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diff --git a/40526-0.txt b/40526-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ca703ff --- /dev/null +++ b/40526-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4800 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40526 *** + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 40526-h.htm or 40526-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/40526/40526-h/40526-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/40526/40526-h.zip) + + + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/American Libraries. See + http://archive.org/details/chroniclesofrhod00coxfiala + + + + + +THE CHRONICLES OF RHODA + +[Illustration] + + +THE CHRONICLES OF RHODA + +by + +FLORENCE TINSLEY COX + +Illustrated by Jessie Willcox Smith + + + "_O the radiant light that girdled + Field and forest, land and sea, + When we all were young together, + And the world was new to me._" + + + + + + + +[Illustration] + +Boston +Small, Maynard & Company +Publishers + +Copyright, 1909 +By Small, Maynard & Company +(Incorporated) + +Entered at Stationers' Hall + +The University Press, Cambridge, U.S.A. + + + + + TO THE MEMORY + OF + + MY FATHER AND MY MOTHER + + + + +CONTENTS + + PAGE + I A DETHRONED QUEEN 1 + II LILY-ANN 29 + III THE OLD MAJOR 61 + IV THE FIRESIDE GOD 93 + V THE HOTTENTOT 129 + VI A SOCIAL EVENT 165 + VII AUNTIE MAY 197 + VIII THE GREEN DOOR 229 + IX THE HIDDEN TALENT 257 + + + + +I + +A DETHRONED QUEEN + + +"YOUR name is Rhoda," grandmother said, with the catechism open in her +hand. "Rhoda. Rhoda. It's quite easy to say." + +"Ain't I the little pig that went to market?" I asked, anxiously, gazing +up from her lap into her eyes, over which she wore glass things like +covers. "And ain't I Baby Bunting?" I continued, with the memory of a +famous hunt stealing over me. + +"Once you were," grandmother answered, soberly. "Now you are Rhoda." + +I liked to sit in grandmother's lap. She had such a soft silk lap, and +in her pocket-hole there was a box which held peppermint drops. She +never gave them to anybody but just me, when I was good, and if her +arms were thin and fragile under the soft silk, she knew how to hold a +little girl in a most comfortable fashion. Her white hair rippled down +low at the sides, concealing her ears, but her ears were there for I had +run my fingers up to see. She wore a lovely lace collar, and a breastpin +with a picture on it, and when she walked the charms on her watch-chain +clinked in a musical way. Grandmother was beautiful, and every one said +that I looked just like grandmother. That was very nice, but puzzling, +for my hair was golden, and my eyes were uncovered, and where +grandmother had her wrinkles I had only a soft pink cheek. + +I never sat very long on grandmother's lap. It was a function that meant +catechism or extreme repentance, and then, also, I was too popular for +one person to have me always. The family handed me around very much +like refreshments. Now I would be with mother, and now with father, and +now with Auntie May, who did not live at our house, but would run in on +her way to school to pat my head. They were all so fond of me that it +was quite gratifying. + +"Where is Rhoda?" father would ask the very first thing when he came +into the house at night, and I would sit up for him, holding on tightly +to my chair for fear that they would put me to bed before he came. + +Then we would have a little talk together, up in a corner by ourselves. +He was my confidant, and was more on a level with me than other people. +I had an idea that he would give me anything, quite irrespective of +goodness or badness, for when I was naughty he never appeared to think +any the worse of me, although the rest of the family might be bowed down +with the sense of my moral shortcomings. He was my champion, and in the +early twilight I had many stories to tell him, not always of the +strictest veracity. + +"And so I runned away, far, far away, and I only came home just now," I +invented, in an airy manner. + +"Did you see any one on the road?" he asked, with sudden interest. + +He was aware of my love of a romance. + +"There was a little old woman in a red cloak with a red pepper in her +mouth," I answered, peeping up in his face with wide, truthful eyes. + +"Mother Hubbard!" my father cried, clapping his hands like a boy. +"Mother Hubbard! But where was her dog?" + +"Her dog was behind, and he had a red pepper in his mouth," I added, +hastily. + +"I wonder what they were going to do with them," my father said, luring +me on. + +"Don't you know, father?" I cried, delighted. + +"No, I can't think." + +"Pies! She was going to make pies out of them! Pretty red pepper pies!" + +"Sure enough!" my father said, much surprised. "I never thought of that. +How I wish that I'd been along!" + +The little old lady in the silk dress used to quake when I said these +things. That was one of the reasons why she was teaching me my catechism +at such an early age, and I could repeat some pretty hymns, too, which +helped to comfort her. Always, no matter how extravagant the tale might +be, she made her protest. She meant that, at least, there should be one +strong hand to guide the child on the right road. + +"That is not really so, Rhoda," she declared, in a severe voice. "You +did not see an old woman with a red pepper in her mouth." + +I looked at her with a pout. + +"Well, I did see an old woman in a red cloak, grandma." + +"No, you didn't see an old woman at all. Child, you have not been out of +the house to-day!" + +"I saw a dog with a red pepper in his mouth," I said, meekly. + +"No, you did not even see a dog." + +"Well, I saw my own red pepper!" I cried, breaking into sudden tears, +for this was my last stronghold, and if the pepper was taken away all my +charming fairy tale was gone. + +"It's not a question of truth or untruth," my father said, tossing his +head back as if he were displeased. "It was merely a story of adventure. +Pray did you never meet any heroic beasts yourself in your own day?" + +I opened one wet eye, and stole a cautious glance at grandmother. + +"Never, Robert, never!" + +I began to cry again harder than before. + +Then my father took me in his arms, and carried me upstairs to my +mother. + +"Grandmother has been making her tell the truth," he said, ruefully. +"She hasn't any sympathy with Rhoda's imagination." + +So even in those early days I found that I had an imagination, just as I +had a chair with long legs, and a blue plate, and a silver mug. It was a +sleeping imagination as yet, for though I had a beautiful blue plate +with a blue bridge over a blue and white stream, I never imagined until +after years that those tiny figures on the bridge were lovers running +away from a cruel parent. Then the bridge was the spot beyond which the +gravy must not flow. When it swept over the boundary which I marked for +it, I pounded the table with impotent rage, and would eat no more +dinner. + +"If she were a child of mine," grandmother said, sternly, "she should +eat her dinner. It is simply preposterous that her temper should be +allowed to go unchecked. What will she be when she grows up!" + +"I don't think that Rhoda has a bad temper," my mother replied, +plaintively. "It's only that she's the soul of order." + +My mother always discovered an excuse that fitted my case, and that +critical grandparent of mine found the ground swept from beneath her +feet. I was the soul of order. She had seen me herself with my large +basketful of toys wending wearily about the house. It was a large +basket, a beautiful yellow one with a red handle, and when I began to +play my things came out of it, and when I was through playing they went +into the yellow basket again. I had a rag doll of a pleasing +appearance, named Arabella, and a black woolly creature, which to the +eye of affection was a dog, and some of the small bits of carved wood +with which a wooden Noah intended to replenish his earth. I played the +most delightful games with these toys, and my mother played with me like +another small child. + +It was with her that I lived most of my life. We were together, not only +during the day, but also at night, for when I woke up hours after I had +been put in my crib, she was always sitting in the lamplight, sewing or +reading, or else quietly watching the fire on the hearth. There was a +cheerful glitter from the brass andirons and fender, and on a shelf +above a silver candle-stick with crystal pendants threw out rosy lights. +I did not know any of these wonderful things by name, but I vaguely +enjoyed their engaging sparkle, and would lie feeling very safe and +warm, with my eyes on the central figure which came and went, now large +and mother-like, now lost in the misty depths of slumber. + +Strong as was my feeling of proprietorship in that crib, however, there +came a dreadful night when I awoke to find myself lost. I was in a new +bed. I was in grandmother's big bed, where there was a faint smell of +lavender which I liked without knowing why. Grandmother herself had me +in her arms and was soothing me. + +"Hush-a-by, baby," she said, in quite a new tone, somewhat like a +grandmother, but more like an angel. "Hush-a-by, baby, in the treetop." + +I sat up and looked about for the shining fender. It was gone! The fire +was gone, and my mother was gone! + +"I want my mother," I said, sternly. + +"Rhoda can't have mother now. Rhoda must stay with grandma," the dulcet +voice went on. "Grandma's own little Rhoda!" + +"But I want my mother," I cried, all the sternness breaking into sobs. + +Grandmother was evidently alarmed. She rocked me softly, she gave me +hurried sips of water, and, at last, she emptied the peppermint drops, +not one by one as heretofore, but, lavishly, in dozens, into my hand. I +felt a little more comfortable. The fender was a pretty thing to watch, +but peppermint drops were peppermint drops. I went to sleep in my +grandmother's arms quite calmly, while with tender touches she dried my +eyes and smoothed my hair. + +"Bless the child!" I heard her say, in the pause between dreams. + +It was rather a shock, perhaps, to wake up in that big bed next morning +and be dressed by grandmother. She was very awkward at it, as if she +had forgotten how small garments were constructed, and how hard it was +for arms to go into sleeves. I was preternaturally good, but even when I +slipped my hand into hers to go downstairs I was meaning to desert her +when mother came into sight. + +We went down to breakfast, very clean and neat, with short, sober steps +that suited both our gaits. Father came hurrying to meet us and was +quite overjoyed to see me; but, although I searched in all the closets +and behind the doors, there was no mother in any of the rooms. When no +one was looking at me I started upstairs to hunt for her. Grandmother +called me back in that old tone which must be obeyed, which had the ring +of authority and catechism in it. + +"Stay here, Rhoda," she said, decisively. "You are not to go out of this +room." + +Then with cautious steps she mounted up herself, passing into the +forbidden regions, and father and I were all that were left of the +circle about the table, which was usually so gay with talk and +merriment. To my eyes father had a look as if he, too, were frightened. + +"Never mind, father," I said, eagerly. "Rhoda won't run away." + +He took me up with rather an apologetic laugh. + +"Little daughter," he said, in a tender way, "did I ever tell you about +the big bird?" + +"No, father," I answered, quickly. + +"Not about the time when it brought me Rhoda?" + +I stared at him with delighted eyes. Evidently I was going to hear +something of great importance, something which concerned me alone. + +"Three years ago," my father began, in an easy fashion, "I thought I'd +like a little daughter. So I sent a letter to a beautiful big bird +which lives far away where the blue sky comes down to the ground. The +bird has lots of little babies--girl babies and boy babies--on the shore +of a lake where the sun shines day and night. She's a very good-natured +bird, and sometimes when she hears of a father who's lonely because he +hasn't any children, she'll put a little baby under her wing, and fly on +over the beautiful country until she comes to its father's house. Now +the bird knew that I was very lonely, because I had sent her a letter, +so one day she picked up little Rhoda out of a lily leaf, and came +flying along--flying along--" + +"I remember! I remember!" I cried, clapping my hands. "She put me under +her wing, and the feathers did tickle so!" + +My father stopped to laugh; but in a moment he continued his narrative. + +"She came flying along straight into the garden where I was walking +about. She put you down--" + +"And you said, 'Is this my little Rhoda?' and I said, 'Yes, father!'" + +"Just so." + +"Now tell it all over again, father," I demanded in delight. + +My father laughed and hugged me closer. He still had that apologetic +look on his face, and if I had been a little older and a little wiser, I +would have known that my father was trying very hard to break something +to me. + +"She has a great many babies," he said at last, in an uneasy tone. "More +than she knows what to do with. Yesterday I wrote her to send me another +Rhoda." + +I drew away from him, dumbfounded. + +"Another Rhoda!" I exclaimed, with a gasp, frowning at him. + +"Wouldn't you like a little sister to play with?" he inquired, +tenderly. "To sleep with you in your crib? And sit by you at the table?" + +"No, father." + +"Oh, yes, yes, you would, Rhoda!" + +"No, no, no!" I screamed, breaking into angry tears. + +He tried to comfort me in a blundering, laughing manner, but in the +midst of all my sorrow grandmother's voice called to him from above. + +"Robert!" + +When the room cleared before my eyes I saw that I was alone. + +At that same moment I had decided on my course of action. Very quickly, +very quietly, I collected my plate and mug, my woolly dog and pleasant +faced doll, and the yellow basket with the red handle, and stowed them +all away in a dark corner under the sofa, where they were hidden from +sight. My blue hood which hung in the hall, and was something quite new +and precious, I put on my head, where it would be safest. Then half +terrified, half defiant, I took up my position at the window to watch +for the arrival of that other self which would dispute my realm. Every +second I dreaded to hear the flutter of wings as the bird passed over +the house, and to see another Rhoda standing expectant in the garden, to +see my father, perhaps, hurrying to meet her with outstretched arms. It +was a terrible hour. + +In my need, however, I found a new friend, Norah from out the kitchen. I +had known her before, as a person owning unlimited cake, and apt to +display a strong liking for myself, but then she had been only an +outsider, while now she was almost nearer to me than my mother. I threw +myself straight into her willing arms, and told my story. + +Norah was evidently astonished, and almost incredulous. She did not +believe that there could be another Rhoda. She had never heard of any +bird, but when I persisted she shared my views, and entered into my +position with great partisanship. + +"But, sure, I'd not worrit my mind," Norah said, consolingly. "No burrd +in her sinses would take a baby out in such weather as this." + +To be sure it was raining. I had not thought of that before. A fierce +storm was beating against the house, and pools of water stood under the +trees. The raindrops on the window pane ran down in small rivulets, and +splashed against the sill just as my tears had done before. + +"She'll get her feathers all wet," I cried, triumphantly. + +"And she'll not dry them at my kitchen fire!" Norah declared, with +stupendous daring. + +We were out in the kitchen now. It was a very pleasant homely place. A +kettle sang on the stove, and a cat purred on the hearth, and the carpet +had beautiful red stripes that seemed too pretty to walk on. Norah was +very good to me. She had my high-chair ranged at the side of the hearth, +and the cat, under compulsion, sat on my lap, and they all sang,--the +kettle, the cat, and Norah, in their several fashions, as if they were +happy. They acted very much as if they were entertaining royalty. + +If it had not been for my sorrow I should have enjoyed myself, but the +thought of that bird would pass across my mind. She had come once when +she was sent for, bearing me from my lily leaf to my own home. The rain +might fall, and the day might be very dark, but who was to know if that +conscientious bird would not still fulfill her mission? Why, there were +five children in the next house, and the bird must have brought them +all! When the bell rang, as it rang many times in the course of the day, +I would creep to the kitchen door to listen, and feel greatly relieved +when I found that it was only men and women who wanted to come in. + +"It was no burrd," Norah would say, reporting on each occasion. + +"Did you lock the door?" I asked, anxiously. + +"I did that. There's no burrd shall make her way into this house +to-day," she answered, with a great show of determination. + +Even as she spoke there came a faint strange sound from upstairs, a +wailing cry, as though something very weak was angry and frightened, and +wanted matters arranged to suit its own will and convenience. For one +moment I thought Norah heard the sound, too. She seemed to smile; but on +the instant she broke into a queer, elfish song, and began to dance +before the fire in an irresistible way that brought me capering beside +her in a burst of glee. The bird had passed out of my mind, and I was +Rhoda again, the little queen of the household, to whom all deferred, +even grandmother in her tenderer moments. + +It was very late that afternoon when I heard my father calling to me in +an eager, excited manner. He came out into the kitchen where I and the +cat were both in Norah's lap, indistinguishable in the growing darkness. + +"Where is Rhoda?" he cried. "Where is my little daughter? I've got +something to show her." + +I went to him quickly. It was nice to have him back again, and to be +kissed in the old fond way. He threw me upon his shoulder and started +off; but even as we stepped into the hall he called back to Norah, still +with that boyish eagerness in his voice. + +"You can come, too, Norah," he said, generously. "I want you to see what +we've got upstairs." + +Norah joined us without comment, and followed behind through the hall +and upstairs into mother's room. There it was very dark, for the +curtains were drawn, and the only light came from the fire on the +hearth, in front of which grandmother was sitting. She sat in a new +majestic style, and on her lap there was something bundled up which she +patted from time to time, and she trotted her feet in a funny seasaw +fashion. When she saw us come in she smiled, and then very slowly she +folded down a covering, and showed us a pillow, and on the pillow there +were two little babies' heads. + +"Twins!" Norah cried, and threw up her arms in the air. "Now the saints +be good to us," she said, piously. + +"S-s-sh--Not so loud, Norah," grandmother whispered, in rebuke, and +trotted her feet a little harder. + +"Let Rhoda see," father exclaimed. "Let Rhoda come quite close." + +I went up closer by grandmother's knee and looked at them. It was a new +experience, and for a moment I felt sorry for myself. Those about me +must have shared the feeling, for their eyes grew kinder, and father +patted my back, and Norah muttered under her breath. + +"Sure it's a come down in the world," I heard her say, pityingly. + +Then, suddenly, those two little creatures half opened their eyes, and +gazed at me. They smiled at me! They knew that I was their big sister! +Oh, the wonder of the two little heads on the pillow, the mystery of the +eyes that looked at me so placidly, with that smile of kinship in their +depths! I forgot the bird, I forgot my jealousy. I was ready to give +them anything, anything, even the woolly dog and the yellow basket with +the red handle, for the simple honor of their acquaintanceship. They +were so young, and they were so weak! They could not walk, and they +could not talk. They had everything to learn. I felt very old beside +them, although I did not know that in that first moment when grandmother +turned the covering down I had become the eldest child. + +"Oh, grandma," I cried, radiantly, "you may have one, but the other one +shall belong all to me!" + +There was a movement in the bed, and some one called to me. I ran into +the darkness and found my mother. There on the pillow beside her pretty +dark hair she made a place for me, where we could see each other's eyes. +Her arm was about me in a protecting way, as if she knew how hard the +world had become for me. + +"Rhoda," she said, with that smile which always seemed so wise, +"mother's heart is a big, big place! There is room in it both for dear +little Rhoda and the dear little babies." + +I felt that I was content. + + + + +II + +LILY-ANN + + +"THIS is Lily-Ann, Rhoda," my mother said, in an introductory tone. "She +is to be your little nurse, and play with you. Do you know many nice +games, Lily-Ann?" + +From the shelter of my mother's chair I stared at the new-comer. I +almost thought at first that it might be a little girl, until I noticed +the shining folds of white apron. Lily-Ann was all white apron, down to +the tops of her large, patched shoes. She was fourteen years old, +perhaps, with the dignity of forty. She had a wide, smiling face, and +appeared to be very agreeable in manner, so when she put out her hand I +slipped mine cordially into it. + +"I can play at wild beasts, and puss-in-the-corner, and 'ride a cock +horse to Banbury Cross,'" she told my mother over my head. "I am +experienced. I have helped to raise three children, ma'am." + +She looked so small as she ended in this impressive fashion that my +mother laughed, and my grandmother gleamed responsively through her +glasses. + +"It must be only quiet games, mind," my mother said. "You mustn't teach +Miss Rhoda to be noisy." + +Lily-Ann promised to observe this caution faithfully, and I suppose she +thought that they were only quiet games which we played that morning. We +had all three,--Banbury Cross, then puss-in-the-corner, and, finally, +wild beasts. Lily-Ann crawled under the bed and roared at me, now like a +tiger, now plaintively, like a big pussy cat, and again with a deeper +note that carried menace in its tone. + +"That's a lion," she explained, in between great volumes of sound. +"Lions eat people all up. So do wolves. Now I'm a wolf. Hear me crunch +their bones!" + +There was a horrible snarl under the bed, and something white and +shining made a snatch at my foot, and then retreated, to return the next +moment in a panting rush, much too real to be pleasant. + +"Oh, please, Lily-Ann, I don't want to play wild beasts any more!" I +exclaimed, half afraid; but only half afraid, for she was very obedient +to my whims, and, when I cried loud enough, came out in a crushed state +to be a little girl again. + +At first I liked Lily-Ann. She was so companionable, and then she knew +such quantities of strange things. For instance, it was she who showed +me how to make my hair curl. It could be done by eating crusts! There +had always been a great deal of trouble about my crusts. I would never +eat them, not even after I had been reminded of all the poor children in +the world who had not a crust apiece to stay their hunger on, and whom +it seemed that I should benefit in some marvelous way by eating mine. + +"They can have these," I replied, generously, to such appeals to my +feelings. "I'll save them for them every day." + +That, however, was before Lily-Ann came, and I learned that a crusty +diet was warranted to make the hair curl. To think that little Rhoda +Harcourt might have curly hair! What a nice thing that would be! Of +course it meant months of work, but Lily-Ann, whose hair twisted from +the roots, must surely know. Under her encouragement I ate all my own +crusts, and begged so earnestly for more at the table that I became a +wonder to the family. + +"Is the curl coming, Lily-Ann?" I would ask, eagerly, in the mornings +when she stood over me, comb in hand. + +"It's coming more and more every day," she asserted, to my great +satisfaction. + +"Ouch! How you do hurt, Lily-Ann!" + +"That's because it's so curly. See that long, beautiful one. I can't +hardly get my comb through!" + +I sighed blissfully with my eyes full of tears, and wondered when my +mother would notice the change in her little girl, for, indeed, +something must have happened to my hair, judging from the jerks. + +It was Lily-Ann again who taught me how to catch sparrows by throwing +salt on their tails. I ran about very hot and eager all one morning, and +ended by feeling rather foolish, for not a bird would be caught, though +I crept persistently on their track, always sure that the next time I +should be successful. Still, I did not bear any grudge against Lily-Ann. +It was not her fault that I was unfortunate, and then, too, she was very +sympathetic. + +"Why, my cousin caught one only yesterday!" she cried, in astonishment. +"But then she is older than you are. And so smart! She turned a +horsehair into a snake once. Did you ever do that, ma'am?" + +"No," I answered, doubtfully; and immediately added, with growing +enthusiasm, "oh, I should so like to do that!" + +The end of it was that a faint suspicion which had crept upon me after +the sparrow episode was quenched in the zeal with which I set myself to +the awful task of raising snakes by the wholesale. There was always a +touch of dread in the eagerness with which I visited the snake +incubator,--a rusty pan half-filled with water, and hidden in a secret +space behind the lilac bush. Little by little the horror of the +situation so overcame me that I hurriedly weeded the horsehairs out; but +the six that remained were the finest and longest which I could find, +destined, I could easily expect from their size, to become +boa-constrictors. + +I believed everything that Lily-Ann told me. Up to that time there had +never been occasion for me to question any one's truth, nor had there +been anything of which to be afraid. Now I learned of a new world that +lay about me,--the Land of the Dark,--in which familiar furniture played +wild pranks, and shadows came to have a very terrible meaning. + +"After you go to bed at night," Lily-Ann said, impressively, holding up +a fat forefinger, "there are Things that come out and run all about the +floor! Under the chairs and under the bed they creep around. Especially +under the bed. If you should let your hand hang down, a Thing would take +it and shake it!" + +I peered at her from out the shelter of the bed-clothes, for I was in +bed when this was first related, and she was sitting by me until I +should go to sleep. + +"I shall never do that, Lily-Ann," I said, faintly, gluing my arms +closer to my sides. + +"You might in your sleep," she returned, with grim significance. + +"And that ain't all," she went on, after a short but terrible pause. +"There's a Bear in the garret. He wants something." + +"What does he want?" I asked, fearfully, determined to know the worst at +once. + +"He wants a bad child. He's hungry!" + +Now I was bad, as I had just reason to know. Lily-Ann used to examine my +record every night, and she was the greatest one that I have ever seen +for pointing out flaws in character. + +"I don't think I've been _very_ bad to-day, Lily-Ann," I said, +trembling. + +"You took your little brother's ball," she answered, shortly. + +"But I gave it back to him!" I cried, aghast. + +"You slapped your little sister." + +"But she slapped me, too!" I pleaded. + +"Not until after you slapped her. And you are six years old." + +That was one of the unkindest things about Lily-Ann; she was always +trying to make me live up to my station. And it was so hard to be good, +and hardest of all to be good enough for my great age. That night, +however, I made a compact with her. + +"Dear Lily-Ann," I said, piteously, "if I go right to sleep by myself, +so you can get your supper, will you chase away the Things and tell the +Bear that there is no bad child in this house?" + +I was not prone to criticise my elders and betters; but somehow I had +remarked that Lily-Ann was fond of her supper. + +She went away without much urging, and I lay there miserably in the +dark. It seemed to me that there was a stir all through the quiet room, +and out in the hall the garret door creaked in a new manner. The dark +was so much blacker than it had ever been before, and even when I went +down head and all under the covers I could hear the Things pattering +about the floor, and the Bear rattling at the knob. Many a night after +that I huddled myself up into a heap, afraid to sleep lest my hands +should unclasp and slip out of bed, afraid to move lest the Bear on the +prowl for bad children should pounce on me and eat me up, sins and all. +I used to pretend to sleep very loudly and heavily that he might think +me a good child. Still, I felt that it must be hard to deceive a Bear, +and that sooner or later he would make an end of me. As for the Things, +I never had any hope of getting the better of them. All through the long +nights they slipped and slid about, or stood waiting at the edge of the +bed to shake hands, with a friendliness that was truly awful. + +Even in my greatest fear, however, I never betrayed Lily-Ann. I was too +much in her power to dare to tell tales about her. I used to marvel when +the family commented on her faithfulness, or devised schemes for +improving the home from which she had come. Many large bundles went out +of our house, and I often heard my mother speaking in a sympathetic +fashion of the little girl whose childhood was passed in the service of +others. + +"Poor Lily-Ann, she's never had any childhood of her own," she would +say, regretfully. + +Out in the kitchen, too, I had heard our Norah exchanging confidences on +the subject with her cousin, who came in sometimes, when there was +company, to help with the work. + +"I give her all the cold things to take home every night," Norah +confided. "The praties and bits of mate; just anything. They are that +starving that they are not particular. Every smithereen of clothes that +she has the mistress gave her, and the old lady has been open-handed, +too. There's many a ten-dollar bill finds its way to that house." + +The cousin sniffed. + +"The rest of us have to work for our own," she said. "Faith, it's fine +to be reckless sometimes." + +"But I'm not trusting her," Norah continued, darkly. "She tells lies. +And she's cross to my child!" + +"Who is your child, Norah?" I asked, with sudden eagerness, pressing up +close to her gingham apron. + +Norah lifted me upon her capacious lap and patted my back. + +"And it's herself that wants to know," she cried, with a rallying laugh. +"See that now! Ain't she growing a big girl, Bridget? See the praties in +her cheeks! Sure, she's purty enough to be Irish." + +"But who is your child, Norah?" I persisted, jealously; and it was only +when a burst of laughter broke from the two women that I understood, and +hid my face in the concealing folds of the gingham apron. + +I was very good to Lily-Ann after this time. Not that I had ever been +bad to her before; but now I began to join in the work of charity. I +made her a present of the little gold locket which my grandmother +Lawrence gave me on my last birthday, and of my second-best pair of +shoes, which had been red once, and still retained a delightful color. I +wanted to give her my Sunday cloak, also, but she reminded me that there +were other Sundays yet to come. She did take my bank with its one +jingling gold coin in it. Unfortunately, all the money of less value had +been pried out long ago to buy candy, but I told Lily-Ann how sorry I +was that the little red house was not filled to the chimney with +pennies. I promised that I would give her all my money in the future to +take home to her family, so that they might never be hungry again. +Lily-Ann heard me in silence. She did not thank me with her lips, but +when the Things grew too rampant at night she would reprove them +sometimes in a stern manner. + +"Go away!" she would cry, stamping her foot energetically. "Rhoda is a +good child." + +The Things and the Bear all grunted with the same voice as they +retreated in discontent to their lairs; but I was not critical. It was +enough for me that they went, if only for a time. Always I remembered +that Lily-Ann could summon them at will, and her importance grew greater +day by day. + +There were hours, however, when I escaped into the safety of my mother's +room. I was not too small to understand the delights of that cheerful +room,--the glittering objects on the dressing-table, the deep bureau +drawers filled with wonders much too dainty for a child to touch. There +were keepsakes, also, mementos of my mother's childhood and youth; prize +books in foreign tongues, won at school and laid away in tissue paper; +bits of costly lace, and many little worthless, well-beloved +possessions. In the closet there was a box on an upper shelf. Quite an +ordinary box it was on the outside, made of pasteboard and tied with +bands of yellow ribbon which had once been white. My mother lifted the +cover one day, and showed me what was inside. It was the most wonderful +thing, and it had come off her wedding-cake. There was a white platform +surrounded with a wreath of white roses and leaves, and in the center of +the platform there stood under a wreathed arch two little dolls, arm in +arm. + +"They are going to be married," my mother said. "They came off the top +of my cake when I was married." + +"Oh, isn't it too sweet for anything!" I cried, in an ecstasy. "But, +mother, why does the lady doll wear a veil?" + +"All brides do. You shall, too, some day." + +"Shall I?" I questioned, doubtfully. "But, mother, dear, suppose I +should grow up, and never get married, won't you give me these little +dolls to play with?" + +"If that should happen I suppose I must," my mother said, with a laugh, +and tied the box up tightly again, and put it back on the upper shelf. + +I dreamed about that box. I talked of it to Lily-Ann, and described the +enchanting veil at great length; and I even condescended to tell the +twins about the dolls that mother had. Once, with great pain from the +acute rasping of my knees, I climbed up the closet shelves, and peeked +in a loose corner of the box. Then I came down again, perfectly +satisfied, for the dolls were still there, and if I escaped marriage +they were to be my own. I determined that I would never marry. It would +be at too great a cost. + +Soon after this there came a day when everything seemed to go wrong. +Lily-Ann was very cross, while my mother looked sad and even frightened. +She went up and down stairs many times. She watched me furtively, and +asked whispered questions of Lily-Ann. I wondered what Lily-Ann could +possibly be telling her. I knew that it was not about me, for I had been +very good that afternoon. To be sure, I had pulled the cat's tail; but +she and I had kissed each other affectionately afterwards, and were +friends again. Nor was Lily-Ann apt to reveal my misdeeds. She liked to +judge me herself in that dread hour when the dark brought repentance. +Still, as the questions went on and on, I was sure that I heard my name, +not once but many times, now from Lily-Ann, and now from my mother, with +a gasp of dismay. + +Then my mother took me in her arms and kissed me, and rocked me as if I +were a baby again, and in the middle of it all made me a little +confidence. + +"Rhoda, mother always meant to give you those little dolls," she said. + +"Oh, did you, mother!" I cried, eagerly. + +"But giving is different from taking. Do you know what it means to steal +a thing, Rhoda?" + +I nodded solemnly. + +"'Thou shalt not steal,' you know the Bible says." + +"Yes, mother." + +"Did you climb up into my closet one day?" + +I hung my head. + +"Rhoda, when you knew that you had only to ask for mother to give them +to you, why did you take away my little dolls?" + +"But I did not take them," I cried, in surprise. "I only looked at +them. Was I very bad, mother?" + +"You didn't take them? Think what you are saying, Rhoda." + +"I did not take them," I protested, breaking into tears, for though I +was bad, I knew that I was not that bad. + +I could see that she did not believe me. She sighed in a way that I had +never heard my mother sigh before, and set me down on the floor beside +her. Then she took me by the hand, and we made a very solemn pilgrimage +up the stairs, and through her room into the one which was my own, +straight up into the corner where my doll-house stood. She opened the +little door, and motioned me to look in. The bride and groom were +leaning stiffly side by side against the sofa in the parlor! They stared +back at me with scorn on their sugar faces, and there was, also, +something accusing in their expression, as if they were saying, "Little +girl, how do we come here?" Still I would not confess. I had not taken +them. I had wanted them very much, but now I did not want them at all. I +should have liked to smash their sugar heads, for it was their fault. +They had done it themselves, stepping down from their high shelf in the +middle of the night. They were tired of living tied up in a box, and +wanted my doll-house to set up housekeeping in. They had done it +themselves just to plague me. There was no other way to explain it. + +"What does she say?" grandmother asked, creeping in behind us. + +"Not the truth!" my mother cried. "I should never have suspected my +child of lying and stealing! But Lily-Ann says it is not the first +time!" + +I stood and looked at them. It almost seemed as if I did not love them +any more. They knew me so little that they thought I could steal those +sugar dolls. + +"Grandma, put her to bed for me," my mother said, still with that +frightened look on her face. "I don't know what to say to her. I must +ask her father." + +Grandmother put me to bed, with slow, patient fingers. She tucked me in, +and kissed me in quite a tender way. + +"Tell grandma," she urged, in a whisper, bending down until her +spectacles touched my hot cheek. + +But still I would not confess. + +It was very quiet in my little room after she had gone. I could hear the +dishes rattling down-stairs, as Norah set the table with a bang of the +plates and a thump of the knives. We were going to have honey for supper +and little cakes with frosted tops baked in scolloped patty-pans. I +wondered whether I should have any supper, or must lie there in the +dark, while they talked about me at the supper-table. I did not think +that _I_ could enjoy frosted cake baked in scolloped patty-pans if _my_ +little girl were alone up-stairs in the dark. When I grew up and +married, for I might as well marry now, I would never treat any one so. +Never! Never!! Never!!! + +"Oh, please, God, let me hurry and grow up," I whispered to the +darkness. "And, oh, please, God, let me have frosted cake for my +supper!" + +I waited for the prayer to bear fruit. Sometimes prayers were rather +slow. I heard my father come home with a cheerful rustle of parcels. He +hung up his coat and hat in the hall, and tiptoed upstairs to wash his +hands. He knew that the twins were asleep in their cribs; but he did not +know that I was beyond in the darkness, afraid to speak to him. He did +not miss me, although I was always the first to welcome him at the door. +Nobody seemed to miss me. I heard them draw up their chairs to the +table. Now they were eating honey. Now they were eating frosted cake. +Lily-Ann would have some of the cake. They believed in her. It was only +their own little girl whom they sent to bed without her supper. It was +only Rhoda whom nobody loved. If God would let me grow up quick, I would +go away and not be a trouble to them any more. Perhaps off in the +country I might find somebody who would love me, and believe in me, for +I did not want to be loved unless I was believed in. I should be very +lonely at first, nearly as lonely as I was now. A sore place came in my +throat that made me cry because it hurt so. + +The kitchen door opened in the distance, and a whirlwind swept into the +dining-room. There was a pause, punctuated by loud remarks delivered in +a high Irish voice, and then the whirlwind came up the stairs, and +swept me out of my bed. It was Norah. I clung to her, for she was the +only thing which I had left to love in the whole world. My father and +mother had deserted me, but Norah was staunch. She kissed me as she +carried me, big girl as I was, straight down the steps into the dazzling +light of the supper-table. Norah was excited. She had a red spot on each +cheek, and her eyes shone like stars. She held me tightly with one arm +and gesticulated with the other. Against the white panel of the kitchen +door Lily-Ann was crouched in a timid, frightened fashion, with all the +spirit gone out of her wide face, and almost the very curl gone out of +her hair. + +"She had them dolls yisterday," Norah cried, accusingly, her finger +pointed straight at the kitchen door. "I saw them in her box. Sure, I +thought that the mistress gave them to her, and it's not for the likes +of me to say what the mistress shall give or not give. Then this morning +when there was questions asked, she crept upstairs and put them in the +doll-house. The sarpent! Is my child to lie in the dark crying her heart +out, and that sarpent set at my kitchen-table drinking her tay, and +telling me wicked tales of my child?" + +Nobody answered her. They stared at her in bewilderment. Norah had never +acted like that before. + +"If there was questions to be asked, why wasn't I asked?" she went on, +angrily. "If the mistress or the master had said to me, 'Norah, where's +them little dolls?' I would have told them the truth. I would have said, +'Lily-Ann stole them yisterday, ma'am, and to-day she put them in the +doll-house, sur.' But, no, they don't ask honest old Norah. They listen +to that sarpent backbiting my child. The little innocent creatur! The +dear little old-fashioned thing that niver took nought from nobody!" + +I put my arms around Norah's neck, and hugged her until I nearly +strangled her. + +"Give Rhoda to me, Norah," my mother said, jealously. + +"There's only one thing more to be said, ma'am," Norah continued, +obstinately standing her ground, still with my arms about her neck. +"Either old Norah goes or that sarpent goes. I'll have no sarpents in my +kitchen." + +They were all looking at Lily-Ann now. There was a ring of truth about +Norah's story which had convinced them at last. + +"Have you anything to say, Lily-Ann?" my father asked, sternly. + +She had nothing to say. As she drooped a little closer to the door and +wiped her eyes in a miserable fashion, I felt that I could forgive her +all the harm which she had done me. Poor Lily-Ann, who my mother said +had never been a child! + +"Oh, please, Norah, let Lily-Ann stay!" I cried, piteously. "I'll be so +good if you'll let Lily-Ann stay!" + +Norah might, perhaps, have been softened by my appeal, but my father +would not listen. The words which he used were very stern ones, and his +was the hand that held open the door for Lily-Ann to pass out of the +house. She went slowly, almost regretfully, as though at the last she +felt repentance. I never saw her again. + +It was many a long year, however, before I cast off her evil spell. Even +in the illnesses of my maturer years those crawling Things have come +back, passing across the mirror of a pain-racked mind with all the +horror of childish ignorance and fear. Yet I still feel that I have +forgiven Lily-Ann. Coming from the home that she did, and unwatched and +unsuspected as she was, she might easily have destroyed the holy +innocence of a child's life. But she left me as she found me. + +I went upstairs very quietly that night. There was a candle burning on +the bedroom table, and something which my prayer had brought, something +frosted, with scolloped edges, was tucked under my pillow. The whole +family came to put me to bed, and made so much of me that I glowed under +their affection. + +"She will forget it all in time," my father said, tenderly, unwitting of +my long memory. "Evil dies away quickly from a child's mind." + +My mother was more impulsive. She went down on her knees and put her +arms about me. + +"Forgive mother," she whispered, with her mouth against my ear. "Mother +knows how true you are, Rhoda!" + +After all there was really something for which to thank Lily-Ann. + + + + +III + +THE OLD MAJOR + + +ABOUT our house there was a garden, with round beds of blooming plants, +and a shady apple-tree or two to break the glare of the summer sun. In +one corner the hollyhocks grew, and along the path to the gate purple +flags appeared each spring in uneven rows, like isolated bands of +soldiers marching on a common enemy. There were dandelions in the grass, +and a lilac bush near the front door. Here I used to play, in a bright +pink sun-bonnet, and little black slippers which buttoned with a band +about my ankle. Secretly I considered myself rather beautiful, and as +for my conquests, they stretched down the street and around the block. +There was the grocer's boy, and the elderly lady from over the way, who +wore one kind of hair in the morning and another kind in the afternoon, +and ordinary strangers passing through the town, and, last of all, but +first in my estimation, the old major. + +Every day at the same hour he passed the house, leaning on a cane. When +the sun was bright he stepped along quickly, with an alert carriage of +the head; but there were cloudy days when his step was slow and feeble, +and even his smile lost some of its usual charm. + +"Hello, little girl," he said, in a ponderous fashion, the first time +that he saw me perched on the gate. "Hello! Hello! Hello!" + +The hellos reached a long distance, and grew very gruff at the end, but +there was a twinkle in his eye, and he had a beautiful bright star on +his watch-chain, with which I longed to play. + +I gravely put out a small hand to him. + +"My name is Rhoda," I said, in a burst of confidence. "I live here in +this house. I was six years old yesterday." + +"Were you!" he replied, evidently much impressed. "That's very old, very +old." + +He went on slowly down the block, but when he turned on his way back, he +stopped again at the gate to discuss my age. + +"Six, was it?" he questioned. "Well! Well! Perhaps you can tell me what +time it is." + +I shook my head, with a fascinated look at the gleaming star. + +"I haven't a watch." + +"But you don't need a watch," he answered. "See here." + +He stooped down, painfully, grasping the fence for support, and picked +the snowy seed-ball of a dandelion plant. Then he straightened up, +slowly, and blew at the feathery toy. + +"One, two, three, four, five! Five o'clock. Time for the old major to go +in out of the damp." + +Then he turned away from me, and went on up the street, his cane digging +little holes in the path, and he himself forgetting all about the child +whom he had left still perched on her gate. I had not entirely passed +from his memory, however, for when he came to his own gate far in the +distance, he took off his hat, and gallantly waved it to me before he +went in out of the damp. + +"Mother, I love the old major!" I said one day. + +"What major?" my mother asked, looking up from her work with a smile. + +She was making small ruffled skirts and aprons with pockets. She could +make the most beautiful things, all out of her own head. + +"What major? Why, my major. Mother, has the old major any little girls +or boys that I could play with? Oh, I should so like to play with his +little girls and boys!" + +"Major Daniel Clark hasn't any little girls or boys. He lost them all, +dear. He is a very lonely man." + +"Didn't he ever find them again, mother?" + +"No, dear. Never again." + +Now, I was very good at finding things. I found grandmother's spectacles +ten times a day, even when they were only lost in her soft, white hair. +And once I found mother's thimble when little brother Dick had it in his +mouth, and it was just going down red lane. Norah said that I had a pair +of bright eyes, and my very father, when he wanted his slippers, could +think of no one so trustworthy to send as I. To find little girls and +boys would be quite easy, for they were much larger things. I had only +to ask all the girls and boys who came past my gate if they belonged to +the major, and, when the right ones came, we would run hand-in-hand up +to that distant door and go in. He would be so pleased, and never lonely +again. And, perhaps--Just suppose that he would be my friend forever and +ever! + +I was waiting on my gate the next day when he came by. + +"Oh, Major!" I cried, excitedly, nodding my head at him, "I'm going to +find your little girls and boys for you!" + +"My little girls and boys?" he asked, perplexed. + +"Yes. The ones that you lost so long ago." + +He turned quite suddenly on his way, so quickly that I thought that he +was angry, but when he came back he stopped at the gate again. He took +my face softly between his hands, and looked down deep into my eyes, +into the little circles where there were pictures. + +"When you grow up, always remember that the old major loved you," he +said, hurriedly, and then went back toward the house from which he had +come out so shortly before. + +We were great friends after that. We held long conversations over the +gate, about my dolls, and the hobby-horse which had lately come to live +in the hall. We discussed the best way to raise children, and how +convenient it would be if aprons could only be made to button in front. +We both had original ideas on things, and often differed, but none of my +new clothes ever seemed quite real to me until the major had admired +them, and pinched my cheeks with that air of gallantry which showed +that I was a woman. He brought me presents, very wonderful things; +bright pebbles which he picked up on the street, willow whistles, and a +tiny basket carved from a peach-stone, which I hung on a ribbon about my +neck. I gave him flowers, and once, when no one was looking, I let him +kiss me in the shadow of the pink sunbonnet. + +If the major and I met thus on the sunny days, when it rained there came +a blank in my life. Then he could not go out at all, but must stay shut +up in his house until the weather cleared again. There was something the +matter with the major which made this necessary. In some unaccountable +way he was different from other people, and to be different from other +people was sad, and was, moreover, a thing which never happened in our +family. + +Now, grandmother had a little red brick house that stood on her +mantel-piece which aided me a great deal in the stormy times. A little +man and woman lived in this house who were never of the same mind, and +carried their lack of sympathy to such an alarming extent that they used +separate doors, and, as far as I could see, had never met in the course +of their lives. For as sure as the man with the umbrella came out of one +door, the little lady with the roses in her bonnet gathered up her +skirts, and scurried in as if she were afraid to meet him. With her went +the sunshine and the blue look to the sky, and the rain came down heavy +and fast. But if the old man went into his house, the old lady sprang +out, with a smile on her face, the rain stopped falling, and the sun +came out. Then, by and by, the major would walk down the street, and +stop to chat awhile. + +I used to run into grandmother's room every morning to look at that +house. + +"Grandma," I cried, eagerly, "has the little lady come out to-day?" + +Then I took my stand soberly in front of the mantelpiece and regarded +the two figures with much attention. + +"Grandma," I said once, "do you think that they can be relations?" + +Grandmother took up a stitch in her knitting without replying. + +"Because, if they are," I went on, indignantly, "I think that they ought +to be ashamed!" + +"Ashamed of what, Rhoda?" + +"Why, of the way that they act. They don't even look at each other! And, +grandma, I think that he's the worst. He goes in with such a click when +she comes out. He's so afraid that she'll say something to him." + +Grandmother looked up over her spectacles. + +"Now that I come to think of it," she said, "they've acted that way for +forty years." + +"I wonder why he don't like her?" I went on, musingly. "Is it because +she's got flowers in her bonnet, and he hasn't? Look, grandma, she's +coming out very quietly. She's going to catch him this time. Oh, he's +gone in with a click! And he never said a word!" + +"We'll have fair weather now, Rhoda." + +"And my major will come out, grandma." + +"He's my major!" little Dick cried. + +"He's my major!" Beatrice asserted. + +"No such thing!" I said, turning on them angrily. "He belongs all to me. +Don't he, grandma?" + +Grandmother did not answer, but I knew that he did. When the twins came, +hand-in-hand, down the path to see him, he would pat their fat arms +through the spokes of the gate, but it was always I to whom he wished +to talk, for I was more of his own age and not a baby like them. + +"Baby yourself!" Dick said, when I mentioned this, and slapped me, but +it made no difference. + +Sometimes the lady from across the way would come over to walk with the +major. They were old friends, and had a great deal to talk about. I +remember seeing her shake her finger at him when she found him leaning +on my gate. + +"So you're trying to turn another woman's head!" she cried, gayly. + +He wheeled upon her with that sudden straightening of his shoulders that +would come so unexpectedly. + +"Did I ever turn yours, Kitty?" he asked, with a mischievous smile. + +"Dozens of times," she cried. "Dozens of times!" + +Then she took his arm, and they went up and down in the bright +sunshine, up and down, while the major would thump his cane upon the +ground with that gruff laugh that always seemed merrier than other +people's. His white hair was smoothly brushed, and his black hat was set +on jauntily, and his kind eyes shone as if he were young again. I +noticed that the lady from over the way always wore a black silk dress +and her best, curly, brown hair whenever she came to walk with the +major, and, also, a battered silver bracelet which looked as if it had +been chewed. The major would glance at it and laugh. + +"I took castor-oil to buy that bracelet," he said once, with his +twinkle. + +It sounded funny, but I knew just what he meant. I had made dollars and +dollars myself taking castor-oil, except that time when Auntie May mixed +it so cunningly with lemonade that it went down and down to the very +dregs, and I never discovered until then how I had been cheated out of +my just dues. + +"So that was it!" the lady from over the way exclaimed, patting the +bracelet. "I always knew that there was something curious about it." + +"It was harder than leading a regiment into action," the major answered, +soberly, and then broke into a gleeful laugh. "I wouldn't do it for you +now!" he cried. + +First she threatened him with the bracelet. Then she took his arm again, +and they went on in the sunshine, talking of all the many people whom +they had known in their lives. Her touch on his arm was very light, +guiding, and sustaining, rather than dependent, but the old major +thought that she leant upon him. + +I was not jealous of the lady from over the way. I felt that we shared +the major between us, and then it was always at my gate that he stopped +first. It was here that he told me about a trip that he was intending to +make. + +"I'm going off to the city for a week," he said. + +"Are you, Major?" I questioned, sorrowfully, for a week had seven days +in it, and even a day was a long, long time. No wonder that my eyes were +full of tears. + +"There, there," he said. "Bear it like a woman." + +I was not a woman, but sometimes the major used to forget. I thought +that it was because I looked so tall when I stood on my gate. + +He put out his kind old hand and smoothed my hair. + +"What shall I bring you from the city?" he asked. "A new doll? What +would you like best of all, Rhoda?" + +I considered the question. There were so many things that the major +might bring from the city. There were little doll-babies, or +picture-books, or cups and saucers, or hooples with bells. Then I had an +inspiration. I leaned forward in a glow of excitement. + +[Illustration] + +"I should like--Oh, Major! Will you really give it to me? I should like +the littlest watch in the world. With a star! With a star, just like +yours!" + +"You shall have it," he answered, promptly, as if there was nothing +unusual in such a grand request. "Now, remember, if all goes well, I'll +be at the gate a week from to-day. And I'll have that watch right here +in my pocket." + +"And I'll bring flowers!" I cried, joyfully. "All the flowers that you +love best, Major." + +"Good-by," he said, with a sudden touch of emotion. + +"Good-by," I answered, rather tearfully, for even the watch could not +reconcile me to his absence. + +He turned to go, and came back again. + +"Pray for the old major," he said, in a husky whisper. + +Through my tears I saw him go up the block, a little slower than usual, +as if he did not want to go. At the gate he stopped and waved his hat to +me, as he had done on that first day, and squared his gallant old +shoulders before he passed into the house. I always wished that I had +kissed him before he went. + +It was not hard to pray for the major, for I believed in the efficacy of +prayer. When the elastic bands became loosened in the black doll, Topsy, +and she lost her wool and her legs at the same time, I went down, +solemnly, on my knees on the floor, and prayed for them to grow together +again. And they did, in the night. And when I lost my little front +tooth, I prayed to God and He sent me a new one! So it was not hard to +pray for the major. But somehow or other I did not like to do it before +my mother. It seemed such a secret sort of a prayer. I waited until I +was safe under the covers, and she had taken away the light. Then I +climbed out of the bed, in the big darkness, and went down on the floor. +I prayed to God to bless the old major, and bring him back safely to me. +I said it over twice, so that God would not forget. + +"So the old major has gone to the city," my father said, at the +breakfast table. "I can remember him when he was in the pride of his +strength, a magnificent figure on horseback. He never rose as high in +the service as he should. He made powerful enemies and slipped into the +background." + +"It's twenty years since his wife died," my mother's soft voice added. +"He has lived alone in that big house ever since. Think of it, Robert!" + +"Such is the heart's fidelity," father answered, with his face turned +toward hers. + +"When he comes back we must make more of him," mother said. + +It was a very long week, but even long weeks have a way of slipping by +at last. I played about the house and the garden with the twins, but I +never went near the gate, not until the day dawned which was seven times +from last Friday, and was Friday again, bright and clear, the very day +for the major's home-coming. There were so many flowers in the garden +that morning, such especially large ones. They knew, too, that the major +was coming home, and had put on their prettiest dresses in his honor. + +It was quite a puzzle to me what I should put on. I had a closet full +of dresses. There was a beautiful blue silk one, too good for anything +but church, which matched a little blue parasol. And there was a lovely +white one with a lace flounce, which went with my scolloped petticoat. +My third best dress had roses and buttons on it, and the fourth best was +covered with brown spots, like cough drops. I loved my little dresses, +and it was so hard to tell which dress should come out, and which must +stay shut up in the closet, with nobody to admire them. + +"Shall it be the cough drop dress, mother?" I asked, uncertainly. + +"It's such a wonderful day, and the sun shines so bright, that I think +you might put on the white dress with the lace flounce," my mother said, +with that smile which meant that she was laughing with me, and not at +me. + +"And my little black slippers?" + +"And your little black slippers." + +"And, mother, you remember the time that I was your little flower girl? +And you put roses in my hair so it looked like a crown? I'd like to be +the major's little flower girl." + +My mother lent herself to the pretty idea. She crowned my head with +roses. There were roses at my throat, and a big, floating, pink sash +swept down my back, and there were roses in my hand for the major, one +bunch to give him with a kiss when he came, and another to give him with +my love when he went. + +Grandmother shook her wise head when she saw that toilet. + +"If she were my child," she said, "I should dress her in brown gingham +down to her heels, and tie her hair with shoe-laces." + +I gasped, and mother laughed. + +"She's vain," grandmother went on, severely. "Suppose she should grow up +a poppet!" + +I carried that awful name out with me as I climbed upon the gate, and +stared out, bashfully, at the street. I was afraid to think how +beautiful I might be. + +The grocer's boy came by, my own particular grocer's boy. Stricken with +sudden admiration for my charms he put down his basket, and expressed +his sentiments. + +"Say, you are a daisy!" he said. + +"Go away, Jakie," I answered, with embarrassment. "I haven't time to +play with you now. Go away! I'm busy." + +He was quite crushed by my new haughtiness, and lingered about, thinking +that I would relent, but all my smiles and flowers were waiting for that +bent figure which I loved so well. + +An hour slipped by, but still the major did not come. My crown grew +heavy on my head, and the flowers wilted in my hot hands. The lady from +over the way came to ask me questions. She had on her ugliest hair, and +there were tears in her eyes. + +"What are you doing, Rhoda?" she asked, with an anxious look. + +Then she seemed to divine. + +"You are not watching for the major!" she exclaimed. + +"Yes," I answered, wearily. + +"Doesn't your mother know, child?" she cried. "But, then, he never told +any one. They found that there must be an operation, and he was not +strong. There was no one whom he loved there at the end. He died, as he +lived, all alone. Oh, poor old man! Poor old man! Let me go by, child! +Let me go by!" + +She thrust herself in the little gate, wheeling me back against the +fence, and went up the path to our house. + +Then, in hardly a moment, Norah came out and led me in, and proceeded to +take off all my pretty things and put on a common dress, quite an old +one, with a darn on the sleeve. + +"I don't want that dress, Norah," I protested. "I want my white dress. I +want to see my major. I want to be his little flower girl." + +I went in where my mother sat with the lady from over the way, and +explained the situation through my tears. Mother was very tender with +me. Somehow I felt that she herself was sorry about something, for she +dropped a tear on the wilted roses which I still held in my hand. +Together we went out into the garden. Together we gathered all the +flowers that there were--the big ones and the little ones--and formed +them into a great bunch. It was for the major. I danced with sheer +delight, knowing only too well how the kind face would light up when he +saw all the flowers which he had admired so often made a present to him. +I added buttercups, and dandelions, and bits of feathery grass, while +mother watched me, with a sad smile, and said never a word. + +The lady from over the way cried very hard on our front steps, but +afterwards she dried her eyes and took my flowers to the major. + +He did not come the next day or the next, though I watched at the gate, +and then something strange happened. I was told not to go into the +garden. + +"Not this morning, Rhoda," my mother said. "Grandma and I are going out, +and you must stay in the house. When we come back you may go out." + +She dressed herself very quietly that day, all in dark things, and she +and grandmother did not look joyful, as they always did when they went +out together. + +"I'd like to go, too," I said, wistfully. + +Then Norah coaxed me. + +"Ah, stay and play with your Norah," she cried. "Sure you'll not be +after leaving your Norah alone in this big house!" + +I always liked to play with Norah, when her work was done and she had +time to be sociable. That day we played blindman's buff together--she, +and I and the twins. Norah was always the blind man, and she was the +longest time catching us, and when she did she could never tell who it +might be. She would guess quite impossible people,--the grocer's boy, +and the lady from over the way, and her own very mother in Ireland,--and +she never once, by any chance, thought that it was Rhoda or little Dick +or Trixie. + +"Sure, you're too big to be Trixie!" she cried, when we told her who it +was. + +That day, when the blind man was out of breath, and his feet were sore +from walking hundreds of miles, I climbed up on the window-sill and +watched the people going along the street. There were a great many of +them, much more than usual. Suddenly there was the sound of a fife and +drum in the distance, and a long line of carriages came into sight, and +one was filled with beautiful flowers, and one was draped with a torn +old flag. + +"Come quick, Norah!" I cried, eagerly. "It's a procession!" + +"It's the old major's funeral," Norah said, coming with the twins in her +arms to look over my shoulder. + +I had known, somehow, that it was the major's, for everything nice +belonged to him. I was so proud to think that my major should have all +that big procession, with the lovely flowers and the music in front. I +looked for him in every carriage, that I might wave as he went by. He +was not there, but other people were,--my mother and my grandmother, and +the lady from over the way, and men with gold braid on their coats come +to grace the major's procession. + +"Is it all his, Norah?" I asked. + +"Sure, dear." + +"I am so glad," I cried. "Oh, I'm so glad!" + +I clapped my hands in my delight, and was quite angry with Norah when +she dragged me, hurriedly, away from the window. + +That night my mother took me in her lap, and told me that the old major +had gone to heaven. I had heard of heaven before. It was where I came +from, and the twins, away back in the early days. Heaven was a nice +place, and now, as the major's home, it acquired a new charm. But there +was one drawback. + +"Shan't I ever see him again, mother?" I asked. + +"Never again, Rhoda." + +"But, mother, it's a children's place," I urged, anxiously. "And the +major is old, quite old. He won't like it there, mother." + +"The major has gone to heaven to be a little child again," my mother +said, with a sob. + +Then she put a blue velvet box in my hand. Inside there was the littlest +watch in the world, and on the back of the watch there was a star in +blue stones. It was the last thing which the old major bought before he +went to heaven. + + + + +IV + +THE FIRESIDE GOD + +A Christmas Dream that Came True + + +"ENGLAND is a long way off," grandmother said, softly. "Especially at +Christmas time." + +She was not talking to any one in particular, but just to herself. She +had been sitting for quite awhile by the parlor window reading her +Bible. Sometimes her eyes were fastened on the page, and sometimes when +a strange step came down the street, she would glance up hurriedly, +almost in an eager way, as if she were watching for some one. Then, when +she saw who it was, her eyes would drop again on the book in a +disappointed fashion. I knew what she would do next. Very slowly she +would turn the pages right to the middle of the Bible, where a picture +lay between the leaves. + +"Isn't that father, grandma?" I asked, anxiously, leaning against her +knee. + +"No, Rhoda," she said, in that decisive way of hers. + +I hung closer over the picture to make real sure. + +It looked so like father when he was a little boy that I thought she +must be mistaken. Yet somehow it was different. This little boy was +fairer. There was a curl of hair on the page, a light-brown curl with +red glints in it, and a tiny wreath made of pressed lilacs which once +upon a time he had joined together, flower by flower, out in our front +garden. I could almost see him doing it, while the wind blew through +those brown curls. + +"Oh, I do hope that he isn't grown up!" I cried, quickly. + +People had such an astonishing way of growing up fast. Why, even Joseph +in his pretty new coat in the Bible was not a little boy any longer! And +I had always so longed to play with Joseph. + +Grandmother did not tell me anything more about the picture. She took it +out of my hand, and put it back on the page beside the curl and the +faded lilac ring. Then she closed the book tightly; but when I ran into +the parlor five minutes later to announce a visitor the picture was out +again on her lap. + +"Evelyn is coming, grandma!" I cried. + +The tall young lady who followed me into the room was grandmother's +great friend, and, also, in a way she was mine. I loved her because she +was so beautiful; but grandmother loved her because they both liked a +man named Frank. He was engaged to Evelyn. I had heard my mother say +so. + +"Is there any news?" grandmother asked, eagerly. + +She had risen out of her chair and looked startled. + +Evelyn went up to her with a letter in her hand. + +"Frank is quite well," she said, "and very busy. Would you like to see +his letter?" + +Grandmother hesitated. She almost turned her back upon Evelyn. + +"No," she answered, slowly. "No. When he writes a letter to _me_, I will +read it. Not before." + +"Oh, you are hard on Frank," Evelyn protested. "How can he write to you? +Didn't you say you would have nothing more to do with him, unless he +gave up his profession?" + +"Profession! Has an actor a profession?" grandmother cried. "This is +the first time I ever heard it called by that name. I said he was to +choose between his mother and a child's mad whim, and he made his +choice." + +She picked up the picture and looked at it with tears in her eyes. + +"I could forgive him anything but acting," she said. "Sometimes I think +I could even forgive him that. I do so long to see him again." + +Evelyn slipped her arm about grandmother. + +"He will come back," she cried, consolingly. + +"Never," grandmother replied, with a despairing glance at the empty +street. "Don't I know him, Evelyn? Man and boy? He is as stubborn as I +am." + +"Would the little boy play with me, grandma, if he came back?" I asked, +excitedly. + +They both looked at me, but Evelyn was the only one who smiled. + +"Perhaps," she said. "He used to be very fond of you." + +After that I was always watching for the little boy. Every morning when +I got up I looked out of the window to see if he were not coming in our +gate. And the last thing before I went to bed, I looked out carefully +again. I thought that I should know him by his hair, and I felt how +lovely it would be if he would only come at Christmas time. Christmas +was not going to be so nice that year as usual. I did not think that I +should get anything. There were lots of presents in the house for other +children, even my little brother and sister, but somehow there did not +seem to be any for Rhoda! + +"Father," I said, one morning, "there's a very pretty book in your top +drawer. A child's book. I wonder whose it is?" + +He was quite busy reading his paper, but he answered me at once. + +"That's for a little friend of mine," he declared. "It's a secret." + +"Oh! Is she a good girl, father?" + +He glanced at me and laughed. + +"Sometimes she's awfully good," he answered. + +Then it was not for me. Nobody ever seemed to think that I was good, not +even when I was trying my best. It must be grand to be good! Just think +of being born that way, so that you could not help it, but went on +growing better and better until you died! There was a little girl down +the street like that. We played together on sunny days. I found it very +hard to play with any one who was so good. + +"And sometimes," my father went on, still with that smile in his eyes, +"sometimes she's so dreadfully bad that I'm really shocked!" + +"Oh!" I said again. + +I had seen my father shocked. When he was shocked, he always laughed +very hard. + +"Has it pictures, father?" I asked, meekly, trying to turn the subject. + +"No. My little friend doesn't care about pictures," he answered, +indifferently. + +Then it was not for me. I was very fond of pictures. Everybody knew +that. It did seem queer that in all the many packages which he brought +home, night after night,--round ones, and square ones, and even some +with mysterious humpy corners,--there should not be a single thing for +Rhoda! And Christmas was coming faster and faster. + +Evelyn, too, had all manner of pretty presents laid by for other little +girls, quite strange little girls, who did not love her at all so far as +I could see, but she never said a word about my present; not even one +day when she called me into her house and opened her parlor door. She +opened it very softly, as if there were company, and she put her finger +on her lip that I should not speak. + +There was company. Inside the room was filled with dolls! They sat in +rows on the sofa and on the piano, they lay in careless heaps on the +chairs and tables; blue-eyed dolls and black-eyed dolls, some that went +promptly to sleep when you laid them down, some in Japanese dresses, and +some that wore long clothes and caps like sure enough babies. We went +about solemnly, hand in hand, and looked at them all. They stared back +as if they wanted a mother, and one on the center-table, a queen of a +doll with earrings in her ears, held out her arms to come to me! + +"Whom do you think they're all for?" Evelyn asked, gayly. "Guess." + +I held her closer by the hand and gazed about me. _I_ was very fond of +dolls. I had never had enough. I believed that once or twice I had +mentioned the fact. I drew a long breath. Just suppose-- + +"They're for orphans," Evelyn cried, quickly. "You know what orphans +are, don't you, Rhoda? They are poor children who haven't any mothers or +fathers to buy them dolls! It's a very sad thing to be an orphan." + +I glanced about me again. The queen was very beautiful. + +"Will they be good to them?" I questioned, wistfully. + +I had heard of people whipping dolls! And once a little boy had drowned +a doll! His sister's! It was dreadful! + +"Oh, I'm sure this doll is going to be spoiled," Evelyn answered, with +her hand on the queen. + +I looked from her to the great doll with shy admiration. They both had +the same fair hair, and the same pink cheeks and the same gray eyes. +Their faces were just like flowers. + +"I think her name is Evelyn, too," I said. + +I had always thought that Evelyn liked me, but that day I was sure of +it. We had a long talk in a big chair about all the things which I +wanted for Christmas. She said that I was surely to come Christmas +morning and see the orphans get their dolls. Somebody named Santa Claus +would be there. I had heard of Santa Claus before, but only in a general +sort of a way. He seemed to be a very kindly sort of person who gave +away dolls by the hundred, sometimes to orphans, and sometimes just to +little girls who needed them. It was a question how much you had to need +them. + +At the very last Evelyn gave me a message to deliver. + +"Rhoda," she said, earnestly, "tell grandmother that there is good news. +What she was wishing for is really going to happen!" + +She hugged me up closer to her. + +"Oh, what a Christmas this will be!" she cried. "We are all going to get +what we want, all of us, even Rhoda!" + +Afterwards she changed. When I went out of the door she drew me back and +looked at me anxiously, almost coldly. + +"Rhoda, don't tell grandmother anything," she said. "It might be a +mistake. I wouldn't have her disappointed for the world!" + +I did not want grandmother to be disappointed, but still when I went +back into our house and saw her sitting by the window, I felt that I +should like to tell her some good news. Just that once. She looked so +frail and old, and I had never noticed before how white her hair was. + +My mother was very tender with grandmother. Every morning she would send +her three children, the twins and me, to kiss her, and when my father +came home at night she would send him to lean on the back of the big +chair, and look down at the closed Bible. Grandmother never took the +picture out when my father was there. She never even listened to the +people passing by outside. She would talk to him about other things in +which neither of them took much interest, until he would go away, half +sadly, half angrily. + +"She is the most absurd woman who ever lived," he told my mother. "Here +is Frank winning laurels by the dozen, and, on account of her stupid +prejudice, she won't listen to his name. Does she expect to keep this +thing up forever?" + +"She is thinking of him all the time," my mother said, quietly. "She +loves him." + +"I know she loves him!" my father cried. "She loves him better than she +does me. I was always the one who didn't count! Always." + +My mother laid her hand upon his arm and stopped him. + +"Hush, Robert," she said. + +Her eyes wandered over me sitting on my stool by the fireplace, and +passed to little brother Dick playing with his blocks. + +"Who can judge a mother's heart?" she questioned, softly, and then +turned upon him with a demand that was almost wrathful. "Have you +nothing to be thankful for," she cried, "that you grudge him a thought +at Christmas time!" + +My mother always took grandmother's part. She seemed to understand +grandmother better than my father did. Once I heard her say that the +curl in the Bible was like one of little Dick's. She laid it against his +soft hair, and it matched, color and curl, as if it had been cut from +his head. After that she was even kinder to grandmother than before. + +Norah out in the kitchen was the happiest person in the house. Every +night she wrote home to Ireland, and sometimes she laughed and sometimes +she cried. I liked to hear about Ireland. I would climb upon the kitchen +table and watch her write, and listen when she read bits of her letters +to me. I knew all about Norah's people, and could call her brothers and +sisters, and even her cousins, by name. She was sending money in her +letter to buy her mother a new green plaid shawl for Christmas. She was, +also, going to buy the priest a pig. Norah was worried about the priest. +He gave away everything that he had to the poor of the parish, and went +hungry all the time. After much thought she had decided on the present +of a pig, as being a thing which the priest might keep for himself. + +"Though they're that owdacious, Rhoda," she cried, in high wrath, "that +I'm thinking they'll take the pig, too!" + +"What would they do with the pig, Norah?" I asked, anxiously. + +"Sure, they might eat it!" she answered, with a dark frown. + +"Norah, what if you were to put a blue ribbon about its neck?" I +suggested. + +She went into fits of laughter and hugged me. + +"To think that you've niver even seen a pig!" she cried. "To think of it +dressed up! The innocent!" + +It was on that same night that with a great parade of secrecy she showed +me something hidden in the knife tray. It was a doll's hat made of blue +velvet, and trimmed with lovely white feathers, such as came out of the +pillows when Norah thumped them in the morning. Right in front there was +a big brass pin that shone like gold. Norah watched me while I examined +the hat, breathlessly. She seemed much pleased with my admiration, and +turned it around and around on one of her big fingers that I might +decide on the prettiest side, which was, of course, the one with the +brass pin. + +"But whom is it for, Norah?" I asked. + +"It's for a small frind of mine," she explained, with an air of deep +mystery. + +It was very strange. The dolls and the picture-book, even the hat, were +all for somebody's little friend, never for me. + +"I wonder what I'll get?" I said, weakly. + +"Why don't you ask Santa Claus, dear?" Norah inquired. + +I looked at her quickly. That was Evelyn's friend. + +"Who is he, Norah?" I questioned. + +She threw up her arms in the air. + +"And have I niver told you about him?" she cried. "The quare ould chap +that lives up in the chimney!" + +"Up in the chimney, Norah! Isn't he hot?" I demanded, in astonishment. + +"Faith, there's no fire could warm him," Norah answered, lowering her +voice mysteriously. + +Then her finger went up in apparent alarm. + +"Hush! He's listening! He wants to know which are the good byes and +gurrls. When Christmas morning comes the good ones will get prisents. +For he owns all the prisents in the world! And the bad ones will get +nought, barring switches!" + +I crept a little closer to Norah, and took a firm hold on her apron. It +was very sudden news. Had I always been good? + +"But the good childer," Norah went on, with a reassuring smile, "and you +are good, Rhoda, have only to ask for whativer they want at the parlor +fireplace!" + +I could not keep away from the fireplace after that. Every time that I +went into the parlor I peeped up the black bricks, and though I never +saw anything but the blue sky far, far above, I felt quite sure that he +was there. I made little scenes in my mind of the things which I should +say to him, and the things which he would say to me, after he became +convinced of my goodness. In the meanwhile I was good, oh, so good! and +best of all in the parlor. Later, I meant to ask for the queen doll, and +the pretty book, and the little hat trimmed with the white feathers and +the beautiful brass pin. Even if he could not give me just those ones, +because they were promised, he might give me others. I felt that he +could manage it in some way, if he were pleased with me. It was nice to +know that he was partial to good girls. + +Once I went so far as to speak his name. + +"Mr. Santa Claus!" I called, politely, for it was best to be polite. +"Oh, please, Mr. Santa Claus!" + +A big piece of soot dropped down over the burning wood right at my feet. +That was his way of showing that he heard! Then I was frightened, and +would have run away but for a sudden sound. Somebody was crying! It was +grandmother up in the corner of the sofa with the Bible on her knees. +She did not see me at all. She did not know that I was there. I put my +arms around her neck, and she looked up and talked to me quite as if I +were a grown person. + +"I want him so badly, Rhoda!" she said. + +"Who is it, grandma?" I whispered. + +"My little boy, Rhoda. He went away and he never came back again. I was +not patient enough with him. Always be patient, my dear." + +"Don't you cry, grandma," I said. "I'll get him back, dear grandma, if +you won't cry." + +She looked at me for a moment as if she almost believed me. I nodded +confidently at her. I knew. There was a way, but only little Rhoda had +thought of it as yet. If Norah had only told me sooner about Santa +Claus! + +After she had dried her eyes, and kissed me, and gone to her room, I put +my plan into execution. I told Santa Claus all about it up the black +bricks. He did not answer, but the soot fell softly, so I knew that he +heard and would remember. It was no longer a question of dolls or books +or even hats. I felt that the one thing which I wanted most in the world +was just for grandmother's little boy to come home. + +I did not hang up my stocking on Christmas eve. The twins hung up +theirs,--two little podgy stockings side by side at the mantel-piece. +Even quite a small stocking will hold candy, and I have known times when +the very nicest present of all would be away down at the toe. My little +Susan Sunshine, my littlest doll, came in the toe. I found her after I +thought everything was out. I wondered whether Dick or Trixie would find +a little Susan Sunshine. + +"Why don't sister hang up her stocking?" Dick asked, anxiously. + +"Is she bad?" Trixie inquired. + +"I'm not bad," I declared, hastily, from my bed in the next room. + +"Why don't you hang up your stocking, dear?" mother questioned. + +"I don't want anything," I answered, miserably. + +Afterwards I heard her talking to my father. + +"I don't know what to make of Rhoda," I heard her say. "She won't hang +up her stocking. I hope that she is not going to be sick. It would be +dreadful to have one of the children sick at Christmas time. Her head is +quite hot." + +I felt my head. It was hot. + +I lay awake for a long time thinking of things. I considered the twins +and their stockings, and grandmother's delight in the morning. Somehow I +had to think a great deal about grandmother in order to keep myself from +crying. Grandmother did not know what I was doing for her. The little +boy must be getting ready to come right now. Off in the distance I could +hear sleigh-bells, perhaps his sleigh-bells, now near, now far away, and +in the pauses between the soft throb of the organ over in the church, +and a voice singing a hymn, the one that I knew about angels and the +manger with the Child. It was very beautiful. I sighed a little, +sleepily. After all I was happy. + +Then in a moment it was day, bright day, and in the next room there was +a confused murmur of voices and a hurried scamper of feet. Dick shouted +excitedly. Somebody beat a drum with a low rumble like soldiers, not as +a little boy would beat a drum, but as my father might if he were +teaching a little boy. Somebody marched pitapat about the room, and +somebody danced by the fireplace. + +"Go back to your cribs," my mother cried, uneasily. "You'll get your +death of cold!" + +On the chair by the side of my bed there was a stocking, with queer +knobby places, which meant oranges, and square places, which meant +candy. Right on top there was a blue velvet hat trimmed with white +feathers, and against the stocking there leant a picture-book. I looked +at them incredulously. Santa Claus had not understood! Or else he had +thought that I loved my presents better than I did my grandmother! I +kissed the hat and the picture-book twice, and then I put them sternly +back on the chair. I knew what I should do. Santa Claus would find that +I meant what I said. + +"Did you like the picture-book, Rhoda?" my father inquired at the +breakfast table. + +"Yes," I answered, hurriedly. + +Norah smiled at me from the shelter of the kitchen door. + +"How did my little frind like the hat?" she asked, in a stage whisper. + +It seemed to me that there were some subjects which would not bear +talking about. + +They felt my head a great many times that morning, and even looked at my +tongue. + +"She acts so unlike herself," my mother said, anxiously. "You don't feel +sick anywhere, do you, Rhoda?" + +"No," I replied, huskily. + +Grandmother evinced a sudden interest. + +"I wouldn't let her go to Evelyn's," she said. + +"But I want to go!" I cried, piteously. + +"There, there," my father said, in a soothing way. "Of course you may +go." + +"Only you must take an iron pill first," my mother pleaded. "Just to +please mother." + +She did the pill up very neatly in a raisin, so that it did not look at +all like a pill. My mother could make the most horrible things look +nice,--such as cough syrup, with little specks of jelly floating on it +like a pudding. Afterwards you might know by the taste that there had +been something wrong, but you could never tell beforehand; not even +though you might wonder at dessert being kindly offered for breakfast. + +I took my pill meekly, and drank a glass of milk to please my father. +Then after much consultation they put on my cloak, and let me go. I had +the picture-book and the hat hidden under my arm as I went out the door, +but nobody noticed. + +Evelyn's house was farther down the street, not quite out of sight from +our front gate, but still at a little distance. There were orphans +going in when I came up,--orphans in decorous rows of twos; each little +girl with a white apron hanging down under her cloak. They went in very +quietly, not at all as if they were excited at the prospect. I felt that +they could not know what was inside. I watched to see them dance when +they passed the parlor door, but they only stared stolidly. + +"A merry Christmas to all of you," a sonorous voice cried within. + +I peeped in cautiously. There he was! That was Santa Claus. He stood by +a beautiful tree at the top of the room. He had on a white fur coat, and +there was a shaggy cap on his head. He smiled at us. It almost seemed +that he smiled at me, little Rhoda Harcourt, as if he remembered the +chimney! His arms were full of dolls, but I knew at first glance that I +could never really like him. There was something about his face that +made it impossible. + +"These dolls are only for good girls," he said again, in a loud voice +that had a muffled sound. + +I slipped in closer. The orphans stared back at him unconcernedly. They +were sure that they were good. One, a very sleepy orphan, put her head +on her chair, and went fast to sleep in the most impolite way. + +"Here, wake up!" the next orphan said, and slapped her. + +She woke up and slapped her neighbor back, and was going to sleep again +when Santa Claus called her name. It was Betsy. He gave Betsy the first +doll. He was evidently quite satisfied with her behavior. I was much +surprised. + +The dolls went quickly after that, all except the queen. She sat up high +on the tree, and her eyes had a frightened look, as though she did not +like orphans. Once Santa Claus took her down, but Evelyn put her back +again. + +"Not that one, Frank," I heard her cry. + +He turned and whispered something to her behind the tree. The branches +were very thick, but for a moment I almost thought that his face grew +different, younger and fairer, and with a gleam of triumphant laughter +about it quite unlike the Santa Claus that he had been before. Then he +changed again, and came out, with his long beard flowing and his fierce +white eyebrows frowning, to give away more dolls. + +At the very end of all he picked up the queen, and called gruffly, +"Rhoda!" + +I peered out of my corner at the orphans. I could not see any orphan +Rhoda among them. Just suppose that Santa Claus should mean me! He did +mean me! He beckoned with what he thought was a friendly look. + +"Rhoda," Evelyn cried. "Why, you're not afraid, are you, dear?" + +"No," I answered, hastily. + +I do not think that she quite believed me, for she took me by the hand +and led me up to where Santa Claus stood waiting with the queen in his +arms. It was evident that he had forgotten everything, everything that I +had ever told him. + +"This is for you," he said in a genial way, holding out the doll. + +The queen looked at me with delighted eyes, the dear queen! but I could +not take her. I gave him the hat and the picture-book in a hurry. + +"I don't want these," I said. "You know what I want. I told you up the +chimney. And you promised to bring him to me. You know that you did!" + +He seemed a little astonished for a moment, and then he laughed. + +"Did I?" he questioned. "What chimney was that? You see I go up so many +that sometimes I forget." + +"What did you want, Rhoda?" Evelyn asked in surprise, putting her arms +around me. "Tell Evelyn." + +"I want grandmother's little boy to come home," I answered, almost +crying. "The little boy who made the lilac ring. All day long she +watches for him. I don't like to see poor grandmother cry!" + +There were other things which I might have said, but Evelyn stopped me +with a backward glance at the rows of orphans agog on their chairs, and +a lady or two who had come with them watching in the background. Even +Santa Claus was startled. + +"A touch of tragedy," he said. "Who is this child?" + +"Can't you guess?" Evelyn whispered. "What was I telling you just now!" + +He looked down at me with sudden enlightenment. + +"Rhoda!" he cried, uncertainly. "It's not our Rhoda? She was a baby." + +"But babies grow in five years," Evelyn replied, in a laughing tone. + +He stooped lower and drew me to him. + +"Whatever I promised I will do," he said, emphatically. "If you wanted +the whole world I would give it to you to-day!" + +He threw off the long yellow cloak that was wrapped about him and did +something to his face. In a moment he was just a man like other men, and +had me upon his shoulder. Somehow it seemed to me that I had been on his +shoulder before when the floor was farther away. + +"Almost too big for the old perch," he said, with a laugh that was half +merry and half tremulous. + +"Oh, don't forget her doll!" Evelyn cried. + +She came a little closer to him so that she could whisper. + +"I honor you for this," she said, ardently. + +Then she put the queen on his other arm, and gave me the hat and +picture-book to carry. The orphans laughed a little, but Santa Claus did +not mind. He strode out into the sunshine with his heavy load, and +started up the block. The bells were ringing for service as we went +along, and the street was filled with people, but I was the only little +girl in the whole town whom Santa Claus took home. And at our parlor +window grandmother was looking out. + + + + +V + +THE HOTTENTOT + + +THERE had been a family council in which my relatives had all sat +around, gravely, and talked about me and my conduct. It was a painful +affair. They had mentioned every bad thing which I had done in the +course of a whole week, some of which I had not thought they knew about, +and then in the middle of it all grandmother Harcourt had made an +announcement. + +"Rhoda's behavior grows worse and worse," she had advanced, severely. +"And as for her manners, she's a regular Hottentot!" + +"Hottentot, eh?" granddad Lawrence repeated, whimsically. + +He had me upon his knee, and as he spoke he turned my face toward his, +and regarded it with much apparent interest. I gazed back at him +wistfully. He was company, and it was very hard that company should hear +me called a Hottentot. I was sure that I did not look like that dreadful +name which had suddenly sprung upon grandmother's lips. It had such an +awful sound! + +"She's no worse than other children," my mother urged, in defence. + +She might blame me herself, but when grandmother Harcourt looked over +her spectacles and invented names my mother was sure to grow angry. + +"It seems to me that I've heard about Hottentots before," granddad +Lawrence went on, nodding his head. "They're very fond of candy, +Hottentots are, and they like their own way. Yes, they like their own +way." + +"Not any more than other children," my mother said again. "Rhoda gets +into mischief solely because she has nothing to do." + +"Why don't you send her to school?" granddad Lawrence asked. "She is +seven years old." + +"Oh, I couldn't send her to school!" my mother cried, anxiously. + +"No, not yet," grandmother protested, in her turn. + +It was the one subject upon which they agreed. + +"Well, let her take lessons in something, then. There's the piano +standing untouched. I've heard of Hottentots who had a very good ear for +music." + +He pinched my ear as he spoke, and puffed out his cheeks in a funny way, +as he always did when he wanted to laugh. He had very little hair on his +head, and a round, pink face like a baby's, and a pair of wicked blue +eyes that saw everything, both before and behind him. I had never heard +of granddad Lawrence being cross. He was good to everybody, from the +little newsboy who ran after him every morning in the street to the +stray dogs which selected him for a master on account of his smile. Most +of all he was good to us, his grandchildren, and hardly a day passed by +that granddad Lawrence did not come walking in to hear the news. There +were no children at his own house, for Auntie May was growing into a +young lady, and granddad Lawrence liked children, being a child himself +at heart, with all a child's love of mischief. But to the friends who +trusted in him, he was the soul of loyalty, in thought as well as in +word. + +When he went home I walked out to the hall door with him, as I always +did, and then we had what he called a mercantile transaction. He bent +down low, and patted his pocket. + +"Don't you want to draw on the bank?" he asked, invitingly. + +I ran my hand far into the depths of that jingling pocket. I could have +whatever I liked, but the little brass pennies were the prettiest, and +the cute little silver ten-cent pieces, which seemed especially made for +children. + +"Draw again," he said, generously. "Now give the cashier a kiss." + +I did not kiss him for pennies. I kissed him for pure love. + +"Come again, dear granddad," I said, standing at the door to peep after +him. "Come again to-morrow." + +He waved his hand to me. + +"Good-bye, Hottentot," he called, mischievously. + +"Good-bye," I answered, in rather a plaintive voice. + +I did not think that I liked my new name. + +That was the first occasion on which I heard of my music lessons, but +not the last. My mother seemed to take wonderfully to the idea. She was +always discussing the things that she meant us to learn, but up to then +we had been too small for any of her plans to be of much importance. To +take music lessons was a very simple matter. It could not be considered +work, but play on a larger scale; and after I had slipped into the +parlor, and touched the piano keys with a timorous finger, I knew that I +should like it. The keys were voices. When grown-up people touched them, +they sang together beautifully. There was one which was a fairy queen, +and one which was a prince, and one away down in the lower bass made me +tremble when it talked. That was an ogre. I thought that he might eat +little children. I ran out of the parlor in a hurry for fear that he +should catch me. Something pattered up the stairs behind me, and chased +me along the hall, but in my mother's room not even an ogre would dare +to come. + +"She loves music!" my mother cried. "She is always hanging around the +piano." + +Grandmother looked at me curiously. + +"There has never been a musician in our family," she remarked, in a +dubious way. + +"I played before I was married," my mother answered. "There doesn't seem +to be any time for it now." + +She sighed a little as she spoke. + +Her lap was full of pretty new cloth which she was making into dresses, +and one of the twins was riding on the rockers of her chair, and one was +whistling, shrilly. My mother rocked slowly that there might not be an +accident. Most people would have thought that she was only a mother, but +at that precise moment she was, also, an express train coming into a +station, and I was a passenger waiting to get aboard. + +"I think I'll get Madame Tomaso to give Rhoda lessons," she said. "We +might as well have the best teacher in town. Dad had the best for me +when I was a child. It is the first step which always counts." + +The whistle sounded again, and two passengers climbed into the rocker +behind my mother's back. We were a very tight fit for the chair. She sat +a little forward in a meek way, so as to make room for our toes, and +rocked more slowly. The train was going uphill carrying a heavy load. + +When she was consulted on the subject, Madame Tomaso proved to be very +glad to give me lessons. For some reason or other it had been a poor +season for her, either because there were only a few little girls +musically inclined in the town, or because, which seems more probable, +she had a name for severity. She appeared very amiable, however, the +first morning that she entered our house. She drew me to her, with quite +a motherly hand, when I came bashfully into the parlor to meet her. + +"So this is the small Miss," she said, in a terrifying voice like the +ogre's. "And she loves the music? It is well." + +She shook hands with me very hard. She had on a dress trimmed with bits +of black glass,--I always hated jet afterwards,--and a red silk collar +which exactly matched the hearty red in her cheeks. Her hair was black, +and her eyes were black. I did not quite like the way that she looked at +me. I wondered if she ate little children. + +"She is so bright," my mother declared, fondly, pushing the hair back +from my forehead. "Stand up straight, Rhoda. You will find that she +learns very quickly, Madame Tomaso." + +"So?" the ogress answered, in an absent manner. + +She was looking at the piano-stool and at me. She was evidently wild to +begin, and had not much time to spare for motherly confidences. + +"I am afraid that she might fall off the stool," my mother said, +hurriedly. "Couldn't you use a chair, Madame Tomaso? Though the chairs +are rather low for such a little girl." + +They made a chair higher with a big book and a sofa pillow, and set me +on top in front of the fascinating white keys. The twins were peeping in +the door. I looked back at them grandly. I felt very old and important. +It seemed almost impossible that only that morning we had been playing +express trains together, like children! Still, there was something about +it which frightened me, notwithstanding my pride. + +"Go away!" I whispered, warningly, to the figures at the door. + +They went quickly in evident alarm. Even Dick did not stop for a second +look. + +"Will she hurt sister?" Trixie asked, in a high voice, as they climbed +upstairs. + +Dick peered between the banisters. + +"If she does, I'll shoot her," he declared, stoutly. + +I was glad to see them escape, but I did not like it quite so well when +my mother followed them, and the door was tightly closed. I had such a +trapped feeling. And the pillow was so high that I could not get down +without help. Anything might happen! Madame Tomaso yawned a little as +she settled down by my side, but she was still kind. She put a paper in +front of me which was covered with black scratches. + +"Which is 'a'?" she asked, sociably, pointing to a row of things. + +"'A' was an Archer who shot at a Frog," I recited, in a timid whisper. + +The twins and I had learned that out of a pink book with blue edges. The +archer was dressed in red, and the frog was green with yellow trimmings. +I could, also, say the catechism from cover to cover, if she would like +to hear that, and Who Killed Cock Robin. I had never supposed that +anybody but my mother cared for such things. She loved to have us say +them to her. + +"And 'b'?" Madame Tomaso inquired, staring. + +"'B' was a Butcher who had a big Dog," I went on, with growing +confidence. + +I did not feel nearly so frightened now. She was rather nice. If I were +very good, maybe she would not eat me after all. + +"Don't you know your letters?" she demanded, in astonishment. "Don't +you go to school?" + +"No," I answered, sadly. "I am not strong." + +"Ah! Bah!" she cried, in a rude way. + +I was sure, perfectly sure, that even a Hottentot would never have said +that. + +Madame Tomaso taught me my letters that morning, at least the first +seven of them, which seemed particularly needed in music. She called for +a bottle of ink, and wrote their names on the white keys. She was very +patient with me, as I afterwards found out when I was no longer a new +pupil to be coaxed along the thorny path. She put each finger where it +belonged, and once, when I played five notes without any trouble, she +went down through a rent in her skirt which was fastened together with +safety-pins, and fished me out a caramel from a hidden pocket. It was +very old and hard, and looked as if it had seen much service, but she +regarded me with a benevolent expression while I ate it, and I felt that +we had made a good beginning. Take it altogether, I thought that I liked +music, and I practiced for hours. It was a great deal of fun when Madame +Tomaso was not there, for then I did it all with one finger, which made +it much easier. As my feet hung in the air, the twins worked the pedals +for me, and my mother would come into the parlor with a pleased smile, +and fix the curtains so that I might have a good light. + +"That child will surely be a musician," I heard her tell my father, in +an eager way. "I've promised her a ring the day that she can play the +Träumerei. It may take a long time, but then she practices _so_ +faithfully!" + +My father groaned. I think my mother slapped him. + +Of all the family it was, perhaps, Norah who was the most delighted +with my lessons. She took a very friendly interest in them. She always +dusted the parlor when I was there practicing, and she would sometimes +put down a big finger herself on the piano keys in an experimental way, +and jump when they sounded. There was only one thing about my music +which worried Norah, and that was the fact that I knew no tunes. + +"Sure it's time that you were learning something," she would say, +suspiciously. "Ain't she keeping you back? Can't you play 'The Wearing +of the Green' yit?" + +"No," I answered, humbly. + +"You ought to have an Irish teacher," she said, conclusively. "Madame +Tomaso! It's a cat's name that she has! I never could abide them +foreigners." + +"Listen, Norah," I urged. + +Very carefully, very slowly, with one finger and infinite pains, I +played "Home, Sweet Home" for her. She burst into tears, and throwing +her arms around my neck, rocked back and forth with grief. For a moment +I thought that I had hurt her feelings, but it was all right. Norah was +only homesick for old Ireland. She was paying me the highest compliment +that I ever received. + +Little by little Madame Tomaso came to treat me differently. The coaxing +voice grew gruff, and the black eyes savage. No more caramels came out +of the rent in her skirt, and sometimes I almost fancied that she was +scolding me! I was very little to be scolded. No one had done that +before. I tried harder than ever to please her. I practiced with two +fingers, and, at last, even with three, one very heavy in the bass, and +two very shaky in the treble. I did not tell anybody about the things +which she said, for I was ashamed, but I imagined that granddad +suspected. Granddad was always so sharp. It was a wonderful comfort to +hide my face on his shoulder, and be petted. He was sorry for me without +my saying a single word. He made me draw on the bank every day, and he +confided to me all the troubles which he had had when he was a boy. + +Once he told me of an awful thing that he did. He puffed out his cheeks +before he began to talk, so I knew that it was going to be funny. + +"I didn't get on well with a maid my mother had," he said. "Her name was +Polly. Did I ever tell you about Polly, Rhoda?" + +"No, granddad," I answered, eagerly. + +I was leaning against his chair, and we had the parlor quite to +ourselves. It was a time for confidences. + +"Polly didn't like boys," granddad went on. + +"But she liked you, granddad," I asserted, loyally. + +He shook his head. + +"Polly liked me least of all. She may have had her reasons, but it was +her fault in the first place, mind you. When I'd bring home a poor stray +dog, she would turn it out to starve! And when I brought home stones, +and I was always fond of stones, she would dump them out in the road. I +felt that I should like to get even." + +I nodded at him. I had felt that way myself. + +"So I got a lot of pepper, and one day when Polly was going to sweep I +scattered it around the house. I rubbed it well into the carpets." + +He scraped his foot over the floor to show me just how he did it. For +the moment he looked about ten years old. + +"I rubbed it in quite hard. It didn't show. Nobody could tell that +there was anything wrong until she began to sweep. Well, Rhoda, if you +could have heard her sneeze, it would have done you good. She sneezed +for hours. At first they thought that Polly had a new kind of sickness. +They went flying for the doctor; but my mother had noticed me laugh, and +she pounced on me. She shook the truth out of me." + +He trembled with laughter at the recollection. + +"But what did they do to you, granddad?" I asked, breathlessly. + +Sometimes his story would have an anticlimax. + +"They put me down in the big black cellar," he declared, impressively. + +I rubbed my head against his shoulder. I felt that I could never have +treated him in that way if I had been his mother. + +"Poor granddad," I said, in a consoling whisper. "They were not good to +you!" + +He puffed out his cheeks, and his eyes shone. + +"That depends," he said, cheerfully. "I didn't mind, bless you. We lived +in the country, and they kept their pies in the cellar." + +"Yes?" I questioned, eagerly. + +"That night when they took stock they were short three pies." + +"Oh!" I gasped. + +I gazed at him in indecision. He looked back at me quite gravely, save +for a lurking twinkle in his eye. + +"Did you eat them, granddad?" I asked, confidentially. + +He nodded. + +"And twenty doughnuts," he said. + +I regarded him with deep admiration. What a dreadful bad boy dear +granddad had been! + +I used often to wish that Madame Tomaso had granddad to deal with. I +did not think that she would be so cross, or, at least, she would not +show it so openly. She had a trick of frowning until her eyebrows grew +together in one thick, black line. She would frown and beat time, and I +would chase after her on the piano, with a blur before my eyes, and my +heart in my mouth. Sometimes we arrived at a bar together, both out of +breath; sometimes she left me far behind, very weak and miserable, with +stumbling fingers which refused to hurry. She always beat time with a +large black fan, and when the chase proved exhaustive, she would open +the fan, and fan herself even in the depth of winter. While she fanned +herself she would say things to me, unkind things. + +Once she told me about her other pupils. + +"I have ten," she said, "ten little girls. Some of them do not make +good music. _I rap them over the fingers with my fan!_" + +She went on for quite awhile relating long stories of raps inflicted +upon helpless little girls, some of whom had actually been saucy to her, +and some of whom had merely played false notes like myself. A much +larger girl than I had been rapped that very morning for false notes, +and had cried! Afterwards she had played a great deal better. + +I listened in growing terror. I wondered if she were trying to frighten +me. Then suddenly I glanced up at my great-grandfather's picture. + +The parlor walls were hung with the pictures of men who had borne my +name. Most of them had preached, but some had fought; and he, my +great-grandfather, who looked down over the piano, had preached with a +sword in his hand. All the Harcourts had been brave men. They had never +been afraid of anything. And on the other side there was granddad +Lawrence, whose courage no one could possibly question. He would not +have stood this when he was a boy. Just think of Polly! + +Something inside of me seemed to awake. I turned and faced her, ogress +though she was. + +"You'll never rap mine," I said, steadily. "Never! I am bad! I am a +Hottentot!" + +I made a horrid face at her, such as a Hottentot might be supposed to +have. + +For the first and only time in the course of our acquaintance she +laughed. She laughed as if she would die, while I sat on my sofa pillow +and watched her. During the rest of the lesson she was remarkably +friendly. + +My mother was much pleased with the progress that I made. She often +spoke of Madame Tomaso's method, and of how brilliantly her little +pupils played. My mother had never heard of raps. All the family were +encouraging in their comments, and they, also, set me a shining example. +My mother rubbed up her musical knowledge, and even my grandmother would +steal into the parlor in the early twilight, and play some Old World +melody which held within its tune the hurry of dancing feet. All these I +was to learn some day, when my fingers had grown as strong as my desire. +I played better and better for the admiring circle, until Madame Tomaso +herself would have been astonished if she could have heard me. + +"She really does quite well," my father said one night. "It almost +sounds like a tune. Is it 'Yankee Doodle,' or 'Old Dog Tray'?" + +"Neither!" my mother cried, warmly. "I don't know exactly what it is +myself, but it is probably something classic. And she is doing it +beautifully!" + +"It is 'Yankee Doodle,' mother," I said, in a whisper. + +She did not hear me. She was looking at the piano with sad eyes. + +"They have taken an awful lot out of it," she said. "It was the first +thing that we bought after we were married!" + +"Was it?" my father inquired, briskly. "I thought we bought the +coffee-pot first. Didn't we fry eggs in the coffee-pot?" + +My mother gave him a startled glance. + +"We did fry eggs in a coffee-pot," she admitted, reluctantly. "At least +_you_ fried them. I did not know how." + +"Somehow eggs don't taste as good now-a-days as those did," my father +said, musingly. "I wonder if it was the coffee-pot." + +Grandmother leant over my shoulder, and examined the piano cover. + +"What made that, Rhoda?" she demanded, pointing to a broad streak which +ran through the plush. + +"That is where Madame Tomaso beats time," I answered, meekly. + +They looked at one another. + +"She is such an excellent teacher," my mother said, apologetically, +"that I suppose I ought not to complain. It's very good of her to take +so much trouble. Just as soon as they are large enough, she shall teach +the twins, too." + +"Oh, no, mother!" I cried, quickly. + +"Why not, Rhoda?" + +I evaded the question. + +"Couldn't I teach them, mother?" I asked, anxiously. + +They all laughed at me as if I had said something foolish. + +It was evident that I should never get rid of Madame Tomaso. She would +come year after year, forever and ever, until I and the twins were quite +grown up. The twins were little and easily frightened. She would make +them cry. I knew that she would. Sometimes, although I was such a big +girl, she almost made me cry, when she beat time and shouted, for she +was beginning to shout. And that last scene, though I had been +victorious, had rankled. I felt that my mother would be highly indignant +if I told her, but somehow I could not tell her. There did not seem to +be any way out. I looked at the piano cover, and thought and thought. + +"Granddad," I inquired next day, "what became of Polly?" + +"Oh, Polly left," he answered. + +"Right away, granddad?" I demanded, eagerly. + +"Just as soon as she could get her trunk packed. Why?" + +I rubbed my head against his shoulder without replying. + +He did not ask any more questions, but he looked at me, keenly. He +slipped his hand under my chin, and forced me to meet his eyes. I could +never hide my thoughts from anybody. And granddad was always so horribly +sharp! He chuckled a little as he gazed at me. When he went away he made +me draw largely on the bank, and he patted me on the head. + +"Keep up your courage," he whispered. "You're game!" + +Out in the hall I heard him ask my mother a sudden question. + +"When does Madame Tomaso come again?" he inquired, suavely. + +It was always on Tuesdays that Madame Tomaso came, and it was strange +how Tuesdays raced around. That Tuesday, in particular, arrived almost +in a moment while I was still thinking. But I had made my preparations. + +"You are very careless about the casters, Norah," my mother said at +breakfast. "There is actually no pepper on the table." + +"But I filled them last night, ma'am!" Norah cried, staring. + +It seemed to me that they all turned and looked at me. I slipped from +the room in a hurry. Somehow I felt so queer that morning. I kept +sighing, and when the door-bell rang I would get quite cold all over. It +rang a great many times before Madame Tomaso came, fresh and alert from +her walk, with an air of friendliness which was always sure to disappear +later. She turned cross very early that day, even before she had taken +off her things. + +"I have been too lenient with you, little Miss," she told me, in an +awful voice. "We will try a new method." + +She seated herself by the piano, and folded her arms. I sat perched on +my cushion, and stared at her in fascination. Oh, how I wished that I +had let the pepper alone! Oh, how I wished that I was good! After all +it was so pleasant to be good. + +"Play," she said, in a masterful manner. "I will be an audience. I will +be a great many mens and womens. We will listen to you." + +I played. It was very terrible. Her eyebrows grew together. That was the +way she would look when she found me out, only worse, much worse. I +played faster. She watched my notes, and sometimes she would moan, +feebly, as if something hurt her. I played on faster still, one +trembling little hand racing ahead of the other, until musical flesh and +blood could stand it no longer. She began to count with a shout. + +"One, two, three, four!" she cried, and brought the fan down on the +piano cover. + +Then she sneezed. + +"I knew it," she murmured, grimly, to herself. "I felt it coming on +this morning!" + +She counted again and sneezed, and I sneezed a little myself in a +hurried, guilty way. She looked at me with sudden suspicion. She was +sharp, almost as sharp as granddad. In a second she had lifted the piano +cover, and found a pile of pepper under that well-worn spot. The things +which she said were awful. She said them in three or four languages, and +she said them in such a high voice that my mother and grandmother came +running in alarm. She pointed at me, with a shaking finger. + +"Look at your child," she cried. "She lays traps for me! Pepper traps!" + +"Rhoda!" my mother exclaimed. + +My grandmother seemed stricken dumb. + +I hung my head in shame. I had forgotten how sorry they would be. + +She told them all about it. She knew just why I had done it, and how I +had done it. She declared that she would never give me another lesson. +No, never! Her voice grew very loud in her denunciation, and the mild +words of shocked apology which my mother put in from time to time were +swept away in the torrent of her wrath. I saw my grandmother's lip curl, +and my mother look astonished. They were judging her by their own +standards of quiet reticence and womanly dignity. She was almost +justifying me. + +Yet before she went she lodged an arrow in my mother's heart. + +"As for the child's talent," she cried, and snapped her fingers. "It +would be as easy to teach her the tight-rope!" + +I heard somebody laugh in the next room. It sounded just like granddad. + +My mother and my grandmother went to the door with Madame Tomaso, and +saw her out quite as if she were company, and then they came back into +the parlor and gazed at me. They did not seem to know just what to say. +It was evident that I had done something dreadful. I began to be +frightened. We had a big black cellar, with dark, cavernous recesses +where cobwebs swayed about, and dwarfs peeped out at you. I wished that +it was night, and I was safe in my bed. + +Then somebody shuffled in behind me, and patted my head softly. I looked +up into two merry blue eyes. + +"Don't you fret, Rhoda," a sympathizing voice said. "Granddad will stand +by you." + +Even now when he is only a memory I can still feel the thrill of +gratitude with which I clung to his protecting hand. + + + + +VI + +A SOCIAL EVENT + + +"BUT she hasn't any dress!" my mother cried, in consternation. "Only +that white Sunday one which is much too short!" + +"Let down a tuck," my grandmother said, decisively. "That would lengthen +it." + +"Oh, do let down a tuck, mother!" I echoed, eagerly. + +I had a little pink envelope hugged up close against my apron. On the +outside it had "Miss Rhoda Harcourt" written in very large letters, and +on the inside it invited me to a party! I was not quite sure what people +did at a party; but I knew it must be something delightful, judging from +the commotion the pink envelope made in the family. There was a +whirlwind of talk about white dresses, and new slippers, and blue bows, +and in the midst of the discussion Auntie May caught up her dress and +danced. + +"Come here, Rhoda," she called. "This is what they do at a party. Come. +I will teach you how." + +I braced my back, stiffly, and let her haul me around. This was a +serious matter, and must be undertaken with a sober mind. + +"She hasn't any spring in her," Auntie May exclaimed, ruefully. "Who +would think that she is related to me!" + +"She does not come of a dancing family," my grandmother replied, with a +cold smile. "The Harcourts look after their souls, and let their feet +alone." + +Auntie May made a wry face. She was my mother's sister. + +"Don't shut up like a knife, Rhoda," she said, disconsolately. "Let +yourself go. There, I believe the Lawrence side of the family is waking +up at last!" + +She looked so pretty as she danced in the firelight that I tried to be +like her. I copied her courtesies, and followed her steps, and when, at +length, she fell breathlessly into a chair, I leaned against her knee +with my hand on her pink cheek. + +"Auntie May, are you going, too?" I asked, confidentially. + +Somehow I thought it would be rather nice to have Auntie May there, just +for company. + +"Child!" she cried, with a grand air, "it's a children's party. I am +sixteen!" + +I felt the rebuke. I was only seven myself, and there were whole +centuries between us. It was strange, though, how sometimes Auntie May +would play with my dolls, and sometimes she would tuck up her hair and +keep me at arm's length. I never knew which she was going to be--little +girl or grown woman. + +Auntie May did not live with us, but in another house with a lady who +called herself my frivolous grandmother, and curled her hair every day +of her life. Grandmother Harcourt wore sober black silk dresses, but +this other grandmother liked blue and pink, and even sometimes a gallant +touch of red that made her look almost young again. Whenever she looked +her youngest, she was greatly pleased, and curled her hair triumphantly. +At family meetings the two grandmothers often made those curls the +subject for discussion, and oftener still it was my dress and manners +which never seemed to suit either of them. One wanted me very quiet and +subdued, and dressed in gingham, and the other wanted me very gay and +lively, and dressed in silk. As grandmother Harcourt lived in our +house, she had the advantage, and, save for occasional bursts of +splendor, I went in great meekness of spirit and dress. + +I had thought at first that there was going to be trouble about the +party. My frivolous grandmother objected seriously to the idea of that +tuck. She seemed to think that I should look very shabby among the other +little girls. She spoke of her position, and of the great pleasure that +it would give her to buy me a dress. + +"Nellie," she urged, almost with tears in her eyes, "let me buy Rhoda a +suitable dress. You surely don't want that unfortunate child to go to +the Otway's with a tuck let down!" + +Grandmother Harcourt did not say anything. I fancy that she must have +had it all arranged beforehand, for, after a rather appealing look at +her, my mother declined the offer in a faint, reluctant voice. + +I did not care what I wore. I was going to a party. That was enough for +me. All the night before I could not sleep, and when, at last, the hour +drew near, and I stood before my mother while she gave a final touch to +my floating hair, I felt that it was all a dream. It was a dream going +down the stairs while the twins, in their nightgowns, peeped after me, +and it was a dream getting into the carriage which Auntie May had +brought to take me. The very streets were a dream, with little +white-clad girls passing in our direction and little boys, with stiff +white collars and solemn faces, walking along behind them. And most of +all that big house on the hill was a dream, with the lights shining in +all its windows, and the rows of Chinese lanterns in the piazza, and a +nearby violin letting off cheerful notes of preparation. + +"Mrs. Otway is giving this party for the two little grandchildren who +are visiting her," Auntie May said, peering out of the carriage window. +"They come from the city. They are cousins. You saw them in church on +Sunday." + +So that was who they were! I felt that I had learned something. Only the +Sunday before there had come into the pew before me, first a little boy, +and then a little girl, followed by a party of ladies. The little boy +sat up in the far end of the pew, just as I did, and he had a high silk +hat laid on the cushion beside him, and an elegant cane with a silver +head to which he seemed much attached. I never noticed little boys as a +rule. I divided them into two classes: boys who walked clumsily, in +heavy boots, and glanced sidewise at me, and _bad_ boys who made awful +faces from behind trees. Never to one of them had I said a single word. +That boy, however, was something quite different. I knew that as soon as +I looked at him. He had a light graceful figure, and brave, beautiful +eyes. When he gazed over his shoulder and smiled at me, I felt strangely +pleased. It was as though some one whom I had known a long time ago had +come again. + +"Oh, so _he_ is Theodore Otway!" I cried, unguardedly, remembering the +name on my pink invitation. + +Auntie May laughed a whole minute, just about nothing at all. + +"You get down here, Rhoda," she said. "Now, remember to shake out your +hair the way that I showed you. And don't you get frightened as you +always do. Your dress isn't very fine; but there is one thing that is +nice about it. It has real lace basted in the neck. Mother put it in. +Just fancy, grandmother Harcourt never noticed! Always give your right +hand first in the ladies' chain. You are the only little girl who has +come in a carriage. Oh, dear me, I wish that it wasn't a children's +party! I'd just love to go in! The lovely, lovely music! What shall you +do, Rhoda, if you get very frightened?" + +"I'll shut my eyes, and think that I'm in church," I answered, soberly. + +"Good heavens!" I heard her cry as the carriage drove away, "there's the +other side of the family coming out after all!" + +I went up the steps rather breathlessly. There was a big lump rising in +my throat, as if I had run miles and miles. I wondered if they would let +me in, or if I would have to say what my name was. I was not real sure +in my mind that I knew what my name was. Once, years ago, I had been +called Rhoda, but Rhoda always went to bed at seven o'clock. This was a +new little girl, a fairy child, who walked under globes of fire +straight into fairy-land. + +Up, up, I went, past a man with shining buttons who held the door open +very graciously for me, past shrubs and flowers banked along the +staircase, into a room where there was a great hum of voices. Ever so +many little girls, dozens of them, were taking off their hats, and +shaking out their skirts, and doing what grandmother called "prinking" +before a great glass. I prinked a little myself, following out Auntie +May's directions. I thought that I looked rather nice. A woman in a +white cap seemed to think so, too. She took a great deal of pains with +me, and when the other little girls, who knew one another, went down the +stairs in a group, she led me by the hand to the staircase, and showed +me where to go. + +It was very hard to walk down the stairs alone. I had such a queer +feeling, and I could not see a thing for a mist before my eyes. I went +quite slowly, step by step. I could hear the people in the parlor +talking. + +A lady said, "How pretty!" and a boy's voice cried, "Here she is! Here +she is, at last!" + +Then in a moment some one was shaking my hand. Little by little the mist +cleared from before my eyes, and I saw that I was at the party. + +The parlor was a long room, running the whole length of the house, but +it looked crowded that night. There were groups of little girls, all +those whom I had seen upstairs, and more besides, and lots and lots of +little boys who stood in corners and laughed among themselves. There +were lights on the walls and flowers everywhere, and the few grown-up +people who moved about seemed just as gay and festive as the children. +By the door were stationed Theodore Otway and his cousin, and she had +on a lovely pink dress with cascades of little bows falling down her +back. All the grown-up ladies seemed to watch her, and when she pranced +and shook her bows I heard a lady say, "Paris!" in an awed tone. + +There was such a hubbub everywhere that I did not notice at first that a +boy, whom I had never seen before, was writing his name on my programme. +He was quite a stout boy in tight clothes. + +"I'll take this first one, just to make sure," he said. "Maybe, after +awhile, I'll dance with you again. Don't you forget what I look like." + +"No," I answered, humbly. + +"That's right," he continued, patronizingly. "What's your name?" + +I told him in a bashful whisper. + +"Well, you want to watch out, and when I holler 'Rhoda' you come where I +am. That will be when the music strikes up. Don't forget." + +"No," I said again. + +"If you are not there, I might take some other girl," he remarked, as a +final caution. + +Theodore Otway was going by, led by a lady. She was arguing seriously +with him. + +"Of course you must dance the first dance with your cousin!" I heard her +cry. "I told you yesterday that you must. You can ask the little girl +some other time." + +He gave me a miserable glance as he went to the other end of the room. + +I hardly noticed him. I was so worried over the stout boy, who roved +about the room, here and there and everywhere. Once he hid behind a +sofa, and once he went out in the hall to get a drink of lemonade. He +unbuttoned his jacket, and tried to make himself look different by +crossing his eyes. I was sure that he did. And, just when the music +struck up, he disappeared altogether! The other little girls all had +partners. I was the only one left out. I felt it very keenly. + +Suddenly I heard some one shout, "Rhoda!" + +I turned around, and there he was behind my chair, where he had been +standing all the time. + +"Come along," he said, just as if it were my fault, although there was a +look of elation about him. "If you don't hurry up, we won't get in the +top set. That's the nicest of all." + +I followed him, meekly. I was very glad to find him again, but I felt an +inward conviction that I should never get used to boys. + +It was not hard to dance. Somehow it was more fun than it had been at +home with Auntie May. I always remembered to give my right hand first in +the ladies' chain, and when I met my partner I courtesied to him every +time. I did not forget a single thing! The music was very lively, and +everybody was smiling, even the grown-up people at the other end of the +room who danced and romped among themselves. I thought that I should +like to go on forever, back and forth, and in and out in the ladies' +chain. I wished that the music would never stop, but it did, at last, +with a sudden chord, and we were all ready for something else. + +It was a game this time, a strange, new game called "Post-office." It +began by a little girl leaving the room, mysteriously, and calling a +little boy out into the hall to receive a letter. + +"There's a letter in the post-office for Davie Williams," she cried, in +a shrill, high voice that sounded frightened. + +All the other little girls laughed. Davie Williams grew very red in the +face, but he went out for his letter, and closed the door carefully +behind him. + +I wondered why he stayed so long, and what they could possibly be doing +behind the door. It was very exciting. Suppose, just suppose, that there +should be a letter for me! More little girls went out, and more little +boys. The girls tossed their heads, and the boys went quickly, as though +to get it over. One boy called out another boy instead of a little girl, +and was laughed at. I did not think that I should like to be laughed at. +Then Theodore Otway went out and I heard my name. + +He was waiting for me with his hands in his pockets. + +"Hello," he said, in a diffident way. + +"Hello," I answered, shyly fingering my hair. + +I looked about for the wonderful something which I had come to see. +There was nothing, only the hall and Theodore Otway still with his hands +in his pockets. Strange to say he seemed embarrassed. He fidgeted. He +talked in jerks. + +"I saw you in church," he said, suddenly. + +I nodded at him. + +"I saw you, too," I confessed, with a shamefaced smile. + +He came a step nearer, and hesitated. + +"Say," he said, "I don't live in this house when I'm home." + +"No?" I answered, inquiringly. + +"No," he replied, seriously. + +We were both silent. There did not seem to be anything more to talk +about. Still it was rather nice out in the hall. + +Somebody rattled the knob. Evidently our turn was over. + +"Who's going to take you out to supper?" he asked, with sudden interest. + +"I don't know," I answered. + +"Well, let me take you, won't you? You'd better. There's a boy here who +plays tricks on little girls!" + +I shivered. Was it the stout boy? + +"Once he made a little girl cry out loud at a party! You'd better. Will +you? Say yes." + +He came a little closer. He put out his hand, and touched my hair. + +"It's like sunshine!" he cried, with a burst of enthusiasm. + +I stole a shy glance at him. Nobody had ever told me that before. + +"Say yes!" he begged, in a new tone. + +"Yes," I whispered, hiding my face behind my hair. + +Somebody rattled the knob again. They were growing impatient. + +"Well, good-bye," he said, in a hurried way. His hands were back in his +pockets. + +"Good-bye," I answered. + +He went toward the door, then turned again, as if he had forgotten +something, and stood thinking. + +"Will you give me that?" he asked, pointing to a wee blue bow on my +sleeve. + +I unpinned it, and laid it in his hand. He fastened it to the front of +his coat. He strutted a little as he went into the parlor. I could see +by his smile that he was pleased. + +It was my turn now, and I must call a little boy, for that was what all +the girls did. I looked in the parlor, undecidedly. There was the stout +boy going by with a cheerful wink, and away in the back of the room a +nice little fairhaired boy named Eddie was watching me, wistfully. I +called Eddie, with sudden fearlessness. He came with a rush, and closed +the door behind him. Then he kissed me before I could say a single word! +I pushed him away, and began to cry. Even through my bitter tears I +could see his astonished face. How was he to know that all my life I had +hated to be kissed by strangers. And now by a boy! + +"Why, that's the game!" he cried, eagerly. "What did you call me out +for?" + +"I don't know," I answered, sobbing. + +He gazed at me with a worried look. Then he pulled out a fat, white +lozenge from his vest pocket, and offered it to me. + +"Here, take that," he said, generously. + +I examined it through my tears with strong disfavor. It looked like +medicine. Still I did not want to hurt his feelings. I ate it with +misgivings. + +"That's right," he said, radiantly. "They are good for sore throat. My +father takes them. Don't you feel better now?" + +"Yes," I answered, with a weak smile. + +It was evident that in his way he meant to be kind, and, perhaps, after +all the lozenge like the kiss might be a part of the game. + +They were dancing in the parlor when we went back, and the fun was +growing loud and furious. One little girl was singing, rapturously, as +she danced, and two little boys were sliding in a corner. There was +talk of supper. Somebody, peeking through a keyhole, had seen pink +ice-cream, and had come away dazzled. The great hour was drawing near, +and little boys were going about looking for their partners. Up at the +end of the room Theodore's mother was talking to him. + +He came to me afterwards, with a crest-fallen air: + +"Say," he said, "I can't take you out to supper. I have to take my +cousin. She says so." + +He looked back over his shoulder, threateningly. + +"What she says now, goes. When I'm a man things will be different. Ain't +you sorry I can't take you out?" + +"Yes," I confessed, candidly. + +He seemed to be glad that I should be sorry. + +"He's going to take you out," he continued, with a jealous nod at the +stout boy. "She asked him to." + +I did not want to go with the stout boy. Every time that he looked +sidewise at me I felt a sudden fear. Suppose that it should be a trick! +Suppose that he should think of something new to do right now! When the +inspiring march began, however, and we all fell into line, each little +girl on the arm of her partner, I forgot everything in my excitement, +and grew almost reconciled. + +We passed solemnly around the parlor three times, and then swept across +the hall into an opposite room. In the center of the room there stood a +beautiful table, and the woman in the white cap, who was the only grown +person in sight, was serving out pink ice-cream. The little girls sat on +chairs about the walls, and the little boys brought them plates full of +goodies from the table. There were lovely things which I had never seen +before, much too pretty to eat, and almost too fragile to touch. And +over the whole room there fell the soft light of candles. + +"Do you like ice-cream?" the stout boy asked, when he had seen me +settled in my chair. "I tell you what I'll do. I'll pick out all the +things that I like." + +He was a wonderful provider. I could see him heaping up my plate, and he +always seemed to take the best of everything. No other girl was going to +have such mammoth slices of cake as I, and he had a perfect pyramid of +candy in his hand. I knew that I could never eat it all, no, not a half. +Somehow he did not seem able to find me afterwards. I beckoned to him, +but still he turned aside, and went toward a far corner. He was sitting +down! He was going to eat the things himself! Was it a trick? I looked +down hard in my lap. Never, no, never, should he make _me_ cry out loud +at a party! + +I heard a sudden sound of wrath. I turned around just in time to see +Theodore Otway tip the stout boy over on the floor, and sit on him. He +seemed to be very angry. He pounded the stout boy. I was almost afraid +to look. The woman in the white cap left off serving pink ice-cream, and +made a dreadful outcry. + +"Oh, Master Theodore," she cried, wringing her hands. "Oh, Master +Theodore! You mustn't do that! It's not polite!" + +A little boy cheered faintly, and in the next room, where the older +people were having their supper, there was a hurried consultation. Then +Mrs. Otway came in. + +"What is all this?" she asked, in astonishment, looking as if she could +not believe her eyes. "Theodore!" + +She caught him by the arm, and dragged him up in a hurry. + +"For shame!" she cried. "What a way to treat your company! I'm going to +put you right straight to bed." + +A shudder ran around the room, and we all looked at one another in +horror. To be put to bed at a party! There was a disgrace. + +"I don't care," Theodore retorted, recklessly, with tears in his eyes. +"I'd do it again any day. He's a greedy pig!" + +I stole up and slipped my hand in his. Somehow I did not like to see him +cry. + +"He was eating that little girl's supper," a chorus of eager little boys +explained. "He was eating it all up!" + +"I wasn't either," the stout boy declared, hastily. "I was only +pretending." He dusted off his knees, and looked around the incredulous +circle. "I tell you I was only pretending. I was going to bring it to +her all right afterwards." + +Nobody believed him, not even I, for had I not seen him eating the pink +ice-cream? + +"You had better come with me," Mrs. Otway said, laughingly. "Come. You +can finish your supper in the next room." + +It was very pleasant after she had taken him away. Every one was so good +to me. There were lots of nice things left on the table, and Theodore +filled the largest plate that he could find. Other little boys stood +around to watch me eat, and gave me presents. One gave me his jackknife, +and one gave me a penny which he had brightened to gold by rubbing it on +the carpet. When we went back in the parlor there were dozens and dozens +of little boys who wanted to dance with me. I could not tell whom to +choose. Then, in hardly a moment, Auntie May looked in the door, and I +knew that the party was over, and I must go home. + +I told Theodore good-bye last of all. + +"Good-bye," he said, slipping a little brass curtain-ring on my left +hand. "I'm coming back when I'm a man. Then we'll get married, and live +in a house. And I'll shoot rabbits for dinner. Would you like that?" + +"Yes," I answered, promptly. + +He surveyed me for an anxious moment. Our heads were very nearly on a +level. + +"Don't you grow too tall," he cautioned. + +"No," I promised, and was half-way to the door, when he caught me again +by the hand. + +"If anybody makes you cry," he whispered, ardently, "you write to me, +and I'll come back." + +I gave him a grateful smile. I knew that he would. + +Auntie May said very little as the carriage rolled along, but when, at +last, we reached home, she swept me in before the assembled family. + +"There were ten little boys telling her good-night," she cried, +breathlessly, in a voice divided between awe and delight. "Ten little +boys! Just fancy! Our Rhoda! She was a great success. She was the +prettiest one there." + +My mother put out a tender hand and drew me to her. + +"And did you have a good time at the party, Rhoda?" she asked, eagerly. +"A real good time, little girl?" + +I looked around the listening family circle. They were all watching me. +Yes, even my father over his paper. + +"I don't know," I answered, bashfully. + +"Of course she didn't," grandmother cried, nodding her head +triumphantly. "Of course she didn't. She's a Harcourt all over." + +I looked down at my little brass ring. I felt that grandmother was +wrong. + + + + +VII + +AUNTIE MAY + + +ALWAYS when I think of Auntie May, I remember sunshine, and the wind +blowing, and a lilac bush in purple bloom by the garden gate. We were +standing there together, very quiet and confidential, she, tall and +slim, and I a little girl who liked to cling to her hand. We had on our +best white dresses, for it was Sunday, and her church service was white +and violet, and mine was white and gold. We had parasols just alike, and +we stood waiting until the first boom rang out from the big bell in the +church tower far down the street. + +"Now we will go," Auntie May said. + +She opened the garden gate, and we passed out, very demurely. + +It was seldom that I went into the big world; but when I did I enjoyed +it so! The parasols cast a pleasant shade, and I had a big five-cent +piece in my right hand that meant church, and another clutched tightly +in my left that meant Sunday school. There were other family parties to +be met on the street, elderly ladies carrying Bibles, and little girls +and boys walking with careful precision, and down near where the big +bell boomed there was another church which commenced after ours did +where Burton Raymond played the violin. I could not remember when I had +not known Burton Raymond and his violin, for they were one person. + +"When Burton Raymond goes to bed," I had heard my mother say, "he always +puts the violin to bed, too." + +"In a bed, mother?" I demanded. + +"No. In a box by his bed, wrapped in his pocket handkerchief, poor +fellow." + +It was after this time that Auntie May embroidered an oddly shaped +velvet mat quite secretly. It had forget-me-nots on it, and when it was +finished she tied it up in a beautiful white paper, and slipped it in +the mail box down at the corner. And, once, months afterwards, when +Burton Raymond played one evening at our house, he put his violin to bed +in a velvet jacket just like the one which Auntie May had made. + +We were great friends. When we met down by the church steps he would +call to me, cheerfully. + +"Good-morning, Rhoda." + +"There he is, Auntie May!" I would cry. "Don't you see him? Look, Auntie +May!" + +Somehow, or other, although he never called to her, I always wanted her +to see him, too. + +He looked very pleasant in the bright sunshine. His hair was nicely +brushed, and his shoes were blacked. There was a patch on his right +elbow; but you could not see it unless you looked closely. There was +something noble in the way in which he carried his dark head. Somebody, +perhaps it was Norah, had told me that one of his ancestors had been a +great lord, back in the days when the lords were crusaders, and I liked +to think of Burton Raymond in chain armor killing people, recklessly. +Little Dick and I used to act it out sometimes in the dark end of the +hall. We killed a number of things there, Saracens, and lions, and +tigers, and the rocking-horse, and little Trixie, and would come in +quite breathless afterwards to the sitting room where the family sat in +the lamplight. Sometimes we found them talking about Burton Raymond. + +"Every time that I walk down our block I seem to meet Burton Raymond," +my father grumbled, one evening. "It's getting to be a nuisance. +Especially since May has been visiting here," he added, after a serious +moment's pause. + +"He passed the house fifteen times to-day," my mother said, quietly. + +She said it with a blush, and then, suddenly, she made an impulsive dive +at my father's hand and squeezed it. + +"We were young ourselves once!" she cried. + +"The lad hasn't a cent to bless himself with," grandmother demurred. + +"But he has genius!" my mother cried again. "There is a great future +opening before him. And when we were married we had very little, Robert. +There was just one small twenty-five cent piece left after the wedding +trip. Do you remember, Robert? And you spent it in flowers--for me! They +were roses. I have some of them dried yet." + +My mother's voice had sunk lower and lower, falling almost into a +whisper, as it always did when she was greatly moved. Sometimes I used +to fancy that my mother was not so clever as my father. He could add up +sums for you, and tell you about the presidents, and who were the +greatest generals in the world; but my mother knew quite different +things, the kind that stay with you forever. To her life was a poem and +a dream. She was her happiest when she could help somebody, so that for +any one to be poor, and very unfortunate, was an open sesame to her +heart. + +I heard a good deal about Burton Raymond that night, and when I went to +bed I asked a sudden question, staring with wide open eyes at my mother +over the white coverlet. + +"Mother, how poor is Burton Raymond?" + +She was taking away the light; but she came back again. + +"He is so poor," she said, dramatically, "that he lives in a garret +room at Widow Denton's. It is quite a cold room, without a fire, and the +bed is not soft like yours, Rhoda. He has a few books on the end of the +shelf by his violin box. He plays whenever he can get a chance. +Sometimes, perhaps, he is hungry! Yes, sometimes he is hungry!" + +I shivered. + +"But it's no sin to be poor, is it, mother?" I demanded, anxiously. "We +can love people who are poor?" + +She put down the light on the bureau before she answered me. + +"Money never bought the real things of life," she said, slowly. "To be +good and true is the greatest of all. It is sincerity that counts. And +when we see some one very noble, and very poor, we must help them, and +love them always. Yes, love them always!" + +She gave me a sudden kiss, and took the lamp away. + +I lay staring into the dark. I could see that garret room, and the +violin on the shelf, almost I could see Burton Raymond walking around, +very cold and poor, perhaps; but so lovable, yes, so lovable, that +poverty seemed the very highest distinction. I made up a long story +about him all by myself. He had a great fortune left him, and grew into +a lord again, and married Auntie May long before I went to sleep. + +But there was another side to the picture. + +"It's the cheek that himself has to be coming after our young lady," +Norah declared. "A lad out of a butter and eggs shop! Is it fitting for +the likes of him to lift his eyes to her?" + +"Who, Norah?" I asked, breathlessly. + +She was washing clothes with her sleeves rolled to the elbow. First her +hands went down into the water with a rush, and then they came up again, +and she rubbed something white on a board, amid a snowy froth of suds +that was good to look upon. Norah was an authority on washing, and she +was, also, an authority on love. Sometimes she would toss back the stray +locks from her face, and sing as she scrubbed with a naïve abandon that +would bring grandmother to the scene in a hurry: + + "I'm jist siventeen, + And I've niver had a beau." + +Norah sang at the top of her strong voice accenting each line with great +enjoyment. + + "Is there any gint will have me? + Ah, don't say no!" + +The last phrase was coaxing in the extreme, and I might have been +properly impressed if I had not known that Norah was quite old, +twenty-five almost, and that down in the very bottom of her trunk there +was the picture of a wild Irish lad whom she had loved and left in the +old country. Sometimes I used to dream that he would come to America, +too, and get rich notwithstanding his wildness, and find Norah out, and, +just suppose, he might make a great lady out of her! Life was full of +such glorious possibilities in those days! + +But to go back to the story. + +"Why it's Burton Raymond," Norah explained, in disconnected jerks. "And +his uncle keeps the shop. A small, dark shop with eggs in the window. +And there's mice under the counter, the freshest mice that I've iver +seen. It's like household pets that they be! And Burton waits on the +customers. And at night he fiddles to himself. But there's no money in +fiddling. Sure I knew a lad in Ireland wance that fiddled for tuppence a +night. And he died of starvation, and wint to glory, rest be to his +sowl." + +She stopped to hold up a small wet garment with indignant hands. + +"How did you iver git them black stains?" she demanded. + +"I don't know, Norah," I answered, meekly. + +After that I was divided in spirit about Burton Raymond. There was the +part of me that gloried in the crusader, and even found something +romantic in starvation, and the other part that winced at the butter and +eggs shop. + +The lovers were very pretty to watch. Burton Raymond went up and down +our street a great many times every day, and Auntie May always seemed to +be out in the garden looking at the flowers. She was growing tall +herself, like one of the plants. All her soft hair was gathered upon the +top of her head, and she never ran about as she used to do. She had +forgotten how to be a little girl. She changed her dress a great many +times a day, and she bought a band of velvet ribbon to wear around her +throat, and sometimes she would catch me in a dark corner, and hug me, +rapturously. + +"The saints preserve me from iver being in love!" Norah cried, shaking +her head. "What will the owld gintlemin say? And the owld lady?" + +The old gentleman was my granddad Lawrence, who lived around the corner +in a big house that outshone ours as the sun does the moon. There were +more flowers there and more trees, and a fat horse in the stable that +drew a little dog-cart about the streets of our town, and best of all +there was a fountain in the garden, where two little iron boys stood +under an iron umbrella, and watched the birds that came to take their +baths in the pool at their feet. Just now, however, the house was all +closed up, granddad and grandmother were away, the fountain in the +garden was quite choked and dusty, and the birds had found another place +to bathe. + +Grandmother Lawrence was my worldly grandmother, and when she was at +home we tried to live in as good style as possible that she might be +pleased with us. Always it had been a sorrow to her that my mother had +married a poor man, and she was quite resolved that no such catastrophe +should happen to Auntie May. + +"I would rather see May dead," I have heard her declare dramatically, +"yes, dead at my feet, than married to a poor man!" + +She never said this when my father was around; but he knew as well as +the rest of us that Auntie May was destined for great things. + +She was so pretty, Auntie May was. Sometimes she let me stay in her room +when she did her hair before the glass, and I would handle its soft +lengths fondly. + +"Auntie May," I asked once, peeping over her shoulder into the mirror, +"may I be your bridesmaid?" + +First she flushed up and laughed, and then she leaned back in the chair, +and gazed at me, wretchedly. + +"Rhoda," she said, "I am the most miserable girl in the whole world!" + +That was the day that grandmother and granddad Lawrence came home, and +there was a stir all through their big house and our little one, and +Auntie May was back in her own room, surrounded by all the pretty things +that were particularly hers. She looked around it, consideringly. There +were roses on the carpet, and roses on the big arm-chairs, and roses +climbed up the walls and fell in festoons about the ceiling. There was a +white fur rug in front of the fire-place, and a silver glitter on the +bureau. Auntie May looked at it all in quite a discontented fashion. + +"I like things plainer," she said, plaintively. + +Her lip trembled. + +"I'd like a garret--and bare floors--and music!" she cried. + +"What is that about music?" grandmother Lawrence questioned, coming in +the door. + +She had a string of pearls in her hand, and she fastened it around +Auntie May's throat as she spoke. It was a present brought from abroad. + +"There, child," she said, not unkindly, "wear your pearls and be happy, +and don't let us have any more of this nonsense." + +"Nonsense!" Auntie May exclaimed. + +"Yes, nonsense," grandmother Lawrence repeated, coldly. + +Auntie May's eyes flashed. + +"Do you think you can pay me to give him up?" she asked, in growing +indignation. "Do you think that I care about pearls? Do you think that I +care about anything--but just him?" + +She had risen to her feet, and was confronting grandmother. + +"Let me be happy in my own way," she pleaded, with soft appeal. "Mother, +let me be happy!" + +I thought that for just a moment grandmother weakened; but it was only +for a moment. + +"Happy with a beggar!" she retorted. "Never!" + +The pearls went down on the floor in a sudden shower. + +"Then I'll never be happy in all my life!" Auntie May answered, in a +broken voice. + +After that it seemed as if there was a heavy cloud over the whole +family. We were none of us as cheerful as we used to be, not one, and +people spoke in whispers as they do when some one is very sick. And +Auntie May cried! She cried until her pretty eyes were red, and all her +soft hair was tousled and damp from much mourning. And my mother cried +with her. It was a terrible time. + +We children had talked the matter over among ourselves, and we all sided +with Auntie May. Every night little Dick prayed an extra clause to his +long prayer. It came right after the place where he prayed for puppies. + +"Please, God, let me have two puppies," he asked, in a loud, decided +tone. "One brown one, and one white one with brown spots and a brown +tail. And, please, God, bless Auntie May, and send her a new beau." + +One night he made another announcement. + +"Please, God, you needn't bother about Auntie May's beau. When I grow up +I'll marry her myself." + +"You shan't!" little Trixie cried, in sudden wrath, from the next crib. +"When I grow up I'm going to marry her _myself_." + +She bounced in her bed. + +Dick answered her from his knees. He looked like an angel as he knelt +there in his nightgown, with his fair curls falling about his flushed +face. + +"Girls can't marry girls," he explained, scornfully. + +"They can!" Trixie screamed. + +"They can't!" Dick roared. + +He picked up one of his little shoes by the side of the bed, and threw +it at Trixie. There was an immediate wail from the next crib. Dick was +always a good shot. + +"Oh, children, children!" my mother cried, in despair. "Dick, go to +sleep this moment. Trixie, Trixie, dear, you are not really hurt." + +"But her feelings are, mother," I protested. + +I knew that the littlest things hurt just as much as the big. + +My mother settled down, disconsolately, in her rocking chair, with a +small, weeping burden in her arms, and rocked and sang. + +"This is a dreadful family," she said, in between verses. "There is +always a fuss." + +As for Dick he made one more triumphant discovery before he finally +subsided for the night. + +"Girls are soft things," he declared, jealously, from his crib. "They +are! They are!" + +"Dick!" my father called from downstairs, "you stop that!" + +Which settled the subject for the time being. + +There was just one person in the family who was not upset, and that was +my grandmother Harcourt. She read her Bible as usual, and watched us +with grave eyes. She watched grandmother Lawrence buying pretty dresses +by the dozen for Auntie May, and scolding violently, because they were +not worn, and she watched granddad going about, with a perplexed face +and a heavy heart, and even my own father laboriously concocting funny +stories at which nobody laughed. When grandmother spoke her remarks were +oracular. + +"Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder," she said, +with dignity. + +And one day when things were at their very worst, and Auntie May had +come to our house, "to cry in peace," as she said, grandmother Harcourt +laid a small white note in her hand. + +"Go out in the garden, dear," she said, impressively. "Behind the lilac +bush. Quick!" + +Away flew Auntie May, and I after her. + +Now behind the lilac bush was my own particular domain. It was where I +made my little mudpies in beautiful clam shells, and once I had had a +caterpillar colony there, all pretty brown and yellow ones, and some few +with neat tufted backs and red whiskers. And Jeremiah John, the +wandering turtle, lived there. But no grown-up person ever ventured +behind the lilac bush, so it was a surprise to find Burton Raymond, with +cobwebs on his coat and a pale face, waiting for us. + +"You!" Auntie May cried. + +She said it almost in a shriek. She put her arms about him and clung to +him. + +"You!" she said again, with infinite content. + +They didn't appear to mind me in the least, and they nearly killed +Jeremiah John, who had gone to sleep in the sun. + +Burton Raymond had seemed frightened at first; but when he saw how +Auntie May cried and clung to him, his head went up, and his eyes grew +dark, and he looked every inch a crusader. They talked together in +whispers. He was persuading her to do something. + +"Oh, no, no!" she cried. + +She looked down at her clothes. + +"What! In this dress!" she exclaimed, hotly. + +He whispered again, and little by little she stopped shaking her head, +and grew a trifle rosy and confused, and, at last, it seemed to me that +she said, "yes." It must have been something very terrible to which she +had agreed, for she faltered afterwards, and had to be encouraged some +more. Then she picked a bunch of the lilacs and pinned it in her belt, +and they went on toward the gate together. Her hand was on the latch +before she remembered me. + +"Oh, there's Rhoda!" she said. + +Her eyes questioned mine, anxiously. + +"Will you come, too, Rhoda?" she asked. + +Somehow I felt that she would be glad to have one of the family with +her, so I went. + +Of course I knew that it was an elopement. Auntie May was running away, +just like a princess in a fairy tale! I knew whole pages and pages of +fairy tales, and I had always liked the ones best where the princess ran +away; but I had never expected to be in a fairy tale myself. The sun was +so bright, and the air was golden with mystery. The gate shut with a +soft click. I felt that it would never betray us. It was very exciting +afterwards. We turned around a corner, and there was a horse and buggy +waiting for us in quite a magical fashion, and in a moment we were in +and off. + +"Oh, make him go fast, Burton," Auntie May prayed. + +She was frightened again. + +"Oh, make him go very fast!" she cried. + +The houses whisked past us. The people in the streets looked at us, +strangely, and one old man, a lifelong friend of my grandfather's, ran +out to the curb, and held up his cane, imperatively, for us to stop. On +we went, with a clatter and a bounce, right through the town, and out +into the quiet country beyond, where there were daisies in the fields, +and cows to regard us with astonishment, and dogs to bark as we went +along. We were all quite pale by now, I fancy, and wild-eyed. At least +the prince and the princess were, and they held hands as if they had +been lost and had found each other. And, then, away off in the distance +I saw the steeple of a tiny church. It grew taller and taller. + +Always when I had thought of being Auntie May's bridesmaid, I had +expected to wear a white dress and carry flowers, and walk right down +the aisle with all the golden and red and blue ladies in the church +windows watching me; but now when the time came I concluded that I liked +this new way best of all. The minister was out in his front yard when we +drove up, and I thought that he looked at our bridal party rather +pityingly. And I also thought that he considered us a joke. We walked up +to him trembling, and stood about the bed which he was digging. + +"We'd like to be married, sir," Burton announced, awkwardly. + +The minister regarded us all through big, benevolent, silver-rimmed +spectacles. He left off his digging to smile at us. He had a geranium in +one hand, and a shovel in the other. + +"I thought you were a christening party," he said. + +He pointed his shovel at me. + +"Who's that?" he demanded, beaming. + +"I'm the bridesmaid," I told him. + +Then I felt a sudden confidence in him. I pulled at his sleeve. + +"They're running away," I confided, anxiously. "Won't you marry them? If +you don't poor Auntie May will never be married at all!" + +"We've only got a few moments' start, sir," Burton explained, +breathlessly. "There's a carriage after us. Listen!" + +Far in the direction of town we could hear the sound of coming wheels. +While we listened they seemed to redouble their speed. + +"Oh, if you'd please hurry, sir!" Auntie May begged, in a panic. +"They'll take me home again! I know they will. Oh, what shall I do! What +shall I do!" + +She looked about with wild eyes as though for somewhere to hide. + +The minister himself seemed to catch fire a bit at that, and he did +hurry. He had us all in the parsonage parlor in a moment, and went off +upstairs calling for "Dora." He was back again immediately in his +surplice, with his wife following him, and there, standing before a +sunny window, the wilted lilacs still pinned in her belt, Auntie May +became Mrs. Burton Raymond. + +She looked so pretty! Her eyes were full of tears, and her cheeks were +pink. She trembled a little still from agitation. After it was all over +she turned to Burton, and held out her hands to him in a frightened way. + +"You'll be good to me?" she questioned. + +"Good!" Burton cried, with his arms about her. + +He looked as if he could dare the whole world in her defense. + +"If he isn't he'll have to answer to me," the minister declared, +stoutly. + +"And to me!" another voice cried, irately, and there was granddad +Lawrence stalking, unexpectedly, into the room. + +He was very much out of breath, and very angry. I don't believe that I +ever saw granddad Lawrence so angry before. For one moment I thought +that he was going to shake Burton; but after a bit he calmed down, and +we all went home together, the bridal couple in their buggy in advance, +and granddad and I behind in the dog-cart. Granddad seemed very +sorrowful, and, at last, he unburdened his mind to me. + +"This is all very well, Rhoda," he said, in a rueful fashion. "But who's +going to break the news to your grandmother!" + +He took off his hat, and rumpled up his gray hair until it stood up +like quills all over his head. + +"Who's going to tell _her_?" he asked, blankly. + +It worried us both all the way home; but the question was settled in +quite an unexpected manner, for it was grandmother Harcourt who went to +tell grandmother Lawrence. She put on her best black silk, and her lace +veil, and her cameo pin, and she held up her head very high in the air +as she went out of the front gate. + +"I shall tell her a few wholesome truths," she said, determinedly. "I +shall speak as woman to woman." + +"It is really not so bad after all," my father told my mother. "They +talk of a concert tour for the boy, and he comes of a good old family, +if it _has_ fallen on evil times." + +He paused for a moment, his eyes searching the future. + +"And if your father runs for mayor--I don't say that he will, but if he +should be persuaded to run--why, that story would bring him in a great +many votes. It's so pretty and romantic. All the world loves a lover you +know." + +My mother sighed blissfully, and motioned to him to peep in the parlor +door. + +There in the darkest corner sat Auntie May and Burton Raymond on a sofa +together. They sat and looked at each other for hours and hours and +hours. + + + + +VIII + +THE GREEN DOOR + + +"OF all the childer I've iver seen he's the worst," Norah cried. "He's +as sharp as tacks, and as bad as a young magpie." + +She had come into the sitting room, and stood regarding my mother at her +sewing. + +"What is the matter, Norah?" my mother demanded, anxiously. + +"It's Dick, ma'am. What else should it be? Ain't I been after making a +grand gingerbread for your lunch? And ain't he under your own bed this +blessèd moment?" + +She paused for breath, almost crying, and wringing her hands. + +"He's eating the whole of it!" she exclaimed. + +"What, a whole gingerbread?" my mother repeated, evidently startled. + +"Yes, ma'am. I've been poking at him with a broom; but it's no use." + +There was a quick procession up to my mother's room, my mother leading +it, with her head thrown up in wrath, then little Trixie and I +hand-in-hand, and Norah following behind us to see justice done. The +room was dark and orderly; but there was a curious shuffling sound under +the bed. + +"Dick!" my mother cried. "Come out of there! Dick! Do you hear what I +say? Richard!" + +When my mother said "Richard" things were apt to be pretty serious. + +Little Dick crawled out from under the bed very reluctantly. He was red +and sticky; but he had a happy expression as if he had been having +rather a good time. He brought a tin plate with him, and it was quite +empty. There was not even so much as a crumb in it. My mother looked at +him in horror, and grandmother, who had been attracted by the noise, +looked at him, too, over my mother's shoulder, with strong +disapprobation. + +"If he were my son," she said, distinctly, "I'd give him a good +thrashing. He richly deserves it." + +It was a dreadful moment. Little Trixie and I stared at the scene +fascinated, while my mother wavered between justice and mercy. When she +finally spoke her voice was very cold and severe. + +"I don't know what I ever did to have such a son," she said. "After this +I am not going to be his mother any longer. I shall call him Master +Richard, as if he were a stranger, and he shall call me Mrs. Harcourt. +Nothing else." + +Trixie and I held each other closer. It was a terrible sentence. To be a +stranger in one's own home! And not to have any mother! Little Dick's +red, childish cheeks paled, and he looked frightened. He made a hurried +movement forward, and caught hold of my mother's dress. + +"Oh, mother!" he cried, beseechingly. + +"Go away, Master Richard," she commanded. "I am not your mother." + +"Oh, please, Mrs. Harcourt," Dick wailed. "Oh, please, Mrs. Harcourt, +let me call you mother!" + +But my mother was inexorable. She pushed away his hands, and walked out +of the room, leaving him behind. They all went away, she, and +grandmother, and Norah, and even little Trixie. I was the only one who +remained. + +I was very sorry for Dick, and I wanted to hug him badly. But I did not +quite dare. Dick never liked anybody to hug him, and it was very seldom +that he cried. He dug his fists into his eyes for a moment, and then he +took them away, and looked at me, gloomily. + +"All right," he said. "If she ain't my mother I ain't her little boy!" + +Then he walked into the next room which was his own, and went down into +the bottom bureau drawer, and got out a box with a red lining. In it was +his Waterbury watch. That was the most valuable thing that Dick +possessed. He always took it to bed with him at night, and he wound it +up in the mornings, and sometimes, when he didn't mean to play very +hard, sometimes he wore it. He put it on now, and he put two clean +handkerchiefs in his pocket, and his knife, and a red ball, and the knob +off the machine drawer, and two rubber bands, and a wish-bone, and the +little box out of a doll that makes her cry, and the stopper of a +cologne bottle. And he opened his missionary box, and fished out ten +pennies,--the ones which he was saving to educate a native child in +India. When I saw that I knew that things were very serious. I went up +close to him and touched him. + +"Dick," I said. "Dick! What are you going to do? Oh, Dick!" + +I said it timidly, for although little brother Dick was only six, and I +was nine, he was nearly as big as I was. And he was always masterful. +But he didn't repulse me this time, so I kissed him on his ear, and +rubbed my head against his shoulder, just to let him know that I loved +him. Somehow I thought that he would like to be loved just then. And +wonder of wonders he rubbed back! + +"When I come home--" Dick said. "When I'm a rich man, sister, I'll buy +you some nice things. I'll buy you some candy, and a pretty dress. And +I'll buy you some guinea-pigs! I guess you'd like to have some +guinea-pigs, wouldn't you, sister?" + +I didn't care a rap for guinea-pigs, but I nodded at him just to comfort +him. I felt that I should like an elephant if Dick bought it. + +"And we'll build a nice house for them in the backyard," Dick went on, +evidently cheering up at the prospect. "Under the walnut-tree. And +there'll be fathers and mothers and sisters and brothers, and little +weany, weany ones, all white and pink!" + +"But where are you going, Dick?" I demanded. + +His face fell. + +"I'm going through the Green Door," he said, doggedly. + +"Oh!" I breathed, in alarm. + +Now there was a long, high fence behind our house where the +morning-glory vines climbed up and still up, and then fell in beautiful +showers of purple and pink blossoms, and just in the very center of the +fence where the vines were the thinnest there was a door,--a bright, +green door, with a massive lock, and a huge key, and two great iron +hinges. None of us children knew what lay on the other side; but there +was something secret-looking about that door, as if it might lead into +Bluebeard's house, or out into fairy lanes and meadows. Once, a good +while ago, little Dick had climbed up to the top and looked over. Then +he came down again in a scramble. + +"What did you see, brother?" I quavered. + +"The black people!" he replied, in a whisper. + +He caught hold of my apron, and we both stood listening. It seemed to +me that I could hear some one singing in the distance, a queer, elfish +sort of a song, and once a step passed along outside the gate,--a +loitering step. + +"Run, sister, run!" Dick cried. + +He caught me by the hand in sudden panic, and we both fled back to the +house together, and we never went near the Green Door for whole days and +days. + +I remembered all this now, and I felt sorry for Dick. I think that Dick +felt sorry for himself, for he looked around the bedroom almost +wistfully when he went away. And he didn't slide down the banisters as +he usually did, but walked downstairs, step by step, very slowly, and +paused by the sitting room door. My mother was talking inside in quite a +happy fashion. There was the buzz of the sewing-machine, and a murmur of +conversation between her and grandmother, and once when she came to the +end of a seam, once the machine stopped, and my mother laughed. When +Dick heard that he went on down the hall with his head up; but he came +to a halt in the dark corner to hug the hobby-horse, and he cut off a +bit of its white mane, and put the piece carefully away in his pocket. +Dick was always very fond of the hobby-horse. + +"Good-bye, old fellow, good-bye," he said. "Don't forget me, +Alcibiades." + +Alcibiades pranced a little, but he did not say anything. + +I was the one who spoke. I had been feeling pretty bad for sometime; but +now I couldn't stand it any longer. To see dear little brother Dick go +out into the world alone! Never to have any brother any more! I threw my +arms about him from the other side of the hobby-horse. + +"Dick," I cried, tearfully. "Oh, please, Dick, don't go away! Take me +with you, won't you, Dick?" + +"Will you go, too, sister?" Dick demanded, eagerly. + +I nodded at him. + +"We won't never come back," he cautioned. + +I stole a look down the hall, the dear, familiar hall. + +"All right, Dick," I said, with a gulp. + +Nobody noticed us as we slipped down the path to the Green Door, not +even Norah, who was singing in the kitchen. The hinges squeaked, and the +gate came open with a rumble. It almost seemed as if my mother must +know! We pulled it to behind us in a hurry, and stepped out into the +world. We held each other tight. + +It was very different on the other side of the wall from our side. There +were no flowers there, and no vines. There was a street with small, +mean houses, and great piles of clam shells, and a goat or two running +about at a distance, and some very dirty ducks going home in single +file. Away down the square there was a great red building, with smoke +pouring out of its many chimneys, and here and there walking about the +street, and standing at the doors, were the black people--not black in +any true sense of the word, but grimed with the smut of those who labor +in iron works. + +It was a dreadful place. We stood outside the gate, flattened against +the fence, looking into the street, and afraid to venture any farther. + +Almost, however, in the first moment we found a friend. She was quite a +small woman, with an anxious expression, and she gazed at us in a hungry +way. She had an old plaid shawl drawn loosely over her head, and a +little bundle of shoe-strings dangled from her hand. She had the +prettiest, brightest red cheeks that I had ever seen, and her hair was a +wonderful yellow color, like a doll's. But somehow there was something +about her that I did not quite like. + +She had been walking along the street, but when she saw us she stopped +suddenly. + +"How do you do, ma'am?" she said. "And how do you do, master?" + +We clung together a little tighter, and answered her politely. + +"Pretty well, I thank you," we said in a chorus, just as our mother had +taught us to do to strangers. + +"Wouldn't you like to take a little walk with me?" she asked, +pleasantly. "Just a block or two? To see my house? And my little girl?" + +We were not dressed to go visiting. I had on a brown gingham apron to +play in, and Dick had on one, too, over his knickerbockers. I began to +tell her about it, but she cut me short. + +"As if that mattered!" she cried. "My God! And my baby! Come, dears. +Come! My little girl is sick. It would be a Christian charity to come to +see her." + +She looked at us almost beseechingly. + +"Oh, what can I say to get them to come!" she exclaimed, in a piteous +fashion. + +Dick unclasped my hand and went up to her sturdily. + +"I'm not afraid," he said. "I'll go with you. Come, sister." + +Of course if Dick went I had to go, too, for he was the smaller. I +started with a reluctant step. + +"That's the little lady!" the woman cried, exultingly. + +Our way lay down the block, and then straight away to the right through +a network of dirty lanes where the houses were crowded together, +leaning up against one another as though for support. In some places the +rain had dripped from the roofs into sloppy pools on the ground, and the +path was rough with fallen bricks and mortar. The woman was very careful +of us. She showed us the cleanest way, and when the goats came too near +she stood in between them and us, and shooed them off. And, at last, we +came to a house, old and battered, with very rickety front steps and +windows stuffed with rags; that was her home. + +There was a stout woman going up the steps with a pail of soapy water in +her hand who stopped to regard us. + +"Where did you get them kids, Becky Dean?" she demanded. + +"That's my business," our new friend cried, fiercely. + +She seemed to bristle with rage. + +"Well, I hope there's no harm in it," the other replied, curtly, +continuing on her way. + +We went up and up three flights of long, shaky steps to a little room +under the eaves. It was very dark there,--so dark that at first I did +not notice a bed in a dim corner, and a child lying on it looking at us +with a pair of beautiful large eyes. She did not say a word, but just +lay and looked and looked. + +The woman sat down on the bed, and gathered the child to her tenderly. + +"See what I've brought you," she said, almost in a whisper, her cheek +pressed close against the cheek of the child. "See the nice little lady +and gentleman come to play with you. Come to play with my own little +Amy. Ain't you pleased with your mama, Amy? Ain't they nice?" + +The child lay and looked at us, and, at last, very slowly, she smiled. +Dick and I were both very bashful, but we smiled back at her from where +we stood by the side of the bed. The mother seemed greatly relieved. She +hunted about under her faded shawl, and brought out some sticks of +candy, the kind that taste of peppermint, and have beautiful red streaks +that run zigzag around them. She generously gave each of us one, and one +to the child. We all sucked in happy unison. But the child soon tired. +The stick of candy rolled out of her hand, unregarded, and she lay back +upon her mother with a faint, wailing cry. + +"Maybe she could play a game, if you know one," the mother urged, +anxiously. "Oh, for the love of heaven, think of a game!" + +"I know 'Little Sallie Waters,'" Dick declared, speaking for the first +time. + +So Dick and I played "Little Sallie Waters" together. It was hard work, +there being only two of us, but we went around and around in a solemn +circle, and sang the words earnestly, and when we came to the lines, + + "Rise, Sallie, rise, + Wipe out your eyes, + Fly to the East, + Fly to the West, + Fly to the very one + That you love best," + +we both kissed little Amy Dean, and she smiled at us again from her +mother's arms, where she had been watching us with her great, +mysterious, melancholy eyes. + +"Sure she's better," the woman cried, in a tone between laughter and +tears. "My own darlint! She's better! She's better already! They've done +her more good than the doctor. Sure, she was lonesome for the likes of +her own!" + +Her face shone. She looked as if she could hug us both from gratitude. + +"I've got a doll at home whose name is Amy," I announced, bashfully, +trying to make conversation. + +"That you have," the woman agreed, heartily. "And without doubts you'll +be bringing it for my little girl to see." + +"I'll bring her to-morrow," I promised. + +"Do you hear that, Amy?" the mother commented, happily. + +"And I've got a horse named Alcibiades," Dick added, in his turn. "He's +got red nostrils and a bushy tail. He prances. Like this." + +He gave a spirited portrayal of Alcibiades all around the room, ending +with a great whinny of delight. + +"Would you let wee Amy take a ride on the pretty horse?" the mother +inquired, persuasively. + +"Yes," Dick promised, with eager gallantry. "Dozens and dozens of +rides." + +"See there now!" the woman exclaimed. "Won't my Amy have a grand time +playing with the little lady and gentleman!" + +The child seemed pleased. She laid one little wasted arm about her +mother's neck in a loving way, and stretched out the other to us. I +almost thought that she tried to speak. Then she settled back again, and +her eyes gazed off far beyond us, through the roof of the mean house, +higher and higher, perhaps at greater joys and glories that were to be +hers forever. + +The woman caught the little form to her quickly. + +"Sing something else!" she cried, wildly. "Sing--" + +She hesitated a moment, rocking herself to and fro on the edge of the +bed with the child in her arms. + +"Couldn't you sing a hymn?" she whispered. "Couldn't you, dears?" + +Dick and I knew lots and lots of hymns. We always learned them on +Sundays to please our grandmother. We stood closer together, and sang +with full hearts, our voices rising up, clearly, shrilly, with childish +emphasis: + + "There's a Home for little children, + Above the bright blue sky, + Where Jesus reigns in glory, + A Home of peace and joy; + No home on earth is like it, + Nor can with it compare, + For everyone is happy, + Nor can be happier there." + +There was a sound of weeping in the room, but we sang on, earnestly, +line after line, just as we had played. + +Suddenly a hand was laid on each of our heads, and we looked up to see +an old priest standing by us. He motioned for us to be silent, and went +on to the corner where the child lay on the bed with the woman on her +knees beside her, her face buried in the tiny dress. + +"My daughter?" he said, inquiringly. + +The pretty gay head came up with a start. The red cheeks were disfigured +with weeping. + +"She's gone, father!" the woman cried. + +She dragged herself around, still on her knees, and laid her head +against his hand. + +"I've tried so hard to be good, father. Ever since you talked to me I've +tried and I've tried. You know I have. But it's no use. No use. +Everything goes wrong with me. And now my Amy's gone!" + +She burst into tears again, her words becoming incoherent from grief, +and sobbed wildly, her head falling back against the bed. + +"Where did these children come from?" the priest demanded, sternly. + +She explained through her tears. + +"I brought them here for Amy to play with. I thought-- You know how they +all look down on her here, father. She never had a playmate. I thought +if she were happier, if there were little friends of her own age about +her, that I might coax her back again, get her to stay with me for +awhile. I saw the two children standing at their gate. I only borrowed +them. Sure, I didn't mean them any harm." + +Her voice broke off again into sobs. + +It was Dick who created a diversion at this moment. He had been hunting +through his pockets, and now he brought out all his precious +things,--the knob off the machine drawer, the stopper of the cologne +bottle, the ten missionary cents that were to educate the native child +in India, even the Waterbury watch,--and laid them in a little pile on +the bed. He pulled the old priest's hand to attract his attention. + +"They're for her," he explained, with a nod at the bed. + +He half touched the watch, and drew his hand away again. + +"To keep," he persisted, bravely. "Tell her not to cry. Oh, tell her not +to cry!" + +But the woman cried only the harder. + +The old priest took us home very carefully, down the rickety steps, and +through the dirty courts and lanes, straight to the Green Door. All the +ferocious-looking black men whom we met stopped to speak to him, and he +ordered them about, with an air of authority, like so many small +children. On the way he asked us many questions, and I confided the +whole story to him, of how little brother Dick had been naughty, and had +eaten the gingerbread and had been disowned, and how we had started out +into the wide world together. Somehow I was glad that we hadn't gone any +farther. Somehow home seemed a nicer place now. It was so quiet and so +safe, with pleasant rooms, and a peaceful, sunny garden, and white, +comfortable beds, where we slept through the long nights, and kind faces +to smile on us, and love to surround us always. I cried a little as I +told him about it. + +"There is only one home, and one father and mother," the old priest +said, seriously. "Remember that. And be good children. The holy grace of +God be upon you, my dears." + +His kind hands hovered over our heads for a moment. + +He took us back into the yard, and locked the Green Door himself, and +went into the house to see my mother. He stayed a long, long while. + +Afterwards my mother came out into the garden, and kissed us both, with +all her old affection. Her face was very gentle, as if she, too, had +been crying. + +"Where is my little son?" she asked, breathlessly. + +But she had her arms around me as well as around Dick. + + + + +IX + +THE HIDDEN TALENT + + +CLOSE in a sheltered corner in our parlor there stood a bookcase. It had +two glass doors, and a brass key, and rows and rows of books that looked +out invitingly on the world, and seemed to say, "Come, read me." On the +bottom shelf of all there were children's books,--"The Child's History +of England," "Plutarch's Lives" in brown and gold, a green "Ivanhoe," a +red "Alice in Wonderland," and a fat blue book, "The Child's Own Book of +Fairy Tales," with rubbed corners, and loose leaves, and a crooked +signature on the front page that read, painstakingly, "Rhoda Harcourt." +These were my books, my dear, dear books, and with them comes a memory +of hours spent in a window-seat, of dusky evenings when the firelight +lit an absorbing page, and of elderly comment heard over my head. + +"How she reads!" my father said, enviously. "I was just like that when I +was a boy." + +"The child will have no eyes," my grandmother complained. + +"She must know them by heart," my mother added. + +I did know them pretty thoroughly, but when I tired of old friends I had +only to climb up a shelf higher to find new ones. "Japheth in Search of +a Father," "The Mill on the Floss," and "Les Miserables," stood just +above my head, and there were stories of children in all of these,--the +most entrancing stories that opened a window into a glorious golden +world of ideality and romance. It was such a wide world! People did +things there. They lived and loved, and when they died the event stamped +itself on my mind with a pathos that made me cry from sheer pity. + +"I wish Rhoda wouldn't read so many books," my mother said. "She excites +herself over them. She is so different from other children of her age!" + +She said it half complainingly and half exultingly. Somehow I knew that +my mother liked me to read, and that she liked me to be a little +different from other children. Sometimes she bragged about it in a mild +way to chance callers. + +"Rhoda reads the oddest things," I heard her tell two ladies. "When I +was a little girl I liked to read 'The Wide, Wide World,' but she likes +novels and histories." + +The older visitor glanced at me up in my corner. It was "Les +Miserables" that day, I remember, and their talk played on the surface +of my mind while my heart was busy with Cosette. + +"Does she go to school?" she asked. + +"No," my mother faltered. + +The ladies looked at each other. + +"What! At her age! Why, who teaches her?" they demanded, in a shocked +chorus. + +"I do myself--sometimes," my mother answered, still falteringly. + +"Take my advice," the visitor with the black eyes said, decisively, "and +send that child to school. Why it's a shame! It isn't fair to the +child." + +"When she grows up she will regret it," the one with the tight mouth +added. + +"She isn't strong," my mother explained. "We have kept her at home on +that account; but I suppose, yes, I suppose, that she ought to go to +school." + +She looked at me a moment in a worried fashion, and then brightened, a +trifle of her old pride returning. + +"She has the greatest stock of general information," she confided, +whisperingly. "She astonishes me sometimes. She does, indeed." + +The two ladies shook their heads. + +"I don't approve of children knowing too much," the one with the black +eyes cried. + +"And novels!" the other breathed, evidently appalled. + +After they were gone my mother took the book out of my hand, and read a +page or two of it in a frightened way. She smoothed my hair, and looked +at me anxiously. + +"Why do you like this book, Rhoda?" she asked. + +"Because it's about a little girl, mother," I answered. + +I crept a little closer to her. + +"She hadn't any mother," I explained, eagerly. "And a man gave her a +beautiful doll, and one night, just think, he put a gold coin in her +shoe! She was so surprised! Oh, mother, how I wish I could have been +there! I do! I do!" + +"Is that all, Rhoda?" + +I nodded. + +"I have always been a good mother to you, haven't I, Rhoda?" + +I rubbed my head against her arm, and kissed her hand. + +"At least I've tried to be!" my mother cried. "And now I am going to do +something that perhaps you won't like; but you may understand some day, +dear. I am going to put this book back into the bookcase, and I am going +to lock the door. It is not to be opened until I give you leave." + +"It isn't my fault, is it, mother?" I asked, perplexed. + +"No, it is not your fault. It's only that I want to keep my little girl +just the same in heart and mind as she has always been." + +She put the book back on the shelf, and she locked the door; but she did +not take away the brass key. She knew and I knew that I would never +touch it. + +But, oh, how I longed for my dear books! I used to creep to the door and +look in at them, and it seemed to me that they appeared lonesome. I +finished out the story of Cosette to suit myself, and I made stories +likewise for the books which I did not know. There was one remarkable +thing about my stories, and that was that nobody ever died; but they all +lived happy forever and ever. Even when my mother read the Bible to me +on Sunday nights after I was in bed I used to sit up anxiously, and pray +her to end the stories in my way. + +"Oh, don't let the lions eat poor Daniel!" I would cry. "Oh, mother, +mother, don't let them eat him up!" + +"Why it happened centuries ago, dear," my mother answered, half +laughing. + +"But I can see it," I protested. "I can see it right now!" + +It was so hard to see things going wrong, and not to be able to help! + +It was about this time that my mother and I did a great many lessons +together, and she would offer me odd bits of useful information at +unexpected moments. + +"Rhoda is not very well grounded," she told my father, "but I do think, +Robert, that she knows a great deal for a child of ten." + +She was darning stockings as she spoke, and she turned over a very +ragged one of Dick's with a little sigh. + +"I would like her to go to school. Not to the public school, but to a +young ladies' seminary as I did. Don't you think, Robert, if I were to +do without a new winter coat, and we made the old carpet on the stairs +last a little longer, that we might send Rhoda to Mrs. Garfield's?" + +Her face was brightening as she thought it out. + +"And there's the money in her bank," she cried, "her gold pieces that +dad has given her on her birthdays and on Christmas. I don't suppose, +Robert, you'd want dad to pay for it all? He would, willingly." + +"No," my father answered. + +My mother's face fell, and then lit up again. + +"You are a ridiculously proud boy," she declared, fondly. "Well, at any +rate, we can save my coat and the carpet." + +I wanted to go to school very badly. Every day at half past ten there +was a procession past our house of thirty little girls walking two and +two. They all looked happy and important, and I thought how wonderful it +might be if I should join their ranks. + +Norah, who was always sympathetic, read my fortune in a teacup out in +the kitchen that night to see what might be going to happen. + +"There's a change coming to you," she said, mysteriously. "There's a +fair woman, a widdy by the looks of her, and water to cross, and much +money. Sure you'll be gitting so grand that you'll be forgitting your +poor old Norah." + +I put my arms around her to reassure her. + +"I'll never forget you, Norah," I promised. + +"Won't you then?" she cried, much pleased. + +"No. And, Norah, listen! All that I learn I shall teach you myself!" + +"Sure there's a great day coming for both of us," Norah agreed. + +I shall never forget that day, the start in the early sunshine, the +stiff ruffled apron that I wore, and my mother leading me along the +street by the hand. She was just as much excited as I was, and when we +came to the door of a large white house, with a brass plate saying, +"Mrs. Garfield's Select School for Girls and Young Ladies," she stopped +a moment before she rang the bell to rearrange my hair, and give me a +private hug. + +"Don't forget your seven times!" she whispered, warningly. + +I was too far gone for reply, but I nodded, blindly, at her through a +mist of tears, unexpected tears, for somehow or other I suddenly seemed +to be leaving my old life behind me, and to be going into a strange +country. + +It was very quiet in the white house. There were a great many rooms, +and a subdued hum of recitation. A clock in the hall ticked loudly. My +mother and I sat on two lonely chairs in the reception room and waited. +I remember that there was a large piece of white coral on the floor in +front of the pierglass. It had exactly thirty-seven points. And there +was a motto neatly framed on the wall. "The Good Child Makes the Careful +Mother." By and by there was a rustle of silk in the doorway, and Mrs. +Garfield was shaking hands with us. She was a fair, pleasant-looking +lady. She shook hands with my mother first, and then with me. She gazed +at me, very closely and attentively, much as a doctor might gaze, but +she had kind eyes and once in awhile her dignity would break into a +smile. + +"I want to enter my little girl," my mother said, falteringly. "She--she +doesn't know a great deal." + +"Then there's all the more to learn," Mrs. Garfield encouraged us, +brightly. + +It seemed to me that she liked to know that I didn't know anything. It +seemed to me that she liked to think that I was to be built up after her +own plan. + +She was busy in a moment asking my age, and getting my school books +together. There was a brief farewell with my mother in the hall, during +which I clung to her, wildly, then the door had shut and I was alone in +the world. It was a dreadful feeling to be alone! And it was still more +dreadful when I had followed Mrs. Garfield into a large room filled with +pupils seated at their desks, and had been introduced to Miss Lucy, the +teacher in charge. + +"A little new friend of ours, Miss Lucy," Mrs. Garfield said, in the +hush that followed our arrival. + +Then she turned and left me. + +An elderly lady shook my hand in welcome. She had a soft hand, and a +worried look as if something had been going wrong, and there was a +little curly-haired girl standing in a far corner, with her face hidden +against the wall, who was sobbing bitterly. Somebody had been drawing a +picture on the blackboard. It showed a stout man with bow-legs, and an +ugly face, and underneath was written "Miss Lucy's Beau." + +"You can come out of the corner, Miss Armitage," Miss Lucy said, in an +icy tone. + +She pointed an accusing finger at the blackboard. + +"As for that dreadful--that distinctly unladylike--performance of yours +on the blackboard I shall allow it to remain until the noon recess." + +The little girls all looked at one another. + +"Shan't I rub it right off, Miss Lucy?" a small person in a long apron +demanded, eagerly. + +"Oh, teacher, teacher, let me rub it off!" another echoed. + +She had bright red hair and a plaid dress. + +"No, Cebelia, no, Janet," Miss Lucy replied, more in sorrow than in +anger. "We will look at this drawing together. We will consider its +disloyalty, its bad perspective, one foot is larger than the other +notwithstanding all I have taught her! its _unchristian spirit_!" + +She paused for a moment, and seemed to discover me. + +"Miss Harcourt, you may take the seat next to Miss Armitage," she added, +in haste. "Young ladies, we will go on with the geography lesson." + +I followed the little curly-headed girl to a desk, and sat down, and +looked at her. And she looked back at me with drowned eyes. She was +rather pretty. Suddenly, somehow, I felt sorry for her, bad as she +evidently was. I slipped my hand into hers. + +"Don't cry!" I whispered, in compassion. "You dear! Don't cry!" + +She pushed up the cover of the desk, and kissed me in its shadow. + +"I like you," she whispered, ardently. + +"And I like you," I whispered back. + +"Let's be friends," she suggested. + +We kissed again, solemnly, in agreement. + +Up in front the geography class was bounding Asia very eagerly and +rapidly. They had all the air of people who had recently escaped from +some great peril. We did not pay them much attention for we were too +much occupied with each other. Oh, the glory of having a friend, the +secrets that we confided that morning behind the desk cover, the +horse-hair rings which we exchanged in token of undying affection, the +dear human delight of finding some one who is your own age, and who +loves you! + +School lost its terrors for me in a very short while. With Grace +Armitage beside me I was willing to dare all things, and when half past +ten came I went quite happily hand-in-hand with her in the little +procession down the sunny street. It was so odd to look at my home from +the outside, to see Norah hanging out the wash, the twins playing in the +garden, and even grandmother sewing composedly at a window, just as if +it were an ordinary day, and I had not gone to school for the first +time. But my mother remembered, and when we passed the door she came +running out and waved to me. + +After that life resolved itself into a series of school days. Every +morning I went gayly off with my books, feeling a new sense of +importance, and every afternoon I came running home, with a budget of +news to tell my mother. There were many things to puzzle me in the new +world. For instance, I could never understand, why, when the spelling +lesson was particularly hard, Janet McLarin would always show a great +anxiety to hear about Miss Lucy's childhood. + +"Oh, Miss Lucy," she would cry, clasping her hands together, "tell us +about when you were a little girl!" + +Then there would come a perfect chorus from the whole class. + +"Oh, do, Miss Lucy! Do tell us about when you were a little girl!" + +"Tell us about the little cloak your mother made out of a shawl," +Cebelia would say, invitingly. + +Even Grace would add her quota. + +"Tell about your mother's party dress, and how she first met your +father." + +"Yes, yes," the others would clamor. "And tell us about her pink coral +beads, and how they were lost, and _he_ found them!" + +Then Miss Lucy would close the green spelling book, with a gratified +smile, and gather us about her in a little hushed circle, and tell us +the tales of a bygone age. I liked Miss Lucy. I liked to sit up close to +her and to Grace, and hear about the party dress, and the pink coral +beads, and when it all ended happily, as stories should, I would give a +great sigh of satisfaction. + +"Dear me," Miss Lucy would say, all aglow with enthusiasm, "it's time +for recess! Why, where has the morning gone! Well, girls, you'll have to +take the same lesson over again for to-morrow." + +She was very simple minded, Miss Lucy was, and she understood the +situation just as little as I did myself. + +Janet McLarin was Scotch, and she was canny. She could do every sum in +the arithmetic; but when the day came for compositions she would put her +bright head down in her lap and groan. + +"I wish I was dead," she would say, despairingly. "I do! I do!" + +Cebelia was more stoical; but she would fold great pleats in her apron, +and frown at the blackboard. Miss Lucy always wrote the subjects for the +compositions on the blackboard, one under the other, beautifully written +out for our decision. + + The Story of a Nine-pin. + Thoughts on Spring. + The Triumph of Columbus. + My Mother's Flower Garden. + A Meadow Daisy. + The Beauty of Truth. + +They were lovely, lovely subjects! I would sit and look at them in a +blissful dream. + +One day, the very first composition day, I remember Grace gave me a +little shake. + +"Which one are you going to take?" she demanded, dolefully. + +"I don't know," I answered, with a happy smile. + +"Girls," Grace cried, "I believe Rhoda could write them _all_! She likes +to write!" + +Miss Lucy was out of the room, and I remember that they all came around +me, and looked at me, as if I had been a strange animal. + +"Rhoda," Janet McLarin cried, taking her head out of her lap, "if you'll +write my composition for me I'll give you my best blue hair ribbon. My +Sunday one. Honest." + +I didn't want the hair ribbon; but I nodded at her. + +"I'll write it," I said. + +"Will you write me one, Rhoda, dear?" Grace asked, jealously, with her +face against mine. "You are _my_ friend, not hers." + +"I'll write yours, too," I agreed. + +"And one for me?" + +"And for me?" + +I nodded at them, generously. + +"I'll write one for everybody," I declared, with a glow of pleasure. + +"But don't tell anyone," Janet cautioned. + +I couldn't understand why she insisted on making a secret of it. It +seemed so strange. But I promised to tell no one, not even my own +mother. + +We always had two days in which to write our compositions. I did ten in +that time. I wrote them out roughly on great sheets of wrapping paper. I +wrote them up in the garret by the window where the wasps lived, and I +had such a grand time that I never noticed the wasps at all; but went on +and on finding something new to say every minute, and loving to say it. +Only it was hard when the sentences happened to come out beautifully not +to be able to show them to my mother. But I had promised. However, the +very best composition of all was to be my own, and that I might show to +her. I remember it was on "The Beauty of Truth." + +"It's very nice," my mother said, when it was put in her hand. +"It's--it's almost like a sermon!" + +She looked at the composition, with an odd smile of pleasure, and then +she drew me to her and kissed me fondly. + +"I think Rhoda would make a fine wife for a minister," I heard her tell +my father, excitedly. "She's got so much natural piety!" + +I was very happy that morning as I went to school. I carried my roll of +wrapping paper under my arm, and when I reached Mrs. Garfield's I +divided the compositions among the girls, so that they might each copy +her own. Afterwards they were all handed up to Miss Lucy and school +began. + +Miss Lucy took a long time over the compositions. She read them and read +them. She looked astonished, and, also, a trifle pleased. At last she +gathered them all up in a bundle, and went out of the room. It was very +quiet in the room. Every little girl sat at her desk and studied very +busily. All except Janet McLarin. She opened the side window and climbed +out. The last we could see of her was her bright hair vanishing around +the corner with a rush. Then we could hear the sound of Miss Lucy's +stout boots coming along the hall, and a swish of silk beside her. + +"She's bringing Mrs. Garfield!" Grace whispered, horror-stricken. + +Up to that time I had not been frightened, for there was nothing to be +frightened about; but fear is contagious, and somehow I began to be +scared myself. + +Mrs. Garfield stood up in front of us with a roll of papers in her hand. + +"Young ladies," she began, "I have something very serious to say to you, +something which it gives me great pain to say. Your compositions have +come in this morning, and your teacher has been surprised at them. She +has referred the matter to me. I in my turn have been surprised." + +She paused. The room was very, very still. + +"I find myself driven to the conclusion that not one of these +compositions has been written by a member of this class. They have been +written by somebody else. They have been written by an outsider. I +demand to know who has written them." + +I felt very funny inside my breast. My eyes were full of tears. I looked +at Mrs. Garfield standing up there, very severe, and somewhat angry, +and at Miss Lucy beside her, with a bewildered expression. I looked at +rows of pale little girls at their desks. I looked at Grace. Oh, it was +cruel, cruel! They had never told me that I was doing wrong. I had loved +them so, and given them my best, and they had all betrayed me! Even +Grace! Then I thought of "The Beauty of Truth." I rose up from my seat. + +"I did it, Mrs. Garfield," I confessed, brokenly. "I wrote them myself." + +Then I cried, my heart breaking inside of me. + +There was a rustle at the next desk. + +"It isn't Rhoda's fault," Grace's voice exclaimed. "She wrote them, but +we asked her to. We are all bad, just as bad as she is. And Janet +McLarin who has gone out of the window is the worst of us all!" + +If fear is contagious, so is confession. There was a perfect storm of +tearful explanations and excuses. They all told Mrs. Garfield how it had +been done, and they showed her the wrapping paper. One little girl +offered me a piece of chewing gum quite openly to comfort me, and Miss +Lucy dried my eyes on her own pocket-handkerchief. + +All that Mrs. Garfield said was, "Well!" + +But she said it with an air of astonishment. + +Afterwards she called me into her own private sanctum, the place where +people went to be scolded, and felt the bumps on my forehead. + +"Child," she said, "you have great originality. The region of sublimity +is large. So is that of humor. I predict a future for you. I do, indeed. +Do you understand what I mean?" + +"No, ma'am," I answered, timidly. + +"I mean that some day you will write greater things than these wrapping +paper compositions. I mean that with hard work, hard work, mind you, you +may write books. You may become an _authoress_!" + +She shook hands with me quite seriously when I went away as though with +an equal. The next moment she called me back, and kissed me, holding me +close to her silk breast. + +"You have talent, dear child," she said. "I will develop it. I will +watch over you. Some day there will be books!" + +I went home very bewildered, but very happy. I looked at the worn places +on the stair carpet almost tenderly. I laid my cheek against my mother's +old winter coat hanging up in the hall. Suppose the fortune which Norah +had read in the teacup should come true! Suppose that _I_ should be the +one to buy the new things, to make soft the narrow life, to reimburse +the dear ones who gave and gave and never thought of the sacrifice. Just +suppose! It was as if a great white door had opened before me. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber's note: + +Obvious punctuation errors have been corrected. Varied hyphenation was +retained. + +Repeated chapter titles were removed to avoid repetition. + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40526 *** |