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diff --git a/40366-8.txt b/40366-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e7fcfce..0000000 --- a/40366-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10091 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Mary Ware in Texas, by Annie F. Johnston, -Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill - - -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: Mary Ware in Texas - - -Author: Annie F. Johnston - - - -Release Date: July 29, 2012 [eBook #40366] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY WARE IN TEXAS*** - - -E-text prepared by David Edwards, Emmy, and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made -available by Internet Archive (http://archive.org) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this - file which includes the original illustrations. - See 40366-h.htm or 40366-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/40366/40366-h/40366-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/40366/40366-h.zip) - - - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - http://archive.org/details/marywareintexas10john - - - - - -MARY WARE IN TEXAS - - * * * * * - -Works of ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON - - -The Little Colonel Series - -(_Trade Mark, Reg. U. S. Pat. Of._) - -Each one vol., large 12mo, cloth, illustrated - - The Little Colonel Stories $1.50 - - (Containing in one volume the three stories, "The - Little Colonel," "The Giant Scissors," and "Two Little - Knights of Kentucky.") - - The Little Colonel's House Party 1.50 - The Little Colonel's Holidays 1.50 - The Little Colonel's Hero 1.50 - The Little Colonel at Boarding-School 1.50 - The Little Colonel in Arizona 1.50 - The Little Colonel's Christmas Vacation 1.50 - The Little Colonel: Maid of Honor 1.50 - The Little Colonel's Knight Comes Riding 1.50 - Mary Ware: The Little Colonel's Chum 1.50 - Mary Ware in Texas 1.50 - - The above 11 vols., _boxed_ with The Little Colonel Good - Times Book, as a set of 12 vols. 18.00 - - - - The Little Colonel Good Times Book 1.50 - The Little Colonel Doll Book 1.50 - - -Illustrated Holiday Editions - -Each one vol., small quarto, cloth, illustrated, and printed in colour - - The Little Colonel $1.25 - The Giant Scissors 1.25 - Two Little Knights of Kentucky 1.25 - Big Brother 1.25 - - -Cosy Corner Series - -Each one vol., thin 12mo, cloth, illustrated - - The Little Colonel $.50 - The Giant Scissors .50 - Two Little Knights of Kentucky .50 - Big Brother .50 - Ole Mammy's Torment .50 - The Story of Dago .50 - Cicely .50 - Aunt 'Liza's Hero .50 - The Quilt that Jack Built .50 - Flip's "Islands of Providence" .50 - Mildred's Inheritance .50 - - -Other Books - - Joel: A Boy of Galilee $1.50 - In the Desert of Waiting .50 - The Three Weavers .50 - Keeping Tryst .50 - The Legend of the Bleeding Heart .50 - The Rescue of the Princess Winsome .50 - The Jester's Sword .50 - Asa Holmes 1.00 - - - L. C. PAGE & COMPANY - 53 Beacon Street Boston, Mass. - - * * * * * - - -[Illustration: It would have been joy to her soul could she have seen -herself---- - -MARY WARE IN TEXAS Chap XIII] - - -MARY WARE IN TEXAS - -by - -ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON - -Author of "The Little Colonel Series," "Big Brother," -"Ole Mammy's Torment," "Joel: A Boy of -Galilee," "Asa Holmes," etc. - -Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill - - - - - - - -[Illustration] - -Boston * L. C. Page -& Company * MDCCCCX - -Copyright, 1910, -By L. C. Page & Company -(Incorporated) - -Entered at Stationer's Hall, London - -All rights reserved - -First Impression, October, 1910 - -Electrotyped and Printed by -The Colonial Press -C. H. Simonds & Co., Boston, U.S.A. - - - - - TO - F. V. P. - - - - -CONTENTS - - CHAPTER PAGE - I. IN SAN ANTONIO 1 - II. IN SEARCH OF A HOME 25 - III. THE LITTLE TOWN OF BAUER 51 - IV. MARY FINDS GAY 71 - V. AT FORT SAM HOUSTON 93 - VI. ON THE CREEK-BANK 116 - VII. CHRISTMAS 139 - VIII. "DIE KLEINEN TEUFEL" 171 - IX. AT THE BARNABY RANCH 198 - X. IN JOYCE'S STUDIO 230 - XI. PHIL GOES TO WARWICK HALL 259 - XII. IN "BLUE-BONNET" TIME 284 - XIII. JACK 308 - XIV. SAN JACINTO DAY 329 - XV. NEW TRAILS 353 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - PAGE - "IT WOULD HAVE BEEN JOY TO HER SOUL COULD SHE HAVE - SEEN HERSELF" (_See page 308_) _Frontispiece_ - "'WHAT AN ADORABLE LITTLE CURL!'" 7 - "A DASHING GIRL IN KHAKI AND A COWBOY HAT, ASTRIDE - A FIERY LITTLE MUSTANG" 59 - "HE . . . SEATED HIMSELF BESIDE HER, COFFEE-CUP - IN HAND" 113 - "SHE SENT THE BOAT DOWN STREAM WITH LONG, SWIFT - STROKES" 134 - "THREE ALERT AND EXPECTANT LITTLE FIGURES SAT IN - A ROW ON THE STEPS" 198 - "LEANING AGAINST THE MANTEL, LOOKED DOWN AT HER, - THOUGHTFULLY" 263 - "'WELL, I'M GOING AWAY AND I MAY NOT SEE YOU AGAIN'" 375 - - - - -MARY WARE IN TEXAS - - - - -CHAPTER I - -IN SAN ANTONIO - - -THE musicians were tuning their instruments somewhere behind the palms -in the hotel courtyard. It was one of the older hotels of San Antonio, -much sought by Northern tourists on account of that same inner garden, -around which the big building stretched itself. The rooms opening on to -it had vine-covered balconies, and, looking down from them into the -tropical growth of palms and banana trees and roses, one felt that it -was summer time, no matter what the calendar said. - -It was on one of the second floor balconies at the close of a November -day that Mary Ware stood looking around her with eager eyes. Queen's -wreath and moon-vines made such a thick screen that no one could see -her, so she might lean over the railing as far as she pleased to watch -the brilliantly lighted scene below. Electric bulbs were strung through -the cacti and devil's ivy like elfin lamps. There was a shine of brass -buttons as colored bell boys scudded across the open space with clinking -ice-pitchers or jingling keys, and through the glass doors beyond came -the gleam of silver and flowers where the waiters were arranging the -tables for dinner. - -There was to be a military banquet in one of the private dining-rooms, -and already the guests were beginning to arrive for the reception which -was to precede it. So much bunting was draped over the arch between the -office corridors and this inner court, that the view was somewhat -obscured, but, by leaning dangerously far over the railing, Mary could -catch a glimpse of the legs of a uniform now and then, strolling along -beside the trailing skirt of a dainty evening gown. - -All this warmth and life and color was in sharp contrast to the dreary -solitudes of the snow covered mining camp which she had just left. It -had been winter for nearly a month up in the hills of Arizona, and Lone -Rock in the winter was such a barren waste socially that her present -surroundings seemed wildly exciting. In Lone Rock it was a matter of -comment whenever a human being passed the house, and even a stray mule, -stumbling along with a bell on its neck, was enough to call one to the -windows. - -The orchestra behind the palms having finished its tuning, swung into a -gay two-step. At the sudden burst of music Mary drew a long breath and -stood up straight, her pulses a-tingle. Something delightful was -beginning to happen. Two girls, one in white and one in pale -lemon-yellow, attended by a young lieutenant and a still younger man in -civilian's evening dress, came out under the bunting-draped arch and -strolled along past the banana trees to the garden seat just below her. - -From her hiding place behind the moon-vines, Mary watched them as only a -sociable little soul could watch, who for months had been hungering for -such companionship. She clutched the railing with both hands, hoping -fervently that they would stop. - -They did pause for a few moments, just under the balcony, so near that -for the little while they stood there she could almost feel herself to -be one of the party. She could even smell the white violets that the -girl in white wore on her corsage, and was close enough to see that an -amber comb was slipping out of the soft auburn-bronze hair arranged so -becomingly on the graceful little head. Each laugh and gesture sent it -slipping lower and lower till involuntarily Mary's hand went out to stop -it. Then she drew back in confusion. She had almost called attention to -herself by speaking aloud. - -"Let's go into the other court," insisted the girl in yellow. "I want to -show you the alligators in the fountain, Mr. Wade, to convince you that -you're really in the sunny South. Some people can't appreciate -alligators--Bogey there, for instance." - -Her disdainful glance indicated the lieutenant. "He jeers at me for -liking them, but I think they are more interesting than half the people -one meets." - -"_Bogey!_ What a nickname for such a dignified officer," thought Mary, -peeping over the railing to see how such banter was received. Evidently -the lieutenant was accustomed to it, for he smiled indulgently as one -would at a spoiled child. - -"'Birds of a feather,' you know," was his answer. "Go on, Roberta. _I_ -don't care to flock with alligators myself, but if you do we'll follow -and see it done." - -Roberta deigned no reply but a glance intended to be withering, which -failed in its purpose because it was only counterfeit. Her eyes were as -dark as a gypsy's and she had the curliest lashes Mary had ever seen. A -boyish straightforwardness of manner contradicted their coquettish -curliness, however. She had an air that comes only from being brought up -in a houseful of teasing brothers. The man in civilian dress, whom she -called Mr. Wade, watched her as if he had found a new species of girl, -uncertain what she might say or do next. He was familiar with the -coquettish kind and with the tom-boy kind, but this combination puzzled -him. - -Mary longed to follow as the four went slowly away together into the -adjoining court, wholly unconscious that they had left an indelible -memory behind them, or that they had revealed anything of themselves and -their affairs to an unseen listener. But to Mary it was as if a new book -had been opened before her and she had been allowed a glimpse of one -page and the attractive picture that illustrated it. It was never -necessary for her to begin at the first chapter of a book. Often, -attracted by some paragraph in the middle, she would plunge into a -story, only turning back for the beginning after she had pursued it -eagerly through to the last word and found "how it all ended." - -[Illustration: "MARY WARE in TEXAS" - -"What an adorable little curl"] - -Now as the interesting group walked away she fervently hoped that fate -would send them across her path sometime again during her sojourn in -San Antonio, that she might piece together the rest of the story. All -that she knew now was that the girl in white was a daughter of one of -the majors at Fort Sam Houston, that the lieutenant had known Roberta -ever since he was a cadet at the West Texas Military School, and that it -was her brothers who had dubbed him Bogey. She had learned also that -this was Mr. Wade's first visit to Texas, and that Roberta was trying to -impress him with it by marvelous tales, so that he would decide to spend -the winter in San Antonio instead of going on to Mexico. - -But if the conversation revealed little, the picture they made as they -stood against the tropical background of palms and banana trees held -many suggestions. Mary felt that she knew all about lieutenants, having -met two at a Kentucky house-party where she had gone to be flower-girl -at a wedding when she was only fourteen. Fashions evidently had not -changed in lieutenants, since these looked as if they might have been -taken out of the same box that furnished the first soldiers of her -acquaintance; but the girls--there had been many changes in girls since -she last saw any of this kind. It was eight months since she had left -school at the end of the Easter vacation, and none of the girls at -Warwick Hall were doing their hair then as Roberta and the Major's -daughter were doing theirs. Each had a very elaborate coiffure with a -cluster of little short curls escaping to nestle against their white -necks. - -Her attention was especially called to this new style by Roberta's -escort, whom Mary had classified in her mind as a "callow youth with a -habit of making gallant little personal speeches." - -When they first stepped into the court Roberta had thrown a white scarf -about her, almost as light as thistledown, and glistening with crystal -beads which spangled its soft meshes like dewdrops. As they turned to go -it slipped from her shoulders, and Mr. Wade sprang forward to replace -it. Drawing it around her shoulders he said with a melting glance at her -dark hair, "What an adorable little curl! - - "'Ringlet, O Ringlet, she blushed a rosy red, - When Ringlet, O Ringlet, she clipped you from her head!'" - -Mary, who knew her Tennyson like her multiplication table, recalled the -next lines, - - "Ringlet, O Ringlet, she gave you me and said, - 'Come kiss it, love, and put it by, - If this can change, why, so can I.'" - -Roberta only laughed, not in the least impressed by his manner nor -embarrassed by the inference of his quotation. Mary knew that she could -not copy the curls, but she decided to try the rest of the coiffure in -the morning. Not a single twist or wave had escaped her sharp eyes. In -the darkness of her retreat, after they had gone, she put her hands to -her head, rehearsing in pantomime each move she would have to make to -produce the result she admired. - -Suddenly her hands dropped and one clutched the railing, as the window -shutters of the next room were thrown open with a bang and some one -stepped out on to the balcony adjoining hers. The intruder was a large -and elderly woman in a rustling black dress. The light from the room -streaming out behind her showed that she was portly and gray-haired, and -the way she peered through the vines, changing quickly from one -view-point to another, showed that she was impatient. - -When she turned, Mary saw that her dress, which was made to fasten in -the back, was open from collar to belt, and she readily guessed the -trouble. Forgetting that her presence was unknown to the anxious -watcher, she leaned forward through the dark, saying politely, "Can I -help you, Madam?" - -If a hand had reached out and grabbed her, the old lady could not have -been more startled. With a stifled shriek she backed up against the wall -to hide her open bodice, and stood there limp and panting. - -"Merciful _fathers_! how you scared me!" she breathed as Mary's face -appeared in the full light. When she saw only a little school-girl of -seventeen or thereabouts her relief found vent in a hysterical giggle. -It shook her plump shoulders until they both started to laughing so hard -that she could barely find voice to explain, or Mary to apologize. - -"I just couldn't get my dress hooked up the back," she finally managed -to say. "I rang half a dozen times for a chambermaid, but the ones on -this floor all seem to be off duty this time of evening, and I won't ask -a bell-boy as some of the ladies do. I don't think it's decent. So I -just thought I'd look down into the court and see if I couldn't catch -sight of James. He did it yesterday and I vowed I'd never ask him again. -He's willing enough, but he kept me standing a solid half hour by the -clock, and we were both tuckered out when he got through." - -"Let me come and do it for you," said Mary with her usual alacrity for -following up promising beginnings. - -"Oh, if you only would!" was the grateful answer. "I'll go in and unlock -the door--" - -Before she could finish her sentence Mary had climbed lightly over the -railing which divided their balconies, and was following her into her -room through the long windows that opened to the floor. - -"Do you know," confided the old lady while Mary deftly fastened the -hooks, "I think a hotel is the lonesomest place on the face of the globe -for a woman. I come down here once a year or so with my husband, and he -has a good time sitting around in the lobby smoking and making friends -with stockmen like himself, but by the end of the second day I'm -homesick for the ranch. Of course I enjoy the stores and the crowds on -the street, and seeing all the finely dressed tourists at meal-times, -but we've been down here three days now, and you're the first person -I've spoken to besides the chambermaid and James. It's all right for -strangers to keep themselves to themselves I suppose, but I must say -it's a sort of strain when it comes to being the stranger yourself. I -want somebody to neighbor with." - -"So do I," responded Mary with such heartiness that the old lady -instantly expanded into warm friendliness. Before she was fairly -fastened into her rustling black and purple gown she had confided to -Mary that it was her very best one, and that it just wouldn't wear out, -because it was too fine for church and she had no occasion to put it on -save when she made her rare visits to San Antonio. The sleeves had been -changed so many times to keep it in fashion, that her dressmaker had -refused to alter it another time, even if the lace on it did cost five -dollars a yard. James said why didn't she wear it at home and get done -with it. But she told him much comfort a body would take around home in -the tight gear a dressmaker boned you up in. But she'd have to do -something, for full skirts were clear out now, and she felt like a -balloon when other people were going around as slim and lank as starved -snakes. - -"It doesn't take long to get out of date," she added, "when you're -living up in the hills in the back-woods." - -"Oh, I know that," agreed Mary. "I've been living in a lonesome little -spot out in Arizona for so long that I've nearly forgotten what -civilization is like." - -"You don't look like it," was the frank comment as the still franker -gaze of her listener travelled over her dress from top to bottom, noting -every detail. - -"Oh, this," answered Mary, as if the eyes had spoken. "This is a dress -that I got in New York last Easter vacation. I was in school at -Washington, but as I had to leave at the end of the term and go back -home I've had no occasion to wear it since. That's why it looks so new." - -"Now do sit down and tell me about it," urged her hostess hospitably. -"I've always wanted to go to Washington." - -She pushed forward a low rocker, and took the arm chair opposite with -such a look of pleasurable anticipation on her kindly old face, that -Mary obeyed. She knew how it felt to be fairly bursting with a -sociability for which there was no outlet. She had experienced that same -sensation a few minutes before when she watched Roberta and the Major's -daughter go by with their friends. Besides, she felt a real liking for -this companionable old lady who introduced herself as Mrs. Barnaby of -Bauer, Texas. Mrs. James Barnaby. - -"She's the real, comfortable, homey sort," thought Mary, who had been -much given of late to classifying people. "She's like mission -furniture--plain and simple and genuine. She'd be her simple -unpretentious self no matter what gilt and veneer she found herself -among." - -Mary was proud of her insight afterward when she learned more about Mrs. -Barnaby's family. They had come out from Ohio over fifty years before -when she was so young that she could barely remember the great prairie -schooner that brought them. They had suffered all the hardships of the -early Texas settlers, gone through the horrors of the Indian uprisings, -and fought their way through with sturdy pioneer fortitude to the place -where they could fold their hands and enjoy the comforts of the -civilization they had helped to establish. - -She told Mary little of this now, however, but led her on with many -questions to talk of herself. Mrs. Barnaby had a lively curiosity and -always took the most straightforward means to gratify it. - -"She's interested in people, no matter who they are, just as I am," -thought Mary, instantly recognizing the spirit which prompted the -questions, and for that reason was led on to tell more than she would -have told to most strangers. She did not take the world at large into -her confidence now as she had done in her chatterbox days. In just a few -moments Mrs. Barnaby had a very fair snapshot picture of the Ware -family in her mind. Mary had given it very simply. - -"I had gone from school at Warwick Hall to New York, to spend the Easter -vacation with my sister Joyce. She's an artist and has her studio there. -And we got word that my oldest brother, Jack, had been dreadfully hurt -in an accident at the mines where he was manager--that it had made him a -cripple for life. We all just adore Jack, so of course I packed up and -went straight back to Arizona. It wasn't possible for Joyce to leave -just then, and my brother Holland is in the navy, and of course he -couldn't get away. Except the trained nurse there was nobody with mamma -at the time but my youngest brother Norman, and as he is only fourteen I -felt that I had to go." - -"I hope he got better right away," interrupted Mrs. Barnaby eagerly. - -"Yes, he did for awhile. He even got so that he could wheel himself -around in his chair and go down to the office awhile every morning. But -as soon as the cold weather set in he began to have such dreadful -rheumatism that the doctor said the only thing to do was to take him to -a milder climate. So we got ready right away and brought him down -here." - -"It must have been a hard trip for him," commented Mrs. Barnaby with a -sympathetic shake of the head. "Arizona always did seem to me like the -jumping-off place. I don't see how you managed it, him in a wheeled -chair and so helpless." - -"Oh, we came in a private car," Mary made haste to explain, "and Jack -really enjoyed the trip. Waffles, the old colored cook on the car, you -know, just laid himself out to please him, and the porter was so strong -and helpful." - -"H'm!" exclaimed her interested listener. "I've always thought I'd like -to travel in a private car. It must be such a nice way to get over the -country. But it isn't everybody that can afford it." - -It was on the tip of Mary's honest little tongue to explain that it was -not their car. They had come as guests of Mr. Robeson, one of the mine -owners. But Mrs. Barnaby interrupted her with a question. - -"Didn't you all go out in a big red automobile this afternoon? I've been -trying to think ever since you came in here where it was I'd seen you -before, and I believe it was with that party. There was a little lady in -black and a boy and a rather heavy-set man with iron gray whiskers. I -heard him giving orders to the chauffeur to go out to the missions." - -"Yes," agreed Mary, "that was Mr. Robeson, one of the owners of the -mine. He's so fond of Jack and has been so lovely to all of us on his -account. His valet stayed with Jack while we went out to see the town. -He's going on to Mexico this afternoon." - -Again she was on the point of saying that it was as Mr. Robeson's guests -they had enjoyed the outing in the expensive car, but another question -switched her off to another subject and left Mrs. Barnaby with the -impression that the Wares were wealthy beyond computation. Mary had the -manner of one always accustomed to luxury, and her easy way of referring -to the studio in New York and the private car and the valet made one -think she was born to purple and fine linen. - -The impression was deepened later, when the Barnabys found themselves at -the same table with Mary and Norman in the dining-room. "Mrs. Ware was -having dinner in her rooms with Jack," Mary explained. He was sensitive -about being wheeled into a public dining-room, so she and her mother -would take turns staying with him. - -With a brief glance at the menu card Mary ordered dinner for herself and -brother before Mr. Barnaby had adjusted his glasses on his long nose and -stumbled half-way through the menu. He always read the bill of fare -aloud to his wife, pronouncing the French words exactly as they were -spelled, and they paused to discuss the nature of each unfamiliar dish -with the amused waiter before ordering. - -The ease with which Mary ordered gave further evidence to Mrs. Barnaby -that the Wares had always been accustomed to sumptuous living, and to -being "waited on, hand and foot." And it was proof to Mary that "James" -was as genuine and primitive as his wife when he made no attempt to -cover his ignorance of French menus. Looking up with a twinkle in his -eyes he said to the waiter, "Just bring me the same as my wife ordered." -Then he added with an odd one-sided smile that gave an irresistible -expression of humor to his face, "I always take the blazed trail when -there is one. It's a heap sight safer than striking out for yourself -when you're in tall timber." - -Evidently Mrs. Barnaby had told him all that she had learned of the Ware -family, for he at once began making minute inquiries about Arizona and -the mines, with the interest of a shrewd, genial old man who kept pace -with the times and liked the companionship of young people. They were -warm friends before the meal was over, and Mary hurried up-stairs -afterward, to report all she could remember to Jack. She had fallen into -the habit of making the most of everything she saw and heard, for his -entertainment. - -She found him in his chair, out on the balcony with her mother, looking -down on the same scene she had watched earlier in the evening. Mrs. Ware -had just tucked a lap-robe around him and drawn a wrap over her own -shoulders when Mary opened the door of the room behind them, and started -across the floor to join them. - -Some letters had been sent up while she was at dinner and seeing one on -the table addressed to herself, she paused to read it before joining -them. It was just a note from one of the girls at Warwick Hall, who, -knowing Mary's fondness for the beautiful old garden there, always -enclosed some leaf or flower from it every time she wrote. This time -several violets fell out, withered but still sweet. As Mary stooped to -pick them up she heard Jack say in a voice so full of hearty enjoyment -that she scarcely recognized it for his: "This certainly is great! What -a world of things we've been missing all these years, little mother! I -never realized just how much we have missed till I went East last -year. Then afterwards the days were so full of work and the new -responsibilities that I didn't have time to think about it much. But I -can see now what a dull gray existence _you've_ had, for as far back as -I can remember there's only been three backgrounds for you: a little -Kansas village, a tent on the edge of the Arizona desert, and a lonely -mining camp. How long has it been since you've seen a sight like this?" - -The scattered violets were all picked up now, but Mary still stood by -the table, waiting for her mother's reply. - -"It's so long ago I'll have to stop and count up. Let me see. You're -twenty-two and Joyce twenty-three--really it's almost a quarter of a -century since I've been in a large city, and seen anything like this in -the way of illuminations, with music and crowds. Your father took me to -New York the winter after we were married. Before that I'd always had my -full share. I'd visited a great deal and travelled with Cousin Kate and -her father. And I'm sure that no one could want anything brighter and -sweeter and more complete than life as I found it as a girl, in 'my old -Kentucky home.' As I had so much more than most people the first part of -my life I couldn't complain when I had less afterwards. But I certainly -do enjoy this," she added earnestly, as the orchestra began the -haunting air of the Mexican "Swallow Song," _La Golondrina_, and the -odor of roses stole up from below. The court was filled now with gay -little groups of people who had the air of finding life one continual -holiday. - -The cheeriness of the reply almost brought tears to Mary's eyes, as she -realized for the first time how much more than any of them her mother -must have suffered from the hardships of their early poverty, because it -was in such sharp contrast to what she had known before. To hide the -little quiver that wanted to creep into her voice Mary laughed as she -joined them, dragging a chair through the French window after her. - -"Here you sit like two comfortable cats in the lap of luxury," she said. -"You'll begin to purr soon." - -"That's exactly what we're doing now," answered Jack. "We're -congratulating ourselves on being in this land of summer with every -comfort at hand and a free show to entertain us. This is as good as -being in a box-party at the opera." - -Mary settled herself with her chair tipped back on its rockers, and -looked down on the court below. "I wish we could stay at this hotel all -winter," she exclaimed. "I wish we could be as rich all the time as I -feel to-night. Ever since we started South in Mr. Robeson's car I've -felt as opulent and as elegant as if we owned the earth, and I've -noticed that you and mamma take to luxury quite as readily as I do--like -ducks to water. Norman is learning fast, too, for one of his -opportunities. He's having the time of his life now, down in the lobby, -just 'seein' things at night.' He asked me for a quarter when I left -him, to get some postcards of the Alamo and the plaza to send home." - -"Well?" queried Jack as she paused. Mary had had the family finances in -hand since his illness, and her economical clutch had earned her the -title of "Watch-dog of the Treasury." - -"Oh, I gave it to him," she answered. "Gave it with a lordly sweep of -the hand, as if bestowing millions were a daily habit of mine. But -to-morrow it will be a different story. To-morrow a copper cent may be -too great a boon for my family to ask me to part with. To-morrow we go -house-hunting, with the sad realization that we're all as poor as Job's -old blue turkey hen." - -"What's the odds so long as you're happy," quoted Jack. There was a long -pause in which they listened to the music, each enjoying to the fullest -the novelty of being in such a place. Then Jack asked, "Didn't you have -any adventures down in the dining-room? We rather expected that you'd -have a series of them to report." - -"Mercy, yes! I've had half a dozen since I saw you last, very mild ones -though. I've seen some most interesting people, a major's daughter and a -lieutenant from the Post, called Bogey, and I overheard the beginning of -a romance, a most sentimental request for an 'adorable little curl,' and -I've hooked Mrs. James Barnaby of Bauer, Texas, up in her best black and -purple gown, and James himself has invited me to take 'pot luck' with -them up at the Barnaby ranch any time I choose to go. He's a dear and so -is she, and if you'd only--" - -Her chatter was stopped by a sudden exclamation from Jack, and following -his gaze into the court below she saw two of the group in which she had -been so interested earlier in the evening. - -"That's the lieutenant I told you about!" she exclaimed excitedly. -"That's Bogey, and the other is the major's daughter. I don't wonder -that you're stunned at the sight of a pretty girl like that when it's -been such ages since you have seen one." - -"I'm stunned because it happens to be a girl I know," exclaimed Jack in -a tone almost as excited as her own. "That's Gay Melville, and I met her -at The Locusts the night I stopped in Lloydsboro Valley with the -Shermans." - -"Are you sure?" gasped Mary. - -"Dead sure! She played the violin that evening, and you can't take your -eyes off her face when she plays, it's so sweet, and you could never -forget it after you'd watched her through one performance. Then her -hair--there's no mistaking _that_, and that little trick of lifting her -chin. Besides, it's no surprising matter to see her. She lives here and -she's a popular girl." - -"Oh, I know it!" exclaimed Mary, "and I've known all the time that her -home is in San Antonio. Haven't I heard the Warwick Hall seniors talk of -her by the hour? But somehow I never put two and two together and got it -through my head that we're in the same town. Really I'd forgotten her in -the excitement of our sudden coming. But now it just takes me off my -feet to know that we're under the same roof, and to remember that she -lived a whole summer in Lloydsboro Valley and is such a dear friend of -the Little Colonel and Betty. Why, we're _bound_ to meet her some time -this winter. Oh, I know we're going to have a good time here, and I -think that San Antonio is just the dearest, most charming old place in -the world." - -"It is certainly a good place to be to-night," answered Jack, following -with intent gaze the vanishing figure of the major's pretty daughter. -"And to-morrow--" - -He did not finish the sentence, for the violins were throbbing through -that last refrain of _La Golondrina_ so softly and sweetly that he did -not want to lose a note. When it was done Mary took up his last word, -quoting with a dramatic sweep of the hand, "To-morrow do thy worst, for -I have lived to-day!" - - - - -CHAPTER II - -IN SEARCH OF A HOME - - -IT was with the vision of a charming little bungalow in her mind that -Mary started on her search for a house next morning; a little white -bungalow half hidden in vines, and set among heuisach and mesquite -trees, or maybe in the shelter of one giant pecan. As they had whirled -around the city in the touring car the day before, she had seen several -of that kind which she thought would suit both their taste and their -purse. - -She had not yet reached the point of picturing to herself the inside -furnishings. They would have to be of the simplest sort, of course. But -one picture seemed to rise up of its own accord whenever she thought of -the new home. She saw a big living-room, the centre of a cheery -hospitality, where girls fluttered in and out at all hours of the day. -Bright, fun-loving, interesting girls like Gay Melville and Roberta. Her -wistful little face grew very sweet and eager at the mere thought of -such companionship, and there was such a dancing light in her gray eyes -and such a happy glow of expectancy on her cheeks that more than one -passer-by took a second glance and felt the morning brighter because of -it. - -Mrs. Ware had expected to accompany her, leaving Jack to Norman's care -for the morning, but a neuralgic headache, an old enemy of hers, seized -her on awakening, and she was obliged to shift the responsibility to -Mary's willing shoulders. Although it doubled the car-fare, Mary took -Norman with her for company. Armed with a map of the city and a list of -houses, clipped from the morning paper, they started gaily out on their -quest. It was good just to be alive on such a morning, and out in the -brilliant sunshine, with the air so fresh and sweet, and the plaza as -green and flowery as if it were mid-summer instead of the week before -Thanksgiving. - -They walked at first, wanting a closer view than the cars afforded of -the fascinating old curio shops. Mexicans were no novelty to them as -they were to Northern tourists. They had seen too many in Phoenix and at -the mining camp to care for a second look at the tall, peaked hats of -the men or the rebosa-draped heads of the women. But the narrow streets -of the Mexican quarter with their chili and tamale stands interested -them. It was some kind of a fête day, and flags were flying and a -festive spirit was in the air; a spirit that seems to belong peculiarly -to this alluring old Spanish city, where fête days come often and one -soon learns to say "mañana" with the rest. - -Norman, who picked up bits of information here and there as a magnet -draws needles and nails, imparted some of it to Mary as he trudged along -beside her. Everything was making a deep impression on his mind because -this was his first journey of any consequence. - -"This is the third oldest city in the United States, the guide book -says," he began, then paused before a shop window, attracted by the -sign, "Dressed Fleas, 35 cents," to exclaim, scornfully, "Who'd be fool -enough to want one of _those_ things, dead or alive!" With a skip or two -to catch up with Mary, he continued, "And there's thirteen miles of -river twisting in and out among the streets, with seventeen bridges over -it." - -"It surely is the twistiest, crookedest river that I ever saw on a map," -answered Mary, "but that's what makes the town so lovely--all those -graceful bends with the green banks and tropical foliage and the little -boats tied up here and there to the landings. I wish we could find the -kind of a place we want somewhere along the river. Maybe we could manage -to get a boat. Anyhow, if we couldn't do any better we could make a -raft. I'd love to pole one, and it would be just like doing it in our -own back yard if the river ran right behind our place." - -"Say! Let's!" exclaimed Norman, explosively. "Mary Ware, you've got a -head on you that's worth something! And I'll tell you something else I -wish we could manage to do,--that's to get a house out near Brackenridge -park. They've got antelope and buffalo and elk, and all sorts of wild -animals out there. I'd like to see them often." - -"We'd better get down to business, then," said Mary, "instead of -loitering along this way. We can look at the shops after we've found a -house." - -"Stop just a minute at the Alamo," begged Norman. "I want to see the -place where Travis and Davy Crockett and Bowie put up such a desperate -fight against Santa Anna. This is just as interesting a place to me as -Bunker Hill or Plymouth Rock would be, and I want to write home to Billy -Downs about it." - -"But it isn't the _exact_ spot," objected Mary, who wanted to lose no -more time and was sometimes provokingly literal. "This is only the -little chapel, and the real fight took place in a court that was away -over yonder, and the walls were pulled down long ago." - -Norman planted himself at the entrance and proceeded to argue the -matter. "But the chapel was part of it, and it stands for the whole -thing now--a sort of monument, you know, and there's relics inside -and--" - -"Oh, well, come on, then," said Mary, "if you're _that_ anxious, but -just for a minute. You can come here some other time by yourself and -prowl around all day." - -She followed him into the dim interior, still insisting at every step -that they must hurry. It was so early no one but the care-taker was in -sight. She knew how Norman liked history, and what enthusiastic -admiration he had for the heroes of frontier times, but she was -surprised to see how deeply he was impressed by the venerable building. -He took off his hat as they entered and walked around as reverently as -if they were in a church. As they gazed up at the narrow, iron-barred -windows which had witnessed such a desperate struggle for liberty, he -said, in an awed tone, which made even Mary feel solemn: - -"'Here, for ten days, took place the most memorable, thrilling, tragic, -and bloody siege in American history. One hundred and seventy-nine -indomitable American frontier riflemen against an army of six thousand -brave and disciplined troops led by veteran officers!'" - -"_Where_ did you get all that?" demanded Mary, in surprise. - -"I saw it in a little pamphlet, in the reading-room last night, and it -told about the Comanche Indians that came here about seventy years ago. -The fiercest fighting you ever heard of--thirty-two Indian warriors -killed right out there in the street that we came across just now, and -seven Texans." - -"Goodness, Norman!" she answered, with a shrug. "What do you want to -resurrect all those old horrors for? It doesn't make the place any more -attractive to me to know that its streets once ran red with blood. I'd -rather think of them as they will be in the Spring on San Jacinto Day, -red with roses after the Battle of Flowers. Think of our being here to -see that!" she added, exultingly. - -As they emerged from the dimly-lighted chapel into the blinding sunshine -of the street, Norman remarked thoughtfully, "Of course I'm sorry that -Jack had the rheumatism so badly that he had to get out of Lone Rock, -but as long as we did have to leave home, I'm jolly glad it brought us -to San Antonio. Think of the times we'll have going out to Fort Sam -Houston to guard-mounts and parade. It's something just to be within -walking distance of the largest army post of the United States." - -"I'm thinking of the public library," was her rejoinder. "Jack can have -all the books he wants to read this winter; and I'm thinking of the -friends we'll have; the real, satisfying kind, that do things, and go -places, and think, and keep you from sinking to the level of a cabbage. -I've always wanted to live in the thick of things, and here we are at -last!" - -They paused on the curb to wait for a long string of vehicles to pass. -An army ambulance came first, drawn by sleek mules, driven by a soldier -in khaki and carrying several ladies and children from the Post. Close -behind it came a riding party, clattering in on horseback from a -breakfast at the Country Club. Then followed close on each other's -heels, a dilapidated prairie schooner, three boys on a burro, a -huckster's wagon, and a carriage with liveried coachman and prancing, -thoroughbred horses. The clang of a long line of electric cars whizzing -past, the honk of many automobiles, and the warning sound of bicycle -bells, as their owners wheeled in and out through the bewildering maze -of vehicles and pedestrians, made Norman exclaim, joyfully, "Gee! I'm -glad we're out of Lone Rock! There's something to see here every single -minute." - -Mary signalled a passing car, and as soon as they were seated, drew out -her newspaper clippings. "Mrs. Barnaby said for us to go to Laurel -Heights first," she remarked, "so I believe we'll find it best to try -this one. It sounds all right." - -She read the advertisement aloud: "A five-room bungalow, never been -occupied, all modern conveniences, one block from car-line, rent -reasonable, inquire next door." - -Then she unfolded the map and studied it as they whirled along, now and -then repeating the name of a street as she came across one which sounded -particularly pleasing and story-bookish, as she called it, to Norman: -"King William Street, Mistletoe Avenue, Dolorosa and San Pedro." - -When a little later they alighted from the car and found the place -described in the advertisement, it was almost the bungalow of Mary's -dreams. The vines were lacking and the lawn was still strewn with the -débris of building, but that could soon be remedied. - -"What good, wide porches to hang a hammock on!" exclaimed Norman, as -they mounted the steps and walked around, peering through the windows. - -"You'll have to say gallery," corrected Mary. "Everybody down here calls -a porch a gallery. They won't know what you mean." - -They walked all around the house, exclaiming over each attractive -feature, as each window revealed a new one. The electric lights, the -convenient little bathroom, the open fire-place in the living-room, the -built-in china closet. Norman's only complaint was that the house was -nowhere near the river. That was a drawback in Mary's eyes also, for -ever since they had thought of a boat it had begun to take its place in -that mental picture in which those alluring girls were always fluttering -in and out. - -"Of course we'll look farther," she said. "It wouldn't do to take the -first one we came to when there are so many to choose from. I'll just -run in next door and inquire the price, and tell them we'll make up our -minds later." - -But when she had made her inquiries her decision followed immediately. -What might seem reasonable rent to the owner and to the people of that -neighborhood was entirely out of the reach of the Ware pocket-book. "You -won't find anything cheaper in this part of town," the woman assured -her, and after several more experiences of the same kind, Mary believed -her. - -They passed all sorts of beautiful homes in their wanderings; stately -Colonial mansions, comfortable wide-spreading houses with broad -galleries and hospitable doors, picturesque bungalows in the mission -style, little white-winged cottages over-run with tangles of Maréchal -Niel roses, their fragrant buds swinging from the very eaves. The -farther they searched the more Mary longed to find a home among them, -and it was with a feeling of deep disappointment that she turned back to -the hotel for lunch. - -Mrs. Ware had spent part of the morning telephoning to different real -estate offices recommended by Mr. Barnaby, and had a small list of -houses sifted down from those offered her. - -"They tell me we are too late to get much of a choice," she reported. -"People have been pouring into the city for a month, and the freight -stations and ware-houses are piled up with household goods. It is this -way every fall, they say. No matter how many homes they build there are -always more families clamoring to occupy them than can be accommodated. -It would be easier for us to find one if we could afford to pay more, -but I had to cut out all the high-priced ones from the lists that they -gave me." - -Mary took the slip of paper from her mother, saying, "So far the ones we -have seen have been too big or too expensive, or else far too small. I -wonder what will be the matter with these?" - -She began to find out almost as soon as she and Norman resumed their -search again after lunch. The lists they had led them into older parts -of the town, where the rented houses had seen several generations of -transitory occupants. Some of the places they visited made her shrink -back in dismay. A long procession of careless tenants had passed -through, each leaving some contribution to the evidences of their slack -housekeeping. Nearly every family had had its share of disease and -death, and Mary hurried away with a wry face and the single exclamation, -"germs!" Mrs. Barnaby had spoken of that class of houses. "You want to -be careful," she told her. "Even the nicest looking may have had -dreadfully sick tenants in them, and although there is a law requiring -landlords to fumigate, and all that sort of thing, you can't be sure -that it has been done as thoroughly as it should." - -"This is getting monotonous," Mary exclaimed, wearily, when they had -walked block after block to no purpose, and the end of the day found -them with nothing accomplished. The morning freshness of the atmosphere -had given place to such enervating heat that she had been carrying her -coat on her arm for several hours. The sky was overcast with clouds, -when fagged and inwardly cross she climbed on the car that was to take -them back to the hotel, vowing that she couldn't drag herself another -step. - -At the next corner half a dozen people hurried down the street, waving -frantically for the car to wait. As they crowded into the aisle, -laughing and out of breath, Mary heard a lady exclaim, "We certainly -were lucky to catch this car. If we'd had to wait for the next one the -'Norther' surely would have caught us, and this is going to be a nasty, -wet one, too." - -Even as she spoke there was a sense of sudden chill in the air. A cold -gale swept down the street, setting flags and awnings to flapping, and -blinding pedestrians with whirling clouds of dust. The conductor -hurried to close the car windows, and the passengers began struggling -into their wraps. - -The sudden freshening of the air had such a bracing effect that Mary -straightened up, feeling that after all she might be able to walk the -half block from the car to the hotel. When the time came, she found that -she could even run the distance, for the few big drops of rain that -splashed in her face were the fore-runner of a downpour, and they had no -umbrella. Just as they reached the entrance such a mighty deluge began -that Mary's disappointment in house-hunting was somewhat softened by the -fact that her beloved hat had escaped a wetting which must have ruined -it. - -"Never mind, little Vicar," said Jack, consolingly, when she had made -her report to the assembled family. "The proverbial turn in our fortune -is bound to come. It's never failed us yet, you know." - -"But we've simply got to get out of this expensive hotel," she answered, -desperately. "Do you realize that we could keep house for a week on what -it costs the four of us to stay here just one day?" - -Mrs. Ware broke the long silence that followed, by suggesting, "Maybe -for the present we'd better try to get a few rooms somewhere, just for -light housekeeping. It's a last resort, I know, but Mary is right. Every -day we spend here is taking a big mouthful out of our little capital." - -Nobody liked the suggestion, for whatever else they had lacked in their -Arizona homes there had been no lack of space, but they all saw the -wisdom of Mrs. Ware's suggestion, and agreed to try it until they could -look around and do better. - -"How lovely it must be to have an ancestral roof-tree," thought Mary -that night, as she tossed, restlessly, kept awake by the noises of the -big hotel. "I can't think of anything more heavenly than to always live -in the house where you were born, and your fathers and grandfathers -before you, as the Lloyds do at The Locusts. It must be so delightful to -feel that you've got an attic full of heirlooms and that everything -about the place is connected with some old family tradition, and to know -that you can take root there, and not have to go wandering around from -pillar to post as we Wares have always had to do. I wonder if Lloyd -Sherman knows how much she has to be thankful for!" - -Next day in her shortest skirt and rain-coat, and under a dripping -umbrella, Mary started to look for rooms. She was alone this time. -Company was too expensive a luxury to afford more than one day, since it -meant extra car-fare. She paddled blithely off, however, never minding -the weather. This rain made the little home she was seeking seem all the -more desirable. Whenever a window showed her a cozy interior with the -light of an open fire shining cheerily over it, she thought it would not -be long till she would be making afternoon tea over just such a fire, or -popping corn or toasting marsh-mallows. She could think of a dozen ways -to make it attractive for the girls when they dropped in of rainy -afternoons. - -Occupied with such plans she tramped along through the mud and slush as -happily as she had gone through the sunshine the day before. But by the -end of the morning repeated failures began to bring a worried line -between her eyes and a sharp note of anxiety into her voice when she -made her inquiries. Once, finding herself in the neighborhood of a house -which she had refused the day before because it did not quite measure up -to the standards she had set, she went to look at it again, thinking, -after all, they might manage to be more comfortable in it than in a few -rooms. To her disappointment she found a family already moving in. It -had been rented almost immediately after her refusal to take it. - -In her search for rooms a new difficulty faced her. Invariably one of -the first questions asked her was, "Anyone sick in your family?" - -"Yes, my brother," she would say. "He has rheumatism. That is why we are -particular about getting a sunny south room for him." - -"Well, we can't take sick people," would be the positive answer, and she -would turn away with an ache in her throat and a dull wonder why Jack's -rheumatism could make him objectionable in the slightest degree as a -tenant. The morning was nearly gone before she found the reason. She was -shown into a dingy parlor by a child of the family, and asked to wait a -few moments. Its mother had gone around the corner to the bakery, but -would be right back. - -There were two others already waiting when Mary entered the room, a -stout, middle-aged woman and a delicate-looking girl. The woman looked -up with a nod as Mary took a chair near the stove and spread out her -damp skirts to dry. - -"I reckon you're on the same errand as us," said the woman, "but it's -first come, first served, and we're ahead of you." - -"Yes," answered Mary, distantly polite, and wondering at the aggressive -tone. When the child left the room the woman rose and shut the door -behind it, and then came back to Mary, lowering her voice -confidentially. - -"It's just this way. We're getting desperate. We came down here for my -daughter's health--the doctor sent us, and we've gone all over town -trying to get some kind of roof over our heads. We can't get in anywhere -because Maudie has lung trouble. People have been coming down here for -forty years to get cured of it, and folks were glad enough to rent 'em -rooms and take their money, till all this talk was stirred up in the -papers about lung trouble being a great white plague, and catching, and -all that. Now you can't get in anywhere at a price that poor folks can -pay. I've come to the end of my rope. The landlady at the boarding-house -where we've been stopping, told me this morning that she couldn't keep -us another day, because the boarders complained when they found what -ailed Maudie. I was a fool to tell 'em, for she doesn't cough much. It's -only in the first stages. After this I'm just going to say that I came -down here to look for work, and goodness knows, _that's_ the truth! What -I want to ask of you is that you won't stand in the way of our getting -in here by offering more rent or anything like that." - -"Certainly not," Mary answered, drawing back a little, almost -intimidated by the fierceness which desperation gave to the other's -manner. - -The landlady bustled in at that moment, and as she threw the rooms open -for inspection, she asked the question that Mary had heard so often that -morning,--"Any sick in your family?" - -"No," answered the woman, glibly. "I'm down in the city looking for -work. I do plain sewing, and if you know of any likely customers I'd be -glad if you'd mention me." - -The landlady glanced shrewdly at Maudie, who kept in the background. - -"She does embroidery," explained her mother. "Needle-work makes her a -little pale and peaked, sitting over it so long. I ain't going to let -her do so much after I once get a good start." - -"Well, a person in my place can't be too careful," complained the -landlady. "We get taken in so often letting our rooms to strangers. They -have all sorts of names for lung trouble nowadays, malaria and a weak -heart and such things. The couple I had in here last said it was just -indigestion and shortness of breath, but she died all the same six -weeks later, in this very room, and he had to acknowledge it was her -lungs all the time, and he knew it." - -Mary looked around the room with a shiver. Its old wallpaper, dingy -paint and worn carpet proclaimed too plainly that its renovation since -the last lodgers' departure had been only a superficial one, barely what -the law demanded. - -"No, thank you," she replied to the landlady, who had turned to her with -the hope of finding a more desirable tenant. "I couldn't consider these -rooms at all. There are only two, and we need three at least." - -Out on the street again a tear or two splashed down and mingled with the -rain on her face as she walked away. She was growing desperate herself. -If two rooms had been all they needed, she could have found them a -number of times over. Or, if they could have afforded some of the flats -or the sunny suites she discovered on pleasant streets, her search would -have been soon over. But it was the same old circle she kept coming back -to. When the rooms were large enough and within their means, either they -were unsanitary or the owners objected to invalids. In vain she -explained that Jack's helplessness was due to an accident, and that -rheumatism is not contagious. Too many people like Maudie's mother had -been ahead of her and bred suspicion of all strangers in quest of rooms -for light housekeeping. - -Mary had told her mother not to expect her back for lunch. She would go -into some tea-room or restaurant wherever she happened to be. But one -o'clock found her in a part of the town where nothing of the kind was in -sight. She bought an apple and some crackers at a grocery, and ate them -under cover of her umbrella while she stood on a corner, waiting for a -car to take her to another part of the city. - -What a different place it seemed to be from the one they had seen the -day of their arrival! Then it was a world of hospitable homes and -sunshine and kindly faces. The very shop windows looked friendly and -inviting. Now, plodding along in the wet, to the tired, homesick girl it -seemed only a great, desolate place full of lonely, discouraged -strangers and sick people and dingy boarding-houses, whose doors shut -coldly in anxious faces. - -All afternoon she kept up the search. The electric lights were beginning -to gleam through the rain, throwing long, quivering reflections in the -puddles when she finally turned back to the hotel, bedraggled and -utterly discouraged. - -"I _won't_ cry!" she said, fiercely, to herself. "I can't! For Jack -would see that I had been at it, and he is getting so sensitive lately. -It would hurt him dreadfully to know that we are barred out of all the -desirable places because he is an invalid." - -The habit of years is strong. Mary had persisted so long in applying the -good Vicar of Wakefield's motto to her childish difficulties and -disappointments, that it had taught her remarkable self-control. Instead -of bursting impulsively into the room as so many girls of her age would -have done, and giving vent to her over-taxed nerves and discouragement -in a tearful report of the day's adventures, she walked slowly from the -elevator to her room, trying to think of some careless way in which to -announce her failure. She paused with her hand on the knob, thinking, -"I'll just tell them that I've come back like Noah's dove did the first -time it was sent out from the ark, because I could find no rest for the -sole of my foot; at least a rest which fitted both our ideas and our -income." - -To her relief, the room was empty when she entered. The only light -streamed through the transom and keyhole from Jack's room, where a low -murmur told that her mother was reading aloud. Opening the door just a -crack so that her face was not visible, she called, gaily, "I'm back, -mamma, but you can just go on with your reading; I'll not tell a single -thing till I'm all dried and dressed. I'm as wet as a frog." - -"Oh, I was afraid you'd be," came the anxious answer. "I'll come and -get--" - -"No," interrupted Mary, decidedly. "I don't want anything but time." -Closing the door between the rooms, she switched on the light and began -slipping out of her wet clothes into dry ones. In a moment or two she -was in her soft, warm kimona and Turkish slippers, standing on the -threshold of the bathroom, intending to plunge her face into a basin of -hot water. It was the best thing she could think of to remove the traces -of tears, and she was so tired that now she was safe in the harbor of -her own room the tears _would_ come, no matter how hard she tried to -keep them back. - -But before she could turn the faucet, a tap at the hall door made her -dab her handkerchief hastily across her eyes, for Mrs. Barnaby's voice -followed the tap. - -"I surely hate to trouble you," she began, apologetically, as soon as -Mary had admitted her, "but if you could only hook me up this one more -time--I've been waiting for James with this shawl over my shoulders for -nearly half an hour. Then I heard you come in and I thought maybe you -wouldn't mind doing it once more. We're going home in the morning." - -Then with a keen look into Mary's face, she added, kindly, "Why, you -poor child, what's the matter? Your brother isn't worse, I hope!" - -There was such a note of real concern in the sympathetic voice that -Mary's lip trembled and her eyes brimmed over again. When the next -moment she found herself drawn into Mrs. Barnaby's capacious embrace -with a plump hand patting her soothingly on the back, the story of her -discouragement seemed to sob itself out of its own accord. The -performance left Mary's eyes very red and tear-swollen, but the outburst -brought such relief that she could laugh the moment it was over. It was -Mrs. Barnaby's surprise which brought the laugh. - -"I can't get over it!" she kept exclaiming. "To think that all this time -I supposed that you were enormously wealthy--actually rolling in riches! -Well, well!" - -"I didn't know that my 'short and simple annals of the poor' would be so -upsetting," giggled Mary, hysterically. "You were so sweet and -sympathetic I couldn't help telling you. But don't take it to heart, -please. We Wares never stay discouraged long. I'll be all right now -after I get my face washed. As soon as I fasten your dress I'll run in -and turn on the hot water." - -The hooking proceeded in silence, Mrs. Barnaby so absorbed in thought -that she forgot her usual sigh of relief and expression of thanks at the -end. Instead she said, abruptly, "You come and go up on the train with -us in the morning to Bauer. It's only thirty miles from here and it's up -in the hills, high and dry, and there's the Metz cottage I'm sure you -can get, all freshly scrubbed and ready to move into. Mrs. Metz is the -cleanest little German woman you ever saw,--scrubs even the under sides -of her tables as white as the tops. It wasn't rented when we came down -here last Saturday. Let me talk to your mother about it. I'm sure it is -just the place for you." - -"Oh, no," began Mary. "We couldn't possibly go there! We've counted so -much on living here in San Antonio this winter and meeting some of our -friends' friends--" - -Then she stopped with a little gasp, and after an instant's pause said, -apologetically, "I didn't mean to refuse so abruptly, and now I take it -all back. Changing plans so suddenly is somewhat of a shock to one's -system, isn't it! After all, I'm like a drowning man catching at straws, -and I'd be very glad, indeed, if you would talk to mamma about it. You -can go right in now while I finish dressing, if you like." - -It was not the first time Mrs. Barnaby had been ushered into Jack's -room. Their acquaintance had begun over the railing of their adjoining -balconies the first day of Mary's house-hunting, and had rapidly -deepened into a mutual liking. So strongly had Mrs. Barnaby been -attracted to the young fellow who bore his crippled condition so lightly -that he made others forget it, that she induced James to go in and make -his acquaintance also. The two men had spent several hours of the long, -rainy morning together, each greatly interested in the other's -conversation. - -Mary, who had been gone all day, did not know of this, but she knew that -her mother had met and liked Mrs. Barnaby, and that the story of the -day's unsuccessful search would not sound half so serious if that -cheerful old lady told it, especially if it were followed immediately -by her offer to find them a home in Bauer. - -Bauer was an uncharted country on Mary's map, but if Mrs. Barnaby -thought of it as their desired haven, she could trust her capable hands -to take them safely into it. So it was with a sigh of relief that she -opened the door between the rooms, saying, "Here's Mrs. Barnaby, mamma," -and left her to make explanations while she finished dressing. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE LITTLE TOWN OF BAUER - - -MARY was the only one to whom the change of plans made a vital -difference. She had built such lovely dream-castles of their winter in -San Antonio that it was hard to see them destroyed at one breath. - -"Of course it's the only thing to do," she said, in a mournful aside to -Norman, "but did you ever dream that there was a dish of rare, delicious -fruit set down in front of you, so tempting that you could hardly wait -to taste it, and just as you put out your hand it was suddenly snatched -away? That's the way I feel about leaving here. And I've dreamed of -getting letters, too; big, fat letters, that were somehow going to -change my whole life for the better, and then just as I started to read -them I always woke up, and so never found out the secret that would make -such a change in my fortunes." - -"Maybe it won't be so bad after all," encouraged Norman. "Maybe we can -have a boat. There's a creek running through the town and the Barnaby -ranch is only seven miles out in the country. We'll see them often." - -Mary wanted to wail out, "Oh, it isn't boats, and ranches, and old -people I want! It's girls, and boys, and something doing! Being in the -heart of things, as we would be if we could only stay here in this -beautiful old city!" - -The wail found no voice, however, for even in the midst of her -disappointment Mary remembered Jack, and could not let him feel that -this change in their plans meant any sacrifice for her. Besides, she had -to acknowledge that the creek and the ranch _did_ hold out some -compensations, and she was deeply grateful to these two kind old people -who had come to their rescue in such cordial, neighborly fashion. Mr. -Barnaby had been called into the family council also, and had spent the -evening with them discussing prices and prospects. - -Even Norman was impressed by their offers of assistance, and spoke of it -as he sat slowly unlacing his shoes after they had gone. Mary was in the -next room, repacking her trunk, for it had been decided that she and -Norman were to go to Bauer on the early accommodation train when the -Barnabys left for home. The door between the rooms was still open, and -she heard him say, thoughtfully: - -"What do you suppose makes them so rattling good to us when we're just -strangers?" - -Jack laughed and quoted, teasingly: - - "'What makes the lamb love Mary so?' - The eager children cry. - 'Oh, Mary loves the lamb, you know,' - The teacher did reply." - -"Aw, talk sense!" was Norman's disgusted answer. "I don't know what you -mean by that." - -An understanding smile flashed between Jack and his mother, who had -stayed to help him prepare for the night, and she answered for him. - -"Jack only means that we get just what we give in this world, dear. From -the days of Solomon it's been a proverb that the man who would have -friends 'must show himself friendly.' And that's what you and Mary did -the first night you met the Barnabys. You made them feel that you found -them genuinely interesting, and that awakened a liking for you." - -"But anybody'd find that old man interesting," Norman explained, -gravely. "You never heard such Indian stories as he can tell,--true -ones that he's been in himself,--and hunting--Gee! you ought to hear -him! I bid to sit next to him going up on the train." - -"You're welcome to him!" called Mary. "I'll take Mrs. B." Then she came -to the doorway, a pile of folded garments in her hands. "I declare, -she's just an old dear! She's thought of so many ways to save us expense -since she found out that we have to economize. She even offered to have -our two extra trunks checked on their tickets. They only brought -suit-cases. So we'll have no extra baggage to pay for." - -The sun was shining next morning, and although the chill of the Norther -was still in the air, the rain-washed plazas were greener than ever, and -new roses were opening to take the places of the old ones that the storm -had beaten off the day before. Mary's spirits seemed to have passed -through the same freshening process, for there was no trace of tears or -regrets on the bright face that greeted her travelling companions. - -The only morning train was an accommodation, which carried much freight -and took its own time for the journey. This happened to be a day when it -was four hours on the road, but none of the little party felt that time -dragged. Ordinarily, Mary would have enjoyed keeping close to the old -ranchman, as Norman did, hopping off the car every time they stopped on -a side-track, to investigate everything along the way,--the lime works, -the rock quarry, the station where the mail was put off for the soldiers -who were camped at the Government reservation for target practise. Even -the little oil-burning engine would have been of as much interest to her -as it was to Norman, had she not been so busily occupied otherwise. - -As they wound higher and higher into the hills she looked out now and -then with a quick exclamation of pleasure at the view, but for the most -part she was "visiting" with Mrs. Barnaby, as that good soul expressed -it. Their acquaintance took long strides forward that morning. Part of -the time Mary chattered along just as if her listener had been one of -the Warwick Hall girls, and part of the time she listened to elderly -views and confidences with the seeming sympathy of middle age. A bit of -personal history from one called out a corresponding scrap from the -other, and they had exchanged views on many subjects, ranging from young -turkeys to unhappy marriages, when the porter passed through the train -calling, "Bauer! All out for Bauer!" - -Mrs. Barnaby glanced out the window, saying in surprise, "I had no idea -we were so near home!" Then she gave Mary's sleeve an affectionate -little pat with her plump hand, exclaiming cordially, "I declare, it's -been a real treat to have you along." And Mary, as she helped Mrs. -Barnaby struggle into her coat, responded, "Well, I've enjoyed every -inch of the way. Somehow you make me feel that you're just my age or I'm -just yours,--I don't know which. You can't imagine how 'little and lorn' -I feel at the thought of leaving you." - -"Oh, but I'm not going to leave you until you're safely settled," was -the comforting assurance. "James has some business at the court-house -that will keep him in town for an hour or so. As soon as we drop him -there I'll drive around with you to make arrangements about the cottage. -There's Pedro now." - -They were on the platform by this time, and she indicated by a nod the -slim young Mexican who had driven the carriage from the ranch to meet -them. It was a roomy, old-fashioned carriage drawn by two big gray -mules, with much shining nickel-plating on their stout black harness. -The station was half a mile away from the village, and as they swung -down the sunny white road towards it, at a rapid gait, both Norman and -Mary looked out eagerly at the place that was to be their home for a -whole long winter, and maybe more. - -From a distance it looked almost like a toy village, with its red roofs, -blue barns and flashing windmills nestled against the background of -misty hills. Low mountain peaks rose here and there on the far horizon -beyond. - -"This is distinctly a German village, you know," explained Mrs. Barnaby, -as they passed a group of little flaxen-haired Teutons on the roadside, -who were calling to each other and their dog in a tongue which Mary -could not understand. - -"Bauer was settled by an old German count and a baron or two, who came -over here with their families and followers. They made it as much like a -corner of the Fatherland as they could, and their descendants still -cling to their language and customs. They don't want any disturbing, -aggressive Americans in their midst, so they never call on new-comers, -and never return their visits if any of them try to make the advances. -They will welcome you to their shops, but not to their homes. Even the -English and Scotch people who have owned the out-lying ranches as long -as they have owned the town are looked upon as aliens and strangers, in -a way." - -[Illustration: "MARY WARE in TEXAS" - -"A dashing girl in khaki and a cowboy hat astride of a fiery little -mustang"] - -Mary gave an exclamation of dismay. "Texas certainly is full of -surprises," she said, in a disappointed tone. "One thinks of it as being -young and crude, and with the proverbial hospitality of a new country. -I've always thought of it as having the latch-string out for everybody." - -"Oh, _Texas_ has," Mrs. Barnaby hastened to assure her. "Its doors are -wide open, and its welcome corresponds to its size, the biggest in the -Union. But Bauer is different. It has a few families who will not look -on you with suspicion. The old couple who own the cottage which I hope -to get for you will be good neighbors, and if you were to live here a -long time there are others who would be friendly. Then there are several -American families who have found a foothold in the town, and as I said, -English-speaking people on the ranches hereabout. They are cultured, -refined people, interesting to know, but strangers coming here rarely -make their acquaintance. You see we have so many transients coming for -their health, staying just a few weeks or months and going on -again--it's hardly to be expected we'd--" - -Her sentence was interrupted by a dashing girl in khaki and a cowboy -hat, astride a fiery little mustang. She rode past the carriage, calling -out a greeting as she passed. Norman turned around exclaiming, "Did you -see that? A cartridge belt around her waist and a six-shooter in her -holster! That's the wild West for you." - -"That's the sheriff's daughter," explained Mrs. Barnaby. "She's his -deputy, and meets the trains when it's necessary and he's out of town." - -"I'd like to know her," said Mary. "I'm glad that there's something to -give one the kind of a thrill you naturally expect to have out here. I -was beginning to have such a foreign, far-away feeling, seeing all these -picturesque little German gardens with old women weeding in them. We can -imagine we are abroad this winter in Cologne or Pottsdam or Bingen on -the Rhine. Oh, _oh!_ How quaint and dear!" - -The exclamation escaped her as the gray mules stopped at the gate of an -old garden, over whose stone walls arched a row of great pecan trees. A -straight path ran from the gate to the kitchen door, stiffly bordered by -coxcombs and princes' feather, while on each side chrysanthemums and -roses and a host of old-fashioned autumn flowers made the little plot a -tangle of colors and sweet smells. There were some bee-hives under the -bare peach trees, and at one side beyond them, a small vineyard where -the mockingbirds still sang noisily although the grapes had all been -gathered and pressed into wine. An old man with a flowing white beard -and a high black hat sat on a bench by the kitchen door placidly smoking -a long pipe. - -"That's Mr. Metz," said Mrs. Barnaby, preparing to alight. "Come in with -me." - -"It's all just like one of the pictures in Joyce's studio," commented -Mary, as they followed the straight walk to the door, "and this is just -like one of those lovely old-master, Dutch interiors," she added, in a -whisper, as Mr. Metz ushered them into the big, clean kitchen, where his -wife sat knitting. - -On the deep window-sill a cat lay asleep in the sun beside a pot of -glowing red geraniums, and there was such an air of cleanliness and -thrift and repose about the room that Mary could not help exclaiming -aloud over it. As she glanced around with admiring glances her bright -face showed its appreciation also, and Mrs. Metz watched it shrewdly -while she talked with Mrs. Barnaby, in English so broken as to be almost -unintelligible. - -What the old woman saw must have satisfied her, for she accepted Mrs. -Barnaby's offer after a very short parley with her husband in German, -and when they rose to go she bade them wait while she made a stiff -little nosegay for each of them, culled from her garden borders and -edged with strong-smelling mint. In the center of Mary's was one of her -handsomest coxcombs. Mrs. Barnaby smiled meaningly when she saw it, and -when they had climbed back into the carriage, said in a pleased tone, -"That shows that she has weighed you in the balance and is satisfied -with the result. You'll get along famously with her, I'm sure, and we'll -soon have you settled now, in fine shape." - -An hour later Mary stood on the threshold of the cottage she had rented, -with the keys of possession in her hand. Thanks to Mrs. Barnaby and the -rapid gait of the gray mules, much had been accomplished in that time. -The groceries they had ordered were already piled on the table in the -kitchen. A load of wood was on its way. The new mattresses they had -bought at the furniture shop (kept by the undertaker of the village) -were promised for delivery early in the afternoon, and they had been -introduced at each place as friends of the Barnabys, who were to be -charged home prices, and not the ones usually asked of strangers. Mrs. -Barnaby was what she called plain-spoken, and although she made a jest -of her demands they carried weight. - -Their trunks, three of which contained bedclothes and dishes, stood on -the front gallery waiting to be unpacked. Inside, the house looked as -clean as soapsuds and fresh paint could make it. Mrs. Metz herself had -attended to the scrubbing after the last tenant left. But Mary decided -that she would feel more comfortable, moving in after strangers, if she -should give the furniture a personal washing before they began to use -it. While Norman built a fire in the kitchen stove, she unlocked one of -the trunks and changed her travelling suit for a gingham dress and -apron. - -"Let's eat picnic fashion," called Norman, "and unpack afterward. It's -nearly one o'clock, and I'm too hungry to wait. I've found a cup I can -boil some eggs in, and if we don't use any dishes we won't have any to -wash afterwards." - -"That's a bright suggestion," Mary called back. "We haven't any time to -lose if we are to get everything ready for mamma and Jack by to-morrow -afternoon." - -When she came dancing out into the kitchen a few minutes later Norman -had already begun his luncheon, and was walking around with a cheese -sandwich in one hand and a pickle in the other, investigating the -premises while he ate. Mary followed his example, and wandered from the -open doorway to the open windows, looking at the view from each, and -exclaiming over each new discovery. The house was on a slight knoll with -a wide cotton-field stretching down between it and the little village. -From this distance it looked more than ever like a toy village, against -the background of low hills. - -"You ought to see it from the top of the windmill," said Norman. "I -climbed up while you and Mrs. Barnaby were talking so long at the gate. -I'm glad we've got a windmill. It'll save me a lot of pumping, and it -makes such a fine watch-tower. You ought to see how far you can look -across the country. You can see the creek. It's just a little way back -of our place." - -"I'm going up this minute!" answered Mary. Slipping her unfinished -sandwiches into her apron pocket, she ran out to the windmill and began -to swing herself from one cross-piece of the tower to another, as -lightly as Norman had done. - -"It's perfectly lovely!" she called back from the top. "I'd like to perch -up here all afternoon if there wasn't so much to do. I'm going to come up -here often. It gives you such a high-up-above-all-your-earthly-ills -feeling! There's St. Peter's," she called, "over at the south end of -town. I recognize the little stone belfry. What do you suppose that -square tower is at the other end of town?" - -Norman came out and climbed half-way up the windmill, swinging there -below her by one arm, as he slowly munched a ginger-snap. - -"Oh, that," he said, as he looked in the direction which she pointed. -"That's the Sisters' school. I asked Pedro this morning. It's the -Academy of the Holy Angels." - -Mary's face glowed as she shook back the hair which the wind kept -blowing into her eyes. "That's perfectly fascinating!" she declared. -"There's something beautiful to me in the thought that the little town -we've come to lies between two such guardians. It's a good omen, and I'm -not sorry now that we had to come." - -She stayed perched on the windmill, enjoying the view and eating her -sandwiches until Norman called her that the wash-water was boiling over -on the stove. Then she climbed nimbly down and started towards the -kitchen door. The kitchen was in an ell of the house, and from its front -window she could see the road which ran in front of the house. Just -across it, half hidden by a row of bushy umbrella trees, stood two -little blue cottages. They were within easy calling distance, and the -voices of half a dozen children at play came cheerfully across to her. -Although they spoke in a foreign tongue the chatter gave her a sense of -companionship. - -"Norman," she suddenly suggested, "let's stay here to-night, instead of -going to the boarding-house as mamma and Mrs. Barnaby arranged. I'm not -afraid with neighbors so near, and I'm sure mamma wouldn't care if she -could see how quiet and peaceful it is here. We'd be saving -considerable--a night's lodging for two, and we can make this real -comfortable and homey by bedtime." - -With the promise of hot biscuit and honey for supper Norman agreed to -her plan. He was to call at the boarding-house and cancel the -arrangements Mrs. Barnaby had made for them, when he went for the milk -which Mr. Metz had promised to sell them. It was from the Metz bee-hives -they were to have the honey, too. She had engaged it as a special treat -for Jack. - -Under her direction Norman fell to work making a kitchen cabinet out of -two old boxes, while she scrubbed away at the chairs and tables. - -"Isn't it funny the way history repeats itself?" she remarked. "This -makes me think of the time that Joyce and Jack had getting settled in -the Wigwam. I felt so defrauded then because I couldn't have a hand in -it, and this seems a sort of compensation for what I missed then." - -The exercise seemed to loosen her tongue, for as she worked she went on, -"I'm truly glad that I can enjoy both the top and bottom crusts of -things. Nobody, I am sure, could have squeezed more pleasure out of this -last week than I did. I fairly revelled in all the luxuries we had as -Mr. Robeson's guests. It comes so easy to be waited on and to be the -fine lady. And on the other hand, it is a real joy to be working this -way, blacking stoves and filling lamps and making things look spick and -span. I can spend like a lord and I can skimp like a scrubwoman, and I -really don't know which I enjoy most." - -She did not attempt to put any finishing touches to the house that day, -but left such things as the hanging of curtains and the few pictures -they had brought until next morning. But before she stopped everything -was shining, her room was ready for the night, and a cot was made up for -Norman in the room which he was to share with Jack. Later, while she -waited for the biscuits to bake and for him to come home with the milk -and honey, she wrote a letter to Joyce. She did not take time to go to -the bottom of her trunk for writing material, but emptying the sugar -from a large paper sack, cut it into several square sheets. With a big -tin pan turned bottom upwards in her lap for a desk, she hastily -scribbled the events of the day with a lead-pencil, which she sharpened -with the carving-knife. - -Joyce has that letter yet. It was scribbled in the most careless, -commonplace way, just as Mary would have told it had they been together; -but Joyce, who could read her little sister like a book, read between -the lines and divined the disappointments she had conquered, and saw the -courage it took to make the most of every amusing incident in such a -cheery way, while she touched only lightly on the serious ones. - -"We had a visitor a little while ago," wrote Mary, in closing. "The -Reverend Paul Rochester came to call, and where, of all awkward -impossible places, do you suppose he found me? Up on the windmill -tower. I had gone up again to watch the sunset,--for just a minute. The -glow on the roofs of the town and the hills beyond was so lovely! If -Norman had had any sense he would have ignored my high perch. He was -splitting kindling by the back door, making such a noise that we could -not hear Mr. Rochester's knock at the front door, so he came around. - -"Mrs. Barnaby had stopped at the rectory on her way home to tell them -about our coming to town, and Mrs. Rochester thought that we were all -here, and that we would be so busy getting settled that we wouldn't have -much time to cook things for an invalid, and she had sent the most -tempting basketful of good things you ever saw. There was orange -gelatine and charlotte russe, and some delicious nut sandwiches. The -rector had walked all the way up here and carried the basket himself. -You know I've always stood in awe of clergymen. At first this one seemed -fully as dignified and reverend as all the others, and I nearly fell off -my perch with embarrassment when he looked up and saw me hanging there -like a monkey on a stick. But the next moment we both laughed, and he -seemed almost as young and boyish as Jack. - -"I scuttled down in a hurry, I assure you. He only stayed a minute, just -long enough to deliver the basket and his wife's message, but you've no -idea how that little incident changed the whole atmosphere. I'd been -looking down the white road that leads from our place into the town, -thinking how lonely and foreign everything was, and how hard it would be -to live all winter in a place where nobody wanted to be neighborly, and -where the only people we knew were slightly old like the Barnabys or -awfully old like the Metzes, and then Mr. Rochester appeared, young and -so nice-looking and with a jolly twinkle in his eyes that makes you -forget the clerical cut of his clothes. - -"His wife must be young, too, or she couldn't be married to him, and she -must be dear or she wouldn't have sent such a dainty, altogether -charming basket with her message of greeting. You've no idea how their -cordial welcome changed everything. Now as I look through the open door -at the same road leading to the town, it doesn't look lonely and foreign -any more. It makes me think of a verse that dear old Grandmother Ware -taught me once. You remember how she used to take us up in her lap and -make us spell the words out to her from her big Bible with the terrible -pictures. '_The crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways -shall be made smooth!_' - -"Well, grandmother's verse is coming true. It was all so crooked and -uncertain and rough yesterday. But now everything is being smoothed out -for us so beautifully. I have just looked out to see if Norman is -coming. I can hear him whistling away down the road. - -"I wish you, with your artist's eye for effect, could see the little -town now, spread out below the hills in the twilight, with the windmills -silhouetted against the sky. At one end is the little stone belfry of -St. Peter's, at the other the square gray tower of the Academy of the -Holy Angels; and just between, swinging low over the hills in the faint -afterglow, the pale golden crescent of the new moon. After all, it's a -good old world, Joyce, and I 'feel it in my bones' that little old Bauer -is going to bring us some great good that shall make us thankful always -for having come. In some way, I am sure, all our '_rough ways shall be -made smooth_.'" - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -MARY FINDS GAY - - -THE day before Thanksgiving saw the Ware family fully settled in their -new home. The trunks had been unpacked and their contents disposed of to -make the little cottage look as homelike as possible. Even the -preparations for their Thanksgiving dinner were all made. They had been -simplified by Mrs. Barnaby's gift of a jar of mince-meat, and the plump -hen, which was to take the place of a turkey, had been bought already -dressed. - -Now at only nine o'clock the morning work was all done, and Mrs. Ware -sat sewing on the south gallery where Jack had wheeled himself into the -sunshine. Mary came and stood in the doorway. - -"Things stay so clean here," she grumbled in a laughing way. "I could do -everything there is to be done with one hand and not half try, and when -you all help we get through so fast it makes me dizzy. Then there's -nothing left to do but sit in the sun and wait till time to get the next -meal ready. I wish I hadn't been in such a hurry to put everything in -order. I wouldn't be so restless and idle now. It makes me fidgety to -have nothing to do." - -"Take the basket and dishes back to the rectory," suggested Mrs. Ware, -after Jack had proposed several occupations to no purpose. - -"But I've never met Mrs. Rochester yet," objected Mary, "and it would be -sort of awkward, going in and introducing myself." - -"No more awkward than it was for Mr. Rochester to come here and -introduce himself," said Jack. "You can tell her for me that that -charlotte russe was perfection." - -"I wonder what she is like," mused Mary, half persuaded to go and see. -"If I thought she'd be approachable and easy to talk to--but--" - -"Oh, you know she's all right," urged Jack, "or she never would have -been so good to a family of strangers. I'll bet she's a dear, motherly -old soul, in a checked apron, with gray hair and a double chin." - -"Why, she couldn't be!" cried Mary. "Not and be Mr. Rochester's wife. He -doesn't look much older than you do, and for all he's so dignified -there's something so boyish and likable about him that I felt chummy -with him right away." - -"Well, the things she cooked tasted as if she were the kind of woman I -said," persisted Jack, "and I shall keep on thinking of her as that kind -until it's proved that my guess is wrong. I should think that anybody -with as much curiosity as you have would go just to satisfy it." - -"You mean you want yours satisfied," retorted Mary. "Well, she'll do it -herself in a few days. She sent word that she'd call soon, so I believe -that I'll wait." - -Coming out she stood leaning idly against one of the gallery posts, a -restless, dissatisfied little figure. Then she strolled out to the front -gate and stood there awhile, looking down the deserted road. Jack's gaze -followed her sympathetically, and he said to his mother in a low tone, -"Poor little kid, it's going to be a dull winter for her I'm afraid. She -was never cut out for solitude. She'd 'rather dwell in the midst of -alarms,' and this place isn't much more diverting than a country -graveyard." - -Mrs. Ware's glance followed his, then she replied confidently as she -looked down to thread her needle, "Oh, she'll soon adjust herself. -She'll find something that will not only keep her busy but will amuse -all the rest of us." - -Jack picked up the magazine from which he had been reading aloud the -evening before and resumed the story, but he was conscious all the time -of the little figure at the gate, and saw her without seeming to notice -when she slipped around the corner of the house presently to the back -yard. Then he looked up with a smile when he heard the creaking of the -windmill crank at the back of the house. - -"She's stopping the wheel," said Mrs. Ware, "so that she can climb to -the top of the tower again. It seems to have some sort of fascination -for her." - -Jack went on with his story, and Mary, perched on her watch-tower, clung -to the bar above and looked down over the town. The currents of air were -stronger up at the height to which she had climbed. Down below scarcely -a breath was stirring, but here a fresh breeze blew the hair into her -eyes and began to blow the discontent out of her mind. Her wish that -Jack could see the view was followed instantly by the thought that he -could never, never have any other outlook than the one the wheeled chair -afforded. - -"It's wicked of me to be discontented one single minute," she thought -remorsefully. "There I was fussing right before him about having nothing -to do, when he'd give worlds just to be foot loose--to climb up here and -walk about the place. And he was so dear and considerate, never once -reminded me how much harder it is for him than me, and that he has -nothing else to look forward to as long as he lives." - -The yellow walls of the rectory gleamed through the trees at the north -end of the little hamlet, reminding her of Jack's laughing wish to know -what Mrs. Rochester was like. - -"It's as little as I can do to go and find out for him," she thought, -"even if he did ask it in a joke. I ought to be willing to do anything -in the world he expresses a wish for, poor boy. There's little enough -here to amuse him." - -A few minutes later, in her travelling suit and hat, with Mrs. -Rochester's basket on her arm, she interrupted the reading on the -gallery. - -"I'm going to see your motherly friend," she announced--"to find out if -she is gray-haired and double-chinned. Maybe I'll tell her how you -described her." - -"Don't you dare," warned Jack, laughingly. "I'll get even with you if -you do." - -"You've already done that on a dozen old scores," answered Mary gaily. -"Good-bye, my friends and kinsmen dear! As the story books say, 'we -shall see what we shall see.'" - -What she saw when she rang the bell at the rectory was the exact -opposite of the motherly creature whom Jack had pictured; for Mrs. -Rochester, who came to the door herself, was tall and slim and very -young, with the delicate, spirituelle kind of beauty that had always -been plump little Mary's greatest admiration and desire. One part of -Jack's guess was correct, however. She wore a big checked apron, for she -was making cake, and she invited Mary into the dining-room where the -materials were all spread out on the table. - -With the girlish cordiality that had won her so many friends even in -unsociable Bauer, she made Mary feel so much at home, that in a few -moments she was insisting on helping with the cake. It seemed a matter -of course that Mrs. Rochester should hand her the egg-beater, and before -the eggs were whipped into a stiff white mountain of snow, they were -exchanging experiences like old friends. Mrs. Rochester had found Bauer -a lonely place too, at first. - -"Jack says there was some great mix-up made when I alighted on this -planet," said Mary. "I should have dropped down some place where 'the -breaking waves dashed high on a stern and rock-bound coast.' He says I -wasn't meant for a quiet fish-pond existence." - -"I know," laughed her hostess. "You feel as if you were bound into the -wrong book. You'd be perfectly satisfied to find yourself in one of -Scott's novels, in a jumble of knights and tourneys and border wars, but -you would be bored beyond endurance to have to be one of the characters -in Jane Austen's stories." - -"Oh, you _do_ know," cried Mary eagerly, emphasizing her pleasure with a -harder bang of the egg-beater. "You understand exactly. There's nothing -tamer than Miss Austen's stories. Why, there's pages and pages taken up -with just discussing the weather and each other's health; and they do -such trivial, inane things and go around and around in such a deadly -monotonous circle that sometimes I've been so out of patience with them -that I wanted to throw the book into a corner." - -"But you never did throw it down," answered Mrs. Rochester, "you read on -to the end and in spite of yourself you were interested in those same -commonplace happenings and conversations, just as readers before you -have been interested in them and always will be as long as those books -live. And I'll tell you why. You read them to the end because they are -true pictures of the lives of average people. The majority of us have to -put up with the humdrum, no matter how much we long for the heroic, and -it's a good thing to read such books as 'Emma' and 'Pride and Prejudice' -every now and then, as a sort of spirit-level. We're more satisfied to -amble along the road if everybody else drives a slow nag too." - -"I'm not," declared Mary. "I want to whizz past everything in sight that -is poky and slow. I know it would be lots easier for me if I could only -make up my mind to the fact that nothing exciting and important is ever -going to happen to me, but I can't break myself of the habit of -expecting it. I've felt that way as far back as I can remember. I'm -always looking for something grand and unexpected, and every morning -when I wake up it gives me a sort of thrill to think, maybe it will come -to-day." - -"Well, if you're going to stay in Bauer for awhile you certainly do need -another dose of 'Emma,'" answered Mrs. Rochester, nodding to the shelves -in the adjoining library, where stood a well thumbed edition of Miss -Austen's works. "Take her home with you, and any of the books you think -your brother would like. We are glad to make our library a circulating -one." - -Mary's face showed her pleasure quite as much as her words, as she left -her seat by the table to slip into the great book-lined room and glance -around it. - -"You've made up for one of my disappointments," she called back. "I had -counted so much on having the library in San Antonio to draw on this -winter, and this is even better, for I'm sure that they haven't all -these rare old prints and first editions that I see here." - -Her five minutes' call stretched into an hour, when she found that Mrs. -Rochester had been brought up in Washington and had spent her school -days there. Then it stretched into two, for some one drove in from the -country with a carriage load of autumn leaves, and Mary stayed to help -arrange them in the little church for the Thanksgiving service next day. -It was nearly noon when she finally started home with several books -under her arm, her usual hopefulness and buoyancy of spirits quite -restored. - -"Mamma and I can't both be away from Jack at the same time," she said in -response to Mrs. Rochester's invitation to attend the service next day. -"I want her to come. I've already had my share of Thanksgiving. I've -been thankful every minute while I've been here that I discovered you. -It's been a beautiful morning." - -"Come over often," urged Mrs. Rochester cordially. "I can always find -something for you to do, and I'd love to have you come." - -Mary's wave of the hand as she turned to latch the gate at the end of -the walk was answered by a flutter of Mrs. Rochester's apron in the -doorway, and each went her way smiling over the recollection of the -other. - -"She's a diverting little piece," Mrs. Rochester reported to her husband -at noon. "I laughed all the time she was here." - -"She's a darling," Mary reported at home, and quoted her at intervals -for several days. - -"She's promised to take me with her sometime when she drives out to call -at the ranches. Nearly all the members of St. Boniface are out-of-town -people, so they'll probably not call on us she says. But she's coming as -soon as she can get around to it. I saw our name on a list she has -hanging beside her calendar. But there's nearly a week full of things -for her to do before she gets to us. I wish that I had a list of duties -and engagements that would keep me going every minute, the way she has -to go." - -"You can easily fill out a list that will keep you busy for awhile," -answered her mother. "While you were gone Jack and I got to discussing -dates, and it was somewhat of a shock to find that Christmas will be -here so soon. One forgets the calendar in this summer-like climate. -Whatever we send to Holland and Joyce must be started from here in less -than three weeks, and as our gifts must be all home-made we cannot -afford to lose any time in beginning." - -The problem of Christmas giving had always been a knotty one in the Ware -household, but it was especially hard this year. Mary spent nearly all -afternoon making her list of names with the accompanying list of gifts -that seemed suitable for each one. There were so many to whom she longed -to send little remembrances that the length of it was appalling. Then -she revised it, putting in one column such people as Madam Chartley and -Mrs. Lee, to whom she decided to write letters--the gayest, brightest -greetings she could think of. Still there were a goodly number left to -provide with gifts, no matter how simple, and she was busy till -bed-time measuring and figuring over the amount of material she would -need for each, and how much it would cost. It had been decided that she -should go to San Antonio for a day to attend to the family shopping. - -"The trouble is," she sighed next morning, "it's the simplest things -that are always the hardest to get. Don't you remember, in the story of -Beauty and the Beast, the father had no difficulty in buying ropes of -jewels and costly things for his oldest daughters, but it almost cost -him his life to get the one common little white rose that his youngest -daughter so modestly asked for. I could do this shopping in a few hours -if I did not have to stop to consider pennies, but there are several -little things that may take me all day to find. I'm sure that that -particular kind of narrow beading that I need for Lloyd's present will -prove to be the fatal white rose. I can't make it without and there -isn't time to send back East for it." - -"Maybe you'd better arrange to stay over night," suggested her mother, -"and take two days to look around for what you want. Of course you -couldn't go to a hotel alone, and it would be too expensive even if you -had company, but Mrs. Rochester might be able to recommend some private -family who has rooms for transients." - -Mary caught at the idea so eagerly that had it not been Thanksgiving Day -and she feared to intrude, she would have gone that very hour to ask if -the Rochesters knew of such a place. She remembered that they were to -have guests to dinner. Fortunately for her peace of mind the rector and -his wife called for a few moments just before dusk. Mrs. Rochester did -know of a quiet inexpensive place where she could spend the night, and -then and there slipped off her gloves to write a cordial note of -introduction. - -It rained the Friday after Thanksgiving, but the next day was fair, and -Mary insisted on doing the week's washing Saturday morning, and as much -of the ironing as she could accomplish in the afternoon, in order to be -able to start early Monday morning. Several times she left her tubs to -run into the house and jot down some small items on her memorandum, -which she remembered would be indispensable in making up their Christmas -packages. Once she thought of something in the night, when the barking -of a neighbor's dog awakened her. - -If she had been alone in the room she would have lighted a candle and -made a note of it. As it was she was afraid to do so lest she waken her -mother, and afraid not to lest it should slip her mind before morning. -Finally she settled the difficulty by putting her hand to her head and -pulling out several hairs which she twisted together and tied around her -finger. - -"There!" she said to herself. "Hair will make me think of herring, and -then ring will make me think of the little white celluloid rings that I -must get for those safety-pin holders." - -Armed with Mrs. Rochester's letter she started off gaily on the Monday -morning train. It was not due in the city till nearly ten, so she -decided that it would save time to go at once to the largest department -store, check her suit-case and wait until shopping hours were over -before going out to the boarding-house which Mrs. Rochester had -recommended. - -She had thought San Antonio charming the first time she saw it, but it -seemed doubly so now that she came back to it, as one familiar with its -principal streets and landmarks. The life, the color, the holiday air of -the crowds, the fête day atmosphere of the old town itself, exhilarated -her till her cheeks glowed like roses, and several times, both on the -street and in the stores, she caught herself whistling half under her -breath. - -Although the usual Monday morning bargain hunters were out in throngs, -she found no trouble in making her purchases. Everything seemed to be in -her favor this morning. The shop girls were unusually responsive and -helpful, showed her just what she wanted or suggested something better -than she had thought of. Only once or twice did the prices go above the -limit she had set for them, and several times they were lower. By -quarter to twelve she had checked off two thirds of the articles on her -list. - -Elated by this success, she stood waiting at the transfer desk for her -change, looking around with unabated interest. Suddenly her attention -was attracted to a girl in a brown tailor suit, standing in the next -aisle. Her back was turned towards Mary, but there was something -familiar looking in the poise of the graceful head; something very -familiar looking in the puffs of soft auburn-bronze hair held by amber -combs, and arranged so becomingly under the big brown hat. - -Mary had been on the look-out all morning for the girl whom Jack had -recognized at the hotel as Gay Melville. She might have missed her had -Gay been an ordinary blonde or brunette, but as Jack said, there was no -mistaking that glorious hair. Snatching up the proffered change, which -the cashier put through the cage window, she pushed her way into the -next aisle. The girl turned. The big plumed hat drooped over her face, -still Mary recognized the delicate profile, the slight tilt of the -slender chin. It was an opportunity which she could not afford to lose, -and as the girl turned her back again to receive a package held out to -her by a clerk, and started slowly to the door, Mary hurried after her. - -Almost breathless in her eagerness she exclaimed impulsively, "I beg -your pardon--but aren't you _Gay_?" - -There was an instant of freezing silence as the eyes of the girl in -brown swept Mary from head to foot. - -"Well, not particularly," was the indignant reply. - -The roll of her r's emphasized Mary's mistake. It was evidently some -stranger from the North whom she had accosted. One glance into her full -face made Mary see how dire her mistake had been. There was no -resemblance whatever in that to Gay. Wishing that she could drop out of -sight through the floor, she hastily apologized and hurried out into -the street, her cheeks burning, as she smarted under the recollection of -the stranger's supercilious glance. - -"She needn't have been so snippy," Mary thought. "_Any_body is liable to -make such mistakes." - -Not until she had crossed the street and was stopped short by her own -reflection in a mirror in the show window opposite, did she realize how -her question might have sounded. - -"Oh, she must have thought that I was asking her if she wasn't _gay_! -_Gay with a little g!_" she gasped. "No wonder she looked at me so -freezingly." - -She was so perturbed by this discovery, that she walked on, unmindful of -the direction. When a group of children crowded past her on the narrow -pavement, she turned into a side street to avoid being jostled, and -walked aimlessly for some distance. It was the sight of a green kettle -swinging above a door which she was approaching that brought her to -herself with a start. Mrs. Rochester had told her to stop at the Sign of -the Green Kettle for lunch, and had given her directions for finding it. -Here she had stumbled upon it unaware, just as the city bells were -beginning to clang for noon. - -At the next glance her heart went to thumping so hard that she could -plainly hear it. There on the step leading up to the door of the Green -Kettle, stood Gay Melville; the real Gay this time. There was no shadow -of doubt about it. As she looked, Mary wondered how she ever could have -mistaken the other girl for her, although each had hair wonderfully like -the other. - -This one carried a violin case. She had paused on her way in to call -back something to the girl in the carriage, who had brought her down -town. And the girl in the carriage was Roberta--Roberta of the boyish -speech and coquettish eyelashes, whose laughing question held the girl -on the step long enough for Mary to reach it too, and stand there beside -her while she gathered courage to speak. - -It was the little pin thrust through Gay's tie which finally brought the -words trembling to Mary's lips, for it was the Warwick Hall pin which -only its alumni might wear; those who had kept the four years' tryst -with all its requirements. It was a mailed hand rising from a heart to -grasp a spear, the motto and the crest of Edryn. - -All diffidence fled at that familiar sight, but this time Mary did not -ask if the girl were gay. With a gesture toward the pin she cried -breathlessly, "Oh, I know by _that_ that you are Miss Melville. _Aren't_ -you!" Gay after one look into the eager gray eyes said quite as -cordially, "And you're Mary Ware! I had a letter from Betty Lewis this -very morning telling me to be sure to find you." - -She gave a quick glance at the chatelaine watch she wore. "I haven't a -minute to stop--I'm to play an obligato for the great prima donna, -Madame de Martel, and she has a beast of a temper which she lets loose -if a person is one second late at rehearsal. But I must take time to say -one thing if she wipes me off the face of the earth for it. The girls' -letters have made me wild to know you. At what hotel can I find you? -I'll call this very day." - -"We've taken a cottage in Bauer," Mary answered hastily. "I came down on -a little shopping expedition, and am on my way in here for luncheon." - -The heavy chords of a piano accompaniment rolled threateningly through -the music rooms up-stairs, and Gay shrugged her shoulders impatiently. -"Do be a long time over it," she begged as she turned towards the -stairs. "I'll get through as quickly as possible and hurry back for -another word with you." - -Mary watched her out of sight before starting into the dining-room of -the Green Kettle, and then deliberately pinched herself to make sure -that she was awake. It was a good hard nip, which hurt, and smiling to -herself because it proved that she was not dreaming, she sat down at a -table near the window to gloat over the fact that one of her best dreams -had come true at last. She had met Gay Melville. - -The lunch was a good one, but it would have made no difference to Mary -what was put before her that day. Anything would have been nectar and -ambrosia served to the accompaniment of the music overhead. A chorus of -cherubim and seraphim could not have left her more uplifted. Madame de -Martel might have the temper of a beast at times, but she had a voice of -rare sweetness and power, and the knowledge that it was Gay's violin -pouring out that tremulous, tender, heartbreaking obligato, enhanced -Mary's enjoyment of every note. - -The rehearsal was a short one. All that the famous visiting singer -wanted was to make sure, since her own accompanists had failed her, -that the local ones were satisfactory. It came to an end just as Mary -began her dessert, and almost instantly it seemed Gay was at her elbow, -and seating herself in the chair beside her. - -"Isn't it a shame I haven't more than two minutes to stay," she began. -"This is like having Warwick Hall and Lloydsboro Valley rolled into one, -to find somebody who loves them both as much as I do. I could talk a -week without stopping about each place, and ask a thousand questions, -but I'm due at a luncheon out on Government Hill by the time the next -car can put me there. Immediately after that is over we're all going to -the polo tournament. All during rehearsal I kept trying to think of some -way I could arrange to see you, and there's only one. You've simply got -to come home with me to stay all night. Go on and finish your shopping, -and I'll come down for you after the tournament and meet you anywhere -you say." - -The invitation, as cordial as it was sudden, was gladly accepted and Gay -exclaimed, "Oh, I'm so delighted to think I've found you at last! You've -no idea how often you were quoted the summer I was in the Valley. Lloyd -and Betty and the old Colonel and Dr. Alex Shelby were always saying -'as little Mary Ware says.' I feel as if I'd known you from babyhood -up." - -"And I know all about your past," laughed Mary. She was about to mention -several incidents to prove her claim, when Gay stopped her by a glance -at the clock and the question: "Wouldn't you like to see the dress -parade at the Post this evening? Most people do, and it's well worth -seeing." - -Would she _like_ it! Mary's beaming face answered the question before -her usually ready tongue found a word, and Gay smiled as she hastily -drew on her gloves and picked up her violin case. - -"I'd like to keep you all to myself to-night," she said, "but I do want -you to meet some of the people that Kitty Walton liked best when she -visited me last year. I'll pick up Roberta and Lieutenant Boglin to take -dinner with us if I can get them. They're always so nice to my Warwick -Hall friends. They were both wild about Kitty. Well, at quarter to five, -then, I'll meet you--where?" - -Finally the glove counter at Joske's was agreed upon as a meeting place, -and with a friendly pat on the shoulder in passing, Gay hurried away to -keep her engagement. Smiling blissfully after her, Mary whispered to -herself with one of her old childish wriggles of pleasure, "And _Bogey_, -too." - - - - -CHAPTER V - -AT FORT SAM HOUSTON - - -PROMPTLY at the time agreed upon, Mary took her station by the glove -counter, almost sure that Gay would be late. It was one of the Warwick -Hall traditions that something tragic always happened to Gay's clothes -at the last moment, to delay her departure. But she had scarcely seated -herself and deposited her suit-case on the floor beside her when the -door opened and Gay came breezily into the store. Her hat was awry and -her hair disheveled. - -"On time for once," she exclaimed triumphantly with a glance at the -clock. "But I couldn't have been if Roberta hadn't come to the rescue. -She brought me down in their carriage. It's Roberta Mayrell," she -explained, as they made their way as rapidly as possible down the -crowded aisle. - -"She isn't really one of the Army girls, but she lives just outside the -Post and has always been counted in everything there, since she was old -enough to talk. I've been telling her all about you on the way down." - -"Well, I hope she'll find me as interesting as the alligators," began -Mary, remembering the speech she had overheard from the hotel balcony. -But Gay was stopping to apologize to an old lady whom she had bumped -into, and did not hear the remark. The next moment they were outside and -at the curbstone, where a carriage drawn by two Kentucky horses was in -waiting, and Roberta was stepping down with outstretched hands to -welcome her. - -Roberta at close range was even more fascinating than when seen from a -hotel balcony, and Mary, sitting between the two girls as they drove -along towards Government Hill, had much the same feeling that a thirsty -Bedouin has when after miles of desert journeying he finds himself -beside the well of a green oasis. - -They were fairly bubbling over with high spirits, and it was impossible -to be with them and not share their exhilaration. Before they had gone -two blocks the weight of care and anxiety that had been resting on -Mary's shoulders ever since Jack's accident, began to slip off. It -almost gave her a sense of having wings, to be so light and care free. - -The last eight months with their constant association with suffering and -anxiety about finances had been like a hard march through the sands. Now -the sudden substitution of something frivolous and young was so -refreshing that she giggled almost hysterically in her enjoyment of it. - -"Oh, we forgot to tell you," exclaimed Gay as they came in sight of the -parade grounds. "There's to be a hop at the gymnasium to-night for the -visiting polo team. They got it up on short notice. Lieutenant Boglin -told me about it when I invited him to come to dinner. He asked if he -might take you, and I said he might, for of course you won't want to -miss it, and old Bogey is quite the nicest officer in the bunch when it -comes to giving a girl a good time." - -Mary's face wore such a comical expression of blended delight and dismay -that Roberta laughed, and Gay stopped the refusal that Mary was -beginning to stammer out by putting both hands over her ears. - -"No, I won't listen," she declared. "Of course you didn't expect to do -anything like this, and didn't bring the proper clothes, but it is such -an informal affair that it doesn't make any difference. Roberta and I -can rig you out in something of mine. It will be all the more fun." - -"Oh, it's just the larkiest lark that ever was!" exclaimed Mary so -excited over the prospect that her cheeks were growing redder and -redder, and her eyes shining with happy anticipation. - -"This day has been full of thrills, and--oo, oo! There goes another!" -she added with a little shiver of delight as the band began to play. The -carriage had stopped at the end of the parade ground, where the usual -crowd of spectators was gathered. - -"Martial music always sends cold shivers up and down my back," she said -gravely. "It makes me want to cheer and march right off to do something -big and brave--'storm the heights,' or bleed and die for my country, or -something of that sort. I've always thought that I'd have been a soldier -if I hadn't been born a girl." - -She laughed as she said it, but there was a quiver of earnestness in her -voice. Parade was a matter-of-course affair to Gay and Roberta, a part -of the weekly routine of Post life, which familiarity made ordinary. -They exchanged amused glances which Mary did not see, and made remarks -and criticisms on the manoeuvres which she did not hear. Wholly -absorbed, she leaned forward in the carriage, watching every movement of -the drill. - -It is always an inspiring sight, even to one who looks no farther than -the outward show, admiring the clock-like precision which makes a -battalion move as one man; but to Mary every khaki coat in the regiment -clothed a hero. Lexington and Valley Forge, Gettysburg and Chickamauga -called to her through every drum-beat and bugle note. - -She had loved her old dog-eared copy of the History of the United -States, and many a time had spread it out on her desk to re-read, when -she should have been studying other things. She had pored over its -stories of war till the black and white of its printed pages had -transformed her into a little fire-ball of a patriot. Now as she saw for -the first time these men who stood as the guardians of "Old Glory," -everything she had ever read of heroism and blood-stained battle-fields -and glorious dying, came back to her in a flood of enthusiasm which -nearly lifted her to her feet. When at last the band struck into "The -Star-spangled Banner" and the guns fired the signal which heralded the -lowering of the colors, her plain little face was almost transfigured -with the exalted emotions of the moment. - - "Aye, call it holy ground, - The soil that they have trod," - -she was repeating to herself, when she became aware that Roberta was -trying to attract her attention, and was holding out a box of candy. - -"Come down to earth!" she exclaimed laughingly. "I tried to get you to -take some earlier in the action, but you hadn't eyes for anything but -the brass buttons. I don't believe you would have heard thunder!" - -"It wasn't brass buttons I was seeing," began Mary. "It was--" Then -realizing the utter hopelessness of trying to explain what soul-stirring -visions had been hers for that little space of time that the band played -and the heroes of the past as well as the present passed before her, she -did as Roberta advised, came down to earth and took a caramel. - -When they reached Major Melville's house in the officers' quarters, -Roberta dismissed the carriage and went in with Gay and Mary. She had -decided not to change her dress for the hop, she said as she threw off -her long cloak in the hall, revealing the pretty frock of pink and gray -foulard which she had worn at the luncheon. - -Mrs. Melville came out to meet them, a large sandy-haired woman with a -certain faded fairness and enough of a resemblance to Gay to suggest -what she might have looked like in her teens. Her cordial welcome put -Mary at ease at once, and she followed the girls up the broad staircase, -feeling that this visit was quite the most delightful thing which had -happened to her since she left Warwick Hall. - -While Gay rummaged through trunks and wardrobes to find party raiment -for her guest, Mary walked about the room, experiencing more thrills at -every turn; for on each wall and book-shelf and bracket was some picture -or souvenir of Warwick Hall or Lloydsboro Valley. - -"Oh, there's Lloyd and Betty and the Walton girls!" she cried. "I have -this same picture at home, and one like this of Madam Chartley too, in -her high-back chair with the carved griffins on it. - -"What a splendid picture this is of Dr. Alex Shelby," she called a -moment later. Then catching sight of a larger one on the mantel in a -silver frame, she exclaimed in surprise, "Why, you have two of Doctor -Alex." - -Gay was deep in a closet, her head between rows of dress-skirts, and she -made no answer; but Roberta, perching in the window-seat, cleared her -throat to attract Mary's attention, and then with an impish smile held -up seven fingers and pointed in different directions to five other -photographs that Mary had not yet discovered. - -"One for each day in the week," she said in a low tone. "I'd give a good -deal to see that man. He was here last spring, but I was down on the -coast and missed him. I intend to make a point of staying at home next -time he comes. I want to see for myself what's up. Gay pretends there -isn't anything, but I have my own ideas." - -"Oh, is he coming again?" cried Mary. - -Roberta's only answer was a significant nod, for Gay emerged from the -closet just then. - -"There's nothing in there," she announced, "but I've just thought of one -that Lucy left here this spring. I'll ask mother where it is." - -"You see," said Roberta as the door closed behind Gay, "I wouldn't tease -her if she'd confess anything, but she won't. Kitty Walton thinks I've -guessed right too. She said that from the moment she heard about their -romantic meeting she was sure something would come of it." - -"Oh, tell me about it," urged Mary. "I know Doctor Alex so well that I -can't help being interested." - -"And do you know a place in Lloydsboro Valley called the Log Cabin?" -asked Roberta. "A fine country home built of logs and furnished with -beautiful old heirlooms? Gay's sister, Mrs. Harcourt, rented it one -summer." - -"Indeed I do know it," assented Mary. "It is a fascinating place, with a -big outside fire-place on the porch, and the front is covered with a -climbing rose. We used to pass it often." - -"Well, Kitty says that the day after the Harcourts took possession, Gay -put a ladder against the front of the house and climbed up on it to hang -a mirror on the outside of her window-sill, the way they do in Holland. -It was one she had brought all the way from Amsterdam. And while she was -up on the ladder, looking like a picture, of course, with the roses all -about her and the sunshine turning her hair to gold, Dr. Shelby came by -on horseback. She saw him in the mirror and the girls teased her about -it--called it her Lady of Shalott mirror and him her Knight of the -Looking-glass. Kitty says he was devotion itself to her all summer." - -What more she might have revealed was interrupted by Gay's return. She -tossed an armful of dainty muslin and lace on the bed, and for a few -moments all three gave their undivided attention to the trying-on -process. - -"I must confess it doesn't look as if it were fitted to you in perfect -health," confessed Roberta, "but it's one of those soft clinging things -that doesn't have to fit like a glove. I can pin it up on you to make it -look all right, and it's so pretty with all that fine lace and -embroidery that it'll pass muster anywhere." - -Gay sat down to make some slight alteration in the girdle, while Roberta -invited Mary to a seat in front of the dressing-table, proposing to try -her skill on her as a hair-dresser. It was all so delightfully intimate -and friendly, just such a situation as Mary had longed for in her -dream-castle building, that she even felt at liberty to grow a little -personal with Roberta. She peeped out through the hair which now hung -over her face, to watch Roberta's face reflected in the mirror opposite. - -"Do you know," she remarked with a mischievous glance, like a skye -terrier peeping through its bangs, "that I've actually lain awake -nights, wondering if you'd been persuaded yet to give up that 'adorable -little curl.'" - -Roberta's mouth opened wide in astonishment, and she dropped the comb -with which she was parting Mary's hair. - -"How spooky!" she cried. "I was just thinking about that myself. Who in -the world told you anything about that?" - -"Oh, I overheard the remark," confessed Mary. "I was on one of those -hotel balconies all hidden by moon-vines when you and Gay and Mr. Wade -and the officer you call Bogey came out into the court. I was so -lonesome for some young person to talk to, and so close to you all that -I could see the comb slipping out of Gay's hair. I didn't know who she -was then. If I had I should have leaned over the railing and called to -her. Wouldn't it have made a sensation? - -"I'll never forget how either of you looked. She was in white with white -violets, and you were in pale lemon yellow with a scarf over your -shoulders that looked like a white moonbeam spangled with dewdrops. It -slipped down as you started to go and see the alligators, and that Mr. -Wade drew it up for you and said what he did about the curl." - -"That was the first time he ever mentioned it," explained Roberta. "I -thought when you spoke that you meant last night. I was going to tell -Gay about it, and as long as you're so interested I don't mind telling -you, too. You know Mr. Wade has been very nice to me, and I thought he -was great fun until he began to get sentimental. My brother William -knew him at college, and he told me what I might expect. He said 'that -chap always gets sentimental with every girl he goes with.' It's a great -thing to have plenty of brothers to put you wise. - -"When Mr. Wade began that nonsense about wanting one of those little -curls and its being the most fetching thing he had ever seen I laughed -at him. But it only made him the more determined. He wrote some poetry -about wearing it over his heart forever and all that sort of thing. If -he only could have known how Billy and I shrieked over it! Of course I -hadn't given him the slightest encouragement, or it would have been -different--" - -"Roberta," interrupted Gay sternly, "how can you say that? You know you -looked at him. I saw you do it. And when you look out at anybody from -under those lashes, whether you mean it or not you _do_ look -flirtatious, and you know it." - -"I don't!" contradicted Roberta hotly, with boyish directness. "I can't -help the way my lashes are kinked, and I'm very sure I'm not going to -pull them out to keep people from getting a wrong impression. Anyhow -there's no kink in my tongue! I told him straight enough what I thought -of his silly speeches. I put a stop to them last night, all right." - -"How?" demanded Gay. - -"Well," began Roberta, plaiting Mary's hair so energetically that it -pulled dreadfully. "He went over the same performance again, begging me -for that little curl in token that I'd be his'n forevermore, etc. And -after he'd spun it out into a most romantic proposal I said very -sweetly, 'Really, Mr. Wade, to be honest with you, I can't afford to -give away a seventy-five cent curl to every man who asks for one. You -see I'm always financially embarrassed, for papa won't let me borrow -after I've spent my monthly allowance, and I never by any chance have a -cent left over after the second of the month. But if you must have a -curl I'll give you Madame Main's address on Houston Street, where you -can get an exact duplicate. I'm sure it will be just as good to wear -over your heart as mine would.'" - -"Roberta, you little beast!" laughed Gay. "How could you give him the -impression they were false, when you know very well they grow tight on -your own scalp?" - -"I wanted to see if he would say 'with all thy faults I love thee -still.' But he didn't. He got very stiff and red and walked away, and -spent the rest of the evening flirting with Louie Rowan to show that he -didn't care." - -Gay continuing to shake her head in a shocked and disapproving way, -Roberta cried out, "I don't care! It's no worse than what you said to a -certain freshman who proposed to you." - -"I don't call that a proposal," calmly disagreed Gay. "He didn't ask -anything. He simply took it for granted that I'd fall all over myself to -accept him. Mary, what would you say to a boy, one whom you'd always -known but who'd never been particularly nice to you, who would march up -to you some day and say: 'You suit me better than any girl I know, and -I'd like to talk over arrangements with you now. Of course we couldn't -marry till a year after my graduation, but I want to have it settled -before I go away, so that I'll know what to depend on. My family all -tell me that it's risky business, choosing a wife with red hair, but I'm -willing to take the chances.'" - -"Now, Gay, you know it wasn't as bald as that," protested Roberta. "He -put in all sorts of 'long and short sweetenin'.'" - -"It amounted to the same thing," persisted Gay, and in answer to Mary's -gasping question, "What _did_ you say?" she replied: - -"I couldn't speak at first, I was so furious at his speech about red -hair. But I managed to tell him several things before I finished, and -nothing can be frostier and snippier than a sixteen year old girl when -she tries to appear very dignified. That was my age then. The thing that -made him maddest however, was that I told him that even the 'frog who -would a-wooing go' knew how to go about such a matter in a much better -way than he did. That he'd better wait till he was older, and amounted -to something more than a mere silly boy. My snubbing almost gave him -apoplexy, but it did him good in the long run." - -"A proposal, and she was a year younger than I am now," thought Mary, -wishing with a queer little throb of envy that she had some such -experience to confess. Roberta was only nineteen now, and to judge by -Gay's teasing remarks had had any number of romantic affairs. Lloyd was -only fourteen when Phil first began to care so much for her. - -Roberta was putting the finishing touches to her hair now, and as Mary's -eyes met their wistful reflection in the mirror, she wondered if there -would ever be a time when any one would care enough for her to come to -her with the momentous question. She wouldn't mind so much being an old -maid if she could only have some such experience to lay away in her -memory, as people lay away treasures in rose-leaves and lavender. But so -far she couldn't count even a susceptible youth like young Mr. Wade, or -a conceited freshman like Gay's early admirer. She wanted to ask how it -felt to be proposed to, and thus keep the conversation rolling along in -the same interesting groove. But Roberta suddenly switched off to -saddles. She was about to buy a new one, and saddles, as Roberta -presented the topic, became so vastly important that Mary did not have -the courage to attempt to turn the talk back to the subject of mere men. - -It was one of Roberta's chief characteristics that she swept everything -before her by the sheer force of her personality. She dominated whatever -company she was in, and the most frivolous things she said carried -weight and made people listen because of the way she said them. She made -statements in the same manner she was now thrusting the safety-pins into -Mary's skirt-bands, in a direct, forcible way that made people feel that -they might be depended upon. - -"Roberta's pins always stay where they are put," Gay remarked -admiringly, as she watched the capable way in which Mary was being -fastened into her borrowed gown. "There's no danger of your coming to -pieces, when she fixes you. Sometimes I think that she must hypnotize -things. It's a gift with her. There! You look perfectly fine. Come on -down stairs and let's try that piece of new music before dinner." - -Mary had her doubts about looking perfectly fine. She was uncomfortably -conscious that the dress was not a good fit. It was too tight in the -arm-holes and too short in the waist. But the girls seemed proud of the -costume they had evolved for her, the parting glance in the mirror -showed that the general effect was becoming, and their compliments were -most reassuring. So she followed them down stairs in a very elated and -"partified" state of mind. - -The old Major's affable greeting as she entered the living-room was as -cordial as his wife's had been, and seemed to place her at once on the -footing of an old friend. She sank into the comfortable chair he pushed -forward for her with the sensation that she was coming back to a -familiar hearthstone, where she had been a guest many times. It was very -queer, but it was decidedly pleasant to have it all seem so homelike -and familiar. - -With such surroundings Mary ought to have appeared at her best, but -Roberta's dominating presence made her silent and shy. It had not had -that effect when they were up-stairs together, but now in the presence -of older people Roberta gave the effect of a lamp that has suddenly been -turned up to a brighter flame. She was positively brilliant, Mary -thought, and made everybody else in the room seem of secondary interest. -Roberta, who ran in and out every day, felt the same freedom that a -daughter of the house would have. She laughingly pushed Mrs. Melville -into a chair and ordered her to sit still while _she_ ran up-stairs for -the forgotten spectacles. She joked with the Major about numberless -things which were meaningless to Mary because she had not shared their -beginnings, and when she sat down at the piano and played with strong -masterful touches, it really seemed that what Gay had jokingly said -about her having hypnotic powers was true. - -Mary felt as if she had been thrust into a corner and deprived of power -to come out. At first she was so absorbed in her enjoyment of the music -that she was not conscious of that sensation, but it oppressed her when -Lieutenant Boglin and the Captain of the polo team, a Mr. Mills, came -in. They were strangers to her but old friends of all the others, and -she suddenly felt herself as self-conscious and shy as the bashful -little country mouse of the fable. She began to contrast herself with -the other girls, and try to find a reason for the difference which she -felt existed. - -"It's partly because they've always lived in the heart of things," she -thought, a trifle enviously. "They're used to meeting strangers, and -they're pretty and gifted and accomplished; a very different thing from -being just 'plain little Mary Ware,' with no talents or _anything_. I -can't even play Yankee Doodle with one finger, as Norman does." - -When they went out to dinner the uneven number and the small size of the -company made the conversation general around the table. If it had been a -larger party with only her immediate neighbors to give ear, Mary was -sure that she could have found plenty to say to the Major on one side, -or to Lieutenant Boglin on the other. But Roberta kept the -conversational ball rolling, and always in directions that Mary could -not follow. She knew nothing of polo or golf or the people of the Post, -and the funny stories and quick-witted replies which circled around the -table gave her no opportunity to rise to the occasion as the others did. - -[Illustration: "MARY WARE in TEXAS" - -"He seated himself beside her, coffee-cup in hand"] - -They were all so vastly entertained and entertaining themselves that no -one seemed to notice Mary's silence. She was angry with herself because -she could not chime in with the others, and thought with flaming cheeks -that they must think her dreadfully stupid and unresponsive; just a -bread-and-butter miss, not yet out of the nursery. Once there came a -place where an anecdote about Hawkins and a new school-girl would have -fitted in beautifully if she could only have mustered up courage to tell -it. She had a conundrum too, when the others were propounding them, and -had opened her mouth to tell it--in fact had said "Did you ever hear--" -when somebody else who had not heard her tremulous beginning captured -the attention of the table with one of his own. The sound of her voice -thus suddenly stopped made her blush, choke, take a drink of water and -subside into silence again. - -It was not until coffee was being served afterward in the living-room, -that Mary found her tongue. Roberta did not take coffee, and at the -Major's request had gone to the piano to play a dashing fantasie that he -always called for on such occasions. The lieutenant, who, as Mary had -feared, had classed her as a callow little school-girl who couldn't talk -except in embarrassed monosyllables, had been wondering why Gay had made -such a point of his meeting her. Now as he looked across the room at her -animated face, responsive to every chord of the brilliantly executed -music, he decided that there might be some reason for Gay's interest in -her which he had not yet fathomed, and he at once proceeded to find out. - -He started towards her, stopping to say in an aside to Gay, "What's the -little girl's name? I've forgotten. Oh, thank you." Then he deliberately -pulled up a chair, tête-à-tête wise, and seated himself beside her, -coffee-cup in hand. - -"Miss Ware," he began in a flatteringly confidential tone, "it is an old -saying that the 'shallows murmur, but the deeps are dumb.' Is that why -you are so silent this evening?" - -It was easy now, under cover of the music, and in response to such -deferential attention to make a reply, and Mary began at a rate that -made Bogey "sit up and take notice," as he expressed it afterward. - -"No, I was only like the fox in Æsop's fables, the one that went to dine -with the stork, you know. Don't you remember, the stork put the soup -into such a slender-necked deep vase that only a long-beaked bird like -himself could reach it. You see the people you talked about to-night -were utter strangers to me, and I never saw a polo game, so I couldn't -very well dip into the conversation." - -"By George!" exclaimed Bogey. "That wasn't very considerate of us, _was_ -it?" - -"Oh, I enjoyed it!" Mary hastened to add. "Only I was afraid you'd think -I was dreadfully stupid. It made me think of the time I used that same -fable to get rid of an unwelcome caller when I was at a house-party in -Kentucky. I wanted to be with the older girls who were to be -bridesmaids, and watch their preparations for the wedding, and this -child tagged after me so persistently that I lay awake nights trying to -plan some way to get rid of her. It was the fable that finally suggested -it. I had lots of fun playing the stork, but I never realized before -just how _she_ must have felt, till I took the part of fox to-night." - -"Tell me how you did it," insisted the lieutenant. He liked the way -Mary's face lighted up when she talked, and the way her dimples flashed -in and out as she chattered on. Gay looked over approvingly a little -later when his hearty laugh showed that he was thoroughly amused by -something that she had said. - -The tête-à-tête was ended by the stopping of the music and the arrival -of the man who was to be Gay's escort, and almost immediately after it -seemed, although in fact it was half an hour, the 'bus whistle sounded -outside, and Mary was being hurried into her borrowed party cloak and -helped into the waiting 'bus. - -"It always goes around the Post collecting passengers on such occasions -as this," Bogey told her. "You can imagine we sometimes have a jolly -crowd." - -It was an old story to the other passengers, but as they passed the -sally port where the sentinel stood attention, Mary nearly fell out in -her eagerness to see all the novel sights. The lieutenant smiled at her -enthusiasm. Visiting girls always exhibited it in some degree, but never -in quite such a precipitate manner as Mary. - -"She's a funny little piece," he thought as the whole 'bus load laughed -at her naïve comment on the sentinel, "but there is something genuine -and likeable about her. She shall have the time of her life to-night if -I can give it to her." - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -ON THE CREEK-BANK - - -THERE is only a partial account of that evening in Mary's Good Times -book. She recorded the fact that the General himself came and talked to -her a few minutes, and laughed several times at her replies till people -turned to see who it was that he found so amusing. The handsome officer -of the day in sword and spurs was brought up to be introduced, and there -was a most gratifying list of names on her well-filled program. -Lieutenant Boglin had dutifully seen to that. - -Had it not been for one circumstance the evening would have been a -succession of thrills, and she could have filled several pages with -enthusiastic recollections of it. That one little happening, however, -marred the whole occasion. She made no record of it in her Good Times -book, and she made up her mind never to speak of it, but to seal it up -in its particular memory cell as the bees do any intruding object which -threatens to poison their honey. - -There was so much else to tell about her visit, that for several days -after her return she kept the family amused by her lively descriptions. -She and Gay had had a whole string of adventures the morning after the -hop, when they went down town together to finish her shopping. There had -been some interesting guests from New Zealand at luncheon, who had vied -with each other in telling marvelous yarns, and Mary had stored them all -away to repeat at home. - -With so much else to talk about she might have succeeded in keeping her -resolution, had not she and Jack gone off to the creek one afternoon, -instead of taking their usual excursion towards the village. The spot -where they paused was a place which seemed to invite confidences. She -wheeled his chair along the bank, close to the water's edge, until they -came to a secluded circle of shade under an ancient cypress tree. There -she sat down opposite him on a big boulder. - -They were some distance from the main road. Except when a wagon rattled -down the hill and across the ford it was so very still that the rush of -water over the pebbles sounded almost brawling. The constant gurgle and -swish seemed to have a sort of hypnotic effect on them both, for neither -of them spoke for a long time. Then Jack broke the silence. - -"This monotony is getting on my nerves," he said in a low tense voice. -"You're a wonder to me, Mary. I don't see how you can come back to such -a deadly stupid place as this is, after the taste of gay times you've -had, and settle down again as cheerfully as you do. It makes me -desperate whenever I think that if it wasn't for my being in such a fix -you needn't be tied here. You could be where you'd have the social -opportunities you ought to have." - -Mary looked up quickly. This tone of bitterness was a new note in Jack's -speech. He had drawn his hat down over his eyes, and was gripping the -arms of his chair with both hands, as if trying to keep his resentment -against fate in check. - -"Just let me tell you something," cried Mary, so anxious to smooth the -grim lines of suffering out of the beloved face that she recklessly -broke her resolution. "_I didn't have as good a time at that hop as I -made out! The last part of it was perfectly ghastly, and I never want to -go to another as long as I live!_" - -Then, seeing the look of blank amazement that spread over Jack's face, -she hastened to explain. - -"Oh, it started out beautifully. I was simply ecstatic when we climbed -out of the 'bus and were ushered into that long room with the flags and -the evergreens, and the military music. And you already know how much it -meant to me to have the General so nice to me and the officer of the day -so attentive and complimentary; and how happy I was to have my programme -filled up so that there was no danger of my being a wall-flower. I was -having the loveliest time imaginable, when I went up to Gay to ask if -any of the safety-pins showed below my girdle. The polo man I had met at -dinner, that Mr. Mills, had been dancing with me, and, when he left me -with Gay, went over to speak to a pretty butterfly sort of girl, a -little brunette all in frilly pink and white; I'd been admiring her at a -distance. Of course he didn't know his voice carried so far. He was -protesting because she had left no place for him on her programme, and I -heard him say: - -"'It wasn't _my_ fault that I didn't get to you in time. Bogey roped me -in first thing for a turn with that kindergarten kid he's got in tow. -She's Miss Melville's guest and I couldn't get out of it, but really, -Juliet--_that was punishment enough_ without your--'" - -"I didn't hear the rest of it. Some people beside me laughed just then -and drowned his voice, but the girl looked over at me, and gave me a -long, searching glance, sort of out of the corner of her eye, and then -turned away with a little shrug of her shoulders and smiled up at him -quite as if she agreed with him and had forgiven him because he had such -a good excuse. - -"I never had anything make me so uncomfortable in all my life as his -speech and then her sidelong look and nasty little shrug. It was the -_way_ he said it, and the _way_ she answered, that hurt. After that I -never forgot for a moment that my dress was a borrowed one and that it -didn't fit, and that I was the plain little country mouse that they were -polite to, merely because I was Gay's guest and Lieutenant Boglin asked -them to be. And I couldn't help feeling that every man who danced with -me was as bored as Mr. Mills had been; even more so, for I had been -perfectly natural and at ease when I was talking to him, and after I -overheard his remark I was so stiff and self-conscious that such a state -of mind was bound to have its effect all the rest of the evening. I was -perfectly aware that I was boring my partners." - -"But that was such a little thing to let spoil your whole evening," -interrupted Jack. "It was awfully rude of the fellow to make such a -speech, but he probably said it just to square himself with the other -girl. 'All's fair in love and war,' they say, and you don't know how -much it might have meant to him to keep in her good graces. I don't -believe he really meant it." - -"Oh, I know better!" insisted Mary dismally. "He _did_ mean it! I felt -it!" - -She slowly gathered up a handful of pebbles and sent them skipping -across the water at intervals as she continued: - -"It gave me the same sensation that I had years ago, when I had my first -toy balloon. That is one of my earliest and most vivid recollections. -One moment I was hugging it to me because it was such a dear, gay, red -bubble, fairly entranced with the beauty of it. The next I was looking -down in a scared, puzzled way at what was left--just a dull scrap of -wrinkled rubber. That one remark and glance and shrug made all the -pleasure ooze out of the evening as quickly as my hugging squeezed the -air out of that collapsed balloon." - -Jack smiled at her comparison. He remembered that time, and how they had -all laughed at her bewildered expression when the balloon burst in her -hands. She could not be convinced at first that her beautiful, red -bubble had ceased to be, and hopefully peered under tables and chairs, -even while she held the wreck of it in her hands. - -Jack had always been her comforter. He had dried her tears then with the -promise of another balloon as soon as he could find the man who sold -them, and now he hurried to lift the gloom that had settled down on her -usually cheerful features. Having thrown away all her pebbles, she -bunched herself up into a disconsolate little heap, on the boulder, her -elbows on her knees, and her chin in her hand. - -"No, it's no use your trying to comfort me," she said presently in -response to his repeated attempts. "Every time I think about that -evening I'm so mortified that I could cry. My mind's made up. I am a -dead failure socially, and I never want to go to another function as -long as I live!" - -"You're a little goose! That's what you are," said Jack. "And I know -what's at the root of the whole trouble. You've done a lot of imagining -about your social career at one time and another. You've looked forward -to it and seen yourself in the rôle of an irresistible charmer. You've -felt like a dowager duchess inwardly, and forgotten that you've no marks -outwardly to show that you've grown up to take such a part. You have -your own individual charm, but so far it is only the charm of an -unsophisticated little school-girl, and naturally grown men find older -girls more interesting, just as you would prefer Phil Tremont's company -for instance, to that of little Billy Downs. But that's not saying that -you dislike Billy Downs, or that he won't grow up to be a social lion -some day. So may you. Now own up. You always have pictured yourself as -cutting quite a wide swath on your first appearance in society, haven't -you? That's one reason you were so disappointed at the hop." - -"Well," admitted Mary, smiling in spite of herself, "I own I did expect -to once, a long time ago, and maybe that had a sort of sub-conscious -influence on me. It was when we first moved to Arizona. Hazel Lee and I -found a book that a boarder had left behind in his tent. It was called -'The Lady Agatha's Career; A Novel.' We took it out on the desert, a -little way, and spelled it out between us, sitting on the sand behind a -clump of grease-wood bushes, that hid us from view of the ranch house. -Hazel was allowed only juvenile books, and she knew her mother would -take this away from us on account of the word novel. - -"It was such a horribly sentimental story that we found it embarrassing -to read the tenderest parts of it aloud, and I suppose because it was -the first one of the kind we had ever come across, it made a deeper -impression on us than it would have done otherwise. We fairly devoured -it. For days we thought and talked of nothing else, and we used to take -turns playing we were the Lady Agatha, about to burst on society like a -dazzling star, and win the heart of the proud scion of the House of de -Hoverly." - -Jack threw back his head and laughed so heartily that Mary was forced to -smile again herself, as she went on with her confession. - -"That all came back to me the other night when we climbed out of the -'bus, and I almost giggled when I remembered that this was what Hazel -and I had looked forward to as such a grand event--being escorted for -the first time by a grown man. It was on a similar occasion that the -Lady Agatha made such a hit in society. Our ideas of society were so -crude and funny then," Mary went on, beginning to relish her own -reminiscences. "All we knew about it we gathered from that book. It -seemed to be made up principally of haughty earls and dowager duchesses -who lived in castles and wore coronets. I didn't know what a dowager -was then, but I privately resolved to be one when I was grown. The name -seemed so grand and high-sounding, and in the story they always had -everything their own way. I couldn't help laughing a bit ago when you -used the word, for you had hit the nail on the head." - -"Then you won't mind when I say 'I told you so'" laughed Jack. "If you -hadn't gone that night expecting to create a sensation, you'd have been -satisfied to have people nice to you simply because you were their -friend's friend, and wouldn't have been so cut up over that remark you -overheard." - -"I'm not so sure about the last part," Mary insisted, her face clouding -again. "It _was_ nasty of him to say it, and the mere thought of that -man will always be an abomination to me." - -There was silence for a little while. Everything was so still that a -bird hopped fearlessly out on a limb above them, and began to call to -its mate. When Mary spoke again there was a whimsical expression on her -face that soon reflected itself in Jack's. - -"I can't help picturing things out beforehand, the way I'd like to have -them be. I've done it all my life. The rehearsing is always more fun, -though, than the actual happening. Now when I went away to school last -year, every time I'd wake up that last night in the sleeping-car, I'd -plan just what I'd say and how I'd act to make my entrance to Warwick -Hall imposing. I could actually see myself sweeping in to make a good -impression on Madam Chartley, and you know what happened! My hat was -cocked over one ear, the wire sticking out through the loops of ribbon, -and Madam caught me jumping up and down to try every seat in the -reception-room, one after the other." - -Jack chuckled, glad to see some of Mary's cheerfulness returning. - -"And then," she continued, "you remember when we met Phil and Elsie -Tremont on the train, as we were going out to Arizona to live?" - -Jack nodded. - -"I was only nine years old then, but for weeks I thought of Phil as a -sort of young god--a regular Apollo, and I pictured all sorts of scenes -in which I should be a prominent personage at our next meeting. And when -he _did_ come I was sprinting down the road in a cloud of dust, hatless -and breathless and purple in the face, crying, and crazy with fright, -because I thought that a harmless old Indian who chanced to be riding -down the same road, was chasing me. How Phil does laugh every time that -is mentioned!" - -Mary was sitting up straight on the boulder now, her face dimpling as -she recalled these various predicaments. - -"Then there's the time the Little Colonel visited us at the Wigwam. -Hadn't I dreamed of that first meeting for weeks--what we'd say and what -she'd say? Me in my rosebud sash and best embroidered white gown. But -she caught you and Joyce at the wash-tub, and I had to take my first -peep at her, crouched down in an irrigating ditch on my way home from -school, all inky and dirty and torn. - -"But I don't think I've done quite so much romancing since Betty gave me -my Good Times book and preached me that little sermon on being -self-conscious," Mary chattered on. "She said that my always thinking of -the impression I was making on people, and being so eager to please was -what made me miserable when I fell short of my expectations. She said -that I ought to copy Lloyd. That her greatest charm was her utter -unconsciousness of self. I think that is Betty's too. She's _such_ a -darling." - -There was no response to this. The mention of Betty's name brought up -so many pleasing scenes to Mary, that she sat living them over, -unmindful of the long silence that fell between her and Jack. He sat -with his hat pulled still farther over his eyes, in a revery as deep as -hers. Betty's name recalled the picture that was often before him in -these long, idle days. He was seeing her as he had seen her the first -time, now over a year ago, when he made his memorable visit to Kentucky. -She was standing at the end of the long locust avenue, all in white, -between the stately white pillars, with her godmother's arm about her, -as they awaited his approach. - -Slim and girlish and winsomely sweet she was, and when he looked into -her wistful brown eyes, he felt in some strange way that he had come to -the end of all pilgrimage. The world held nothing beyond worth seeking -for. - -After a long time the swirl of the water past them was lost in the sound -of a wagon, rattling noisily down the hill and across the ford. Then a -long line of cattle passed down the same road, accompanied by the hoarse -calls of their drivers on horseback. Mary looked up. - -"Jack," she said hesitatingly, "did you ever hear this verse? - - "'For should he come not by the road, and come not by the hill, - And come not by the far sea-way, yet come he surely will. - Close all the roads of all the world--_Love's road is open still_.' - -"Do you believe that is true?" - -"Not for me," he answered in a hoarse voice, so bitter, so resentful -that it startled her, coming as it did after long silence. He gripped -the arms of his chair again, as if in pain too great to endure, and then -burst out vehemently, "_Every_ road is closed to me now! It wouldn't be -so hard if there was any prospect of the end coming soon, but I may have -to hang on this way for years--just a living death! Caged in this -helpless hulk of a body, a drag on every one and a misery to myself! -_Heavens!_ If I could only end it all!" - -"Oh, Jack!" begged Mary, starting up, tears in her eyes. "Don't talk -that way! You're not a drag on anybody! We couldn't live without you! -You've been so brave--just like Aldebaran in the Jester's Sword. '_So -bravely did he bear his lot, it seemed a kingly spirit dwelt among us!_' -Don't you know that just having you with us is more to us than anything -else in the whole world?" - -She was fairly wringing her hands in her distress over this revelation -of the overwhelming bitterness of Jack's soul. For months he had been -so cheerful, hiding his real feelings under a playfulness of manner, -that it was a shock to her to find that his cheerfulness was only -assumed. Because he "had met his hurt so bravely and made no sign" she, -like the Jester, thought "the struggle had grown easier with time, and -that he really felt the gladness that he feigned." Like the Jester, too, -she was "at her wit's end for a reply." She could think of no word of -comfort. - -The loud halloo which sounded just then in a familiar voice from up the -creek, was a welcome interruption. The next instant Norman came in sight -around the curve. He was standing up in a flat-bottomed boat, poling -down stream towards them, with the vigor and skill of a young Indian. It -was a clumsy, home-made affair, with "The Swan" painted in blue letters -on the side. - -"She's mine for the winter!" he announced joyfully, as soon as he was -within speaking distance. "A man who lives up past Klein's crossing -rented it to me. I'm to chop wood awhile every Saturday to pay for the -use of it." - -Norman was so interested in his new possession that he could not see -that he had interrupted a conversation of tragic seriousness. - -"Come on and get in, Mary," he urged. "It's great. Beats those old rafts -you used to pole at Lee's ranch, all hollow. Don't you want to try it?" - -Mary hesitated. To go off and leave Jack sitting on the creek-bank, -unable to accompany her, would emphasize his crippled condition. To -refuse to leave him would only be added proof in his present sensitive -mood that he was a "drag on every one." - -"The sun is dropping so low we ought to be starting home before it -begins to get chilly," she said with a meaning glance towards Jack, -which to her relief Norman interpreted aright. He answered cheerfully, - -"Oh, go on! It's a cinch _you_ won't get chilly if you push that old -boat along as fast as I did, and if we get cold waiting for you, it -won't be many minutes till we'll be 'seen, a-rolling down the Bowling -Green' towards home." - -"All right, then," said Mary, climbing in as he climbed out to hold the -boat steady for her. "I won't go far, but I'm surely glad to get out on -the water again." - -She took the oar he handed her, and with a skilful push against the bank -she sent the boat gliding out into the stream. As she went off she -thought: "That was considerate of Norman, to put it the way he did--to -include Jack with himself as a matter of course, and not to remind him -of his helplessness by saying he'd stay and take care of him. Norman has -lots of tact for a boy of his age; more than I have. I must have hurt -Jack many a time by my inconsiderate speeches, but I had no idea he felt -so horribly sensitive about being dependent." - -All the way up the creek she was so occupied with thinking of what Jack -had said, and so depressed over the depths of mental suffering which his -exclamations revealed, that she plied her oar mechanically, only partly -awake to the scenes about her. But the long even strokes, first on one -side and then the other, sent her darting forward through the water so -rapidly that she soon reached a turn in the creek which she had never -passed before, and as she rounded the curve such a beautiful sight -greeted her that she cried out in pleased surprise, "How perfectly -_heavenly_!" - -On one side the bank towered up into a high, steep cliff, straight as a -wall. It was completely covered with ferns; delicate, feathery -maiden-hair ferns, as luxuriantly green as in mid-summer. In this -sheltered spot they were still left untouched by the frost, although it -was now December. Everywhere else vegetation was dry and sere, but the -green freshness of this bank was accounted for by a number of tiny -water-falls splashing down from unseen springs above, and sending a -light spray in every direction, as fine as mist. - -"I'm coming straight back here in the morning," she said to herself, -"and dig up a lot of these ferns before the frost gets them. I can't -think of anything lovelier to send to Gay for a Christmas greeting than -a clump of them growing in a box--a rustic box covered with bark and -dainty lichens. One would be nice for Mrs. Rochester, too. She's just -the kind that would appreciate such a gift. Well, that solves two of my -hardest problems of what to give." That trip up the creek in _The Swan_ -was a voyage of discovery in more ways than one, for Mary came upon the -fact that she had grown older in the last quarter of an hour, quite as -suddenly and unexpectedly as she had come upon the fern-bank. That cry -of Jack's, "Heavens! If I could only end it all!" had shocked her into a -deeper understanding of pain, and human limits of endurance. - -She had always prided herself on her ability to imagine herself in -other people's places, and until now had believed that she fully -understood and appreciated the depths of Jack's suffering. Now she saw -that she had not even begun to fathom it. His bravery had deceived her. -All the while that she had been thinking that he was growing accustomed -to his lot and that time was making it easier for him to bear, a fire of -rebellion was smouldering fiercely within him, making each day one of -new torture. - -[Illustration: MARY WARE in TEXAS - -"She sent the boat down stream with long swift strokes."] - -Because she could plaster up her own small hurts with platitudes and -proverbs, and ease her disappointments by counting her blessings "as one -would count the beads upon a rosary" she had vainly imagined that all -this would be balm for him. How many times she had offered him such -comfort, feeling with childish complacency that she was helping to ease -his pain. She understood now. A sugarplum may help one to forget a -bee-sting, but a death-thrust is another matter. - -Absorbed in her thoughts, she sent the boat down stream with long, swift -strokes, not noticing how fast it was going. Helped by the current, she -came in sight of Jack and Norman before she had mentally adjusted -herself to her new view-point. She was afraid that as soon as she and -Jack were left alone again they would find themselves facing the same -wall of blank despair, and she dreaded it. So to gain time, she began -calling to them about the wonderful bank of ferns she had discovered, -and made several awkward thrusts of the oar in an attempt to land, -before she finally ran the boat up on the bank. - -But Norman did not leave them alone. Deciding that that secluded spot -would be a good place to chain the boat, and that it was time to be -doing his evening chores, he slipped the padlock key in his pocket and -handed the oar over to Mary, saying, "You carry this and I'll wheel the -chair." - -Jack had taken a new grip on his courage, and if Mary could have but -known it, it was by the help of one of the very means she had branded as -futile, a few moments before. The sight of the bloodstone on his -watch-fob, as he glanced at the time, recalled the story of the poor -Jester who had been born in Mars month, like himself, and for that -reason had cause to claim undaunted courage as the "jewel of his soul." -The merest flicker of a smile crossed Jack's grimly-set lips as he -looked down at the bloodstone and thought of all it stood for; and -pulling himself together he whispered the Jester's vow between clenched -teeth: "I'll keep my oath until the going down of one more sun." - -When Mary joined them he was chaffing Norman quite as usual, and -immediately began to joke about the awkward landing she had made. On the -way home Norman laughed often, thinking that Jack was in one of his -jolliest moods; but Mary walked beside them, the oar over her shoulder, -saying to herself, "And under all this brave show, _he's feeling every -minute that he'd be glad to die_!" - -When she reached the house Mrs. Ware met them at the door, and Mary, -passing in quietly as Norman began telling about the boat, suddenly -remembered that that was not the natural way for her to come home. -Whenever she had any news she fairly tumbled into the house in her haste -to tell it. The boys knew that she had discovered the bank of ferns, and -that it was as exciting as Norman's discovery of a boat, because it -would provide some of her Christmas presents without cost. Yet here she -was walking in as calmly as if she were fifty years old and had outgrown -her girlish enthusiasms. It certainly was not natural. - -So she turned back and interrupted Norman, because that was what she -always did when she was in a hurry to tell things, and she tried to make -her description as full of life and color as she usually did; but all -the time she had a feeling that she was acting. - -Mrs. Ware expressed her interest with many pleased exclamations as she -always did when Mary came to her with any new-found cause for rejoicing, -but Mary, suddenly grown keen of vision, saw the look of anxiety and -weariness that seemed to lie in the back of her eyes behind the smile. -"I wonder," she mused, "if mamma is acting, too, if her gladness is only -on the surface, and she smiles to keep up her courage and ours, as they -say little boys whistle in the dark. Oh, it's dreadful to grow up if one -has to lose faith in this being a good old world. It used to seem so -happy all the time, and now it's all so sorrowful and out of joint." - -She went into her room to wash her hands and get an apron before going -out into the kitchen to help prepare supper. As she stood tying the -apron-strings, she looked up at Lloyd Sherman's picture which hung over -her bed, as it used to hang in Warwick Hall and at Lone Rock, when she -pretended that it was Lloyd's _shadow-self_, the chum to whom she could -carry all her troubles, sure of silent sympathy. But somehow, while the -beautiful eyes smiled down into hers as kindly as they had always done, -they did not bring the sense of her presence. They did not speak to her -as they had done those other times when she turned to them for the -imagined communion that always brightened her spirits. - -"It's never seemed the same since I knew she was engaged," Mary thought -with a sigh. "Of course I know she's just as fond of me as she was -before, but I can't help feeling that she's so taken up with other -things now, her life so heavenly full since she has found her prince, -that she _can't_ take the same interest in my affairs." - -As she passed the mirror she turned back for a second glance. The first -had shown her the fresh unlined face of a girl of seventeen, but judging -by the way she felt she was sure there should be wrinkles. The weight of -world-weariness and disillusionment and foreboding which depressed her, -certainly could not belong to youth. They must be the property of an old -woman, in her sixties at least. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -CHRISTMAS - - -TEN days before Christmas Mary opened the bottom drawer of her bureau, -in which she had placed each gift as soon as it was finished, and -sitting down on the floor beside it, proceeded to take an inventory of -the packages within. They were all wrapped, stamped and addressed, but -she had made them ready without a single Christmas thrill. There was -nothing in the climate or surroundings to suggest the holiday season, -and she compared this year's preparations with the year before at -Warwick Hall, when the very air seemed charged with a spirit of -delightful expectancy; when everybody had secrets and went around -smiling and humming snatches of carols which the choir-girls were -practising for the service in the chapel. - -Mechanically she counted the bundles and checked them off her list: the -ones for Holland, for Joyce, for Eugenia, the bunny doll with the -chamois skin head which she had made for little Patricia. She was very -well satisfied with them all, as well as with the fancy trifles she had -made for Lloyd and Betty and the girls at school, with whom she still -kept up a correspondence. They were inexpensive, but they were original -and appropriate. - -Allowing for the crowded condition of the mails, she decided that the -packages which had the longest distance to go should be started that -very day. These she took from the drawer and piled on her bed, and then -got out her pen to begin the writing of her Christmas letters. - -Now one may make all sorts of dainty gifts, and tie them with holly -ribbon, and send them away in Christmasy looking packages which will -bring a glow to the heart of the one who opens them, and yet do it all -without one spark of festal feeling herself. But it is impossible to -write a Christmas letter and put the proper zest into its greetings, -unless one is a-tingle with it. When Mary discovered that fact, she tore -up the sheets on which she had made various beginnings, and put the cork -in her ink-bottle. - -"I can't do it any more than I could keep Thanksgiving on the Fourth of -July or New Year's on April Fool's day," she thought. "Luckily the -letters travel faster than second-class mail, so I'll take my packages -to the post-office now, and then go out in the boat awhile, and think -about snow and sleigh-bells and holly berries till I work myself up to -the proper mood." - -As she started out of the door her mother called to her to remind her -that they needed eggs. That meant that Mary was to go around by the Metz -place to get them on her way home, which would take so much longer that -there wouldn't be much time for meditation in the boat. But it was in -going for the eggs that she came across the very inspiration of which -she was in quest. - -Mr. Metz and his wife were sitting on a bench in the sunny garden near -the kitchen door, when Mary opened the gate. Looking up the path between -the stiff rows of coxcombs and prince's feather, she could see that the -old lady was knitting, as usual. He sat with a newspaper across his -knees, and his spectacles folded in one hand. The other grasped the end -of his long white beard which flowed almost to his lap. - -They were both singing; singing with the quavering voices of age, a song -which they had brought with them from their far away youth in the -beloved Fatherland. It was a song of Christmas joy which they had -carolled many a time around a candle-lighted tree. Their voices were -thin and tremulous, and broke now and then on the high notes, but it was -a gay little tune, very sweet and full of cheer; and Mary, who stopped -to listen just inside the gate, was thankful that they had not heard the -latch click. When it came to an end she waited a moment, hoping there -would be another verse, but they began to talk, and she started on up -the path. But halfway to the house she paused again, for they had begun -another song. - -"_Am Weinachtsbaum die Lichter brennen!_" - -Their voices came to a sudden stop at the end of that line, however, as -they became aware of an approaching visitor. Mary hurried forward -saying, "Oh, I understood one word of it. You were singing about a -Christmas tree, weren't you? The children in the blue cottages across -from us have been talking about a 'Weinachtsbaum' all week. Please don't -stop. It sounded so sweet as I came in at the gate." - -At some other time the old couple might have been hard to persuade, but -the holiday season was their high-tide of the year, and its return -always swept them along with a rush of happy memories, to a state of -enjoyment that was almost childish in its outward manifestation. Finding -that Mary was really interested in hearing them talk of the customs of -their youth, they began a series of reminiscences so interesting that -she could have listened all day. - -Seventy Christmases they could remember distinctly, besides the dim -impressions of several earlier ones. In the course of describing them it -came about quite naturally that they should sing her the interrupted -song. - -The old man, because he spoke better English than his wife, interpreted -the verses first. But even his speech was halting and broken, and he -pulled his white beard desperately, and used many despairing gestures -when he could not find the right word. She, clicking her needles, kept -up a constant nodding while he explained. - -"On the Christmas tree the lights are burning. The children gaze at the -what you call it--picture--scene--till the eye laughs and the heart -laughs and the old look Himmelwartz, heavenwards that means, with -blessed rapture." - -"Yah, yah!" nodded the old wife, prompting him as he paused. "Zwei -Engel"-- - -"Two angels appear," he repeated, going haltingly on with the next -verse. Mary could not understand all that he tried to convey, but she -caught the meaning of the last part, that the day brings God's blessing -to young and old alike, to the white as well as the brown hair. - -"It is the same all over the world," he said, clearing his throat -preparatory to singing the lines he had just translated. - -"We will be alone this year. We cannot go to our children and they -cannot come to us. But we shall not feel alone. We will make ready one -little tree, and in our hearts we will join hands with all the happy -ones who greet the _Weinachtsbaum_. We will be part of that circle which -reaches around the whole wide world." - -The quavering old voices took up the tune, and although Mary recognized -only three words, Christmas-tree, angels and heavenward, there was -something in the zest with which they sung it, something in the -expression of the wrinkled old faces, which gave her the inspiration she -was in search of. It was as if she had brought to them a little -unlighted candle, and they had kindled it at the flame of their own -glowing ones. - -When Mary went home she was more like her accustomed self than she had -been for days. She went dancing into the house with the eggs, and -immediately set about the writing of her Christmas letters in her usual -resourceful way. Mrs. Ware looked up, much amused, to see her piling -some fresh orange peel and bits of broken cedar on the table beside her -ink-bottle. - -"There's nothing like that combination of smells to make you think that -Santa Claus is coming straight down the chimney," exclaimed Mary -gravely, catching her mother's amused glance. "You may think it is -foolish, but really it makes all the Christmases I have ever known stand -right up in a row in front of me, whenever I smell that smell." - -She rubbed a bit of the fresh peel and then a piece of the cedar between -her palms to bring out the pungent fragrance, and afterwards, from time -to time, bent over it for another whiff to bring her new inspiration. - -By the twentieth of December the last letter and the last out-of-town -package but one was started on its way. Gay's box of ferns, a mass of -luxuriant, feathery greenness, sat on a window-sill, waiting for its -time to go. The crate in which it was to be shipped stood ready in the -wood-shed, even to the address on the express-tag. Then time began to -drag. The next two days, although the shortest in the year, seemed many -times longer than usual. - -"It's like trying to keep things hot when somebody is late and keeps -dinner waiting," complained Mary. "If you can't eat when it's all ready, -some of the things are sure to dry up and some to get cold. I was worked -up to quite a festive state of mind day before yesterday, but my -enthusiasm is all drying up and cooling off now." - -"Here's something to warm it over again," announced Norman, coming in -from the express office with a box on his shoulder. "Here's the first -gift to arrive. Let's open up right now, and open each thing that comes -after this _when_ it comes instead of waiting for one grand surprise on -Christmas morning. You never will try my way, and it would spread the -pleasure out and make it last lots longer if you only would. You're -bound to get more enjoyment out of each thing if you give your undivided -attention to it." - -For once Norman's suggestion, made yearly, was not opposed, and as he -pried the lid off the box Mary flopped down on the floor beside it, Jack -wheeled his chair closer, and Mrs. Ware came in from the next room in -answer to their eager calls that it was from Joyce. - -Each one of the studio family had contributed to the filling of the box. -The holly-wreaths on top, tied with great bows of wide red ribbon, were -from Miss Henrietta Robbins. - -"Don't you know," exclaimed Mary, as she lifted them out and held them -up for them all to admire, "that Miss Henrietta has turned that studio -into a perfect bower of Christmas greens? She gives it all the elegant -costly touches that Joyce never could afford, just as she's put the -finishing touch on these wreaths with this beautiful ribbon. It's wide -enough and satiny enough for a sash." - -"And isn't it just like little Mrs. Boyd to send _this_!" she cried a -moment later, when the opening of a fancy pasteboard box revealed a doll -about six inches long, dressed like a ballet dancer. Its fluffy scarlet -skirts hid the leaves of a needle-book, concealed among its folds, and -from the ends of the sash, by which it was intended to dangle, hung a -tiny emery bag in the shape of a strawberry, and a little silk -thimble-case. - -"She got the idea for that from the Ladies' Home Magazine, I am sure. -She adores the pages that tell how to evolve your entire spring outfit -from a shoe-string and a strip of left-over embroidery. It's not that -she's trying to economize. Joyce says she has the piece-bag habit. The -girls tease her about not being able to see a scrap of goods without -wishing to find some way to use it, but they love the homey flavor her -home-made things give to the house. She is as old-fashioned and dear in -her ways as she is in her ideas of art." - -"That is an unusually pretty doll," remarked Mrs. Ware as Mary swung it -around by its sash. - -"Yes," she answered, "it's the kind Hazel Lee and I were always wishing -for. Ours were flaxen haired, and this has raven curls. We would have -called her 'Lady Agatha' if we had had her then. I believe I'll name her -that now," she added with a glance towards Jack to see if he understood -the allusion. - -But Jack was not noticing. He was turning the pages of a handsomely -illustrated work on Geology, a book he had long wanted to own. Joyce had -had little to spend this year compared with last, but in her hurried -shopping expeditions, she had considered the tastes and needs of each -one so well that every gift was hailed with delight. - -"Norman's way is a dandy one," acknowledged Mary, as she opened a box of -fine stationery engraved with her monogram, the first she had ever -owned. "Now I can write my note to Gay on this. If we had waited I -should have had to use the common paper that we buy at the drug-store -by the pound, because it is cheap. And it's so nice too, to have these -holly-wreaths beforehand." - -She danced away to hang them in the windows, and to swing the Lady -Agatha from a corner of the mirror over her bureau, where her hidden -needle-book could readily be reached. Then she thriftily gathered up -every bit of ribbon and tinsel from the discarded wrappings, smoothed -out the tissue paper and picked loose from it all the adhering seals -that had not been broken in the process of tearing open the packages. - -"Here's seven whole seals with holly on them," she announced to her -mother, "six with Santa Claus heads and four with the greeting Merry -Christmas. I'm going to use them over again in doing up the rest of my -packages. That box that the doll came in is exactly what I want to put -the candy in that I made for the Barnabys. And that plain one that holds -the stuffed dates that Lucy Boyd sent will do for the candy I'm going to -send Mr. and Mrs. Metz. All I'll need to do is to cover it with some of -this holly paper and tie it with the same gold cord. I'll find a use for -nearly everything I've saved before the week is over." - -She said it in a tone of such deep satisfaction that Norman looked up -from the book and other gifts in which he had seemed absorbed, to laugh -at her. - -"Mary is like that old woman who wrote those recipes for cheap pies in -that old New England cook-book we have at home," he said to his mother. -"She thinks 'a little Ingenuity added to almost any material that comes -to hand will make a tasty pie!' You ought to send the Ladies' Home -Magazine some pointers, Mary, on '_How to make Christmas gifts for -others on the wrappings of those sent you_.' Didn't some one say -something about the _scrap-bag_ habit awhile ago?" - -Mary's only answer was a saucy grimace. She could afford to let him -tease her about her squirrel instinct for hoarding, when it gave her so -much satisfaction to add to her store of scraps. She had all sorts of -things to draw on in emergencies. In the one month they had been in -Bauer she had nearly filled a shoe-box with odds and ends. She had -sheets of tin-foil, saved from packages of chocolate, picture cards, -little bottles and boxes and various samples of toilet articles sent out -by firms who advertise their goods in that way. - -For the next two days every mail brought greetings and remembrances to -some one of the family, sometimes to all, so that the hours slipped by -at a fairly rapid pace. One of the gifts which gave Mary most pleasure -was the chiffon scarf that Lloyd sent. It was like the one Roberta wore -the first evening Mary had seen her, and which she rapturously compared -to "a moonbeam spangled with dew-drops," only she thought hers far -lovelier than Roberta's. A dozen times a day she slipped into her room -to take the floating, filmy web from its box, and spread it out to gloat -over it. She had to try the effects of different lights on it, sunshine -and moonlight and the rays of the lamp. She spread it over different -dresses, white, pink and green, to see which produced the prettiest -glimmers, and Norman caught her once posing before a mirror with it -draped over head, and teased her all the rest of the evening. - -Betty's gift was a simple, inexpensive one, intended merely as a -greeting. It was only a green bay-berry candle, but the card tied to it -by a scarlet bow bore the verse: - - "This bay-berry candle's tongue of flame - Bears message. Prithee hear it! - _While it burns mid your Christmas greens - I'm with you all in spirit!_" - -"I'm glad that it's a big fat candle," said Mary, passing it around for -each one to enjoy the spicy, aromatic fragrance. "It'll burn a long -time." - -She lighted it Christmas eve and put it in the centre of the table with -one of the holly-wreaths laid around the base, and the tongue of flame -did seem to "bear message." It started Mary to talking of her absent -friend; of the bloodstone and the Good Times book Betty had given her. -Of Betty's clear brown eyes and dearer ways, of Betty's sweet -consideration for others, of her talent for writing which was sure to -make her famous some day. She talked of her all during supper, not -noticing that Jack was unusually silent, and that his eyes rested -oftener on the candle than it did on his plate. - -As they left the table Mr. Metz appeared at the door like a veritable -old Santa Claus, with his long white beard and eyes a-twinkle. In one -arm he carried a big round hat-box full of nuts, in the other two -bottles of home-made wine. His own pecan trees and vineyard had -furnished his offering. He thanked them so volubly in his broken way for -the little gifts that Norman had carried over when he went for the milk, -and delivered his nuts and wine with such benign smiles and a flow of -good wishes from his wife and himself, that Mary gave a skip of -pleasure when she closed the door after him. She went back to the -kitchen singing: - -"'Now jingle, jingle, come Kris Kringle!' Oh, I feel as if the old -fellow himself had really been here. He and Betty's candle have given me -a real Night-before-Christmas-and-all-through-the-house feeling. It's -lovely!" - -They had had supper so early that it was barely dusk outdoors when she -and Norman started to take the box of ferns to the rectory. When they -had passed the cotton field, the bend in the road soon brought them to -the edge of the village, and the beginning of the short thoroughfare -which led to the main street, past the cotton-gin and the Free -Camp-yard. - -The Free Camp-yard was always an interesting place to both of them, and -they never passed it without looking in. It was a large lot surrounded -by a high board fence. Low sheds were built along one side within the -enclosure, in which both men and beasts might find shelter in time of -storm. Usually they slept in the open, however, with little campfires -here and there to boil their coffee and give them light. Peddlers, -hucksters and belated country people were its usual patrons. But -sometimes one saw a family of armadillo hunters on their way to the -curio dealers, with crates full of the queer nine-banded shells which -can be made into baskets, simply by tying the head and tail together. - -One evening Mary saw two country belles, putting the finishing touches -to their toilets behind a wagon, by the aid of a pocket-mirror. They had -come in for one of the Saturday night balls, held regularly in the town -hall. The week before, part of a disbanded freak show had taken refuge -in the camp-yard. Norman, peeping through a knot-hole, the gate being -shut, had seen the Armless Man scratch a match and light a fire with his -toes. - -It was deserted to-night, except for a dilapidated covered wagon which -had driven in a few minutes before. It was drawn by a big bony horse and -a dejected little burro, and piled high with household goods. A gaunt, -rough-looking man with a week's stubble of red beard on his chin, was -beginning to unhitch. His wife, who was only a young thing, and pretty -in a worn, faded way, put down the sleeping baby that she had been -holding, and stretched her arms wearily. She seemed too tired and -listless to move till one of the two children, who were climbing down -over the wheel, fell and began to whimper. A pair of hounds that had -trailed along behind dropped down under the wagon as if they had -followed a long way and were utterly exhausted. - -"Did you ever see anything so forlorn in all your life!" exclaimed -Norman as they passed on. "And Christmas eve, too. I don't suppose those -poor little kids will have a thing." - -"No, I suppose not," answered Mary. "It seems a shame, too, when -there'll probably be a tree in every house in Bauer. Mrs. Metz says that -is one custom that they keep up here as faithfully as they do in the old -country. Even the poorest families will manage to get one somehow." - -"Those were cute kids," Norman went on, too much interested in what he -had just seen to put the subject by. "That oldest little girl with the -yellow curls looked like a big doll, and the little one is almost as -pretty." - -He spoke of them again on the way back, after they had left the ferns at -the rectory, and turned homeward. The lights were beginning to twinkle -all down the long street. In every house they passed, where the shades -had not been drawn, they could see a tree, standing all ready for the -lighting, from gift-laden base to top-most taper. As they drew near the -camp-yard again they saw the red-whiskered man going into the corner -grocery with a tin pail on his arm. At the camp-yard gate they looked -in. A small fire had been started, over which a battered coffee-pot had -been set to boil. The burro and the bony horse were munching fodder near -the wagon, but the woman and the children had disappeared. - -"There they are," whispered Mary, pointing down the road a little way to -a group standing in front of the pretty green and white cottage next to -the cotton gin. The lace curtains had been dropped over the windows, but -they did not hide the gay scene within. The family was having its -celebration early, because the two small lads for whom it was designed -were so young that their bedtime came early. They were handsome little -fellows, one in kilts and the other just promoted to trousers. The gifts -hanging from the lighted boughs were many and costly. The two little -ones outside looking in, had never seen anything so fine and beautiful -before, and stood gazing in round-eyed wonder. Attracted by the music -they had strayed down from the camp-yard, and their mother had followed -with the sleeping baby thrown across her shoulder, to bring them back. -Now she, too, stood and stared. - -The phonograph was still playing when Mary and Norman reached the gate, -so they paused to listen, also, more interested in the watchers outside -however, than the revellers within. - -Presently Mary turned to the woman, saying, "It's pretty, _isn't_ it?" -in such a friendly way that her remark called out an equally friendly -response, and in a few moments she had learned what she wanted most to -know about the strangers. They were moving on to the next county, having -already been two days and a night on the road. Her man thought he could -find work in the cedar brakes. - -They stood talking until the phonograph stopped, then a glance over her -shoulder told the woman that her husband was returning to the wagon, and -she turned to go. The children were loath to leave, however. - -"It's their first sight of Sandy Claws," she remarked as if to explain -their unwillingness. Then as one of them stumbled and caught at her -skirts she added impatiently, "I reckon it's likely to be your last. He -don't care anything for the likes of _us_." - -It was said so bitterly, that as Norman trudged on in the opposite -direction with his sister, he exclaimed in a regretful tone, "It's too -bad that we didn't find out about them sooner, in time to fix something -for them. It sort of spoils my own Christmas to think of those kids -going without." - -"They are not going without," replied Mary promptly, who had been -thinking rapidly as she walked. "We've got to get something ready for -them before they shut their eyes to-night." - -"Huh, I'd like to know how you'll do it this late," Norman answered. - -She laughed in reply, saying teasingly, "Who was it said that 'A little -Ingenuity added to almost any material that comes to hand will make a -tasty pie?' Well, it will make a tasty tree too. If you'll help I'll -have one ready in an hour." - -His skeptical "I don't believe it! Why, you _can't_!" was all she needed -to start her to working out her resolution with the force of a young -whirlwind. She could plan with lightning-like rapidity when any need -arose. - -"I said if you'd all help," she reminded him. - -As soon as he had expressed a hearty willingness to do anything he could -to carry "Sandy Claws" to the camp-yard, she began. - -"The minute we get home, you hack off one of the bottom branches of that -cedar tree outside the gate; a good bushy one about three feet high. Put -it into the box that Joyce's presents came in, and nail it in place -with cleats made from the lid. Better weight it with some stones in the -bottom, and we can tack green crêpe paper all over the base. We've -nothing but ordinary white candles, but we can cut them in two, and wire -them on with hairpins, and cover the pins with tinfoil out of my -scrap-box that you make so much fun of. That will be _your_ part. - -"There's some corn already popped, waiting till I get back, to be made -into balls. I'll get mamma to string it instead, and Jack to make a lot -of little gilt cornucopias out of some stuff I've saved. I'm sure he'll -donate the candy cane Joyce sent as a joke, although he is so fond of -old-fashioned striped peppermint sticks. We'll break it up into short -pieces and hang that on. And we can tie up a few dates and nuts into -tiny packages. There are fancy papers and ribbons galore in that -aforesaid scrap-box. I'll think of more after we get started. Come on, -let's race the rest of the way. The one who gets there first can tell -the others." - -Norman reached the front door several yards ahead of Mary, but he did -not claim his privilege. He merely rushed into the kitchen for a -hatchet, calling as he dashed out again, "Sixty minutes to make a -Christmas tree in! Everybody get to work." Mary did not stop to take -off her hat. Throwing off her coat, she began talking "on the bounce" as -Jack said, for she hurried from one room to the other, explaining at the -top of her voice, while she gathered up pop-corn, scrap-box, paste-tube -and scissors. Her enthusiasm was so contagious, her description of the -camp-yard pilgrims so appealing, that by the time she had finished her -breathless account of them Jack had begun cutting squares of gilt paper -and Mrs. Ware was stringing corn as if they were working to win a wager. - -The race against time was the most exciting experience they had had in -Bauer. They watched the clock with many laughing exclamations, but were -working too fast to talk much. In twenty minutes Norman brought in a -shapely little tree firmly fastened on a green base. In thirty minutes -more the candles were wired in place; a few skilful twists had turned -part of the tinfoil into silvery ornaments to hang beneath, while the -rest had gone to the making of a great star to blaze on the top-most -bough. White strings of pop-corn were festooned around it like garlands -of snow. Every branch was bright with gilt and silver and blue and red -packages, holding only a nut or a sweetmeat it is true, but adding much -to the gay attire of the tree. - -A little pocket-mirror flashed from one bough, a fancy sample bottle of -perfume hung from another. A miniature cake of scented soap and many -fluttering picture cards bore witness to the resources of the scrap-box. -Then exclaiming over a sudden happy thought Mary darted into the bedroom -and took down Lady Agatha. Three snips of the scissors robbed her of the -needle book hidden under her fluffy scarlet skirts and of the emery bag -and thimble case tied to her sash ends, and left her no longer useful; -only so ornamental that any little girl would have been glad to take her -to her arms and affection. - -"I know Mrs. Boyd wouldn't mind my passing it on to those children," -Mary said as she tied it to one of the highest branches, "if she knew -that it makes me happy as well as them." - -"But," asked Norman, "what if Goldilocks and her sister both want to -play with it at the same time? What will the left-out one do?" - -Mary thought an instant and then flew to the tray of her trunk to snatch -out a woolly toy lamb, that had fallen to her lot from the mock -Christmas tree at Warwick Hall. - -"I brought it down to Texas with me because Dorene said that 'everywhere -that Mary went the lamb was sure to go.' I expected to keep it always as -a reminder of that lovely evening, but--" with a half stifled sigh, "it -will do them more good than me." - -When that was in place she gave one last glance around the room to see -what else she could appropriate. Her eyes fell on the holly wreaths. - -"Those red bows will make lovely hair-ribbons," she cried. "We can spare -two of them. Hurry, mamma, and help me untie them! The needle-book may -as well go too. Pin it on, Norman, and stick a date in the thimble bag -and swing it up, Jack." - -In the meantime Norman had been lighting the candles in order that they -might see how it looked when it was all ashine, and it stood now, a very -creditable and a very bright little tree. There were none of the -spun-glass birds and crystal icicles and artificial fruits that had made -little Patricia's tree such a gorgeous affair the year before, and were -probably making it beautiful to-night, but there was sparkle and color -and glow and charm of beribboned packages, enough to make little eyes -who saw such a sight for the first time believe that it was the work of -magic hands. - -"Done!" cried Mary triumphantly, "and in only fifty-eight minutes!" - -"Well, I didn't believe it would be possible," acknowledged Norman. -"I'll bet it's the only tree in Texas trimmed in such short order." - -When he and Mary reached the camp-yard again, they found the family -sitting around the smouldering fire, listening to the phonograph which -was still playing in the cottage down the road. The quilts were spread -out in the wagon, ready for the night, but the children, who had slept -most of the afternoon on their tiresome journey, could not be induced to -climb in while the music lasted. - -The two bearers of Yule-tide cheer set the tree down and reconnoitered -through cracks in the fence. "The man looks awfully down in the mouth," -whispered Norman. "So does she. Shall we tell them 'Sandy Claws' sent -it?" - -"No," Mary whispered back. "They look so forlorn and friendless, and the -woman seemed to feel so left out of everything, that it might do them -good to tell them we brought it because the angels sang peace on earth, -good-will to men, and that it's a sort of sign that they're _not_ left -out. They're to have a part in it too." - -Norman turned his eye from the knot-hole to gape at her. "Well!" was -his whispered ejaculation. "If you want all _that_ said you'll have to -say it yourself. I'm no preacher." - -"Come on then," said Mary boldly. She knew what she wanted to convey to -them but the words stuck in her throat, and she never could remember -afterwards exactly what she blurted out as they put the tree down in -front of the astonished family and then turned and ran. However, her -words must have carried some of the good cheer she intended, for when -she and Norman paused again outside, she at the knot-hole this time and -he at the crack, it gave them each a queer little flutter inside to see -the expression on the pleased faces and hear their exclamations of -wonder. - -"They couldn't be more surprised if it had dropped right down out of the -sky," whispered Norman. "Now the kids are getting over their daze a bit. -They're hopping around just like they saw the Kramer boys do." - -"See, they've found Lady Agatha," answered Mary. "Just _look_ at -Goldilocks now! Did you ever see such an ecstatic little face. I -wouldn't have missed it for anything. Now they've got the lamb. I'm so -glad I thought of it, for the Kramers had a whole bunch of little white -sheep around the base of their tree." - -They were both very quiet when they finally turned away from the fence -and started home. They did not speak till they reached the white -moonlighted road, stretching past the cotton field. Then Mary looked up -at the stars saying reverently, "Somehow I feel as if we'd been taking -part in the _first_ Christmas. It was a sort of camp-yard that the Star -of Bethlehem led to. Don't you remember, 'there was no room in the inn' -for the Child and His mother? It was a manger the gold and frankincense -and myrrh were carried to. I feel as if we'd been following along--a -little way at least--on the trail of the Wise Men." - -"Me too," confessed Norman. Then nothing more was said for a long time. -Mary could find no words for the next thoughts which puzzled her. She -was picturing all the Christmas trees of the world brought together in -one place, and trying to imagine the enormous forest they would make. -Then she fell to wondering what it was about them that should make "the -eye laugh and the heart laugh, and bring a blessing to the silver hair -as well as brown" as the old couple had sung in the garden. All over the -world it was so. - -Since looking into the windows at other peoples' trees, and then causing -one to bloom and bear fruit herself for the homeless campers, she felt -that she had joined hands with that circle which reaches around the -world. She was no longer an alien and stranger among the people of -Bauer. The "Weinachtsbaum" had given her a happy bond of understanding -and kinship. It had taken the hard, hopeless look out of the older faces -around the camp-fire, for awhile at least, and made the little ones -radiant. And at home--she remembered gratefully how Jack had burst out -whistling several times while he helped to trim it. And the tune that -came in such lusty, rollicking outbursts was one which he never whistled -except when he was in high good humor with himself and all the universe. -She was sure that he wasn't acting then--he couldn't have been just -pretending that he was glad, for it sounded as it always used to do back -at the Wigwam. She wondered why the tree had had that effect. - -And then, like an answer, a verse popped into her thoughts; one that she -had spelled out long ago for Grandmother Ware, letter by letter, one -little finger pointing to each in turn. It was a verse from Revelation, -about the tree that stands on either side of the river, clear as -crystal, "_which bare twelve manner of fruit, and the leaves were for -the healing of the nations_." - -Then all of a sudden she understood why those shining boughs with their -strange fruitage of gifts have power to bring hope and good cheer to -lonely hearts the world over. They are the symbols, which the Spirit of -Christmas sets ashine, of that Tree of Life. And the Spirit of Christmas -is only another name for Love, and it is Love alone, the human and -divine together, which can bring about the healing needed by hearts in -every nation. - -All this did not come to Mary in words. She could not have expressed it -to any one else, but it sent her on her way, deeply, quietly glad. - -Next morning while she was stooping before the oven, basting the turkey -which the Barnabys had sent with their greetings, Jack called her to the -front window where he was sitting. - -A covered wagon was creaking slowly by, drawn by a big horse and a -little burro. The cover was looped up, and in the back end, carefully -tied to the tail-gate, stood the tree which had taken them fifty-eight -minutes to prepare, but whose memory would not be effaced in that many -years from the minds of the two children, seated on the quilts beside -it. - -"I'm so glad you got to see them," said Mary. "Aren't they dear? And oh, -look! Goldilocks is still holding Lady Agatha, and the other one's -hugging the woolly lamb!" - -When the wagon was entirely out of sight Mary started back to her turkey -basting, but stopped a moment to take another look at the gifts spread -out on the side table. Several things had been added to them that -morning; a dissected puzzle picture which Norman had made for her, a -spool case that Jack had whittled out, and a strip of exquisitely -embroidered rosebuds that Mrs. Ware had wrought to be put into a white -dress. There was also a pot of white hyacinths from the rectory, and -Mary held her face down against the cool snow of their blossoms, taking -in their sweetness in long breaths. - -"It's been a pretty full Christmas, hasn't it!" exclaimed Jack as he -watched her. - -"It's really been one of the nicest I ever had," she answered, "for one -reason because it's lasted so long. Norman's plan is a success." - -That night after supper Norman insisted on taking his mother down into -the village to look at the lighted windows. After they had gone Mary -took out her Good Times book to record the happenings of the day. She -had a few more notes of acknowledgment to write also, and was glad that -Jack was busy with his own writing. She noticed that he was using India -ink and a crow-quill pen, but thought nothing of that as he was always -experimenting with them. - -Joyce was not the only one of the children who had inherited artistic -ability. Jack never attempted pictures, but he did beautiful lettering; -odd initials and old English script, and had copied verses for calendars -and fly-leaf inscriptions. Joyce said some of his pen-and-ink work was -as beautifully done as the letters she had seen in old missals, made by -the monks. - -Nearly an hour went by. Mary addressed her last envelope. He laid down -his pen and pushed a narrow strip of cardboard towards her. - -"I've made you one more present to end the day with, Mary," he said -jokingly. "It's a bookmark." - -Inside a narrow border of conventional scrollwork was one line, and the -line was from the verse which she had quoted so disastrously that day at -the creek-bank: - -"Close all the roads of all the world, _Love's_ road is open still!" - -As she looked up to speak he interrupted her hurriedly: - -"Yes, I know how miserable I made you that day with my outburst against -fate, and I've felt that you've never believed me since when I laughed -and joked and said that I enjoyed things. But that was only one time -that I gave way, just once that I got down in the dumps and I don't want -you to think that is my usual state of feelings. Really I'm getting more -out of life than you imagine. I'm putting up the best fight I can. I -just wanted you to know that although every other road in the world is -closed against me I can still scrape along pretty comfortably because -that last line is true. Love's road is open still. You all have made it -a good wide one for me, and made it worth while for me to travel it with -you cheerfully to the end. I'm perfectly willing to, _now_." - -"Oh, Jack!" cried Mary in a voice that trembled with both joy and tears. -"I've had a happy Christmas, but knowing you feel that way is the very -best part of all!" - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -"DIE KLEINEN TEUFEL" - - -CHRISTMAS was followed by a week of small calamities. Some of them would -have been laughable, counted singly, but taken all together they assumed -a seriousness not to be considered lightly. - -In the first place, Mary, attempting to tie the boat at the usual -landing, slipped on the muddy bank and dropped the chain. In her effort -to recover it she stepped into the water. Her shoes were soaking wet -when she reached home, and as they were her only good ones she stuffed -them carefully with paper and hung them over the little drum stove in -the living room to dry. That evening Jack read aloud while they washed -the dishes, so they were all in the kitchen when the smouldering log in -the drum stove, having reached the blazing point, suddenly burst into -flame. - -Presently a smell of burning leather made them all begin to sniff -inquiringly, and Mary rushed in to find that one of her shoes had -dropped from the string to which she had tied it by the laces, and was -scorching to a crisp on the red-hot stove. Her old shoes were so shabby -that the immediate need of new ones, left her figuring over the family -accounts until bed-time. It was hard to cut down a list of expenses -already reduced to low water mark. - -The next day a wet "Norther" blew up, bringing the first cold weather of -the winter. After weeks of almost summer-like heat, the mercury dropped -to freezing point in just a few hours, and roaring fires in both the -kitchen and drum stoves failed to warm the little cottage. Like most -houses in that section it had not been built with a view to excluding -the cold. The wind blew in under the north door, lifting the rugs until -they shifted with a wave-like motion across the floor. Jack had to have -a blanket hung behind his chair, and when Mrs. Ware sat down to write -her weekly letter to Joyce the draughts that rattled the windows set her -to sneezing as if she never could stop. - -Mary, full of resources, brought her pink sunbonnet and perched it on -her mother's head, pulling its ruffled cape well down on her shoulders. - -"There!" she exclaimed, laughing at the jaunty effect. "That will keep -'the cauld blasts' from giving you a stiff neck. Do look in the mirror -and then draw a picture of yourself for Joyce. Tell her that the Sunny -South is a delusion. The mercury is only down to freezing, but I am sure -that there isn't an Esquimau in all the Arctic Circle as cold as we are -this blessed minute. That wind goes through a body like a fine-pointed -needle." - -"These little stoves fairly eat up the wood," she grumbled a few minutes -later, glancing into the empty wood-box which Norman had piled to the -top before he left that morning. - -"Norman will be back soon," said Mrs. Ware, looking out from her aureole -of pink ruffles, which she had found such a comfortable shield from the -draughts that she left it as Mary had placed it. "He'll fill the box -again as soon as he comes." - -But Mary had slipped into a coat and was tying a veil over her ears. "It -isn't safe to wait," she answered. "We'd be stiff and stark as icicles -in no time if we were to let the fires go out. I don't mind being -stoker. It's good exercise." - -She skipped out to the wood-pile gaily enough, but the tune she was -whistling changed to a long-drawn note of surprise and dismay when she -saw what inroads they had made on it since the last time she had noticed -it. - -"We'll have to have another cord right away," she thought. "I never -dreamed that fuel would be such a big item of expense, away down here so -far South. But if we have much more weather like this it will be a very -serious item." - -The discovery sent her back to her account book again, but this time she -took it to her own room where Jack could not see her figuring. The -butcher raised the price of meat that week. Both butter and eggs went -higher, and Jack's rubber air-cushion sprung such a leak that it -collapsed hopelessly. A new one was a necessity. Then the cold Norther -made Jack's rheumatism so much worse that he had to stay in bed, and -several visits from the doctor and a druggist's bill had to be added to -the list of the week's calamities. - -The last straw was reached when Joyce's letter came, deploring the fact -that the check which she was enclosing was only half the size which she -usually sent. She had some unexpected expenses at the studio which she -was obliged to meet, but she hoped to send the customary amount next -month. This information was not in the letter which Mrs. Ware promptly -sent in to Jack by Norman, but in a separate postscript, folded inside -the check. Mary read it with startled eyes. - -"Whatever are we going to do?" she asked in a despairing whisper. - -Mrs. Ware shook her head and sat folding and unfolding the check in an -absent-minded way for several minutes. Then she went into her room for -pen and ink to endorse it, so that Mary, who was going down into the -town that afternoon, could cash it. She was gone a long time and when -she came back she had two letters ready to post. - -As Mary went down the road a while later, she glanced at the first -envelope which was addressed to Joyce, admiring as she always did her -mother's penmanship. - -"It's just like her," she thought, "so fine and even and ladylike." Then -she gave an exclamation of surprise as she saw that the second envelope -was addressed to Mrs. Barnaby. - -"Whatever can she be writing to _her_ about?" she wondered. "It's queer -she never said anything about it, when we always talk over everything -together, even the tiniest trifles." - -She puzzled over it nearly all the way to the post-office till she -remembered that she had heard her mother say that she was not altogether -satisfied with the new doctor's treatment for Jack, and that she wanted -to ask Mrs. Barnaby whom to call in consultation. Satisfied with that -solution, Mary thought no more about the matter till the following -Friday, when she came back from a short call at the rectory, to find -that Mrs. Barnaby had just driven away from the house. She was -disappointed, for these visits were always hailed as joyful events by -the entire household. - -"I wouldn't have missed her for _anything_!" exclaimed Mary, following -her mother into their bedroom. "She's so diverting. What particularly -funny things did she say this time? _What's that?_" - -Her glance and question indicated a bundle that her mother had brought -in from the back doorstep and laid on the bed. Mrs. Ware shook her head -meaningly, and closed the door into Jack's room before she answered. -Then she said in a low tone: - -"It's some linen and lace that Mrs. Barnaby brought this afternoon. I -wrote to her asking her if she had any fine hand-sewing that I could do. -Sh!" she whispered, lifting a warning finger, as Mary's cry of "Why, -Mamma Ware!" interrupted her. - -"Jack will hear you, and he is not to know. That's why I had Pedro take -the bundle to the back door. Mrs. Barnaby understands. Something had to -be done, and under the circumstances sewing is the only thing I can turn -my hand to at home." - -"But mamma!" exclaimed Mary, so distressed that she was almost crying. -"Your eyes are not strong enough for that any more. You nearly wore -yourself out trying to support us when we were little, and I'm very sure -we're not going to allow it now. Joyce would be terribly distressed, and -as for Jack--I know perfectly well that he'd just rather lie down and -die than have you do it. We'll bundle that stuff right back to Mrs. -Barnaby, and I'll go down town and see if I can't get a position in one -of the stores." - -Mrs. Ware's answer was in such a low voice that it went no farther than -the closed door, but it silenced Mary's protests. Only a few times in -her remembrance had the gentle little woman used that tone of authority -with her children, but on those rare occasions they recognized the force -of her determination and the uselessness of opposing it. Mary turned -away distressed and sore over the situation. She said nothing more, but -as she went about her work she kept wiping away the tears, and a fierce -rebellion raged inwardly. - -There would have been little said at the supper-table that night if -Norman had not come home in a talkative mood. He was to start to the -public High School the following Monday, at the beginning of the new -term, and had recently made the acquaintance of a boy lately come to -Bauer, who would enter with him. - -"Ed Masters is his name," Norman reported, raising his voice a trifle, -so that Jack, who was taking his supper at the same time from a bedside -table in the next room, might be included in the conversation. - -"I like him first rate, and it will make it lots easier for me at -school, not to be the only new boy. The only trouble is, he doesn't know -whether his folks are going to stay in Bauer long enough to make it -worth while for him to start or not. They came for the whole winter, but -they say that they can't stand it at the hotel many more days if -something isn't done to those Mallory kids. Ed says they're regular -little imps for mischief. They've been here only two weeks, but they're -known all over Bauer as 'die kleinen teufel.'" - -"Which being interpreted," laughed Jack from the next room, "means the -little devils. What have they done to earn such a name?" - -"It might be easier to tell what they haven't done," answered Norman. -"There's two of them, the boy seven and the girl eight, but they're -exactly the same size, and look so much alike everybody takes them for -twins. They put a puppy in the ice-cream freezer yesterday morning, Ed -says, and Miss Edna, the landlady's daughter, almost had a spasm when -she went to make ice-cream for dinner and found it in the can. - -"Yesterday afternoon the delivery wagon stopped at the side entrance of -the hotel (it's the Williams House where Ed is staying), and those -children waited until the boy had gone in with a basket of groceries. -Then they climbed up into the delivery wagon and changed the things all -around in the other baskets so that the orders were hopelessly mixed up, -and nobody got what he had bought. There was a ten gallon can of -kerosene in the wagon, the kind that has a pump attachment. The boy -stopped to talk a minute to Mrs. Williams, and by the time he got back -they had pumped all the kerosene out into the road, and were making -regular gatling guns of themselves with a bushel of potatoes. They were -firing them out of the basket as fast as they could throw, in a wild -race to see which would be first to grab the last potato. - -"Ed says they ride up and down the hotel galleries on their tricycles -till it sounds like thunder, when the other boarders are trying to take -a nap, or they'll chase up and down hooting and slashing the air with -switches. If people don't dodge and scrooge back against the wall -they'll get slashed too. - -"I suppose every merchant on Main Street has some grievance against -them, for they haven't the slightest regard for other people's rights or -property, and they're not afraid of anything. The little girl went into -the livery stable the other day and swung onto the tail of one of those -big white 'bus horses, and pulled a handful of hairs out of it. It's a -favorite trick of theirs to climb into any automobile left at the -curbstone, and honk the horn till the owner comes out. Then they calmly -sit still and demand a ride." - -"They must be the children that Doctor Mackay was telling me about," -spoke up Jack. "He came in here one day, furious with them. He had -caught them smearing soap over the glass wind shield of his new machine. -They had climbed all over the cushions with their muddy feet, and -tinkered with the clock till it couldn't run. He threatened to tell -their father, and all they did was to put their thumbs to their noses -and say: 'Yah! Tattle-tale! You _can't_ tell! He's a thousand miles -away!'" - -"Isn't any one responsible for them?" asked Mrs. Ware. - -"Yes," said Norman, "there is a colored girl at their heels whenever -they don't give her the slip. But their mother is ill--came here for her -health, Ed says, and their grandmother who tries to look after them is -so deaf that she can't hear their noise and their saucy speeches. -They're so quick that she never sees them making faces and sticking -their tongues out at people. They do it behind her back. She thinks they -are little angels, but she'll find out when they're asked to leave the -Hotel. Ed says it's coming to that very soon--either the Mallorys will -have to go, or everybody else will. They got into his box of fishing -tackle, and you never saw such a mess as they made. He is furious." - -With her mind intent on her own troubles, Mary did not listen to the -recital of other people's with her usual interest, although what she -heard that night was recalled very clearly afterward. All evening she -brooded over her grievance, trying to discover some remedy. She could -not take the sewing away from her mother and do it herself, for while -fairly skilful with her needle, she had not learned to make a fine art -of her handiwork. The garments Mrs. Ware made were as beautifully -wrought as those fashioned and embroidered by the French nuns. - -"I _know_ Mrs. Barnaby never would order anything so fine and -expensive," thought Mary bitterly, "if she didn't know that we need the -money so badly. She did it because mamma asked her, and felt that she -couldn't refuse. That is a sort of charity that kills me to accept, and -I sha'n't do it one minute longer than I have to." - -It was easier to make such a resolution, however, than to carry it out. -A short call on Mrs. Metz next morning, showed her that her first plan -was not feasible. The old woman being related to nearly half of Bauer by -birth or marriage, and knowing the other half with the intimacy of an -"oldest inhabitant," was in a position to know each merchant's needs and -requirements, also what wages he paid each employee. Most of them had no -occasion to hire outside help. Their own families furnished enough. It -was a necessary requirement of course, that any one applying for a -position must speak German. That one thing alone barred Mary out, and -she went home anxious and disheartened. Still, even if she could have -spoken a dozen tongues, the position she had coveted did not seem so -desirable, after she learned the small amount the clerks received. - -All that day and the next she worried over the matter, and finally -decided to go to Mrs. Rochester and ask her advice. On the way up to the -rectory she stopped at the post-office. The mail was being distributed, -and while she stood waiting for the delivery window to open, the rector -himself came in. As he turned away from his locked box, in which only -papers had been deposited so far, he saw Mary and went over to her with -a cordial greeting. - -"I'm looking for something," he said with a twinkle of fun in his eyes. -"Maybe you can help me. It is as hard to find as the proverbial needle -in the haystack, but I must have it before sundown if possible. Some one -as patient as Job, as tactful as a diplomat, with the nerve of a -lion-tamer and the resources of a sleight-of-hand performer--the kind -who can draw rabbits out of a silk hat if necessary." - -Mary laughed. "What are you going to do with such a wonderful creature -when you find it?" - -"Turn it loose on those Mallory children," answered Mr. Rochester, -lowering his tone. "I was sent for yesterday, presumably to see their -mother who is an invalid, but I found that the real reason was to give -some advice to Mr. Mallory about the children. The hotel refused to -harbor them any longer, and he had been summoned hastily by telegraph. -He has moved his family to a furnished cottage near the hotel. Their -meals will be sent in to them, and his mother can look after his wife, -but he is desperate about the children. - -"He acknowledges he could not cope with them even if he could stay here -all the time away from his business. His wife has never allowed them to -be punished, and has foolishly humored them till they are past being -controlled. He besought me to find some one who could take them in hand -for a part of the day at least." - -"But what could an outsider do with them if their own family has -failed?" queried Mary. - -"Ah, that's where the lion-tamer and the sleight-of-hand performer -combination gets in his work. He must quell them with his eye, and draw -ways and means out of his silk hat. Mrs. Mallory would like to have them -taught to read and write if it can be done without crossing the little -dears, but I inferred that their father would be glad simply to have -them taken in hand and tamed sufficiently to keep them from being public -nuisances." - -Mary's pulses began to pound with the excitement of a daring thought, -but she managed to appear unconcerned, and asked him in a joking way, -"And if you can't find this Job-like, diplomatic lion-tamer they want, -they'll have to take some ordinary person?" - -"They'll be obliged to. But I'm afraid that a quest even in that -direction will prove fruitless. It's a field for real missionary effort, -though. Some one might be willing to approach it in that spirit." - -The delivery window flew up, and as the waiting line began moving along -towards it, Mr. Rochester lifted his hat and turned away. But before he -could fit his key in the lock of his box, Mary was at his side. - -"One moment, please," she exclaimed, her face flushing. She spoke very -fast. "If you think that _I_ can fill that position will you tell them -about me? I've really got lots of patience with children, and"--laughing -nervously--"last summer I partly tamed a young wild-cat. I could at -least tell the children stories, and teach them all sorts of wood-lore -that would keep them busy and interested out of doors. Besides," she -flushed still deeper, "I _must_ find some way to earn some money soon. -My very need of it would make me try all the harder to fill the place. -I am on my way now to see Mrs. Rochester and ask her advice about what -to do." - -A few minutes later she and Mr. Rochester were walking rapidly along the -road in the direction of the Williams House. As they crossed the wide -foot-bridge which spans the creek, and climbed the hill on the other -side, she told him of the work she had done the previous summer under -the noted naturalist, Professor Carnes. - -"He had arranged to send his fifteen-year-old niece to Lone Rock this -winter," she added, "but her physicians decided at the last moment that -she needed a milder climate. She was to have boarded near us, and I had -promised to devote my mornings to keeping her out of doors and teaching -her in an indirect way that would not suggest books or study hours. -Maybe the fact that such a man as Professor Carnes thought me competent -to do that, and was willing to pay me a grown teacher's salary, might -have some weight with the Mallorys. Oh, I _hope_ they won't think -seventeen and a half is too young," she exclaimed, with an anxious -glance at her companion, as if to discover his opinion. - -"If I'd only known such an important interview was ahead of me I'd have -worn my blue suit. I look lots older in that because it's longer than -this one." - -"I don't think you need worry about that," the rector answered. He spoke -gravely, but the face he turned away from her twitched with suppressed -amusement. - -They passed the Williams House, and turned in at the gate of a gray -cottage, where Mr. Mallory himself met them at the door. He was a -prosperous young broker with an affable manner and the self-confident -air that some people acquire from the carrying of a fat bank-book. He -ushered them into the room where Mrs. Mallory was lying on a couch. She -was very young and blue-eyed and soft-haired. Curled up among the -cushions under a blue and white afghan, she made Mary think of a kitten. -She seemed so helpless and incapable, as if she had never known anything -but cushions and cream, all her life. - -Two children were playing quietly under a table, in the corner. Mary -could not see what they were doing, for they were lying on their -stomachs with their heads towards the wall. Only their little -black-stockinged legs and slippered feet protruded from under the table, -and they were waving back and forth in mid-air above their backs. - -When Mr. Rochester introduced Mary as the young lady they were so -desirous of finding, one pair of small legs stopped waving, and their -owner backed hastily out into the room. Humping along on all fours until -she reached her mother's couch, she sat on the floor beside it and began -studying the visitors with a quiet intense gaze. She was an attractive -child, with rather a wistful little face. Her hair was cut short in -Buster Brown fashion, and she was remarkably strong and sturdy looking -for a girl. Otherwise there was nothing in her appearance to justify -one's belief that she had done all the tom-boy things ascribed to her. - -To Mary's surprise Mrs. Mallory discussed the children as freely as if -they were not present, repeating their pranks and smart sayings as if -they were too young to understand what was being said, and frankly -admitting her inability to control them. - -"Mr. Mallory and I agree on every subject but the proper way to rear -children, and we almost come to blows over that," she said, smiling up -at him till the dimples in her cheeks made her seem more childish and -appealing than ever. - -"I believe in letting children do exactly as they please as far as -possible. The time will come soon enough when they can't, poor little -dears. We have not imposed our wishes on them even in the matter of -names. It has been a life-long regret with me that my mother burdened me -with a name that I despised, and I made up my mind that _my_ children -should be allowed to choose their own. Little brother, there, has chosen -his father's name, Herbert. But we're slow about adopting it. We've -called him Brud so long, his sister's baby name for him, when she was -learning to talk, that it is hard to break the habit." - -"And the little girl?" asked Mary politely, beginning to feel that she -had hastened to shoulder a load which she might not be able to carry. - -"Really it's too cunning the way Little Sister does," exclaimed Mrs. -Mallory. "One week she announces she's Genevive and the next that she's -Bessie or Maud or Irma--whatever happens to strike her fancy, and she -gets simply furious if we don't remember every time she changes. That -was one thing that Miss Edna fell out with us about. She kept calling -her Bessie the week that she wished to be known as Marion. Of course the -child naturally resented it, and Miss Edna actually caught her and shook -her, when she hadn't done a thing but throw a biscuit or some little -article like that in her direction." - -Mary cast a half-frightened glance at Mr. Rochester, aghast at the -prospect before her. The soft voice went on. - -"_We_ don't believe in being harsh with children, _do_ we, Beautiful?" -She reached down to stroke the little head nestled against her couch. "I -want my children to have it to remember of their mother that she never -scolded or punished them. _You_ can say that. _Can't_ you, pet?" - -Pet only nodded in reply, but she caught the slim white hand in both her -own and pressed it lovingly against her cheek. It made a pretty tableau, -and Mary found it hard to realize that this affectionate little creature -was one of the "kleinen teufel" of Norman's report. But she noticed the -satisfied gleam in the child's eyes when her mother went on to retail -other instances of Miss Edna's harshness. - -Mr. Rochester saw the expression also, and the shrewd, knowing glance -that followed when he finally broached the terms of a settlement, asking -them to specify exactly what would be expected of Mary and what salary -would be paid in return. He mildly suggested that it might be wiser to -dispense with a juvenile audience at this point. - -He had chosen words that he thought far beyond Little Sister's -comprehension, and there was something startling as well as uncanny in -the way she spoke up for the first time since his entrance. - -"_I aren't a-going to leave this room! Nobody can make me!_" - -Mrs. Mallory looked up at her husband with an amused simper and shook -her head as if to say, "Now, isn't that the smartest thing you _ever_ -saw?" and Mr. Rochester's suggestion was ignored. - -When they rose to go it had been arranged that Mary was to take the -children in charge every afternoon, except Sundays, from one o'clock -till five, at the same salary Professor Carnes had offered her. She was -to teach them anything she could in any way she chose, provided her -methods did not conflict with their happiness. The chief thing was that -they should be kept interested and amused. - -"Then to-morrow at one," said Mr. Mallory, rising with them, "they will -take their first lesson. Come out from under that table, Brud, and get -acquainted with your new teacher." - -Brud waved one leg in token that he heard, but made no further response. -Suddenly Sister found her voice again. - -"_What you going to teach us first? 'Cause if we don't like it we won't -go._" - -Taken thus suddenly, without having had a moment in which to form any -plan of action, Mary groped wildly around in her mind for an answer. She -recognized this as a crucial moment. She could not hesitate long, for -Mrs. Mallory's appealing blue eyes were fixed on her also, the while she -patted the child's cheek and purred, "Why, of _course_ little Sister -will go when the nice lady is planning to give her such a happy time." - -"Happy time adoing _what_?" was the persistent question. - -Just then, Meliss, the colored nurse-girl, opened the side door, and -there floated in from the hotel kitchen the appetizing smell of -pies--hot mince pies just being lifted from the oven. Mary caught -eagerly at the straw of suggestion which the odor offered. At the same -time some instinct prompted her that it was foolishness to address this -child of eight as if she were an infant, or to talk down to her as her -family made a practise of doing. So speaking directly to her as if she -were addressing an intelligent and reasonable being she said gravely: - -"The kind of school we are going to have is so different from any you've -ever heard of, that I can't explain it beforehand. I can only tell you -this,--it is somewhat like a Jack Horner pie. Each day you'll put in -your thumb and pull out a plum. But what that particular plum will be -depends on so many things that I could not possibly give it a name -before it actually happens. It will be a surprise school." - -At the mention of pies the legs under the table hastily came down out of -the air, and the small boy attached hastily backed out into general -view. Planting himself in front of Mary with a swaggering air, his feet -wide apart, he announced aggressively: - -"I'll bring my new hatchet if I want to, and nobody can make me leave it -at home!" - -There was something so impertinent in his manner that Mary longed to -shake him and say, "Don't be so sure of that, Mr. Smarty!" But -remembering the dignified position she now had to maintain, she only -remarked in a matter of fact tone: - -"If your hatchet has a good sharp edge it will probably be one of the -first things you'll need. And you'll find use for a pocket full of -medium sized nails, too." - -"What for?" he demanded, drawing a little closer to begin a thorough -cross examination. But Mary, who had turned to listen to a question of -Mr. Mallory's, paid no heed. - -"I say," Brud repeated, calling as if she were deaf. "What for? _What -for?_ WHAT FOR?" - -Mary paid not the slightest attention until she had answered his father, -then said deliberately, "I've already explained that in a surprise -school you can't know what is going to happen till the time comes." - -"Why?" he whined. - -"Because," she said, pausing impressively, and then lowering her voice -as if she were imparting a mysterious secret, "_it's the Law of the -Jungle_." - -The unexpectedness of this mystifying answer and the sepulchral voice in -which she gave it, was so different from anything Brud had ever -encountered before, that it took him some seconds to recover, and she -was gone before he could think of another question. - -Mr. Mallory walked to the gate with them. "You've certainly started out -well, Miss Ware," he remarked admiringly. "At first I thought we might -have some difficulty in getting their consent to go, but they'll be on -hand to-morrow all right. You've aroused their curiosity to such a pitch -that a regiment armed to the teeth couldn't keep them from satisfying -it now." After an instant's pause he added a trifle awkwardly, seeming -to feel some explanation was due, "Their mother never sees a fault in -them, and my business keeps me away from them so much that--well, you -see yourself how it is." - -On the way home neither Mary nor Mr. Rochester spoke till they were -halfway down the hill. Then they looked at each other and laughed. - -"I hope I haven't got you into _too_ deep water, Miss Mary," he said. -"It's a big undertaking. I must confess to a curiosity as great as -Brud's. What _are_ you going to do with them?" - -"Oh, I don't know!" exclaimed Mary desperately. "Did you see me fencing -for time when Little Sister demanded to be told what I'd teach them -first? Things had happened so fast that I hadn't had a moment to think, -so I had to say the first thing that came into my head. I tremble to -think what a long pause there might have been if the smell of those pies -had not suggested an answer. I think the first week I'll just play with -them as hard as I can. Play Indian maybe, so that if they get too -obstreperous it will be part of the game to tie them to a tree and -torture them. But after all I can't help being sorry for the little -things after hearing their mother talk to them and about them." - -At the end of the foot-bridge where she turned to take the lower road -which was the short cut home, she started to thank him, but he stopped -her earnest words with an uplifted hand and an amused protest. - -"Wait and see how it turns out before you thank me. You may want to -wreak dire vengeance on me before the week's over, for getting you into -such a predicament." - -With a cordial word of parting Mary hurried down the road, and burst -into the house with the breathless announcement that she'd consented to -go as a missionary; that Mr. Rochester had persuaded her to take the -step. She waited a moment to give them a chance to guess what special -field it was she was about to enter, but was so eager to tell that she -had to burst out with the answer herself: - -"It's to the heathen at home I am going, I'm to be an apostle to 'die -kleinen teufel'!" - -Jack gave a loud whistle of surprise and then burst out laughing, but -Mrs. Ware looked across at him soberly, with a triumphant nod of the -head. - -"There! What did I tell you?" she asked. "Didn't I say that she'd soon -adjust herself--find something to amuse herself and all the rest of us -as well?" - -Mary, who had been wondering all the way home how her news would be -received, had never imagined this--that her venture would be looked upon -merely as an outlet for her surplus energy, but after one gasp of -surprise she was glad that her mother had put it that way. - -"She did it on purpose," Mary thought. "So that Jack need not have added -to his other ills the tormenting thought that he had driven his little -sister to a disagreeable task, in order that she might help support -him." - -An understanding glance from her mother, full of approval and tender -appreciation, flashed on her as she drew her chair up to the stove, but -all she said was, "I'm sure you had an amusing interview." Then Mary -proceeded to recount it, giving a graphic and laughable description of -her half hour in the gray cottage. But all the time she was talking and -mimicking she was looking forward to the moment when she could escape to -a corner of the kitchen, and calculate with pencil and paper what she -could never do in her head, the height of prosperity to which this tidal -wave of a salary would lift them. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -AT THE BARNABY RANCH - - -[Illustration: "MARY WARE in TEXAS" - -"Three alert and expectant little figures sat in a row on the steps--"] - -THREE alert and expectant little figures sat in a row on the steps of -the gray cottage, and watched for Mary's coming the next afternoon. -Brud, sawing his hatchet blade up and down on the edge of the step below -him, made deep notches in the paint while he waited. Little Sister, -fuming with impatience, sat with one arm around the young hunting dog -which squatted beside her, and made dire threats as to her conduct, in -case the new teacher should refuse to let him go with them. - -He was a brown English pointer, with a white vest, and the silver plate -on his collar bore the name by which he was registered among the -aristocracy of dogs. The name was "Uncle August." Strangers always -laughed when they read that on his collar, but as Brud usually began to -explain about that time that he was a "peggydreed" dog, his sister -thought that they were laughing at the way he pronounced pedigreed. -Therefore, she would gravely correct him and add the information that -one of his great gram'pas was the King of Kent and another was Rip-rap; -that he was the finest bird-dog in the United States,--her pappy said -so,--and that he had been to a dog college and learned all that there -was for a dog _to_ know. - -The moment Mary appeared, the usual formula was gone through with before -they gave her a chance for more than a bare word of greeting, and she -never knew how much her reception of Uncle August counted in her favor -with the two watching children. - -Like everybody else, she laughed when she heard his name, and put out -her hand to shake the brown paw which he gravely offered. But when he -continued to hold it out to her, and plainly showed by every way in a -dog's power that he liked her and wanted to emphasize his friendliness, -she took his silky ears in her hands, and looking down into his wistful -eyes, praised and petted him till he wriggled all over for joy. - -Brud immediately gave her his full approval, but Little Sister, while -impressed favorably, was not in a mood to approve anything fully. -According to Meliss, "she'd done got out of bed crosswise of herself -that mawnin'" and had continued so ever since. There was a pout on her -lips when her mother called her in to kiss her good-bye, and there was -a defiant light in her eyes as she listened to the farewell instructions -delivered to Mary through the window. She lagged behind when the others -started briskly off, and halfway down the hill began to drag and scrape -her feet annoyingly through the gravel. Although she hadn't the faintest -intention of turning back, she stood still when they reached the -foot-bridge, and announced with a whine: - -"I'm going home! I aren't a having a happy time like mommey said I -would!" - -Mary, who was a few steps ahead, never stopped, even to glance back over -her shoulder, and Sister was obliged to follow in order to hear what she -was saying. - -"You can hardly expect to enjoy a thing before it _begins_," explained -Mary, politely, in that grown-up tone that was such a novelty to Sister -when employed towards herself. "You've never seen the place where Mr. -Metz has given us permission to build. It's where a branch of the creek -curves up through his place. It's dry now, but it is full of big, flat -rocks where we can build the fire when we get to that part of the -school. Maybe we'll be ready for one as soon as next week." - -There was no response save a stifled sniffle and the patter of small -feet which had to move briskly in order to keep up with the procession. -But Brud's questions opened the way for further information which was -not lost on the reluctant follower. - -"There's a little spring that comes bubbling out below, so that we won't -have to go far to fill our kettle. He said we might trim off some of the -smallest shoots of his willows, and he marked the trees we could chop. -That's where you will find use for your hatchet. Willow switches woven -together make a fine covering for a wigwam or a Robinson Crusoe shack. I -learned how to weave them the way the Indians do when I first went to -Arizona." - -It was the novelty of being talked to in that dignified, grown-up way -that drew Sister slowly but surely along after the others. As they -followed the creek, Uncle August, dashing on ahead, scared a rabbit out -of the underbrush. He was too well trained to give chase to it, so the -frightened little cotton-tail loped away unhurt. It served its mission -in life, however, as far as Mary was concerned, for it reminded her of a -story which she proceeded to tell as they walked along. Sister listened, -suspiciously, expecting a personal application at the end, about a -sulky little girl who never wanted to do anything that other people did. -That was the kind Meliss always told. So did mommey, in vivacious, -kindergarten style, when they had been especially naughty. Sister hated -stories, since those with a moral attached were the only kind she had -ever known. - -When this tale turned out to be one of Br'er Rabbit's funny adventures -in outwitting Mr. Fox, and ended with a laugh instead of a personal -application, she was bewildered for a moment. Then she remembered that -this was a surprise school, and determined not to miss anything that -seemed to start out with such promise for further entertainment, she -stopped dragging her feet and took up a more cheerful pace along the -creek bank, in the trail of Brud and Uncle August. - -It would have been a determined soul indeed who could have stayed morose -very long, out-of-doors in the perfect weather that had followed the -Norther. It was like late October in Kentucky--sunny, yet with a -crystal-like coolness that made exercise a delight. - -It had been such a short time since Mary had stepped out of her own play -days that she found herself stepping into the children's with an -_abandon_ which almost equalled theirs. There was no pretense about her -enjoyment at first. With a pleasure almost as deep and unalloyed as when -she and Hazel Lee built wigwams on the edge of the Arizona desert, she -went about the building of a shack on the side of this Texas creek bank. - -The energy with which she brought things to pass was contagious. Brud -and Little Sister worked like beavers to keep up with this rare, new -playfellow, who had something better than a Midas touch,--something -which not only put a golden glamour over everything she said and did, -but turned their little world of mimic sports into a real world of -tremendous meaning and importance. For the first time in his life Brud -found himself where there were things lawful for his hatchet to cut. For -the first time Sister was kept so busy doing delightful things that -there was no necessity for anyone to say "don't." - -Before the week was over Mary had opened so many windows for them into -the Land of Make-believe that they began to look upon her resources for -entertainment as boundless. The more she gave, the more they demanded. -They never wanted to go home and would have hung on to her until dark -every evening, had it not been for the alarm-clock which she brought -with her each day. She had no watch and was afraid to accept Jack's -offer of his, lest she should lose it in the woods. It was a little, -round clock, with a bell on top, the dollar and a half kind sold in -country groceries and cross-roads stores. - -She always wound the alarm just before she hung the clock on a bush, -muttering over it a mysterious charm that the children listened to with -skeptical grins, yet with furtive side-glances at each other. To her -surprise they accepted the whirr and bang of the alarm-bell at five -o'clock as the voice of Fate, which must be promptly obeyed. She often -wondered why they did. To Mary the muttering of the abracadabra charm -was only a part of the game, one of the many little embellishments which -made her plays more picturesque than ordinary people's, and she had no -thought of the children attaching any superstitious import to it. She -did not take into account their long association with Meliss, who was -wise on the subject of hoodoos. But the fact remained that her -alarm-clock was the only timepiece within their reach which they never -tampered with, and the only one whose summons they ever obeyed. - -It was probably because she had set such a hard pace for herself that -first week that she found it so difficult to go on afterward. A surprise -school was a greater tax on her inventive genius than she had -anticipated. She had promised them a different plum in their pie each -day, and she lay awake at night to plan games that were instructive as -well as interesting, for she was conscientiously carrying out her -agreement to teach them as well as to amuse them. By the end of the -second week the strain was almost unendurable. - -One evening she went home to find the Barnaby carriage and the gray -mules standing at the gate. Mrs. Barnaby had brought in some venison for -them, and waited to see Mary before taking her leave. - -"I'm waiting to hear about those little savages of yours," she said, as -Mary greeted her and sank limply down into a chair. "Why, you look all -tuckered out. They must be even worse than people say." - -"No, they're not!" protested Mary, warmly. "I'm really proud of the way -I succeeded. The only thing is, I have to keep them busy and interested -every moment, and they're so hungry for stories they never get enough. -The poor little souls have never heard any before, and it is really -pathetic the way they listen. They'll sit as still as graven images, so -interested they scarcely breathe, till the last word is out. Then -they'll begin, 'Oh, tell us another, Miss Mayry! Just _one_ more! -Please, Miss Mayry!' They cling to me like burrs. We nearly always have -a small campfire every day now, for either we're Indians or gypsies, -cooking our meals, or we're witches brewing spells, or elves gathering -magic fires for our midnight revels. They play so hard that the last -hour they always want to sit down by the embers and listen to stories. -But they've nearly drained me dry now. Sometimes I come home so limp and -exhausted I can scarcely move my tongue. I'm glad that to-morrow is -Sunday, for I've surely earned one day of rest." - -"Come out and spend it at the ranch," urged Mrs. Barnaby, hospitably. -"It happens that there is no service to-morrow at St. Boniface, but -James will be coming in for the mail, and will be glad to bring you out -in time for dinner." - -Mary had spent two afternoons at the Barnaby ranch, driving out with -Mrs. Rochester, and she enjoyed them so much that she welcomed the -thought of a return to the homelike old place, with its air of thrift -and comfort. Jack had been better the last few days, so she eagerly -accepted the invitation. - -Next morning Mr. Barnaby drove in for her himself with the gray mules -and the roomy old carriage. Mary, comfortably stowed away on the back -seat, because it had the best springs, leaned forward to hold the reins -while he went into the post-office. She had risen early and hurried -through as much of the work as she could in order that her holiday might -not mean extra work for her mother. Now with an easy conscience she -settled herself to enjoy a care-free day, and looked forward with keen -enjoyment to the seven miles' drive along the smooth country road. - -She had been sitting in a pleasant reverie some four or five minutes, -when a familiar little voice close by the wheel piped out: - -"Why, there's Miss Mayry! _Where_ are you going?" - -Before she could reply, Brud and Sister and Uncle August came swarming -into the carriage, stepping on her toes, climbing up on the seat, and -showing such joy over having discovered her that it was impossible not -to give them a gracious reception, even though she groaned inwardly at -the sight of them. Their prompt demand for a story the moment they were -seated was followed by the appearance of Mr. Barnaby. - -"I can't tell you any stories to-day," Mary explained, pleasantly, -"because I am going visiting. But I'll tell you a lovely one to-morrow, -about Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves. You'll have to hop out now. Mr. -Barnaby is ready to start." - -"I aren't going to hop out!" declared Sister, winding her arms around -Mary's neck in a choking clasp. Brud immediately threw his arms around -Uncle August and held him tight, regardless of the fact that Mr. Barnaby -was whistling to the dog and motioning him to jump out. - -"We are a-going with you," Brud announced. - -"But you are not invited," Mary answered, in a provoked tone. "You -surely don't care to go where you're neither asked nor wanted!" - -"Come on, Bub. I'm in a hurry," said Mr. Barnaby, kindly. He took hold -of the child's arms to lift him out, but Brud, seizing the back of the -seat with both hands, stiffened himself and began to cry, shrieking out -between sobs, "I want to go with Miss Mayry! _Please_ don't put me out! -Aw, Miss Mayry! _Don't_ let him put me out!" - -Immediately Sister added her tearful wails to his. Meliss, sauntering -down the street in search of the children, heard the familiar cries, and -quickened her pace to a run. A crowd was gathering around the carriage. -She came up in time to hear Mr. Barnaby say, good-naturedly, "Oh, well, -if they're going to break their little hearts over it, let 'em come -along. _I_ don't mind!" - -"But their mother will think that something has happened to them," -protested Mary. "She'll be frantic." - -Meliss pushed her way through the crowd to the carriage. "No'm, she -won't, Miss Ma'y. She won't worry none. Her haid aches fit to bus' this -mawnin'. I'll tell her _you's_ takin' keer of 'em, and she'll be only -too thankful to you-all for a free day." - -"It's Meliss who will be thankful for a free day," thought Mary, still -hesitating. She rebelled at the thought of her own day being spoiled, -and realized that for discipline's sake the children ought not to be -allowed to carry their point. Mr. Barnaby settled the question by -stepping into the carriage and gathering up the reins. - -"Tell their mother I'll bring them back before night," he said to -Meliss. - -The sobs and tears stopped as suddenly as they had begun. Presently Mr. -Barnaby glanced back over his shoulder, saying: - -"This load doesn't seem equally divided. Here, one of you kids climb -over into the front seat with me." At the invitation both children threw -themselves violently on Mary and clung to her, beginning to sniffle -again. He looked back at her with the humorous one-sided smile that she -always found irresistibly droll. - -"First time I ever came across that particular brand of youngsters. -Strikes me the old Nick has put his ear marks on 'em pretty plain. -You're crowded back there, aren't you, with that dog sitting on your -feet? Here, sir! Come over here with me!" - -With one bound Uncle August sprang over on the front seat, and sat up -beside his host, looking so dignified and so humanly interested in -everything they passed that Mr. Barnaby laughed. He laid a caressing -hand on him, saying, "So you're the dog that's been to college. Well, it -has made a gentleman of you, sir! I admire your manners. It's a pity you -can't pass them around the family." - -Charmed by the novelty of the drive, the children cuddled up against -Mary, and were so quiet all the way to the ranch that she felt -remorseful when she remembered how near she had come to depriving them -of the pleasure. - -Mrs. Barnaby threw up her hands in surprise when she saw the three -self-invited guests who calmly followed Mary out of the carriage, but -when the situation had been explained in a laughing aside, she said in -her whole-souled, motherly way, "Now, my dear, don't you worry one mite! -We are used to children, and we'll find some way to keep them from -spoiling your day." - -Her first step in that direction was to take them out to the kitchen and -fill their hands with cookies, and send them outdoors to eat them. She -also gave them instructions to stay out and play. A low swing and a -seesaw between the kitchen and the garden gate showed where her -grand-children amused themselves hours at a time on their annual visits. -When she went back into the living-room Mary had seated herself in a -rocking-chair with a sigh of content. - -"What a dear old room this is," she said, looking up with a smile. "It -makes me think of Grandmother Ware's. I love its low ceiling and little, -deep-set windows and wide fireplace. I could sit here all day and do -nothing but listen to the clock tick and the fire crackle, and rest." - -"Well, you do just that," insisted Mrs. Barnaby, hospitably. "I have to -be out in the kitchen for a while. I've got pretty fair help, but she -needs a good deal of oversight, so you sit here and enjoy the quiet -while you can." - -The early rising and the drive had made Mary drowsy, and as soon as she -was left alone the deep stillness of the country Sabbath that filled the -room seemed to fold about her like a mantle of restfulness. She closed -her eyes, making believe that she really was back at her Grandmother -Ware's; that the sunshine streaming in at the open door was the sunshine -of a Northern June instead of a Texas January; and that the odor of -lemon verbena which reached her now and then came from an outside garden -instead of the potted plant on the deep window-sill at her elbow. The -old place was so associated in Mary's memory with a feeling of -perpetual, unbroken calm, that she had never lost one of her earliest -impressions that it was the place of "green pastures and still waters" -mentioned in the Psalms. - -"Jack always said that I'll have my innings when I'm a grandmother," she -said, drowsily, to herself. "I wonder if I'll ever get to a place where -I can always be as serene of spirit as she was, no matter what happens. -I wonder if she ever had anything as upsetting as Brud and Sister to try -her nerves in her young days." - -As if in answer to her mere thought of them, the two children came -racing around the house. They fairly fell into the room, and, throwing -themselves across her lap, demanded that she come out at once and see -the peacocks. Had they said any other kind of fowl she would have -resented the intrusion more than she did, but peacocks recalled Warwick -Hall so pleasantly that she got up at once and went with them. She had -seen none since leaving school. These had not been near the house on her -former visits to the ranch. The stately birds strutted up and down in -the sunshine, their tails spread in dazzling gorgeousness. - -"They're Sammy's," called Mrs. Barnaby from the kitchen door. "He takes -the greatest pride in them. That cock took a prize at the last San -Antonio fair." - -Mary had met "Sammy" the last time she was at the ranch, and had heard -of him ever since her first conversation with Mrs. Barnaby. He was an -elderly cousin of her husband's who had made his home with them for -years. A few minutes later she came upon the old man in the barnyard. -The children, having once obtained possession of her, had dragged her -down there to see a colt that they had discovered. - -Sammy was sitting on the fence in his Sunday clothes, busy with his -usual Sunday occupation of whittling. His bushy gray beard made him look -older than Mr. Barnaby, and the keen glance he gave the children from -under his shaggy eyebrows made them sidle away from him. They, too, had -met him before, under circumstances which they did not take pleasure in -recalling. Only a few moments before he had caught them chasing the -ducks until they were dizzy, and stopped them with a sternness that made -them wary of him. They had had an encounter with him one day in town -also, soon after their arrival in Bauer. They had climbed into the -wagon, which he left hitched in front of the grocery, and had poked -holes into every package he had piled on the seat, in order to discover -what they held. When he came out little streams of rice and sugar and -meal were dribbling out all over the wagon. When he started after them -with a threatening crack of his whip they escaped by darting into the -front door of the butcher shop and out of the back, but they always felt -that it was one of the narrowest escapes they ever made, and that a day -of reckoning would come if he ever got close enough to them to reach -them with his whip. - -It was a trifling disconcerting to come across him suddenly on this -peaceful ranch, and they pulled Mary away as soon as they could. She was -enjoying the conversation they had drifted into, starting with the colt. -He spoke with a strong New England twang, and his quaint sayings and -homely comparisons suggested the types and times portrayed in the -Bigelow Papers. - -Despite her determination not to have her day taken up by the children, -Mary found herself devoting the entire morning to their entertainment. -Country sights and sounds were so new and strange to them that it seemed -selfish not to answer their eager questions, and when their wanderings -around the place led them to a deserted cabin where the Indians had once -killed two Mexican shepherds, she repeated the thrilling story as she -had heard it from Mrs. Barnaby, with all its hair-raising details. When -they went in to dinner she had been answering questions and entertaining -her pupils for two hours, as diligently as on any week-day. - -It was an old-fashioned "turkey dinner" to which they were summoned, and -the variety and deliciousness of the dishes may have had much to do -with the children's conduct. They were so quiet and well behaved that -Mary watched them in surprise. Beyond yes and no and politely expressed -thanks, Brud spoke not at all, and Sister only once. That was to say, -when Mrs. Barnaby addressed her as Sister, "Call me Nancy. I'm trying -that name now." - -Seeing the look of surprise that circled around the table, Mary -explained, feeling that Sister, as usual, was enjoying the limelight -that this peculiar custom of hers called her into. - -"Hump!" exclaimed old Sammy. "Something of a chameleon, eh? If she -changes her nature to suit her name it must keep her family busy getting -acquainted with her." - -"I think it does have some slight influence," answered Mary. "Then she'd -better drop the name of Nancy," said old Sammy, with a solemn wag of the -head. "In an old blue poetry book that I used to read back in Vermont, -it said, - - "'Little Nancy would never her mother obey, - But always did choose to have her own way.' - -"She came to a frightful end, jumping up and down in her chair. - - "'In vain did her mother command her to stop. - Nan only laughed louder and higher did hop,' - -till she fell over and cracked her head. The only Nancys I have ever -known have all been self-willed like that." - -Garrulous Cousin Sammy was only indulging in reminiscence. He had not -intended to tease the child, but she resented his remarks, and thrusting -out her tongue at him, screwed up her face into the ugliest grimace -possible for her to make. Fortunately the arrival of a huge pumpkin pie -turned his eyes away from her just then, for Sammy Bradford, old -bachelor though he was, had strict New England notions about the rearing -of children, which he sometimes burned to put into practice for the good -of the general public. - -After dinner Mr. Barnaby retired to his room for his usual Sunday nap. -Cousin Sammy took his pipe to the sunny bench outside the open door, and -Mrs. Barnaby provided for the children's entertainment by bringing out a -box of toys that had been left behind at different times by various -grand-children. She arranged them on a side table in the dining-room, -with some colored pencils, paper and scissors. - -Brud and "Nancy," ever ready to investigate anything new, seated -themselves at her bidding, and began to paw over the games and pictures -with apparent interest. Thereupon Mrs. Barnaby and Mary went into the -next room, and drawing two big easy chairs into the chimney corner, they -settled themselves for a long, cosy _tête-à-tête_. It was the first -opportunity Mary had had to explain to Mrs. Barnaby that she had -undertaken to teach the children in order to prevent her mother from -sewing for other people. - -They had had about ten minutes of uninterrupted quiet, when the door -opened and "Nancy" walked in with her hat and coat on. Her lips were -drawn into a dissatisfied pout, and she threw herself across Mary's lap, -whining, "I don't like those old things in there! Tell us about the -Forty Thieves _now_!" - -"No, Nancy," said Mary, firmly, hoping to appease her by remembering to -use the new name. "I told you before you came out here that I'd not tell -you a single story to-day." - -"But you already have," cried Brud, triumphantly, appearing in the -doorway also in coat and hat. "You told us about the Indians killing the -shepherds." - -"Oh, but that was just a true happening that I told to explain about the -cabin we were looking at," was the patient answer. "That was different -from sitting down on purpose to tell you a story, and I shall _not_ do -that to-day." - -"Then come and play with us," demanded Sister, seizing her by the hands, -after one keen glance at her to see if she really was in earnest. "Come -on, Brud, and help me pull. We'll _make_ her come!" - -"Sh!" warned Mary, attempting to free herself, as they began shouting -and tugging at her. "I came out here to visit Mrs. Barnaby, and I'll not -play with you till to-morrow. If you don't want to make pictures or cut -paper or work the puzzle games you'll have to go outdoors and amuse -yourselves. But you must not make such a noise. Mr. Barnaby is asleep." - -"Then if you don't want us to wake him up you've _got_ to play with us -to keep us still!" cried Brud. "Hasn't she, Sister?" - -"Call me Nancy when I tell you!" screamed Sister, in an exasperated -tone, stamping her foot. Then, fired by Brud's suggestion, she dropped -Mary's hands and darted across the room to the piano, which was standing -open in the corner. It was an old-fashioned one, its rosewood case -inlaid above the keyboard with mother-of-pearl. The yellow keys were out -of tune, but they had never been touched save by careful fingers, for -it was one of Mrs. Barnaby's cherished treasures. Now she rose as if she -had been struck herself, as both children began pounding upon it -ruthlessly with their fists, making a hideous, discordant din. - -"Stop, children! Stop, I say!" she demanded. But her commands fell on -unheeding ears, and they pounded away until she laid vigorous hands on -them and forcibly dragged them away from the piano. Instantly they -struggled out of her grasp, and rushing back, pounded the keys harder -than before. Mary, who had never seen them act like this, was distressed -beyond measure that she had been the cause, even though the unwilling -one, of such an invasion. She started to the rescue, thinking savagely -that they would have to be gagged and tied, hand and foot, and that she -would take pleasure in helping do it. - -Old Sammy reached them first, however, his Puritanical soul resenting -both the disobedience and the Sabbath-breaking uproar. With one swoop he -caught up a child under each arm, and carried them kicking and -struggling out-of-doors. - -"Here ye'll stay the rest of the afternoon!" he announced, in a gruff -voice, as he put them down. "There's all out-of-doors to play in, and if -you so much as step over the door-sill into that room until I give ye -leave, I'll _withe_ ye!" - -It was a mysterious threat, since neither child had ever heard the word -_withe_ before, and he said it in a deep, awful voice that made Brud -think creepily of the Fee-fi-fo-fum giant in his picture-book at home, -who went about smelling blood and saying, "_Dead or alive, I will have -some!_" - -For a moment they stood in awed silence, gaping at the only person who -had ever intimidated them; then Sister, in a blind rage, seized his clay -pipe that he had put down on the bench, and threw it with all her force -on the stone floor of the porch. - -"You let me alone!" she shrieked, as she darted away from him. -"You--you--you old _Billygoat_, you!" It was the sight of his gray beard -that finally suggested to her choking wrath a name ugly enough to hurl -at him. Then she took to her heels down the grassy lane, Brud following -as fast as possible. - -"There's nothing for me to do but follow them," said Mary, starting into -the bedroom for her hat and coat, which had been laid away in there. -"I'd feel so responsible if they should get hurt, and there are so many -things on a big place like this that they are not used to." - -"Now, don't you worry," interrupted old Sammy. "I'll keep _my_ eye on -them." - -He was quite red in the face with vexation over the loss of his pipe, -which lay in several pieces on the floor, and Mrs. Barnaby, knowing him -well, prevailed on Mary to come back to her easy-chair. - -"You leave them to him," she insisted, in a laughing aside. "He's so mad -that he'll watch them like a hawk, just for the pleasure of pouncing -down on them again if they cut up any more didoes; but his bark is worse -than his bite, and they'll be perfectly safe with him." - -So Mary allowed herself to be drawn back to their interrupted -conversation, but she could not rid herself of an uneasy feeling that -kept obtruding itself into her thoughts, even when she was most -interested. - -If Brud and Sister had deliberately planned a revenge on the old man who -had forced them into exile and temporary obedience, they could not have -chosen anything which would have hurt him worse than their next prank. -Their wild chase down the lane had been brought to a sudden stop by the -sight of the lordly peacock, strutting back and forth in the barn-yard, -his beautiful tail spread wide in the sun. They climbed up on the gate -to watch it, and, hanging over the top bar, admired it in almost -breathless ecstasy for several minutes. The iridescent shimmer of the -gorgeous eyes in its tail started a dispute. - -"That's why you can't ever catch a peacock," Brud asserted, "'cause with -all those eyes in its tail it can see you coming up behind it." - -"Aw, goosey," contradicted Nancy, "it sees with its two little _head_ -eyes. Those feather eyes in its tail can't see." - -"They can!" - -"They can't!" - -The two words were bandied back and forth, the dispute promising to go -on indefinitely, till Brud's triumphant, "Ten million times _can_," was -answered by Nancy's final, "Million billion times _can't_! So there." - -"We'll prove it," was Brud's next taunt. "Try and see if you can catch -him." - -"All right," was the willing assent. "And if the feathers come out of -his tail as easy as they did out of Mis' Williams' red rooster, won't -that old man be mad!" - -In the meantime Sammy had gone into the house to hunt among his -possessions for a certain corncob pipe, to take the place of the clay -one just broken. The mantel-shelf in his room was as crowded as the -corner of an old junk shop, so it took some time for him to find what he -was searching for. He had taken it down and was slowly filling it, when -the sound of a wild commotion in the barn-yard made him hurry to the -door. Turkeys, guineas, ducks, hens,--everything that could gobble or -flutter or squawk, were doing their utmost to attract someone's -attention. And the cause of it all, or, rather, the two causes, were -standing by the watering-trough, comparing the spoils of the chase. They -had crept up behind the peacock, despite his thousand eyes, and caught -him by the tail. Each proudly clutched a handful of long, trailing -feathers, and the bird, miserably conscious that his glory had been torn -from him, had taken refuge under the corn-crib. - -"You outrageous little Hittites!" roared old Sammy, coming upon them -suddenly and seeing the feathers. Then a real chase began. - -A little while later, Mary paused in the middle of a sentence to say, -"Listen! Didn't that sound like the children crying or calling?" - -Mrs. Barnaby, who was slightly deaf, shook her head. "No, I think not. -Anyhow, Sammy is looking after them. He won't let them come to any real -harm. What was it we were talking about? Oh, yes! Those heirloom -candlesticks." - -More than an hour afterward a shadow darkened the doorway for an instant -as Sammy strode past it on his way across the porch. - -"Mr. Bradford," called Mary. "Do you know where the children are?" - -At her call he turned back to the door, holding out a great handful of -peacock feathers which he was taking sorrowfully to his room. - -"Those pesky little varmints!" he exclaimed, still wrathful, "They've -teetotally ruined that cock's looks. Yes, I know where they are. I've -had them shut up in the corn-crib till a minute ago." - -"Shut up in the corn-crib!" echoed Mary and Mrs. Barnaby in the same -breath. - -"Yes, as I told 'em, they haven't any more idea of other people's rights -than weasels, and it's high time they are being taught." - -"Well, do you think they've learned their lesson in one dose, Sammy?" -asked Mr. Barnaby, dryly, coming out from his room in time to hear his -cousin's speech. - -"That remains to be seen," spluttered Sammy, as he strode on to his -room. "They were sniffling and snubbing considerable when I let them -out. I don't think they'll chase _my_ peacock any more." - -The "sniffling and snubbing" changed into out-and-out crying as soon as -they reached Mary's side, and that was followed by heart-broken wails -and demands to be taken home. Nothing comforted them. Nothing could turn -them aside from their belief that they had been abused and must be taken -back immediately to mommey. - -After nearly half an hour spent in vain attempts to silence them, Mrs. -Barnaby said in sheer desperation, "Well, James, you'll just have to -hitch up and take them back, even if it is so early. I hate to have -Mary's visit cut short, but they'd spoil it worse if they stayed. If I -only felt free to give them a good sound spanking now--" - -She did not finish the sentence, but looked over her spectacles so -sternly that the children backed away, lest a feeling of liberty might -suddenly descend upon her. - -As Mary pinned on her hat before the mirror in the bedroom, she turned -to her hostess with a hunted look in her eyes. - -"Do you ever get desperate over things?" she asked. "That's the way I am -now. I'm so tired of those children that the very sound of their voices -sets my teeth on edge. If I only could have had this one whole day away -from them I might have been able to go on with them to-morrow, but now -it seems as if I can't! I just _can't_!" - -"I don't wonder, you poor child," was the sympathetic answer. - -"The worst of it is, I'm utterly discouraged," confessed Mary, almost -tearfully. "I've been pluming myself on the fact that my two weeks' work -had amounted to something; that I'd really made an impression, and given -them all sorts of good ideas. But you see it isn't worth a row of pins. -They are good only so long as I'm exercising like an acrobat, mind and -body, to keep them entertained. The minute I stop they don't pay the -slightest attention to my wishes." - -"Maybe you've done too much for them," said Mrs. Barnaby, shrewdly -guessing the root of the trouble. "You told them it was a surprise -school. Let the next surprise be a different sort. Turn them loose and -make them hunt their own entertainment." - -"As they did to-day," Mary answered, with a shrug. "They'd run home -howling and their mother would think I was incapable and give my place -to someone else. No, we must have the money, so I'll have to go on and -put in my best licks, no matter how I detest it." - -When she drew on her gloves she was so near to tears that the little -bloodstone ring on her hand looked so dim she could scarcely see it. But -it made her glance up with a smile into the benevolent old face above -her, and she stripped back the glove from her finger with a dramatic -gesture. - -"See?" she said, brightly, exhibiting the ring. "By the bloodstone on my -finger, I'll keep my oath until the going down of one more sun." - -"You're a brave little girl. That's what you are!" said Mrs. Barnaby, -stooping to kiss her good-bye. Only that week she had read _The Jester's -Sword_, from which Mary was quoting, and she knew what grim -determination lay beneath the light tone. - -"I guess it will help you the same way it did the poor Jester, to -remember that it's only one day at a time you're called on to endure. -And another thing," she added, trying to put as many consoling thoughts -into their parting as possible, "If you _do_ succeed in teaching them -anything that'll help to snatch them as brands from the burning, it will -count for a star in your crown just as much as if you'd gone out and -converted the heathen on 'India's coral strand.'" - -"It's not stars in my crown I'm working for," laughed Mary. "It's for -pence in my purse." Nevertheless the suggestion stayed with her all the -way home. When conversation flagged, she filled the silences with -pleasant snatches of day-dreams, in which she saw herself becoming to -these benighted little creatures, asleep on either side of her, the -inspiration that Madam Chartley was to everyone who crossed the -threshold of Warwick Hall. - -"I've just _got_ to do something to make them see themselves as they -look to other people," she thought, desperately. "But the question is, -_what_?" - -A hard problem indeed for one who, in many ways, was still only a child -herself. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -IN JOYCE'S STUDIO - - -IT was a wild, blustery day in March, two months after Mary's -interrupted visit at the ranch. Joyce Ware, sitting before the glowing -wood fire in the studio, high up on the top floor of a New York -apartment house, had never known such a lonesome Sunday. The winds that -rattled the casements and sent alternate dashes of rain and snow against -the panes had kept her house-bound all day. - -Usually she was glad to have one of these shut-in days, after a busy -week, when she could sit and do nothing with a clear conscience. Every -moan of the wind in the chimney and every glimpse of the snow-whitened -roofs below her windows, emphasized the luxurious comfort of the big -room. She had had a hard week, trying to crowd into it some special -orders for Easter cards. A year ago she would not have added them to her -regular work, but now she was afraid to turn anything away which might -help to swell the size of the check she must send home every month. If -the days were not long enough to do the tasks she set for herself at a -comfortable pace, she simply worked harder--feverishly, if need be, to -finish them. - -She had been practically alone the entire day, for the two members of -the household who were at home were staying in their own rooms. Lucy -Boyd had a cold, and her devoted little aunt was nursing her with the -care of the traditional hen for its one chicken. Mrs. Boyd had not -allowed Lucy to leave her room even for her Sunday dinner, but had -carried it in to her with her own on a tray. As Miss Henrietta Robbins -was spending the week-end in the country, Joyce did not take the trouble -to set the table for herself, but ate her own dinner in the little -kitchenette. - -Afterward, to make the day as different as possible from the six others -in the week, in which she sat at her easel from morning till night in a -long-sleeved gingham apron, she went into her room and put on a dress of -her own designing, soft and trailing and of a warm wine-red. Pushing a -great sleepy-hollow chair close enough to the hearth for the tips of her -slippers to rest on the shining brass fender-rail, she settled herself -among the cushions with a book which she had long been trying to find -time to read. - -The story, like the bleak outdoor world, seemed to accentuate her sense -of shelter and comfort, but at the same time it somehow emphasized her -loneliness. Now and then, when her eyes grew tired, she paused for a -moment to look around her. There were several things which gave her keen -pleasure every time her attention was called to them, which she felt -ought to be enough of themselves to dispel her vague depression: the -odor of growing mignonette, the sunny yellow of the pot of daffodils on -the black teakwood table, the gleam of firelight on the brasses, and the -warm shadows it cast on the trailing folds of her wine-red dress. - -That lighting was exactly what she wanted for some drapery folds which -she would be putting on a magazine cover next week. She studied the -effect, thinking lazily that if it were not her one day of rest, she -would get out palette and brushes, and make a sketch of what she wanted -to keep, while it was before her. - -She read for over two hours. When the story came to an unhappy ending -she dropped the book, wishing she had never come across such a tale of -misfortune and misunderstanding. It depressed her strangely, and -presently, as she sat looking into the fire, the unbroken quiet of the -big room gave her an overwhelming sense of loneliness that was like an -ache. - -"I'd give anything to walk in and see what they're all doing at home -right now," she thought, as she stared into the red embers, "but I can't -even picture them as they really are, because they are no longer living -in any place that I ever called home." - -The thought of their being off in a strange little Texas town that she -had never seen made her feel far more forlorn and apart than she would -have felt could she have imagined them with any of the familiar -backgrounds she had once shared with them. They seemed as far away and -out of reach as they had been that winter in France, when she used to -climb up in Monsieur Greyville's pear tree and cry for sheer -homesickness. That was years ago, and before the Gate of the Giant -Scissors had opened to give her a playmate, but she recalled, as if it -were but yesterday, the performance that often took place in the pear -tree. - -She began by repeating that couplet from _Snowbound_,-- - - "The dear home faces, whereupon - The fitful firelight paled and shone." - -It was like a charm, for it always brought a blur of tears through which -she could see, as in a magic mirror, each home face as she had seen it -oftenest in the little brown house in Plainsville. There was her mother, -so patient and gentle and tired, bending over the sewing which never -came to an end; and Jack, charging home from school like a young -whirlwind to do his chores and get out to play. She could see Mary, with -her dear earnest little freckled face and beribboned pigtails, always so -eager to help, even when she was so small that she had to stand on a -soap-box to reach the dish-pan. Such a capable, motherly little atom she -was then, looking after the wants of Holland and the baby untiringly. - -Despite the ache in her throat, a smile crossed Joyce's face now and -then, as she went on calling up other scenes. They had had hard work at -the Wigwam, and had felt the pinch of poverty, but she had never known a -family who found more to laugh over and enjoy when they looked back over -their hard times. But now--the change was more than she could bear to -think of. Jack a hopeless cripple, Mary tied down to the uncongenial -work that she had to take up as a breadwinner, when she ought to be free -to enjoy the best part of her girlhood as other girls were doing. Tears -came into Joyce's eyes as she brooded over the pictures she had conjured -up. Then she rose, and trailing into her bedroom, came back with a -lapful of letters; all that the family had written her since leaving -Lone Rock four months ago. Dropping on the hearth-rug, she arranged them -in little piles beside her, according to their dates, and beginning at -the first, proceeded to read them through in order. They did bring the -family nearer, as she had expected them to do, but the later ones -brought such a weight of foreboding with their second reading, that -presently she buried her face in the cushions of the chair against which -she was leaning, and began to cry as she had not cried for nearly a -year. Not since the first news of Jack's accident, had she given way to -such a storm of tears. - -It was some time before she sobbed herself quiet, and then she still sat -with her head in the cushions, till she heard the faint buzz of an -electric doorbell. It sounded so far away that she thought it was the -bell of the adjoining apartment, and gave it no more than a passing -thought. So, too, the sound of an opening door, of an umbrella dropped -into a hat-rack, of voices, seemed to have but a vague connection with -her world. Then she was startled by hearing Mrs. Boyd's voice at the -portière saying: - -"Joyce, dear, here is Mr. Tremont to see you. Ah! I _knew_ you were -asleep. He rang twice, so I answered the bell." - -Phil Tremont, pausing between the portières as Mrs. Boyd slipped back to -Lucy, caught only a glimpse of Joyce's red dress trailing through the -opposite doorway. The scattered letters on the rug bore witness to her -hurried flight. - -"Come on in to the fire, Phil," she called, through the partly closed -door. "Poke it up and make yourself at home. I'll be out in a minute. I -never dreamed of such joy as a caller on this dreadful day, or I should -have been sitting up in state, waiting to receive you!" - -The laughing reply he sent back brightened her spirits as if by magic. -The next best thing to having one of her own family suddenly appear, was -the pleasure of seeing the friend who had made one of their home circle -so often and so intimately in the old Wigwam days which she had just -been crying over. Hastily smoothing her rumpled hair, bathing her eyes -and fluffing a powder-puff over her nose to take away the shine which -her tear-sopped handkerchief had left on it, she came out to find him -standing before the fire, looking down suspiciously at the scattered -letters. - -As he stepped forward with a hearty hand-clasp, she felt that the keen -glance he gave her was a question, and answered as if he had spoken -aloud. - -"No, I wasn't asleep, as Mrs. Boyd thought. I was just having a good -old-fashioned cry--a regular bawl! I don't get a chance to indulge in -such an orgy of weeps often, but now the storm is over and it has -cleared the atmosphere for another year or so." - -"What is it, Joyce? Bad news from home? Is Jack worse?" - -Phil's voice was so sympathetic, his real concern so evident, that Joyce -could not trust herself to answer immediately. She stooped and began to -pick up the letters. - -"I--I'm afraid I boasted too soon about the storm being over. You'll -have to talk about something else for awhile, or I might tune up again." - -"All right," he answered, in a soothing tone, reaching down to help her -gather up the letters. "That suits me, anyhow, for I came on purpose to -bring you a rare bit of news concerning the Tremont family." - -In her present mood the mere sight of Phil's broad shoulders was a -comfort. They might not be able to lift her actual burdens, but she felt -their willingness, and his unspoken sympathy steadied her like an -outstretched hand. Now with the consideration that was one of his most -lovable traits, he gave her time to compose herself, by rattling on in a -joking way about himself. - -"I've come a long distance in the rain and snow to tell my news. I've -torn myself away from all the wiles of Stuart and Eugenia to keep their -only brother with them. I've braved the dangers of Greater New York and -defied the elements in order to be the bearer of such important tidings, -and you needn't think I'm going to give it to you as if it were any -common bit of information. I tell you what I'll do. You may have three -guesses. If you fail you pay a forfeit, say--an invitation to supper, -with the privilege of my helping get it ready in that tabloid kitchen of -yours." - -"That is highly satisfactory," agreed Joyce, whose voice was under -control by this time. She drew her chair a trifle closer to the fire, -and, leaning her elbows on her knees, looked into the embers for -inspiration. - -"It concerns the Tremont family," she mused. "That means all of you. -Well, it must be that the old tangle about your great-aunt Patricia's -holdings in England has been settled and you're coming into some money -after all these years." - -"No; guess again." - -Picking up the long brass tongs, she began to trace pictures on the -sooty background of the chimney while she tried to think of a better -answer. - -"It concerns _all_ of you!" - -"Yes." - -With his hands in his pockets, Phil walked over to the window and stood -looking out over the wide stretch of city roofs below, now almost hidden -by the rapidly deepening twilight. He was smiling while he waited, and -humming half under his breath a song that his old English nurse used to -sing to him and his sister Elsie: "Maid Elsie roams by lane and lea." He -had whistled it almost constantly the last few days: - - "Kling! lang-ling! - She seems to hear her bride-bells ring, - Her bonnie bride-bells ring!" - -He hummed it again when Joyce's second guess was wrong, while he waited -for the third. Then, when it, too, was wide of the mark and she demanded -to be told, he began it again; but this time he sang it meaningly, and -loud enough to fill the room with the deep, sweet notes: - - "A year by seas, a year by lands, - A year since then has died, - And Elsie at the altar stands, - Her sailor at her side. - While kling! lang! ling! - Their bonnie bride-bells gaily ring!" - -Joyce's face grew bright with sudden understanding as he finished, and -she cried, "Elsie is to be married! Is _that_ what you came to tell me?" - -"Yes, my littlest, onliest sister is to be married, immediately after -Easter, out in California, in the Gold-of-Ophir rose-garden you have -heard so much about. We are all going--Daddy and Stuart and Eugenia and -little Patricia and your obedient servant, 'Pat's Pill,' himself." - -He left the window, and stretching himself out in the big chair opposite -hers, gave her the details that she instantly demanded. - -"Elsie's sailor lad is a navy surgeon. The wedding is to be in the -rose-garden, because there is where they first met, and there is where -Elsie has had all the best times of her life. She has always lived with -mother's people, you know, since our home was broken up, and even before -mother's death, we used to spend our winters there. Yes, Daddy opposed -the marriage at first, but you know Daddy. He'd hardly think an -archangel good enough for Elsie." - -The news had the effect which Phil had foreseen, and Joyce's own affairs -retired into the background, while she discussed the matter which was of -such vital importance to the whole Tremont family. Later, he asked her -to name all the things she considered the most desirable and unique as -wedding gifts, and they were still adding to the list from which he was -to make his choice, when they heard Mrs. Boyd come out into the hall to -turn on the light. In the bright firelight, they had not noticed how -dark it had grown outside. Joyce looked at the clock and sprang up, -exclaiming: - -"Lucy will be wanting her cream toast, and it's time also for me to pay -my forfeit to you. How much of a supper are you going to claim, young -man?" - -"That depends on how many good left-overs there are in the pantry and -ice-box," said Phil, rising also. "I'll come and investigate, myself, -thank you." - -Pinning up the train of her red gown and tying on a big apron, Joyce -made quick work of her supper preparations, and the long, lonely day -ended in a jolly little feast, which completely restored her to her -usual cheerful outlook on life. Mrs. Boyd joined them, despite the fact -that she must leave Lucy to eat alone, in order to do so. It was always -a red-letter day in her drab existence when Phil Tremont came into it. -She was such a literal little body, that she never joked herself. She -was mentally incapable of the repartee that always flew back and forth -across the table when Phil was a guest, but she considered his tamest -sallies as positively brilliant. When she went back to Lucy she had -enough material to furnish conversation all the rest of the evening. - -"Now," said Phil, when he and Joyce were back in the studio again, -before the fire, "I don't want to upset your equanimity, but if you can -talk about it calmly, I'd like to hear exactly how things are going with -Jack and Aunt Emily and that little brick of a Mary. I had one letter -from Jack the first of the winter, and I've had the casual reports -you've given me at long intervals, but I've no adequate idea of their -whereabouts or their present sayings and doings." - -"Suppose I read you some of Mary's letters," proposed Joyce. "I've been -surprised at the gift she's developed lately for describing her -surroundings. Really, she's done some first-class word-pictures." - -In answer to his pleased assent, Joyce turned over the letters till she -came to the first one that Mary had written from Bauer. - -"It was written on pieces of a paper sugar-sack while she was getting -supper," explained Joyce. "But you can fairly see the little town spread -out between the spire of St. Peter's and the tower of the Holy Angels' -Academy, with the windmills in between and the new moon low on the -horizon." - -Phil, lounging back in the big chair, sat with a smile on his face as he -listened to Mary's account of the rector's call, while she was perched -up on the windmill. But when Joyce reached the closing paragraph about -its being a good old world after all, and her belief in Grandmother -Ware's verse that the crooked should be made straight and the rough -places smooth, a very tender light shone in his keen eyes. He said in a -low tone, "The dear little Vicar! She's game to the core!" - -Urged to read more, Joyce went on, sometimes choosing only an extract -here and there, sometimes reading an entire letter, till he had heard -all about her visit to Gay, her first experience at a military hop, -their brave attempt to make a merry Christmas among strangers, and -finally her experience with the Mallory children, because of their -desperate need of money. - -"Don't skip!" insisted Phil, still laughing over her account of her "day -of rest" at the Barnaby ranch, when the peacock lost its tail. - -"The next one isn't funny," replied Joyce, "but it is especially -interesting to me because it shows how Mary is growing up." - -She hunted through the disordered pile until she found one dated two -months ago. - -"'The night after I brought Brud and Sister back from the ranch I lay -awake for hours, trying to think what to do next to find the vulnerable -spot in my _kleinen teufel_. I couldn't think of a thing, but decided to -begin telling them Kipling's jungle stories instead of any more -fairy-tales, and to try Mrs. Barnaby's suggestion of making them -responsible for their own entertainment part of the time.' - -"Oh, this isn't the one I thought," exclaimed Joyce. "It goes on to tell -about the last news from Holland, instead of the children. Here is the -one I wanted, written two weeks later: - -"'Hail, Columbia, happy land! I've found the "open sesame," thanks to -Kipling, and in a way I little expected. The children showed a -breathless interest in the Jungle stories from the start, and began -dramatizing them of their own accord. They have thrown themselves into -the play with a zest which nothing of my proposing has ever called out. -For two weeks I have been old Baloo, the Brown Bear, and Father Wolf by -turns. There are two little hairless man-cubs in our version, however, -for a Mowglina divides honors with Mowgli. Sister says she has chosen -the name of Mowglina "for keeps," and I sincerely hope she has, if what -Mr. Sammy Bradford said about names having a moral effect on her is -true. - -"'We have our Council Rock up on the high hill back of St. Peter's, -where Meliss sometimes plays the part of the Black Panther. We no longer -greet each other with "Good morning." It is "Good Hunting" now, and when -we part, it is with the benediction, "Jungle favor go with thee!" You -remember Baloo taught the wood and water laws to Mowgli, how to tell a -rotten branch from a sound one, how to speak politely to the wild bees -when he came upon a hive of them, etc. But more than all he taught the -Master Words of the Jungle, that turned every bird, beast and snake into -a friend. It is simply amazing to me the way they seemed to be charmed -by that idea, and it is strange that such utterly lawless children -should be not only willing but eager to abide by the rules laid down for -animals. It does my soul good to hear Brud, who has never obeyed anyone, -gravely declaim: - - "'"Now these are the laws of the Jungle, - And many and mighty are they, - But the head and the hoof of the law - And the haunch and the hump is--_obey_!" - -"'Or to hear saucy little Sister in the rôle of Mowglina, repeating -Kaa's words to Uncle August, "A brave heart _and a courteous tongue_, -they will carry thee far through the Jungle, manling." - -"'It was Uncle August, bless his old brown body, who helped me to make -my first personal application of the play. I had just heard of their -latest prank down-town. (Sad to say, the more angelic they are as little -wolves, the more annoying they are when they return to the Man-pack.) -They had dropped a live garter snake, a good-sized one, through the slit -of the package box, and the postmistress had picked it up with a bundle -of newspapers. She was so frightened that she yelled like a Comanche, -and then had a nervous chill that lasted for a quarter of an hour. That -same day they filled all the keyholes of the private letterboxes with -chewing-gum, as far up as they could reach, and everybody who had to -stop to pry it out was _so_ cross. - -"'I didn't say anything to them about it till after they had told me -about Uncle August's chasing the calves out of Mrs. Williams' garden, -and how she had petted and praised him for it. We talked a few minutes -about the way Uncle August is beloved by everybody who knows him, and -how even strangers on the street stop to pat his head or say something -kind about him. - -"'"It's because he keeps every Law of the Jungle, for dogs," I told -them, and then I said, quite mercilessly, "but the whole town looks on -you two children as _Banderlogs_! Mere, senseless monkey-folks, outcasts -who have no leaders and no laws!" Really, it hurt them dreadfully and I -felt almost cruel for saying it. I could see that the shot told when I -reminded them how they had been turned out of the hotel and chased out -of every store in town. I told them that people said ugly things about -them behind their backs, just as Kaa and Baloo did about the silly gray -Apes who threw dirt and sticks and made mischief wherever they went. - -"'That was the climax. They both threw themselves across my lap and -began to cry, protesting that they were _not_ Banderlogs. They didn't -want people to call them that. I think my good angel must have inspired -me to make the little sermon that I gave them then, for I certainly had -never thought of the analogy before--how the same thing that is true in -the Jungle holds good in the Man-world; that we must learn the Master -Words for each person we meet, so that every heart will understand when -we call out, "We be of one blood, ye and I." That just as the elephants -and kites and snakes became friendly to Mowgli as soon as he learned the -Master Words of their speech, so Miss Edna and the postmistress and old -Mr. Sammy would be friendly to them, when they showed that they not only -had brave hearts, which scorned to play little, mean, silly tricks, but -_courteous tongues_ as well. - -"'The amazing part of it is that they understood me perfectly, and right -then and there had a sort of spiritual awakening to the fact that they -really are "of one blood" with these people they have been tormenting. -It is pathetic to watch how hard they have been trying ever since, to -convince people that they are _not_ Banderlogs, but are sensible -children, willing to be governed by laws that they never understood -before. Now, at parting, they insist on my repeating _all_ the verse: - - "'"Wood and water, wind and tree, - _Wisdom_, _strength and courtesy_, - Jungle favor go with thee." - -They seem to believe that it verily holds some sort of hoodoo spell -which will armor them with magic power to make friends. - -"'Already Sister has made peace with the postmistress by the gift of a -crude little willow basket of her own weaving, filled with wildflowers. -It met with such a gracious reception (due principally to private -explanation beforehand) that Sister fairly squirmed with the blessedness -of giving,--her first real experience of that sort. Brud used his -hatchet to split a pine box into kindling, and presented the same, tied -in neat bundles, to Mrs. Williams. Her surprise and voluble thanks (also -solicited beforehand) were so gratifying that Brud came home so -satisfied with the new application of the game that he burns to play it -with everyone in Bauer, proving with actions, if not words, that he has -a right to say, "We be of one blood, ye and I," and that he is _not_ a -Banderlog.'" - -As Joyce slipped the letter back into its envelope, Phil leaned forward -to put another log on the fire, saying, as he did so, "Good for Mary! -She always manages to find some way out, and it is always a way no one -else would think of. But somehow I can't quite place her in these -letters. She's the same little bunch of energy that I've always known, -and yet there's a difference. I can't quite make out what." - -"She's growing up, I tell you," answered Joyce. "That's what makes the -difference. Listen to this one: - -"'Yesterday being Valentine's day, we had a picnic at the Council Rock. -The hill rises straight up from the public road, just back of the -Mallory cottage and St. Peter's. There is a roundabout road to the top, -leading in from a back lane, which is easy to climb, but, of course, the -children chose the steep trail starting near their gate. Nothing but a -goat could walk up it with perfect ease and safety. - -"'Once at the top, the view is lovely. You can see over half the county, -and look right down into the chimneys of the town. The whole hilltop is -covered with wildflowers; strange, beautiful things I have never seen -before--so many exquisite colors, you'd think a rainbow had been broken -to bits and scattered over the ground. - -"'At one o'clock we started out of the Mallory gate, the most grotesque -procession that ever went down the pike of Bauer. You see, we'd dropped -the Jungle game for the day, and they were doing St. Valentine honor. I -went first in my oldest dress, on account of the climb, my Mexican hat -on my head, my alarm-clock, as usual, in one hand and a thermos bottle -in the other. I was taking some boiling water along to make them tea, as -a great treat. They don't like it particularly, but they wanted to use a -little Japanese tea-set that had just been sent to them. - -"'Sister, fired by some of my descriptions of Valentine costumes, had -elected to attend the picnic as the Queen of Hearts, and had dressed -herself for the part with the assistance of Meliss. She looked perfectly -ridiculous, spotted all over with turkey-red calico hearts. They were -sewed on her dress, her hat, and even her black stockings. She was as -badly broken out with them as a measles patient would have been with a -red rash. - -"'Brud wouldn't let her dike him out in the same way. She wanted him to -go as Cupid. He consented to let her call him Cupid and he carried a bow -and arrow, and wore some of the trimmings, but he wore them in his own -way. The white turkey-wings, which she tried to attach to his -shoulderblades, he wore bound to his brow like an Indian chieftain's -war-bonnet. Long-suffering Uncle August frisked about in a most -remarkable costume. I think it must have been made of the top section of -Brud's pajamas, with the sleeves pulled up over his front paws, and -buttoned in the back. It was sprinkled with big hearts, some blue and -some yellow. - -"'But, funny as they looked, Meliss was the comic Valentine of the -occasion. The front of her was covered with an old lace window curtain. -Across her bosom, carefully fastened with a gilt paper arrow, was the -lithographed picture of a big red heart, as fat and red and shiny as a -ripe tomato. She carried the lunch basket. - -"'I must confess it staggered me a trifle when the procession came out -to meet me, but they were so pleased with themselves I hadn't the heart -to suggest a single change. I led on, hoping that we wouldn't meet -anyone. Well, we hadn't gone a hundred paces till we heard hoof-beats, -and a solitary horseman came riding along behind us. Brud looked back -and then piped up in his shrill little voice: - -"'"Oh, look, Miss Mayry! Look at the soldier man coming!" - -"'Naturally, I glanced back, and my blood fairly ran cold, for there, -riding along with a broad grin on his face at sight of our ridiculous -turnout, was Lieutenant Boglin! I was so amazed at seeing him that I -just stood still in the road and stared, feeling my face get redder and -redder. Somehow I had no power to move. He didn't recognize me till he -was opposite us, but the instant he did, he was off his horse and coming -up to shake hands, and I was trying to account for our appearance. It -seems he had been with the troops up at Leon Springs for target -practice, and was taking a day off while they were breaking camp. He had -been commissioned to look at a polo pony somebody had for sale in Bauer, -and thought while he was about it he would call and see the Ware family, -after he had had dinner at the hotel. He was on his way there. - -"'Well, there I was! I couldn't ask him to go on such a babyfied lark as -our Valentine picnic. I couldn't leave the children and take him over -home, because my time is Mrs. Mallory's. Even if she had excused me, the -children would have raised an unstoppable howl, and probably would have -followed us. They are making grand strides in the courtesy business, but -they are still far from being models of propriety. - -"'When I had explained to the best of my ability, I told him I would be -through at five, and asked him to wait and take supper with us. I could -see that he was inwardly convulsed, and I do believe it was because we -all looked so ridiculous and he wanted to see the show a second time -that he accepted my invitation with alacrity. As soon as he started on -to the Williams House, I stopped under a tree and wrote a scrawl to -mamma on the margin of the newspaper that was spread on top of the -lunch-basket. Then I gave Meliss a dime to run over home with it, so -that the family needn't be taken by surprise if Bogey happened to get -there before I did. - -"'But it seems that he forgot the directions I gave him for finding the -house, and about ten minutes to five, as the children and Meliss were -finishing the lunch which was spread out on the Council Rock, he came -climbing up the side of the hill. The children had been angelic before -his arrival and they were good after he came, except--I can't explain -it--there was something almost impish in the way they sat and watched -us, listening to everything we said, as if they were committing it to -memory to repeat afterward. Even Uncle August, in his heart-covered -pajamas, squatted solemnly on the rock beside them and seemed to be -stowing away something to remember. - -"'The lieutenant couldn't glance in their direction without laughing out -loud; they looked so utterly comical. So he turned his back on them and -began to admire the view, which certainly was magnificent. As the sun -began to go down the wind came up, and the veil I had tied around my hat -got loose, and streamed out like a comet's tail. I couldn't tie it down -and I couldn't find a pin to fasten it, and first thing I knew he had -taken one of those fancy bronze pins from the collar of his uniform, -those crossed guns that officers wear, you know, and he gave me that to -fasten my veil with. - -"'Now, there was nothing remarkable in that. Gay and Roberta have whole -rows of such pins that different officers have given them. But Sister -pointed her finger at me and shrilled out like a katydid, as if they had -been discussing the subject before, "No, sir, Brud! You can't fool _me_! -He _is_ Miss Mayry's valentine. He's her _beau_!" - -"'Unless you could have heard the elfish way she said it, you couldn't -understand why it should have embarrassed me so dreadfully. My face felt -as hot as a fiery furnace. He sort of smiled and pretended not to hear, -and I couldn't think of a word to break the awful pause. But just then -the alarm-clock, hanging on a bush behind us, went off with a whang and -clatter that sent us both springing to our feet. - -"'They had finished their lunch by that time, so I helped Meliss hustle -the dishes into the basket and headed the party for home as soon as -possible. You can imagine the deep breath of thankfulness I drew when I -finally left them at their own gate. But I drew it too soon. I should -have waited until we were out of earshot. For as they went racing up the -path to meet their mother, we could hear them shrieking to her about -Miss Mayry's valentine beau who gave her two teeny, weeny guns to pin -her veil with. - -"'The wind wasn't blowing so hard down where we were then, so as we went -along I said in a careless sort of way, "Oh,--'lest we forget'--I'll -return this now," and started to take it out of my veil. But he only -laughed and said, with such a mischievous glance, "No, keep it, 'Miss -Mayry,' lest you forget--your valentine." - -"'Fortunately, it was one of Jack's good days, and he was able to be out -in the sitting-room, and the two took to each other at once. You know -nobody can give people quite such a gentle, gracious reception as mamma -can, and much as I had dreaded taking him into such a barely furnished -little house, and serving him from our motley collection of dishes, I -didn't mind it at all after she had made him welcome. Such things don't -matter so much when you've a family you can be proud of. - -"'We had a delicious supper, and he ate and ate, and said nothing had -tasted so good since he left home years ago to enlist. He stayed till -ten o'clock, and then went down to the livery stable to get his horse -and ride back to camp by moonlight. We sat up for nearly an hour after -he left, comparing notes on how we had enjoyed the evening, and talking -over all he had said. Jack said it was like coming across a well in a -thirsty desert to meet a fellow like that, and mamma said she was sure -he had enjoyed his little taste of simple home life quite as much as we -had enjoyed having him. He quite captivated her, especially when he -asked permission to come again. Norman was so impressed that he has been -talking ever since about the advantages of being an army man. As for me, -I found him lots more interesting than he was the night of the hop, -although I must say I'll always remember him as a sort of guardian angel -that night, for being so kind and saving me from being a wall-flower.'" - -There was a peculiar expression on Phil's face as Joyce laid down that -letter. - -"Do you know," he said, gravely, "I feel as if I'd been seeing the -little Vicar grow up right under my very eyes. I'd never before thought -of her as being old enough to have 'affairs,' but this seems to give -promise of blossoming into one. Of course, it's what one might naturally -expect, but somehow I can't quite get used to the idea, and--" - -He did not finish the sentence aloud, but as he scowled into the fire, -he added to himself, "_I don't like it_!" - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -PHIL GOES TO WARWICK HALL - - -Had it not been for that package of letters read aloud before the fire -on that stormy March night, this story might have had a very different -ending. But for them Phil never would have known what a winsome, -unselfish character the little Vicar had grown up to be. The casual -meetings of years could not have revealed her to him as did these -intimate glimpses of her daily life and thought, through her letters to -Joyce. - -They showed her childishly jubilant in her delight when the first -month's salary was paid into her hands, and yet practical and womanly in -her plans for spending it. Like a child she was, too, in her laments -over some of the mistakes which her inexperience led her into with Brud -and Sister, yet he could see plainly underneath her whimsical words her -deep earnestness of purpose. At last she had recognized that this -opportunity to impress them with her high ideals was one of the King's -calls, and she was bending every energy to the keeping of that tryst. -It was this development of character which interested Phil, even more -than the news of the letters. Still there were a number of items which -gave him something to think about. Lieutenant Boglin had made a second -visit. Once she mentioned a book he had sent her, and another time a -rare butterfly to add to the new collection she was starting. Evidently -they had found several interests in common. - -On his last visit she had taken him to Fernbank in the boat, and he had -captured a fine big hairy tarantula for her from among the roots of a -clump of maidenhair ferns. She had been able to enjoy the boat a great -deal more since the children had learned the meaning of the word obey. -She could take them with her now without fear of their rocking the boat, -and in consequence they had had many a delightful hour on the water that -had not been possible before. - -"Do you know," said Phil, slowly, when he had listened awhile longer, -"it doesn't strike me that those are particularly doleful letters; at -any rate, anything to send you into an 'orgy of weeps.' I believe it is -nothing but the weather which gave you the spell of doldrums that you -were in when I came." - -"Oh, but you haven't heard the latest ones," Joyce exclaimed. "Mamma's -reports of Jack's condition and Jack's own little pencilled scrawls. I -can read between the lines just what a desperate fight he is making, and -this last one from Mary simply knocked all the props out from under the -hope I had been clinging to." - -She picked up the last envelope on the pile, postmarked March first, and -turned to the closing pages: - -"'Jack is so much worse that I can scarcely think of anything else. We -are _so_ worried about him. He is in bed all the time now, and is -growing so thin and weak. He is very despondent,--something new for him. -It keeps us busy trying to think of things to tempt his appetite or to -arouse him out of his listlessness. He has always been so cheerful -before--so full of jokes and so responsive to any attempt to amuse him. -But now he doesn't seem to want to talk or to be read to or anything. -Once in a while he'll smile a wan little sort of smile when I repeat -some of the children's doings, but he isn't like himself any more. -Sometimes I believe he's just worn out with the long effort he's made to -be brave and keep up for our sake. - -"'It is hard for me to keep my interest in the children keyed up to the -proper pitch any more, when all the time I am thinking how pitiful and -white he looks, lying back on his pillows. I am telling you exactly how -things are because I would want you to tell me if I were in your place -and you in mine. I can understand how hard it is for you to be so far -away where you can't see for yourself how he is, every hour. I'll try to -send a note or postal each day. - -[Illustration: MARY WARE in TEXAS. - -"Leaning against the mantel looked down at her thoughtfully"] - -"'He's talked about you a lot, lately. Says you have the pioneer spirit -of all our old Colonial grandmothers, to stick to your post the way you -are doing for our sakes. He's constantly referring to things that -happened at the Wigwam, and to the people who used to come there,--Mr. -Ellested and the Lees and Phil,--especially Phil. I wish he could drop -in here to see us daily as he used to do in Arizona. Maybe Jack would -rouse up and take some interest in _him_. He doesn't take any now in the -people we have met here, although no one could be kinder than the -Rochesters and the Barnabys have been to us.'" - -Joyce finished reading, and Phil rose to his feet and began pacing up -and down the long room, his hands in his pockets and his eyes fixed on -the floor as if he were considering some weighty problem. Finally he -stopped, and leaning against the mantel, looked down at her, -thoughtfully, saying, "Joyce, I've about thought out a way to manage -it--to take in Bauer on my way to California, I mean. You told me once -that Aunt Emily calls me her 'other boy.' Well, you all are my other -family, and these glimpses you've given me of it make me homesick to see -them. I might be able to help matters some way. I'm almost sure I can -arrange to start several days before the rest of the party and go around -that way, so if you have any messages or things to send, get them -ready." - -"Oh, Phil!" she cried, thankfully. "They'll be so glad--I know it will -do them a world of good to see you. Maybe you can cheer Jack up a bit. -So much depends on keeping him hopeful." Then she added, wistfully, "I -only wish you could put me in your pocket and take me along." - -"I wish I could," he answered, cordially. Then more cordially still -after a moment's thought, "Why, that's the very thing! Come and go -along! Just cut loose for a short visit and let things here go hang! It -would mean more to them at home to see you again than the few dollars -you could pile up if you stayed on here." - -"No," she contradicted, sadly, the light dying out of her eyes, which -had brightened at the mere thought of such a visit. "It's too long a -trip and too expensive, and--" - -"But we can easily arrange all that," he interrupted, eagerly. "Under -the circumstances you ought to let me do for Jack's sister what Jack -would gladly do for mine were the circumstances reversed. _Please_, -Joyce." - -She shook her head as he urged his plan, but her eyes filled with tears -and she said, brokenly, "You are a dear, generous boy to offer it, and -I'll remember it always, but Phil--don't you see--there's too much at -stake. I _can't_ leave now. Not only my work in hand would stop, but I'd -lose the orders that are constantly coming in, and I can't afford to -miss a penny that would add to Jack's comfort in any way. He may be -helpless for years and years, and Mary's salary will stop as soon as the -Mallorys leave Bauer this summer." - -"Well, think about it, anyway," urged Phil, hopefully. "Maybe you'll see -things differently by daylight, and change your mind. I'll ring you up -in the morning." - -"By the way," he said, a few minutes later, when he was slipping into -his overcoat, "don't write to Mary that there is a possibility of my -going to Bauer. If I should go I want to surprise her." - -"Very well," agreed Joyce. "But I may write about Elsie's wedding and -say that you'll all be going West?" - -"Oh, yes, she'll probably have cards herself soon, for Elsie has never -forgotten her one encounter with the little Vicar, and she wrote for her -address some time ago." - -It was several days before Joyce saw Phil again. When he did come he was -in such a hurry that he did not wait for the elevator, which seemed to -be stuck somewhere in the basement. After several impatient rings he -started up the stairs, two steps at a time, and had reached the fifth -floor before the elevator overtook him. He was slightly out of breath, -but so intent on his errand that he never would have thought to step in -and ride the rest of the way, had it not stopped on the landing for -another passenger, as he was about to pass the cage. - -The janitor was cleaning the halls of the top floor apartments, and the -door into Joyce's studio being open, Phil walked in without waiting to -ring. Joyce was at her easel hard at work. Her face lighted up when she -saw his, for it showed so plainly he was the bearer of good news. - -"Daddy's going with me," were his first breathless words of greeting. -"We--" Then he paused as if some sudden recollection warned him to ask, -"What have you heard from home lately?" - -She thought the question was prompted by his fear that it might not be -convenient for them to have guests in the house if Jack were so ill, so -she hastened to reassure him. - -"Oh, I had the cheerfulest sort of letter from Mamma this morning, -written last Sunday, the very day I was crying my eyes out over them. -Isn't that always the way? Here it was so bleak and blustery that I -couldn't help imagining that they were as dismal as I. And all the time -it was as warm as summer in Bauer, the country a mass of wildflowers, -and they were having a perfectly delightful time with Gay Melville. And -guess who had gone up with her to spend the day there! Alex Shelby of -Kentucky!" she added, without an instant's pause for him to answer. - -"Mamma wrote that she didn't know when she had had such an enjoyable -day. Dr. Shelby insisted on her going for a little outing with the girls -while he and Norman took care of Jack. Mary poled them up to Fernbank -in the boat, and when they got back they found that, in some -unaccountable way, Jack had been wonderfully cheered up. He seemed more -like himself than he had been for weeks. Mamma was so happy over that, -for even if he can never be any better physically it is a lot to be -thankful for to have his spirits kept up." - -"Is that all?" asked Phil, when she paused at last. - -"Yes. Why? Isn't that _enough_?" - -"I only wanted to find out how much you knew before I broke _my_ news. -Now, listen to this! Alex Shelby wrote to Daddy that same night. You -know they met at Eugenia's wedding, and Shelby who was just beginning to -practise medicine then seemed to develop a case of hero-worship for -father. Shelby has taken a great interest in Jack's case ever since he -heard of the accident, and the reason he sent Aunt Emily out that -afternoon was that he might have a chance to examine Jack without her -knowing it. He didn't want to raise anybody's hopes if nothing can be -done. He thinks that the first operation did not go quite far enough. -There is still a pressure on the spinal cord which may be removed by a -very delicate bit of surgery. _I_ don't understand his technical terms, -but it's one of the most difficult things known to the medical -profession. - -"Daddy says there are very few cases on record of its having been done -successfully, although it has been attempted several times. Personally -he knows of two cases. One was a football player in this country who had -his back broken, and one was a man in Germany who was injured in exactly -the same vertebræ where Jack's trouble lies. And--mark this now--_Daddy -helped with that operation_. The surgeon who performed it was a friend -of his, and called him in because it was such a rare and peculiar case." - -Joyce was scarcely breathing now, as she listened. She was white to the -lips in her intense excitement. - -"Oh, go _on_!" she exclaimed, unable to endure the suspense when he -paused. "Doctor Tremont thinks he can cure him?" - -"No--" was the guarded response. "He is not sure. He doesn't say that. -But there is a chance, just one chance, and he is going to take it. -We're leaving in a few hours, so I haven't another moment to stay!" - -Joyce, who had risen in her first excitement, dropped back on her stool -again, limp and trembling. She had thought so long of Jack's illness as -being hopeless that the possibility of a cure almost unnerved her with -the great joy of it. Phil went on, rapidly: - -"Shelby told Jack of his hope, but evidently he said nothing to the rest -of the family, or they would have known the reason for Jack's return to -cheerfulness. Now, don't go to getting upset like that," he added, -holding out his hands for a cordial leave-taking. "I don't want to get -your hopes up too high, but I've always felt that Daddy could come as -near to working miracles as anyone living, and you just remember -this--he's going to work one this time, if mortal man can do it! You -see, he knows what the Wares were to me that year on the desert. He -hasn't forgotten how you all saved his motherless boy for him. That's -the way he puts it. Saved me from my besetting temptation and sent me -away to make a man of myself. If he can put Jack on his feet again he -will feel that he is only paying back a small part of his obligation to -you all--to say nothing of _my_ debt. Lord! I can't even talk about that -now! It's too big for me ever to tackle myself. But I just wanted you to -know how we both feel about it--" - -He did not attempt to finish, but with a final strong handclasp he was -gone before Joyce could find her voice for more than a faltering -good-by. - -For a little while after he left she sat before her easel, gazing -vacantly at the canvas with eyes which saw nothing. She could not settle -down to work again with so many exciting mental pictures rising up -before her: Jack, undergoing the operation at home. The awful suspense -and tension of that time of waiting until they could know the result, -and then--Jack, strong and well and swinging along with the vigorous -stride she remembered so well. Or would it be--She shut her eyes and -shuddered, putting away from her with an exclamation of horror the other -scene that persisted in presenting itself. She had never forgotten the -tramp of feet across the threshold of the little brown house in -Plainsville the day they carried her father away. - -Presently she could bear it no longer, and pushing back her easel she -slipped off her apron and called to Mrs. Boyd that she was going out for -awhile. In her present tremor of nervousness she could not trust herself -to stop and explain. She felt that she could not bear to listen to the -little woman's platitudes, no matter how sympathetic they might be. - -It was not till she was on the car, half-way out to Central Park, that -she remembered she had not told Phil of one other item of news in her -mother's letter. She wondered if he knew that Gay and Alex Shelby were -engaged. The reason that they had gone to Bauer was to announce it -themselves to the only people in that part of the world who knew and -loved Lloydsboro Valley. It was in that happy valley that their romance -had begun, and they both knew that Mrs. Ware had spent her girlhood -there, that Mary regarded it as her "Promised Land," and that Jack, -although his visit there had been limited to one day, had seen the -rose-covered cabin where Gay and her Knight of the Looking-glass had -first caught sight of each other, and where their married life was to -begin. - -It was several hours before Joyce got back to the studio. The long -car-ride and the brisk walk in the park had helped her to regain her -usual outward composure, but she was far from being as calm as she -seemed. Alternate moods of hopefulness and foreboding kept her swinging -like a pendulum from exhilaration to a sickening sense of fear. She -could hardly fix her mind on her work, although her hands moved -feverishly. - -Before starting back to work she hunted up one of Henrietta's railroad -time-tables, and fastened it to a corner of her canvas, so that she -could follow the course of the Texas-bound travellers. At intervals she -glanced from the clock to the card, thinking, "Now they are just leaving -the New York station," or, "Now they are pulling into Washington." Later -she found the time when they would be going aboard the New Orleans -sleeper, and from then on a thousand times her thoughts ran on ahead to -picture their reception in Bauer, and the events that would follow there -in quick succession. Her waking hours were filled with only one thought -till Phil's first telegram announced their arrival. Then she scarcely -ate or slept, so great was her anxiety as she waited his second message. - -As Doctor Tremont and Phil pushed through the crowds at the New York -station, hurrying to reach the Washington-bound train, steaming on the -track, Phil recalled the last time he had passed through. It was in -March of the previous year, but later in the month, that he had come -down with Joyce to put Mary and Betty aboard the train, the morning -after they had heard about Jack's accident. It was at that stand that he -bought the fruit for them, here he had snatched up the magazines, and -there was where he had stood while the train pulled out, waiting for the -last glimpse of the little Vicar's face at the window, bravely smiling -in her efforts to "keep inflexible" for Joyce's sake. - -The scene had been impressed vividly upon his memory, because of the way -the whole affair had touched his sympathies, and now he found himself, -after a year, recalling things that at the time he had barely noticed. -It was like taking a second look at a snapshot picture, and finding -details in the background to which he had paid no attention when first -focussing the camera. There was that wistful look in Betty's brown eyes, -for instance. They had been almost as full of trouble as Mary's. Their -appealing sadness came back to him now quite as forcibly as Mary's -tearful good-by smile. - -He remembered the protecting way she had put her arm around her little -pupil. They had been such good comrades all through the vacation -pleasures which they had shared, that Christmas and Easter. He -remembered now how far back Betty's friendship with Joyce dated. -Suddenly it occurred to him that Betty, of all people, would be most -interested in what was about to occur in the Ware family. Whatever -followed the operation, whether it were grief or joy, she would share -with them. - -Doctor Tremont had some business to attend to which would keep him busy -during the few hours they were obliged to stop over in Washington, and, -after a few moments' deliberation, Phil decided to go out to Warwick -Hall while he waited, instead of spending his time looking up an old -acquaintance, as he had intended doing. - -There was another reason for calling on Betty, which he did not -acknowledge to himself as a reason, but it carried weight in helping him -to make a decision. That was the knowledge that she would have the -latest news of Lloyd Sherman. He had had six months in which to grow -accustomed to the idea that the little unset turquoise he had once given -her could never stand for anything more between them than the "true-blue -friendship stone." He had been so determined to make it more, that his -whole world seemed jolted out of its orbit when he heard of her -engagement to Rob Moore. He could not talk of it at first. Lately, -however, he had come to take a more philosophical view of the situation. - -Several hours later, when Phil found himself in front of Warwick Hall, -the great castle-like building and beautifully kept grounds seemed as -familiar as if he had visited it before. The Lloydsboro valley girls had -sung its praises ever since he had known them. Lloyd herself had talked -much of it in the days when every subject she mentioned was -interesting, simply because she chose to talk about it. Mary Ware had -pictured it to him as a veritable paradise, and he had been pressed to -admire so many photographs of it on so many occasions that it was no -wonder it had a familiar look, every way he turned. - -He would have been highly amused could he have known what a sensation he -was creating in the school, as he stood on the highest terrace, looking -down the flight of stately marble steps that led to the river. In the -first place, the sight of such an unusually attractive man, young, -handsome, and with an air of distinction, was a rarity in those parts. -That he should loiter down the walk instead of striding straight up to -the massive portal, aroused the curiosity of every girl who happened to -be near a window, and why he should pluck a leaf from the Abbotsford -ivy, overhanging the pergola, and then walk along the hedge of the -wonderful old garden until he could lean over and read the motto on the -ancient sun-dial, was more than any of them could fathom. There was a -flutter among those who had seen him, when presently the great knocker, -echoing through the hall, announced that he was ready to enter. - -The pompous butler opened the door, and for the second time in his -history nearly fell backward, for the dignified young stranger who stood -there with the easy grace of at least a viscount, called out as if he -had known him always, "Oh, it's Hawkins." - -When Phil raised his hand to the knocker he was smiling over Mary's -account of her first entrance through that door. He had teased her -unmercifully when he heard of her rehearsals for the purpose of -impressing the butler, and when the man instantly appeared just as Mary -had pictured him, he was so much like a stiff old portrait bowing from -the frame of the doorway, that the exclamation slipped from Phil in -surprise. Then he smiled again, thinking how inadvertently he had copied -Mary. - -At first glance Hawkins thought he must be one of Madam Chartley's -relatives from England, and bowed again, obsequiously this time. But the -card laid on his silver tray was not for Madam. It was for Miss -Elizabeth Lewis, the youngest and most popular teacher in the Hall. - -It was after recitation hours and Betty was not in her room, but she -came in presently from a walk, looking as girlish and rosy as the little -freshman who had been her companion. The March winds had given her -color, and blown her brown hair about her face in soft little curls. -Phil could see her through the curtained arch as she came into the hall -and took the card Hawkins presented on his tray. Her face lighted up -with pleasure, and she gave an exclamation of surprise, both of which -items Hawkins noticed. When she hurried into the reception-room he cast -a look of discreet curiosity after her. Then he turned away with a wise -wag of the head. Of course, one knew what to expect when the young -stranger called her by her first name in such a joyful tone as that, and -she responded cordially that it was such a lovely surprise to see "the -Best Man!" - -All the wedding party had called Phil the Best Man, ever since Mary had -emphasized the name by her comically reverent use of it, and it seemed -quite natural that the next remark should be about her. Phil thought to -surprise Betty by saying, casually, "I've just stopped by to ask if you -want to send any message to Mary Ware. I'm on my own way to Bauer now." - -But he was the one to be surprised, for her face paled and she -exclaimed, in a voice tense with suppressed excitement, "Oh, is your -father going, too? Has he really consented to attempt the operation?" - -Then, in answer to his exclamation of astonishment that she should know -anything about it, she explained, while the color returned in a rush. -She had had a note from Jack that morning, just a scribbled line, -telling what Alex Shelby had written to Doctor Tremont, and what they -hoped would be the answer. - -"He hasn't told the family yet," she explained, seeing from Phil's face -that he thought it queer she should know of it. "He didn't want them to -suffer the cruel disappointment it would be should they discover they -had been cherishing a false hope. But he just _had_ to tell somebody, -and he knew I'd understand how much recovery would mean to him, for he -used to write me so fully of his plans and ambitions before he was -hurt." - -She closed her hands so tightly that the pink nails pressed into the -tender palms. "Oh, I _hope_ Alex hasn't been mistaken," she exclaimed. -"I can't think of anything so cruel as to hold out the heaven of such a -hope to him, only to have it dashed away." - -"Daddy says there is one chance," answered Phil, "and he is going to -take it." Then, with a sudden understanding of the situation as he -watched her face, he began to comfort her with the same words he had -spoken to Joyce. "Daddy can come as near to working miracles as any man -living, and you just remember this, little girl. He's going to work one -this time if mortal man can do it!" - -The ring of certainty in his voice made her look up at him with a smile -that was like an April day, such joy shone through the brown eyes, which -a moment before had been misty with tears. She did not know how much she -had revealed, but as she turned away Phil said to himself, "So _that's_ -the way the land lies! I must give Daddy a hint of how much is at stake. -If he saves Jack it won't be for the Ware family alone." - -Betty had been called aside a moment to speak to a visiting parent, and -when she came back to Phil, had fully recovered her composure. - -"Come on," she said, gaily. "There are a few things I must show you. It -will never do for anybody to confess to Mary Ware that he has been to -Warwick Hall and missed seeing the things that she particularly adores." - -It was a short pilgrimage she led him on; to meet Madam Chartley first, -then to see the great stained-glass window where the motto of Edryn, "I -keep tryste," flaunted itself in letters of light above the ruby heart -and the mailed hand, clasping the spear. Then outdoors they went, past -the peacocks on the terraces, down the marble steps to the river, where -pretty girls were walking arm in arm, and Phil was conscious of many -curious glances cast in his direction. Then they strolled through the -garden, where the crocuses and early March flowers were making a brave -showing, and out towards the golf links a little way. Betty's cheeks -were almost as red as the bright Tam O'Shanter cap she wore, and her -eyes shone with a happy, tender light as she talked of Mary and what the -school had meant to her. The pilgrimage, like the bundle of letters -which Joyce had read, was eloquent with suggestions of Mary at every -turn. He understood now as he had not before how much she had renounced -when she left without finishing the year. He began to appreciate the -greatness of her sacrifice, and, guided by Betty at his elbow, he began -to perceive what an influence such a place, with its ideals and its -refined, old-world fashion of living might exert on a girl like Mary -Ware. - -There was not much opportunity to lead the conversation towards Lloyd, -with Betty constantly breaking off to say, "Oh, don't forget to mention -this to Mary," or, "Tell her you saw this and that." He learned very -little about her, save that she was well and happy. Betty had always -known, she said, that Rob was the one written in the stars for the -Princess Winsome. They knew each other so thoroughly and had such a -happy childhood in common, and in her opinion they had always been meant -for each other from the beginning. - -It was growing late when they came back to the front door, but Betty -insisted on his coming in for a moment for a cup of tea, "Served from an -ancestral teacup," she insisted, "so that you can brag to Mary of it." -While they waited for it to be brought, Betty hastily summoned several -of the girls whom she wanted him to meet. - -"You'll never remember their names," she said, laughingly, "and Mary -will make your life a burden with questions if you can't answer. Give me -a pencil and I'll scribble them down for you. Elise Walton, you'll -remember, of course, for she was the pretty child with the long, dark -curls, whom you used to meet so many times at The Beeches, the summer -Eugenia was married. You'll quite fall in love with her, I am sure, for -she is getting prettier every day, and you'll not need any memorandum to -keep her in mind when you've once heard her talk. A. O. Miggs will be -the little roly-poly dumpling of a girl, and Dorene Derwent, the one who -giggles so gurglingly. Cornie Dean you'll remember for the elaborate way -she does her hair, and the coy way she has of casting melting -side-glances. That's a habit she has acquired just in this last year, so -you might mention it to Mary. She'll be immensely interested in hearing -it. See, I have made marginal notes for each one, if you can understand -my abbreviations." - -As she handed him the slip of paper the girls came in, all pleased to -meet "such a fascinating, Lord-Lochinvar looking man," as A. O. -described him afterward, and all overjoyed to find that he would be the -bearer of messages to Mary Ware. They sent so many that he laughingly -disclaimed all responsibility in case he should get them mixed in -transit. He had an odd feeling that he was on exhibition to these girls -as Mary's friend, and that he must do her credit. The few moments he -stayed with them he used to such advantage that he was straightway -written down in their opinion as the most fascinating man they had ever -met. When he took his leave it was with a flattering regret that made -each girl feel that she was the one who inspired it, and they went back -to their rooms to compare notes and to "rave over him," as Dorene -expressed it, for days. - -The twilight was falling when he started back to the station. Betty -walked part of the way with him. Only once they referred to Jack again, -and that was not till they reached the bend in the driveway, where Betty -turned back. She put out her hand with wishes for a safe journey, and he -held it an instant to say, "I'm sure it's all going to end happily, and -you shall have the first telegram." - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -IN "BLUE-BONNET" TIME - - -THE time of "blue-bonnets" had come. No matter where else in Texas the -lupin may grow, one thing is certain; there is enough of it in the -meadows around Bauer nearly every spring to justify its choice as the -State flower. This particular March, acres and acres of it, blue as the -Mediterranean, stretched away on either side of the high-roads. Viewed -from a distance when the wind, blowing across it, made waves of bloom, -it almost seemed as if a wide blue sea were rolling in across the land. - -From his bed near the window Jack Ware could catch a glimpse of one of -these meadows, where the cattle stood buried up to their bodies in the -fragrant blossoms. Now and then the breeze, fluttering his curtains, -brought the odor to him almost as heavy and sweet as the smell of -locusts. He watched the picture with languid eyes which closed weakly at -intervals. They were shut when Mary tiptoed into the room, to see if -there was anything she could do for his comfort before starting out on -her usual afternoon excursion with her pupils, but they opened with an -expression of greater interest than they had held for some days as he -saw her standing there in a freshly laundered gingham. It was so blue -and white that she suggested a blooming blue-bonnet herself. - -"Hullo, Finnigan," he said, with an attempt at his old-time pleasantry. -"'Off agin, gone agin,' are you? Which way this time?" - -Touched almost to tears by this evidence of returning interest, Mary -explained eagerly that they were still studying about bees. She had -found a bee-tree in the Herdt pasture, and the lupin was all a-buzz with -specimens to illustrate the lesson. That was for the Wisdom part of it. -For the Strength there were some new exercises in climbing and hanging -from a low limb. The practical application of their Courtesy lesson -would be the gathering of a great basketful of blue-bonnets for the -ladies of the Guild, who wanted to decorate the parish house with them -for an entertainment to be given there. - -"Oh, they're making long strides," she assured him. "Mrs. Mallory told -me that the time it rained so hard last week, and I couldn't get across -the foot-bridge at the ford to give them their usual lesson, Brud sat -down at bedtime and howled, because he said he'd have to 'count that day -lost.' The sun was down and he hadn't 'any worvey action done.' It took -the combined wits of the family to think of some worthy action he could -do at that late hour, and he finally went to bed happy. So you see my -labor hasn't been all in vain." - -There was a faint gleam of amusement in Jack's eyes, but seeing that she -was about to leave him, he turned the subject by motioning toward the -table beside his bed, where Elsie Tremont's wedding invitations lay. - -"Mary," he said, slowly, "would you be surprised if Phil were to come by -Bauer on his way to California?" - -To her vehement avowal that such a happening would certainly surprise -her out of a year's growth, at least, he answered: - -"Well, I am a good deal more than half-way looking for him. 'I feel it -in my bones' that he is coming, and coming very soon." - -"Oh, Jack!" she cried in distress. "Don't look for him. Don't set your -heart on seeing him! I couldn't bear for you to be disappointed." - -"Don't you worry about that," he answered, soothingly. "You run along -and pick your blue-bonnets, and if Phil _should_ happen to come walking -down the road towards you one of these days, remember the feeling in my -bones warned you. The poor old things have been so full of aches and -pains that you might allow them one pleasant sensation at least." - -"But, Jack," she began again, a wrinkle of distress deepening between -her eyes. "If he shouldn't come you'd be so awfully disappointed!" - -Jack's thin hand waved both her and her objections aside. - -"Hike along," he insisted, cheerfully, "I merely said _if_!" - -Considerably worried by what she thought was a groundless hope of -Jack's, Mary started out of the gate. His suggestion seemed to change -the entire landscape, and instead of seeing it as it had grown to look -to her accustomed eyes, she saw it as she imagined it would appear to -Phil; the cottage she was leaving behind her, the wide blue lupin -meadows ahead, the white of the wild plum blossoms mingled with the -glowing branches of the red-bud trees, in every lane and stretch of -woodland. - -With her old childish propensity for day-dreaming unabated, she made -pictures for herself as she walked along towards the foot-bridge. -Suppose he really would come, and she, by some intuition of his -approach, could divine the day and hour. She would like to be all in -white when he met her, emerging from the edge of the woods with her arms -heaped up with snowy masses of wild plum blossoms, and a spray of -red-bud in her hair. Or, maybe, it would be more picturesque for her to -be standing in the boat, poling slowly towards the landing, a cargo of -wild flowers at her feet like a picture of the Spirit of Spring. - -Here she broke off from her musings, saying, half aloud, "But as sure as -I posed to look like a Spring goddess I'd be looking like a young goose. -It doesn't pay for me to plan impressive entrances and meetings; they -always turn out with my looking perfectly ridiculous." - -She had reached the first turn in the road by this time, and, stooping -to tie her shoe, suddenly became aware of the fact that her hands were -empty. She had started off without the alarm-clock and the magnifying -glass which she always carried on these trips. In addition she had -intended to bring a large market-basket to-day, in which to put the -flowers. The basket, with the clock and glass inside, was in her hand -before she started. She remembered she had set it down for a moment on -the front step while she went back into Jack's room, and it was what he -said about Phil's coming that made her go off without it. There was no -time to lose, so she started back, running all the way. - -Snatching up the basket from the step where she found it still -undisturbed, she was starting off again, when a little bird-like cry -stopped her. It was like the softest notes of a mocking-bird. - -"That provoking little wildcat is out of her cage again!" she exclaimed, -stopping to look all around. "Here, Matilda, kitty, kitty, where are -you?" - -In response to her call, what seemed to be the gentlest of house-kittens -came bounding through the grass. Thinking it would be less trouble to -take it along than to carry it back to its cage in the woodshed when she -was in such a great hurry, Mary caught it up in her arms, and once more -started down the road, one hand slipped through the handle of the -basket. It snuggled down against her shoulder, purring loudly. - -"You ridiculous little atom!" laughed Mary. "I wonder what the girls at -Warwick Hall would say if they could see me going along carrying a live -_wildcat_. That will be something wild and Texasy for me to put in my -next letters. I needn't say that it weighs only twenty ounces, and that -if it wasn't for its bow legs and funny little bobbed tail and spotted -stomach one would think it was just a tame, ordinary, domestic pussy. -But you'll be savage enough by and bye, won't you? When the tassels grow -on your ear-tips and your whiskers spread out wide and your spots get -big and tigery!" - -Two soft paws reached up to tap her face, and she gave the furry ball in -her arms an affectionate squeeze. She had never cared especially for -kittens, but this little wild one with its coquettish ways had -wonderfully ingratiated itself into her affections in the week she had -owned it. Mrs. Barnaby had brought it in from the ranch. Cousin Sammy -had found eight of them in the woods after Pedro had killed the old -mother cat, caught in the act of carrying off one of the turkeys. This -was the only one that lived. Mrs. Barnaby could not keep it, because, -tiny as it was, it toddled around after the chickens and put even the -big Plymouth Rock hens to flight. So she brought it in to Mary, and -Mary, feeling particularly forlorn that day, welcomed the little -orphan, because its lonely state gave them a bond in common. - -The day it came happened to be her eighteenth birthday, with nothing to -mark it as a gala occasion except a handkerchief from her mother and a -string of trout from Norman. He had gone out before daylight to catch -them for her breakfast. Joyce's present did not arrive until the next -day, and the round-robin letter from Warwick Hall was nearly a week -late. Not until after the sorority was seated at its annual St. -Patrick's Day dinner, did they recall the double celebration they had -had the year before. The letter was written then and there, passing -around the table with the bonbons, that each one present might add a -birthday greeting. Then Dorene, to whom it was entrusted, forgot to post -it for several days. It was a joy when it did come, but the anniversary -itself, before the letter reached her, was a disappointing day. - -She had always looked forward to her eighteenth birthday as being one of -the most important milestones of her life; not so important, of course, -as one's graduation or début or wedding, but still a day that should be -made memorable by something unusually nice. Years ago Jack had promised -her a watch on her eighteenth birthday, a little chatelaine watch with -a mother-of-pearl case, like the one the old Colonel had given to Lloyd. -But when the time came Jack did not even know that it was her birthday. -He never looked at the calendar since their weary, monotonous days had -grown to be all alike. She did not show him the handkerchief or tell him -that the delicious fish which they had for breakfast was in honor of any -especial occasion. In no way did she refer to its being the seventeenth -of March. - -She ironed all morning and took the children out in the afternoon, as -usual, and nothing made the day different from an ordinary one, only -that she felt very old and grown up, and thought now and then a little -pityingly of her early expectations and the way they had turned out. In -a vague sort of way she was sorry for herself, till Mrs. Barnaby came in -with the baby wildcat, which she jokingly offered as a St. Patrick's day -greeting. - -Mary immediately named it Matilda, for Mrs. Barnaby, and for the -civilizing effect such a tame, gentle sort of name ought to have on a -wild creature. In watching it and laughing over its playful antics she -forgot to feel middle-aged and sorry for herself. - -As long as someone could keep an eye on it to prevent its straying away -after any animal that passed the house, it could be allowed the liberty -of the place, but whenever Mary went off for a long time it had to be -fastened in its cage. This was the first time she had taken it with her -for an afternoon's outing, and as she hurried down the road with it in -her arms, the knowledge of what she was carrying gave her the first -feeling of adventure that she had had since coming to Texas. "It's all -been as tame as an old Tabby and a teapot," she thought. She had -pictured Texas as a land of cowboys and round-ups and thrilling frontier -experiences. She had found only the commonplace and conventional, so -that there was a source of satisfaction in the fact that, at last, she -had captured something untamed and savage. - -As she reached the foot-bridge a party on horseback came down the -opposite bank to cross the ford. She recognized the young fellow in the -lead as a boy from the East who had been staying at the Williams House -several months. Evidently he also had expected to find Texas a land of -adventure. Soon after his arrival he appeared in the quiet streets of -Bauer attired like the cowboy of a Wild West show. That he was a -tenderfoot was amusingly apparent to the natives. Everything proclaimed -it, from his awkward seat in his creaking new saddle to the new rope -coiled around the horn of it. He could have no more use for a lariat -than for a tomahawk, but he never rode without it. He had his picture -taken in full paraphernalia, from his spurs to the rattlesnake skin band -on his rakish sombrero, to send back home to show what a sport he had -become; and his cup of satisfaction brimmed over when a still more -recent tenderfoot took a snapshot of him, evidently considering him the -"real thing." - -He had three Eastern girls with him this morning, whom he was trying to -impress with stories of his recklessness and prowess, and of the dangers -one daily encountered in a new country. He had met Norman and he knew -Mary by sight, and had heard of her odd pet. As they approached her he -said, in a tone which she could not fail to hear, although he lowered -his voice: - -"There's mighty little out here that is tame. Lots of people keep foxes -running around their premises instead of rat-terriers, and when they can -get a wildcat they always prefer them to tame mousers." - -"Now, Dexter, stop stuffing us," one of the girls exclaimed. "I don't -believe a word of it!" - -"It's the truth," he insisted. "That very young lady over yonder on the -foot-bridge could tell you so. That isn't a kitten she is carrying. It -is a young wildcat." - -The next instant the girl was splashing through the water across to -Mary, calling, "Excuse me, but _is_ that a wildcat? I can't believe it!" - -Mary had heard the conversation, and her face dimpled with amusement as -she held Matilda up to view, saying, "Certainly. See how beautifully she -is marked." She pointed out the various signs which proved her claim. - -The girl gave a little shriek. "For mercy sakes!" she exclaimed. -"Suppose it should get loose! What a dreadful country! Aren't you -afraid?" - -Assured that Mary was not in the least afraid, she dashed up the bank -after her laughing escort, who thereafter had no trouble in convincing -her that his most daring tales were true, since Matilda had proved the -truth of his first one. - -Mary looked after them almost enviously. When she first came to Bauer -she had had faint hopes of sometime being able to join a riding party -like that. She had seen girls going by often from the hotel, and had -told herself that, before the winter was over, she intended to find some -way to earn enough to hire a horse one afternoon of every week. And that -time when she visited Gay, and Roberta talked of saddles while she -combed Mary's hair, Roberta had said that she would ride up to Bauer -sometime after Christmas; all her "crowd" would go, and they would stay -several days at the Williams House, and Mary was to show them the -country. - -Gay had promised several visits, and Mary had looked forward to them -more eagerly than she knew, till word came soon after New Year that the -Bauer trips would have to be postponed indefinitely. Roberta had gone to -the coast for the rest of the winter, and Gay expected to spend several -months with her sister Lucy, Mrs. Jameson Harcourt, in Florida. - -It seemed to Mary that there had been disappointment for her in her -Texas winter every way she turned. True, Gay was home now, and they had -had two pleasant days with her, once when she and Alex Shelby came up to -announce their engagement, and cheered Jack up so wonderfully. But Gay -wasn't interested in horseback riding with "the crowd" any longer. -Besides, the Ware fortunes had taken such a turn that the money she had -succeeded in earning had to go for more necessary things than saddles -and horse-hire and a pretty habit. - -As Mary glanced after the departing cavalcade once more the sight of -them suggested a new picture that appealed to her as an interesting way -to meet Phil in case he should come. It would be so picturesque to be -galloping down the road on a mettlesome black horse in a pretty white -riding habit like those girls were wearing. White, with a scarlet -four-in-hand and a soft fold of scarlet silk around the crown of her -wide-brimmed white hat. Phil had been such a dashing horseman himself, -and had owned such a beautiful animal when they were out on the desert, -that maybe he would be more interested in an approach made that way, -than one in a boat with a cargo of wild flowers. She walked along -slowly, considering the question, till Brud and Sister hailed her. - -Meanwhile Jack was saying to his mother that it wouldn't have been fair -to the kid to let her get away without some inkling of the truth. - -"She'd have been terribly upset if I'd have told her that they are due -here this afternoon, and she'd have been equally upset if they had -walked in on her without any warning. But the hint I gave her will start -her to thinking about them, so she will not be altogether surprised when -she sees them." - -He had waited until Mary left the house before breaking the news to his -mother that he expected Alex Shelby to come sometime during the -afternoon, bringing Doctor Tremont and Phil. But even then he did not -mention the faint hope which had buoyed him up night and day since -Alex's first visit. He had faith in the young physician's ability, but -not until the older one confirmed his opinion would he allow himself to -share that hope with any one else, lest it prove without foundation. - -With his eyes on the clock he lay counting the minutes until their -arrival. He was deliberately forcing himself to be calm; to take slow, -even breaths, to think of everything under the sun save the one thing -which set his pulses to beating wildly and sent a thrill like fire -tingling through him. He lay there like a prisoner in his dungeon who -hears footsteps and new voices approaching. They might mean that -deliverance is at hand, or they might pass on, leaving him to the -blackness and despair of his dungeon for the rest of his life. In a -like agony of apprehension he watched the pendulum swing back and forth, -and listened to the slow tick! tock! till his suspense grew almost -unendurable. - -One hand clasped and unclasped a corner of the counterpane in a paroxysm -of nervousness. He lay with his face turned away from his mother, and -she, busy with her endless sewing over by the side window, did not guess -what great effort he was making to retain his outward composure. She saw -his eyes fixed on the clock, however, when she rose to get a spool that -had rolled away, and feeling his restrained restlessness she tried to -think of something to talk about which would make him forget how slowly -time was passing. Subjects of that kind are rare, when two people have -been constantly shut in together for a year, and while she considered, a -long silence fell between them. It was broken by a demand, almost -querulous, from Jack; the same cry that had aroused her in the night, -when he was a little boy, suddenly awakening from a scary dream. - -"_Sing to me, mother!_" - -It had been years since she had heard that cry, and the long form -stretched out under the white covers bore small resemblance to the -little one that had summoned her then, but she answered in the same -soothing way: - -"All right, little son, what shall I sing?" - -She smiled as the same tremulous answer came now as it had then. - -"Why, sing _my_ song! Of course!" - -She did not rise as had been her custom, to go to his bedside and hold -his hand while she lulled him back to sleep with her low humming, and -the blessed consciousness of her nearness. He was a grown man now, and -it was broad daylight. But instinctively she felt his need was greater -than it had ever been, and her voice took on its tenderest soothing -quality as she began to croon the old hymn that had always been his -chosen lullaby, when he was tucked to sleep in a little crib bed. -"Pilgrims of the Night," she sang: - - "'Hark, hark, my soul! Angelic songs are swelling, - O'er earth's green fields and ocean's wave-beat shore.'" - -Glancing across, she saw his drawn face relax a trifle, and he snuggled -his thin cheek contentedly against the pillow. High and sweet her voice -rose tremulously: - - "'Angels of light, - Singing to welcome the pilgrims of the night.'" - -The song had many associations for them both. What he was thinking about -she could not guess, but when she began the third verse: - - "'Far, far away like bells at evening pealing,'" - -her own thoughts were back in that time when she rocked in her arms the -dearest little son that ever cuddled against a mother's shoulder. She -was recalling time after time when she had held him so, telling him -good-night stories, listening to his funny little questions and baby -confidences, and kissing the dimpled fingers clasped in her own when he -knelt to lisp his evening prayer. - -He had always been a comfort to her, even in the boisterous outbreaking -days that are the most trying in a boy's growing-up time. There had -never been a noisier boy, or one who threw himself into his play with -more headlong vigor, but, in a flash, scene after scene passed through -her mind, showing him both at work and play as she had prayed he might -be, strong and manly and clean and absolutely fearless either of fists -or opinions. Then she thought of his touching consideration of her when -he tried "to take father's place behind the plow." He had been a tower -of strength to her from that day on. What a future she had dreamed for -him, and now in the high tide of his young manhood, when he should have -years of conquest and achievement ahead of him, here he was a helpless -cripple! - - "Rest comes at last, though life be long and dreary, - The day must dawn, and darksome night be passed." - -Her voice faltered almost to breaking now, as she sang on, rebelling at -the thought that his life which promised so fair, should have been made -long and dreary, changed so hopelessly and so suddenly into darksome -night. It seemed so cruel, she thought, with a tightening of the throat -which made it almost impossible to finish the song. But supposing from -the peaceful expression of Jack's face that he was falling asleep, she -sang bravely on to the end, although the tears were dropping down on the -seam in her now idle hands. - - "Angels sing on, your faithful watches keeping, - Sing us sweet fragments of the song above, - Till morning's joy shall end the night of weeping, - And life's long shadows break in cloudless love. - Angels of Jesus, - Angels of light, - Singing to welcome - The pilgrims of the night." - -Looking across as the last note died away, she thought he was asleep, -and rose to draw down the window-shade. But as she tiptoed past him he -opened his eyes and held out his hand to draw her to him. - -"Little mother," he said with a wistful smile that made her bend hastily -over him and kiss his forehead to hide the trembling of her lips. "I'd -like you to know in case anything should happen--sooner than we -expect--that that's the way I think of death. It's a going out into the -dark--but it's only going as a 'Pilgrim of the night.' I don't mind it. -It'll not be lonesome. They'll be singing to welcome me." - -In answer to her cry, "Oh, Jack! Don't!" he drew her cheek down against -his, and as he felt it wet with tears he said, lightly: - -"Why, mother mine, that's nothing to cry about. I've always looked -forward in a way to that ever since I can remember. That song always -brings up the most comforting picture to me--a procession of friendly -white angels coming down the dark road to meet a frightened little boy -and lead him home!" - -She held him close a moment, not finding words wherewith to answer him, -but feeling that he understood all that was left unspoken in her heart. -She wanted to hold him thus, always, so tightly that he could not slip -away on that pilgrimage he faced so confidently, that pilgrimage from -which he could never return to her. - -While she clung to him thus, a noise outside brought them back to the -things of earth. An automobile, speeding up the road, had stopped at the -gate. Mrs. Ware glanced out hastily. As she saw the three men striding -up the path her first thought was one of housewifely dismay. She -wondered how she could stretch the simple supper she had planned for -that evening, into enough for these unexpected guests. If Jack had only -given her a little longer notice-- - -But that thought was immediately thrust aside in her pleasure at seeing -Phil again. It was the first time since the day she bade him good-bye in -the little wigwam sitting-room, and sent him out with her Godspeed to -make a man of himself. His waywardness had given her a motherly interest -in him, and now, her quick glance showed that he had not disappointed -her, that he had kept every promise. She welcomed him with a welcome -that made him feel that this was a real home-coming, so that he called -out to the distinguished-looking, gray-haired old doctor just behind -him, "Now, Daddy, you see for yourself how it was!" - -Mrs. Ware ushered them at once into Jack's room. She knew he was -waiting impatiently to see them, but did not dream how much was at -stake. It was nearly half an hour later when Phil discovered that he was -thirsty, and asked the way to the well. Mrs. Ware led him out through -the kitchen, picking up a pitcher and tumbler as she went. The windmill -was in motion, and while the water was gushing from the pump spout into -the pitcher Phil said, meaningly, "Well, Aunt Emily, your prodigal has -come back." - -"Yes," she responded. "It makes me glad and proud to see how my faith in -him has been justified. But, oh, boy, why didn't you give me a little -warning, so that we might have had time to make ready a 'fine, fatted -calf?' Jack never told me until a few minutes before you arrived that he -expected you." - -"I'd rather have the pleasure of surprising you all than to share in a -fatted calf, any day. Besides, there won't be an occasion for trotting -out such a commodity. Alex will be going back to San Antonio in less -than an hour. You see he has only a few more days to spend with his lady -love, as he is due in Kentucky the last of this week. He can't afford to -miss even one of these gorgeous moonlight nights. Daddy is so tired with -his trip and thinking of the strain ahead of him that he is in no trim -for visiting. On the way here we stopped at the Williams House and -engaged rooms for to-night. I promised him that he needn't stay up for -supper, could take it in his room and turn in soon after we had made a -short call here. You see he didn't sleep at all coming out here, so he -is considerably worse for wear. He's very much interested in Jack's -case, and thinks something may be done to relieve his suffering, so -maybe it will be as well for us to stay out here a bit and give them a -chance to look him over." - -From the quick lighting up of Mrs. Ware's face it was evident that such -a hope was a new one to her. Jack had not mentioned the prospect of an -operation, so Phil left the subject as quickly as possible, beginning to -tell her of his last visit to Joyce. As he had come directly from her -Mrs. Ware found so much to question him about, that she was surprised, -when Alex Shelby joined them, to find that they had been leaning against -the windmill tower for more than half an hour, too interested to think -of finding a seat. - -Alex's face was glowing, and he looked across at Phil with a nod of -elation. "Your father confirms my opinion, Phil, so I'll be starting -back at once." - -When Mrs. Ware found out Doctor Tremont's real purpose in coming, she -was thankful that Jack had spared her all those days of anxiety and -apprehension that would have been hers had she known of the operation -earlier. As it was there would be only one night in which to dread it. -Alex was coming back in the morning with a nurse and it would all be -over by noon of the next day. Now she understood their consideration in -going to a hotel. It was not so much that Doctor Tremont was in no -condition for visiting, as that they knew that any guests, no matter how -much desired, would be a burden on the eve of such an event. - -Jack's room was already nearly as bare and clean as a hospital ward, but -there would still be much to do before the surgeons could begin their -delicate and vital task. So when Alex Shelby went away, Doctor Tremont -went with him as far as the hotel. Phil was to follow later after he had -seen Mary and had the pleasure of "surprising" her. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -JACK - - -A HUISACHE tree leaned over the old stone wall which separated the Herdt -pasture from the road, and here Phil took his stand. He had started to -find the bee-tree, following Mrs. Ware's directions, but shrill little -voices floating across the meadow, made him pause. It was evident that -Mary and her small charges were somewhere near. - -A moment later they came in sight, and for once in her life Mary moved -on towards a meeting, often rehearsed in thought, which did not end -ridiculously. It would have been joy to her soul could she have seen -herself as she looked to Phil, coming across the field of blue-bonnets. -The fresh blue and white dress she wore, repeated the color of the waves -of bloom through which she waded. Sister had twined a wreath of the same -flowers around the crown of her Mexican hat, and she carried a great -sheaf of them across one arm. The inevitable alarm clock swung from the -other hand. - -Brud was carrying a butterfly net, Sister as a great favor held Matilda, -and Meliss brought up the rear with the big basket of blue-bonnets, -which they had gathered as a special act of courtesy for the Guild -ladies. Their voices blended happily as they drew nearer, but when they -were close enough for Phil to distinguish their words the procession -stood still. They had reached the place where a path crossed the one -they were following, and the cross-path was a short cut to the -foot-bridge. - -"Here's the parting of the ways," called Mary gaily. "So run along with -Meliss, now, and be sure to give Mrs. Rochester my message." - -"We will," answered Brud, in a voice that was almost a happy little -squeal it was so high and eager, "and we'll have another good time -to-morrow! _Won't_ we, Miss Mayry?" - -"Indeed we will," was the answer, given so heartily and convincingly, -that it was easy to see how she had obtained her hold on the two little -friends who seemed so loath to leave her. They stood talking a moment, -then Sister deposited the kitten on Mary's armful of flowers, with a -farewell squeeze, and the parting ceremony began. Four voices, for -Meliss was taking the part of the Black Panther this afternoon, repeated -gravely and distinctly the words of their daily benediction: - - "Wind and water, wood and tree, - Wisdom, strength and courtesy, - _Jungle favor go with thee_!" - -Then Mary called as they started down the path, "Good-bye, Mowgli and -Mowglina! Good-bye, Panther," and a trio of happy voices answered, -"Good-bye, Baloo!" - -It was a childish performance, but Brud and Sister went through their -part so seriously, as if it had been an incantation of some kind, that -Phil did not smile as he watched the little by play. It was proof to him -that Mary had accomplished what she had set out to do. She had inspired -them with an ambition to always "keep tryst" just as Edryn's window had -inspired her. - -Feeling that she had had a particularly satisfactory afternoon, Mary -answered their last wave with a swing of the hand that held the clock, -and started on towards the stone wall. If her attention had not been -engrossed by her efforts to hold the big armful of blue-bonnets, the -clock and the squirming kitten without dropping one of the three, she -would have seen Phil stepping out from the shadow of the huisache to -meet her. But the kitten struggled out of her arms and climbed up on -her shoulder, catching its claws in her collar, and biting playfully at -her chin. - -"Matilda, you little mischief!" scolded Mary affectionately, "How am I -ever going to get over this stone wall with you acting so?" - -"Come on! I'll help you!" spoke up Phil from the other side. - -The expression of utter amazement which spread over her face when she -looked up and saw him standing in front of her was even more amusing -than he had anticipated it would be. Despite Jack's hints and the fact -that they had set her to picturing Phil's possible coming, the surprise -of his actual presence was so overwhelming that she could scarcely -speak. - -She let him take the clock and the wildcat from her, and put them down -on his side of the wall with the flowers, but not until she had climbed -to the top of the wall and felt the firm clasp of his hands, -outstretched to help her down, did she persuade herself that she was not -dreaming. Then the face that she turned towards him fairly beamed, and -he thought as he looked down at her that it was well worth the long -journey, to find some one so genuinely glad to see him. - -"When did you come? Have you been to the house? Was Jack very much -surprised?" - -The questions poured out in a steady stream as soon as she found her -voice, and if he had not been looking at her, he could have well -believed that she was the same amusing child she was when he found her -running away from the Indian on the desert road to Lee's ranch. But he -could not look away long enough to keep up the illusion. There was a -charm about her face which drew his eyes irresistibly back to it. He -tried to determine just what that charm was. It was not of feature, for -much as she had improved, she did not at all measure up to his standard -of beauty. - -Presently he decided that it was just Mary's own self, her interesting, -original personality shining out through her eyes and speaking through -every movement of her mobile lips, which made her so attractive. Her -years of effort to grow up to her ideal of all that was sweet and -maidenly had left their imprint on her face. Naturally unselfish, -trouble and hard times had broadened her sympathies and taught her a -still deeper consideration for others. Loneliness and a dearth of -amusement had developed her own resources for entertainment, and taught -her to find something of interest in every object and person about her. -As he looked at her he thought it a pity that more of the girls of his -acquaintance couldn't have a course in the same hard school of -experience which had developed Mary into such a lovable and interesting -character. He felt that in the one year since he had seen her last, she -had grown so far past his knowledge of her, that it would be well worth -while to cultivate her acquaintance further. - -It was some distance from the pasture to the cottage, and as they -walked, Phil had time to tell her of his trip to Warwick Hall, and to -deliver the mixture of messages from the girls, which by this time had -resolved into a ridiculous hotch-potch, despite his effort to keep them -separate, and his reference to the memorandum that Betty had given him. -Then he presented the ivy leaf which he had plucked for her, as proof -that he had actually walked in her beloved garden. - -Up to that time there had been so much to say that Mary had not -discovered that Doctor Tremont was in Bauer also. The explanation came -about when they reached the gate, and Phil, after opening it for her to -pass through, stayed on the outside himself. Her surprise at his not -coming in was fully as great as it had been when she first saw him. - -"The idea of your going to a hotel when you've come all the way from New -York to Texas to see us!" she exclaimed. "And then not even staying to -supper! Jack will be _so_ disappointed." - -"No," answered Phil. "He knows the reason why Daddy and I are putting up -at the hotel. So does your mother, and they both think it is a good one. -You run along in and ask them, and they'll convince you that I am right. -I'll come over for a few minutes after supper though, just to show you -that there's no hard feeling between us." - -He laughed as he said it, lifting his hat and turning away. Thoroughly -mystified by his manner, Mary stood a moment looking after him. It was -all so strange and unreal, his sudden appearance, and then his walking -off in such a mysterious way. She could hardly believe the evidence of -her own eyes. Yet the tall, handsome figure striding down the road was -not "of such stuff as dreams are made on." Her fingers still tingled -with the warm clasp of the strong hands that had helped her over the -wall. - -When she went into the house it was Jack who told her of his coming -ordeal, and he told her in a way to make it seem of little consequence. -He said that Doctor Tremont wanted to experiment on him. He had known -of a man injured in the same way, whose suffering had been entirely -relieved by the removal of a fragment of bone which pressed on the -spinal cord. It would be worth while to go through almost anything to be -rid of the excruciating pain he had suffered at times, and Doctor -Tremont assured him that it would pass away entirely if the operation -proved successful. - -Not a word did he say about the greater hope that had been held out to -him. As the time drew near he was beginning to lose faith in its being -possible. It seemed too great a miracle for him to expect it to be -wrought for him. - -Mary went out to find her mother in a daze of mingled emotions. The -prospect of Jack's being freed from the pain that had racked him for -months made her inexpressibly happy, but she had a horror of operations. -The nurse they had in Lone Rock after Jack's first one, had spent hours -telling grewsome details of those she had known which were not -successful. Or if they were successful from the surgeon's viewpoint, the -patients usually died from shock, later. - -She wanted to stay in Jack's room every minute of the time after she -heard what was to be done, for she had a sickening foreboding that it -might be the last evening he would be able to talk to them. Still she -was so nervous that she was afraid her frame of mind might be -contagious. She wondered how her mother could sit there so calmly, -talking of the trivial things that filled the round of their days, just -as if to-morrow were going to be like all the commonplace yesterdays. - -It was a relief to her when Phil came back, according to promise, and -turned their thoughts into other channels for awhile. As he rose to go, -Jack motioned to a letter lying on the table beside him, and asked Phil -to post it on his way back to the hotel. Phil slipped it into his -pocket, barely glancing at the envelope as he did so. It was addressed -in such a big plain hand that the "Miss Elizabeth Lewis" on it, caught -his attention as if the words had called out to him. Several other -letters lying on the edge of the table fell to the floor as Phil's coat -brushed them in passing. He stooped mechanically to pick them up, for he -was busy talking, and without being conscious of having noted the -address, laid them back on the table. But afterwards it occurred to him -that they were all addressed to Jack, and by the same hand that had made -the memorandum for him, about the girls whom he met at Warwick Hall. - -Mary wondered afterwards how she ever could have lived through the next -morning had it not been for Phil. She was all right as long as there was -anything to do, or while she sat listening to Doctor Tremont talk to her -mother and the local physician, Doctor Mackay. But as soon as Alex -Shelby arrived with the nurse she fell into such a tremor of nervousness -that she could scarcely keep from shaking as if she had a chill. - -There was a cluster of umbrella trees in the farthest corner of the -yard, and carrying some chairs out to their dense shade Phil called her -to come and sit with him there. He had a glove that was ripped and he -hoped she would take pity on him and sew it up. She understood perfectly -well his object in putting her to work, and although her hands trembled -at first so that she could barely thread a needle, she had to -acknowledge inwardly that it was easier to compose herself when her -hands were busy. One finger was ripped the entire length, so it took a -long time to mend it neatly; to buttonhole the edges on each side, and -then draw the stitches together in a seam that was stronger than the -original one. - -Gradually she became so interested in her task and what Phil was telling -her of his adventures in the past year, that she stopped glancing every -moment towards the house, and no longer jumped nervously at every sound. -Once or twice she smiled at something he told her; something that would -have been uproariously funny if she had heard it at any other time. Just -now she could not forget the fact that Jack was lying unconscious under -the surgeon's knife, and the stories the Lone Rock nurse had told her -came back to haunt her with terrifying suggestions. - -"I am to meet your friend, Miss Gay Melville," Phil said, when they had -been sitting there a long time. "Shelby is to take Daddy and me up to -the Post to-night, to dine at her house. The Major came down to the -train with him when he met us yesterday morning, and delivered the -invitation in person. He's a hospitable old duck, the Major. He's kin to -some people that are intimate friends of Daddy's and he's almost ready -to adopt us both into his family on the strength of it. Alex told me on -the side that I am invited specially to meet a very particular chum of -his fiancée's, Miss Roberta somebody, I can't remember the name. Miss -Melville thinks I will find her my affinity, judging by what she knows -of her and has heard of me." - -"Roberta Mayrell," prompted Mary. "Oh, I don't think you'll find her -_that_! She's a fascinating sort of girl, but she's such a different -type from--I mean--I think. Well--" She was floundering desperately to -turn her sentence. "I can't imagine you'd care for her to the _affinity_ -point." - -What she had almost said was, "She's such a different type from the -Little Colonel." She had remembered just in time that she was not -supposed to know about that affair. Had she not been an unintentional -eaves-dropper she could not have heard his offer to Lloyd of the unset -turquoise, and all that followed. - -Phil noticed her embarrassment and wondered what caused it, but the -subject was immediately forgotten. The door they had been watching so -long opened at last, and Doctor Tremont came out and stood on the step. -Phil beckoned, and he came across to the clump of umbrella trees where -they were sitting. One glance at his face showed Mary that she had -nothing to fear. He stood with his hand on Phil's shoulder as he said -kindly, - -"It's all good news, Mary. We found exactly the state of affairs that I -expected. If he follows the other case on record, it will not be long -till he is as strong and husky and active as this young rascal here." - -He gave Phil's shoulder an affectionate grip. Mary looked up at him -trying to comprehend all she had heard. - -"Strong--and husky and active--as Phil?" she repeated in dull wonder. -"You can't mean that he--will ever be able--to _walk_?" - -The question came in dry, sobbing gasps. - -"Yes, just that." - -She stood up. The news was so stupendous, the reaction so great that -everything turned black. She sat down again giddily. The sympathetic -faces, the trees, everything seemed to be whirling around and around. -She heard Phil's voice, but it sounded as if it were miles away. - -"Brace up, little Vicar! You're surely not going limp now, just when -fortune is making such a tremendous turn in your favor." - -"No," she said, shaking herself and fighting off the faintness. Such a -feeling had never assailed her before, and she did not know what to make -of it. "You see, nobody ever told me--I didn't know such a heavenly -thing was possible! I can't believe it yet. Oh, are you _sure_?" - -She looked up into the strong, calm face of the gray-haired old surgeon, -as if his answer meant life or death. - -"As sure as any one can be about any operation," he answered. "He has -everything in his favor; there is the clean life he has always led, back -of him; his splendid constitution, the fine aseptic air of these hills. -Everything is favorable. The paralysis and all the other trouble was -caused by one thing. We have removed the cause, and I see no reason why -he should not recover completely in time. He has rallied from the -anesthetic, and is so happy over the result, so buoyantly hopeful, that -that of itself, with his dogged determination to get well, will go a -long distance toward pulling him through." - -The tears were rolling down Mary's cheeks, but she did not know it, nor -did she know that her face was ashine at the same time with the inward -light of a joy too great for telling. - -"To think that he'll be able to _walk_ again!" she exclaimed over and -over, as if trying to grasp the greatness of such a fact. "And _you_ did -it! Oh, Doctor Tremont! There isn't anything good enough in heaven or -earth, for the hand that could bring a happiness like that to my brother -Jack!" - -As she tried brokenly to express her gratitude, and the good old doctor -tried as hard to deny any obligation on her part, saying he had only -partly squared himself with the Wares, Phil slipped away. The scene was -coming near to upsetting his own equanimity. Besides he had some -telegrams to send. There were three and save for the address they were -identically the same: - -"Operation successful. Every reason to expect complete and rapid -recovery." - -Stuart Tremont received his just as he was driving in at the gate of his -country place. A messenger boy on a wheel handed him the yellow -envelope. He hurried into the house, catching up little Patricia, and -swinging her to his shoulder as she ran to meet him. Eugenia was coming -down the stairs. - -"Good news!" he cried boyishly. "Hurrah for Daddy! He's brought the year -of jubilee to the Ware family, root and branch." - -"To say nothing of the professional laurels he has added to the house of -Tremont," Eugenia answered. "Sometimes I'm tempted to wish you hadn't -followed in his footsteps, Stuart, and chosen such a hard life. But when -I think what just one cure like that means, I wouldn't have you anything -else in the world than what you are, for all the kingdoms of the earth. -Oh, I'm so glad for all of them! Joyce will be nearly wild with joy. She -has been so broken up over Jack's condition ever since the accident, -that now her happiness will be something good to see. I must try to go -in to the city for a short call before we start West." - -Joyce's happiness _was_ good to see. When her telegram came she was -starting out of the studio on her way to an interview with the art -editor of a magazine that had published one of her sketches. She could -not turn back because the appointed hour was too near at hand and the -interview too important. So she stood in the corridor after she left the -elevator, wiping away her happy tears until she was composed enough to -go out on the street. And because she had to share her good news with -some one, she told the janitor's wife. The hearty sympathy of that -motherly Irish woman sent her away as if she were treading on air. - -The art editor, who dimly remembered her as a very quiet, reserved young -girl, wondered at the transformation when she came into his office, -looking like the very incarnation of Joy. She had been afraid of the -stern, forbidding man before, saying to Henrietta that she always -expected him to bark at her. But to-day, to her own surprise as well as -his, she found herself telling him her good news, just as she had poured -it out to the janitor's wife, because she couldn't help it. That his -congratulations should be quite as hearty as Mrs. Phelan's caused her -no surprise then, for at the moment Jack's recovery seemed such a -miracle that she felt the whole world must be interested in hearing of -it. But she wondered afterwards what he must have thought of her for -pouring out her confidences to him about Jack as impulsively as if he -had been an old friend instead of a stranger. - -Had she only known it, that impulsive outburst aroused a friendly -interest in her that the reserved man rarely felt in struggling young -artists, and he bought all the sketches she had with her. An hour -before, that of itself would have been enough to send her back to the -studio rejoicing; but now it seemed such a drop in the bucket compared -to the news she had for Mrs. Boyd and Lucy and Henrietta, that she -forgot to mention the little matter of the sale for several days. - -There was some delay in the transmission of Betty's message. It did not -reach her until nearly sundown. She was passing through the lower hall -on the way to the drawing-room, when the envelope was put into her -hands. The house suddenly seemed to grow stifling. She needed all out of -doors to breathe in. So running down the marble steps to the river, she -walked along to the circular seat surrounding the old willow. With the -tree between herself and the Hall, she looked out across the Potomac, -that a gorgeous sunset was turning into a river of gold. - -The slip of paper fluttered in her fingers but she feared to read it. -Such life-long tragedies can be told sometimes in the short space of ten -words. But at last she summoned courage to glance at the message, after -which she read it through slowly, several times. - -Then looking up above the shining of the river to the glory of the -sunset sky beyond, she whispered softly, as she had always done since -she was a little child, in the great moments of her life, "_Thank you, -dear God!_" - -The same afternoon Doctor Tremont and Phil and Alex went to San Antonio, -leaving the nurse and Doctor Mackay in charge of Jack. The Tremonts, -after dining at Major Melville's, were to take the night train for -California. They had promised Elsie to be with her as long as possible -before her wedding. She had seen little of Phil for several years. He -was taking a month's vacation; the first long one since he started to -work, in order to spend the most of it with her in the old Gold-of-Ophir -rose-garden, that had been their earliest playground. Doctor Tremont -did not expect to come back to Bauer, but Phil promised to stop off for -a few days on his return trip, which would be in a little less than -three weeks. - -After the departure of their guests the family settled down to wait -patiently and happily for time to finish the process of healing. Since -such great cause for thanksgiving had come to them, the small ills that -every one is heir to, almost lost the power to annoy. When Mary burned -herself badly with a hot iron, when she ruined her best dress by -spilling a bottle of ink, when the little wildcat, which grew dearer -every day, was crippled so badly by a falling wood-pile that it had to -be put out of its misery, there were some tears and regrets; but the -unfailing balm for everything was the thought: "_But Jack's getting -well!_ Nothing else matters much." - -As Spring deepened, the wild flowers grew still more abundant. Acres of -wild verbenas spread their royal purple underfoot, and the china-berry -trees hung answering pennons overhead of the same kingly color. -Spider-wort starred the grass. Wine-cups held up their crimson chalices -along every lane. Mexican blankets sported their gaudy stripes of red -and yellow, and even the cacti, thorny and forbidding, burst into -gorgeous bloom. - -And then, just at Easter, a waxen blossom, snow-white, and -sweet-breathed as the narcissus, sprang up all over the hills. Rain -lilies, Miss Edna called them. Norman and Mary gathered great armfuls of -them and carried them to Mrs. Rochester to put around the chancel. They -seemed to suit the little country church far better than the florists' -lilies would have done. The casement windows stood open, and Mary sat -looking out through one of them, listening to the reading of the account -of the first Easter: - -"_And very early in the morning, the first day of the week, they came -unto the sepulchre at the rising of the sun._" - -But it was not the green Spring-time world outside she saw. It was -Jack's face as she had caught a glimpse of it, earlier in the morning, -when he lay listening to his mother read those same words. She had heard -him say in one of the pauses: - -"Mother, sometimes I am so happy I don't see how I can endure such -blessedness! I've dreamed so many times that I was well, only to waken -and find it all a cruel mistake, that now when I realize it's really -going to be true--that life still holds everything for me--oh, I can't -tell you!" He broke off, a smile of ineffable happiness spreading over -his face. "Now I know how Lazarus felt when the stone was rolled away -and he heard the call 'Come forth!'" - -That smile was still before Mary's eyes when the white-robed choir rose -to sing, and she joined with all her heart in the chant, which swelled -forth at the end of every line into a glad "_Alleluia!_" - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -SAN JACINTO DAY. - - -IT was the twentieth of April when Phil returned to Bauer, and for the -second time his visit was cut disappointingly short. The reason was that -he had promised Major Melville the night he dined with him, to be back -in San Antonio in time for the Carnival. The Major wanted to take him to -a Mexican restaurant for a typical Mexican supper the night of the -twenty-first. On the twenty-second there would be an entertainment for -the Queen of the Carnival at her Court of the Roses; something too -unique and beautiful for him to miss, they all said. Then, on the -twenty-third, San Jacinto Day, which all loyal Texans keep as a state -holiday, the annual Battle of Flowers would take place in the plaza in -front of the Alamo, which they call their "Cradle of Liberty." - -The Flower Battle was an old institution, the Major explained. But this -was only the second year for the Queen's Court, and it was something so -surpassingly beautiful that he thought it ought to become a regular -feature of every carnival. - -Roberta, who was also at the dinner, added her persuasions. - -"You'll think you're back in the time 'when knighthood was in flower,'" -she insisted. "I wish every Easterner accustomed to poking fun at our -state could see it. Nobody knows what I suffered at school from having -people talk as if all Texans are 'long-horns.'" - -"Roberta was one of the duchesses last year," explained Lieutenant -Boglin. "You should have seen her sweep up to the throne when they -announced, 'Her Grace, the Lady Roberta of the House of Mayrell!' She -certainly looked the real article, and was a far cry from a long-horn -then." - -"Don't emphasize the _then_ so pointedly, Bogey," ordered Roberta. - -When Phil hesitated to accept because his time in Bauer would be -shortened so much thereby, Gay insisted that she was going to invite -Mary down for the Queen's entertainment and the Flower Battle anyhow, -and that if he refused to come Mary would be cut out of the pleasure of -coming, for, of course, she couldn't leave a guest behind, under the -circumstances. - -So presently the Major's programme was arranged to his partial -satisfaction. It was not complete, because he could not persuade the old -doctor, who intended spending several months in California, to return -also. - -Gay went up to Bauer that same week, directly after Alex Shelby's -departure. She wanted to deliver her invitation in person, and to spend -the day with the Ware family. She liked to hear them sing Alex's -praises. _He_ was the one who discovered that something could be done -for Jack, and he it was who had summoned Doctor Tremont, and every -discussion of the subject always brought out the gratifying fact that -had it not been for him, Jack would not now be on the high road to -recovery. She had found, too, that Mary made a most satisfactory little -confidante; much better than Roberta, for she seemed really interested -in Alex and all that pertained to him, and never laughed at Gay's -rhapsodies and made cynical remarks about "before and after taking" as -the worldly-wise Roberta did. - -Two thoughts gave Mary the utmost satisfaction in accepting the -invitation. One was, there would be time before San Jacinto Day to make -up the white dress for which her mother had embroidered the lovely -rosebuds. The other was, that an occasion had come at last when it would -be appropriate for her to wear Lloyd's gift, the beautiful chiffon -scarf, spangled with the crystal beads which sparkled like dewdrops. - -With only a day and a half to spend in Bauer, Phil could do few of the -things she had planned for his entertainment. Now that Jack was better, -she did not like to take him away from the house long enough to ride out -to the Barnaby ranch and pole up to Fernbank, and such things. Instead, -all the time was spent so that Jack could have his full share of the -visit. She would have been greatly disappointed had she not known she -was going to see Phil several times during her visit to Gay. - -He went down to the Mexican supper on the twenty-first, and she followed -next morning. He was to take luncheon with the Mayrells that day, so she -did not see him till night, when they all went in the same party to the -entertainment, Phil and Roberta, Gay and Billy Mayrell, Mary and -Lieutenant Boglin. - -The stage of Beethoven Hall was turned into a bower of roses on this eve -of San Jacinto Day, and a great audience, assembling early, awaited the -coming of the Queen of the Carnival and her royal court. In the patent -of nobility given by her gracious majesty to her attendants, was the -command: - -"We bid you to join with all of our loyal subjects in the Mirth and -Merriment of this Festival of Flowers, which doth commemorate the -glorious freedom of this, our Texas, won by the deathless heroism of the -defenders of the Alamo, and the Victory of San Jacinto." - -This call for Mirth and Merriment struck the keynote of the carnival, -and everyone in the great assembly seemed to be responding with the -proper festival spirit. - -Back in the crowded house in a seat next the aisle and almost at the -entrance door, sat Mary Ware, completely entranced by all that was going -on about her. Lieutenant Boglin was beside her, and in the chairs -directly behind them were Gay and Billy Mayrell. Roberta and Phil were -in front of them. They had come early to secure these chairs, and the -men had given the girls the end seats in order that they might have -unobstructed view of both aisle and stage. They all turned so that -conversation was general until the house was nearly filled, then Roberta -said something which drew Phil's attention wholly to herself, and he -turned his back on the others, beginning to talk exclusively to her. - -Gay, who appeared to know at least every fourth person who came down the -aisle, sat, like most of the audience, with her head turned expectantly -towards the door, and kept up a running comment to Mary on the -acquaintances who passed her with nods of recognition or brief words of -greeting. The thrum of the orchestra, the sight of so many smiling -faces, although they were strange to her, and the blended colors of -fashionable evening gowns would have furnished Mary ample entertainment -after her dull winter in the country; but it was doubly entertaining -with Gay to point out distinguished people and give her bits of -information, supplemented by Billy and Bogey about this one from the -Post and that one from the town. - -She wished that Phil could hear too. She wanted him to know what -prominent personages he was in the midst of. Once when some world-known -celebrity was escorted up the aisle she leaned over and called his -attention to the procession. He looked up with a smile to follow her -glance, and made a joking response, but returned so quickly to the -fascinating Roberta, that Mary felt that his interest in everything -else just then was merely perfunctory. - -She remembered what Gay had said about his finding his affinity, and -stole a side glance at Roberta to study her in the new light which -Phil's interest threw upon her. Now in the days when Phil worshipped at -the Little Colonel's shrine, Mary was perfectly content to have it so. -She would have walked over hot plowshares to have brought his romance to -a happy consummation. It seemed so eminently fitting that the two people -in the world whom she had invested with halos, should stand together on -the same pedestal in her affections. To her doting eyes, Lloyd was such -an angel that she knew Phil must be happy with her, and Phil measured so -fully up to the notch on the sterling yard-stick which indicated the -inches and ells that a true prince should be, that she was sure no girl -who wove her Clotho-web for him could fail to find the happiness that -was written for her in the stars. - -Mary had grown accustomed to the fact by this time that she had made a -mistake in her reading of the stars. Lloyd was destined for someone -else. But it had not occurred to her before that maybe Phil was, too. -The thought that he would carry a secret sorrow with him to the grave, -invested him with a melancholy charm that made him all the more -interesting. It was somewhat of a shock to her to see him watch the -downward sweep and swift upward glance of Roberta's pretty eyes in such -an admiring way, although Mary herself had heretofore found pleasure in -watching them. Of course she didn't want him to go on suffering always, -still--she didn't want him to forget. - -In her passionate loyalty to Lloyd she resented his bestowing a second -glance on any girl who was any less of an angel than she; and yet her -loyalty to Phil made her want him to have whatever he wanted. Knowing -how many men had fallen victims to Roberta's flirtatious little ways, -she longed to save Phil from the same fate. The growing alarm with which -she watched them was almost comical for one of her years. It was comical -because it was so motherly. Not a particle of jealousy or a thought of -self entered into it. - -A hush fell on the great audience, and the curtain rose on a tableau of -surpassing loveliness. The stage seemed to be one mass of American -Beauty roses. The walls were festooned and garlanded with them. They -covered the high throne in the centre and bordered the steps leading up -to it. They hung in long streamers on either side from ceiling to -floor. Grouped against this glowing background, stood the noble dukes, -the lords-in-waiting and their esquires. The gay-colored satins and -brocades of their old-time court costumes, the gleam of jewelled -sword-hilts, the shine of powdered perukes, transported one from prosaic -times and lands to the old days of chivalry and romance. - -The jester shook his bells, the trumpeters in their plumed helmets -raised their long, shining trumpets, and sounded the notes that heralded -the first approach. Then the Lord Chamberlain stepped forth in a brave -array of pink satin, carrying the gold stick that was his insignia of -office. - -"That's me friend," whispered Gay, "the man who originated this affair. -I tell him I think he must be one of the Knights of the Round Table -re-incarnated, or else the wizard Merlin come to life again, to bring -such a beautiful old court scene into being in the way he has done." - -She stopped whispering to hear the impressive announcement he was -making, in a voice that rang through the hall: - -"Her Grace, Lady Elizabeth, of the House of Lancaster!" - -Immediately every eye turned from the stage to look at the rose-trimmed -entrance door. The orchestra struck into an inspiring march and the -stately beauty, first to arrive at the Court of Roses, began her -triumphal entry up the long aisle. She passed so near to Mary that the -tulle bow on the directoire stick she carried almost touched her cheek -with its long floating ends, light as gossamer web. And Mary, clasping -her hands together in an ecstasy of admiration, noted every detail of -the beautiful costume in its slow passing. - -"It's like the Princess Olga's," she thought, recalling the old -fairy-tale of the enchanted necklace. "Whiter than the whiteness of the -fairest lily, fine, like the finest lace that the frost-elves weave, and -softer than the softest ermine of the snow." - -The long court train that swept behind her was all aglisten, as if -embroidered with dewdrops and pearls. Mary watched her, scarcely -breathing till she had ascended the steps to the stage. Then her -appointed duke came forward to meet her and led her to the steps of the -throne. - -The music stopped. Again the heralds sounded their trumpets and the Lord -Chamberlain announced the next duchess. - -"You see," explained Gay, hastily, as all necks craned toward the door -again, "each girl is duchess of some rose or other, like Killarney or -Malmaison or Maréchal Niel." - -One after another they passed by to take their places beside the throne, -all in such exquisitely beautiful costumes that Mary thought that each -one must be indelibly photographed on her memory. But when they had -passed, all she could remember of so many was a spangled procession of -court trains, covered with cascades of crystal and silver and pearls and -strung jewels. - -Each time a new duchess swept slowly and majestically by, Mary turned a -quick glance toward Phil to see if he were properly impressed; but when -the Queen was announced, she had no eyes for anything but the regal -figure proceeding slowly up the aisle, amid the admiring applause which -almost drowned the music of the march. - -It was at this juncture that Phil glanced back at Mary. Her face so -plainly showed the admiration which filled her that he continued to -watch her with an amused smile, saying to Roberta in an undertone: - -"Look at Mary's rapt expression! She's always adored queens and such -things, and now she feels that she's up against the real article." - -"I don't wonder," answered Roberta, herself so interested that she -turned her back on Phil until the royal party had passed by. Two little -pages in costumes of white and gold, with plumed hats and spangled -capes, bore the royal train, and Roberta tried to upset the dignity of -one of them, who was a little friend of hers, by whispering, "Hello, -Gerald, where did you get that feather?" - -In Mary's estimation it was not the diamond crown that marked the Queen -as especially regal, not the jewelled sceptre nor the white satin gown, -heavily embroidered in gold roses and gleaming with brilliants; it was -the fact that the long train borne by the little pages was of -_cloth-of-gold_. To Mary, cloth-of-gold was more royal than ermine or -purple velvet, and lovingly associated in her thought with the white -samite of Tennyson's idyls. It was cloth-of-gold that the Lily Maid of -Astolat had worn to her burying, and the only piece that Mary had ever -seen was the drapery over the bier of the fair Elaine, when Lloyd took -the part of the Lily Maid, in the tableaux at The Beeches. When she -caught sight of it she clasped her hands still tighter, and never took -her eyes from it until the Queen was seated on her throne, and the long, -shining folds swept down beside her, the full length of the steps. - -The presentation scene followed. In the name of The Order of the Alamo, -the Queen was given a magnificent necklace, with a jewelled pendant. -After that the visiting duchesses were received, representing many towns -of Texas, from El Paso to the gulf. They came with their maids of honor, -and when they had been met by their lords-in-waiting and their esquires, -the entertainment for the Queen began. - -Grecian maidens bearing garlands of roses danced before her. The second -group was of seven little barefoot girls, carrying golden lyres, and -forming a rainbow background for another small maid who gave a cymbal -dance. The Grecian dances were followed by a gavotte of the time of -Louis XIII, in which all the dukes and duchesses took part. - -"They danced the minuet last year," commented Gay. "This is the end of -the performance, but we'll wait to watch them go out, on their way to -the Queen's ball. I went to that too, last year. These are good seats; -we catch them coming and going." - -The audience remaining seated until all the members of the Court had -passed out two by two, had ample time for comment and observation. -Bogey, who, seeing Mary's absorbing interest in the scene, had -considerately left her undisturbed most of the time, now leaned over and -began to talk. As Gay had once said, "When it comes to giving a girl a -good time, Bogey is quite the nicest officer in the bunch," and Phil, -overhearing scraps of their conversation, concluded that Mary was -finding her escort as entertaining as the pageant. A backward glance now -and then showed that she was not watching the recessional as closely as -she was listening to him. - -As they all started out of the hall together, moving slowly along with -the crowd, barely an inch at a time, they talked over arrangements for -the next day. Lieutenant Boglin could not be counted in. He had to ride -in the procession with the rest of the troops from the Post who were to -take part in the parade. Billy Mayrell had another engagement, so Phil -proposed to take all three of the girls under his wing. It was too late -to secure seats in the plaza from which to watch the flower battle. The -Major had been able to get only two. So Phil said the Major and his wife -should occupy those. He would come around for the girls in an automobile -and they could watch the parade seated in that. - -There was a blockade near the door, but as soon as they could get -through it, they all walked up the street to a building in which the -Major had secured the use of a second-story window, from which they -could watch the parade of the Queen and her court on their way to the -ball. The time spent in waiting was well worth while, when it finally -appeared. The horses of the chariots were led by Nubian servants, and -each chariot represented a rose, wherein sat the duchess who had made it -her choice. - -The Queen's chariot was surmounted by a mammoth American Beauty rose, -and as she smiled out from the midst of its petals, Mary had one more -entrancing view of the royal robes. This time they were lit up by the -red gleam of torches, for eight torch-bearers, four on a side, -accompanied each chariot, and added their light to the brilliant -illuminations of the streets. - -"You must see the river," said Billy Mayrell, after the procession had -passed by. "Nobody can describe it, with the lights strung across it -from shore to shore all down its winding course. It makes you think of -Venice." - -He led them to a place where they could look across a bend and see one -of the bridges. It was strung so thickly with red lights which outlined -every part, that it seemed to be made of glowing rubies, and its -reflection in the water made another shining ruby bridge below, wavering -on the dark current. - -Mary leaned over the rail watching the shimmering lights, and feeling -dreamily that this City of the Alamo was an enchanted city; that the -buildings looming up on every side were not for the purpose of barter -and trade. They were thrown up simply as backgrounds for the dazzling -illuminations which outlined them against the night sky. The horns of -the revellers answering each other down every street, the music of -distant bands, the laughter of the jostling throngs, all deepened the -illusion. - -It did not seem possible that this could be the city through which she -had once tramped in the rain, discouraged and forlorn, in search of a -home. It was a realm given over utterly to "Mirth and Merriment," where -a gracious young queen held sway, where illness and trouble and grief -had no part. - -"I don't wonder that the Major wants everybody not already a loyal Texan -to see this," she said to the Lieutenant. "It's enough to make one want -to live here always." - -She made the same remark to Gay next afternoon, as she sat beside her on -the back seat of the automobile. Roberta was on the front seat with -Phil. He had ordered a machine which he could drive himself, and they -had taken a run through the principal streets to see all the -decorations, before coming to a standstill to wait for the procession. -It was an inspiring scene, the grandstand packed with applauding -spectators, the plaza crowded from park to curbstone. Shops and offices -had closed for the day, schools were dismissed and all work abandoned as -far as possible, in order that everyone might share in the Carnival -play-time. The wise old town knows the full worth of holidays, and makes -the most of each one. - -The chariots Mary had seen in the brilliantly-lighted streets the night -before, lost some of their glamour seen by day; but the duchesses and -their ladies-in-waiting were dressed now in the colors of their chosen -roses instead of the court-robes, and there were many new features in -this parade; floats and handsomely decorated carriages, and a long line -of troops from the post with the famous military bands. It was hard to -sit still when they played so inspiringly. - -Back and forth in front of the Alamo went the two divisions of the -parade, meeting and passing and turning to meet and pass again, all the -while pelting each other with flowers, till the plaza where they rode -was covered deep with them. And the bands played and the people cheered, -till the smallest schoolboy in their midst felt a thrill of gratitude to -the heroes whose deeds they were commemorating. He might miss the deeper -meaning of it all, but he grasped one fact clearly enough: that had it -not been for the grim battle which those brave fellows fought to the -death, there would have been no San Jacinto Day for him. No -pageant-filled holiday to make one feel that it is a great and glorious -thing to be a son of the Lone Star State. - -Phil dined at the Major's again that night, and Roberta was the only -other guest beside Mary. Gay had objected when her father proposed -others, saying that they intended to devote the entire evening to music. -Since they had discovered what a magnificent voice Mr. Tremont had, and -he had discovered what proficient accompanists she and Roberta were, -they had decided to treat themselves to a musicale given by the three, -with only Mary for audience. The family could listen, of course, but -with the understanding that there was to be no conversation. As the -Major had an engagement which took him out immediately after dinner and -Mrs. Melville had some friends drop in to call soon after, it happened -that their audience was limited to one. - -Now the one thing that Mary enjoyed above all others was hearing Phil -sing, and quite the pleasantest part of her whole visit was that last -evening spent in listening to him, with Roberta at the piano, and Gay -improvising wonderfully soft and lovely accompaniments on her violin. -Mary had heard two celebrated opera singers while in Washington, but in -her opinion neither one equalled Phil. - -Phil's surprise would have been unbounded could he have known that she -was comparing his singing to the angel Israfel's, "whose heartstrings -were a lute, and who had the sweetest voice of all God's creatures." It -would have been a matter of still greater surprise if he could have -known the exalted opinion that Mary had of him. Not that any sentimental -interest entered into her regard for him. Despite her eighteen years and -her womanly attitude towards the world in general, she was still a -little girl, and a very humble little girl in her own estimation, as -far as he was concerned. He was her ideal; the man whose good opinion -she valued above all things, whose approval made her inexpressibly -happy, and whose advice she eagerly followed. - -She had adored him for years as little girls do sometimes look up to and -adore grown men, and had stored away in her memory many a remark that he -forgot as soon as it was uttered. There was the time she confided to him -her grief at being so fat and her ambition to be an "airy, fairy -Lillian," like Lloyd. He did not even smile, and he answered so gravely -and kindly that she remembered even yet the consolation that his words -gave her. Another time she overheard him referring to her as an "angel -unawares," because she had unknowingly done him a service by repeating -something Lloyd had said about him. - -From that time on, that was the part she longed to play in his life. She -burned to be the "angel unawares" who could help him to the attainment -of everything he wanted. That was why she had been so bitterly -disappointed when Lloyd's engagement to Rob Moore had been announced. -She wanted Lloyd to marry Phil because she knew that was what Phil -wanted. Now that that was not possible she was just as ready to help -him if he should ever love again. She hardly thought that he could do -_that_, though. It seemed so incredible that he should ever find another -as fine and high and sweet as the Princess Winsome; it was still more -incredible that once having set his mark that high he could ever look at -anything less. - -His powerful, well-trained voice filled the room with a sweetness that -brought an ache to her throat and sometimes tears to her eyes. Presently -Roberta rummaged out some old, old melodies--"Drink to me only with -thine eyes," and the "Bedouin Love-song." - -When she asked for that last one, Mary cringed inwardly, as if she had -been hurt herself, so sure was she that it must bring up painful -memories to Phil. She fully expected to see him lay it aside with some -excuse for not singing it. She remembered as vividly as if it were only -last night how she had sat on the floor of the library at The Locusts, -listening to the notes of his guitar as he sang to Lloyd outside on the -porch: - - "Till the stars are old - And the sun grows cold - And the leaves of the Judgment - Book unfold." - -For the life of her, she couldn't see how Lloyd ever listened to any -other wooing after that. Had any one sung that to _her_ in that voice it -would have won her so completely that she would have risen like the -Sleeping Beauty at the call of the prince. - - "Beyond the night--across the day-- - Through all the world she followed him." - -To her surprise, Phil took up the sheet of music as nonchalantly as if -he had never seen it before. But when he began to sing it seemed to her -anxious ear that he sang it more feelingly than anything she had ever -heard. It was plain enough to her now that he had not ceased to care. It -wrung her heart to hear him sing it so, pouring out his soul in a flood -of noble devotion which he knew could never be requited, but which would -live on till the sun lost its heat and the stars their light. - -"I love that song," said Roberta, laying it aside to pick up another. -"But I'd like to meet that fiery old duck of a Bedouin when the leaves -of the Judgment Book _do_ unfold, and find out how long his devotion -kept up to high-water mark." Then she trilled airily, "Men are gay -deceivers ever." - -Under the circumstances the remark seemed flippant, almost -sacrilegious, to Mary. She gave Roberta a disapproving glance behind her -back, thinking, "Little _you_ know about it. If you could see as I do -now, how Phil is hiding his real feelings, you'd realize that there's -_one_ man, at least, capable of the deathless devotion you scoff at." - -The evening was over all too soon. Phil was to take Roberta home on his -way back to the hotel, and when he rose to go said, "I'll not make my -farewells now. My train doesn't leave till nearly noon to-morrow, so -I'll call some time during the morning to pay my respects to the Major -and see you all again." - -"You'll have to say good-by to Mary now," said Gay. "She insists on -taking that horrid freight car back to Bauer, at seven in the morning." - -"I must," said Mary. "You know they need me, now that the nurse is gone, -and I've already been away two days." - -Roberta went out into the hall for her hat, and Gay followed as far as -the door, talking as she went. - -"And I haven't had any visit with _you_ at all," said Phil, who was -standing, hat in hand, looking down at Mary. "I haven't had a word with -you by yourself, and you haven't confided once in me or asked me a -single scrap of advice. It doesn't seem natural. But I'm not going to -let you escape me this way; I'm going down to the train in the morning -to see you off." - -Gay turned in time to hear the last part of his sentence. "That is," she -corrected, "if you are called in time. They don't always do it at hotels -when they say they will. I've had some bad experiences that way. So if -he doesn't appear, Mary, you can console yourself with the thought that -he's like Kathleen Mavourneen--'slumbering still.'" - -"I'll be there," was the confident reply, as he smiled down into Mary's -wistful eyes and held out his hand to say good-night. "Electric bells -are not as romantic as the 'horn of the hunter heard on the hill,' but -they're more effective when it comes to getting a fellow up in the -morning; you'll see me sure." - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -NEW TRAILS - - -THE train to Bauer left so early that Mary had to take the first -street-car passing the Post, in order to reach the station in time. Gay -had announced her intention of going down with her, but did not awaken -until Mary, who occupied an adjoining room, was nearly dressed and the -maid was bringing up a hastily-prepared breakfast, on a tray. But Mary -could not honestly share Gay's regrets at being late. She had dressed -noiselessly on purpose not to waken her. She wanted to go alone in order -to have those last moments with Phil all to herself, and she was so -elated when she finally got away from the house unaccompanied that she -could have sung aloud. - -Her route took her through Alamo plaza again, and the streets which -still bore witness to the presence of the Carnival. All the buildings -were still gay with bunting, and flags flapped merrily in the morning -sunshine. She wondered which would be first to reach the station, and -all the way down, Phil's face was before her. She could see just the way -he would look, coming towards her through the crowd, tall and -distinguished and with such a jolly twinkle in his handsome eyes. And he -would call out, "Hullo, little Vicar; I beat you to it!" or some such -friendly greeting as that. - -She did not know that she was smiling to herself, but it made no -difference. There was no one to see, for the men on the car were all -hidden behind their morning papers. When she reached the station only a -few people were in sight, and when she climbed into the coach at the end -of the long line of freight-cars, there were not more than half a dozen -passengers aboard. All of them looked sleepy, and a series of gentle -snores attracted her attention to an old countryman, curled up on a back -seat with his valise for a pillow. - -On her way in she had passed through the waiting-room and given a hasty -look around to see if Phil were ahead of her. Glancing up at the clock -she found that she had ten minutes to spare. Three of these passed in -getting settled and in taking an inventory of her fellow-passengers. -Then she began to hang out of the window and anxiously watch the -waiting-room door. She was growing uneasy. Maybe the clerk _had_ -forgotten to call him. Maybe he _was_ "slumbering still," as Gay had -prophesied. He might have missed the car he should have taken, or there -might be a tie-up somewhere along the line. - -A colored man hurried into the coach with a chunk of ice for the water -cooler. The conductor came down the platform looking at his watch, and -signalled something to a brakeman. Mary put her head out of the window -again and looked anxiously up and down, whispering in a flutter of -nervousness, "Oh, _why_ doesn't he come? Why _doesn't_ he come? There's -only a minute or two left and there won't be time for a word." - -She would not admit the possibility of his not coming at all, until she -heard the warning, "All aboard!" the ringing of the engine bell, and -felt the jerk and jar which proclaimed all too plainly that the car was -in motion. She was so disappointed that she could hardly keep the tears -back. Her last thought before falling asleep the night before and the -first one on awakening had been that she was going to see the "Best Man" -by himself a few moments, without any talkative Roberta to absorb his -attention, or any other people to run away with the conversation. - -It was a very disconsolate little face that turned towards the open -window to hide its disappointment from possibly curious neighbors. She -found it hard to wink the tears back when she was so deeply, grievously -disappointed. Her back was turned resolutely towards the aisle and her -arms were crossed on the window-sill. In that position she could not see -the rear door of the car open and some one come in from the back -platform. He stood a moment, his hat in one hand and a suit-case in the -other, breathing fast as if he had been running. Then after a searching -glance through the car, he went directly down the aisle and stopped -beside Mary's seat. Her attitude, even to the droop of her hat-brim, -proclaimed her dejection so clearly that a smile twitched the corners of -his mouth. Then he said in a deep voice, so deep that it was fairly -sepulchral, "I beg pardon, Miss. May I occupy this end of the seat?" - -Startled by the strange voice so near, she turned a very sober and -unsmiling face to see what manner of person had accosted her. Then she -exclaimed, in astonishment, "Why, Phil Tremont! How ever did you get on -without my seeing you? I looked and looked and thought you must have -gotten left!" - -Then realizing that the train was well under way and they had been -carried some distance past the station, she cried in alarm, "But you -can't get off! They're carrying you away!" She was almost wringing her -hands in her excitement. - -"Well, I don't mind it if you don't," said Phil, sitting down beside her -and laughing at her concern. "I'm going along with you. Something Miss -Roberta said last night on her way home started me to thinking, and--the -result was, I decided to spend another day and night in Bauer. It's -positively my last appearance, however. I'll leave for good in the -morning." - -What Roberta could have said to make such a change in his plans was more -than Mary could imagine. She almost had to bite her tongue to keep from -asking, and Phil, knowing that he had aroused her wildest curiosity, -laughed again. But he wasted no more time in teasing her. - -"No, really," he said, "I was joking. A telegram from my firm routed me -out about six o'clock this morning. They want me to go to St. Louis to -see some parties before returning to New York. I figured it out that I -could double things up there so as to give me one more day here. But it -took me so long to figure it, that, by the time I had made up my mind, -there was only a moment to stuff my things into my suit-case and call a -taxicab. When I got down to the station I saw I had about three minutes -in which to snatch a sandwich and a cup of coffee at the lunch counter; -but the coffee was so hot I came near missing my train. Had to run a -block and swing up on the rear platform. If it had been the regular -express I couldn't have caught it. Luckily it was a freight, so here I -am." - -He did not add that an unaccountable impulse to go back to Bauer had -seized him the night before when he bade her good-night, or that the -impulse had been strengthened afterward by a casual remark of Roberta's -about Lieutenant Boglin. Roberta thought she saw the first symptoms of a -budding romance on Bogey's part. - -Not being given to the practice of analyzing his feelings, Phil did not -stop to ask himself why it should make any difference to him what the -lieutenant thought of little Mary Ware, nor did he realize at the time -how much that remark influenced his decision to spend one more day with -her. Afterwards he used to say that it was Fate and not himself that was -responsible for that journey; that it was destined from the beginning he -should chase madly after that freight-train, catch it, and thereby give -himself four long uninterrupted hours in which to grow better acquainted -with her than he had ever been before. - -At the end of that time he knew why he had been drawn back. It was that -her real self, the depth of whose charm he had not even half suspected, -should be revealed to him in the intimacy of this conversation. It -changed his whole attitude toward her to find how much she had changed -herself; how she had grown and developed. In some ways she was still the -amusing child whose unexpected sayings had first attracted him. She -would always be that, but she was so much more now; and, again, as on -the day he met her in the field of blue-bonnets, he found himself -watching her, trying to decide just wherein her charm lay, and how it -made her different from any other girl he had ever known. Sometimes he -would almost lose what she was saying, puzzling over the problem. - -At the stone quarry, while they waited a long time for the engine to -switch off some empty cars, and pick up some loaded ones, they left the -coach and walked up and down beside the track. They were talking about -Gay and Alex, and he laughed at her outspoken honesty in expressing her -opinion about their delayed wedding. - -"I think it's so sensible for them to wait till he's got something saved -up for a rainy day, when he's nothing now but his practice. It's like -providing a sort of financial umbrella. Really, it is just like -starting out without a sign of an umbrella when you know it's going to -rain, and trusting to luck to keep you dry, for people to marry with -nothing to depend on but an uncertain salary." - -Phil laughed, as he answered, "What a little pessimist you are, Mary. It -_doesn't_ always rain, and people _have_ married without such a -provision who lived happily ever after." - -"But it does oftener than it doesn't," she insisted. "Papa and mamma -lived happily, and he had only his practice as a young lawyer. But look -what we've been through since he died. Things wouldn't have come to such -a pass when his health broke down if there had been something laid away -for such emergencies. Joyce and I have often talked about it when we've -had to pinch and work and economize down to the last cent." - -"So you'll never marry a man who has only the shelter of a salary to -offer you?" said Phil, teasingly. - -"I didn't say that," answered Mary, her face puckered up into a puzzled -expression. "I don't want to, and I don't _think_ I would, but, -honestly, I don't know what I would do. I'm afraid that if I loved a man -as much as you ought to to be his wife that I'd be every bit as foolish -as anybody else, and that I'd marry him even if I had to take in back -stairs to scrub for a living. But I do hope I'll have more sense, or -else he won't be that kind of a man. It isn't that I mind work," she -added, "but I'm so tired of doing without and making over, and tugging -and pulling to make both ends meet. Do you know what they call me at -home? The Watch-dog of the Treasury, and you can guess what I've had to -be like to earn such a name. I earned it, too, all right. I fought over -every penny, and I'd hate to keep on in the same old rut all the rest of -my days. It would be so nice to look forward to a luxurious old age." - -She laughed when she had said it, but such a tired little sigh came -first, and that wistful look again in her honest, straightforward eyes -as she glanced up at him, that he was seized with a sudden desire such -as no one else had ever inspired before, to pick her up and carry her -away from all her troubles; to surround her with all the girlish -pleasures and pretty things she loved, and to humor every whim all the -rest of her life. But all he said was: - -"And if you were a man I suppose you would feel the same way about it." - -"Oh, more so!" she cried. "The more I thought of a girl the surer I'd -want to be that she need never face that rainy day unprotected." - -She stooped to pick a tiny yellow star from a clump of broom growing -alongside the track, and they walked on in silence a moment. Then he -said, with an amused side-glance at her: - -"You can't imagine how funny it seems to hear such common-sense, -practical 'side talks on matrimony' from an eighteen-year-old girl like -you. I feel as if I'd had a scolding from my grandmother, and that I'll -have to own up that I did it, but I'm sorry and I'll never do it again." - -"Did what?" queried Mary in surprise. - -"Spent everything as fast as I made it. Had money to burn and burnt it. -I don't ask any better salary than I've been receiving for several -years. Of course, when I go in by myself, that'll be another matter. But -I'll have to own up; out of it all, I've saved practically nothing. I -haven't spent it in riotous living, and it doesn't seem that I've been -particularly extravagant, but it's gone. It just slipped through my -fingers." - -"Oh, well, _you_," began Mary. "That's different." - -"In what way is it different?" he persisted, when she did not go on. - -"Well, if a man doesn't mind getting wet himself it's nobody's business -if he takes chances. It's the man who expects to--to have some one else -to protect--who ought to be ready for the possible storms." - -"But what makes you think that I'll always go it alone?" insisted Phil. -"That I'll never have any one to--protect? That's what you seem to -insinuate." - -He was looking directly into her eyes, laughingly, teasingly, and a wave -of color swept over her face. Roberta would have evaded the question, -and turned it off with a laugh. Mary was too simple and direct. It was -the moment she had long felt must confront her some time. Her day of -reckoning had come for playing eavesdropper. No matter how hard she -fought against doing so, she knew she was going to confess that she had -been one, albeit unintentionally. - -As he repeated his question with smiling insistence, the words stuck in -her throat, but the thought uppermost in her mind called out to him by -some strange, telepathic power, and he understood as if she had spoken. - -"You think," he said slowly, looking into her eyes as if the written -words were actually before him there and he was reading them aloud, "you -think that it is on Lloyd's account. How did you know about--_that_?" - -It startled her so that he should read her thought in such a way that -she could only stammer in reply: - -"I--I--heard you singing to her once at The Locusts, that song you sang -last night, 'Till the stars are old,' and I thought if you cared for her -as it sounded both times, that there _couldn't_ be anybody else, -_ever_!" - -Phil turned partly away from her, and stared off towards the hills a -moment, his eyes narrowed into a thoughtful, musing expression. Finally -he said, "I thought so, too, Mary, once. I thought it for a number of -years. That time will always be one of the sweetest and most sacred of -my memories. One's earliest love always is, they say, like the first -white violet in the spring." - -There was a long pause, then he finished the sentence by turning around -to her to say, significantly, "But there's always a summer after every -spring, you know. Come on, we'd better be getting aboard again. It looks -as if they're about ready to start." - -He helped her up the steps and followed her down the aisle. While -adjusting the window-shade before she took her seat, he began to talk of -other things, and the subject was dropped between them. But it was not -dropped in Mary's mind. She had been called on to adjust herself to a -new viewpoint of him so quickly that it left her mentally gasping. With -his own hand he had ruthlessly swept away one of her dearest illusions. -She had always believed that no matter who else might forget, _he_ would -always stand as a model of manly constancy. What surprised her now was -not his change of view. It was her own. By that one sentence he had made -it perfectly clear to her that it was not reasonable to expect him to go -on mourning always for the "first white violet." It was only natural -that summer should follow the spring. - -But the puzzle now was, who was good enough and sweet and high and fine -enough to follow Lloyd? Mary was positive that there was nobody. He -might hunt the whole world over, but she was sure he would be doomed to -disappointment in the end. Her motherly concern over that was almost as -great as her sympathy had been when she thought of him as doomed to -carry a secret sorrow with him to the grave. - -After that the conversation was not so personal. It was nearly noon when -they reached Bauer, and in that time they had exchanged views on enough -subjects to have filled an encyclopædia. Twice after that they talked -together alone. The first time was when they went out in the boat just -before sunset. Mary wanted him to see Fernbank in all its glory of fresh -April greenness, with the little waterfalls splashing their fine mist -over the walls of delicate maiden-hair. - -She insisted on poling the boat, although he protested that it made him -uncomfortable to sit still and see her doing the work. He refused to go -at all, until she compromised by saying he might pole on the way back. - -"It isn't work," she insisted. "It's one of the greatest pleasures I -have, and about the only one I've had in this benighted place." - -"You always did love to 'paddle your own canoe' and strike out and do -things for yourself," he remarked, as they shot swiftly up the stream. -"By the way, what are you going to do next? Will you be starting back to -Warwick Hall again in September, now that Jack is sure of taking his old -position in the mines then?" - -"No," was her decided answer. "We've scrapped about that a lot lately. -He insists that I must. But it's this way. He's lost a whole year out of -his life, and although he's never said so, I know the time is coming -when he'll want to settle down and have a home of his own. And _he's_ -the kind who'd never ask a girl to marry him until he'd provided for her -future in case anything should happen to him. Joyce's plans have been -put back a year, too. She has her heart set on going to Paris with Miss -Henrietta to study, just as soon as she can afford it. Of course, Jack -will pay back his part of what she's spent on us this winter, but it -will take a good while for him to do it. I've made up my mind I'm not -going to stand in their way. I'll not be a drag on either one of them. -There's lots of things that I can do. The summer is already provided -for. When Mrs. Mallory found that we are going to stay on here till -September, till Jack is strong enough to go back to work, she made up -her mind to stay, too, no matter how hot it gets, because the children -are so happy here. They can't bear the idea of stopping their lessons. -They're beginning to learn to read now, and are as wild over that as if -it were a new game. Mrs. Rochester says it does get frightfully hot here -in the summers, but that we can stand it if we have the lessons in the -morning instead of afternoon." - -"And then," asked Phil, "after that?" - -"After that I don't know, but there'll be something. It's all uncertain, -but it's interesting just to wonder what will come next. I'm like the -wolf in the last of the Mowgli stories." - -She turned to glance over her shoulder as she quoted, laughingly, "'_The -stars are thin,' said Gray Brother, sniffing at the dawn wind. 'Where -shall we lair to-day? For, from now, we follow new trails._' I don't -know where the new trails will lead, but from all that's happened in the -past, I've faith to believe that there'll be 'good hunting' in them." - -"There will always be that for you," said Phil, warmly. "You'll never -strike one where you'll not find friends and interests and--" - -He started to say more, but checked himself, and after an instant's -pause, stood up, almost upsetting the boat, and laughingly took the oar -away from her, insisting that he couldn't sit still another minute. He -had to work off some of his surplus energy. - -What he had come near saying when he checked himself was, "And you'll -never strike a trail where you won't be the bravest, jolliest, dearest -little comrade a man could have; one that he would never tire of, one -who could inspire him to do and be his best." - -The impulse to say all this came upon him so suddenly that it startled -him. Then a sober second thought told him that after all she was -scarcely more than a child, that she had always looked upon him as an -elderly brother, and that it would be better not to destroy that old -intimate relationship until he was sure of being able to establish a new -one. A strange feeling of humility took possession of him. It suddenly -seemed that he had so little to offer one who could give so much. Even -her opinion which he had laughed at at the stone quarry, about providing -a financial umbrella, carried weight now, and made him hesitate, no -longer confidant of himself. - -His strong, quick sweeps of the oar sent the boat upstream at twice the -speed it had been going before, and Mary, from her seat in the stern, -called out that it was as good as flying, and that she'd have to -acknowledge that she'd never known before how delightful it was to sit -still and let somebody else do the paddling. But that was because nobody -else had taken her along so fast. - -At Fernbank they did not get out of the boat. Phil took the seat facing -her, while they drifted around the deep pool for a little while. It was -almost twilight there, for the high bank shut out the glow of the -sunset, and it was deliciously cool and green and still. Presently some -remark of Phil's made Mary exclaim: - -"That reminds me, although I don't know why it should, of something -I've been intending to tell you, that Joyce wrote recently. You've heard -her talk of little Jules Ciseaux, the boy who played such an important -part in her winter in France. He lived in the house with the giant -scissors on the gables, and over the great gate, you know. Well, he's -over here in America now. He's always wanted to come ever since Joyce -told him so much about it. His mother was an American and I think he was -born in this country. At any rate, he's here now, sightseeing and trying -to hunt up his mother's family. - -"He's come into quite a large fortune lately, ever so many hundred -thousand francs. As he is of age, he can do as he pleases. Joyce says he -wants to come out to Lone Rock to see us, because she used to entertain -him by the hour with tales of us, and he used to envy us our good times -together in the little brown house at Plainsville. He never knew any -home life like ours. I'm wild to see him. Joyce says he is charming! -Such lovely manners, and such a sensitive, refined face, like one's -ideal of a young poet. He's really something of an artist. Joyce says -he's done some really creditable work, and all her friends have taken -him up and are making it nice for him while he is in New York." - -"That _is_ interesting," said Phil. "I'll look him up as soon as I get -back. Wouldn't it be romantic if the friendship that started between -them as children should grow into something more? All those inherited -francs would provide the fine, large umbrella which you seem to think is -necessary." - -"Oh, it never can be anything but friendship in this case," exclaimed -Mary. "Jules is two years younger than Joyce." - -"By the same token he is three years older than you. Maybe it's Joyce's -little sister he will be taking an interest in." - -"Humph! You're as bad as Norman!" replied Mary, calmly. "That's what -_he_ said. He thought he had something new to tease me about, but he -soon found out that it wouldn't work." - -Despite her indifference, Phil thought of the possibility again many -times that night before he fell asleep. Knowing the limited space of the -cottage, he had taken a room at the Williams House, despite Mrs. Ware's -protests, saying he would be over early in the morning for breakfast. -But it seemed for awhile that breakfast-time would arrive before he -could fall asleep. - -Things assume formidable proportions in the darkness and dead quiet of -the night that they never have by day. Away after midnight he was still -thinking of what Mary had said about the young Frenchman who had lately -come into his fortune, and of what Roberta had said about Lieutenant -Boglin. The face of the latter rose up before him. Not a particularly -good-looking face, he thought, but it was a strong, likable one, and he -had a sense of humor which made him good company, and a blarney-stone -turn of the tongue that would take with any girl. As for Jules Ciseaux, -who had envied the Wares their home life, Phil knew all about the -childhood of the lonely little lad left to the mercies of a brutal -caretaker. Jules would only need to see Mary once, dear little -home-maker that she was, to want to carry her away with him to his -chateau beside the Loire. - -Before Phil finally fell asleep he had decided just what he would say to -Mary next morning, and that he would go early enough to make an -opportunity to say it. It _was_ early when he went striding down the -road, across the foot-bridge, and took the short cut through a meadow to -the back of the Ware cottage; but the preparations for breakfast were -well under way. When he reached the back porch, screened by -morning-glory vines, he saw the table set out there, with fresh -strawberries at each place, wreathed in their own green leaves. - -Judging from the odors wafted through the door, chickens were broiling -within to exactly the right degree of delectable crispness, and coffee -which would be of amber clearness, was in the making. But the noises -within the kitchen were not to be interpreted as easily as the odors. -There was a banging and scuffling over the floor, muffled shrieks and -broken sentences in high voices, choking with laughter. Not till he -reached the open window and looked in could he imagine the cause of the -uproar. Norman and Mary were wrestling and romping all over the kitchen, -having a tug-of-war over something he was trying to take away from her. - -Unconscious of a spectator, they dragged each other around, bumping -against walls amid a clatter of falling tinware, stumbling over chairs -and coming to a deadlock in each others' arms in a corner, so full of -laughter they could scarcely hold their grip. - -"Dare me again! will you?" gasped Norman, thinking he had her pinned to -the wall. But wrenching one hand free, she began to tickle him until he -writhed away from her with a whoop, and dashed out of the door. - -"Yah! 'Fraid cat!" she jeered after him. "Afraid of a tickle!" - -"You just wait till I get back with the milk," he cried, catching up a -shining tin pail that stood on the bench, and starting down the path -over which Phil had just come. - -[Illustration: MARY WARE in TEXAS. - -Well, I'm going away and I may not see you again.] - -"You'll have to hurry," she called after him. "Breakfast is almost -ready." - -She stooped to open the oven door and peep at the pan of biscuit within, -just beginning to turn a delicate brown. Then she looked up and caught -sight of Phil. He was leaning against the window looking in, his arms -crossed on the sill as if he had been enjoying the spectacle for some -time. - -"For mercy sakes!" she exclaimed. "How long have you been there?" - -The coast was clear. Norman was well on his way to the Metz place, and -Mrs. Ware was helping Jack get ready for breakfast. It was as good an -opportunity as Phil could have hoped for, to repeat the speech he had -rehearsed so many times the night before. And she looked so fresh and -wholesome and sweet, standing there in her pink morning dress with the -big white apron, that she was more like an apple-blossom than anything -else he could think of. He wanted to tell her so; to tell her she had -never seemed so dear and desirable as she did at this moment, when he -must be going away to leave her. - -Yet how could he tell her, when she was all a-giggle and a-dimple and -aglow from her romp with Norman? Clearly she was too far from his state -of mind to share it now, or even to understand it. After all, she was -only a little girl at heart--only eighteen. It wasn't fair to her to -awaken her quite yet--to hurry her into giving a promise when she -couldn't possibly know her own mind. He would wait-- - -So he only leaned on the window-sill and laughed at her for having been -caught in such an undignified romp, and asked her when she intended to -grow up, and if she ever expected to outgrow her propensity for -scrapping. But when he had joked thus a few minutes, he said, quite -suddenly and seriously, "Mary, I want you to promise me something." - -She was taking the chickens from the broiler and did not look at him -until they were safely landed in the hot platter awaiting them, but she -said lightly, "Yes, your 'ighness. To the 'arf of me kingdom. Wot is -it?" - -"Well, I'm going away and I may not see you again for a long time. The -chief wants me to take a position, engineering the construction of a big -dam down in Mexico. It would keep me down there two years, but it would -be the biggest thing I've had yet, in every way. Last night I just about -made up my mind I'd take it. - -"While I'm gone you will be striking out into all sorts of new trails, -and I am afraid that on some of them somebody will come along and try to -persuade you to join him on his, even if you are such a little girl. Now -I want to have a hand in choosing the right man, and I want you to -promise me that you won't let anybody persuade you to do that till I -come back. Or at least if they do try, that you'll send me word that -they're trying, and give me a chance to come back and have a look at the -fellow, and see if I think he is good enough to carry you off." - -"Why, the idea!" she laughed, a trifle embarrassed, but immensely -pleased that he should think it possible for her to have numerous -suitors or to have them soon, and flattered that he should take enough -interest in her future to want to be called back from Mexico to direct -her choice. - -"But will you promise?" he urged. - -"Yes; that is not much to promise." - -"And you'll give me your hand on it?" he persisted. - -"Yes, and cross my heart and body in the bargain," she added, lightly, -"if that'll please you any better." - -For all his gravity, she thought he was jesting until she reached her -hand through the window to seal the compact. - -"You know," he said, as his warm fingers closed over it, "I've never yet -seen anybody whom I considered good enough for little Mary Ware." - -Her eyes fell before the seriousness of his steady glance, and she -turned away all in a flutter of pleasure that the "Best Man" should have -said such a lovely thing about _her_. It was the very thing she had -always thought about him. - -Mrs. Ware came out just then, wheeling Jack in his chair, and soon after -Norman was back with the milk, and breakfast was served out on the porch -among the morning-glories. "A perfect breakfast and a perfect morning," -Phil said. The 'bus which was to call for him came while they were still -lingering around the table, and there was only time for a hasty good-by -all around. - -"Come and walk out to the gate with me, Mary, and give me a good -send-off," he said, hurriedly snatching up his suit-case. - -Now in this last moment, when there was much to say, neither had a word, -and they walked along in silence until they reached the gate. There he -turned for one more hand-clasp. - -"Remember your promise," he said, gravely, as his fingers closed warmly -over hers. "I meant every word I said." - -"I'll remember," she answered, dimpling again as if he had reminded her -of a good joke; "and I'll keep my word. Honest, I will!" - -With that he went away, carrying with him a picture which he recalled a -thousand times in the months that followed; Mary, standing at the gate -in the pink and white dress that had the freshness of a spring blossom, -with her sweet, sincere eyes and her dear little mouth saying, "I'll -keep my word! Honest, I will!" - -It was a long, long, hot summer that followed. The drought dried up the -creek so that the boat lay idle on the bank. The dust grew deeper and -deeper in the roads and lay thick on the wayside weeds. Even the trees -were powdered with it; all the green of the landscape took on an ashen -grayness. Meadows lay parched and sere. Walking ceased to be a pleasure, -and as they gasped through the tropical heat of the endless afternoons, -they longed for the dense shade of the pines at Lone Rock, and counted -the days till they could go back. - -But as soon as the sun dropped behind the hills each day, and the breeze -started up from the far-away Gulf, their discomfort was forgotten. In -the wonderful brilliance of the starry nights when there was no moon, or -in the times when one hung like a luminous pearl above a silver world, -the air grew fresh and cool, and they sat late in the open, making the -most of every minute. In the early mornings there was that same crisp -freshness of the hills again, so one could endure the merciless, yellow -glare and the panting heat of the afternoons, for the sake of the nights -and dawns. - -Even without that, however, they would have been content to stay on, -enduring it gladly, for Jack was daily growing stronger; and to see him -moving about the house on his own feet, no matter how falteringly at -first, was a cause for hourly rejoicing. - -Mary still played the part of Baloo with Brud and Sister, starting early -in the morning and taking them over to the old mill-dam, in the shade of -some big cypress and sycamore trees. She was teaching them to read and -write, but there was little poring over books for them. They built their -letters out of stones, and fashioned whole sentences of twigs; wrote -them in the sand and modelled them in mud, scratched them on rocks with -bits of flint, as Indians do their picture language, and pricked them -in the broad sycamore leaves with thorns. By the end of the summer they -had enough of a vocabulary to write a brief letter to their father, and -their pride knew no bounds when each had achieved one entirely alone, -from date to stamp, and dropped it into the box at the post-office. His -pride in them was equally great, and the letter that he sent Mary with -her final check was one of the few things which she carried away from -Texas as a cherished memento. - -She did not write often in her Good Times book. There was so little to -chronicle. An occasional visit from the Barnaby's, a call at the -rectory, a few minutes spent in neighborly gossip in the Metz garden; -never once in the whole summer a happening more exciting than that, -except when the troops from Fort Sam Houston were ordered out on their -annual "hike" and passed through Bauer in July. Each of the different -divisions camped a day and a night in the grove back of the cottage, -near enough for the Wares to watch every manoeuvre. The Artillery band -played at sunset when it was in camp, and gave a concert that night in -the plaza. When the Cavalry passed through, Lieutenant Boglin came to -supper and spent the evening. Gay was up for a day twice, and Mary went -once to San Antonio. That was all. Yet stupid as it was for a girl of -her age, and much as she missed young companionship, Mary managed to get -through the summer very happily. All its unpleasantness was atoned for -one day in early September, when she looked out to see Jack going down -the road, straight and strong, pushing his own wheeled chair in front of -him. He was taking it down to Doctor Mackay's office to leave "for the -first poor devil who needs it," he said. - -In the last few weeks he had discovered what he had not known before, -that the town was full of invalids in quest of health, attracted from -all over the country by the life-giving air of its hills. He had made -the acquaintance of a number of them since he had been able to ride -around with the doctor. Now, as he went off down the road with the -chair, with all of the family at the window to see the happy sight, Mrs. -Ware repeated to Mary what the doctor had said about Jack's effect on -his other patients, and what the rector had told her of the regard all -the villagers had for Jack. - -"The dear boy's year of suffering has done one thing for the world," she -added. "It has given it another Aldebaran. Don't you remember in _The -Jester's Sword_--" She quoted it readily, because ever since she had -first seen it she had always read Jack's name in place of Aldebaran's: - -"'_It came to pass whenever he went by, men felt a strange, -strength-giving influence radiating from his presence, a sense of hope. -One could not say exactly what it was, it was so fleeting, so -intangible, like warmth that circles from a brazier, or perfume that is -wafted from an unseen rose._' That's what one feels whenever Jack comes -near." - -"Yes, I know," assented Mary. "Even old Mr. Metz tried to say as much to -me about him. He didn't choose those words, of course, but in his own -broken way he meant the same thing." - -When the day came to leave, there was no one to go with them to the -station. The Rochesters were away on their vacation, and it was too -early in the morning for the Barnabys to come in from the ranch. They -had bidden each other good-by the day before, with deep regrets on both -sides. It seemed so good to both Mary and her mother to see Jack -attending to the tickets and the trunks in his old way, so quick and -capable. While he was getting the checks, Mary walked down the track a -little piece to a place where she could look back at the town for one -more picture to carry away in her memory. - -How friendly and homelike and dear it seemed now. Between the belfry of -St. Peter's and the gray tower of Holy Angels, rose the smoke from many -breakfast fires, and the windmills twirled merrily in the morning sun. -For all its dreariness she was carrying away the recollection of a score -of happy times. - -Over there was the free camp-yard, where their little Christmas tree had -spread such cheer. Further on shone the spire of St. Boniface. She would -always think of it as she saw it Easter morning, its casement windows -set wide, and its altar white with the snowy beauty of the rain lilies. -There was the meadow through which she had gone in blue-bonnet time, to -find Phil waiting under the _huisache_ tree, and there the creek, -running on to Fernbank. Nearer by she could see the windmill tower she -had so often climbed, sticking up over the roof that had sheltered them -during the ten months they had been in Bauer. "Dear little old Bauer," -she thought, gratefully. She wouldn't have believed it in the beginning -if anyone had told her, that there would be any regrets in her -leave-taking when the time came to go. How wonderfully it had all turned -out. The crooked _had_ been made straight, and the rough places smooth. -She could face the future gladly, buoyantly, now, no matter what it -held, since Jack was well again. - -"Come on, Mary, it's time to go aboard!" called Norman. - -"You go on in, and save me a seat," she called back. "Here come the -children. I must wait to speak to them." - -She had bidden them good-by the night before, and had not expected to -see them again. They came running, out of breath. Sister had a little -bag of animal crackers she had brought as a farewell offering, and Brud -proffered a companion-piece, a sack of sticky red cinnamon drops. They -had cried the night before, and they were close to tears now, realizing -that something very rare and precious was passing out of their lives. -She took their offerings with thanks that brought smiles to their -dejected little faces, then once more stooped to kiss them good-by. - -"From now, it's new trails for all of us," she said, lightly, "and -you'll write and tell me what you find in yours, and I'll write and tell -you about mine." - -On the platform of the car she turned for a last look at the three -disconsolate little figures, waiting to watch her start off towards -those new trails. There were three, for Uncle August had joined them -now, squatting mournfully beside them as if he, too, were losing his -best playfellow. The train began to move slowly out. As she clung to the -railing to wave to them one more time, a mournful little pipe followed -her shrilly down the track. It was Brud's voice: - -"Good hunting, Miss Mayry! Good hunting!" - - THE END. - - - - -BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE - -THE LITTLE COLONEL BOOKS - -(Trade Mark) - -_By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON_ - - _Each 1 vol., large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per vol._ $1.50 - - -THE LITTLE COLONEL STORIES (Trade Mark) - -Being three "Little Colonel" stories in the Cosy Corner Series, "The -Little Colonel," "Two Little Knights of Kentucky," and "The Great -Scissors," put into a single volume. - - -THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HOUSE PARTY (Trade Mark) - - -THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HOLIDAYS (Trade Mark) - - -THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HERO (Trade Mark) - - -THE LITTLE COLONEL AT BOARDING-SCHOOL (Trade Mark) - - -THE LITTLE COLONEL IN ARIZONA (Trade Mark) - - -THE LITTLE COLONEL'S CHRISTMAS VACATION (Trade Mark) - - -THE LITTLE COLONEL, MAID OF HONOR (Trade Mark) - - -THE LITTLE COLONEL'S KNIGHT COMES RIDING (Trade Mark) - - -MARY WARE: THE LITTLE COLONEL'S CHUM (Trade Mark) - - -MARY WARE IN TEXAS - -_These eleven volumes, boxed as an eleven-volume set_ $16.50 - - -THE LITTLE COLONEL (Trade Mark) - - -TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY - - -THE GIANT SCISSORS - - -BIG BROTHER - -Special Holiday Editions - -Each one volume, cloth decorative, small quarto, $1.25 - -New plates, handsomely illustrated with eight full-page drawings in -color, and many marginal sketches. - - -IN THE DESERT OF WAITING: THE LEGEND OF CAMELBACK MOUNTAIN. - - -THE THREE WEAVERS: A FAIRY TALE FOR FATHERS AND MOTHERS AS WELL AS FOR -THEIR DAUGHTERS. - - -KEEPING TRYST - - -THE LEGEND OF THE BLEEDING HEART - - -THE RESCUE OF PRINCESS WINSOME: A FAIRY PLAY FOR OLD AND YOUNG. - - -THE JESTER'S SWORD - - Each one volume, tall 16mo, cloth decorative $0.50 - Paper boards .35 - -There has been a constant demand for publication in separate form of -these six stories which were originally included in six of the "Little -Colonel" books. - - -JOEL: A BOY OF GALILEE: BY ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON. Illustrated by L. J. -Bridgman. - - New illustrated edition, uniform with the Little Colonel - Books, 1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative $1.50 - -A story of the time of Christ, which is one of the author's best-known -books. - - -THE LITTLE COLONEL GOOD TIMES BOOK - - Uniform in size with the Little Colonel Series $1.50 - Bound in white kid (morocco) and gold 3.00 - -Cover design and decorations by Peter Verberg. - -Published in response to many inquiries from readers of the Little -Colonel books as to where they could obtain a "Good Times Book" such as -Betty kept. - - -THE LITTLE COLONEL DOLL BOOK - - Large quarto, boards $1.50 - -A series of "Little Colonel" dolls,--not only the Little Colonel -herself, but Betty and Kitty and Mary Ware, yes, and Rob, Phil, and many -another of the well-loved characters,--even Mom' Beck herself. There are -many of them and each has several changes of costume, so that the happy -group can be appropriately clad for the rehearsal of any scene or -incident in the series. - -The large, cumbersome sheets of most of the so-called doll "books" have -been discarded, and instead each character, each costume, occupies a -sheet by itself, the dolls and costumes being cut out only as they are -wanted. - - -ASA HOLMES: OR, AT THE CROSS-ROADS. A sketch of Country Life and Country -Humor. By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON. - -With a frontispiece by Ernest Fosbery. - - Large 16mo, cloth, gilt top $1.00 - -"'Asa Holmes; or, At the Cross-Roads' is the most delightful, most -sympathetic and wholesome book that has been published in a long -while."--_Boston Times._ - - -THE RIVAL CAMPERS; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF HENRY BURNS. By RUEL PERLEY -SMITH. - - Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50 - -A story of a party of typical American lads, courageous, alert, and -athletic, who spend a summer camping on an island off the Maine coast. - - -THE RIVAL CAMPERS AFLOAT; OR, THE PRIZE YACHT VIKING. By RUEL PERLEY -SMITH. - - Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50 - -This book is a continuation of the adventures of "The Rival Campers" on -their prize yacht _Viking_. - - -THE RIVAL CAMPERS ASHORE By RUEL PERLEY SMITH. - - Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50 - -"As interesting ashore as when afloat."--_The Interior._ - - -THE RIVAL CAMPERS AMONG THE OYSTER PIRATES; OR, JACK HARVEY'S -ADVENTURES. - - By RUEL PERLEY SMITH. Illustrated $1.50 - -"Just the type of book which is most popular with lads who are in their -early teens."--_The Philadelphia Item._ - - -PRISONERS OF FORTUNE: A Tale of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. By RUEL -PERLEY SMITH. - - Cloth decorative, with a colored frontispiece $1.50 - -"There is an atmosphere of old New England in the book, the humor of the -born raconteur about the hero, who tells his story with the gravity of a -preacher, but with a solemn humor that is irresistible."--_Courier-Journal._ - - -FAMOUS CAVALRY LEADERS. By CHARLES H. L. JOHNSTON. - - Large 12mo, With 24 illustrations $1.50 - -Biographical sketches, with interesting anecdotes and reminiscences of -the heroes of history who were leaders of cavalry. - -"More of such books should be written, books that acquaint young readers -with historical personages in a pleasant informal way."--_N. Y. Sun._ - - -FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS. By CHARLES H. L. JOHNSTON. - - Large 12mo, illustrated $1.50 - -In this book Mr. Johnston gives interesting sketches of the Indian -braves who have figured with prominence in the history of our own land, -including Powhatan, the Indian Cæsar; Massasoit, the friend of the -Puritans; Pontiac, the red Napoleon; Tecumseh, the famous war chief of -the Shawnees; Sitting Bull, the famous war chief of the Sioux; Geronimo, -the renowned Apache Chief, etc., etc. - - -FAMOUS SCOUTS. By CHARLES H. L. JOHNSTON. - - Large 12mo, illustrated $1.50 - -Mr. Johnston gives us historical facts and biographical sketches and -interesting anecdotes of those heroes of early pioneer days who made -names for themselves among the hardy adventurers who thronged the -border. There are tales of Gen. Israel Putnam; the celebrated Daniel -Boone; Kit Carson, the noted scout; Lewis and Clarke, the hardy -explorers; the world-renowned Buffalo Bill, and of many other famous -scouts, trappers and pioneers. - - -BEAUTIFUL JOE'S PARADISE: OR, THE ISLAND OF BROTHERLY LOVE. A sequel to -"Beautiful Joe." By MARSHALL SAUNDERS, author of "Beautiful Joe." - - One vol., library 12mo, cloth, illustrated $1.50 - -"This book revives the spirit of 'Beautiful Joe' capitally. It is fairly -riotous with fun, and is about as unusual as anything in the animal book -line that has seen the light."--_Philadelphia Item._ - - -'TILDA JANE. By MARSHALL SAUNDERS. - -One vol., 12mo, fully illustrated, cloth decorative, $1.50 - -"I cannot think of any better book for children than this. I commend it -unreservedly."--_Cyrus Townsend Brady._ - - -'TILDA JANE'S ORPHANS. A sequel to "'Tilda Jane." By MARSHALL SAUNDERS. - -One vol., 12mo, fully illustrated, cloth decorative, $1.50 - -'Tilda Jane is the same original, delightful girl, and as fond of her -animal pets as ever. - - -THE STORY OF THE GRAVELEYS. By MARSHALL SAUNDERS, author of "Beautiful -Joe's Paradise," "'Tilda Jane," etc. - - Library 12mo, cloth decorative. Illustrated by E. B. - Barry $1.50 - -Here we have the haps and mishaps, the trials and triumphs, of a -delightful New England family, of whose devotion and sturdiness it will -do the reader good to hear. - - -BORN TO THE BLUE. By FLORENCE KIMBALL RUSSEL. - - 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.25 - -The atmosphere of army life on the plains breathes on every page of this -delightful tale. The boy is the son of a captain of U. S. cavalry -stationed at a frontier post in the days when our regulars earned the -gratitude of a nation. - - -IN WEST POINT GRAY By FLORENCE KIMBALL RUSSEL. - - 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50 - -"Singularly enough one of the best books of the year for boys is written -by a woman and deals with life at West Point. The presentment of life in -the famous military academy whence so many heroes have graduated is -realistic and enjoyable."--_New York Sun._ - - -THE SANDMAN: HIS FARM STORIES By WILLIAM J. HOPKINS. With fifty -illustrations by Ada Clendenin Williamson. - - Large 12mo, decorative cover $1.50 - -"An amusing, original book, written for the benefit of very small -children. It should be one of the most popular of the year's books for -reading to small children."--_Buffalo Express._ - - -THE SANDMAN: MORE FARM STORIES By WILLIAM J. HOPKINS. - - Large 12mo, decorative cover, fully illustrated $1.50 - -Mr. Hopkins's first essay at bedtime stories met with such approval that -this second book of "Sandman" tales was issued for scores of eager -children. Life on the farm, and out-of-doors, is portrayed in his -inimitable manner. - - -THE SANDMAN: HIS SHIP STORIES By WILLIAM J. HOPKINS, author of "The -Sandman: His Farm Stories," etc. - - Large 12mo, decorative cover, fully illustrated $1.50 - -"Children call for these stories over and over again."--_Chicago Evening -Post._ - - -THE SANDMAN: HIS SEA STORIES By WILLIAM J. HOPKINS. - - Large 12mo, decorative cover, fully illustrated $1.50 - -Each year adds to the popularity of this unique series of stories to be -read to the little ones at bed time and at other times. - - -A TEXAS BLUE BONNET By EMILIA ELLIOTT. - - 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50 - -This is the story of a warm-hearted, impulsive and breezy girl of the -Southwest, who has lived all her life on a big ranch. She comes to the -far East for a long visit, and her experiences "up North" are indeed -delightful reading. Blue Bonnet is sure to win the hearts of all girl -readers. - - -THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL By MARION AMES TAGGART, author of "Pussy-Cat -Town," etc. - - One vol., library 12mo, illustrated $1.50 - -A thoroughly enjoyable tale of a little girl and her comrade father, -written in a delightful vein of sympathetic comprehension of the child's -point of view. - - -SWEET NANCY THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL. By -MARION AMES TAGGART. - - One vol., library, 12mo, illustrated $1.50 - -In the new book, the author tells how Nancy becomes in fact "the -doctor's assistant," and continues to shed happiness around her. - - -CARLOTA A STORY OF THE SAN GABRIEL MISSION. By FRANCES MARGARET FOX. - - Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated - in colors by Ethelind Ridgway $1.00 - -"It is a pleasure to recommend this little story as an entertaining -contribution to juvenile literature."--_The New York Sun._ - - -THE SEVEN CHRISTMAS CANDLES By FRANCES MARGARET FOX. - - Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated - in colors by E. B. Barry $1.00 - -Miss Fox's new book deals with the fortunes of the delightful Mulvaney -children. - - -SEVEN LITTLE WISE MEN By FRANCES MARGARET FOX. - - Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated in colors by - E. B. Barry $1.00 - -In this new story Miss Fox relates how seven little children, who lived -in Sunny California, prepared for the great Christmas Festival. - - -PUSSY-CAT TOWN By MARION AMES TAGGART. - - Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated - in colors $1.00 - -"Anything more interesting than the doings of the cats in this story, -their humor, their wisdom, their patriotism, would be hard to -imagine."--_Chicago Post._ - - -THE ROSES OF SAINT ELIZABETH By JANE SCOTT WOODRUFF. - - Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated - in colors by Adelaide Everhart $1.00 - -This is a charming little story of a child whose father was caretaker of -the great castle of the Wartburg. - - -GABRIEL AND THE HOUR BOOK By EVALEEN STEIN. - - Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated - in colors by Adelaide Everhart $1.00 - -Gabriel was a loving, patient, little French lad, who assisted the monks -in the long ago days, when all the books were written and illuminated by -hand, in the monasteries. - - -A LITTLE SHEPHERD OF PROVENCE By EVALEEN STEIN. - - Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated in colors by - Diantha Horne Marlowe $1.00 - -This is the story of Little lame Jean, a goatherd of Provence, and of -the "golden goat" who is supposed to guard a hidden treasure. - - -THE ENCHANTED AUTOMOBILE Translated from the French by MARY J SAFFORD. - - Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated - in colors by Edna M. Sawyer $1.00 - -"An up-to-date French fairy-tale which fairly radiates the spirit of the -hour,--unceasing diligence."--_Chicago Record-Herald._ - - -O-HEART-SAN THE STORY OF A JAPANESE GIRL. By HELEN EGGLESTON HASKELL. - - Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated - in colors by Frank P. Fairbanks $1.00 - -"The story comes straight from the heart of Japan. From every page -breathes the fragrance of tea leaves, cherry blossoms and -chrysanthemums."--_The Chicago Inter-Ocean._ - - -THE YOUNG SECTION-HAND; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF ALLAN WEST. By BURTON E. -STEVENSON. - - Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50 - -Mr. Stevenson's hero is a manly lad of sixteen, who is given a chance as -a section-hand on a big Western railroad, and whose experiences are as -real as they are thrilling. - - -THE YOUNG TRAIN DISPATCHER. By BURTON E. STEVENSON. - - Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50 - -"A better book for boys has never left an American press."--_Springfield -Union._ - - -THE YOUNG TRAIN MASTER. By BURTON E. STEVENSON. - - Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50 - -"Nothing better in the way of a book of adventure for boys in which the -actualities of life are set forth in a practical way could be devised or -written."--_Boston Herald._ - - -CAPTAIN JACK LORIMER. By WINN STANDISH. - - Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50 - -Jack is a fine example of the all-around American high-school boy. - - -JACK LORIMER'S CHAMPIONS; OR, SPORTS ON LAND AND LAKE. By WINN STANDISH. - - Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50 - -"It is exactly the sort of book to give a boy interested in athletics, -for it shows him what it means to always 'play fair.'"--_Chicago -Tribune._ - - -JACK LORIMER'S HOLIDAYS; OR, MILLVALE HIGH IN CAMP. By WINN STANDISH. - - Illustrated $1.50 - -Full of just the kind of fun, sports and adventure to excite the healthy -minded youngster to emulation. - - -JACK LORIMER'S SUBSTITUTE; OR, THE ACTING CAPTAIN OF THE TEAM. By WINN -STANDISH. - - Illustrated $1.50 - -On the sporting side, this book takes up football, wrestling, -tobogganing, but it is more of a _school_ story perhaps than any of its -predecessors. - - -THE RED FEATHERS. By THEODORE ROBERTS - - Cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50 - -"The Red Feathers" tells of the remarkable adventures of an Indian boy -who lived in the Stone Age, many years ago, when the world was young. - - -FLYING PLOVER. By THEODORE ROBERTS. - - Cloth decorative. Illustrated by Charles Livingston - Bull $1.00 - -Squat-By-The-Fire is a very old and wise Indian who lives alone with her -grandson, "Flying Plover," to whom she tells the stories each evening. - - -COMRADES OF THE TRAILS. By G. E. THEODORE ROBERTS. - - Cloth decorative. Illustrated by Charles Livingston - Bull $1.50 - -The story of a fearless young English lad, Dick Ramsey, who, after the -death of his father, crosses the seas and takes up the life of a hunter -and trapper in the Canadian forests. - - -LITTLE WHITE INDIANS. By FANNIE E. OSTRANDER. - - Cloth decorative, illustrated $1.25 - -"A bright, interesting story which will appeal strongly to the -'make-believe' instinct in children, and will give them a healthy, -active interest in 'the simple life.'" - - -THE BOY WHO WON By FANNIE E. OSTRANDER, author of "Little White -Indians." - - 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by R. Farrington - Elwell $1.25 - -A companion volume to "Little White Indians" continuing the adventures -of the different "tribes," whose "doings" were so interestingly told in -the earlier volume. - - -MARCHING WITH MORGAN. HOW DONALD LOVELL BECAME A SOLDIER OF THE -REVOLUTION. By JOHN V. LANE. - - Cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50 - -This is a splendid boy's story of the expedition of Montgomery and -Arnold against Quebec. - - - -COSY CORNER SERIES - - -It is the intention of the publishers that this series shall contain -only the very highest and purest literature,--stories that shall not -only appeal to the children themselves, but be appreciated by all those -who feel with them in their joys and sorrows. - -The numerous illustrations in each book are by well-known artists, and -each volume has a separate attractive cover design. - - Each 1 vol., 16mo, cloth $0.50 - - -_By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON_ - -THE LITTLE COLONEL (Trade Mark.) - -The scene of this story is laid in Kentucky. Its heroine is a small -girl, who is known as the Little Colonel, on account of her fancied -resemblance to an old-school Southern gentleman, whose fine estate and -old family are famous in the region. - - -THE GIANT SCISSORS - -This is the story of Joyce and of her adventures in France. Joyce is a -great friend of the Little Colonel, and in later volumes shares with her -the delightful experiences of the "House Party" and the "Holidays." - - -TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY WHO WERE THE LITTLE COLONEL'S NEIGHBORS. - -In this volume the Little Colonel returns to us like an old friend, but -with added grace and charm. She is not, however, the central figure of -the story, that place being taken by the "two little knights." - - -MILDRED'S INHERITANCE - -A delightful little story of a lonely English girl who comes to America -and is befriended by a sympathetic American family who are attracted by -her beautiful speaking voice. By means of this one gift she is enabled -to help a school-girl who has temporarily lost the use of her eyes, and -thus finally her life becomes a busy, happy one. - - -CICELY AND OTHER STORIES FOR GIRLS - -The readers of Mrs. Johnston's charming juveniles will be glad to learn -of the issue of this volume for young people. - - -AUNT 'LIZA'S HERO AND OTHER STORIES - -A collection of six bright little stories, which will appeal to all boys -and most girls. - - -BIG BROTHER - -A story of two boys. The devotion and care of Stephen, himself a small -boy, for his baby brother, is the theme of the simple tale. - - -OLE MAMMY'S TORMENT - -"Ole Mammy's Torment" has been fitly called "a classic of Southern -life." It relates the haps and mishaps of a small negro lad, and tells -how he was led by love and kindness to a knowledge of the right. - - -THE STORY OF DAGO - -In this story Mrs. Johnston relates the story of Dago, a pet monkey, -owned jointly by two brothers. Dago tells his own story, and the account -of his haps and mishaps is both interesting and amusing. - - -THE QUILT THAT JACK BUILT - -A pleasant little story of a boy's labor of love, and how it changed the -course of his life many years after it was accomplished. - - -FLIP'S ISLANDS OF PROVIDENCE - -A story of a boy's life battle, his early defeat, and his final triumph, -well worth the reading. - - - -_By EDITH ROBINSON_ - -A LITTLE PURITAN'S FIRST CHRISTMAS - - -A story of Colonial times in Boston, telling how Christmas was invented -by Betty Sewall, a typical child of the Puritans, aided by her brother -Sam. - - -A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY - -The author introduces this story as follows: - -"One ride is memorable in the early history of the American Revolution, -the well-known ride of Paul Revere. Equally deserving of commendation is -another ride,--the ride of Anthony Severn,--which was no less historic -in its action or memorable in its consequences." - - -A LOYAL LITTLE MAID - -A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary days, in which the -child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, renders important services to George -Washington. - - -A LITTLE PURITAN REBEL - -This is an historical tale of a real girl, during the time when the -gallant Sir Harry Vane was governor of Massachusetts. - - -A LITTLE PURITAN PIONEER - -The scene of this story is laid in the Puritan settlement at -Charlestown. - - -A LITTLE PURITAN BOUND GIRL - -A story of Boston in Puritan days, which is of great interest to -youthful readers. - - -A LITTLE PURITAN CAVALIER - -The story of a "Little Puritan Cavalier" who tried with all his boyish -enthusiasm to emulate the spirit and ideals of the dead Crusaders. - - -A PURITAN KNIGHT ERRANT - -The story tells of a young lad in Colonial times who endeavored to carry -out the high ideals of the knights of olden days. - - - -_By OUIDA_ (_Louise de la Ramee_) - - -A DOG OF FLANDERS A CHRISTMAS STORY - -Too well and favorably known to require description. - - -THE NURNBERG STOVE - -This beautiful story has never before been published at a popular price. - - - -_By FRANCES MARGARET FOX_ - -THE LITTLE GIANT'S NEIGHBOURS - -A charming nature story of a "little giant" whose neighbors were the -creatures of the field and garden. - - -FARMER BROWN AND THE BIRDS - -A little story which teaches children that the birds are man's best -friends. - - -BETTY OF OLD MACKINAW - -A charming story of child life. - - -BROTHER BILLY - -The story of Betty's brother, and some further adventures of Betty -herself. - - -MOTHER NATURE'S LITTLE ONES - -Curious little sketches describing the early lifetime, or "childhood," -of the little creatures out-of-doors. - - -HOW CHRISTMAS CAME TO THE MULVANEYS - -A bright, lifelike little story of a family of poor children with an -unlimited capacity for fun and mischief. - - -THE COUNTRY CHRISTMAS - -Miss Fox has vividly described the happy surprises that made the -occasion so memorable to the Mulvaneys, and the funny things the -children did in their new environment. - - - -_By MISS MULOCK_ - -THE LITTLE LAME PRINCE - -A delightful story of a little boy who has many adventures by means of -the magic gifts of his fairy godmother. - - -ADVENTURES OF A BROWNIE - -The story of a household elf who torments the cook and gardener, but is -a constant joy and delight to the children who love and trust him. - - -HIS LITTLE MOTHER - -Miss Mulock's short stories for children are a constant source of -delight to them, and "His Little Mother," in this new and attractive -dress, will be welcomed by hosts of youthful readers. - - -LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY - -An attractive story of a summer outing. "Little Sunshine" is another of -those beautiful child-characters for which Miss Mulock is so justly -famous. - - - -_By MARSHALL SAUNDERS_ - -FOR HIS COUNTRY - -A sweet and graceful story of a little boy who loved his country; -written with that charm which has endeared Miss Saunders to hosts of -readers. - - -NITA, THE STORY OF AN IRISH SETTER - -In this touching little book, Miss Saunders shows how dear to her heart -are all of God's dumb creatures. - - -ALPATOK, THE STORY OF AN ESKIMO DOG - -Alpatok, an Eskimo dog from the far north, was stolen from his master -and left to starve in a strange city, but was befriended and cared for, -until he was able to return to his owner. - - - -_By WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE_ - -THE FARRIER'S DOG AND HIS FELLOW - -This story, written by the gifted young Southern woman, will appeal to -all that is best in the natures of the many admirers of her graceful and -piquant style. - - -THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW - -Those who read and enjoyed the pathos and charm of "The Farrier's Dog -and His Fellow" will welcome the further account 01 the adventures of -Baydaw and the Fellow at the home of the kindly smith. - - -THE BEST OF FRIENDS - -This continues the experiences of the Farrier's dog and his Fellow, -written in Mr. Dromgoole's well-known charming style. - - -DOWN IN DIXIE - -A fascinating story for boys and girls, of a family of Alabama children -who move to Florida and grow up in the South. - - - -_By MARIAN W. WILDMAN_ - -LOYALTY ISLAND - -An account of the adventures of four children and their pet dog on an -island, and how they cleared their brother from the suspicion of -dishonesty. - - -THEODORE AND THEODORA - -This is a story of the exploits and mishaps of two mischievous twins, -and continues the adventures of the interesting group of children in -"Loyalty Island." - - - -_By CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS_ - -THE CRUISE OF THE YACHT DIDO - -The story of two boys who turned their yacht into a fishing boat to earn -money. - - -THE YOUNG ACADIAN - -The story of a young lad of Acadia who rescued a little English girl -from the hands of savages. - - -THE LORD OF THE AIR THE STORY OF THE EAGLE. - - -THE KING OF THE MAMOZEKEL THE STORY OF THE MOOSE. - - -THE WATCHERS OF THE CAMP-FIRE THE STORY OF THE PANTHER. - - -THE HAUNTER OF THE PINE GLOOM THE STORY OF THE LYNX. - - -THE RETURN TO THE TRAILS THE STORY OF THE BEAR. - - -THE LITTLE PEOPLE OF THE SYCAMORE THE STORY OF THE RACCOON. - - - -_By JULIANA HORATIO EWING_ - -STORY OF A SHORT LIFE - -This beautiful and pathetic story will never grow old. It is a part of -the world's literature, and will never die. - - -JACKANAPES - -A new edition, with new illustrations, of this exquisite and touching -story, dear alike to young and old. - - -A GREAT EMERGENCY - -A bright little story of a happy, mischievous family of children. - - - -_By OTHER AUTHORS_ - - -THE GREAT SCOOP - -_By MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL_ - -A capital tale of newspaper life in a big city, and of a bright, -enterprising, likable youngster employed thereon. - - -JOHN WHOPPER - -_By BISHOP CLARK_ - -The late Bishop Clark's popular story of the boy who fell through the -earth and came out in China, with a new introduction by Bishop Potter. - - -RAB AND HIS FRIENDS - -_By DR. JOHN BROWN_ - -Doctor Brown's little masterpiece is too well known to need description. -The dog Rab is already known and loved by all. - - -THE SLEEPING BEAUTY: A MODERN VERSION. - -_By MARTHA B. DUNN_ - -This charming story of a little fishermaid of Maine, intellectually -"asleep" until she meets the "Fairy Prince," reminds us of "Ouida" at -her best. - - -SUSANNE - -_By FRANCES J. DELANO_ - -Susanne is a story of a motherless little girl with a wonderful voice -who is taken to the city to be educated by a rich aunt, but runs away -from the city and returns home. - - -A CHILD'S DREAM OF A STAR - -_By CHARLES DICKENS_ - -One of those beautiful, fanciful little allegories which Dickens alone -knew how to write. - - -THE DOLE TWINS - -_By KATE UPSON CLARK_ - -The adventures of two little people who tried to earn money to buy -crutches for a lame aunt. An excellent description of child-life about -1812, which will greatly interest and amuse the children of to-day, -whose life is widely different. - - -LARRY HUDSON'S AMBITION - -_By JAMES OTIS_, author of "Tobey Tyler," etc. - -Larry Hudson is a typical American boy, whose hard work and enterprise -gain him his ambition,--an education and a start in the world. - - -THE LITTLE CHRISTMAS SHOE - -_By JANE P. SCOTT WOODRUFF_ - -A touching story of Yule-tide. - - -WEE DOROTHY - -_By LAURA UPDEGRAFF_ - -A story of two orphan children, the tender devotion of the eldest, a -boy, for his sister being its theme and setting. With a bit of sadness -at the beginning, the story is otherwise bright and sunny, and -altogether wholesome in every way. - - -THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER A LEGEND OF STIRIA. _By JOHN RUSKIN_ - - -Written fifty years or more ago, and not originally intended for -publication, this little fairy-tale soon became known and made a place -for itself. - - -A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES - -_By R. L. STEVENSON_ - -Mr. Stevenson's little volume is too well known to need description. - - - - -THE LITTLE COUSIN SERIES - - -The most delightful and interesting accounts possible of child life in -other lands, filled with quaint sayings, doings, and adventures. - -Each one vol., 12mo, decorative cover, cloth, with six or more full-page -illustrations in color. - - Price per volume $0.60 - -_By MARY HAZELTON WADE unless otherwise indicated_ - - Our Little African Cousin - Our Little Alaskan Cousin By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet - Our Little Arabian Cousin By Blanche McManus - Our Little Armenian Cousin - Our Little Australian Cousin By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet - Our Little Brazilian Cousin By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet - Our Little Brown Cousin - Our Little Canadian Cousin By Elizabeth R. Macdonald - Our Little Chinese Cousin By Isaac Taylor Headland - Our Little Cuban Cousin - Our Little Dutch Cousin By Blanche McManus - Our Little Egyptian Cousin By Blanche McManus - Our Little English Cousin By Blanche McManus - Our Little Eskimo Cousin - Our Little French Cousin By Blanche McManus - Our Little German Cousin - Our Little Grecian Cousin By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet - Our Little Hawaiian Cousin - Our Little Hindu Cousin By Blanche McManus - Our Little Hungarian Cousin By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet - Our Little Indian Cousin - Our Little Irish Cousin - Our Little Italian Cousin - Our Little Japanese Cousin - Our Little Jewish Cousin - Our Little Korean Cousin By H. Lee M. Pike - Our Little Mexican Cousin By Edward C. Butler - Our Little Norwegian Cousin - Our Little Panama Cousin By H. Lee M. Pike - Our Little Persian Cousin By E. C. Shedd - Our Little Philippine Cousin - Our Little Porto Rican Cousin - Our Little Russian Cousin - Our Little Scotch Cousin By Blanche McManus - Our Little Siamese Cousin - Our Little Spanish Cousin By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet - Our Little Swedish Cousin By Claire M. Coburn - Our Little Swiss Cousin - Our Little Turkish Cousin - - - - - * * * * * - - - - -Transcriber's note: - -Obvious punctuation errors were corrected. - -This text uses "Weinachtsbaum" instead of "Weihnachtsbaum" many -times and was left as printed. - -Page 21, "Jask" changed to "Jack" ("Well?" queried Jack as) - -Page 68, "embarassment" changed to "embarrassment" (my perch with -embarrassment) - -Page 162, "to" changed to "too" (may as well go too) - -Page 189, "that's" changed to "that" (and the next that she's) - -Page 223, "irridescent" changed to "iridescent" (minutes. The -iridescent) - -Page 232, "palate" changed to "palette" (get out palette and brushes) - -Page 246, "role" changed to "rôle" (in the rôle of) - -Page 323, "corrider" changed to "corridor" (stood in the corridor) - -Page 324, "sea" changed to "seat" (circular seat surrounding) - -Advertising Pages: - -Page 4, "Ceronimo" changed to "Geronimo" (Geronimo, the renowned Apache) - -Page 4, "atc." changed to "etc." (Apache chief, etc.) - -Page 14, "d scribing" changed to "describing" (sketches describing the -early) - -Page 20, Our Little Alaskan Cousins, "Nixon-Roule" changed to -"Nixon-Roulet" (Mary F. Nixon-Roulet) - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY WARE IN TEXAS*** - - -******* This file should be named 40366-8.txt or 40366-8.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/4/0/3/6/40366 - - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project -Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you -charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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