +said Sally McElrath, "but if you've got more than +you know what to do with, just hand it over to me. +It'll save me from cookin' supper to-night."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Aunt Tabby," said Dan, "don't be afraid to +offer us some of the leavin's. Jest cut me a slab o' +that jelly-cake and one or two slices o' your good bread. +I ain't forgot the supper I had last May Meetin' +Sunday. Sally had a sick headache and couldn't +cook a thing, and all I could find in the basket was a +pickle and a hard boiled egg."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was a general laugh, in which Sally joined +heartily. Aunt Tabby made generous contributions +from her basket to Sally's, Dan watching the operation +with hungry eyes, and then she looked around for a +convenient tree trunk against which she might rest +her ample back and bear a part in the general conversation.</p> + +<p>In rural communities the church is the great social +center. After the period of worship, though the hours +are God's own, it is not deemed a profanation of the +day to spend a little time in friendly intercourse, and +only the unregenerate youth of the congregation +consider it a hardship to listen to a second sermon in +the afternoon.</p> + +<p>"Now look yonder, will you?" exclaimed an elderly +matron; "them young folks are fixin' to go off ridin' +instead of stayin' to second service. You, Percival! +You, Matty! Don't you stir a step from here, +Preachin's goin' to begin again before you can get back."</p> + +<p>Matty's right foot was on the step. Her right hand +grasped the top of the buggy, and her left was firmly +held by a handsome youth whose energies were divided +between helping her into his "rig" and managing his +horse.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You, Matty!" The second warning came in +strong tones and with a threatening accent.</p> + +<p>Matty turned with a bird-like motion of the head. +She darted a glance and a smile over her shoulder; +the glance was for her mother, the smile for the young +man. The latter had failed twice in Greek and Latin, +but he understood the language of the eye and lip, +and the delicate pressure of the girl's fingers on his. +He, too, threw a glance and a smile backward, and the +next instant the two were spinning down the road in +the direction of the Iron Bridge.</p> + +<p>There was a burst of good-natured laughter from the +fathers. They remembered the days of their youth +and rather wished themselves in the young man's +place. "Pretty well done," chuckled Uncle Mose +Bascom. "I've always said that when it comes to +holdin' a spirited horse and at the same time helpin' +a pretty girl into a buggy, a man ought to have four +hands, but Percival did the thing mighty well with +jest two."</p> + +<p>The young girls who lacked Matty's daring looked +down the road with envy in their eyes. How much better +that ride in the wooded road to the bridge than another +dull sermon in that hot church! But the mothers of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +the virtuous damsels smiled complacently, thanking +God that their daughters were not as other women's, +and Ma Harris "walled" her eyes and sighed piously.</p> + +<p>"In my day," she said, "children honored their +parents and obeyed 'em."</p> + +<p>"No, they didn't," retorted Matty's mother, her +face crimson with shame and vexation. "Children +never honored their parents in your day nor in Moses's +day, either. If they had, there wouldn't be but nine +commandments. Didn't your mother run off and +marry, and haven't I heard you say that that youngest +boy o' yours was bringin' your gray hairs in sorrow +to the grave? Matty's headstrong, I know, but she +ain't a bit worse than other girls."</p> + +<p>"That's so," said Sally McElrath, whose own girlhood +gave her a fellow feeling for the absent Matty. +"I say, let the young folks alone. We all were young +once. For my part, I wish I was in Matty's place. +Here, Dan, can't you take me ridin' like you used to +do before we got married?"</p> + +<p>"I can take you ridin' all right, Sally," agreed +Dan placidly. "Yonder's the same old buggy and the +same old horse and the same old road, but the ridin' +would be mighty different from the ridin' we had before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +we got married. Before we started, we'd have to +canvass this crowd and find somebody to take care +of the children, and after we started, we'd both be +wonderin' if Sarah wasn't drowned in the creek, and if +Daniel hadn't been kicked by somebody's horse, and +I don't believe there'd be much pleasure in such a +ride."</p> + +<p>"I reckon you're right," said Sally, laughing with +the rest. "And that's why I say let young people +alone; they're seein' their best days. Dan courted +for me six months, and if I had to live my life over +again, I'd make it six years."</p> + +<p>Sally was one of those daring spirits who do not hesitate +to say what others scarce venture to think.</p> + +<p>"Maybe I wouldn't 'a' held out," observed Dan. +"Courtin's mighty wearin' work, and I ain't a Jacob +by any manner o' means."</p> + +<p>"Well, if you hadn't held out," said Sally recklessly, +"somebody else would 'a' taken it up where you left +off. Oh! you women needn't say a word. If you +want to pretend you like dish-washin' and cookin' +and mendin' better than courtin', you're welcome to do +it. But if I was just young again, I wouldn't get +married till I was too old to be courted, for courtin'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +time's the only time a woman sees any peace and +happiness. You, Daniel! You, Sally! Get up out +of that dusty road."</p> + +<p>"Mary," said John Crawford, in a low voice, "you +get your things together, and we'll follow Matty's +example."</p> + +<p>Mary hesitated. Conscience said, "Stay to preaching"; +but the laughing and talk had grown wearisome +to her, and the strange feeling in her head had returned. +So before the hour for the second service +came, they stole quietly away, their rockaway wheels +cutting the trail left by the erring young people who had +gone before them.</p> + +<p>The way to the bridge was a shady avenue, the trees +in that rich alluvial soil growing to extraordinary height +and grandeur, and in the comfortable homes and well-tilled +farms there was a cheerful presentment of the +legendary "Man with the Hoe." Only one melancholy +spot by the roadside marred the traveler's +pleasure. It was a country graveyard, walled around +with stone, surmounted with an iron railing to protect +it from the desecrating tread of beast or man. Nearly +a century ago the hand of some woman had planted on +one of the graves a spray of myrtle and a lily of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +valley, and Nature had laid her leveling touch on each +grassy mound and changed the place outwardly to a +garden of flowers. But neither spring's white glory of +lilies and azure of myrtle, the rich foliage of summer, +the crimson splendor of autumn, nor winter's deepest +snow could hide from the passer-by the secret of the +place. Young lovers like Matty and Percival might +go by with laughter and smiles unchecked; not yet +for them the thought of death. But John touched +the horse to a quicker pace and looked to the other +side of the road where sunny fields of grain spoke of +life more abundantly, and Mary drew closer to John's +side, saying in her heart: "I wish there was no death +in this world."</p> + +<p>In the middle of the bridge they paused for a moment +to look up and down the shining river, and John recalled +the tale, still told by the oldest inhabitants, of +the spring of '65, when the river rose forty-five feet +in nine hours and washed the bridge away. Beyond +the bridge the road turned to the right, following the +stream in a friendly way, and terminating at a fording +place opposite a large sand bar known as "The Island." +A giant sycamore in the middle cast a welcome +shadow in the brilliant sunshine, and a fringe of willows<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +encircled it. Under these, near the water's edge, lay +heaps of mussel shells,—white, pink, yellow, and +purple,—the gift of the river to the land, and a reminder +of the April freshet. The carriage wheels +grated on the sand-bar, and as they caught sight of +the treasures the children gave a cry of delight, for no +shells from a tropic ocean are more beautiful in color +than the common mussel shells of Kentucky rivers, +and not infrequently a pearl is found within the +tinted casket.</p> + +<p>"Now, gather all the shells you want," said John, +"while your mother and me sit down here and rest +in the shade."</p> + +<p>Again he made a bed of the cushions from the carriage, +and closing her eyes Mary fell into blissful half-consciousness. +The minister had read David's psalm +of rejoicing at the morning service, and one line of it, +"He leadeth me beside the still waters; He restoreth +my soul," floated through her brain like a slumber song, +with an obbligato of rippling water and the faint whispering +of willows. Once she drifted to the very shores +of sleep, to be gently called back by the laughter of the +children; and when they turned homeward in the late +afternoon, she felt strong for the next day's burden,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +only she hoped that no one would come to use the chart, +until she had time to finish the spring cleaning. She +wanted to get back into the old peaceful routine of +work, in which each day had its duties and every duty +brought with it time and strength for its performance.</p> + +<p>Monday morning passed without any interruption, +and by half-past twelve o'clock the work belonging to +the day was done and dinner was over. But just as +she began washing the dishes, there was a noise of +wheels on the 'pike. Mary gave a start and almost +dropped the dish she was holding.</p> + +<p>"Oh, John!" she exclaimed, "see who it is." John +stepped out on the back porch and looked up the road. +"It looks like Sally and Dan McElrath and the two +children," he said, coming back into the kitchen.</p> + +<p>Mary compressed her lips to keep back a sigh of +dismay. "Yes," she said quietly, "Sally told me +yesterday she would be over some time this week to cut +out a tea jacket by my chart, but I didn't expect her +this soon. I was just thinking I'd go up-stairs and take +a nap as soon as I got through with the dishes. But +it's all right. You put a stick of wood in the stove, +John, to keep my dish-water hot, and I'll go out and +ask Sally in."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> + +<p>John was looking at her very earnestly.</p> + +<p>"Honey," he said, "your hair looks as if you hadn't +combed it to-day. You run up-stairs and fix yourself, +and I'll see to Sally and Dan."</p> + +<p>And while Mary darted up the back stairs, John +hurried softly into the parlor. He could hear Sally's +high, clear voice, and the wagon was almost at the gate. +It was a bold emprise on which he was bent, and the +time was short. On the top shelf of the old cherry +secretary that had belonged to Mary's grandfather +lay the chart. Looking fearfully around, he seized it, +tiptoed to the kitchen, opened the stove door, and +dropped the hateful thing on a bed of glowing hickory +coals. Then he put in a stick of wood, according to +Mary's behest, and the next moment he was at the +front door, placing chairs on the porch and calling out +a welcome to the alighting guests.</p> + +<p>"Come right in, Dan. Glad to see you both. +Mary's been looking for you. Sit down here on the +porch where it's cool. Here, Lucy Ellen, here's Sarah +and Daniel come to play with you."</p> + +<p>"What on earth did John mean by saying my hair +needed combing?" soliloquized Mary up-stairs, as +she looked in the glass at the shining braids of her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +hair; "I fixed it just before dinner, and it's as smooth +and nice as it can be." She hurried down to see that +her guests lacked no attention demanded by hospitality. +John was likely to be forgetful about such matters.</p> + +<p>"I was just saying, Mary," Sally called out as soon +as she caught sight of her hostess, "that Dan was on +his way to town, and I'm going to stay here with the +children till he comes back. But I want to lay the +chart on my goods right away, for I'm afraid I've +got a scant pattern for that tea jacket, and if I have, I +can give Dan a sample of the goods, and he can bring +me an extra yard from town. And if you'll bring the +chart out, I'll lay off my goods right here and now, so +Dan won't lose any time on my account."</p> + +<p>"Oh! never mind about me," said Dan, with the air +and accent of one who has suffered long and given up +hope. "I've been losin' time on your account for the +last fifteen years, and this trip ain't goin' to be an +exception."</p> + +<p>Every one laughed, for Sally's weakness was known of +all men. Aunt Tabby McElrath once said that if the +road from Dan's place to town was ten miles long, and +there was a house every quarter of a mile, Sally would +make just forty visits going and coming.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Get the chart, John," said Mary, "and it won't +take us two minutes to find out whether there's enough +goods. It's on the top shelf of the old secretary in +the parlor."</p> + +<p>John went obediently. "Where did you say that +chart was?" he called back.</p> + +<p>"On the old secretary. I saw it there just before +dinner," answered Mary.</p> + +<p>"I saw it there, too," responded John, "but it ain't +there now."</p> + +<p>Mary hastened to the parlor. "Why no, it isn't +here," she exclaimed in dismay. "Who could have +taken it?"</p> + +<p>"Ask the children," suggested Sally from the porch, +where she sat cheerfully rocking and fanning herself. +"Whenever there's anything missing at our house, +some of the children can tell who's mislaid it." But +Lucy Ellen and little John with one voice made haste +to defend themselves against the visitor's accusation. +By this time Dan had come into the parlor, and the +three stood looking at each other in silent perplexity.</p> + +<p>Dan was openly worried over the delay, Mary was +sympathetically distressed, and John's face expressed +nothing but the deepest concern over the situation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Maybe it's up-stairs," he said. "Suppose you +and Sally run up there and search while Dan and myself'll +search down here. That'll save time."</p> + +<p>"What sort of a lookin' thing is that chart?" asked +Dan, as he got down on his knees and made a dive +under the sofa.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'd recognize it if I saw it," said John, "but, +come to think of it, I don't know as I could tell anybody +exactly how it looks. It's something done up in +a roll and tied with red tape."</p> + +<p>"Done up in a roll and tied with red tape," repeated +Dan, meditatively, opening closet doors and peering +into corners, while he tried to keep in his mind an +image of the lost chart as described by his fellow +searcher. "Is this it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, now that's something like it," said John. +"I'll ask Mary. Here, Mary, is this it?"</p> + +<p>Mary leaned over the railing with hopeful expectancy +in her glance.</p> + +<p>"Why, John, that's my gossamer case with the gossamer +in it. I thought you knew my chart better than +that. Tell the children to look, too. They'd know it +if they saw it."</p> + +<p>"I'm lookin' as hard as I can," piped Lucy Ellen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +from the closet under the stairs, while little John seized +a long stick, ran to the henhouse, poked the setting +hens off their eggs, and searched diligently in every +nest for Mother's lost chart.</p> + +<p>"Don't stand on ceremony, Dan. Open every +door you come to," commanded John, as he rummaged +in the sideboard and tumbled the piles +of snowy damask. Thus encouraged, Dan walked +into the pantry and gazed helplessly at the jars +of preserves and jelly on the top shelf. He lifted +the top from Mary's buttermilk jar. No chart +there.</p> + +<p>"Done up in a roll and tied with red tape," he muttered, +opening a tin box and disclosing a loaf of bread +and a plate of tea-cakes.</p> + +<p>"Here, John," he exclaimed, "this prowlin' around +in other people's houses don't suit me at all. Makes +me feel like a thief and a robber. I'll go out and see +to my horses, and you keep on lookin'."</p> + +<p>And John continued to look, as the shepherd looked +for the lost sheep, as the woman looked for the piece of +silver. Now and then he uttered an ejaculation of +wonder and regret, and raised his voice to inquire of +Mary if the lost had been found.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mary's search up-stairs was greatly hindered by +Sally's digressions. Some minds move in straight +lines, others in curves, but Sally's mental processes +were all in the nature of tangents.</p> + +<p>"You look in the closet, Sally," said Mary, "and +I'll go through the bureau drawers."</p> + +<p>But the novelty of being up-stairs in Mary's house +made Sally forget the cause of her being there.</p> + +<p>"Gracious! Mary, how do you keep your room so +nice? This is what I call a young girl's room. I used +to be able to have things clean and pretty before I +was married, but Daniel and Sarah make the whole +house look like a hurrah's nest. And there's your +great-grandmother's counterpane on the bed, white +as the driven snow, too. I wonder how many generations +that's going to wear. My, what a pretty view +you've got from this window. Ain't that Pilot Knob +over yonder, just beyond that clump of cedars? Yes, +that must be old Pilot. I've heard my grandfather +tell many a time how his father camped at the foot of +the knob, and sat up all night to keep the bears and +wolves away."</p> + +<p>Mary was opening doors and drawers in a hasty but +conscientious search.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You'd better help me look for the chart, Sally," +she said gently. "Two pairs of eyes are better than +one, and you know Dan's in a hurry." But Sally did +not move. Her eyes were fixed on the purple haze +that hung over old Pilot, and her mind was lost in +memories of her grandfather's legends.</p> + +<p>"Dan's always in a hurry," she remarked placidly. +"I tell him he gets mighty little pleasure out of life, +rushin' through it the way he does. That white spot +over on that tallest knob must be the stone quarry. +If it was a clear day, I believe you could see the big +rocks. And here comes a locomotive. How pretty +the white smoke looks streamin' back and settlin' +in the valleys."</p> + +<p>"We might as well go down," said Mary. "There's +no use looking in the spare room; that hasn't been +opened for a week."</p> + +<p>"Sally!" cried Dan, putting his head in at the front +door and giving a backward glance at his restless horse, +"if that note I've got in the bank is protested, you and +your jacket'll be to blame. It's after two o'clock, and +I can't wait any longer."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Sally, "me and the children will +go to town with you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Where are the children?" asked Mary.</p> + +<p>"My gracious! have we lost the chart and the +children, too?" laughed Sally. "No, there they are, +'way down by the duck pond. Sarah! Daniel! +Come right here! We're goin' to town."</p> + +<p>"Hurry up!" shouted their father, "or I'll leave +you here."</p> + +<p>The prospect of a trip to town and the fear of +being left behind doubled the children's speed and +brought them breathless and excited to the front +gate. Dan tossed them into the wagon, as if each had +been a sack of meal, and Sally clambered in without +assistance.</p> + +<p>"As soon as I find the chart, Sally, I'll send it over +to you by the first person that passes," said Mary. +The loss of the chart seemed a breach of hospitality, +a discourtesy to her guest, and she wanted to make +amends.</p> + +<p>"That wouldn't be a bit of use," said Sally, "for I +can't tell head nor tail of the thing unless you show +me. I'll drop in again in a day or so and do my +cuttin' and fittin' here."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said John heartily, "that'll be the best way. +If Mary was to send you the chart, the person she sent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +it by might lose it, and that'd be a pity, as it's the only +one in the neighborhood. You come over and bring +the children with you and spend the day, and you and +Mary can have a good time sewin' and talkin'."</p> + +<p>"That's what I'll do. Look for me day after to-morrow +or the day after that. I reckon the chart'll +certainly turn up by that time."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure it will," said John, "for I'm goin' to spend +all my spare time lookin' for it."</p> + +<p>Dan clucked to the horse and shook the reins over +its back.</p> + +<p>"Well, good-by," cried Sally blithely, "I'll be certain +to—"</p> + +<p>But the rest of her words were drowned in the rattle +of wheels and clatter of hoofs, for Dan was laying on +the whip in a desperate resolve to get to town before +the bank closed.</p> + +<p>Mary stood silent with a hurt look on her face. How +could John ask Sally to spend the day when he knew +how tired she was? It was all she could do to keep the +tears back.</p> + +<p>"It's my opinion," said John, "that we'll never see +that chart again. I believe it's gone like grandfather +Ervin's beaver hat."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mary knew the story of the beaver hat. It was a +family legend of the supernatural that John was fond +of telling. But she had little faith that her chart +had gone the way of grandfather Ervin's hat, and she +went back to the kitchen, wondering how John could +have been so thoughtless, and dreading the day after +to-morrow that would bring Sally and those troublesome +children. John followed her, and opening the +stove door, he gently stirred the ashes within, thus +effacing the last trace of the chart; then he took his +way to the barn, where he sank down on a pile of +fodder and laughed till the tears ran down his face.</p> + +<p>"Edwin Booth couldn't 'a' done it better," he +gasped. "I reckon I'll have to quit farmin' and go +on the stage. Didn't know I was such a born actor. +It was actin' a lie, too, but it's put a stop to Mary's +troubles, and I don't feel like repentin' yet. I reckon +you might call it a lie of 'necessity and mercy', like +the work that's allowed on the Sabbath day."</p> + +<p>And at that precise moment Sally was saying to +Dan:</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see a man so put out over anything +as John Crawford was over not findin' that chart? If +he'd lost his watch or his purse, he couldn't have put<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +himself to more pains to find it. There never was a +more accommodatin' neighbor than Mary, and John's +just like her. You don't often see a couple as well +matched. Generally, if one's accommodatin' and neighborly, +the other's stingy and mean. But Mary wasn't +a bit more anxious to find that chart for me than John +was."</p> + +<p>That night after supper John seated himself on the +front porch. The warm spring air was sweet with the +perfume of May bloom, and from every pond there +was a chorus of joy over the passing of winter. He +heard the voices of his children and his wife talking +together as Mary washed the dishes, Lucy Ellen wiped +them, and little John placed them on the table. Home, +wife, children, and the spring of the year! The heart +of the man was glad and he smiled at the thought of +the deed he had done that afternoon.</p> + +<p>"John," said Mary, coming out on the porch with +the dish towel over her arm, "hadn't you better be +looking for that chart? You know you promised +Sally, and I don't want her to be disappointed again."</p> + +<p>The light from one of the front windows shone full +on John's face, and something about his eyes and mouth +gave Mary a sudden revelation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + +<p>"John," she said severely, "do you know where +that chart is?"</p> + +<p>John returned her gaze with unflinching eyes. +"Mary," he said slowly and deliberately, "I do not +know where that chart is."</p> + +<p>Another lie? Oh, no! When a thing is dust and +ashes, who knows where it is?</p> + +<p>But the answer did not satisfy Mary. She continued +to look at him as a mother might look at a +naughty child.</p> + +<p>"John," she said, "did you—I believe—yes, I +know you did. Oh, John! How could you? What +made you do it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did, and I'd do it again," said John +doggedly. "Do you think I'm goin' to have the +neighbors tormentin' the life out of you on account +of that—"</p> + +<p>He stopped short, for a damp towel was against his +face, and Mary's bare arms were around his neck.</p> + +<p>"Oh, John! And that was the reason you asked +Sally to come back. I've been feeling so hurt, for I +thought it looked as if you didn't care for me. I +might have known better. Please forgive me. I'll +never think such a thing of you again."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was something damp on the other side of his +face now, and reaching around John drew the tired wife +down on the bench beside him and let her sob out +her joy and her weariness on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"But it was a help," she sighed at last, wiping her +eyes on her kitchen apron. "And I don't know how +I'm going to do my spring sewing without it."</p> + +<p>John stretched out his right leg, thrust his hand into +his pocket, and pulled out a ragged leather purse, not +too well filled.</p> + +<p>"What's mine's yours, Mary," he said, tossing it +into her lap. "Get a seamstress to do your sewing. +If I catch you at that machine again, I'll make kindlin' +wood and old iron out of it, and if that agent ever +comes on the place again with his blamed charts, +there's a loaded shotgun waitin' for him."</p> +<hr class="chap" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="OLD_MAHOGANY" id="OLD_MAHOGANY"></a>OLD MAHOGANY</h2> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span><br /></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Come in, Maria Marvin, come in. No, it ain't +too early for visitors. I've jest finished sweepin' +and dustin', and that's exactly the time I want +to see company; and when company comes at exactly +the right time, they get a double welcome from +me. Have this chair, and I'll lay your bonnet right +here on the table.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I've been refurnishin' some. Got rid o' all +the old plunder that 'd been accumulatin' under this +roof ever since Noah built his ark, and bought a spick +and span new outfit, golden oak every bit of it, and +right up to day before yesterday, and to-day, and +day after to-morrow, when it comes to style. I +reckon Mother and grandmother and great-grandmother +have turned over in their graves, but I can't +help it. That old mahogany furniture has been +my cross, and I've borne it faithfully from a child up, +and when I saw a chance o' layin' it down, I didn't stop +to think what my ancestors would say about it; I +jest dropped the cross and drew one good, long breath.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You'd think I'd hate to part with the family +belongin's? Well, you wouldn't think so if you knew +how much trouble these same belongin's have been +to me all my born days. You know everybody has +idols. Some women make idols of their children, +and now and then you'll find a woman bowin' down +and worshippin' her husband, but Mother's idols +were chairs and tables and bedsteads. You've noticed, +haven't you, that there's always one child in a family +that'll get nearly everything belongin' to the family? +They'll claim this and that and the other, and the +rest o' the children will give in to 'em jest to keep +from havin' a quarrel. Well, Mother was the claimin' +one in our family, and whatever she claimed she +got, and whatever she got she held on to it. If +Mother'd been content with the things that her mother +handed down to her, it wouldn't 'a' been so bad, but +there never was a member o' the family died that +Mother didn't manage to get hold o' some of the +belongin's. If there was a sale, she was the first one +there, and she'd take her seat right under the auctioneer's +hammer, and if she made up her mind to +have an old chair or an old table, why, nobody ever +could outbid her; and in the course o' time the house<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +got to be more like an old junk shop than a home. +I used to tell Mother she got everything belongin' +to her dead kinfolks except their tombstones, and I +wouldn't 'a' been surprised any day to come home +and find one or two nice old gravestones settin' up +on the mantel-piece for ornaments, or propped up +handy in a corner.</p> + +<p>"And every piece of that old mahogany, Maria, +was polished till you could see your face in it. The +first thing after breakfast, Mother'd get a piece o' +chamois skin or an old piece o' flannel, and she'd go +around rubbin' up her chairs and tables and lookin' +for scratches on 'em; and as soon as I was old enough +to hold a rag, I had to do a certain amount o' polishin' +every day, and when Mother's rheumatism settled +in her arms, all the polishin' fell to me. It looked +like the furniture was on Mother's mind night and +day, and it was: 'Samantha, have you polished your +grandfather's secretary?' 'Samantha, don't forget +to rub off the parlor center-table.' No matter what +I wanted to do, I couldn't do it till that old furniture +was attended to. When I look back, Maria, it seems +to me I've been livin' all my life in the valley of the +shadow of old mahogany. You know how it is when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +the sun comes out after a long spell of cloudy weather. +Well, that's jest the way it was the day that old +mahogany furniture went out o' the house, and this +pretty yellow furniture came in. I really believe +that was the happiest day of my life.</p> + +<p>"Yes, there's a heap of associations connected +with old furniture, and Mother's old furniture had +more associations than most anybody's. I believe +there was enough associations to 'a' filled every one +o' the bureau drawers, and if you'd put the associations +on the tables or on the beds, there wouldn't 'a' +been room there for anything else. And that's exactly +why I wanted to get rid o' that mahogany furniture. +I believe I could 'a' stood the furniture, if +it hadn't been for the associations. What good did +it do me to look at that old four-poster that used to +stand in the front room up-stairs and think o' the +time I laid on that bed six mortal weeks, when I had +typhoid fever? What pleasure could I get out o' +that old secretary that used to stand yonder, when +every time I looked at it I could see Grandfather +Stearns sittin' there writin' a mile-long sermon on +election and predestination, and me—a little child +then—knowin' I'd have to sit up in church the next<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +Sunday and listen to that sermon, when I wanted to +be out-doors playin'?</p> + +<p>"And besides my own associations, there was +Mother's. She'd point out that old armchair that +used to stand by the west window and tell how Uncle +Abner Stearns set in that chair for six years after he +was paralyzed; and that old haircloth sofa,—you +remember that, don't you?—she'd tell how Grandmother +Stearns was sittin' on that when she had her +stroke o' apoplexy; and betwixt the furniture and the +associations, it was jest like livin' in a cemetery. I +told Mother one day that I was tired o' sittin' in my +great-grandfather's chairs, and sleepin' on my great-grandfather's +bed, and eatin' out o' my great-grandmother's +china and silver, and Mother says: 'Samantha, +you never did have proper respect for your +family.' But, Maria Marvin, I tell you as I told +Mother, I'm somethin' more than a Member of the +Family: I'm Myself, and I want to live my own life, +and I've found out that if people live their own lives, +they've got to get from under the shadow of their +ancestors' tombstones.</p> + +<p>"What did I do with the old mahogany? Sold it. +That's what I did. And if you've got any old stuff<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +up in the garret or down in the cellar or out in the +woodshed, get it out right away, for no matter how +old and battered and broken up it is, you can sell it +for a good price. They tell me, Maria, that new-fashioned +things is all out o' fashion, and old-fashioned +things is in the fashion. Curious, ain't it? All my +life I been findin' fault with Mother because she was +always hoardin' up old family relics, and now all the +rich folks are huntin' around in every crack and corner +for old mahogany and old cherry and old walnut,—anything, +jest so it's old.</p> + +<p>"You've heard about that rich lady that's bought +the old Schuyler place? Here's her card with her +name on it:</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Mrs. Edith A. Van Arnheim.</i></p> + +<p>"Well, last Monday mornin' about this time, jest +as I was finishin' up my mornin' work, I heard a +knockin' at the front door, and when I opened it +there stood a strange lady all dressed in silks and +satins and a young girl with her. I said 'Good mornin',' +and she said: 'Does Miss Samantha Mayfield +live here?' And I says: 'It's Samantha Mayfield<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +you're talkin' to.' And she says: 'I'm Mrs. Van +Arnheim. I beg your pardon for calling so early, +but—have you any old furniture?' And I says; +'Old furniture? Why, I haven't got anything but +old furniture.' And they both smiled real pleasant, +and the young girl said: 'Oh, please let us look at +it! I do love old furniture.' And I says: 'Walk +right in, and look all you please. Furniture never +was hurt by bein' looked at.'</p> + +<p>"Well, they both walked in and looked around, +and for a minute neither one of 'em spoke; and then +the young girl drew a long breath, and says she: +'Did you <i>ever</i> see <i>anything</i> so <i>perfectly gorgeous</i>?'</p> + +<p>"And she rushed up to Great-grandfather Stearns's +secretary like she was goin' to hug it, and says she: +'Heppelwhite! Genuine Heppelwhite! Look at those +lovely panes of glass!' And then she flew over to +that old bow-legged chair that stood yonder, and +says she: 'Chippendale! Upon my word! Was +there ever anything as exquisite as those legs!'</p> + +<p>"And she peeped into the dining-room and give a +little scream, and called her mother to come and see +that old battered-up thing that great-aunt Matildy +used to keep her china and glass in, and she called it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +'a real Sheraton cabinet', and she went on over 'the +grain of the wood' and the 'color of the wood' till +you'd 'a' thought that old press was somethin' that'd +come straight down from heaven. The lady didn't +say much, but she looked mighty pleased, and she +went around touchin' things with the tips of her +fingers and examinin' the legs and arms and backs of +things to see if they were in good repair. Pretty +soon she turned around to me and says sort o' wishful +and hesitatin': 'I suppose there's no use asking +you if you'd sell any of this furniture, Miss Mayfield.' +And I says: 'What makes you suppose that?' And +she says: 'Because people are always very much +attached to their old family furniture, and even if +they don't care for it and are not using it, I find they +don't care to let any one else have it.' And I says: +'Well, there's nothin' of the dog in the manger about +me, ma'am, and I'm not attached to my old furniture; +it's been attached to me, and I'd be thankful +to anybody that would help me get loose from it.'</p> + +<p>"She laughed real hearty, and the young girl says: +'How perfectly lovely!' And then we went through +the parlor and the hall and the dining-room, they +pickin' out the furniture they wanted, while I set<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +the prices on it. And when we got through the young +girl says: 'Would you let us go up-stairs?'</p> + +<p>"So up-stairs we went, and there wasn't a four-poster +bed or a rickety table or a broken-legged chair +that she didn't say was 'darling' or 'dear' or 'gorgeous' +or 'heavenly'; and they wanted pretty near +everything that was up-stairs. When we got through +pricin' these, the lady says: 'Is this all the old mahogany +you have, Miss Mayfield?' and then I happened +to think o' the garret. I hadn't set foot up +there for ten years or more, but I remembered there +was a lot o' old truck that Mother didn't have room +for down-stairs, and it'd been stored away there ever +since goodness knows when. So up to the garret +we went, they holdin' up their silk skirts, and me +apologizin' for the dirt. They peered around, and +didn't seem to mind a bit when they got their kid +gloves all soiled handlin' the old junk that was settin' +around in every hole and corner. And the young +girl, she'd give a little scream every time she dragged +out a table or a chair, and says she: 'Miss Mayfield, +this is the most interesting place I ever was in.' And +I says: 'If you're interested in dirt and rubbish, I +reckon this is an interestin' place.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, if you'll believe me, Maria Marvin, they +wanted everything in that garret, even down to the +old pewter warmin'-pan that used to belong to Mother's +sister Amanda, and that she got from her husband's +family, the Hicks. And the young girl looked out +o' the gable window at the south end, and says she: +'Oh! what a lovely old gyarden!' And the lady dropped +the old candlestick she was lookin' at, and come and +looked over the young girl's shoulder. The gyarden +did look mighty pretty with the roses and honeysuckles +and pinks all in bloom, and the lady said: +'Oh! how beautiful! How beautiful!' and all the +rest of the time we were up in the garret, she stood +there at the window and leaned out and looked at the +gyarden, and after that she didn't seem to care much +about the furniture. She jest let the young girl do +the buyin' and the talkin', and once I heard her sigh +a long, deep sigh, jest as if she was thinkin' about +somethin' that happened a long time ago. And when +we went down-stairs, she asked me to give her some +roses and honeysuckles; and while I was gatherin' +a big bunch of Mother's damask roses for her, she +was walkin' up and down the paths, gatherin' a flower +here and a leaf there, but to look at her face, Maria,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +you'd 'a' thought that she was walkin' in a graveyard +and every flower-bed was a grave; and once, when +she stooped down and broke off a piece of ambrosia +and smelt it, I could see there was tears in her eyes. +Well, Maria, they were jest as crazy about old-fashioned +flowers as they were about old-fashioned +furniture. I pulled a big bunch o' damask roses for +both of 'em, and they said they wanted roots of all +the old flowers,—Mother's hundred-leaf rose and the +Maiden's Blush and the cinnamon rose, and all the +spring flowers and even the tansy and sage. The +lady said they could buy all these things, but that +she believed the flowers you got out of old-fashioned +gyardens like mine smelled sweeter and bloomed better +than anything you'd buy. And she's goin' to give +me a lot of new-fashioned flowers to freshen up my +old gyarden, and with new furniture in my house and +new flowers in my gyarden, why, I feel like I'm takin' +a new start in life. Why, actually, Maria, I've been +jest as tired of the old flowers as I've been of the old +beds and tables,—the same old crocuses and buttercups +and hyacinths and chrysanthemums comin' up +every spring in the same old place, in the same old beds, +and the same old weeds to be pulled up every year.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Maybe you think it's wicked in me, Maria, to +feel the way I do about old things. Mother always +thought so, and I remember once hearin' her tell the +minister that Samantha was jest like the Athenians +in the Bible, always runnin' after some new thing; +and she was always sighin' and sayin': 'Samantha, +you have no reverence in your nature.' And finally, +one day, I said to her: 'Mother, I've got jest as much +reverence as you have. The difference between us +is that you reverence old things, and I reverence new +ones.'</p> + +<p>"But I mustn't forget to tell you about the old +cradle, Maria. That cradle was Mother's special +idol. It was a little, heavy, wooden thing, so black +with age that you couldn't tell what kind o' wood +it was made out of, and Mother said the first Stearnses +that ever come to this country brought that cradle +with 'em in the ship they sailed in. Well, that little +old cradle was sittin' way back in the garret on top +o' the old oak bed-clothes chest that Grandmother +Stearns packed her quilts in, when she moved from +Connecticut and come to Ohio. And the young girl +spied that cradle, and says she: 'Oh! What a darling +cradle!' And then she stopped and blushed as red<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +as a rose, and the lady jest smiled and says: 'Would +you sell me the little cradle, Miss Mayfield?' And +I says: 'You may have it and welcome. If there +is anything an old maid hasn't any use for, it's a +cradle.'</p> + +<p>"They say the young girl is goin' to be married soon, +and I reckon some day that pretty young thing's +children'll be lyin' in the old Stearns cradle; and a +lot o' that old mahogany, they tell me, goes to the +furnishin' of her room. Maybe she'll be writin' her +letters at Grandfather's secretary, and sleepin' on +Grandmother's old canopy bed. It don't seem right, +Maria, for a pretty young bride to be beginnin' life +with a lot o' dead folks' furniture; but then, she +won't have the associations, and it's the associations +that make old furniture so unhealthy to have around +the house.</p> + +<p>"I reckon I must be some kin to the tribe o' Indians +I was readin' about in my missionary paper last Sunday. +Every time anybody dies, they burn everything +that belonged to the dead person, and then +they burn down the place he died in and build a new +one. That seems right wasteful, don't it, Maria? +But it's a good deal wholesomer to do that way, than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +to clutter up your house with dead folks' belongin's +like we do. And that's why I'm gettin' so much +pleasure out o' this new oak furniture. It's mine, +jest mine, and nobody else's. It didn't come down +to me from my great-grandmother; I went to the +store and picked it out myself. No dead person's +hands ever touched it, and there's not a single association +hangin' anywheres around it.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Maria, I got a good price for everything I +sold. Because I didn't want it, that's no reason +why I should give it away. I could see the lady +wanted it mighty bad, so I valued it accordin' to what +I thought it'd be worth to her, and when I saw how +willin' she was to pay my price, I was right sorry +I hadn't asked more.</p> + +<p>"She was one o' the high-steppers, that lady was, +but as sweet-talkin' and nice-mannered as you please, +and when she wrote out the check and handed it to +me, she says: 'When can I get the furniture?' 'Right +now,' says I, 'if you want it right now.' 'But,' says +she, 'what will you do without furniture? Hadn't +you better get in your new beds and chairs and tables +before I take the old ones away?' And I says: +'Don't you worry about me, ma'am; it's only four<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +miles from here to town, and by the time you get this +old mahogany rubbish out, I'll have my new golden +oak things in; so don't you hold back on my account.'</p> + +<p>"And she looked at me in a curious sort o' way, +and says she: 'Don't you mind givin' up this old +mahogany? Would you just as soon have new golden +oak furniture?' And I says: 'No, I wouldn't jest +as soon; I'd a good deal rather have it.'</p> + +<p>"And she laughed real pleasant, and says she: +'I'm so glad you feel that way about it. I always +feel guilty when I buy old furniture that the owner +is unwilling to part with, no matter how good a price +I pay for it.' And I says: 'Well, you can have a +clear conscience in the matter of buyin' my old furniture. +This check and the golden oak I'm goin' +to buy with it is perfectly satisfactory to me.'</p> + +<p>"And what do you reckon I'm goin' to do with that +money, Maria? I reckon people think that because +I've lived here all my life I've enjoyed doin' so. But +I haven't. I've been jest as tired of Goshen neighborhood +as I ever was of my old mahogany,—the +old roads and the old fences and the old farms,—yes, +and the old people, too. Maria, I get tired of +everything, even myself, and now I'm goin' to travel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +and see the world, that's what I'm goin' to do. What's +the use in livin' sixty or seventy years in a world like +this and never seein' it. Why, you might as well +be a worm in a hickory nut. And, Maria, I take out +my old geography sometimes, when I'm sittin' here +alone in the evenin', and I look at the map of North +America, and there's the big Atlantic ocean on one +side and the big Pacific ocean on the other; and all +the big rivers and lakes in between flowin' down to +the big Gulf of Mexico; and here I am stuck fast in +this little old place, and the most water I've ever seen +is Drake's Creek and Little Barren River! And I +look on the map at the mountains runnin' up and +down this country, the Rocky Mountains and the +Alleghanies and all the rest of 'em, and the highest +ground I've ever seen is Pilot Knob! I'm not afraid +to die, Maria, but when I think of all the things that's +to be seen in this world, and how I'm not seein' 'em, +I just pray: 'Lord, don't let me go to the next world +till I've seen somethin' of this one.' And now my +prayer's answered. I don't know whether I'll go +east or west or north or south; but I'm goin' to see +the ocean, and I'm goin' to see the mountains before +I die, all on account o' that mahogany furniture; I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +never supposed the day would come when I'd be +thankful for that old plunder; but sometimes, Maria, +the things we don't want turn out to be our greatest +blessin's.</p> + +<p>"I reckon it's mighty poor taste on my part to +want new furniture in place o' that old mahogany. +All the time I was showin' 'em around, the lady and +her daughter kept sayin': 'How artistic!' 'What +classic lines!' and I reckon the reason they looked at +me so curious when I said I'd rather have this golden +oak, was that they was pityin' me for not knowin' +what's 'artistic.' Now, I may not be artistic, Maria, +but I've got a taste of my own, and what's the use in +havin' a taste of your own unless you use it? I might +jest as well try to use somebody else's eyes as to use +somebody else's taste. That old mahogany pleased +my grandmother's taste and my mother's taste, but +it don't please mine; and I'm no more bound to use +my grandmother's old furniture than I am to wear +my grandmother's old clothes.</p> + +<p>"Don't go, Maria. Sit down a minute longer, for +I haven't told you the best part of the story yet. +After the lady had said good-by and was out of the +door, she turned back, and says she: 'Miss Mayfield,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +when I get the furniture in order, I'm going to send +my carriage for you, and you must come over and see +if you can recognize your old friends in their new dress +and their new home.' I never believed she was goin' +to send <i>her</i> carriage for <i>me</i>, Maria, but she did. And +she took me all over the house, and they've made it +over the same as you'd make over an old dress; and +it ain't a house any longer, it's a palace. Don't ask +me to tell you how it looks, for I can't. I've always +wondered what sort of places kings and queens lived +in, and now I know. There wasn't a room that didn't +have some of my old mahogany in it, but at first I +couldn't believe it was the same furniture I'd sold +the lady. She'd had all the varnish scraped off, and +it was as soft and shiny-lookin' as satin, even that +little, old black cradle, and the lady said that when +the furniture man began to scrape that, he found +it was solid rosewood. We went into the library, +and there was Grandfather's old secretary, lookin' +so fine and grand, Maria, it took my breath clean +away. There wasn't a dent or a scratch on it, and it +shone in the light jest like a piece of polished silver, +and the prettiest curtains you ever saw fallin' on +each side of it. It looked exactly like it belonged in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +that room. And it does belong there. Why, as I +was standin' there lookin' at it, I thought if that old +secretary could speak, it would say: 'I've found my +place at last.' And it come over me all at once, +Maria, that the doctrine of foreordination holds good +with things as well as people. That old mahogany +never belonged to me nor to Mother. It jest stopped +over a while with us, while it was on its way to the +lady, and it was hers from the very day it was made. +I tell you, Maria, things belong to the folks that can +appreciate 'em. That furniture was jest chairs and +tables and bedsteads to Mother and me; but the +lady knew all about it, when it was made and where +it was made, and the name of the man that first made +it. And after we'd looked at everything in the house, +she took me out to see the gyarden. Such a gyarden! +She said it was jest like one she'd seen over in England, +and she was plantin' the same kind of flowers +in it. The beds were all sorts of shapes, and there +was a pool of water in the middle with water-lilies in +it, and right by the pool was somethin' that tells the +time of day pretty near as well as a clock, jest by the +shadow on it. There was a hedge planted all around +the gyarden, and the gyardner was settin' out all kinds<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +of flowers, and there was one bed of pansies and another +of geraniums in full bloom, and I said: 'I don't know +why you wanted my old-fashioned flowers, when you've +got such a gyarden as this.' And she smiled and looked +down at the geraniums, and says she: 'These flowers +don't mean anything to me. But your roses and +honeysuckles and pinks mean everything; they are +joy and sorrow and love and youth,—everything I +have had and lost.' Hearin' her talk, Maria, was +jest like readin' a book. And then, she took me +around to another gyarden at the back of the house, +and showed me a bed, and all the roots and slips that +she'd got from me were growin' in it. The gyardner +'tends to the rest of the flowers, but he never touches +this bed; the lady weeds it and waters it with her +own hands. Now, I don't want anything around me +that reminds me of what I've had and lost, but she's +one of the kind that loves associations.</p> + +<p>"No, I haven't re-furnished all the up-stairs rooms, +Maria. What's the use o' havin' furnished rooms +that you never use? Yes, it does look pretty empty, +but after livin' in a jungle of old mahogany these +many years, you don't know what a blessed relief it +is to have a few empty spots about the house. Every<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +house ought to have one or two empty rooms, Maria, +jest for folks to rest their eyes on.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did keep one piece o' the family furniture, +but it wasn't mahogany. It was that little plain +rockin'-chair with the oak-split bottom; there it sets +in the corner. Mother used to sit in that chair when +she washed and dressed us children and rocked the +baby to sleep. She liked it because it was low and +hadn't any arms for the baby's head to get bumped +on. I can look at it and see Mother holdin' the baby +in her arms and rockin' and singin':</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Hush, my babe, lie still and slumber,'</span> +</div></div> + +<p>and I'd rather have that common little chair than +all the old mahogany that belonged to my great-grandfathers +and great-grandmothers. There ain't +an unpleasant association connected with that chair, +and furthermore, I don't have to polish it.</p> + +<p>"Yes, this dress is rather gay, Maria, but don't +you think it matches the golden oak furniture? I +always like to have things in keepin' with each other, +and as long as I had to live in the midst o' old mahogany, +it seemed natural and proper to wear brown +and black and gray. But now I feel like mixin' in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +little blue and red and yellow with the brown and +black and gray, and when your feelin's and your +clothes and your furniture correspond, it certainly +does make a comfortable condition for you.</p> + +<p>"I'll be gettin' married next? Well, maybe I +will, Maria Marvin, maybe I will. Gettin' rid o' +that old mahogany seems to 'a' taken about fifty +years off my shoulders, and if I should happen to find +a man that'd match up with my new furniture and +suit me as well as that golden oak dresser does, I may +get married, after all.</p> + +<p>"Do you have to go? Well, come again, Maria, +and if you happen to meet any o' the neighbors, tell +'em to drop in and take a look at my golden oak furniture."</p> +<hr class="chap" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="MILLSTONES_AND_STUMBLING-BLOCKS" id="MILLSTONES_AND_STUMBLING-BLOCKS"></a>MILLSTONES AND STUMBLING-BLOCKS</h2> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span><br /></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I do believe that's Margaret Williams!" exclaimed +Mrs. Martin, thrusting aside the curtain +and peering through the tangle of morning-glory +vines that shaded her parlor window. She turned +away and began arranging the chairs and straightening +the table cover with the nervous haste of a fastidious +housekeeper unprepared for company.</p> + +<p>But there was no need for haste. The expected +caller paused at the gate and seemed to be making a +critical survey of the house and premises. Her air +was that of a person examining a piece of property +with a view to purchasing it. She walked slowly +along the garden path, gazing up at the sloping roof +and the dormer windows, and on the first step of +the porch she paused and looked around at the tidy +front yard, with its clumps of shrubbery, fine old +trees, and beds of blossoming flowers. Within, Mrs. +Martin was nervously awaiting her visitor's knock. +She had taken off her kitchen apron and smoothed +her hair down with her hands. But no knock was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +heard, for Mrs. Williams placidly continued her survey +of the house and its surroundings, until the voice +of her hostess interrupted her.</p> + +<p>"Why, Mrs. Williams! Have you been standin' +out here all this time? I must be losin' my hearin' +when I can't hear a person knockin' at the door."</p> + +<p>"Nothin's the matter with your hearin'," responded +Mrs. Williams, following her hostess into the shady +parlor; "I hadn't knocked."</p> + +<p>She seated herself in a rocking-chair that suited +her generous proportions and began looking at the +inside of the house with the same business-like scrutiny +she had given the outside.</p> + +<p>"We're havin' some pleasant weather now," said +Mrs. Martin, by way of a conversational beginning.</p> + +<p>"Mighty pleasant weather," said Mrs. Williams, +"but I came here this mornin' to talk about somethin' +a good deal more important than the weather."</p> + +<p>Long acquaintance had never wholly accustomed +Mrs. Martin to the straightforward bluntness that +was known as "Sarah Williams' way", and a look +of apprehension and faint alarm crossed her worn, +delicate face.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I hope there's nothin' wrong," she said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> + +<p>Apparently Mrs. Williams did not hear the gently +uttered words. There was a look of stern determination +on her face, and she drove straight on toward +an objective point unknown to her listener.</p> + +<p>"Do you know, Mrs. Martin," she asked, "how +long your Henry has been courtin' my Anna Belle?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Martin looked bewildered.</p> + +<p>"Why, no," she said, hesitatingly. "I don't believe +I ever thought about it."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mrs. Williams with grave emphasis, +"it's exactly one year and a month, come next +Wednesday. I know, because the first time Henry +ever come home from prayer-meetin' with Anna Belle +was the day after I fell down the cellar stairs and +broke my wrist, and I'm not likely to forget when +that was. One year and one month! Now, of course, +I know a certain amount of courtin' is all right and +proper. It's just as necessary to court before you +marry as it is to say grace before you eat; but suppose +you sit down to the table and say your grace +over and over again, till mealtime's past, and it's +pretty near time for the next meal? Why, when you +open your eyes and start to eat, everything 'll be +cold, and most likely you won't have any appetite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +for cold victuals, and you'll conclude not to eat at all +till the next meal comes round. And that's the way +it is with these long courtin's. Folks' feelin's cool +just like a meal does. Many a couple gets tired of +each other after they're married, and there's such a +thing as gettin' tired of each other before you're +married."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Martin was listening with rapt intentness. +The gift of fluent speech was not hers. She could +only think and feel, but it was a delight to listen +to one who knew how to express thoughts and feelings +in language that went straight to the mark.</p> + +<p>"I've always thought that way," she said with +gentle fervor, as her visitor paused for breath.</p> + +<p>"Well," continued Mrs. Williams, "I made up my +mind some time ago that Henry and Anna Belle had +been sayin' grace long enough, and it was time for +them to marry, if they ever intended to marry. And +I also made up my mind to find out what was the +matter. Of course I couldn't ask Anna Belle why +Henry didn't marry her. There's some things that +no mother's got a right to speak of to her child, and +this is one of 'em; and I couldn't say anything to +Henry, for that would 'a' been a thousand times<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +worse, but I says to myself: 'I've got a right to know +what's the matter, and I'm goin' to know.'"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Martin was leaning forward, listening breathlessly. +There was a faint flush on her cheek, and +her eyes were the eyes of a young girl who is reading +the first pages of a romance. Her son's love affair +had been the central point of interest in her life for +a year past. But Henry was a taciturn youth, and +her delicacy forbade questioning; so, in spite of +the deep affection between the two, the rise and progress +of her son's courtship was an unknown story to +her. Two nights in every week Henry would take +his way to the home of the girl he loved, and as she +sat alone waiting for his return, and living over the +days of her own courtship, she had felt a wistful, +unresentful envy of Mrs. Williams because of her +nearness to the lovers. The long wooing had been +a mystery to her also, and now the mystery was about +to be explained.</p> + +<p>"I've wondered, myself, why they didn't marry," +she said hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Williams hitched her chair nearer to her hostess.</p> + +<p>"And what do you reckon I did?" she asked, dropping +her voice to a husky whisper.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I can't imagine," responded Mrs. Martin, repressed +excitement in her voice and face.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Williams leaned forward, and her voice dropped +a tone lower.</p> + +<p>"It's somethin' I never thought I'd do," she whispered, +"and before I tell you, I want you to promise +you'll never tell a soul."</p> + +<p>"Of course I won't," said Mrs. Martin with gentle +solemnity, and as she promised, her thoughts went +back to that period of her schoolgirl life when every +day brought its great secret, with that impressive +oath: "I cross my heart and point my finger up to +God." She bent her head in a listening way toward +her caller. But the telling of a secret was too +delightful a task to be hastily dispatched, and +having worked her audience up to the desired +point of interest, Mrs. Williams was in no hurry +to reach the climax of the story. She leaned +back in her chair and resumed her natural tone +of voice.</p> + +<p>"The way I happened to think there was somethin' +wrong," she continued, "was this: Anna Belle had +been doin' a good deal of sewin' and embroiderin' +ever since Henry begun to keep company with her,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +and, all of a sudden, she stopped work and put everything +away in the bottom bureau drawer. Well, +that set me to thinkin'. If she'd put the things in +the top bureau drawer, I wouldn't have noticed it, +for the top drawer is the place where you keep the +things you expect to finish and the things you're +usin' now. But when you fold a thing up and put +it in the bottom drawer, it means you haven't any +use for it right now, and you don't intend to finish +it for some time to come. At first I thought that +maybe Henry and Anna Belle had had a fallin' out. +But the next Wednesday night here comes Henry +just as usual, and he's never stopped comin'; but +still Anna Belle never took her things out of the bottom +drawer; and the other day I happened to pass +by her room, and the door was halfway open, and +I saw her kneelin' down by the drawer, lookin' at +the things and smoothin' them down. I couldn't +see her face, but I know just how she looked as +well as if I'd been in front of her instead of behind +her."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Martin gave a sympathetic murmur, wholly +unheard by Mrs. Williams, who went blithely on with +her narrative.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> + +<p>"When your Henry comes to see my Anna Belle, +Mrs. Martin, I always make it a point to go as far +away from 'em as possible, for courtin' can't be rightly +done if there's folks lookin' and listenin' around. So +in the winter time I have a fire in my room the nights +Henry comes, and sit there, and in summer I generally +go out on the back porch and let Henry and +Anna Belle have the front porch, and I can truthfully +say that I never interfered with Henry's courtin'. +But, as I said a while ago, I made up my mind to +find out what was the matter. Well, the next time +Henry come, they sat out on the front porch, and I +was on the back porch as usual. But I had to go +into the front room once or twice after somethin' I +left there, and it was so dark in the hall, I had to +grope my way across right slow, and I heard Anna +Belle say: 'I'm all mother has in the world,' and +Henry said somethin' I couldn't hear, but I reckon +he said that he was all his mother had, and Anna +Belle says: 'It wouldn't be right and I never could +be happy, thinkin' of your mother and my mother all +alone.' Well, by that time I was in the front room +and got what I went for and started back; and, as +I said, the hall was dark and I had to go slow, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +I dropped my pocket handkerchief, and when I stopped +to pick it up, I couldn't help hearin' what Anna Belle +and Henry was talkin' about."</p> + +<p>She leaned comfortably back in her chair and +chuckled heartily as she recalled the scene.</p> + +<p>"I reckon I might as well own up that I didn't +hurry myself pickin' up that handkerchief and gettin' +out o' the hall. I know eavesdroppin' is a disgraceful +thing, and this is a plain case of eavesdroppin', but I +trust you never to tell this to anybody as long as you +live."</p> + +<p>"You can trust me," said Mrs. Martin firmly. +"I never broke a promise in my life."</p> + +<p>"Well," resumed Mrs. Williams, "as I was savin', +I stood there in the hall pickin' up my pocket handkerchief, +and I heard your Henry give a sigh,—I could +hear it plain,—and says he: 'Well, Anna Belle, I +suppose there's nothin' for us to do but wait,' and +Anna Belle says: 'I'll wait for you, as long as you'll +wait for me, Henry, and longer.' And then they +stopped talkin' for awhile, and I knew exactly how +they felt, sittin' there in the dark, lovin' each other +and thinkin' about each other, and all their plans +come to a dead stop, and nothin' ahead of 'em but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +waitin'. Now, what do you think of that, Mrs. +Martin? They're waitin'. Waitin' for what? Why, +for us to die, of course. They don't know it, and if +we accused 'em of it, they'd deny it hard and fast, +for they're good, dutiful children, and they love us. +But we're stumblin'-blocks in their way, and they're +waitin' for us to die."</p> + +<p>She paused dramatically to let her words have their +full weight with the listener. Mrs. Martin was leaning +forward, her delicate hands tightly clasped, and +her face alight with intense feeling. The visitor's +words were like great stones thrown into the placid +waters of her mind, and in the turmoil of thought +and emotion she found no word of reply. Nor was +any needed. The situation was an enjoyable one for +Mrs. Williams. The chair in which she sat was a +springy rocker, the room was cool, her own voice +sounded pleasantly through the quiet house, and the +look on the face of her hostess was an inspiration to +further speech.</p> + +<p>"Now, I don't know how you feel about it, Mrs. +Martin," she continued, "but I never could do anything +if somebody was standin' around waitin'. If +I know there's anybody waitin' for dinner, I'll burn<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +myself and drop the saucepans and scorch every +thing I'm cookin'. If I'm puttin' the last stitches +in a dress, and Anna Belle's waitin' to put the dress +on, I have to send her out of the room so I can manage +my fingers and see to thread the needle. And if +Anna Belle and Henry are waitin' for me to die, I +verily believe I'll live forever."</p> + +<p>This declaration of possible immortality in the flesh +was made with such vehemence that the speaker had to +pause suddenly to recover breath, while Mrs. Martin +sat expectant, awaiting the next passage in the romance.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Martin," resumed Mrs. Williams solemnly, +"if there's anything I do hate, it's a stumblin'-block. +I've had stumblin'-blocks myself, people that got +in my way and kept me from doin' what I wanted +to do, and I always bore with them as patient as I +could. But when it comes to bein' a stumblin'-block +myself, I've got no manner of patience. If I'm in +anybody's way, I'll take myself out as quick as I can, +and if I can't get out of the way, I'll fix it so they +can manage to walk around me, for I never was cut +out to be a stumblin'-block."</p> + +<p>"Nor me," said Mrs. Martin with tremulous haste, +"especially when it's my own child I'm standin' in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +the way of. Why, I never dreamed that I was +interfering with Henry's happiness. There ain't a +thing on earth I wouldn't do for him—my only +child."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Williams nodded approvingly. "I'm glad +you feel that way," she said warmly, "for this is a +case where it takes two to do what has to be done. +And that reminds me of somethin' I saw the other +day: I was sittin' by the window, and here comes +a big, lumberin' old wagon and two oxen drawin' it +and an old man drivin'. They were crawlin' along +right in the middle of the road, and just behind the +wagon there was a young man and a pretty girl in a +nice new buggy and a frisky young horse hitched to +it, and the horse was prancin' and tryin' to get by +the ox-team, but there wasn't room enough to pass +on either side of the road."</p> + +<p>She paused and looked inquiringly at Mrs. Martin +to see if the meaning of the allegory was plain to +her. But Mrs. Martin's face expressed only perplexity +and distress.</p> + +<p>"Don't you see," said Mrs. Williams persuasively, +"that you and me are just like that old ox-team? +There's happiness up the road for Henry and Anna<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +Belle, but we're blockin' the way, and they can't +get by us. Now, what are we goin' to do about +it?"</p> + +<p>This direct question was very disconcerting to +gentle Mrs. Martin. A flush rose to her face, and +she clasped and unclasped her hands in nervous embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"Why—I'm sure—I don't know—I never +thought about it," she stammered.</p> + +<p>The guest did not press the question. Instead, +she settled herself more comfortably in her chair, +waved her palm-leaf fan, and went calmly on with +her monologue. Apparently Mrs. Williams was merely +a fat, middle-aged woman making a morning call on a +friend, but in reality she was an ambassador from +the court of a monarch by whose power the world is +said to go round, a diplomat in whose diplomacy +the destinies of two human beings were involved. +Her words had been carefully chosen before setting +out on her envoy, and she was craftily following a +line of thought leading up to a climax beyond which +lay either victory or defeat. That climax was at +hand, but she was not yet ready for it. There was +some preliminary work to be done, a certain mental<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +impression to be made on her hearer, before she dared +"put it to the touch."</p> + +<p>"I don't know how it is with you, Mrs. Martin," +she continued, "but I'm not one of the kind that +thinks children are made for the comfort and convenience +of their parents. I've been hearin' sermons +all my life about the duty of children to their parents, +and I never heard one about the duty of parents to +their children." She broke off with a reminiscent laugh.</p> + +<p>"That reminds me of my Uncle Nathan, and what +he said to the preacher once. You know, Uncle +Nathan wasn't a church member, and he had his +own way of lookin' at religious matters and he was +mighty free-spoken. Well, one day the preacher +was makin' a pastoral call at Mother's, and he asked +for a glass of water, and when Mother brought it to +him and he'd drunk it, he set the glass down, and +says he to Mother: 'Did you ever think, Sister Brown, +how kind it is in the Lord to give us such a good and +perfect gift as pure, fresh water?' Says he: 'We're +not half grateful enough for these gifts of the Lord.' +And Uncle Nathan says: 'Well, now, Parson, it never +struck me that way.' Says he: 'God made us with +a need for water, and if he gives us water, why, it's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +no more than he ought to do.' And that's the way +it is with parents and children. We bring 'em into +the world, and there's certain things they have to +have, and if we give 'em those things, it's no more +than we ought to do."</p> + +<p>"Of course not," exclaimed Mrs. Martin warmly.</p> + +<p>"Every child ought to have a chance for happiness," +said Mrs. Williams.</p> + +<p>"Of course he ought," said Mrs. Martin. It +was uncertain to what conclusion the current of her +visitor's remarks was carrying her, but Mrs. Williams' +statements were so obviously true that dissent was +impossible.</p> + +<p>"And if you and me are standin' in the way of our +children's happiness, we must get out of the way, +mustn't we?" pursued Mrs. Williams.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, we must," said Mrs. Martin. There +was a tremor in her voice, and in her heart a growing +self-reproach that she should have to be reminded +of her duty to her son.</p> + +<p>"Well, as I said before," remarked Mrs. Williams, +"I'm not cut out to be a millstone or a stumblin'-block, +and neither are you, and now somethin's got +to be done."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> + +<p>She paused. Mrs. Martin did not reply. There +was a silence that threatened to become awkward. She +cleared her throat and looked as nervous and confused +as her hostess, then bravely resumed the charge.</p> + +<p>"Of course they might live with one of us, but if +they lived with me, you'd be jealous, and rightly +so, too. And if they lived with you, I'd be jealous. +And Anna Belle wouldn't be willin' to have me to +live alone, and Henry wouldn't leave you alone; +and then there's the mother-in-law question. Did +you ever live with your mother-in-law, Mrs. Martin?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Martin hesitated a moment, "Yes, I did," +she said, as if confessing to a misdemeanor.</p> + +<p>"Did you enjoy it?" questioned Mrs. Williams.</p> + +<p>"No, I didn't," replied Mrs. Martin with a decisive +promptness that she rarely exhibited.</p> + +<p>"Neither did I," echoed Mrs. Williams. "There +never was but one Ruth and Naomi, and they lived +so long ago nobody knows whether they ever did +live. I guess Henry and Anna Belle feel just as we +do about mothers-in-law, and, as I said before, what +are we goin' to do about it?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Martin's only reply was a look of bewilderment +and distress. It was evident to Mrs. Williams<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +that she would have to answer her own question, +but she delayed, for there were still a few well considered +diplomatic remarks that it might be well to +use before the climax was brought on. +"Now, I don't want you to answer me, Mrs. Martin. +You couldn't be expected to answer that question on +such short notice as this. Many's the night I've +stayed awake till long after the clock struck twelve +askin' myself what could be done about it, and the +only thing I can think of is this."</p> + +<p>She paused. Mrs. Martin was listening eagerly. +The time had come for the final charge.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think, Mrs. Martin,"—there was an +anxious, beseeching note in the speaker's voice,—"don't +you think that you and me might manage +to live together? Your house is big enough for two, +and it's a double house, with a hall runnin' through +the middle, so you can live on one side and me on +the other. And if you'll let me come and live in +one side of your house, I'll deed my house to Henry +and Anna Belle, and they can get married with a +clear conscience. You and me can be company for +each other, and we've each got enough money to +supply our wants; and I'll keep house on my side<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +of the hall, and you'll keep house on your side, and +there's no need of our ever fallin' out or interferin' +with each other."</p> + +<p>There! the deed was done, and the doer of the +deed, pale with consternation over her own daring, +sat waiting a reply.</p> + +<p>But no reply came. Apparently Mrs. Martin had +not heard her words, for she was looking beyond +her visitor with the dreamy gaze of one who sees, +but not with the eye of flesh. Was she considering +the question, or was her silence a rebuke to an officious +meddler? Mrs. Williams' heart was beating +as it used to beat on Friday afternoons when she +stood up to read her composition before the school, +and she tingled from head to foot with a flush of +shame.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you think of me for makin' +such a proposition to you," she stammered. "You'll +never know what it costs me to say what I've said, +and I never could have said it, if it hadn't been for +that nightgown put away in the bottom drawer, and +the look in Anna Belle's eyes."</p> + +<p>Still Mrs. Martin did not speak. The piteous +humiliation in her visitor's eyes deepened. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +must make one more effort to break the ice of that +cruel silence.</p> + +<p>"It's not for myself; I hope you understand that. +There's no reason why I should want to give up my +home, but it's for Anna Belle. A mother'll do anything +for her child, you know."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Martin's eyes were fixed gravely on her visitor's +face.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do know," she said, speaking with sudden +resolution. "It's all as plain as day. I don't know +what Henry will say, when he finds out that a stranger +had to tell his mother what her duty was. I ought +to have seen it long ago just as you did." Her voice +faltered, and there were tears in her eyes.</p> + +<p>The embarrassment and distress on Mrs. Williams' +face changed to joyful relief. She drew a quick +breath and laid instant hold on her wonted power of +speech.</p> + +<p>"You're not to blame at all," she consoled eagerly. +"If Anna Belle was your child, you'd have seen it +just as I did. A son's here and there and everywhere, +but a daughter's right in the house with you, and +you can read her heart like an open book. That's +how I happened to know before you did. My goodness!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +Is that clock strikin' eleven?" She rose with +an air of deep contrition, "Here I've taken up nearly +all your mornin'. But then, what's a mornin's work +by the side of your child's happiness?" On the +threshold she paused and stood irresolute for a few +seconds.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you think as I do," she said slowly; +"but somethin' tells me that you ought to have time +to think it over. It's no light matter to take another +woman under your roof and for a lifetime, too. So +give yourself a chance to consider, and if you change +your mind, we'll still be friends."</p> + +<p>The two were standing with clasped hands, and +the majesty of motherhood looked forth from the +eyes of each. Mrs. Martin shook her head. "I'm +not likely to change my mind," she said with gentle +dignity. "I love my son as well as you love your +daughter."</p> + +<p>These simple words seemed to both the conclusion +of the whole matter, and they turned away from +each other, forgetting the accustomed farewells.</p> + +<p>Slowly and thoughtfully Mrs. Williams walked +homeward. Her mission had been highly successful, +but, instead of the elation of the victor, she felt only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +the strange depression that comes after we take our +fate in our own hands, and make a decided move on +the checkerboard of life. On her way to Mrs. Martin's +she had felt sure that she was doing "the right +thing"; but before she reached home, doubt and +uncertainty possessed her mind. At her own gate +she stopped, and resting her elbows on the top of +one of the posts, she gazed at the place whose surrender +meant happiness for her child. It was just +a plain little cottage somewhat in need of a coat of +paint, but the look in Margaret Williams' eyes was +the look of a worshipper who stands before some long-sought +shrine. She looked upward at the swaying +branches of the elms and drew a quick breath as she +thought of a day in early March—how long ago?—when +<i>his</i> strong arms had wielded the pick and +spade, and she, a girl like Anna Belle, stood by, holding +the young trees and smiling at the thought of +sitting under their shade when he and she were old. +Youth was a reality then, and age a dream, but now +it was the other way. Her eyes wandered over the +little yard set thick with flowering shrubs and vines. +Every one of them had its roots in her heart and in +her memory, and a mist dimmed her eyes as she looked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +again at the house she had first entered when life and +love were new.</p> + +<p>"He built it for me," she murmured, and then +gave a guilty start as a clear young voice called out: +"Why don't you come in, Mother?"</p> + +<p>She passed her hand over her eyes and came smiling +into the little hall where Anna Belle sat, turning +down the hems of some coarse kitchen towels.</p> + +<p>"Put up those towels," she said with motherly +severity; "that's no work for a young girl. Where's +that nightgown you're embroiderin'? If you must +work, work on that."</p> + +<p>The girl glanced up, and in her eyes was the look +that for weeks had been like a dagger-thrust in Margaret +Williams' heart.</p> + +<p>"There's no hurry about getting that nightgown +done," she said quietly.</p> + +<p>"No hurry about the towels either," rejoined her +mother. "However, it's so near mealtime there's +no use beginnin' anything now. You can set the +table, and I'll get a pick-up dinner for us. I stayed +so long at Mrs. Martin's I can't cook much."</p> + +<p>At the mention of Henry's mother Anna Belle +colored again. A question trembled on her lips,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> +but she said nothing, and went about setting the +table in a listless, absent-minded way.</p> + +<p>Her mother was watching her furtively, and a pang +went through her heart as she noticed how thin the +girl's hands were, and how she trifled with the food +on her plate.</p> + +<p>"Pinin' away right before my eyes," she thought. +"I'm glad I went to see Mrs. Martin. I've done all +I could, anyway."</p> + +<p>After the meal was over, Anna Belle, at her mother's +second bidding, got out the embroidered gown and +bent over the tracery of leaves and flowers. Mrs. +Williams went up-stairs, presently returning with a +long, narrow box of some dark wood.</p> + +<p>"You've heard me speak of your Aunt Matilda," +she said, seating herself and folding her hands over +the box. "Well, this box and the things in it belonged +to her, and when she died, she willed it to +you, because she hadn't any children of her own, and +you were the only girl in the family. I've been intendin' +for some time to give it to you, and there's +no time like to-day." She opened the box, took out +a roll of shining silken tissue such as comes from the +looms of the Orient, and threw its soft folds across<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +her daughter's lap. Then from the scented darkness +of the treasure box she drew out a bertha and sleeves +of filmy lace and laid them on the silk.</p> + +<p>"That lace cost a small fortune," she observed. +"Your Uncle Harvey was a merchant, and whenever +he went to the East to buy his goods, he'd bring your +Aunt Matilda a fine present. This lace was the last +thing he ever brought her, and—poor thing!—she +didn't live to wear it."</p> + +<p>Anna Belle had dropped her work on the floor and +was fingering the lace and silk in a rapture of admiration.</p> + +<p>"O Mother," she breathed, "I never saw anything +so beautiful! Is it really mine?"</p> + +<p>She shook out the folds of silk, gathered them in +her hands, and held them off to note their graceful +fall. She laid the bertha across her shoulders and +ran to a mirror, laughing at the effect of the costly +lace over the striped gingham; she pushed the sleeves +of her dress up to her elbows and slipped the lace +sleeves over her bare, slender arms. Her eyes gleamed +with excitement, her lips were parted in a smile of +happy girlhood, and the mother, watching with quiet +satisfaction, read the thought in the girl's heart.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Be careful, Anna Belle," she warned, "you'll +wrinkle the goods. Here, fold it this way and lay it +smooth in your trunk. You may not need it now, +but some day it will come in handy."</p> + +<p>Anna Belle held the silk and lace on her outstretched +hands and carried it up-stairs as tenderly as she would +have carried a newborn babe. She lingered in her +room a long time and came down silent and dreamy-eyed. +All the afternoon she embroidered leaf and +flower on the linen gown, while in imagination she +was fashioning a wedding robe of silk and lace and +beholding herself a bride. When the clock struck +five, Mrs. Williams rose hurriedly from her chair +and gathered up the lapful of mending.</p> + +<p>"Go up-stairs, Anna Belle," she commanded, "and +put on your blue muslin."</p> + +<p>Anna Belle looked surprised. "Is any company +coming?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"What if there isn't?" replied her mother. "Don't +you suppose I like to see you lookin' nice?" She +walked out to the kitchen and began preparing the +evening meal. All the afternoon a strange nervousness +had been growing on her. She was beginning to +understand the momentousness of her morning interview<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +with Mrs. Martin, and she saw herself as one +who has risked all on a single throw. She had laid +bare to Henry's mother the sacred desires of her own +mother-heart and the yet more sacred desires of her +daughter's maiden-heart. What if this humiliation +should be to no purpose? Or, worse still, suppose +she had misinterpreted the fragments of conversation +that she had overheard. Suppose Henry's visits +were after all only friendly ones? Her hands trembled, +and her whole body was in a hot flush of fear +and apprehension. She glanced at the kitchen clock.</p> + +<p>"It won't be long till I know," she murmured. +"If Henry's mother falls in with my plans, Henry'll +come to see Anna Belle to-night."</p> + +<p>She tried to reassure herself by recalling all that +gentle Mrs. Martin had said, but as the moments +passed, her apprehension grew, and when she tried +to eat, the food almost choked her.</p> + +<p>As soon as the dishes were washed, Anna Belle +stole out to the front porch. She did not expect +her lover to-night, but at least she could sit in the +gathering dusk, thinking of Henry and of that wonderful +wedding gown. Meanwhile Mrs. Williams was +up-stairs, leaning from her bedroom window, listening<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +for Henry's step and peering anxiously in the +direction from which Henry must come. How slow +the minutes were! The kitchen clock struck seven. +Half-past seven was Henry's usual hour, but surely +to-night he would come earlier. Ten minutes passed. +She heard footsteps up the street, and her heart began +to beat like a girl's. Nearer the footsteps sounded. +Could that quick, firm tread be Henry's? Henry +was usually rather slow of speech and movement. +A hand was on the latch of the gate. She heard +Anna Belle's exclamation of surprise and pleasure, +then Henry's laugh and Henry's voice.</p> + +<p>In the love affairs of her daughter, every mother +finds a resurrection of her own youthful romance, +no matter how long it may have been buried; and +as the young man's tones, low, earnest and charged +with a lover's joy, rose on the summer air, Anna +Belle's mother turned away from the window, and +covering her face with her hands, tried to beat back +a tide of emotions that have no place in the heart +of middle age. The moments passed uncounted +now, and twilight had faded into night before she +heard Anna Belle's voice calling from below:</p> + +<p>"Mother! Where are you, Mother? Come right<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +down. Henry wants to see you;" and like one +who walks in her sleep she obeyed the summons.</p> + +<p>They stood before her, hand in hand, smiling, +breathless, encircled by the aura of love's young +dream; but there was a far-away look in Margaret +Williams' eyes, as she looked at their radiant faces. +How many years was it since she and Anna Belle's +father had stood before her mother! And now that +mother's name was carved on a graveyard stone, and +she was in her mother's place with a mother's blessing +in her hands for young lovers.</p> + +<p>Anna Belle was looking up at Henry, waiting for +him to put into words the gratitude and happiness +that filled their hearts. But the gift of the ready +tongue was not Henry's. How could a man find +words to thank a mother for giving him her daughter? +How poor and mean were all the customary phrases +of appreciation to be offered for such a gift! But +while he hesitated, his eyes met the eyes of Anna +Belle's mother, and with a quick impulse of the heart, +his tongue was loosed to the utterance of one word +that made all other words superfluous.</p> + +<p>"Mother!" he said; and as their hands met, Anna +Belle's arms were around her neck, and Anna Belle's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +voice was whispering in her ear: "You are the very +best mother in all the world." Yet in that moment +of supreme happiness for the lovers, Margaret Williams +realized what she was giving up, and tasted +the bitterness and the sweetness of the cup of self-abnegation +that her own hands had prepared. The +hot tears of anguish smarted in her eyes. But the +tears did not fall, and the emotion passed as swiftly +as it had come. She straightened herself in her chair +and pushed Anna Belle gently away.</p> + +<p>"It seems to me we're makin' a great fuss over a +mighty little matter," she said carelessly. "I'd +have been a poor sort o' mother to stand in the way +of my own child's happiness, and it wouldn't suit +me at all to be a millstone or a stumblin'-block. That's +all there is to it. Now, go out on the front porch, +you two, and set your weddin' day."</p> + +<hr class="mid" /> + +<p>It was the afternoon of the wedding day, and the +two mothers were sitting on the porch of their joint +home, both in festal attire, and both in the state of +pleasurable excitement that follows any great change, +and that precludes an immediate return to the commonplace +routine of daily life.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I might just as well be sewin' or mendin'," said +Mrs. Williams, "but it seems like Sunday or Christmas +day, and I don't feel like settlin' down to anything."</p> + +<p>"There's nothing like a weddin' for makin' you +feel unsettled," said Mrs. Martin, as she smoothed +down her black silk dress. "It'll be a long time before +we get over this day."</p> + +<p>"It was a pretty weddin', wasn't it?" said Mrs. +Williams, "And I never saw a happier lookin' couple +than Anna Belle and Henry. Most brides and grooms +look more like scared rabbits than anything else, +but Anna Belle and Henry were so happy they actually +forgot to be scared. I reckon they think that +married life's a smooth, straight road with flowers +on both sides, just like that garden path. You and +me have been over it, and we know better."</p> + +<p>"They'll have their trials," smiled Mrs. Martin, +"but if they love each other, they can stand whatever +comes."</p> + +<p>"Yes," agreed Mrs. Williams, "love's like a rubber +tire; it softens the jolts and carries you easy over the +rough places in the road."</p> + +<p>"Henry was the image of his father," said Mrs. +Martin dreamily.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I couldn't help thinkin' of myself when I looked +at Anna Belle," said Mrs. Williams. "You may not +believe it, but I was as slim as Anna Belle, when I +was her age."</p> + +<p>"I wish their fathers could have seen them," sighed +Mrs. Martin.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Williams leaned toward her companion. +"Maybe they did," she said in a half whisper. "I'm +no believer in table-walkin' and such as that, but +many a time I've felt the dead just as near me as you +are, and I wouldn't be at all surprised if Henry's +father and Anna Belle's father were at the weddin'."</p> + +<p>"Every weddin' makes you think of your own +weddin'," said Mrs. Martin timidly.</p> + +<p>"So it does," assured Mrs. Williams, "and I was +married just such a day as this. We'd set the fifteenth +of May for our weddin', but Aunt Martha McDavid +said May was an unlucky month, and so we changed +it to the first of June."</p> + +<p>"I was married in the fall," said Mrs. Martin +placidly. "I remember one of my dresses was a +plaid silk, green and brown and yellow, and the first +time I put it on, Henry's father went out in the yard +and pulled some leaves off the sugar maples, and laid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +'em on my lap, and said they matched the colors of +my dress. I pressed the leaves, and they're in my +Bible to this day."</p> + +<p>"I had a dark blue silk with a black satin stripe +runnin' through it," confided Mrs. Williams, "and +after I got through wearin' it, I lined a quilt with it, +and it's on Anna Belle's bed now."</p> + +<p>The two women were rocking gently to and fro; +both were smiling faintly, and there was a retrospective +look in their eyes. Memory, like a questing +dove, was flying between the past and the present, +bringing back now a leaf and now a flower plucked +from the shores of old romance, and they were no +longer the middle-aged mothers of married children, +but young brides with life before them; and as they +talked, more to themselves than to each other, with +long intervals of silence, the afternoon waned, the +sun was low, and the little garden lay in shadow.</p> + +<p>"What a long day this has been!" exclaimed Mrs. +Williams, rousing herself from a reverie. "Why, it +seems to me I've lived a hundred years since I got up +this mornin'."</p> + +<p>"I'd better see about makin' the fire and gettin' a +cup of tea," said Mrs. Martin. "I can tell by the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +shadow of that maple tree, that it's near supper time." +Then hesitatingly, as if it were a doubtful point of +etiquette, "It looks like foolishness to have two fires. +Mine's already laid; suppose you eat supper with +me to-night."</p> + +<p>"I'll be glad to," responded Mrs. Williams heartily, +"for I haven't half got my things in order yet." She +followed Mrs. Martin to the kitchen, and together +they set the table and waited for the kettle to boil. +Mrs. Martin was pleased to find that Mrs. Williams +preferred black tea to green, and while she was slicing +the bread, Mrs. Williams disappeared for a moment, +returning with something wrapped in a napkin. She +unfolded it, disclosing huge slices of wedding cake, white +cake, golden cake, and spice cake dark and fragrant.</p> + +<p>"There!" she said complacently. "You and me +were too flustered to eat much at the weddin', but +maybe we'll enjoy a piece of this cake now."</p> + +<p>Silently and abstractedly the two women ate the +simple meal. Now and then Mrs. Martin looked +across the table at the vacant place where Henry +had always sat, and as Mrs. Williams ate wedding +cake, her thoughts were with the daughter whose +face for twenty years had smiled at her across the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +little square leaf-table in the old home; also, she +had a queer, uneasy feeling, as if she had spent the +afternoon with her friend and should have gone home +before supper. After the dishes were washed, they +seated themselves again on the cool, shadowy porch. +Both were feeling the depression that follows an +emotional strain; besides, it was night, the time +when the heart throws off the smothering cares of the +day and cries aloud for its own. It was Mrs. Williams +who finally broke the silence.</p> + +<p>"While I think of it," she said, dropping her voice +to a confidential whisper, "I want to tell you what +I heard Job Andrews and Sam Moreman say when +they brought my trunk in this mornin'. They didn't +know I could hear 'em, and they were laughin' and +whisperin' as they set the trunk down on the porch, +and Job says: 'Some of these days these two women +are goin' to have a rippet that you can hear from one +end of this town to the other,' and Sam says: 'Yes, +they'll be dissolvin' partnership in less than two +months.'"</p> + +<p>"Did you ever!" ejaculated Mrs. Martin.</p> + +<p>"I thought once I'd go out and say somethin' to +'em," pursued Mrs. Williams, "but I didn't. I just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +shut my mouth tight, and I made a solemn resolution +right there that there'd never be any rippet if I could +help it, and if there was any, I'd take care that those +men never heard of it, There's nothin' in the world +men enjoy so much as seein' women fall out and +quarrel, and I don't intend to furnish 'em with that +sort o' pleasure."</p> + +<p>"Nor I," said Mrs. Martin warmly. "I don't see +why two women can't live in peace under the same +roof. For my part, quarrelin' comes hard with me. +It's not Christian, and it's not ladylike."</p> + +<p>"Well, if I felt inclined to quarrel," said Mrs. Williams, +"the thought of Sam and Job would be enough +to keep me from it, and if that's not enough, there's +the thought of Anna Belle and Henry. They can't +be happy unless we get along well together, and we +mustn't do anything to spoil their happiness."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Martin made an assenting murmur, and +another silence fell between them, Both were conscious +of the strangeness of their new relation. To +Mrs. Martin it seemed that Mrs. Williams was her +guest, and she was vaguely wondering if it would +be polite to suggest that it was time to go to bed. +Mrs. Williams rocked to and fro, and the squeak<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +of the old chair mingled with the shrill notes of the +crickets. Presently she stopped rocking and heaved +a deep sigh.</p> + +<p>"It's curious," she said, "how grown folks never +get over bein' children. When I was a little girl I +used to go out to the country to visit my Aunt Mary +Meadows. I'd get along all right durin' the day, +but when night come, and the frogs and the katydids +begun to holler, I'd think about home and wish I +was there; and when Aunt Mary put me to bed +and carried the light away, I'd bury my face in +the pillow and cry myself to sleep. And just now, +when I heard that katydid up yonder in the old +locust tree, I felt just like I used to feel at Aunt +Mary's."</p> + +<p>Her voice quivered on the last word, but once more +she laughed bravely. A flash of comprehension +crossed Mary Martin's brain. She leaned over and +laid her hand on the other woman's arm.</p> + +<p>"You're homesick," she said, with a note of deep +sympathy in her voice. "All day I've been thinkin' +about it, and I've come to the conclusion that you've +got the hardest part of this matter. Henry and +Anna Belle owe more to you than they do to me.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +We've both given up a child, but you've given up +your home, too, and that's a hard thing to do at your +time of life." At her time of life! The words were +like a spur to a jaded horse. Mrs. Williams straightened +her shoulders, raised her head, and laughed +again.</p> + +<p>"Shuh!" she said carelessly, "changin' your house +ain't any more than changin' your dress. I ain't so +far gone in years yet that I have to stick in the same +old place to keep from dyin'. But I reckon I'm like +that spring branch that used to run through the field +back of Father's house. It was always overflowin' +and ruinin' a part o' the crop, and one fall Father +went to work and turned it out of its course into a +rocky old pasture where it couldn't do any harm. +I was just a little child, but I remember how sorry +I felt for that little stream runnin' along between +the new banks, and I used to wonder if it wasn't +homesick for the old course, and if it didn't miss the +purple flags and the willers and cat-tails that used to +grow alongside of it; but just let me get a good night's +rest and my things all straightened out, and I'll soon +get used to the new banks and be as much at home +as you are."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> + +<p>She rose heavily from her chair. "I believe I'll +go to bed now," she said briskly. "Movin' 's no light +work, and we're both tired."</p> + +<p>"If you should get sick in the night or need anything," +said Mrs. Martin, following her into the +house, "don't fail to call me."</p> + +<p>"I'm goin' to sleep the minute my head hits the +pillow and sleep till it's time to get up," replied Mrs. +Williams, "and you do the same. Good night!"</p> + +<p>She closed the door and stood for a few seconds in +the darkness. Then she groped her way to the table +and lighted her lamp. Its cheerful radiance flooded +every part of the little room, and showed each familiar +piece of furniture in its new surroundings. Yes, there +was the high chest of drawers that Grandfather Means +had made from the wood of a cherry tree on the old +home place; there was the colonial sewing-table, +and the splint-bottomed rocker, the old bookcase, +and all the rest of the belongings that she cherished +because they belonged to "the family." But how +strange her brass candlesticks looked on that mantel! +It was not <i>her</i> mantel, and the wall-paper was not +hers. Her wall-paper was gray with purple lilacs +all over it, and this was pink and green and white!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +And the windows and doors were not in their right +places. Ah! the hold of Place and Custom! The +memories and associations of a lifetime twined themselves +around her heart closer and closer, and the +hand of Change seemed to be tearing at every root +and tendril. Pale and trembling she sank into a +chair, and the same tears she had shed sixty years +ago, the tears of a homesick child, fell over her +wrinkled cheeks, while in her brain one thought repeated +itself with a terrifying emphasis: "<i>I can't +get used to it. I can't get used to it.</i>"</p> + +<p>But the sound of her own sobs put a stop to her +grief. She brushed the tears away with the back of +her hand and glanced toward the door. The other +woman across the hall must not know her weakness. +She rose, walked forlornly to a side window, and +parting the curtains, looked fearfully out. Why, +where was the lilac bush and the Lombardy poplar +and the box-wood hedge? Again the hand tore at +her heart; she peered bewilderedly into the night. +Alas! the stream turned from its course cannot at +once forget the old channel and the old banks. Again +the tears came, but as she wiped them away, a fresh +wind arose, parting the light clouds that lay in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +western sky and showing a crescent moon and near +it the evening star. Like a message from heaven +came a memory that dried her tears and swept away +the homesick longing. Twenty-five years ago she +had looked at the new moon on her wedding night, +and this was Anna Belle's wedding night—her +daughter's wedding night! Fairer than moon or +star, the face of the young bride seemed to look into +hers; she felt the girl's clinging arms around her +neck and heard the fervent whisper: "<i>You are the +very best mother in the whole wide world.</i>"</p> + +<p>She lifted her eyes once more, not to the moon or +the star, but to Something beyond them.</p> + +<p>"O God!" she whispered brokenly, "it's harder +than I thought it would be; but for my child's sake +I can stand it, and anyway, I'm glad I'm not a millstone +or a stumblin'-block."</p> +<hr class="chap" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="ONE_TASTE_OF_THE_OLD_TIME" id="ONE_TASTE_OF_THE_OLD_TIME"></a>"ONE TASTE OF THE OLD TIME"</h2> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span><br /></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There is no organic disease whatever," said +the doctor. "The trouble is purely mental. +No, I don't mean that," he corrected hastily, as he +saw the look of dismay on David Maynor's face. +"Your wife is not losing her mind. Nothing of that +sort. Indeed, I take her to be a woman of unusually +sound mentality. But, evidently there is some trouble +preying on her mind and producing these nervous +symptoms. The prescription I am leaving will palliate +these, but it remains for you to find out what +the trouble is and remove it, if you can. There are +some cases where doctors are powerless, and this, I +think, is one of them." He reached for his hat and +bowing with professional courtesy turned to leave.</p> + +<p>"How much do I owe you?" said David Maynor.</p> + +<p>The blunt question was like a sentry's challenge, +and the doctor paused with his hand on the knob of +the door.</p> + +<p>"Ah—never mind about that now. A bill will +be sent you at the end of the month." His tone<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +and manner implied that this was too trivial a matter +to be mentioned.</p> + +<p>But David Maynor's hand was in his pocket, and +he was drawing forth his new seal-leather purse.</p> + +<p>"I always pay as I go," he said stolidly. The +corners of the doctor's mouth twitched, and a gleam +of humor came into his eyes. "Ten dollars," he +said, and while David Maynor was counting out the +bills, the physician's quick glance was taking note +of the expensive furniture and the utter absence of +individuality, that gave the house the air of a hotel +rather than a home. "The new rich," he thought +with good-natured amusement, then aloud:</p> + +<p>"Let me hear from your wife to-morrow, Mr. Maynor. +But, as I said before, the case is in your hands. +Good afternoon!" And with another courtly bow +he was gone.</p> + +<p>David Maynor hurried back up-stairs to his wife's +bedside. "Sarah," he said, bending over her and +smoothing her hair clumsily, "the doctor says there's +not a thing the matter with you, except you've got +something on your mind that's worrying you. He +says he can't do much for you, and that I've got to +find out what the trouble is and remove it, if I can."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> + +<p>Sarah Maynor turned her head restlessly on the +pillow. "I must say he's got more sense than I +thought he had," she said, with a nervous laugh. +"I was afraid he'd go to dosing me with bitters and +pills. He's exactly right: no doctor can cure me." +Her voice broke, and she buried her face in the pillow.</p> + +<p>A deep anxiety settled on David's rugged features. +"Why, Sarah," he said, with tender reproach in his +voice, "when did you get to hiding your troubles from +me? Is there anything you want? Anything I +can do for you? You know you can have everything +now that money can buy."</p> + +<p>Sarah turned her face toward her husband. Her +gray eyes were filled with tears, and her hands were +clenched in an effort to control her feelings.</p> + +<p>"That's just the trouble!" she cried, her voice +rising into a wail. "You've given me everything +that money buys, and I don't want anything except +the things that love buys. I want to go back to +Millville! I want to live in our own little cottage! +I'm sick of this sort of life! I never was made to +be a rich man's wife, and it's killing me! It's killing +me! Oh! I know I'm ungrateful, Dave, but I can't +help it!" Her voice broke in a storm of sobs. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +covered her face with the bedclothes and shrank +away from her husband's hand.</p> + +<p>A look of profound relief lighted David Maynor's +face. "Is that all?" he exclaimed. "And here +I've been putting up with everything because I thought +you were pleased! My gracious, Sarah! You don't +hate this life any more than I do."</p> + +<p>Sarah lifted her head from the pillow and searched +his face with her tear-reddened eyes. "Dave Maynor," +she said solemnly, "are you just saying that to +please me, or is it the truth?"</p> + +<p>"I'd go back to Millville to-morrow, if I could," +said David, with an emphasis that swept away all +doubt of his sincerity.</p> + +<p>Sarah fell back on her pillows with a long, sobbing +breath of relief. Her tears flowed again, but they +were tears of happiness, and an ecstatic smile shone +through them.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Then it's all right, Dave! It's all right!" +She reached for David's hand and laid it against her +wet cheek. "You see, it was just the thought that +you and I didn't think alike—that was what I couldn't +stand. But if you feel as I do, why, I can stand anything. +You know what I mean, don't you, Dave?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Of course I know what you mean, honey," said +David soothingly, as if he were talking to a child in +distress. "I've felt exactly the same way, ever since +we left our little Millville home and come to this two-story +brick house. I thought you liked it,—women +always like fine houses and fine furniture,—and I +wanted to please you, but I hated it from the start; +and we'd always thought the same about everything, +and to have this big pile of brick and mortar +comin' between us at our time of life—"</p> + +<p>At this point words failed him. He was not in the +habit of analyzing and describing his own feelings, +but Sarah's eyes met his, and a look of perfect understanding +passed between husband and wife. They +had been living a divided life, but now they were +one.</p> + +<p>"It was my fault," said Sarah. "I ought to have +stopped you in the beginning; but I knew you were +trying to please me, and I didn't want to seem ungrateful—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, honey, yes," interrupted David, "I know +just how it was, and it was my fault, not yours. I +ought to have asked you what you wanted, instead +of takin' things for granted. Yes, if it's anybody's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +fault, it's mine. But what's the use in blamin' anybody? +My doctrine is that when a thing <i>has</i> happened, +instead of blamin' ourselves or anybody else, +we just ought to conclude that it <i>had</i> to happen, +and then make the best of it. This house is built; +it's ours; we're in it; we don't like it; and now +what are we going to do about it?"</p> + +<p>Sarah's face clouded at once. She and David were +of one mind, but things were not "all right", for still +the burden of unaccustomed wealth and luxury weighed +upon her, and David's question brought her face to +face with the old troubles.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I don't know," she said wearily. "If we just +hadn't left our little cottage!"</p> + +<p>"It was that architect fellow's fault, my buildin' +this house," said David ruefully. "He was a young +man just startin' out in the world, and I thought I'd +give him a helpin' hand. And then it didn't look +right for people with the income we've got to live in +a four-room cottage in Millville."</p> + +<p>"I don't care how it looked," said Sarah fretfully, +"we were in our right place there, and we're out of +place here. When we lived in Millville, I'd get up +in the morning, and I knew just exactly what I'd have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> +to do, and I knew I could do whatever I had to do. +But now—" She made a gesture of unutterable +despair—"Why, I hate to open my eyes, I hate to +get up, I hate to think there's another day before +me, for I'm certain there'll be things to do that I +never did before, and don't know how to do and +don't want to do, even if I knew how. People come +to see me and they talk about things I never heard +of, and ask me to do things I can't do, and I feel just +exactly as if I was caught in some kind of a cage and +couldn't get out. There was that Mrs. Emerson—she +wanted me to join a club she belongs to. She +said it used to be a literary club, but that they'd +changed their plans, and, instead of writin' papers, +they'd decided to do civic work."</p> + +<p>She paused in her passionate confession and turned +abruptly to David with a look of self-scorn that +was tragic in its intensity. "Do you know what +'civic work' is, David?" David did not answer at +once.</p> + +<p>"Why, no, Sarah, I can't say I do," he said cautiously. +"It seems to me I've seen that word somewhere, +and maybe I could think up what it means, +if you'd give me time to—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> + +<p>Sarah cut him short. "You don't know what +that word means, David, and neither do I," she +said with studied calmness.</p> + +<p>David was genuinely puzzled by Sarah's evident +distress over so unimportant a circumstance as the +meaning of a word. "Honey," he said tenderly, +"I'll go right down town and buy you a dictionary, +so you can find out what that word means. But what +difference does it make, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>Once more his wife turned on him a face that was +like a mask of tragedy. "What difference does it +make?" she wailed. "Oh, David! Can't you see? +Can't you understand? There I sat—in my own +house—like a fool—not knowin' what answer to +give her, just because I didn't know what that word +meant! And every day something like this happens, +something that makes me feel that I'm out of place, +something that makes me hate myself! Can't you +understand?"</p> + +<p>Yes, David understood as well as a man could be +expected to understand a woman. Many times +since Fortune had smiled on him, he had been thrown +with men of superior education and social position +and had known momentarily the feeling of being<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +out of place. And if Sarah's passionate words failed +to convey all she felt and suffered, the despair in her +eyes and the nervous twitching of her fingers brought +comprehension to her husband's mind.</p> + +<p>"There! There!" he soothed, taking her hands +in his. "You mustn't carry on this way, Sarah, or +I'll have to send for the doctor again. Just give me +time to think; there must be a way out of this trouble. +My goodness!" He shook his head in helpless wonderment +over the strange situation. "I thought +we'd be through with troubles when we got rich, but +it looks as if this money's the most trouble we ever +had."</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't be a trouble if we were used to it," +explained Sarah. "We were born poor, and we've +lived poor all our lives, and we don't know how to +get happiness out of money."</p> + +<p>David sighed. "We can't go back to Millville to +live," he said thoughtfully. "At least we can't get +back our old place." Sarah's face was already clouded, +but at these words a deeper shadow passed over it. +She had known, when she left the Millville house, +that the owner of the property intended tearing down +the cottage and building a tenement house for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +mill-workers, and every time she thought of her house +in ruins, she had a dull heartache. "I never hankered +after riches," mused David, his mind still occupied +with the mysterious ways of the Providence that had +made him rich. "I never even tried to invent that +machine. It just seemed to come to me, without +any thinkin' or tryin' on my part; and when I patented +the thing, I never supposed it would do any more +than make us fairly comfortable in our old age. But +here's the money comin' in all the time; it's ours, +and it's honest money, and we've got to take it and +make the best of it. But," tenderly, "I'm not goin' +to let it worry you to death if I can help it. What is +it that bothers you most, honey?"</p> + +<p>Sarah moved her head restlessly on the pillow and +sighed heavily. "Oh! everything; but I believe the +servants are the worst aggravation of all."</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with 'em?" asked David; +"don't they do their work right?"</p> + +<p>"No, they don't," said Sarah despairingly. "I +never saw such cleanin' as that Bertha does—dust +behind the doors and on the window sills; and she +never takes up a rug, and the windows look like Jacob's +cattle, all ringed and striped and streaked. And<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +Nelly's just as bad. The dish towels are a sight, +and the kitchen closet's in such a mess I can't sleep +for thinkin' of it. I never could stand dust, especially +in my kitchen; you know that, David. And here +we are payin' these good-for-nothin' creatures every +week almost as much money as you used to earn in a +month! It's enough to drive me crazy." It was +the lamentation of a housekeeper, a cry as old as +civilization, that Sarah was uttering, and David +heard it sympathetically, for his wife's troubles were +his own.</p> + +<p>"Can't you make 'em do their work right?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Make 'em?" Sarah's voice rose in a petulant +wail. "No, I can't. I can make myself work, but +I don't know how to make anybody else work."</p> + +<p>"Do they ever give you any back talk?" asked David.</p> + +<p>"No, they don't," said Sarah, a dull flush crimsoning +her face. "They're polite enough to my face, +but, David, I believe they laugh at us both behind +our backs. Two or three times I've turned around +right quick, and I've seen a look on their faces that +made me want to turn 'em out of the house."</p> + +<p>David's face hardened. "Why don't you discharge +'em?" he asked grimly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh! I don't know how," said Sarah fretfully. +"It seems to me you ought to know that, without +being told. I never discharged anybody in my life. +I wouldn't know what to say. Don't you have to +give servants warning before you turn 'em off?"</p> + +<p>David deliberated a moment. "Either they have +to give you warning, or you have to give them warning, +or maybe it's both," he announced. "I guess +it would take a lawyer to settle that question."</p> + +<p>"People that don't know how to get rid of a servant +have got no business with servants," said Sarah bitterly. +"Here I am, a stout, able-bodied woman, +holdin' my hands all day, when I ought to be doin' +my own work just as I always have."</p> + +<p>"You couldn't do your work in this house," argued +David. "It would break you down if you tried +it."</p> + +<p>"There it is again," cried Sarah. "The house! +It's the house that's to blame for everything. Why, +it was just last week I met Molly Matthews on the +street, and she turned her head away and wouldn't +speak to me! Molly Matthews that nursed me when +I had the fever and that's been like a sister to me all +these years!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> + +<p>David's face darkened angrily. "What right has +Molly Matthews to fall out with you, because you've +got a better house than she has? That's just envy."</p> + +<p>"No, it's not envy!" cried Sarah in loyal defense +of the absent friend. "I know Molly as well as I +know myself. She hasn't changed, but she thinks +I've changed; she thinks I feel above her just because +I've got this two-story brick. And I don't blame +her a bit. When we left Millville and moved into +town, it looked just like we had turned our backs +on all our old friends. I'd feel just as Molly does, +if I were in Molly's place. I've wanted to have +Molly and Annie and all the rest of my friends to +spend the day with me,—I've only waited because +I wanted to feel at home in my own house, before +I had visitors,—but now I can't do it. We've got +a fine house, David, and plenty of money, but we've +lost our old friends; and what is life without friends?"</p> + +<p>The god of Mammon had showered his favors on +these simple souls, but they would never be worshippers +of the god. David, too, had felt the barrier of +wealth rising, hard and cruel, between him and the +friends of a lifetime, and his heart echoed Sarah's +question, "What is life without friends?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well," he said, with an effort at lightness, "if our +old friends forsake us, we'll have to make new ones."</p> + +<p>"But I don't want new friends!" cried Sarah, with +the accent of a fretful child, "Haven't I just told +you I couldn't talk to that Mrs. Emerson?"</p> + +<p>A sudden thought seemed to strike David. He +took out his watch and glanced at it. "It's time for +you to take another dose of the medicine the doctor +left. I have to go down-town for a few minutes. +You lie still and see if you can't sleep a little."</p> + +<p>He handed her the medicine and left the room. +Sarah waited till he was out of the house, and then +she rose hastily from the bed and began making a +hurried toilet.</p> + +<p>When David reappeared, he found her fully dressed +and the marks of tears gone from her face.</p> + +<p>"That medicine's helped you already," he said +cheerfully; "and here's a dictionary, and we'll find +out what that word means."</p> + +<p>The dictionary was an unfamiliar book to David, +but after a patient search he found the strange word. +"Here it is: civic, of or pertaining to a city, a citizen, +or citizenship." He looked hopefully at Sarah. +She shook her head rather sadly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't know a bit more now than I did before, +David, but never mind that word. I told you awhile +ago that I could stand anything, if we only felt alike +about it, and I'm goin' to stand this."</p> + +<p>"That's right," said David heartily; "and while +you're standing it, I'll be looking for a way out of it. +I didn't build this house for you to stand, I built it +for you to enjoy, and if you don't enjoy it, you don't +have to live in it." At that moment the supper bell +rang.</p> + +<p>"Come on, honey," said David, holding out his +hand to help her from the chair, "you'll feel better +after you've had something to eat."</p> + +<p>But Sarah only sighed and shook her head languidly. +"If I'd only cooked the supper, I might feel hungry. +But I just don't care whether I eat or not. I'd rather +go hungry than to eat with that Nelly starin' at me."</p> + +<p>"You stay up here, Sarah," said David with sudden +determination. He wheeled a small table in front of +her and hurried from the room. In a few minutes +Nelly appeared with a laden tray that she set on the +table.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Maynor says if there's anything else you want, +to let him know." Nelly's tone and manner were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +those of the well-trained servant, and she looked at +her mistress with a gleam of real sympathy in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"This is all I want. I'm much obliged," said Sarah +Maynor awkwardly.</p> + +<p>Nelly withdrew, and Sarah began to eat, more from +gratitude to David than from any sense of hunger. +David was so good to her, she must get used to things +for his sake. But the relief of eating without the +espionage of a servant quickened her appetite, and +when David rejoined her, he looked with satisfaction +on the empty dishes.</p> + +<p>"Don't worry about me, David," said Sarah, with a +good attempt at a careless smile. "I've been actin' +like a child, but from now on I'm goin' to behave myself." +David did not answer. He appeared to be in +deep thought about some important matter. He took +out a pencil, did some figuring on the back of an envelope, +relapsed again into the thoughtful mood, and +finally went to bed silent and preoccupied.</p> + +<p>For the next few weeks, he was away from home the +greater part of the time. Many days he failed to +appear at the midday meal, and often it would be dusk +before he came to supper. The vague excuse of +"business" satisfied Sarah, for she had the wifely faith<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +that forbade questioning, and though David's sympathy +helped her to stand the hard conditions of her daily +life, she was still too unhappy to feel any keen curiosity +about her husband's comings and goings. But one +day David came home wearing an expression of such +triumphant satisfaction that it could not be overlooked.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, David?" she asked wistfully. +"You look just like you did the day you got your +patent."</p> + +<p>David laughed joyously. "I feel just as I did the +day I got my patent, Sarah: I've got a little business +to see to after dinner, but about four o'clock I'll come +around with the buggy, and we'll take a long ride. +I've been workin' hard for the last few weeks, and I +reckon I'm entitled to a little holiday."</p> + +<p>That horse and phaeton had been the occasion of +much comment on the part of the general public. +People often smiled to see the rich inventor and his +wife in their modest turnout, while men of lesser worth +whizzed by in costly machines; only Sarah knew that +the shining little phaeton and the gentle mare were +the realization of a childish dream.</p> + +<p>"I reckon I ought to have bought a car," said David +apologetically, as he helped Sarah into the phaeton<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> +for their first ride together; "but when I was a little +shaver I wanted a pony; every boy does. Nobody but +God will ever know how much I wanted that pony +I never got. And when I grew older, I wanted a horse +just as bad as I wanted a pony, and now the time's +come when I can have what I want. Some day we +can get one of these big machines, but right now this +little buggy and this little mare just suit me." And +Sarah had acquiesced fully in these views.</p> + +<p>"You can't love a big machine, but you can love a +horse," she said. And thereafter the horse and phaeton +were the only mitigating circumstances of her new life, +for they enabled her to get away, for a few happy, +care-free hours, from the two-story brick and the two +hateful servants. She ate her dinner with a better +appetite because of the promised ride. Long before +the hour appointed she was dressed and waiting with +the impatience of a child, and before they had gone a +mile, she had caught David's spirit of happiness, and +was looking up into her husband's face with a look her +face used to wear before the curse of wealth came upon +her.</p> + +<p>"Are we going to Millville?" she asked apprehensively.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," said David. "We're going in that direction, +but we'll stop before we get there." He understood +why Sarah would not want to drive through the +village; it would seem like flaunting her new wealth +in the faces of her old neighbors. David's eyes +sparkled, and his mouth kept curving into a smile +even though there was no occasion for smiling. Sarah +felt that she was on the verge of a pleasant surprise, +and her eyes roved here and there searching for the +possible stopping-place. There were pretty cottages at +intervals along the road, and each one reminded her +of her lost home. On they went, around a sharp turn +in the road, and suddenly David drew rein in the shade +of a huge tulip tree just in front of a little country +place. A new paling fence painted gray enclosed the +lot; the house was not a new one, but its coat of gray +matched the fence, and a fresh green roof crowned its +walls. Sarah leaned forward, her eyes alight with +wonder.</p> + +<p>"Why, Dave, it looks like our old cottage. It's +exactly like it, only it's had a new coat of paint. What +are we stopping here for? Does anybody live here?"</p> + +<p>David was helping her out of the phaeton. His eyes +were smiling, and the corners of his mouth twitched.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It does look considerably like our cottage," he +said gravely. "That's why I brought you out here. +I thought you might enjoy lookin' at it." He opened +the gate, and they walked up the path, Sarah glancing +from side to side at the newly planted shrubs and trees.</p> + +<p>"Why, Dave, it looks just like our front yard, only +everything's new. There's that little maple tree at +the corner of the house, just like our maple tree at home, +and all the shrubs I used to have, and planted in exactly +the same places. It's right curious how much it's +like our old place."</p> + +<p>They were on the front porch now. David knocked +loudly on the door. That door! Sarah's eyes were +scanning it as if it were a written page from which +she hoped to learn good tidings. It glistened bravely +in its thick coat of white paint, but when one has +opened and shut the same door for twenty years, the +brush of the painter cannot wholly conceal its familiar +features. Surely that was her front door!</p> + +<p>"The folks don't seem to be at home," said David, +and as he spoke, he took a key from his pocket, unlocked +the door, and flung it wide open. David was +no playwright, but he understood how to produce a +dramatic situation and bring a scene to a successful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> +climax. The opening of the door disclosed a narrow +entry. The floor was covered with an oilcloth somewhat +worn, and in front of the door lay a rug of braided +rags. Against the wall stood a very ugly hatrack, +and over the door leading into the room on the left +was a Bible text worked in faded yarns and framed in +dingy gilt. For a moment Sarah stood gazing bewildered +at the familiar interior, then she grasped her +husband's hand and stepped across the threshold, +uttering an inarticulate expression of rapture, while +David laughed aloud in pure delight.</p> + +<p>"Oh, David! David!" she cried, "it's my own home, +my own little home! What does it mean, David? Am +I crazy or dreaming or what?" She was clinging to +David's arm, trembling and tearful. David patted +her kindly on the hand.</p> + +<p>"You're not crazy, honey, and you're wide-awake, +too. It means that you've got your old home again, +and you needn't ever go back to the two-story brick +house in town unless you want to."</p> + +<p>"But I thought the house was torn down," insisted +Sarah, incredulous of the happy reality.</p> + +<p>"So it was," explained David, "but I bought the +lumber and had it all put together again. Everything's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +just like it used to be except the wall paper and paint. +They're new."</p> + +<p>Oh! the miracle of it! And it was David's love that +had wrought the miracle. Sarah tried to speak, tried +to tell David all her happiness and gratitude, but the +words were so incoherent, broken, and mixed with tears +that no one but David could have understood their +meaning.</p> + +<p>"Kind?" he said, patting her shoulder. "No, +there's no particular kindness about this. I've just +got Doctor Bourland's prescription filled, that's all. +You know he said I had to find out what the trouble +was and remove it, and that's what I've tried to +do."</p> + +<p>Sarah's tears flowed afresh at this proof of David's +thoughtfulness. "Oh, David!" she cried remorsefully. +"I thought you didn't care for the things—<i>our</i> +things! And it hurt me so!"</p> + +<p>"Cheer up, old woman," said David. "Dry your +eyes and see if I've got everything here I ought to +have. You'll find some clothes in the bureau drawers, +enough to last for a few days, anyhow. We're goin' +to stay here awhile, till that head of yours quits achin' +and your nerves get quieted down."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Sarah was in the kitchen now, opening drawers, +doors, and boxes like a true daughter of Pandora. +"Sugar—meal—soda—bacon—salt. How on +earth did you manage to think of everything, David?"</p> + +<p>"Come out in the garden," urged David. "Pretty +outlook, ain't it?" he said, with a gesture toward the +west where green meadows and blue hills slumbered +in the late afternoon sunshine. "See the new stable +and the chicken yard. I'll put up some martin boxes +next week, and we'll have pigeons, too. Here's the +asparagus bed, and over against the stable we'll have +a little hotbed and raise early lettuce. It's too late +to do much now, but I've got the walks laid off, and +this time next year we'll be sittin' under our own +'vine and fig-tree.'"</p> + +<p>Hand in hand, like two children, they wandered over +their acre of ground, planning for the flower garden, +the vegetable garden, and the tiny orchard and the +grape arbor that were to be, till the level rays of the +sun warned them of approaching evening. David +took out his watch.</p> + +<p>"Pretty near supper time," he said. "The fire's +laid in the kitchen stove. I wonder if you've forgotten +how to cook a meal, Mrs. Maynor?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> + +<p>Sarah answered with a laugh; and as she walked +to the house and entered her kitchen, she looked as +Eve might have looked, if, with her womanly tears +and sighs, she had bribed the Angel of the Flaming +Sword to let her pass through the gate and stroll for +an hour along the paths of her lost Eden. But Sarah's +Paradise Regained was the paradise of the worker. +She rolled up her sleeves, tied a gingham apron around +her waist, and set about getting supper with the zeal +of those who count themselves blest in having to earn +the bread they eat.</p> + +<p>She set the little square table near a western window, +and the sunset light fell on the cheap cloth, the ill-matched +pieces of cheap china, and the plain food of +the working man. It was all she could do to keep back +the tears of joy when she called David in to supper. +David's eyes filled, too, when he seated himself at the +table. He bowed his head to say grace, but his voice +failed, and their grace was a silent thanksgiving, not +for food, but for the restoration of the old home and +the old life.</p> + +<p>In the midst of the meal Sarah laid down her knife +and fork with an expression of dismay. "Oh, David!" +she exclaimed, "what will we do about the house in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +town? We can't leave it in charge of those no-account +servants."</p> + +<p>"Don't worry," said David placidly. "Ann Bryan's +in charge of that house, and she'll stay as long as we're +here. Ann knows how to manage servants. She used +to be the housekeeper at Northcliffe Manor, you remember. +I told her about the trouble you'd had, +and I think you'll find Nelly and Bertha well broken +in when you get back."</p> + +<p>Sarah drew a sigh of relief. It was good to know +that those hateful servants were in stronger hands +than hers, and better still, that she and David could +eat their meals in the privacy of the kitchen with no +spying eyes upon them.</p> + +<p>"Do the people at Millville know about this house, +David?" she asked later, as they sat on the porch in +the stillness and coolness of the night. David blew a +puff of smoke into the darkness before he answered.</p> + +<p>"They all know, Sarah, and I think it'll make things +a good deal easier for you. Annie McGowan came by +one day, when I was havin' the cottage torn down and +the lumber hauled out here; she stopped to ask questions, +and I told her how you pined for your old home +and what I intended to do, and I guess she told all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +the other women, for I notice a change in everybody's +face."</p> + +<p>"What did Annie say?" urged Sarah eagerly.</p> + +<p>"She said she always knew your heart was in the +right place."</p> + +<p>The old home and the old friends, too! All her loved +and lost possessions were found, and if David's wealth +were suddenly snatched away, she would still be a rich +woman. She slept soundly and woke with a thrill of +rapture at the thought of the day's work before her. +How many things there were to be done and how +willingly she would do them, for she was back in her own +place, living her own life, and finding health and +happiness in daily toil. She went from task to task, +rejoicing that her hand had not lost its cunning for +sweeping, dusting, sewing, cooking, and all the rest +of the blessed work that goes to the making of a home; +"and the evening and the morning were the first day." +The second day was like unto the first, and on the third +day Mary Matthews and Annie McGowan came, +and a broken friendship was cemented, never to be +broken again.</p> + +<p>At the end of the week David came home with a +grave face. "I'm sorry, Sarah," he said, as they sat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> +down to their supper, "but I'm afraid we'll have to +break camp and go back to town to-morrow morning. +I had a letter from Bates and Hammond, that big firm +I told you about, and I have to go to St. Louis to-morrow +morning. I can't leave you out here alone, +so I reckon you'll have to go back to the two-story brick +for awhile."</p> + +<p>He expected an outburst of tears from Sarah, +but to his great relief she went calmly on, pouring +his coffee and helping him to the corn bread and +bacon.</p> + +<p>"That's all right, David," she said pleasantly. "I +was just wonderin' to-day how things were in town, +and I'd just as soon go back as not."</p> + +<p>David drew a breath of relief. "I think you'll +find everything in good order," he said. "Ann Bryan +has got Nelly and Bertha well in hand. She says +they're good servants, and all they need is a tight rein +to hold them to their work. She says you must look +them straight in the eye when you give an order, and +never let a bad piece of work pass. She says that's +the secret of managin' servants."</p> + +<p>Sarah said nothing, but there was a look on her face +that Ann Bryan would have approved.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We have to make an early start to-morrow," continued +David, "for I leave on the nine o'clock train. +Ann may leave the house before we get to town. Her +brother's wife is sick, and she's needed at home, and +that's another reason why we ought to go back to town +for awhile."</p> + +<p>"Of course it is," agreed Sarah, "and I don't mind it +at all."</p> + +<p>David watched his wife closely, as they made preparations +for leaving the next morning, but there was +nothing in her manner or her words to indicate the +slightest annoyance over the return to town. She +seemed alert, cheerful, and more than willing to +make the change, and when they came in sight of +the two-story brick, David thought she looked rather +pleased.</p> + +<p>"Maybe you'd better have some one to stay with +you while I'm gone," he suggested, as he kissed her +good-by.</p> + +<p>"No," said Sarah, very decidedly, "I've got some +work to do, and I'd rather be alone. Take care of +yourself, David, and come home as soon as you can."</p> + +<p>She stood on the porch till David was out of sight +and then walked back to the kitchen where the two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +servants were dawdling and gossiping over their +breakfast.</p> + +<p>"Nelly," she said, pointing to the kitchen clock and +looking the maid squarely in the face, "it's nearly +nine o'clock and no cleaning done yet. Go up-stairs +and open the windows so the house'll have a good airing, +and then get the parlor in order first before company +comes." While the astonished Nelly obeyed orders, +she turned to Bertha and gave directions for the next +meal. "You've got your kitchen in good order," she +said approvingly, "and from now on you must keep it +just this way."</p> + +<p>"She's learnin' fast," said Nelly to Bertha an hour +later, when they came together for a whispered conference +in the kitchen pantry.</p> + +<p>"Believe me!" returned Bertha, "it won't be long before +I'll be cookin' six o'clock dinner instead of supper."</p> + +<p>Sarah had ample time to work and think, for David +was gone a week instead of three days. Every morning +she arose with certain plans in her mind, and every +night she lay down to sleep, calmly satisfied because +she had carried these plans to a successful completion. +The forenoons were spent in a careful superintendence +of household affairs, and Nelly and Bertha were made<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +to feel the authority of a mistress whose ideas of cleanliness +and order were beyond any they had ever known. +In the afternoon she put on her brown suit and went out +to walk, or to call on the friendly people whose cards +lay in the silver tray on her center table. Her air at +such times was one of grave determination, and even +David never knew with what fear and trembling and +heart-sinking these first social duties were performed. +She was a pleasant-faced, wholesome-looking woman; +her dark, abundant hair was somewhat coarse, but it +waved naturally, and she arranged it well; her skin +was not fine, but it had a clear, healthy color, and her +form was erect, in spite of years of drudgery. Each +day a careful observer might have found some slight +improvement in her dress and manner. Hitherto the +putting on of clothes had been to Sarah merely a part +of her day's work, something to be done with the utmost +speed; but now she was learning to make a toilette, +varying the arrangement of her hair and observing +the fit of her garments and the effect of different colors. +Her taste in clothes happened to be good, and the +fine simplicity of her suit and hat offset the plainness of +her manner and her evident embarrassment over the +difficult function of making calls.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I like her," said Mrs. Emerson, the minister's +wife, to Mrs. Morris, the banker's wife. "She is +what you call a plain woman, and they're unmistakably +'new rich', but the newspaper paragrapher will never +have anything on her. She's absolutely without pretense, +and she has a world of common sense. I'm glad +she's consented to join our club, for we need just such +a woman in this legislative work we're undertaking."</p> + +<p>When David wrote her the date of his home-coming, +she made it a festal occasion. The house had an extra +cleaning; the grocer's boy left the choicest meat, fruits, +and vegetables on Nelly's kitchen table, and Bertha was +ordered to make the table look as attractive as possible. +Notwithstanding her longing for the old life, Sarah +had always taken a timid, tremulous sort of pleasure +in the fine damask, the cut glass, silver, and china that +David had bought when they moved into the "two-story +brick", and after she had dressed to meet David, +she stole down to the dining-room to feast her eyes on +the costly things that had replaced the plated spoons, +steel knives, ten-cent dishes, and cotton napkins +of other days. Closing the door lest Bertha should intrude +on her, she gazed fondly at her possessions. +She was just beginning to feel they were really hers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +She touched the lace of the centerpiece and a daring +thought came into her mind. Was there time to do it +before David came? She rushed up-stairs, put on +her hat and coat, seized her purse, and walked swiftly +to a near-by greenhouse.</p> + +<p>"Roses?" said the florist, "certainly, madam, what +kind?"</p> + +<p>What kind? Alas! the only roses she knew by name +were roses like the old-fashioned ones that grew in +the gardens of the Millville people. These stately +queens clad in white, pink, and crimson satin and +cloth of gold, were strangers to her. She looked hesitatingly +from the Bridesmaid to the Bride, from the Bride +to the Jacqueminot, and the florist, seeing her perplexity, +suggested La France as a desirable choice and +called her attention to the perfume. Yes, she wanted +a dozen,—she almost turned pale at the thought of +her own extravagance,—and when the florist laid the +big, soft bundle of roses and ferns on her arm, she +hurried home with a fearful joy in her heart. She was +used to placing flowers on her table, gay nasturtiums, +delicate sweet peas, and gorgeous zinnias from her own +little back-yard garden. But to buy flowers for the +table had always seemed to her the acme of luxury.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> +Often she had gazed admiringly at the treasures of +the florist's window, with never a thought that such +splendors of color and perfume would one day be +within her reach. She had really never accepted the +change from poverty to wealth, and not once had she +put her fingers into the purse that the hand of fortune +held out to her. It was David who bought the house +and its furnishings, David who bought even her clothes, +while she, fettered by the frugal habits of a lifetime, +stood aghast at what seemed to her a reckless, sinful +extravagance. But now the rich fragrance of the roses +was like an enchantment. Her hands trembled, a +flush rose to her cheek, and as she placed the blossoms +in a cut-glass vase, unconsciously she stepped across +the boundary line between the old life and the new. +Those hothouse flowers and ferns were the signs of +wealth, David's wealth. She was David's wife, and +she had a right to every costly and beautiful thing +that her husband's money could purchase. She drew +back from the table to observe the effect of the flowers +drooping over the heavy damask cloth set with sparkling +glass and silver and delicate china; then, moved +by a sudden impulse that she could not have explained, +she drew one of the roses from the vase and hurried up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> +to her room, glancing furtively back to see whether she +was observed by either of the servants. Standing +before the mirror, she broke off the long stem and pinned +the flower at her belt, then gazed anxiously into the +glass. Clearly the flower looked out of place. She +unpinned it, noticing how rough and coarse her hands +were when they touched the satiny rose petals. But +she had seen other women wearing great clusters of +such flowers, and she too must learn to wear them. +She heard David's step on the pavement below; the +front door opened. She replaced the rose, and turning +from the mirror with an air of firm resolve, she went +bravely down to meet her husband.</p> + +<p>Ah, the joy of reunion! All her perplexities fell +away from her as she and David clasped hands and +smiled at each other after the manner of long married +lovers.</p> + +<p>"Thank God for home!" ejaculated David, sinking +into an easy chair. He looked around the room, +looked again at his wife, and was conscious of a subtle +change in the atmosphere of the house. The exquisite +order and cleanliness reminded him of the housekeeping +he had been accustomed to, when he and Sarah lived +in the little Millville cottage; and on Sarah's face there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> +was an expression that her husband had never before +seen there, the look of a soul that is girding itself for +new responsibilities and new duties. David did not +understand the look, but he observed that Sarah no +longer crept about the house like an awkward, frightened +guest; her step and bearing were that of the mistress, +and he had a thrill of exultant pride a few moments +later, when he heard her address Nelly in a tone of +calm command. He also saw and approved the rose +at her belt, but he did not know that the flower was a +symbol of all the changes that had been wrought +during his absence.</p> + +<p>There was no self-consciousness in the manner of +either when they sat down at the flower-decked table. +David had seen persons of importance and transacted +business of importance; he was the sort of husband +who makes his wife a silent partner in all his business +affairs, and the two talked at ease, forgetting the +hated presence of a servant. David looked across the +roses at his wife's face, serene and happy as it used to +be in the old days, and again he silently blessed the +doctor and his magic prescription.</p> + +<p>"How do you feel now, Sarah?" he asked, as +they seated themselves in the parlor, and Sarah<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> +took up her basket of crocheting. "You know +the doctor said I must let him know how you got +along."</p> + +<p>"I am perfectly well," said Sarah emphatically, +"and what's more, I intend to stay well."</p> + +<p>David laughed aloud with pleasure. "I'll tell the +doctor how well his prescription worked. That +cottage is the best investment I ever made."</p> + +<p>"Even if we never went back to it," said Sarah +thoughtfully, "it would make me happy just to know +it's there and it's ours."</p> + +<p>"That reminds me," said David, with a sudden +change of manner. "Hale and Davis say they can +sell this house for me any day."</p> + +<p>"Hale and Davis?" inquired Sarah with a look of +surprise.</p> + +<p>"Real estate men," explained David.</p> + +<p>"What right have they to sell my house?" asked +Sarah almost angrily.</p> + +<p>David looked embarrassed. "Why, Sarah, I told +them you were dissatisfied; you know you said—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know I did," owned Sarah hastily. Her +face crimsoned with an embarrassment greater than +David's. During his absence she had been born<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> +again, born from poverty to riches. This sudden +change of heart and mind that had made her a new +creature was a mystery to herself; how, then, could +she explain it satisfactorily to her husband? "I +know you'll think I'm notionate and changeable, but—I +don't want to sell this house. I feel just as much at +home here now as I do in the little cottage. I've got +used to the servants and everything, and I want to +stay, and if I did not want to, I'd stay anyhow. It's +cowardly to run away or turn back when you've set +out to do a certain thing, and I'm not a coward. Oh! +I know I can't make you understand how I feel about +it and how I came to change so, but—<i>I want to stay +in this house.</i>" She paused and looked pleadingly at +David. For a few seconds he was dumb with astonishment, +then:</p> + +<p>"Good for you, Sarah," ejaculated David: "That's +exactly the way I feel about it." Pride and exultation +shone in his eyes. Sarah had risen to the situation, and +if Sarah could, so could he.</p> + +<p>"But can we afford to keep this house and the cottage, +too?" asked Sarah anxiously.</p> + +<p>David laughed as one laughs at the questioning of a +child.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Wait a minute, Sarah; I've got something to +show you." He rose and left the room, returning +presently with a drawing-board covered with sheets +of drafting paper. He drew his chair near to Sarah's, +rested the board on her knees, and began an enthusiastic +description of the mechanism pictured in his rough +drawings. Sarah could not comprehend the complexities +of wheels, pulleys, flanges, and weights that +David pointed out to her, but David's mechanical +genius was the glory of her life, and she looked at the +drawings with the rapt admiration a painter's wife +might bestow on a canvas fresh from her husband's +touch.</p> + +<p>"I've been hammering at this idea a good while," +concluded David, "and I believe I've got it in working +shape at last. I'll have some better drawings made +this week and get them off to Washington, and if all +goes well, we'll have more money than we know what +to do with."</p> + +<p>"No, we won't," said Sarah. Her lips closed to a +thin line, and she spoke with defiant emphasis. +"That's another thing I've learned while you were +away. I know what to do with money, and I don't +care how rich we are."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> + +<p>David stared at his wife in unveiled amazement. +Was this his wife, who a few short weeks ago was weeping +over unwelcome riches and longing for a life of +poverty? Sarah's face crimsoned with the confusion +of the woman who is suddenly called upon to explain +a change of mind, and she began her explanation, speaking +slowly and hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>"You remember I told you about that Mrs. Emerson +who came to see me and ask me to join her club,—the +Fortnightly, I believe they call it. Well, the day +after you left, I dressed myself in my best and went to +see her. And I told her that if the place was still +open, I believed I'd join. She was real pleasant about +it, and said she was so glad I'd changed my mind, and +that they'd all be glad to have me for a member. And +I said to her: 'Now, Mrs. Emerson, I'm not an educated +woman, but I've got sense enough to know what +I can do and what I can't do. I can't write papers +and make speeches, but maybe there's some kind of +work for me to do, if I join the club;' and she laughed +and said that if I have sense enough to know what I +could do and what I couldn't do, I'd make a fine club +woman. And she said they had been studyin' <i>The +Ring and the Book</i>, whatever that is, but now they've<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +concluded to change their plan of work, and they were +lookin' into the conditions of workin' people, especially +workin' women, and she was sure I could help in that +sort of work. And I said: 'That's very likely, for +I've been a workin' woman myself, and lived with +workin' women all my life.' And she said that was +something to be proud of, and that every woman ought +to be a workin' woman, and it was just for that reason +they wanted me in the club."</p> + +<p>Sarah paused here and bent over to straighten out a +tangle in her worsteds. David was holding a paper +open before him, but his wife's social adventures +were of more interest to him than any page of the +<i>Inventor's Journal</i>, and he waited patiently for Sarah +to resume her story.</p> + +<p>"The next day was Wednesday, and the club met +at Mrs. Morton's—she's the president."</p> + +<p>"What Morton? Alexander Morton's wife?" interrupted +David.</p> + +<p>Sarah nodded. "Yes, Mrs. Alexander Morton. +They live in the big white stone house over on First +Avenue."</p> + +<p>"He's president of the bank and about everything +else in this place." David stated this fact in an un-emotional<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +way, but his eyes gleamed with triumph. +His wife and Alexander Morton's wife members of the +same club!</p> + +<p>"When Mrs. Emerson said the club met at Mrs. +Morton's, I declare, Dave, my heart stood still at the +thought of goin' by myself to that club. But Mrs. +Emerson said she'd come by in her carriage and take +me there, and she did."</p> + +<p>David laid down his paper and straightened himself +in his chair. "How did they treat you?" he asked +eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Just as nice as they possibly could," said Sarah. +"I won't mind goin' by myself next time."</p> + +<p>David's face expressed a satisfaction and pride too +deep for words. "What did they do?" he asked with +the curiosity of the masculine mind that seeks to +penetrate the mysteries of a purely feminine affair.</p> + +<p>"Well, they talked mostly, and at first I couldn't +see what they were drivin' at, but I kept on listenin', +and at last I began to understand what they intend +to do. They're lookin' into the conditions of workin' +women and girls and children, and they're tryin' +to get laws passed that will make things easier for +people that work in mills and factories. They asked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +me about the hours of work at the mills, and the wages +and how the mill people lived, and, David, they said +when the Legislature meets this winter, they'll have to +go up to the capital to get some bills passed, and they +want me to go with them."</p> + +<p>It was impossible for Sarah to stifle the note of +triumph in her voice. There was a red spot on each +cheek, her eyes shone with enthusiasm, and though +she might not be able yet to define the word "civic", +evidently she had caught the spirit of civic work. As +for David, he was speechless with astonishment and +delight. If long residence in Millville had qualified +Sarah for membership in the Fortnightly Club, then, +after all, the world of the rich and the world of the poor +were not very far apart.</p> + +<p>"I told them about Agnes Thompson, how she lost +her thumb and finger in the mill this spring, and what +the Company offered her for damages, and how hard +it is for mothers with little children to leave home and +work; and they want to build a day nursery where +the babies and children can be looked after, and that's +why I said I'd learned what to do with money." She +paused and looked at David, who nodded sympathetically. +"One thing that helped me to see things right,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> +she continued, "was a sermon I heard the Sunday you +were away. You know that little church just three +blocks down the street back of us? Well, Sunday +morning I dressed and started out, and I said to myself: +'I'll go to the first church I come to;' and it happened +to be that little church down the street with the cross on +the steeple and over the door 'Church of the Eternal +Hope.' That's a pretty name for a church, ain't it? +Church of Eternal Hope. I went in while they were +singin' the first hymn, and when the preacher read his +text and begun to preach, it seemed to me that something +must have led me there, for that sermon, every +word of it, was just meant for me. The text was: 'I +know both how to abound and to suffer need,' and he +said life was a school, and every change that life brought +to us was a lesson, and instead of complaining about it, +we ought to go to work and learn that lesson, and get +ready for a new one. He said if poverty came to us, +it was because we needed the lesson of poverty; and +if riches came, it was because we needed another +lesson; and he said the lesson of poverty was easier to +learn than the lesson of wealth. Oh, David!"—Sarah's +face was glowing with repressed emotion and +her voice trembled,—"I wish you could have heard<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +him, I can't remember it all, but it seemed as if he was +preaching just to me, and I sat and listened, and all +my troubles and worries just seemed to leave me, +because I began to see the meaning of them; and when +you know what trouble means, it's not a trouble any +longer. And he said that there was a purpose in +every life, and it was our duty to find out what the +purpose was and do our best to carry it out. Now, I +believe, David, that I see why all this money's been put +into our hands. We were happy without it, and it +made us pretty miserable at first, but it was given to +us for a purpose, and we must carry out the purpose. +Both of us were born poor, and we've lived with +poor people all our lives, and I can see the purpose in +that. We know how poor people live, we know +what they need, and now we've got money"—she +stopped abruptly. "Don't you see the purpose, +David?"</p> + +<p>David was silent, but Sarah knew that the silence +did not mean dissent. His wife's narrative had started +a train of thoughts and emotions that would be henceforth +the mainspring of all his acts. Of late the +sleeping ambition that lies in the heart of every man +had begun to stir, and he had dared to think timidly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> +and doubtfully of a time when he should be, to use +his own words, "something and somebody" in the +world. As he listened to the story of Sarah's social +adventures, his heart swelled proudly. His wife had +found her place among her fellow women; he would +find his among his fellow men. Before him were the +doors of opportunity all "barred with gold", but he +held in his hand the "golden keys" that would unlock +them, and the finger of Divinity was pointing out +the way he should go. Could it be that the Infinite +Power had planned his life for a certain end? That he +had come into the world for something more than +daily toil, daily wages, and, at last, old age and death? +Were his mortal days a part of some great, immortal +plan? A thrill of awe shook the man as he caught a +momentary vision of the majesty in a human life +that expresses a divine purpose. He had no words +for thoughts like these, and the silence lasted a long +time. When he spoke, it was of practical affairs.</p> + +<p>"The club will have to meet with you one of these +days, won't it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"It meets with me the last of the month," said Sarah, +trying to speak in a matter-of-fact way.</p> + +<p>David looked critically around the room. "This<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> +furniture's pretty nice," he said, "but I don't know +how it compares with other people's."</p> + +<p>"The furniture's all right," said Sarah hastily. +"Of course, this house doesn't look like Mrs. Emerson's. +Her parlor looked as if everything in it had grown +there and belonged there; this room looks as if we'd +just bought the things and put them here. Maybe +after we've lived here a long time, it'll look different, +but there's no use tryin' to make my house look like +Mrs. Emerson's or Mrs. Morton's."</p> + +<p>"Are your clothes as good as the other women's?" +inquired David solicitously.</p> + +<p>"Suppose they're not," argued Sarah sturdily. +"I'm not goin' to try to dress like other women. My +clothes suit me, and that's enough."</p> + +<p>Sarah's sturdy independence pleased David, but like +a good husband, he wanted his wife to look as well as +other women. "Oughtn't you to have some jewelry, +Sarah? Some rings and chains and—things of that +sort?" he added vaguely.</p> + +<p>"David! David!" cried his wife half in anger, half +in love. "Do you want to make me a laughing stock? +My hands are not the kind for rings; and what would +Molly and Annie say if they saw me wearin' jewelry?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> +We've got enough things between us and our old friends +without jewelry. Instead of rings, you can give me +a check for the day nursery."</p> + +<p>Sarah was rolling up her work now and smiling softly. +"Two weeks ago," she said, "it seemed as if everything +was in a tangle just like this worsted gets sometimes. +But I've picked and pulled and twisted, you might +say, till I've straightened it out. You see, David, +there's some things you can't understand till you get +'way off from them. As long as I was in this house, +I thought I was out of place, but I hadn't been in the +cottage long, till I saw that this house was just as much +my home as the little cottage was. I never could +have seen it, though, if I hadn't gone back to the old +house."</p> + +<p>Wise Sarah! It was well for her that the club had +changed its plan of work. She would never be able +to write an analysis of <i>The Ring and the Book</i>, or throw +an interpretative flashlight into the obscurity of +<i>Red Cotton Night-Cap Country</i>, but like the knight of +the Dark Tower, she had learned that</p> + +<p class="center">"One taste of the old time sets all things right."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> +<hr class="chap" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="ONE_DAY_IN_SPRING" id="ONE_DAY_IN_SPRING"></a>ONE DAY IN SPRING</h2> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span><br /></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p> + +<p>According to the calendar, it was the last +day of March, but for weeks the spirit of April +and May had breathed on the face of the earth, and +those who had memories of many springs declared that +never before had there been such weather in the month +of March.</p> + +<p>In the annals of the rural weather prophets, the +winter had been set down as the coldest ever known—a +winter of many snows, of frozen rivers, and skies so +heavily clouded that there was little difference between +the day and the night. Wild creatures had frozen and +starved to death, and man and beast had drawn near +to each other in the companionship of common suffering. +Then, as if repenting of her harshness to her helpless +children, Nature had sent a swift and early spring. +It was March, but hardly a March wind had blown. +The rain that fell was not the cold, wind-driven rain +of March; it was the warm, delicate April shower. +The sun had the warmth of May, and all the flowers +of field, forest, and garden had felt the summons of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> +sun and rain and started up from the underworld in +such haste that they trod on each other's heels. +Flowers that never had met before stood side by side +and looked wonderingly at each other. The golden +flame of the daffodils was almost burnt out, and the +withered blossoms drooped in the grass like extinguished +torches; but hyacinths were opening their censers; +tulips were budding; the plumes of the lilacs showed +color, and honeysuckles and roses looked as if they +were trying to bloom with the lilac and the snowball. +March had blustered in with the face and voice of +February, but she was going out a flower-decked Queen +of May.</p> + +<p>The fragrant air was like the touch of a warm hand. +Fleets of white clouds sailed on the sea of pale blue +ether, and the trees, not yet in full leaf, cast delicate +shadows on the grass. On a day like this in ancient +Rome, young and old clad themselves in garments of +joy and went forth to the festival of the goddess of +grain and harvests; and under such skies, English +poets were wont to sing of skylarks and of golden +daffodils. But in the calendar of the Kentucky housewife +there is no Floralia or Thesmophoria, and no +smile or breath of song was on the lips of the girl who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> +was climbing the back stairs of an old farmhouse, with +a bucket of water in one hand and a cake of soap in +the other, to celebrate the Christian festival of spring +cleaning. The steps were steep and narrow, and every +time she set her foot down they creaked dismally, +as if to warn the climber that they might fall at any +minute. She toiled painfully up and set the bucket +on the floor. Where should she begin her work? +She went into the nearest bedroom, opened the door +of a closet, and looked disgustedly at the disorder +within,—coats, hats, trousers, disabled suspenders, a +pair of shoes caked with mud, an old whip-handle, an +empty blacking box, a fishing-pole and tangled line, +a hammer, and a box of rusty nails. It was not an +unfamiliar sight. She had cleaned the boys' closet +and the boys' room every spring for—how many +years? It made her tired to think of it, and she sat +down on the edge of the slovenly bed and stared hopelessly +around the low-ceiled, dingy room. The mouldy +wall paper was peeling off, the woodwork was an ugly +brown, dirty, discolored, and worn off in spots; the +furniture was rickety, the bedclothes coarse and +soiled; and walls, floors, and furniture reeked with a +musty odor as of old age, decay, and death. All houses<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> +that have sheltered many generations acquire this +atmosphere; nothing but fire can wholly destroy such +uncleanness, and some vague idea of the impossibility +of making the old house wholesomely clean crossed the +girl's mind as she sat listlessly on the side of the bed +and stared out of the window.</p> + +<p>There are two kinds of homesickness. One is a +longing for home that seizes the wanderer and draws +him across continent and ocean back to the country +and the house of his nativity. Men have died of +this homesickness on many a foreign soil. The other +kind is a sickness of home that draws us away from +ordered rooms, from sheltering walls and roofs, to the +bare, primitive forest life that was ours ages ago. It +was this homesickness that made Miranda sigh and +frown as she looked at that room, gray and dingy +with the accumulated dirt of the winter, and thought +of the task before her. While she sat, scowling and +rebellious, a breeze blew in, scattering the sickly odors +of the bedroom, and at the same moment she heard +two sounds that seem to belong specially to the spring +of the year, the bleating of some young lambs in a +near meadow and the plaintive lowing of a calf that had +been separated from its mother. Yes, spring was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> +here. How she had longed for it all through the long, +cold, dark days of winter! And now she must spend its +sunny hours in house cleaning! A weariness of all +familiar things was upon her; she hated the old house; +she wanted to go,—somewhere, anywhere, and her +soul, like a caged bird, was beating its wings against +the bars of circumstance. She went to the window and +leaned out. A branch of a maple tree growing near +the house almost touched her cheek, and she noticed +the lovely shape and color of the young leaves. Farther +on was a giant oak whose orange-green tassels swung +gaily in the breeze, and through the trees she had a +glimpse of a green meadow bordered by an osage +orange hedge that looked like a pale green mist in the +morning sunshine. She saw and felt the glory and +sweetness of the spring with her physical senses only, +for in her heart there was a "winter of discontent." +But while she leaned from the window, looking at the +trees and sky, came one of those unexplained flashes of +consciousness in which the present is obliterated and +we are snatched back to a shadowy past. What was +the incantation that made her feel that she had lived +this same moment ages and ages ago? Was it the voice +of the wind and the voice of the bird in the tree-tops?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> +Was it the shimmer of morning mist and the gold-green +oak tassels against the blue sky? Or was it a blending +of all these sights and sounds? Her gaze wandered +farther and farther on till it reached the horizon line +where stretched a fragment of the primitive wood, +bounded by smooth turnpikes and fenced-in fields and +meadows. Serene and majestic these forest remnants +stand in every Kentucky landscape, guardians of the +Great Silence, homes for the hunted bird and beast, +and sanctuaries where the stricken soul of man may +find a miracle of healing. A wild, unreasonable longing +possessed the homesick girl as she looked at that line +of trees, softly green and faintly veiled, and thought of +what lay in their secret deeps. All her life had been +spent in the country, and yet how many years it had +been since she had seen the woods in spring. <i>The +woods in spring!</i> The words were like a strain of music, +and as she whispered them to herself, something rent +the veil between childhood and womanhood, and she +saw herself a little girl roaming through the forest, +clinging to her father's hand and searching for spring's +wild flowers. She saw the blue violets nestling at the +foot of mossy stumps, columbines and ferns waving +in damp, rocky places, purple hepaticas, yellow celandine,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> +the pinkish lavender bells of the cowslip, Solomon's +seal lifting its tiers of leaves by lichened rocks +around a dripping spring, and that strange white flower, +more like the corpse of a flower than the flower itself, +that she had found once—and then no more—growing +by a fallen log and half buried under the drift of +fallen leaves. Suddenly she started up, hurried from +the room, and ran swift-footed down-stairs and into +the kitchen, where her mother stood at a table washing +the breakfast dishes.</p> + +<p>"Mother," she said breathlessly, "I'm going over +to the woods awhile. I want to see if the violets are +in bloom yet. I'll be back after awhile."</p> + +<p>Ellen Crawford paused in her work and looked helplessly +at her daughter. The mind of her child had +always been a sealed book to her, and she was never +without a feeling of apprehension as to what Miranda +would do next. "For mercy's sake!" she said weakly. +Going to the woods to look for violets in house-cleaning +time, when each day's unfinished work overflowed +into the brimming hours of the next day! There were +no words to fit such folly, and the mother only stood +stupefied, looking through the open door at the flying +footsteps of her errant daughter.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> + +<p>Miranda ran through the back yard where the house +dog lay basking in the sun, and two broods of young +chickens were "peeping" around in the wet grass, +led by their clucking mothers. The cat came purring +and tried to rub herself against Miranda's garments, +but she thrust her aside and hurried on. These +creatures belonged to the house, and it was the house +from which she was fleeing. As she passed through +the sagging garden gate, a casual gust of wind stirred +the boughs of a water-maple tree near by, and scattered +a shower of petals over her hair and shoulders, while +a robin in the topmost branch sang a Godspeed to +the pilgrim who was hastening to the altars of spring. +Down the garden path she sped with never a glance +aside at the trim rows of early vegetables bordered by +clumps of iris and peonies, with now and then an +old-fashioned rose that looked as if it were tired of +growing and blooming in the same spot so many years. +If one had stopped her and said: "Where are you +going?" she could not have told him where. If he had +asked: "What do you seek?" again she would have +been at a loss for a reply. But she had heard a call +more imperative than the voice of father or mother, +more authoritative than the voice of conscience;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> +something had passed out of her life with the passing +of childhood and first youth; she was going to find the +precious lost joy; and the power that guides the bird +in its autumnal flight to the south and brings it north +again was guiding her feet to the woods in spring.</p> + +<p>She pushed aside some loose palings and crept through +the opening into the pasture that lay back of the garden. +The cows stopped feeding and stared at her in mild +surprise as she stood, irresolute and wavering, looking +back at the house, where her mother was lifting the +burden of the day's toil, and then at the orchard on +one side, where the peach trees were faintly flushed +with pink. In the middle of the pasture stood a group +of elms. When the wind passed over them, their +branches swayed with the grace of willows, and against +the blue sky their half-grown leaves were delicate as +the fronds of the maidenhair fern. The elms seemed +to beckon her, and she crossed over and stood for a +moment looking up at the sky "in a net",—the net +of leafy branches. While she gazed upward, a sudden +wind came blowing from the direction of the forest, +and on its breath was the mysterious sweetness that is +one of the surest tokens of spring. It is as if every +tree and plant of the forest had sent forth a premonition<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> +of its blooming, a spirit perfume waiting to be +embodied in a flower. Miranda drew a long breath +and looked across the meadow to the freshly plowed +field whose western boundary line was "all awave +with trees", each clad in its own particular tint of +verdure, from the silver green of the silver poplar to +the black green of the cedars. The dogwood, that white +maiden of the forest, was still in hiding; the wild +cherry, that soon would stand like a bride in her wedding +veil, was now just a shy girl in a dress of virginal green; +the purplish pink of the red-bud flower was barely +visible on its spreading limbs. The Great Artist had +merely outlined and touched here and there with his +brush the picture which later on he would fill in with +the gorgeous coloring of summer's full leafage and +full flowering.</p> + +<p>She hurried across the meadow, climbed the old rail +fence, and plodded her way over the plowed ground, +stepping from ridge to ridge and feeling the earth +crumble under her feet at every step. It was a ten-acre +field, and she was out of breath by the time she +reached the other side. There was no fence between +field and forest; the only boundary line was the last +furrow made by the plow. On one side of this furrow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> +lay civilization with its ordered life of cares and duties. +On the other side was the wild, free life of Nature. +She stopped and looked doubtfully into the sunlit aisles +of the forest, as we look at old familiar places, revisited +after long absence, to see if they measure up to the +stately beauty with which our childish imagination +clothed them. She stepped timidly through the underbrush +at the edge of the wood and looked above and +around. So many years had passed, and so many +things had passed with the years! Perhaps the remembered +enchantment had passed too. She recalled +the song of the birds, and how the voice of the wind +in the tree-tops had sounded against the fathomless +stillness that lies at the heart of the forest. She held +her breath and listened. Wind and leaf and bird were +making music together as of old; and under the whisper +and the song she felt the presence of the eternal, inviolable +calm against which earth's clamor vainly +beats. She recalled the rustle of the dead leaves under +her feet, and the odor that the heat of the sun drew +from the moist earth. There were dead leaves to-day +in every path, and Nature was distilling the same +perfumes and making beauty from ashes by the same +wondrous alchemy she had used when the earth was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> +young. Nothing had changed except herself. She +looked around for an opening in the underbrush, some +trace of a path, and then hastened fearlessly on to find +the main path that led through the heart of the woods, +and made a "short cut" for the traveler on foot. +Besides this central path, there were numerous little +by-paths made by the feet of cattle that had pastured +here for a few months of the previous summer. Each +one of these invited her feet, and each one led past some +fairy spot—a bed of flowers, a bower of wild vines, +a grapevine swing, a tiny spring from which she drank, +using a big, mossy acorn cup for a goblet. She +wandered from one side of the main path to the other, +and thrice she walked from road to road. All winter +she had been snow-bound and ice-bound within the +walls of the old farmhouse, and now spring had unlocked +the doors of the prison. Lighter grew her footsteps +the longer she walked, and in every muscle she +felt the joy of motion that the fawn feels when it +leaps through the forest, or the bird when it cleaves +the sunny air on glistening wing.</p> + +<p>Gone was the thought of time, for here were no tasks +to be done, no breakfast, dinner, and supper; and the +day had but three periods,—sunrise, noontide, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> +sunset. The house she had left that morning seemed +a long way off, almost in another world; and the +forest was an enchanted land where there was no ugly +toil for one's daily bread. Duty and fear alike were +lulled to sleep, and while the sun climbed to its zenith +she roamed as care-free as any wild creature of the +woods. Suddenly a cloud darkened the sun and melted +into a soft, warm mist that the wind caught up and +blew like a veil across the face of spring. Miranda +paused, lifted her head, and held out her hands to +catch the gracious baptism. It was only a momentary +shower, past in a burst of sunshine, but it left its chrism +on her forehead and hair and made her feel more akin +to flower and tree. How many gifts were falling from +the hand of spring! To the birds the joy of mating +and nesting; to the roots and seeds in the dark, cold +earth warmth and moisture and a resurrection morn; +and to the ancients of the forest a vesture as fresh as +that which clothes the sapling of the spring.</p> + +<p>Surely we have severed some tie that once bound +us to the Great Mother's heart or this outflow and inflow +of life and beauty that we call spring would touch +men and women too, and then would come the Golden +Age. Nature is kinder to her trees and flowers than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> +she is to her sons and daughters. The girl who lifted +her forehead to the sacrament of the rain should have +received a blessing that would touch her face with the +color of the rose and put the strength and grace of +the young trees into her limbs. But how sad and +strange she looked, flitting through the vernal freshness +of the forest! Her faded calico gown hung limp over +her thin body, and her hair and cheek were as faded +as the gown. She should have been a nymph, but she +was only a tired, worn daughter of the soil, and amid +all this opulence of giving there was no gift for her +except the ecstatic yearning that was welling up in +her heart and leading her here and there in search of +something she could not name.</p> + +<p>How sweet the air was! She breathed deeply as +she walked, and at every inspiration a burden seemed +to fall from both body and soul. Just to be alive was +good—to breathe, to walk through the sun-flecked +forest paths, to feel the warmth of the sunshine on her +shoulders, and to know that the world of the forest +belonged to her as it belonged to the bird and the +bee. She had almost reached the other side of the strip +of woodland, and through the trees she caught glimpses +of a wheat field stretching like a pale green sea from this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +strip of woodland to another that belonged to a neighboring +farm. She thought of a hymn her mother +often sang when the drudgery of the farm permitted +her soul to rise on the wings of song:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand dressed in living green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So to the Jews old Canaan stood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Jordan rolled between."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>She lifted up her voice and sang the old hymn:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There is a land of pure delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where saints immortal reign;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Infinite day excludes the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pleasures banish pain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There everlasting spring abides<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never withering flowers:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death, like a narrow sea, divides<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This pleasant land from ours."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Alas! How strange and sad it sounded with the +"careless rapture" of the birds. Never before had a +song of death been sung in those forest aisles, and +suddenly she stopped, silenced by a sense of the incongruity +of such a hymn in the spring woods. Why +should one sing of "sweet fields" and "pleasant lands" +beyond the sea of death? Right here are pleasant<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> +lands and sweet fields, and our songs should be of the +"pure delight" of this old earth. Better than such +worship as ours the worship of the pagan, who went +forth with music to meet the dawn and sang hymns in +praise of seed-time and harvest.</p> + +<p>It is not alone by "getting and spending" that we +"lay waste our powers" and loosen our hold on the +possessions that Nature so freely offers us. Perpetually +she calls to us with her voice of many waters, her +winds and bird songs. She opens and closes each day +with cloudy splendors that transcend the art of poet +or painter. She spends centuries making the columned +sanctuaries of her forests more majestic than Solomon's +temple, and lights them with the glory of the +sun and stars. Life more abundant is in her air and +sunshine. She offers to each soul the solitude of the +wilderness, and the mountains, where Christ found +rest and strength after the presence of crowds had +drained him of his virtue. And we—we wrap ourselves +in the mantle of Care; we build walls of stone to +shut out from us all sweet influences of Nature; we +sing of "an everlasting spring", and then let the fleeting +hours of our earthly springs go by without once tasting +their full sweetness; we look for a heaven beyond death,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> +unmindful of the heaven within and around us; we +deem the light that falls through a stained glass window +more religious than the light of open day, and a waxen +taper more sacred than a star; we shorten life by cutting +it off from its source, and at last, worn out with +sordid cares, we give our bodies back to earth without +having known one hour of the real joy of life.</p> + +<p>Vague, half-formed thoughts like these were in +Miranda's mind as she paused and looked up in response +to a voice from a neighboring oak: "Chic-o-ree! +Chic-o-ree!" The syllables were clear and distinct as +if spoken by a human voice, and from a tree across the +path came the answer: "Chic-o-ree! Chic-o-ree!" +All her consciousness had been merged in seeing, but +now she was aware of a chorus of voices calling, chirping, +whistling, trilling, fluting, warbling from far and +near, the orchestra of May assembled a month in +advance of its usual time.</p> + +<p>"If we could only live outdoors!" she whispered to +herself. All the high emotions that fill the heart of a +poet in spring were stirring in the breast of the country +girl, and finding no way of expression they could only +change into poignant longings that she herself but half +understood. There was a puzzled, baffled look on her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> +face as she stood hesitant, wondering what step to +take next. So many remembered things she had +found in the woods!—music, perfume, light winds +and warmth and flowers and trees, but there was still +something, nameless, elusive, that had once been hers, +and she must find it before the day ended.</p> + +<hr class="mid" /> + +<p>She stooped to gather a violet growing by a fallen +tree, and the second time that day a wave of memory +and feeling swept over her, and in one exquisite moment +she found the lost treasure! For the heart that +leaped and throbbed faster at sight of the violet was +the heart of a little child.</p> + +<hr class="mid" /> + +<p>It was past the middle of the afternoon. The wind +had died down to a mere occasional whisper, the birds +chirped more softly, and there seemed to be a hush and +a pause, as if all the creatures of the wood felt the +languorous spell of the hour. Miranda looked about +for a resting place. She was standing near the main +path in a partly cleared space, a sort of fairy ring, +in the center of which was a giant tree that had suffered +a lingering death from a stroke of lightning. Lithe +and graceful, with the sap of a new life coursing through +their veins, its comrades were waving and beckoning<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> +to each other and welcoming the birds to leafy shelters, +while, stark and stiff with decay, the stricken one +stood like the skeleton at the feast, stretching its +helpless arms skyward as if imploring Nature to raise +it from the dead. All around it were the kings of the +forest, the fruitful walnut and hickory whose leaves +smell like the "close-bit thyme" on the downs of Sussex +by the sea; the tasseled oak, and the elm more graceful +than any graveyard willow; but moved by some +hidden impulse, this girl whose youth was almost gone +chose the dead tree for her own. The ground was +littered with strips of bark that the electric storm had +torn from the trunk. She gathered these and laid them +at the root for protection from the damp earth. Then, +seating herself, she leaned back against the trunk of +the tree and drew a long, sighing breath of deep content. +Through the woods on the other side of the path +she could see the field of young wheat, and she had a +vague, dreamy thought of the summer's heat that +would ripen the grain and of the harvest with its terrible +toil for the women of the farm. The heat of summer +and the cold of winter were alike hateful to her, but +no thought of either could break this blissful calm. +Like an evil dream the winter was gone, and like an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> +evil dream the summer too would go, and both would be +forgotten. What mattered heat or cold? Every +winter had its spring; every summer its autumn; +and the heart need remember only its springs and +autumns. She looked upward into the depths of pale +blue ether, and followed the course of the white, +drifting clouds. O, ecstasy of ecstasies! To live on +such an earth with such a sky above! Looking at the +sky was like looking into a vast crystal. Farther and +farther into space her gaze seemed to penetrate, and +presently her soul began to follow her gaze. Something +in that boundless space seemed to be drawing her +out of the body. Her breath was so light it would +hardly have moved a gossamer; her eyelids drooped +slowly and heavily, and she slept a sleep too deep +for dreams.</p> + +<p>An hour passed, and still the mystery of sleep enfolded +her. A bee hummed noisily about her head, a +catbird sang in a tree near by, but she was too far away +to be disturbed by any sound of earth.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i0">"Ye are not bound!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The soul of things is sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart of being is celestial rest—"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p> + +<p>All this the sleeper knew. She had broken the chains +of habit that mortals forge for themselves and bind +on themselves; in the freedom of that spring day her +soul had tasted the sweetness that lies at the "soul of +things", and now in sleep she had found the "celestial +rest" that lies at "the heart of being."</p> + +<p>Was that a human footstep or was it a rabbit rustling +the underbrush? Was it a human voice or the note +of a bird? Along the fresh path between the two roads +came a man, walking with a glad, free stride and whistling +softly under his breath. The joy of the season +was in his face, and he was at home in the woods, +for when a redbird called to its mate, the man whistled +a reply and smiled to hear the bird's instant response. +Suddenly he caught sight of the sleeping girl at the +foot of the tree; the whistle and the smile died on his +lips and he stopped short, amazed and bewildered. +A woman asleep in the forest! Wonder of wonders! +The sunshine flecked her face and her hair, and in the +sweet placidity of sleep he hardly recognized the girl +he had often seen in the country church on Sundays. +What was she doing here alone and unprotected? +Surprise and wonder vanished as he realized the situation, +and his face crimsoned like a bashful girl's. For<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> +the moment the whole wood seemed to belong to the +sleeper at whom he was gazing, and he felt the confusion +of one who accidentally invades the privacy of +a maiden's room. Here was no fairy princess to be +wakened with a kiss, but a helpless woman who must +be guarded as long as she slept, and he was a knight +in homespun appointed to keep the watch. He knew, +though no poet had ever told him, that sleep is "a holy +thing." If it had been possible, he would have silenced +the songs of the birds, and he held his breath as he +turned and tiptoed softly away, looking timidly back +now and then to see if she still slept. When he had +gone a few rods, he stepped out of the path and took +his place behind the trunk of a tree. Here he could +watch and see that no other intruder passed by, and +when she wakened he would be ready to follow her homeward +flight. There were tasks at home awaiting his +hand, but here was a work more important than any +labor of farm or fireside. Steadfastly he watched +and listened, while the sun sank lower, and the woods +were filled with a golden glow like the radiance of many +candles lighted in some great temple.</p> + +<p>Sleep is a mystery, and so is our awakening from +sleep. Who can tell where the soul goes, when the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> +body lies motionless, unseeing, unhearing, and who can +tell what calls it back from those far and unremembered +lands?</p> + +<p>It may have been the chill of the coming night as +the sun went down, or the cry of a bird that summoned +Miranda again to earth. She opened her eyes with a +long, sighing breath. How heavenly to waken out of +doors and see the blue sky and the swaying limbs of +the trees instead of the cracked ceiling of her bedroom! +Then, as full consciousness came back to her +with memory of the day just passed, she saw that the +sun was nearly down. Night was at hand; the birds +were seeking their nests, and she must return to her +home. With the thought of home came the thought +of duty, of the undone work she had left behind her that +morning, and her mother toiling in the gloomy kitchen. +She sprang up, every sense alert, turned her face in +the direction of home, and took the nearest path through +the underbrush.</p> + +<p>The watcher by the tree heard her flying steps and +breathed a sigh of relief. He moved cautiously around +the trunk of the oak and waited till he was sure she was +out of the wood. Then he followed her trail and caught +sight of her half-way across the plowed field. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> +watched till she was safe inside the pasture and then +retraced his steps to the dead tree. Had he been +living in a dream? No, for here were the withered +violets lying on the ground witnessing to the reality +of the last few hours. He gathered up the poor, +limp flowers, placed them carefully in his waistcoat +pocket and walked rapidly homeward.</p> + +<p>The sun was just on the horizon line, when Miranda +reached the garden gate, and the splendor of light all +around made her pause and look back to the glowing +West. Clouds were gathering for a storm; every cloud +was a mount of transfiguration, golden-hued or rose-colored, +and the evening sky was pierced by long arrows +of light that grew brighter and more far-reaching as the +great central light sank lower behind the little hills. The +wind was blowing across the fields, carrying with it +the fragrance that night draws from the heart of the +forest. One moment the sad magnificence of dying +day held her spellbound, then conscience spoke again, +and she hurried into the kitchen. The golden light +was streaming into the room, bringing out all its ugliness +and disorder, and her mother was standing by +the table just where Miranda had left her that +morning.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> + +<p>"This is a pretty time of day for you to come home. +Where have you been all this time?" She looked at +her daughter with cold displeasure, but under the displeasure +Miranda saw the expression of despair and +weariness that comes of unrecompensed toil, and a +pang of remorse went through her heart. She took her +mother by the shoulders and gently pushed her away +from the table.</p> + +<p>"Go out and sit on the porch, Mother, and look at +the sky. I'll get supper, and to-morrow I'll begin the +house cleaning."</p> + +<p>There was something in the girl's voice that checked +the rising anger in her mother's heart and stilled the +upbraiding words that were on her lips. She looked +searchingly at her daughter and then turned silently +away. Miranda went to work with a willingness +that surprised herself. All the weariness and disgust +of the morning were gone. She had voluntarily resumed +the shackles of duty, but as she worked she +looked out of the window to catch glimpses of the +fading splendor that was rounding out her flawless +day, and in her heart she resolved that as long as +she lived, no spring should pass without a day in the +woods. She had eaten nothing since morning, but the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> +mood of exaltation was still upon her, and even the +odor of the food she cooked roused no sense of hunger. +She thought of a Bible text learned when she was a +child: "Man doth not live by bread alone, but by +every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God." +Perhaps all the splendor of color and light, all the opulence +of perfume and warmth and music that make +spring are words of God. All day she had been living +by those words, and she knew the meaning of another +occult saying of Christ: "I have meat to eat that ye +know not of."</p> + +<p>She placed the evening meal on the table, called the +family, and served them more cheerfully than ever +before; and when they had eaten, she cleared the +table and washed the dishes, while her mother rested +again on the porch. Her hands moved mechanically +over the work. She could hear the voices of her father +and brothers; they were talking about crops and the +weather, and the planting that must be done that week. +Now and then her mother put in a word of querulous +complaining over the hardship of the day just passed +and of all those that were to come. She heard it as in +a dream for still "the holy spirit of the spring" possessed +her, and it seemed strange and unbelievable that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> +people could be troubled over such trifles as sweeping +and cleaning and cooking, when there were the woods +and the great, deep peace of the woods in which all +such cares might be forgotten.</p> + +<p>After she had set the table for breakfast, she went +out on the porch. Her mother and the boys had gone +up-stairs to bed, and her father was knocking the +ashes from his pipe and yawning loudly. She sat +down on the bench beside him and laid her hand on +his knee. Such a thing as a caress had not passed +between father and daughter since the latter had +outgrown her childhood, and the man turned in surprise +and peered through the gloom at the face of the +girl, as if seeking an explanation of that familiar touch.</p> + +<p>"Your mother says you been roamin' around in +the woods all day, Mirandy," he said awkwardly. +"That ain't safe for a girl. Don't you know that?"</p> + +<p>"I wasn't afraid," she answered; "and, Father, I +want to ask a favor of you." Her voice had the eager +pleading of a child's. "I want you to go walkin' +with me in the woods next Sunday, just like we used +to do when I was a little girl." Something in her +voice and the words "when I was a little girl" touched +a chord of memory that had not vibrated for many a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> +year. Perhaps the tired, hard-worked man had a +glimpse of the meagerness of his child's life, for he laid +his rough hand over hers and spoke with the voice she +remembered he had used when she was "a little girl."</p> + +<p>"Why, that's a curious notion, Mirandy," he said. +"What'll the preacher say, if he hears we've gone +walkin' in the woods on Sunday instead of goin' to +church? But I'll go just to please you, provided the +weather's suitable. Now, le's shut up the house and +go to bed. It's time everybody was asleep."</p> + +<p>They went in together, and while her father closed +the doors and put down the windows in anticipation +of the coming rain, Miranda lighted her lamp in +the kitchen and went softly up-stairs. She still felt +the delicious sleepiness that comes from breathing outdoor +air all day, and her nap in the woods seemed only +to have given her a longing for more sleep.</p> + +<p>At the head of the stairs were the soap and water +still waiting to be used, but she could look at them now +without any of the irritation she had felt that morning, +for she knew the hidden meaning of the work that lay +before her. Was not Nature cleaning the whole earth, +purifying it with her sunshine and her wind, and +washing it with her dew and rain? If men and women<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> +could only live in the wind and sun with no shelter +but the branches of the trees! But since they must +have houses, these, too, must know the wholesome +touch of wind, sun, and water. Lovely pictures of +clouds, trees, fields, birds, and flowers filled her brain +and made more apparent the ugliness of her room. Her +sense of smell, sharpened by breathing forest air, took +instant note of the musty odors that came from walls, +floors, and clothing. She pushed the bedstead near +the window so that she might feel the night air blowing +over her face as she slept and resolved that the next +night should find that room as like to a nook in the +woods as she could make it; and when the scrubbing +and whitewashing were over, she would go again and +again to the woods and gather the flowers of spring, +summer, and autumn to sweeten the air of the old +house. As she blew out the lamp, there was a rumble +of thunder from the west; a wind with the smell of +rain swept through the dark room, and, laying her head +on the pillow, she smiled to think how the creatures of +the forest would look and feel in the scented night and +the falling rain. All the spring landscape on which +she had gazed that day seemed imprinted on her brain, +and when she closed her eyes, it passed like a panorama<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> +before her inner vision: wind-swept trees whose leafy +branches waved against the pale blue sky; tremulous +shadows on the fresh greensward; flowers of the garden +and flowers of the forest flushing, purpling, paling, flaming, +glowing in orderly beds or in wild forest nooks; +long grey fences outlining farms and roads; sunlight +glinting on the wings of flying birds; misty hills and +little valleys sloping down to the level of the fertile +fields; glory of midday and greater glory of sunset +softening into the quiet, star-lit evening skies.</p> + +<p>What need of the painter's canvas and brush when +the soul can thus imprint on its records Beauty's every +line and every color to be recalled instantly from the +shadows of time by Memory's magic art?</p> + +<p>The thunder muttered fitfully, and presently the rain +came, dashing against the roof like a rattle of musketry, +then quieting to a steady downpour that promised to +last all night. She lay still, listening drowsily to the +music of the storm and seeing through her closed eyelids +the flashes of lightning. She was not tired, only +sleepy and happy. The same calm that enveloped +her in the forest was around her now, and soon she was +sleeping as deeply and sweetly as she had slept in the +afternoon. And while she slept, the man who had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> +guarded her forest slumber sat in the darkness, dreaming, +and gazing at a picture that would never fade from +his brain: In the midst of the living forest a dead tree, +and at its foot a sleeping girl holding a bunch of withered +violets.</p> + +<p>Ah, well! The perfect day was over and never +again would come another like it. To-morrow the +sleeper and the dreamer would wake and rise to the +old, dull routine of daily toil and daily weariness, but +though the day was gone, its grace would abide forever, +and life could never be quite the same to the one +who had met face to face with the True Romance, and +to the other who had lived, for a few charmed hours, +the life of the fowls of the air and the lilies of the field.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p> +<hr class="chap" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> +<div class="ads"> +<p class="center"><i>By the author of "The Land of Long Ago."</i></p> + +<p class="large"><big>AUNT JANE OF KENTUCKY</big></p> + +<p class="center"><big><i>By</i> ELIZA CALVERT HALL</big></p> + +<p class="center">Illustrated by Beulah Strong. 12mo. Cloth. $1.30 <i>net</i></p> + +<p>Aunt Jane is perfectly delightful.—<i>The Outlook</i>, New +York.</p> + +<p>A book that plays on the heart strings.—<i>St. Louis +Post-Despatch.</i></p> + +<p>What Mrs. Gaskill did in "Cranford" this author does +for Kentucky.—<i>Syracuse Herald.</i></p> + +<p>A prose idyl. Nothing more charming has appeared +in recent fiction.—<span class="smcap">Margaret E. Sangster</span>.</p> + +<p>These pages have in them much of the stuff that makes +genuine literature.—<i>Louisville Courier Journal.</i></p> + +<p>Where so many have made caricatures of old-time +country folk, Eliza Calvert Hall has caught at once the +real charm, the real spirit, the real people, and the real +joy of living which was theirs.—<i>New York Times.</i></p> + +<p>Have you read that charming little book written by one +of your clever Kentucky women—"Aunt Jane of Kentucky"—by +Eliza Calvert Hall? It is very wholesome +and attractive. Be sure that you read it.—<span class="smcap">Theodore +Roosevelt</span>.</p> + +<p class="center">LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., <span class="smcap">Publishers</span><br /> +34 <span class="smcap">Beacon Street, Boston</span></p> + +<hr class="mid" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>By the Author of "Aunt Jane of Kentucky"</i></p> + +<p class="large"><big>THE LAND OF LONG AGO</big></p> + +<p class="center"><big><i>By</i> ELIZA CALVERT HALL</big></p> + +<p class="center">Illustrated by G. Patrick Nelson and Beulah Strong +12mo. Cloth. $1.30 <i>net</i></p> + +<p>The book is an inspiration.—<i>Boston Globe.</i></p> + +<p>Without qualification one of the worthiest publications +of the year.—<i>Pittsburg Post.</i></p> + +<p>Aunt Jane has become a real personage in American +literature.—<i>Hartford Courant.</i></p> + +<p>A philosophy sweet and wholesome flows from the lips +of "Aunt Jane."—<i>Chicago Evening Post.</i></p> + +<p>The sweetness and sincerity of Aunt Jane's recollections +have the same unfailing charm found in "Cranford."—<i>Philadelphia +Press.</i></p> + +<p>To a greater degree than her previous work it touches +the heart by its wholesome, quaint human appeal.-<i>Boston +Transcript.</i></p> + +<p>The stories are prose idyls; the illuminations of a lovely +spirit shine upon them, and their literary quality is as +rare as beautiful.—<i>Baltimore Sun.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Margaret E. Sangster</span> says: "It is not often that an +author competes with herself, but Eliza Calvert Hall has +done so successfully, for her second volume centred about +Aunt Jane is more fascinating than her first."</p> + +<p class="center">LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., <span class="smcap">Publishers</span><br /> +34 <span class="smcap">Beacon Street, Boston</span></p> + +<hr class="mid" /> +<p class="center"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>By the author of "Aunt Jane of Kentucky"</i></p> + +<p class="large"><big>TO LOVE AND TO CHERISH</big></p> + +<p class="center"><big><i>By</i> ELIZA CALVERT HALL</big></p> + +<p class="center">Author of "The Land of Long Ago," "Sally Ann's +Experience," etc.</p> + +<p class="center">Illustrated by J. V. McFall. $1.00 <i>net</i></p> + +<p>A story of vital human quality.—<i>Boston Transcript.</i></p> + +<p>A Kentucky idyl, pure, sweet, fragrant.—<i>Los Angeles +Herald.</i></p> + +<p>Her work has a quality all its own, bespeaking a deep and +spiritual individuality in the author.—<i>Philadelphia Press.</i></p> + +<p>A simple, sweet, wholesome idyl dealing with some of the +great issues of life in a spirit of love and sacrifice.... Another +instance where simplicity is strength and beauty.—<i>Detroit +Free Press.</i></p> + +<p>It is a story which flows as limpidly as a mountain brook, +and leaves a peculiar sense of clear impressions behind it that +is a tribute to its good art.—<i>Christian Science Monitor.</i></p> + +<p>Lofty of sentiment and as uplifting a tale of modern chivalry +as any tale that the old romancers have evolved. In a word, it +is an artistic gem.—<i>Springfield Union.</i></p> + +<p class="center">LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., <span class="smcap">Publishers</span><br /> +34 <span class="smcap">Beacon Street, Boston</span></p> + +<hr class="mid" /> +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Clover and Blue Grass, by Eliza Calvert Hall + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CLOVER AND BLUE GRASS *** + +***** This file should be named 33061-h.htm or 33061-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/0/6/33061/ + +Produced by David Garcia, Asad Razzaki and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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